~Caro~

In the wake of what happened yesterday, what with Rasahrel’s final words bearing down on me, and witnessing King Hurricane’s ascension to an afterlife I hope to see someday, I am in no condition to be a hero.

I think today is a good day to be alone.

I quickly throw on my satchel, belts and sword, and depart the tent before Tohro can notice. When he wakes up, I’m sure he’ll see the note I left on my pillow.

I need to be alone with my thoughts. Please do not follow. I’ll be back before dark.

I believe it says something along those lines… I might have made a spelling error. I had heard Tohro begin to stir, and had panicked a little.

I don’t know how long I’ve been walking. I suppose it’s been a few hours, since it was sunrise when I stepped out of the tent. Though the heavy woodlands of central Equestria make it difficult to pinpoint what time it is. It doesn’t matter much to me. I’d rather not focus on time. I have too much to dwell on.

Caro Dragonborn… It’s been a long time since I’ve thought of myself with that name. It’s been hard to think of myself as Dragonborn at all. Master always told me, when I was a child, that the title belonged to paragons of strength, leadership, and dignity. I’m strong, without a doubt, but how can I call myself a leader when I keep making the wrong decisions? As for dignity, well… I clean myself regularly, but I still can’t wash all of this spilt blood out of my coat.

As of late, I’ve just been Caro of Riverhoof, a naive adventurer looking for a new purpose. I’m sure I’ll find it, so long as I have Tohro by my side and a sword in my sheath. But if I’m supposed to find some other way to help Equestria without turning my sword on the corrupt, how can I help myself?

Beware, beware, the Dragonborn comes...

There’s still a beast inside of me. If I’m not able to control it, I’ll have to kill again, and then Tohro will leave me… I can’t let that happen. I’ll break without him.

So, what am I supposed to do? Just never kill again? I can’t do that. I can’t change Equestria without ending a few lives. I told Tohro that, and he agreed with me. But the lines between murder and defense are ones I’ve crossed too many times. I have to figure out how to make this kingdom a better place without stepping over the line again… and keeping the beast silent.

"Why would you want to silence it?" asks the faint voice of Nahkriin. She sounds especially quiet today, but no less malevolent. "The blood you've spilled, child... it means so little in the lifespan of dragons... Why choose to have friends when all they do is hold you down? Don't let that pegasus put his leash on you... Our power is still strong, and we can show you how to shape this nation as you see fit."

"You only want to use me to help Saviikaan," I growl at the whisper. "You want nothing to do with what’s right. All you do, and all Saviikaan will ever do, is to sate your natural draconic greed. He had this land first, and now he wants it back, like a child who lost their toy."

"Greed is what makes us strong, young one. Your desire for blood is just your own sort of greed, which you used against us. We can show you how to use it against those you despise, and change the world!"

If Nahkriin stood before me, I’d spit at her. "Right… And now I’m faced with an odd dilemma. Do I choose the guidance of my best friend, or the monster who brutally murdered my master’s mortal body right in front of me?"

"...Well, if you say it like that, you could make anyone seem like the villain."

I hear a terse growl in the back of my skull. It’s Malyol. I can almost smell his rotted flesh in my nostrils just at the thought of what Shokenda did to him. "Leave him be, sister."

"Are you opposing me, brother?" Nahkriin snaps at him. My head feels a bit sore in the midst of their argument.

"I believe so, yes," replies Malyol. "Dovahkiin or no, this one showed me a moment of kindness none of you deserved. Within him, there is a desire to be more than a dragon."

"And you sympathize with this desire?" asks Nahkriin.

I hear a snort of affirmation. "At this stage of my existence, I have come to accept that, perhaps, the Dovahkiin has been right to oppose us. And I sincerely hope that he kills every single one of us, if that is what it takes to end the Reclaimer’s selfish crusade."

"Thank you, Malyol…" I mutter. As Nahkriin’s irritated growls calm down, I realize an obvious question I haven’t found the time to ask. "You… wouldn’t happen to know anything of where Saviikaan would be hiding, would you?"

He replies after a short, yet tense silence. "Unfortunately…" he says with a grim sigh. "I do not. This cycle has repeated many times. We do not receive orders, like your armies; we merely fly across Equestria and attack as we see fit, all the while searching for, well..."

I finish his sentence for him. "Me."

"Yes… Of course, that hardly ever ends well for any given dovah. Nahkriin’s words do hold merit, methinks… When we fought, you were more ferocious than any Dovahkiin that I had seen before. Further, Nahkriin tells me you nearly had her killed before you awakened… You do have many qualities of a fine dragon."

Something like an electric shock flies up my spine. "I’m not like you."

"Merely an observation. But I know you can be so much more than that. I’ve seen it before, in the way you look at your friends, how you speak to children, and what you said to me as my soul flowed into your body… Even we dovah know that compassion is not weakness. In time, you could easily turn it into your greatest strength."

"Right. How?" I ask, only to receive no response.

I hear the howling of wolves close by. Well, if their timing isn’t impeccable… I face the closest howl and take out my sword. However, instead of relying on my usual methods of seeking out the enemy, I elect to take a blocking stance. I know for every wolf I see, there will be at least two more behind me.

"Stop wasting my time…." I say, tapping my hoof on my blade. "If you’re going to fight me, then fight me!"

A loudening snarl clues me in. I swing my body around and tighten my stance just in time for one of the wolves to pounce on me. I deliberately fall onto my back, taking the mutt with me. I ignore the gleam of its blood soaked teeth and push my sword forward. The wolf lands on its side. While it recovers, I take a quick breath and shout, "FUS RO DAH!"

I know better than to try and strike this one while it’s down. One of its accomplices would have me pinned in a heartbeat. I’d wager they’d be sneaking up on me right about now… The fur of my hind legs twitch, and I buck in response. My hooves land in the neck of another wolf. I swing around to face another one, letting it lunge at me. I step out of the way and knock it out with a bash on the head from my sword’s hilt.

And I haven’t killed a single one of them.

"Is that it?! Huh?!" I yell to any others that could be nearby. "Come on, the fun’s barely begun!"

I hear multiple growls nearby, so I ready my weapon once again. Three wolves stand at the top of a slant, each of them at least twice as large as the previous ones. So, the alpha dogs have arrived.

I ready my sword. I can go a few more rounds. I don’t care what happens. I just want to hurt something…

Another howl makes me stop, not because this one is intimidating, but because it sounds different, and it makes the large wolves halt prematurely. The howl is definitely canid, but it seems fabricated. Like an imitation.

A broad stallion with a coat black as night gallops past me. It’s Wolf River.

He isn’t slowed down by his heavy armor or war axe in the slightest. While I don’t question what he’s doing here to begin with, I am curious as to why he doesn’t draw his weapon as he charges towards the large wolves.

My answer comes when he stops in front of the wolves. It seems he doesn’t want to fight them, but he doesn’t appear to be in a peaceful mood, judging by his curled lips and clenched… fangs? Oh, right, he’s a lycan…

As such, it makes sense that he would make a distinctively animalistic growl at the wolves, causing them to cower. With a mighty bark, they whimper and run for dear life. Even the smaller ones struggle to their paws to limp away.

"Mongrels," scoffs Wolf River. "You should have killed them when you had the chance. All they care about is their next meal. A real dog has far more intelligence." He says that in a snobbish tone, which contrasts with his fierce demeanor and deep voice.

I don’t know Wolf River as well as I’d like to. I won’t bother explaining my internal crisis to him. Instead, I feign a laugh. "Well, your tactics seem much cleaner."

"They’ll forget my mug in an hour, then they’ll be back… You picked a hell of a place to take a walk, Dragonborn."

"You say that like you’ve been expecting me," I comment. "You’re the last pony I thought I’d encounter today, not that it’s unwelcome…"

He sniffs the air and scrunches up his muzzle. "I could smell that perfume from a mile away, and I’ll bet it’s how our furry friends tracked you down. You’d best put on something a bit more subtle in the future."

I’ll take that to heart, and decide to immediately change the conversation. I can’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t suggest getting Wolf River involved in something he shouldn’t care about. I know he’s too nice to ignore a problem, that’s for certain. Though I do know of something that he could talk about for hours. "Is Tangerine doing well?" I ask.

He looks like he’s lost a few years of age just at the sound of her name. "She’s wonderful, as ever. You may not have heard, since you’ve been away from Trottingham for so long, but… I’m going to marry her."

"Oh, I heard!" I say. I truly am happy for them, especially when I think of how bitter some of my meetings with Tangerine have been in the past. My enthusiasm is only slightly exaggerated.

"Well, word does travel fast, doesn’t it?" Wolf River says with a fanged grin. However, the moment is quickly soured when he sniffs the air again. "Huh, is that…" He leans in towards me. It’s uncomfortable enough as is, but I’m very bothered by the sensation of his inhaling on my fur. I know he’s just curious, but…

"Could you not?" I ask, raising a foreleg and backing away. "I haven’t properly bathed in days, I get it."

"No, it’s not that. I, uh…" Wolf River seems to be pondering the smell. "Never mind. I apologize." He turns around and starts trotting. "Follow, if you wish. I wouldn’t mind some company."

And who would I be to deny him that? Besides, talking with physical beings keeps the dragons out of my mind, and the longer I can go without having to hear Nahkriin, the better.

"So, what brings you to these woods?" I ask him. "I doubt it’s to spend time with your fellow wolves. They seem like disagreeable fellows."

The brick of a stallion has a hearty chuckle to himself. "I don’t cooperate with their kind. My pack is the Carrier Clan, and we are infinitely superior to any pack of wild dogs. I know that sounds a bit narcissistic to say, but I like to think it’s objectively true."

I think back to when Tohro and I were fighting side by side during the battle of Trottingham. I had only caught fleeting glances of Wolf River, Roches and Aerial tearing their way through their foes. I recall feeling somewhat aroused at the sight of a mighty wolf wielding Mjolnir. It was beautiful.

"Ah, because you’re an unstoppable force in the face of your enemies, right?" I assume.

Wolf River smiles and shakes his head. "So much more than that. We’re as much a pack as we are a family. Like any family… Uh, decent family, we look after our own and care for each other unconditionally. That, of all things, I’m sure you’d understand. Dragonrein is your family." The big fellow stops and turns my way. He glares at me, though not menacingly. "Is there anything you wouldn’t do for them?"

I don’t need to think about my answer for even a second. "They mean everything to me."

"I expect as much." Wolf River resumes trotting. "And, much like the Carrier Clan, you just can’t leave well enough alone. Your problem is everypony else’s problem, and vice versa. You can’t stand the sight of anyone being harmed. You have to act, or else you feel incomplete."

"Are you a bloody psychic?" I jape, even though his words are starting to crawl beneath my skin.

He is eerily correct. Whenever I see a child in pain, for instance, I immediately focus on making sure that child stops hurting. How I do so, that’s the difficult part… It may end in the brutal death of their one and only caretaker, and the child forever grounded by a broken wing.

Wolf River continues. "It’s just a song and dance I’m well familiar with. See, before the settlement wars and the subsequent founding of the Empire, Equestria was lawless, filled with packs like mine. Some terrorized the weak. Others were too willing to kill at the first sign of corruption. And then you had me. A protector of the weak who did so through attacking those who would do harm. Of course, that didn’t work so well."

"Town criers everywhere learned to fear your shoving hooves, Sir Pusharound."

I come to regret saying that within a few seconds. I look at a particularly large aspen tree, just taking notice of the sun’s rays peeking through its branches, but I’m drawn to a sight that makes my fur rise.

I see Preacher’s body impaled onto a tree by the same sword that spilt his blood. My sword. His mouth is wide open, his chin soaked with dripping blood. It’s as if he’s stuck in mid-sentence. I think he’s asking me, "Why?"

He was just in the way.

I look away quickly and face the opposite direction, only to see the same sight on another tree. And the one next to it.

"Caro?"

Wolf River is a few trees away, offering me a friendly smile. Knowing him, he can probably hear my pounding heart from over there. He beckons to me.

"Yes?" I ask, trying to force myself to stop sweating.

"I’ve found what I’ve been looking for. I was wondering if you could help me claim it."

"Of course."

I approach Wolf River and turn the corner. There’s nothing much odd about it, but I still find myself raising my brow at the sight of a large bed of flowers. What’s unorthodox is that of them are the same intense blue color, and they have an illogical scent. It’s like I’m smelling blood and honey at the same time, and yet, not at all.

"Oh, that’s, uh…" I tap my hoof against the grass. "It’s poison joke, isn’t it?"

"Keen eye," Wolf River compliments.

I notice one of the flowers next to my hooves. I quickly step away. "Master told me about this sort of flower. It’s more or less a jester in floral form, isn’t it?"

"That’s a fitting description. Poison joke has a keen sense of irony, loving to turn a pony’s annoyances into a constant bother, or their greatest strength into their greatest weakness." Wolf River kneels down at the flowers and inhales. Oddly enough, he smiles. "I smell… strawberries, leather and sea salt. Not a fan of strawberries… I do love leather, and the sea."

"I thought dogs didn’t like swimming… Are you sure it’s okay to be this close?"

Wolf River gives me a snide smirk. "Not to worry. This bugger of a plant only takes effect through prolonged exposure, and without the stem, it can't work on its own. Think of the stem as a catalyst."

"So, the transformative magic lies within the petals?"

Wolf River nods. "Correct. The petals just so happen to be what I require. Could you help me cut the stems and collect some petals? I’ll need about fifty."

"Of course." I reach for Onslaught’s gifted knife belt and take hold of the slimmest one I can find. This should be sufficient enough.

Wolf River equips a large sickle from his belt. He kneels down and starts slicing a few stems. "I have a canteen of water, just in case your body gets a little too covered in the bugger’s residue. I don’t want something hilarious happening to the Dragonborn. Can you imagine what history would make of you?"

Hearing him say that makes me pause in the middle of a cut. "I can imagine…" I’d wager it’s time for a change of topic. "Why do you want such a vile plant, anyway?"

"It’s for Lady Tangerine, and I’d rather not say more than that."

He doesn’t need to. I can connect the threads. After all, Tangerine has probably made history several times over in the Carrier Clan. And, if the rumors Rosemary heard were true, Wolf River does plan on marrying Tangerine… What’s stopping them from going one step further, especially with ingredients with such potential for transformation?

"You're going to turn her into a lycan," I state bluntly.

"Consensually," Wolf River says with a guarded expression.

"Huh." I slouch to the side, thinking about what the mighty Tangerine would look like a wolf. Oddly, I can’t picture much of a difference, beyond a bit more fur. She’s already so wolflike.

Wolf River looks at me, smirking slightly. "Don't hurt yourself, boy."

I return to cutting off stems and collecting petals. I already have sixteen in a pile next to me. "Why do you need poison joke? I figured lycans bit their new recruits, or gave them their blood to drink."

"What do you think we are, son? Thestrals? This is a voluntary process, involving rather complex alchemy. Only Scar knows the recipe. At least, until he decides to pass it on to another." Wolf River points to himself. "I’m hoping it’s me, of course."

"No offense, but he’ll likely choose a more responsible inheritor," I say with a shrug. "A powerful gift in the wrong hooves can have disastrous results."

"Oh…" Wolf River pauses his collecting and nods slowly. "I think I understand."

"Again, no offense meant..."

"No offense taken. I've always been a bit of a wild wolf, even amongst the Carrier Clan."

We continue slicing stems and gathering poison joke petals in silence. Well, for the most part. Wolf River is humming some sort of tune under his breath. I’ve gathered well over thirty petals, and Wolf River has at least forty. He and I have the same mutual thought, and decide that’s enough.

"Some petals are more potent than others," Wolf River says as he bags all of the petals. "Scar will be able to determine which ones are best for the potion."

I get onto my hooves and help him up. As expected, he’s quite heavy. "Are there any other ingredients? I’d be willing to help you find them."

Wolf River smiles and shakes his foreleg. "That won’t be necessary. Roches, Aerial and, of course, Lady Tangerine are already gathering the rest as we speak. We just need some fire salts to stabilize the poison joke, a dash of equiroot—"

"Equiroot?"

"It’s an annoying little bugger of a plant that only blooms at night and makes the most obnoxious sound. And, uh, of course, the mixture will need my blood."

"Oh," I say, caught off guard by Wolf River’s casual demeanor while saying that. The only one I know who has spoken of blood in such a way is… me. "So, then, you and Tangerine will truly be family."

Wolf River blushes madly. He acts like a child, the way he tries to hide it. "I’m going to marry her, Caro. I wish I could give her more than my blood, but this will have to do." He gives me a friendly salute and begins his departure. "Thank you, Dragonborn. You’ve done me and Lady Tangerine a great service."

"You’re welcome…" I mutter. I’m not as enthusiastic about this as I should be, happy for Wolf River and his future bride as I am. Something seems odd about this. I know Tangerine has a desire to protect, but to go so far as to become a wolf… There has to be more to this than meets the eye.

"Oh, and Caro?"

"Yes?" I ask, snapping to attention.

"The next time you see Rosemary, tell her that her mother will want to see her."

Damn him and his uncanny scent. Rosemary will have my head on a pike for this… I swallow and speak. "You know she’d rather eat her own leg off than spend a second with her mother. Not that I support such an act. Still, I promised her I’d keep her away from Tangerine, and I like to keep my promises… At least, I try."

Wolf River gives an understanding nod. "Well, that is her decision, but a lot has happened lately, and my beloved is on borrowed time."

My lips curl into a smirk. "What, is she pregnant?"

"Wh—" Wolf River bursts out laughing. "Divines, no! No! No." He snatches back his serious demeanor. "No. It's just a bit of a family matter."

I step forward eagerly. "I can help!"

"I would ask, but Tangerine won’t have you involved. She says it’s not your business."

As much as it pains me to do so, I’d rather not go against such a stubborn mare’s wishes; I know better than to attempt such a feat, lest my body end up halfway into the dirt. She’d do it. I’ve heard the war stories. "Very well, then," I say. "Until next time."

Of all the things to wonder as Wolf River gallops away, I cannot fathom why I would think about what a baby lycan would look like.

My travels take me onto a snow-speckled dirt road, which travels alongside a quiet stream. The sound of flowing water is obviously more welcoming than howling wolves. I have a choice between two paths, either going up the hill or following the stream. I’d rather take the easier road.

I pass by a triad of loitering pegasi in leather armor, decorated with black and blue tunics. I can tell from the filth on their faces alone that they’re Blackwings. I try to appear inconspicuous by looking away, but it does little good. They all notice me.

"You picked a bad time to get lost, Dragonborn," one of them says to me with a sneer. His tone is beyond disrespectful. "Marekarth lies ahead, and it belongs to Shokenda. Watch your actions."

"What makes you think I want to hear you talk?" I snap at them. That buys me silence for a few seconds, but they pass by quickly before the pegasi's sinister looks return. I decide to just trot away.

"How’s Tohro been?" another one asks sarcastically.

I focus on the sky instead of their leering gazes. Focus on the sound of the stream instead of their grumbling. They are not worth my time...

"Tell the traitor he’s in our sights. He’d best sleep with his bum eye open."

I shoot a glare back at them. Unlike with Wolf River, I want them to hear my heartbeat, so they can know how angry I am right now. I am not to be trifled with, not by them, or anypony else.

"Just let it go, mate," I imagine Tohro saying. "They’re no threat. You know you’re better than them, so prove it." Knowing him, he’d probably look at me with a stern expression that’d make me freeze in place.

"Hey! Show respect for your future rulers!" The Blackwing mare flies over and hovers in front of me. She tries to look imposing, but she’s too lanky to be any threat. "You threatened us. We deserve an apology."

I bare my teeth at her. "I’m sorry I ever laid eyes on you sick fucks."

"Filthy half-breed!" she screams. "Boys!"

I’m about to shout so I can wash my hooves of this mess, but my voice is cut off by the flats of two blades pressing against my neck. That’s fantastic. What good is the thu’um if I’m unable to speak?

The mare makes a dramatic landing in front of me, allowing me to see her face closely. She is rugged, but without any of the boisterous charm that Rosemary or any adventurous mare might have. All I see is dirt and grime. "So, being belligerent, are we?" she asks.

I would have a retort if my voice could get out of my throat.

"Okay, then. How about this? You will take us to Tohro yourself. And don’t try to pretend you don’t know where he is. You and him, you’re hardly ever apart." She steps forward, bringing her muzzle all too close to mine. She reeks of every foul bodily scent I can imagine. "And if you try to weasel your way out of this, I’ll have no choice but to pin the traitorous cockal to the ground and… well, I’m sure you’re smart enough to figure out the rest."

I stretch out my neck, freeing my voice. "As if I’d let you," I hiss at the mare.

"Ooh, feisty!" The mare dances about in a circle, humming a brief tune. "Okay, perhaps I’ll break your legs and make you watch! Does that sound fair for your impudence?"

I am not amused in the slightest, but I put on a manic grin anyway, showing my fangs. And then, I laugh. "Aahahaha… fuck you."

She leers at me, her eyes training over my body in lewd fashion. "Hmm... you look strong, but I fear you'd die before you reached my bed." She looks at the two holding their swords to my throat. "Boys..."

The blades lower for barely a second and I lunge backwards, so all three of them are in my sights. "Fus..." I said I was tired of killing, and I meant it. But these three irk me beyond reason, and I’m willing to make them hurt for threatening Tohro. "...RO DAH!"

The three of them get blasted into the air, the Shout forcing their wings open as they slam into nearby trees, feathers coming loose as they flail about. And then it's done, and they drop to the ground, groaning in pain.

"Sorry," I say. "Looks like I missed a few feathers. I'm sure you can pluck the rest out yourself." Still in a foul mood, I turn away before I do anything I'd regret, and storm back upstream. "Fools," I curse at them in a last farewell.

A few minutes later, my ear twitches as I hear something skittering through the brush nearby. I ignore it and keep moving at a partial run. I’ve come back to the crossroads when I hear the brush rustle again, this time a bit more louder than before.

"Do I have a shadow?" I ask myself aloud, turning towards the sound. I approach the brush, taking long steps. My hoof approaches the hilt of my sword, but I quickly retract it. I’m sure that if whatever this is wants to kill me, I can handle it without striking it down on sight. "Come out, then… None of this playing around."

I notice a distinct set of angled eyes between leaves. Around the eyes, I can see stripes. I know for certain that my follower is a zebra.

The fellow rises from the foliage and dusts off the dirt and branches left on his exotic body armor. It hugs him close, to the point where if it weren’t for the dark color and texture, he’d very well be naked, aside from the scarf that covers most of his head.

"You Dragonborn?" he asks, his thick accent made even more hard to decipher beneath the scarf. He shakes his head and waves his hoof. "Zebra start over. Zebra am not being of threat. Zebra am want Dragonborn help."

I want to be considerate towards his broken way of speaking, so instead of making some sort of speech, I decide to keep my responses simple. I motion my foreleg for him to continue. Thankfully, he understands. He gestures forward and begins to trot. I follow from a slight distance as he speaks.

"Many ship, long journey of take from homeland, Kāṭhī Araba…"

"You mean Saddle Arabia?" I ask the zebra slowly.

He shrugs. "You calling homeland that. Zebra continue. Zebra take long journey with ship for escaping to life of better. Stow away with zebra friend and many child, three daughter and one son. Equestria is better. But perfect no."

"I understand," I say.

"Pony of greed, handsome, charisma, he greeting zebra and zebra friend on arrive. He take both zebra to aside. Speak of local custom. Teach us how behave. Sell us many fruit. Very nice pony. But zebra and zebra friend return to ship, see that many zebra child, all gone. Except one escape. Tell us greed pony slave trader, take many child."

Despicable. I can infer that this ‘greed pony’ has accomplices, since he was able to snatch those poor children just underneath somepony’s nose. I’ll never consider slavery as legitimate trade, no matter how much the scum of Equestria loves to justify it with as many fancy words as they can muster. It ruins lives, plain and simple.

"Okay. You want me to hunt down a slaver?" I confirm.

The zebra snorts and shakes his head, a bit angrily. "No. Zebra hunt for food, hunt for safety. Zebra just want all child back, but zebra and zebra friend weak from many travel day. Need pony help for pony problem." He points at me. "Dragonborn help?"

I don’t have to think about my answer for even a second. I take his hoof and shake it eagerly. "Dragonborn will help. Kidnapping children is awful enough, but stealing away the promise of a better life? That’s horrific. I’ll do whatever I can to end this. All you have to do is point me in the right direction. Do you know where this ‘greed pony’ is?"

The zebra nods and motions for me to come closer. He leans in and whispers in my ear. "Greed pony is be found. Is in camp no far from now. Zebra and zebra friend plan rescuing many zebra child, but can do not alone. Greed pony have many help. Eye and ear in all place."

"Oh. Understood." I take a cautionary glance through the trees and the shadows. "Are we going to meet with, uh, zebra friend?"

"We are. Keep follow. Be close."

The peace of the woods seems to have been overtaken by a rather sinister aura. I assume this is just me being paranoid, though. As the desire to take my blade to my enemies has begun to fade, the adrenaline I usually feel in the heat of battle is replaced with something I haven’t felt for a long time. It’s far easier to fear a threat when you know by the end of the day that it won’t die.

So, how am I supposed to ensure this greed pony is put out of business forever?

I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. I can’t afford to hesitate while innocent children are in danger. I focus on keeping situational awareness, as well as following my new zebra acquaintance.

"I’d like to know your name," I say to him with a smile.

He doesn’t replicate it, instead turning away from the road and making a quick gallop to a nearby tree, surveying an open field below a cliff.

"Friend? What are you called?" I ask again, suspecting he didn’t hear me.

He turns my way. "Zebra name Ohrmaz. Dragonborn name?"

"Caro of Riverhoof," I reply.

The open field is sectioned by many hillsides and ponds. Next to one of these ponds, a campsite can be seen. It’s fairly large, and crowded by many travelers. Even so, I can easily identify a set of carriages, where the children are no doubt being held. I can’t see any cages, though. What makes this difficult is that there’s only one entrance; the rest of the campsite is guarded by wooden stakes.

"This would be easier with your friend. Where are they?"

Ohrmaz points to a collection of bushes next to a smaller pond. "Zebra friend is injure. Zebra friend hide." As he says that, I take notice of another zebra. She too is clad in tight armor and wrappings, though she’s a bit bulkier than Ohrmaz.

I tuck my forelegs in and slide down the slope of the cliff, then stand up and approach the other zebra. "Hail, friend," I say to her with a smile.

She looks up at me in confusion, allowing me time to see the injury Ohrmaz mentioned. Her left hind leg is in a splint.

"Oh. Is it broken?" I ask her.

"No break. Temporary," she replies. She is able to stand, though her leg shudders with every step she takes. "But no fight. Can’t."

"Did someone injure you?"

She smirks sheepishly as she lies back down. "Zebra have too much skooma. Zebra feel dizzy. Zebra fall off cliff."

I’m suddenly reminded of a very bizarre afternoon several years ago, in which a zebra commissioned Master Hammerfell to create a curved sword. At the time, I found the design hilarious and illogical. The daughter of the customer took me aside and offered me a bottle of sugary liquid. I woke up in a pigpen three hours later.

I nod sagely. "I know the feeling."

"Zebra know limit now," the zebra mare says. "Zebra only drink five, not seven. Six, starts seeing stars."

Ohrmaz approaches his friend and checks her leg. As he does so, he says, "Zebra friend, Armaz. She say before seven skooma, ‘Whoever say skooma bad for zebra, not zebra on skooma.’"

"Unfortunate choice of words," I say, brushing the back of my mane. "And an unfortunate accident, to boot. Armaz’s help would have made this operation a bit easier. Nevertheless…" I look towards the camp. Two of the guards are standing at the entrance, laughing aloud at a joke one of them cracked. "I think we’ll manage."

An errant thought reminds me of a trick Tohro performed shortly after we first met, involving a convincing lie and a questionable set of chains. While I don’t have any of the latter on me, I think I can manage with the former. "Ohrmaz. Are you a decent actor?"

Ohrmaz smiles.

"Excuse me, sirs! Soldiers! Whatever it is you like to call yourselves, hello!" I holler.

The guards at the entrance stop laughing and turn my way. They have spears slung over their shoulders. For all of their unprofessional demeanor and rugged armor, they’re far more dignified than any Blackwing. It’s their gaze. It’s not as sickly or depraved as a Blackwing’s stare. They look as if they could actually wound me if I don’t play my cards right.

"What is it, traveler?" one of them grunts. "Does this have something to do with… that?" He tilts his spear in Ohrmaz’ direction.

Ohrmaz was very clever about this, having wrapped one of his forelegs in bandages. To make it more convincing, Armaz had obtained some wild raspberries and doused the bandages in their juice. It looks very much like blood, albeit on the radiant side, but these mooks shouldn’t know that… unless a lycan is among them, but what are the odds?

"Yes," I reply. "I don’t know your employer, but I’ve heard of him, and I want to see if I can support his business. I captured this zebra just as he was making off with a farmer’s crops. He put up a bit of a struggle, but a broken leg put an end to that."

"Apanī laṅgōṭī para ēka plēga, tuma jaṅgalī!" Ohrmaz shouts in his native tongue.

I lightly smack him upside the head, but he exaggerates how much it hurt, and quickly goes silent. "He only makes idle threats."

One of the guards smiles. It’s not an evil look, just a pleasant one, as if this is just standard fare for him. "Very well." He and his friend step away from the entrance. "You may speak to Chain Link. Present your cargo and he’ll present you with a reasonable price. Don’t expect a fortune, though."

"It’ll be chicken feed compared to a good future of labor," I say, flashing a wide grin as I step into the campsite. Ugh, I feel sick.

If I weren’t aware this camp is currently housing a slaver, I’d mistake it for any other gathering place for travelers. None of these fellows seem to be anything other than traveling peddlers, traders, vigilantes, and so on. I’ll have to watch out for the vigilantes when the action comes to pass. I just hope they’ll be at least partially drunk, what with their friendly chatter around the fire.

My fur threatens to stand on end with every second I keep up this lie, but putting on the guise of somepony horrid enough to condone slavery will be momentary pain for a lifetime of freedom for these children… I just need to keep up this facade.

Tohro taught me the best way to sneak into enemy territory is to act as though you’re supposed to be there, so I do. I keep a tall, confident demeanor, I politely wave to passersby, and I don’t exaggerate my presence. As far as everypony in this pack of scum is concerned, I’m just here to sell, uh, cargo.

The most extravagant tent boasts a velvet carpet and a chain insignia on its entrance. I can guess who it belongs to. I step inside without hesitation.

I expected lavish decorations, but I didn’t expect the helmed face of a stalwart brown minotaur staring me down. He snorts at me, like many a dragon before has, but the shock of this large fellow is what makes me step backward. "Oh, I…" I giggle like a nervous child. Tohro would mock me for hours if he had heard me in such a state. "You must be Chain Link?"

I hear somepony clearing their throat. "Brick Wall, stand down. We don’t have any reason to distrust this one."

The minotaur, with his fitting name now known to me, backs away and takes a seat by a fireplace. He picks up a rather nasty looking steel axe and takes a stone to it. As if it isn’t sharp enough… I decide to turn my attention towards the one who put him at ease.

The first thing I see on this lanky unicorn, who lies on many cushions, is his chain shaped mark, followed by a formal vest and a fair, well-groomed mane. What gets my attention is his pair of polished spectacles. "I am Chain Link. Good day to you."

"And to you as well," I say, reclaiming my calmness.

"I’ll be with you in a moment…"

I watch with tightly held disgust as Chain Link stands up and goes over to a zebra mare, who is clad in a far too revealing dress. I doubt she’s wearing it willingly. She tenses up as Chain Link whispers something into her ear.

"...I’ll be waiting in your room, then, sir…" she mutters before slowly trotting behind a curtain.

Okay, I was wrong. Now is when I feel ill. I pass a horrified glance back at Ohrmaz, who remains mostly stoic, though I see his eyes tremble, very slightly.

"Right. What was it you wanted, friend?" Chain Link asks. He doesn’t even wait for an answer before he looks at Ohrmaz. "Oh, huzzah! You’ve brought me another fine addition to the workload!"

I watch as the skinny slaver trots over to Ohrmaz and starts examining him like an object to be appraised. He presses his hooves to Ohrmaz’ jaw and plays with his lips. Beyond being disturbing, it’s simply bizarre. "Hm. A big mouth on him. He could be a complainer, but we can fix that with a needle and thread…" Chain proceeds to survey Ohrmaz’ body. "Impressive muscles. If we keep him well-fed, he could carry the workload of three individuals. Or, better yet… Ah." Ohrmaz’ eyes widen as Chain reaches a foreleg between his hind legs. "Ooh! He’ll make for fine breeding stock."

I can sense Ohrmaz’ desire to yell for help. He’s silently begging for me to put an end to this. And oh, how I want to. My hoof reaches for my sword— No. My focus is on helping Ohrmaz free those children. That’s it. He’ll be okay… He just has to endure the embarrassment for just a little longer.

"Are you well, friend?" Chain Link asks, looking a little offput by my actions.

I cover my attempt at grabbing my sword by scratching the back of my head. "Noseeums. They’re everywhere in this region." I flick my ears a few times for insurance.

"Tell me about it…" Chain Link grumbles. He goes back to his cushions. "Now, then. On to business. I have three collections of caged zebras. This may not be the most dignified line of work, but that is no excuse to be disorganized. The first collection makes up my working stock, and they’re in the back." He gestures to the curtain.

"Right…" I say, clenching my teeth behind my lips.

"My second stock are the little tykes in the carriages. Don’t pay their crying any mind. They’ll be quiet once I’ve hoofed them over to Temerity Blackwing."

I stay silent at that notion, but I make a mental note of it. Why would a slaver be collaborating with a Blackwing? Tohro doesn’t condone slavery now, and he certainly didn’t when he was with the Blackwings, prejudiced against zebras as he was… There’s something off here. I’ll ask him about it later. Perhaps this Temerity fellow will have something to answer for.

"Where would I take this one, then?" I ask, nodding at Ohrmaz. "He’ll go with the other hard workers, I assume?"

"Sharp one, aren’t you? I’m grateful for the few of your kind that come around. There’s nothing I hate more than a sale spoiled by cluelessness. Follow me." Chain Link hops to his hooves. I’m ashamed to say he’s beaming at me, and he sees fit to pat me on the barrel. I’ll have to take a bath after I leave this place.

This is good. As soon as we’re in an isolated area, Ohrmaz can stop faking his injury, and we’ll have this bastard out in a—

Chain Link gestures to his minotaur friend. "Brick Wall, follow."

Divines damn him! While I can take a skinny stallion, a minotaur of such stature is another story. A dragon’s attacks, powerful and lethal as they may be, are slow and easy to predict. I, however, doubt there’s any way to take down this beast of a biped without killing him. Unfortunately, that’s a risk I’ll have to take. It’s now or never. I can’t take Ohrmaz away to rethink this plan, nor can I keep my guise up for much longer.

Chain Link leads me and Ohrmaz past the gathered adventurers, who are joined together in some drunken song of celebration. I can’t get a grip on the lyrics, sans a few words. As we go past the fire, the camp seems a little less lively.

"I keep all the strong ones back here, to be sold off as laborers," Chain Link says. "If Equestria is to thrive, we need ponies to do the dirty work. As such, it only seems fair to give such a task to these lesser equines. It’s a kindness, truly. They’re given food and shelter in exchange for a day’s work, and they needn’t trifle with anything more. Honestly, I sometimes envy them."

Shut your fucking mouth.

Inside another tent, a torn one at that, I can see several cages, each one holding two adult zebras. The most I can commend Chain Link on is that he keeps his prisoners in better holding conditions than Sacred Rite ever did. His cages are relatively large and clean. If his earlier words bear any relevance, he’s probably keeping these zebras well fed. Still, their lives are forfeit to his profit. As such, each one looks as solemn as the last.

I can see a younger zebra stallion choking back tears in his lone cell. He looks up as Chain Link taps his hoof on the roof of the cage. "Look alive, sunshine! You’ve got a new cellmate! Enjoy each other’s company for now, but you know the rules. No talking, no motioning towards each other, and no… inappropriate behavior." The bastard turns away and rubs his brow. "Your kind can be so desperate…" He approaches Brick Wall and holds out his hoof. Brick Wall reaches into his hosen pocket and gives Chain Link a ring of keys.

That makes sense. Keep the keys with the individual nopony would dare approach.

Seeing this, Ohrmaz grunts to get my attention. He nods at me, then at Chain Link, who is using levitation to sort through the keys. Ohrmaz also points at Brick Wall, who is casually leaning against a wooden post, his axe set laying on the grass next to him. Clearly, nopony has ever dared to attack him. He may be intimidating, but he isn’t prepared.

Now? I mouth at Ohrmaz.

He nods at me again and bares his teeth.

I take a deep breath and step forward. Here goes nothing.

"Excuse me, sir?"

Chain Link stops his sorting and turns my way. "Yes, what is it?" he asks with a smile.

"I’ve changed my mind," I say. I gesture to every cage within the tent. "I no longer wish to sell. I wish to purchase your entire stock." Reaching into my bag, I feel for the largest coin purse I have. When I present it to Chain Link, his pupils, for a moment, seem to change into coins themselves.

"Oh my… By Gammon, Divine of Labor! I have never before received an offer quite like this." He beholds the bag in my hoofs, reaching out to touch it, but just barely holding himself back, as if it’s too sacred for him to feel. "That is most generous of you…"

I smirk at his comedic actions. They will be his last for some time. "Yes, and it’ll all be yours, if you could do just one thing for me." I beckon for him to turn his gaze away from the bits. "Look into my eyes."

"Oh, uh…" Caught off guard by such a strange request, Chain Link looks around in confusion before doing as I ask. He seems bewildered for a sweet few seconds, but then he realizes that he’s looking into draconic slits. It seems he knows who I am. "Dragonborn," he whispers.

I smirk at him. "Sharp one, aren’t you?" I take the coin purse in my hooves and bring it around, slamming it into the side of Chain Link’s head, shattering his glasses and sending him to the ground. A few stray bits land on his unconscious body.

I immediately turn around to face Brick Wall, who is reaching to pick up his axe. What disconcerts me is his stoicism. He just saw the one he was supposed to protect go down right in front of him… Huh. I suppose that does make me a better guardian than him. For all the times I let Shae down, I at least bothered to care. I did it out of the goodness of my heart. I can assume Brick Wall is on a payroll.

I can only think about all this because time seems to have slowed around me, but not in the way of adrenaline. Brick Wall is charging at me, axe drawn, gleaming in the afternoon sun. I’m near motionless, paralyzed by… right, fear. If I’m not allowed to draw my sword on this behemoth, how can I fight him at all? With my hooves? That’ll bruise him, at best… As far as I’m concerned, I’m dead right now.

A gust in the color of black and white speeds past me. It’s Ohrmaz, who leaps through the air and bucks Brick Wall’s axe, knocking him off balance. That feat alone makes my mouth open involuntarily. Ohrmaz then seizes the shaft of the axe and pulls, bringing the minotaur onto his knees. Ohrmaz leaps off of the axe, somersaults through the air and brings his hind leg down on Brick Wall’s meaty neck, followed by two decisive punches to his legs. Before Brick Wall can cry out in pain, Ohrmaz brings his hooves down on his head, knocking him clean out.

The trapped zebras begin to cheer, but they’re silenced prematurely as Ohrmaz waves his forelegs about and says, "Cuppī! Bāda mēṁ, bhā'iyōṁ!"

I, however, am still in awe for what Ohrmaz just did to Brick Wall. The battle lasted for only ten seconds, if I remember it correctly. "What the hell was that?!" I exclaim.

Ohrmaz forces his hoof onto my muzzle, silencing me. "Bijalī. Battle technique. Train for many year, in homeland," he whispers. He tears a scrap of cloth from his scarf, goes to Chain Link’s body, inserts the scrap into his mouth and drags him to the tent, shoving him into an empty cage. I pick up the keys Chain Link dropped and toss them over. Ohrmaz catches them and puts them to use, locking Chain Link inside the cage.

"Well, it seems like a very effective fighting style," I comment. "I would have been likely died without you."

"Why no sword?" Ohrmaz asks as he goes to unlock the other zebras’ cages.

I’m about to ask what he means, as I clearly have a sword available to me, but I figure his broken speech out. He wonders why I didn’t use my sword when I needed it most. "If it were the day before yesterday, I would have cut him down in a second, but…" I present my sword to Ohrmaz and give it a slow swing before putting it away. "That’s not who I want to be anymore. A murderer, I mean. I’ve taken so many lives. Everything they could have been, good or bad, is gone forever, and it’s my fault. Their blood is on my coat."

Ohrmaz shrugs. "Move on. You do what must be done."

I shake my head, letting out an exasperated groan. "No, that’s… That’s not the hero Equestria needs. There has to be a difference between what must be done and what should be done, and I want to find it. I’m tired of death. I’m tired of this belief that the only way to change the world is to kill the corrupt. It’s not justice, it’s just murder. That’s all it’s ever been."

"Then do not kill," says Ohrmaz, as if he knows how to simplify the matter. I appreciate the motion. It’s not his fault that he doesn’t entirely understand.

I can feel tears of stress forming in my eyes. I squint and hold my hoof to them, trying to keep myself calm. "I… I want to find some way to help Equestria without taking lives. But I don’t know how! All I know is violence. I can’t protect anypony. I’m in too deep to pursue a life of peace. I’m tasked with killing dragons, and that’s all I know how to do…"

Ohrmaz takes ahold of my withers. I open my eyes to see his intense stare. It’s a nurturing one, but it’s also urgent. "Zebra child," he commands.

Right… Now’s not the time to contemplate the grass. I’m on a mission. I stifle a sob and clear my throat. "I’ll go inform Chain Link’s, uh, ‘personal stock,’ that their captor is indisposed. I’ll take them and the zebra children out of here without anypony so much as raising an eyelid." I point to Brick Wall’s twitching body. "You might want to put him elsewhere. After that, set the zebras free. Sneak them out in any way you can. Climb the walls, if you have to."

Ohrmaz nods and jingles the keys in his hoof. For a rugged fellow, he has a handsome smile.

I open the flap leading to Chain Link’s ‘personal stock.’ The cramped room’s many cushions reek of sweat and shame, and so do the occupants. The zebra mare from earlier is on the bed, naked, and disturbingly apathetic to my presence. The other zebras, comprised of two more mares and a single stallion, again, naked, have a similar mien to them.

"Well? Get it overwith," says the mare on the bed. For a captive zebra, she barely has an accent. She must be native to Equestria.

"Why would I do that?" I ask her with faux ignorance. "You’re not supposed to be here to begin with. Now," I flourish my hooves towards the exit, "if you would please come with me to the cart so I can ship you fair maidens, and, uh," I tilt my head towards the one stallion, "out of this hell and into freedom—"

The bedded mare’s eyes widen. She hops my way and gives me an overly tight hug, cutting me off. "Dragonborn!" she says, her voice suddenly upbeat. "I am sorry I did not recognize you."

"Have we met?" I ask, my voice strained by her tight squeeze. Thankfully, she lets go of me before I grow too uncomfortable.

She shakes her head and smiles at me. "Not personally, but word travels fast among us zebras. Your name and face are known to us all, thanks to a hailed zebra bard."

"Divines dammit, Xephyr…" I mutter with a grin. "Relay me your tales of yours truly when we’re not under scrutiny. Please come with me to the cart."

As the remaining zebras stand and stretch out their legs, I take out a bronze knife from my belt and take it to the tent, tearing a flap for any pony to fit through. By the time the travelers take notice, we’ll be long gone.

"Stay close," I advise.

The zebras and I keep low to the ground as we trot around Chain Link’s tent. There aren’t any camp occupants between us and the cart. So long as these four can get inside without raising any alarm, all will be well.

I approach the cart and pull the sheet aside, revealing more stacks of cages. Each one contains a single zebra child. Unlike the workers, however, these ones appear malnourished and dirty. With how glazed over their eyes are, I can imagine they haven’t seen sunlight in days.

I give them a friendly wave, followed by a motion for them to be silent. They smile and nod as they wave back at me.

"My son is in there," the zebra mare whispers to me. "I could have left this place long ago, but I refused to abandon him. It was worth the humiliation."

"Very noble of you," I reply.

"Maybe," she says with a sad smile. "Noble, but stupid. And perhaps cowardice." Her smile drops as she looks aside, then back at me. She puts on a frown. "I said I would get in the damn cart, so leave me alone!" she suddenly yells as she stomps her hooves. "I swear to the stars, I will choke you in your sleep!" She steps into the cart, winks at me, and sits with one of the smaller children. The other zebras follow suit, shooting foul gazes at me.

For a brief moment, I’m left to wonder what I did to warrant such a reaction, but I figure it out when I see one of the campers nearby. This one is a female gryphon. "Need any help there?" she asks in a sickeningly friendly tone. "Merchandise giving you a mouthful?"

"It’s nothing," I say to her. "They’re just so acquainted with sitting on their asses all day that they’re reluctant to go with the little ones to Sir Temerity Blackwing." I never thought I’d say this, but lying for a good cause is a bit thrilling.

However, a small problem presents itself when the gryphon cocks her brow. "Temerity wants the whores? I thought he only wanted children."

My mind races. Without a counter to this one’s question, all I can do is laugh. Then I say, "That’s what Chain Link said to him, but Temerity told him to mind his own damn business. Not in those exact words, but…"

The gryphon holds out her talons as she has herself a chuckle. "That’s Temerity for you. He has grand plans, so shut up and do what he asks… So typical. Well, that’ll all change once Chain Link’s conquered zebra trafficking in this Divine forsaken spit of land."

I don’t think the bastard will be able to conquer anything for a few hours. "I’ll be on my way, then," I say.

The gryphon snorts. "You can’t move that cart by yourself, lad. I’ll lend you a claw."

This one seeks to throw a small hitch in the plan, does she? No matter. I can amend this. I’ll just have to keep a silver tongue until I’m far enough away from this pathetic camp. Dozens of slaves stolen right from under their noses… I suppose irony is the ultimate force of nature, huh, Chain Link?

As such, I keep a casual disposition about me as the gryphon and I hitch ourselves up to the cart. We slowly pull it to the exit. Much to my luck, the guards from before have long since been replaced, so my pulling the cart doesn’t draw any suspicion.

"Evenin’, Beaker," one of the new guards says. "Impromptu delivery, I presume?"

"Temerity," she replies simply. "They were going to be taken tomorrow morning, but a day early means a day less having to deal with him."

"And that's always a good thing," one of the guards replies with a chuckle. It seems that even amongst slavers, there are those no one likes.

Thus, the cart leaves the campsite, and the former prisoners go free. Not a single life was taken today, by my hooves or anypony else’s. I used to smile whenever I stood over the corpse of my prey, coated in blood. Now I smile because my coat is clean.

I don’t want to risk this operation, so I keep to myself as Beaker and I continue trotting along the open fields, the light of the campsite dwindling into the distance. The sun is rapidly setting, cloaking the fields in darkness. That’ll be helpful.

A crossroads lies ahead. Involuntarily, I follow the trail to where Armaz ought to be.

"Wait," Beaker speaks up. "Fillydelphia is that way." She points in the opposite direction.

We’re far enough away from the camp. I decide to put this facade to an end. "Oh, we’re not going to Fillydelphia," I state bluntly.

"Why?" she asks. "Did Temerity say he’d be someplace else? What’s going on, h— WAHRK!" Beaker lets out a very unladylike squelch as Ohrmaz catches her in a chokehold, covering her beak and laying her down on the ground. He drags her into a tall patch of grass and leaves her there.

"A ruse, idiot," I reply to her, even though I know she can’t hear me.

Ohrmaz embraces me, an action I’m happy to replicate. "Mission is success?"

"Mission is success," I repeat, proudly trotting around to the other end of the cart. "I mean, yes. We were successful. Do you still have those keys on you?"

Ohrmaz presents them to me. "Dragonborn set zebra child free. Dragonborn hero to zebra child, and to Ohrmaz."

I take the keys and slip under the sheet. I greet the four adult zebras, who are now clad in worn tunics. As dirty as the clothes are, at least these four have managed to reclaim their modesty.

All of the zebra children turn my way at the same time. It’s a little disarming. Nevertheless, I go to work unlocking all of their cages. I make sure to set the zebra mare’s child free first. Seeing them reunite with a long lasting hug warms me to the core. Even as I continue turning locks and listening to the children’s elated cries, I keep watch of the mother and the child.

"Dragonborn!" one of the children shouts, their voice unapologetically shrill. She leaps onto my back. "Bahuta dhan'yavāda!"

"Maiṁ lagabhaga um'mīda chōṛa dī thī!" another one says. She climbs on top of me as well.

"Easy, easy! Uh, āsāna!" I say, using what little of the zebra language I know. That doesn’t stop the children from attacking me with their enthusiastic hugs. When another three of them hop onto me at once, I lose my balance and fall over, becoming a victim to the cuteness of these tykes.

"This one has a way with children," the zebra mare japes.

"I need you to do two things for me," I tell her. I grunt at the sensation of little hooves pressing into me. "First, please help me."

She snorts at me. "Fine." She claps her hooves together. "Yaha kāphī hai!" In an instant, the zebra children calm down and stop crawling all over me. I won’t be surprised if I wake up covered in welts tomorrow morning.

"Thank you," I say to the mare. "Second, you could tell me your name."

"I have no zebra name," she says with a sad smile. "I am native to Equestria, thus, I have a pony name. I am called Victory."

I hear a knock on the side of the cart. "Dragonborn!" I hear Armaz shout. "Come!"

I get up, go to the end of the cart and pull the sheet aside. Armaz is leaning on the cart, looking up at me with a smile of great expectation. "We did it," I tell her. "Everypony made it out."

"Ohrmaz many child?" she asks, as the zebra in question comes around the corner, with the strong adult zebras following closely behind. Like the children, they’re all looking at me. I’ve been looked upon before, but not with such harmonious reverence. I’m tempted to shy away.

"Pitā!" I hear several zebra children yell. Three fillies and one tiny colt all gallop out of the cart and pounce onto Ohrmaz, giving him much of the same treatment as I just received. He falls to the grass as he wraps his forelegs around his children. His laughter is joyous, a far cry from his normally stoic demeanor.

I step out of the cart, motioning for Victory, the children, and the other adult zebras to follow. "We’re in the clear. I think we all deserve to rest for a while."

Much to my relief, the adult zebras are less enthusiastic than the children, though no less thankful. Many of them offer me friendly hugs. A few bow to me. One of the mares, in a bold act, actually kisses me on the cheek, which causes me to freeze up for a moment.

Victory laughs at what I assume is the most hilarious expression I’ve ever made. "The only thing this celebration seems to be lacking is a little music." As she says that, she presents a lute.

Armaz does a double take. "Where find?" she asks.

Victory gestures to the cart. "It was in the back, along with some plates. I am tempted to say that Chain Link stole this cart from traders and forgot to completely empty it." She takes a seat on the edge of the cart, testing out the lute. "Hm, this works quite well. How about a song?"

Ohrmaz’s son raises his hoof as he stands on his father’s back. "Maiṁ dangan gānā cāhatā hūm̐!"

Whatever it was he just said, many of the children are offering cheers of agreement. A few of them come my way, hopping around me and repeating the same words over and over. "Hamārē li'ē gānā! Hamārē li'ē gānā!"

I look back at Victory and ask, "What are they saying?"

"They want you to sing for them," she nonchalantly says as she continues strumming the lute.

I purse my lips as a mad blush comes to my cheeks. "That… wouldn’t be advisable. Honestly, I’m like a cricket in a windstorm. I can’t—"

"Gā'ō! Gā'ō! Gā'ō!" the children continue to cheer.

I give a sigh of surrender. I suppose some things are inevitable, such as the infectious cuteness of many children demanding such a daunting task from the Dragonborn. Why me?

I clear my throat and begin singing the song Xephyr and his friends played at Wintercolt Academy.

"Today I woke and looked outside again, and the sky looked the same to me.
Something told me that this world had changed, couldn’t figure out what it could mean.
Some say to get out fast, looks like it’s going to last. Just spread your wings and fly.
Don’t leave a thing behind…
Say say it’ll be okay. Just go ahead and stay. Be sure to drink your iodine…"

The children gather around me and take seats in the grass. They gentle bob their heads to the music and hum along. This song must be well known in Saddle Arabia.

"The wind is pushing me into the clouds again, I feel the blood in my veins.
Time is running free, I feel like letting go, just like the Dangan..."

Huh. I suppose I’m better than I give myself credit for.

I continue sing the song it its entirety. Much like any good story, it escalates into a powerful, almost overwhelming climax, and then falls into a gentle, quiet finish. As Victory’s strums on the lute slow, I sing the last lyrics.

"Flying into free…"

The children don’t stomp their hooves. They don’t do much of anything besides smile at me, and I can tell why. Their eyes are sunken and dark. After all they’ve been through, they finally have an opportunity to sleep in peace. I back away from them as they all lay down and drift off.

I join Victory back on the cart. She is still holding her child, who has also closed his eyes.

"Not so tone deaf now, are we?" Victory japes as she brushes the kid’s dirty mane. "Kyne very much enjoyed it, even though he fell asleep about halfway through." She nudges his shoulder, jossing him awake. "Precious, don’t you have something to give to the Dragonborn?"

"Huh?" Kyne blinks the sleep away as he looks up at me. "Oh, yaha sahī hai…" He reaches into the collar of his tunic and hoofs over a scrap of paper. "Yaha kā acchā upayōga karēṁ."

"He says to make good use of it," Victory translates.

I look at the paper. Kyne must have caught a glimpse of some draconic lettering while he was in captivity. I can discern two words from what he wrote. "Drem. Ov," I say in draconic. "It’s a thu’um." I smile at Kyne. "Thank you, little one."

Kyne returns the smile and closes his eyes again, returning to sleep.

Victory softly chortles to herself as she watches the other sleeping children. The adult zebras have formed a circle around them, watching intently for anypony that would harm them. "These children were taken from all over Equestria to serve some sort of nefarious purpose," says Victory. "I’m sure their families will be grateful for your efforts. You’ll be a hero to them."

"I just did what I had to," I state simply.

"Twenty children and thirty one mares and stallions, Caro. Fifty one of our kind could have disappeared from the face of the world and nopony would have had the bravery nor the desire to save them, and many more wouldn’t have even cared. Fifty one lives almost ruined forever. You stopped that from happening."

I can’t bring myself to respond to that. She speaks of my actions with such worship, yet I can’t imagine having done anything differently. Even if I were without Ohrmaz, I would have dropped everything to save these zebras.

"You've given us our lives back,” Victory continues. “You've reunited me with my son. I don't know if you will be rewarded for this in the future, but…” She leans in, her muzzle disturbingly close to me, and whispers into my ear, “I could reward you now, if you would have me."

"No," I say immediately, scooting away. "Thank you, but... no."

“Understood,” she says without so much as a pause. She takes notice of the distance formed between me and her and offers me a grin. “Don’t be embarrassed, friend. I only wished to show my appreciation. Then again, prudence is a virtue far too often unsung.”

“Prudence?” I mutter rhetorically. “No, I… Make no mistake, you’re very beautiful, all things considered, but I think there are more sophisticated ways to—”

Whatever I intended on saying will forever go unheard. A distant roar travels over the fields, causing the ponds to ripple and the grass to bend. I look to the night sky. After a tense few seconds, my heart begins to pound as I see a winged beast pass beneath the stars and clouds.

I lick my lips. “It seems today won’t be free of death after all…” I say. My conscience about this is clear, as I know that it would be a disservice to all of Equestria to let a dragon live. If the Dragonborn before me were unable to sway any dragon's servitude to their destructive cause, and they still see fit to attack me and all other equines on sight, then there’s no need for me to hold back. I adjust my sheath for comfort and get up on my hooves. “Duty calls, I’m afraid,” I say to Victory. “Do you suppose you’ll all be safe without me?”

“We’ll manage. We’re but a few equines. A dragon is a more pressing matter.” Oddly enough, she doesn’t seem afraid in the slightest, but I know why. She’s had absolute faith in me ever since she realized who I am. Why should that change now?

Nevertheless, I can’t leave without offering some sage advice. “Keep moving away from the campsite and steer clear of the main roads until you’re in Imperial territory. After that, consult soldiers for protection. They’ll keep you safe.” I begin to trot away.

“Caro Dragonborn!” Victory shouts after me, making me stop. “I won’t rest until this day becomes a historical event to pony and zebra alike. We all know the stories, and even if you don’t truly believe it yourself, you are a hero. Equestria is already a better place so long as you are here, and I will make that known to everypony.” She lays Kyne down to rest, hops to the grass, and bows to me. “I swear by the stars.”

I hear the shuffling of hooves. While the children still sleep, the adult zebras have all turned to me, and they’re bowing as well. “Hama sitārōṁ kī kasama khātā hūm̐.”

I, Caro Dragonborn, bow in return, then gallop off to face the dragon.

The chase lasts for a solid hour, by my estimate, but this surge of good feeling has yet to end, so I continue moving across the fields. My gallop leads me into another wooded area, though one thankfully free of wolves. I descend down a stone pathway, leading past a glistening waterfall that reflects the rising moon.

I pass a few ponies on the way. A squadron of wary Blackwing soldiers stand with their weapons drawn as they watch the skies. “I’m not hearing things, am I?” one of the stallions asks, clutching his wing blades tightly. He turns my way. “Dragonborn? You saw one of the beasts?”

I keep moving past him, keeping my distance. “Yes. I’ll take care of it,” I say, keeping a guarded tone.

“Thank you,” he says. “Be assured that at least some of us support your cause, but I’ll have nothing to do with that beast!”

As I move away from them, I hear one of the mares shout, “Cut its damn head off!”

The others I pass include a few drunken dwellers who offer me a flask of juniper berry mead, whom I ignore. They go right back to their slurred fraternizing. I also pass by a band of minotaurs, who are roasting a reindeer over a fire. They grunt and nod at me as I pass right on by.

Recognition is nice, even when brief.

Eventually, the trees dwindle, and the dirt becomes sand. I’ve followed this dragon to one of Equestria’s great lakes. Master used to take to a beach much like this one. On bright summer days, after the usual business trip to Reinoc, we’d stop the carriage and take in the sun for an hour or two. I was always told that my bronze mane looked so radiant in the sunlight. Now it’s the dead of night, and my grey mane is as dull and lifeless. Of course, that’s merely a visual difference. At the moment, I feel so alive.

A gravelly and distorted voice echoes across the water and sand. “Taking time to reminisce, Dovahkiin?”

I calmly turn. Atop a spire of rocks sits, what else, a dragon. But its appearance gives me pause, for I can’t even determine its gender. Its black scales are few, scattered across visible layers of peeling flesh and bone. I can see right through some areas of its body. Despite this dead appearance, though, it moves, breathes and speaks all the same, as if it were a corpse pretending to live. It may not bleed, but perhaps I can still kill it… I reach for my sword.

“Helt,” it commands. “Do not attack, but listen. Fighting is not in either of our best interests.”

“He speaks the truth, Dovahkiin,” I hear Rasahrel say. “He is an enemy of Saviikaan and all dovah. If you choose your words well, he may be an ally to you.”

Even though she was once a ferocious dragon, Rasahrel hasn’t given me any reason to distrust her, nor has any dragon before her. They are many things, but they are not liars.

I take my sheath off and lay it down on the sand, keeping my eyes on the skeletal dragon all the while. “By all means, speak,” I say to him. “You sound like you’ve been expecting me.”

“In a way. I did not predict the precise time and place in which you would appear to me, but I did anticipate that I would end up meeting the Dovahkiin of this era.” The beast pauses for a second. “My apologies. You know of the repeating cycle that Saviikaan has bestowed upon these lands, do you not?”

“I’m aware of it,” I say. Just in case this one intends on deceiving me, I’ll keep Master Hammerfell out of this. “I’m the sixth Dragonborn to fight Saviikaan’s crusade.”

“Right you are, Dovahkiin,” The skeletal dragon affirms. He removes himself from the stone and comes down to the sand. Water pools around his claws as he slowly comes my way. “As for me, I am a former servant of Saviikaan. You may call me Durnehviir.” He takes a bow, an action I’ve never seen from a dragon. “For half of the time since the cycle began, I was at the beck and call of Saviikaan, taking orders with nary a second thought. Be assured that I revoked my fealty to him many centuries ago, and now I dedicate my existence to freeing ponykind from his greed.”

“A former servant… Well, that would explain a few things,” I say with a dark chuckle.

Durnehviir touches his chest, or lack thereof, and lets out a humored snort. “Yes, well… As you can plainly see, I am not the virile beast I once was, but at least I stand out from the rabble, do I not?”

“You could say that,” I jest.

“Indeed.” Durnehviir clears his throat and kneels down so I can look him in the empty eye socket. “I imagine it’s not very often that you are able to ask anything of a dragon. As such, I am willing to answer whatever it is you would ask of me. Do not fear a refusal of reply.”

It’s as if I’ve been given the world’s riches and haven’t a clue what to spend it on besides anything I already own. Here I am, in the right place at the right time, able to receive any answer to any question I present… And I’m at a loss for words. All I can say is, “Um…” as I anxiously brush my mane. “Goodness…”

“Perhaps it would be for the best if I explained a bit more about my role in the grand scheme of things, seeing as you already know yours,” the dragon says.

“I wouldn’t mind.”

“Very well. See, if your record for killing so many dragons holds true, than I would have simply been prey to your sword. Three ages I fought against the Dovahkiin. After the third, I had a change of heart. Now I exist half in life, half in death, seeking to assist you in any way I can, so long as we have a mutual goal in putting an end to Saviikaan’s plans.”

“It couldn’t be any more mutual,” I assure Durnehviir. In his speech, I’ve managed to find a question. “So, I know that Saviikaan wants to bring back the Precursors. How does he intend to do this? And why hasn’t he done so in any era past?”

“You know the fate of the ones you key call Precursors, yes? They meddled in the balance of the universe, manipulating magic to perform feats no mortal should ever attempt. Creating life from air, for instance, or trying to find means to attain limitless power. It was all in vain, of course. The universe itself rebelled against the Precursors. The artificial life forms they had created rose up and consumed entire cities. The constructs they had built crumbled, ravaging the land. In the end, the survivors were forced underground.”

“Yes, I’m aware of this,” I say. “Though I appreciate the clarification. So, how does Saviikaan intend to revive them?”

“I do not know a specific answer. However, I do know what Saviikaan would need to perform such a task. He would require an inordinate amount of power to in order to resurrect thousands of long dead beings, and he would have to perform the resurrection over one of the many tombs in which the Precursors rest.”

“I’ve been to one of those tombs, up near Mount Everfree. It’s called Beak Falls Barrow.”

"That is what they call it in this age?!" Durnehviir exclaims, rather humorously.

"There is a Thieves Guild in this land, and it is largely composed of gryphons. They had claimed it for excavation. Either way, the name seemed appropriate."

The skeletal dragon snorts. "What folly. In Saviikaan’s time, it was called Undaar Staad Do Praan."

"The Final Place of Rest?"

"Geh. Otar, one of the Dragon Priests, was assigned to oversee that tomb.”

“I’ve met him. He seems to have a rather grey outlook on this conflict between ponies and dragons. He made use of the Precursors buried there to test my strength, turning them into draugr.”

Durnehviir nods. “Otar always did hop back and forth across the tables of alignment. He was the only one willing to sacrifice lives to attain his goals. But I do owe him one thing…”

“He was the one who resurrected you, wasn’t he?” I ask prematurely.

“Very astute of you. That is correct. It is why my beautiful body has been reduced to… well.” Durnehviir gestures to himself. “If it were Saviikaan who had resurrected my soul, I would be a gleaming majestic beast of crimson and gold. Instead, I walk this land without such colors, or a living soul. But, I suppose beggars cannot be choosers. See, Saviikaan can resurrect a dovah with a single shout that only he is able to perform, so long as said dovah still keeps his soul. You might consider it his gift for being Monah's favorite son.”

"Monah? That means mother, right?"

"Geh. I speak of the one you little key call Dragos. What an insulting name."

I pace around in the sand as I ponder these revelations. "So, resurrection... That's how the dragons have lived long enough to know of the Dragonborn that have come before me. Saviikaan, you are a skeevy bastard..."

"Know that my desire to see his corpse bests yours several times over. He has felled many of my fellow dovah simply because they sympathized with the Dovahkiin, or simply chose not to participate in his foolish crusade. I told him time and time again, the kingdom he once ruled is gone. But he'll have this land turned to glass before he'll accept that. He tore my heart out for saying such words to him. It hurt. A lot."

"Oh. Well, welcome back to the land of the living, then."

"I shan't be here long,” Durnehviir states bluntly. “Once Saviikaan is dead, I'll return to the earth so I can get some more sleep. Until then, I want you to promise me that you’ll focus your efforts on killing him and taking his soul. He has lived out this childish fantasy long enough. He wholeheartedly believes that unless he is a king to his subjects, the rest of the world need not bother living.”

“He’s like an infant who wants his toy back, when you put it that way,” I say, taking cautious steps towards this undead dragon. “I want the same thing as you. Equestria has suffered enough without having to cope with a former ruler so married to his own cause that he can’t hold out for a better future.” I reach out and touch the tip of Durnehviir’s beak. “You have my trust.”

Durnehviir moves into my touch. Even though his rotted flesh feels rough under my hoof, and his putrid scent fills my nostrils, I feel an odd amount of warmth coming from him; not from his skeletal body, but from his oddly compassionate mien. "This foal speaks eloquently. Whether Saviikaan genuinely believes this land was better off under his rule, or he simply relishes the idea of being a god in one's eyes once again... that is unknown. In either case, you are the only one who can stop him, and I sincerely hope you succeed. I do not wish to see another race of equines burned to ash. It stops being entertaining after a while."

Very compassionate.

I remove my hoof from Durnehviir’s beak and offer him a bow. “Thank you. Truly. Such information will be invaluable to me. By the time I’ve grown strong enough to defeat my adversary, Saviikaan won’t stand a chance.”

“What you lack in size compared to him, you have heart. And such fortitude! Truly, you are the Dovahkiin your race has been waiting for. Better you face Saviikaan, than…” Durnehviir trails off, lowering his head. If he eyelids, I assume he would have closed them. He turns his head and looks behind him. “Perhaps I should explain why I came to this spot in particular. This way.”

I have to gallop to keep up with the dragon as he walks along the beach, kicking up piles of sand and soil. I can easily say I’ve been in less bizarre situations. I never thought I’d be chasing after a dragon without the intention of slaying it.

Durnehviir halts when we reach a small cave. It doesn’t seem to be anything significant, but evidently, it’s what Durnehviir wants me to see, going by the nod of his head.

I take a look inside the cave. It doesn’t seem to run very deep, nor is it very wide. I trust Durnehviir enough to not expect him to set me ablaze the instant I step inside. As such, I go forth.

The cave’s interior becomes bathed in moonlight, revealing to me a macabre sight. Lying against the wall is a small pony skeleton in rotted oriental robes. A satchel of ruined tomes lies at its side, and before it is a wide collection of vials, each containing red, blue and green liquids. The most disconcerting thing about all this is the skeleton’s lack of hind legs.

I hear Durnehviir speak from the hole in the ceiling. “Dovahkiin, meet your ancestor. His name was Starbright.”

My heart skips a beat. I kneel down, staring at the skull of the former Dragonborn. “Epona’s mane, ” I gasp. I look around the cave once again, seeing no other remains. There is just this one skeleton. “And this is how he died? Alone, with half his legs, unable to do anything?”

“Precisely. And who do you think bears the burden of guilt for that?”

I look up Durnehviir. His breaths are heavy, and somehow, sad. It takes me an uncomfortable amount of time to speak. “You’re the one who—”

“He had the misfortune of standing in my path. We met by happenstance, on this beach. What had made Starbright so difficult to fight as a Dovahkiin was his tactical cleverness and his family of warriors, who were always at his aid, keeping him out of even the slightest danger. He could not be touched, until I met him. He was alone. Unprepared. Unprotected. He couldn’t even prepare a single spell before I tore his legs off in one fell swoop.” Durnehviir’s voice shakes as he speaks. “But he did not die. Not right away. I watched with great curiosity as he held on, letting himself suffer what horrible pain he must have been enduring as he crawled to this cave. With every small amount of distance he covered, my pride quickly sank into guilt. I realized that you equines are not weak. You are not lambs for our slaughter.”

“It seems you realized this too late,” I comment, before realizing how incredibly rude that was to say. “I’m sorry.”

“Do not apologize,” Durnehviir snaps. “This was my doing, and I’ve regretted it every day since. I come here often to visit Starbright, in the hopes that in the life beyond, he can hear me, and offer me vindication for what I did to him...”

The thoughts I had about dragons being all one and the same now seems like the notion of a simpleton. The only exception seemed to be Master, whom I had no reservation towards trusting once I got past the truth of his natural form. Of course, if Master were not a dragon, I likely wouldn’t be as willing to believe everything Durnehviir has said.

As for you, Starbright… I hope these sentiments reach you, since you are likely with the Fae at this point, but I hope you understand that even though your time came too soon, your death still lead to a greater victory. You made a dragon feel regret. That is something I will likely never accomplish, and you’re a greater Dragonborn than me for that alone.

Durnehviir reaches into the cave and pokes at the collection of vials. “As he lay dying, I tried to help him with these… I gathered as much as I could, but…” He’s trying to keep his deep, threatening voice as stable as he can, but I can hear him cracking. He’s like a thin sheet of ice about to break.

"Hey, it's alright. You tried your best..." I say, partially in disbelief that I’m offering comfort to such a terrifying behemoth. I move away from Starbright’s skeleton and approach Durnehviir’s hand. Reluctantly, I reach out to it and wrap my forelegs around it. “It’s okay.”

“Uh, mate, what are you doing?”

I immediately let go and spin around. At the entrance to the cavern stands my favorite pegasus. Tohro stands there, mouth agape as he holds my sword and sheath.

“Well, at least it’s not the most compromising position to find me in,” I say, stepping towards him and giving him a hug. “How are you?”

“Well, I’m fine now, but nice going, giving me a heart attack and all!” he yells, worming his way out of my grip and forcing my sword and sheath on me. “I follow the sound of a roaring dragon to the beach and find my best friend’s sword lying abandoned?! For the love of Epona, mate, could you be any more stupid?!”

“Not as stupid as I was when I woke up this morning.” I show a happy grin, which only makes Tohro’s frown intensify.

“Really…” he says with a scathing voice.

“I’m sorry I scared you. I had to lay down a weapon to gain the trust of this fellow.” I raise my foreleg and point up above. “Meet Durnehviir. He’s a friend of Otar’s, and an enemy of Saviikaan’s.”

Durnehviir gives an affirming snort. “This must be your companion. A threat to Saviikaan almost as much as yourself, Dovahkiin. I have heard the rumors of how well you two fight in tandem.”

“Like two peas in a pod,” I boast. “Isn’t that right?”

Tohro seems removed, looking up at Durnehviir with nothing but disbelief. “Yes it is, Sir Corpse Whisperer…” He turns to me with a bewildered look. “What in the sacred name of fuck have you been doing all of today?”

“Oh, wouldn’t you like to know. When we get back to the tent, I’ll tell you everything.”

“We’re not going back to the tent,” Tohro states. “We’re going to Everfree.”

I step back, as if Tohro had physically attacked me. “But what about Neigh Hrothgar? I want to visit Master.”

Tohro nods and offers me a reassuring touch on the wither. “And I want to meet him, but that will have to wait for another day. Queen Platinum’s orders.” He reaches into his bag and presents an envelope to me. The wax is already broken. “A royal courier came to me shortly after I woke up.”

I take the letter in hoof and give it a read.

Caro and Tohro of Dragonrein,

By the time you receive this letter, I assume the jarl of Dragon Bridge will have arrived in Everfree. The other jarls of the loyal cities and towns will be soon to follow, after which time we will begin our gathering and discuss recent events.

Of course, I’d be a fool to think I’m going to keep the good ponies of Dragonrein out of this historical event. Let it not be understated that you all have a stake in the fate of Equestria. As such, I expect you two to be alongside Shae Sparkle and Rosemary Von Spice when the summit begins. Please do not pass up this offer.

The other attendees of the gathering will be Princess Celina, Princess Luna, Captain Gauntlet, the palace sages, and any friends or family of the attending jarls.

Best wishes,
Platinum.

She’s grown humble. She didn’t even sign her rank. Merely her name, and nothing more.

I give the letter back to Tohro as I ponder what I just read. An invitation to a political summit? Even though I can’t expect it to be too diverting, no doubt the jarls will be discussing plans to put an end to Shokenda’s uprising, and that will lead me ever closer to ending Shokenda herself. What an honor. Even though wisps of my disappointment for a canceled trip to Neigh Hrothgar still remain, I’m fairly happy all the same.

“We can visit your master when royal affairs aren’t our top priority,” Tohro assures me with a smile. “I’m sorry. I know you’ve been looking forward to seeing him again. You must have had a lot of questions.”

“Not as many as I used to.” I turn around and look up at Durnehviir, who has been watching and listening in silence. “I have him to thank for that.”

Durnehviir snorts at me. “Do not thank me until you make use of these curatives,” he says, gesturing to the vials.

That’s a generous offer of his. Assuming those potions will all fit in our bags of holding, Tohro and I should be able to weather any tight situation.

Durnehviir then points to Starbright’s skeleton. Or, rather, what lies next to him. “As well as the contents of your predecessor’s satchel.”

“What’s in it?” I ask, approaching the satchel and lifting the flaps. Most of the contents are expired alchemical ingredients, with foul stenches to match their filthy remains. However, it’s within the largest pocket that I find something that makes my mouth fall open, unable to close. I see a bronze, gem encrusted scroll. Just by looking at it, I feel raw magical power in the air around me. It’s as if I’m looking at something not of this world.

I claim the Elder Scroll and carefully remove it from Starbright’s bag. As I hold it up for Tohro to see, his eyes widen.

“Oh, Divines…” he whispers. “How did the poor fellow get ahold of that?”

“Elder Scrolls cannot merely be obtained,” says Durnehviir with an ominous growl in his voice. “They are not tools. They are not made, and they are not to be used like a sword or a pickaxe. Elder Scrolls come to this world precisely where and when they intend to. They are not bound by laws of time or magic or any other rule of nature. They have been, are, and will, all at the same time. When you hold one in your hooves, you are holding the power of the Divines.”

“Amazing…” I’m tempted to open it right here and now, just to see what secrets it may hold, but Tohro’s hoof stops me.

“Not in this lifetime! You remember what happened to Squall, don’t you? The poor bastard got his eye torn up.” Tohro gestures to his cursed eye. “Imagine this, but a lot more bloody.”

“Oh, that’s right…” I say, immediately retracting my hooves and letting Tohro take the Elder Scroll. “And he probably knew much more about the scrolls than I do.”

Tohro continues speaking with grave sincerity. “The sages in the Rainbow Palace have to spend years, if not decades, gathering the mental, spiritual and physical capacity to comprehend what’s written upon these scrolls, and even then, their lifespans are at least a third less than the average pony.”

Suddenly the bronze relic in Tohro’s hooves seems less like an amazing discovery and more like a volatile curse given physical form. “So, if we ever make use of this,” I clarify, “it will be as a last resort.”

“I’m tempted to chuck this into the ocean. Are you sure you want to keep it?”

“Yes,” I say immediately. “I’ll gladly risk my eyes if it means it could potentially help Equestria. We must be prepared for every contingency, especially if this war is going to escalate.”

“Once again, Dovahkiin, I commend you on your bravery. Not too many, even among your kind, would be willing to risk themselves for a better future.” Durnehviir spreads his flaky, eroded wings and flaps them, beginning to take flight. “I will speak with you again in time. Farewell.”

Durnehviir takes to the sky, soaring upwards until he disappears into a cloud. After that, I lose sight of him.

“I see you’ve made another unusual friend,” Tohro comments. He waves to the exit of the cave. “Come along. Tell me everything.”

Just as I open my mouth, a slip of parchment falls from Tohro’s satchel, right out of the envelope he handed me before. He takes notice of this and goes to pick it up, unfolding it and giving it a read. He simply gives a disinterested shrug.

“Hm. Curious. This wasn’t in the envelope when I got the letter.” He gives me the parchment. “Does this mean anything to you, mate?”

It doesn’t, so why does it send a horrid chill down my spine?