The spectral image of Chantico loomed large and Dim was filled a strange sense of reverence, a feeling that was almost as alien to him as empathy. The enormous cat-dog creature seemed a bit more solid somehow, a bit more real, and she flickered a whole lot less. She paused in her pacing, coming to a halt near Dim, then reaching out with her paw, she stroked him on the top of his head and rubbed his ears. Shivering with fervent devotion, Dim’s eyes rolled back into his head, but this was unseen because of the goggles that he wore to protect him from the light. For reasons unknown, her touch was decidedly real and her affections were like rain falling upon parched earth.

Chantico’s paw lingered upon Dim’s head, caressing him, and she turned to examine Briar Burr, the colt that just recently received his cutie mark. After a moment of staring into his very soul, her head turned just a little, just enough to see Short Stitch and give her a good looking over.

“I had forgotten just how fervent you little ponies are in your faith,” Chantico said and her voice thrummed with power. “Your souls are so attuned to the energies of enshrinement and your hearts are so very earnest. It is why so many court you and offer boons in exchange for your faith. At least, this is how the world once was, but I do not know about now. Much has changed while I slumbered.”

Beneath Chantico’s paw, Dim almost melted from her lavish affections.

“You there, colt, what is it that you want?” Chantico asked as she looked down at the foal.

“I wish to know the majesty of fire,” Briar Burr replied and when he looked up, flames could be seen reflected in his eyes. “Dim has told me of the firekeepers and I want to be like them. I want to be light and warmth for others. I want to push back the darkness and the cold.”

“A sincere and honest wish.” Chantico ran her paw down Dim’s neck, smoothing out his mane, then, she pulled her paw away and hunkered down so that she might get a better look at the colt. Her face—not quite a dog and not quite a cat’s—was wizened with intense concentration, as if she was reading a book. “Home and hearth has a special magic all of its own, but this old and ancient magic has been forgotten. The world has changed, from what little I have gathered. Salt and fire were once powerful weapons against the dark things of the world. Now there are spark lights and the old ways are all but forgotten, save by a few.” Turning her head, Chantico gave Dim a sidelong glance, and then she returned her attention to the colt.

Reaching out her paw, she placed it atop the colt’s head and Briar closed his eyes beneath her touch. “The ways of salt and fire are old ways indeed. In time, you will learn them. Dark times are coming, but do not be afraid. You will know the majesty of fire, little one, and the wicked shall fear your flames.”

“Thank you.” The colt sounded breathless, eager, and when Chantico’s paw lifted from his head, he opened his eyes.

“As for you…” Chantico drew out the words as she stood up and looked down at Short Stitch. “Tell me, why are you here? What is it that you want? You are no warrior. What is it that you hope to gain from me?”

Short Stitch’s ears fell, her back sank, and she stood there, looking dejected and droopy. “My heart is broken and it is filled with a great emptiness. I loved somepony… I loved them, I cherished them, I gave them the entirety of my heart. I cannot bear this pain, this ache, and I do not want others to suffer as I have suffered. I wish to burn the wicked so that I might save the good.”

“You lie.” Chantico’s response was a flat deadpan, devoid of any emotion.

“No, I—”

“You have a healer’s heart, you are incapable of such mercilessness.” Chantico moved closer to the now trembling mare, bent down, and picked the mare up. With her paws braced just behind Short Stitch’s front legs and pressed into her ribs, leaving her hind legs to dangle several feet from the floor, Chantico looked deep into the unicorn mare’s eyes, which held no flaming reflection. “Even with your broken, shattered heart and all of your grief, you do not have it in you to bring harm to another. Dim killed your husband and by all rights, you should hate him, but your compassion keeps you from wishing him harm. The love you feel is an anathema to hatred and apathy.”

“I can’t just do nothing!” Short Stitched shrieked. “I lost everything! Everything! My bed was shared with a stranger! My foals were sired by somepony that I did not know! Nothing makes sense right now and everything hurts! I am a healer stricken with disease! There are so many broken hearts right now… how do I heal them? How do I fix what is broken? How do I cure myself?”

In response, Chantico pulled the now sobbing mare into a tight embrace, cradling her like an infant. How the spectral, phantom figure was able to interact with the living was unknown, but faith was a strange, wonderful, mysterious thing indeed. “I am sorry, but I cannot give you the means to bring harm to yourself—”

“Then what good are you?” Short Stitch wailed, her cry filling the room with grief and anguish.

“I have need for more than warriors,” Chantico replied, whispering her words close to Short Stitch’s ear as she held the writhing mare. “I need healers, but precious few can bear my gift. Serve me and I will give you the means to mend flesh with but a thought and purge diseases with cleansing fire. It is time for healing magic to be restored to the world, as there is far too little and too much need.”

“Healing?” Sniffling, Short Stitch went still and looked up at Chantico.

“Healing magic is a rare gift for unicorns and those who can channel magic,” Chantico said as she stroked the distraught mare’s neck. “Those of us who can grant healing, like myself, we were hunted down and destroyed, one by one. I was one of the last, if not the very last one. Hearthfire was my gift to the world, but also a grave threat to those allied with darkness.”

“Give me the means to heal others,” Short Stitch begged, and as she spoke, pale pink flames could now be seen reflecting in her eyes. “I am sorry for my anger, forgive me.”

Smiling, Chantico gave the sorrowful mare a squeeze and then set her down upon her hooves. Squatting down, she placed one paw beneath Short Stitch’s chin, lifted her head, and looked down into her eyes, which now had glowing flames reflected in them. “I can give you nothing, you have already claimed it for yourself. Only those with the purest hearts have the slimmest hope of channeling this gift, and the fires now burn inside of you.”

Reaching out her paw, Chantico pulled Briar Burr closer, until he was standing beside Short Stitch. Placing her paws upon them both, she had this to say: “You will keep my shrine here and from this flame, other flames shall be lit and so shall my fires be spread. Offer sanctuary to any who ask, heal those afflicted in body and mind, and if you do these things, I will preserve this town.”

“How?” Briar asked.

“You shall have to trust me,” Chantico replied.

Dim, moving forwards, spoke in a soft, aristocratic voice, “This place is now Chantico’s candle in the darkness. It is in her better interests to keep the flame alive. If it goes out, she goes out. If you cannot trust in faith, then trust in a mutual need for survival. Both of you will be given powerful magics, no doubt, forces beyond what you’d be able to muster on your own. The wicked must be reminded that Chantico is a force to be reckoned with and why she was once so feared.”

“Since my awakening, I have been in the astral realms, trying to study this new world I find myself in.” Chantico pulled her paws away, stood up, and looked down at the three ponies looking up at her. “It seems the druids have also been revived as conduits of living force. They channel powerful magic, each and every one of them. I have learned much in my observations and see the wisdom in what has been done. Not one body, but many bodies. A lone, singular body is easy to destroy, and I have learned much from my defeat. So, in the two of you, I shall leave some of my essence. Each of my followers will receive a little piece of who and what I am and never again shall I know the dreary slumber of death.”

“Burn the world,” Dim said and there was a disturbing, deranged quaver in his voice.

“Yes”—Briar Burr nodded his head and the shimmering flames in his eyes blazed ever-brighter—“burn the world.”

In a much softer, far more gentle voice, Short Stitch echoed her companions. “Burn the world.”

Grinning, revealing a mouthful of needle-like teeth, Chantico nodded. “Yes, the world must be set ablaze. Grogar fears the return of the Hearthfire and healing magic. Let him know terror. Obey my commandments and burn the world.”

Blackbird was almost unable to contain her excitement and she knew that soon, it would be time to go. Well, there was still the issue of securing passage, but that was about to be taken care of and she was confident that she and Dim could get a ride. If all else failed, Dim could use magical compulsion and make an offer that the captain could not refuse.

As for the captain himself, he was quite a remarkable creature. A minotaur, he was a massive figure of epic physique that made little ponies look even littler. One leg was mechanical in nature, a strange contraption that captivated Blackbird’s endless mechanical curiousity. Little puffs of steam and black smoke could be seen shooting from various vents, and she very much wanted to know how it worked.

If Blackbird chose to adopt a bipedal stance, she reckoned she’d be about eye level with the captain. Long and lean of body, she had good balance when standing on her hind hooves and it freed up her talons to do other things. She liked being quadrupedal though, because standing up at her full height tended to leave little ponies and other small creatures scared silly. Well, she already scared little creatures, but adopting a bipedal stance only made it worse and she didn’t like causing a scene.

Dim had a remarkable lack of fear when he approached the minotaur and he stopped a few short paces away. “Hello captain,” she heard Dim say, “I understand that your name is Melvin. I don’t know where you are going, but we need a lift. Preferably to some hub of civilisation where we might secure other means of travel.”

The minotaur began rubbing his chin with one big, beefy hand and he looked down to study Dim. “The sky round these parts is a danger. Raiders, pirates, privateers, sky bandits… they go by many names, but all of ‘em pose a real danger to my ship, ya savvy? I can’t promise your safety.”

“I am more than capable of promising my own safety,” Dim said in a cool, calm, aristocratic voice that gave Blackbird a wicked case of the minge-tingles. “I am a vizard and I am willing to offer my services in exchange for passage.”

The captain’s eyes narrowed and his head turned from side to side, surveying the damage that could be seen around the town. After a few seconds, his eyes narrowed even more, becoming slits, and he studied Dim with great intensity. “Are you the one that did all of this?”

“I am,” Dim replied, still cool and calm. “I do not take betrayal lightly. I am a pony of my word and a verbal contract was breached. A lesson had to be taught.”

“I see.” Melvin’s eyes widened and he pulled his hand away from his chin to rub the spot between his massive, curving horns. “I have exactly one spare cabin for passengers. It’s not very big. There be no showers or toilets, just a drop hole. In an effort to deal with the lice and such, there are no beds, just some hammocks. It ain’t what you’d call a comfortable cruise ship. Ain’t much in the way of heat either, and it gets colder than a windigo’s teat. Plenty of heat in the boiler room though, but it’s loud enough to make you go deaf in there.”

Every muscle in Blackbird’s body tensed when Dim turned his head to look back at her. She gave him a nod, a silent acknowledgment stating that she was willing to endure such wretched conditions, and then Dim returned his attention to Captain Melvin the Minotaur, who was still rubbing the spot between his horns. Blackbird hoped that she might get a chance to check out the engine and give it a look-n-see, because she loved engines and seeing how they worked.

“Is it wrong that I kinda want to see a group of raiders try to board me?” Captain Melvin asked as his hand dropped down to rest against his hip, where a massive revolver was holstered. “Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want trouble, but seeing an actual wizard just lose his shit is quite a sight.”

“I give you my word,” Dim offered and his lip curled back into a smirk that made Blackbird’s legs feel like jelly, “if trouble happens, I’ll give you quite a show. Just don’t look directly into the light or you’ll go blind.”

At this, Melvin bellowed with laughter, slapped his thigh, and shouted, “Welcome aboard!”

Author's Notes:

And lo, the Burninator did come and the wicked were given to fiery ruination.