With a steaming bowl of Torinagan ramen resting on his lap, the Guide double-checks his files on numerable individuals, alphabetically aligned from A-Z. He then checks a third time… and a fourth…and a fifth.

However, a screen panel to his left suddenly flares to life. Live-feed footage depicts a crimson pegasus with glowing stripes who appears to be batting the camera back and forth between her hooves in a playful manner. As she does so, a strange, discordant humming emits from her throat, the song an eerily beautiful mishmash of flowing tones.

Pomp grins. “Show time.” He quickly plucks one of several labeled mics resting on a nearby stand, fastens the apparel over his head and ears, and clears his throat.

-“Heh. Told you I’d get ya to play with me one day, Amby.”- Pomp’s voice called out from the device.

The filly, Ambient, yelps and seems to disappear into the ground, a growth in front of the camera rising to hide her, though two ears can be seen just over the top of it.

“Relax, kiddo. It’s me. You know, the ‘observant weirdo,’ as I once heard you call out.”

No answer comes from the not-so-hidden equine, although the growth seems to lower, the Divide’s variation of an Eater of Souls whizzing by without much care for the camera. The filly eyes the camera with a strange look in her eyes.

“Let’s start with introductions now that I’ve finally got your attention. Name’s Pomp. Pomp Neigh the Guide.”

“...It’s kinda weird that you put cameras in other ponies’ homes, y’know,” the filly says, wincing as one of her wings crystallizes momentarily.

“This is my only camera, to be fair. ‘Cameras’ make it sound like I littered the place.”

“I mean, you might’ve. It’s what I’d do if I saw something like this just lying on the surface.”

“True, but that’s when I observe monsters. You’re not a monster, just someone who’s been down on their luck as of late. Fun Fact: I am, too. Life sucks for us both, although I won’t complain since I’m not the one hosting an infection.”

“...You get used to it. Except for the pain. It’s… hard to get used to the pain, even now…” The filly growls a little; her brow furrowed as an infected pillar appears in the background, new monsters emerging from the horrendous mass of black, dripping crystals.

-“Looks like I’ll need to cut to the chase. What if I told you that I know someone who’s just like you?”-

“Like me…? There’s someone like me?” The filly grits her teeth as she tries to reduce the spread.

-“Her name is Astralshia. And like you, she, too, was turned into an infection. However, because she’s been dealing with it for hell-if-I-know how long, she’s learned how to cope with her own symptoms. Symptoms that you, yourself, are also suffering from.”-

“Lucky her…” Bitterness creeps into her voice.

-“I want you to hold on until I find a way to bring Astral to you. You’re not in any condition to travel, so I’ll bring her to you.”-

“Thanks for the vote of confidence. I appreciate it,” Her voice drips with sarcasm as a familiar gleam in her eye seems to start brightening, alongside her stripes, a pitch-black.

“Believe it or not, at first, I thought introducing you two was a bad idea. But I recently spoke with someone who’s, well, kind of an expert on these things. And, of course, Terraria can actually benefit in the long run.”

Ambient stares at the camera before smirking.

“Maybe you should keep us apart then. Who knows what we might do? Are you sure you can trust us? We’re both abominations, after all.”

-“Yeah, see, the whole edgy motif doesn’t fit you, dear. I prefer the Ambient that the Primordials loved with all their being, not some infection that’s forcing her to act this way.”-

“Bring them up again, and I’ll infect everyone until I find you,” The filly growls.

-“Do that, and your ass will get purified long before you could ever reach me. This might come as a shock to you, but I’m offering an olive branch here.

You know, your future playmate said that exact same thing to me. See? You two were made for each other - in more ways than one, it seems.”-

“Yeah, whatever. Go do your spying somewhere else. I’m fine how I am.” The filly says dismissively, turning away.

“I want to give you what no one else ever has since you became the Divide. You can make assumptions about me if you wish, but then I’d call you a hypocrite for doing so.”

The filly turns her head, one eye dripping with sickly greenish fluid. A weak glimmer of hope shines within the other, slowly fading. Growths begin rising around the camera, the feed darkening.

“Then hurry, before I lose myself for good.”

“Give me a sec.”

The Guide’s fingers work quickly on the large panel before him. Then, a screen positioned just beside Ambient’s soon flares to life, and a live feed of the Astral Infection presents itself.

“Come on, Ashy,” Pomp grins. “Come and take a bite of ol’ Pomp’s cam-”

On cue, a tear, in reality, begins to distort the camera feed as a feminine humanoid figure levitates itself out of the breach, crimson eyes laying furiously upon the camera lens.

But the Guide was ready for this. A plan was in motion, and he quickly plucks another mic from the nearby stand.

“What…did I…say…?” Astralshia asked angrily.

“Hey there, Ashy, babe!” Pomp’s voice escaped from a new device he had planted within the biome due to the destruction of the last.

“What did I tell you last time?!”

-“Ok, jokes aside, just hear me out, Ash-”-

“I TOLD YOU TO NEVER SPY ON ME EVER AGAIN!!!” Astralshia’s voice echoes out into the infection from beyond the stars.

-“Who… Who’s that? They sound mad…”- Says a filly’s voice from the other mic, which was picked up through the second mic, purposely brought together by Pomp.

Astralshia’s eyes widen. “What is this? Are there more than one of you watching me?! Are you all that cruel?! Have I not suffered enough that I must now be reduced to a plaything?!”

-“No… I’m sorry you feel that way…”- Ambient says before giving a quiet yelp of pain as the cracking of bone is heard, a large crystal jutting out of the filly’s side, the growths lowering as a result.

-“That was meant for-”- The lavender presence seemingly overhears the audio picked up from Ambient’s end. -“What was that…? Who… who are you?”-

-“Don’t… Don’t worry… I-It’s normal for me now… I’m Ambient, Ambient Light… I’m- I was a filly a little while ago. Not anymore,”- The filly says, the crystal retracting and her bones cracking as they heal.

-“Hey, Pomp? Is she the other infection you mentioned? The one like me?”-

-“The very same one. Astral, that’s the Divide. Divide, that’s the Astral.”-

-“H-hi…”-

As shock and interest clearly form on Astralshia’s features, Pomp, on his end, forms a smirk and playfully shrugs. -“Well, you seem quite busy, Ashy, so I’ll just end this call-”-

“WAIT!” Astralshia screamed with an outstretched hand. “Ambient… I want to know more about her.”

Pomp feignfully places a hand on his chest. -“Whaaaaaat? But, Ashy, I thought-”-

“Silence! I want to talk to her, not you! Remove yourself from this call - such primitive technology, by the way - and let us speak!”

-“Uh, I’m the reason this call exists, Ash. So simmer down a bit so you can finally hear what I’ve got to say.”-

“Hmmph.” She crosses her arms and turns away with puffy cheeks. “Fine.”

Phase two of the plan was now in motion. “Hold on just a sec, ladies and mares,” Pomp said as his hands and fingers danced over keys and buttons.

“Ok, girls, both devices on your ends should be projecting a screen just about…now.”

A surprised gasp is let loose from Ambient’s side of the call, and Astralshia, for her part, merely stares unamused at the transparent, rectangular blue screen that sometimes flickers in and out of the device it is being projected from. No stream or video feed was being displayed, which Astralshia quickly deduced.

-“Such primitive technology.”- She said, condescendingly looking down upon the device. -“Honestly, it looks like something I made when I was, like, five - countless years ago.”-

“Yeah, well, sorry - not sorry,” Pomp responds, rolling his eyes and returning to work. Damnit. The camera features of each device were malfunctioning. He wanted to allow them to see each other on the displays, but hearing each other would have to suffice.

-“Wait,”- Ambient began. -“How old are you, Astral?”-

-“I stopped counting after I reached the one-millionth-year mark,”- Astralshia responds. -“But that was after I became the monster that I am now. Before this infection took hold of me, I was, in this world’s terms, twelve.”-

-“W-wow…so you’re, uhm, young and old?”-

-“Hmmm. That’s one way to look at it. Despite my appearance, I am likely amongst the oldest of beings ever to exist in this world.”-

-“‘This world’? What do you mean?”

-“Exactly as it sounds, Ambient. I breached this universe via a, well, it would be complicated to explain it in this world’s language. Just know that my people, the Astralites, possessed incredibly advanced technology. We could control practically all aspects of our reality and even a few others using an element known to us as 115.

Or, as this world calls it, ichor. The blood of immortal, god-like beings from beyond the veil of our perception of reality. The blood of the eldritch.

I personally arrived here eight months ago on a meteorite fashioned from one of the many previous worlds I…inhabited. Now…here I am.”-

A moment of silence takes hold.

-“Wow, that’s…”- Ambient’s voice began, hesitation present. -“So…why did you come here…?”-

-“...To hunt down every last one of those damnable beings. This world? It reeks of their stench. My hunt…has only just begun.”-

Unbeknownst to the duo, they were being recorded as they continued to chat. And Pomp listened tentatively, hands clasped together with his chin resting on top, to every shred of detail that was being offered. His plan had already garnered invaluable information.

The Guide already knew about the Divide’s origins and how it works, but the Astral? It was a true enigma. And it was far beyond what he had initially theorized. At first, he had assumed it was an infection born from an alien planet within their current solar system - or universe.

But now he had confirmation. This was something born from far beyond the boundaries of Terraria. Infection from beyond the stars? More like from beyond the stars of a whole other universe, and one that can traverse the multiverse seemingly at will, by its own admission.

The Guide’s mind was officially made up - this was the most potent infection Terraria had ever seen, past, present, and, if left unchecked…future. And one that could also expand to threaten the multiverse.

Astralshia was on a path of vengeance. Pomp wasn’t a fool; such a path was often like a wildfire - she was that wildfire. Although one could theoretically point the flames in a particular direction, they would still spread out uncontrollably.

Just ask Yharim.

That was what made Astralshia dangerous. The last thing Terraria needs is an ‘Astral Tyrant.’ There was one thing Pomp had hoped Astralshia would never uncover: Terraria was built by an Outer God, Terra—a benevolent member of the eldritch. But from what he’s seen…the Astral seemingly made no exceptions.

But there was hope. Pomp’s plan was discussed at great lengths with Decay, the Ancient of Infection, Sickness, and Disease. Astralshia typically had a calm demeanor and was massively calculative, although she also had moments of explosive anger - something both she and Ambient had in common. However, that was where Ambient came in. The innocence and purity she still attained deep within, despite her own infection’s efforts, might be what’s needed to calm down the vengeful Astralshia.

In their talks, Decay brought up many valid points, often comparing both infections to bacteria that could benefit the body. Probiotics. By combining the two infections, perhaps, in Terraria’s long history of dealing with these deadly biomes, they could be dealt with without a considerable loss of life. And the process could even make them more cooperative in finding a cure to cleanse them both without destroying them in the process.

That was the problem with Purification Powder… It worked, but it would kill them both. Pomp would effectively be executing two beings who were just as much victims as those who fell to their infections. Despite what Terraria’s denizens thought of him, he wasn’t a monster.

Besides, people accepted the Hallow Biome, which, in itself, was another kind of infection. Hell, its’ denizens effectively saved Terraria several times before.

Of course, if there was no other choice - if this plan failed, he’d… He could only hope Ambient and Astralshia could forgive him.

[WEE OO]

[WEE OO]

[WEE OO]

A series of alarms suddenly goes off, prompting Pomp to quickly mute his side of the conversation with the two infections, allowing them to chat undisturbed.

-“Pomp!”- Gideon’s voice echoes throughout the lab. -“The Snow Biome is expanding at a sudden rate! The drones stationed there are transmitting scans off the charts!”-

“Which Snow Biome?”

-”All of them!”-

The Guide nods, narrowing his eyes. “I thought we’d have more time…but it looks like Cryogen is finally starting to act up.” He pushes back and rolls with his chair before standing up.

“Gideon, prepare an attachment of yourself to accompany us while your main consciousness remains here to monitor Ambient and Astralshia. Also, prepare the Black Hawk jet and the remote for its mini-counterparts. Guess who’s bringing a jet to a boss fight?”

-“Wait, Pomp, does that mean…”- The AI squees in realization. -“Ooh! I’m so proud of you; you’re going to help-!”

“I could give two shits about the other mortals of Terraria,” Pomp asserts, garnering a sad sigh from the AI. “They don’t care about me, so I don’t care about them. The ancients and gods are no different; not a single one of those bastards ever came to help me in the eight months I’ve been alive.

And don’t even get me started on Silence—Guardian of the Guides, my ass. But hey, when you sleep with one of Terra’s beloved dryads, I guess you get perks, right? It doesn’t matter whether or not you actually deserve it. It’s all about knowing the right people, eh?”

-“That’s not fair, Pomp! Besides, none of those deities ever targeted you!”

“They sure as fuck didn’t come to help me, either! I prayed for their help - prayed! And guess what? No. Fucking. Response.”

-“What about Decay? They’ve helped you a lot!”-

“Decay is an outcast even to his own fellow ancients,” The Guide interjects. “But I guess that makes sense, outcasts helping other outcasts, right?”

Pomp scoffs, plucking his red coat that was draped over his chair, swinging it around, and running his arms through the long sleeves. He began to walk down the stairs, angered and annoyed but taking breaths to regain his composure.

-“...What about Tirek and Celestia?”-

The effect of those words caused a pause in the Guide. He sighs, standing in place. “Those two are the only exceptions,” He muttered somberly.

After a brief pause, the Guide walks over to the elevator doors’ keypad, places a hand on it, and performs a scanning process. The doors slide horizontally and retreat into the doorframe, allowing him access to the elevator.

The doors close, taking the Guide up to the surface world. Gideon’s consciousness remained in the lab. The AI ‘looked’ over to the computer, Astralshia and Ambient’s active voices indicating that the two were still in conversation.

-“Oh, Pomp…”- The AI’s voice was sad and hopeful. -“Bitterness…is another type of infection. Please…don’t allow it to turn you, too, into something incurable…”-

Here we gooo! Cryogen boss fight lead-ups are a-go!