Liberate Tuteme Ex Inferis.

Field near Vanhoover. Year 6 of the New Solaminan Calendar (2030).

Clear Path tried to scream at what he saw. The battle had been raging for what felt like an eternity, countless ponies had died facing the unholy horde and yet Clear Path had survived. Buried under a mound of his former comrades he had made it through the carnage simply because the weight of the corpses around him had rendered him immobile.

Clear Path had forgotten how long he been left in the mound of dead flesh and broken metal. The sounds of battle had ended a long time ago and he had lain there, unable to so much as wriggle as he waited for somepony, or something, to dig him out. He tried his best not to think of the possibility of nopony finding him and instead leaving him to suffocate under the weight of his fellow ponies but every now and then the idea crept into his mind and did its best to remain there.

At one point he had contemplated trying to shudder as much as he possibly could in the hope that it would dislodge something enough to allow him to move. Nothing happened. His comrades remained in their places, terrified expressions frozen on their dead faces. The weight was unbearable and the heat of battle had long ago been replaced by the dread coolness of death.

Clear Path squirmed desperately as he tried to find some way to free himself from his grotesque tomb. His vision swam and his breathing became laboured as he struggled. He was hyperventilating. It was becoming too much to handle. He had no idea how long he had been trapped in the mound of bodies. It could have been a few minutes, a few hours, a few days. It no longer mattered. He didn’t want to end up like the ponies that surrounded him. He didn’t want to die. He needed to escape. He needed to be free. He needed to live.

Then one of the bodies shifted.

Clear Path glanced at the corpse of a Pegasus mare who had the right side of her helmet and her face caved in. Great bloody gouges covered the other half of her face and drew terrifying furrows across her features. Clear Path continued to stare, praying that what he had just seen was not a trick his mind was playing on him. The body then jerked away. Light flooded his vision and he shut his eyes from the glare.

Something grabbed him roughly, digging into his foreleg and pulled him free from the mound. Clear Path drew a deep breath and silently thanked blessed Solamina for guiding his saviour to him and releasing him from what would have been his grave.

The intensity of the light in his eyes dimmed as he grew accustomed to the brightness and he finally opened his eyes fully in order to see where he was and who had rescued him.

What he saw chilled his blood and caused whatever thanks he was about to give to catch in his throat.

His foreleg was in the vice-like grip of a grey claw. the foul appendage was made of necrotic flesh that was covered in pustules and scar tissue. Black claws, encrusted in gore and other miscellaneous filth burst out from ruptured fingertips. the rest of the arm was formed of bare muscle and sinew and was slick with rotten viscera and other indescribable fluid and effluence. All of its body was coloured the sickly grey of the grave, punctuated only by the splashes of brown, red and black that decaying blood and flesh gave its complexion.

However it was the creatures face that drew Clear Path’s attention. It appeared almost human but the resemblance was barely superficial. It was skeletal and gaunt with shrunken cheeks and stretched skin that barely covered its swollen skull. Its eyes were pinpricks of malevolence that barely seemed noticeable in contrast to the enlarged cranium they were housed in. It had no nose, merely two slits like those of a lizard or snake and its mouth was huge slit across the creatures face that reached all the way to the ends of its cheeks. The abomination gave Clear Path a grin, a terrifying sight that revealed an array of broken and misshapen teeth that were all sharp and coated in grime.

"Now what do we have here?" The creature spoke in a dread voice that chilled Clear Path’s blood. One of you is still alive. Oh that is simply wonderful. I was worried that I had missed all of the fun. No matter though. I have you now." The creature gave Clear Path a terrible look that promised unbearable and unending torment before tightening its grip on his foreleg.

Clear Path tried to struggle, letting out several whinnies of distress as he flailed in the monster’s grip.

"Ah. Ah. Ah," the creature reprimanded him slowly and sadistically, barely noticing his struggles as it began to carry him away from the mound. "We can’t have you kicking about like. It’ll spoil you and ruin all of the fun." The creature reached behind its back and pulled at a great hook embedded in its own shoulder blades. It was one piece of a great collection of torturous apparatus that impaled its back and shoulders.

Wrenching the tool free of its own flesh and releasing a gush of black oozing blood whilst doing so, the creature swiftly brought the hook around and rammed it into Clear Path’s own back. Clear Path squealed in pain and tried to flail but found he could not move and part of his body. He was paralysed.

"Much better," the creature said. "We have so much to discover together. I have never had the opportunity to experiment on a specimen like yourself and I hope to achieve many things as we plumb the depths of experience together, you and I."

Holding Clear Path close to itself, yanking the hook and digging it in and out of his body with every step, the demon began to walk through a blasted land of gore and fire, heading for the fiery portal that would return it home.

Clear Path tried to scream at what he saw as he was carried across the hellish landscape but he couldn’t, he couldn’t do anything. Nopony could.

***

Command Post Emergent Sun, near Vanhoover. Year 6 of the New Solaminan Calendar (2030).

"Move those ponies out!" Commander Twilight Sparkle yelled, her greying hair tied in an efficient ponytail. "They’ll be at this location in the next hour, we need to go!"

"I still don’t like retreating," Applejack muttered, a scowl on her face made even worse by the injury over her face that went over her left eye, leaving the orb empty and lifeless. "We shoulda fought harder."

"We’ve lost before, and we’ll lose again," Sparkle said heavily. "It’s the nature of this fight. There’s too many of them: we can only hold as best we can…"

"And then run away like cowards when we can’t!" Applejack growled. "But I guess yer right, Twi. I just don’t like it."

"Better than being stupid enough to stand in the way of an entire horde with only a handful of ponies," Sparkle said, scowling. "If we hadn’t pulled your plot out of the fire…"

"Commander!" a voice called, interrupting Twilight before she could bring up old grievances. Sighing, she turned to face the speaker, one of her Archmagi - a Converted pony named Gentle Flower. "Her Majesty requests contact via the crystal projector."

"The hay with that," Applejack muttered. "The Empress can wait ‘til we’re safe outta dodge, Twi."

"The Empress," Twilight replied, throwing her friend a glare, "can never wait."

She headed immediately for her command tent. Most of her personal effects - mainly her armour and weapons, but also a picture of herself and Spike (oh Spike) and a scarred bit coin, had been packed away and moved already, but a small crystal was still on her desk, waiting for her. The crystal glowed slightly as she approached.

"Sparkle, Commander Twilight," she said shortly. "Request contact."

A moment later, the crystal shone, and an image was projected above it - the image of a white Alicorn in golden armour. Her armour was rent and bloodied, and she was covered in dirt, but there was still something regal about Astra Solamina Maxima, the Empress of Equestria.

"My lady," Sparkle said, kneeling.

"Commander," Solamina said, her voice imperious but calm. "I want your report."

"We lost over half the force assigned to us," Sparkle said quietly. "We managed to evacuate most of the city, but our casualties are too great - we are falling back."

"I see," Solamina said quietly. "No matter. We shall prevail yet."

"Has he returned to repeat the demand, my lady?" Sparkle dared to ask, looking up slightly.

Solamina’s image stiffened. "He has. Again, I refuted him."

"My lady," Sparkle said quietly, "perhaps… for the sake of the Empire…"

"I will not surrender that which is mine," Solamina snapped, and Sparkle cringed slightly. "I would rather let all of the Empire burn at the hands of these thing than surrender willingly one pony."

"I… understand," Sparkle said quietly.

"You have tasks," Solamina said shortly. "Attend them."

With that, the image faded. Sparkle sighed and stood up, frowning slightly.

"So we keep fightin’," a voice said, and Sparkle scowled, turning to look at Applejack, who was stood in the entranceway of her tent.

"We keep fighting," Sparkle said irritably. "As ordered."

"They don’t stop, Twi," Applejack said, and now her voice was quiet and earnest. "You know I wouldn’t talk like this if I thought there was a way we could beat ‘em, but…"

"I know," Sparkle said heavily. "You’re right. She asks the impossible. And we’re going to give her it if it kills us."

"I… alright," Applejack said, sighing resignedly. "I ain’t gonna convince you otherwise. I’ll have the loaders pack yer tent up."

"Thanks, AJ," Sparkle said, smiling slightly. "Keep the faith. We can win this."

"Sure, Twi," Applejack said, sounding like she didn’t believe her. "I’ll get to that loadin’."

She left, leaving Twilight alone. She sighed.

Applejack was right - they couldn’t win this. They couldn’t even try to. Damn that bit toss. Damn Liverpool.

Damn Hell Blazer…

***

Commander Sparkle’s office, Canterlot, Year 4 of the New Solaminan Calendar (2028).

"So there are two options," Rarity said, pointing at two different points on the map with her swagger stick. Sparkle couldn’t help but grin at that affectation - trust her friend to throw herself into all the pomposity of the military. "Either we attack Dover - a coastal assault that risks the blockade but could gain us a second Plymouth if we succeed, or else we launch a massive raid attack on the city of Liverpool."

"What does that gain us?" Sparkle asked, frowning slightly.

"Well its usage as a port is more limited," Rarity admitted, "but it’s a major city. Population is high, troops numbers are high. Take it out, and we lower their defences quite adequately. Plus, I hear tell that John Constantine might be there."

Sparkle sighed. "You still have a bugbear about that made-up human, don’t you?"

"He is not made up," Rarity insisted. "I have seen too much evidence that the man exists to believe he does not."

"Alright, alright," Sparkle said, frowning. "Neither option is bad - there’s advantages and disadvantages to both." She frowned, before pulling out a bit. "Ok then."

"Oh, tell me you don’t still leave choices like this to that accursed coin," Rarity said in dismay, staring at the bit with a frown.

"It’s never steered me wrong before," Sparkle said, smirking. "Trust me."

She flipped the bit.

Author's Notes:

This prologue was written by Jed R and RoyalPsycho while I worked on the first chapter. Many Thanks guys.