"To the left now, darling."

Flash, *poomf* went the camera.

"Perfect, perfect. To the right, now."

Flash, *poomf*. Another puff of smoke went up from the camera, and was just as swiftly blown away by the unicorn using it.

"Wonderful, wonderful. To the left again, but mid-step this time."

Flash, *poomf*.

Saffron hadn't been able to see anything but dancing spots for the last ten minutes because of all the bright camera flashes. She didn't let that impede her. Her perfect smile and posture were just as composed and serene as when they'd begun shooting.

"Wonderful! Now- can you tilt your head just so for us-? Aha! I see I don't have to instruct the master, you know it all already."

Flash, *poomf* went the bulky camera again with another puff of smoke Saffron could barely see. But being blinded by cameras was just part of the job. In fact, it was even an envied part of her profession by the many mares who perhaps didn't quite understand what being a model really meant.

Saffron continued to smile, alter her expression, and change poses as asked to in her richly embroidered gold-sequined dress. Out of the fifty or sixty or so photos taken, she knew only one would get selected and the rest would be thrown away in the end. Then, she'd change into a new dress and new makeup, and do it all over again.

To the left, to the right. Stand there, twist here. Flash, *poomf*, flash, *poomf*.

But for all that, and all her smiles and compliance (many a time in the past she'd been praised as one of the easiest models to work with), Saffron didn't give her manager, the photographer, or the director anything more than a professional working relationship.

She was being paid well for her time, but only for her time and nothing more. She'd made the mistake of trying to please everypony once, and all it had led to was a breakdown which had nearly driven her to...

Saffron carefully packed the thought back away, then smiled off into the distance. Flash,*poomf* went the blinding camera again.

Saffron didn't like to think about how close she'd been. The shame burned deep in her stomach even to this day. She wasn't a strong pony; not like dear Lilly, or Scenic Paint, or any of the others with who she had a real relationship.

That was why it had been hard to hear, so hard, when Dusky Gloom had politely taken her aside at one of those precious few dinners at Carton Juice's home, to speak to her about that.

It had been hard, because she'd been so ashamed. Was still so ashamed. Gloom had tried his best though, the kind stallion.

'I've been so privileged in life and my upbringing. And I almost threw it all away out of weakness. Oh, what a fool I was.' Saffron's face and body continued to move on autopilot, smiling and posing while her mind thought.

Flash, *poomf*.

She could think and work at the same time, and the photoshoot crew never knew. In all honesty, being constantly flash-dazzled made it easier to focus on other things since you couldn't actually see. You had to be a good actor to be a model. The best. So good, she'd even managed to fool herself into thinking she was okay for the longest time.

Flash, *poomf*.

'But I'm all the better off now for learning that I was wrong. I now have friends, and ponies I can look up to. I can rely on their strength. This? This is just my job. I will never let it become my whole life again.' If Lilly Blossom could manage to bounce back in such a short space of time, then by golly, she had no excuse.

And she would do it. She owed it to them all. Even to her estranged mother and father. They'd not kicked her to the curb penniless when they'd cast her out, if nothing else.

Flash, *poomf*.

Dusky Gloom had been so serious when he'd taken her aside, but polite too. It was another source of private shame that it was always so difficult to hold direct eye contact with him. She would not excuse herself by saying that those yellow, slitted eyes were just too creepy- because that was rude, and she should be better than that.

Saffron let herself remember the conversation again. It was a source of encouraging strength, now that she'd gotten over the dreadful embarrassment she felt at the time. At least being such a good actor meant she'd been able to stand there and have the conversation, rather than making an excuse and fleeing. She acted as if she were someone brave, and it helped.

They'd... they'd talked. Saffron didn't actually remember all the words, but she remembered the tone, and the relief of the weight she didn't know she'd been carrying lifting off her withers after. That was the most important bit.

However, she did remember some of what Gloom had said word-for-word, it burning brightly in her memory. She'd even written them down later that night in her diary to look back on in years to come.

Gloom had told her; "You've freely given so much of your time to help Lilly, for no other reason than she was in the hospital. You're even still volunteering at the hospital, I checked. Thank you. But you need to work on supporting yourself, too."

She'd answered that she was a model, and so spent a lot of time every single day looking in the mirror doing just that, building herself up. What he'd then replied with had cut her right to the heart.

"That's a lie. That's not Saffron Swirl, that's a mask. Can you even see the real Saffron Swirl when you look in that mirror?"

And she, a pony who'd been drilled in ladylike etiquette for nearly all of her foalhood, a pony who always made so carefully sure to have a polite, memorised response for any situation, opened her mouth and found nothing coming out.

It had been the way Gloom asked. Blunt, to the point, and without a hint of accusation. Not like those less successful models who called her horrible names and swore her beauty was only skin deep. The Guard in front of her couldn't have cared less about surface appearances.

He'd patiently waited while she composed herself with difficulty, before she'd tremulously asked; "How did you know?"

"I had some help. I'm not nearly as perceptive as some pon-people, some people that I know." He'd admitted.

It had taken her far too long to make the obvious connection. "You mean, Prey?” How she disliked that, even now. Not the lamb, just the connotations of his unfortunate name. Nopony should be called the word 'prey', like some sort of wild animal.

"Prey is smart. You've seen that, but you also haven't... seen it, not really. Prey's very smart. Ponies never quite understand what it means when I tell them he's part of the ISND. And he told me that you were wearing a mask."

She'd drawn a breath to apologise, to say that she just had to wear it, that it wasn't because of them, that it wasn't anything personal, that she just couldn't be that Saffron- but Gloom hadn't finished speaking.

"And that's fine. You don't owe us anything more than who you're comfortable being."

"Why?" She'd barely whispered, stunned.

He'd then cleared his throat uncomfortably, "Well, for one it would be incredibly hypocritical of me to tell you how to act after the way Prey's always refused to, er, never mind. That's private to him. What I mean is, I wanted to say that if you ever want to be a different Saffron Swirl, you can be. If that makes sense. We won't judge you."

Saffron had heard those words before, heard them from unicorns that day after day pretend to her face that they don't secretly look down on her for being a magical cripple. Reflexively, she had almost reached for an empty platitude to give Gloom, a smile and a kind but empty thank you. But then she had looked into those disquieting yellow eyes and had been stopped.

Gloom was a Guard. He served the princesses. He'd overcome things she couldn't imagine even surviving, she just had to look at the scars on his chest and face to know that. He'd also told them some stories of his clan around the dinner table, and she knew they'd all lived a life far harsher than any single pony here in Canterlot had.

She hadn't been able to lie in the face of those piercing yellow eyes.

"That means more to me than I thought it would. I, I wasn't expecting this." Her mother, a duchess, would've roared to hear her stutter like that, but propriety had been the furthest thing from her mind at the time.

Gloom's next words had stopped her yet again. "I don't promise it will be easy though. Not easy for you, I mean. Wear a mask long enough, and you forget what of you is real and what of you is the mask."

No comfort or reassurance offered, just the blunt truth. Somehow that made it stick even more. She remembered asking, "Back home, you never had this sort of problem in your clan, did you? This is a modern pony problem I suppose."

"No, just something I've observed for myself," He'd answered, stepping back, "You really should try one time to talk to Prey seriously when he's in a good mood. Only if it's a good mood, though. Otherwise, really, don't bother. I'll leave you to it now. It's hard to ask, and I don't know if you'll ever want it, but our help is always here."

'To be a different Saffron Swirl?' What a frightening thought. What an alluring thought.

She wouldn't think about it later, because she'd already been thinking about it all this time. And Saffron also thought she might muster up her courage and give Gloom’s suggestion a try. She’d talk to the secretive lamb.

It wasn't until recently, after many interactions with Prey and others who'd also interacted with the cute lamb, that she'd even realised he was being secretive in the first place. He'd given her a knife for Hearth's Warming.

'I will definitely give Gloom's advice an honest try next time I see them all.'

Flash, *poomf*.

"Aaand done. Simply magnifique! Thank you darling, you were wonderful."

Saffron smiled politely, even though she was still too dazzled by the flashes to see straight yet. "You're very generous miss, but it is simply my profession. Let me get changed into another dress, and I'll be ready for the next shoot straight away."

When morning finally came to the port town of Haven Hay, it was visually much the same as the one before.

Grey, overcast, windy, and with the ever-present promise of more rain.

Seagulls shrieked and guffawed, wheeling above the thin strip of cold, grey sand that made up Haven Hay's beach. The sand was dark, wet with rain, and uninviting to trot upon. It clung to your hooves and somehow always ended up under your fur.

The cold waves breaking upon the dark sand hissed as they rushed up the beach's incline, before reluctantly sliding back out to rejoin the restless, murky sea. Even here, where it wasn’t violently breaking against sheer cliffs, the water looked angry and moody.

Prey stood watching the sea from behind the high-tide detritus line. He didn't sit, not wanting to get wet sand stuck in his wool. He also eyed the wads of black, slimy seaweed the sea had cast up onto the beach. The tangled bundles of slimy fronds smelled strongly of salt and rot.

Prey stood there alone on the grey sand, looking over what passed for a view. It served to reinforce to him that he really didn't want to ever go swimming in the sea. Anything could be lurking down there.

The overcast sky brightened a bit as the sun rose from somewhere behind the endless blanket of cloud, but all it really achieved was changing the dark grey to a more medium grey. Prey kept looking out over the ceaseless waves, seemingly lost in thought and not paying attention to his surroundings or the town waking up behind him.

The gulls cawed and the sea hissed. Prey continued to watch.

'I wonder what Fallen Leaf and the deer holt are doing now? Assuming they're still alive.'

More waves rolled up and hissed over the grey sand. Wind kicked a white spray off the tips of the breaking waves.

Eventually Prey shook himself, turned, and walked up the narrow beach back into Haven Hay.

He turned a couple of corners, avoiding the few ponies up and about, then stopped behind a mostly-collapsed shed. A few seconds later, with the sound of wings, Gloom and Crimson dropped off the roof above and landed on the street.

"Nothing. Nopony took the bait." Gloom said, refolding his wings.

"I'd like to say again how much I hate being the bait." Prey repeated for the fifth time.

"It didn't work, so what does it matter?" Crimson asked, "I mean, obviously I'm glad nobody tried to kidnap you, but nobody tried to kidnap you, so our idea also didn't work."

"It was a long shot anyway. If they ran away in the middle of the night the minute we woke up, then they probably weren't going to try again in the day." Gloom grumbled.

"You're welcome by the way. You know, because you used me as unwilling bait." Prey said.

"Sorry Prey, but you're the only pony out of us three that somepony might think they'd be able to... well, snatch and carry off." Gloom coughed.

"Not a pony. Runt lamb. Repeat after me sir, 'runt' and 'lamb'."

"You could've said no." Crimson diplomatically pointed out, because Prey hadn't refused to at least try this little trap in the end.

"Only because I was ninety-seven percent sure nobody was actually going to risk trying," Prey grumbled, scraping some lingering traces of wet sand off his hoof onto the cobbles, "But I still hate being the bait on principle."

"Well thank you for going along with it and trying anyway." Gloom told him.

"Next time you can be the bait. And you didn't spot even one person looking in the direction of the beach suspiciously?" Prey checked.

"No, not even a glance." Gloom answered as Crimson just shook his head to say, 'Me neither'.

"Right. So that plan was a bust. Not exactly unexpected, though. What's next?" Prey asked.

"You mean, besides waiting for tomorrow?" Gloom checked.

Tomorrow, reinforcements and help were going to be arriving from Canterlot. The reply in the bottle had been waiting for them this morning. In answer to their request for aid, not just for themselves, but also for Haven Hay, the rescued sailors, and to repair the weather Tower, Captain Nighthawk had unequivocally promised to send some along immediately. Extra Night Guards, specialists, a doctor, and supplies would be arriving tomorrow morning by train.

'Where have I heard that promise before though? Oh that's right, Mayflower.'

Nighthawk had sworn on his name to deliver this time around though, and had even said that if their reinforcements did not manage to depart on the train for whatever reason, he'd dispatch a squad to fly all the way out here instead. They'd be a bit slower than the train, wouldn't be able to bring extra supplies, and would arrive exhausted from the non-stop flight, but this time the ISND would receive its promised backup no matter what.

'You'd better keep that promise. I haven't forgiven last time. If it happens again, I will take matters into my own hooves.' Prey darkly thought. What he said out loud instead was:

"Yes, I mean besides waiting for the train to arrive tomorrow."

"Breakfast?" Crimson suggested. They hadn't eaten yet, and none of them had gotten much sleep either after their event last night.

"Food, yes," Gloom agreed without needing any convincing, "Then we'll do the same as yesterday. Continue to interview residents and look for any clues. And check in with Sargent Nimbus. And on Trail Blazer..."

Gloom trailed off as his thoughts turned to the downed Royal Guard.

'-and those two sailors lost overboard. They're not coming back either-'

"Yes. We'll check in with them," Gloom said quietly, "But after we eat. Food first, then our job."

"Mentioning food, or rather, drinks... you'll both be good for a while yet, right?" Prey checked, giving Gloom and Crimson each a significant look.

Neither stallion liked being asked about their blood intake requirements, even if Prey had been circumspect in his wording, but it was a pertinent question.

"Yes. I mean, for a good while yet." Crimson refolded his wings to his armoured sides, looking straight ahead.

"You don't need to worry about that at all, Prey. It's our job to manage ourselves." Gloom said, also looking off at an angle.

Prey twiddled the end of his silk ribbon, "Right, sorry. So, breakfast?" He asked brightly, changing the topic back.

"Yes, c'mon. We need to pick up our bags, and then we can eat." Gloom said, stepping around a puddle and leading the way.

A disgruntled seagull flapped up into the air to get out of their path as they rounded the corner, and cawed angrily at them to make sure they knew it.

"Looks like more rain. I mean, more rain within the next fifteen minutes. Because there's always rain." Crimson amended, nodding his helmet towards the sea.

A street leading down the hill made for a gap in the houses, providing a straight line of sight over the harbour and the Boiling Bay. You couldn't see much further out than the seething dark waters of the Boiling Bay, because of the misty grey curtain of rain blowing in.

"At least it's not another storm." Gloom muttered, head swivelling towards the east, where they all knew that gigantic ball of stormclouds were sitting above the kelp beds of the Breathless Sea, just waiting to break in an apocalyptic display.

All three of them kept looking in that direction as they trotted along the next street, each silently thinking about it. A pony resident struggling to reach a soaked sheet, which had blown up onto the eaves of a roof and had gotten caught, hastily refused their offer of help when they passed.

"I'm fine sirs, really. I've got this, it's fine!"

"That was one of the rioters from yesterday who trashed the Weather Tower. I remember the face." Prey conversationally pointed out once they had passed.

"Really?" Gloom stopped to shoot a dark scowl over his shoulder, making sure to remember the house, "Well that explains his attitude. He's guilty."

Prey stopped himself from voicing the truth, that the real reason for that pony's attitude had been because Gloom was a thestral. That, and he and Crimson were both fully suited in their dark armour.

"Can you actually remember all of, what was it? Five hundred or so ponies from yesterday?" Crimson asked Prey, cocking one tufted ear.

"No, they were all in a mob, and we didn't get close enough, but I could pick out maybe eighty or so of them from a lineup." Prey estimated as they drew closer to the lonely inn where they'd rented a room.

"That is still an impressive number. I mean, I can remember maybe five. And one of those is sheriff Lumber." Crimson admitted.

"Which reminds me, that's another pony we have to check in with. To make sure he hasn't reneged on doing his duty again." Gloom scowled.

Crimson unconsciously made a curt downwards flick with his wing, signalling disgust, "As long as he can watch over Alto Heights, and keep him safe inside the Watch House until our reinforcements arrive tomorrow, that's all we need. I mean, after that, we can just arrest him."

They were almost back to the rundown and storm-battered inn. It was set about five or six streets up from the docks, meaning that although you couldn't quite see them, you could still see the harbour and its walls. And right slap-bang in the middle of the harbour's mouth, the now completely abandoned ship from yesterday wallowed.

Prey wondered if the townsfolk were going to try and tow the heavy, waterlogged hulk out of the way, or if they were going to wait for it to sink to the bottom of the harbour and become completely unsalvageable. Well whatever, that was their problem to work out, not his.

Unexpectedly, Gloom slowed in leading the way. Prey looked up questioningly. He turned his head to the right, brushing back an ear to follow the thestral's gaze.

Gloom was looking at the dark harbour wall, small swells of murky water slapping against the sloping, limpet and weed-encrusted concrete. No, actually not quite. Gloom was looking at the building at the end of the wall, the blocky red and white lighthouse.

Prey squinted, trying to work out what was bothering Gloom. His eyesight wasn't perfect by any means, no thanks to both Snake and the Reaper King, but he still couldn't spot anything out of place.

"Is something wrong, sir?" Crimson asked, yellow eyes also squinting to try and spot what had caught their Sargent's attention.

Gloom took a long moment in answering, pursing his lips, "I'm not sure, but... no, I'm nearly certain. I'm getting a hint from my cutie mark that we should go there. Or rather, that it isn't the wrong path to go there."

Prey felt a stab of bitter annoyance that once again they were getting esoteric directions out of nowhere, and that as a pony Gloom could even get them, before it was trampled under the cold hooves of creeping alarm.

"That... is either a good thing or a bad thing." Crimson said carefully. It wasn't going to be somewhere in the middle.

"It's probably nothing. My talent doesn't tell me the correct path to follow, just if it’s not the wrong one." Gloom said, but he was still staring out at the distant lighthouse with a drawn expression.

'-we were just there yesterday. What's new that could've appeared?-'

A baseless suspicion about the what in question had already come to Prey. There was no proof, and he had no reason to either believe or disbelieve the unfounded guess, but somehow that just served to make the event of it being true seem all the more likely.

He glanced back and forth between Gloom and Crimson's faces, each framed by the curving silvery-purple metal helmet’s cheek guards.

"Just so we're all aware, this could be a trap of some kind, you know that right?"

"That seems very unlikely. But still..." Crimson didn't finish.

"I don't think it's a trap. That would definitely make it the wrong path." Gloom said, but he still didn't look away from the distant lighthouse.

"That's hardly foolproof, and it could still just as easily be a trap but one which also gives some kind of hint or clue. But you can't get the clue if you're dead." Prey stressed. Crimson also looked to Gloom to wait for his reply.

"Believe me, I know better than anypony my cutie mark isn't infallible. We're not going to march in there blindly, but I still don't think it's some sort of trap. Just, as I'm getting a feeling that it isn’t the wrong path, I get a feeling of it not being a trap too." Gloom assured them, or maybe himself.

"And if it is still a trap?" Prey insisted, not letting it go.

"Prey, you're being over-the-top paranoid again. It's just the lighthouse, we went in there yesterday. It's only Flash Light and his wife Sandy in there. But don't worry, we'll still be extra cautious and double-check everything."

'I am not being overly paranoid.' Prey scowled. But Gloom wasn't wrong either, they would have to go out to the lighthouse, at least if they wanted to see where this mysterious hint from Gloom's flanks was trying to lead them.

'Ponies and their ridiculous, temperamental, fickle special talents.' And Prey hated that it actually worked, yet more blatant favouritism by Harmony to the pony race. He'd come to expect it by now, though.

"So do we go see, or decide not to?" Prey asked the question. It wasn't rhetorical either.

The grey, foggy curtain of rain was steadily coming closer across the wave crests the longer they stood here, undecided and hesitating. Soon it would reach the blocked harbour's mouth, and therefore the lighthouse too. It wasn't heavy rain, not like the storm yesterday by any means, but it still meant they were soon going to have to get wet if they wanted to reach the red-and-white-striped lighthouse.

"I trust my cutie mark to at least not march me, us, into a trap." Gloom said, giving his vote.

Gloom was the Sargent, but again, this wasn't the Night Guard back in Canterlot. Here, in this, they were equals. Crimson nodded forwards, towards the harbour wall, "It might be important. And I mean, it isn't as if we have any other solid clues to follow instead."

Tiebreaker thrown, the consensus taken. They were going in.

"Alright, but how about you fly there first and have a look around? Make sure it's safe, you know?" Prey suggested.

"Of course. Let's get down to the docks first though. I'll fly across then." Gloom said.

How dearly Prey wished he too had wings. Not having to approach from the ground, not having to risk hitting most tripwires or traps; flying wasn't just convenient, it was literally a lifesaving tool. Not just because it let you skip possible traps, but because it also allowed one to overcome the obstacle of having to trot across the top of the uneven harbour wall as the sea broke loudly against its pitted surface.

With wings, you didn't have to worry about falling into the churning saltwater below. With wings, you weren't limited to the one and only solid ground approach. With wings, you could safely fly all around the lighthouse and examine it from every side for anything out of place. Which was exactly what Gloom did.

'I hate being a runt. I hate this body. I wish I had wings.' Prey could only jealously think for the thousand-and-somethingth time as he watched Gloom whirl around the square, blocky tower of the lighthouse in a slow arc. Gloom was having to beat his wings steadily, as there wasn't anything like an updraft over the sea, and the first outstretched feelers from the approaching curtain of rain had arrived to further weigh him down, but it wasn't any great challenge for Gloom.

Prey had seen the thestral and Crimson flying so often, but still every single time he watched them beat their wings and break free of gravity, it was amazing all over again.

Crimson stood beside Prey, also carefully watching Gloom's reconnaissance with hawklike attention. If something suddenly went wrong, such as some sudden magical attack from within the lighthouse, Crimson was the backup ready to rush in and help Gloom. And because if it was a trap, cold harsh logic dictated you didn't send two people into it, but only risked losing one.

Although the chances of it being a trap, despite all of Prey's paranoia, really were slim.

Gloom stopped beating his wings and let himself glide down. Prey tensed as Gloom's hooves touched down on the wet concrete outside the tightly sealed door, but nothing happened.

"It seems to be fine. Probably." Crimson said, starting towards the hewn stone stairs at the base of the harbour wall. He could have made the short flight up to the lighthouse easily, but Prey was going to have to leave the dock and climb up the sea-slicked stairs by hoof, so Crimson was sticking with him.

Prey bent his head to shield his eyes as the wind started to drive the rain into his face. He braced his legs and adopted a lower, stronger stance once they were atop the harbour wall, the sound of the sea breaking against either side of it suddenly much louder and closer.

Prey hurriedly grabbed at his ribbon out of pure habit to check that, yes, it was still firmly tied on like it was supposed to be. He gingerly stuck to the very middle of the wall’s top as he walked across, trying to ignore the bite of the wind digging into his wool and the feel of rain already dripping off the sodden ends of his ears.

Crimson craned his head back as they got closer and closer to the lighthouse, looking up to the top of the smallest cube making up the blocky tower.

"Haven't you knocked yet?" Prey asked Gloom, stepping towards the base of the lighthouse for a bit more shelter against the wind and rain.

Gloom shook his head, dribbles of rain running off the end of each woven strand of his warrior's braid, the length of it poking out from under the back of his helmet. "I did knock already. Twice. They haven't answered the door yet."

Gloom gave it a third try, loudly striking the sealed metal door with his cloud-steel-shod hoof. As they weren't in the middle of a raging storm, there was no way Gloom's banging hadn't been heard throughout the lighthouse's interior.

The way Crimson had his head back, softly tilting to one side and then the other made Prey look up at him. Prey blinked- at him, and also to get the rain out of his eyes.

"Oh no." Prey sagged and sat down right there, heedless of the enervating cold puddles. He covered his eyes with his forelegs in frustration, the golden bands mocking him.

"Really? I mean, just really?" Prey whined to the world.

"What?" Gloom asked. Then he saw as well. His ears went back against the smooth metal of his helmet.

"Crimson...?" Gloom asked, already knowing the answer.

"I'm sorry." Crimson said, as if it were somehow his fault he only had bad news. "But... yes. I mean, it's faint, and it might not be pony blood, but..."

Prey massaged the scars on his cheeks, not uncovering his eyes, "Just, just wonderful." He sighed.

'First Gloom's special talent, and now yours in quick succession. If I were a pony instead of a runt lamb, I bet I'd be next up for show and tell.'

Gloom swallowed, eyes fixed on the sealed door. His mind was loudly running through nightmares about what they might find waiting on the other side just a few hooves away. Though was it a nightmare if you'd actually seen it happen once before?

'-rats chewing away in the dark, all those little eyes and teeth-'

"Crimson, are you saying that inside we're going to find a, a, a-" Gloom gesticulated with a wingclaw, voice thick, "-A body? Bodies?"

When Crimson couldn't immediately answer in the negative Gloom jumped to the worst conclusion, "Oh Luna."

"I don't know sir," Crimson hastily cut him off, "I can't smell enough blood for that. But, the door's closed, and it's so windy out here, and what with the salt..." He trailed off again.

"If you can't tell for definite, then let's not jump to conclusions," Gloom said, rather hypocritically, "Let's, let's go inside and check first."

Prey choked on an inappropriate giggle, unable to deny the morbid ironic humour, "Khe-he, here we go again, breaking into first that tower, now this one. Fly up, go in, come down, and unlock the front door. Why change a winning strategy, heh?"

His moment of dark humour was not appreciated, Prey knew that, but all of this was just so, so... déjà vu inducing. They'd done this same song and dance literally just yesterday.

'First the Heights family, and now the lighthouse couple.' Prey stood back on his hooves, pushing off the lighthouse's wall as a boost. The light rain hadn't stopped falling, and although the sea wasn't raging at the moment, it was still the sea. Treacherous, and prone to violent mood swings. They shouldn't linger out here exposed on the wall. Best to get this over with.

Of course, he wasn't the one who was going to have to fly up and go in first.

"We could just not?" Prey suggested weakly, and like Gloom just now he already knew the answer he was going to receive. "Let's go get the good-for-nothing sheriff. Make him go in first. Someone must have a spare key to the lighthouse in Haven Hay. Or how about Sargent Nimbus Feather, or any of his team? They've got wings too if we're not going the spare key route."

Gloom's lips turned down, "Prey. Are you seriously suggesting we have other ponies take the risks we don't want to? No, I know that's what you're suggesting."

Prey widened his weak grin in the face of Gloom and Crimson's strong disapproval, "Well yes. But come on, you can't honestly say that surprises you? I care much more about our continued wellbeing than theirs. Haven't we done our fair share, unlike them? We don't have to take this approach, we do have other options."

"This is our duty." Gloom stated, and there was so much more he could've added to that.

"We are the best suited for this. We've done this before. Nobody else has." Crimson also added that simple, irrefutable logic.

"We've had this exact argument before too." Prey sighed, conceding defeat, knowing this wasn't going to go anywhere that it hadn't before. But it had at least been worth a try.

Crimson unfolded his wings, shaking off rain in a small cascade of droplets, "We don't actually know if anything’s wrong yet. It could be nothing. I mean, my cutie mark isn't picking up any smell really strongly." He tried to reassure Prey.

"I could go first-" Gloom started.

"No. I mean, it's my turn sir. You flew here first, so I should go in first now." So saying, Crimson backed up a few steps, wings spreading wide. He crouched down, and then launched himself upwards in one smooth, powerful motion.

It took him mere moments to reach the railing of the lighthouse's platform above, and then Prey got a raindrop right in the eye and had to look back down, so he missed Crimson landing on the balcony.

The front door down here at ground level may have been a reinforced and watertight steel affair, but not so all the way at the top of the lighthouse. The sea could be rough and angry, but this close to land the waves didn't quite stretch to that height. Splashes carried from the wave crests by the wind didn't count. If a solid wave reaching the top of the lighthouse were hitting the structure, then it was a particularly large tsunami and the lighthouse couldn’t be expected to survive anyways. And nor would the rest of the town.

Prey couldn't help it. He turned to look east, even though he couldn't see the storm hanging over the Breathless Sea. But he knew it was out there, beyond the rain and fog. Waiting.

'If that thing breaks without being dispersed... no, even then it'll just cause a storm surge, not a tsunami. A storm surge, there is a difference.'

And then there was a metal clunk from behind him, and he turned back to see Crimson pushing open the door.

"That was fast." Gloom said hesitantly, but hopefully.

'-if he got to the door so fast then that means he didn't find any rats or... other things inside. I hope-'

"I have good news. And bad news." Crimson said flatly, stepping aside.

Prey had climbed up through the lighthouse just yesterday, and had seen the living space of Flash Light and Sandy Shine. Ponies seemed to need so much stuff to live, and the lighthouse had been rather cramped in accommodating all the things that the married couple had accumulated over the years. Prey had remembered seeing an overcrowded coat rack, the dining table crammed against the wall and half covered with old newspapers, and a stack of well-worn romance novels used to prop up a cabinet to give just a few such examples of the overall 'theme' of the house. Or rather, the lighthouse.

"The good news is that there isn't, well, that this isn't another salt cellar incident. The good news is that they’re not in here." Crimson said.

"The bad news is also that they're not in here. And it's definitely pony blood I found."

The table had been overturned. Oh, it was standing back upright now, but the newspapers must have fallen and were splayed out over the floor. A plate had been knocked off the cabinet and shattered, all but the smallest shards hastily shoved in a drawer. And all the coats were still on the rack, meaning neither Flash Light nor Sandy Shine had the option to put one on when they left. It only took a glance for Prey to spot these signs.

The lighthouse keepers had vanished. Just like the Heights family.

"How much blood are we talking?" Gloom asked.

Crimson showed them. It was just a dried brown smear at the top of the stairs, something that anyone else would've missed, or dismissed as just a stain or mud. Not Crimson though.

Prey crouched right down until his eyes were level with the step. "It was bigger. Someone wiped the rest of the splash away."

"Yes." Crimson agreed, "I can smell that."

"But it wasn't a huge puddle, right? Not enough for anypony to have been seriously hurt, right?" Gloom pressed, despite knowing that the absence of blood didn't necessarily mean there couldn't be a body.

'-broken bones or a snapped neck don't spread blood-'

Crimson hesitated, "I don't think there was enough for that, but... it wasn't some small accidental injury. It's too strong for that."

"But not fatally so?" Gloom double-checked.

"No. Not enough blood for that. And it's all from one pony too."

"Can you tell who? Was it from Flash Light or Sandy?" Prey asked, straightening back up.

"Sorry, but I can't tell. I haven't smelled either of their blood before, so I just don't know. Maybe though? But it could just as easily be someone, no, somepony else's. It's definitely pony blood."

This wasn't a comfortable topic for Crimson. Even after all this time it was still something he and Gloom avoided discussing in Prey's presence if possible, but this was much more serious than personal discomfort. Prey saw that Crimson was breathing mostly through his mouth, but not unevenly or heavily.

"I see." Was all Gloom could mutter, casting his eyes over the lighthouse's interior, trying to spot any clue as to what had taken place here.

"I'd say the blood is somewhere in the range of four to eight hours old. But we already knew that they disappeared sometime in the night." Prey said.

Gloom shut his eyes for a moment, muttering out a list more to himself than either of them, "We're going to have to report this to Captain Nighthawk. And Sargent Nimbus. And Lumber while he's still the sheriff. By Luna, it never ends, does it?"

"The smell isn't too bad for you Crimson? Not overwhelming? Well there's not as much spilled blood as back in the, ah, you know, so obviously not, but I just meant it's not too bad, right?" Prey bit his tongue, stopping himself from rambling any further.

"No. I mean, yes, it's not too bad. It could be worse. For this level, I've sort of gotten used to it." Crimson answered quietly, his eyes too roaming the lighthouse for sudden clues.

"Gotten used to this level?" Prey asked before he caught up with himself, "Actually never mind."

Crimson still answered, "From you."

"I, pardon?"

"You. I mean, you smell of old blood a lot Prey."

"I do?" Prey asked carefully.

"Yes, you do." Crimson confirmed blandly, still looking around while Gloom muttered about having to use another message-in-a-bottle.

'And I always thought I was so careful about washing my hooves properly when I came back up from the lair.' Prey thought. He eyed Crimson, worried that his friend was going to try and pry deeper.

How long had Crimson known something was off? 'Daft question, how many times have I been in contact with blood or dead bodies since we've met is a better question. With how sensitive his nose is for blood, he must've been able to at least faintly tell nearly every single time.'

But Crimson had never asked, or even brought it up. He wasn't asking now either, just informing Prey that he knew.

'If he hasn't asked yet, that means he doesn't want to know either. Alright, I won't bring it up if he doesn't.' Prey decided, putting off the topic for now. They had other things to focus on.

"We need to search every room. Unlike with the Weather Tower, this place is still intact. This is our chance. Leave no stone unturned." Gloom announced, snapping back into Sargent mode.

"We don't know if both of these disappearances are connected." Prey pointed out.

"My gut says they are." Gloom said.

"It seems very likely," Prey agreed, "But we shouldn't blind ourselves with presuppositions is all I'm saying. We could miss things if we blinker ourselves."

"You're right of course. Our goal is the same for both them and the Heights however." Gloom straightened his shoulders, as if preparing himself to receive a burden.

"To find them. And save them before it's too late." Crimson finished without any question in his statement.

"I hate it here. I can't fly. Where's the sky? I want to fly. This is cruellllllll." Alto Heights whined piteously, rocking back and forth on a stool in the corner.

Lumber and his deputy ignored him. From the looks on their faces, it seemed they'd been enduring constant whining from the pegasus colt since they got in this morning.

Now, the two law enforcement officers had something else to worry about. They hadn't been very concerned when the Heights vanished yesterday, the whole port town having hated the weather ponies, but now the lighthouse keepers were gone on top of that?

This was a very worrying pattern.

'-who else might get snatched in the middle of the night?-', Was the alarmed thought that had immediately gone around the room when they heard the bad news the ISND bore.

"But, where could they have gone?" Lumber asked, looking lost.

"That's why we're asking you, sheriff," Gloom snapped, "This is your town, your lighthouse, and there are pony residents living in your jurisdiction who might know something. Go out there and ask around until you find them."

"I want to flyyyyy. Let me fly. Are you ignoring me? Stop ignoring me!" Came loud whining from the background.

Prey gave the white pegasus colt a disgusted look. Alto still wasn't concerned about anything but his own cutie mark's satisfaction, not even concerned for his missing brother and parents. All he cared about was his selfish need to fly. All Prey believed Alto actually needed was a good thrashing.

Lumber shot Gloom a mulish glare, before sharing a worried glance with his deputy. "There's no place they could've gone. They weren't cloud buckers, er, pegasi, like the Heights were. They weren't one of those flashy teleporting types either. The only way off the lighthouse is along the harbour wall."

"Or by jumping into the sea." The deputy added unhappily.

Privately, Lumber was worrying about that very thing. Specifically, about whether this could've been caused by those sea-dwelling marefolk he superstitiously believed in:

'-the lighthouse is right on the sea, and the wailing from the crag blows in right to where they were. But Flash and Sandy were sensible ponies, not bucking airheads. They wouldn't follow any singing-'

"I don't really care what it takes, as long as they get found." Gloom ordered, leaning over Lumber and the deputy, "Organise search parties, check houses, ask everypony. They couldn’t have gone far on hoof by themselves."

Prey helpfully chimed in, smiling cheerily at the two earth ponies despite it being completely at odds with the dark topic, "Check there are no boats missing in the harbour. No trains have left Haven Hay since yesterday evening, at least not by the train timetable, so that's out too."

"Like Prey says, if they're still here, then they can't have gotten far. If. But if not, then it's because they were taken, just like the Heights were. We're going to search for any clue as to why they've both been targeted. But you need to get out there and start looking. Understand?"

"Hey, are you going flying? I'm coming too, I hate it in here." Alto butted in, jumping off his stool in the corner.

"For the last time, no!" Lumber rounded on Alto, the remainder of his dwindling patience gone, "You ain't going anywhere you jumped-up seagull! No means no! So-help-me Celestia, you're staying right here!"

The white colt blinked, utterly unable to understand why they weren't letting him out to fly off and potentially, if trends continued, never come back. "That's not fair! I'm a weather pegasus, you can't do this to me!" He protested.

"Put him in a cell. Make sure he's comfortable and that he has food, but lock him in there." Gloom ordered.

"I was already gonna' do that. I know how to do my job." Lumber shot back as the deputy started grimly herding the upset Alto away.

Crimson snorted in disbelief at Lumber's claim as Gloom simply stared, brow drawing in thunderously.

'-how you can say that with a straight face after your abysmal performance yesterday, I really don't know-', Gloom thought. Prey agreed completely with the sentiment.

"If I thought you could do your job without being foalsat, I wouldn't be here now would I? Stop wasting time, get out there, get ponies searching, and do it now!"

Lumber and his deputy roped in a couple of ponies to help, who each roped in a couple more, who also asked a few extra themselves, and in short order about forty search groups of two to three residents had been gathered.

Unlike with them being uncaring of the missing Heights family, they were much more willing to search for the port town's only unicorn couple, donning raincoats and wide-brimmed hats as they spread out. It was not with purpose and hope the searchers set out however, but alarm and worry.

Prey had been watching their faces and listening to their thoughts. The Heights’ vanishing had been welcomed, but the lighthouse keepers going missing so soon after had finally shaken them enough to realise how serious an event that people had disappeared actually was. Those they perceived as actual people, not just abstracts they didn't like. Finally, the reality of the situation seemed to have sunken through their thick skulls.

'-what if my child is next?-'
'-or what if it's my neighbour?-'
'-it could even be me next-'

By the end of the day, Prey judged that most of Haven Hay would know about Flash Light and Sandy Shine vanishing. It was going to serve as a nasty wake-up call to them all. They'd been stuck in the rut of their own misfortunes, like the storm damage and loss of jobs, or the empty dry docks and non-existent kelp harvesting. 'But things can always get worse.'

"I'm not actually sure this was the right thing to do." Gloom unexpectedly confided.

Both Prey and Crimson looked at him questioningly.

"Announcing it to the town," Gloom clarified, "This could well cause a lot of panic. Some ponies here are going to completely overreact. What I'm worried about is if others join in. Ponies do stupid things when they're scared."

All too true, especially when it was ponies. They'd seen the proof of that just yesterday with the mob. Ponies were all too willing to cast aside their individual conscience and surrender to the will of the herd.

"A fair point." Prey agreed.

"But it's too late now." Crimson finished.

Alarm was already out there and spreading. It would spread from mouth to mouth, neighbour to neighbour. From the baker to the mayor, all were going to find out through one channel or the other. Ponies would hastily usher their unhappy foals back inside, look worriedly towards the sea, and maybe then check that all entrances had the sigil against bad luck painted above them.

"I think it's better this way. I mean, at least now everyone has been warned." Crimson said, as a seagull started yelling from what sounded like right above them.

Prey scowled at the volume, shooting a useless glare up at the roof, the guttering there leaking, "It's not like they weren't going to find out they'd vanished. Someone was going to go knock on the lighthouse door sooner rather than later."

"Somepony," Gloom corrected automatically, pursing his lips with worry as they watched the groups disperse down the rain-slicked streets, "Luna take it all, but everything's starting to spiral out of control."

"The last time I saw Sandy was a week ago. Gone? Gone where?"

"What do ya' mean? Vanished? Are more ponies vanishing?!"

"I don't know nothin’. Celestia, I hope they're okay."

"Are we in danger? Is somepony snatching us from our homes?!"

"Lock your doors and windows at night, I tell you, lock 'em tight!"

"I ain't seen mane nor tail of either of 'em, now leave me alone."

Nobody in Haven Hay could find the lighthouse keepers. They had vanished with almost as little trace as the Heights had. Almost, as they had left that spilt blood, which the ISND had decided it best to keep to themselves. It only took four hours before the truth was confirmed, barring the existence of some secret bunker hidden under the town.

Flash Light and Sandy Shine were gone from Haven Hay.

And then to top it all off, another storm rolled in from the west. It brought more lashing rains and piercing winds, forcing the still-searching residents back inside as the already battered Haven Hay was battered yet again.

The cracked windowpane shook in its frame, and leaked the rain that was falling almost horizontally beyond it. Outside of the rented room they'd returned to shelter in, the wind wailed and howled.

It was impossible to see the bay through the pouring rain, but Prey could still hear even over the hammering raindrops and groaning winds how the sea had been kicked up into a roaring fury.

"Where do these storms keep coming from?" Gloom voiced the question.

Prey turned away from peering out the single window, "From out at sea? Or were you asking for something specifically?"

"No, not quite. Haven Hay's been suffering storms nearly constantly. That's not natural." Gloom stated, restlessly shifting from hoof to hoof, unwilling to sit down on the bed.

Not natural, and Gloom wasn't misguidedly spouting those words like a sheltered pony who was used to perfectly controlled weather would've. Gloom actually meant 'not natural', and Prey had to agree.

Storms don't just come out of nowhere. They form and build up over a number of days, slowly accumulating water vapour, building until they reach the point of oversaturation and burst. While rain and other bad weather was more common where the sea met the coast, it shouldn't be common to this extent.

Crimson minutely flexed first one wing, then the other, "I do not know the why, but something is making these storms. The land can't take many more. It's wrong, too much. You can feel it in the atmosphere."

"And all the storms consistently add whatever's left of themselves to that huge time-bomb squatting over the Breathless." Prey nodded. Something was definitely wrong, and it was making his stomach squirm.

"Do you remember before? The Weather Factories back in Cloudsdale, they predicted it was just leftover disruption caused by Discord's tampering all gathering in one place, which just happened to be here. And that it would stop once everything straightened back out. I think they were way off the mark. Something else is happening here." Gloom's face was drawn in worry, as rain continued to pound on the roof.

Crimson wordlessly nodded.

"Reinforcements are arriving tomorrow," Prey reminded them, "We just need to hold out until tomorrow. Which means hunkering down, and not doing anything stupid and reckless until then. We just have to wait."

Nighthawk had promised reinforcements. Promised on his clan name. He was determined to make up for the Night Guard failing to assist the ISND back in Mayflower.

Prey wasn't concerned about Nighthawk not keeping his word, although he would only believe reinforcements were coming when he saw the reinforcements with his own two eyes. It wasn't worry over Nighthawk's vow, but rather that Prey just expected the worst to happen. Like sudden and spontaneous combustion of the train with all the reinforcements still inside, or a freak earthquake swallowing the tracks.

No, what Prey was concerned about was Luna taking an active interest in what they were doing out here.

Every single time, without fail, when Luna tried to meddle or follow a flight of fancy, it was always them, the helpless mortals, who suffered.

"Tomorrow morning. They'll be here tomorrow."

The wind and rain continued to lash the walls and window for almost a solid hour more. Prey, Gloom, and Crimson couldn't do much but pace around the cramped room and wait for it to eventually pass.

Nimbus Feather had declined to try stopping this storm. He'd stayed on the ground, still watching over the unconscious Trail Blazer along with his remaining two subordinates.

The Royal Guard Staff Sargent had refused to risk it again. Once stung, twice wary. He'd refused on the grounds that there was no ship in danger this time, that there was one less of them now, and that the storm was too far along to be broken up before finishing its damage anyways.

They'd just been excuses though, not reasons. All of those points were also valid reasons, but in his heart that was not why Nimbus was refusing. Not because it was the sensible choice, but because he was afraid.

'And deep down, he hates himself for being a coward. What a monumental moron. Being afraid of a storm is sensible, not cowardice, even if you're a weather pegasus.' Prey mentally disparaged the previously bold and brash stallion.

Confined to their room as they waited for the storm to pass, Prey secretly worked on inscribing a few more runes into some of the gear he'd brought. Killing time. Busy work. Waiting for tomorrow.

Tomorrow was still a while away yet though, a full afternoon and full night left to get through. When the storm finally passed, they emerged back out into the dripping town, it being just that little bit more noticeably damaged, more strained, and more run-down than it had been before.

It was actually another hour after the storm finally ended that anyone realised anything was wrong. More wrong.

The pony residents reluctantly emerged, sullen from repeating this cycle for the last fortnight. Wherever there existed a dip in the streets, or even on flat areas of ground where the earth was just too sodden to absorb any more, deep puddles of rain sat. These mixed with lingering traces of seawater, creating a tinge around the edges where salt gathered.

There was one such puddle just to the side of the entrance of Haven Hay's Watch House.

There was no sun visible through the brooding clouds, but even if there had been, Prey doubted the dull water would've reflected anything back. You couldn't see the Watch House in the puddle. All Prey could see when he looked down into it was the same shapeless dark grey as that of the sky above.

There were no lights on inside the Watch House. Nobody home. Not sheriff Lumber, not his deputy, nor the stand-in deputy, nor even Alto Heights who should have been safely tucked away in one of the cells for his own good.

They stood outside the completely empty Watch House.

Prey shivered. It had very little to do with the cold. Crimson was staring dead ahead, wings utterly still at his side. The wind carried a constant muffled roar of distant waves to their ears. Gloom stood like a person who'd suffered a hammer blow, unsteady on his hooves.

The smell of salt and mouldering seaweed blew across their faces. It was the smell of failure and creeping rot.

How had everything started happening so fast? The race had started, but no one had told the ISND when to run.

The Weather Tower. The lighthouse. And now the Watch House. One, two, three, like dominos they fell.

None of this was mere chance and bad luck. Something was connecting them all. Was it the Heights? Alto, the last of their family, was now gone too. Every single target had been taken for a purpose, whatever the mysterious method of removal was. Maybe they were already dead. After all, the villagers of Mayflower had been kidnapped to make living sacrifices for wicker parasites. And those of Alfalfa Dale as just sacrifices.

'But I was the one who threw the egg in.' Prey's consciousness hissed. 'They were already as good as dead anyways. I had a choice, and I made it.' He mentally hissed back.

But still he regretted it. It was one of the guilts that he actually felt regret over. Not like the mimics.

'They brought their fate on themselves.' He reminded, reassured, himself.

But here and now, for this issue in Haven Hay, the future was still dangerously open. Weather Tower, lighthouse, Watch House. Why had the people been taken from each of these places? How had they been taken? What might they have seen that they shouldn't’ve? Or known that no one else did? There were invisible strings connecting all of it together.

Yet Prey didn't know what the connection was. He just didn't know.

Those who forget their past are doomed to repeat it. Prey hadn't forgotten. But nobody can know the future.

'For ti's, Merry Christmasss ev-ery bodies 'aving fun!~' 🎄

And big thank you to the kind editor who did it in time for Dec 25th: Panem et Circenses 🎁