“More height, port ten degrees!!” Zeccaran screamed as he turned from the deckrail. The wind howled in his ears as the Onyx rocked beneath him. The enviro-suit was proving much more useful than he had expected, even in this horrid weather he felt fairly comfortable.

A giant ball of snow flew past the edge of the vessel just as Bunker had finished the adjustments. The local population had proven hostile and even though they were a couple thousand feet above the valley floor, they were still very much in reach of the Ice Giant’s throws. Luckily they were not terribly accurate, but taking wide berths compared to getting hit with about a fifth of the vessel’s mass in snow was preferable.

Zeccaran leaned over the rail again as the most persistent of the creatures roared before bending to pick up more snow.

“Maintain altitude, forward full!” he bellowed standing upright again. The engines buzzed up to a fever pitch louder than the wind and the Onyx quickly gained speed. Peering towards the massive dark silhouette of the creature, Zeccaran was glad it was night. He felt like they were scary enough not seeing what they looked like.

A few seconds passed and out of the dark gloom into the bright light of the moon another snowball shot past the airship, not nearly as close as last time. Eyes trying to adjust to the lantern light on the ship, Zeccaran hedged over the deckrail to make sure the beast had given up. The black form stood off in the distance in a clearing between the giant trees, it moved some before slowly disappearing into the forest. After a few moments Zeccaran heard its heavy footfalls echo to him.

Trotting up to the helm, the zebra heaved a satisfied sigh. He got to Bunker and nodded in acknowledgement of job well done.

“They are gone?” the big stallion asked eagerly.

“Yep. And if I remember correctly you needed to use the facilities.” Zeccaran squinted at his friend.

“Da! Take wheel!” Bunker shot off almost before he finished.

Zeccaran took the wheel and shook his head. The other stallion had been holding it for the last two hours while they dodged back and forth across the narrow valley. He supposed that the worst of the journey was over. Nothing was throwing snowballs at them anymore at least. However, it was probably a poor thought, but he was getting tired of these repeated and extravagant obstacles in the search for Stormwalker.

While he waited for Bunker to return Zeccaran examined the area for the first time without being under duress. Directly above him peeking over the edge of the main balloon, he could see the full moon. Silently, he thanked Luna, he knew better than to think the Princess of the Night had nothing to do with how brightly her namesake shown through the cold. The icy wind blew roughly against his enviro-suit as the airship continued to gain speed from full gear. Deciding it was best to pull back the pressure and not over tax the boilers, Zeccaran cautiously reached up and moved the mechanism down to cruising speeds. It took a moment but the whine of the propellers churned to more of a grumble, the wind too, losing its fervor.

To his surprise, Zeccaran was left to pilot the Onyx for quite some time. However, now that they were not in immediate danger the task proved extremely pleasant. The sky was perfectly clear and being this high up in the valley meant he could see for miles, even in the dark of the night. However, as he gazed at his surroundings, it became evident that if they did not get past the massive shadow of Mount Everhoof, the valley would not be so picturesque. The giant hunk of rock loomed on his left and even now it seemed as if the moon was speeding towards the mountain’s peak.

If they were to get lost in the dark, it would make the journey all the more dangerous. To avoid hitting mountains they would be forced to land, and it was already clear that the local population were not fans of the great whirling airship. Examining the horizon again, Zeccaran noticed that there were clouds obscuring the sky a distance ahead of them. It appeared that the dark weather before them was pushing its way into the valley, otherwise blocked by the high peaks of the Middle Crystal Range. The clip-clop of Bunker’s heavy hooves made him look for his companion.

The other stallion was breaching the edge of the helm before turning around and looking at the gathering clouds. He faced Zeccaran a dark grimace on his face highlighted by the moon’s light.

“I don’t think we can land in the valley. Winds will be too strong.” He yelled a little to compensate for the thin air as he approached.

“I agree, not to mention the Ice Giants.” Zeccaran shouted back.

“Da.”

“What are we gonna do then when to strom gets here? I don’t fancy flying tino a mountain, or getting eaten.”

Bunker paused. He looked out towards the bow of the Onyx as if he was looking for something specific on the edge of the vessel. Suddenly, he gasped with a bit of anxious excitement.

“Flame weapon! We can use it to light our way in the storm!” Bunker nearly jumped he was so eager. However, Zeccaran already saw a problem with the idea.

“Sounds good. Except if the wind is blowing at us and then liquid death will be flying into our faces and on the deck of the ship,” he admonished.

“Then we get lucky. Go get weapon ready. I’ll fly for now.” The larger stallion slapped his hooves up onto the controls and nodded confidently. Zeccaran released the wheel and cast a sorrowful look down at the bow before trotting off to set up the weapon.

It took the better part of what felt like an hour to both find the fuel source and the hose. It was smooth sailing from then, he just had to drag the hose into position which while annoying was done quickly. After twisting its fitting onto the odd machine that projected the fuel and flame, he bustled back to the pump, deep down by the hose’s dispenser. Giving the machines pressure wheel a turn he watched as the flat canvas tube bulged before making his way up to the deck again.

As he pulled his head up above the boards he was almost knocked forward by the force of the wind. Catching his balance Zeccaran looked around the dark night sky and the grand airship finding the area much harder to see in than before. Eventually he managed to spy the small lantern that hung above the wheel as it rattled in the biting gusts, Bunker clutched desperately to the housing. Otherwise being unable to see from the flecks of ice being blow into his eyes as he looked stern, the zebra reloved that if they were going to light up the dark night now was the time, and he pushed towards the flamethrower’s aiming mechanism on the very front of the bow.

Narrowly staying upright before he reached the windbreak before the controls, Zeccaran clasped his hoofs onto the wheel like mechanism. Wind blew down over his back and it was all that he needed to start looking for the firing triggers, like Bunker said, it was time to be lucky and with the wind at his back it was the only time he was going to be. Finally finding the lever Zeccaran gave it a pull. Instantly, from the slot in the bow where the nozzle was just barely visible in the increasing torrent of snow, bright flame shot out in a long beam. Unfortunately, the heavy wind meant it did not do much in the way of providing light but it would tell them if anything was in front of them. As such at first it just angled away, the luminescent stream of fight falling away into a dark void. However after a few moments, Zeccaran could see the splashes of ponymade fire bouncing into puddles down below the bow, they were nearing one of the sides of the valley. The sight put him into overdrive, slapping the lever into the off position, he jumped up and shot up towards the helm, screaming about the danger of the incoming rocks and trees.

Bunker took notice as he crawled onto the helm, the wind howling louder than any voice. The big burgundy stallion heaved the wheel spoke by spoke with excruciating effort as Zeccaran watched from the floor. In the meantime as he drug himself towards the helm to help, the ship moaned as she turned more of her surface area into the wind. The whole vessel began to jerk violently and Zeccaran quickly found himself bounced over to the helm. He grabbed onto the tower and pulled himself up to the wheel next to his friend fighting the wind the whole way.

“Hold the wheel!” Bunker screamed. It was Zeccaran’s best interpretation of the vague unintelligible sounds coming out of the other stallion’s mouth. As soon as his hooves were secure in the spokes, Bunker reach up to the throttle control, wobbly attempting to keep his hoof and body steady as he pulled and pushed on the mechanism. The Onyx shuddered as her engines were told to reverse, but her inertia and the gales pushed her forward. Bunker leaned onto the wheel in the next instant, and began pushing the spokes further to starboard. They made decent progress moving the spokes twice as fast as before and the airship’s speed dropped as it fought the wind.

Abruptly, the deck left Zeccaran’s hooves and he had the sensation of being tossed to the left. He reached for Bunker’s neck but unfortunately too slow, and began flying past the stallion towards an open fall into the dark valley below. It was not certain whether or not his chest hitting the deckrail was fortunate or unfortunate. However, as the sharp pain of his body impacting the heavy wood nearly knocked him out sound seemed to return. A great clang, as if somepony had beat a pair of pans together echoed to his ears in his semi-conscious state. That was really an understatement, more like one-hundred paired pans had been smashed together in perfect synchronization. The noise deafened the wind and left a hard ringing in Zeccaran’s ears as he leaned up from the wooden ground.

The image of a strange stallion of burgundy at an equally strange contraption confused the zebra. The fellow stood gasping, shaking as he clung to the unfamiliar wheel. A sudden bit of jerking slid him over the deck of the...ship? The zebra could still only hear ringing as he came to a stop and attempted to stand. Slowly, the shrieking in his ears began and a strange sense of deja vu washed over Zeccaran. When it finally stopped and was replaced by the howling wind his mind realized what he had observed.

“Holy hell!” He shouted grabbing his head as it suddenly ached. It was hard to rationalize everything, but from what he could tell he was probably suffering from a concussion. Squeezing his eyes closed as the pain in his skull began to intensify.

“I guess we crashed? Bunker?!” He screamed both at his suffering and the loudness of the wind. He was only greeted by more shrieking gales and snow. After what seemed like a long forever, a heavy hoof placed itself onto his shoulder and Zeccaran squinted his eyes open as he continued to wither where he stood.

“Zebra! You are still on ship! Good! Ugh...godsdamnit. Let go inside. Can’t fly in this weather anyway.” Bunker patted him on the shoulder, before nearly dragging him along as he spoke. Zeccaran could only wince as his friend pulled him along, glad that he was able to both remember his name and recognize him. His companion grunted as he flat through him over his shoulder as they reached the helm’s stairs.

“You took blow to head, da?” Bunker asked as they reached the bottom of the flight.

“I’m not really sure. Just know that I kinda blacked-out and forgot who you were for a bit there,” Zeccaran answered closing his eyes again.

“Well, you are bleeding from your ears and are already bruising on left side.” A few hurried hoofalls somehow managed to echo over the wind and snow. Zeccaran felt Bunker shift beneath him and step forward again before a pivot nearly sent him off the stallion’s back and onto the floor. A bit of a hiss of air and the comforting clack of a door closing and latching made the corners of his mouth perk up in a smile and the world seem a little bit more distant. That was until something was shaking him rather rudely.

“Hey! Zebra! No sleeping! Head injury!” Bunker shouted in the relative quiet of the cabins. The words were just enough to snap him to conscious.

“Yep. Yep. You’re right.” He pulled himself out of Bunker’s grasp, “Just need you to stop shaking me.”

“Stand here den. I will go get snow. Will help reduce swelling.” With that statement, his friend about-faced and hopped back out the door to the deck with a purpose. The door slammed shut from the gusts trying to suck the warm air inside the cabins out. Taking to his companion’s command Zeccaran remained still, trying his best to make the sudden spinning of the world stop. He fell to his rump after a little while, an indiscernible amount of time passed as he clung to reality with the last vestiges of his will. A rush of cold pulled his eyes open again and the thumping of hooves raised his head from the floor of the hall.

Something perfectly soothing and icy pressed itself onto the side of his face and neck. He groaned as the mix of pleasure, pain, and relief washed over him. HIs vision decided it was time focus from the blur it had become. Before him Bunker stood close pensively looking at him, a hoof reaching to where he could feel the cold. The other stallion leaded around his side periodically looking back and forth between his face and the snow pack.

“How bad is it?” he was not too surprised at the pained, groggy sound of his voice but Bunker evidently was not ready. The stallion grimaced and locked him with a serious stare.

“Bad. I’ll do what I can. Some of that Guard training turned out to be more useful than I thought. Taught me how to care for wounded, but I don’t have pressure bandages, or medicines.” The burgandy stallion’s face briefly went blank, his expression turning thoughtful.

“This was military vessel, da? We did not unload it. Crew quarters should have at least a first aid box. Eh, is only plan I got,” he spoke more to himself than Zeccaran. “Hold ice for a moment, Zec.”

“Sure. Whatever. I don’t think I could tell you no at this point, my friend.” Zeccaran weakly reached up to the ice. It felt pretty good on his hoof, his body felt unreasonably hot, it was probably the concussion but frankly the zebra was having trouble caring.

No sooner as his hoof reached the ice did Bunker disappear around him. He faintly registered the sound of the trap door at the end of the hall opening and closing. Zeccaran tried to categorizing what he could remember while he waited. He knew that he got his on the back and head pretty hard, that one was easy, he was already extremely sore. Bunker proved hard to forget after a moment he had recalled the stallion’s name, but other than knowing those things and his own name things were fuzzy. He recalled the ship, but he could not remember her name or why they were on it in some frozen wasteland. It would come back to him but not before Bunker returned with the supplies he had mentioned.

“Okay, here take these.” The stallion passed Zeccaran several large pills. “They should help with pain and swelling...uh da. Water?”

Extending an open water bottle on the frog of his hoof, Bunker waited for him. Obliging Zeccaran tossed the medicine into his mouth before sticking his snout over the water bottle and proceeding to both swallow the pills with the help of the liquid and down the whole bottle.

“Now what?” He asked his burgundy companion.

“Ice packages and pressure bandages.” Bunker tossed a large box of first-aid from his back onto the ground. It popped open and one of the rolls of material jumped out and started to unfurl itself before the big stallion caught it with a hoof. He picked up the same rogue roll he had captured before lowering Zeccaran’s hoof that was holding the snow to his head.

Getting to work both quickly and uncomfortably, Bunker starting wrapping the material around his head, just above his eyes. The pressure slowly increased until it was more of a constant pain and Zeccaran glowered with upset understanding as Bunker sat back and looked over his work. Next came one of the fabled ice packs. As soon as his companion pulled the object out of the kit, Zeccaran realized it was the enchanted sort. The sight sent a momentary spike of memory to him and he recalled the military having a surplus of them that had gotten sold to various countries. That at least explained how the kit was on a Griffon vessel, unless of course the Special Guard had left it behind. The moment brought a little more clarity as he pondered.

“The Midnight Onyx,” he stated proudly. This was his ship, his pride and joy, the machine he had poured dozens of days into to make function.

“Ah...good.” Bunker nodded as he reached up with the ice pack, “You are starting to remember. That is good sign. What else do you remember? Know where we are?”

Zeccaran balked as his friend began attaching the ice pack with more wrap to his head. That information was still foggy but did not seem as far off. It was cold, horribly uncomfortable outside. There was only place on the planet like that, but that was not really remembering. It still made him feel better, however when he told Bunker that they were in the Frozen North the other stallion shook his head disapprovingly.

“Not good enough. Why are we here, Zec?” He asked as he tugged the last bit of the wrap into place before biting the material to tear it free from the roll. Quickly he tied the bandage tightly and gave Zeccaran a look with raised eyebrows as if he expected an answer. Unfortunately, the zebra did not have an answer nor could he fathom one, so he shrugged confusedly.

“LIsten. Until you can remember, I can’t let you rest. It would be bad to sleep with a still bleary mind, da? Concussions are bad like that.” Bunker closed up the first-aid kit as he spoke. Turning the bigger stallion pulled him to his hooves before motioning to one of the cabin doors. Zeccaran dutifully followed him to and through the door and into a rather posh room. Pointing to an oversized chair near a stack of books, Bunker walked past him and waited.

“Sit and remember. Then, we sleep;” he stated.

“Alright. How long could it take right?” Zeccaran agreed and trotted over to the chair, already feeling better. The pain in his head and down his neck had all but ceased and he felt significantly more comfortable with the temperature around him, no longer so feverish.

They sat there in silence for over an hour as the zebra puzzled over why and how they were in the Frozen North. Nothing seemed to make sense to him and it seemed the more he thought of it the harder it was to conceptualize reasons. However, finally after the long internal debate a sudden thought arose. Who was flying the Onyx? Nopony else was on the ship, right?

“Holy shit we crashed the Onyx into the side of a mountain!” He stood up in a panic starting to head for the door. Like a bolt Bunker was in front of him, pushing him back into the chair.

“What are you doing?!” he shouted at his friend. “I have see how bad the damage is! What if the Ice Giants find us? We need to get airbourne as soon as possible!”

“Da. What else?” Bunker asked eyes narrowed.

“If the Onyx is defunct we have to get away from her and find a safe warm place. Even with the enviro-suits Luna gave us if we don’t have shelter there’s no way we’ll last until Stormwalker finds us. If he even bothers looking, since he doesn’t know we are out here!”

Bunker nodded sagely he small smile on his face. “Good. You remember.”

“Of course! Why the hell are you so calm about it?! We are in danger!” Zeccaran shouted at his companion.

“Because. Wind is still too strong to get into the air. This storm is too dangerous even for Ice Giant. We stay here and wait till it passes. The Onyx’s engines were still working, but we will need to wait until morning and hopefully warmer air. Because even without potentially large hole in hull, the ballons don’t have enough lift in this messy weather.” The burgundy stallion folded his hooves as he stood up and away from the chair where he had pinned Zeccaran. He nodded curtly as he remained balanced on his two back legs for a moment.

“Is time for you to rest. You remember so it is safe.” Almost as the words hit his ears did a consistent pulse of jolting pain race from the back of Zeccaran’s head down his back on one of his forehooves.

“Okay. I think you are very right about that. Because I cannot fathom rational thought anymore. Too much pain,” he conceded to his companion. In a near drunken haze the zebra stumbled as he got out of the chair and went to examine the cabin for a bed.

Zeccaran found it quick enough even though it look for like an oblong blob rather than a reasonable shape. Fumbling his way up to the surface he threw himself onto its cloth, almost asleep before his body settled. It was going to be a long day tomorrow and he needed to try and sleep off the concussion headache if he was going to be able to help Bunker get the Onyx moving. A vague chuckle found its way to his ears from the other stallion, but after that the sweet bliss of unconsciousness removed him from the suffering he had been enduring.

A solid thirty seconds passed before Gusty started peering at Stormwalker out of the corner of her eyes. He smuggly continued reading the page he had turned to in the tome. The sight of the book suddenly struck her as familiar, a sort of terrifying familiar. On the furthest edge of her mind something told her to read it, to hold it, to smell it. The urge felt wrong, yet irresistible. Gusty did not understand why the abrupt onslaught of unreasonable demands began to echo into her more active thoughts, she closed her eyes and did her best to focus on anything else. However, it was not long before the too comfortable presence of the stallion across from her pressed into her mind. Opening her eyes with a shiver at the overload of her senses, Gusty looked up at him.

Stormwalker’s previous pleasant look had turned into an unsettling snarl as he looked at her. However, like it had been before he was not truly seeing her. Gazing somewhere else into her soul and mind he practically growled, unaware of her gaze. The urge to snatch the book from him suddenly increased in its fervor. A few moments passed like this until the sensation seemed to take hold of her active consciousness. Stormwalker’s focus shifted back to her, his look defeated as he muttered something under his breath. Feeling obstinate Gusty gave him a dramatic sigh.

“What's the matter, flyboy?” she taunted, “Not so easy to get a read on me since I relaxed?”

“Relaxed? More like started to pay attention,” Stormwalker gave her a cool look as he answered. Silence reigned supreme as they met eyes. Gusty felt a small blush from the intensity of the demon-stallion’s gaze, but this time she liked the feeling. Smiling deviously, she knew it was already time to press her luck again. Her little spell would run out soon anyway and it would be foolish to waste the unequivocated truth they currently shared.

“So are you gonna ask or what?” Stormwalker asked losing this particular staring contest.

“Of course, I was just milking the moment,” she answered. Her counterpart tilted his head and raised a brow provocatively, waiting.

“If that book is about me...you should let me read it.” Gusty tossed the rebellious portion of her mane behind her ear, the way she knew Stormwalker liked it. After all, their connection did work both ways.

“Mmm...no.” He crossed his hooves over the top of the tome. His voice losing its playful tone.

“And why not?” Gusty scooted closer to him in her bag. Fluttering her eyelashes she shifted her body to more directly face Stormwalker. In response he pulled himself further over the book and leaned towards her.

“Because it would hurt you. And like I said…” he paused adjusting his position over the book, “that's not something I'll allow.”

“What if I like it when something hurts me?” Gusty put on the best innocent look she had. Almost imperceptibly, a bit of rosy color welled up beneath Stormwalker’s eyes. A small shiver raced all the way through his body and then it was gone. However, Gusty knew she had struck a nerve. He knew that she could not lie, and a bit of honest flirting might just get him distracted enough to gain an advantage.

Stormwalker remained silent as their eyes locked again. His bright yellow irises becoming smaller as his pupils widened from slits into broad rounded diamonds. Though he sat a distance away from her still Gusty swore she could feel him nuzzling her face. The feeling increased as he relaxed the intensity of his stare down to an affectionate half-lidded gaze. It was clear that he knew the game she was playing, and planned to show her that he was better at it. Gusty, however, leaned into the blush and let her body naturally spread out a bit inside the sleeping bag. It had two purposes, to make her look more seductive, and to provide a better base for her end goal.

“Come on. Try me,” Stormwalker whispered softly. Gusty was not surprised he was still ahead of her plan. However, she knew he just was not ready to stop her, not while he was giving her those bedroom eyes. Wasting no time, Gusty secured her back hooves and sprang towards him. His eyes shot wide in slow motion and he was too slow to react, truly surprised that she went for a tackle.

His weight kept her from knocking him back, but she managed push him onto his side and away from the book. Swinging her rear hooves over the top of his chest in an attempt to pin him with her positioning, Gusty turned to levitate the freed book to herself. The attempt was stopped when Stormwalker pushed up from the ground with such force that it flipped her down onto the grass. She watched helplessly as he kicked the book away from where they were. Now standing over her, he slapped his forehooves onto her chest before lowering his head down to her face.

“I don’t think so,” he grinned smartly.

“Same to you!” Gusty sneered before activating her horn to teleport out from under him. The brief blackness of transportation placed her right next to the tome as planned. She reached a hoof out eagerly only to suddenly find herself being drug away from the book by the tail. Turning in anger she beheld the stallion, mouth clamped around her thick locks, a smile evident through his bite. He winked at her before rearing back and pulling her partially off the ground.

With some effort Gusty pumped magic into her horn again and teleported free. However when she could properly see again, she had only crossed half the distance to the book. Confused, she attempted again only to find that she could not cast magic at all. Dashing forward once she made her discovery, if by only instinct, she was nearly to the book when her hooves were knocked out from under her body. Her vision spun to the grey sky and then the olive green of the exposed grass before she came to an abrupt halt on something soft. The grey blur of Stormwalker filled her sight in the next instant as she rolled over reflexively.

He put a single hoof on the base of her neck, “Using magic is cheating you know.” he scolded playfully.

“So is shutting it off, you big jerk,” she retorted lips pouty. He flashed her a wide grin making his fangs glitch dully in the lack of direct sun. Gusty’s eyes began to travel down the length of his neck as she looked at his many scars and muscles. She was about halfway down his barrel shocked by some rather jagged markings when he suddenly dropped to the ground and pinned her down with his chest. Their faces nearly touching as he narrowed his eyes, daring her to try to move again.

“Come on, just a peak.” She begged softly to him.

“No.”

“Ohhhh, why not?

Stormwalker huffed and pushed his brow authoritatively against hers. Gusty blushed again before getting a hoof up to slap him. He did not flinch and instead sat stock still, his face serious but stoic. In an attempt to get him off, Gusty pulled her back legs up and kicked at his side. His response was to wrap her ankles in his wings and force her legs flat before slinging one of his rear legs over hers and holding them down.

“Let me go you creep!” she snarled at him at him, but not breaking eye contact.

“Not until you listen to me,” he answered quietly. Gusty blew a small raspberry, not willing to give in to such demands.

“Gusty. You have to trust me. That book...it’s dangerous. I can show you why: but only if you promise me you’ll take what I have to say seriously,” Stormwalker’s golden-yellow eyes sparkled yearningly, making his words even more potent. Moving to turn her face away, Gusty found the stallion’s forehooves holding her still.

Damn him and his strength. And damn his gorgeous eyes, and his soft wings! Damn him! She grumbled internally desperately trying to resist his decree but finding it a monumental task. Stormwalker had never needed anything other than himself to make her like/hate him. Unfortunately, he had other advantages besides his personality; the combination made her feel like she had no real choice but to listen to him.

“Alright, I’ll listen,” She mumbled.

“Promise me,” he said back not letting her up.

“What am I? A kid?” she spat back angrily, closing her eyes some.

“You’re acting like one,” Stormwalker did not mince words.

“Fiiiiine.” Gusty drew in a deep breath to steady herself, almost in disbelief that she was going to do this, “I promise. Now get off of me would you please?”

He immediately obliged, standing up and offering a hoof to her. She took his limb and pulled herself upright, turning her face away from his. Gusty was not yet ready to look at him in a serious light, the idea put butterflies in her chest and stomach, for reasons she did not understand. A previously ignorable pain near her temples sharpened and she scrunched her muzzle in a moment of suffering before accepting the headache. Taking her time to breath a particularly long sigh, she shifted her neck to look directly at him.

During her moment of brief respite, Stormwalker had picked the book up and sat down. He held it out away from himself in one hoof making it easy to see. As before, the feeling of longing, but with an unsettling wrongness found its way into her chest and throat. She kept her composure, however, not willing to give in and break the promise her demonic counterpart so clearly believed she did not have the capacity to keep.

“Well...here it is. Care to take a guess what’s wrong with this thing? Take a good look at it” he asked, starting his explanation. Gusty scrutinized the book again, noting its familiar brown-colored binding. The dull metal braces that secured the top and bottom were highly recognizable, made from the same steel as Stormwalker’s armor. Gusty found herself looking over the stallion again, wishing he had actually been wearing his gear. However, she suddenly realized she knew the brown binding, but it had never been on a book.

Her heart jumped into her throat and her stomach felt as if it did several backflips. Nausea much more intense than anything she had ever felt sent her head spinning and her mind racing in terror. She looked up to Stormwalker’s eyes, trying to use his face to remind herself not to cry.

“I-it’s b-bound in pony flesh,” she croaked after a moment.

“Yes. And not just any pony flesh it-”

“It’s alicorn pelt. An alicorn I once knew,” Gusty finished his sentence and added her own. The demon-stallion’s face shifted from educational, to sympathetic. He lowered his head for a moment, before returning to meet her gaze.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t sure if you had realized, or remembered, who this cursed thing was made from. I was hoping you didn’t...just to spare you the heartache,” he stated sorrowfully.

It was Gusty’s turn to lower her head. Tears briefly blurred her vision, and she had to make a single sniffle before she was able to recover. Besides, if Stormwalker knew who’s pretty brown fur made the binding, he probably had the answer to another question that had been burning in her sense she had first seen her long-lost daughter in her dreams.

“What is her name? I can’t remember her name.” Gusty did not look up, she could not handle seeing him pity her. If she was forced to look at him for too long she felt like she might actually breakdown. Knowing Stormwalker, he would wrap her up in his wings and hold her against his chest and whisper pleasant little encouragements into her ears until she calmed down. Sadly, she would cherish the kindness, even if it was from a stallion she had a conflict with. Her thoughts gave way to a brief silence before she heard Stormwalker clear his throat.

“Amber Glass.”

The words echoed unnaturally and Gusty started to hear the voice of her long dead daughter. She laughed in her ears and said something suitably sarcastic for the youngest of her original brood of children those millennias ago. The moment perhaps took a second, but for Gusty it lasted an hour. She took in the last little bits of memory with a deep breath, narrowly stopping herself from an outright sob. Cautiously returning to look at the tome and Stormwalker, Gusty nodded for him to continue.

“I’ll be brief. The book is written in Abyssal Runes. The language is magical by nature and actually forces a reader to relive the events described. This particular book has been extremely amplified in its strength due to the origin of its creation,” He said quietly.

“Does..does it have more details about Amber in it?” Gusty asked. Giving into her curiosity was going to lead her to more hurt, but she could not ignore the need to know.

“It does. But you shouldn’t read it. Not here. Not now. Later. When we have pulled the majority of the magic out of it. When you are more stable and someplace we can help you,” Stormwalker admonished calmly.

Gusty scrunched up her snout in desperation. “Stormwalker, I need this.”

“I agree. But there is a time and place,” he answered. Her compulsiveness coupled with the pang of loss and regret, stoked a fire at his words. There was a time and a place, it was now, before she lost herself again. Gusty charged right at him her aching heart to great to ignore.

As she closed the short distance between him, Stormwalker lackadaisically tossed the book into the air on his right. Gusty instinctively dove towards it, spreading her wings to make sure she would glide far enough. However, even though she knew he would, she was still surprised when Stormwalker’s forehooves and chest snagged her out of the air. Quickly pulled off-balance and tossed like a cloth doll, Gusty was pinned to the ground, not quite as gently as before, but not enough to hurt either.

“Enough! I will not have you killing yourself! If yesterday wasn’t proof enough of that I’ll never know what is! You beautiful, obstinate, arrogant, madmare!” He hissed into her face as he held her hooves down. He missed one of her forehooves as he struggled with her.

“I think that’s the best compliment you’ve ever given me,” she snarked back up at him, using her free hoof to ruffle his mane loose from ts usual blown-back position. He frowned back at her a blush rising to his cheeks. Gusty smiled, certain she finally had gotten him properly distracted.

She fired a teleportation spell, aiming not for near the book, but instead the opposite side of the open grass amongst the ice. It worked, Gusty appeared looking out over the small area with Stormwalker pivoting to look at her in the same instant. With the drive to read the book consuming her completely she instantly formulated a plan. She starting running toward the book and her demonic companion moved to intercept her, his speed much greater than her own. Just as he was upon her Gusty teleported again. Hoping that he had not had time to refocus his abilities, she put every last bit of her will into the spell. It felt as if the magic took longer to activate than normal, in fact it did not complete until Stormwalker had wrapped his hooves around her.

Vision clearing she looked down and found her price. She snatched it up instantly, opening it to its first page and glaring intently on the runes of old. The soft feeling of familiar fur on her hooves sent its sensation to her brain, bring tears and an ocean of emotion with it. At the last moment before her eyes began to comprehend the foul text she looked up and found Stormwalker gaping in shock.

“Gusty, no! Don’t!” he lunged towards her, his speed faster than ever before. It did not matter, he could not outpace the speed of the magic in the pages.

Gusty fixed her eyes onto the page and the memory of the language filled in the rest. Immediately the sensation of falling overtook her as the world began to darken. Snapping her face away from the book with a colossal effort she saw Stormwalker. He was nearly on top of her, but as the moments drug on he slowly slipped away, the horror on his face intensifying as she plunged deeper. Soon he winked out of existence and everything she knew was only black emptiness. Gusty felt like she would fall forever in the darkness that now surrounded her. The last image of Stormwalker’s terrified face burned into her memory as a permanent reminder that she would always miss his kind, familiar presence in her mind. She was again alone, truly, and pure dread gripped her heart at that moment. Consciousness ceased, all was made nothing.

Next Chapter: Act 3: Chapter 6 - Ice to Fire Estimated time remaining: 12 Hours, 15 Minutes