Orchestra had told me once that war never changes. It had been something her instructors had drilled into her during her training in the CDF. I could not speak for war, but I could speak for church. Church… church never changes.

I had not been to church in quite a while, mostly to spend extra time with Lyra, but everything was as I remembered. First, the pews were as uncomfortable as ever. As soon as I sat down, there had been a cramping in my leg, which was still sore from my session with Sombra. Each row was also packed to the brim with ponies wanting to talk to me, whom I did not care to know. Well, I supposed that was a tad harsh. In fairness, I was usually too involved in my thoughts to want to hold a conversation.

Currently, I was sitting in a middle row, next to a mare well into her golden years.

“You know, you remind me of my son and grandfoal.” She leaned forward, her glasses slipping off, to look at the green colt on my other side. “And are you a good boy?”

“Oh, yes, Ma’am.” Missile picked up her glasses with his mouth, and passed them to her.

The mare gasped. “Handsome, and well behaved?” She put her glasses back on her face, and smiled at me. “You’d better watch out. The girls are going to be all over him when he gets older.”

Missile stood up a little straighter, beaming from ear to ear. I had not thought it was possible, but he actually looked innocent for a moment there. What was it Lyra had said yesterday, “We’re practically a family”? If so, then I was Missile’s elder sibling. Hmm. What would Orchestra do in a time like this?

Smirking, I ruffled his blue mane. Had we not been in church I would given him a full noogie.

“Hey, stop it, Symph!” He swatted at my hooves, but there was no mistaking the smile on his face. One almost identical to the filly’s from yesterday.

Speaking of which, I had seen her when I walked in. She was sitting in the back row with the stallion from the day before. I could smell the alcohol from here. She had waved to me, or perhaps she had been waving to Missile, and I had waved back. The stallion had not looked happy about that, but I doubted he would do anything about it. We were in church, after all.

The sound of voices brought my focus to the stage. A choir of ponies, both crystal and non, were singing a hymn. Some in the pews stood and joined in; others closed their eyes in reverence, or clasped hooves with one another.

My in-progress little brother had other ideas.

Missile was holding open a hymn book and mouthing words so most ponies would assume he was singing along. What he was really doing was using the book to hide the comic he was reading, Issue: 119. He had already finished the one Sombra bought yesterday, and had conned Carbine into buying him another. A heathen comic in a Cadanite church; Orchestra would have had a field day with Missile.

"You may be seated."

The priest had arrived. He was a charcoal unicorn, a non-crystal one, clothed in black clerical robes. The choir had taken their seats in the pews on stage, and he nodded to them as he passed by. He stopped behind a pulpit with a microphone. Behind him were two massive stained glass windows.

The first depicted the Holy Mother's final moments before her apotheosis. A barrier surrounded the Crystal Palace, with her inside it, while balefire bombs cascaded from the skies. According to the gospel of the Burned Stallion, she had been wounded only hours before. A poisoned knife had struck her in hopes that the Crystal Palace would go unprotected. In spite of this, Cadance was able to use the last of her strength to save the Palace before ascending.

The second showed the Holy Mother as she was now, an ethereal pony clad in crystal. She descended in a chariot of light and fire to commune with her prophet. Standing in the snow below her was the Burned Stallion. His body was wrapped in bandages, and was enveloped in a pink fog. At his side levitated a shield with three starbursts engraved in it. With his head bowed, he reached out to the chariot to receive her gospel.

If the Burned Stallion’s accounts of these events were true, and I had no reason to doubt their authenticity, I was looking at a piece of history. The chariot may have been a slight exaggeration on the part of the artist, but I still wished my companions could be here to see it. Instead, Lyra was retrieving her lyre, Sombra refused to enter a church, and Carbine was preparing for an “operation.” I was unaware of what his operation was, but knowing Carbine I suspected my ignorance would be bliss.

“Good morning, everypony.”

“Good morning, Father.”

The priest extended his hooves towards the congregation. “Today’s is a wonderful morning, everypony. As is tomorrow’s, and the day after. There are ponies throughout all of Equestria who have killed to see another morning.” His voice grew weary as he added, “And there are so many more who died as a result.” He stepped away from the pulpit, and his eyes swept across the pews. “My brothers and sisters, today is a blessing; it is a gift.” He gestured to the stained glass behind him. “One from the Holy Mother herself.”

“Amen!” shouted a stallion in one of the back rows.

The priest smiled. “Yes, brother Nightshade, Amen.” He began to pace around the stage, and his voice grew more passionate with each word. “Amen, for the sacrifice she made two-hundred years ago. Amen, for the grace and mercy of our Goddess. Amen, for the love she has for each and every one of us.”

Amen, Father.

“I believe each and every one of us has a duty. We have a duty to repay the sacrifice however we can. Not with our lives, but with our hearts. By showing the grace, and the mercy, and the love of our Goddess we are honoring her memory.” The priest placed a hoof over his heart. "Let us close our eyes and bow our heads in prayer."

I placed a hoof over my heart, and bowed my head.

Holy Mother, I pray for my… family. I ask that you look after them, and guide them towards a life that will honor you. I ask you will forgive them their trespasses, and give them the strength to forgive those who would trespass against them. From Orchestra to Carbine, I pray for them.

"Holy Mother, we thank you for the sacrifice you made so many years ago. We thank you for the mornings we live to see, and for the stars who watch us as we sleep. We thank you for the protection and guidance you provide for us on a daily basis. And we pray that you will look after the less fortunate, and provide them with one more morning. In your holy name we pray, Amen.”

Amen. And if my memory served next should be the offering.

When I raised my head, I noticed crystal bowls levitating by the pews. The ponies sitting at the edge of each row placed a few bits into the bowl before passing it down. I considered it to be unscrupulous to not give any money during offering, especially in a town called Hospitality. But the money I had was not mine to give, it was my family’s. If our financial situation was as dire as Sombra said, then I would rather not give any of it away.

The old mare beside me placed the bowl in my hooves. It was quite full already; it certainly did not need any contribution from me. An image of the smiling filly appeared in my mind. I had felt so happy giving to her, and it was possible somepony might benefit from my offering. What to do…

My thoughts were interrupted when the church doors were bucked open

“Morning, motherfuckers!”

Oh, no. Dear Goddess, no. Reluctantly, I turned around with the other ponies sitting near me. I watched as a maroon stallion strutted into the church. A shotgun hovered at his right, a carbine at his left. He pumped the shotgun with a mad grin on his face.

“Do you mind if I say my own prayer, Father?”

The priest eyed Carbine’s guns with clear apprehension in his eyes. He hesitated a moment, before giving Carbine a warm smile. “Of course, my son. Say whatever is on your mind.”

Carbine put a hoof over his heart, and kneeled. As he looked up at the stained glass portrait of the Holy Mother’s last moments, the grin on his face widened. “Oh, hot pink Goddess, I ask that you look upon this poor heathen with mercy.” He rummaged in his saddlebag until he pulled out a coin purse. “And I pray that you will guide their money into this bag.” A sack, quite similar to Lyra’s, floated into the church. “And this bag too if you wouldn’t mind.”

The filly’s companion stood up. “Who do you think you are, asshole? Coming in here an—”

Without turning around, Carbine aimed Tenacity in his, who I now identified as brother Nightshade from the sound of his voice, direction. The shotgun fired, and punched a hole into the wall next to Nightshade’s head. His eyes widened, he whimpered, and sat down immediately.

“If I were you, hot pink Goddess, I’d start that guiding pretty quick.” Carbine moved Anarchy across the pews. “My guns are just itching to shoot somepony.” He pumped the shotgun once more. “And they don’t miss twice.”

The priest’s horn glowed, and the collection plates moved towards Carbine. Each one dumped their contents into either the purse or the sack until both of them were full. Carbine stored both into his saddlebags, and dipped his head.

“Thank you, Father.” He looked at the stained glass. “And to you as well, hot pink Goddess. Thank you for fucking up my home.”

He tilted Anarchy upward, and unloaded into both of the stained glass windows. Each bullet shattered a portion of the artwork until it was an unrecognizable mess. The Burned Stallion was completely gone, and both depictions of Cadance were missing their heads. Her chariot was in ruins, as was the Crystal Palace. The only aspects Carbine left untouched were the balefire bombs.

He gave a satisfied snicker, as he reloaded Anarchy. “One last thing before I go.” He moved the muzzle of his gun downward, and fired two more rounds. Both of them struck the priest in the right shoulder. He screamed as he fell onto his back, clutching his shoulder.

“Father!” an older stallion croaked.

“Somepony help him!” shouted a mare behind me.

“You son of a bitch!” That was Nightshade. He seemed to have forgotten his fear, and lunged at Carbine. He also seemed to have also forgotten about Tenacity. I watched in horror as the shotgun swiveled and fired. The filly screamed, the old mare next to me fainted. My reaction to seeing his head explode into chunks of meat and flesh?

I retched.

Everything around me became a blur. There were ponies running around me, but I could not tell who they were or which way they were going. I heard Carbine pump Tenacity again, heard him shout something. I had no idea what he was saying, but I doubted he was wishing everypony a good day. Actually, given Carbine’s nature, there was a good chance he was.

I felt a hoof wrap around my shoulder, and my hooves started moving. Given the strength of the individual it was likely Sombra. I had not seen him in the church, so he was probably waiting outside. Had he been too ashamed to enter the House of the Goddess? I hoped so. There was no doubt in my mind about what “the thing” was now. Sombra had given Carbine the authorization to rob a church, and a stallion had died. As far as I was concerned both of them were guilty of sacrilege. And both of them were guilty of murder.

I shoved the hoof away from me, and the world around me regained its form.

I was outside the church, standing in a puddle of slush. Lyra stood near me, but she noticeably avoided looking me in the eye. She pretended to be scrutinizing her lyre, but I knew better. She had known. She knew what Sombra had planned, and she did nothing to stop it.

She was guilty too.

A hoof tapped me on the shoulder, and spun me around. It brought me face to face with a smiling Carbine. “So, how’d you like the sermon, Symphy? Was it all religiousy and shit?” He grinned, and tapped the shotgun protruding him saddlebags. “And what did you think of me and my prayer? I mean, I told him I wouldn’t miss again. But no. Somepony had to be a hero. Can you believe that idiot? And I thought I was a stupid motherfucker.”

I hit him; I hit him hard.

Carbine staggered backwards. Blood flowed from his nose like a waterfall, staining the ground scarlet. He covered his nostrils with a hoof, and looked at me with befuddlement. “What did I do?”

What did he do? Where to begin?! He desecrated a church, stole from innocent ponies, shot a priest! He killed a pony, and he had the gall to ask what he did wrong. Carbine was no brother of mine. I reared back to hit him again, but was quickly subdued in a chokehold.

“Calm down, Symphony,” Sombra hissed in my ear.

How? How was I supposed to calm down when I was surrounded by killers? When the one who pulled the trigger showed less remorse than one of Nero’s soldiers? How could I be calm when I had a foreleg wrapped around my throat? Around my scar!

I sank my teeth into Sombra’s hoof, and struggled in his grip. My bite was not nearly strong enough to tear at his flesh. Nor was it enough to stun him. The only reaction I received from Sombra was a grunt, and an increase in pressure.

“Oh, I get it. We’re playing tag.” Carbine’s nose was still bleeding, but he no longer tried to stop it with his hoof. Rather, he allowed the blood to streak down into his mouth. He ran his tongue across his lips as he approached me. “And it looks like I’m it.” Anarchy dropped into his hooves. He spun the gun around, so that the butt was pointed towards my face. He licked his lips again, the maniacal grin etched on his face. “No tag backs.”

He rammed the gun into my face, and everything became black.

I was back on the stage. Blood continued to drip from my throat into the pool beneath me. Part of me wanted to stand, but the majority of me wanted to lie down for a while longer. It would not be long now. Just a few more moments and I would finally be at peace.

“Is the way your life ends? Not even with a whisper? I thought you had more pride than that, Symphony.”

I could hear the clopping of hooves from the far side of the stage. It was a soft sound. It was like a whisper, so faint I was not sure if it were real or imaginary. Slowly the sound crescendoed until it echoed like a crash of thunder.

I turned my head to see who was walking towards me.

A crystal stallion stood before me. His azure coat sparkled, as if he had touched the Crystal Heart itself. My eyes swept over him, and were drawn to his cutie mark. A songbird flying on a sheet of music.

“My eyes are up here.”

I slowly, and painfully, raised my head to look into his eyes.

They gazed upon me with a mix of emotions. Part of his gaze conveyed pity. The other part contempt. He sat down on his belly, and met me on eye level. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

Obviously nothing. I thought my bleeding throat made that apparent enough.

The crystal stallion snorted. Now his eyes showed only contempt. “That’s what I thought. It’s a convenient excuse, isn’t? You can no longer speak, so you’re unable to stand up for anything. All you can do is acquiesce to the situation at hoof.”

Why was I having this dream? I had always thought dreams were an escape from reality, or a form of spiritual guidance. I had been knocked out by a gun, and had struggled while it happened. I stood up for myself just fine. I just lacked the physical prowess to back it up.

A dissatisfied grunt sounded from his throat. “I’m not talking about that, Symphony. I’m talking about you in general. The majority of your responses can be summed up in a snort. That’s not communication; it’s being passive-aggressive.”

I had not been passive-aggressive when I had punched Carbine in the face.

He chuckled. “That’s certainly a step in the right direction.” The crystal stallion stood up, and trotted to the edge of the stage. He looked out at the empty amphitheater, and sighed. “What happened in that church was horrible. You know it, and I’d imagine Sombra does too. Tell me, do you hate him for it?”

I was no longer sure. My emotions had gotten the better of me, and I had labeled him a murderer. I no longer believed that was the case. He had given the order to rob the church, but he had not pulled the trigger. He was not even present. He was guilty of something, but not what I had accused him of.

I shook my head.

“What about Lyra? She probably knew about the plan, but did nothing to stop it. She didn’t even tell you. Not to mention all the flirting she does with Carbine. Does that make you angry?”

I did not even have to think about that; I nodded.

“Why does it bother you?”

Because it was a violation of my trust in her. If Lyra knew what was going to happen in that church she should have told me. That way I would not have seen Nightshade die. As for her flirting with Carbine, I simply found it annoying. Unsure of how to communicate this to the crystal stallion, I shrugged.

The crystal stallion snorted, and pointed to the opposite side of the stage. “Take a look.”

I did, and I saw Lyra.

She was yelling something, but I was unable to hear what it was. She was pounding on an invisible wall, but it would not yield. She pounded harder, and seemed to be screaming louder. But the wall did not break, and I could not hear her.

“You see, Symphony? This is what happens when you fail to communicate your feelings. You erect barriers between you and those you love. You can’t see them, but they’re there.” He trotted towards the invisible wall, and a small smile appeared on his lips. “It’s admirable how hard she’s fighting for you. Despite all the walls you’ve put up, she’s still trying to break them down.” He sighed again. “I wonder how soon it’ll be before she gives up. It might be sooner than you think.”

As if on cue, Lyra ceased her pounding and screaming. She sat in front of the invisible wall with tears in her eyes. No. I refused to watch my special somepony cry in front of me. I reached out to her, hoping she would see that I wanted her by my side.

If she saw me, she ignored me. Wiping the tears from her eyes, Lyra stood up began walking away. She turned back to look at me once more. I tried shouting her name, but nothing came out. With sad resignation, she shook her head and continued walking until she disappeared.

The crystal stallion knocked on the invisible wall. “The wall works both ways, you know. Eventually you won’t be able to reach them either.” He trotted to the opposite side of the stage. As he passed by, I saw the pity return to his eyes. “Only you can let down your walls, Symphony. And I suggest you get on it sooner rather than later.”

He dipped his head and trotted out of sight, leaving me to lie in a pool of blood.

“And then I told him, ‘Sir, with all due respect, you can go right on ahead and fuck yourself.’”

Laughter followed Carbine’s story, carried by a cold wind. Really, Symphony? Carried by a cold wind? There was no need to be such a drama queen. Though, to be fair to myself, it was chilly. I could smell smoke, but since my companions were not panicking I assumed there was no danger. The most likely explanation was they had built a fire here. Wherever here was.

I slowly stood up, to get a view of my surroundings.

I was standing behind a countertop. Behind me was a glass cabinet displaying cartons of cigarettes. The cabinet had been smashed open, and most of the packs had been taken. I expected to find shards of glass below me, but aside from the bloodstains the tile floor was spotless. The only clutter I could find were my saddlebags, and Savage. My comrades must have cleaned it up before setting down.

I peered into an intact portion of the glass to look at my reflection. Or at least, I tried to. The pony I saw in the glass looked nothing like the crystal stallion in my dream. The first thing I noticed was the scar running across his neck. I instinctively felt my own, and moved my eyes elsewhere.

The reflection’s coat was a dull, lifeless, shade of blue. His black mane was poorly groomed, and his tail frazzled. His face was nearly expressionless, save for his eyes. There was a cold edge in his gaze, and I found myself taking a step back. What was the old phrase, being afraid of one’s own shadow? I wondered if being afraid of my own reflection counted.

I offered the reflection a smile. The smile I received in turn looked like it belonged on the Black King. No wonder Missile shuddered when I had smiled at him yesterday. I looked like a nightmare. Walls, huh. Looks like I just found one.

With a shake of my head, I put my bags back on. I did not bother stowing Savage. I had no use for a sniper rifle. One of the others could take it if they wanted.

On the countertop was a cash register. It was busted open, emptied of any valuables, and left to rust. Actually, most of the store did not seem to have aged well now that I looked around. The light switch had been flipped, but none of the lights were on. Given how most of the bulbs were cracked it was not much of a surprise. The only light source I had was the setting sun, and the fire crackling in the distance. And by distance, I meant about two meter away.

As I walked away from the counter I noticed the rest of the floor had not been cleaned. There were blood stains and streaks on various tiles. I found a few patches of mold, some radroach corpses and… feces. Of course there were would be feces. It really tied the room together.

I shuddered, and looked the other way to find a stand full of greeting cards. A grey pegasus mare winked at me from one of the cards. A comet zoomed above her, matching her cutie mark. “I Think You’re a Star!” was written on the bottom. Another one I noticed was of a blue unicorn showing her teeth in a smile. Above her were the words, “You Shine Brighter than My Teeth. And I’m a Dentist!” As stupid as it was, it did get a smile out of me. Not that it mattered to the mare on the card, but I hoped it was not as creepy as the last.

Most of the greeting cards were like those. There was a picture of a mare or stallion with an inspirational phrase written somewhere. Most of them doubled as puns based on cutie marks or professions. But there was one card that did not quite fit the mold. The cover portrayed two unicorns, a mare and a stallion. From her lavender pelt, and his cutie mark of a shield I recognized them immediately: a Fallen Angel and the Burned Stallion. The Burned Stallion was hugging the Fallen Angel and the quote read, “To the Best Sister in the World.”

I took the card, and opened it.

On the inside was a picture of the two when they were foals, chasing each other through a park. To my surprise there were no words. I had expected there to be a quote from the brother to the sister, or at least a poem. Instead there was only blank space. Perhaps once I had come to terms with how I felt about my sister, I would find the right words to write.

I slipped the card into my bag, and trotted towards the fire.

“Carbine, be honest. What do you think of Symphony?” I heard Lyra ask.

I instantly stopped, and crouched to avoid being seen.

“What do I think of Symph? Hmm.” Carbine tapped his hoof against the side of his head for a second or two before his face lit up. “I got it!” He punctuated this declaration by slamming one of his hooves down onto the other. “I think Symphony is a guy.”

That was vague. Here I was, hoping his appraisal of me would be brimming with insight. Instead he only confirmed my gender. Carbine was truly a pony of acumen.

“Believe me, Carbine, I know he’s a guy,” Lyra replied dryly.

Sombra turned his head and coughed, and I felt myself flush. Carbine chuckled, and shook his head.

“You don’t get it, Thirteen. Symph isn’t a guy because he has a dick. It’s because he’s so damn moody all the time. He got his throat fucked up, his cutie mark is worthless, and now he’s travelling around with three strangers. Sure, he’s got his marefriend with him, but you’re probably the only reason he isn’t pissed off at everything. I guess, while he’s not my favorite pony, I can say that I understand why he acts the way he does. He might not ever consider me his friend, but that’s his business. I’m pretty sure he’s got my back, and that’s plenty for me.”

I decided to take back my sarcasm. Behind his maniacal grins and love of vulgarity, Carbine was not a dumb pony. At least, not entirely. Either way, I knew I could trust him in a tense situation. It did not make us brothers, but it was something. I could settle for calling it a work in progress.

The sight of a stallion’s head exploding burst into my mind, causing me to wince. I was acting rashly again. Given what I had seen at the church it would be a while before Carbine gained my full trust. Even calling our relationship a work in progress felt too lenient. But the sight of Lyra pounding against an invisible wall caused me to reconsider. Damn. This was no different from my conflict with Orchestra. I was being torn in two different directions. Was there no way they could be reconciled?

I gazed back at the greeting cards, an idea forming.

My companions were huddled around a fire in a triangle formation. Lyra and Sombra sat across from each other, forming the base, while Carbine was positioned at the tip. It was a basic CDF tactic. The ponies at the base could watch each other’s backs and their peripherals would catch an enemy sneaking up on the tip. The tip pony’s job was to watch out for attackers directly in front of them. A four pony formation would be more secure, but Missile was currently occupied with sleeping in Carbine’s lap.

As quietly as I could muster, I crept up behind the maroon unicorn. His back was facing me, and it did not appear as if Lyra or Sombra had been alerted to my presence yet. Sombra’s lessons could prove useful to me one day, but mastering stealth could be an even greater advantage for me. I already lost my ability to speak; it was worth trying to turn the loss into a gain. Besides, scaring Carbine would be funny.

I lashed out with my foreleg, and tapped Carbine twice on the neck.

My taps were gentle, but were enough to prove my point. The distance had not been long, and the stakes had not been high, but I had been able to sneak upon an unsuspecting pony. Had I wanted to cause any real damage Carbine would be knocked out, or worse. I could call it a win.

“What the actual fuck?” He whipped his head around, and his guns levitated beside him. Once he recognized me, the guns dropped back on the floor. “Oh, Symph. I thought you were still sleeping.” He chuckled awkwardly, and rubbed the back of his mane. “Er, sorry about knocking you out. No hard feelings?”

Good question. I answered him by reaching into my bag, and dropped a greeting card at his hooves.

“What’s this?” He scooped it up with his hooves, and held it towards the fire. The crackling flame illuminated the words “I Think You’re a Star!” along with the picture of the grey mare. His stared at the picture, flicked his gaze towards me, then looked back at the picture. “Are you giving me porn or something?”

Withholding a snort, I pointed to the letters on the page.

He chuckled awkwardly again. “Um, yeah, about that. I can’t read, Symph.” He held up the card, and grinned. “I like the picture though. This is a good looking mare.”

“Hang on a second, I’ve gotta see this.” Lyra snatched the card from Carbine, and gave it a quick glance. “It says, ‘I Think You’re a Star!’” She looked at me with curious eyes, and a grin. “Are you hitting on him?”

I slapped my hoof to my face. I trotted over to Lyra, and opened the card. I may have been unsure of what to say to Orchestra, but I knew what I wanted to say to Carbine.

Lyra was kind enough to read the words aloud. “Dear Carbine, I am unsure of what to think of you. You are the epitome of every stereotype applied to infidels. You are vulgar, violent, and have scared me in some moments. That being said, I am happy to be your ally rather than your enemy. I know I can count on you to be honest with me, and to protect me in hard times.

“Yesterday you called me your ‘crystal brother,’ and said you want to know me better. While we have not travelled together long enough for me to think of you as a brother, perhaps one day we can forge that type of relationship. But it will be a while before I am ready to call you my brother. What happened in the church today is a travesty I know I will never forget. I know I am not ready to forgive you now, and I may never be. But I know you have my back, and that’s enough for me.”

A vile taste entered my mouth after hearing the last sentence. I always hated contractions. Each word possessed a beauty all its own, every syllable a melody unto itself. Contractions were a slap in the face of said beauty. I had used one only to quote his earlier sentiment, as it would be an effective way of letting him know I was willing to make a connection with him. That we were, as he would probably say, cool. Another wall down.

“So,” Sombra asked, “you are hitting on him?”

There was a pause. Nopony said anything for a good ten seconds or so. I was too stunned to hear Sombra crack a joke, even if his delivery was as deadpan as usual, to say anything. From the looks on her face I assumed Lyra felt the same. But then Carbine’s laughter broke the silence. Lyra joined in, and Sombra followed with a modest chuckle.

Even I found myself laughing internally. On the outside I merely cracked a smile. Given the lack of grimaces and shudders, I assumed I had pulled off a decent enough one.

“I can shake to that.” Carbine spat on his hoof and offered it to me.

I stared at it for a moment. Did he honestly expect me to touch his saliva? Essence of Carbine. Again, I found the word ew coming to mind. I gave him a pat on the shoulder, shook my head, and sat down next to Lyra.

“Eh,” Carbine said with a shrug. “Close enough.” He brought his hoof up to his lips, and licked off the spit.

I felt my stomach churn at the sight. To avoid further discomfort, I picked out another card from my bag.

The cover depicted two earth pony stallions, one red and the other green. Both stallions wore a soldier’s uniform, complete with a helmet. The red stallion appeared relaxed. He was smiling, his eyes held no traces of anxiety, and he was holding a piece of straw in his mouth. I assumed he had been chewing it before, and after the photo had been taken. His green companion was noticeably less calm. His eyes were narrowed, and his mouth was twisted into a scowl. If looks could kill then the green stallion could have single-hoofedly won the war. The caption above the duo read: Soldier On.

I placed the card on the floor, and slid it towards Sombra. The older stallion picked up the card, and began to read silently.

Dear Sombra,

I want to thank you for allowing Lyra and me to join your party. While I have not always agreed with your decisions, particularly our rather dramatic exit in Hospitality, I understand you have done what you believe is best for our group. I do appreciate that.

I am also grateful for our training session yesterday. I need to become strong enough to protect the ponies I love, and I am certain your guidance will aid me in my endeavor. I only hope my mind remembers your lessons as well as my sore leg.

I want you to know that I trust you, Sombra. But I admit to not being comfortable with this trust. I do not know you personally. You mentioned having scars, but I am unaware of what these scars are. I know you are a Cadanite, but do not know why you are willing to forsake your home. And I admit to being utterly clueless as to why you would adopt the name of the Black King.

I am not asking you to tell me your life story; nor am I expecting you to feel compelled to tell me all I wish to know. I only want you to know how I feel, as I believe it is the only way we can truly become the family Lyra sees us as.

Sincerely,

Symphony

He nodded a few times as he read. At one point I thought I saw a smile flash across his face, but it disappeared too quickly for me to be sure. When he had finished he set the card on the floor, and looked at me. “You want to know my scars, Symphony?”

Without any hesitation I nodded.

He was silent for a moment. His eyes darted from me, to Missile, to the card, and then back to me. Finally, he stood up. Without a word he tugged of his robe, and exposed his body. Having only seen his face and hooves I had thought Sombra’s coat to be grey. Seeing his body in its entirety I found myself mistaken.

His hide was almost completely black from char. Scorch marks as black as the night sky covered his chest, and the upper parts of his legs. There was a stab wound on his flank, and another near his lungs. I counted three bullet holes in his side, though there may have been others hidden in the burn marks.

What caught my attention the most was the crack in his skin near his heart. A slash wound had been scabbed over, and was excreting pus. There was no telling, at least with my experience, if the wound had been deep or not, but I knew one thing. The wound was a scab, not a scar. Whatever had happened to him had been recent.

I wanted to ask him how he had gotten his scars, what the story behind each one was. I wanted to know which one pushed him over the edge to want to make him leave. I wanted to know why he had looked at Missile before removing his robe. Instead, I stared at him with a gaping mouth. Even if I had the ability to speak I was unable to find the words.

Sombra grimaced, and ran a hoof down the scab. His hoof wiped away the oozing pus, which was promptly wiped on the tile floor. Why not? It was already a dumping ground for other fluids and excrement. All it needed was a dose of semen, and it would be a full house. Or perhaps a royal flush. I needed to get my card terminology in order before I could make jokes.

“Satisfied, Symphony?” There was a surprising lack of sarcasm in Sombra’s tone. He was almost inviting me to ask more. Since he asked…

I pointed to the fire, then to his hide.

“Symphony!” Lyra roughly tapped my shoulder. “That’s rude.”

He offered! True, I was the one who brought it up in my letter. But how was I supposed to know he was going to actually show me his scars? It would almost be ruder to ignore his offer.

“I had a rough childhood. Anything else?”

I wanted to inquire about the scab, but a harsh look from Lyra silenced me. Well, stopped me from asking anyway.

Carbine’s hoof shot into the air, and he started bouncing up and down. “Ooh, ooh! I got a question. Those holes in you; that was me right? Right, Somby? Wasn’t that when I shot you?”

Sombra sighed, more in humor than annoyance. “Yes, Carbine. Some of these are from when you shot me.”

“You shot him?” Lyra asked, her voice cracking slightly.

Carbine shrugged. “Well, yeah. I had to survive somehow. He had some supplies, so I shot him to take them. He didn’t go down, kicked my ass, and next thing I know I’m following him around the Crystal Wasteland. Don’t know why you’re so surprised by it. Happens all the time.” He paused before adding, “The shooting, I mean. Most ponies don’t allow shooters to follow them.”

That explained a lot. No wonder Carbine had blown the stallion’s face off. Killing was a natural occurrence in his world. It did not excuse what he did, and I could still not forgive him. But I felt I understood him a little better now. Though it did raise another question.

I pulled another greeting card from my bag, the one with the dentist, and wrote down my question. I passed it to Lyra, and pointed to Carbine.

“That reminds me,” she read, ”Back at the church you said ‘thank you for fucking up my home’ to the portrait of the Holy Mother. What did you mean by that?”

For the first time since I met Carbine I saw him legitimately frown. The wild fire in his eyes died down, leaving a dim ember. “Ah, ya know. It’s the whole religion bullshit.” He must have noticed my glare because he quickly added, “Not that religion is bullshit. If you want to believe in a hot pink Goddess and spread love and tolerance around the world then be my guest! I just… hmmm.”

He started into the fire, as he rubbed the back of his mane. “I just wish I could be included, ya know? It sucks to be surrounded by ponies who have this great calling, or whatever, but they take one look at me and my non-shiny ass and call me a heathen. That, or they try to kill me for not being ‘worthy.’ It’s not my home that got fucked up; I just got the short end of the stick.”

He shook his head, and started grinning. “Not that I’m depressed or anything.” He reached beside him, and lifted Anarchy. “The whole heathen thing brought me and Anne together. How can I be depressed about that?” He embraced his gun, and nuzzled her affectionately. Wait, her? Now even I was giving his weapon a gender? Carbine was contagious.

“And what about you, Miss Heartstrings? What are your thoughts on the Cadanite religion?” Sombra asked.

She looked at Sombra and me with a look of pity before saying, “I think Carbine hit the nail on the head. It’s bullshit.”

What?! I sprang onto my hooves, and glowered at Lyra. I knew she had no love lost on the Holy Mother, but calling the Cadanite religion, my religion, bullshit? I… how could she…

Lyra rolled her eyes, and gently tugged on my hooves. I resisted for a moment, but ultimately sat back down. She pecked me on the cheek, and rubbed my shoulder. It felt good, really good, but I was still mad at her. I tried to show my disdain by snarling at her, but since I was enjoying the rub it turned out like an inebriated smile. Well that backfired.

Sombra’s reaction was more subdued. There was definitely some contempt in his eyes, or at least a high level of irritation, but he made no counter-arguments or attempted snarls. He simply gestured to her with his hoof. “Please elaborate.”

Lyra patted my shoulder before sliding her hoof away. She held both of her front hooves in front of her. “Two reasons. First, it’s hypocritical. I’ve been to a service before, and have eavesdropped on a few sermons during my time in Haven. And what was the constant theme? Love. The entire religion is based around the concept of loving others. Am I wrong?”

Sombra and I both shook our heads.

“And that’s the problem,” she said with a sigh. “It’s hard to accept a religion of love when most of the followers are judgmental assholes.” She looked at me with a sad smile. “Admit it, Symphony. You probably thought I was a heathen harlot the first time you saw me dancing.”

In my defense, it was not the first thought I had. My first was more centered on how beautiful her music was. My second was on how beautiful she was. But my third…

I averted my eyes, and rubbed the back of my neck.

I felt her lips again on my cheek. “I don’t hold that against you. That’s just how you see the world. How most Cadanites see the world. And don’t even get me started on the psychos who burn ponies alive.”

I watched as Sombra once again looked at Missile. The contempt, or high level of irritation, gradually diminished. When he looked back at Lyra he nodded in resignation. “And your second point?”

Lyra smirked in reply. “It doesn’t make any sense. The whole ‘died protecting the Palace’ bit is nice, don’t get me wrong. But how in the hoof did she become a Goddess in the first place? There’s no explanation. She couldn’t have been a Goddess before, because she was killed by poison. At least Luna—excuse me, Shadow Goddess,” she snorted disdainfully after using the term, “died from a special zebra weapon. Cadance’s death wasn’t special at all.”

Sombra raised a hoof. “May I interrupt?” At Lyra’s nod he asked, “For the sake of clarity, are you saying Cadance was not an alicorn?”

Lyra shook her head. “No. I know she was a Princess, just not a Goddess. And for her to become a Goddess after death somepony else would have to do some magic on her. If that’s the case, then this other pony would be above Cadance, right?”

Again, Sombra and I nodded.

Carbine stopped snuggling with Anarchy for a moment, and raised a hoof. “Hey, I don’t know a whole lot about Cadance, but isn’t she supposed to be the one and only Goddess. Or some shit?”

Lyra grinned, and clopped her hooves together. “Finally, somepony who gets it!” The look of pity returned to her face as she regarded Sombra. “You see? Her death proves she wasn’t a Goddess before she died, and the idea of her ‘ascending’ implies another Goddess. Thus, she isn’t the one and only.” She rubbed my shoulder again, though the gesture felt more out of pity than affection. “Sorry, boys, but there is no Holy Mother. At least, not the one you believe in.”

Not the one I believe in? That reminded me of something. I reached into my saddlebags, and pulled out the case. I opened it, and looked at the figurine within. Lyra brought up some interesting points. I had never considered the possibility of a second Goddess, mostly because it conflicted with the scriptures, but it was logical. I supposed it was possible there was no Holy Mother, but I refused to believe it.

Yes, there were Cadanites who rejected and twisted her teachings. A fact I was all too familiar with. True, the veracity of the scriptures could be challenged. But maybe that was the point. Perhaps the gospel was meant to be vague, or offer little explanation. Despite what Lyra thought, logic and truth were irrelevant. In regards to the Holy Mother, only one thing mattered.

I handed her the case, and pointed to the inscription. Have Faith.

She shook her head. She levitated the figurine out of its case, and towards Sombra. The figurine dropped into his hooves. He examined it closely, before giving it back to me.

“I think you make a good argument, Lyra, but Symphony has an interesting counter.”

She chuckled dryly, the smirk not leaving her face. “You think faith is in interesting counter to logic?”

“I do.”

There was a pause. Lyra seemed to think Sombra had more to say, but he said no more. He just stared into the crackling fire. The pause continued for a few moments until Missile broke the silence. The green colt stirred in his sleep, and slowly opened his eyes.

“Hey, everypony, whatcha—” He yawned, and smacked his lips. “Whatcha talking about?”

Carbine smiled, and ruffled Missile’s mane. “We’ve been shooting the shit about the hot pink Goddess. Anything you’d like to add?”

Missile said nothing. He stared at the fire, and, despite its warmth, began to shiver. Carbine tried to talk to him, but to no avail. It was as if none of us were even there. The longer Missile stared the more intensely he shivered. I saw Sombra began to stand, but he was not needed. Carbine discovered a foolproof way to grab Missile’s attention. He bumped him on the head.

“Ow.” Missile blinked, and tore his gaze away from the flame towards Carbine. “What gives?”

Carbine rolled his eyes. “You zoned out and started shivering. So, I hit you. Anyways, hot pink Goddess. Thoughts?”

Missile yawned again, as he rubbed his eyes. “Yeah. I don’t like her.” He fluttered off of Carbine’s lap and onto the maroon stallion’s head. “If she does exist then she’s a raging cu—” He instantly shut up when he saw the pointed look I shared with Sombra. He coughed into his sleeve, and chuckled. “Er, can I have a redo?”

“Of course, Missile. Go ahead, and say whatever’s on your mind. And don’t worry about Sombra. I won’t let him ground you,” Lyra said with a wink.

Missile sighed in relief, and wiped his brow. “Thanks, Thirteen.” He pointed a hoof at me, likely so he could avoid looking at Sombra. “I really really, really hate your priests. Like, hate the way Flash hates zebras. And if Cadance is cool with what they do, then fuck her. If not, then just fuck them. Either way, priests suck.” He smiled sheepishly at Sombra. “Aco-whatevers are cool though.” He paused for a moment before adding, “Am I grounded again?”

A sigh rumbled in Sombra’s throat. “I can’t be angry at you for sharing your feelings, Missile. Though perhaps next ti—”

Silence. All I could hear was silence as I watched the window behind Sombra shatter. A metal arrow flew through the broken window, and pierced his right side. His mouth opened, in what I could only guess was a roar of some sort, and he ripped the arrow out. Blood gushed from the new hole in his body. Eyes blazing, he clutched his wound and rolled to his right. Not a second later a second arrow zipped past where his head had been. He waved one of his hooves at us, screaming something.

My companions seemed to hear what he was saying. Missile had drawn his hood, and was shaking. He had gotten back on the ground, and was hiding behind Carbine. The ever present maniacal grin was surprisingly absent from Carbine’s face. Instead, I saw a callous smirk. The looks were similar, but something about this look felt more malicious than his usual expression. His guns levitated beside him; Tenacity cocked once, and a new magazine was loaded into Anarchy. Keeping Missile behind him, Carbine moved towards the counter I had woken up behind.

I felt my body moving in the same direction.

Lyra had a hoof wrapped around my neck, and was dragging me. Faith was levitated out of her holster, but her other revolver was nowhere in sight. She was saying something to me, shouting given her facial expressions, but there was still no sound. Still, I had an idea of what she was saying. Something along the lines of move.

I got to my hooves to follow her, and all at once sound came back. There were shouts from Lyra and Sombra, as well as a bushel of profanities from Carbine. Missile was keeping quiet, and I noticed he was still shaking. Though there was one sound quite unlike the others. It was a squelching sound. As soon as I heard it I felt three simultaneous sensations in my leg. First, it felt slightly wet. Second, it felt warm. And third, it felt searing pain.

Speaking of arrows.

I collapsed onto my chest as the metal arrow pierced my barding and flesh. I instinctively opened my mouth, but no sound came out. I wanted to scream; fuck, I wanted to swear. All I could do was add to the silence I had been hearing until my injury.

Lyra wrapped her mouth around the arrow, while Faith fired off two rounds. “Sahry, luhv,” she said around the metal. Why was she holding th—Oh no. With a mighty tug, Lyra yanked the arrow out of my leg.

What I would have given for some good old fashioned numbness.

Pain overwhelmed me, as blood squirted out of the hole in my barding. NO! I had already lost my throat, I was not about to lose my leg too. Biting my lip to distract from the pain, which admittedly did not work as well as I would have hoped, I pressed my front hooves on the wound to stop the bleeding. The blood splashed against my hooves, tickling them.

I squirmed, as Lyra shoved a healing potion down my throat. I gulped down the liquid as quickly as I could. Despite the dire situation I found myself appraising the taste. It was a bit sweet for my liking, but had a nice tang of grape. I spat the bottle onto the floor, it surprisingly did not shatter, and Lyra quickly provided me with a second. After the second bottle, the splashing stopped. I moved my hooves to inspect the wound, and found that the wound was closed. My leg still hurt, but it was usable. Without meaning to, I felt my hoof brush against my throat. If only I had potions with me then…

The glint in the distance distracted me from my thoughts, and gave me a headache. It was so bright… and fuzzy. I squinted my eyes, and covered my face with my hooves. I could still see the glint, and it was moving closer. Another arrow, because of course I wanted seconds.

I fully closed my eyes, and braced for impact. However, none came. I also did not hear any screaming, so Lyra had not taken the hit for me. At least, I hoped not. I opened my eyes and moved my hooves to see Sombra standing in front of me with an arrow in his mouth. While I should have been thankful, and I was, most of my brain power was spent wondering how his teeth were faring after catching a metal arrow?

He spat the arrow onto the floor, and I noticed there were two others in the area. “Get behind cover! Then one of you use the sniper rifle, and cover me. I’m going after the archer.” He crouched, and began to creep his way towards the backdoor. The door was roughly a meter or so from the fire. There was only one window near the door, but Sombra dropped to his belly and crawled beneath it to avoid being seen.

If only I could be so lucky. Two more arrows sped towards Lyra and I. She was able to avoid the first, and destroyed the second with three bullets from Faith. One bullet left in the chamber. I silently prayed to the Holy Mother she would get a chance to reload before needing her gun. She seemed to have heard my prayer, as Lyra and I were able to reach the counter without being struck.

Carbine and Missile were sitting in the spot where I had woken up. Missile had stopped shaking, but he still cowered behind his hood. Carbine had a hoof wrapped around the colt’s shoulders, and repeatedly patted him on the back. He whispered something, and received a half-sniffle, half-laugh in return. Carbine peeked his head over the counter, and I noticed both of his guns were lying on the countertop, facing the door.

When he pulled his head back behind cover, he regarded Lyra and I with a nod. “Hey.”

I raised a hoof in greeting.

“You fuckers alright?”

I narrowed my eyes at his choice of words, but nodded.

“Could be better,” Lyra mumbled as she loaded five bullets into Faith. “I almost got hit with one of those arrows, and one got Symphony in the leg.” She glanced at me, giving my neck a nuzzle. “We’re gonna get through this, baby; I promise.”

I for one hoped so.

“Hey, I thought you had two of those?” Missile had peeled back his hood. He was chewing on the end of his hoof, and his eyes were wider than usual, but he did seem a tad calmer than he did a second ago.

“Yeah, about that. I sold the other one while we were in Hospitality.” She spun Faith’s chamber, and moaned softly at the click. “We were low on funds, and I figured I only needed one gun.”

Speaking of guns.

I reached towards Savage, but the sharp pain in my leg brought me to a halt. No, not just my leg. My head felt like it was splitting open, and my vision was getting fuzzy again. I had the strangest sense of déjà vu. Perhaps this was what it had been like when I had gotten drunk with Orchestra. Minus the searing pain in my leg, of course. Possibly. Given how I remembered virtually nothing that night was fair game as far as experiences. Still, drunk in pain as I may have been, Sombra needed cover.

I felt a warm hoof touch mine, and a metal lump fell into my lap.

“Tell you what. I’ll handle the sniper, and you use Faith. Sound like a plan?”

Yes. Given how the world around me had morphed from a convenience store into a haze of shapes and shadows, she had a much better chance of actually being useful with the sniper rifle.

A figure, which I assumed was Lyra, picked up a large object and balanced it against what I assumed was the countertop. She leaned forward, likely peering through the scope, and methodically adjusted her position. “Okay… if I were an archer where would I be hid—Ah-ha! There you are.” I could make out a faint glow coming from her horn. “Gotcha.”

I was not too familiar with Savage, but there were a few things I knew about the weapon. I knew it was bulky, had a good scope, and possessed a name I did not care for. I could now add another piece of knowledge to that list. Savage was by no means subtle. The shot was like a church bell, loud and reverberating.

I clutched my front hooves to my temple in a failed attempt to stifle the ringing.

“Damn. I missed his head.” To her credit, Lyra seemed unfazed by the sound. She continued to sit by Savage, and gently tilted the gun to the right. “Now hold still…” There was a second shot, just an unreasonably loud as the first. “Boom! Headshot!”

My vision was starting to clear up, just in time for me to picture a pony having their face blasted into paste. I groaned internally. The last thing I needed was to start seeing bodies. I had seen enough mutilated bodies at Ghoul’s Point to last me a lifetime. A lifetime which would hopefully last longer than the new few minutes.

“Alright, Thirteen. That’s one way to kick some ass,” Carbine chuckled. “How many does that leave for the King?”

“One and a half.”

“One and a half?” Missile croaked. “You can’t have half a pony.”

According to what I had seen at Ghoul’s Point you could.

The maniacal grin returned to Carbine’s face, as he rubbed his chin. “Sure you can, Bro. There’s all sorts of ways to pull it off. Shoot off their legs, shove a grenade down their throat, find an operating chain sa—” He stopped as he noticed Lyra and I were staring at him. “What? Don’t tell me you’ve never made half a pony before.”

To be perfectly honest, no. I had not.

“Anyway, I say one and a half because the other pony isn’t fighting. He’s just hiding behind some rocks. That other one looks tough though. Big, probably strong, and has a morningstar in his mouth.” She slowly licked her lips and smacked them twice before adding, “Well-built, very well muscled…”

I cleared my throat; it sounded more like a knife being slowly dragged down a chalkboard, but it got my point across.

Lyra’s cheeks turned pink, and she chuckled. “But yeah, one and a half.” Under her breath I heard her murmur, “And if Sombra could just move his head I could better look at Morningstar’s sweet sweet…”

I stopped paying attention at that point. What Lyra said had bugged me, and not the part about her checking out another stallion. Well, not solely the part about her checking out another stallion. Orchestra had said a party consisted of four ponies. The archer was killed, one pony was fighting Sombra, and the other was hiding. Assuming both Orchestra and Lyra were correct we were missing a pony.

The sound of hooves outside confirmed my suspicions.

If we had a plan, it was a stupid one. Carbine’s guns were on the countertop, which would give away our position once the fourth pony entered. If our plan was an immediate assault with everything we had then we had to kill our enemy quickly. But the fourth pony was either the priest or tracker, which to my knowledge were commonly unicorns. If this pony entered with a shield, then Savage was our best chance of piercing it.

The problem? Lyra was not facing the door. Upon hearing the hooves outside she had taken to hiding under the counter, likely hoping to shoot the pony in the back. This was also not a bad plan, but Carbine’s guns being on the counter would immediately give away our position. Savage would take too long to position, Missile would not have the frame of mind to throw a grenade, the Uzi was nowhere in sight, and I was unused to firing firearms. A full assault by Carbine was our only hope, which could be potentially nullified by a shield.

In my mind there was only one course of action.

I swiped Anarchy and Tenacity off of the counter. When Carbine opened his mouth to protest, I clamped a hoof over his mouth, and pressed another to my lips. Not taking my eyes off of him, I flicked my tail in the direction of the cigarette cabinet. If it could show my reflection it could show our guest’s as well. When the fourth pony entered we could watch them, and decide when to attack.

Carbine looked over at Lyra, and so did I. She looked back at me, and for a moment I forgot about our impending conflict. There was love in her eyes, a promise of everlasting happiness. It was a love so pure and powerful it would make the Holy Mother proud. Or something to that effect. Ugh. It seemed I never stopped being a bad poetry writer. But regardless of my talents, or lack thereof, I knew I had a mare who loved me. And I would be damned before I would let her be killed by some overzealous prick. Overzealous prick? That was a new one.

She nodded once, and Carbine did the same. Good, time to get to work.

I could hear hooves tapping against the tiles. Slumping to the floor, I gazed into the broken glass. I was not able to see the fourth pony, but I was able to make out a green barrier. Good thing I decided against the full assault plan. The sound of hooves stopped, and I assumed the pony was conducting an ocular sweep of the room. I prayed there was no spell which could detect our positions. Or, for a dash of irony, that we would be spotted by our reflections in the glass.

I crouched closer to the floor, just in case.

A loud, and needlessly melodramatic, sigh echoed throughout the store. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d prefer to face you head on. From what I hear that’s more your style, Red Terror.”

Of course he would say that. By appealing to Carbine’s ego he cou—Red Terror? Really? That was the best name they could give him? Granted, I could not think of any better ones off the top of my head. But if I really thought abo—Priest Slayer! While he had not actually killed the priest in Hospitality, assuming he had not died from an infection, it sounded more malignant than Red Terror.

The sudden feeling of being wet snapped me out of my tangent. I should have been thankful. After all, I needed to be focused if I wanted to survive. But did it really need to be urine?

Missile’s shaking had returned. He was hugging his backlegs, and rocking back and forth. “He’s found me. He’s found me.” He kept whispering those three words, as the yellow puddle beneath him grew.

The first order of business was calming Missile down. Not taking my eyes off of the reflection, I tapped him on the shoulder. He flinched away from my hoof; I flinched too when I saw the tears in the colt’s eyes. He was an insolent little brat, and I knew if I held him I was likely to get pissed on. But I was not about to let a child cry.

I picked Missile up, set him on my lap, and patted him on the head.

He looked up at me, wet tears staining his cheeks. I met his gaze as warmly as I could; I even smiled at him. Given how he was still leaking and there was a pony out to kill me and my companions, it was not the most comforting look in the world. Even by my standards. His shakes were subsiding, though, so I assumed I was at least somewhat comforting.

Missile rested his head on my chest, and raised a hoof to my neck. I flinched again, but managed to restrain myself from lashing out. Rather, I lowered my head to his and kissed his forehead. I highly doubted it was something brothers did, not that I was ready to call him my brother given what had happened at the church was his suggestion, but it seemed like the right thing to do.

“Red Terror? Where are you?”

Oh, right. Murderous zealot. Our guest had been walking while I was consoling Missile. He was a closer to the greeting cards now, and I was able to get a decent view of his reflection. It would have been better if my vision had not started growing hazy again, but I would take what I could get.

The fourth pony was a unicorn stallion, but I had already learned that from the barrier and Missile’s use of the word "he." What I could tell now was the unicorn was lanky, and an aqua-ish color. Blue, green, turquoise, something to that effect. Not important. What was important was his thin frame. There was a good chance our guest had low stamina. If that was true, it might mean a weak barrier. While I would much rather launch a surprise attack, a full-assault was not fully out of the question. Still, Savage was our best shot of breaking the barrier with one shot. If only we had another weapon. Something both powerful and stealthy that could weaken the barrier enough to guarantee a kill shot from Savage.

My brow furrowed, and I tapped my head with a hoof. You should be able to think of something , Symphony. Think, think, think. Which would be so much easier if my headache had not returned.

“Okay, Symph. I’ve waited for you to come up with a plan, but now I really want to shoot something. Unless you come up with something, I’m going to go boom boom on his ass with T n A,” Carbine whispered.

Ugh! A headache and added pressure from Carbine. This was no—wait! Boom boom? Grenades! I had forgotten about those. If we could roll a grenade by his shield the blast should be enough to weaken the barrier. I was so thrilled with Carbine I could kiss him. If that was something I did to ponies not named Lyra Heartstrings XIII. Which I did not.

I reached into the pocket of Missile’s hood, and pulled out two metallic apples. Due to my blurry vision I could not tell what color the bands were. Blue, green, turquoise, something to that effect. I highly doubted there was much difference between a blue grenade and a green one. Looking at my unicorn companions, I made a series of gestures. I mimed rolling the grenades, firing the sniper rifle, and then I pointed at Carbine. Although I had trouble making out his facial features, I could almost feel Carbine grinning.

I felt the grenades levitate out of my hoof, and watched them levitate towards Lyra. She pulled the stems out of the metallic apples, and rolled them towards the target.

Emotions swirled inside me as I waited for the grenades to go off. I felt proud that my plan was about to work. There was joy in being able to protect my in-progress family. This pony intended on killing Lyra and his companion had shot me with an arrow, so there was nothing to stop me from hating him. But hate felt wrong. It did not hurt per say, certainly not as much as the arrow had, but it conflicted with the teachings I had been raised on. Violating the Holy Mother’s teachings by hating made me feel guilty. Planning to kill another pony made me feel guilty.

Despite my blurry vision, I could clearly see Nightshade’s corpse. Oh Goddess, I was going to kill another pony! Not by my hooves but… in a moment it would be too late. My plan would be set into action, and my hooves would be stained with blood I could never wash off. There was only one thing I could do.

I closed my eyes, touched a hoof to my heart, and prayed the Holy Mother would forgive me.

She did not have to.

My vision returned in time for me to watch the grenades explode. They released an electric surge which would be more than enough to overpower an electronic. Too bad our guest was a flesh and blood pony. The turquoise, I had been on the right track, unicorn spun around just as Savage fired. The bullet tore through the air, but was not able to penetrate the shield. As the bullet dropped to the floor, Carbine jumped onto the counter and aimed his guns. Bullets and buckshot bombarded the unicorn two seconds too late.

The turquoise unicorn dove in-between the greeting card stand and a shelf full of stale junk food. “We meet at last, Red Terror. I’d say it’s a pleasure, but the existence of your kind makes me sick.”

“Oh, well shit. Good to know the feelings mutual.” Tenacity cocked once, as Anarchy sprayed rounds into the stand. “Still alive there, fuckboy?” Carbine yelled over the gunfire.

“Very much so, Red Terror. Your weapons are ineffective against a Cadanite priest.”

“Then why are you hiding?” Lyra tilted Savage so that the barrel was pointing towards the stand.

“Oh? You have more company than Sombra and Absalom? It seems I’ve underestimated you, Red Terror.”

I noticed he avoided answering the question.

“Absalom?” Lyra echoed. “Who’s that?”

Quick hot breaths fell upon my chest. I glanced down to see Missile lift his hood up, and stare in the direction of the priest’s voice. Absalom, huh? I had always thought Missile to be a strange name for a crystal pony.

Carbine hopped off the counter, and I craned my neck to get a better view of the action.

“That was Missile’s name once upon a time,” he said, practically skipping towards the junk food shelf. “I never really cared for the details. The King just ordered me to shoot up a building while he beat up a priest.” He fired Tenacity twice into the space between the stand and shelf. “Next thing I know we have a kid in our group. Ain’t that right, Bro?”

“Yeah!” Missile’s voice cracked, and his cheeks immediately turned red. “I mean, yeah. That’s how I met Somby and Bro.”

Nice story, terrible timing. As much as I cared about the histories of my companions, and to my credit that statement was only partially sarcastic, I would have rather had this conversation when we were not in a fight. While the fourth pony, who was now virtually confirmed as the priest, had not yet attacked, I doubted he was without a trick or two up his sleeve.

Was it me or had it gotten hot all of a sudden?

A ball of green flame sailed towards Carbine. With a profane shout, he lunged away from the ball. But not from the steam. The ball emitted hot air, which stung his unarmored hide. To his credit, Carbine did not scream as the steam burned his side. He just grinned.
He rolled towards the greeting card stand, and took cover. He cocked Tenacity, and gingerly rubbed his flank. “Well, what do you know, Thirteen? I think my flank might now be hotter than yours.”

“As if,” Lyra scoffed. She ran a hoof through her aquamarine mane, and gave it a flip. Maybe it was due to my vision acting up, but I was certain I saw the air around her sparkle. She sneered, as she adjusted Savage towards the faint green light. “As if there could ever be something hotter than my flank.”

Savage fired another round. While not as loud as it had been during my dazed state, it still hurt my ears. So did the ensuing scream. The priest stumbled backwards, and knocked the shelf over. With nothing to support him, he fell over as well, giving me a proper view of him.

His face was younger than I imagined, roughly Orchestra’s age. That surprised me. Most priests I knew had been old and wrinkled. This was my first time meeting a priest who was halfway handsome. Okay, more than halfway. Nothing weird about admitting another stallion was good-looking. Just as there was nothing weird with looking at another stallion’s flank to see what his cutie mark was. In this case, it was a burning altar. It was strange that I could see it though, as he was wearing CDF barding. For some reason the CDF logo can been cut out of the barding, exposing his flanks. Odd trend to say the least.

Unfortunately for him, there had been nothing to protect his horn. Starfall’s horn had been concaved due to being hit with a blunt object, but had still been intact. The priest’s horn had been severed into two pieces. The stub was misshapen, while the rest of his horn was out of sight. After seeing the priest’s horn, I really did not want to imagine what happened to the archer’s head. Again, my mind thought it pertinent to remind me of Nightshade’s death.

I held my mouth closed with a hoof, and I turned my head away from Missile. Once he was safely out of the line of fire I threw up. At least it went well with the rest of the floor.

When I gazed back at the priest, I saw Carbine standing in front of him; Anarchy and Tenacity were by his side. The priest’s lips were twisted into a snarl, and tears cascaded from his eyes. He stopped screaming though. Clutching the stump of his horn, he rose to his hooves and pressed his forehead against Anarchy’s barrel.

“The Goddess is my shepherd. I shall not want. She maketh me lie down in green pastures. She leadeth me beside still waters. She restoreth my soul. She leadeth me in paths of righteousness for her name’s sake.” He stopped to catch his breath. He wiped fresh tears out of his face, revealing a sharp emerald gaze. “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.”

“CARBINE!” Sombra trudged into the doorway. There were deep cuts in his cheeks, a large contusion on his chest, and the color had drained from his face. His breaths were shallow and rapid, yet his gaze remained firm. “Carbine,” he coughed, hacking up blood. “I need him alive. Don’t kill him.”

“You mustn’t strain yourself further, sir.” It was then I noticed the frail white unicorn standing next to him. His face was drenched in sweat, and his glasses were lopsided. Ignoring this, he used his shoulder to support Sombra. But when he saw the priest he squeaked, and hung his head. The half pony, I presumed.

The priest coughed, a sneer etched on his face. “Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou annointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy sh—”

—all follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Goddess forever. I had always liked that psalm. Shame I would never be able to hear it without a vision of Carbine murdering a priest appearing in my mind.

The first bullet was enough to kill the priest. The second bullet was a precaution. The third bullet was overkill, but not impossible to justify. The eighth was just unnecessary. The frail unicorn watched in horror as his companion was executed in front of him, while Sombra’s face was as cold as stone. I saw Lyra wince after the third shot, but she had no other reaction. I wondered how long it would take before I could watch a pony die without reacting.

Carbine looked at me with a grin, but it evaporated once he saw Sombra. “Oh, hey Somby.” He turned his head, and looked at the dead body. Rubbing the back of his mane, he chuckled. “Sorry. My, uh, magic slipped. Yeah! Magic slippage, unicorn thing. That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.”

A sigh rumbled in Sombra’s throat. A sigh that was noticeably weaker than his usual ones. “I always you knew you’d be the death of me, Carbine.”

“What can I say, I’m ju—”

“Shut up and listen!” Sombra coughed again, but did not take his eyes off of Carbine. “You owe me, Carbine. I could have killed you when you shot me, but instead I took you in. You remember that?”

Carbine nodded slowly. “Yeah, but Somby…”

“I’m calling in that debt now.” He took a step towards Carbine, and winced. The frail unicorn put a hoof on his shoulder, but Sombra shoved him away and kept walking. “Missile makes it, you hear me? No matter what happens you get him across the border. You give him the life that,” he paused to spit on the priest’s corpse. “This abomination denied him.” He rested a hoof on Carbine’s shoulder, and panted heavily. “Can you do that, Carbine?”

The grin was now gone from the maroon unicorn’s face. Carbine’s expression had an equal mix of apprehension and determination, but the majority could be equated to flat out confusion. “Sure. That’s no problem for a motherfucker like me.”

For the first time in our journey together I saw Sombra smile. There were little, near invisible, smiles every now and then, and the occasional show of having a sense of humor. But this was the first time I saw his whole face smile. It was just like the filly in Hospitality, a real smile.

He turned his head towards Lyra. “I know you have no love for anything religious, Miss Heartstrings. But I would like for you and Symphony to visit Reverend Bones for me. I’m not asking you to fight anypony for him on my behalf. I just want him to be warned about the CDF.”

She nodded, and rubbed a hoof across her face. “Yes, I can do that for you,” she said with an edge of sadness to her voice.

“And Symphony.” Our eyes met. The light was steadily fading from his eyes, and I noticed his body was slumping more. I had always thought I was perceptive, but it was not till we locked eyes that I realized what Sombra was actually saying. These were his last words. “Whatever happens to you on your travels, don’t forget your faith. And may the light of the Crystal Heart guide you on your path.”

I touched a hoof to my heart, and reached the hoof out to him. It meant it to say I wished him the same. I only hoped he understood the gesture.

He took his hoof off Carbine’s shoulder, staggered slightly, but remained on his hooves as he repeated the gesture. “Missile?” he croaked.

The colt fluttered out of my embrace, and onto the counter. “Yeah, Som—woah, you look terrible.”

A harsh, raspy, laugh escaped from Sombra’s lips. “Yes, I’ve seen better days.” He took a step towards Missile. “Promise me that you’ll survive, Missile. That you’ll make it to Equestria, and have the life you deserve.”

Missile smiled and flipped his mane in a manner similar to Lyra, albeit minus the sparkles I may have hallucinated. “Sure. That’s no problem for a motherfucker like me.”

Sombra grimaced as he took another step. “No more free passes. Missile, you’re gro—” Sombra collapsed face first onto the tile floor. His back hooves were twitching, and I could hear him breathing. It was enough to know he was still with us, but I doubted he would be for much longer.

Anarchy and Tenacity clattered to the floor, while Carbine ran towards his friend. Lyra hopped over the counter, and Missile fluttered after her. I made my way around the counter, but did not approach the body. I was completely ignorant to medical practices, and did not want to be in anypony’s way. Also, I did not want to be anywhere near the frail unicorn, who I assumed was the tracker. He may have helped Sombra walk back to us, but there was no telling what was going on in his mind.

Lyra and Carbine moved Sombra onto his back. Missile stood by Sombra’s head, and gingerly tapped his cheeks. There was no response. He tapped harder. There was still no response. I had heard once that the definition of insanity was repeating an action and expecting a different result. If so, then Missile was certifiably insane. No matter how hard he hit Sombra, the older stallion made no response.

I cautiously approached, and tapped Missile on the shoulder.

He turned around, tears falling from his eyes. My lack of perception kicked in again, as I realized Missile was unable to tell how critical Sombra’s health was. He had not been trying to play it cool when he was talking a second ago, he was simply speaking to his friend. To the pony he viewed as his father. A pony he was about to lose. “He’s not waking up, Symph,” he sniffled. “He’s not waking up.”

What could I say? The technical answer was nothing, but what could I do? Lyra had positioned Sombra to his head was on her lap. She may have said something about keeping him elevated, but I was not sure. Carbine was speaking with, and by speaking with I mean profanely shouting at, the tracker. That left me as the only pony able to comfort Missile. I needed to do something.

I rested my tail on his shoulder, in an attempt to be comforting. He proceeded to use my tail to wipe his tears, and blow his nose. Thank the Goddess there was not any snot. He buried his face in my tail, noticeably looking away from Sombra’s body.

“Po… po… poison. He’s been poisoned.”

I, however, made an effort to watch the ponies around the body. The tracker was lying on his back. His glasses were hanging off of his face, and his hooves were spread in front of him to protect from Carbine’s jabbing hoof. His defenses proved utterly pregnable, as Carbine jabbed him thrice in the chest.

“Then. Help. Him.”

“I can’t!” The tracker tried to stand up, but his glasses fell off his face. He managed to catch them with his teeth before they hit the floor. He threw them into the air with a flick of his head, and they landed perfectly on his face. His horn glowed dull orange, and he pointed to the priest. “He was the one with the healing spells. I’m just good with chems.” A small black vial floated next to him. “This is all the anti-venom we had with us. It’s enough to supplement Telebrah’s magic, or cure a small dosage of poison. But it won’t save your friend.”

“How do you know that?” Carbine demanded. “If you’re a doctor, then aren’t you supposed to try and save ponies?”

He was a doctor? I studied him more thoroughly. The frail stature and glasses did give off the impression of an academic, as did the unkempt nature of his brown mane and tail. But it did not explain why he was traversing the Crystal Wasteland. I doubted any self-respecting doctor would willingly go on a quest to kill ponies.

Carbine lashed out with a hoof, but the tracker cradled the vial to his chest.

“I am. He’s exerted himself too much, and he said I should save the anti-venom for another.”

“I don’t give a fuck what he said! You’re giving him that to him.” Carbine tried grabbing the vial again, but stopped when I slapped his hoof away.

I felt a twinge of guilt for leaving Missile to sob alone, but I could not let Carbine continue in his current frame of mind. I just witnessed him kill one pony; I did not want to see him kill another.

Carbine’s eyes burned into me. He took a step forward, with his face nearly touching mine. “Get out of the way, Symphony.” I did not. “I said.” Anarchy and Tenacity levitated beside him, and pointed at me. “Get out of the way.” Still, I did not.

The Doctor trembled behind me. He whimpered, which vaguely resembled a sentence, and I felt something a warm liquid splash against my backlegs. If I was not locked in a staring match with Carbine I would have rolled my eyes, and attempted a throaty groan.

“Put your guns down, Carbine,” Lyra said firmly. “We shouldn’t be turning on each other.”

He glared at her. “Like fuck I will!” He spat, and pressed Anarchy’s muzzle against my temple. “Tell him to get his ass out of the way. OR, tell this asshole to save Sombra.”

“There’s no point to that.” Her voice cracked, tears falling from her eyes. “He was fighting the stallion with the morning star, and the activity increased his heart rate, and blood flow. Which means the poison…”

She did not have to finish. The poison had coursed through him while his blood had been pumping adrenaline. I knew adrenaline made blood flow faster, which more or less made the body stronger for a limited time. Therefore, the poison had spread through his body quicker than it should have. Sombra was already dead when he stepped into the doorway.

The Doctor stepped beside me, and held out the vial. “Symphony, he told me to give you the anti-venom.”

What? He wanted me to have the anti-venom? But I had not been poisoned. Unless… I looked down at my leg, and my headache returned. The arrow had been laced with poison. My activity had not been as strenuous as Sombra’s, but I had felt my heart rate increase after being shot. Goddess above, it was increasing now that I realized what my situation was.

That was when I collapsed.

The floor was cold dirty, but I was willing to ignore it. I felt tired, so very tired. As the world around me gradually faded to black I found myself looking at Sombra, and the final smile etched on his face.

Long live the King.

Footnote: Level Up!

New Perk: Blaze of Glory-You survived your first battle. You’re a star! Damage threshold increased by 5%.

Author's Notes:

And there it is, the first major death of Crystal Hearts. I know the past two chapters have been slow and dialogue heavy, and I was mostly just trying to establish the main party and their relationships before coming to this chapter. I tried to put some action in this chapter, and I hope it was a nice change of pace. Granted, there was still a lot of talking in the middle, but I wanted to give everypony a chance to speak so I wouldn’t single Sombra out.

As always, I’d like to thank Kkat for the original Fallout: Equestria, other writers who continue to contribute to the universe, my editors and pre-readers, and all my readers. I hope you enjoy the story, and will support the story by leaving feedback.