A dreary and rainy afternoon crackled thunder over the city of Canterlot. The pegasi had not called for a storm but it seemed the mood of the city had drawn the weather in from the Everfree to reflect the attitude of the Palace’s inhabitants. In a hotel a short distance from the those gilded halls, two companions lay entwined on the king size bed. They were an odd sort, a pony and a dragon. Both were dutiful and loyal servants perhaps owing that entirely to their relationship. However, these times were dangerous and full of intrigue. Even as they shared their scant free time together neither were never not at work for their respective regents.

Midnight Blossom fluttered her eyelashes at her friend with benefits. The tall, purple drake known as Frostbite smiled nervously back. He was quite handsome for a creature with scales, and by Midnight’s opinion, a sucker for a pretty face. That was what she had been banking on, what all of this operation had been based on. The research her employer did had proven disturbingly accurate, but that was how the little thestral liked it. Such commitment from the Mistress was nearly unheard of within the organization and to have been selected to carry out the task her boss had personally done the casing for was a huge honor. It also meant that there was a distinct chance failure would result in death. Midnight Blossom smiled as she leaned a little closer to Frostbite, she liked the pressure.

“I don’t know. I don’t think I should go behind Ember’s back like that.” The drake reached a clawed hand down and ran it through her mane. Midnight mewled approvingly. “She doesn’t want the Queen to attack Equestria. And I’m partial to believe that her Royal Highness will do just that with this information.”

“Come on Frosty. I work for Princess Luna’s Guard. That’s how we met remember!” she pulled his claw down and held in in her hooves.

“Yeah. I know, I know. I just don’t understand why, say the Guard Captain didn’t tell me. I just seems weird that they let you do it. This matter is pretty serious. And...well...I don’t like the implications,” he said. He pursed his lips and sighed, shifting his gaze to some undisclosed space in the room.

“Listen. I’m only going to say this once.” Midnight squeezed his hand between her hooves breaking her lovey-dovey character. “Equestria is in grave danger and I need you to send the message to the Dragon Queen. You must! The Princesses went through some extreme lengths to make sure I could get you the message. Even now I don’t know if we are being watched. Please send it. We know that Ember has already been compromised and it won’t be long before the Princesses are too!”

Frostbite watched her with at first scepticism then deep concern. He searched her face for lies. Seemingly detecting none he grimaced in dismay. Barring his fangs he hissed out a small puff of icy vapor reflective of his name.

“Ember has b-been compromised too? H-how? You mean to tell me those beasts the Queen was so upset about-they have control of Equestria? Just what does this letter have in it?!” He stammered in shock.

Looking down away from him in sadness Midnight Blossom put her snoot against his arm, nuzzling it working up a cry. This had to be so completely convincing that he would never question her or himself.

“P-please, Frostbite. I-I can’t tell you what’s in it for fear they are listening in even now. I’ll do anything you want, you just have to send the letter,” she whimpered.

Being the kind soul that he was, the drake pulled her up close, kissing her cheek with his scaly lips. He rubbed her mane and gently held her for a moment.

“Well...at least I know why they had you ask. I can’t say no-I’ll send the letter. If its like you said, the Queen will commend me for my service. If it’s not, as you said, she’ll probably crush me to death but honestly...I believe you, and it's worth the risk. If all of dragon-kind and pony-kind are in danger I’d rather be wrong about my gut feeling than be the reason we all died!”

Midnight loved working with dragons. They had such simple yet powerful convictions. She channeled her pleasure into a pouting and relieved look. She grabbed the letter from the bedside table where she had placed it. Her counterpart took it from her and with a heavy exhale frost covered the envelope. Slowly as if he had then melted it, the letter disappeared into mist and was no more. Her Mistress would be most pleased.

“Done. I don’t want you to be right, but...something tells me you are…” He commented. “Now. For my reward my little pony…you said anything I want.”

Frostbite licked his lips with his forked-tongue. Midnight bit hers trying to suppress an eager moan. There were certain parts of her job that she relished them perhaps too much. Better yet her scaly companion tended to want to try things she already enjoyed. The Mistress receiving the good news was going to have to wait.

Later that evening…

“Yeah I’m not really sure I understand.” Zeccaran folded his hooves while he looked at his marefriend.

“What’s not to understand?” Pixie pursed her lips and fixed him with a crumpled, frustrated brow.

“The part where you think this idea is the key to some perfect world. You know full-well I don’t really believe in redemption, we’ve had that discussion before. And what you’ve been talking about seems to get rid of the concept altogether...and...I don’t think that works, ponies need the concept of redemption whether or not I believe in it, it gives them hope,” the zebra explained.

The red-maned mare turned her face away, making the low light of the lab shine her yellow irises bright for a moment. She held her upset look for a moment before her features waxed philosophical.

“So you can’t perceive a reason why information needs to be mediated? What about you and your life? If your adopted mother and the Cult didn’t have access to those old texts would you have ever done anything you did? Zeccaran you could have been spared years of suffering and regret!” Pixie declared.

“Maybe. Maybe not. That doesn’t really matter. What matters is that not only I but also my ‘family’ chose to believe those lies. Even I, who never had experienced outside of the Cult, thought some of what I was doing felt wrong. I did what I did because it was convenient, because it was comfortable and familiar. Because somepony told me it was the right thing to do, and I didn’t act on my own will.”

Zeccaran went silent realizing his breathing was a little heavier than he meant it to be. Many of the memories he had of those dark times were so horrid it made him sweat with nerves and guilt and talking about it so plainly did not help. Pixie sighed and he turned his face to look at her. She stared back her eyes distant, as if she was looking far past him to someplace different.

“Then council me on my life Zeccaran. I’ve done things that are familiar, normal, felt good, yet none of it felt wrong...not even for a moment. As I grew to understand more about my body...about...being Shadow-kin.” For a moment Pixie paused then her eyes refocused and she peered at him intently. “Being a carrier of this blood is not something I enjoy. I still have the urges...the desires for...more. They don’t feel wrong, and they certainly don’t make me feel remorse. Yet I know acting on them is wrong, even though my conscious tells me it's okay. I guess I just don’t know how to parse your position on this. To me such a notion of total freedom of information, of body, mind...it’s always been antithetical to my existence. It’s a noble ideal really...but unrealistic.”

“Isn’t striving towards the way things should be better than streamlining the current world and ignoring the problems?” he questioned back after a moment.

“Pshh. You sound like my brother.” Pixie dismissed with a wave of her hoof.

Zeccaran balked. He could barely fathom that he and Stormwalker shared a common viewpoint. The zebra took a moment to reflect on himself, perhaps he was not such a reformed stallion as he once thought. After all reformed was not redeemed and such reformation had only come at the grace of Princess Luna. It felt strange to hold congruent opinions with his mortal enemy, it almost made him wonder if Pixie was wrong. If two diametrically opposed individuals could agree to the same thing, the same ideal, what did that say about her? Zeccaran shook his head in an attempt to avoid a headache. Truthfully, he reveled in these talks with her but that bit of information was too much.

“You mentioned something about him thinking that way before. Why does it upset you again?” he asked, earnestly shifting the conversation to his marefriend. Pixie had acted as if her brother had played some part in condemning the world to “the Truth.” Zeccaran still struggled to understand that, and he hoped he would get his answer.

“It-it-it’s…” Pixie tried and failed to start her explanation. “There are a lot of emotions for me to work through.”

“The best I can describe it is both jealousy and empathy. I know that doesn’t make a lot of sense but...those are the sort of things I feel when it comes to my brother,” she stated with a slow nod.

“That seems...odd…” Zeccaran squinted.

“I know! Just...let me try to put this together,” His marefriend complained. He simply remained silent in agreement.

“I know what it’s like to feel like he does. To feel like everything you ever lived for, ever fought for, that it was all a lie, a beautiful dream stolen away from you. Yet that’s not really the core of the matter. As Shadow-kin we aren’t bound by the normal rules of life, or even society. The magic in our bodies is malignant, even when you twist it to your will as he has. And that’s where I covet him. He’s so powerful so in control, he could change the whole world in an instant if he chose. I mean he’s not even supposed to be alive! You don’t fight Nyx and then win!”

At the sound of her name, the little dark entity in his mind started paying attention to the conversation.

Is she trying to understand her brother’s motives? Or is this something different; I only just started paying attention. The ghost said.

Quiet. There’s a key point missing here. I’ve never told Pixie about you, about the cult, sure, but I never explained that the thing I summoned that night wasn’t just a Shade, but THE NYX. Neither has her brother. I’m certain of it. The information is so secret that I’m shocked she just blurted that out loud. Zeccaran grumbled internally.

Oh my! Now that is intriguing! I’ll hold my tongue. Nyx replied quickly.

“Pixie...how did you know what was summoned that night was Nyx?” the zebra was straightforward with his scepticism. His mare grimaced and looked away, folding her ears.

“I...well...I mean that was one of the first things I told you...I kind of like information...and espionage is in my blood, and...my brother isn’t the only one that does meddling.” She tried to smile but it was clearly very forced.

Zeccaran pursed his lips and let his displeasure show in his face. Pixie cringed in embarrassment.

“So what other things do you know that you aren’t supposed to know? I mean at this rate it makes me wonder why you want information controlled before it reaches ponies in the first place. You seem to take an uncommon delight in knowing things, is it perhaps because you know them and others do not?” he admonished with a rhetorical question.

“It is rather hypocritical isn’t it.” His marefriend stood up from the couch and gave a long stretch. “I guess I just can’t help myself, if I want to help keep ponies happy and safe I have to know more information than anypony else and that itself goes against my own arguments.”

“Yeah. That was kinda my point.” Zeccaran stood also, pacing up next to her when his stomach growled.

“I’m going to get some food from the cafeteria. You want a snack?”

Pixie shrugged and shook her head. She followed up with a bit of a frustrated twist of her lips.

“Just surprise me.”

He agreed and went on his way out of the lab abode. It was an easy trip, and uneventful. With the new guard postings and the department being slow he was able to get his food and two pieces of cake quickly. He was back in the lab department, past the guard checkpoint when a deep blue mare rounded the corner to the hall that went towards his home. She smiled at him and gave a tad too formal of a nod-and-or-bow and trotted away. Pausing after a step or two, Zeccaran turned to call out to her but found her long gone.

The zebra looked between the couple of doors that lined the hall. He bit a lip knowing he had not heard a single one of them open or close. Zeccaran had seen that mare before, recently even, but he could not put his hoof on the matter.

The night you went out with Pixie and you got the two of us almost killed. She was with Luna and the monster. Nyx commented on his confusion.

Thanks, extra brain. He grumbled back at her. That was most enlightening. Really made her whole disappearing act make sense.

Your sarcasm is palpable.

Shut up.

Disgusted momentarily with himself and his existence, Zeccaran pawed at the ground with a hoof. The thought of the cake he had on his back distracted him and he returned to his home with his surprise for Pixie. They carried on their conversation and he forgot about the chance encounter. As he figured that there was no value on such wild speculation and let his desire to understand his marefriend dominate his thoughts. There was not much he could do about the circumstance even if there was something significant to be gleaned from it anyway.

Early, early the next morning, still in the dark of the night...

Guardian Angel stared at the ponequin where his armor sat. It was silent in his office deep in the bowels of the Palace. Yet to him it seemed like thousands of voices spoke to him at once. The quiet was their cries of desperation or death ringing in his ears usually only on the edge of his hearing but now in full without other sound to keep them at bay. He turned away from the metal, buckles, and leather and opened his closet door to gaze instead at his own visage in the dirty old mirror on the inside of the door.

He looked old, tired...and broken. It did not show on his face, but instead deeply in the glint of his eyes. Sighing he looked at the floor before facing his armor again. He strode towards it and began the long process of putting it on alone.

Ha. He was never alone, not truly. That had just been a fever dream.

Before, however, it had been pleasant to have that permanent companionship with a mare he adored. But now...now he despised it. Not because of her but because he was being watched, they both were.

The work of his ancestors filled him with rage and fury like he had never felt before. He wanted the Curse destroyed, eradicated. He wanted to be free of the watchful eyes, the cold calculating malice he could feel hanging on every antagonizing moment. How Gusty had survived as long as she had without going unsalvageably insane was beyond him. It had only been a little over two weeks and he wanted to kill ponies out of sheer spite. He would not dare to act on such urges but he would certainly have liked to. It would seem his companion felt the same way. The magic that he had broken in the Frozen North had been doing a much better job of keeping the teal mare safe than he had ever given it credit for.

He slapped himself in an attempt to steady his mind. But what else could I have done in that situation? Guardian Angel asked himself. His heart told him that was the only thing he could have allowed himself to do.

He never could have let Gusty forget who he was, even if it was for her own safety. His selfishness and his self-loathing could have never allowed it. Letting Gusty’s mind reset and stabilize would have only served to give him a fresh chance with her. A second first-meeting that he did not deserve. So he had chosen to protect her against all odds. The Curse and the mare’s magic might have both been destroyed in that instant if he had known what he was doing.

However, testing out the psychic powers he had absorbed from the Mistress of Darkness on ponies just did not seem proper. Especially after everything Gusty had put up with to help him see himself. The regrowth of a moral compass that had come with that strange week was not one he could ignore. He was better for it, a lot softer for it, but Guardian Angel would never admit that. For a moment he smiled at the thought of ponies realizing he was a push-over for the most part. Gusty had figured it out, of course, being free from her own magic certainly helped. Even the Curse had been contained by their combined mental presence, a surprising benefit that had been extremely enjoyable. Everything had been going great.

Right up until he had fucked it up. He shook his head, still feeling his chest tighten in embarrassment and hatred at himself. He bitterly regretted that decision. If he had not been so set on pushing the boundaries, of moving on from his infatuation with Gusty none of the current situation would have ever happened. If only he had just waited for Luna to tell him the results of her dreamwalk that morning instead of leaving early.

He paused. That was not true. He had done what was best with the information he had. His fiancé did not mention that anything had been out of the ordinary the night before when they cuddled up together. In fact she said everything was fine and there were no changes and that details could wait for later. And thus he had decided to trust his gut. That quickly proved to be the wrong decision, but at the moment he had severed the connection it had felt right. Being free from the current feeling of omnipresent hatred had been invigorating, mostly because Guardian Angel had interpreted it simply as the damage that had been done to Gusty’s mind over the years. He sighed, wishing he had understood what it had felt like before he had broken their bond. Nothing would ever be the same now.

He had been happy, he had felt so much better than he had in years and now it was starting to slip out of his grasp. Worse, other ponies were happy too. Gusty, Luna, Amethyst, hell even Zeccaran seemed to have really turned his life around. Now it was all going to fall apart. Yet a part of him liked the feeling of anxiety of loss. It still felt strange to feel pride for other ponies but it certainly was not a bad feeling. He smiled before his armor started being uncooperative.

Guardian Angel growled at the plate for his flanks and tail, forcing the uncooperative piece into place with strength alone. He could feel the metal tear his skin, but that did not matter. With a body and biology like his, armor only served to slow you down. It did not really provide any meaningful defense against things that could actually hurt him. Blades and magic were already useless against him; the mountain-pulverising power of an elder dragon’s fists were another matter. At this point he only was putting it on out of a sense of purpose. The ancient metal had borne the bodies of many of his kin for both good and ill for longer than records could prove. In a way, it was tradition for a Stormwalker to wear the armor, a sign that the business they were conducting was of the highest importance. Keeping his mettle and his life together certainly were the most imperative things to do and a little tradition went a long to making him at least feel that he could do it.

Moving onto the chest harness, Guardian Angel let his wings go full flame and pulled the breastplate into place. He let the ethereal limbs phase into the correct place after he used them to buckle the piece with them. He could feel a scowl growing on his face as his thoughts turned back to trying to manage the ever restless noise of thousands of voices in his head.

Gusty was having a nightmare. Even at this moment he and Luna fought to help the mare keep control. He provided the solid ground and his fiancé provided the physical reassurance within the Astral Plane. He snarled at the notion. They were trapped and at the Curse’s mercy. But, if somepony could find a way around this impasse his mooney mare would be the one to do it.

The Mytsn hid behind Gusty like a shield knowing full-well that none of the parties involved would hurt her just for the sake of destroying the malignancy. Tilting his head up, Guardian Angel pulled his neck plating on, the segmenting section fastening into the breastplate. Maybe that was not entirely true, but even now as dire as things had become they all clung to the hope that a solution could be reached without causing undue harm. He held onto that tiny little thought and went on slowly affixing the rest of his equipment. The scant hope of the impossible would have to be enough.

Once he was done he turned back and looked at himself in the mirror. He held up one of his hoof gauntlets. Flexing the leg muscle, the encased blade extended out of the armor and shined dimly in the low light of the office. He snorted out an angry grunt. His hard breath disturbing the dust on the surface of both the mirror and the back wall of the closet. He moved his eyes down to stare at the old floor instead. He was not ready for this. Nopony was ready for any of it, but it had to be done. That simple fact made him reachout with his mind with a purpose. Finding his quarry as it continued to fight off Luna’s magic he applied his own brand of pressure.

“You know Mytsn. You seem to have all the pieces,” he said aloud knowing the dark beast inside his closest friend could hear him. He swapped into the traditional tongue of demons to make it harder for her to ignore him as he continued.

“But the one thing you do not have is Gusty’s heart. That is mine.” As Guardian Angel spoke, the chorus of voices grew louder as if to try and drown him out. He ignored them, even as their shouts and cries pierced into his consciousness and made it seem as if he was hearing them within the room.

“I know her heart. I know it as intimately as I do my own. I know what Gusty wants.” He pulled his eyes back to the mirror. He watched with gritted teeth as his eyes waxed red in his rage at the Curse of his ancestors.

Behind him, reflected in the mirror were a host of ghastly faces. Ponies that blamed him for their deaths with their screams. They were correct in their accusations. Guardian Angel knew all of those faces, some had deserved their fate, others had not. He knew where the blame lay for their deaths. He had accepted that part of himself and had even managed to forgive himself. That was something he thought he would never be able to do and that self-acceptance gave him power. For a few years he had been comprised of many demons and vices far worse than the Mytsn. The guilt it attempted to use to manipulate him now meant nothing compared to the guilt he had for failing Gusty, for hurting Amethyst, and for every time he had made Luna cry over his actions. As if recognizing this, the spectres fell silent and were replaced by cries of those three blaming him for their woes to spite him

But those guilts were good guilts, if there was such a thing. Unlike poor Gusty who was always overcome with her paranoia, anxiety, and regret; Guardian Angel understood his purpose. There was no restraint, no worry, nor lust for more. He had what he wanted. Nothing could take it from him, not even death. The Curse and its pomps were mere distractions and they too would pass. He had to believe that. The alternative was too sad and dismal. Such thoughts were only a distraction just like his quarry’s attempts to upset him.

He grinned into the mirror. His fanged visage slowly turning into a too-wide-of-a-smile. He stared into his own eyes. Seeing a flicker of fear in the darkness of his pupils that was not his own. He clicked and purred with intent. It seemed that the Mytsn was now listening intently.

“Gusty wants you destroyed. No matter the cost. Even if that means she dies in the process. Soon, when we have you corned, when there is no escape. I’ll come for you.” he hissed at his reflection.

His expression waxed fully manic and the instant it did the heavy air seemed to break into a faint breeze. The Mytsn retreated back, deeper into Gusty’s mind until its presence was silent and still. It was no longer watching, at least for the moment it was concerned with only itself.

However, he was not done yet. Sucking in a deep breath he summoned all of his focus, all of the magic and all the ability Nyx had once possessed. Channeling his thoughts on a single notion: Hurt the Curse, make it feel unsafe. The rushing of an ethereal wind seemed to overtake the sound of his ears. It felt like he was rushing forward, he could feel the heat of a fiery wind, cries of ponies he did not recognize, and the hissing of beasts his mind could not picture.

Then there was silence and cold. He was in the right place.

Pushing harder, throwing everything he had into the psychic leap Guardian Angel grit his teeth. He felt it. The Mytsn. Try as it might to hide, he knew its presence, he could differentiate between it and the deeply broken, frozen breezes of Gusty’s subconscious. He pressed his hatred at it. He felt the blow strike true. The beast dashed away and hid itself entirely, not daring to give him even the smallest of leads. Satisfied he released his focus, his mind fell away from the deepest reaches of Gusty’s with her familiar smile seeming to cross into his vision, even though his eyes were closed.

With a slam Guardian Angel slumped down onto his rump. He breathed unsteadily, trying to not shriek as he started to sob with pain. Forcing his mind to project pure psychic damage into the Curse hurt. It hurt more than anything he had ever endured. More than being run through with a dozen swords, bitten in half by a dragon, or tortured with hot iron and whips, it was truly excruciating. Head swimming, he struggled to stand or focus, all of his effort had been put into that stray chance of making the Curse bleed. It had been better than the last two times he had tried but only practice would make it work. His mind went fuzzy for a moment as he sat on the floor.

Luna would be casting the mind shields by now and having an easy time of it too. That thought gave him strength. He brushed the remaining wet from his face to find blood had seeped out of his nose. With a grimace he exited his office, wiping the ichor on some of his exposed fur. His mooney mare would need tending to after this exhausting night and he intended to pamper her accordingly. Then he needed to eat. That much energy consumption made him ravenous.

Hopefully things would wait before getting worse. Guardian Angel wanted to break his own neck for that thought, but pushed onto the Royal Apartments ignoring the foreboding and the prickling sensation of his cutie mark that had persisted since he had reconnected his mind to Gusty’s. The concerns of his soothsaying body and mind would have to wait. Other ponies needed him.

Next Chapter: Act 5: Chapter 4 - Complications Estimated time remaining: 5 Hours, 11 Minutes