Emeris holds down my right arm, as Celestia does her best to pin down my left. I flail and grit my teeth, letting out seething agony from my mouth. The wound on my chest hisses like flesh against scorching metal and feels the exact same as well. Cadence furrows her brow and her horn flares over and over. She stomps an angry and nervous hoof on the stone floor of the palace. “Why isn’t this working?! What is this black crap?!”

Celestia looks at Cadence and shakes her head wildly.

“I...I don’t know! The wound is getting worse though, we have to do something!” Luna bursts through the door, with Lucretia clinging to her neck. She’s out of her armor and her face is pale. Luna has a satchel in her mouth and I can clearly hear several glass vials inside. She skids to a stop next to my bed and Lucretia slides off to the floor. Luna fishes out one bottle with a clear liquid and a second bottle with some kind of blue gel inside it. Luna looks at both jars frantically.

“Alright, tell me what to do!” Lucretia has her eyes closed and swallows as she lays on her back.

“Take an empty jar, pour a fourth of the white liquid inside. Then heat it up until it starts forming small bubbles.” Luna uses her magic to hold the jar in front of her. She stares at it and after a few seconds, the clear liquid starts to simmer. Lucretia swallows again.

“Now mix in the blue liquid, but very slowly...it’ll start to foam for a few seconds so don’t let it overflow.” As Luna pours in the blue gel, steam starts to jet out from the jar. She stops pouring every few seconds, as the frothy mess threatens to jump out. The mixture calms down and turns green, but seems to swirl on its own. Lucretia opens her eyes for long enough to look at the jar.

“While it’s still reacting, pour it on his wound.” Luna’s eyes bulge as she looks down at Lucretia.

“But...but it’s still scorching hot! Why do you think this will work if even our magic won’t-”

“Just do it!” Lucretia croaks miserably. Luna looks me in the eyes hesitantly before slowly pouring the mixture on the black substance covering my chest. I lean my head back and scream. Emeris has to lean his entire body on my arm to stop me from getting loose. After a few seconds, I’m able to at least look at my wound. The black mass starts to harden. Celestia reaches up with her hoof and timidly bumps a few tiny strands of it, that crumble to the floor. Luna pours the rest of the mixture, but it barely has any effect. They brush off the outer hardened layer, but there’s still tons of this stuff left.

Luna looks down at Lucretia.

“Are...are you sure I can use all of this?! What are you going to-”

Lucretia chuckles weakly.

“I’m Taraskan.” Luna purses her lips and repeats the process. After the third jar is poured onto my chest, my vision goes white and I pass out.

When I open my eyes, it’s darker outside with the sun just beginning to set. Lucretia lays in a bed next to mine. She’s pale and sweat covers her face.

“L...Lucretia...what…” She opens her left eye and turns her head just enough to look at me and smiles weakly.

“It was the last of my hersaphine cream. I’ve used it in conjunction with my armor to stay in combat. My...my muscle deficiency...I...my body is unable to even take its own weight. My dad was on crutches his entire life and that was with a heavier dosage that I use. I...I don’t know if I’m going to make it sir.”

My mouth fumbles for words.

“You...we need to get more then!”

Lucretia smiles a bit wider.

“Thank you, but it only grows near Taraskan castle. I think that’s why they nicknamed it the Blood Plant, ‘cause it only grows on Taraskan soil. I’m sure Hurrand had whatever weeds growing there picked up by now. Versa also knows I use it and she’s probably hidden them somewhere so we’d have to trade for it. Even if we sack the palace, I’d doubt we’d find it. There are so many hiding places that you have to know about.” She groans and closes her eyes. I glance at the door then back to her in though.

“How...did you know it would work?” Lucretia gives a tiny shrug.

“I didn’t honestly. I had a chance to speak with Starswirl and Celestia in private before he left. There’s like this...stuff about cross-dimensional magic. Some spells work on us, others don’t. I think it’s like...spells that boost what is already there will work like the healing spells? But like...teleporting for example doesn’t work. I mean...like teleporting us in our armor doesn’t work, but it might be different for each person. I know Cy gets extremely sick if he gets teleported, I can’t be teleported at all, but you can just fine. It doesn’t make a whole lot of sense so far.”

She coughs several times but can’t even move her arms to cover her mouth.

“But like...so I had this idea, that maybe hersaphine has some kind of magic origin and since it’s from our world...why not give it a try. So I had Luna whip you up a special potent version of it and wouldn’t you know it. I think that black crap feeds off your energy and the hersaphine like...stops it or whatever? That might be why Celestia couldn’t teleport me, from all the hersaphine in my system since it can be taken orally or absorbed through the skin. Magic is...so annoying to study. Also there’s like...spell magic and just straight kinetic magic. Like Starswirl was saying that Zaran can’t directly use magic, like he can’t cast spells. So his magic is mostly just...like getting punched really really hard by a Garge. So that means he has to somehow have someone else doing spells for him. It’s all just a big stupid theory though, I could be talking out my rear here.” Lucretia starts groaning and breathing heavily. I grip my blanket tight in my hands as I lay on my side watching her.

“Look just...hang on, we’ll figure something out okay?!” Lucretia smiles without opening her eyes or adjusting her head.

“It’s fine Raiden. To be honest, I’m kind of tired of this...everything. The war, the dying, the fear, the pain, the paranoia, the worrying. I get a guarantee I can go out like a hero.” Her head suddenly drops to the side and she goes quiet. Her chest still rises up and down though, but barely. From what she’s told me, her heart needs the hersaphine regiment to keep going from the extra strain.

I look down at my chest. A nasty scar like a disorganized spiderweb, litters my abs as well as the lower half of my chest. It was still tender, but I’d live. I quietly swing my legs over the bed and do my best to stand. Shuffling across the room, I get my shirt and coat from off a table. Before I can even touch the doors, Emeris opens them with one hand and gives me a stern glare.

“Raiden...what is with you and hospitals?” My mouth contorts from the pain across my stomach, but I do my best to fake it.

“Lucretia...she’s dying.”

Emeris’ eyes widen, and he dashes into the room and looks her over. He turns back to me, his face full of fear and anger.

“What the hell is going on?!”

I motion at her with my hand.

“She...she needs more hersaphine. We have to go back to the castle…” Emeris blinks silently and takes in a deep breath.

“Look...stealthily taking out Og Nag is one thing, but I’ve never been that great against actual people! I may be empathetic, a manipulator, a liar, a leader and a spy, but I’m no assassin. You can barely even walk as it is, how do you plan to even wear your armor?” All I can do is glance at Lucretia again.

“Then I’ll do it wearing dark leather. With any luck, there won’t be any combat.” Emeris narrows his eyes.

“It’s Taraskan castle; its simplicity is its greatest defense. There’s one gate room, one staircase going up. There’s only one throne room. I’m assuming Versa knows about Lucy needing the hersaphine cream and probably has had it all pulled en masse? You’re going to need a backpack full of it. She goes through that crap super-fast. When we left to defend against that first Og Nag attack in Ponyville...I had my suspicions we might not be coming back, so I had several soldiers under my command grab as much as they could. Seven soldiers worth of hersaphine has lasted her these last four or five months. You’ll have to only carry what you can sneak out. Does this sound like a good plan to you?”

My fingers nervously tap my leg.

“Then I’ll get one of the princesses to-” I stop when Emeris rolls his eyes.

“Yeah now I know you’re not feeling well enough. If they even remotely thought we came to storm the castle, the first thing they’d do is make it in vain. They’d destroy all the hersaphine, the food, weapons, armor, everything. You know how Taraska works. Another one of their great defense: be the biggest ass-bags you can so no one bothers you because it will be useless.”

I hold up both my hands and clench them in frustration.

“Well we have to do something!”

Emeris nods his head and takes several steps forward before putting his hand on my shoulder.

“Let’s also not forget this is probably Zaran’s plan. I have no idea what he gains from this, but I’m sure there’s an angle. Maybe he wants to torture you, or maybe he knew hersaphine was the cure. I’m not a doctor, so I can only guess. But I can tell you that there’s a point to all of this.”

I clamp my hand on Emeris’.

“I’m not doing this out of anger though. This isn’t revenge, this isn’t some sick ploy of mine. For the first time in a long time, I feel like I have control. I’m not going there to assassinate Hurrand, all of that is the old me. I could really use your support on this. Please.”

Emeris’ lips fold in on themselves and he sighs uncomfortably.

“I’ll...get you some gear then.” Emeris walks out the doors and fumbles with something in the next room. I weakly shuffle out the doors and stand outside the room Emeris is rummaging through. He looks over his shoulder at me for a moment.

"Oh by the way, we have another issue on our hands. I'm assuming Zaran is going for a more...civil attack. We have a bunch of refugees coming from...basically everywhere. We can feed them but...you know...at least half of them are bound to be changelings. Of course they're not familiar with the issues that we face so things are going to get super tense, as any changeling will have an excuse to be completely ignorant of our rules while in disguise. If we say no, we'll seem like jerks. If we say yes, it will be a nightmare for security. They're mostly from someplace called Saddle Arabia and these ponies look a bit different as well. Longer muzzles, lots of jewels and their clothing uses more pictures and designs than just elegant color." Emeris stands up straight after going through a large box.
"So i'm sure your all-black attire will send a wonderful message." he says while tossing me some darkened leather gear. I grasp it tightly with both hands.
"Emeris...thank you..."

As my former city comes into view, it’s clear the 4th hasn’t been up to much. The ruined houses have been mostly piled on top of themselves to allow for more room, but they haven't turned it into much. The hole in the northern wall has been filled with debris and there’s a considerable gate now. There’s a few tall towers with makeshift trebuchets on them, but they’re so hideous, I’d doubt they’d fire.

There’s one crucial detail that helps sink in the reality of it all: not one dead Og Nag. They barely even had defenses. It was difficult for a person to sneak in, but they had no way of holding off any kind of invasion.

The crusty, black grass crunches under my feet. Moonlight hugged every surface and cast an eerie shadow across the ground. The wall of Taraska was roughly thirty feet high and ten feet thick. There were no patrols on top, but I could hear a guard walking back and forth behind the gate. Pairs were always assigned to the gate though, so I’d have to locate his buddy before doing anything.

The dark dirt continued around a hundred feet past the gate before mixing with Equestrian grass. That familiar feeling of all hope being lost, sits in my stomach as soon as I press my back against the stone wall. Luckily, they didn’t stock the trees with archers, most likely due to a lack of troops.

The gate was a semblance of metal walls that had either been tied or rigged up in some way to stay together. Random wooden beams and even tables were used to help solidify any gaps. Along the wall, was random junk that had been tossed over. Tables, dressers and chairs were scattered about. I skulk about the shadows, trying to explore my options. Further down, there seemed to be a favorite spot for tossing furniture. There was already a decent pile for me to climb up, but whether I could do it silently, was still questionable.

Most of the debris was in multiple pieces, but a single intact table on its side seems to be a decent start. With no one in view, I carefully pick it up and lift it onto the pile. The whole mess settles a bit. I cringe and look over my shoulder. The gate didn’t open and there would be no mistaking the sound of metal boots running up the stairs to the top of the wall.

Step by step, I place my foot wherever looks stable. Even if I wasn’t seen, a mis slip could get me impaled, or I could wind up with a broken bone. This far out, no one but Emeris knew where I was. No one will come save me, no one will show me mercy. Had I become too accustomed to Canterlot’s environment?

I reach the top of the pile and gradually raise my head to look around. The scene was devoid of life. Empty, crumbled houses with a few stray guards who haven’t had anything to do. It was a straight-shot to the palace, but something deep and dark calls from within. These monsters, these beasts called the 4th, they had been able to just wander around as I fought to protect them from Zaran. How was that even fair?

They got to inadvertently prosper from my hard work? My sacrifices? After everything they’ve done, they still get it easy. Maybe they were bored, maybe it wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows, but no Og Nag, no Zaran? They probably didn’t have to worry about changelings trying to slip into their ranks and removing any magic blocking panels. No triple-checking the guard roster or patrols. Their routes are simple and predictable: staying in the clearer areas and going back to the palace to check in every so often.

I stay low as I climb over the wall. Staying slow, I slide across the stone like a serpent. On the other side of the wall, approximately ten yards to my left, some metal beams lay upright. I crawl on all fours, quickly reaching them. Looking over the edge, the beams are propped up in a suspiciously lucky way. There wasn’t any kind of trap rigged up though. It’s the only quiet way down unless I want to risk sneaking down the stairs that lead to the makeshift gate.

I swing my legs over carefully, letting my sore abdomen do most of the work so I don’t kick them over. My foot finds the beam and my legs quickly wrap themselves around it. I shimmy across the edge of the stone wall, until I’m completely straight with the beam. If I started climbing down and was hanging either direction, the beam might come toppling over with me. My lungs take in one last lucky breath, before I let go of the wall and quickly slide down the beam.

As soon as my feet hit the ground, I lay flat on my back and don’t move. Besides the distant steps from the gate, it’s completely silent. Looking around with as little movement as possible, my spot was decently concealed with larger piles of debris. Rolling over to my stomach, I have to muffle grunts of pain as I gradually rise from the ground. One last check over my surroundings and I creep into the remains of a house.

I wanted to take out the guards at the gate first, but due to it being a higher priority area, they’d be discovered the fastest. That meant if things go south, I’d have to reclimb the beams again or find another way out. The patrols were small though, so perhaps luck would be on my side for once.

My back aches from staying low, but the pain fades to memory as my first target walks by. He casually carries a lance that rests against his shoulder. His buddy stops a few yards back to admire a painting. The first guard with the lance turns around a corner. I follow him, with footsteps as quiet as the grave. I pull out the dagger from my leather wrist guard and quickly ram it into the back of his head. Before he even starts crumpling, I let go of the knife and wrap my arms around his upper section, so I can hold onto his body and his lance.

The strain makes my stomach explode all over again and I almost drop him. My lips tremble as we both go steadily to the ground. As I set his body down, the lancer’s handle touches the dirt and almost falls forward. My fingers are barely able to grab it right before it slams into some nearby wood. Looking over my shoulder and through a small opening in the debris, his buddy is still admiring the painting.

I creep up behind him, with my dagger ready to be thrown in an instant. The painting is of a clearing in a forest. Several soldiers fight to the death, as all the animals, carnivores and herbivores, watch from the trees while standing side by side with each other. I stop a few inches behind him and look over his shoulder.

“Could use some more red.” I say casually. The soldier nods, then his head jerks backwards when he realizes I’m not his buddy. Before he even drops the painting, I’ve already reached around, slammed the knife into his windpipe and sawed his throat open. Blood gushes all over the painting. My hands snag the art before it falls, but I let his corpse hit the ground. There was no one nearby to hear it anyways. I lay the masterpiece against his body, with plans to grab it on my way back out after the blood dries.

A second patrol is off to my left, but they’re still concealed from view of the gate room. I say back a bit, scurrying around in the darkness. There’s still only two of them. As much fun as it was to mess with them, I couldn’t keep risking my luck. They stop and converse about some kind of drunken incident a few weeks ago. They even had alcohol here. I’m sure Cy would have loved to come along. There’s a decent sized stone that I take into my left hand and slowly unsheathe my sword with my right. I chuck the rock far over their heads, so they won’t see it, making sure it’ll still land in some grass.

The moment they look to where the sound came from, I run by, behead the first guard then quickly switch hands and decapitate the second soldier. She lets out a small gasp right as my blade collides with her throat. If they had put on their gear properly, their tracheas would have been covered. I always did like to teach lessons the hard way. Out of the two guards, one of them is roughly my size. I slip on their armor and make my way towards the gate room. On the way there, I snag some random cloth from the ground and wipe as much blood from the dirt-crusted armor that I can.

With no one outside, I walk right up to the gate and knock twice, then knock three times. They open, and one guard gives me a small wave. As soon as I’m inside, he starts pulling the gate closed. When he picks up the wooden log to put across the handles, he freezes as I stand right behind him. He’s not even in full armor. He has on metal boots, but the rest is chainmail and leather.

He sets down the log and whirls around nervously. I shake my head and sigh.

“There’s rogue Taraskans out there and you don’t even change the damn gate knock?”

He turns his head a few degrees to the side and looks into my helmet nervously. The moment his eyes bulge, he mutters my name right as my sword gets slammed into his stomach. He gradually looks down with an expression of pure horror. I grab his jaw and lift his face to mine.

“Look into my eyes and see death.” I hiss. I pull out the sword and bury it into his throat then lower him to the ground as he gurgles. There’s no sound from up the stairs that lead to the throne room. Was Hurrand up there? Could I take him out while I’m here? I have to restrain my movements as I ascend the stairs up to the throne room. At this time of night, everyone was probably sleeping, with a few on patrols throughout the city or in the mess hall.

The moment my eyes can peer over the top of the stairs, my arms tense up. He wasn’t here, but I doubt I could get inside his private quarters. I turn and go into the side hallways that lead to his guest rooms, one of which I had the pleasure of staying in the last time I was here. All the clutter from Luna dragging me out of this hellhole, had been left on the ground.

An idea slowly occurs to me: was Luna’s shredded scarf still here? My feet take extra care not to make a sound as I hurry to the room I was in. Pausing in front of the door, I look around one last time for any random soldiers I may have missed. The doorhandle sits there, as if it was mocking me. I had promised to never return to this room. It was my personal quarters, but also my personal hell.

Gritting my teeth, I press on the lever and open the door. I pause with it open several inches. In my bed, was a guard in full armor. The room smelled horrible and numerous flies swarmed their body. Luna’s scarf was still in pieces on the ground. As I scoot them together in a small pile, Termin’s words come back to haunt me.

“Hurrand is a prisoner, just like you.”

Yeah, maybe he was, but there was no soothing the hatred in my heart. Luna’s fragmented scarf gets stuffed into my pocket. There’s a note in the soldier’s hand. I look behind me at the door and close it carefully. I make my way to the soldier and have to pry open her hand to get the note out intact. After unfolding it, my hand shoots to my mouth. Etched in blood, are the three most powerful words any of my soldiers could write.

“Forgive me, Raiden.” was all it said, followed by my symbol of a V with a horizontal line through the middle. I gently fold it and put it into the same pocket with Luna’s scarf. Despite the smell, I take a knee, bow my head and rest my right hand on their chest piece. From the decay, this had to have been right after I left, maybe even a day after.

I spin around and stare in shock. Termin leans against the wall casually, sipping a drink from a cup. She stares at me without even batting an eye. She looks down at her drink and pulls out a small tube.

“Oh sorry, it’s called a straw. The Equestrians make them. They make drinking a lot easier.” She offers it out to me, but I don’t move. My eyes glance at the door that is still closed then back to Termin.

“How the hell did you get past the-”

Termin rolls her eyes. “Name one person in the entire kingdom who would dare ask me what I’m doing...well besides you obviously.” She snorts at her little comment. I’m about to ask why she’s here, but I already know the answer: Emeris asked her to tail me. I grumble to myself and open the door. My eyes bulge a second time as Versa’s massive hand grabs me by the neck and lifts me off the ground.

I gag as Versa holds me up to her face. My feet tangle helplessly a foot above the floor. As soon as my hand reaches down for my sword, Versa punches my scabbard so hard, it creates a massive dent. Despite my leg screaming in pain, my hand still grabs my handle. After a few tugs, there was no way it was coming loose. I hang onto her gauntlet with one had while trying not to let my throat take the full weight. Right as I fish out my small knife, Versa lets go and boots me back into the room.

I collide against the bed, while holding my stomach that now feels like fire and daggers all over again. Termin doesn’t move as Versa enters the room and slams the door behind her without turning around. My hands shake as I desperately try to fish out another knife from my boot. Termin stops leaning and holds up her hands.

“Raiden, Raiden! Hold on! Look we...made a deal okay?”

My eyes go frantically from Termin to Versa. “What deal?!”

Versa inhales angrily then pulls a large bundle from behind her back. It was a huge pack with a few weeds sticking out from under the top flap. The hefty smell of metal and ash wafts across the room. It was the bag of hersaphine. Versa sets it down at her feet.

“The deal is, I give you this bundle and I want your solemn word on something in the future. I don’t know when, but soon Hurrand will order us to Canterlot to take it. I want your word that you will show the 4th and even Hurrand mercy. Termin told me what is going on with Lucretia. You can save her if you are able to restrain yourself in the future.”

My mouth hangs open. I have to promise to spare the one person I hate more than Zaran in all of existence. Once again, Hurrand gets away with it.

Termin’s eyes gloss over with sympathy.

“Raiden, I-”

I get off the floor and stand there with one hand still over my gut. “I’ll give you my word, but if I even think that any of you are screwing me over, then everyone gets beheaded! I’m sick of ploys and backstabbings! I’ll give you all one chance at a new life, that’s it! Is that clear?!” I can see Versa’s eyes narrow in her helmet before she angrily kicks the bag into my arms and storms off. Termin tries to say something, but I stomp out of the room.

Versa calls my name from the opposite end of the hall. I pause and wait for her to speak.

“Did you kill any of my men on the way here?”

I look at her over my shoulder. “They’re fine.” I say ominously. My steps are quick and rapid as I exit the castle. Did Hurrand or the Minister know I was here? Were they even in the castle? What was life living next to Hurrand going to be like? Even next to the Minister?

I walk past the dead gate guard and storm out to where my leather armor is. It all gets stuffed in the huge pack. It felt weird walking straight to the final gate. Both guards look at me and one stands up while pointing to the bag.

“What’s all that?” I punch him so hard, he flies back into his chair and topples over with it. The gate wasn’t even secured and I easily push it open.

The crunch of the black weeds almost seems to reflect my anger. Once again my enemies got to get away with what they’ve done to me. How many others get to just have their way with my life and escape the consequences? Was I going to have to offer asylum to Zaran as well while we’re at it?! I pause when the Equestrian grass gives just slightly under my boots.

I drop the pack and fall to my knees while staring back at Taraska Castle. As my hands cover my mouth, the truth looms over my head. This was the darkness Zaran wants. In the back of my mind, I had assumed I was a different person now. I had gone from the romantic general, to five murders in less than an hour. What else lurked in the back of my mind? Did Zaran hit me with that black crap, knowing this all would have had to transpire? Was he going to force me to choose between my eternal rage and forgiveness, knowing I’d likely yield to my own wrath?

My past lay before me and behind me. There was no escaping the dark pull of Taraska.