Okay, let's see. I just passed Harness Boulevard, I think... lemme check. Yeah. Should be four more blocks to Spur Street....

He lowered his phone again. Just as he'd expected, everything he'd used his mentalgraph spell- including the map of the city on the complimentary guide he'd picked up in the Apricot Inn- on showed up in his camera's memory; how that worked he had no idea, but he wasn't one to question good fortune. The camera's LCD screen wasn't the best option for seeing fine details, though, so he'd copied everything over to his phone, which gave him many more options for image manipulation. A pity the GPS doesn't work, but I've probably already benefited from more miracles than I deserve.

And there was another strange thing. He knew his phone had been missing one bar on the battery gauge last night, but now it showed full again- as did the charge meter on his camera. Somehow, in some process he knew he was never going to understand, his equipment had been completely recharged. He could not think of a single reason to complain about it.

At the moment he couldn't spare much thought for it anyway. The lion's share of his attention was working on making sure he was going the right way, watching for anything hostile, and keeping himself from being visible or making too much noise. He wouldn't be graduating from ninja school anytime soon, but common-sense tactics- stay out of the moonlight, watch where your feet are going, don't skyline yourself- had kept him unmolested for the last two hours.

And two hours was how long it had taken Jacob to make it across the same amount of distance it would've taken Story about twenty-five minutes to cover, at the most. Of course, Story would have had the benefit of not needing to hide from timberwolves or keep out of the biting cold wind, not to mention he wouldn't have had to worry about crawling over collapsed walls or even the occasional entire building. And of course you've got four legs, you lucky bastard, you, he thought, pausing a moment to peek around a half-crumbled wall. Thumbs are handy- ha- but sometimes speed is what you need....

Finally, he reached Spur Street and took a left. The buildings in this area were smaller and more squat than further uptown, and consequently there was less rubble blocking the roads, meaning he could make much better time towards his destination. He didn't let that make him careless, though, and he made sure to keep himself as hidden as he could manage. Let's see... Buttercup's Cakes there, next block should have Trinkets & Things... okay. There it is.

The West Canterlot Royal Guard Station was an imposing-looking, three-story building made of red brick, with the royal crest just barely recognizable on its side. The ivy that had probably once been kept neat and trimmed now covered entire swaths of the building, its roots digging into the walls, causing cracks great and small to form. Jacob only spared a moment to wonder how the broad, green leaves hadn't been turned to ash by the sun or frozen in the cold night air. Let's see. Front door, front door, where are you... here you are. Let's hope beyond hope that you were left unlocked....

click-thunk

...of course not; that would be too easy. He sighed. Couldn't depend on that sort of lucky streak to last forever. This is a thick door, too, and it feels like a solid lock- forcing it might not be an option....

He made his way back to the side of the building and stared at the ivy-covered walls. It seemed unlikely that the plant growth would hold his weight, but unless he found a battering ram conveniently left lying around, the main entrance was not a likely option. Well, let's try moving up in the world, he decided, moving at a brisk walk towards the leafy green lines running up the wall. Hope these vines have a good enough hold to bear my weight... what the hell?!

His hand jerked back instinctively from the ivy. Somehow, despite the below-freezing air it was exposed to, it was warm- probably close to eighty degrees, even. He carefully ran one hand across the leaves, wondering just how in the hell they were pulling this trick off-

CRACK-thunk-thunk-thud

-and then he was seven feet off the ground, having practically scrambled up the vines almost before his brain was finished processing the fact that he'd heard a sound. Good, good, the body is learning, he thought, even as he tried to slow his heartbeat through sheer force of will. I've had too many things falling around me lately.

It was a slow and careful climb, only slightly complicated by his still-healing wound, up to the second floor. Fortunately, the window nearest the vines hadn't been locked, and after pulling it open- a quick and easy process that only involved him nearly falling and breaking his neck twice- he was inside; he quickly clicked on his flashlight and did a quick sweep, finding the room he was in both empty and reasonably clean. However, it also seemed to be some sort of administrative office, which meant it very likely didn't have what he was looking for, so he made his way to the thankfully-unlocked office door and out into the building proper.

Man, I never felt tall until I came to this place, he thought, ducking ceiling light fixtures and support beams as he walked. Dust danced in the beam of his flashlight, but the halls themselves were mostly clear of debris, a testament to how clean the guards had kept the place previously. It was deathly quiet, as well, which for once was a comfort- in that it meant the building was less likely to collapse on him, not to mention he'd be able to hear anything hostile more easily. Of course, anything hostile can hear me better as well, but I think most things able to survive around here could probably hear me coming from a quarter-mile away.

It took him a few minutes of searching to find what he was looking for. The plaque outside the door read “Ironwing- Watch Captain”; the door opened easily, the hinges of the frosted-glass-windowed door barely squeaking. The movement of air from the door sent a wave of dust billowing across the room, forming strange shapes in the beam of his flashlight before eventually settling back down. There in the back was his primary target- the watch captain's desk, laden with paperwork. Jackpot. Now let's hope I can find something about what the hell happened.

It was fortunate for Jacob that he was a fast reader, because the amount of minutiae he had to sift through was ridiculous; apparently the Royal Guard were sticklers for detail in their paperwork. It took him more than an hour to sift through all the various reports and updates before he started finding things useful to him. Here we go, a report on the scaffold collapse. ...damn, these ponies could give the CIA a run for their money- they gathered facts on all of us in the space of a few hours. Huh, what's this? “Story Seeker- male unicorn, age 32, invited to historical symposium. No previous criminal record. Multiple eyewitness accounts of individual bravery in retrieving Dinky Hooves (see file ADCN27315) from perilous situation involving faulty construction rigging (see report AMCN3864). Recommended for royal citation....” Wow. Congrats to me, I guess.

Okay. They've got more info on the others- Amethyst, Noteworthy, Derpy... wait. “Adopted daughters”? Derpy adopted Sparkler and Dinky? I had no idea... I think I owe that mare a hug next time I see her, because that is absolutely awesome of her. He shuffled through some more papers, skimming along page after page. Public drunkenness, fighting, graffiti, lewd behavior- heh, couldn't keep their hooves off each other, I guess- okay, here we go, found the form about the scaffold collapse; let's see. They interviewed the shop owner... no previous citations for safety... the rest of the scaffolding was found to be in good condition, corrosion found at only one critical point... okay. Once is chance, twice is a pattern. I'm starting to feel targeted... but by who? I still have no idea what it was Dinky saw that seemingly mesmerized her into walking away from the group and under that scaffold; it could be a unicorn with a hypnosis spell of some kind, and maybe another spell to rot away the steel on that scaffold- and the stone on the front of the Golden Trails Inn. But who would go to the trouble of trying to off some unassuming historian from Hobitken... unless they knew I was hitching a ride and what I was doing? Yeah, that's another on the pile of questions for the sisters.

Something was nagging at the back of his mind, and he flipped back to the report on Story, scanning it intently for anything out of the ordinary. But it was something completely ordinary that caught him off-guard. Interviews with colleagues... Story has colleagues? Ponies who knew him before I got here? What the sweet fuck- Story Seeker is a real pony! I thought I was just walking around in a faked body with a cover story, not hijacking some innocent guy's life! He put down the report and leaned back in the desk chair, rubbing his temples with his fingertips. Maybe I overestimated what the sisters can do. Maybe this was their only option. Needs of the many, so on. Doesn't make me feel one bit better about it.

Oh, here's a disturbing thought. That dream I had... was it just a dream? Or was it the last minute of Story's life before whatever happened destroyed him and every other pony in this place? Time and space are starting to feel really soft and squishy right about now.

He wasn't sure how long he sat there, staring blankly at the papers before him, before he could shake himself out of his funk. Irrelevant, he told himself. Put it aside. None of it will mean a damn thing if you don't figure out what happens when, and how to stop it.

It took him a few more minutes to sort out all the reports he had on-hand into two piles, one for ordinary and useless, the other for anything out-of-the-ordinary that might hold even the most tenuous bearing on the problem he faced. He let out a quiet sigh at how small the second pile was. Okay, I want to read these over completely, maybe take notes, he thought. But do I want to do it here? The place seems solid enough, it didn't have any obvious breaches that I could see, and it actually feels a bit warmer than any of the other buildings. On the other hand, there's a lot of rooms to check to make sure they're secure, and I've got no idea how hot it'll get inside once the sun rises. What time is it? He checked his phone. 2:17AM. That gives me about four and a half hours until sunrise. I'll give myself until 3:30 to check the place over; if it's safe, I'll stay here, and if not, I'll have more than enough time to get back to the clothing shop.

He set his phone to sound a quiet alarm at half-past three, then tucked it and the rolled-up reports into the inside pocket of his jacket, picked up his flashlight and left the office to do a quick check of every room he hadn't already been through. The second floor was entirely administrative, and the third seemed to be long-term storage with nothing of interest to be found, so he made his way down to the first floor to have a look.

Despite the absolute darkness and silence, and the decades' worth of dust covering everything, this part of the building had an almost palpable feeling of having seen many ponies come and go. Things were quite a bit more messy than on the second floor, with lots of paperwork scattered about, more papers sitting half-typed in strange pony-design typewriters, and even some long-since-rotted food and drinks left on desks and shelves. There was a holding area with four small cells, probably for temporary restraint of prisoners or overnight “lodgings” for drunks, a file room stacked with cabinets, and a locker room for staff to dress as they came on and off duty.

And then Jacob found an unexpected but welcome surprise- an armory. Rows of once-polished armor and weapons hung on various racks and stands, all still serviceable; the room must have been sealed or warded against moisture and mildew. Unfortunately none of the armor was useful for him, due either to body size and shape or practicality, but a pair of sheathed short swords- though more like daggers to someone of his size- came off of the racks easily, with one strapped to his right leg while the other hung at his left side on a loop attached to his belt. “Not bad,” he murmured, testing both weapons to make sure he could draw either one quickly in an emergency. “I wouldn't mind a shotgun at the moment, but this is better than nothing.”

Within the space of forty-five minutes, he'd cleared the entire first floor- but along the way he'd found an entrance to the basement as well. The door was closed and seemed pretty solid, but without a lock he couldn't say for absolute certain that it was unpassable- so down he had to go, if he wanted any sort of assurance that he'd be safe. The heavy door creaked as he pulled it open, sounding for all the world like a sound effect from a bad horror film. Okay, bad thought there. Shut up, brain.

Bizarrely enough, the first thing to hit him once the door was open was a wave of warm air. As he slowly made his way down the wide stone stairs, his light playing back and forth across them to ensure that there was nothing to trip over, he considered. Maybe this building's basement holds heat better or something. If it's safe enough, maybe I'll leave the door open and let it warm the first floor; that'd make it more comfortable if I was going to use this as a new base of operations. I... wait, what's that?

Something was giving off a gentle, steady yellow glow at the very bottom of the stairs. Slowly, with as much stealth as he could manage considering he was holding a flashlight, he made his way to the basement floor and brought his light to bear on whatever was casting the strange illumination.

A bright-orange crystal of some sort, roughly cylindrical with jagged edges, sat on the floor about ten feet away from the end of the stairs; the light it shed came from a thin strip of luminescent material in the center of the crystal. After a few moments spent looking around to ensure the area was safe, Jacob made the decision to see if the crystal was dangerous through the scientific technique of poking it with one of his daggers. As it didn't explode, erupt into flame or try to eat him, he decided to pick it up, only to find it too warm to handle- not blistering hot, but uncomfortable against bare skin. He pulled loose the dishtowel he'd been using as a scarf to wrap it around the crystal, then tucked it away inside his jacket; the warmth felt nice against his still-chilled skin. Well, whatever this is, right now it's pulling double-duty as a Jacob-warmer.

A few more minutes of exploration showed him that the basement had been sectioned off for use as a training area, sparring ring and long-term storage. The air seemed to be getting progressively warmer as he moved on, to the point where he no longer saw his breath and felt comfortable enough to open up his jacket halfway. Several more of the crystals were haphazardly placed on the floor along the way, emitting various amounts of light and heat; he left them alone, keeping a reasonable amount of space between himself and them.

There was a much brighter light coming from the far end of the training area, but a dividing wall was in the way. Every last fiber of his common sense was screaming at him to just get the hell out, but he was so close to being able to declare the building safe for use- how could he turn back now? So he turned off his flashlight- there was just enough light to see by- ducked down into a crouch and approached the dividing wall as quietly as he could.

What he saw on the far side almost made him trip over himself. The source of light was now abundantly clear: A long, sinuous shape, standing about three and a half feet tall and almost ten feet in length- half of that a thick, powerful-looking tail. Four short legs kept the body off of the ground, and a large head swung about lazily, its one visible eye replete with a glowing slitted pupil. The entirety of its form glowed a bright yellow-orange, and flames flickered along its skin.

You have got to be kidding me. Jacob couldn't even get himself to breathe for a moment, let alone blink. It's a goddamn salamander. The old mythical fire-elemental kind.

As he watched, the salamander lumbered over to a half-crushed locker. With impossibly powerful bites, the creature tore chunks out of the metal object and gulped them down, gorging itself on the wrecked piece of furniture. Just past it, next to the far wall, illuminated in the creature's bright glow, Jacob could see a tunnel burned through the floor, its edges rimmed with black cooled slag and the roots of the ivy that clung to the walls outside. Yeah, the building is definitely compromised, he thought. Staying here is a no-go. It's time to... wait. What's it doing?

The salamander had finished its meal and was shifting back in forth in what appeared to be discomfort. It made its way to the far corner of the room, lowered itself into a squat, raised its tail and seemed to strain; after a moment, there was a soft clink, and the flaming reptile trotted away, leaving behind a brightly-glowing crystal.

Jacob's face went slack. You're kidding me. I'm carrying around a lump of salamander shit?! Okay, that's it. As carefully as he could, he stood up. I'm out of here, like I should have been five minutes ago-

thump-clunk-clink-clink

He froze. The crystal he'd tucked under his jacket had slipped out and hit the ground, and then rolled free of the towel he'd wrapped it in; its gentle orange light now illuminated him perfectly- just in time for the salamander to turn at the sudden noise. Two baleful, flaming eyes locked on to him, and a soft snarl came from the beast's mouth. In that moment, Jacob could only think to utter one sentence.

“Fuck me gently with a chainsaw.”

The salamander lunged. Jacob practically sprinted backwards for a good few dozen feet before spinning around and racing towards the stairs; he could hear crashing much too close behind him as the flaming beast gave chase. It took him only a few seconds to reach the staircase and a few more seconds to ascend, taking the steps five at a time until he finally regained the first floor. The salamander was already at the bottom of the stairs when he threw the door closed and slammed himself against it, panting heavily for breath. Why do I never listen to myself? Why do I always do what I know is dumb? And why is this door getting hot- oh, shit!

He backed away from the door, watching in disbelief as it began to smoke, and then burst into flames. Right! Flaming lizards have FIRE! It's time to leave! There was a loud crash as he ran through the offices, trying to retrace the path to the front door, hearing snarling and the crackle of flames behind him. In what seemed to be far too much time, he managed to stumble his way into the main reception area and the locked front door; he pulled at the lever for the locking mechanism, heard it click, and then shoved the door open with enough force to send himself sprawling out into the street-

-and into the midst of the very same pack of timberwolves he'd seen yesterday.

There was an almost comedic moment of stunned confusion as human and plant-predators stared at each other, only to be broken by a gout of flame coming through the doorway. The timberwolves immediately scattered, and Jacob was very quick to follow suit, sprinting back the way he'd come. The salamander, for all its rage, couldn't hope to match his speed with its squat form, and Jacob was only one-quarter of the way back to the clothing shop before he could no longer see the light shed by its body, or the flames that had spread across the guard house- but he didn't let up, keeping as much speed as he could manage, sweating and panting into the cold night air and grunting in pain as the still-healing wound in his side complained.

It was forty minutes later when he finally stumbled into the storage room of the clothing store, slamming the door shut and almost immediately collapsing to his knees, stripping himself bare from the waist up in order to get cold air against his skin. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” he growled to himself. “All I had to do was be careful and not push things, and I could've left that lizard in the basement all by itself and gotten all the information I could want. Now all that paperwork is up in smoke and all I've got is a handful of reports that may or may not be useful. Dammit.”

It took him a while to calm himself down, finally resigning himself to his mistakes, throwing himself onto the pile of cloth he was using for a bed and pulling out the paperwork he'd managed to save, as well as his phone. He started up the voice-recording app as he leafed through the pages, taking note of anything that seemed pertinent from each report.

Eventually he reached a report of graffiti that he'd tucked in with the others; he wasn't sure why he'd saved it, but he had a strange hunch that there was something unusual about it, and he was finding that his intuition was seriously coming in handy- when he chose to listen to it. “Let's see,” he murmured. “Multiple reports of strange symbols being painted on streets and private property... indelible paint of some sort... meaning of symbols unknown. Seven locations discovered so far, including... Golden Trails Inn, Clockwork's Clock Shop? Ah ha, I knew there was a reason I kept this. Possible perpetrator spotted near Whisper Winds Hotel, blue-coated female unicorn, cutie mark undetermined. Likely not to be Canterlot native. Investigation ongoing.” He let out a sigh. “Well. Another potential lead, but seeing as how it's now 5:58AM and this map tells me that I wouldn't even get halfway to Whisper Winds Hotel before dawn under ideal conditions, that's a lead I'll have to have Story check. All the dates I've been seeing on these reports are leading me to believe that it's the day of the Renewal that this extinction event happens, so that gives me... two and a half days. It's a good thing I can work twenty-four hours a day with this arrangement.” He stared at the reports for a moment, before reaching over and clicking off the flashlight. “In the meantime, I'm exhausted, so I'm going to go to sleep and try to forget that I nearly died because of salamander crap. Jacob Doakes, ending log.”

He closed the recording app and set the phone down; the display dimmed, then shut off, leaving him in darkness. It didn't take him long at all to fall into slumber.