You know what the single most awkward thing in the world is?

Getting what you want and not knowing what to do with it afterwards.

—Cruelles Caballeron, Book of Shadows XLVIII,

July 27, 1002

Excerpt from personal diaries, translated from Palabras del Sur, June 16, 1007

The marshes were a peculiar place. They existed in what amounted to a massive hole in the middle of the Mongolian Plains, at the center of which was a lake. There was no river to the lake, inflowing or outflowing, nor was there another source of water for at least a hundred mile radius. In every conceivable way, the marshes were normal – right down to the cragodiles – except that they were in a place where no marshes would be expected to exist.

That, of course, made it a fascinating subject for Caballeron. As he walked through knee-deep water covered in green algae and surrounded by marsh grass, he pondered once more the nature of the place. Perhaps it was an impact crater from an astronomical body, sort of like Crater Lake in the Badlands was purported to be. The caldera of an extinct volcano seemed no less plausible. He didn’t rule out some sort of glacial formation created millions of years ago, but it didn’t strike him as a likely culprit. And of course, there was always something less natural; perhaps the alicorn prince who supposedly once lived here had done it for some unknowable reason. It could even be damage from a magical conflict before recorded history.

An unsubtle growl reminded him that he was the only one enjoying this outdoors adventure. Fleur fought to free her rear leg from the muck beneath the shallow water. Her coat glistened with moisture, at least the parts that didn’t have globs of clinging algae and slime on it. Her mane hung down the side of her face, still dripping as the end of it dragged in the still waters, and her tail fared even worse. She glared at her hind leg as if she intended to bite it off if it didn’t start cooperating.

Caballeron kept form smirking. Barely. “Do you need some help?”

“What I would like,” she hissed through gritted teeth, “is to get the buck out of this swamp.”

“Marsh.”

“Do not pester me with semantics!” Straining and cursing, she gave her leg a long, strong pull. After several seconds in which Caballeron feared she might hurt something, she finally came free. The sudden motion sent her splashing forward; she just barely managed to catch herself before she could land face-first in the water. She stood stark still, her chin raised high beneath wide eyes that stared at the liquid as if it might lash out at her at any second.

Once she had her balance, she stood up properly and pushed her thoroughly re-soaked mane back over her shoulder. Her gaze could have sublimated dry ice. “Not a word.”

He opened his mouth, only to click his teeth when her eyebrows lowered and her horn sparked. It was nothing short of a miracle that he managed to avoid grinning until his face was safely turned away.

“And wipe that smile off your face!”

He didn’t, although he did question how she knew.

They continued, him in silence and her grumbling and fuming. He had to question just what it was that made her boss think she’d be good for a job like this. At least her difficulties amused him, even if he felt a little sympathetic. It would be one thing if she’d come here of her own volition expecting to conquer the marshes with ease, but she’d been ordered to go and not once indicated that she expected it to be easy. She certainly hadn’t looked enthusiastic when they’d stood at the edge of the valley gazing upon the cold, wet landscape.

Good for her, then, that their destination was so easy to find. That was another mystery. The Uvres Marshes were not all that big; one could see all corners of it from any spot within. This also made Giulgiul’s Shame easily identifiable from the higher plateau when they arrived. It stood out like a sore hoof on the western edge of the lake, a triangular shape overgrown with vegetation.

Caballeron had been so excited upon first spotting it. In truth, he was still excited, but the reality of approaching such a legendary place gradually dwindled in his mind to ‘other’ realities. Things weren’t adding up, and that made him gradually more wary as they approached the structure in the distance.

At last, his anxiety could take no more. “Fleur?”

“What?”

He winced, but didn’t take offense to her aggressive tone. “Celestia wants this place kept secret, right?”

Fleur grumbled for a bit, and he thought at first she wouldn’t answer. She finally gave a clipped “Yes.”

He glanced back at her, no longer finding her miserable countenance amusing. “Giulgiul’s Shame isn’t exactly hidden. Anypony who comes around here would be able to see it, so how did Celestia keep random explorers and traders from stumbling upon it?”

Though her scowl remained in place, Fleur paused in her quiet snarling and appeared to think on the question. “She mentioned something about a gemology illusion. Something to hide the manor from prying eyes even though it is in plain view.”

“That sounds an awful lot like mechanism that hid the Drake Lance in the Spurbardin Ruins.” He eyed her curiously. “Isn’t gemology one of your strong suits?”

She snorted as she flicked some slime off her hoof. “I’m a Gemcraft Supremacist.”

Caballeron froze, his ears shooting up. “Supremacist? But I thought you said you were an Illusions Master.”

“I am,” she replied, finally walking past him at her slow, clumsy gait.

He sputtered, mind failing to wrap around this new bit of news. “That’s… incredible.”

She didn’t so much as glance back at him, her limp tail dragging along in the muck behind her. “Not doing me much good now, is it?”

He watched her go, his brain gradually coming to terms with the power that probably existed in that mare’s horn. Not for the first time, he wondered if its unusually large size had anything to do with it. Unicorns always denied that size had anything to do with magical potential, but he never knew for sure if they were just saying it out of envy for ponies like Fleur. He followed after her, feeling a new sense of respect for his partner. Why hadn’t she mentioned such a thing before?

The subject disappeared from his mind as he refocused his attention on Giulgiul’s Shame. “So… the illusion’s broken?”

Fleur’s dull voice made her disinterest blatant. “It would seem so.”

He narrowed his eyes, attempting to see any signs of life at the distant mansion. Nothing moved, but he found no comfort in this. He sped to a trot, soon catching up to Fleur. “Can you pick up the pace?” Despite his eagerness, he made sure to keep his tone inquisitive rather than demanding.

“If I want another face full of this mierda, sure.” She sniffed and kept her scowl aimed at Giulgiul’s Shame. “I’d rather not have a repeat of that incident, thank you.” When he said nothing to this, she cast a dark look his way. “You’re thinking she broke the illusion?”

“Yearling is intelligent. Resourceful. Skilled.” He growled and shook his mane. “Even without a horn, I’ve no doubt she could do it with time, and we’ve no idea how much of a head start she’s got on us.”

“You’re assuming she’s there at all.”

“She is.” The little devil in the back of his mind was sharpening his claws. “I know it. And she’s already in there. If we move quick enough, we can corner her inside.”

Fleur’s lips formed a thin line as she turned her gaze back to the ever-growing structure. By now it was about the size of Caballeron’s hoof. At their current pace, he suspected they’d arrive within the hour. “How can you be sure she hasn’t already left?”

“She got here by the same town we did. She’ll go back the same way. We’d have run into by now if that were the case, assuming she didn't spot us first and circle around.”

A moment of quiet, interrupted only by the sloshing water that had risen to just below his barrel. Fleur broke the stillness once more. “And if she knows we are coming?”

“Why would she?” He shook his head. “She has no reason to believe that, especially since she’s ahead of us.”

He could feel her eyes boring into the side of his head. When he finally glanced at her, all her anger and frustration had faded. In its place was an expression of utmost seriousness. “What if the Archons told her?”

He paused. The little devil stopped sharpening its claws to pay close attention. His voice came out slow and hollow. “Are you confessing to something?”

“No.” She didn’t look away, her brow furrowing as she met his glare. “But I know Celestia well enough to know the kind of games she plays. I wouldn’t put it past her to order my boss to let the information slip into her hooves. A convenient… accident.”

A long study of her features revealed no deception. That didn’t mean much given her performances so far, but he almost felt that she was being honest with him. “What would something like that earn for her?”

“Humor,” Fleur replied without hesitation.

He felt his eyebrow twitch. “Does she not know what Yearling’s presence would mean to me?”

“You clearly don’t understand Celestia’s brand of humor.” Fleur continued her slow, stumbling way forward.

Caballeron snorted and moved to keep at her side. “I’ve never been one to fully buy the ‘perfect sun princess’ image the PR teams keep cooking all day every day, but your suggestions of her character seem extreme.”

“If that’s what you think,” Fleur muttered, her lip curling back in a grimace, “you really don’t understand Celestia’s brand of humor.”

She said nothing more, leaving Caballeron to smother in his black thoughts.

The marshes hadn’t spared Giulgiul’s Shame from a watery fate. The old image Caballeron had been shown depicted the mansion as standing atop a raised stone platform. If that were true, then the entirety of that platform was now submerged, along with nearly half of the first floor. He and Fleur had been forced to swim to reach the west doors. Fortunately, it had been only a few minutes of paddling. Unfortunately, the brief trip did nothing to help Fleur’s mood.

Even partially submerged, the mansion was a sight to behold. Made of what appeared to be stone – limestone, perhaps? – it stood at what Caballeron guessed to be five stories. He knew from the view on the plateau that the structure was triangular in shape, with each of the three walls sporting an identical entrance. The wall before them stretched for hundreds of feet to their left and right, and each stone block was roughly half as tall as Caballeron himself, although they seemed to become smaller as the elevation increased.

Much of the manor was covered in green algae and vines, and large chunks of the masonry had crumbled over the centuries. This did nothing to lessen Caballeron’s awe as his paddling hooves finally touched down upon solid stone. As he moved forward to shallower waters, it abruptly dawned upon him that he was standing upon ground untouched by ponies for a thousand, perhaps even thousands of years.

His legs began to wobble. His heart pattered in his chest like a hummingbird and a smile slowly grew on his lips. “My Goddess. Silty… I’m… I’m standing upon the entryway of Giulgiul’s Shame. If only you could have been here…”

Fleur appeared at his side, her legs spread and her mane flat against her face. “Do you need a moment?” Her voice had been little more than a growl, but subdued enough that he guessed her intention sincere.

Caballeron closed his eyes and saw Silty once more. Except… this time she appeared sad. Why? Because she wasn’t really here? Or something else?

His eyes opened once more, settling upon the empty doorway. Whatever doors had once filled that space, they were gone now. Victims of the ravages of time, no doubt. What kind of wood would they have used? There were so many questions to be answered, and all he had to record anything was that journal he’d not looked at in months. It would have to do. Maybe, if he could convince some old colleagues, he could—

“Cruelles.”

He shook himself, the brief bout of fantasy slipping away like a coy maiden. He found Fleur watching him with a lips pursed and menace in her eyes. “Uh… sorry?”

She turned away with a groan. “No, I am. I get this is a dream come true for you, Cruelles. I’m just not in my element right now. It’s making me…”

“Snippy?”

A wince. “I would have said bitchy.”

Caballeron raised an eyebrow. “That doesn’t sound like a ‘Fleur de Lis’ thing to say.”

With a sniff, she raised a sopping leg to point at the entrance. “We have a job to do. I wanted to give you the privilege of entering first, but if you don’t shut up and move I’ll start taking my frustrations out on you.”

That was more than enough to get him walking; he didn’t want to imagine what she could do to him if she really put her mind to it. Even so, he slowed at the entryway. It wasn’t as large as he’d imagined, though still taller and wider than the average door. Sized for an alicorn, perhaps? He grinned at the thought; if half the legends were true, this could be a veritable treasure trove of magical artifacts!

But Caballeron curbed his excitement in order to proceed slowly. It was as much in reverence for this ancient place as it was wariness of what he may stumble into. Leaders of the distant past had an odd propensity for putting deathtraps in places like this. He’d always imagined it to be counterproductive. And even if that didn’t prove the case, the crumbling architecture made it clear that caution should be the order of the day.

He passed through the columned doorway. Now inside one of the great secrets of the ancient world, he felt his breath leave him at the sight of a massive entryway at least two stories tall, composed entirely of the same limestone material. The marshes hadn’t been kind to the place; anything that might have once been decoration had rotted away long ago. But that mattered little to Caballeron as he gazed upon no less than four staircases leading to untold mysteries in the darkness. He spun a small circle, taking in the algae-coated walls with their decorative pillars. Overhead, three windows allowed sunlight to filter in, dimly illuminating the great hall.

Fleur sloshed her way through the door, glancing around with folded hears and a dull frown. “Well, it’s big. But I don’t see what makes it any more special than, say, a manor in Canterlot.”

“What?” He turned on her, water splashing at his sudden motion. “Tell me that is a joke! This place is ancient beyond recorded history, a window into the past such as nopony has ever laid eyes on!”

Her leg snapped up to point, interrupting his coming rant. “Don’t be so sure about that.”

Outrage momentarily stalled, he turned his head to see where she was pointing. He saw it almost immediately: puddles on the the steps of one of the staircases. His fur bristled along his back as he checked the other sets of stairs; they were dry. “Yearling.”

Closing his eyes, he tried to remember everything he’d read in the report given to him by Fleur back in Furlin. Giulguil, Ghoulargh, Garland Sentry. Adored the sunlight. If the ancient writings of Lord Canis were correct, then his study would be…

With a snarl, Caballeron started for the stairs. “She’s going for the Amulet, just like us. We have to move fast.” He reached back to snap off the safety strap on Boomer’s harness. “We might be able to corner her with the artifact.”

Fleur was at his side in an instant. “That would not be ideal.”

Her tone, devoid of any of her prior frustration, held his attention. “Do you think she’ll use the Alicorn Amulet?”

“I’m honestly not sure if she can.” Fleur ran a hoof through her mane. The motion was slow, methodical. Somehow he doubted she was trying to fix her hairstyle. “We should be ready for that, just in case.”

They ascended the stairs, moving slowly lest they slip on the moist stone. Caballeron kept his muscles relaxed, all the better to make them move when he really needed them to. “You never did tell me what this thing does.”

“That would be because I don’t know.” She caught his eye and rolled hers. “Celestia doesn’t tell us everything. It’s about as frustrating as you might expect.”

They reached the top of the staircase. The balcony of the entrance hall extended to their left, a pair of doors set equidistant between them and the other staircase. The alternative was to go right, through a doorway and into a wide hall shrouded in shadow. Water dripped from the ceiling and some sort of thick fungal growth covered much of the limestone surfaces.

Fleur looked to the hallway, her eyes peering. “This way, then?”

Caballeron nodded. “The letters from Lord Canis to Viantex hinted that Giulgiul’s study was in the western portion of the manor. The texts of the elken scribe Ruby Horn claim Giulgiul kept his research there. It’s the most likely place the amulet would be.” He wasted no time trotting through the hall, Fleur hurrying to keep up.

They passed over dirt and mud clumps, which gave off unpleasant squelches beneath their hooves. Fleur didn’t react to the sounds or the water trickling over her mane. By her hard expression, Caballeron guessed she was now in proper ‘Archon’ mode. She spoke in a quiet but harsh voice as her horn began to glow dimly. “And who, exactly, where Lord Canis and Scribe Ruby Horn? Big picture.”

“Put that out. You want Yearling to see us coming?”

Fleur raised an eyebrow. “You can see in the dark now?” She gestured ahead, where darkness swiftly swallowed up the hallway beyond the dim glow she produced.

Conceding her point, he turned away to check a door they were passing by. Nothing but shadow greeted him. He paused, ears perked, but no sound met them. If Yearling was nearby, she was being stealthy. Grunting, he turned back to the hallway and rejoined Fleur as she poked her head into another room.

“Nopony knows anything for sure,” he whispered once they were moving on. “Lord Canis was a king. We don’t know much more than that beyond his kingdom being called Silverdale and they were big on silver mining. Viantex is also a big mystery, although most scholars think she was a dragon. Ruby Horn we know more about ‘cause she wrote a lot. She started off as a maid, supposedly employed here, but went on to be one of the major historians of her time.” He paused to peer into another room. “At least, she was if her own immodest writings are anything to go by.”

Fleur paused at a doorway, her horn sparking. A thin wave of light flew forward, its outline contouring to the room in which she was looking to give a very brief image of what was inside. “And how do we know anything any of them said is accurate and true?”

“We don’t.” He caught her alarmed look and shrugged. “With archeology, we’re largely going by what evidence we can scrounge up. We’ve got to infer what we can and go by the words put down by those before us, at least until something comes along to contradict them. Nopony knows the age of Giulgiul’s Shame, not really. Possibly as far back as The Fall. Not much from that time period to go by.”

Fleur continued to stare at him, and he began to fidget. When she didn’t follow him, he turned back. “What’s wrong?”

Her shoulders slumped and she shook her head. “It just dawned on me that the only real ‘proof’ we have that there is anything here at all is Celestia’s word. It’s… not encouraging. If she sent me into this goddessless bog in the middle of nowhere on a wild goose chase—”

“It’s here.”

Her ears perked. She peered at him as if expecting him to divulge some dark secret. “How can you be sure?”

“Because I’m an archaeologist.” He turned away from here. “Are we doing this or what?”

She followed, much to his relief. In truth, he couldn’t be completely certain of his directions – no archaeologist worth his salt really could. As he’d learned over the years, the important thing for ponies in his line of work wasn’t so much the knowledge but the faith in that knowledge. Sometimes it led to disappointment, but without faith, nopony would ever go looking in the first place.

Silty smiled at him from the shadows. A sad smile, made disturbing by the darkness shrouding her features. The little devil in the back of his mind shivered, which gave Caballeron pause; it had never done that before.

“Cruelles? What’s wrong?”

He blinked, and it was Fleur watching him, not Silty. She bore no sad smile, only that stern, thin-lipped gaze that spoke of a determination to work.

He shook himself and moved on. “It’s nothing. Let’s find this thing.”

Fleur didn’t say a word, but he could feel her eyes boring into the back of his skull.

“Cruelles, over here.”

Caballeron moved quickly to answer Fleur’s call. Part of it was the need to find Yearling quickly. Another part was the fact that they’d been searching the west side of Giulgiul’s Shame for the better part of two hours without finding anything. But a big chunk was that this new, focused and commanding Fleur de Lis left him with an ominous feeling, like she might do something nasty if he didn’t snap to at her every word. Exactly what she’d do, he had no idea.

That just made her scarier.

He slipped into one of the open doorways, identical to all the others. He stood in a room slightly smaller than what he'd grown accustomed to with a large window opening out to the marshes. The darkness of the overcast sky was such that he guessed they had only a couple hours of daylight left. The room had five stone bookcases and a similar stone desk, all bare and overgrown with moss and fungus.

But what really caught his eye – and undoubtedly Fleur’s – was the confusing arrangement of gemstones embedded in the ceiling and every wall. Rubies, diamonds, amethysts and a few Caballeron couldn’t think of the names for shimmered in Fleur’s ever-glowing hornlight. Every one was connected to at least one other by a thin line cut into the stonework, giving the entire room a spiderweb appearance. He looked to Fleur, who was tracing one of the lines on a wall with her hoof.

“Is this some sort of gemcrafting array?”

She didn’t so much as glance at him, her face taught as she scrutinized the line before her. “Gemcrafting is the infusion of magic into gems. This is merely a gem array. It’s really old, but not all of these gems are. Somepony was here, and recently.”

The little demon flexed its muscles, more than ready to make up for its embarrassing display of weakness a few hours ago. Caballeron stalked a circle around the room, peering for any sign of something unusual. He found it in short order: a perfect curve of moved dirt. He eyed the bookshelves and sucked in a sharp breath. “She’s inside.”

“Yearling?” Fleur glanced at him, then at the quarter circle of dirt. “Ah. Secret door. I’m impressed our hidden companion was able to decipher the array.” She turned back to the wall and ran her hoof along it and over one of the purple gems. “These are flush. The whole thing was meant to be hidden behind wallpaper or wooden paneling. My boss would have thoroughly approved.”

“Can you open it?”

The disdainful frown she cast his way was the kind he might have shot at a university student who had asked if rocks were old. “This gem array would stump an amateur, and maybe in its time it was considered top of the line, but I didn’t get my Supremacy in just six years for nothing.” She walked directly to a small ruby in the corner and pressed her hoof to it. The ruby blinked, and the light flowed along the lines so fast Caballeron couldn’t keep up, dividing and flowing across multiple paths within seconds.

Moving at a sedate pace, Fleur went to the window and pressed her hoof to a gem set within the wall to its left an instant before one of the flowing lights struck it. More, brighter lights darted along the lines from that gem, adding to the already numerous set that flew along the gemlines with no rhyme or reason that Caballeron could comprehend. And then, neatly, they all converged on the bookcase. There was an audible click, and the bookcase swung out, its edge matching the circular dirt pattern on the floor.

“Foal’s play.” She walked through, tail flicking his muzzle. “Come on, archaeologist, we’ve got an amulet to liberate.”

He watched her go in silence, trying to gather what had just happened. A glance back at the room showed all the gems dull and lifeless like before. “A Gemcraft Supremacy in only six years?” He sucked down a deep breath and entered the new passage. “I’m glad you're on my side.” He stepped into the door in time to see her reaching for a gem in the wall. "Don't."

Pausing, she glanced at him. "What? It closes the door. We don't want to give her an easy escape, right?"

He slowly pushed her hoof to the floor. "Trust me. Places like this? You want a clear path to the exit."

Fleur raised an eyebrow, glanced between him and the gem, then shrugged and moved on.

The passage led to a staircase heading down. He followed the bobbing light of Fleur’s horn, ears folding back at the idea of having to go underwater to continue. Those worries seemed unfounded as he took a closer look at his surroundings. The stonework was dry as a bone. Not only that, it was pristine, with not a crack in sight. This even as the stairs most certainly descended to at least the first level. Perhaps even below?

“There is magic at work here.” Fleur didn’t look back, and her voice only just met his ears. “Ancient. It must have been powerful once, but it has diminished with time.”

Caballeron kept his gaze on the light of her horn. “Is that why the place looks so new?”

She hummed a confirmation. “It seems the architect of this passage wanted it protected. Given a few more centuries, though? The magic would probably come apart on its own. I wonder if that played a role in Celestia’s calculations.” She glanced back at him, a hint of curiosity breaking through her stoic manner. “We are clearly beneath the ground floor by now. I can’t imagine building something like this under a marsh was easy.”

“It wasn’t a marsh back then,” he replied. “The entire area was a few hundred feet higher in elevation when the manor was built.”

“Of course.” She turned her gaze forward once more. “Still, I wouldn’t want to be down here when the magic fails.” At last they reached the bottom of the staircase, and Caballeron felt his breath leave him.

They stood in a massive room at least fifty feet from floor to ceiling. No stone construction appeared here, the surfaces covered over by solid wood floors and paneling. Intricate carvings decorated every wall and wide, black iron chandeliers hung from the ceiling. A massive doorway opened on the opposite side, revealing more rooms of equal size and splendor.

And all of it was covered in assorted treasures beyond Caballeron’s wildest expectations. Tables covered in glass and earthen tools; a smithy in the corner stained black with soot, surrounded by weapon racks and standing armor; a trio of statues, one for each member of the pony race, facing one another near the center of the room; a large, clear tank filled with some green concoction, inside which was an object too obscured by the murk to make out. All this and more, ordered into neat spaces spread out just far enough to let a large pony pass among them unhindered.

Caballeron’s eyes burned. He realized he was hyperventilating. To think, all of this has been sitting here untouched for thousands of years! This was nothing less than the find of a generation. The knowledge that could be gleaned about the past from just one of these items…

The foal-like excitement disappeared in an instant as something else dawned upon him: he could see everything. “The torches are lit.” Even the ones in the chandeliers.

He exchanged a glance with Fleur. Her expression was unreadable, her lips in that familiar thin line and her ears raised high and swiveling. Her hoof reached up to dig through her mane; once more, he doubted she was trying to straighten it.

“I’ll watch the left.” She moved forward, her tail flicking.

There came a quite 'chink' sound. He glanced back to see a yellow and silver gemstone now lying on the bottom step of the stairway. He raised an eyebrow; did that fall out of her tail? How’d she drop it?

“Come.” She started forward, and he moved to match her speed.

They walked at a slow trot, each of them examining the potential hiding places on their respective side of the room. He reached back to check Boomer’s safety latch had been removed. “Don’t forget the ceiling.” Fleur didn’t respond.

The place had so many different things, Caballeron struggled to understand exactly what he was looking at. The second room was loaded with bookshelves, and… were those coffins? One was opened, and he thought he could make out a half-decayed body within. It seemed even that had been preserved. Good Goddess, to get an autopsy done on that…

Fleur kept dropping more gems. These were all a pale blue. He made no attempt to ask what they were for.

They were almost to the third room when Caballeron finally realized exactly what they’d found: it was a magical laboratory. Perhaps a dark magic laboratory. He recalled the ancient texts suggesting Giulgiul had been a necromancer. Suddenly they didn’t seem so far-fetched. He wasn’t so sure he wanted to know what was in that tank in the first room.

His ears perked to the sound of some sort of hum, and then something falling to the floor.

“Finally, I thought this thing would never open!”

He and Fleur shot one another startled looks and hurried forward to the fourth and last room. It was lined with a series of marble slabs, each with a pony’s corpse resting on it. On the right side of the room, a larger body lay slumped on the floor, emaciated and thin, with featherless wings and a long, blackened horn. Next to that body stood a small plinth around which some sort of clear paneling had dropped to the ground.

And there, standing before the plinth with an object in her hooves, was a familiar golden pegasus.

“No! Caballeron charged, barely registering Fleur’s shout.

Yearling spun around, eyes going wide at the sight of the stallion charging her. “Whoa!” Her wings shot open and she went airborne, her tail just escaping the click of his teeth. He slammed into the plinth chest first; it didn’t budge. Grunting from the pain, he turned around and spotted Yearling hovering near the ceiling. “Y-you. I won’t let you take this away from me!”

Yearling scowled at him. “I’m not taking anything from you! What the hay are you doing here anyway, Professor?”

Fleur’s horn flashed, and the doorway out disappeared as if it had never existed. “We are here for that amulet. You wouldn’t be so kind as to let us take it, would you?”

Twisting around to look upon her, Yearling frowned and squinted. “You’re not part of his usual entourage.”

Boomer was in Caballeron’s mouth in an instant. With the ease of a decade of practice, he pulled the boomerang from its harness and threw it in one smooth motion. Yearling merely dropped a little lower, dodging without even glancing at him. He swore, took a step to his right, braced his legs and caught the weapon in his teeth.

She glanced at him, one eyebrow raised in a disdainful expression. “Seriously, Professor, that thing’s gotta be the worst weapon ever for fighting pegasi.”

Setting Boomer back in its harness, Caballeron snorted. “Why don’t you come down here and see how you do against my hooves?” His inner demon cackled as he pawed the hardwood floor.

“Please, everypony.” Fleur raised a leg in a supplicating gesture. “There’s no need for aggression. “Miss Yearling—”

“Daring Do.”

Fleur didn’t miss a beat. “Daring Do, please, all we want is to bring the Alicorn Amulet to Canterlot. It’ll be safe there. We don’t want to fight.”

Caballeron snarled, ignoring her ominous glare. “Buck that. I’m not letting you steal the spotlight again! You took Pawtlpotl from Silty, you’re not taking Giulgiul’s Shame!”

The room went quiet beyond the blood pounding in Caballeron’s ears. Yearling stared at him. Her frown never left, but the tension in her poise faded gradually. “You’ll never get past it, will you?”

Fleur looked between the two of them, her expression unreadable once more. “We can still discuss this as reasonable ponies.”

With a sigh, Yearling shook her head. “Lady, I learned long ago that there’s no reasoning with him.”

Caballeron’s body felt hot. The hairs on his back stood straight up like his ears. He flexed his shoulders and bared his teeth. “You’re not getting away this time.”

“You’ve said that before.” Yearling sighed and looked to Fleur. “Sorry, lady. I don’t know you, but if you’re with him then I just can’t trust you. Nothing personal. Also…” She flapped her wings and flew a swift circle. “I know illusion magic when I see it!”

She went for the wall and passed right through it.

“Damn it!” Caballeron charged after her, but knew he’d never catch up. “Damn it, damn it, damn it!” He passed through the wall just as Fleur’s illusion faded. Daring was already halfway to the exit. “Come back here, you cowardly foal!”

Yearling came to a stop just at the stairs and turned to face him. “You gonna talk to me this time, or just try to kill me like always?”

He pulled Boomer from its harness and didn’t slow down.

“That’s what I thought.” She spun away. “Sorry, Professor. I guess I’ll—Huh?”

The gem on the first step shined a bright yellow for an instant, then shattered like glass. When it did, energy struck the pegasus like a bolt of lightning, sending her flying across the room.

Caballeron didn’t give himself time to consider what happened. He slid around the last doorway to find Yearling in the corner and slowly getting to her hooves, chest burned black. She'd lost the amulet. “Owww…” She saw him coming and leapt, dodging Boomer’s blade. “What the hay?!”

As he turned to face her, he spotted something large and black flying across the room. He had just enough time to think Obsidian? when it erupted like the last stone. Smoke burst from it, filling the entire room in a dark grey haze within the blink of an eye. It flew into his nostrils before he could consider holding his breath, but despite an ashy smell he found he had no trouble breathing.

“Crap! This is not cool!”

Holstering Boomer, Caballeron moved slowly through the fog. Fleur’s distraction kept him from seeing his prey, but Yearling had dropped the amulet. She wouldn’t leave without that. If he could just pinpoint her location…

“Come on, come on…” Yearling’s voice was low to the ground. “Stupid smoke.”

He turned for the sound, only to find his way blocked by a table covered in neatly organized beakers, bottles and tubes. Gritting his teeth, he made his way around.

Fleur’s voice rose from somewhere to his left. “There’s still a chance to end this peacefully, you two.”

“Lady, if I could end things with him peacefully, I’d have done it years ago.”

“Don’t act all high and mighty,” Caballeron snarled, finally getting around the table. He saw a vaguely pony-shaped shadow among the swirling mist, but it disappeared into the mist in an instant. “You bask in the love and adoration of your fans, but you and I know the truth. You’re a fraud. A cheat. A deceiver!”

“Yeah?” Yearling was in the air again, if her voice was any indication. “And what are you, selling dangerous relics to the highest bidder? You used to believe in your work!”

There came the sound of metal rubbing against metal. It reminded Caballeron of swords being freed from sheaths. Fleur? “I never lost my love for Archeology,” he hissed. “But that path was closed to me thanks to you.” He stumbled into a statue and changed course.

“I didn’t do anything!”

“Liar!” He turned in place, following her voice. “You think I don’t know? Who else could have tampered with the tablets from Pawtlpotl? Nopony but you!”

Her words came as a frustrated hiss. “Can you prove it?”

He turned once more, eyes darting through the gradually thinning smoke. He heard wingflaps just over his head, but the sound passed by the time he looked up. “You can’t prove I did it, either.”

“I never tried to!”

The mists began to swirl as if caught in a slow-motion tornado, only to erupt from the center of the room. Yearling ceased a spin and spread her wings wide as she looked down at him with fire in those rose-colored eyes. “Not once did I tell anypony I thought you altered the tablets! You came to that conclusion all on your own!”

“And I’m supposed to believe—stop!” Caballeron was too slow; Yearling had reached the floor and snatched up the amulet in a blink.

“I’m out of here!” She corkscrewed and darted for the exit, only to come to a sudden stop. “Ponyfeathers.”

Fleur stood in her way. Surrounding her were more than two dozen weapons – swords, knives, daggers, spears, maces, etc. – in her pink aura. Caballeron blinked, then glanced towards the smithy in the corner. Every single weapon had been taken.

She had her head low and her brow furrowed. Her horn pulsed brightly enough to overpower the torches, covering the room in a soft pink glow. When she spoke, there was a force in her voice that seemed to press into the ears and down on the heart. It was hardly the soft tone he knew, nor was it anything like when she'd been frustrated before. This was an Archon, and her voice sent chills down Caballeron's spine.

“I do not wish to harm you, Daring, but I will do it if you don’t cooperate. Give. Me. The amulet.” Her mane billowed in an unfelt wind. A dozen gems of varying colors rose from somewhere beneath the hairs. They formed a semicircle before her, shimmering in the pale lighting.

Yearling flew back slowly, eyes wide. She raising her hooves in a supplicating pose. “Who are you?”

A ruby flew forward. Yearling dodged with ease, but it shattered an instant later with a concussive blast that sent her careening across the room. She recovered swiftly and hovered, the amulet still in her hooves. “You’re not the only pony with some tricks up her mane, y’know!” She darted to and fro for a moment, as if in demonstration. “You’ve got a lot of pointy things and fancy little stones, but I can keep dodging. Which one of us do you think will slip up first?”

Caballeron had been so focused on the gloriously frightening creature standing before the stairs that he almost missed his opportunity. With Yearling distracted, he snatched Boomer in his teeth, rushed to the nearest wall for room, and tossed.

Yearling almost didn’t see the weapon coming. Almost. She ducked low with a curse and turned to him with forelegs crossed. “Oh, come on Professor! We both know you’re never going to hit me with—yikes!” She dove sideways as an axe whistled through the air.

“I gave you fair warning!” Fleur reared back as the weapons flew forward. They cut and sliced and bashed at the pegasus, who dodged wildly.

Caballeron caught Boomer and considered his position. Could he hit Yearling with her moving so much? Only if he got really lucky. More likely he’d end up knocking some of Fleur’s weapons out of the air and giving their opponent room to escape. Growling, he charged into the fray. Fleur noticed and caught his eye. He hoped his expression was enough to convey his silent command to not hit him on accident.

When Yearling dodged a pair of knives by flying low, he leapt and swung Boomer. She spotted him and twisted in midair, the weapon blurring passed her chest by inches. “Celestia’s golden flanks! Why do you have to be such a pain in the tail?” She rolled away as a mace flew at her.

Caballeron pursued her from one corner of the room to another, barely noticing how their struggle damaged the priceless relics in the room. She kept trying to make a run at Fleur, but every time she did she found a wall of blades blocking the path. A gemstone occasionally flew through the air, sometimes bursting into flame, others with electricity, once with an audible thunderclap that left Caballeron’s ears ringing for several seconds. Sweat began to run down his chest as he struggled to keep up with the damnable pegasus!

But Yearling wasn’t faring well either. She’d gained multiple small cuts and bruises from the barrage and her coat shined with her own layer of sweat. While Caballeron stopped for a few seconds every now and then to catch his breath, Fleur never let up, forcing Yearling to be constantly on the move. Even when she fled into the other rooms and beyond Fleur’s vision, the weapons never stopped coming. He suspected that had something to do with those blue gems Fleur had distributed earlier.

Yearling flew back into the main room, but Fleur hadn’t moved from the stairs and had kept a good number of weapons with her to block any quick attempts to slip past. The pegasus huffed as she kept up the dodging game. “Come on… lady! This is… getting… really… old!”

Fleur didn’t have so much as a drop of sweat on her. She stood perfectly still, though her sharp eyes followed Yearling’s every movement. “Drop the amulet at my hooves, and I might let you fly out of here.”

“No you won’t!” Caballeron flung Boomer once more, having long forgotten his misgivings about the act. “She’s not leaving this place alive!”

The boomerang flew in a high arc, weapons deftly avoiding it as it passed. Yearling saw it coming and, with a growl, performed a swift backflip. She’d timed it perfectly, her hind hooves striking the top of the weapon as it passed and changing its course. Boomer wobbled, flew low, curved in a tight arc…

And smashed into the large tank that, until now, had miraculously avoided damage. Glass shattered and green liquid splashed across the wooden floor. Everything stopped. All eyes turned to the contents of the tank, which turned out to be a large lump of brown and grey rock. At first, Caballeron was disappointed.

Then, there came a crackling sound. A sheen of light passed over the stone, then something like an arc of electricity. The stone began to float up, generating an almost mechanical hum. The ponies exchanged alarmed looks as the noise got louder and louder.

“Uh…” Daring flew to the opposite side of the room, panting and wiping sweat from her brow. “I don’t suppose either of you know what that is?”

Caballeron shot his companion a worried look. “Fleur?”

She shook her head, face still locked in that commanding glare even as she watched the orb.

The humming stopped. The orb hovered a couple feet in the air, silent and still. A sound somewhere between a hollow thump and a splash of water filled the room, and then there was a flash of white that made Caballeron cover his face for a moment. As soon as it passed, the orb dropped to the ground with enough force to shake the floor beneath their hooves. At the same moment, Fleur’s magic winked out and all the weapons and gems fell out of the air, filling the cavernous room with echoing clatters.

Yearling collapsed. Her flank smashed into a book-strewn table, and the impact flipped her so she hit the floor face-first. “Ow! Son of a hydra, that hurt!”

Caballeron felt a jolt within him, as if he’d been given a weak but forceful pull towards the stone. It passed as fast as the flash had, leaving a tingling sensation in his hooves, and left him feeling strangely… weak. Diminished. He shook his body as if to free it of water. “What the hay was that?”

Fleur’s face had gone slack. “Oh… chyort voz’mi.” Not a second later, the ceiling over them gave a crack so loud it was like a bolt of lightning in their ears. Caballeron looked up just in time to see a chunk of wood paneling spit apart as a deluge of water poured in.

“The magic has been negated!” Fleur was already running up the stairs. “Get out! Get out now!”

More fissures made themselves known, the cracking sounds battering Caballeron’s ears. Water gushed into the room from the walls, the ceiling and even the floor. Already there was enough to cover the ground, the level rising quickly. Caballeron took a step towards the exit, paused, looked back. His eyes drifted across the dozens, maybe even hundreds of artifacts.

Abruptly, his entire heart felt heavy. So much knowledge lost. His eyes fell upon one of the weapons that had fallen nearby. If he could just save one…

“Professor, what are you doing?” Yearling stumbled in in his way, a limp in her hind leg. “We’ve gotta go!”

“I c-can’t.” He tried to go around her. She blocked. “The relics. I have to save at least one!”

Her wings burst open and she shoved him back. “Forget about the bits and get moving!”

Snarling, he raised his hoof to shove her out of the way. “Any one of these things could be as old as Celestia herself! There’s knowledge here. I can’t let that die!” Water sloshed around his legs as a large chunk of stone collapsed on top of a statue, crushing it. He raised a leg against the splash and turned for a large urn on a nearby plinth. “I c-can’t let it go. This place can’t be forgotten!”

Yearling slammed into him, knocking him on his back. The water was up to his chin, but all he could see was her furious rose eyes. “Silty wouldn’t want you to die down here!”

For an instant, Caballeron saw Silty standing over him, panic overwhelming her anger. In another, it was Yearling, anger masking her panic.

The demon launched, guiding Caballeron’s hoof into the side of her skull. She jolted sideways and hit the water, legs and wings flailing. It didn’t take her long to get up, but adrenaline and rage made him faster. He slammed into her side head first, pushing her across the room until she smashed into a large chunk of limestone. She gasped and started to fall, but he caught her shoulder and pulled so that she was standing on her hind legs, back to the rock, and pressed his elbow to her throat.

Still gasping for air, water streaming down the side of her face, she grasped his leg and kicked at him. He felt none of it as he snarled in her face. “Don’t you ever, ever use her against me like that! You have no right to speak her name you selfish, immature bitch! Silty was ten times better than either of us could ever dream of being, and I won’t stand here and let some backstabbing cheat like you soil her name!”

Yearling squirmed, the air coming out of her throat in a frail whistle. Her eyes boggled as she kicked and flapped, but he held her in an iron grip. The devil in the back of his mind was laughing. Laughing and jeering and dancing and making lewd gestures and—

Something dangled before his face. It was all angles and sharp points, with a blood red image of an alicorn on the front. He stared at it, uncomprehending at first, and then realizing what it was. His breathing slowed. He looked to Yearling’s face, which was going blue in the cheeks. Slowly, she mouthed something.

‘One thing.’

One thing? One…

He gasped and jumped back, suddenly remembering their situation. The water was above his knees now and rising fast. Yearling fell to her haunches and sucked down air, hacking as she did. Books and scrolls and small tools floated about them, and Caballeron yelped when one of the walls between the rooms collapsed on itself.

“Shit!” He turned, scanned the waters and spotted Boomer floating nearby. Sloshing his way across the room, he grabbed the boomerang and set it in its harness, strapping the safety on. That done, he started for the exit, but stopped himself when he remembered Yearling.

Though she continued to heave, she’d managed to get in the air, stuffing the amulet in her satchel. “I’m f-fine,” she said, just barely loud enough be heard over the cacophony of rushing water and cracking stonework. “Go. Go!”

They’d escaped harder situations than this. She’d make it out, he knew it for a fact, and so he rushed for the stairwell. More water gushed through, making it hard to see the steps themselves, and with Fleur gone he had no light to see by. Cursing, he fought the urge to move quickly lest he fall. The cascading waters had enough force that he feared he might lose his footing, but gradually he made his way. When he looked up and saw the light of the other side, however, his heart fell at the distance.

The staircase buckled and shook. A wall just ahead of him snapped, unleashing more water into the small space. He could hear the steady cracking of rock, first behind him them over his head, then in front of him. Shit, it’s the roof! He tried to move faster, stumbling as he misplaced a hoof.

“That ain’t gonna cut it, Professor!”

Legs wrapped about his torso, and he shouted in surprise as he began to dart up the stairs. “Yearling! There’s not enough room for that!” He didn’t know that for sure, but he couldn’t imagine how she was able to flap her wings without banging them on the narrow walls.

“Stop complaining, and stop squirming!”

Water, stone and dirt rained on them as they ascended faster and faster. Gritting his teeth, Caballeron tucked his legs close to his body and hoped she didn’t choose this perfect opportunity to drop him. They might be right above the steps, but at these speeds the impact may very well kill him. The light of the exit grew brighter and larger by the second. The water stopped flowing. Against his better judgement, he actually began to hope.

A resounding crack filled the air, dirt and pebbles blocking his view. He covered his face as Yearling screamed in what he hoped was merely determination. Bright light, a twist that made Caballeron’s guts churn. A window—

Another cry, and the legs around him disappeared. Caballeron sucked in a sharp breath as his airborne path sent him sailing out the study window. His first thought: I’m out!

His second thought: Aw, shit. Not again. He tried to angle himself for a dive, but Caballeron was no seapony; he smashed into the marsh water sideways, grunting at the pain of the impact before his world was engulfed in liquid. He hit the bottom a second later, and though the grassy muck caved from the impact he still felt as if he’d slammed into a solid wall.

It took a moment for the shock to fade. Once it did, he started swimming for the surface. It didn’t take him long; the water was just deep enough to keep his hooves from touching bottom. He gasped, wiped his mane from his eyes and tried to access the situation. What he saw almost made him wish he were back underwater.

Guilguil’s Shame appeared to be imploding, its walls shaking and collapsing as the entire structure slipped beneath the churning water. Cat lilies and marsh grass swayed wildly at the disruption to the normally pristine habitat and the air was filled with a cacophony of crunches, crashes and cracks overlaid by the steady rush of water. The hole beneath the the manor was sucking everything down…

Including him! Caballeron cursed and began to swim away from the disaster. The current rushed past him, carrying along clumps of grass and moss and mud that tangled in his legs and mane and tail. He kicked as hard as his legs could muster, but when he looked back the destruction had only grown closer. He watched in horrid fascination as an entire stone wall crumbled in on itself and disappeared. He didn’t want to imagine what that kind of pressure would do to him.

“Cruelles!”

He whipped his head around, sending water droplets flying. Fleur stood in shallower waters only a dozen feet away. He tried calling to her, but a clump of muddy moss chose that moment to get into his mouth. He spat and choked and went under for a moment, only to burst back out and spit the gunk away. His efforts to swim her way gained him nothing but a slightly faster ride towards the bubbling, churning waters beneath Giulgiul’s Shame.

Then he felt something latch onto his forehoof. He fought to get his head above water for just a quick glance. Relief washed over him at the sight of a familiar pink aura, which drug him through the rushing waves towards Fleur at a steady pace. Within seconds he’d found his footing, but she kept pulling him until the water was only just above his knees. He promptly fell to them, gasping and hacking out what water had lodged itself in his throat.

Once he could finally breath without a knifing pain, he shook his head and grumbled. “Why can’t I ever go to a site that doesn’t destroy itself once the treasure is found? And why is there always some mud for me to fall into?”

“Are you alright?”

Fleur's tone was stern, but he chose not to dwell on that. “I think I’ll be fine.” He peered up at her. “You left me to die down there.”

Her expression was as cold as winter in the Frozen North. “Do not blame me if you chose not to get out when I expressly declared the urgent need to do so.” Her gaze shifted to Giulgiul’s Shame, or what was left of it. “What of Daring Do?”

Indeed, what of Daring Do? Standing at last, Caballeron followed her gaze. The once grand structure was now but a pile of rubble not even a floor in height. It seemed that the gaping hole they’d made beneath it had finally filled up, for the wreckage ceased its descent and merely rested in the gradually calming waters. Of his longtime foe there was no sign.

“I don’t know,” he muttered, ears folding back. As an afterthought, “She had the amulet.”

Fleur nodded slowly. “Then we’ve no choice but to search. I can’t face the Mane Archon without telling him I did everything I could.” She glanced at him, her face no less hard than before. “I am sorry you didn’t get the opportunity to kill her yourself.”

“She’s not dead.” He didn’t know if that was true or not. He realized, with some surprise, that he hoped it was. “But she might be in the wreckage. It’ll be unstable.”

Fleur was already walking for the structure. “Stay behind if you are worried.”

Watching her go, he weighed his options. Yearling… might be dead. Crushed beneath the weight of the debris, or trapped underwater and unable to escape. The thought left him feeling uneasy. After how much he’d chased her, all the effort he put into trying to kill her, she’d made the effort and saved him from what would have been certain doom. Why?

Knowing it to be a bad idea, he followed Fleur. It seemed that the suction had either lowered the water level or dragged a lot of mud and debris into the area, for Caballeron had no trouble reaching the site without having to swim. That proved not to be much of a blessing; his legs sank in the muck to above his knees, and every step was a struggle on his already aching muscles. It seemed Fleur had no such problems, but her horn was glowing. A spell to make her passage easier? He wished she’d use it on him. He had a very real concern of stepping into a deep spot and dropping into some mud-filled pit.

Somehow, he managed to get to the debris, slowly climbing atop a large limestone chunk of what he suspected had been a wall. He moved slowly, eyeing the cracks and edges, hoping nothing would collapse under his weight. Fleur moved with equal caution, but with her lighter frame she had less trouble going from slab to slab.

“Hey. Hey! I’m here.”

The two shared surprised looks and hurried as fast as they dared towards the sound of the voice. Fleur reached the spot first, stopping at the edge of what had once been a piece of roof… maybe. Caballeron reached her a minute later.

Yearling was in the water, her face just barely poking out. It was almost to her eyes, and she kept blinking when it sloshed into them. She kept her lips formed in a small ‘o’ shape to keep the muddy marshwater from getting in her mouth, with only marginal success. Caballeron stared at her, not sure what he was seeing. Those rose eyes… they hadn't looked like that in a long time.

“H-hey.” She struggled to speak without letting too much water in her mouth. “Um… help a mare out?” She spat out a small gob of mud that found its way in. “P-please?”

Fleur cocked her head. “What’s stuck?”

Yearling’s face shifted and rocked, as if she were repositioning herself. Water sloshed over her face and she blinked her eyes free of it before answering. “My tail. It’s caught on something. I gotta hold—” Another quick adjustment. She spat some water out and took a few quick breaths. “I’m holding myself up with my forelegs. It really hurts.”

“I see.” Fleur glanced at Caballeron. She offered not a smile or a frown, nor anything else to betray what she might be thinking. After a moment’s thought, she lit her horn.

“Hey, w-what are you doing?” Yearling’s eyes went wide. “Don’t pull! You’ll do more… oh.” The drop in her tone was like a stone landing at the bottom of a well; desolate and certain.

A moment later, Yearling’s satchel rose out of the water. Fleur pulled it close, opened it, and peered inside. A moment later, the Alicorn Amulet floated out. “I have what I came for.” She looked to Yearling, then to Caballeron. “Do as you wish. I’ll be waiting nearby.” The amulet dropped back into the satchel. She turned and left without another word.

Silence. Cabelleron stared at Yearling. She stared right back, the gaze of the hopeless.

Thirteen years of longing, of seething hatred and burning need. At last, he had his chance. The little devil in the back of his mind giggled like a school colt, patient, savoring the moment. Except…

Why did he feel like it was he who was trapped?

“I didn’t do it.”

He shook himself, ears folding back as he refocused on her. “What?”

Yearling shifted once more, but her eyes never left his. “I didn’t frame you. I didn’t take Pawtlpotl from you. All I ever—” She spat more of the muck, coughed. “All I ever wanted was to set the record straight. I didn’t know they’d come down on you like that.”

He said nothing, only stared and absorbed her words. His mind was disturbingly blank.

She continued after a while. “I’m sorry, Professor. It all happened so fast. I tried to tell them you were innocent, but nopony would believe me. I… I-I tried so hard…”

Where those tears in her eyes? No… No, it had to be the marsh water. She couldn’t keep it out of them for longer than a few seconds.

“S-somepony framed you, but it wasn’t me. I swear, it wasn’t me. I—”

A question came to mind. Caballeron leaned forward, and she went silent. “What do you hope to gain by telling me this?”

She gazed up at him for a moment, breath coming in steady gasps as she fought to keep still. It was getting harder for him to dismiss the tears. “I’m hoping you’ll make it quick.”

He knew what she really meant. He took in the waters around her, the wreckage of Giulgiul’s Shame, the stillness of the place. It would be simple, wouldn’t it? Just turn and walk away. She’d stand there for hours, struggling just to keep her face above the water. In time her legs would begin to wear out. He could imagine it; the despair, the fear, the steady understanding that nopony would come to help her. It would be a slow death, a lingering one, filled with a hopeless fight to stay above water for as long as her strength remained. It was about as torturous an end as he ever could have hoped for.

It left a pit in his stomach.

“Do it, Professor.”

He met her gaze but said nothing.

She spat once more, shifted, took a few slow, rattling breaths. No, those were definitely tears. She closed her eyes and made a strange, choking sound. He realized it was a failed attempt to stifle a sob.

“Walk away. If it’ll h-help you heal… If it’ll fix what happened, then just go.” A deep breath. “Please.”

He cocked his head. “I thought you wanted me to make it quick.”

“I do.” She sniffled, closed her eyes. “I don’t want to die like this. B-but if it’ll end your rage, th-then… then go. Before I start to beg. P-please.”

So that’s what it came down to, was it? A choice. Leave her to die slowly, or end it now and be merciful. Merciful. Could he be merciful? After all she did…

He closed his eyes, feeling sicker in his stomach now that he faced his great moment. It all felt so wrong. Her words… Her last declaration of innocence. She’d always maintained it, never once even acknowledging the idea of guilt. And she’d never fought back, not really. All the chasing, all the determination, but all she’d ever done before was dodge and run away. Now that he thought about it, had she ever so much as threw a punch?

His tiny demon was snarling and snapping, fighting to get out of its cage. It tried to block the path of his thoughts, tried to force the anger into him. The comfortable, safe rage. The flame that kept him going for so long, all in an effort to find somepony to blame. And he’d chosen Yearling. Yearling, who stared at him now with those wide, terrified eyes. How could he forget the horror on her face? He’d been so busy screaming at her as they dragged him from the interrogation room, he’d barely noticed.

But he’d never forgotten.

And now, as he opened his eyes, he saw those same eyes watching him, waiting in silent expectation of her doom. And right then, he knew the truth. More than that; he’d always known, he’d just refused to see it.

“You’re innocent.”

She blinked. Shifted. “W-what?”

The demon howled and shrieked. He shoved it down. “You’re innocent.”

He went with his third option, and jumped into the marsh. He couldn’t see through the dirty water, but he could feel just fine. He moved along the slabs, cautious to keep from hurting himself on the debris, and found her. His hooves traced her forelegs, which extended to their full length against a chunk of stone. They ran down her body to her hind legs, also fully extended. With a mental apology, he felt around her flanks until he got to her tail, then followed it down.

It was caught between what felt like two thick slabs. He anchored himself to something hard with his hind legs, kept one foreleg on her tail, then unlatched the safety strap from Boomer. His chest began to burn from a lack of oxygen, but he ignored the sensation. Moving slowly so as not to accidentally hurt her, he flipped the boomerang to its bladed side and slowly cut through the strands of tail hair. As soon as he felt her come loose, he pulled back, replaced Boomer and swam.

He broke through the surface with a gasp, his chest aching. Sputtering and wiping his mane from his eyes, he turned to find an offered a hoof. He took it and climbed back onto the ledge. As soon as he was safely on, Yearling collapsed onto her side. She breathed slow and heavy, not even flinching when he shook the water from his coat. He sat next to her and said nothing, focusing instead on the task of accepting his actions.

It was over, wasn't it? He tried to find the devil in the back of his mind. It was nowhere to be found.

He mentally reached out for Silty. His summons went unanswered. For the first time in over a decade, he truly felt alone. It left him with a cold, hollow feeling. But he didn't know how to react to it, so he just sat there, water dripping off his mane.

Seconds passed. Maybe minutes, he couldn’t be sure. At last, Yearling looked up at him, expression weary. “Y-you could have ended it. Why?”

He spared her a glance, then stood on aching legs. “I’m sorry, kid. I blamed you. You were an easy target. I… I should have been looking harder.”

He left her there without another word, walking with his head low and eyes on the water. He made slow progress through the muck, not bothering to fight it with any real effort. It made his knees burn with the constant effort, but he welcomed it. He deserved it. Thirteen years of being an ass. Thirteen years wasted on childish goals and blind rage.

A creep like him didn’t deserve Silty’s forgiveness.

“You let her live.”

His head felt like it were made of bricks, his neck moving stiffly to raise it just high enough to let him eye Fleur. She stood nearby, frowning as she studied him with a solemn, heavy-lidded expression. It had been a statement, but there was a question in her eyes.

He let his head drop once more and resumed his walk. He offered her no explanation.

Nothing he could say would lessen the shame.