Symphony
"To be continued? Ah, fuck!"

The colt sitting on my back threw down his comic. It bounced off my flank, and landed in the snow.

I glanced down at the pages.

It depicted a two page spread of a pale yellow pegasus with a spiky blue mane, an armor clad griffon, and an owl perched on the pegasus' shoulder. The pegasus had a battle saddle equipped with two rifles, and held a gun resembling a children's toy in his mouth. The griffon's arsenal was much smaller, as it only included the large spiked club in his talons. The three of them were staring up at a horde of zebras racing towards them with the words “To Be Continued” printed in the bottom right corner.

I snorted as I walked away from the comic. Good riddance.

"Missile, what did I say about dropping the F-bomb?" the burly crystal stallion with the onyx-black mane growled.

The colt sighed. "Don't say it unless we're being shot at."

"And are we being shot at?"

The colt's wings buzzed as he fluttered onto my head. His dark green hooves wrapped around my neck and chin to stabilize him while he surveyed the surrounding area. "Not a bullet in sight, Sombra."

"Then you're grounded. Three days with no games or comics."

"What?! Why?"

"Because you broke the rules. Children shouldn't swear unless there's an emergency, and even that is being lenient. A mere 'To Be Continued' does not constitute an emergency."

Agreed.

"But..."

The dark grey stallion turned his head; his brilliant scarlet gaze as sharp as broken glass. I felt Missile shudder on my head. Sombra turned back around with a snort.

But Missile had not yet finished pleading his case. "Carbine, Bro, could you talk to Sombra for me?"

While most of us had been slowly gaiting through the snow to conserve energy, or in Missile's case hitching a ride, the maroon unicorn had been stomping through the snow. A semi-automatic rifle hung around his neck, and bounced with each step he took. He did not carry it in his saddlebags, as they were so full of garbage there was not enough room for his weapon. I would never understand why a pony saw fit to collect every burned book and coffee mug he came across.

Carbine continued stomping as he replied, "No can do, little bro. What the King says goes."

Missile snorted, and was most likely pouting. "Well you're useless."

Carbine laughed, and flashed the colt a toothy grin. His horn glowed the same mustard-yellow as his eyes, and the semi-automatic lifted slightly. "I wouldn't say useless, exactly. It's just my special method of negotiation wouldn't sit too well with ole Somby."

Missile let out an exasperated sigh, and went limp. His body was draped over my muzzle, and my view was obscured by his grey hoodie.

I stopped moving, and snorted loudly.

Missile sprang back up, and fluttered back down to my back. "Sorry, Symph." But under his breath he called me an asshole.

I looked back, and shot him a glare as cold as the snow.

My name is Symphony. I wanted to say that, and would have if not for my severed larynx. Thank you very much, Orchestra, just what I always wanted.

Missile pulled up his hood with a shrill shriek.

Ignoring him, I returned my focus on the path ahead. I could see the outlines of mountains in the distance, the border between the Crystal Wasteland and the rest of Equestria. Sombra walked in front of me, and I could see Carbine in my peripheral vision. Aside from that all I could see was the fresh snow. Stallions and snow. There was something distinctly feminine missing from my view.

Right on cue, I felt a nudge against my flank and a pair of lips kiss my scarred throat. Thank you, Holy Mother for taking pity on my plight.

"No need to be such a grump, Symphony." A mint green unicorn trotted next to me, and lowered her rump. "Want to ride with me instead, Missile? I promise not to snort, or give you dirty looks."

"By all that is holy, yes!" Missile jumped off of me, and landed on her back.

As she trotted away, Missile removed his hood. He pulled down his eyelid, stuck his tongue out at me, and made an annoying noise. Insolent brat.

The green mare turned her head, and winked at me. Despite being still annoyed with Missile, her gesture brought a smile upon my face. Lyra Heartstrings XIII. Even in the cold I felt warmth in my neck from her kiss.

While I had been thinking about Lyra, Carbine had trotted beside me. "Beautiful day isn't it, Symph?" His eyes danced from me, to the cloudless sky, to Lyra's flank. “Don’t ya just love the sights?”

I snorted in reply to his question. Eyes off, buddy.

"Ah, the ever reliable snort. You certainly have a way with no words, you know that?"

I narrowed my eyes, and scowled at him.

"Whoa, easy there big guy." Carbine threw up one of his front hooves in an attempt to calm me down. "I know you're not much of a talker, for obvious reasons, but that doesn't mean we can't communicate. We're comrades now, and I'd like to know my crystal brother. That way we can be bros, tried and true. Fire forged. And all those other metaphors the Cadanites have in their books."

I could not tell if he was mocking me or not. While establishing rapport with Carbine would be ideal, his lack of respect for my scar and faith rubbed me the wrong way. Though perhaps it was not malicious, and Carbine simply lacked tact.

I shrugged.

"Better than a snort!" Carbine wrapped a hoof around my neck, and pulled my head next to his. "We're practically family at this point."

I kicked his shin with my forehoof, and slipped out of his hold while he was distracted.

"Fuck damnit that hurt! What the fuck was that fo—" He stopped speaking when he saw me rubbing my neck. "Oh, right, that. Shit." He ran a hoof through his coarse black mane, and shook his head. "My bad, Symph." He outstretched his hoof with an apologetic look.

Yes, Carbine, your bad. I knocked his hoof aside with a snort, and quickened my pace. Hopefully he would understand that meant I did not want him walking beside me again. I made my way past Lyra. She opened her mouth, but I strutted past her. I had no interest in listening to her advice. I only wanted a minute or two alone to brood. Was that too much to ask? Once I had slowed down I found myself walking next to Sombra.

The older crystal stallion regarded me for a moment, and shook his head. "Amazing how different the ponies you find out here can be. One who doesn't stop talking, and another who keeps to himself. A unicorn heathen, and a chosen crystal earth pony. Yet, both are alike in their own way. Each has their burdens, scars, and means of coping."

How wonderful. I had been to church enough times, and spoken to enough priests, to know when a sermon was coming. The red acolyte robe he wore only served to strengthen his similarities to the church. It seemed wanting a few minutes to brood was too much to ask.

I found myself snorting again.

Sombra glared at me. "What? Did you think I was talking about you? Don't be so vain, Symphony. Not everything revolves around you."

No, really? I thought the scar around my neck suggested otherwise. Because clearly the world revolved around me if it had taken away my voice. It was only out of the Holy Mother’s love for me that the songbird and sheet music on my flank would be a constant reminder of the destiny I had stolen from me. Not that I doubted the Holy Mother’s infinite wisdom. I just… ugh. I sighed mentally. Now now, Symphony. There was no need to be overdramatic.

I decided to stop being angry, and legitimately consider what Sombra said. If his intent had not been to lecture me, he may have been trying to relate to me. In that case, the crystal earth pony he had been referring to was himself. So what were his scars? If he had any they were invisible under his robe.

I cocked an eyebrow.

Sombra shook his head. "Like I said, Symphony, he keeps to himself."

So much for trying to relate to me. I considered strutting past him, but decided against it. My impairment distanced me enough from these ponies; I did not need my attitude to do the same. After all, I needed them to like me so they would keep me alive.

I slowed down my pace to catch up with the other three. I walked in-between Carbine and Lyra, who still had Missile on her back. The colt had his hooves crossed, and was shooting bullets at me with his eyes. Given his age, about six to my estimation, the look came off as unintentionally funny. Lyra’s was far more damning. Her golden eyes perfectly mimicked the glower of a disappointed parent. She nudged her head in the direction of Carbine, and I cast him a glance.

The maroon moron had returned to stomping through the snow, and the bleeding heart on his flank seemed to pulsate with every step he took. I had pondered the nature of Carbine’s cutie mark since the first moment I laid eyes on it. What kind of destiny did a bleeding heart signify? It was as baffling as to why he refused to wear barding.

"Armor's for pussies," he had said when Lyra asked him why.

Lyra had purchased a pair of vests for the two of us to provide some protection. I had stowed my vest in my saddlebag due to how itchy it was, but at least I had it with me. Even Missile and Sombra had something on. But the maroon moron wore nothing but that gun around his neck.

I tapped him on the shoulder.

Carbine shot me a cocksure grin. “Oh, I get it now. You can touch me, but I can’t return the favor.” He shook his head, and looked over at Lyra with a disappointed frown. “Come on, Thirteen, didn’t you teach Symph that relationships have to have both give and take?”

I had been ready to apologize. Would it have been a truly sincere apology? For the most part, no, but it had a degree of sincerity to it. I did legitimately want to be on good terms with him. After that show of stupidity, however, all sincerity had melted away. Yet, the apology still needed to be made.

Barely withholding a snort, I placed a hoof on my chest and made two clockwise circles.

Carbine raised an eyebrow, and rubbed the back of his head. “You saying you like drawing circles?”

“Maybe he’s having heartburn,” Missile suggested.

Of course. It was my fault for thinking these heathens would understand hoof language, even I barely did. I had picked up on a few words and phrases while growing up, and had Lyra to teach me more.

“It’s hoof language,” Lyra explained. “He’s apologizing.”

Carbine looked more befuddled than before. “Sorry? The fuck for? I touched him in a bad place; he kicked me. Seems reasonable to me. Fuck, if somepony touched me in my bad touch place I’d shoot them. I think Symph just let me off with a warning,” he finished with a wink.

Mischief twinkled in Lyra’s eyes. “Oh? And where is this bad touch place of yours?”

Carbine nickered. “Trust me, Thirteen, as much as I would love for you to find that spot I don’t think your hubby here would much appreciate it.”

He was certainly right about that. I put a hoof around Lyra, and gave her a peck on the cheek.

“Bleh, kissing. I’m coming over to you, Bro,” Missile grumbled, and fluttered over to Carbine.

Lyra chuckled, and moved her face away from my lips. “Hubby, you say? Do you see a ring on this horn, Carbine?”

Well I had intended on proposing to Lyra, but the incident with Orchestra had been an unforeseen setback. Since I kept my bits in my room there was no way to access my savings to actually buy a ring.

Carbine shook his head.

Lyra sensually trotted towards him. “Then, in the grand scheme of things, I think that makes me single."

Carbine presented me with the toothiest grin I had ever seen in my life. “I suppose it does.”

“Maybe you and I should get to know each other better tonight,” Lyra purred. She looked at me with a shudder. “Symphony’s been so cold lately, and I need somepony who can keep me warm.” She nudged my flanks with hers, and chuckled.

“Maybe we should,” Carbine agreed.

I barely fought off the urge to indulge in another melodramatic monologue. This one centered on Lyra and her teasing. But I was able to quell my urges. Honestly, venting to my own mind would get me nowhere but on a fast track to insanity.

"Please forgive him, Symphony.” Sombra interjected. “Carbine has a disease; I believe the term is being a chronic dumbass."

"Hey! I resent that remark." Carbine puffed out his chest, and pounded a hoof on it. "I prefer being known as a stupid motherfucker!"

What was the difference?

Carbine put a hoof around my shoulders, careful not to have it touch my neck, and laughed. "Now, Symphony, you're probably wondering what the difference is."

He was strangely more perceptive than I had thought.

"The difference is motherfucker is my favorite word. It's offensive, aggressive, and just plain badass."

"I always thought it was two words,” Lyra mused.

He gaily shook his head. "Not the way I say it! Right, Missile?"

The colt gave an enthusiastic nod. "Bro-hoof, motherfucker?" Lucky for him Sombra did not seem to hear his profanity.

"Bro-hoof." Carbine reached out a hoof, and Missile pounded it with one of his own.

I wanted to roll my eyes at them for their stupid action. I also wanted to call them heathens, for in all my years of attending church I had never once heard the term “bro-hoof.” Instead, I cracked a smile.

Missile saw me, and shuddered. He pulled the drawstrings of his hood, and hid his face. “Symph's making mean faces at me again."

I frowned; this was going to be a long journey.

Suddenly, Sombra stopped moving. The ground below us had begun to slope, and Sombra stood at the crest. "Carbine," he barked. "I need to use your binoculars."

Carbine's horn took on a mustard-yellow glow, as he levitated a pair of binoculars out of his saddlebags. The binoculars were equipped with a string, which Carbine slipped over his neck as he took off sprinting.

"I'll let you use them in a sec." Carbine was now halfway up the hill, with Missile hanging on for dear life. "But since you didn't say please, I get first look."

A sigh rumbled in Sombra's throat, but he said nothing. I could empathize. Lyra and I were now in a full trot, but it was a good few moments before we had made it to the top of the slope.

Before us lay a camp ground, or what was left of one. Even without binoculars I could see the bodies. How many there were I could not begin to fathom, but it was enough for my stomach to churn. From here they appeared maimed, though it was hard to tell due to the flames. The bodies, as well as many of the tents, were on fire.

“What is this place?” Lyra gasped.

“This is Ghoul’s Point,” Sombra rumbled. “According to the scriptures, this is where Cadance raised the spirits of those who had fallen when the balefire bombs dropped.”

This was Ghoul’s Point? I had always imagined there would be a grand statue of the Holy Mother to commemorate her act. Instead, there was nearly nothing. What a disappointment.

Carbine whistled. "Beautiful isn't it?"

"Really? I wanna see?" Missile snatched the binoculars away from Carbine, and peered through them. "Woah, cool. Look at all the blood!"

Beautiful? Cool? My companions truly were heathens. I snorted again.

"What?" Carbine had taken the binoculars from Missile, and levitated them over to Sombra. "It's impressive work. Have you ever wiped out an entire campground? It's not as easy as it sounds."

What scared me the most about Carbine were the times when I could not tell when he was joking. In that moment he bore the grin of a clown, while a deranged gleam filled his eyes. I barely fought off the urge to shudder.

"What are you thinking, Sombra?" Lyra asked.

He retained his silence, as he looked through the binoculars. I wondered what thoughts were going through his mind as he did so. Surely he would be horrified to some degree. But would his horror drive him away, or would it invite him to investigate?

“I think we should go down there,” he said at last.

“Yes!” Carbine raised a hoof into the air triumphantly, and Missile bro-hoofed it.

Lyra did not share his enthusiasm. “Um, Sombra? Don’t you think we should be heading away from the bodies and fire?”

Sombra shook his head, and tossed her the binoculars. “Do you see any living ponies down there?”

Lyra caught the binoculars in a telekinetic hold. She put them to her eyes, and observed the camp. “No… Ah, I see what you’re getting at.”

That made one of us. I could understand wanting to scavenge the ruins, but I doubted there would be much left after the fires. Even if items of value remained none of them could possibly be worth risking our lives.

I cocked an eyebrow at Lyra.

"What Sombra's getting at is whoever attacked this place has already left, and probably won't be coming back. I mean, why would they? If they were still holding out here, I'd avoid this place like it was your sister. But if they're gone, we have no reason to not check it out."

Yes, we did. We had no guarantee the murderers would not return. It was also a possibility they were still down there and were simply well hidden. I attempted to think of a dignified method to mime my concerns, but none came to mind. Instead, I resigned myself to writing in the snow.

I traced two sentences, “They may return,” and “Not worth it,” in the snow.

Sombra nodded. "This is true, but I still feel it would be beneficial to have a look. I did see some tents that weren't on fire. It could provide us with shelter if we wish to stay the night."

Still not convinced, I shook my head.

"Then I guess we've reached an impasse." He turned to Lyra. "I'll leave the decision to you."

Carbine gave an exasperated sigh. "Hey, why aren't you asking me?"

Sombra gave him a flat stare. "Because, Carbine, you don't think about consequences. You just want to shoot something."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Carbine huffed.

Sombra ignored him, and gestured towards Lyra. "Well, Miss Heartstrings?"

Lyra took another look through the binoculars. She nodded a few times, before levitating the binoculars back to Carbine. She smiled at me apologetically. "Sorry, Symphony, but I do think the pros outweigh the cons here. I doubt whoever did this would raze a place they intended on returning to.

“True, we might not find much, and the shelter won't be great, but it'll be better than nothing. Besides." She paused to levitate a snub-nosed 629 magnum revolver out of the holster on her hindleg. "If they do come back it’ll give the chance to try out Faith."

Faith. Certainly an interesting name for a weapon. Ironic it would be wielded by a non-believer, especially since it had the words “In Cadance We Trust” engraved into the barrel. Lyra had received Faith a couple days ago when we had received shelter from a mother and daughter. When the mother learned Lyra had no weapon to defend herself, she had given Lyra her husband's gun. I prayed Teresa and Cecelia were doing well; I also prayed Lyra would not need to use it.

"It's settled then. We'll keep moving until we reach the encampment. If necessary, we’ll stay the night." Sombra began his trudge through the snow with his robe flowing behind him. Carbine stomped alongside him, with Missile resting on his head. That left Lyra and I together.

"Faith. Interesting name for a weapon, huh?" she mused as she holstered the gun.

I barely listened; I was preoccupied with the encampment. Whether it be from the fires, bodies, or providence from the Holy Mother herself, I was getting an ominous vibe. Most likely it was from all three.

I felt a hoof on my shoulder. “Don’t worry, Symphony. Everything will be fine.”

Everything will be fine. Fate, thou hath been tempted.

As horrible as the scene was from a distance, it was far worse up close. Splashes of red had tainted the baby blue color of the tents. Not a single one was spared blood spatter, but at least some had not caught fire. By the time we arrived, most of the fires had died out. The ones that had not were small enough to be stomped out with our hooves.

However, we did not stomp out the burning bodies. Carbine had been more than willing, but Sombra told him it would be disrespectful. Letting them burn would give them a memorial, even if it would be a fleeting one.

I had been right about the maiming. There were piles of bodies, and parts, everywhere. The pile I was currently observing was located under a tarp. Tables had been set up under the tarp. Some of the tables had chairs, while others were lined up as if they held a buffet. The layout was similar to a makeshift mess hall. The fork in the body pile supported my assumption. The fork lay in-between a pair of brown hooves; the rest of the body was nowhere in sight. Another abominable image was a mare's head with a pair of knives through the eyes.

I wanted to look away, but something compelled me to keep looking. The something in question was a flank missing the rest of its body. Or to be more specific, the barding on the flank. Just staring at a severed flank would be disgusting.

The barding was made of black aramid fibers, and I noticed a familiar symbol where the cutie mark would have been. The symbol was of a dark blue shield, with the three stars levitating over it. In the center of the shield was a large pink star with the letters “CDF” written in the star. This was the emblem of the Cadanite Defensive Force.

"Hey, Bro, what's CDF stand for?" Missile asked.

Missile and Carbine were looking at another pile of body parts a couple yards away from me. I noticed most of the bodies wore similar barding. With this many CDF uniforms around, I assumed this was most likely a military base. My mess hall analogy proved truer than I had first thought.

"CDF?" Carbine scratched the side of his head, and shrugged. "I don't know. Crystal Dumb Fucks?" He paused, and looked at me. "No offense, Symph."

Plenty was taken.

Missile stood up straight, and climbed onto Carbine's head. "Oh, I know! Carbine's Deadly Farts!"

Carbine laughed. "Damn straight they are. I've got a balefire bomb in my ass."

"Deadly or no, that's not what CDF stands for." Sombra approached the duo, and pointed to the emblem on the barding. "The Cadanite Defensive Force is the Holy Mother's earthly army. They were created by the Burned Stallion, and bear his cutie mark on their flanks."

"So what do they do exactly?" Missile asked.

"They were created for protection, hence the word Defensive. Their job is to protect the Crystal Wasteland from invaders after the bombs fell, as well as to protect other Cadanites from forces within our border."

Carbine snorted. "They certainly did a stand up job."

I gave him the coldest glare I could muster. Becoming a member of the CDF was an honor. It was an honor known only to those who were willing to give their lives for their brothers and sisters. Their deaths deserved far more than the sardonic chatter of a moron of his caliber.

He threw up his hooves in defense. "Easy there, Symph. Just a bit of harmless sarcasm. Nothing to throw a fit over."

Sombra shook his head. "Still, you should know better than to speak ill of the dead, Carbine. It's bad karma."

"Pfft." The maroon moron rolled his eyes. "Karma, shawarma. They had a job, they clearly sucked at it, so I made a joke. Far as I'm concerned they had it com—Oh shit is that a tomato?"

Carbine stopped talking, and trotted a few paces to another body. This one was holding a fork with his hoof, and on the tip of the fork was a piece of tomato. Carbine hunched over to bite the tomato off of the fork. His eyes rolled back as he chewed, and he let out a moan. "There is a Goddess."

I wanted to buck him; I wanted to buck him hard. I could be willing to overlook his so called “harmless sarcasm,” but how did he have the gall to eat off a corpse?

I took a step towards him.

Before I could take a second, Sombra intercepted me. Our eyes met, his blazing at me like scarlet bullets. But as if he had misfired, his eyes softened. He put a hoof on my shoulder, the faintest shadow of a smile on his face. "Believe me, Symphony, I understand how you're feeling. As I said before, he is a chronic dumbass."

"Stupid motherfucker," Carbine corrected, before bumping hooves with Missile.

"Regardless, while many of his actions come off as offensive, he truly doesn’t know any better."

I craned my neck to watch Carbine. He and Missile continued to pick food off the ground and corpses. He had to either be a monster, or a pony who had fallen on hard times to stoop to such levels. If he had been the latter, then I could not help but pity him. He would still need a good buck, but perhaps not quite as hard as I initially intended.

Sombra’s near smile melted into a grimace. "Of course, this excuse can only be used for so long. At some point he needs to learn some behavior will not be tolerated. Carbine, you're grounded too."

Carbine’s eyes popped open wide. "Wha—" In his surprise, Carbine had dropped another large chunk of tomato down his throat without chewing. He clutched his throat as he gagged. Karma, shawarma indeed.

"Bro!" Missile hopped off Carbine's back. He tried to knock the food out of Carbine's mouth by bucking his side. Being a small child, his attempts proved fruitless. Heh, fruitless. Glad I did not lose my sense of humor along with my voice.

Sombra nodded in Carbine's direction. "I'll leave him to you."

I nodded in return. Looks like I would get to buck him after all. This was going to be a cathartic moment.

Carbine’s eyes widened when he saw me approach. Using his levitation, he rammed his gun into his side to help Missile. Once again, the attempts proved fruitless. Heh.

When Missile saw me standing before him he let out a shrill squeak. He gave Carbine an apologetic glance before fluttering onto my back. "Don't hit him too hard, Symph. Please."

I planted my back hooves, and thrust both of my front hooves into Carbine's side.

The tomato cannonaded from his mouth, and landed on the earth with a soft plop. Carbine hunched over, one hoof on his side and the other rubbing his throat.

Missile jumped off of me to be by his side. "Are you alright, Bro?"

Carbine gave him a weak grin, and a wink. "Of course. I'm motherfucking Carbine." He paused to cough. "But even motherfucking Carbine needs his cool-down time."

"Perfect. While you're cooling down, Missile will explore with Symphony. That's your punishment."

The three of us each had a different expression for Sombra. Carbine wore a confused frown, while Missile pouted, and pleaded with his eyes. I merely cocked an eyebrow.

Sombra gestured to the bodies. "Look at this place. Whoever killed these soldiers was ruthless." He trotted a few paces before stopping, and picked up a severed head. The filly it belonged to could not have been a day older than twelve. "I don't want Missile to be alone with you right now, Carbine. Not when you're so eager to get in a fight."

Carbine scratched the back of his mane with a nod. "I can't argue with you there, Somby. I don't mind adding a few holes to my hide, but I don't want Bro getting shot at."

"But do I have to go with Symphony?" He must have caught my glare because he quickly stammered, "Not that I don't want to hang with Symph, or anything like that. It's just—"

"Then there won't be a problem. You're away from Carbine so he's free to start whatever fights he wants, and you can holler for Miss Heartstrings or me if you find anything worth sharing."

I honestly did not hate this idea as much as I should have. True, Missile was an insolent brat, but being with me would keep him safe. I may not have liked all of my companions, but by no means did I truly hate them either. Hate was not the Cadanite way. It also helped that he could speak. True, he lacked the capacity to keep quiet, especially once he started speaking about those stupid Flash! comics. However, it would be beneficial for me to have a way of communicating with the others.

That was what I thought until I noticed the near invisible grin on Sombra's face. He had wanted us to believe there were legitimate reasons for this team up so we would not argue with him. But that grin implied he had ulterior motives. Most likely he wanted me alone with Missile in an attempt to forge a bond between the two of us. That was pure manipulation! Suddenly, I hated this plan as much as I should have initially. Still, I was literally in no situation to argue with Sombra.

I gave Missile a small nod. He was hesitant, but he did return the gesture.

"Good." Sombra remarked, as Missile fluttered onto my back. "There's an intact tent a few yards away I'd like you two to check out. Miss Heartstrings has had some luck finding ammunition, so I'm hoping you two find something useful as well."

Sombra's eyes moved towards Carbine. The maroon stallion was hunched over the regurgitated tomato. He gave it a sniff, nodded to himself, and opened his mouth.

"Bro, that's nasty."

Carbine froze for a moment. He gazed back at the three of us, and quickly stood straight up. “What? It's not like I was going to eat that tomato or anything. Come on." He emphasized his point by kicking it away.

"Carbine," Sombra barked. "I want you to check here for any food we can salvage. I'm sure you still have some empty cans in your bags. You can use them for storage."

Carbine saluted, and levitated six empty cans out from his saddlebags. What he was doing with two empty cans of beans, and four empty cans of Cram would forever be a mystery to me. On that note, the contents of Cram would forever be a mystery to me.

While Carbine was collecting food, Missile and I made our way to the tent. I could see the CDF emblem on it, unlike most of the others. The tent was either special, most likely a command center or armory, or it was the only one in which the emblem had not been hidden by blood.

Crunch.

I peered down at the bone fragments under my hoof.

I found multiple bodies in front of me, and the majority of them appeared leathery and decayed. The one body which did not had a smashed skull, courtesy of my hoof. Beside the shattered skull was a now tattered crystal-blue hat. The CDF emblem had been embroidered into the hat, and there were three additional stars on the shield. These three stars also appeared on the brim of the hat. I had been frustrated with Carbine's irreverence yet I was the one who crushed the head of a captain. Fillies and gentlecolts, the definition of irony.

I closed my eyes, and touched my hoof to my heart to show respect for the dead pony.

"Is that a Cadanite thing?" Missile peeked out from behind my head, giving me an honestly curious glance.

I nodded.

He shook his head, and sighed. "Religious ponies are so weird."

Ignoring his statement, I peered into the tent.

The first thing I noticed were the dead bodies. Color me surprised. In addition to more leathery ponies, I found three mangled crystal ponies. Each of them had a fourth star adorning the shield on the flanks of their uniforms. Assuming each piece of uniform belonged to an individual body, then each of the three mangled bodies belonged to a corporal. Aside from the three dead corporals, again assuming the body parts belonged to three different ponies, there was one other body in the room. To my legitimate surprise the body was intact.

It was a mare, and a particularly beautiful one at that. Her dark grey eyes were open, and I felt as if they were staring at me. Her pale orange coat was splattered with blood, but I could not identify any open wounds on her torso. The same could not be said for her face. Her horn had been struck with a blunt object in the center, which had caused it to concave. In addition, there were cuts on both of her cheeks. Neither cut seemed particularly deep, but had been enough to draw blood.
Overall the lieutenant’s, I knew she was a lieutenant from the second additional star on her CDF emblem, body was in decent condition. The only major damage had been to her horn, and even that could be survived. I would have thought her alive from the way she stared at me.

If not for the knife plunged into her chest, of course.

A long-bladed knife had been plunged into Lieutenant Starfall’s heart. Her mouth was still open, her final gasp etched onto her face forever. Similar to the cuts on her cheeks, blood trickled down from her mouth onto her hooves. Starfall deserved better than that. So much better.

I grasped the knife in my jaws, and pulled it from her chest.

For a moment I thought I saw her smile. Her mouth was still open, so maybe she had tried smiling when she passed. It was unlikely, of course. I could not imagine dying with a smile on my face. However, if she made her peace with the Holy Mother before dying, a smile was not out of the question. I truly hoped she had.

I dropped the knife into my saddlebags, and dared a second glance at Starfall.

I did not want to loot the bodies, removing the weapon which killed her did not qualify as looting, but I saw no reason to leave the tent unsearched. Sombra had given me a job after all. But I could not bring myself to do so while Starfall stared at me.

I closed her eyes with my hoof, and gently kissed her head. Rest in peace, Starfall, and may the light of the Crystal Heart guide you on your path.

"Hey, Symph, what's that under her hoof?"

I glanced down at Starfall's hooves.

Sure enough, I could see a pair of objects underneath. The one I could see clearly was recognizable by its bronze chain. If I were to move her hoof, I was sure to find a heart-shaped locket. Each side of the locket would be marked by a cutie mark. The front would feature a bird flying on a sheet of music, mine, while the other would display a meteor shower, hers. Inside the locket would be an inscription.
If my memory was accurate it should read, "To a mare more beautiful than star or song. You are the muse who ignites my soul. Without you, my inner songbird would never fly. I am your Cadance, and you my Shining Armor. Come ice, come fire. Come wicked wind, come evil tongue. No force of nature nor pony could ever remove Symphony from Starfall."

I half smiled, half snorted.

I had been a terrible writer in my youth, which was admittedly only two years ago. There was neither rhyme nor rhythm to my piece, and my word choice left much to be desired. Yet such was the state of first love. It had a way of making even the most asinine gestures feel like artistic masterpieces. Starfall must have agreed, or else she would have discarded the locket years ago. Why had I broken up with her in the first place? I received my answer when I examined the second object in greater detail.

"Holy shit, I loved Issue 114!"

I cringed.

Now I remembered why our relationship had not worked out. There were many traits of Starfall's I had grown to admire. Her ambition, bravery, and her kissing prowess had won her a place in my heart. But she was one of the most immature mares I had ever known. She was loud, at times impulsive, and she had never learned to hold her liquor. Which, of course, she was quite fond of. In addition, she was a huge fan of those childish comics.

Missile moved her hoof to grab the comic. As he did so, I caught a glimpse of my cutie mark on the locket; so I was right. As he began flipping through the comic, Missile’s face brightened like a display of fireworks. “I remember this part; Flash was about to fight the evil Ambassador. And then Flash was all like, ‘Stand down, evildoer.' And then the Ambassador yelled, 'NEEEEEEVAAAARGH!' And then…"

While Missile rattled on about Flash Sentry, I had begun poking through an open chest. Inside I discovered multiple uniforms. I found the standard with only three stars on the shield, a few corporals, and one each for the fallen Lieutenant and Captain. Lyra and I could certainly use the barding; goodbye to the itchy vest.

“… Bullets were flying everywhere. And I mean everywhere. One dude got shot in the nads! Can you believe that, Symph?”

Beside the chest was an open storage locker. The locker was stocked with arms and ammunition. At least half a dozen hunting rifles, a pair of shotguns, and a sniper rifle leaned against the walls. On the floor of the locker I found three 10mm pistols, and a magnum revolver. The floor was also covered in metallic apples. I noticed some had bands of blue or green around them. There were also armor piercing rounds for the magnum and sniper rifle, as well as two boxes of shells for the shotguns.

The only reason I was able to tell the difference between a shotgun shell and a baby carrot was my friend Joab. He liked to show off his knowledge of firearms to Orchestra whenever he would come over. He loved firearms almost as much as he loved my sister. He would have been beside himself with ecstasy if he were here.

But I only grew worried. This was a decent stash of weapons, certainly enough for a group of well-trained soldiers to defend themselves. How were they defeated? No, defeated was not the right word. This had been a slaughter. Whatever had done this were true terrors of the Crystal Wasteland.

“… And then the comic ended. Isn’t that an awesome cliffhanger, Symphony?” Speaking of true terrors.

I grunted in response to his question.

I had hoped my response would shut him up; it did not. Instead, he fluttered in front of me. His amber eyes were huge, and he gave me a grin which showed off his grimy teeth. “So who’s your favorite character? Aside from Flash, of course.”

I merely stared at him.

“My other favorite is the griffon king, Vulture. He’s no Flash, but he still kicks major flank.” The colt’s wings stopped fluttering, and he landed on the floor. “I can’t wait till I’m off my grounding so I can read the next issue!" He fluttered back into the air, and settled down on my back. He laid his head down on my shoulder as his hooves flopped down to my sides. “Since you don’t want to talk about comics, what do you want to do?”

I could think of a few things, with not babysitting an annoying colt being number one. But what I needed to do was hunt for supplies. I knew the barding and weapons would not all fit in my bags, so I was going to compromise. I stowed the itchy vest in the chest, but did not take any of the uniforms. I could take Lyra into the tent later to try on some uniforms with her. Scratch my earlier thought. Trying on uniforms with Lyra was now the top of my want to do list.

I was able to use the free space in my bags to stow the ammunition, but did not have enough room for all the weapons. One of the shotguns remained, as did the 10mm pistols and hunting rifles. I had enough room in my bags for one of the shotguns, the magnum and the sniper. The sniper was particularly bulky, and took up most of the room.

I pointed to the remaining weapons, specifically the metallic apples.

“You want me to hold those?” Missile asked.

I nodded.

The colt licked his lips, and rubbed his hooves together. “’Bout damn time I got a weapon.” He jumped off of my back, and began to stuff his pockets with the grenades.

For a split second I wondered if there was any way giving Missile grenades qualified as a good idea. But as my eyes began to wander they eventually settled on a pair of boxes atop the locker. Those seemed infinitely more interesting. One was a slightly rusted grey container, which more than likely carried ammunition. The second I found far more intriguing, as it was marked with three pink and yellow butterflies.

I had read of a similar symbol in the Book of Cadance. According to the scriptures, it was the cutie mark of one of the Fallen Angels. I was unsure of whether I should open the box or not. Was this a test from the Holy Mother? I wanted to leave the Crystal Wasteland with Lyra; I wanted to start a family with her. But I had no desire to forsake my Goddess. Would opening a chest bearing the mark of a Fallen Angel put me under the power of the Shadow Goddess? I dared not risk the consequence.

I tapped Missile on the shoulder; then I cocked my head towards the box.

Missile gave me a salute. “On it.”

Of course, there were always loopholes to be found in even the strictest of religious texts. I would never give in to the Shadow Goddess’ temptation. Missile, on the other hoof, was another story altogether. He climbed atop my head, and from there he was able to reach the top of the locker. I heard the jiggling of a lock, quickly followed by a second.

“Fuck damnit they’re both locked.” Missile peered down from the locker. “No dice, Symph. Think you or Bro could force them open?”

Certainly not. A Cadanite lock could not be opened by applying brute force, and I doubted Carbine had the finesse required for lock picking. I never had the need, nor the desire, to learn the skill myself. Although I believed I knew a mare who had some experience with the subject.

I motioned to the boxes, and pointed to the ground.

“Drop ‘em?”

I nodded.

“Okie dokes. Bombs away.”

Given that Missile now had grenades in his possession I found the phrase slightly unsettling. The two boxes hit the ground with a clang, but, alas, they remained closed. I needed Lyra in here to pick the lock, and to find her a fitting suit of barding. It would be best if Missile went to find her; that way I could continue to search the tent. I spotted a table on the far side which may have held a few treasures. But how to communicate my thoughts to Missile?

I pressed my front hooves together and made a cone, or at least tried to, and touched it to my forehead. Then I batted my eyes. Hopefully he would understand my actions to represent a unicorn and a mare.

Missile replied with an incredulous stare. “Something about your forehead is making you blink a lot?”

Or not. To get my point across I would have to think like Missile, who thought like Carbine. I had to think like Carbine; I could feel my hide crawl with discomfort at the very thought.

I pointed to my flank, and whistled.

Thankfully the process of whistling did not involve my vocal cords. It was disheartening to know I would never sing again, but at least I could do something slightly related to music. I supposed if I strained hard enough I might have been able to scream, but that was simply out of the question. I would rather lose my voice entirely than hear it strained.

Missile’s eyes widened with clarity. “Oh, you mean Thirteen. Why didn’t you just say so?” He paused when I glared at him. “Um, what I meant was, I’ll go get her. Be back in a sec.” Missile hopped off the locker, and fluttered out of the tent.

Now it was time to examine the desk. It was covered in what I initially thought was a table cloth. Upon further inspection, however, I discovered it was a map of the Crystal Wasteland. I recognized the names of a few landmarks; such as the Crystal Palace, and Ghoul's Point. The latter of which had a circle around it.

I found multiple other circles on the map as well. Being in a military base the circles implied the circles possessed some significance to the CDF. There were two explanations which came to mind. One, each circle was a CDF base and were simply a form of keeping track. The far more likely option was each circle represented a target. In that case Ghoul's Point was a recent acquisition. That could also explain why the soldiers had been so easily killed; they were ambushed while settling in.

I rolled up the map, and packed it in my bag. Thankfully I did not have to sacrifice any other equipment due to the map not being nearly as bulky as the guns. But if I had to, it would have been worth the loss. Our only means of navigation to this point had been Sombra's compass. We were headed south, towards the border, but aside from that our path remained a mystery.

I opened the drawers to see what else I could scavenge.

The drawers were packed, but most of them held only junk. I found mugs, empty bottles, and an empty carton of cigarettes in one. In another drawer were a quill, a few broken pencils, and a pencil sharpener. Although I took the quill, I realized my endeavor was proving mostly fruitless. Now that there was no pun to be made I felt even more discouraged.

That was, until I opened the final drawer.

The first item I noticed was a letter. The letter had been written on parchment rather than normal paper; the writing itself had been performed by a mouth, or horn, with experience in calligraphy. Clearly whoever had penned the letter was an important pony. It read,
Dear Captain Uziel,
Word of your capturing Ghoul’s Point has reached the Crystal Palace. I know I speak for my fellow High Priests when I offer my sincerest congratulations on your efforts, and give you my condolences as well. I understand the losses were more severe than you had anticipated. For that, I am truly sorry. But we must not grieve the fallen for long, Captain, for they are in a better place at the Holy Mother's side.
Yet, there is still much to accomplish in the land of the living. Your post will receive a shipment of supplies in the coming days, as well as fresh recruits. I entrust them to you, Captain, and pray they will receive from you the same training you received from General Uriah.
These ghouls are a plague, Captain. They are a remnant of an old world, one which scorned the love of the Holy Mother. I know there are some within your rankings who see them as the Burned Stallion's army. However, the Burned Stallion is long gone, and his army has turned rogue in his absence. I pray your soldiers can overcome their misgivings and continue to fight the holy fight.
You are within our prayers, as well as our hearts, Captain.
Sincerely,
High Priest Nero

I was not sure which name affected me more, Captain Uziel's or Nero's.

I had known Uziel since I was a colt. His mother had been my foalsitter, and our families had been close. I remembered him always being nice and playing with me despite being much older. Though it may have been due to the crush he had on my sister. It was more than a little creepy at times, but he was a good enough stallion that I never worried for my sister’s safety.

The only time he made me truly nervous was when he recruited Orchestra for the CDF. I had feared I would never see my sister again because she was going to be on dangerous missions. Given the circumstances I found myself in, I wished I had not seen her again. At least, that was what I tried to tell myself…

Orchestra’s actions were why it sickened my soul to know Uziel was taking orders from Nero. I had always known Orchestra to be more devout than other ponies, but Nero corrupted my sister’s devotion into something evil. I was not naïve enough to consider her blameless. After all, Nero was not the one who slit my throat. However, if she had never met Nero then I would still have my sister. I hoped the mission Uziel and Starfall embarked on had been sanctioned by more High Priests than just Nero. It would be nothing short of tragedy if everypony from my old life had been brainwashed into his cult.

I looked away from the letter, mostly out of disgust, and discovered the second item in the drawer. It was a small radio. It gave off no signal, even when I pressed the button and fiddled with the antennae. I considered giving up on it until I remembered a particular weakness of Starfall's. For some reason I could not begin to fathom, she always struggled with placing batteries in the correct slot. It was a long shot, I truly doubted she would still have that problem if she had been promoted to Lieutenant, but it was worth a look.

I opened the back of the radio. The batteries were placed incorrectly. It was serendipitous that I had known Starfall all those years ago; Goddess bless her heart. After fixing the batteries, I found a signal. It was mostly static, but at least it was working. It took a bit of fiddling, but I managed to retrieve a clear signal.

"Hark, how the horns, sweet flugelhorns, all seem to shout cast out your doubt.

Cadance is here bringing good cheer, to young and old, meek and the bold.
Ca-dance. Ca-dance.
Love everypone, once that is done see to their needs, sowing the seeds.
Reap all the mirth, share with the Earth songs from the Heart, sweet Crystal Heart.
Oh how it shines, strong and divine, singing its song, come everypone.
Gaily we bellow, helping our fellow ponies so dear, Cadance is here. . .
"Welcome, my little ponies, to Tombstone Radio, where the dead talk, and pray the living listen. This is Reverend Bones coming to you live from the Cemetery. That last number is an old classic from Silver Song, may she rest in peace, reminding us all of the Holy Mother's love. Now I may not be at church, but Reverend Bones still has a sermon to preach.

“You see, everypony, I’ve been alive a long time. A long long time. And in that time, I’ve come to realize just how often ponies forget the teachings of the Holy Mother. It all comes down to one simple command, love. Love your family, friends, and yourself. Even your enemies. The CDF seems to understand that for the most part, but it’s these so-called ‘True Cadanites’ who don’t seem to get the memo. They’ve warped the Good Book’s teachings of love and tolerance into a call to war. So the next time any of you so-called ‘True Cadanites’ are overcome with the urge to burn a pony alive, Reverend Bones urges you to remember this verse. ‘But Cadance said to the Burned Stallion, love your enemies, and pray for those who persecute you.’

“And speaking of those who persecute, I have some news for anypony daring to travel through the Crystal Wasteland. While the Burned Stallion ascended to be with the Holy Mother, his undead friends are still around and actively patrol their territory. So if you value your life, and I pray you do, I’d advise all of you to avoid Ghoul’s Point at all costs.

“And that’s all for now, listeners. I’m Reverend Bones, and you’re listening to Tombstone Radio. May the light of the Crystal Heart guide you on your path.”

Under normal circumstances I would have processed the information I just heard, and reached a conclusion about this Reverend Bones. I would have reflected upon the verse he recited, and concluded he and I were like-minded individuals. I would have noticed he said he operated out of the Cemetery, which was one of the circled locations on the map. I also would have applauded his taste in music. But my mind could only process one sentence at the moment. "I’d advise all of you to avoid Ghoul’s Point at all costs."

I opened my mouth to yell for my companions.

If my mind was working properly I would have remembered the scar on my throat. In addition, I would have remembered my disgust at hearing my voice strained. But my instincts had taken over, and they commanded me to scream for my companions.

But no scream left my throat. Instead, the only sound I heard was that of gunfire.[1]

[1] Footnote: New Game! Don’t worry, you’ll get the hang of things. First level is always the hardest. Good luck, and don’t die!
S. (5) P. (7) E. (6) C. (8) I. (6) A. (6) L. (2)

Author's Notes:

(Authors Note: Thank you all for reading this. I hope you enjoy Crystal Hearts, and will support the story by leaving feedback in the comments. As always, I’d like to thank Kkat for the original Fallout: Equestria, and other writers who continue to contribute to the universe.
Before signing off I would like to clarify that Symphony is the protagonist of the story. Orchestra’s third person perspective was only meant to be included in the opening chapter, and barring unforeseen circumstances Symphony will continue to be the sole narrator of Crystal Hearts. Such circumstances include, but are not limited to, the death of the protagonist.)