“Could you describe them for me?” I pressed, observing the pair as they looked curiously at one another.

The male was smaller, and thinner, with a narrow body, deep orangey yellow eyes, and fur the same shade of grey as the undead filly’s. His hair was wavey, and dangled down the side of his face, the color a mix of off-white, and light blue. Upon his flank was an image of a cracked wheel lying next to what looked like a repair hammer of some kind. A ragged and muddy workman’s jacket covered his front while his back was left open, unbothered by the lack of dignity granted to him.

“She is almost ten, a thestral like us, and is a bit short for her age,” White Iron began, her jaw clenched tight. “She has a bit of a lisp due to a fall when she was young.”

She was a bit taller, and wider than her husband, her wings twitching in barely contained energy as she spoke. Her eyes were much like her husband’s an off gold but more faded than his, resembling rust in a way. Her whitish-yellow hair reminded me of the inside of a creamsicle and was cut purposefully quite short so as to stay out of her eyes. Her fur was also unkempt but mostly hidden beneath what had likely been a blacksmith’s apron at one point.

Like her husband, White Iron’s clothing was in disrepair, though she wore a pair of heavy pants with a cut on the side. This opening revealed her cutie mark which was of an iron poker glowing white-hot over an open flame. The conclusion was obvious to me, she had been a blacksmith while her husband was a wheelwright or repairman of some kind.

“Her name is Rainy Day,” Cracked Wheel continued. “Her cutie mark is of a raining cloud with little lightning bolts coming from it.”

Cracked Wheel seemed ready to cry, but White Iron swiftly moved in and nuzzled his cheek, calming the male.

“Anything else you could tell me?” I asked, realization having already dawned. “Like coloration and whatnot?”

“Her mane was a mix of two different shades of blue, her fur was grey, as were her eyes,” White Iron whispered. “Why do you ask all this?”

I hesitated a moment before remembering that I was trying to befriend these creatures and that friendship began with honesty. So I reluctantly recalled the filly from the bush she had been hiding in, positioning her just out of sight for the moment.

“I ask all this as I may have found her, but-” I held up a claw. “I have bad news.”

“You killed her didn't you,” White Iron muttered through grit teeth.

“I did not. I’m afraid she likely starved to death,” I explained. “I found her floating in the pool you see before you, though fret not I’ve since cleansed the waters so you needn't worry about that.”

“You… found her?” Cracked Wheel whispered.

“It killed her,” White Iron shot back.

Cracked Wheel stepped forward, ignoring his wife’s furious gaze. “Then where is she? You didn't…”

“I did,” I admitted. “At the time I did not know that you equines were sapient, and as her body was the only thing close enough I brought her back, in a sense.”

“Show me,” Cracked Wheel demanded.

“Are you sure that's a good idea honey?” White Iron whispered.

“I need to see her,” Cracked Wheel declared.

I looked down at the male with pity, noting that he was about a second away from sobbing. Despite that, he maintained the illusion of strength and continued to keep his shoulders squared.

“As you wish,” I exclaimed.

I turned and glanced over to the bush that had hidden the zombified child, who stepped out a second later. The two parents gasped, and sure enough, Cracked Wheel began to sob, though he stayed standing. White Iron’s anger melted immediately, and she stumbled over to the undead filly, grasping the undead’s shoulders.

“Stars above. It's really you,” she muttered.

Cracked Wheel followed a second later, holding the zombified filly tightly while joining his wife in tears. I meanwhile, did my best to allow them their moment, though this was difficult given that I was still inhabiting their undead child. The quiet didn't last long, and I cut it off myself when White Iron began to grow angry, her muscles tensing.

“If you would like. I could bury her here, or you could take her back for whatever funerary rites your people have,” I offered.

That seemed to deflate White Iron’s fury before it could fully manifest. “You wouldn't attempt to keep her?” she asked.

“She is your child. I may have risen her on instinct and out of desperation but at this point her service is hardly needed,” I explained, attempting to sound cold and detached.

“We should cremate her,” Cracked Wheel murmured, releasing his hold on the undead foal. “I’m sure Fly Wheel could make us an urn or something.”

“No,” White Iron muttered.

“No?” Cracked Wheel asked.

White Iron turned and glared up at me with a furious gaze. “You can bring people back from the dead, bring her back to us.”

I blanked for a moment, the sheer fury in her eyes giving me pause to consider my options.

“I’m afraid it doesn't work that way,” I began. “I can raise either zombies or skeletons. Mindless undead that maintain no facsimile of who they once were.”

“I don't care about your excuses!” White Iron shouted. “Give me back my daughter!”

I mimicked a sigh and hung my head low. “True resurrection is impossible. Even Zaxonis did not know how to accomplish such a feat.”

“Honey relax. He can't do it,” Cracked Wheel whispered.

Hot burning tears ran down White Iron’s face, and she stomped her hooves angrily. “No, no, no! She is all we have left, all that we brought with us from the old world. We can't just let her go!”

“But dear-”

“Don't but dear me,” White Iron hissed. “You remember what the doctors said, I can't have any more foals. She was our only chance!”

I noticed that the other bat ponies were beginning to grow curious about our little private conversation. With a hand I shooed them away, placing a finger against the front of my snout in order to urge some quiet for the moment. I then turned back to the arguing couple and found that they had quite forgotten about me during their conversation.

I wanted to intervene, to tell them that it was impossible, but I started to think… is it truly?

Bringing someone back from the dead was indeed impossible, but there were spells to bring back memories. Combine that with a bit of free will, some revitalization, some ingenuity, and though not truly alive, part of her would return. The spirit was still bound to the body, though the person that spirit belonged to wasn't trapped within though.

It is difficult to explain in lamen’s terms but from the knowledge stolen from the dragon, I recalled that ghoultrees functioned differently. Normal necromancy was indeed quite horrible, as the person returned fully sapient but trapped and enslaved to the person who raised them. Made a prisoner in their own flesh, they were bound to do everything ordered of them no matter their own will.

Which were utterly supplanted by the necromancer, whose domination was so complete that freedom was impossible. Upon the death of the person who raised them, the zombified individual would simply perish a second time. But ghoultrees did not obey these rules, for reasons that weren't wholly known, though I assumed there was some theorizing on the reason.

Regardless of why my former foe recalled that ghoultrees pushed a part of their own spirit into the host. We then puppeted the creation by loosely binding the soul to the body it had once inhabited. The dead entity existed in a sort of limbo, where it experienced nothing at all until it died a second time and came loose.

From there, things got extra muddy, as there didn't seem to be any clear-cut facts on the afterlife. Which was a bit disappointing, as I had hoped there would be gods or some definitive answer to humanity’s oldest question. Regardless of what happened after their second death, the ghoultree did not dominate the creature by subjecting the soul. Rather we tricked the body into thinking the spirit was attached so that we may enslave the body and use it as we willed.

This opened up many possibilities, and a good deal of curiosity from myself, who began going through my newly acquired spells. False life could make an undead seem alive in the sense that it no longer stunk, and would give some color back to the creature. Combined with a few preservation spells and a bit of grooming, the filly would look like they were alive.

It would just be my piloting it though, and they wouldn't truly be alive even in the loosest of senses.

“Are you listening?” demanded a voice.

I looked down to find the couple looking or glaring up at me.

“Apologies,” I remarked. “I was just thinking about the spells Zaxonis knew.”

“And?” White Iron demanded.

“And he didn't know how to bring someone back either,” I held up a boney finger. “Though there is a possibility that I could bring her back in a sense.”

“In a sense? What does that mean?” White Iron pressed.

“She wouldn't strictly speaking, be alive,” I continued. “Though I could return her mind to her.”

The pair exchanged a look.

“So what does that mean exactly?” Cracked Wheel inquired.

“She would have free will, and her memories but she would still be in essence a zombie,” I concluded. “I’m not totally certain if it would work mind you, but it is possible though I’d need your permission before I attempted it.”

“I don't know about this,” Cracked Wheel muttered.

“Do it,” White Iron stated.

“But honey, she would still be… this,” Cracked Wheel exclaimed, gesturing to the rotting corpse of their daughter.

“I would be able to at least make her appear alive,” I interjected. “Though it wouldn't be perfect.”

“I don't care,” White Iron declared. “Do it.”

“Alright then, but it will take a while,” I replied.

“Then we should gather the supplies in the meantime,” Cracked Wheel reasoned.

White Iron seemed ready to press the issue, but ultimately decided against it and walked away.

I joined her a moment later, my draconic servant walking over to the collapsed cave entrance while my main body shifted. My roots churned, and I felt for the underground passage, judging how I should go about it using my new senses. I could feel that it would require a bit of reinforcement, but it wasn't like I had a bunch of timber kicking around.

So before the ponies questioned why I had promised them something trapped behind a barrier I began to move. First I channeled a mere speck of my incredible reserves into extending my roots into the rock wall itself. This was surprisingly easy, as the long fibrous growths tunneled through stone as if it were just dirt.

It took a few minutes of intense focus, but in the end, the top and bottom of the cave were completely covered in roots. A few subtle shifts put the ceiling back into a more stable position so I wasn't forced to hold it up constantly. With that done, I walked forward with my draconic servant and began to clear the rocks, placing them in a pile.

I wasn't sure what I was going to do with them at the moment, but I at least had enough space that they weren't in the way. After a few minutes of clearing them, I was able to see further inside, and it wasn't long before the ponies could enter. It wasn't perfect mind you, but the thing wasn't seconds from collapsing, nor was it a struggle to get inside.

“If you all go inside, you’ll find that they are in the patch closest to the entrance,” I began. “Though I would advise you to be careful and not go deeper. Heart Seeker mushrooms grow in abundance further in.”

“I’ll check it out,” offered Crossed Swords, who stepped inside and appeared a minute later. “It's clear, grab the bags.”

The ponies, save for Stalwart, all piled inside, with the married couple lingering for a moment and giving me a look. They didn't stay back for long though, and soon they too were inside, gathering mushrooms. Stalwart sat on a rock near the entrance, staring at my draconic servant intently while I made my way back over to the filly.

Ignoring the former soldier’s gaze, I focused on my magic and delved into the depths of my stolen information. I had a working theory, but only having one’s skills without memories were odd, to say the least. Opinions, theories, and assumptions built out our knowledge base in a way that pure facts couldn't replicate.

I could know a recipe, but I didn't know what it tasted like. I knew how to gather a plant but I knew not how it smelled. The interactions between magic were also mostly untested. The more spells layered the more complicated it became, and soon it was completely unique.

That kind of expertise could not be taught and needed to be judged on a case-by-case basis. Something that I could not steal from my foes, no matter how hard I tried. Which meant I needed to learn and apply myself without leaning on what I had taken from the dragon.

I wasn't completely on my own, but I did have to think things through in a way I had yet to do before. I had time though, so as the ponies gathered their food, I worked, intertwining spells and testing various theories. It took a considerable amount of time, until nightfall actually, but I had come up with something that felt right.

“Right then,” I muttered. “Now I just need to breathe the last bit of magic, and the dominoes will fall into place.”

I observed the placid undead figure before me, their body now almost lifelike in appearance. Their fur had recovered its color, they were not cold, nor did they smell, but the eyes remained empty. Those twin voids refused to return to what they had in life, so I ignored it, for now, setting that aside for later.

“I hope this works,” I muttered to myself before cutting the ventriloquism spell.

I needed as few conflicting magical signatures as possible and thankfully the ponies couldn't cast spells. They could physically do so, but I had learned that none had the aptitude for such a thing. Which was very good, as this was by far the most complicated series of enchantments that I had ever tried.

Here goes. I thought to myself. For real this time.

I ‘exhaled’ the dragon’s magic, infusing it into the filly, and setting off the chain reaction I had set into place. Her body quaked, half-rotten muscles twitching while her wings flapped randomly at her sides. It resembled a sort of seizure, but I wasn't doing it, and in fact, my control had receded somewhat.

I could still puppet it if I wanted to, but there was another hand on the controls that was now asserting itself. Then the filly collapsed, her entire form going completely lax as if my puppet had her strings cut. For a moment I wondered if I had screwed up, but then I heard, and felt another mind brush against my own.

She was confused, and panic-stricken, her eyes snapping open. “Wh-where am I?” she whispered.

I yanked back a bit of control, pushing down her panic, and forcing her to become calm. I didn't want to do so, but her emotions were very powerful and were even making me feel a little unpleasant.

“You are safe,” I rumbled, reactivating the ventriloquism spell. “You are okay, and your parents are nearby.”

“I… I’m okay,” she murmured, sitting upright and blinking owlishly at me. “You look like that evil thing but I know your not him. I can hear you in my head, feel you inside me.”

I really didn't like that word choice, but thankfully there was no one in earshot at the moment.

“Yes. I brought you back,” I explained. “You died.”

“Oh,” murmured the child. “But I’m alive again?”

“Sort of,” I began. “It's a bit complicated.”

“Thank you, mister. I’m really glad you did that but I also really want to see my mommy and daddy,” she whispered guiltily, leaning to her right and trying to look past me. “Can I go see them?”

“I’ll call them over,” I declared.

Turning around, I noticed that the ponies had gathered near the entrance to the cave, with the married couple at their head. The second their eyes met the quite bright ones of their semi-living child, they broke out into a sprint. Rainy Day met their enthusiasm and ran as well, meeting them at the halfway point with open forelegs.

They embraced tightly, sobbing into each other’s coats and holding the undead filly in their forelegs. I walked up shortly after but kept a respectable distance, waiting for the moment to play itself out. It took a few minutes, but they seemed to recover enough to talk, with the couple looking inquisitively up at me.

“Your not just pretending to be her?” White Iron asked.

“Ask her yourself,” I replied. “I cannot absorb memories, and she should have all of hers back.”

That was partially a lie, as I could feel the filly’s mind like I would any other of my servants. Which meant that I had full, unfettered access to every last part of her being, including her returned memories. I chose not to push that however, as she was a child so it would be rude, plus she likely didn't know anything useful anyway.

I resolved to simply talk with her at a later date and request the information without having to pry.

Cracked Wheel knelt before the child. “Okay honey I need to ask you a few questions now.”

“Okay daddy,” Rainy Day replied.

“What was the color of your favorite ball when you were younger?” he pressed.

“Blue,” she replied immediately. “It was lumpy because some meany stepped on it and it didn't inflate right anymore.”

“It's her,” Cracked Wheel murmured.

“Wait a second,” White Iron interrupted. “What was the last thing you said to me before you ran away?”

“Before I escaped?” Rainy Day scratched her head. “I think I asked you about what flowers you can eat out in the forest.”

White Iron blinked. “That's correct. But why would you leave without saying goodbye?”

“I didn't mean to,” Rainy Days whispered. “I just got left alone and wanted to go get lady Luna to save everyone.”

Okay, that was adorable and seemed to be exactly what the pair expected as they embraced the filly and had a second tearful reunion even more touching than the first.

“Did ya really do it?” Stalwart asked, the mare having plunked down beside me.

“Sort of,” I admitted. “I could not free her from my control without killing her a second time. Rainy Day is tied to me until she dies again, but her spirit and memories are in there.”

Stalwart snorted. “Some may think it cruel, but it's nothing compared to some of the things I’ve seen. Just don't go tugging on her strings, got it?”

“I don't intend on it,” I replied. “She is a foal and has little value to me save in a diplomatic function. So it would behoove me to give her free will, and to not infringe on it.”

“You're a cold one, ain'tcha?” Stalwart asked, her voice carrying no judgment.

“I don't process emotion like animals do,” I mused. “I feel as you do, don't get me wrong but it is muted and different. I don't think I can really explain it to someone so different.”

“I think I get you,” Stalwart remarked. “I knew a couple of commanders and more than a few generals who were colder than the stars above. So compared to them, you’re as warm as a summer day.”

“Thank you,” I replied.

Stalwart snorted. “It wasn't a compliment.”

She then trotted away, leaving me to muse over what she had said. I quickly tossed aside such thoughts, however, as I felt something shift far beneath us. The ponies could not feel it, but I sensed that whoever was tunneling upward was reaching the surface.

I was about to send the handful of bugs I had managed to resurrect, but was stopped when I noticed the deer skull light up. Its antlers shimmered a soft blue coloration for a moment before returning to their normal shade a second later. I immediately began casting a scanning spell, but I knew it would come up with nothing as it had already faded.

Leaving me confused, and more than a little put off by the entire thing.

I had guests in the form of bat ponies, and would likely be receiving more from below. Who knew what shape they took. What I did know was that I was likely to meet more deer fairly soon, if the sudden light show was any indicator.

Whatever search party they had sent out was no doubt on their way here, compiling my list of problems considerably.

“Never a dull moment,” I muttered to myself.

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