Celestia's long-forgotten sun was shining ever brightly in its half of the sky, contesting with the boldly glowing moon for dominance like two stags in rut, unrelenting. Warm rays filtered in through the dome of magical energy and shrouded the city of Canterlot—the western side, at least—in a blanket of summery weather, despite the Hearthswarming holly which brightened up the streets. Indeed, after a long year of working hard, the relief which came the first day the holly—magical plants, for sure—grew was such an incredible gift. Canterlot never stopped; it was its own miniature kingdom in essence and as such had to be self-reliant. It couldn't afford a break more than once a year—or twice on those oh-so-precious leap years.

Technically, the day was young—not that morning and evening existed anymore, the princesses being much too busy to fulfil their proper duties—but one mare, a pale orange pegasus, was already out and about, her bright purple eyes bleary and still full of sleep. She trotted through the streets with little energy, hooves scuffing against the cold cobble roads, her only motivation the thought of what potential the day held.

Shrugging off the displeasuring feelings which arose as she left the bright streets of the main city, illuminated by the sun, she slowed herself to a walk and tried to remain more alert as she made her way through the alley. It was rarely used these days—ponies had no need of it, for it led to nothing but a brick wall—but the mare was curious. She’d heard that there were buildings on the other side, but there was no reason to scout them out. They were old and dilapidated and, more significantly, less than ten metres from the dome. Few ponies were foolish enough—not even the so called ‘cool’ daredevils—to go near to it, knowing full well that on the opposite side was an infected world.

Tales of the PLAGUE were horrifying. Nopony wanted to risk getting it—even coming close to the outside world where it had ravaged everything, despite the protection of the princess’ health bubble,  seemed extreme.

But the orange mare, similarly to a few others, didn’t see things that way. In her eyes, those old, crumbling wrecks which were once towering buildings held potential; for all she knew, they could contain the cure for the PLAGUE, and as a scientist—or so she had become known, for her talent was really making potions—it was a risk worth taking.

Flying over the wall with steady rhythm, it being a favourite past-time of the mare—though by no means a talent—she landed and looked around herself slowly, eyes still not fully adjusted to the darkness. Trying not to turn back—her cozy cottage was certainly calling her now—she pushed on, picking up a shaky gallop as she progressed towards the largest building, an old pet store, and her main goal.

C’mon, Mocha! she thought, trying to get her ears to stand upright, but with little success; they remained clamped to her neck despite her best efforts. You stupid foal! There’s nothing to worry about; it’s just a little dark!

Desperately wishing that she was a unicorn and could use magic to make some light, the mare—Mocha—pressed on, tearing as quickly as she could across the barren land. The grass here was all dry and dead, the precious clouds made by the pegasi not to be wasted in this uncertain area; water, as everything in Canterlot, was a commodity; greediness was not allowed. That wasn’t to say things were perfect—there was still the divide between the ‘valuable’ workers, such as the scientists, and the lesser ponies, such as the farmers and bakers who, though vital to the running of the city, were in much greater supply.  And then, at the very bottom, were those deemed almost completely unnecessary; the artists, the writers, the sports ponies. Those whose sole purpose was to motivate others, something not considered all that useful when everypony else didn’t have much time to spare. Sure, there were a few hours each day dedicated to resting, but it was barely enough time to pick up a good book, or to commission a painting. And watching a hoofball game… Well, to be able to go to one of those would be a treat indeed; only on the rare days off, which had to be earned rather than just given, could any pony get a chance to see the spectacle.

Reaching the shell of the building thankfully only a minute later, Mocha rushed inside, the door having already fallen down, and desperately searched for a light switch. Finding none, she began rummaging around through old cupboards and across broken shelves, eventually coming across an old box of matches.

Grinning, the mare quickly lit a match and grabbed an old, fractured piece of wood, dry from years without being used, and set it alight quickly, holding it in her teeth—with much trepidation, it should be noted—and looking around herself to get her bearings. The first room was a grim sight indeed; cages lined the room, some large and others small, and on closer inspection, were filled with bones, surely from poor animals left to starve.

Mocha tried not to throw up and quickly trotted out of the main room, heading into a long corridor on the left also filled with cages, smaller ones this time. Closing her eyes, she galloped past them all once more, no smell reaching her nose thankfully—it had been much too long for that—and rushed into the next room, thankfully free from all the remains, and she hastened to close the rusty old door which swung on only one hinge, the other having fallen off.

Scanning this second room, Mocha sighed as she walked on unsteady hooves over to a table on the left side, transferring her ‘torch’ to a hoof and sitting down at an old, cobweb-covered chair. Nuzzling through the paperwork on the right of the table, the left being completely buried in wreckage and rubble from the caved in roof, the mare forgot her previous goals and instead becoming overwhelmed with curiosity. Taking a few seconds to scan each page, the orange pegasus finally laid eyes upon one especially intriguing document at the very bottom of the mess. She picked it up with her free hoof and held it closer to her face where the light of the flame was brightest.

The mare read the document quickly, skimming over the words as her heart rate increased with each passing second, the information surprisingly relevant to her cause. Every line she read was more and more important, clues for the final eradication of the PLAGUE rushing through her mind. The knowledge, the sick and twisted details here, were—

“It’s not nice to break in, you know, little pegasus.”

A deep voice cut through the near silence of the room, previously only broken by the crackling of the flames, and Mocha’s grip on the torch slackened, the burning wood falling to the equally dry floor. Yelping, the mare then jerked her head up, finding a unicorn stood just next to the hole in the roof, his horn glowing green. Through the increasingly bright light of the flames around her, Mocha could just make out his features; pale yellow fur, somewhat similar to the shade of her own, and a white mane, striped with red.

Flames licked at Mocha’s hooves and she quickly jumped up into the air, flying as high as she could, though she dared not approach the stallion. Wincing as she heard the small click of a lock, she resorted to looking around herself for an escape route, finding none of much value.

“Mocha Remedy, isn’t it?” the stallion continued, seemingly unbothered by the flames. “Scientist, right?”

“Potion pony.” Mocha snarled back, flying a little higher as she felt her hooves begin to get scorched, her blue tail nearly catching alight. The flames crackled beneath her, reaching up for their prey.

“Ah, yes. It’s a shame you had to stumble here, isn’t it? I suppose you know the cure to the PLAGUE now, too?”

“Yes, now… W-will you let me go? I’d rather not be burned alive.” Mocha shifted a little closer to the stallion as the flames began devouring the room but, to her surprise, the unicorn simply stepped aside.

“Certainly,” he replied, a grin on his face. Mocha felt her heart sink as she saw it; still, that was nothing compared to the now blazing room which would surely consume her soon. She could already hear the old walls cracking, and the smoke had begun to sting her eyes and fill up her lungs. Her rear hoof was throbbing, too, surely burned—though she couldn’t tell for sure, her nerves probably severed by now.

Taking a breath, Mocha flew upwards as fast as she could, relief coursing through her body as she escaped the flames with little more than the burn on her hoof, something which she could easily cure—and then, all of a sudden, her body stopped worked. A green aura surrounded her, and she felt herself be dragged back to the burning building.

“There. You went—and I captured you.” The stallion grinned and turned slightly to the side as flames began to creep up on him; to Mocha’s sadness, he wasn’t consumed by them, jumping down from the roof as if practiced in doing so. “I can’t have you spilling my family’s shameful secret now, can I?” He grinned even wider as Mocha felt her body suddenly become cold, noticing quickly that some sticky red liquid—not blood, but something else—was rising from a crack in the earth. It was at that point that she noticed the stallion’s cutie mark; a volcano, strangely surrounded by blocks of ice.

Unable to fight the magic, Mocha felt her mind go into turmoil as she was lowered by the stallion's power, her body suddenly plunged into the liquid and she screamed, or at least tried to, but with no success. The red matter, though freezing, somehow burned her skin and made her writhe mentally; in reality her body remained still, ensnared by the aura. The freezing lava filled her lungs, scorched her from the inside out… And then, just as she thought she was about to pass out, she was relieved from the torture somewhat, pulled out of the freezing lava-like substance and simply held in midair.

“You'll heal quickly, don't worry. A few days should be all it takes. And... one more thing. Please, enjoy your exile.” The stallion's eyes narrowed, then he dipped Mocha’s hoof once more into the liquid; she tried to scream, but again it was no good. Her body did not respond to her commands, but at the very least it passed out and gave her the respite she so needed.

Blue's eyes opened shockingly fast, the light of the world making her gasp. She looked around herself, finding that she was still in the same cave she'd been in before, the one where she'd been burned alive with freezing lava, just as the mare she'd just seen had been. Scanning her own body, however, Blue found no sign of damage, none of the marks that had been left on the orange pegasus' body.

"What the-" She began to speak, but was cut off as a loud yell of aggravation met her ears, and she stood immediately, not even remotely sore. Shaking off the puzzlement—and, she couldn't lie, the inkling of fear at what she'd seen—she galloped out of the cave, completely ignoring Breakneck's commands to stay put.

She'd been a burden for him before; now she would save him, and pay back the debt that she owed. Next Chapter: Not So Free Estimated time remaining: 22 Minutes