~Shae~

“B-but, no… You can’t do this! I just…”

She’s a unicorn of mild age. She’s older than me, but not by much. Still, she’s a victim of happenstance, just as I am. The only difference is, I’m the one stuck in a cage. She’s been let out, but by no circumstances is she being set free. Despite knowing what’s going to happen, I don’t look away. This mare deserves to know that somepony still cares for her in this hellhole.

“Get going!” yells a robed earthwalker. Compared to an Imperial soldier or a Blackwing, he’s by no means intimidating, though he is the one with the spear. The cowering mare obeys him and crawls away from the corner, following the directions of the cultist’s spear jabbing her.

“I just want to go home…” she whimpers.

That earns her a much undeserved stab from the cultist, drawing blood from her barrel. “Your wants are not important, witch.”

She clutches her latest in many wounds. “But I’ve never used magic in my life… I haven’t an ounce of—”

“You bear the horn, therefore you are a witch and an abomination. Just find solace in knowing a child of Dragos will purify you of your wickedness.”

Reduced to nothing but sobs and shrieks of pain accompanying every impact of the spear, the mare is forced to move from the cavern into a small tunnel. Where it leads, I know of but haven’t had the misfortune to see. With any luck, it will stay that way…

“To what end goes such cruelty?” I ask myself. It feels like the eighth time in the week I’ve been here that I’ve said that. “So they kill every last unicorn in Equestria. What good will that do them?”

“People do insane things in times of crisis,” says my cellmate. She, like me, has grown numb to the horrors of this prison.

One begins to get used to being stuck in a small cage thrown haphazardly into the corner of some hollowed out dungeon. I doubt these cultists have been here long. Or perhaps they keep finding new places for which to conduct their rituals, avoiding being caught by the authorities. Either way, I’m sick of this, and I’m willing to risk skin off my back to let that be known.

I lean on the crossed bars of the cage and shout to the cultist guarding us. “Hello, foul one,” I sneer at him.

“Yes?” he says, not even turning to look at me.

“It’s in my doubts that I’ll be relinquished from this prison any time soon,” I say to him. His disgruntled glare does little to sway my bravery. Besides, I’m a little more focused on a certain amulet sitting on a rock behind the cultist. “So, if I am to be purified by Dragos, I’d like to look my finest. If I could have my necklace back…” I wear the eyes of a puppy to try and convince him.

But since when can you convince a cultist to be reasonable? He spits at my hooves. “Why would I do that? Besides, it’s a magical artifact. We’d have had it destroyed it a while ago, had we the means.” He grumbles to himself, “You witches and your enchantments…”

“You cultists and your insane ramblings,” I grumble in counter.

As the stallion turns his head to survey the other cages set against the walls and corners of the cavern. A castle dungeon would be ideal compared to this mildew infested hellhole, but it matters not in the long run, knowing where we’re all going.

All the ponies within those cages are unicorns, and that seems to be the only reason why they’re here. Mare, colt, peasant, noble, child, elderly... As far as Sacred Rite is concerned, they all deserve to die. What a hag.

“Nice try,” says my cellmate again. I look at her and smile, though whether she smiles back is unknown, due to a veil of her own hiding her face, formed out of a simple blanket. What she has to hide is beyond me. She seems entirely normal. “But I must ask… What good would that necklace do?”

“It was a gift from Starswirl the Bearded to…” I pause, having an involuntary memory of Headmaster Frosthelm crumbling to dust before me, at the hooves of Clover the Clever. I remember the mad look in her eyes as she wore the necklace. “Uh, it’s very important.” My hooves come to the brace around my neck. “I don’t know what good it would do with this holding me back, but it’s my best option.” If my amulet can counter, or at least dull the effects of this dampener, then I’ll at least have a fighting chance.

Quietly, I do something a little drastic, yet necessary. I quietly stand as much as the confines of the cage allow, and move towards the amulet. I reach out as far as I can, even until my shoulder is sore, but I’m still short of touching my saving grace.

And even if I could reach it, it wouldn’t matter. The one guarding the cage notices and strikes my foreleg, making me retract. He may have struck a nerve; I feel numb…

“Just for that digression, you’ll be sent to the dragon next,” he says. He steps away, presumably to alert Sacred Rite of this change of schedule.

Oddly, this doesn’t fill me with fear, only more spite. As he leaves this makeshift dungeon, I shout after him, “Good! Bring me to the beast! I’ll kill it!”

That moment fades, though, and I fall to my haunches. It’s insulting, knowing my means of survival lays just next to me but it’s still out of reach. Further, even though an encounter with a dragon is hardly new to me, I can’t fight against it this time. I’ll be brought right to it when it’s all done with the other mare.

It seems my cellmate also has some light to shed on the issue. “Again, nice try. Your enthusiasm makes the wait for my demise all that more entertaining.”

“You’re welcome,” I say with great sarcasm. “But it seems I won’t be around much longer to amuse you.” I sigh. “Sorry, Jade.”

The only reason I don’t cry or scream, pour my heart out, beg for mercy or do anything one would do with the knowledge that death was knocking upon their door is because I’ve taken a note from Caro’s book; I keep fighting, if not externally, internally, against the idea that my fate is sealed. I still hold fast to the sliver of hope that I will survive this. How could I not? I say this is hardly the worst thing that’s happened to me on this journey.

“Well, since that is the case,” Jade says, “I would like to know how a clever mare such as yourself ended up here. You seem smart enough to avoid anything having to do with Sacred Rite.”

“Running into these cultists was a mere coincidence,” I say. “I had my reasons for coming here. I was on my way to the peak of this spire, at least until these robed goons jumped me and dragged me here. Come to think of it… I don’t even know how long ago that was.” I’m about to elaborate further, but I’m overcome by a fit of coughs. “Agh…”

“Here.” Jade passes me a roll, which I take without hesitation. “They forgot to take my rations.”

“Wonderful.” While the roll is a tad stale, something I expected, it’s still moist enough to make my throat feel better.

“Why did you come here, Shae? Nopony has any reason to climb this barren rock other than to please their ego. Look at these bastards, for instance,” she gestures to a small passing group of cultists, no doubt new members convinced that all this murder is for a good cause. “They think they rule the world up here.”

“They’re here for selfish reasons. I’m here to help somepony I love.” I wolf down the remainder of the roll before any of the cultists see me with it.

“Who would that be?” Jade asks. “Friend? Family?”

“Both, and that’s why I have to get out of this cage.” I approach Jade, showing as much desperation as I can to her. “I need to find Luna.”

~Vision End~

Keeping her hat low and very nearly covering her eyes, Rosemary looks over the stones separating her, Caro and Tohro from a several foot drop onto the winding path up Dragon’s Tooth Spire. She clutches her falchion tight to her person while surveying the path below. Thus far, there hasn’t been sign of life, but it’s a shared thought between all present members of Dragonrein that stealth is the best option.

“If nopony passes by in five minutes, we’re proceedin’,” Rosemary whispers. “I don’t wanna keep Shae waitin’.”

“That’s fair,” says Caro. He stands over his sword, running a rock down its sides. He wishes for it to follow the same path as Scar’s katanas and the legendary Muramasa; it should be so sharp that it cuts just to look at it. Satisfied with his work, he picks up the sword and rests the flat of it on his shoulder as he approaches Rosemary. “Just be forewarned, if we are spotted by the cultists, their heads are going to roll." He turns to Tohro. “Assuming you’re okay with that?”

Tohro raises his head. “More likely than not, it’ll come to that. Just show some restraint, at least.” He returns to equipping his new set of wing blades to his feathers. “Mind, mate, this is a rescue, not a slaughter.”

“I know.”

“Good… Anypony down there, Rosey?”

Rosemary begins to shake her head, but then she catches something out of the corner of her eye, walking the rising path. “Cultists,” Rosemary says, quietly yet urgently. “Two of ‘em…” She frowns at the sight of what they bring in tow. “And they’ve got baggage.”

The cultist in the lead shouts at the victims, a mare and what appears to be her son, going by their shared blue coat. He sounds far more intimidating than he should behind his hood and veil. “Keep moving. It’s either purification or the cliff.” He gestures to the likely fatal fall just off the side of the path. “I don’t think you want us to choose for you.”

The mare and child, both unicorns, appear to be resisting panic and tears, trembling against the terror of capture by the cultists as well as the snow and cold wind lapping at their bodies.

“Those zebra merchants were kidding. These are sick fucks,” Tohro says, joining Rosemary in surveillance. “Bad enough they abduct anypony with a horn, they can’t be bothered to give them any dignity.”

“Dignity and zealotry don’t exactly go hoof in hoof,” says Rosemary. “You were a Blackwing. Don’t they worship Shokenda like she’s a god?”

“Usually. It depends on the pony serving her.” Tohro shudders, tightening the cowl of his thief uniform. “To be wholly honest, I can’t truly tell if they worship her out of fear or genuine loyalty. If I recall correctly, I… might have worshipped her for both.”

“Her, or her vagina?” Caro asks, half smiling, but showing genuine concern.

To his comfort, Tohro chuckles at the jape. “Now that’s something to be scared of, mate. But that is a cave never to be traveled again.” He readies his crossbow, loading it with a poisoned bolt. “Once again, Rose, I cannot thank you enough for your craft,” he says, stepping over to Rosemary and taking point, aiming his crossbow at the cultists. “This is tricky… Do you have yours?”

Rosemary ducks down and reaches into her pouch, procuring a second crossbow. “Right here.” She takes a few poisoned bolts of her own and loads one in. “We might have to compensate for the wind a wee bit.”

“Who’s the assassin here?” Tohro playfully snips. “Alright, I have the one in the lead, and you take the one traveling behind.” He feels for the wind direction. “Aim slightly above and left of their heads…”

Caro taps quietly at the ground in anticipation. He grows more anxious for every second that Shae goes unrescued. He doesn’t doubt her ability to hold on for dear life, and if it comes to the best case scenario, she might have escaped on her own time. But until he knows for certain, his heart will continue to pound, both for Shae, and in anticipation of Dragon Tooth Spire’s namesake. He looks to the peak, wondering if the presence of a dragon is possible.

Both crossbows fire. Yet all three of the determined rescuers grimace when they see only one of the cultists has fallen, with the bolt cleanly piercing his hood and head. He hits the ground without a word. However, the other is still well and alive. Quickly overcoming his shock, he looks around. “Who’s there?!”

Rosemary is hurting the hardest, pursing her lips in remorse at a bad shot. “My bad, fellas… Shouldn’t have trusted me with this.” She leaves the crossbow on its perch, keeping to her falchion.

“You’re like me, Rosemary,” says Caro. “Our fix is with clashing metal. And there’s little point in being stealthy with this one anymore.” He gestures to the cautious cultist below, who is quickly becoming infused with anger.

He directs his anger to the mother and child. “Is this some sort of ruse? Because I swear, I will not let it transpire. I’m sure Sacred Rite would understand if at least one of you didn’t make it to the cleansing ritual alive.” As he says that, he directs a glare towards the child.

The mother’s eyes widen with rage. “If you dare…”

The cultist knocks her upside the head with a hoof. “I dare.” He then casually yanks on the chains of her shackles, bringing her to her knees. “But if you take ire, then…” He turns around at the sound of loud hoofsteps on stone.

Caro and Rosemary have already made their move, hopping over the rocks hiding them from view and making simultaneous careful leaps down the cliffside. The snow causes for some slippery landings but they progress with speed nonetheless.

“What in the—” The cultist reaches under his cloak for some sort of weapon, but it goes unused as Caro rams into his chest head first. The cultist careens through the air, defenseless when Rosemary leaps into the fray, grabs him and brings him to the ground. The cultist rises as much as he can with the burly mare weighing him down.

“Give up, darlin’. It’ll be easier,” Rosemary says with honeyed aggression. She reaches under the robe and obtains the cultist’s weapon; a small dagger. “Shouldn’t expect a zealot to think ahead,” she mutters.

And yet, the cultist sees fit to continue his struggle. “Dragos guides me to victory! I cannot lose to infidels like you!”

“These infidels are going to tear down your entire organization.” Caro shows the cultist his blade, which appears even more threatening against the white of the snow. He rests the point of the blade on the ground, right in front of his eyesight. “So I wouldn’t recommend making us angry.”

Tohro flutters down to join Caro and Rosemary in surrounding the cultist. “Cooperate with us, and you’re free to go. Just tell us where Sacred Rite is keeping her unicorn prisoners.”

The downed zealot grumbles something under his breath, then looks up at the trio. “Fine. Dragos may forgive me but Sacred Rite won’t. As far as she’s concerned, I never said what I’m about to say.”

Tohro nods. “Very well.” He looks to the mother and child, who are both stunned by what they’ve just witnessed. Tohro asks them, “We’re here to help. Relax.” They do as he says, though still keeping cautious expressions. The son huddles closer to his mother.

The cultist takes in a breath before he speaks. “Her hideout is at the peak. Hardly anypony bothers to climb this spire. It’s called Dragontooth for a reason. Imagine my surprise when I saw an actual dragon lives here. If what Sacred Rite says is true, it has lived here since long before the dragon attacks.”

Caro smirks. “I bloody called it.” He licks his lips, which Tohro sighs at seeing.

“I only signed on because I thought this was merely a protest group. I, like many, am rather unamused at Queen Platinum’s determination to ban worship of Dragos. But I’ve been seeking a means to leave without Sacred Rite’s knowing ever since I found out they’ve been feeding unicorns to the dragon here. She takes her worship far too seriously.”

Rosemary visibly snaps, grinding her teeth together. “Shae…” She grabs the cultist’s mane and turns him her way, much to his discomfort.

“Agh, what the hell?!”

She’s livid, showing a mien that Caro and Tohro have never seen before. “Tell me there’s a lavender unicorn up there! Black and white mane. The most beautiful mare you’ll ever set eyes on!”

“Yes! There is! Calm yourself!”

“I’ll calm myself when she’s safe!” She releases the cultist, draws her falchion in her teeth and breaks into a gallop, braving the path up the spire before Caro and Tohro can ready themselves in the slightest. They watch, stunned at her sudden bout of rage.

“Stealth is entirely out the window at this point,” Tohro says dejectedly. He pays the cultist little heed as he steps away, left slow and sluggish from his bruises.

Caro, doing everything he can to monitor his heartbeat, harbors concern in almost as much quantity as Rosemary, just in a much quieter way. His eye twitches as he readies his sword for battle. “So long as we can save Shae, I’ll gladly stain the snow red.”

“Hold that thought.” Tohro raises a hoof and flicks it, revealing his hidden blade. He approaches the mother and child unicorns, who are still trembling. Tohro steps with caution, keeping his blade low. “I know you’re reluctant to trust a shady figure armed to the teeth, but I wish for nothing but to help those Sacred Rite has abducted. I’ll set you free.”

He kneels down and brings the hidden blade to the mother’s shackles. He fiddles the blade around in the key slot before the lock clicks, making the shackles fall. She nods to her child as Tohro does the same for him. When he’s released from his shackles, he doesn’t hesitate to embrace his mother tightly. “Thank you,” he says to Caro and Tohro.

Caro gestures to the way down the spire before setting his sights on the peak once again. “Get as far away from here as you can. There’s going to be a lot of blood.”

“Mate, do be reasonable,” advises Tohro.

Caro nickers at Tohro in response. “Mate, I am holding in every last f…” He eyes the kid, then chooses to restrain his language. “I am doing everything I can to hold myself back from that cultist. I can’t promise I can do the same for the others. Or Sacred Rite.”

He follows Rosemary’s hoofprints in the snow, and Tohro follows suit. They watch out of the corner of their eye as the mother and child quickly abscond from the mountain.

Part of Tohro wishes they could escort them both to their homes safely, despite the greater priorities at hoof. “They’ll be fine, right?”

“Shae’s life comes first,” says Caro. “But when I get my hooves on the hag who captured her—”

“Caro.”

“WHAT, TOHRO?!” The Dragonborn shows Tohro his fangs in a nightmarish stare, advancing on him with every step. “I know what you said! I am not to kill without your consent. Fine! But we’ve heard the stories. We’ve listened to the witnesses. The merchants, the residents of Everfree and Trottingham, they’ve lost family to Sacred Rite and know she won’t stop until every unicorn she so much as looks at is dead. She’s not going to change her mind, ever. This can not be solved through peace! What do we have to gain from letting her walk free? What am I supposed to do?!”

Caro looks to the ground, shaking and heaving from his anger. His heart only calms itself from Tohro’s touch. The pegasus, with utmost resolve, says to his friend, “Make sure she knows why she has to die.”

Four cultists stand guard outside the gaping entrance to the inner lair, doing everything they can to shrug off the cold. The two closest to the entrance shudder, one of them, a mare, looking at the other. She says, “This is asinine. We could have at least been provided with a fur lining for these robes.”

“Sacred Rite insisted that we will remain warm so long as our faith in Dragos is strong,” says the one opposite her. “So… pray some more. Perhaps that will solve the matter.”

“Very well…” The mare takes a moment to herself, bowing her head and muttering a generic prayer. Unfortunately, yet expectantly for her, it does not bring her any sort of warmth. “Asinine,” she repeats. “It’s because of this cold that I volunteered for warden duty this evening. I’d rather be in there with whining and moping witchcraft enthusiasts than stand out here for another second.”

“Well, if it will get you to hold your tongue,” says her associate.

“Rude...”

She shuts her mouth and looks away, only to turn around again at the sound of panicked heaving. She sees another cultist galloping from the trail. His downed hood shows his exhausted expression, accompanied with fear.

“What happened?” asks the far right guard.

“W-we have intruders!”

“Who? The Legion?”

The panicked cultist shakes his head. “No. No affiliation… At least, I don’t know. One of them’s in a rage. She’s already killed everyone in her path, and she’s coming this w—”

In the blink of an eye, he’s bull rushed by Rosemary, sending him toppling over the edge of the cliff. The yellow mare shoots a ghastly scowl at the four guards, made even more frightening by the blood on her face and her sword. She lets out a bloodcurdling shout and gallops to the entrance.

“To arms!” calls one of the stallion guards. The one mare, however, backs off towards the entrance and stays beside it, preparing for a bloodbath.

Rosemary swings her sword, slashing the robes of the first cultist to charge her. He rolls around her, reaches into his pouch and presents a bladed gauntlet. He stands on three legs as he assaults her with multiple stabs and cuts. He lands a gash across her muzzle and her forehead, yet she doesn’t flinch, still glowering as she returns the favor with a vertical slash.

The second cultist sees his opportunity and leaps at Rosemary. In a bout of pragmatism, he broadsides her and sends her to the ground, then leaps on her to hold her still. He calls to the other two, the third having drawn a sword of his own. “Now! Finish her!”

The first raises his gauntlet and prepares for a deadly blow. Rosemary, however, smirks, making him pause. That moment of hesitation earns him a pair of leather clad hooves to the face as Tohro enters the fray. He picks up the downed cultist by his forelegs, takes to the air, swings around and throws him into the stone wall.

Tohro, gives the same bucking treatment to the cultist holding Rosemary down, then frowns at the young mare as he helps her up. “You’re stupid to run ahead like that. You’re much like Caro after he and I first met. Calm yourself.”

Rosemary retrieves her sword, then lets out an exasperated sigh as she nods. “Okay… You know this better than I do.”

“That I do, love. Now...” He raises his forelegs and takes two blades from his wings, attaching them to hooks in his hind legs. He launches towards the confused and unarmed cultist, running his hoof into his chest, then cutting across his chest with both blades. The cultist’s robes start to stain red. He cries out in anger and pain alike.

“Sympathizers of witchcraft…” he growls.

“At least we have a conscience.” Tohro digs his bladed hooves into the cultist’s stomach. The bleeding zealot chokes on his own inaudible words as he drops dead in the snow. He then takes one of the wing blades from its hooks, turns around and tosses it. The unsuspecting wounded cultist by the wall only looks up for a moment before the blade shreds through his stomach, leaving him to collapse and bleed out.

Tohro and Rosemary look to the last cultist, who has his sword between his lips but shows clear fear and shock at such violent feats. He crouches into an only somewhat intimidating battle stance.

“Wuld nah kest!”

Caro’s shout fills Tohro’s heart with joy. He watches as the Dragonborn dashes in, coated in a blue aura, kicking up plumes of white in his wake. He makes an airborne slash at the cultist, but to both of their surprises, the cultist manages to block it. Their swords clash again, and once more, Caro staying in the air all the while. When the cultist raises his sword for another block, Caro kicks off of the flat and flips around.

“Qo ruzaak!” A burst of lightning flies from his mouth, striking the cultist. His screams shake with his body as he drops his sword, helplessly twitching and writhing on the ground. Small volts rise from his singed coat, which gives off the scent of burning flesh.

Tohro gapes at Caro, who pushes his mane out of his eyes as he sheathes his weapon. “I suppose I overdid it…”

“It’s... effective, I’ll say that much.” Despite the surprise of such a brutal attack, and the ghastly scent, he accepts the victory and does away with the other wing blade attached to his leg.

“Fellas,” says Rosemary, concern in her voice, “I believe there were four of ‘em.” She looks around the area, then to the entrance, where she sees the one mare hiding under the cover of the cave entrance. The mare partially emerges and waves at the trio, showing no weapons whatsoever.

Caro and Rosemary simultaneously step forward, only for the mare to throw her forelegs up in the air and deliberately fall onto her haunches. “I’m compliant! I swear by Epona, Fauste, Gammon, whatever Divine you may worship, and by the deepest reaches of Tartarus, I am carrying no weapons!”

“She could be lying…” Caro mutters. “But then again, a true zealot probably wouldn’t even speak about other gods…”

“See? Somepony is learning to give the benefit of the doubt,” says Tohro, stepping to the forefront. He turns to Rosemary. “Let’s hear what she has to say. Any objections?”

Rosemary nods, but she doesn’t smile. “If she hinders us from getting to Shae…”

“I’ll see to it she doesn’t.” The pegasus walks to the mare with friendly caution. “Come now, sweetheart, show us a pretty face. I’ll do the same.” He uncovers his mane and muzzle, letting his spiked blonde mane flap in the wind.

The cultist does a double take. “By the Divines! Tohro!” She quickly relinquishes her hood to reveal she’s a surprisingly small, baby-faced mare with a grey coat and silvery mane. “Of all places, of all times! And here I was told you were long gone from the Blackwings.” She blushes as she gallops to him. “That was hell to believe.”

Tohro puts on an expression that he hasn’t worn in a while, his eyes lowered and his mouth in a smirk. “Ah, Half Pint! As young looking and radiant as the day I felt your fur against my own.” He touches the area below his scarred and discolored eye. “You’re lucky. I lost my luster a while ago.”

“Oh shut up, you old codger,” japes Half Pint. “You know I’d still ride you like a zebrecean prostitute.”

Tohro chuckles. “Aren’t you sharp? I’ll hold you to that, but until then, we have other matters to address.” He waves Caro and Rosemary over. “Come on over, both of you! Half Pint is an old friend of mine.”

“One of your Blackwing paramours, huh?” asks Caro, caught rather offset by Tohro, who is nothing less than beaming.

The pegasus wraps a foreleg around Half Pint. He’s nothing less than beaming. "Half Pint was our finest stealth operative. A true mistress of levitation, invisibility and disguise. In fact, more often than not, she is quite capable of sneaking behind enemy lines and snatching information from casual conversation. Hell, we owe discovering your capture by the Imperial Legion to her.”

Levitation and invisibility… Caro thinks, before realizing those words don’t quite fit Half Pint’s profile. “Wait, how can she do those things if she’s not a…”

Half Pint pushes her mane aside to reveal what’s little more than a nub of a horn. “Unicorn? Surprisingly, having such a small horn is dead useful for disguise.”

“Ah…” Caro ponders that, as well as what Tohro said, for a moment. “So, indirectly, this one saved my life.”

Half Pint prances out of Tohro’s grip proudly. “Liquid glass is unreliable for gathering information, so that’s where I come into play.” She offers her hoof to Caro. “It’s wonderful to meet you at last, Caro.” She starts to mutter under her breath. “Hometown Riverhoof. Dragonborn. Naturally bronze mane. Parents Earthquake and Goldheart. No mark. Master deceased…”

Caro sees fit to silence her, patting her on the head. She takes the hint as he speaks to Tohro. “You’d best watch out for this one next time you’re at camp with the Legion.”

Tohro grinds his teeth together as he tenses up.

“I don’t think she was supposed to know that, lad,” says Rosemary.

Half Pint looks as if something broke a little inside her, like a crack in a vase. “Oh…” She steps over to Tohro. “So you betrayed us? Is that why you left?”

But the pegasus’ response is a simple shake of his head and a reassuring smile. “The only one I betrayed was Shokenda. She ordered me to cut down some ponies that didn’t deserve it and I told her to stick that order elsewhere. She took exception to that.”

“Oh, your eye. I should have figured as much.”

“I only joined the Legion because I feel I owe a debt to Her Majesty, and I want to do some good in Equestria on my own time.” Tohro approaches Caro and prods him on the barrel, making him raise a hind leg in discomfort. “Following this lump taught me a few things about where my allegiances should lie.” He immediately goes back to Half Pint when he sees her disappointment. “But that doesn’t change that you’re still my friend. The same goes for Jade.”

“I understand…” Then Half Pint’s pupils shrink. “Oh! You can help me, then!”

“Why would we do that?” Rosemary asks, looking unusually stern to Caro. He nudges her as an urging to calm down, and she abides, taking a deep breath.

“Well, I assume you’re here to rescue her too, right?” Half Pint points to the cave entrance. “Jade was abducted from her jail cell and brought here. I managed to track these cultists down and forge a disguise. I plan on sneaking in there during the next rotation of guards and snatch myself a pair of keys, then set Jade free. But with all of you and Tohro’s magic hooves…” She blushes a little. “Heh. Maybe we can free every last unicorn inside." She points enthusiastically at Caro and Rosemary. "And, with your crazy skill in armed combat, we can also deal with Sacred Rite!”

“That was the idea to begin with,” says Tohro. He has silently been agreeing with every single word Half Pint has been saying, except for just the one. “Except, me and my mates are here for somepony else…” He nickers. “Ah, it matters not.” He turns to the other members of Dragonrein. “Okay, is there anypony who objects to assisting Half Pint?”

Caro looks to have a new wind to him, running his hind legs through the snow in preparation for battle. With a fanged grin, he says, “None whatsoever. Blackwing or no, I want to help Jade for true this time.”

Rosemary simply says, “I’m here for Shae. As Caro said, her being a Blackwing doesn’t matter.” Despite those words, she sounds reluctant, something that doesn’t go unnoticed by Caro or Tohro.

Half Pint has a light pink aura surrounding her as she hovers in the air, joyful as can be. “Hoorah! Today, we rescue my little sister!”

~Rosemary~

While it isn’t exactly my idea of fun, wearing the bloodstained robes of a recently dead zealot, I must commend Half Pint on coming up with a rather ingenious method of getting us all inside. Caro and Tohro are wearing the same robes, though I bet the thick fabric bothers the former more than anything else. The stallions walk alongside Half Pint.

I can’t thank her enough for her assistance, but I dare not approach her. She and Jade are Blackwings, after all. That does bring about a new opportunity, though, because if Jade goes free, I’ll be able to ask her and Half Pint a few questions that have been in desperate need of answers these past few months.

The cavern is wide and open, as would be expected for an occupied lair, but it still reeks of death and disease. To think a child and his mother could have been rotting in this hellhole… Perish it. Hell, perish those responsible for such atrocities.

“I’m amazed these bassas could even lay a hoof on Shae,” I say. “I can imagine she put up a hell of a fight.”

Tohro looks to the ceiling and laughs. “Ha! You’d expect anything less of her?”

“Hephaestus, none of it! My Shae is a fighter. Hell, even without a weapon, I assume she’s knocking ‘em off with a few poetic words.”

For zealots, these cultists were mighty smart to use these magic braces. I see a few littering the floor, discarded in puddles to rot. Either these belonged to escaped captives, or…

The walls tremble, dropping bits of stone onto our heads. I can hear the roaring of a fierce beastie from deeper within. “That was the dragon,” I assume.

“Yes…” Caro looks keen to run off and fetch himself a bloodbath, but Tohro stroking his back makes him lose whatever nasty desires he had a moment ago. I’m honestly jealous of the bond those two have. Spending nearly this whole journey together must forge the ultimate friendship. I can only hope I have that much time with Shae in the future. Circumstances permitting…

“Stop.” Half Pint halts us as we turn the corner, and we’re all exposed to a smell of sick.

There’s an opening to a wide area. Most of the floor is rough and worn cobblestone, riddled with debris from the ceiling and walls. Sacred Rite can’t even be bothered to let this place look lived in. I don’t see any dragon, but I do see at least ten more cultists making rounds, if one can even call their disjointed walks about the room such a thing.

As for what they’re guarding, those incredibly cramped cages… They’re filled with unicorns. Some cages have just one or two, others up to four. In the latter, there’s hardly any room for sitting. I see one in the center of the room where a young male has to rest his forelegs outside the bars, bearing the pressure of three others sharing one small, suffocating prison.

“Unicorns are nothing but livestock to Sacred Rite…” I say quietly.

“Livestock for the dragon,” Half Pint adds. She sees me frown with dread, and offers me a smile. “Don’t worry, we’ll be able to amend this. So long as you wear those robes, we can come and go as we please.”

“I prefer going,” says Tohro. “Which one of them carries the keys?”

Half Pint points to the cultist nearest the cages lining the rightmost wall. “That one. And I’ve already organized a way to remove everypony from the room so you may open the cages unnoticed.”

Caro nods. “Good. Enlighten us.”

“Well, there are a few corpses outside this very lair that they may want to investigate. All it takes is a trusted member to break the bad news.”

“Lass, that closes off the unicorns’ escape route,” I advise.

“We’re standing at the top of a mountain, and as Tohro said, I’m a mistress of levitation. I do believe I can remedy that issue. Any other stragglers, I can trust you to handle, yes?”

Oh my, another chance to show these cultists my hind legs? “Yes,” I say, quickly backed up in the same words by the stallions.

“Good. Just to be safe, steal the keys first.” Half Pint nods to Tohro, and he nods back. It’s clear that, in his experience as a Blackwing, he’s performed many stealth operations such as this. I mean, he’s bragged about it many a time as well, and I’ve grown to trust even in his most egotistic moments, Tohro is nothing but honest.

I can only wonder how Caro will handle himself under the pressure of staying incognito. But he always pulls through when he knows what is on the line. He’ll be fine, I’m sure. “Let’s go, then…” he says.

Half Pint waves us into the chamber. “I’ll call them out once Tohro obtains the keys.”

I see for myself exactly how horrid Sacred Rite’s vision is. As if the overly cramped cages aren’t enough, I see to the right a unicorn colt stuck in a cage with two corpses. No doubt they starved to death, if how famished the other prisoners appear tells anything. This colt, he’s disturbingly still for somepony who has been through so much misery.

I approach his cage, the deathly scent almost overwhelming in my nostrils. I tap the cage, searching over my shoulder for any suspicious cultists. They’re all making their rounds slowly, blissfully unaware that they are under siege. “Oi, lad,” I whisper. “Look alive, if ya can.”

The only thing that moves are his pupils. Good enough.

“My mates and I are gonna get you and every last prisoner out of her, so get ready to run. Blink if you understand?”

He understands well enough, blinking his eyelids rapidly.

I move away from the cage, acting as though I’ve done absolutely nothing that the cultists wouldn’t do. All I have to do is chant some nonsense and act like I have some special connection with Dragos and I look an official part of their outfit. Aha, what a sin. I’d slit my own throat…

There’s another entrance, a double door, which I assume leads further into this lair, and above that is a walkway leading into two obviously fabricated holes. No doubt Sacred Rite uses that walkway as a means to boast.

Between the entrance and the walkway is a mounted relief of a fierce dragon. Its face is almost hilariously disfigured into something that I’m sure is meant to be intimidating, but just comes across as cross-eyed and baheid.

“What an insult,” Caro whispers to me. “I hear the whispers of the cultists, and they say that’s Dragos. I prefer the Greybeards’ interpretation. They see her as kind and nurturing, and say she wants nothing more than coexistence between ponies and dragons.”

“I think I prefer that too,” I whisper back. "Coexistence will kinda hard to accomplish when the beasties are waging war on Equestria, though." Unfortunately, discussing theocratic matters will have to wait. “Has Tohro gotten the keys yet?”

Caro shakes his head. “Half Pint will call all the other cultists out when Tohro has them. Then we’ll set everypony free. Just keep looking like you’re supposed to be here.”

An urgent matter crosses my mind as I scan over the room once again. “Have you seen Shae yet?”

“I can’t see a damn thing in this hood…” Caro fuddles with the robes. “Keep searching for her, but don’t expose yourself.”

I’d never do that. Exposure would likely mean risking her life as much as my own, and that’d be unforgivable. I part ways with Caro, and put all my efforts into looking for a distinct lavender hue.

I slowly and innocuously trot towards the left wall. There are less cages here. I wish I could reassure these unicorns in the same way as the one before, but for the sake of the operation I keep my consolation to a simple hopeful look. For however long these unicorns have been here, they’ve seen nothing but hatred, so my sympathy goes a long way. They all stand a little taller as I pass by.

And then I notice a chain fastened to the wall. It catches my eye particularly because its cleanliness is dissonant from anything else in this blight of a cave. I follow it along the ground. It connects to, oh, another bolted chain. Why would Sacred Rite be so desperate to chain one particular cage to the wall? Unless…

It contains someone I love.

I have to swallow my urge to scream her name as I gallop to the cage and kneel down. I tap the cage hectically, yet quietly. It’s not easy to contain myself.

Shae is resting against the bars, her head down and her mane a mess over her eyes. Her red robes and overcoat are stained with the dirt of a nasty struggle. It matters little to me, though. All I see is that beauty I’ve gone too long without.

I tap the cage again, and that rouses her from her nap. It’s exceedingly lucky I found her now; another few days, and I doubt she’d be able to even stir. She still barely moves, her eyelids sluggish and her movements labored. It’s suffering in itself to hear her wonderful voice so broken and distorted. “D-don’t… Lu…na…” She shakes her head, screwing up her face, and finally opens her eyes entirely. “Gah…” She looks up to the source of tapping. It takes longer than it should for her to realize who she’s looking at. “R…”

“Shh.” I hover my hoof over my mouth, and that keeps her from saying my name. The most I can do is motion that same hoof past the bars. I can’t quite reach her, but then again, I’m not entirely sure what I could do even if I could. But leave it to Shae to find something. She touches my hoof with hers, moving with what little strength she has to get closer to me. She lifts my hoof to touch her cheek, perhaps just to make sure this is real. And when she realizes that I’m really standing before her, she begins to sob.

I stroke her cheek as my hoof is coated in her tears.

To both of our discontent, our sorry excuse for an embrace has to be cut short. Half Pint screams, but looking at her running into the chamber, I can tell she’s faking it. Tohro must have found the keys. Now we set our plan into its next phase.

The cultists look to Half Pint, so blissfully unaware of this operation that they all fall for her false panic. “What happened?” one of them, a stallion, asks.

“We have an assailant in our midst! Several of our brethren are dead outside!” She waves to the exit, putting on quite the act of a genuinely terrified zealot. “Oh, Dragos protect me…”

And these dumb clods are just eating this whole thing up, but then again, if they think feeding unicorns to a dragon is a good idea, how bright could they possibly be? But I have no complaints if this imitation has them convinced.

Tohro then speaks up. “You go and investigate, friends,” he says to the cultist right next to him. I presume that’s the one who’s absent a set of keys. He points to me and Caro. “You two, stay behind with me to keep watch. These…” I presume he’s grimacing from behind his hood. “These filthy witches must have sympathizers.”

The unaware cultists move as commanded, readying their swords, knives and bladed gauntlets as they make their way out of the chamber. One of them stops next to me. She says, “Watch out for that lavender one. She has a tendency to bite.”

I have no issues with that.

Half Pint pulls her hood down just slightly as the cultists go out of sight, smiling at us and winking. She mouths, ‘We’re safe’ to us, then ducks out to follow what we can all assume will be her next victims. It’s a shame I won’t be able to see such a little powerhouse take some names.

But if it’s between that and being with Shae, I think it’s fairly obvious which one I’d pick.

Tohro has the ring of the keys dangling around his foreleg, and he’s spinning it around like some sort of performing bard. “Don’t we all just love it when a plan comes together…” he says with his signature illustrious face. “Caro, do keep watch over the closed entrance while I set these poor prisoners free?”

The Dragonborn obeys as the young pegasus tosses his new set of keys in the air with a flourish, then catches them in his other hoof. He’s about to toss them again, but I put a halt to that by hissing. “Get on with it!” I half yell.

Shae and I have a mutual smile as Tohro fumbles with the keys, approaching the overcrowded cage as he does so. The occupants grow restless, reaching for keys in anguish, but the act is unnecessary. Tohro already has the key inserted into the lock. With a turn, a scrape of rusty metal and a click, the lock comes open.

The way the prisoners move as the cage door opens for them, it reminds me of something I’d see in one of my old storybooks. Undead ponies, barely clinging to existence, hardly able to even stand. But these ones hardly hunger for flesh; they need some more nourishing food. Luckily, Tohro has them covered there. He takes two potatoes out of his pouch and begins slicing them up with his hidden blade. “Wish we had some water, I’d be able to boil these…”

“Or stick them in a stew,” one of the male prisoners says. Even with such a parched and raspy voice, he can still joke. The whole of the chamber becomes filled with laughter. Already this place feels a little brighter, now that hope has come to these prisoners.

“Rose?”

My heart leaps at the sound of Shae’s voice. I immediately jump to attention. “Yes?”

She turns around, resting her back against the bars, and drags her black mane out of the way of her neck. She’s wearing one of those inhibiting braces. Looking to me with longing eyes, she asks, “Could you help me take this off?”

“Of course,” I say without hesitation, raising my hooves to the brace through the bars. I jiggle it a little, much to Shae’s discomfort as she keeps grunting. “You’re okay?”

She waves me off. “Ignore me. Just get it off, if you can.”

I notice a small slot in the brace, and that tells me that I won’t be able to fulfill Shae’s request. “I… can’t. I think this cursed thing needs a key.” Turning around, I see that Tohro has already set loose the prisoners from the right wall, and he’s doing his best to shrug off any weak embraces they attempt to force upon him. “Oi, Tohro! Is there a smaller key on that ring? Something that can fit a magic brace?”

Tohro cycles through the keys on the ring until he finds a dainty little one. “Ah, there we are.” He’s about to make a move towards Shae’s cage, but she pipes up to protest.

“Get to the others first!” she insists. “Don’t worry about me.” When she sees my confusion, she explains, “I’m in good health compared to them. It’s only been a few weeks for me, but for them it’s been months. They take priority.”

“You truly are a saint,” I say, running my hoof along her cheek again. “But I must ask something…” I put a frown on as I remember how much turmoil my heart and mind went through when I learned she had disappeared to the grip of Sacred Rite. For all too long I bore the thought of never seeing her again, and I never even asked, “Why the hell are you here, Shae?”

“I—”

“You can’t comprehend what you put me through. Running away from Everfree for some secret mission, putting yourself through hell for something you never even mentioned to me or anypony. I can only hope whatever insane thought that brought you to this place merits something.”

She sighs, rubbing her temples. I can tell she understands my grief, but I know she’ll find the right words. She always does. “Rose, it wasn’t a thought. It was a dream.”

Well… I expected something a little more rational. “Dream,” I repeat. “A dream told you to come to this hellhole.”

“The dream told me to go to the summit of this spire. If I had known I would encounter Sacred Rite’s insane cult, I…” She pauses. “Hm. I still would have come. I would have simply taken another path up.”

“Okay, okay. But what is so important that you must risk everything, including Celina, to reach the summit? No doubt she is terrified for your life too, no matter how miserable she is...”

Shae’s hoof comes up near my cheek, barely missing. I strain closer to feel her caress when she lets out a soft whimper. “Celina is the reason I’m here to begin with. I believe I’ve finally found the answer to her happiness. All I have to do is get out of here.”

A leather clad hoof taps me on the wither. I turn my head, seeing Tohro tilt his gaze to the side. He’s silently asking me to move. “Getting you out of here fits just fine into our schedule, Shae.” He presents the key to the cage. “And we’re quite lucky Sacred Rite is such an imbecile. The same key works for every lock.”

Instead of moving, I hold out my hoof to Tohro. “May I?”

“Oh, right.” Tohro sighs and tosses the keys my way. I catch them around my hoof with ease. “Don’t let me have all of the fun.” His eyesight is drawn away from Shae to somewhere else in the cage. “Huh, looks like Sacred Rite didn’t bogart you on blankets, that’s for true.”

Shae’s eyes fly wide open. That’s the look she has whenever she forgets something. She crawls over to the messed up pile of black blankets. “Had to keep her warm, she has a spot of a cold…” She lifts one of the blankets. “Jade, wake up. We’re going free.”

“Jade?!” Tohro exclaims.

The blankets all fall asunder and the grey coated, black maned unicorn rises from their cover. “Ah, Tohro. Waking up to your pretty face… That truly brings back memories.” Her horn comes to life with an ebony aura, a smile that seems out of place gracing her grime-covered muzzle.

Paff! Tohro staggers backwards. “The f... What was that for? We’re here to save ya, you ninny!” He rubs his cheek as he says that.

“And here is where your ‘saving’ has landed me,” Jade replies with a snort.

I hear Caro grunting across the room, and for me, that’s the last straw. “Stop clawin’ at issues that don’t need clawin’ at!” I yell as I present the keys. “I’m here for the lavender beauty, but you’re welcome to stay in there if you ain’t appreciatin’ the efforts of your saviors.”

Jade waves her hooves about. “I’m, uh, appreciatin’!”

“Good, then get outta my way, ‘cause I got a mare I wanna snuggle.”

Shae’s expression says it all. Through all the dirt, bruises, sludge and rust staining her entire being, she still carries a smile that fills my heart with all good things in the world. This land has gone far too long without her, and I’m going to set that right.

I insert the key into the lock, giving it a slight jiggle to ensure it’s well in there. I turn the key. Any moment now, I’ll hear the ever so harmonious click and feel the embrace of my Shae…

And the entire keyring falls into glowing dust.

“Rosey…” Tohro mutters.

I should have known. Everything I’ve ever taken responsibility for has done nothing less than crumble to pieces, so why should that see fit to change in a hurry? This is just so damn expected of me, I can’t see any reason to cry over it. Instead, I move away from the cage, hiding my face from Shae, and don’t stop until my head has collided with the wall.

“You couldn’t have known,” says Shae, gesturing to her brace. “I couldn’t have known Sacred Rite hexed the lock.”

Jade groans, understandably so. Her one chance at freedom and I failed her. “I should have checked for…” She pauses. I can almost hear her pondering something. “Wait. Just think about that… Sacred Rite, an insane bigot hellbent on the destruction of all things magical, hexing a lock?”

A cold, bitter feeling crawls up my spine, and based on the gasps of everypony else, including the other prisoners, I can assume they all share the same harsh sensation. All eyes are drawn to the walkway above the double doors.

Caro stands below, his cultist robe removed and his sword between his teeth. “You divine damned hypocrite!” he yells to the old hag trotting along the walkway.

“You say hypocrite,” Sacred Rite boasts, wearing a sickly grin full of mossy teeth, “and I say opportunist. Creating a trapped lock without the assistance of a filthy witch wasn’t the easiest feat in the world. I say I deserve commendations.”

Tohro has his crossbow out in an instant, aimed in her direction. “Well, a hefty fucking congratulations to you and your magical genocide!” He pulls the trigger.

Sacred Rite, however, is more agile than her frail form would suggest. She leaps and tumbles out of the way, then picks up the bolt. “Oh, tut tut, young flyer, be glad my cohorts even allowed you horn-lovers to see these pitiful witches in their final moments. My reinforcements be along shortly, but not before you’re treated to a delicious sight.” She tosses the bolt down to Caro.

“Nopony relishes the stench of blood more than me,” he says, eyes coming aglow with gold. “So I have a suggestion. Sacrifice yourself to the dragon if you’re so fucking holy.”

She only finds that hilarious. Her laughter is like needles in my ears. “In due time. Comfort in the care of Dragos awaits me yet, but only after the perfect world she promised me, one free of witchcraft, has been realized. And if ponies like you stand in my way, well…” She steps over to some sort of mechanism. “I’m afraid you’ll have to be spectators.” With another ear killing cackle, she pulls the lever.

The ground shifts, but unlike the powerful yet gradual roar of the dragon, this one feels synthetic, rattling the whole chamber and making every cage, stone and pebble shake.

“ROSE!” Shae screams for me.

I nearly shriek too when I see the ground beneath her cage, or an increasing lack thereof. The cobblestone is separating. I dread to wonder what lies in the drop below. Though I have a feeling…

Without any means of setting Shae free, all I can do is hold the bars and reach for her hoof. Shae, however, is too distraught to notice, but she’s doing her damnedest to remain at least still and focused.

Sacred Rite’s eyes are glimmering with pride in herself as she watches Shae panicking within the confines of her bars. Her helplessness makes me sweat with fear, while it makes Sacred Rite sweat with glee. Mossy, decrepit, wrinkled glee. “I know how dangerous this witch is. Her actions at that heathen academy only proved that much. What makes you think I would ever let her out of there, even to take her to Dragos’ child? No. The child’s meal will be served on a platter. You will hear your friend be eaten alive, purged of her wickedness, and then you will go and tell the world of my vision. Tell them that a new day is dawning!”

Every word she speaks makes my hooves red with desire to pound her into a red mess. Or perhaps that’s because of how hard I’m holding them against the bars.

“We’d rather die than leave her without Shae, or those you've harmed!” shouts Caro.

“Hear hear!” Tohro adds.

One of the male prisoners joins in as well. “You’re damn right! We refuse to listen to another word of your aimless rantings!” Even in a state of weakness, some of the prisoners manage to stand at the call of the stallion. “Come down here and fight us, coward!” he yells at Sacred Rite. The others quickly join him in shouting jeers.

The hag is a little offset. “Silence, all of you!”

“GO TO HELL!” shouts a limping mare.

I’d be more willing to join them in their uprising, but I’m still in fear over what may happen to Shae. My teeth are grinding together like rock against rock, much in the way of the separating ground. Only the cage’s edges remain on solid ground, and it won’t remain that way for long.

It the lock won’t take a key, then… It’s time for me to do something desperate. Fire in my eyes and in my heart, I lift my forelegs up high, and with a barbarian’s roar, bring them down onto the lock. It shatters into pieces on contact.

Caro, Tohro, Shae, Jade, Sacred Rite and the prisoners freeze in place, stunned at my efforts.

But the silence only lasts as long as it takes for the trap to finish opening. The cage starts to fall.

With the lock off and the door free, I yank it open and reach for Shae. She immediately leaps and takes my hooves in hers. The door frame falls around her, barely scraping her shoulder. However, it’s a bittersweet success as I watch Jade and the cage disappear into the black abyss. The last I see of her, I swear she’s smiling…

“NO!” Tohro gallops to the pit, drifting to a stop right at the edge. He haplessly reaches for Jade before his foreleg goes slack. I think I see something snap inside of him.

Shae looks down, her eyes filling with strained tears. She’s barely holding on, and her expression grows more dire and panicked by the second. “Tohro, please!”

Despite the obvious grief in Tohro’s expression, he composes himself well enough to grab Shae as well. With our combined strength, we begin to pull her up onto safe ground.

I try to find the right words to console Tohro. “I’m sorry… I couldn’t—”

He waves me off furiously, keeping his focus to Shae. “Let’s try and save at least one life.”

“Caro?” I turn to see our mighty turquoise powerhouse, and he’s just standing there. He’s unusually calm, at least on the surface. His nostrils are flaring and he’s not blinking. “Caro, we need your—”

In silence he steps between me and Tohro, takes ahold of Shae’s foreleg with a single hoof and lifts her up without effort. Shae falls onto her stomach upon contact with the cobblestone, breathing heavily. She peers up at Caro and lets a weak smile crawl onto her face. “Hel—”

That’s all she can say before Caro scoops her up, throwing his forelegs around her. Shae’s limbs are like jelly. Completely unable to return the embrace, all she can do is surrender to Caro. “I failed again…” he whispers to her.

Her muzzle presses into his deep fur. “You came. That’s all that matters.” I know by the way she looks at me and Tohro that those words are as much for him as they are for the rest of Dragonrein.

But there is still work to be done here. A certain zealotus hag’s rabid screaming for order reminds me of that much.