With a roar worthy of putting the fear of god(s) in any hunter or poacher, Naomi landed right in the middle of the circle of lionesses that had formed around the little Zebrican. Back arched, wings spread wide and her fur standing on its ends, she hissed at them.

Back off. Mine. The language was clear.

To their credit, most of the pride got her point and backed off rather quickly. None of them were too eager to be on the receiving end of her paralyzing breath or her magic. That was something they’d rather she keep doing to Kiba.

In fact they were pretty glad she did. The male could really get obnoxious at times.

So, again, it was no surprise that where the lionesses had the good sense to back away from her, Kiba just had to overhear the commotion and decide now was the moment to tear himself away from his sunning spot. The large male sauntered down the den to come take a look, and judging by the way he was licking his chop, Adé looked like a nice replacement for the zebra stew Naomi had refused to share.

Behind her, Naomi could hear Adé mutter some frantic prayers in Swahili. The zebrican returnee was utterly helpless despite the Kalashnikov still strapped to his back, not familiar enough with his new hooves that he could even stand up properly.

In front of her, Kiba started circling the zebrican. She mirrored his motion, making sure she was always interposed between the two, eyes not leaving the larger male, himself eyeing the snack she was keeping him away from hungrily.

“Come on Kiba...” Naomi spoke up slowly, conjuring her magic to make sure she had a shot ready in her air gun. The darts were much faster acting than regular ones: she had filled them with her own paralyzing breath. “Adé is a park ranger. You know what happens to lions that attack rangers. You don’t want me to use my gas, do you?”

Her words had little effect on the lion, but the speech was enough to tear Adé out of his panicked state. Out of the corner of her eye, she spied him raise his head up at her in confusion, having recognized the voice and now the Dallas Cowboys hat she had on her head.

You don’t see many of those in Tanzania.

“Naomi?”

“Later Adé. First lemme make sure you don’t wind up as anyone’s dinner. Then we’ll talk.”

“What the Hell’s going on?!”

“Later I said.” She said more forcefully, throwing him a warning look.

Bad idea. Soon as her eyes were off Kiba, the lion took it as his opportunity to pounce and pin her down with a look she recognized as… playful actually. Did he really think she was just playing over who got first dibs of a kill?

No wait, actually that wasn’t much of a surprise.

“Git’ off me you big brute!” She roared, kicking him off her with her hind legs before she rolled back up on her feet, kicking up a bit of dust.

Good thing she’d gotten used to increasing her strength through telekinesis. You go and try to overpower a cat that’s three times your weight.

Kiba though, as much of a lazy brute as he could be, there was still a reason why he was the pride’s prime male. He had battled his fair share of challengers – and won-. Her enhanced kick barely fazed him as he stood up, shaking off the dust. Still playful, after all it wasn’t like that tiny zebra could escape. It couldn’t even stand up! Probably sick or wounded. He was doing its herd a favor.

Kiba really liked the little winged lioness. She did good to the pride. She’d make a good mother to his cubs.

Oh if only he knew what truly grew inside Petra’s womb...

He pounced again. This time Naomi was ready. A faceful of paralyzing gas greeted him as she used the sphinxes’ signature breath attack on him. The effect was near-instantaneous: he landed short of her in a heap with a surprised yowl, tried to stand up, and then the paralysis kicked in fully and he threw her some sad betrayal-filled puppy eyes.

“Oh quit it you overgrown cub, I warned you.” Naomi rolled her eyes.

The puppy eyes didn’t fade. If anything they got worse.

“OK fine...” She relented. “But it’s only because I blew you off once already today. Here...” She reached into a pouch of her photographer’s vest and pulled out some wildebeest jerky she’d made a couple days earlier.Using her telekinesis, she gently stuck it inside his maw. “… that ought to calm you down while you’re paralyzed. More if you stay well-behaved.”

Like it was gonna last anyway. Bloody lion forced her to resort to her breath attack so often he was already building up an immunity.

There was a moment of silence as she breathed out and calmed down. Around her, insects buzzed in the tall grass around the lions’ den. The dust had settled.

“Is he going to be alright?” Adé finally asked tentatively, the diminutive zebrican finally having managed to sit on his haunches.

Though by the way he was moving, that position wasn’t even stable.

“He’s fine. I do it all the time when he’s annoying, it’s just paralysis.” She sighed. “You wouldn’t believe it with just observing from afar as a ranger, but Kiba… most annoying asshole in the savanna. You alright there Adé?”

“No, of course I’m not.” He snorted, looking himself over. “What… what happened?”

Zebricans weren’t very big, at least compared to sphinxes and regular lions, or even humans. The former ranger was practically swimming in his uniform, an Earth-Pony sized equine with light grey fur and darker stripes all along his body in intricate patterns. His tail was still stuck inside his pants, but his mane was visible, an impressively tall mohawk that matched the tones of his coat.

Most striking feature on him would have been the eyes. Large, almond-shaped, their acid-green irises bore into her soul as he looked at her in askance.

“In short: the apocalypse. Welcome to whatever comes after.”

“Since when does that involve living with lions?”

“Since a pride of alpha predators is safer than hanging out on your own. For a sphinx at least, big cats don’t seem to mind my kind. You however...”

“I realized that the moment I saw the stripes.” Adé deadpanned. “Jesus wept… I look like a barcode. You been here long?”

“A couple months. Apocalypse – which we call the Event- swept away the entire population. People come back after a while… for now it’s barely one in ten thousand people left.”

“And we come back as…” he waved a hoof at her and himself. “… this?”

“Among other things… yes. Apparently humans wouldn’t survive otherwise, so they come back as something different. It’s complicated. Even animals are influenced.”

“The lions?”

“Part of why I’m staying here. I’m studying them. They’ve become a lot more clever than they should be.”

“And you can’t really go back to America, can you?”

Naomi’s wings sagged.

“Please don’t remind me… I don’t speak Swahili, I have no reason to go and try to find other survivors. The lions are my best option.” She deplored before suddenly turning her head towards the den, ears flicking this way and that as she overheard something.

“Problem?”

“For me? None. For you? I don’t think the lionesses will wait very long when they see I’m not taking my ‘food’ if you will.” She told him before extending a wing over to him. “Now hop on, they can’t catch you if I keep you in the air. We’ll see what we can do for you.”

Adé smiled awkwardly.

“You see I just… uh...”

“Right, can’t walk. My bad.” She apologized before she picked up the zebrican in her telekinesis and set him down between her wings. “Just hang tight.”

“Was that?”

“Magic. Yeah, it’s a thing too.” She told offhandedly before she spread out her wings and took off as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

Naomi felt Adé’s hooves clench around her neck, but he held fast.

The savanna and the den quickly shrank below them until she decided they were at an appropriate altitude and settled herself into a cozy cruise, wings spread wide. They could see the dry yellowish brush extending around them as far as the eye could see, with sparse trees dotting the sun-battered landscape and the odd rocky protrusions such as the lions’ den breaking up the horizon as multiple herds of miscellaneous animals roamed the land.

Of course there were also the little rivers too, barely visible despite being in the air, some of them having run dry at this season, forming the same ditches that hid a thick sticky muck under a muddy crust in which both Naomi and Adé had crashed their vehicles when they reappeared.

Difference being that she had managed to get hers out and use it as a generator. Adé’s… the little jeep was stuck in there deep. You’d need a crane to wrench it out of the muck, and the nearest one might be a good hundred kilometers away.

“You alright there?” She called to her rider, sneaking a glance to find the zebrican hanging on with an unreadable look on his muzzle.

“Of course I’m not.” She felt him lean into her mane dejectedly. “I just don’t… I don’t understand anything. One instant I’m...”

“What were you doing back there anyway?”

“Chief sent me to catch up to you. As a warning. Poachers have...” He caught himself. “Had been spotted breaking in on your side of the park. Guess that doesn’t matter anymore...”

“Not if they become like you when they reappear it won’t.”

“Don’t you have...” He trailed off, staring at one of his newly-acquired hooves in sadness.

“A solution? A cure? Sorry Adé, I keep some contacts on the radio, but I doubt even they know how to turn a zebra into well… anything else. And anything they might suggest wouldn’t even be available on this continent.”

“So I’m stuck?”

Naomi made a face.

“I’m afraid you are, friend.” She told him apologetically just as she angled her wings west, towards what she guessed would be their next destination.

The den could wait for a bit.

“So what’s going to happen to me?”

“I’ll have to ask for advice over the radio… but I have an idea.”

Naomi knew that she couldn’t drop everything she was doing with the lions, she was far too involved in her research to do that. But she could make sure her friend was given all the tools and teachings he needed to survive and maybe meet up with other survivors.

On that line of reasoning, she flew him to the ruins of the conservation center that used to be her workplace. The same place she had already – partly- salvaged to build her base camp at the den. From the air it looked pitiful: several drab prefab buildings with their rusting sheet metal roofs that used to be the lab and the animal care center, a half-collapsed shed that at some point had been their workshop, and the several rows of relatively pristine wooden cottages designed to accommodate both rangers and veterinarians.

Beyond the marks of her own salvaging activity, the conservation center had also been damaged by wildlife. A stampeding herd had managed to trample the fences, leaving them as nothing but bent scrap and useless wire. And they had also toppled the water tower to boot.

Even the cages and pens that would have housed recovering animals were empty. Some had died by the time Naomi reached them after her return, others had broken out, and she had freed the rest.

It wasn’t the only set of buildings in the vicinity, there were other ranger posts and visitor camps laid around the park – even an airstrip-, but it was the nearest, one of the biggest, and it was in relative proximity to the main road that led to Lake Victoria.

For the next few days, this would be Adé’s place of residence as Naomi did her level best to combine handling her daily leonine affairs and ensuring the newly-returned zebrican was taught and given everything he needed. From using hooves in his daily life to retrofitting an old pickup truck for use by an equine, she even asked Sandra for advice over the radio and helped him plan out his return to civilization and where he should look if he wanted to find more survivors.

But the fateful moment of his departure had to come. One morning, Naomi found herself sitting on her haunches atop the rusting roof of the conservation center as a plume of dust disappeared over the west, off to Lake Victoria where survivors were most likely to gather. Adé had come and gone, one of the few friends she’d had before this whole mess.

Worse even for her conscience… she’d been given the chance to at least try to reach civilization. To come with him. He would have helped. He’d have taught her Swahili even.

She had politely refused and given him a sat phone to contact her in the future if he ever passed through.

Naomi was sticking to her lions.She hadn’t even told Adé about her experiments.

Turns out, adding modern guns to a location that was already meant to receive breech-loaders centuries prior wasn’t actually that hard. El Morro – by its full name: Castillo de los Tres Reyes Magos del Morro- still remained the WSU’s chief focus on making Havana a secure port, and works had begun in relatively short order once all their plans were set in motion.

Under the guidance of the locals, they had managed to locate the depot where all the old soviet guns were kept. Obsolete as they were in modern warfare ever since the advent of missiles and advanced guidance systems, there was a simplicity to 100 and 130mm naval guns that made them easy to use and install around the various gun emplacements. Easy enough for the local militia to figure out and defend their town, and most likely powerful enough to fend off those pirates that had come with the demons, given their tech level.

El Morro was perched atop a rocky outcrop opposite Old Havana on the eastern side of the fairway, a position already higher than the rest of the town made even more imposing by its tall stone walls and the lighthouse that guided ships inside the harbor. A height advantage sufficient to significantly improve the range of any gun installed on its emplacements, giving defenders an inherent advantage over anyone that tried to take their town.

In addition to that, the old Spanish fort also came with its facilities: barracks, ammunition depots set deep enough underneath the ground not to be detonated by a stray shot, the harbor master's office, and a couple warehouses they decided to turn into emergency stores in case the locals were ever forced to fall back to the fort for safety. With a bit of work and some salvaged winches, they even managed to add an anti-submarine net across the fairway, so as to ensure monsters didn’t slip in.

And thus, for an entire day, activity bustled around the fort as entire convoys of trucks and lorries ensured all materials were brought where they were needed. Under Alejandro and Quiros’ supervision, teams made up of either local Cubans or sailors got to work filling up the ammunition depots deep underneath the fort, filling the shelves of the barracks and warehouses with emergency supplies that would last them a whole siege, while in other parts of the fort work crews mixed cement and modified the firing emplacements to fit the newer guns they would now receive.

Even Sandra took part in the operations: with the help of a few electricians, the DJ set up a phone line to connect all the gun batteries to the harbor master’s office – now the fort commander’s- in which she worked overnight to install a command center and a radio station that would connect it to the rest of the city through short wave frequencies, and to the world at large through the satellite array they set up on the roof.

They even set up a radar on top of the lighthouse, feeding into a display inside the commander’s office. Early warning, traffic monitoring, and fire control all wrapped up in one system.

In short: El Morro could now warn Havana of any incoming ships, defend the town if the arrivals didn’t play nice, and serve as an emergency shelter to protect the whole population of returnees in case of a siege.

The magic with that? They used so much telekinesis to speed things up the whole operation only took them four days, including the time it took to locate and transport all the materials.

With Alejandro by his side, Quiros eyed the fort with a proud look on his beak as the two of them smoked a cigar by his car, parked on the seafront opposite the fort. The setting sun reflected off the fresh coat of paint they had given the guns, the finishing touch in the works.

“You know… I had my doubts Senor Mendoza.” Quiros admitted, arms crossed over his chest. “But you sailors did your part. The field hospital, now that… and all you want in exchange is some trade opportunities?”

“The world needs it. You can’t run on built-up supplies forever. At some point, you need farms, you need factories, you need mines. We sailors are just the intermediary, but so long as we will have a fleet we will make sure all colonies under our banner receive the goods they need, provided that they partake in crafting what’s needed of course. And nobody can do that if they don’t get a good footing.” Alejandro slowly said. “As for the fort… I’ll tell you what I know. Sao Paulo was attacked a while ago. People died because they couldn’t defend themselves from the pirates, and they still had trained personnel. Now… most of them still live, but they had to relocate their colony further inland and there is little hope their port will be reopened. Not for years at least, not after being burned that bad.”

There was a moment of silence.

“So they survived?”

“As I said. From what their leader told us over the radio, they evacuated inland when a window of opportunity opened up.”

“Wait, if evacuating inland...”

“When a window of opportunity opened up.”Alej’ stressed. “The shelter in the fort has its uses. I know people will be safer inland at the plantation, that’s obvious, but you can’t evacuate them while the bad guys are shelling the place. That won’t end well.”

“Fair point I guess...” Quiros conceded. “But with all you’re doing for us, trade… that seems little as a payment.”

“If you want to give us more, we won’t stop you. But at the moment we don’t really need much. Sure, supplies are welcome, fresh food is always good to fill the pantries, but I’ll give you a suggestion if that’s what you want: all the sailors, they could use some relaxation. Beach stuff’s been the talks for a while, or rum, cigars, that kind of stuff. You folks organize things or help relieve some of the work so the ratings can rest, then that’s bound to make you a lot of friends ‘cross the whole fleet.”

The other parrot went back to looking at the fort just as someone finally flipped the breakers. After months of disuse, the lighthouse lit up once more, just as the radar came to life.

“You know what, I’ll look around. We’ll find you something.”

Dilip was, per usual, working his way through the mounds of paperwork that unfortunately came with his job. Early colonial assessments, requests and ideas from the crew, open letters from tourists requesting for passage back to their home countries, plus anything that pertained Amandine and fleet activities at large, such as a note from Captain Lorelei that she would be using the bay to train her cadets and have them maneuver around in tugboats.

First though… One little sheet of paper covered in a neat script. It had been dropped off half an hour earlier by a tired Hawthorne, their resident pilot-pegasus had given him a salute with his wing before announcing he’d be resting for the rest of the day.

Flight-test report and assessment. (Embraer Super Tucano, milspec)

Testing concluded with a unanimous agreement on the viability of the plane. To be noted for further deployment is an assembly time of 8 man-hours (w/ experienced mechanic) and the need for approx. 1 kilometer of flat runway. Field or roadway. On the latter, a width of three lanes is advised in favorable conditions. More in case of cross-winds.

Disassembly time at 4 man-hours starting from engine shutdown. One more hour should be added to tidy all equipment and fall back to the ship.

Performance suggests the Tucano has better flight range than our current (AW189) helicopter and can be used for aerial reconnaissance without issue. Only real issue appears to be inaccuracies in the target designation function of the underslung observation pod. Improving processing power may solve the issue and give the ability to communicate exact coordinates to ground teams.

Combat-wise, no live target was shot in flight. A machine gun run on a billboard points to reasonable range and accuracy (through volume of fire) for heavy-weapon support of ground troops. Current intelligence suggests the Sea Spear missiles used by Rhine Forest’s torpedo escorts may be mounted (4 items) for improved ground strike capability.

Any other ordnance reported as compatible with the Super Tucano is not available in our current inventory.

Additional: notes on reconnaissance.

Spotted the plantation the Cubans are supposed to have south of town. Assumed to be an ex farming commune.

Cuba looks almost pristine actually. Sure it’s decrepit and a couple towns have burned down, but it’s a nice change of pace from Georgia. There must be a decent share of loot and parts to salvage from nearby towns. All locals appear to have migrated to either the capital-city or the plantation.

Funny how much this looks like a greener savanna (the biome, not the swamp city).

No significant monster presence located. Either there are no heavyweights around, or the whole region had a lucky roll of the dice. Otherwise it’s massive blobs of stray cattle, escaped zoo animals, and the roving dogs. (Couldn’t get a bead of them with the guns too. Engine noise sends them running, and they stick to urban areas).

My co-pilot also wishes to add: Okay we know they were communists and Che Guevara was actually a terrible person. But the wire figure on Plaza de la Revolución? Damn impressive from the air.

NB: PLEASE REMEMBER TO INFORM LOCALS. IT’S NOT JUST US, WE ALMOST HIT A HIPPOGRIFF ON THE LANDING!!! WE’RE NOT HUMANS ANYMORE, SOME OF US CAN FLY AND BECOME AERIAL ROADKILL!

Progress and civilization starting to come back were one thing, but returnees weren’t the only folks on the planet looking to develop their assets. The demons had come with a cohort of followers, both of them, and where Charybdis’ pirates busied themselves with raising shipwrecks to turn them into living ships, and using those to raid budding colonies for thralls, Scylla’s cohort had a decidedly more land-borne approach.

With Mage manning the teleporter hub from atop Mount Fuji, the rest of the Four Horses had been hard at work setting up bases around the world to replace the now inaccessible one they used to have back on Equus. Operations had to be resettled, monster breeding facilities rebuilt, all of their criminal empire, moved from one planet to another.

In Night’s case, the batpony could care less how the others were doing on another continent. El Tajin took up more than enough of her attention for her to even bother keeping track of what was going on in other bases. Every single step towards developing the place was a struggle when anything from the fauna, to the flora, the weather and the surrounding magic seemed to revolt against them settling down in the ancient Aztec city.

Unfortunately for them, all that effort was plain and simply futile.

The local fauna had been brought to heel by siccing monsters on them. Not much a little ocelot can do against a pack of chupacabras, and that was nothing compared to what a hydra could do to a pack of wild dogs – few of them as she had available-. This was the Four Horses’ specialty as a gang: why risk your own personnel when you can keep them safe behind a curtain of bloodthirsty monsters you can easily replace?

The flora posed trouble, but asking the other bases for extra Earth Ponies soon allowed her to create a safe perimeter around their base. The jungle was still dangerous, but the enhanced growth could play in their favor by giving easy access to more building materials.

The weather? Same as the flora, except with pegasi this time. Some extra pegasi crews to stabilize the everlasting rain that had been falling down on them for weeks, and then a small weather team to make sure the situation was kept stable. The weather wouldn’t be good, ever, but it wouldn’t threaten to tear down their base anymore.

Which only left the surrounding magic… a more… troublesome issue. El Tajin was an ancient city, and with that had come its links to what Night assumed to be forgotten divinities of some kind. Not the nice kind of divinity, mind. Each and every single pyramid in the ruined city was a link to one such entity the Four Horses had quickly put seals on.

This was the very reason they had chosen the ruins as their base of operations, but that didn’t make it easy. Those gods thrashed against their seals every step of the way, requiring several teams’ worth of mages – both gargoyles and unicorns- to keep them trapped in their own planes of existence.

Last thing Night wanted was for several angry gods to be set loose in the middle of her base.

But the difficulty of keeping a divinity on a tight leash came with its own boons. Much of the breeding devices they needed to produce and tame their signature monsters ran on magic, as did the teleportation spells that kept all their bases connected together with the Hub. Or even the spells they used to deploy monsters and looting teams around the planet.

That magic, they leeched so much of it off the divinities that they could provide both mana stones and magically-charged gems for use by all of their bases across the world and then some. More than enough to put Night in Mage’s good graces, and being in the good graces of the gang leader implied she was in Scylla’s.

Provide, and you shall receive.

Not only had the unicorn given her some of the crystal golems he made whenever he captured a new thrall, but now she’d also received a new boon from Scylla. More power. From the batpony’s forehead now sprouted a single dark crystalline spike that crackled with reddish magic every so often. An artificial horn, as capable of using magic as a unicorn’s.

And the demon promised more if they kept this up. Both for her and her subordinates.

Unsurprisingly so, Night soon found herself trying out her new horn atop one of the watchtowers that overlooked the base and the ruined city, practicing her telekinesis. Below her, the base was still pretty mucha shanty town: wooden boardwalks raised above the muddy jungle floor linking up shacks of a questionable make reinforced with corrugated steel sheets and plastic tarps looted from the surrounding region. They were bandits, not architects, anything better than that, they’d have to capture more thralls to build it for them.

Way above her, a sharply-cut circle formed in the dark gray cloud cover thanks to the weather teams ensuring they wouldn’t be hit by the worst of the weather. Without them, rains and storms would fall down upon them for weeks on end.

“You’ve done a good job over here.” Mage’s voice broke up the silence behind her.

Night didn’t turn around, doing her best to feign calm. The stallion had grown… odd, ever since he’d taken to manning the Hub for prolonged periods. More distant than usual, colder, even towards the other members of the founding quatro. Even his voice sounded flatter than usual, far less emotional.

Maybe being in close proximity to Scylla wasn’t all perks.

He still had the bouts of fierce conviction she’d grown to know him for… but they were getting rarer by the day. You’d hardly catch a hint of emotion breaking up his monotone features.

He’d teleported on base in the morning, though he had yet to tell her what for.

She angled her head. He wasn’t facing her either, instead looking down the watchtower at one of the ancient pyramids in the opposite direction as some of his goons did… something.

“A necessary job according to you.”

“We need the magic.” He nodded. “I know what you’re going to say.”

“Enlighten me.” She snarked.

“You want more monsters.” Mage said. “But I can’t allow that. Chupacabras and Hydras are already enough for what you’re doing. I’ll send for more crystal golems if the need ever truly comes up, but your operations over here are already taking up a significant portion of our resources whereas Might and Haze’s facilities have their own projects to attend to and actually need the resources and ponypower.”

“So I won’t get any?”

“Inefficient and unnecessary. That’s a no.” He told her flatly. “This base is to be used for magic production. All resources sent your way will be about making more magic crystals, I might even come myself to install enchantments to better foster the formation of mana stones in the area to buff up production...”

“So I’m leading a glorified power station.”

“You’re still free to send your ponies on looting and raids.Fresh prisoners to make thralls are a precious resource, and looting is what keeps our ponies motivated.”

“Whatever...” She snorted, finally turning around to come look at whatever commotion was going on by the pyramid below them. “Now what’s that about?”

“The reason behind my presence here today. An experiment if you will.” He said.

At the bottom of the pyramid were a group of Mage’s subordinates, mostly unicorns led by one of his lieutenants. Not Snowflake, but Enigma. A sphinx lion, old enough to have grown to be as tall as a minotaur, formerly a slaver feared all over the dunes of Sphigypt by his own species and ponies alike. He was downright excellent at collecting thralls.

They were gathered around a prisoner, a male Diamond Dog, a thin greyhound clad in ill-fitting oil-stained coveralls, muzzled, with chains binding his limbs as a pair of unicorns dragged his thrashing form to the top of the pyramid. Night’s keen batlike ears picked up some whimpering in Spanish, most likely a recent returnee captured near the base. Oddly enough, they didn’t seem to have made a thrall out of him just yet.

And behind the prisoner, Enigma trailed, a humongous shape that made the ground shake. The dark brown-furred sphinx was also carrying something, hard to spot, so small it was compared to his hulking form. It was a gem canister, only more intricate than the power cells they used to store magic. It was covered in runes and demonic script, already glowing with a vaguely red hue, a device no bigger than a pony’s head.

“Care to explain?” Mage finally decided to ask.

“A little pet project of mine. The search for an infinite supply of power.”

“And this would help, how?”

“Human souls, Night. Human souls.” Mage explained. “A peculiarity. You would think returnees would have their souls turn to that of a member of their species… but they don’t. They still retain human souls, and with that they still have the peculiarity that comes with it. You see, back on Equus, magic comes from harnessing power around you. Humans are different.

“They never had a field of magic surrounding them to allow for our kind of magic. Now it’s the case, but for some reason they retain that peculiarity of theirs.” He paused. “Even those born after the Event actually. Might recently found a returnee in Africa. She’d just given birth – as a Zebrican- to a pair of foals. They had never been humans, yet their souls were still human.”

“And what is this ability?”

“Human souls produce magic. Out of nothing. Just by virtue of existing.”

Night eyed the gem canister Enigma was carrying.

“You want to harness that power?”

Mage’s otherwise emotionless features broke up in a dark smile that revealed the crystalline set of fangs that now replaced his teeth.

“It’s not only the returnees, Night. Any offspring returnees give birth to, has a soul that can be harnessed for infinite power. Scylla… Scylla desires such power. Our Lord needs such power to grow back into its former glory. And it’s right there in hoof’s reach. A power source that’s not dependent on finding a convergence point in the ley lines, a power source that’s not reliant on any surrounding field of magic or leeching off gods… Observe.”

Enigma and the prisoner had now reached the top of the pyramid where a stone altar awaited them.

“The process as I designed it is far from perfect yet. We need an initial magic output to separate the soul from its body and seal it, hence why we came here to attempt it. Plus the canister itself is complicated runecraft. Expensive.”

“You still need to optimize it.”

“Absolutely. On the bright side...” His dark smile widened. “This attempt is all but guaranteed to succeed.”

Mage’s subordinates began the rituals. Several seals were painted in red ink all over the prisoner’s body, in addition to a spell array right covering the altar onto which they laid his writhing form. It took half an hour of double-checking all seals and ensuring the symbols in the runecraft were top-notch before Enigma finally launched the spell.

It was easy to spot when the ritual started. All the symbols lit up at once, some white, others red. The prisoner screamed, a blood-curdlingsound that would have made any normal pony whimper in fright and cower.

Mage and Night were no such ponies. They beheld the scene with cold detachment as a white glow encapsulated the prisoner. It didn’t take more than a few seconds before he went limp and the glow detached itself from the body in a tiny ball of light. Below the ball, the D-Dog’s body curled in on itself, fur falling off.Its skin blackened and began peeling off.

The ball almost had enough time to rise up and escape into the sky before reddish demonic script lanced out from the spell array and wrapped around it much like the chains that had bound its material form. The detached soul thrashed and struggledin despair, to no avail: the floating symbols steadily dragged it inside the gem canister which sealed up with the crack of thunder.

“Looks like your little experiment worked.” Night commented.

“I knew it would.” Mage replied. “Now… I shall busy myself improving the process.” He looked at the burned corpse lying on the altar distastefully. “There remains the problem that doing this wastes the opportunity of creating a thrall. I need to correct that. We cannot waste bodies. Keep the soul canister, producing magic is your job after all. This ought to help.”

“Good on you. Have your men feed the body to my hydras. I hate leaving corpses lying around.”

Atop the pyramid, the gem canister’s glow changed from red to white.

As per Aleksei’s promise, Sri’s conversion to Celtic faith only took place when they reached Havana, the quieter schedule compared to Savannah allowing for more downtime and crew activities. Together, the veterans spent the day following the retrofit of El Morro locating and securing a little apartment complex a walking distance away from the cruise terminal, a rectangle-shaped building with a courtyard in the middle fit for the ceremony.

Where the courtyard could host the ceremony… the apartments would hold what ensued once it was over with. But the beer kegs and all the liquor the veterans were busy rolling inside the building were not what Aleksei concerned herself with. A conversion, a proper one, necessitated her to prepare the terrain, to craft some oils, to make sure Sri was aware of everything her decision implied and what she needed to do during the ceremony. The venue alone she needed to decorate with the proper ritual circles, adorn poles with series of Ogham carvings (Celtic runes) containing the proper spells – thankfully provided by her spell tome-, assemble an altar dedicated not only to Epona, but to the whole Celtic pantheon as well.

The divinity didn’t seem to mind. Actually Epona was ecstatic, saying her first cleric was outdoing any her fellow divinities had so far managed to recruit.

So… she was being used as a bragging right by a fertility goddess. Eh, so long that she wasn’t sneaking her those suggestive dreams that went in the opposite direction of the geas she had taken, she was going to take what reprieve she could get.

Eventually then, all her efforts of preparing the venue were rewarded when all the symbols she had spent the better part of the day came aglow with magic and brought a greenish hue to the entire courtyard, complementing the white ribbons and streamers added to the whole mix. The ceremony was ready… including her attempt at a translation ward that should allow everyone to understand each other for the duration of the ceremony and ensuing party.

Took her a whole four hours to pull that one off, and a whole bunch of ritual materials courtesy of Rhine’s hydroponics. Even then, it was still a coin toss whether it would translate people’s languages or make everyone speak anything ranging from Irish Gaelic to Breton including Latin.

By sunset, a crowd of locals, trapped tourists and of course sailors had assembled to see what this was all about, seating themselves on the many benches assembled in rows on either side of the altar with the veterans and some officers occupying the front rows.

Great, the ceremony was going to be a lot less hush-hush than she initially thought.

Aleksei stood by the altar, now clad in her clerical robes, her crest of feathers styled for the occasion, all freshly preened and cleaned to a fine sheen.

Sri’s looks were different. When the other hippogriff emerged, ready for the ceremony, she was only wearing a simple loincloth wrapped around her equine half for decency, its orange shade matching that of her tail and crest feathers and forming a sharp contrast with her ivory white coat. In addition to that, she had painted some intricate vine patterns and oghams all over her coat in dark green oil paint.

What the getup also revealed, and which her coveralls and body armor usually hid, was just how much of a lithe body the Indonesian had. If her avian half was close to any seabird, it would have been that of a gannet, an elegant and svelte bird with curves just in the right places only further enhanced by a hippogriffs’ naturally slender stature. And she didn’t have magically enhanced looks like Aleksei.

Obviously, she knew. The veteran wouldn’t have walked up to the altarlooking so oddly vulnerable if she didn’t, still not quite comfortable with the femininity brought upon her by the Event. One of the reasons why she was converting in the first place actually.

Aleksei greeted her at the altar, patting her on the back with her wing.She gave her an encouraging smile..

“You’ve made the right choice, friend.” She said. “You don’t have to live your life in shame.”

The conversion wasn’t a long ceremony. It started off with a brief sermon on the virtues and values promoted by Celtic faith, what they based their beliefs on and how any and each follower could rely on all divinities for support so long that they abided by their principles and gave regular prayers and offerings.

And then…

Going by the process she found in her spell tome, it should have been a simple summoning that lit up the ritual circle and connected Sri as a new convert before she gave her a dose of potion that would have sent her on a dreamwalk inside the Otherworld.

Obviously Epona didn’t consider it to be spectacular enough, because as soon as Aleksei activated the ritual circle, the whole courtyard lit up with particles of green magic as a portal to the Otherworld opened up. And out came… not Epona, but her son. Morvarc’h. Except… he looked different. Not the pure towering courser stallion she had met him as, but instead… an Earth Pony stallion, with a blazing horseshoe as his cutie mark layered above his mother’s sigil.

“What’s this all about?” Aleksei whispered at the stallion, doing her best to act as if it was part of the ceremony.

“Mother’s idea.” The demigod casually waved at the crowd with a wide grin, electing to answer her question in Breton, his native tongue.

Not that it was a problem. Her status as cleric of Epona meant she understood it, and the translation ward was there anyway.

His change into an Earth Pony may have made him smaller than an actual stallion, but he was still a demigod, and hence tall enough to look down on Aleksei. She could rival alicorns in height. Otherwise he was still much the same: braided russet mane and tail, red eyes, a black coat of fur short enough to reveal his musculature, and the sparks that sometimes escaped his nostrils when he exhaled.

“But why?” She questioned after presenting him to the crowd. “And aren’t you dead anyway?”

“Please, I’m a demigod.” He rolled his red eyes. “Coming back to life is a thing I already did in the past when magic was rife. By mother’s reckoning, I have enough of a role to play in this world to warrant bringing back among the living once more.” He smiled. “That I changed species is just an aside that will help us garner a bigger following.”

“Nice to see your mother has her priorities straight.” Aleksei drawled, summoning up a spell that would show off ethereal pictures of a few gods to stall for time while she ceremoniously took the bowl that held the potion meant for Sri in her talons.

“She has obligations. So do you… as a matter of fact.” He said, pressing himself closer to her as she approached Sri and presented her the bowl. “My mother welcomes you into our faith, Miss Wibowo.” He told Sri.

“I’m honored.” Sri accepted the proffered bowl with a polite nod, raising it for the assembled crowd to see before she drank it all up in one gulp.

It was only then Aleksei noticed the portal the demigod had come from had yet to close. In fact it was still wide open, with Epona’s plateau in sight on the other side. Before she could voice her inquisitiveness about it however, Morvarc’h spoke up once more.

“Words of your… difficulties regarding your transformation have reached my mother’s ears.” He said with a sympathetic smile. “You are in luck. She would be delighted to help with such matters, and our number of followers is as of yet low enough that she can stand to invite you to her realm. In person that is, not in a dreamwalk.” He waved his hoof towards the portal.

“She can help?”

“Such is my mother’s domain.”

“It would be an honor.” Sri bowed her head low.

“Then come forth and step through the portal.” Morvarc’h beckoned her.

Sri visibly gulped as she walked over to the portal, wings fluffed up in anticipation. Then… after an encouraging nod from Aleksei, she stepped through, the portal closing behind her in a flash of light that illuminated the whole courtyard.

And while they were waiting for her little meeting to be over, Aleksei and Morvarc’h did their best to stall and keep the crowd entertained by reciting tales of the demigod’s adventures in a time long passed, from his escape from the sunken city of Ys, to galloping across the sea to rally Wales from Ushant, to his mortal hunting accident with the King of Cornwall.

Of course the latter tale was entirely Aleksei’s idea. She had to help the stallion get over himself after all. He threw her a mildly annoyed look. She replied with a sly grin.

Sooner or later though, Sri made her reappearance as the portal opened up once more. She… she didn’t look different, but the way she carried herself had definitely changed. Gone was her seeming shame at her own form, the vulnerability, replaced by a pride, a sensual gait and an almost predatory stance that better matched her role as one of Amandine’s top fighters. She was smiling too, wide enough to look as though she was glowing.

“Praise Epona! The Equine Mother!” Sri loudly proclaimed with the same beaming smile, wings spread wide, almost showing herself off to the crowd.

Something had definitely changed in the hippogriff.

“And now folks for what you’ve been all waiting for: the party!” Aleksei continued.

Of course the Latvian hippogriff had yet to fully realize exactly what kind of party occurred right after a ceremony given by a fertility cleric. Like it or not, it was her domain, and her own innocence as to what effect the spells and wards she had set around the venue could have on people… it didn’t last long.

Author's Notes:

So with Morvarc'h... whilst I think I made his appearance a bit more edgy than I initially intended, him being revived as an Earth Pony would make sense. I think. Seems like a sensible decision to switch from unintelligent (for now, magic has yet to evolve them into sapience) horses to the civilized equines that represent a significant portion of the world's population.

On a different note, the missiles Hawthorne wants for the Tucano don't come out of nowhere. Lorelei first mentioned them when she first got the torpedo escorts, they just haven't used them yet. Because on boats where it's either the torpedoes or the missiles, the former are just better at dealing with sea monsters. Pics of the weapon pods available in Rhine Forest's data sheets.

As for the bad guys... Eh, canned souls are a renewable energy. You wouldn't want to be like these vile polluting sailors burning hundreds of tons of petrol, right?