17th day of Rising Sun
455 Years after the Defeat of Discord by the Sisters

Pallas’ armor lay scattered around her, the two Zebrican shamans treating her wounds, using a wide brush to paint a design onto her coat with a mix of herbs. The thestral kept her eyes closed, not reacting even as they set and splinted the broken bone in her forehoof.

The elder shaman turned to Bianca and Shadow as the two waited, one anxious for good news, the other watching for a loss of control. She spoke rapidly in Zebrican, Resplendent Shadow nodding along and replying in the same song-like language.

“What’s she saying?” Bianca whispered. “I don’t understand Zebrican.”

“Black Wind’s injuries aren’t merely to her body,” Shadow said. “There is a festering wound in her spirit, one that has languished for years now without being properly treated.”

“A wound in her… spirit?” Bianca frowned. “Luna said something about that once. It was why she had so many nightmares. But we helped! We fixed that!”

“It was like a scar,” Shadow said. “An old wound that pained her at times. But the loss of her leg, the dark magic of her binding to Nightmare Moon, the physical wounds of her battle with the dragon, all of that put a strain on her. When she was rendered helpless, the spiritual injury opened up again.”

“What are they doing to fix it?” Bianca asked.

“Nothing,” Shadow shrugged. “This is beyond their ability to fix. They can treat her physical wounds, but to cure her spirit, she needs to... “ Shadow paused. “There isn’t a word in Equestrian for what they suggest. It’s a type of… ritual journey, to the edge of our world and the realm of the spirits.”

“But if that’s what she needs we have to do it!” Bianca shouted.

“We can’t,” Shadow said. She held up a hoof as Bianca started to protest. “Let me speak. It isn’t about a desire to help her or not. I would go to great lengths to assist a fellow Dragoon. I know something of what she is going through. Dark magic has a similar effect on the weak-willed, damaging their spirits as a form of psychic recoil. But the type of healing they suggest, I am not sure exists in this land.”

“Why not?” Bianca pouted.

“Because this place is dead. Spiritually and literally. The drought isn’t just… bad weather. There are spirits in the land, magic that flows through it. Earth ponies can sense it instinctively.” Shadow nodded outside to where the ponies were working the fields, this time of their own accord. “They are the only ones who can grow anything here, because their connection lets them put some of themselves into the soil.”

“Maybe Luna can help! If we go and find her-”

“We can’t take Black Wind with us,” Shadow said. “Luna entrusted myself and Fluttering Moth with your safety above all else. While I trust she can take care of herself, she could kill you in an instant if she loses control again.”

“She’d never hurt me,” Bianca whispered.

“Shadow is right,” Pallas said. Bianca looked up at that. “I’m too dangerous to be around. I don’t even… I don’t know what to do.” She sat up, the shamans frowning as she moved. The younger shaman muttering in their native tongue.

The elder considered the group for a few moments, then said something in low tones.

“She says there may be something she can do,” Shadow translated. “She will ask the spirits for guidance. She is wary of what they will say. Something about Black Wind and I being creatures of darkness.”

“If there’s anything that can help, I’ll do it,” Pallas said.

The shaman nodded at that and said something else as she walked out of the room.

“She says she needs time to divine an answer,” Shadow said. “I suggest we busy ourselves investigating the camp while we wait.”

“...are you sure?” Bianca asked, tearing up. The mare they’d saved from the whipping post nodded. They were speaking outside in the shadows of the mess hall, the other prisoners busy cleaning up some of the mess the fighting had caused.

“Sorry,” the thestral mare said, as she scratched at raw patches of skin where she’d been bound a few hours ago. “I’m the only thestral in this camp. They sent me here because I said I was a farmer. They didn’t listen when I said I was a mushroom farmer, and I had no idea how to till a field.”

“Do you know where they sent the rest?” Bianca whispered. “When they attacked the northern settlements, they took most of us prisoner.”

“Well, if I had to guess…” the thestral considered. “Most of the ponies that couldn’t farm were sold to the nobility, what’s left of it, anyway. If you want to find your parents, you’ll have to find who bought them.”

“Thanks anyway,” Bianca said. The mare gave her a small smile.

“Hey, I’m the one thanking you. You saved my hide. Literally.” She laughed a little. “Do you know what you’re going to do next?”

“It’s safest if you stay here,” Moth said, landing, almost, next to Bianca. The Dragoon’s hooves hovered an inch above the dirt as if standing on a pane of glass. “We’re going to be going through the desert, and you at least have food and water if you stay here.”

“But what if the griffons come back?” the thestral asked. “We can’t defend ourselves, or we wouldn’t be stuck here to begin with.”
“I doubt they’ll bother,” Moth said, shrugging. “We plan on giving them something a lot bigger to worry about.”

“This place is foul,” Shadow said, holding a chunk of dried meat in her magical grasp. “Send someone to burn the east storehouse.”

“What? Why?” Bianca blinked.

“It’s full of this,” Shadow noted, throwing the meat into the dirt at Bianca’s hooves.

“Meat?” Moth asked, looking over the withered, salted strip of flesh. “Can’t tell what it’s from, though. Doesn’t look like fish-”

“Pony,” Shadow interjected. “It’s pony meat.”

Bianca backed up from it, eyes going wide.

“Are you sure?” Moth asked, floating away from the scrap.

“Very,” Shadow said. “I do not wish to discuss it. Tell the others not to enter. Burning it is the only decent thing we can do to cleanse it of the evil within. There is a danger in that the smoke will be visible from some distance. I recommend the three of us stay here until we are sure it does not attract attention.”

“Three of us?” Bianca frowned.

“Black Wind should go,” Shadow clarified. “She is a danger to herself and others in her current state.”

“We should go with her!” Bianca protested. “I’m not just going to leave her!”

“In this, the shamans and I are in agreement,” Shadow said. “She has to undertake this on her own.”

Pallas got to her hooves, ignoring the pain in her splinted limb. Moving slowly, and using the furniture liberally for support, she started strapping on her armor, until the two shamans trotted into the room, speaking to each other in low tones.

“Did you do your… thing?” Pallas asked, trying to get her leg armor on over the thick bandages.

The elder zebra said something that Pallas couldn’t follow.

“What?” Pallas looked around. Shadow wasn’t there to translate. She’d half-expected the unicorn to just appear. “I don’t speak Zebrican.”

The elder zebra repeated it, with an annoyed edge to her voice.

“I just said I don’t speak Zebrican!” Pallas roared.

“She said she has completed the divination, you fool of a mare.” The younger one glared at her. “To the east you must go. What you seek is there.”

“If you speak Equestrian, why didn’t you do it before?” Pallas frowned.

“Your language is ugly and base,” the shaman retorted. “It reflects your disregard for your place.”

“If you don’t like it, maybe you should go back to the griffons,” Pallas snapped.

“You are both guilty of abusing the land,” the shaman said. “You leave nothing to nature, even the weather is planned.” She gestured to the window. “Look outside to see the result. It is the result of this long insult.”

“The only insult here is you,” Pallas said. “We came here to free you and all the ponies the griffons are holding captive.”

“Your Princess came here with plans to take command,” the shaman countered. “If you think freedom is her goal, you gravely misunderstand.”

“You don’t know her like I do,” Pallas muttered.

“No,” the shaman admitted. “We see the results, not the mare. More war and death until the whole world will despair.”

“Great,” Pallas shrugged. “Whatever. So I’m going to the east. I don’t suppose you can be more exact than that?”

“You will find a range of mountains, and in them a pass. What you seek will be in a rare patch of grass.”

The elder zebra said something rapidly, the younger listening with obedient, respectful attention.

“She says you are intertwined with fate,” the younger shaman muttered. “Your destiny is twisted, and may be broken by your hate.”

“Yeah, well… thanks for the help, I guess.” Pallas shrugged. “You might want to try being nicer to other ponies. If we stop the griffons you’ll be better off, too.”

“And you should stop killing them,” the shaman said. “Or all of us you condemn.”

“Did they say how far it is?” Bianca asked.

“Nope,” Pallas said, checking her armor again, her helm at her side.

“Or how long it would take?” Bianca tilted her head, leaning down to look into Pallas’ eyes from where she’d perched on the bigger thestral’s shoulder.

“No idea.” Pallas shrugged, almost knocking Bianca off. “All I know for sure is that it’s something I have to do. If you can trust them, anyway.”

“They’re sworn to help those in need,” Shadow said, from where she looked on, seemingly at ease but obviously ready to move if something happened. “They wouldn’t intentionally mislead you.”

“But they might think the only way to help is to have me put down like a rabid animal,” Pallas said quietly.

“I doubt that,” Shadow shrugged. “They owe us a great debt. They dislike ponies almost as much as griffons. They’ll deal with us fairly just to be rid of us that much more quickly.”

“We’ll see,” Pallas said. “I’d be pretty impressed if they did find something that could kill me.”

“It would take a shadow dragon, or perhaps an angry alicorn,” Resplendent Shadow noted. “Neither are in great supply.”

“I’ll make sure not to steal Celestia’s cake,” Pallas said, smiling. The setting sun caught her eye. Luna’s moon would be rising soon. “It’s time to go. The longer I stay here, the more uncomfortable these ponies will be.”

“They did see you kill one of their own,” Shadow reminded her.

“I know,” Pallas muttered.

“Don’t return until you can control yourself,” Shadow said. “I do not wish to have to restrain you again. It was difficult enough even with you injured.”

“I won’t come back until I’m not a danger to Bianca,” Pallas said. “Where’s Moth? Isn’t she going to see me off?”

“She’s already in the air,” Shadow pointed with a hoof. “She intends to fly with you for a time. Fluttering Moth has some of the same misgivings you do. I think she’s going to ensure you aren’t ambushed the moment you leave the farm.”

“I better not keep her waiting.” Pallas stood up, biting back a groan of pain as her injured limbs took her weight.

“Come back soon,” Bianca whispered, hopping down and kissing Pallas on the tip of the snout.

“I will. I promise.” Pallas spread her wings, taking off with a powerful flap that sent dust flying around her, needing to use brute force to get into the air since she couldn’t manage a running start.

Bianca waved to her as she struggled for altitude, the dead air making the ascent even more difficult. She grumbled as she caught sight of Fluttering Moth, who didn’t seem to be having any trouble with flying at all.

“Need a hoof?” Moth shouted.

“I’m fine!” Pallas snapped. She took a deep breath and tried to calm down. “Besides, you can’t follow me the whole way to the mountains.”

“I didn’t say you weren’t fine! Bianca sure thinks you’re fine!” Moth flew ahead of Pallas, backwards. Without flapping her wings. Pallas found a growing envy for pegasus magic. While thestrals could fly, it required a lot more flapping and effort than the way a pegasus would glide.

“I think that’s two different kinds of fine,” Pallas muttered.

“Maybe!” Moth agreed. “Look, I know Respy was probably pretty harsh on you. She’s super serious all the time. Speaking as a professional, killing the hostage was the right move. He would have killed her anyway.”

“That’s not what I was thinking,” Pallas said. “I wasn’t thinking at all. I’m a damn monster…”

“Maybe!” Moth nodded again. “I’ve killed a few innocent ponies in my time. Mostly because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time, you know? Goes with being an assassin. It’s not an easy job. What you have to think is, am I taking this life for me, or for my mission?”

“What’s the difference?” Pallas frowned.

“When you do it for the mission, you’re making sacrifices for the greater good. When you’re doing it for yourself, that's when you turn into a murderer. Ideally, an assassin kills only their target, painlessly and with mercy. Unfortunately, ideal things never happen.” Moth sighed. “There’s always a guard you can’t avoid, a whore in the warlord’s bed, a food taster who sips the tainted wine. I’ve had to weigh their lives against the good I was doing, and sometimes it meant they had to die. Sometimes it meant a lot of them had to die.”

“That’s the difference, though,” Pallas said. “You thought about it. You knew what you were doing. I couldn’t stop myself. I was just… I felt helpless. I felt helpless and useless and I had to break something and-” she stopped herself, biting her tongue.

“Yeah, it sucks,” Moth agreed. “Look, you know there’s only two kinds of problems. There’s the kind you can solve and the kinds you can’t. This is the kind of problem you can solve, and you even know what you have to do to solve it!”

“If the zebras aren’t just lying,” Pallas snorted. “They aren’t big fans.”

“You can either trust them and see what happens, or do nothing and not even try to fix things. I know which one is better!” Moth smiled. “Here, take this!” She reached into her armor and tossed a gem to Pallas. The thestral caught it in her teeth and gave Moth a look.

“It’s a kind of compass,” Moth said. “It’s part of a pair. Respy has the other half. She made it so we wouldn’t trip over ourselves when we were doing missions together. When you’re done with your spirit journey or whatever it is, use it to catch up to us!”

Pallas nodded. Moth saluted and flipped over, gracefully jetting back towards the farming camp.

Taking a deep breath and stowing the gem, Pallas redoubled her efforts, flying against the dead, thin air. She had a destiny to meet.