The Goddess is my shepherd; I shall not want.

Not once in all the times I had uttered that phrase had I ever doubted its veracity. Sure, there were things I wanted. If I was hungry I wanted food; if I was thirsty I would want water. There were other earthly things I desired as well; such as the pleasurable company of my dearest Lyra. But to me, “I shall not want” meant something beyond simple desire. It meant being content in my relationship with the Goddess. I wanted nothing from her, because her love and guidance were all I would ever need. And those were blessings nopony had to ask for.

Now, for the first time in my life, I wanted something more. It was not a desire of the mind or of the flesh, but of the soul. I wanted forgiveness for killing another. I needed to know she would not forsake me for my sin. Really though, who was I to ask a Goddess for anything?
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.

I could see no green pastures anymore. Since Camp Terminus the land had been mostly barren. There were patches of green on occasion, but nothing that could be considered a pasture. As for still waters—I winced as I was pelted by the stinging rain. No, last I checked, rain did not meet the qualifications of still water. The Holy Mother was not leading me anywhere right now, certainly not in paths of righteousness.

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.

I felt no comfort as I marched on. Externally, I felt the cold downpour. Internally, I felt a growing sense of dread. More than once I had wondered what the valley of the shadow of death would look like. The image my mind usually conjured up was of a small path in-between two sheer walls of stone. Each wall cast a shadow upon the path, and lurking within the shadows were the spirits of the dead. So maybe it was more of the canyon of the shadow of death, but it seemed right in my mind’s eye.

Speaking of eyes, the rain was beginning to sting my eyes. I closed my eyes to protect them from the rain, and was greeted with the image of the canyon. Despite the thickness of the shadows, I was easily able to identify most of the spirits. I saw Starfall with a gaping hole in her chest, and a concaved horn. Uziel stood behind her with his crushed skull. Not far down were Sombra and Missile. Blood, or was it poison?, trickled from Sombra’s mouth. The older stallion’s face was gaunt and stoic, as he rocked the colt in his front hooves.

Missile sat up, and our eyes met. There was a large hole in his right eye, and I could see the remains of Joab’s bullet in the socket. He smiled at me, and even waved. “Thank you for avenging me, Symphony.”
“Yeah, Symph.” Joab emerged from a thick patch of shadow. He slowly stepped towards me. Each methodical step caused his head to bounce around like a ragdoll. The glare on his face was piercing, but I could admit it was hard to take seriously with the way his head was bouncing. I knew Carbine would have found it funny. Joab reached the border of the shadow and the pathway. He reached out to me, but his hoof was unable to cross the threshold. “Thanks for killing me, buddy.”

I turned my head away, and stared at the shadow beneath the other wall. I found three ponies masked by haze. One of which was Carbine. While his body was marred by shadow, his face was clear. I supposed my mind was still unable to decide whether he should be counted amongst the dead or not. The other two were almost completely silhouettes. The shapes of their shadows were in a constant state of flux, and their faces were indiscernible. Almost. I was able to see each of their eyes. One pair was silver, and the other was bright pink.

I opened my eyes, and immediately felt the sting of the rain. Oh well. My eyes were bound to be wet anyways after what I had just seen.

Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou annointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.

My head was not being anointed by anything. Aside from the continuous rain, of course. As for a table in the presence of my enemies…-Orchestra’s companions had eaten with me in-between attempts on Lyra’s life. Congratulations, Symphony, you’ve only been mostly shunned by the Holy Mother.

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life:

The words caused my mind to be bombarded by images. My sister screaming. The bodies of Starfall and Uziel. Carbine executing Telebrah. Sombra’s final smile. Missile crying in my hooves; Carbine’s bro hoof. Their motionless bodies. Lyra losing her horn. And, for the grand finale, there was Joab’s murder. Goodness and mercy, huh? It seemed my life was out of goodness and mercy.

Now, now, Symphony no nee—No! After everything I had seen over the past few days, I earned the right to be melodramatic. I lost my home. My family! My voice! The one thing that was supposed to give me a purpose in life, and I had lost it! There was nothing left for me anymore. I had no talent, no home, and, if ‘Chestra had any sense at all I had no family. And it seemed as if the Holy Mother herself had forsaken me. To top it all off, my soul had been tainted by Joab’s blood. What was left? What did I have to live for?

“Ah, stupid thing. Why won’t it stay open?’

I gazed behind me to find Lyra struggling with the map. She was using one hoof to shield the map from the rain, while she held it open with her other hoof and mouth. At least, she was trying to. There was a fairly strong breeze in addition to the rain. Said breeze buffeted against Lyra, and she lost her grip on the map.

“Fuck! How the fuck do they do this without magic?” Raindrops splashed against Lyra’s face, and blended with her rage-fueled tears. “Come on, Lyra, you can do this. It’s not that hard.”

Even so, there was no reason for me to stand idly by. I reached Lyra, and held the map open for her.

She rubbed her face with a hoof, and sighed. “I’m sorry you had to hear me swearing like that. I doubt it’s very attractive.”

She would be right in that assertion. Though I had heard her say far worse. I doubted she could say anything worse than “The Great Cunt.” Instead of attempting to communicate my thoughts, I decided that I wanted to kiss her. Only to prove that she was attractive no matter what. It had nothing to do my stallion urges.

The cloth around Lyra’s horn had been knocked about by the wind. It was still tied, but it was now slumping on her forehead rather than covering her horn. It pained me to see her fractured horn. Disability was not easy to deal with, and I would never have wished that upon Lyra. I gently touched my lips to her broken horn. I lacked the ability to kiss her wound better, but I hoped she would appreciate the gesture. Besides, her mouth was far too filthy at the moment.

I was immediately pushed away. It was not the first time Lyra had pushed me, but it was the first time I felt genuine force behind it. Her eyes blazed with all the glory of the sun, as she used her hooves to fix her cloth. Stupid, Symphony. Stupid, stupid, Symphony. I was still sensitive about ponies touching my throat. I should have known Lyra would feel the same way about her horn. If I had truly been forsaken by the Goddess then she had made the right call. I was not worth her mercy.

I placed a hoof on my chest, and made a circle.

Her eyes instantly cooled off. There was still fire in her gaze, but thankfully it was closer to simmering coals than the blazing sun. “You don’t need to apologize, Symphony. I know you didn’t mean anything by it. I just need some time to heal.”

Her eyes instantly cooled off. There was still fire in her gaze, but thankfully it was closer to simmering coals than the blazing sun. “You don’t need to apologize, Symphony. I know you didn’t mean anything by it. I just need some time to heal.”

I nodded slowly. For a while that was all the communication we shared. She did not say anything, while I was unable to. I could have written something, but the rain would have rendered any attempts moot. Besides, it was a while before I had anything worthwhile to say. When I did find something, I lightly tapped her on the shoulder and mouthed. “Thank you for coming back for me.” It was a lot of words, so I made sure to mouth each of them slowly.

I received a thump on the back of my head in return. “Idiot. What kind of mare would I be if I left you behind? I kinda love you, ya know.”
Yeah, I did know. I gently brushed away part of her mane, and kissed the side of her cheek. She pushed me again, but this time it was playful. This was the Lyra I knew and loved.

Shaking her head, she looked up at the sky and sighed. “We’re in the middle of nowhere in the pouring rain, and all you can think about is getting me in the mood.” She rolled her eyes. “Of all the mares and stallions I could have picked, I had to choose the biggest sex-fiend in the Crystal Wasteland.”

She grinned at me, and, for once, I grinned back. There was an undeniable truth to what Lyra had said. Well, not the sex-fiend part. The part right before. She had picked me. Out of all the options she had, she thought I was the best one. I had chosen her as well. I could not lie; I had never been much of a mare magnet. Yet it was my decision to pursue Lyra in the first place that led us to each other. It led us here. To being two broken ponies in love.

If I had known what meeting Lyra would do to my life, I would make the same decision in a heartbeat.

To Tartarus with my voice. To Tartarus with my home, and my tainted soul. To Tartarus with the Holy Mo—actually, that was a bad thought. Even if she had forsaken me, I could not lose my faith in the Holy Mother. Back to my point, my personal losses did not matter. I had a purpose in life not dependent upon my cutie mark. My purpose was to belong to Lyra Heartstrings XIII. What right did I have to ask for more?

I stopped moving immediately.

Lyra did as well, and raised an eyebrow at me. “Are you okay, love?”

I faced her, and mustered up the most debonair smile I could. I bowed to her, and offered her my hoof. I raised my head, and mouthed two words. “My Lady.”

A smile more beautiful than the sunrise formed on her face. Although she were not wearing a dress or skirt, Lyra performed a curtsey. She took my hoof in hers, and pressed it against her heart. “My Sex-fiend.”

If she insisted. I kissed her cheek, and gently nibbled on her ear. She laughed, but did not bother to push me away this time. Instead, she caressed my neck. Softly. So softly…

And I will dwell in the house of my lover forever.

Amen.

The Cemetery. Whoever named this place had no sense of creativity. I supposed I should give them credit for explaining the essence of the area in one word. Really though. Was it too much to ask for a touch of imagination? The Cemetery was, predictably, a large graveyard. There was even a large black gate Lyra and I had to open to gain access to it.

Beyond the gate were the tombstones. Tens upon tens of headstones marked the eternal resting place of many bodies. Yes, tens upon tens. This was not exactly a very large cemetery. Most likely because part of the land had been used to build the radio station. Tombstone Radio was in even worse condition than the church I had fled. Erosion had eaten away at the stone walls, and the wooden roof was slanted. Not that slanted roofs were tacky by any means, it could work as a style. This roof’s slant seemed less of a style choice, and gave the impression that the support on one side had completely given out. Atop the roof was a satellite dish. Like the roof, it was standing at an angle. Hmm. I wondered if that odd angle had been why my signal had been so finicky the other day.

The station itself had been built upon a small hill, almost like a tomb. Suddenly, the name Tombstone Radio made much more sense. From where I stood the radio station seemed to be peering over the graveyard. It was like the tomb of a king, looking down on the sea of commoners. Either it was all coincidental, or Reverend Bones had an ego about him. There was only one way to find out. All I would have to do was cross the plains of the dead, trot up the stairs, and knock on his door.

Oh, and avoid the plethora of feral ghouls patrolling the graveyard. It only made sense there would be feral ghouls. It would have been a disappointment for a place called the Cemetery to not have any zombies. I sighed internally, and shook my head. I already hated this place.

I motioned to the ghouls, and raised an eyebrow at Lyra.

She pointed to a tombstone that was marked with a skull. A glowing skull. This was new. The skull radiated a shimmering green aura. Streaks of black swam inside the sea of eerie green. I shuddered. I did not know what kind of magic the skull was emitting, but I did not want to find out.

“That one. Below it is a tunnel that leads into the radio station. If we make it past the ghouls, then we should be home free.”

I kept my eyebrow raised. Was there a plan on how to deal with the ghouls?

She tapped Faith’s holster with one of her hooves. “Aim for the head.”

Oh. We were going to force our way through, killing anypony who got in our way? Again, I sighed internally. I may have tainted my soul by murdering Joab, but I was still uncomfortable with the idea of killing another pony. Even a feral ghoul. Still, I supposed I had nothing to lose now except for Lyra.

Okay, Symphony, how about this? You will not kill anything, pony or otherwise, unless it is threatening the life of your family. Yes, that seemed fair. I could still refrain from killing, while giving myself a special clause just in case. I felt hypocritical for giving myself an excuse for murder, but it had to be done. Lyra was worth it. Besides, I said family. This rule applied to the children I planned to have with her as well. Carbine too if he were still alive. He was my crystal brother, after all.

I drew my knife, and held it in my mouth. I titled my head towards the radio station. Lead the way.

She nodded, and crouched. Ever so slowly, she began to creep towards the marked tombstone. She was taking cover behind other headstones, and was zig-zagging to avoid crossing paths with the ghouls. Every few headstones, she would motion for me to follow her. So I did. I moved slowly, and tried to follow her path as best I could. I stopped periodically to raise my head and check on the ghouls’ location.

That turned out to be a terrible decision. While my head was raised I had been neglecting to look at where I was stepping. Snap. All the ghouls in the area, which were at least twenty, turned towards the sound of the snapping twig. I was already bolting towards the tombstone. My heart was racing, and I could feel my legs tiring quickly. I may have had adrenaline on my side, but I was also fatigued. Aside from a short and uncomfortable nap, I had not slept properly since Camp Terminus.

That would likely be the first thing I did once I reached the radio station. Lyra had met the Reverend already, and warned him of the impending threat by the CDF. That left me with a short agenda for when I met him. Introduce myself to Reverend Bones, thank him for his hospitality, and fall asleep.

Lyra was already at the marked tombstone. The inscription read: Here lies Shining Armor The Burned Stallion. May his soul rest forever in the queendom of the Goddess; may his bones rest forever in the Empire’s holy soil.

If not for the cellar door directly in front of the headstone, I would have been shocked by what I had read. I almost believed the Burned Stallion had been buried here. That was impossible, though. He had ascended to be with the Goddess years ago. There was never any body to bury. It did make me curious as to why there was an epitaph at all bearing his name….

“Symphony, behind you!”

I spun around immediately. I had been so lost in thought I had not felt the presence of a ghoul behind me. When I turned around, the knife in my mouth sliced through the air around me, and into the ghoul’s throat. The undead unicorn sprawled backwards with blood spraying from the fresh wound. The blood splattered my coat, but I paid it no mind. I was too busy focusing on the other ghouls approaching us.

The ghouls and the skull. The more ghouls that approached the larger the green and black-streaked aura seemed to grow. I did not know if it was attracting them, giving them power, or accomplishing another task I had not yet considered. I was aware of one thing. I freaked me right the Tartarus out.

I cast a glance behind me. Lyra had her hooves wrapped around the door’s hinges, but was having trouble pulling the door open. I assumed Doctor Zimri had simply used his magic to open it last time. My poor Lyra. No doubt she was feeling frustrated. I gently touched her shoulder with my tail. You can do this Lyra, I know you can.

I did not have the time to see how she replied to my gesture. I was too busy ramming my knife into the eye socket of an oncoming ghoul. With my mouth still around the handle, I used my front hooves to push the monster off my knife. A rampaging unicorn used its horn to pierce my side, while a pegasus ran towards me with its mouth open. The horn hurt, a lot, but I was more concerned with the pegasus. The last thing I wanted was to have my throat ripped out.

I planted my back legs, and pivoted my body so my side was facing it. Ergo, the unicorn was facing it. The pegasus bit into the side of the unicorn’s face, and tore away a chunk of the unicorn’s cheek and ear. The unicorn screeched, and pulled its horn out of my side. I used my back legs to buck it in the head. The unicorn staggered back, but was still alive. Sadly I was not strong enough to shatter a pony’s skull with my bare hooves.

Wait. Had I really just thought that? Wow. I really had become a bonafide murderer. I was not even paying attention when I shoved my knife into the pegasus’ throat. Nor when I pinned the unicorn to the ground, and rammed my knife into its skull. I felt no remorse. No pity. Only a strange sense of joy. I was unsure if I felt joy because I was defending Lyra, or because some sick part of me actually found pleasure in killing the ghouls. That uncertainty terrified me.

Finally, Lyra threw open the cellar door. I had expected to see a small flight of stairs, and some torches along the wall. No, because that would have made sense. A gaping dark hole with no visible bottom? Now that was genius design. Every part of me thought this was a terrible idea, and was about to turn around to find another way to the front door.

Then Lyra pushed me.

Thud. I landed on the ground. Thud. Lyra landed on top of me. I turned back to glare at her, but was distracted. Earlier today I had seen her illuminated by the rising sun. Now I was her in the moonlight. Her silver mane shimmered perfectly, and the light reflected in her ey—oh, no. I just realized why seeing moonlight was bad.

Lyra had not closed the cellar door.

“No time to gaze lovingly into each other’s eyes. We’ve gotta move!” She helped me to my hooves, and started sprinting.

I followed her as quickly as I could, though I slowed down to cast occasional glances behind us. A few of the ghouls were jumping into the cellar after us. Some landed with sickening crunches and had broken their legs, but there were at least three earth ponies whose bodies had survived the landing. Being earth ponies, they were moving quickly.

“Hey, open the door! It’s Lyra!” she yelled.

Then I saw it. There was a pink glow before me. There was a low creak, and I saw the glow swing towards me. I assumed somepony had just opened a door for us. I looked behind me one last time. The ghouls were gaining on us. We had enough of a lead that we should be able to make it through the door. Barely.

What were my options? I could keep running, and pray to the Holy Mother that I would make it. Though if I were right about her forsaking me, then my prayers would be ignored. Next option. I could fight off the ghouls, and give Lyra enough time to escape. No, that was a bad idea too. She would never forgive me if I did something so reckless. Especially if I died. Option three was running faster, which was almost an impossibility at this point. That left me with option four.

I knew I did not have the strength to outrun the ghouls, so I did the next best thing. I jumped. My body sprang forward towards the glowing light. Multiple scenarios flashed through my mind. Hitting the ground and breaking my leg, being caught by a ghoul before I was able to gain any distance, not reaching the door at all. I tried to think of ways to counter those scenarios. If I broke my leg, then I would crawl. If I were caught by a ghoul, then I would fight it off as best I could. If I did not reach the door, then I would run until I was safe or captured.

Alas, I hit the door. I landed on my stomach, with my head bouncing off the metal doorframe. My vision became blurry, and my ears were pounding. I heard somepony shouting at me, likely Lyra, from the other side of the door. I was glad she had made it. She deserved to live. I, on the other hoof, was content with finally getting some sleep.

I opened my eyes feeling two conflicting emotions. Satisfaction and disappointment. My body felt great. Nowhere near as great as when I had Med-X in me, but my fatigue was gone. The only disappointment I felt was in my dreamless sleep. After what my mind had created during my walk with Lyra, I had been curious to see what my subconscious had been cooking up. My loss I supposed.

“Glad to see you’re still alive,” a voice rasped beside me.

I turned over, and gasped. What I saw before me was a being half-way between a pony and a corpse. Actually, a ghoul was half-way between a pony and a corpse. The being in front of me was closer to a corpse. Lividity had set in, and turned the pony’s flesh into a disgusting shade of indigo. Except for its mouth and neck. Dried blood had turned that area dark red. Most of the flesh had concaved, giving it the appearance of a skeleton. Even its facial features had sunken in. The only sign of it being alive was the dim ember of light in its eyes. Its orange eyes.

Doctor Zimri?

He tried to laugh, but soon erupted into dry hacking. He raised a crumpled hoof, and patted the hoof against his sunken chest. I could hear his chest squelching as pus dribbled onto the hoof. The Doctor must have seen my horrified expression, because his mouth twisted into a dry smile. At least, I thought it was a smile. It was hard to tell.

“I think this is irony. A doctor killed by his own drug.” He chuckled, and, thankfully, this time did not dry hack.

Hold on a moment. His own drug? I doubted Cat-Eye could do this, so did that mean Rainboom? No, that made no sense. Doctor Zimri had clearly taken Buck in the church. Or did take them both?

“Goddess.”

Excuse me?

Doctor Zimri’s horn glowed dimly, and a large vial levitated from behind him and onto his lap. Vines with thorns were engraved along the sides of the vial. I got the sense they were warning others of the contents within. Within the vial was a bright crimson liquid. The liquid splashed against the walls of the vial. It was almost as if the liquid were alive, and attempting to break free. A living drug. Now that was a terrifying concept.

“Goddess. My magnum opus. A drug that combines many others. Something so powerful, you’ll feel like the Goddess herself.” He laughed dryly, and stared at the vial. I could see hunger in his eyes. He caressed the vial with his hooves, and whimpered softly.

I loudly rapped my hooves on the wooden floor.

The Doctor was released from his trance. I could hear him panting faintly, and he hurriedly levitated the vial towards me. I grabbed it in-between my hooves. Goddess he said. The name was blasphemous, no doubt, but it felt accurate. I could feel something coming from this vial. I was unsure of how to describe it. The closest word was powerful, but even that felt like an understatement. Perhaps omnipotent would be better. I was able to feel this just by touching the vial. It both terrified and intrigued me to consider how I would feel if I tried it. One little drink. How bad could it be?

For starters, I could end up like Doctor Zimri. I conceded that was, in fact, a terrific point. “If you take that thing, it will destroy you, Symphony. So use it only when you have no other options.”

A last resort. That was good to know. I nodded my thanks, and stowed it in my saddlebags. Speaking of my bags, I found a sheet of paper and wrote down a quick question. “Carbine?”

The Doctor lethargically tilted his head towards the door. “Alive, and mostly well. Unfortunately I’m not a brain surgeon.”

Oh no. The shrapnel must have damaged more than Carbine’s eye. It must have lodged itself into his brain. That was impossible. Carbine was too thickheaded for that to possibly occur. All joking aside, I did not want to believe my friend had sustained such injuries. Once I noticed the smirk on the Doctor’s face, I realized my mistake.

“It’s a joke, Symphony. I’m just saying I wasn’t able to fix that head of his. He lost an eye, but other than that he’s okay. The Reverend wanted to interview him for the show. It should be starting anytime now if you want to go listen.”

I did. Again, I nodded my thanks and began to trot out the room.

“Symphony?”

I turned back. I could not be sure, but I could have sworn he was smiling back at me.

“Take care of yourself, okay?”

“You too, okay?” I mouthed back.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

With that, I turned my back on Doctor Zimri. I heard him dry hacking as I made my way down the hallway, but I did not stop. I probably should have, but I knew there was nothing I could do for him. Only the Goddess could help him now.

Tombstone Radio was remarkably easy to navigate. What I expected to be a complex series of tunnels and corridors consisted of only one main hallway, and a few sets of stairs. After being forced to fight my way through a herd of ghouls and dash through a secret tunnel, I found the convenience refreshing to say the least. I found Lyra standing in the hallway. She waved at me, and I walked a little faster.

“You’re just in time for the show.”

In front of us was a large window. Through the window I could see into a room. On one side of the room was Carbine. He was sitting in a chair at the end of a white table and twiddling his front hooves. A healing bandage was wrapped around his left eye and part of that side of his head. I noticed the knot on the bandage was directly in front of his eye socket. Almost like an eyepatch. When he noticed me looking, I saw his face brighten. He waved at me, and I even waved back.

Then I looked at the other side of the room. I could see almost nothing. The room was pitch dark. There were only two things I could see on that side of the room. A pair of glowing blue eyes, and wisps of pink smoke that trailed from beneath them. One of the eyes winked at me. That must have been Reverend Bones. The eyes moved away from me, and fixed themselves on Carbine. I heard a dull hum of electricity, and assumed the Reverend was turning on his radio equipment.

“Welcome, listeners, to Tombstone Radio. I’m Reverend Bones, coming to you live from the Cemetery. And I have a treat for you, tonight. An interview with one of the most notorious stallions in all of the Crystal Wasteland. A first class killer. No, listeners, I’m not referring to High Priest Nero. Here he is, the Red Terror. In the flesh. At least, for the most part.”

Carbine laughed, and set his hooves on the table. “Yeah, which is more than I can say for you, right, Bonsey?”

Reverend Bones’ reply was half-way between a wheeze and a dry chuckle. “Tell me, Red Terror. What makes you tick? What goes on in that brain of yours?”

Carbine threw his front hooves up in the air, and shrugged. “Fuck if I know. Thoughts just kinda pop into my head, and then stuff happens. Mostly shooting. That’s one of my favorite thoughts.”

The eyes moved up and down, so I assumed he was nodding. “Funny you should mention that. I heard reports that you killed a pony while in church. Tell me, why would you do such a thing?”

Carbine threw his head back, and groaned. “Come on! I gave him fair warning. If anypony tried anything, I’d kill ‘em. He didn’t have to attack me from behind. But he did. So I blew his face off. I don’t really see the problem.” Carbine’s eye shifted towards me, and I noticed the confusion in them. “But I know there is one. You see, I’ve got this friend. And after I blew that motherfucker away, my friend got mad at me. He even hit me in the face!”

“I can hardly imagine why.” Reverend Bones’ rasp was laced with sarcasm, but Carbine seemed to ignore it.

“Right?! So rude of him.” Carbine flashed me a wink. “But, I think I’m starting to get why he got mad at me. It wasn’t because I shot that dumb fuck in the face. It was that I did it in a church. Apparently that’s not okay.”

“No. Murder is not generally accepted inside a church. It is holy ground.”

Carbine rolled his eye, and drummed his lips. “Holy schmoley. I got shot the last time I was in a church. And I didn’t even do anything!”

The Reverend nodded, and sighed. Pink smoke swirled around the area around his eyes. “Yes. I will be the first to admit that the True Cadanites are a scourge to the name of the Holy Mother.”

“Sure. Whatever that means.”

The Reverend chuckled again. “You know something, Red Terror? I owe you an apology.”

Carbine scratched the back of his mane. “What the fuck for?”

“For being exactly the kind of pony I urge others not to be. I judged you too harshly when I heard about what happened in Hospitality. I’ll be honest; I still think you’re a dangerous sociopath. But I don’t think you’re a bad pony. And I don’t think you’re beyond forgiveness. There are worse ponies than you out there. Believe me. I’ve met them.”

Carbine’s eye gleamed dangerously. “Worse than me? Is that a challenge, Bonsey?”

The Reverend shook his head, and sighed a second time. “Actually, it was meant as a compliment.”

“Oh. Well, uh, thanks then. So, we done here?”

“I have one last question if you don’t mind.”

“Shoot.”

“Is that an offer?” The Reverend grinned.

Carbine burst out laughing. He laughed so hard he fell out of his chair. He raised his hoof, so that it was only thing visible from where I was standing, and waved it at Reverend Bones. “Ya know what? I like you, Bonsey. You’re pretty cool for an ugly motherfucker.”

The Reverend paused, as Carbine climbed back onto his chair. The pause continued, and I got the sense he was waiting for Carbine to say something. Finally, the Reverend spoke up. “Aren’t you going to say, ‘no offense?’”

Carbine scoffed, and placed his front hooves behind his head. “Nope. Just gonna wait for your last question.”

Reverend Bones’ eyes moved towards Lyra and me. I could have been mistaken, but I could have sworn there was sympathy in his gaze. His eyes turned back to face Carbine, and the Reverend let out a deep breath. “What most of my listeners don’t know is that you lost a friend of yours very recently. Your, ‘Bro,’ correct?”

Carbine nodded.

“You’re on the radio, Red Terror. They can’t see you nod.”

“Oh, whoops.” He chuckled half-heartedly, and rubbed the back of his mane. “Yeah. I lost my Bro yesterday.”

“I’m sorry you had to go through that. The loss of a loved one is a pain I would not wish upon my worst enemies. It never gets any easier. Believe me, I’d know.” The Reverend chucked mirthlessly. “But this does lead to my final question. Now that you’ve lost somepony yourself, does that change the way you engage others? Or, to put it another way, would you have still killed that stallion in the church? Even though you know what it’s like to lose somepony.”

Carbine threw up his hooves, and nodded. “Yeah. I still told him I’d shoot him. Bro wasn’t the first pony I’ve lost. And all their deaths have taught me one thing. Better you than me.”

“Well, listeners. There you have it. Right from the pony’s mouth. Let’s hear it for my guest, the Red Terror.” Reverend Bones clopped his hooves together.

Lyra and I followed suit. Carbine may have been a sociopath, but he was right. Better them than Lyra. I would have no problem adopting a mantra such as that. Killing ponies who threatened her would not be a problem at all.

The sound of Joab’s neck snapping echoed in my mind.

Okay, it would be a while before I was able to kill a pony without regret. Actually, I hoped the day never came. Conscience was the only thing keeping me from becoming Carbine. While I was his Crystal Bro, he was still a nutcase.

“Alright, Bonsey. We good?”

“Yes. I have to say goodbye to my listeners before I can join you and your friends. Please excuse me a moment.”

The door to Carbine’s side of the room slowly opened. Carbine hopped to his hooves, and trotted out the door with his head high. He flashed Lyra and me a grin when he saw us and offered me a Bro hoof. Again, why not? I returned his gesture, though my eyes were drawn to the Reverend’s dark room.

“Hello, listeners. Thank you for being so patient with me during that last broadcast. I had been hoping to give you all some news and inspirational quotes, but I couldn’t just let that type of opportunity slip by. You see, everypony, I made a mistake a few days ago. I said, and I quote, ‘I pray you will repent, and find mercy and forgiveness in the Holy Mother. Because you sure won’t find it in anypony else.’

“While I do hope the Red Terror repents and finds the Holy Mother, it was not my place to say he would not find mercy and forgiveness anywhere else. As a servant of the Goddess, and as a pony who finds the True Cadanites disgusting, it crossed the line for me to say that. So, listeners, I leave you with a fitting verse. ‘Let he who is without sin cast the first stone.’

“This is Reverend Bones, and you’ve been listening to Tombstone Radio. And may the light of the Crystal Heart guide you on your path.” His horn glowed for a moment, and the hum of electricity died. He then sighed deeply, and his part of the room became enveloped in the pink smoke. “You know, Miss Heartstrings, it’s rude to turn a gun on your host.”

I stared in shock and horror as Lyra held Faith in her mouth. The barrel was pointed towards Reverend Bones, or where I assumed he was based on his glowing eyes. Her tongue was on the trigger, and from the glint in her eyes I knew she wanted to pull it.

“Funny you should say that when you’re the cause of all our problems.”

“Oh? And how do you figure that?”

For a moment the glint in her eyes was replaced by the mischievous twinkle. “Because I know who you are. Who you really are. You’re a ghoul, so you can’t be a crystal pony. Yet you know The Book of Cadance better than most crystal ponies I’ve ever met.”

“My faith just happens to be stronger than most other ponies. Two hundred years of faith will do that to a pony.”

“Still, I find it odd that a non-crystal pony would be so invested in the gospel of Princess Cadance. Especially one who was alive during the Great Zebra War. When you were alive you knew she wasn’t a goddess. So you made her one.”

What was she talking about? This made no sense. Reverend Bones did not make the Holy Mother into a goddess. I could be honest, I had no idea what actually did. I knew there had to be something that did! How else could she have given the Burned Stallion the gospel? I knew Lyra had no faith, but her argument still made no sense. If anypony invented the Holy Mother’s ascension it would have been the Burned Stallion. Not Reverend Bones…-wait…

“I’ve got to give you credit though, Reverend. You are a sly son of a bitch.” Lyra managed to grin around Faith’s handle. “That whole ascension angle was genius. Nopony would dare challenge that. And that tombstone with the secret passageway? Priceless.” Her grin dissolved into a blank frown as she continued. “It’s fitting that you call this place Tombstone Radio. This is your tomb, isn’t it?

“Now.” She reached with one of her hooves, and pulled back Faith’s hammer. “Turn on the light, Reverend.”

“As you wish, Miss Heartstrings.”

There was a dim pink glow, which I assumed was coming from Reverend Bones’ horn. The dim glow was quickly followed by a bright flash. Then, I saw him. Sitting in a swivel chair in front of a microphone, was a pony wearing a wide-brimmed hat, and half-wrapped in bandages. Most of the bandages had torn, though, revealing a scarred and leathery white coat. Clouds of pink oozed from his scarred hide, and exited his mouth and nostrils with each breath he took. The pink cloud exited the room through the vents, and I assumed dissipated into the air outside.

Of all the scarred parts on his body, there was one part which had remained intact. His cutie mark. On his flanks was a dark blue shield with the three stars levitating over it. In the center of the shield was a large pink star. The CDF emblem.

No. No, this was impossible. This was unreal. He could not be here. He should not be here! Yet here he was. The receiver of the Holy Mother’s gospel. The one who ascended to be with her in the everafter. The founder of the Cadanite religion. In front of me stood the Burned Stallion. In front of me stood Shining Armor.

He grabbed his hat, and gently tipped it towards us. “Pleased to make your acquaintance all. My name.” He paused to chuckle, and coughed up a glob of pink goop. “My real name is Shining Armor.”

I immediately began to write down my questions. “How is this possible? I thought you ascended. Why are you here? Why did you lie?

“Was it all a lie?”

He opened his mouth to speak, but Lyra cut him off. “Yes, Symphony, it was. There was a Princess Cadance, but there was never a Goddess. It was all just a story Shining Armor invented to preserve the memory of his dead wife.”

The Rev—Shining Armor grinned at her. “You are sharp, Miss Heartstrings, I’ll give you that.” He turned his eyes on me, and pointed to Lyra with his hoof. “This one’s a keeper to be sure.”

Carbine raised his hoof. “Hey, I’m confused. Can somepony tell me what the fuck is happening right now?”

“It’s just as you said the other night, Carbine. The Cadanite religion is bullshit.”

No. My religion was not bullshit! It did not matter if the Goddess had forsaken me or not. I still trusted in her. I still had faith in her. Yes, of course. Just because the Burned Stallion still lived did not mean the Goddess’ existence was a lie. Lyra had jumped the gun with her reasoning. I found that to be an apt metaphor given the pistol in her mouth.

Speaking of which, how was she able to speak coherently with that in her mouth? Orchestra could still speak with her kirpan, so perhaps it was simply something mares could do. It was wholly irrelevant to the topic at hoof, but I was still fascinated by it. Or maybe I was only pondering this question to avoid the topic at hoof. As sure as my faith was, I could not discount the possibility that I was wrong.

Shining Armor folded his front hooves, and used them to rest his chin. “While I admit my being alive contradicts the beliefs of mot ponies, it does not mean the gospel I spread is untrue.”

“Discord’s proof,” Lyra countered.

Shining Armor raised an eyebrow. At least, the flesh where an eyebrow would have been raised slightly. “Come again?”

“Discord’s proof. I can have proof that Discord exists if I were to meet him. But I have no means of proving he doesn’t exist.”

I did not follow. I could grasp the concept, but I failed to see how it applied. My assumption was that she was applying a so-called “Discord’s proof” to the existence of the Goddess. Shining Armor could not prove that the Holy Mother did exist but had a way of proving she did not. However, this was a false application. It sounded as if a Discord’s proof was traditionally used as a means of not counting out a possibility. Lyra was doing the exact opposite. It was almost as if Shining Armor was guilty until proven innocent.

“So, I’m guilty until proven innocent?”

“Yes.” Lyra’s grip around Faith tightened. She tilted her head so that the barrel was pointing to the spot in-between Shining Armor’s eyes. “So how about you prove to me that you’re not a liar. In essence, Reverend, give me one good reason why I shouldn’t shoot you dead.”
Because he was a stallion of the Goddess! He was my brother in faith. Because he is a pony, Lyra! We cannot just kill ponies because we do not like them. If we did, then we would be no better than the ponies and zebras who spent years destroying both each other and the world around them. Joab was an accident; the ghouls were to protect Lyra. At times it could be justified, but it was still wrong.

I stepped in front of Faith’s barrel. If Lyra wanted to shoot an innocent pony, she could start with me. Which she would not.

“I appreciate the gesture, Symphony, but this is between me and Miss Heartstrings. Would you kindly step aside?”

I turned towards him. His lips were curled in resigned smile. He motioned for me to move with his hoof, and I did so. The smile stayed on his face, even as he stared down the barrel.

“You don’t seem in the mood for false proof, so I’ll tell you the truth.” He chuckled, and I felt my body shudder at the sound. “Which is ironic, because you’re right. I am a liar. As far as I know, my wife died years ago and never became any kind of goddess.”

He was taking an interesting method of defense. I could only assume he was hoping Lyra would not shoot him if he admitted to her accusations. It was a leap of faith to be sure, but it was the only option. It was not as if he were actually telling the truth right now. The Holy Mother not being, well, holy? Such a notion was preposterous.

So why was I feeling so unsure?

Shining Armor turned towards me, and shook his head. “I’m sorry, Symphony. My wife stood for a great many things, and I’ve done my best to pass them on for the past two hundred years. It’s kept her alive in a way. And I’ve needed that.” He sighed, and a trial of pink cloud slithered from his mouth. “She will always be a goddess to me. Even if I did stretch the truth on some of the details.”

“Waitwaitwaitwaitwait. Wait.” Carbine pressed his hooves against his head, as if he were trying to prevent his brain from leaking out of his ears. “It is actually bullshit?” Shining Armor nodded, and Carbine replied with the most perfect sentence imaginable. “Holy fuck.”

Shining Armor faced Lyra once more, and spread his forelegs. “Now, Miss Heartstrings, are you going to shoot me or not?”

Lyra was not looking at him however. She was only focused on me. Faith fell to the floor, and she stepped towards me. “I’m sorry, Symphony, but I had to know. It would be wrong to let you go on without knowing the truth.”

She reached towards me, but I had already begun running. I did not know who I was angry with. Lyra for bringing up the lie, or Shining Armor for telling it. I decided to settle on both of them, but mostly on Shining Armor. No, almost entirely on Shining Armor. How dare he call the True Cadanites hypocrites when he was no better. It was impossible for him claim he was a pony of peace and love when his foundation was built upon deceit.

He was right; the teachings of the Goddess were good guidelines for ponies to follow. I was not perfect, far from it. I killed a pony yesterday for Goddess’ sake! But her teachings provided me with a blueprint for my life. One I could trust. Now that I knew it was all a lie, was it still a blueprint worth following? Even if it was, could I now that I knew the truth?

A truth that could have saved ponies I knew and cared about. My life would be so different now without Shining Armor’s influence. I felt my scar burning. So much better.

Before I knew it, I was back in the room where I had awoken. Doctor Zimri was sleeping in the corner. I did not bother saying hello to him. I was more focused on my saddlebag. I knew what was inside. I could almost feel it calling to me. Its voice was cold, yet seductive. A part of me wanted to avoid temptation, but the rest of me was ready to yield to it. As I stared at where Savage lay hiding, I contemplated what I should do with Shining Armor. The Cadanite thing would be to let him go, and continue to follow in the Holy Mother’s hoofsteps. What I actually wanted to do was sounded so much better.

I’m going to kill him.

No, Symphony, you are not.

Yes, I am. He deserves to die.

Nopony deserves to die, Symphony. “Thou shalt not kill,” remember.

Cadance isn’t a Goddess, remember?

That is irrelevant. Just because she does not exist as the Goddess does not mean her teachings should be ignored.

What if I don’t want to follow her teachings?

You are not a killer.

Joab would disagree with that.

Joab was an accident, and you know it. You saw Missile’s face, and your hooves jerked.

No, I did it on purpose. I wanted him dead.

You are not a killer, Symphony.

I killed those ghouls earlier.

That was different.

No, it’s not. Killing is killing.

You did it to protect your family. You said you would not kill unless your family was threatened.

It’s because of him that they’re threatened at all! He’s ruined thousands of lives. Lyra’s. Carbine’s. Missile’s. Sombra’s. Mine! Why should he get to keep his life when he’s destroyed so many others?

Have Faith.

Have faith in what?

There was no response. I doubted there would be. There was no response to that. What was I supposed to have faith in? The Holy Mother? No, no Goddess ever existed. Ponies? Hardly. I had seen a pony shoot a child in the eye. I had met another who had induced thousands into living a life based on a lie. Not all ponies were bad to be sure, but I could never commit to them as a whole.
So what of the few? Lyra, yes, but she already was my reason for living. Even if I were a tad angry at her for the moment. Counting her twice would just be cheating. Carbine to a degree, but it was hard to have legitimate faith in a pony who enjoyed wanton destruction. Shining Armor? The thought of him made me sick. Orchestra? That depended on whether or not she would have killed Missile if she had the chance. If I were being honest with myself, she likely would have.

Myself? Claims of narcissism aside, I saw no point in it. What would believing in myself actually do for me? I could be more confident and have the mindset to justify my every action. It sounded like a life without purpose. Lyra would make it a life worth living, but she would make any life worth it. Even this one. Besides, it was hard to have faith in a pony who had spent the past few minutes contemplating murder. There was no self-defense excuse here. There was no possibility of an accident. I wanted to murder another pony, and I had faith I could pull it off.

Or did I? What did faith even mean? Was it simple belief? Belief beyond doubt? Belief beyond logic? I pulled the case out of my bag, and opened it. The statuette of the Godd—Princess Cadance stared back at me. More of the paint had chipped, and I noticed there was a small crack at the base of her tail. Yet she still stood tall. Even though I knew she was no Goddess, I still felt compelled to do her will.

“Have Faith,” she seemed to whisper.

“I want to,” I replied silently. “Can you show me how?”

She did not. No words, real or imaginary, came from her lips. I set her back inside the case, and stowed her away. Then I stared at it. Savage. I hated that name when I first read it. It seemed a horrible name for a weapon. At least one in the hooves of a child of Cadance. I still was one. A child of Cadance. She had not forsaken me, mostly because it was impossible due to her not existing. Nonetheless, she had not. I could still forsake her, though. I could shun every teaching I had built my life around since I was a boy. I could become an unrepentant killer. It would be so easy too. All it would take was one shot of Savage.

Have Faith.

I did. I was still unsure of what faith truly meant, but I had my idea. Faith was conviction. It was conviction that could be shaken by all the powers of the earth, the heavens, or Tartarus itself. Right now I had a conviction that I felt fit those requirements.

Shining Armor needed to die.

The door swung open, and I heard hoofsteps behind me. I turned my head, and watched as Lyra sat down beside me. She took one look at Savage, and shook her head.

“You’re not gonna do it, Symphony.” She raised a hoof before I could even try to protest. “And you shouldn’t. He doesn’t deserve it.”

I stood up; my face was aghast. How could she say that? After everything he had done to us? “He is a liar,” I mouthed.

“Yes, Symphony, because all liars deserve to be shot by sniper rifles.”

I did not back down. She knew what I meant, and she knew I knew.

She sighed, and rolled her eyes. “Yes, his circumstances are more extreme, but I still don’t think he should be killed for what he’s done. And I’ll tell you why.” She stood up, and walked towards me. There was no sensuality in her walk, which was a rare occurrence to be sure. Which was odd, because she kissed me immediately. She pulled back, and smiled at me. “Because there’s nothing wrong with spreading the message of love, Symphony.”

That was odd coming from the atheist. Judging from the conversation we had the night Sombra died, Lyra seemed to find great fault in something she saw as a lie. Regardless of the message the lie was spreading.

“I won’t lie, Symphony; I was glad to hear Shining Armor tell the truth. I was glad to be right.” She shrugged, and sighed. “Call me a bitch, but it’s the truth.”

I thought about it. Though I ultimately decided against it. I just did not have the heart to call Lyra a bitch. Even when she was being one.

“But it doesn’t matter that he lied. Just because the Goddess is a work of fiction doesn’t mean her teachings have to be. Loving other ponies. Doing good works. Not killing. That all sounds like a fine life to live.” Lyra placed her hooves on mine, and wrapped her tail around my back. “Besides, if it weren’t for the whole religion thing, then there wouldn’t have been a base at Haven. Your sister wouldn’t have been stationed there, you wouldn’t have visited her, and you and I wouldn’t have met.” She rubbed her hooves against mine, and gently nuzzled my neck. “Can you really want to kill him when he’s the reason we’re together?”

Well, when you put it like that…

She moved one of her hooves to my cheek, and gently caressed me. “I’m not saying you have to forgive him, Symphony. I don’t. We’ve all lost something because of his lies.” I noticed her other hoof rub her broken horn as she said that. “But that doesn’t mean you should become something you’re not. You’re not a killer, baby. And I pray to whatever being is listening that you never have to be.”

Lyra…-I…-I did not know what to think. The Goddess’ teachings were still worth following, but I doubted my heart would be in it anymore. My goal would not be to walk a path of righteousness. Rather, I would be attempting to avoid the dark. With the Holy Mother as my light it had been an easy task. Now I was not so sure. I was just mere moments away from attempting to commit murder. I had strayed so far already!

No. Calm down, Symphony. This is unbecoming of you. You have a light to follow, and her name is Lyra Heartstrings XIII. Rule number one, love Lyra with all my heart, soul, mind and strength. Rule number two, love others so long as they do not wish to harm Lyra. Rule number three, do unto others as you would have them do unto Lyra. Finally, rule number four. Do not kill anything, pony or otherwise, unless it is threatening the life of my family.

Other rules could be added as needed.

Speaking of my family, the door swung open and Carbine burst through the doorframe. “Holy fucking shit, you guys! There’s like a fuckin’ army outside, an—” Carbine stopped talking when Lyra and I simultaneously glared at him.

“You could knock, you know,” Lyra grumbled.

He rolled his eye. Perhaps he rolled both of them, but I had no way of knowing. “As if, Thirteen. Style, remember?” He quickly shook his head. “Anyways, not important. What is important is the couple ten hundred motherfuckers outside with guns. And cannons.” His eye stared off into space for a moment, as he rubbed his chin. Then he shook his head. “Sadly, even I don’t think I can take them on.” His horn glowed, and the replica of Flash’s ray gun hovered beside him. “Not unless Owlowicious here is as badass as Missile said it was.” He paused again, and his eye lit up. “Hey, can I try it ou—”

“NO!” Lyra shouted.

Carbine’s eye widened, and he took a few steps back. Her shouting broke his concentration, and the gun clattered to the floor. “I was just asking,” he muttered, as he levitated it back into his bag.

“I’m sorry. I just...” She closed her eyes, and exhaled deeply. “I just don’t want to lose any more lives. We’ve already lost Sombra and Missile.”

“What about you, Doc? Any suggestions?”

Doctor Zimri made no response. Not even a twitch. Carbine approached him, and roughly shook him to no avail. Now that I bothered to look, I noticed a letter beside the Doctor. I picked it up, and passed it to Lyra. She cleared her throat, and began to read aloud as I glanced over her shoulder.

“Dear Symphony and Lyra,

I regret to inform you that this is where we part ways. Taking that vial of Goddess did more damage to me than I thought, and I am afraid I will not recover.” The next two lines were impossible to read due to tear stains and puddles of pus. “Please, don’t come say goodbye to me. I was never good at them. Especially after Abigail’s passing.” There were more tear stains, but I was still able to make out the rest of the letter. “Never lose sight of each other. For the rest of your lives. Symphony, treat her as if she were the Goddess in the flesh. Lyra, keep him out of trouble. I wish you luck on your travels, and pray your relationship will be ever fruitful. Goddess speed, you two.

Your friend,

Doctor Samuel Zimri”

“P.S.

Tell Carbine to change his bandage regularly. And once the wound heals, tell him not to walk around with an uncovered eye socket. There’s a difference between style and stupidity.”

“P.S.S.

Also, please tell him if he and I meet in the next life that he owes me two hundred bits for the surgery, and thirty for the bandage.”

Not him too. I looked away from the letter, and at my friend’s lifeless body. I was unsure, but I wanted to believe he had died smiling. Just like Sombra had. Funny how history had a way of repeating itself. I placed a hoof on his forehead and bowed my head. Until next time, my friend.

After she had finished reading, Lyra carefully folded the letter and placed it in her bags. She hung her head in a moment of silence. Even Carbine joined in. Though given the furrowing of his brow, he was either did not like being quiet or was confused about something.

Finally, Lyra raised her head and spoke. “Okay, boys, how do we get out of here?”

Carbine raised a hoof.

“If your suggestion is to shoot the ‘couple ten hundred motherfuckers,’ then put your hoof down.”

Carbine put his hoof down.

Though his idea did have merit. I did not know if couple ten hundred meant roughly two hundred, or was simple Carbine speak for a lot of ponies. I might have been able to pick off a few with Savage, and Carbine could fight on the front lines. Lyra was too injured, and too important, to join the battle directly. While the two of us picked off as many as we could, Lyra could set traps using the grenades. We could also lend her some of our ammunition to use as explosives. If all else failed, we could always give Carbine a sample of Goddess. A nigh unstoppable Carbine would win the battle easily.

Actually, no. Those were both terrible plans. One, we had no business defending Tombstone Radio. Sombra had only wanted us to warn Reverend Bones, and we had. I for one would be glad if the CDF wiped him off the face of the Crystal Wasteland. I may not be able to kill him under Lyra’s orders, but I could still condemn him to die. Even if we were obliged to protect him, my strategy would fail. The only sniping position would be the roof. Since Carbine stated our enemies had cannons, I would be blown to smithereens within minutes. If not seconds. He would be killed quickly as well, which would leave Lyra at the mercy of her enemies.

As for Carbine on Goddess, just considering it sent chills down my spine.

No. Our goal should not be to fight. We needed to flee.

I quickly wrote down my thoughts, and presented them to Lyra. “We need to escape. Do you know of any other passageways?”

She crossed her front hooves, while her tail swished idly. “Hmmm. We could sneak out the back gate. Where we buried Missile. That might.…”

Her voice trailed off when she looked at me. Nopony had told me he had been buried. I know I had not been as close to Missile as Carbine and Lyra, but I would have liked to be at his funeral. To say…-to have written some words on his behalf. Yes. We had to go that way. I needed to pay my respects. Doctor Zimri did not want to say goodbye, but I would not be denied a chance to say goodbye to Missile.

I felt Lyra’s hoof on my shoulder. “Then it’s settled. We’ll go see Missile before we go.”

“I’m gonna get ‘im,” Carbine sniffled. Tears fell from his eye, and he was breathing deeply. “I’m gonna kill the motherfucker who killed Bro.”

I wrote something down for Lyra to read to him. “Already beat you to it.”

Carbine’s mouth was hanging slightly open after he heard that. “You? You actually killed a pony?”

I nodded.

“Hahahaha!” He wiped his hoof across his face leaving wet streaks in its wake. “Well, I’ll be fuck damned, Symphy! I’ll make a heathen out of you yet.”

The worst thing was I believed him. But there was no time for self-introspection now. I had a friend to say goodbye to.

The three of us left that room ready to raze anything and anypony in our path. Lyra held Faith in her mouth, while Carbine had Anarchy and Tenacity on standby. I kept Savage packed away, since it would be impossible to hold it and walk at the same time. Seriously, why was there no apparatus for this? All I needed was a saddle to attach him to, and I would be ready to go. Ugh. I just called Savage a him. Carbine-isms.

Instead of wielding Savage, I had the grenades. They had been removed from Missile’s hoodie prior to the burial. Carbine had been so gracious as to lend me the string on his binoculars. With that I had been able to create a necklace of grenades. The benefit was having weapons within reach. However, if a bullet hit one of them, I would likely go boom. It was not the most eloquent way of phrasing it, but I felt the word “boom” did such a stupid death justice.

As we raced down the halls of Tombstone Radio, I caught a glimpse of Shining Armor in his broadcast room. I stopped running, and pulled my radio out of my bag. True, I could have simply listened to him through the walls as I had during his interview with Carbine. But this seemed more fitting. If this was to be his last broadcast, I felt I should listen to it as one.

“Hello, everypony. This is Reverend Bones coming to you live from the Cemetery for the final time.” He chuckled his signature disgusting chuckle. “You see, listeners, every story must come to an end. My ending has been in the making for a long, long time. I’ve been putting it off, but I’m finally ready to write it.

“So here it is, listeners. This is my swan song. My requiem! So I might as well play my favorite tune as the fires of perdition come take me. Goodnight, Crystal Wasteland. Goodnight, faithful listeners. And may the light of Crystal Heart guide you on your path.”

Our eyes met for a moment. I could hear the hoofsteps of Lyra and Carbine as they made their way for the exit. I did not follow them immediately. I simply stood there watching him. These were likely to be the final moments of one of the most important figures in Cadanite history. Somepony should watch them.

Shining Armor tipped his hat to me. There was a smile on his face. I had seen a few legitimate smiles on my journey. I felt I knew what they looked like. Yet, I was unable to discern if this was one of them or not. There was no joy in his smile, but there was not sadness either. The only emotion I could feel from it was content.

Despite myself, I returned his smile. Why, I could not say. It just felt like something I needed to do.

Shining Armor leaned back in his chair, placed his back hooves on his desk. His front hooves rested behind his head, and a cloud of pink smoke emanated from his lips. The room was soon full of smoke, and he was out of sight. That was my cue to leave. As I raced to catch up with the others, I could hear the song he had chosen as his requiem coming from my radio.

“Swing low, sweet chariot.
Coming for to carry me home,
Swing low, sweet chariot,
Coming for to carry me home.
“I looked over the river, and what did I see
Coming for to carry me home?
A band of angels coming after me,
Coming for to carry me home?”

I turned down the volume when I reached the backyard. The backyard of Tombstone Radio was a small patch of grass. The grass was as dilapidated as its caretaker, but it was still alive. Though it might not be for much longer. I had taken a couple flights of stairs to get here, so this piece of land was elevated. We were on the top of the hill, and I could see the entire Cemetery from here. Along with Carbine’s “couple ten hundred motherfuckers.” They were too far away for me to discern any faces or manes, but I could tell two things. One, all of them wore CDF barding. In turn, that meant all of them were armed. Two of the soldiers stepped forward. Judging from the faint silver glow, I assumed one of them was a unicorn.

“Reverend Bones, this is General Omri of the Cadanite Defensive Force. I am here under the orders of High Priest Nero and the rest of the Council. We are here to commandeer your radio station and to use this land to establish a new base. You, Reverend, are not our enemy. However.” I heard at least twenty guns cock at that word. “If you resist us, then we will not hesitate to use force. Lethal force if we have to. You have until the count of twenty-five to come out, Reverend. At such a time that I finish counting and you are still inside, I will consider you hostile. Are we clear?”

There was no response. Of course there was not. Shining Armor fully intended on dying today. The General’s threats had no weight at this point. I briefly wondered if he knew that until I realized I could not care less. He was an idiot who had likely devoted his life to serving the ideals of Princess Cadance. What a fool I—he was.

I turned my back on the Cemetery. Coincidentally the first thing I saw was a grave. Missile’s. Carbine sat in front of the grave, and was holding a comic in-between his hooves. The Final Issue.

“Hey, Bro. It’s a real shame you never got to read this. I have no idea what the fuck they’re saying in this thing, but the pictures are awesome! I know you would have liked it.” He closed the comic, and placed it in front of the headstone. He sniffed violently, and gave his head a good shake. “I promise you, Bro. I’m coming back. I’m gonna learn how to read, and then I’m gonna read you this comic. But first I’ve gotta take Thirteen and Symphy across the border. You know those two wouldn’t last a day without me.” His voice cracked. It was quiet, but it spoke volumes.

Lyra tried to put a hoof on his shoulder, but Carbine flinched away and shook his head. “I can’t let him see me like this. I’ll meet you guys further ahead.”

Before Lyra could say anything, Carbine had begun galloping down the hill. Fortunately he had the common sense to run down the side that did not lead to the Cemetery. I was wholly unaware of where it led. Though I supposed anywhere but here was a good start.

“I’ll follow him. Make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.” Lyra nodded to me, and trotted after him.
That left me alone with the grave.

I approached the stone. The inscription read, “Here lies ‘Missile.’ May he rest in peace.” Short, sweet, and to the point. I placed one of my hooves on the headstone, and closed my eyes.

Holy Mo—whom-or what-ever is listening, I pray that you watch over Missile’s soul. If there is a next life, then I pray he is able to life it to the fullest. That he is given a life long enough to make up for the time he lost here. I pray that he will have a childhood without fear of being sacrificed.

I took a moment to breathe.

Goodbye, you insolent brat. Goodbye, my friend. Goodbye.

“Fire!”

The sound of cannon fire blared. I could imagine Tombstone Radio being blasted to splinters behind me. Yet I did not turn to watch. I continued to sit with my hoof on Missile’s grave until I was ready to leave.

“Soldiers, storm the station! Reverend Bones is now an enemy of the Holy Mother’s Empire! Leave nopony in there alive!”

I suddenly felt the urge to leave.

I slid my hoof off the tombstone, and began to walk after my companions. Then I remembered there was an army behind me, and my walk became significantly more brisk. Some might have called it a sprint. As I raced off into the night, I found the last words of Reverend Bones’ favorite song ringing in my ears.

If you get there before I do,
(Coming for to carry me home)
Tell all my friends I’m coming there too
(Coming for to carry me home).

Footnote:
Level Up!
Perk Added: Kill Code (1). You don't enjoy killing, but when done righteously, it's just a chore, like any other.
Damage threshold increases by 10% while in defense of others.

Author's Notes:

So, yeah, that happened.

As a content note, I would like to make an official announcement. Both Shining Armor and Doctor Zimri are dead. Originally I didn’t want to state that just in case they had a role to play at the end of the story. But after writing this chapter I felt it would be wrong to do that. Both of them are waiting for that chariot. Coming for to carry them home.

On a less sad note, Happy Halloween all! I hope everyone’s has a great evening/night. If you go Trick o’ Treating, then I hope you get lots of candy. If you go partying, have a blast. And if you watch the premiere of Ash Versus Evil Dead, like I hope to, I hope you thought it was incredible. Because, you know, it totally will be.

And, as always, I want to thank Kkat for creating the world. Other authors for their contributions. And for my readers. Thanks a bunch!