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The Eternal Song

by Stereo_Sub

Chapter 9: Chapter Nine: A Tempo

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Snow. It was always snowing.

Huge, powdery flakes drifted down through the inky sky, settling themselves over the Manehatten street like a stifling white blanket. The city was quiet tonight. The oil streetlamps around me flickered dim in their holders, casting a faint orange glow onto the snow-covered cobblestones. They weren’t warm enough to stop me from shivering.

I bit my lip, taking in a deep breath of frozen air, and slowly turned around.

He was there. He was always there.

Standing in the doorway of the beat-up duplex that was the setting for so many of my childhood nightmares. Barely more than a shadowy outline, like some kind of monster that you would whisper about to scare colts and fillies back into their beds. If only he was. If only I could make him vanish with a flashlight and a smile and some reassuring words.

“Oh, look who’s back.”

No such luck.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” That voice. Low and gravelly and full of cruelty, just like always. Grating on my eardrums. I huffed out the breath I had been holding, sending a small cloud of mist into the air, and stared back at him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I kept my voice as cool as I could, but I couldn’t stop the tiniest bit of shakiness from creeping in. He heard it. He always did, like some goddessdamned jaguar waiting to pounce.

“Don’t give me that bullshit. You know your curfew,” he spat, stamping a hoof on the ground. “You’re lucky I don’t just slam the door now and leave you to fucking freeze—”

“Do it. Not like I could be any worse off.” The words had come from somewhere deep inside me, a tight little ball of wriggling, burning hatred that had been growing for Celestia knew how many years. My knees were shaking, and my DJ goggles felt tight and cold against my neck, but I held my ground.

“What did you just say?” That was it. The predator’s growl. Right before the pounce. I steeled myself.

“You ungrateful little bitch!” he roared, the strength of it almost making me cringe away out of habit. I forced myself to stand, staring dead on into what I could see of his eyes. “I raise your worthless ass for seventeen Celestia-damned years and this is how you repay me?! Waltzing around like you own the city with those stupid fucking goggles on your neck—”

“Bull shit you raised me. Last time I checked, being a live-in maid while you get drunk and mom goes to blast herself on salt isn’t exactly the definition of a healthy childhood.” The words tumbled out before I could bite them back. A tiny part of me quaked in fear, but an even tinier part felt a little thrill of satisfaction.

“Don’t you fucking backtalk me...” He lunged out from the doorframe, right hoof raised in that all-too-familiar windup. My body knew what was coming next before I did, and I nearly went limp, curling up on the ground just like I had so many times before. Just wait it out, thought a part of me, the broken, shattered part that didn’t want anything but for it all to be over. Roll with the pain and it’ll be done soon. Ice is in the freezer, bandages in the cabinet over the sink, towels under it. Make sure to wash your face. Pull your hoodie down tomorrow and tell the teachers you fell down the stairs or screwed up your makeup or what-the-hell-ever. You know the drill.

Fuck off, I told it. I’m done. Not this time. No more.

I threw up my forehoof and caught his with it, the clop they made as they touched echoing around the street as loud as a cannon blast. I stumbled a little, but stayed upright, still glaring at him with as much fire as I could manage. I was done hiding. Done crying. Done being a coward.

He stopped for a moment, frozen in place. His hoof was cold in mine, but I didn’t let go. Didn’t move at all. Just stood there and stared and waited.

He started to laugh.

It wasn’t happy or nervous or relieved, no, it was mean. Long and loud and full of barely contained anger, like a hiss of steam escaping through the top of a boiling pot.

“You wanna play hardball?” he whispered, muzzle barely an inch from mine. I could smell the thick, sour tang of the booze on his breath, but I refused to move. It was too late anyway. I’d poked the jaguar with a stick. Time to face the claws. He shoved me back, forcing his hoof out of mine, and grinned, baring his teeth. “Then let’s fuckin’ play.”

I heard the hook before I felt it, the whip-swish of his foreleg through the winter air reaching my ears a half-second before my cheek exploded in pain. I grunted, staggering and spitting out what felt like a chunk of tooth before shoving him as hard as I could.

He barely moved, chuckling horribly before shoving me back hard enough to make me hit the cobblestones with a crack. I had to bite my tongue to stop myself from crying out, but I stayed quiet. I wouldn’t be weak. Not now. Not for him.

I tried to leap back up, but he was already standing over me, shoving me down and pinning me down with one forehoof while the other wound up again.

The first hit was the hardest. It always was. Something crunched in my nose as the foreleg smashed into my face, sending a warm trickle of a familiar liquid oozing out. He didn’t stop, landing blow after blow anywhere he could and spitting curses all the while.

“Ungrateful little...” Smack.

“Too weak to even fight for herself, isn’t that right, bitch?” Thud.

“C’mon, get up again. Shove me again, bitch. I dare you.” Thump.

They kept coming, and eventually I stopped thrashing under the iron-like bar of his other forehoof and lay still, keeping my head up and my eyes pointed at him even as the hoof whipped down again and again.

“Useless piece of gutter trash...” Crack-clink.

I jerked as I heard the sharp, splintery sound of breaking glass, then my eyes widened as I looked down and saw the jagged crack running through the left lens of my goggles. He saw it too, and smiled.

“Oh, that’s too bad. Maybe you’ll think next time before you try to pull this shit, huh? Those things were fucking stupid anyway. Worthless. That’s what you are, you know that? Everything about you. No money, no job, your talent’s a fucking joke..." He stopped to laugh, then smacked my flank hard enough to make me gasp. “Music? I can make music, for Celestia’s sake! And you don’t even have the decency to go get yourself fucked by a stallion, maybe bring in a few bits on the side...” He felt me tense, my muscles going taut with rage at the words, and his smile grew wider. The little ball in my stomach was twisting around on itself, growing bigger and hotter until it felt like it was going to tear out of my chest. I settled instead for clenching my teeth and glaring at him.

“Not like you’d be worth much anyway. Assuming you could to make it down to the corner without shoving your face in some other mare’s cu—”

The ball burst.

“Shut up!” I screamed, a wave of anger and humiliation washing over me as I heard my voice crack. Because an attack of teenage hormones was exactly what I needed right now. “Shut up shut up shut UP!” I thrashed around in his grip, kicking out with my hind legs and trying to hit anywhere that would hurt. He grunted, leaning in and trying to force me down farther, and I bucked out as high and hard as I could.

Thud.

He bellowed in pain as my back hooves smacked between his hind legs, staggering away and easing up on me the tiniest bit. It was all I needed.

I wriggled out from underneath his foreleg and stood up, panting. I could already feel the bruises beginning to form, growing from red marks to huge, blue-black welts that stood out bright and shiny against my coat. Not just on my neck or legs or chest, places that I could hide with a scarf or a coat or a well-placed glare at whoever made the mistake of staring. No, these were everywhere. Too many to hide. Too many to forgive.

As I stood over him, body throbbing and soaked with sweat, blood and melted snow, I felt like I was being torn in half. Part of me wanted to jump on him, just like he had done to me, and lash out with everything I had until every last bit of fear and pain had been repaid in full. But another part just wanted to turn and run, to sprint through the snow-filled streets and not stop until I had put as much distance between myself and my goddess-forsaken hellhole of a life as I could.

He moaned, rolling over and slowly propping himself up onto his forehooves, and I made my decision.

The cold air burned in my lungs as I bolted down the street, hooves nearly soundless against the layer of snow covering the stone below. My goggles rattled against my neck, but I didn’t stop to adjust them, didn’t even look down. I couldn’t, because I knew if I slowed for even a few steps I would sink to the ground and start to cry and never stop.

So I didn’t. I didn’t slow down. Not when I slipped and cracked my knee on a patch of black ice. Not as I darted across the ancient, run-down bridge that had divided North and South Manehatten for as long as I could remember. Not as my legs began to numb and my mind began to feel fuzzy and frayed, like I was a blob of cotton balls slowly being pulled apart...

Finally, my hooves gave out. I collapsed against a park bench, wheezing and curling up into the tightest ball I could, and before I knew what was happening I was crying. Huge, choking wails that took my body like a leaf in the wind, making me shake against the unforgiving wood. They were unstoppable, like tidal waves full of years of pent-up hurt, and all I could do was lay there, eyes shut, and let all my pain leech out into the cool, clear nothingness around me.

Everything ached.

I groaned, rolling over as far as I could before something jerked me to a halt. There was what felt like a bracelet around each of my legs, connected by a length of long, metallic something. Chain, probably. They were tight, tight enough that I could already feel numbness setting in, and felt colder than any metal I could remember. My saddlebags and goggles were missing, leaving me feeling uncomfortably naked without the familiar weight on my sides and neck. I could live without the supplies, but the goggles...

I tried to block the memories out, force them back down like I usually could, but it was already a long way past too late. They all flooded back like water breaking through a dam: every bruise and bloody nose, every screaming match, every night spent crying into a pillow—

No. Quit it, Vinyl. You’re over this. Time to be a big girl.

I took several slow, deep breaths, swallowing the pain and panic back down, and a few seconds later I could think clearly again. I hadn’t had that dream in years, but last night had apparently screwed up my head just as much as it had the rest of me.

So. On the upside, I was pretty sure I wasn’t dead. On the downside... pretty much everything else.

Vinyl.

Yep. Everything else.

What do you want? I thought, opening my eyes and wincing as I was nearly blinded by the sudden blast of sunlight. Wait. Sunlight? That meant it had been...

Only a day, as far as I can tell. Stay still. Look around as best you can, but don’t draw their attention to you, Aura thought. Her tone was urgent enough that I complied without arguing, squinting as my surroundings gradually morphed from fuzzy blobs of light into recognizable objects.

I was lying down in the middle of the same clearing I had nearly killed myself in the night before, with my legs chained, my head throbbing, and no sign of any of my friends. The huge line of scorched earth was still there, even more obvious in the light of day, as was the group of chained foals I had failed miserably at saving. Just seeing them again was enough to make me want to rip out of my bonds and blast anything wearing a white robe into a pile of ash, but I forced myself to keep still.

Don’t even bother with sonomancy, or magic at all, for that matter. The chains block it. You’ll only hurt yourself.

I immediately attempted to channel a note, and was rewarded a burst of freezing pain in my gut instead of the usual warm glow. I had to grit my teeth to stop from yelling.

Seriously? What did I just say?

Nothing. You don’t have a mouth. Shut up. So that hadn’t been one of my best decisions. Fine. Things were bad enough without being snarked at.

I risked a glance around and jerked in surprise as I found a pair of piercing steel-grey eyes staring back at me. They belonged to the pony chained in front of me, a young filly with an azure coat and an silvery mane. She flicked her gaze away as soon as she saw me, and I shuddered, doing my best not to rattle my chains. That stare had been like looking down a well: deep and dark and full of things that had no place being in a filly. I made a mental note to avoid glancing in her general direction again if I could help it.

I don’t like judging ponies at face value, but this time I think you might actually be right. Something about her feels... off.

Whoa. If Aura was actually agreeing with me about something, that filly must’ve had even more going on under the surface than I had first thought. And of course I was bound directly next to her, with plenty of chains stopping me from escaping when the impassive line of her mouth split apart to reveal a gaping maw full of dripping fangs—

All right, that’s a bit much. If Aura could’ve rolled her eyes, I had the impression she would’ve. And you’re one to talk about hidden depths, considering your little outburst last night.

I sighed irritably at the jab, then my eyes widened in fear as I realized what it might’ve meant. Wait. You can’t... see into my head while I’m out, can you? Like my dreams or anything?

Dreams? she thought, sounding confused. No, I can’t. Why? Was there—

Uhhh no reason forget I said anything, I replied, mentally smacking myself upside the head. Sure, Aura still didn’t know about the pegasus in white, but she hadn’t known anything about my less-than-peachy formative years before, she sure as hell did now. Great going, Vinyl. What’s next, a book deal and an auction for exclusive rights to your fucked-up life’s story?

You know, if you want to talk about it...

No. Talking about it is exactly what I don’t want to do. Now, do you have any ideas for how we’re going to get out of here, or is this going to be the lamest end to an adventure ever? And where the hell are Lyra, Red, and ‘Tavi? Wait. I gulped as a horrible thought crossed my mind. If the Heralds only care about unicorns, then what would they do with... oh Celestia...

Calm down. They’ll probably be fine, at least for now. You’re Outlanders, so you’re automatically more interesting than normal captives. That should keep you safe until they decide what to do with you.

Outlanders?

Dimension-jumpers. Anyone or anything not native to Sonus. To the Heralds, it’s only slightly less worse than not being a unicorn.

I should’ve figured. We’ve already got racism, slavery, and genocide, so why not throw some in some good ol’ xenophobia to complete the cocktail of fucked-up-ness?

And you said this was a good thing?

It’ll delay them for a little while. Outlanders are rarer now, so you’re probably the first they’ve seen. They won’t be sure what to do with you, since you can’t be ‘recruited’ to join them.

Okay, so—

A rustle of branches interrupted my thoughts, and I rolled over as quietly as I could in time to see a familiar white-robed figure emerge from the treeline. There was something behind it, too. Three somethings. Three ponies.

I felt a simultaneous burst of relief and rage as my friends came into view, each bound with chains just like mine and sporting a variety of new injuries. Lyra had a split lip and a gash on her cheek, Redheart’s white coat was almost covered in a layer of ugly bruises, and Octavia... My stomach tightened. Her beautiful face was cratered by a large, purplish lump around her right eye, she was limping badly on her injured leg, and her mouth looked like it was clamped shut to stop herself from crying out. I closed my eyes as a wave of seething anger washed over me, followed closely by soul-crushing guilt. They had suffered for my mistake while I had been sleeping off my bruises.

Those towel-wearing bastards are gonna pay, I thought, hooves shaking in a combination of weakness and anger. What do you think? Three broken bones per chained foal sound like a good exchange rate? Maybe a few extra for my friends.

Don’t do anything stupid. We’ll get out of this, but not right now.

I chuckled, softly and humorlessly, and opened my eyes. Me? Stupid? Wouldn’t dream of it.

The Herald was escorting my friends to somewhere near the front of the slave line as his partner continued to stand guard somewhere behind me. I tried to catch ‘Tavi’s eye as she walked past, but she was staring straight ahead, shoulders stiff and head held high. Regal to the end.

Even if I had been able to get her attention, I wasn’t sure what I would’ve done. Flashed her a fake reassuring smile? Mouthed ‘sorry I fucked up again’, for all the good it would’ve done? Broken down crying? Whatever. It didn’t matter. I would find a way out of this.

Together, the Heralds locked my friends into place with quiet clinks, then, with a barely-noticable ripple of his hood, I heard the taller one speak.

“Rise.”

The voice was cool and emotionless, much different than the guttural barks I remembered from the night before. The hell? I thought, frowning. They didn’t sound anything like they did before, unless I’m remembering it wrong.

No, you’re right. I’ll explain later, I promise. For now, just do what they say.

All around me, I heard soft groans and the rattle of chains as the foals got to their hooves. I followed suit, though my foreleg was still aching from a combination of the Stalker venom and nearly being cooked inside-out the night before. A second later, there was another command, just as emotionless as the first:

“Walk.”

I walked. The slave foals around me did too, some tripping or stumbling before they were shoved back into place by their linemates. Moving in chains was incredibly awkward, and I almost fell a few times myself before I found something that worked: a weird sort of half-shuffle that kept my hooves as close to each other as possible. It still hurt, but much less than any other way I had tried. The Heralds had moved into place on either side of the line at some point, providing a silent escort to the grim parade, and with them came the return of the song: that same steady, pounding rhythm I had heard the night before. It droned on and on, never changing or varying the slightest bit, until it had nearly blotted out all other sound. I gritted my teeth and kept moving.

With walking more or less figured out, I had more time to look around, not that there was much to see. This section of the Wildwood had so far been keeping faithfully to the general theme of trees, more trees, and not much else. At least the creepy filly chained in front of me hadn’t done anything else but walk straight ahead. At this point, I would be grateful for anything I could get.

So, I thought, wincing as I accidentally put my full weight on my injured foreleg. You said you would explain? About everything? We had been walking for around ten minutes, though to my aching hooves and throbbing head it might as well have been a day or two. Also, where are we going?

I’m not sure, Aura replied. Probably to a rift spire, which is a sort of fast-travel mechanism they use to quickly move around Sonus. I’m not sure where the nearest one is, though. Could be hours, could be days.

Fast-travel? I thought incredulously. There’s been fast-travel this entire time and we haven’t been using it?!

The Heralds have them all locked down. At least fifty guards on each one, plus a full complement of summoned thralls. Trying to use one as a group would be suicide.

Right. Obviously something that convenient would have to be completely unusable when I finally learn about it. You’d think by now I’d start expecting this stuff. Anyway. Explain.

You asked me earlier how I knew so much about the Heralds. I suppose I owe it to you, after what we’ve been through so far.

Hmm, ya think? I shot back. What was the tipping point? Was it watching my marefriend get stabbed through the shoulder by a mutated undead freak of nature? Or maybe it was the time where I almost killed myself. Oh, wait, that’s been like, three times, now. My bad. The words felt good coming out, but as soon as I had finished I felt a pang of regret. Sorry. That was bitchy.

You’re forgiven, if only because I think that was the first actual apology I’ve heard out of you so far. Anyway, as I was saying, the reason I know what I do is because for more than two years, I almost was a Herald myself.

I stopped dead, earning myself a shove and an irritated grunt from the pony chained behind me. You better be kidding—

Let me explain!

I sighed. Please do. I desperately wanted to give Aura the benefit of the doubt, if only to save whatever shred of optimism I still had left.

I was part of the resistance, back when Mortem and the Heralds were still gaining power. They sent me as an infiltrator, an agent to gain whatever inside information I could and report it back to them.

But they only accept unicorns, right? Unless you’ve had a horn shoved up your rump this whole time, I don’t see how that would work. Though it would actually explain a lot. It was a cheap shot, but I couldn’t help myself. In just a few days, needling Aura whenever I could had almost become second nature. Call it stress relief.

...I’m going to ignore the horn comment. Anyway, it was actually the perfect opportunity. I had to prove myself adept at sonomancy first, of course, which I did, moreso than even some of the lieutenants. They only accepted me after I nearly killed one of them in a duel, but even then they still refused to teach me any of their magic or techniques. I was just ‘the earth pony’. Lower than dirt. Untouchable and unnoticeable. Only called upon when I was needed, then sent away again. It was ideal for information-gathering.

But they found out. From what I’d learned of the Heralds so far and Sonus in general, I was pretty sure there was no way this story could have a happy ending.

Aura sighed. The sound echoed through my head for a few seconds before she continued. Yes. They found out. It couldn’t have been at a worse time, either. I was about to complete my mission by stealing the Clasp of the Eternal Song from their fortress in the Morter Wastes.

Whoa. You were in their base? I cocked an eyebrow. And they didn’t suspect you once? The more I learned, the more I had to admit a grudging admiration for the pony I was sharing headspace with. She might have been a snarky, insufferable killjoy, but she had some street cred.

Thanks. I think, she replied. And as for suspecting me, they didn’t have any reason to. I had been stationed there for a while as a servant-guard, and had even managed to make myself the ‘favorite’ of a few of the high commanders. Not that that meant much. I was supposed to be getting one of them something, I forget what it was, when I made my move. Took out the closest Herald I could find, stole his robes and burned the body. I had learned how to speak Purita by then, so none of them gave me a second look.

Purita?

The language of the Heralds. It’s a bastardization of traditional Sonian with some old cantrip phrases added for extra power. It’s what they spoke just now when they told you to move, as opposed to last night, which was some mountain dialect I can’t remember the name of. Maybe Highlander Elrani? No, that has more consonant emphasis...

I sighed. Does it matter?

Actually, it does. It means they’re new inductees. Veteran Heralds wouldn’t be caught dead speaking anything other than Purita. This pair will be unsure of themselves. More prone to mistakes and irrationality. We can use that.

Oh, I thought. Finally, some luck! Well, that’s good. Now, what were you saying about stealing—

I blinked as a flicker of movement caught my attention, then tensed as I heard Lyra and Redheart gasp from somewhere farther up the line. The sound was quickly followed by a rattle of chains and the thump of a pony’s body hitting the forest floor. I swallowed, heart leaping into my throat as I strained to see what had happened.

Oh my Celestia...

Octavia had collapsed. She was lying limp and still, eyes closed and bruises shining in the afternoon sunlight. The foals chained ahead and behind her were already shuffling back, doing their best to distance themselves from the scene. I felt a surge of anger that almost immediately turned to guilt. What the hell are they going to do? I berated myself. They’re kids, idiot. Probably just as terrified as you are. They definitely looked terrified, at least from what I could see. All of them except the filly with the grey eyes, who stood silent and still, staring straight ahead.

Definitely a weird one. At least she wasn’t backing away like the rest.

“Halt,” a voice said, cold and robotic as usual. We stopped. A few scattered whispers made their way up and down the line, but they quickly faded as the Herald who had spoken began to move, stalking over to where Octavia had fallen. I clenched my teeth as he passed me, fighting the urge to leap onto him and try to wrap my chains around his neck. I would bide my time. For now.

Oh, no... Aura thought. She sounded genuinely scared for what was probably first time in the entire trip, which didn’t exactly help my already-spiking levels of panic.

Not very reassuring, Aura. Not reassuring at all, actually. I took a deep breath, trying and failing to calm myself down. What are they going to do to her?

It—it’s not important. We need to do something right now. Just give me a few seconds to—

Tell me.

It’s better you don’t know.

Tell me or I swear to Celestia I’m going to rip this amulet off with my teeth and—

Please, Vinyl. Trust me, just this once. We just need to get her out now.

I’m not leaving the foals, I thought, glaring down at a patch of moss. I had gotten myself into this. I wasn’t about to let it be for nothing.

I know you want to help, but just think logically! You can’t fight two on one when you nearly killed yourself less than a day ago.

I’m not leaving them.

Elri’s teats, you are so gods-damned pigheaded!

I managed a tiny smile in spite of myself. Is that, like, an actual curse? I mean—

“Rise.”

The smile died on my lips.

Octavia didn’t respond, either ignoring or not noticing the Herald looming over her. He waited a few seconds, then repeated the command.

“Rise.” The word sounded exactly the same as it had the first time. There was no change in tone, no variation in pitch. It was like a recording.

Aura? Ideas?

Working on it...

“Rise,” the Herald said again, stepping away from Octavia. He raised a white-clothed forehoof, causing the slave foals closest to him to shy away almost instantly. They had seen this before. Maybe even felt it. The thought made all the anger I had felt last night bubble up in a searing wave, and I tensed in my manacles, ready to spring the millisecond he laid a hoof on ‘Tavi.

All right, I’ve got it, Aura thought, sounding anxious. It’s a gamble, a massive one, but it’s the only thing that might work. Pray to whatever gods you have.

Dear Princess Celestia, please don’t let me fuck this up, thanks, Vinyl Scratch. Done. The black ring around the Herald’s hoofwrap was beginning to glow a sickly green, with tendrils of power playing out around it like tiny snakes. I steeled myself. Now what?

When I say, take a deep breath and hold it, then start to channel a chord. You’ll have to overload the chains. It’ll hurt, but you’ll have to push through it. Don’t worry about controlling the flow, but for gods’ sake don’t run it through the foals!

Sounds incredibly dangerous. Awesome. Why can’t I do it now? I thought, staring at the Herald’s ring. It was almost hard to look at now, shining bright and pulsing with that same droning rhythm.

They’ll notice. Blue lightning isn’t exactly inconspicuous. Wait until they’re distracted.

What do you mean distract—

“You refuse, and so you perish,” the Herald said coldly. His hoofring flared a brilliant green, the rhythm of the drums grew to a roar, and I heard Octavia scream.

Now! Start it!

What the hell are they doing to her?!

It doesn’t matter! Focus or she could die!

Octavia was writhing on the ground, face twisted in agony as the green tendrils coiled and squeezed around her body. I clenched my eyes shut, trying to block out her screams, but they were loud, piercing, drilling into my head and making it almost impossible to focus. I did anyway.

Oh goddess, that hurt like a bitch!

The notes of the chord felt like they were punching frozen holes in my stomach as I channeled them, but I pushed through it, forcing the tones louder, stronger, brighter. I saw a flash of white out of the corner of my eye. The other Herald. Not much I could do about him now.

You’re almost there! Come on, Vinyl, Aura murmured faintly. You’ve survived twice this much feedback before. I know you can do this.

I could still hear ‘Tavi’s screams, but now they were distant, fading in and out like a badly-tuned radio. My entire body was one solid block of icy pain. I couldn’t feel my legs. There was something dripping down my face, too, something that tasted salty and metallic as it pooled in my mouth. It took me a few seconds to realize it was blood, and a few more to realize it was my own. I was cold. So cold...

Vinyl, listen! Do you hear it?

Hear what? The screaming? Was it Octavia’s? Aura’s? Mine? Did it matter?

No! Listen past it! The chains!

I flicked my ears as high as I could, straining for anything other than the soul-tearing sound of my marefriend being tortured, and then I heard it: A keening, hissing whine, rising from the chains around my hooves and mingling with the screams.

That’s it! They can’t take the energy! Just a little more!

Suddenly, the cold wasn’t so suffocating. A rush of fiery warmth shot outwards from my stomach, sending pins and needles down my legs and hooves, and I let out a ragged yell of triumph as one of my chains broke cleanly in half with a SNAP. I was so close...

The heat of the chord lapped across my body, fighting back the horrible chill and pouring strength back into my limbs. There was another SNAP, and I staggered forward, my hind legs free from both their shackles. I heard a guttural shout from somewhere in front of me, followed by a filly’s yell. What was happening? No. Focus.

Two more! Aura sounded half exhilarated, half terrified, almost exactly how I felt.

SNAP. The third one broke easily, twisting and cracking as the energy pulsed through it. One, I thought, spitting out a glob of blood and letting the roar of the chord drown out everything else. Just one left—

Then, with one last, choking cry, Octavia’s screaming stopped. The Herald was stepping away, his hoofband fading back from green to shiny black...

No.

NO!” I shouted, dropping to my knees and slamming my forehooves against the ground. All the warmth I had been gathering left me in a single burst, arcing across the chains before ricocheting back into my chest. It passed through me, singeing my fur and burning my insides before shooting into the ground with a faint crackle. The cold was seeping in again, dulling my senses and sapping any strength I had left.

I had failed. Again. And this time it had cost me everything.

The Heralds were talking to each other, shouting in the same harsh language as the other night. I opened my eyes, pushing myself upright, and sucked in a breath as I saw the filly with the grey eyes lying on the ground, twitching faintly. My eyes narrowed.

I still had three hooves free. I would make them pay. For her. For ‘Tavi. For all of us.

The white-robed figures marched closer, muttering back and forth and gesturing at me. I spat at the closest one, sending a red blob spinning toward his robe, and he turned, hoofring already glowing and ready to deliver my agonizing death. I shoved myself to my hooves, glaring straight into the darkness of his hood even as my eyesight started to blur from tears and exhaustion. I would make them pay.

“Be pure,” he said, green tendrils spiraling outward from his ring towards my chest. I leapt back, holding my one remaining manacle up like it was a sword from Celestia herself.

“Burn in Tartarus, you son of a bitch.”

Then the sun went out.

I yelped as my hooves were swept out from under me by a sudden gust of wind, sending me tumbling head-over-hooves into the darkness. From the yells and shrieks nearby, it sounded like the slave foals had been hit too, which meant the Heralds were probably just as disoriented.

I tried to get up again, but my legs refused, weighed down by the freezing pain running through them. I sighed. The mini-eclipse would only delay the Heralds a couple seconds at most. Not enough time to do anything other than reflect on exactly how badly I had fucked up, which was pretty goddess-damned bad.

A second later, the forest burst back into light, and I was about try to stand one last time when a deafening wave of sound pierced the air. I’d only heard it twice, but it was unforgettable: a half-screech, half-roar that made the ground tremble and the leaves flutter on the trees.

It can’t be, I thought, shaking my head in disbelief. I’m not buying this. No fucking way am I this lucky.

Thanks be to Elri...

The varra was back.

Another screech-roar rang through the forest, then the trees around us were swept backward by a huge wave of air, exposing the slave line to the open sky. I saw the varra’s gigantic silhouette against the blue and whooped as it dove downward, talons outstretched and pointed straight at the pair of dumbfounded Heralds. One of them dove to the side, missing the bark-covered claws by what looked like inches. The other wasn’t so lucky, and I felt a stab of savage joy as I heard the meaty thunk of wood against flesh. Fucker had deserved it.

The varra shot upwards, circling around for another pass, then flicked its talon and sent the body of the Herald spinning out over the forest like a ragdoll. I jumped to my hooves, realizing with a start that the numbness in my limbs was almost entirely gone. It was like the forest itself was singing, humming and pouring life back into me with every note. It was a tune I recognized, too. Simple and upbeat, but full of wild, exhilarating energy...

I gasped in realization just as I heard a cheer from somwhere ahead of me.

“It’s mine!” Lyra shouted, hopping up and down in her shackles as the varra sped closer. Redheart, who was chained next to her, stood still and silent, eyes wide in awe. “The song! It’s playing my so—”

She broke off, her yells morphing into screams of pain as a wriggling tentacle of green energy looped around her neck. The other Herald had gotten behind her while we had been distracted by the varra, and now he was standing with his hoof outstretched and his hoofring glowing, slowly choking the life out of my friend.

“Get off her!” I leapt forward, swinging the chain around my forehoof and ready to rip him limb from white-robed limb, but Redheart, of all ponies, was faster. I felt the line go taut as she slammed into the Herald, yanking the slave foal chained to her back hooves forward and sending all four of them tumbling to the ground in a heap. The green tendril flickered, then began to fade, and I heard Lyra’s screams begin to fade with it.

Wow. Who knew she had it in her?

Redheart rolled to the side, tangling the Herald in her chains and slamming a manacled forehoof into his collarbone. I heard him hiss in what might have been pain before shoving her away, hoofring charging up for another blast. He never got to use it.

The varra landed with an explosion of wind and earth, its massive head darting out and snatching the Herald away from Redheart in one smooth motion. The music in the air swelled as it tossed him upward like a piece of white-robed popcorn, then grew to a deafening crescendo as the huge, mossy beak yawned open before shutting around his midsection with a clean snap. I turned away, slightly naseous, then jerked as something warm and wet showered against my back.

Oh my Celestia that better not be what I think it is, I thought, shaking out my coat as hard as I possibly could. I just threw up in my mouth a little.

Varra aren’t exactly known for their clean hunting habits, Aura thought, sounding almost giddy with relief. But what made this one come back? They don’t normally interfere with mortals unless it’s to chase them away from their territory.

Don’t know, don’t care, I thought, a sudden panic setting in as I saw the charcoal-grey form lying in the middle of a group of scared-looking foals. Gotta get to ‘Tavi.

Vinyl, you’re still—

I broke into a gallop, making it a grand total of around three feet before the shackle around my foreleg pulled tight, sending me sprawling down into the grass and making the foal screamed in frustration, yanking pointlessly at the chain as if my anger would somehow magically turn it into paper. The varra’s song had helped with the exhaustion and pain in my limbs, but I doubted I had the energy to overload the chains again. Celestia damn it, this wasn’t fair! We had just cheated death for what must’ve been the millionth time, and now I wasn’t even going to get to see—

SNAP.

I started as I heard the sound of cracking metal, then froze in a combination of terror and awe. The varra’s beak was literally inches from my muzzle, still clamped over what was left of my shackle chain. I gulped, looking back into its emerald eyes and desperately hoping it wasn’t considering Vinyl Scratch Surprise for dessert.

“Thanks,” I whispered, then the urge to get to ‘Tavi overwhelmed my fear and I bolted forward, severed manacle clanking around my forehoof like the world’s ugliest piece of jewelry. I heard the varra screech behind me, but didn’t look back. Right now, only one thing mattered.

I reached the front of the slave line in seconds, stumbling a few times as my injured foreleg threatened to give out on me, then shoved my way through the circle of foals that had formed around my fallen marefriend. I earned myself a few glares from the ones who weren’t completely petrified, but I ignored them and collapsed in the center, panting.

Redheart had untangled herself from the foals and was kneeling on the ground, eyes pained and face somber. She didn’t acknowledge me as I crawled past her. I was grateful for that. This was something I needed to face alone.

The rest of the my surroundings seemed to fade away as I reached Octavia, melting around me into a dull-colored haze. “Hey, you,” I whispered to her, knowing I wasn’t going to get an answer. “Don’t worry. It’ll be okay.” Her eyes were closed, and her coat was still a smooth, downy grey, unbroken by a single scratch or bruise. She could have been sleeping.

The Bloodless Death, thought Aura. No marks, no trauma. Just— wait. Vinyl.

I ignored her, reaching out a hoof and placing it on her chest. Her fur was cold to the touch. I waited. One second. Two seconds. Three.

Nothing.

No...

I wanted to move, to take my hoof away from her lifeless chest and stroke her cheek and kiss her and make her be okay, but I was frozen to the spot. It all seemed so unreal, like the whole thing had been a nightmare and I was just about to wake up.

Vinyl, look at her foreleg.

My eyes panned downward, slowly tracing every inch of Octavia’s body as they made their way toward her hooves. Those legs had hugged me, slapped me, carried me and held me and pulled me in close for hundreds and hundreds of kisses...

I squinted, blinking my tears away as something on her leg caught my attention. The silver hoofband was still there from when she had put it on in Legato Records what felt like an eternity ago, but it was dull now, tarnished almost black.

How...

Those idiots, Aura thought, sounding triumphant and relieved and a hundred other emotions she had no right to feel. Those gods-damned fools. It must have blended in with her fur well enough that they missed it when they were putting on the shackles. Vinyl, take it off.

I stood still, brain struggling to process the command. Memories were flashing through my head, replacing each other at an almost sickening speed: Octavia smiling. Octavia laughing. Sleeping next to me, her body warm and soft against mine. Cheering in the audience of my first gig in Canterlot, when I had been so nervous I had almost thrown up onstage. Sitting across from me, mouth curled in a confident smirk as she threw back another glass of vodka, daring me to follow. I had lost that bet.

Vinyl. Take. Off. The bracelet.

Dueling the Stalkers, dancing gracefully around the screeching monstrosities with her tailblade singing through the air. Staring up at me, smiling despite her bandaged leg as we cuddled against the tree. Lying on the ground, screaming in pain as the glowing tendrils squeezed the life out of her—

MOVE!

I jerked forward, my forelegs moving of their own accord and yanking the hoofband off. As soon as it left Octavia’s body, it crumbled to a chalky black powder that stained my hooves like ink. What the hell was that?! I thought, shaking as I regained control of my limbs. What did you—

You were completely lost in your own self-pity. I had to intervene or she would’ve died.

Would’ve? I thought numbly, staring at the mossy ground. I still hadn’t fully accepted what had happened. I probably never would.

Just look, Aura thought. I looked, a tiny, flickering spark of hope igniting inside me as I did. It wasn’t possible, it shouldn’t have been possible, but maybe, just maybe...

Octavia coughed. The spark flared.

I heard Redheart’s breath catch from somewhere to my right, and within seconds she was nearly on top of ‘Tavi, ignoring the manacles still around her hooves as she pressed and prodded my marefriend’s body. I scooted reluctantly to the side, fighting my desire to shove her away, leap on top of Octavia, and hug her as tightly as I could until nothing was wrong anymore.

Probably best you didn’t, Aura chimed in. She could have broken ribs already. Hard to tell the extent of the damage from just looking.

Goddess, I hated it when she was right.

“Heartbeat steady, breathing fine, pulse strong...” Redheart murmured, sounding relieved and confused at the same time. “This doesn’t make any sense.”

“What doesn’t?” I asked, leaning over Octavia and putting a forehoof to her chest again. This time, I didn’t have to wait. There was a rhythm, strong and steady and wonderful. My smile was so wide I thought it was going to split my face open.

Didn’t I tell you? Aura thought. I just shook my head.

How? I felt it myself. A few seconds ago, there was nothing. No heartbeat, no pulse. She was... I stopped, reluctant to even think about what had almost happened. You know. Wait. The hoofband had something to do with it, didn’t it? I’m not a metalologist—

That’s not a word.

Shut up, but I’m pretty sure silver doesn’t normally act like that.

You’re right, Aura replied, sounding pleased. In Sonus, silver is a dimensional anchor. As long as you have some on you, it binds a piece of your soul to wherever it came from.

And this saved ‘Tavi how? I thought, frowning. It was never a straight answer with her, was it?

The primary technique the Heralds use for torture and execution is animalci, or, literally translated, ‘soul shredder’.

I shuddered, remembering the green tendrils wrapping around Octavia’s body. Sounds fun.

It basically attempts to tear your spirit out of your body and force it into another container, sometimes the user, sometimes a soul crucible or something else.

Soul crucible?

You really don’t want to know, Aura replied, and this time I believed her. I had realized why she hadn’t wanted to tell me what was about to happen to ‘Tavi, and whatever a ‘soul crucible’ was, I was confident that it would probably be several more levels of fucked-up than anything I was willing to deal with today.

So it tries to rip out your soul or whatever, but the silver is already pulling you back to your dimension, so it balances out? I thought. But wait. What’s stopping you from just putting on a suit of silver armor and waltzing through the Herald army like it isn’t even there?

Besides the fact that silver doesn't exist natively in Sonus, it doesn't work like that. The amount doesn't affect the strength of the bond, and neither does the purity of the metal. It’s a fixed thing that can only take so much before it severs, which is why it made Octavia resistant to the soul shredder, but not immune. The hoofband’s useless now, of course. You saw how it crumbled away when you took it off. As soon as the piece of corrupted soul is removed from the body, it severs permanently. Octavia’s soul was still trying to hold on to the piece that had been corrupted, which was why she seemed dead. No soul, no life. At least not without some extremely technical and horrifying reanimation magic.

Right, I thought, noddingly slowly. Why didn’t you tell me this before? Seems pretty Celestia-damned important. I was too relieved to feel that irritated with her, but Aura’s endless withholding of information was still starting to become annoying.

If you knew you could resist the Herald’s power to an extent, you would try to abuse it. Take risks. Stupid ones. Well, more stupid than usual.

I smiled wryly. Fair enough. So this amulet lets me hang on to my soul for a little longer, too, right? What happens if it breaks? Do you—

The Clasp of the Eternal Song is different, Aura thought. It’ll still give you resistance to animaci, but because it’s an artifact, your body will give out a long time before it does. Magic can’t destroy magic. Not easily, anyway.

Oh. That’s... comforting, I guess—

“...unless the extreme pain triggered some kind of delayed chemical response that jump-started her neural processes and it just cascaded off from there...” Redheart was muttering. She saw my slightly glazed expression and blushed. “Sorry. I’m rambling.”

I blinked. “What? Oh, no, you’re fine.” Hopefully she hadn’t noticed that I had been completely absorbed in Aura’s lecture for the last two minutes. “And she’s fine, too, right?” I asked, pointing at Octavia and feeling a thrill run through me as I saw her chest rise and fall.

Sometimes it’s the little things.

“She is,” murmured Redheart, still frowning. “I don’t know how, or why, but unless there’s something I’m missing, she’s perfectly healthy. Besides the pre-existing injuries, of course.” She gestured to Octavia’s bandaged leg, which was obviously swollen even through the gauze. “Ugh, that definitely needs treatment. But I still don’t understand. When I got here... Vinyl, she was dead. Clinically dead. Ponies don’t just... come back from that.” She blushed deeply, realizing the implications of what she had just said. “N-not that I’m not happy that she’s back or anything—”

“Look,” I said, grinning and throwing a hoof around her shoulder. “I could give you a whole long explanation about souls and dimensions and silver and a million other things that would make it all make sense, or I could just say ‘magic and shit’ and we could get on with being heroes. Sound good?”

Oh for the love of the gods...

Redheart nodded, smiling her small, quiet smile. “Sounds good. Your nose is bleeding, by the way, a lot, and the rest of you doesn’t look very good either. No offense. I should check—”

I shook my head, rubbing a hoof under my nose and wiping the resulting blood on the ground. “I’m fine. What about you? Some of those bruises look pretty nasty. What happened, anyway? What’d they do to you guys?” I was treading on dangerous ground, since whatever had happened to my friends had more or less been my fault, but I needed to know.

“Don’t worry, they’re all surface-level,” Redheart replied, sounding like she was carefully squeezing every last drop of emotion from the words. “They look bad, but they should heal on their own in a few days. And as for what happened...” She sighed. “After you collapsed, they found the rest of us and knocked us unconscious. We woke up around a half-hour before you, and when we did, our saddlebags and supplies were gone, and they were waiting. They chained us up, then one of them took us into the trees and interrogated us. He asked us everything: who we were, why we were here, where we had gotten our supplies... we didn’t tell him anything, of course. I don’t think he appreciated that.” She shook her head slowly. “He beat all of us. Octavia tried to attack him halfway through it. She got hit the worst. Then he made us march back into the clearing in front of everypony as an example. The rest, you know.” Redheart stared at me for a moment longer, then went back to checking over ‘Tavi, leaving me standing motionless with a mountain’s worth of guilt weighing on my shoulders.

Well. I think the generally accepted response here would be some kind of apology, Aura thought, sounding none too pleased about what had just happened. I mean, you did almost cost them their lives by charging into an enemy camp with a wounded party member and absolutely no idea what you were up against—

That’s it. As soon as we get to those mountains, I’m finding the deepest pit of lava I can and throwing you into it.

Oh, I’m shaking in my nonexistent horseshoes.

Ugh. Even my sarcasm was rubbing off on her. As obnoxiously as she had said it, though, Aura was still right. I owed my friends an apology. Well, I owed them a hell of a lot more than that, but it would at least be a start.

“Hey Redheart?” I asked softly, staring at the ground. She nodded, but didn’t turn around. “I— I’m sorry. Really sorry. I fucked up bad, I know, and I hope you can forgive me.”

Redheart didn’t respond for a while, and when she did, her voice was clipped and toneless. “I don’t want to talk about it,” she said quietly, still examining Octavia. “There are a hundred terrible, hurtful things I could say to you that would all be completely justified and deserved, but right now the only thing I care about is keeping everypony alive. Save your apologies for when we can actually talk about what happened, not when I’m bruised, exhausted, and just watched one of my best friends nearly die in my hooves.”

Somehow, those few softly-spoken sentences were a thousand times worse than if she had just stood up and screamed at me for a few minutes. Redheart had always had a gift for making you feel like dirt without a single curse or yell.

“Oh, and I am going to treat you at some point, but I want to see Lyra first,” she said, standing up from Octavia. “Whatever the Herald did to her with that ring couldn’t have been healthy.” She frowned, peering over the heads of the slave foals gathered around us. “Where is Lyra?”

“Ugh... ‘m here...” a voice groaned from somewhere behind me. I turned to see the unicorn lying in the same position she had been when the Herald had attacked her, looking even greener than usual but still smiling weakly. “‘M okay. I just—Ulp!” She broke off, eyes going wide as she noticed something out of my field of view, and I looked away as the unmistakable sound of vomit hitting the ground echoed through the too-still air.

I wouldn’t look back unless you want to see half a Herald, Aura thought. varra are notoriously picky feeders, but they still rip all their prey to shreds regardless if they want to eat it or not.

I nodded, feeling a little queasy myself. Thanks. Think I’ll pass.

When Lyra had finally finished getting rid of what must have been at least five meals and had undergone a thorough inspection by Redheart, the three of us met in the middle of the clearing, sitting around the still-unconscious Octavia. I had already asked Aura when she would be up several times, only giving up after the fourth or so ‘I’ve already said it varies, so for gods’ sake stop asking!’

“So,” said Redheart, chains jingling as she checked ‘Tavi’s pulse for what must’ve been the hundredth time. I had the sneaking suspicion she was still having trouble believing my marefriend had more or less come back from the dead. Not that I would blame her. “What now? We don’t have any slavedrivers, but we’re not exactly free either.” She shook her manacles as if to prove her point.

“The varra bit through mine,” I said, gesturing over to where the it was sitting and trying not to look at the white-and-red chunk of Herald nearby. The massive bird hadn’t moved since it had freed me from my chains, and had been staring at us with those steely emerald eyes for around the past five minutes. “Maybe we could convince it to—”

“It’s not an it, it’s a she, and her name is Syl,” Lyra piped up, nodding at the bird, which met her eyes for a moment before dipping its head in return.

Um.

“Oookay,” I said slowly, glancing back and forth between Lyra and the varra like I was expecting a pair of tin cans and some wire to materialize out of thin air. “So did you suddenly learn to speak giant bird, or...”

She giggled. “No, you dope. She told me, back when I was lying on the ground. You know, like in my head?” From the way Redheart and I stared at her in disbelief, it was pretty clear that no, we didn’t.

Lyra sighed, looking at the varra and clicking her tongue in disappointment. “Syl, these are my friends! Introduce yourself!” she said, motioning to us. Syl clacked her beak and rumbled softly, and Lyra nodded in approval. “You should hear something in your head, kinda like a whisper but louder. I dunno how to describe it, really, but you’ll know it when you hear it.”

Oh joy. Because having a pony talking to me in my thoughts just wasn’t enough—

I AM... SYLAVAEN.

I gasped as a sudden wall of sound exploded in my head, making me reflexively clamp my forehooves around my ears and then swear loudly as the shackle on the right one smacked into my temple. The words were everywhere, filling up my thoughts and ringing through my entire body. I closed my eyes, bracing myself for more, but thankfully none came.

Goddess, Lyra,” I muttered, opening my eyes and massaging my aching head with my non-manacled forehoof. To my left, I saw Redheart doing the same, looking shaken. “You've had a whole conversation like that? How did you not go deaf after the first sentence?” Can you even do that? Go, like, thought-deaf?

No, though sometimes I wish.

I rolled my eyes. Har har.

Lyra looked bemused. “What do you mean? She was fine when I heard her.”

TRUESPEECH... DIFFICULT. The voice was back, thundering in my brain like an orchestra made of hammers. I winced, putting a hoof to my head and sinking to the ground as it reverberated through me. LANDBEAST... NOT RECEPTIVE.

What’d you call me? I thought, frowning even as my skull throbbed in protest.

YOU ARE... LANDBEAST.

LIVE... SOIL.

I AM... VARRA.

LIVE... AIR.

NOT... INSULT.

MERELY... NAME.

Oh. At least she wasn’t cussing me out. If it’s hard to talk to us, why can you talk to Lyra? I thought, my curiosity beating out the pain in my head for the time being.

LYRA... GREEN?

I nodded. Yeah. The green one who says she can talk to you without feeling like a chisel’s getting pounded into her skull.

LYRA... DIFFERENT.

LANDBEAST... YET NOT.

Is that why you let her play for you back in the clearing? And why you left her the feather? Syl’s replies weren’t exactly clear, even by my rapidly-lowering standards, but at least she was answering instead of tearing our throats out.

YES. WAS... CURIOUS.

FEATHER... A GIFT.

And what about right now? Why did you help us? Not that I’m complaining.

THEY ARE... SCOURGE. Syl jabbed a talon at the remains of the Herald.

YOU ARE... A HOPE.

I frowned, biting my lip. Sorry, but I’m not buying that. I heard Lyra’s song when you came down to save us, and you gave her your own feather, too. There’s more to it than just ‘oh hey, you guys are fighting Heralds, so am I, let’s be buds.’

YOU... DOUBT ME? the thought-voice roared, somehow managing to get even louder despite its already deafening volume. I doubled over, putting my forehooves to my head and half-expecting to feel blood oozing out of my temples. There wasn’t any, thank Celestia, but I was pretty sure I would have a splitting headache for at least the next three days or so.

YOU... ARE STRONG.

INSOLENT... BUT STRONG.

Syl had returned to her normal level of ‘slightly louder than a fully-cranked stage speaker’. I let out a shaky breath, blinking the tears out my eyes. Thanks, I guess. Still wanna know, though. Some ponies would’ve called me stupid for continuing the train of thought that was most likely to make me a midday snack, but I wasn’t one of them, and I needed answers.

LYRA... PLAYS WELL.

I... REMEMBERED.

I... FOLLOWED.

SHE IS... INTRIGUING.

DEAD... LESS INTRIGUING.

I cracked a smile. A giant bird with a sense of humor. Who woulda thought. All right, so you followed us and want to keep her alive because you think she’s... what? Your soul mate? Your queen? Your long-lost twelfth cousin twice-removed?

I AM... UNSURE.

LEGENDS...

Go on... I thought, eager to finally get some real information. Syl growled softly.

NOT... LANDBEAST... LEGENDS.

I sighed. Of course. I had gotten enough out of her already that I didn’t want to push my luck, but still.

What about Lyra? You said she was different. Can you tell her?

There was a long silence. Syl clicked her beak.

...PERHAPS.

Well, it was something. “Ugh,” I mumbled, slowly opening my eyes and blinking as the blurry shapes around me came back into focus. “Note to self: don’t talk to varra unless you have some kind of migraine fetish.”

Redheart nodded in agreement at that, but Lyra just shrugged, shaking her head. “I don’t understand. Was it really that bad?”

“You’re different,” I told her. “According to Syl, anyway. You can hear her better than us. Something about a legend. She didn’t want to tell me anything more than that, though, so you’ll have to coax it out of her yourself.” I shot a reproachful glance at the varra, who responded by idly tapping her talons against the ground. The message was clear: ‘Don’t cross me if you like having all your limbs.’

I swallowed and looked away. Answers could wait.

“Syl says she might have a way to get us all out of here,” Lyra said. “There was something on one of the Heralds.” The varra dipped her head again, then a long, thin vine snaked out from somewhere on her back and dropped something small and black in front of me with a plunk.

The release talisman! Aura thought excitedly. But it only works for them... Wait. I may be able to get around that.

“Sure, I guess,” I said, glancing at Syl and picking up the talisman with my teeth. It was cold on my tongue and tasted vaguely bitter, but I didn’t trust my horn yet, not with one magic-suppressing shackle still around my hoof. “Better this than accidentally getting my leg bitten off.”

Syl made a sound that could have been a snort, and Lyra gave a nervous giggle. “She says if she wanted to bite your leg off, she would’ve done the rest of your limbs too, for symmetry. I... I’m not sure if she was joking.” A second passed, then she looked at me anxiously. “No. No she wasn’t. Uh, Vi, maybe wanna lay off for a while, huh?”

One of the perks of having a pure-white coat is that nopony can see you go pale. I nodded vigorously. “Yeah. I’ll do that.”

Yes, how about we refrain from insulting the gigantic, near-immortal magical creature that is currently helping us for absolutely no reason other than out of the goodness of her heart? Aura thought, obviously irritated. It was bad enough having her use Truespeech when I’m already in here. Being forced to share metaphorical space with something that has a few hundred thousand times the cosmic presence you do isn’t exactly pleasant.

I get it, thanks, I shot back, rolling my eyes. “All right, I’m gonna get us out of these shackles. Just give me a sec to ask Aura.” There were a few soft murmurs from the slave foals around me. They sounded hopeful but disbelieving, like they didn’t think it was possible for them to actually be free. I couldn’t wait to prove them wrong.

So what do I do to make this thing work?

Well, you can start by spitting it out, she replied dryly. I did, flicking the talisman from my tongue onto my outstretched forehoof and peering at the symbol carved into the polished black stone. It wasn’t one I recognized.

It’s a mechanism glyph. You use them to transmit basic movements through magically charged materials. This one should release the shackles as soon as some charge is put through it, provided that charge comes from a Herald. I should be able to repattern your cosmic rhythm to match theirs closely enough it won’t know the difference.

Less explaining more doing, I thought, shuffling my hooves impatiently.

Keep yourself together. This shouldn’t hurt, but it might be cold.

It was cold. I had to fight down a yelp as an icy chill ran through me, making me shiver and gasp for breath. A moment later, it passed, and the manacle around my forehoof fell open with a soft click. I grinned. “About damn time, huh?”

“Thank Celestia,” Redheart muttered, shaking out her legs and grimacing. “I’m surprised my hooves haven’t fallen off from lack of bloodflow.”

Lyra nodded in agreement. “And thank you, Syl,” she said, looking pointedly at me.

Oh. Right. Gotta stroke the giant bird’s ego so it doesn’t kill everyone except its interspecies girl-crush. Standard adventurer stuff. “Yeah. Thanks a bunch, Syl,” I said, smiling thinly at the varra. She jerked her head in acknowledgment, but otherwise ignored me. Typical.

For a pony that was just saved from a slow and incredibly agonizing death, you don’t seem very grateful.

I rolled my eyes. I don’t like things I don’t trust, and I don’t trust anything that’s the size of an apartment block and has already almost killed each of my friends. I’m grateful, I’m just more worried about getting eaten. And there’s also the whole ‘just watched my marefriend being tortured and almost die’ thing.

A soft, ringing laugh echoed through my head. I suppose that’s fair. Now, what are you going to do with these foals you worked so hard to save? I mean, you can’t exactly take them along to the Badlands, and the Wildwood is at least a few days’ walk from anywhere inhabited. At least, it was when I was here. It could be twice as long now, and we don’t have time for any detours.

We’ll figure something out, I thought, sighing. I mean, they don’t look like they’ll be moving any time soon, either.

The slave foals were still huddled together on the ground, sitting as far away from us and Syl as their chains would let them. Most of them hadn’t even realized they had been freed yet, and the few that had were staring blankly at their newly-unshackled hooves like they were some kind of alien creature. All except one.

The grey-eyed filly was already up, pacing around the rest of ex-captives like a circling shark. I realized with a small amount of surprise that her flank was blank, despite the fact that she seemed at least ten if not older. Most foals got their cutie marks at about seven or eight, and even the ‘late bloomers’ rarely went past nine. Weirder and weirder.

“What are we gonna do with them?” Lyra whispered, sounding worried. I was about to reply with what I had told Aura when Redheart interrupted, her jaw set in a determined line.

“I know what I’m going to do,” she said, each word quiet, calm and measured. “I’m going to find my saddlebags, open them up, and treat you, Lyra, Octavia, and every single one of those foals until you’re all completely healthy.” The ‘and don’t you dare try and stop me’ wasn’t spoken, but it was definitely implied. I nodded.

“Sounds like a good idea to me. I mean, we’re gonna need our stuff anyway. You know they took my goggles too? Assholes. You guys have any idea where they might’ve put it all?”

Redheart and Lyra shook their heads. “They must’ve taken it while we were unconscious,” Lyra said, glancing around as if another look would suddenly reveal the location of our missing gear. “I didn’t see any kind of storage thing, though, and they weren’t wearing any saddlebags.”

They would have put them in a storage rift. Little pocket dimensions that bind to the user on creation. When they die, the dimension—

Please don’t tell me it’s destroyed... With everything that had happened in the past 24 hours, I didn’t think I’d be able to keep it together if we lost all our supplies including ‘Tavi’s relic.

No. It becomes orphaned, but it’s still accessible. I’m going to change your cosmic signature again, and then I need you to reach out with your mind and just sort of... feel around for a dimensional hole. Once you find it, just pull. It’s really one of those things that only makes sense when you do it.

Seems like a lot of stuff here is that way, I thought, bracing myself for another icy chill. I was ready for it this time, but I still couldn’t stop myself from shivering a few times as it hit me. No wonder the Heralds wear those robes. They must be freezing their flanks off all the time.

Focus, Vinyl, Aura interrupted.

Right, right. I closed my eyes, trying to ignore the cold and letting my mind drift through the space around me, then started as I felt it brush up against a strange, nebulous something.

That’s it! There’s the rift. Now just reach in and pull it inside out to our dimension. Think of it like a bag, if it helps.

I pushed into the rift, shuddering as it pulsed and contracted around my mental probe, then pulled it back inward on itself a sleeve. There was a rushing, sucking sound as it collapsed, and when I opened my eyes, Ellie, Lyra’s varra feather, my goggles, and a pile of saddlebags were lying at my hooves. Lyra whooped as she saw them, bounding over and clapping me on the shoulder. I grinned in return.

“And they said you couldn’t make something from nothing!” she said, levitating her bags up onto her back and tucking the feather in between the straps. She closed her eyes blissfully. “Oh my gosh does it feel good to use magic again. Those chains were just...” Lyra shuddered. “Blergh.”

Technically, it isn’t something from nothing, but—

Nopony cares, I replied, lifting up my saddlebags and goggles in a bubble of red light. Lyra had been right. Being able to use magic again was definitely nice, but feeling the familiar weight of my gear again was even better.

Aura sighed. I was going to say ‘I suppose it’s irrelevant’, but that was the general idea, yes.

Redheart was already going through her bags, carefully examining the various medical supplies she had brought one by one before replacing them in their respective flaps and pockets. Once everything had been fully inspected and inventoried, she flipped them onto her back and nodded in satisfaction.

“Everything’s there, as far as I can see,” she said. “We are running running low on phoenix tears, though, so Octavia’s going to get priority. How’s your foreleg?”

I shrugged, giving the bandaged limb an experimental shake. It still twinged, but definitely felt better than it had before. “It’s okay,” I replied. “Not 100 percent yet, but I can manage. Give the tears to ‘Tavi.”

Redheart looked unamused. “I will, but you’re still not wiggling out of treatment.”

“Who says I’m trying to?”

You know you’re trying to. Faking wellness won’t change the fact that you’re injured.

Yeah, I’m hurt. So is Lyra, so is ‘Tavi, so is Red... what’s your point?

Aura didn’t reply, which suited me perfectly. Let her pout. I had some innocents to save.

I looked back at Redheart, who was already kneeling next to a cream-colored filly, holding the smaller pony’s forehoof in hers and talking too quietly for me to hear. Whatever she said, it must’ve worked, because a second later I saw the filly nod anxiously and point to a few of the other foals. Redheart nodded in return, then stood up and turned to me and Lyra, expression determined and businesslike.

“All right,” she said, gesturing to the remains of the slave line around us. “According to Sonata over there, there are four foals that are badly injured, mostly the older ones that have been on the line a while. I’ll take care of them. Vinyl, take this.” She ducked into her saddlebags, emerging a second later with the bottle of phoenix tears clamped in her mouth. I took it gingerly with my magic, holding it up to the light and swallowing as I realized how little was left.

“You watched me treat Octavia. You know what to do. Unwrap the leg, burn the bandages, get a few drops on the puncture wound, then rewrap. Don’t worry about making it airtight. At this point, the only thing that really matters is keeping it enclosed and giving the tears time to soak in.” Redheart was moving now, pacing back and forth between us like a drill sergeant. I saluted, barely managing to hide my grin.

“Yes’m. Will do.” I might’ve been the party leader, but right now, Nurse Redheart was in command.

She rolled her eyes, then turned to Lyra. “Lyra, you stay with me. I might need your magic for some finer work, and I could also use your help at keeping the rest of the foals calm. If one of them starts to look bad, goddess forbid, try to keep the rest away. I’m going to have a hard enough time working without a bunch of hysterical fillies and colts pressing in on me.”

The green mare nodded. “Gotcha.”

“Once the foals are treated, I’ll move on to you two. And don’t you dare object or I’ll show you exactly how painful a sterilized needle can be.” She took a deep breath, then trotted over to the first of the injured foals, a blue colt with a nasty-looking scab over his right eye. “Now, let’s get started. The sooner we get everypony healthy, the sooner we save the universe."

I wasn’t about to argue with that.

Next Chapter: Chapter Ten: Cambiare Estimated time remaining: 31 Minutes
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