The cages sat about the deep black train cart rattle and tremble as the locomotive itself travels. Crimson has been sitting, albeit uncomfortably, and waiting for his destination to arrive, with no telling signs whether he is close or not. The other humans have since silenced themselves.

Being cooped up in this cramped cage wears at his sanity. Sitting is becomes a chore. So instead, he stands up. Once on his feet, he gazes past the bars of his entrapment. He is somewhat grateful that they did not put a cloth over his cage, that would have really made this trip more horrid than it already is. He can at least look around the cart and see what the others cannot. Not that there is anything interesting anywhere. It is all dull, blackened metal, with different sized cages that are covered head to toe with cloth.

A long, cold trail still. He runs through his mind at random topics to keep himself busy.

Nothing of interest at all...

"Bored, partner?"

Crimson recoils and slams his back against the cage. Luckily the humans were not very interested in the abrupt pang of metal. The visage from before suddenly steps into view to jumpscare him. The visage looks mildly satisfied at getting the reaction he wanted.

"Man, piss off," Crimson dismissively glares away.

"Got'cha good."

"What're you doin' here now? I ain't call you."

"You did."

Crimson does acknowledge that he thought of the visage in the brief moment he was scanning for things to think about, but keeps the fact to himself. Not likely that it matters since it is... well, him. "So you’re here to piss me off, right?"

"Oh yeah. Here to make you suffer, boy."

"Then make it quick, don’t got the energy fer this right now."

The visage grips the bars, peering at Crimson from the liberty of outside the cage. His judgmental eyes and cheeky smile scrutinize him up and down. "Still locked up like the animal you are. Really don't like freedom, do you?"

"Here we go," Crimson huffs and reclines back on the cage, crossing his arms.

"Always gettin' caught, chained up. Leashed. Not the most respectable man."

"Yeah, because gettin' chained up is somethin' I really fuckin' enjoy."

"Obviously you do. Yer predicament now is more than a coincidence. You really blew yer chance here in Equestria. Here I thought our unification months ago would'a gotten the mud outta yer ears, but it didn't change a damn thing. All because you were so fuckin' thick-headed. You didn't wanna to listen to me. You didn't wanna let yer vendettas die. Now YOU'RE gonna die. You're takin' yer spite to the grave."

"I ain't outta the ring yet. As long as I'm breathin', I'm fightin'."

"It's gonna take a miracle to get us outta this bind. Face it, partner. We're fucked. Wherever it is we're bein' shipped off to, it's the end of the road. If we couldn't get five magic ants off our backs to bash Celestia's head in, we ain't takin' on the ant-hill."

Conceding to the reality of his situation, he lets out a drawn out breath of remorse. "... Great."

"The sad part is, I'm sure we could. If we had worked together, we wouldn't be in this shithole to begin with. And if we somehow still ended up here, we'd kick dirt over the ant-hill and call it a day.

"Very proud words comin' from a ghost belongin' to a dead man."

"That's just it. You ain't dead yet."

"You just said--"

The visage waves his hand scoldingly, "Aaay, ah-ah. Shut it. You ain't dead yet. Listen to me." The man glares at his visage with spite but remains silent. "You've made so many mistakes back home I lost count. But when we wound up here in Equestria, I knew the exact moment you made a choice that told me we weren't gonna make it out. The exact moment you fucked everythin' up. You know where? That gun in the air that fired out the start of our shit-show?" Crimson's bitter front looks away, simply shrugging as an act of defiance. "C'mon, take a guess." Crimson's brows furrow further. "Just one."

The man droops his shoulders, letting his arms uncross and fall limply. "Fuckin', I dunno? After Yakyakistan?"

"Not even close. Wanna guess again?"

"No."

The visage sneers. "Answer's obvious. Back when you first met Dahlia. That little 'plan' of hers?"

"That shit. I vocalized my disapproval loud 'n clear."

"You did, but what did you do?"

Crimson rolls his eyes.

"Yeah, that's right. You went with it anyway. And it keeps happenin', again and again and again. You play the fool. You don't let what you are truly are shine through LIKE YOU SHOULD. Do you know how insane that is?"

"Insane enough to make me talk to my belittling ghost."

"You call it belittling, I call it a breath of fresh air. You're finally talkin' to me. Thinkin’ about me. Whether you wanna admit it or not, you’re selfless fer all the wrong reasons. Bet'cha can't even remember the last time we spoke."

"Other than yesterday? Like you said, it was after liftin' the rock at Moonlight's." At mentioning her name, his heart pounds in his ears. It seems like the anger of speaking to his visage made him forget of his technical failure. The beings which come to the forefront of his mind slip out of his mouth. "... Moonlight... Dahlia..." His eyes glitter and squint at the bars of his cage. "... Viola."

"Don't think about folks you'll never see again. You caused this, now suck it up." It takes everything inside Crimson to not shout profanities at the top of his lungs at his insensitive visage... but he manages not to. Because he knows that it is correct. "Now quit distractin' yerself. I mean, the real last time we talked, like we are now. You remember?"

He finds everything so pointless. But nevertheless, for whatever reason, he slogs through depressive, self-loathing thoughts anyway. He traces back in his mind, recounting the steps he has taken from now. "... Before the fight at home."

"And what happened?"

"We argued."

"Like a man and his wife. You remember why you argued with me?"

"'Cause I said I wouldn't use my Arch."

"There we go. You wouldn't use it like the stubborn piece of shit you are.”

“We already talked about this, can you just fuckin’ drop it?”

“Nah, nah, because you know what, you got lucky back there - golden horseshoe over a four leaf clover lucky. You didn’t wanna use yer Arch. All that fightin', and fer what? To get killed and let Viola lose the last of her family? What kinda stupid thinkin' is that."

"I already told you why, I ain’t repeatin’ myself."

"I’m genuinely at a loss, partner. You really think a dead guy gives a shit if he saw yer gold or not? I hate him as much as you do. Literally. But you're dumb as shit fer lettin' that vendetta get the best of you. Once his sorry hide hit the dirt, none of it would'a mattered. Where would his satisfaction be six feet under? Dead. With him. Yet you somehow thought keepin' it hidden would make a positive difference. Now you're fixin' to join him."

"I don't give a fuck. The only thing I was thinkin' about was how good it felt churnin' his face to paste."

"That so? What about how good it felt bein' sent here to Equestria? That felt good, right? Abandonin' Viola like you did?"

"I didn't fuckin' abandon her! I got nabbed by that bitch who refuses to show her face again!"

"I’m glad you brought her up. It’s the reason I’m talkin’ to you about this again. Somethin’ I didn’t get to tell you before our visitors showed up. A sweet little piece of advice you could'a known had you used yer Arch that night. If you’d’a let yer gift flourish and win you that fight like it were no one's business."

Crimson squints at the visage, waiting for him to continue.

"You could'a felt that hand. You could'a felt it tryin'a grab you and pull you away. She blindsided the shit outta you, all 'cuz you're too stupid to let go."

"What're you tryin'a say?"

"Can't you put two 'n two together? If you'd'a used yer Arch that night, you wouldn't have had to knock on Death's door. Yer gift would'a been coarsin' through yer veins, and when Fate tried pullin' you? You would'a felt it. I mean, you did. I did. I felt her grab us ‘n tug. But we were too weak to do anythin’. Too weak to even think about it. You would'a felt her tryin'a take you from Viola. Your souls would'a clashed... 'n you could'a stopped her."

Crimson's front takes realization to his words, his pupils slowly dilate in a mixture of anger and despair. “How are you so sure of that? You’re just talkin’ outta yer ass, ‘n it’s pissin’ me off.”

"Good. Exactly what I’m here to do. Now you answer this: what have I to gain by bullshittin’ you? Me? Lying to myself? I’m here because that’s all you’ve ever done. You’ve never manned up and faced the ugly truth. Equestria would'a never been our problem. We would'a been home, with our sister. We would'a been happy. Happier, at least."

Crimson's teeth clench, tighter and tighter as the visage speaks.

"Could'a cleaned up the house the next morn while Viola made breakfast. Go into town and get her that new sewin' kit she wanted. Ah well, right?"

"I'll fuckin' kill you."

"Twist yer own neck then, stupid ass. You fucked up. At home, AND here in Equestria. You abandoned Viola. You gave Moonlight a goddamn heart attack. And who knows what Dahlia's doin' right now. There ain't no smile on any of those girls' faces, I can tell you that much. You ruined yer life, James. Congratulations."

The emotion inside him begins to boil uncontrollably. His eyes begin to shimmer with gold, pulsing on and off like a flickering light. If it was not enough taking the verbal abuse of his visage, voices begin to murmur to him from a plane beyond – something he always heard as a child. The voices are incomprehensible, yet he understands the energy and emotions the cacophony conveys. The same voices which spoke to him when he returned to his Rift for the first time many months ago.

The voices… are almost comforting.

The visage feels this, and it makes him smirk. "I just remembered somethin'. Viola needed them menthol drops, you recall? After she cleaned the attic and caught that dust-bug? She was coughin' pretty bad for a while. Weren't able to get those fer her. I'm hopin' she managed by herself."

The man builds a profuse sweat, feeling his body burn in emotional agony as the voices get louder. He nearly chokes trying to get pitiful words out. "She was fine in the Rift, you bastard. She didn't say nothin' 'bout bein' sick."

"You a fuckin’ moron, partner? Think she'd wanna worry you by sayin' she's sick? When has she ever gone outta her way to tell you? It's like you forgot you've always gotta nag her 'n bring her things without her permission. We don't know if the Rift shows what she look like in the flesh. All we know, she could'a been bed ridden. Just like ma' was. Imagine how much worse her sickness could'a got after seein' you nearly buy the farm? All that stress and heartache? Not to mention the fact she mended yer ragged ass from the edge of death itself."

The whispers turn to speaking, coming from deep inside. "She what!?"

"Use yer fuckin' head. You ain't show up to Equestria ripe 'n dandy from one night to the next. Viola hurt herself to patch up your sorry hide. You were a direct burden to her by doin' what you did. Right before you abandoned her."

Crimson's eyes have become solid gold, glowing furiously under the darkness of the train cart. Tears begin to form at the corners, though he forces them not to fall.

"Funny. That vendetta with the Spurs made you act rash. Momma got sick… you weren’t there nearly enough to take care of her. You kept leavin’, tellin’ ‘er, ‘don’t worry mama, I’ll kill those bastards fer what they did.’ You didn’t use yer Arch. You could’a made quick work of ‘em had you did. You could’a had more time to take care of mama and Viola. But mama passed away… and it’s yer fault. Now Viola was sick, and you gone and done it again. … You know what that means, right?"

"Don't say it!" he lashes out at himself, failing to contain his emotion. “Shut yer fuckin’ dog mouth!”

"... Viola's all alone because of you. It'll be all yer fault..."

"SHUT UP!"

"... if she's passed away too."

The voices in his head suddenly stop. All goes gruelingly silent.

He hears only one thing, something that sounds painfully like the beautiful timbre of his sister. “… Let go.”

"HRAAAAAAAAAAA!"

An absolute scandal occurs when the other humans hear this harrowed warcry. They begin to kick their cages and scream.

His voice resonates and overlaps itself, his golden wings and halo manifest from the aether onto his body. Tears run rampantly from the glowing sockets of light that are his eyes. He grabs two bars of the cage and pries them apart without difficulty - the magic that forces them together sparkles, spackles and fissures violently at being unable to keep the cage intact.

The visage takes three slow, sleazy, smirking steps back, admiring the Arch Angel that finally demonstrated himself. It glances between collar and his face, seeing absolutely no disruption. "... Bout fuckin' time."

Crimson looks down at his trembling hands, where the veins which run to his palms gently glow with golden essence. Everything is attuned, his senses are keen. He then snaps a powerful hand to the collar around his neck, ready to rip it to shreds.

"Stop."

"Hn!?" His golden sockets glare at his visage again.

"Don't destroy it yet. Keep it on. For now." The two share a second or two of quiet staring, causing the visage to chuckle. "Look at you. You look like a man who's realize how bad he's fucked up. And admitted he was wrong. ... If only you'd done this sooner." The visage slowly shakes his head, donning disappointment. Still, he smiles genuinely. "It's a good thing I don't wanna give up on you, or else we'd really be fucked. ... There might be some hope fer you after all." The visage quits smirking, donning a stern, serious front. "Now listen t'me. We went from completely screwed to havin' a rough chance, so here's the plan. While that shout you did felt damn good, them Horseshoe fucks will be comin' over to check out what that was. We ain't got much time left before they do. Fix the fuckin' bars so you don't out yerself. And don't destroy the collar, it'll tip them off."

Crimson looks at the two bars he bent completely out of shape. He pants still, his breathing echoes. He reaches out and grasps the bars as he did before, bending them back into their original position as best he can. It takes some comically small adjustments to the sturdy metal to get it to sit right, but it looks passable. Though, he will not be able to remove the indentations his fingers left on the bars. He sincerely hopes they do not notice that.

"Good enough. Alright. Now. As great as it'd be to see how you can butcher a train full of bad guys, let's play this smart. They're takin' us to be executed by higher-ups. That means we'll get a good look at the fucks runnin' this whole operation. Least, that's what I'm assumin' since they wanted us by name. So here's what I'm thinkin'. ... You listenin'?"

"Yes," he responds simply and sternly. The vibrations of his voice are like low-growling thunder.

"You've got yer wings and halo back. That's good. I'm positive you'll be needin' 'em to get the fuck outta the fire. But let's stare into the pit. If we can't find an opportunity to kill the heads of the Horseshoes, we'll at least know what they look like. What we do to get away from their camp of operations can be cooked up on the spot. After this shit-circus if over and you get a chance, jump into the Rift. Cross yer fingers that Viola’s still there. Even if she's not, we'll keep trying. ... You still remember how to get there, right?"

"Mm," he nods once.

Hoofsteps are heard approaching the door of their cart. Both Crimson and his visage look towards the sound before focusing on each other again. "Once this is all said and done, find the girls. And make sure you've got a damn good apology ready to go."

The visage vanishes from one blink to the next.

Crimson squats down swiftly, relieving his body rapidly of his power. His halo and wings twinkle away into stardust, his eyes cease their burning and return to their hazel color in a second. It feels surreal to him – not one ounce of strain is put upon his body. His features came and went with his emotion, and not a hint of struggle was placed upon his mortal form.

He wipes his eyes quickly with his sleeve, getting the tears off of them just before the train cart door comes open.

Two bulky unicorn stallions wearing black and dark green suits barge in, looking around with gritted teeth. "Fuck's goin' on in 'ea!?" the first one shouts. The humans riot as they come in, screeching and howling wildly. The two stallions ensure that all cages are closed and proper, scanning them one by one until they reach Crimson's. They both glare at the man.

"Heh, the special delivery, I see," the second stallion comments brazenly.

"Ye, 'n it looks like some fuck-head forget to cover 'em up."

"Prolly why these stink-asses are cryin' so much."

The first stallion channels his orange magic to grab the cloth that was left on the floor next to Crimson's cage. He covers him up completely, making the inside pitch black. Crimson’s lips come apart as he grits his teeth in anger once they cover his cage. "Now keep it down, ya' shitbrains!"

The humans continue to scream bloody murder as the two stallions angrily take their leave and shut the cart door.

‎

---

‎

Snowfall holds her comms button close to her lips, pressing it. “Repeat that, BP, you’ve got heavy wind.”

“Train started movin’!” the stallions voice comes mostly drowned out by background noise. “Tailin’ it roight now! Headed on the express tracks south!”

“Copy that, BP. Strix, anything on your end?”

“Everything looks normal, captain,” the pegasus whispers into the button.

“Understood. BP, fly high. Don't let them see you. Use the clouds if you need to.”

“Yes, cap’n!”

Snowfall looks to Dahlia next, giving her a very serious glare. “So you really think they’ll know where they’re headed?”

“They’ll have a better idea than any of us, that’s for sure.”

“And if they become confrontational?”

“Trust me, he won’t. Just let me do the talking, alright?" Dahlia asserts, standing before the transponder machine as she looks back to the Elite team. The two give her acknowledging nods. "Good. Remember, they're not going to like the idea of a bunch of strangers going into their lair, but they be more than happy once they see the relic, so Swirl. Have it ready."

"Yes, ma'am," she replies, having the wrapped clothed rested on her back.

"Alright. Anything else before we go?” The two mares before her shake their heads once more. “Alright, let’s do this," Dahlia states as she swerves to the side of the transponder and pulls the heavy lever down with a grunt. The machine bellows as magic starts to spark and spin inside it. The two of the Elite watch this fascinating device come to life, especially the admiring eyes of Swirl. "You'll get really dizzy, so just try not to fall over." She says this as she faces the standing platform. She trots onto it, her entire being is covered in magic.

FWZoOOOM!

The Elite cover their eyes briefly. They look again and see the platform empty and ready for the next rider.

Snowfall trots up bravely, internally a little intimated, but does not stop until she stands on the platform. She turns and faces Swirl, who looks very skeptical. She simpers at her companion confidently, if only to boost her morale.

FWZoOOOM!

‎ ‎
‎

‎
‎ ‎

"Woh!" Snowfall staggers, her helmet nearly coming off. She holds its up and steadies herself, assessing her surroundings hastily. Her focus is shattered once when the transponder beams Swirl in behind her, with the unicorn grunting and stumbling. Snowfall then assesses Dahlia standing before a very displeased stallion wearing a lab coat. This stallion bounces his critical eyes between her and Swirl, before he stops at the tan pegasus next to him.

"You have made a grave mistake, Wisp," Kleid grumbles. "Did you really think bringing a small team of Consortium troops would be enough to stop me? This facility?"

Dahlia throws him an incredulous look. "Dude, no, what are you talking about? These two are on our side."

"LIES!" Kleid spastically shouts into Dahlia's face as he looms over her.

Dahlia gives the Elite team a very unenthused look as they do to her. Dahlia pushes the fuming stallion away gently. "Kleid, calm down. Look," she throws her chin towards the two. The yellow unicorn levitates the cloth package on her back towards him.

Kleid looks at this present with hate. "What is this!? A bomb!? Are you trying to THREATEN me!?"

"A bomb? I'm right next to you. If it was a bomb, I'd be blowing myself up too. Kleid, just open it."

Kleid growls and snatches the package out of Swirl's magic with his own. He brings it up to his face, unties the white string, and extends the cloth to reveal-- "The belt!" he gasps happily.

"Yeah, the belt," Dahlia repeats unenthused.

Kleid beams widely at the belt, admiring its material and make. He then freezes briefly, staring off at seemingly nothing. "Ah, I should turn off the silent alarm, shouldn't I?"

"The what?"

Kleid's magic channels just a little more vibrantly, but seemingly nothing happens. He glances very discreetly to the lab's window, where over twenty armored mages were rushing from down the hall on the other side. They stop, squint, and slowly back away before anyone notices them. "Nothing. Say, who are your friends there if not Consortium agents aiming to throw their lives away in a futile attack on foreign soil?"

"You guys wanna tell 'em?" Dahlia offers to the team.

"Your assessment is right, we’re Consortium staff," Snowfall speaks. "But we’re doing all of this under wraps after the, uh..." Snowfall raises a brow at Dahlia, who nods discretely in return, "... the 'human' was captured. It’s complicated, but I’m sure somepony such as yourself doesn’t need the details. Consortium government basically told all of Canterlot, 'hey, the Horseshoes got us by the tail hairs. Deal with it or suffer the consequences.'"

"Ah, I see," Kleid states in understanding. "The veil has finally fallen. I suspect there will be a few more of your kind, but many more that will still fight for the Consortium. It goes without saying, but you two have chosen a very difficult path."

"We know. Like I said, we’re on the hush, and we’re aiming to keep it that way."

"I wise decision! You understand then that if you caught, you no longer have the sustainment of the Consortium, and equally you are not welcome in the Horseshoes. By my understanding, you have chosen to side with your 'human'... Crimson Sky. The side in between."

The ears from every pony around perk up. Dahlia purses her lips in distaste, "You already know?"

"But of course. I counted both of you as M.I.A once our Eyes brought back the news. You hadn't returned, so I assumed the worst. Now that you are here, why didn't you report your failure to me, Wisp? And more importantly..." he tilts his head at Dahlia, taking one step closer to her, "... why did you not report the death of my brother?"

Everyone in the room fills with stupefaction.

"... Magnifying?" Swirl accidentally vocalizes her thought.

"Yes, indeed, Magnifying Glass," Kaleidoscope nods indifferently to the yellow unicorn. "The curtains are open, there is nothing left to hide from you. He was my older brother, tasked to infiltrate the Royal Research team and report on their development. He ensured that Canterlot's growth would remain far behind the Horseshoe's - our technology and magic must remain superior at all times. He did well enough, dallying in forgery and purposefully failing at techniques to taint data. Though, he was unusually obsessed with the Head Researcher of Canterlot. Too obsessed. His reports and tasks were second to her, and it was infuriating to all of us. His obsession became his demise. An inevitable outcome."

Swirl darts her eyes small distances in racing muse. "And Celestia knew all along..."

"Of course she did! She condoned it! As long as Magnifying was allowed to be the pawn, the Horseshoes would provide revenue protection for Consortium officials. Including herself. From what the charter agreement wrote, I believe Celestia was paid enough money from this scandal alone to fund the construction of a new major city. Though, I haven't seen any new cities come about. I couldn't be sure what she did with that money."

"Hmh," Swirl grunts. "How worthless."

"Far from worthless, my well-spoken defector. She is very, very useful to the Horseshoes."

"Kleid, you know what's happening then!" Dahlia interjects. "I need help rescuing Crimson! We got you the relics, I think it's fair if you help us out here! Look, they just put him on a train and are taking him south. You might know where they’re headed! C’mon, Kleid, work your magic here!"

Kleid becomes deathly serious from one moment to the next. He looks down at the artifact he now possesses. He rubs his lips side to side, taking deep contemplation. "You know not what you ask, Wisp. If you seriously expected me to assist you in rescuing that man, you do not have the correct perception of our business relationship. Our terms together are concluded, your payout will be in bits and information. The information that you specifically requested."

Grim faces take the Elite, and Dahlia growing desperation. "But-- But! That's not--! ... Wait! Here! What if I told you I don't want the info anymore! I want help trying to get him back!"

"Stop with this foolishness, Wisp. I will not go against the Family by aiding you in your rebellion. For your own good, I will pretend I never heard you say this."

As Dahlia's ears drop, so does her heart.

"I’m sorry. It is a shame that it has come to this, but remember that I have said before: we cannot harbor you once the Horseshoes have given a directive. Luckily they are not very interested in you, Wisp, but... your human. Crimson. I must say, it is unfortunate. He was a great asset in the acquisition of the relics. Now that we have them all, we may acquire their enchantment print and study them to our heart's content. The Doyens will recieve the complete set by tonight, and they will finally see the product of their investments. So much time and money sunk into something nopony knows anything about. Hmhm, let us hope that they are happy with what they find. As a matter of fact, Ruby firmly believes that it would have been impossible to obtain them were it not for him. She really liked Crimson."

Dahlia squints at the ground, feeling completely useless. The Elite team allow the pieces to fit into place, acknowledging the position they are now in.

"Ruby was quite saddened by the news of his capture, but there is nothing that can be done to stop his execution. She was so upset at this that she even considered getting one of her engineers to calibrate the discontinued transponder receiver - one at the Doyens' Hallowed Demesne atop the Appaloosan Mountains, where a certain train is to arrive. If only the transponder, one under the only apple tree which grows green apples, was calibrated to nine-six-two so it could coordinate to the other receivers, she could use it to visit the mansion on such short notice. Ruby is a very busy pony, you see, so she does not have the time to simply fly over there or take the train to attend the execution. Yet, on the same coin, she did not have the availability to send her engineers to set up the transponder for her before Crimson was shipped out. It all happened so fast, she gave up on the idea of trying to see him one last time. It's sorrowful..."

Raised brows of confusion take the room.

"I found it odd that Ruby wanted to witness his execution in-pony - one scheduled for midnight tonight at the Sacrosanct Manor. But she explained it was to have some sort of closure. Her depression was contagious, it made even myself sad knowing that he would be killed on the third floor of the estate in the Chamber of Sagacity... heartbreaking. Seeing a member of my own team this distraught is absolutely dreadful."

Eyes around dilate and grow wide.

"But, as I stated, nothing can be done to stop his execution. Ruby really did care about that human, despite her cold, biting exterior. The Doyens should count their lucky stars. They get the honor of butchering one of the Horseshoe's greatest loose ends, AND they get to relish in the completed set of relics they've spent many years trying to acquire." His half-lidded eyes shoot open in realization. "Forgive me, I digress." He trots with a small smile towards Cosma's desk, the one which lacks its owner. He goes through one of the drawers and takes out a manila folder, levitating it over to Dahlia. "Here is the information, as you requested. The remainder of what Keeper knew and wrote is in these files. Cross-reference them with the files I already gave you, and you perhaps may find what you're looking for. Your payment will be deposited into your treasury by tomorrow night."

Eyes of addled adore radiate from Dahlia onto the haughty stallion. She takes the files from his magic and notices something odd, a few sticky notes on the top left of the first page with several rows and columns of numbers written on them.

Before she can ask about it, Kleid speaks up sternly. "Now. Because our business is concluded, Wisp," he says as he trots towards the door to the lab. He cranes his head back to glare at her, a glare that lacks any semblance of friendliness. "We shall never speak to each other ever again. If me or my associates find you or yours... prepare yourself for the worst. Leave. Permanently. Never show your faces here again." His horn glows magic to pull the lever to the transponder down. The machine roars back to life. "And if you'll excuse me, I will now go mourn the loss of my brother..." he looks away towards the door with a simper. "... The one I never cared for. Hmh. Good riddance."

The door to the lab opens and closes behind the exiting stallion. The three waste no time and take the transponder one after the other, teleporting all back to the hidden bunker at the base of Canterlot's waterfall.

Once everypony arrives on the other side and the dust has settled, Dahlia inhales dramatically. "Ohmygosh, ohmygosh, ohmygosh, ohmygooosh!"

"Easy there," Snowfall tries to calm her down.

"Kleid, that sly bastard!"

"Focus, Wisp. We got a lot to unpack. We're on the right track, but that doesn't explain how we'll actually infiltrate their premises and get our man back. BP, Strix?" Muffled voices come from her saddlebags. She reaches over and opens the flap to retrieve her comms button once more. “You two heard that?”

“Yes, captain!” “Barely, but ye!”

Dahlia’s expression lights up with surprise. “You had that thing on the whole time?”

Snowfall nods once. “Between two books to keep the button held down. BP, you’ve got a long ways to fly. Try to keep pace with that train, but don't let them spot you. I'll repeat this: fly high and outside of their radar. Once you get to the Appaloosan Mountains, find the POI the Horseshoe mentioned. If you can get that teleportation machine working over there, we can send ourselves your way.”

“Aye, aye, cap’n! Bloke said green apple tree!?”

“Affirmative. If it’s anything like the one I’m in now, the only tree growing green fruit will have some sort of hidden hatch to get in.”

“Copy that, cap’n!”

“Patrol finished, captain,” Strix comes in next in a low murmur. “Nothing else has changed... but there's a lot I need to tell you once we regroup.”

Hearing Strix's tone is worrying Snowfall but she assumes it will be concluded soon. “Come on over to us, Strix. Behind the waterfall. Make sure nopony sees you come in.”

“On my way.”

"I believe..." Swirl begins, thinking deeply. "... I believe I may have a way to rescue Crimson. It is completely graceless and may lead to our demise, but it is all that I have."

"Better than nothing,” Snowfall acknowledges. “What've you got for us?"

"Firstly," she levitates writing materials from her saddlebags, "are all four of you comfortable with having your bodies used as catalysts?"

"What does that even mean?" Dahlia prods.

"As it sounds – it is an old magic form which empowers spells or scrolls cast by using other ponies as an aid. The translocation and cascade spells I am going to use must be stronger than my current abilities if we want to ensure Crimson’s rescue. Your natural bodily magics will be parasitically syphoned."

"That sounds kinda crazy, Swirl," Snowfall lifts her brow.

"Do not worry, there are no long-term effects to being a catalyst. You will simply need rest afterwards so that your body regenerates its magics, just as unicorns do. All I need is your approval."

“Are you gonna teach us how to do this?” Dahlia inquires.

“Of course, I will make certain that everypony is comfortable with the scroll before we complete any action. Again, this plan is only serving as a last-ditch effort to rescue him if we do not find any better openings.”

“We could also use this,” Dahlia mentions as she trots to the bunk bed. She retrieves a piece of technology rested near Crimson’s clothing. She shows it to the two wondering eyes that watch her.

“What is that?” Swirl queries.

“It’s called a throw-projector. It takes over wards and shows you what they see. If that mansion place has wards, we can use them to look inside.”

“And maybe find an opening,” Snowfall follows up.

“That… sounds too good to be true,” Swirl says in hesitation. “Usurp wards and broadcast their magical resonance frequency to a local hologram?”

“Uuh…” Dahlia finds herself stumped at the lingo. “Yeah. That. You wanna try it out?”

Swirl nods, taking the device into her magic. She and Snowfall approach the beds as well. Everyone huddles around the yellow unicorn as she sits down on the ground at the side of the bed, analyzing the device.

Dahlia climbs onto the bed and lays down on her stomach, watching and commenting from above. “Press the button on the left to turn it on.”

Swirl does as instructed, the device vibrates lightly and several little grooves around the machine light up with blue magic. A screen beams itself into existence in between the two rods that resemble tesla poles. The yellow unicorn is almost dumbfounded at just the display alone.

“Cool. Now,” Dahlia continues, “use that antenna there to find the signal the wards on the Castle use.”

Swirl does as she says, jostling the antenna around until something clear appears on the display. A shot of the halls outside of Moonlight’s room, the last ward overtaken by Dahlia. “This… this is…” Swirl shakes her head in disbelief, "... what genius created this?”

“Some nerd from the Black Horseshoes. Press those buttons on the side to change wards.”

Snowfall watches this learning process in silence, also admiring the technical prowess of this device. Dahlia continues to instruct Swirl in its operation – the unicorn herself becoming very invested in the experience.

‎ ‎‎
‎

---

‎
‎ ‎ ‎

He is not sure how much time has passed, but it certainly feels too long. The train ride has become infinitely more boring as they have covered his cage. The only notable feature of time elapsing is the patter on the metal of the cart. The smell of rain is pleasant compared to every other scent wafted in this confinement.

To his pale astonishment, the train grinds to a halt. They have arrived at the final destination, he thinks.

The door to his cart slides and slams open aggressively - the humans start their routine ruckus. His supposition is answered when the cloth upon his cage is pulled, and over eight unicorns of varying sizes, shapes, and genders flood in. Some wear golden armor, but most wear the green and black suits he remembers seeing on that stallion long ago in Canterlot's human formation.

One of the unicorns makes their way to the wall of the cart closest to Crimson and bangs on it a few times with his hoof. "Open up!"

Adhering to his demand, the massive door on the side of the cart clicks, clacks, unhitches, and slides open with a groan. The sound of rain fills the air, pelting the grass and dirt outside. Once the door opens completely, all of the unicorns channel their magic at the same time to levitate Crimson's cage. The rainbow of united colors removes his confinement from the cart and takes him outside.

The air becomes much chillier. The howling winds and the misting rain cause him to squint. Crimson takes in his surroundings, noticing that the train has stopped at the middle of a high-rising mountain. Trying to gauge landmarks out in the barely visible distance, he thinks they are located on the far southern mountains of Equestria. What is odd to him is that they have appear to have stopped in front of a mine. Old tools, wooden crates, and machinery are rested about before the mouth of a cave. Past the cave is a cliff that sends one tumbling down a mile of mountain.

A mine. A very unique place for an execution, he thinks. More of these troops surround the area - armored and suited alike. They talk amongst each other and give side-eyes to the prisoner in the cage.

"Get movin'!" A stallion yells from inside the opened cart. The unicorn collective that levitate Crimson's cage accept this order and begin moving up the mountain and into the cave entrance. The rain becomes muffled, fiery amber light emits from hanging lanterns and scattered torches.

The man grips the bars of his cage and watches where they take him. His glaring eyes continuously scan his environment. He looks for points of interest or things to possibly return for. He will not try escaping now or giving them the impression he can. He is not sure where they are taking him or who the executor may be, but if he is being given an audience with the potential backbones of the Black Horseshoes, he will not miss this opportunity.

The unicorns that carry him stop at one of many dead ends in the mine, seemingly at random. One stallion breaks off and puts his horn to the rocky wall. His magic channels lightly, nothing obvious happens. The stallion then steps forward, phasing right through the wall. Crimson glowers dubiously.

The unicorn pack continues their walk with him in tow. Everyone steps cleanly through this false projection onto the other side. He cannot understand the magic that he witnesses, but he finds himself blown back by wind and rain as they apparently step into an open field again. He squints his eyes and lines his lips - perhaps they teleported. Or maybe the false wall led to another side of the mountain. They did not walk nearly enough for that to be the case, but neither did he feel any of the physical inconveniences of being teleported. The Brains behind this secrecy are beyond what he expected from a gang similar to the Spurs.

This field he is forced through appears not to be a field at all. Judging by the six or seven acres of orchards and steel fencing around, this looks to be more like a huge yard belonging to a despicably rich someone located at the summit of the property. A mansion many floors high stands tall just over the hill.

The unicorns pass under many fruit bearing trees. Leaves and fruit alike fall at random from the harshly pouring rain and the high winds.

An apple falls from a passing tree. The red delicious descends from its stem and manages to land itself perfectly between the bars of the cage and hit Crimson's foot. The man is quick to pinch the fruit with both feet and bend down to grab it. Surprised at this pleasantry, he reaches down and holds the apple up to his face. It is wet from the rain, giving it a peculiar glisten under the magical auras that grasp his cage.

He takes a bite. It is just as delicious as it looks. He crunches the fruit, savors it, and goes for another bite.

"Hrh," the man grunts in anger when a green aura forcefully takes his apple away, passing it through the cage's bars and discarding it haphazardly. He feels the urge to bark at the bastard that took the one good thing away from him in this nightmare.

He grips both bars again, glaring forward bitterly as the massive mansion comes closer. Said mansion is surrounded by a tall fence possibly over three floors high. The architecture is just as grand and imposing as every other wealthy culture around Equestria, yet this one in specific gives such sinister and unsavory vibrations.

The great fences are passed through a sliding gate of equal measure, one manned by ponies wearing raincoats already inside the property. They are let in, the cage is brought with them. The inside of the property before the actual mansion is beautifully covered by many flowers and blooms that frantically rave under the wind and rain.

They finally stop at the imposing front door, one made of thick wood and silver. The cage is set down, the unicorns that handled the cage cease their magic and step away. They all look upward, almost as if facing the sky for approval of their deed.

Crimson cannot look up as they do, he cannot see what they are seeing. He is not sure why, but the handlers appear to be walking away. He is inexplicably left to his lonesome with seemingly nothing happening. He is left at the front door of this massive mansion with the rain pattering the top of his cage.

Several minutes pass, and still nothing. He exhales through his nose and sits down in the cage, throwing his eyes around the expansive, dark, stormy property. At least he is not getting rained on directly.

‎ ‎
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---

‎
‎‎

“Shite,” Bulletpoint curses to himself, panting from exhaustion, using his hoof to move some of his wet mane out of his face. He flaps his wings with the strength he has left, having flown consecutively for several hours with his armor and equipment, and now, soaked from the rain that began to pour. He flies high above Equestria, nearing the cloud line, watching down on the face of mountain as the train comes to a halt, the inconspicuous ponies below take Crimson away, and they disappear into the mine. He reaches back into his saddlebags carefully and fumbles in them a bit to feel around for the comms button. He finds it, takes it, and holds it under his chest and neck to shield it from the rain. “Cap’n!” he calls into the button after pressing it. “Train’s stopped! They took our lad into the mountain! A mine of a sort! Lost sight of ‘em!”

A gust of wind blows, forcing him back a few feet. He grunts and resets himself, holding the button closely for the response.

“Find the mansion,” Snowfall commands, barely audible over the howl of wind and rain. “You might need to circle around the mountain. Stay strong, BP.”

Bulletpoint lets go of the button and stashes it back in his bags, ensuring they are properly closed so nothing falls out. He grunts and mumbles to himself, “Not like I got a choice.”

He pleads to his aching back and wings to carry him further. He hauls himself along the air high above, holding the binoculars up to his eyes again. He scans each Horseshoe that works around the entrance of the mine, some idle in place, talking, with others moving boxes or equipment.

He travels towards this mountain, wings flinging rain wildly as he moves, aiming to stop and get some rest at one of the highest peaks safely away from the operation below. He comes into contact with a cliff edge and finally lands for the first time in hours, letting out an exaggerated exhale. "Phoooh… fackin’ a…”

He comes down onto his rear and leans his head back, letting the rain pelt his face. He pants into the air, puffs of breath coming from him and fading into the air. He then throws off his duffle bag and skulks into it, retrieving a canteen and uncapping it with slogging haste. He takes several deep swigs to revitalize himself.

Sighing immodestly, he caps it and stuffs back into the bag. He zips it back up and throws it around his back, standing onto his fours. He lets his head hang, ridding his exhaustion as he walks lazily across the cliff. This cliff spans a great length, circling across the mountain he stands upon towards the range where the rest of the Appaloosan Mountains can be seen for many miles.

He squints tiredly, preventing rain from getting into his eyes. He admires the eerie view as he moves, bearing witness to the expanse of jutting earth that is the range.

Step after step, he nears the west face of his current mountain. Breath after cold breath, he remains aware and vigilant.

“… Huh!?”

He halts and backpedals. From one moment to the next, his world churned an image completely different to what he saw – the mountain range turned into an immense property. Stepping back seems to have caused this vivid image to disappear.

Stopped and stupefied, he collects himself before continuing again. He walks forward, eyes peeled despite the rain, and he sees it happen again in real time.

The world around him contorts for a second, turning from the endless mountain range into a grand property that seemingly spans for miles. At the summit of this property, an enormous mansion is located, one surrounded at all sides by orchards of different kinds, farm equipment, and fields of crop.

Just to ensure he is not hallucinating, he steps back, and the image fades. Upon closer inspection, reality seems to wobble at a threshold, likely disturbed at his movement. He stays in place but leans his head in. Now he notices it. His face punches through an invisible barrier that hides the plain behind it.

Speechless, he reaches for his comms button again. “… Cap’n. You ain’t gonna believe this.”

‎
‎

---

‎
‎

Crimson snaps out of his delicate muse when an ethereal hand grasps his cage again - one made of the blue magic he has come to know the cages for. He stands up, darting his eyes around quickly. The magic is coming from seemingly nowhere.

Before he can brace for it, he is blinded by a flash of light and feels himself teleported. Rain becomes a distant noise, the winds non-existent. The air around becomes warmer and comfortable. He acclimates himself to his new location, seeing now that he is inside the mansion in one of its many rooms...

... or courts, rather. This room is giant, with a ceiling that almost cannot be seen and walls that span for an equal length. The lighting around is comfortable due to chandeliers and sconces that burn gentle fires.

He finds that he is alone in the very center of this room, in between benches and chairs off to either side that have no one sitting in them. His cage resides on a red carpet where he is presented clearly to see by all present.

Many guards surround this place, speckled across each corner and cubby that meets the eye. All of them wear nice attire, nothing like the green and black suits or the armor of the guards. These clothes seem more civilian and high fashion rather than strictly uniform.

There are so many of them that even with his Arch, he feels he will not be leaving here alive - with or without a fight. Might as well inconvenience them as best he can before he meets his maker.

The pièce de résistance of this occult lair lies straight past the bars of his cage. Very high chairs behind wooden podiums seat four elder unicorn stallions, each of them embellished with jewelry and fine robes with fur around the collars. Crimson finds their appearance textbook filthy rich overlord, making their extremely old and frail appearance seem that much more wicked.

One Doyen, the smallest of the four, sits on the outer left side donning glasses thicker than the tension in this room. The inner left Doyen has a beard that spans all the way down to the floor. The inner right Doyen appears more withered than the others, having a lame and greyed left eye and plenty of blemishes on his coat. The outer right Doyen has the opposite problem, appearing as the youngest with the least amount of aging to his body. Regardless, each one of them looks absolutely ancient, ready to wheeze and keel at any moment.

"Thou..." the more withered Doyen on the inner right seat suddenly speaks up, his voice echoing quite well due to the acoustics of the room, "... art one troublesome kind. I enjoy seeing the faces of those who cause us many troubles. So many different creatures... so many unique aspirations. All in contrast to our final purpose."

"Yet thou," the Doyen on the inner left begins, stopping himself to chuckle lightly, "thou hast managed to simultaneously aid us whilst damaging our operations. Thou'st truly made an outlier of thyself."

Crimson glares at each of them with hate as clear as crystal. He finally meets the sagging faces that have taken advantage of humanity and strung it out for everything it is worth. This mansion, this property, the minions under their guise – it is all a testament to what they have done. He cannot be more excited to finally be in this position.

"Human," the outer left Doyen calls for his attention next. "Speak. Do not hide thy speech from us. Thou'st fooled many, but no longer."

The man continues dogging them silently behind his confinement.

"Defiant, yes," the Doyen at the inner right chair speaks up again. "One named... Crimson Sky. Sold by the Grey Company to Canterlot. Celestia's own purchase. A gift to an esteemed student of hers. To the surprise of all, one such simple man would cause this much turmoil internally and externally."

"That is no man," the Doyen on the far right seat now speaks critically. "That is an angel. One of song and myth. No mere mortal could pose such a threat to our Family."

"Threat? Oh no. He could never pose a threat. Not in any significant form. His usefulness greatly outweighs the trouble he caused. I declare that Gloriosa has repaid her debt in full."

The other Doyens nod and hum in agreement.

"And even if now thou must die, Crimson Sky," he speaks to the man directly now, "thou shan't miss the opportunity to bare witness to the fruits of thy labor. What thou shall see... will be greater than anything thy meek life could ever amount to - angel or not."

The Doyen clacks his wrinkly hoof on his podium twice. Like clockwork, four underlings appear from hiding with pillows in their hooves. They approach the Doyens up to their stands, ascending the stairs in a uniformed manner to hold out one relic for each Doyen. The Doyens take their relics into their magic, still strong enough to hold the artifacts - the Orb of Tramana for the far left stallion, the Amulet of Mariki for the inner left, the Belt of Uru for the inner right, and the Ring of Conteriima for the outer right. They bring them in and physically hold their respective relics.

The Doyen who holds the belt in front himself simpers his sagging front. He stops slouching so harshly, and his lazy grey eye begins to look properly along with his functioning eye. "True works of beauty and art. These relics, forged and enchanted by our great, great ancestors - Tramana Coltis, Mariki Hyu, Uru Yordo, and Ekrii Conteriima. Powerful artifacts which were created and designed to secure victory for ponykind during the Great War. They served their purpose then..." he squints devilishly at the belt, "... but none could know their true power. Until now. A... magic lockbox, one could say. And the key was with us all along..."

Crimson glances between the four relics, seeing how their frail physical bodies seem to wake and energize at their hold. He understands each relic grants the wearer some form of sensual enhancement, but it almost resurrects each of them from the dead in different ways.

"Crimson Sky," the Doyen looks up to him. "I must say I admire thy willingness to remain unspeaking. Behind thine eyes, I see a fire which burns torrid. Thou'st decided to listen, rather than interrupt with nonsensical vocalization. A trait truly admirable. Thy execution was meant to be a slow curdle to death... but I have taken a liking to thee. After this final spectacle, we will ensure thy death is swift. Even pleasurable."

"Shove it up your ass," the man finally grits. Aggressive attention is gained for the muscle around at this crude calling.

"Hohoho..." the old stallion chuckles lightly, patting the belt in amusement. "It is too late to demonstrate defiance, Crimson Sky, my inclination to thee is already settled. Now... let us show thou what thy work has amounted to... once and for all."

He taps his podium again like before, except this time, his hoof bashes the wood roughly though he puts no effort. Crimson hears the doors behind him come open. He turns around to witness a mare enter, a servant just as the others.

The mare keeps her cold eyes forward, the bangs of her tangerine mane cover most of them. She holds a pillow in her hoof just as the previous servants did. Crimson sees what it is... some sort of green and black hourglass. The very sight of this relic sends a chill down his spine, and he cannot understand why.

Then it strikes him. The relic he and the Elite were supposed to acquire from the griffons at Whitetail. The one which was apparently sold and shipped off to a faceless someone. He could only assume this is the same relic, yet this one is not broken.

She begins a slow, calculated walk towards the Doyens. She steps around the man's cage, her eyes only momentarily looking towards him. It feels like much longer. Her pink orbs shimmer under the dim light as they make eye-contact.

She continues walking, facing forward. She ascends the staircase up to the Doyens, bows her head, and offers the pillow. The smiles on the Doyens faces could only be described as far too excited…

‎

---

‎

“Do you see it, BP?”

“Not yet, cap’n,” the spent stallion replies, hovering high in the air above the property as he looks down with his binoculars. Only one section of the orchard belongs to apples, condensing his search. While much more difficult to see under the raining night sky, he still manages to count the color of the apples he sees on the trees.

The search bares no fruit…

… until…

“I see it!” the stallion calls excitedly into the button. “Tree! Apple tree, green apples! Only one I’ve seen!”

“Good. Get down there, don’t get spotted.”

He noted some heads guarding the perimeter of the mansion, but no movement across the orchard. The stallion wastes no time and descends discretely.

Heartrate picking up as he infiltrates the property, he soon arrives at the tree. Glancing around quickly for any potential threats or enemies, he finds none. With an inhale through his teeth, he lands on the moist dirt and grass and inspects the tree. He trots around it, stomping his hooves, where the sound of mushy grass and dirt clanks out for something akin to a wooden board.

He stops and looks down. He begins to kick the dirt and uproot the grass on the location of the sound change. A hidden panel. A ferocious grin overtakes his face as he moves to retrieve his comms button. “Cap’n, I found it.”

“Excellent work, BP. See if you can locate that teleporter machine.”

He does as commanded. He clears enough of the mud to find a latch. It takes some force to get the old, undisturbed panel to come open, but it does eventually. Desperately wanting to get out of the rain, he hops in before bothering to check it.

He lands inside at the bottom, dust immediately kicks up. He coughs and spits, getting oriented to the nearly pitch-black room he now finds himself in. He finds a switch not far from the ladder that ascends to the latch, trotting up to it and flipping it up. A single bulb turns on in the middle of the room.

He realizes he is in a box made of concrete, with a single bed on the far left corner, a closet of supplies next to it, and a large, complicated-looking machine on the opposite wall to the ladder. Before he approaches it, he flies up to close the latch so rain no longer pours into the room.

“Cap’n,” he says into his button, approaching the front of the massive machine. “Found the tech. How do I get this shite workin’?”

“The transponder is still operational,” Swirl speaks up instead. “There should be a panel on the right-hoof side of the machine.” The stallion looks towards the direct location. “You will find several dials that have numbers engraved on them.”

Bulletpoint looks to the side of the machine but does not find the indicated panel. He steps back and checks the opposite side, finding the panel there. “Oi, Swirly, panels on the left.”

“Not your right, Bulletpoint, the machine’s right,” she growls angrily.

“… Ah.”

“You must set the dials to all zero except the last three digits. Nine-six-two.”

The stallion lifts his left brow, eyeing the panel skeptically. It is old, rusty, and a little difficult to read. He reaches his hoof and turns the dials to the instructed combination. “Right, done.”

“Pull the lever.”

He does so with a heavy yank. The machine groans briefly, seeming to do nothing for a moment, but ends up startling Bulletpoint when it roars to life with orange-colored magic.

“We heard it,” Snowfall confirms. “Good work. We’ll send ourselves over there. Stand clear of the machine, BP.”

“Copy,” the stallion says as he backpedals.

He watches the transponder intently, the orange magic bouncing off of his orange coat seamlessly. It feels like too long before anything happens, and anticipation starts to gnaw at him.

...

wzZOOOM!

He watches as the machine forms a magic silhouette of a pony before it spits her out. It is a pony who he has never seen before, becoming very confused for a moment.

Dahlia shakes her head and blinks three times quickly, locking eyes with Bulletpoint. “… Uh,” she starts awkwardly, “… hey.”

‎

---

‎

"The moment at last!" The far left Doyen calls.

"The time has come, brothers!" The far right Doyen expresses.

"Sweet, sweet eternity..." the Doyen with the belt fantasizes. "The Hourglass of the Continuum. Horis… one of the most prestigious and powerful mages in all of Equestria’s history. His inventions and progression in the field of magic where second to none. In fact, they were so great, his peers and loved ones ex-communicated him for it. His intelligence was unmatched, and he was despised for it. Even the other great mages disowned him, despite them working together most of their life. At long last, their collective works have been reunited and can flourish completely.” He glances left and right to the other Doyens. “Together, brothers.”

At his word, the Doyens levitate their relics above their heads. The Doyen holding the belt also takes the hourglass into his magic, lifting it up as well. The relics seem to move themselves and gravitate automatically around this hourglass once it is presented to the group.

"It is perfect, brothers! The key to the infernal lockbox which holds our immortality! The Hourglass of Horis!"

The relics begin to spin around the Hourglass faster and faster as they are continuously held together. Magic begins to spark and erupt from each piece - the orb throwing orange sparks, the amulet projecting purple, the belt cracks red, the ring electric blue, and finally, the hourglass a deep, glaring green glow. The granulated green sand inside of it becomes luminescent.

The relics become a blur as they spin extremely quickly, which eventually glows so brightly, it strains the eyes. Even the minions and servants around watch this scene with hesitance. The volatile magic combined with the overexcitement of the Doyens makes them question the situation silently.

"Hahaha!"

"Yes, brothers!"

"It is truly here!"

"True immortality!"

The Doyens chant.

JjzzzZZZzZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ-- CR-CRAAWH!

Eyes are averted - the explosion of magic shooting a harsh gust of wind across the entire chamber. Crimson takes his forearm away from his face and blinks with a squint. He looks at the glowing white light above the Doyens. The magic slowly settles down after the ritual completes, revealing something that puts everyone around aghast.

‎

---

‎

Bulletpoint, Dahlia, Strix, and Snowfall are all gathered around Swirl as she commands the throw-projector. The stallion is actively heating up two MREs from his duffle to consume, starved from the long trip. Even though he is entertained with his food, his eyes and the eyes of the mares around him stare into the throw-projector perplexed, as they watch from one of the wards inside of the chamber.

They witness Crimson entrapped in the cage, the collection of the five relics, and the eerie, cult-like crowd which populates the room.

“Oi, lasses…” Bulletpoint begins, stuffing dried greens into his mouth and chewing. He perks everyone’s ears even though they do not look away from the projector. He swallows before finishing his thought. “Them nightmares?”

“… It’s here,” Strix affirms, giving validation to the emotions they were silently sharing.

Only Dahlia is mildly confused, taking a moment to glance between each member of the Elite before returning her attention to the projector. A deep frown finds itself on her expression, one which Swirl slyly notices.

“… If nothing else works,” Swirl begins, “… we will resort to my plan. Everypony, be prepared…”

Silent acknowledgement comes from everyone. Trembling, dilated eyes remain plastered on the throw-projector.

‎

---

‎

The explosion of energy reveals the beacon of power - five relics have now combined into a single one, a black onyx crown encrusted with colored gems that represent each respective relic. The crown radiates an iniquitous and bold aura.

The Doyens watch the crown hover above them without the need of them channeling their magic - it simply floats above them. They marvel at the sight with gleaming eyes. They then look at each other, and the question becomes apparent.

"I!" the Doyen who held the belt calls first. "I shall don the crown first!"

"Who bestowed this blessing upon you, Borron?" the Doyen who held the amulet challenges.

"As the oldest of the lineage!" he snaps back. "I reserve the right to don the crown first! Worry not my brothers! Once immortality is mine, the next in line of our lineage may don it next to receive the gift!"

The other Doyens look rather displeased at this outcome, but they do not further confront him. They bow to the aspect that he is indeed the oldest, they simply watch him as he nearly has a heart attack from the excitement.

The Doyen aiming to don the crown bounces in his seat, "Yes! Come to me, my enteral perfection! Come!" He channels his horn, enveloping the crown. He gently brings it down and sits it onto his head, just behind his horn. The crown feels cold upon his balding scalp, and it weighs more than he expected. "It... is beautiful..."

The gems begin glowing, first the red and the orange gems - signaling their counterparts. Then, the purple and the blue. Once this begins happening, the Doyen feels very strange. Tingles, shivers, before the complete trembling of his body.

"Hoaah, hohoaaah!" The spine-chilling sensation has him quivering. "Hoooaaaaa!"

Gasps are had from the other Doyens and many of the servants in the room. The servant who has stood near the base of the staircase begins to trot backwards away from the scene.

"HOhohoh!"

Before everyone's eyes, the old withered stallion begins to change. His sagging coat and skin vibrates as it tightens across his frame and becomes terse. The spots and splotches age gave him fade into his complexion and disappear completely. The scattered strands of mane he had begun to grow out as more accompany them, giving him a full head of hair within seconds. A full-body transformation turns this wilted elder into a young, nimble, and able stallion again.

Complete shock fills Crimson and the servants around. The other Doyens are practically drooling.

"HOohHO! YES! YEEES!" the stallion jumps from the podium swiftly and lands at the base of the stairs on all fours. He admires his body formed perfectly under his expensive clothing. "YEHEHEHES!"

"Brother!" one of the Doyens calls from behind, "relinquish the crown! It is our turn to savor immortality!"

"Hooh, but of course, my brother. Join me, join me in youth and power!" The young stallion channels his magic to envelop the crown. He lifts it-- "Rhhk!" Or not. It instead pulls on his head when he tries taking it off. His expression immediately takes worry. He tries again, and once more it pulls on his scalp harshly. "Rrh, brothers, I--!"

"Cease your foolery, brother!" One of the Doyens impatiently cries. "Give us the crown as promised!"

"Brothers, I..." He reaches his hoof up to grab it manually. Even still, it does not budge. "Brothers, I cannot remove it! The crown has bound itself to my head!"

"Enough lies, brother!" Another Doyen shouts angrily. "Do as ordained! You are obligated!"

"I speak the truth, brothers! I cannot! I cannot remove-- Ohorrrh!" The Doyen winces suddenly. This causes the others to pause with mouths agape. "AArrh! Brothers, my head! It-- AAaargh!"

Crimson’s attention is directed to something - the crown’s jewels. The four gems that represent the base relics are all glowing, except the one in the very center. The green gem. Though now, it flickers, as if turning on and off. Each time it glows, the young stallion expresses pain.

"Aaah-haargh! Brothers, what is-- What is happening to myself!?" The other Doyens watch in silent trepidation to the pain he is in, now realizing that this may not be a farce. "HaaaAAH HaaAAAAAH! HRAAAA-- AAAAAAAAA-- AAAAAH!"

Everyone shakes in fear when the young Doyen suddenly combusts with green magic. This magic physically alters him further. His body becomes defined, he gains muscle mass, his height increases, and his physical structure changes almost completely. His face takes on a recognizably different shape - his mane has turned from snow white to jet black. His coat has also shifted from its original grey color to a deep green. His eyes, once an indistinct blue, now are a vibrant, glowing green. The fancy clothes he wore are stretched to their limit and rip off, leaving him bare.

The pain seems to have stopped once the transformation runs its course, and this completely new stallion looks somewhat lost, as he looks around and assesses his surroundings.

"... B-Brother?" One of the Doyens calls.

The dark green stallion looks over, still confused and acclimating. His eyes fall to the ground, his mind visibly races...

... and like a light switch flickering on, he smiles wickedly. He closes his eyes in satisfaction, takes in a deep breath, and releases it promptly. "Finally."

"Brother, how art thou!?" Another Doyen worried queries.

The green stallion seems to ignore the Doyens line of questioning. He instead looks over to Crimson, still donning his wide grin. The man looks back at him, brows lined at the top of his eyes. The stallion approaches, and once he reaches the cage, his stark green magic channels and envelops the cage.

The enchanted cage melts away, as if the cold magical steel was made of wax. The man now stands on a bare platform with melted, smoldering metal surrounding him. The Doyens and their subjects witness this in what they could only describe as abject horror, for not only the sheer magical prowess displayed just now, but also the liberty granted to the man.

"We meet again," the green stallion says, his voice sounding completely different than before. He is now much taller than the average pony, his height leveled with Crimson's chest.

"Again?" Crimson questions with clenched fists.

"Yes. You know who I am, despite not realizing it."

"Care to enlighten me?"

"With pleasure... Arch Angel. We met first on the plains of Applewood, outside of Las Pegasus. If you recall, I had aided you in the dispatch of certain... undesirables."

Crimson's eyes shift away as he racks his mind. The plains outside Las Pegasus? That's where the Wildmares were. That's where...

His eyes brighten in recognition. The grinning stallion notices this and chuckles, "Yes, you remember me now, do you?"

"That... anomaly. But, you're..." His brows tremble in the struggle to comprehend. "That... can't be."

"But it is. For I... am Horis Alguard."

Sharp inhales and cries come from all ponies around. The Doyen quiver in their mortification. "Im-Impossible!" One of the Doyens shouts, garnering the attention of all. "Thou cannot be him! Thou'st been dead for decades!"

Horis shakes his head, looking almost disappointed. "Oh, my feeble-minded friend. I recant the birth of your greatest grandparents - all of yours," he waves to the lot of three. "I had high expectations of your lineage, and you did not disappoint. Quite the positions of power you have all attained."

"H-Horis!" Another Doyen roars. "Release our brother's body! Release him at once!"

"Release? Hohohoho, no, no. Borro is gone. Only I remain now." The Doyens become petrified at this information. "It was enjoyable seizing this vessel - the pleasure of taking in a breath again, the sensation of being alive… it is like nothing else. I am grateful it was his body I was able to attain," he looks down at the flawless build that is his body, "it appears he was a gaudy chap in his younger years. The magics have made it superior."

"You monster! G-Guards, seize him!"

Horis sneers.

The plethora of surrounding guards channel their magic, holding it at the ready at the cocky stallion who stands completely still. “Is this any way to welcome my return?”

“You should have stayed dead, you creature!”

Horis chuckles and closes his eyes, savoring the moment with a deep breath. "I hold that you know full-well I will not come quietly."

“Fine! Destroy him!”

“Eliminate him!”

Horis opens his eyes, grinning sinisterly. "Go ahead, then. Do your worst."

One guard finally has the gull to fire her magic at him. A powerful bolt of offensive magic darts through the air to strike Horis on the side of his neck.

Horis' left hoof glows with green magic and he effortlessly swats the burning bolt away, returning it to sender so it strikes the mare back. The bolt blows right through her forehead, coming out the other side and hitting the wall behind her along with some brain matter. Her eyes go crossed, her body hits the ground.

Silence.

Crimson's widened eyes look just a bit over to the left… over to his visage, which has appeared to witness this as well.

The visage looks back at Crimson. Then nods.

Panic.

Screams and cries from everyone in the room – the three remaining Doyens are ran up to and nearly tackled by six shrouded unicorns, collectively channeling their magic to teleport themselves and the decrepit elders away. Not a second after their rescue, dozens upon dozens of Horseshoe mages fire magic at both Horis and Crimson. The two furrow their brows - green and gold shine simultaneously as Crimson's Arch burns into reality to lift his greatshield and block the magic coming at him. Horis channels his magic to produce a thick wall of green crackling energy that absorbs everything fired into it. The two stand back to back, holding off the assault.

"Haha! Beautiful, is it not?" Horis laughs. He glances back at the man briefly, caught by something he finds rather interesting. "Bah! Is that a slave's collar around your neck? Arch Angel! Why waste your precious life as a servant to these pathetic whelps when you could serve under me?"

"The hell you talkin' 'bout!?"

"A lapdog for the Consortium, then a pawn for the Horseshoes? You are better, Arch Angel! Your powers are beyond my understanding, and I wish to understand aaaall! What say you, ah!? Serve under me! Through our leadership, Equestria shall prosper!"

Crimson grits, feeling magic come fast before it pangs and bounces off his shield. "You've got the wrong impression, partner! I ain't no one's slave! Not theirs, and not yers!"

"You would be no slave to me! You are a being of higher power! We shall work together! Do not let your feeble emotions contest your greatness!"

"You don't know a damn thing about me!"

His magic channels even brighter - his green cast barrier begins deflecting what is shot at it instead of simply absorbing, causing an even greater turmoil in the chamber. "Do not squander your gift!"

"I ain't interested!"

He lifts his chin and laughs into the air. “You disappoint me, Arch Angel! Sooner or later, you will come around! Of this, I’m sure!”

“Hold yer breath, then!”

Suddenly, a dome of green energy is created by the horn of Horis, one which encapsulates him and Crimson. The dome gleams entrancingly as the magic of many Horseshoe mages fire at it.

Crimson lets his golden shield fall, taken aback at the fact that he is being protected by the wicked stallion. His stupor is deepened at witnessing this protective globe fire green projectiles like some sort of disco ball of death. They seemingly fire out at random in every direction, decimating and gutting dozens of bodies in an instant. Screams of pain and agony, cries of resolve and mantra, the room is in chaos.

Crimson turns around slowly, facing the stallion who is already looking at him. They lock eyes, magma-like gold peering into a maelstrom of green.

“Infinite power could be yours,” Horis calmly states, holding a simper. “Do not throw away your life by contesting me. You are much too valuable to be lost to petty defiance.”

“Who says I’ll be lost.”

“I admire your stubbornness, Arch Angel. Look around you,” he lifts his hoof at the visceral slaughter happening around, without an ounce of effort coming from either of them. “You witness but a small taste of my power. The simple fact that it does not frighten you… it only grows my interest.”

“Is that why you saved my hide back at Applewood?”

“Among other things, but yes. I could not let you be vanquished so prematurely, especially not to those… barbarians.”

“The magic anomalies… those were you.”

“Quite the name. I wish to meet the who coined it.”

“But… how? How were you controllin’ those when you were dead?”

Horis glances past the shield, seeing a seemingly endless march of Horseshoe mages continuing to storm the chamber and be eviscerated almost instantly. He smirks and returns focus on Crimson. “I suppose a small lesson in history is no harm to anypony. To condense quite a tale, my colleagues and I created artifacts of power.” As he says this, the gems in his crown appear to sheen upon being mentioned. “They were meant to assist ponykind in surviving the Great War during the dragon and changeling invasions. Each artifact was created with the intention to promote the strongest attribute in the mind who created it. I was far more intelligent than they were, having suggested that we formulate a method to combine all of these strengths into one all-encompassing empowerment. Perhaps a new horizon in magical attunement, a chance at a new breed of magical super solider to protect Equestria from its enemies. They scoffed at the idea, laughed it even.” He himself almost laughs recalling the ironic events. “I took the time… the effort… and creative prowess to develop an artifact that would mesh the powers of each artifact into one. Thus, this crown upon my head was birthed. The old fools were none the wiser.”

Crimson’s brows twitch, understanding what he was told. A question still irks him, one he briefly holds inside so he could look past the green translucent dome around him. He bares witness to a slaughter of the likes he had never seen before in his life. He then refocuses on Horis. “… If you were dead, how on earth did you control the anomalies?”

“Simple. The artifact I created, the Hourglass, was a special project of mine. See, it was not meant to empower any of my physical or magical abilities, unlike the counterparts of my colleagues. My hourglass has a very… ‘special’ enchantment, which in turn ended my physical life… but it stored my consciousness. Preserved it. Upon the destruction of the hourglass, my consciousness was released into the ethereal plains of Equus’ magic reservoir, floating endlessly across a metaphysical ocean, waiting for its reconstruction. The ‘magic anomalies’ as you called them, they were manifestations of my consciousness drenched in an astral pocket of centuries of time. The puny, insignificant wastes life who were those barbarians in the Applewood, I manifested this shard of my consciousness, and forced them to experience many years of existence in a matter of moments. As you saw, it was a beautiful marvel of space-time.”

The information almost hurts Crimson’s head. Concepts beyond his comprehension are somehow ushered into his understanding, and it pains him to think about such an idea. It feels almost familiar. “The… hourglass. You-- … you exploited time.”

“Hmhm~ What a compliment."

"... How?"

"The storing of my consciousness was, well…” He suddenly stops himself, closing his eyes and smiling wider. “A trade secret I cannot discuss. Lest you join me. Only then an infinite bank of knowledge will become yours.”

Crimson takes a step back, attempting to internalize everything at once.

“Join me, Arch Angel. I know your powers deserve more than… this.” Horis points past his shield towards the ground without even looking. Crimson follows his point to witness a dismembered eyeball belonging to a random victim to his whim. The freshly ripped eyeball gently rolls across the bloody carpet and comes to a uncomfortably peaceful halt near the base of the dome.

Crimson returns his golden eyes to the stallion. He feels a presence next to him again. His visage. He does not look over to it, but instead feels it - hears it speak. “You know what to say.”

He steels himself and balls his hands into fists. The man himself speaks to Horis, “You’re psychotic. The world ain’t yer playground to toy with. Instead of usin’ yer intelligence to better it, here you are destroyin’ it.”

Horis chuckles in something resembling glee. “Little do you know, Arch Angel. I’m not destroying the world, I’m saving it. The lives of these worthless ponies mean nothing, as they try to stop what I aim to accomplish. I serve to better Equestria as a whole. I strive to perfect magic, and thus, perfect ponykind with magic. Magical perfection should not only be my gift… it should be one given to all. I wish to ensure a catastrophe like the Great War never happens again. And if it does, ponykind will be powerful enough to bring it to a swift end. You will understand this soon enough.”

Crimson squints at him and shakes his head slowly. “Very righteous of you. But you best believe you won’t have it easy with me around.”

Only now does Horis drop the cocky attitude for genuine disappointment. He lines his lips and delivers a solemn look to the man. “Hmh. A shame. Yet, I have hope for you. I currently have far too many complications to hold you captive… for now. There is much I must do. Much to prepare.” His disappointment is relinquished for a smirk once more. “I will come for you again, Arch Angel. Prepare yourself for our future encounter. I expect only great things from you.”

In a blink, Horis darts in a green streak to the man and delivers an earth-shattering blow to his chest. Crimson snaps his guard into place as fast as he can, crossing his forearms to absorb the blow. The punch is so powerful that it skids him back on his heels, blowing him right through Horis’ shield dome and shattering it to pieces. He continues skidding, his body smashing into benches, chairs, wooden rails, and finally, the wall to the mansion. A massive chunk of the wall is destroyed as the man is flung out into the raining world outside above the orchards.

Golden molecules manifest from the aether around him to ignite his body, forming his wings and halo in a fiery explosion of gold. Crimson recovers in the middle of the air, flapping his wings to orient himself and look back at the mansion where chaos still ensues. He looks down at his arms, the ones which blocked the powerful blow. His right arm is bruised, broken at the forearm, and almost completely lame, being the side that absorbed most of the blow. Strangely, he feels no pain. Only hollowness. Maybe even guilt.

Feeling too many emotions to count at once, he grits his teeth and looks up towards the grey skies above, one which pours melancholy onto the world. He holds his lame right arm with his strong left. He then flaps his wings twice quickly, then a third time with enough force to rip the sound barrier. He darts into the cloud line and disappears from sight.

Not long after the angel’s escape does the chamber cease its waves of death. Horis finds that he is now all alone with an uncountable number of bodies, seeing that the mansion is no longer throwing more opposition at him. Whether they ran out or surrendered, he will soon peruse through the mansion to find out.

Silent and pondering, he walks towards the giant hole in the estate's wall, looking out to land's raining night. His brows furrow as he stares into the boundless horizon. "You will come around, Arch Angel. I will give you no choice." He takes in a long, deep, cathartic breath, and releases it slowly, peacefully, enjoying the sensation of being alive once more. "I have returned, my precious Equestria. I will complete my promise to you."

‎

---

‎

Not a whisper is spoken, or could even be spoken, by every witness staring into the throw-projector. Trembling eyes, hearts pounding in their heads, they cannot begin to comprehend what they saw.

Dahlia is the only one able to utter a single word, her magenta eyes glittering under the dim light of the projector. “… Crimson…”

Next Chapter: Chapter 13: Burning Your Roots Estimated time remaining: 2 Hours, 12 Minutes