There was nothing but pain. Stronger pain than he had ever felt in his entire life, stronger than anything he could ever even dream of. For a moment, he wondered if he was dead, and the pain was his body being punished for its sins. Then again, what sins? The shadow that killed his friends clearly stated that there was no sin to be found within him. Yet he felt like he was a sinner, simply by being who he was.

Incredibly slowly, his body aching with every inch, Bucket raised his head, whimpering from the pain.

The first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was a tree. A spruce, old and weathered, the dark bark covered in a layer of purest white snow. Its branches hanging low, looking like they would snap any moment due to the weight of the ice upon them.

So he wasn’t dead. Bucket wasn’t sure if he should be happy or not.

He tried to move his legs to stand up, but they felt numb, probably a result from falling into the river earlier. One moment he was running for his life, the sound of hooves clanking against ice beating down on his eardrums like a battering ram. The next, everything had gone cold and dark as the ice gave way beneath him.

Yet somehow, he’d survived. He didn’t drown, didn’t freeze to death, and didn’t get smashed into a cliff hiding just out of sight in the murky waters. He was still alive. Perhaps it was a miracle that he was still breathing, Bucket couldn’t tell.

The thin little stallion pushed against the ground with his fore legs and rolled over on his back, his stomach and groin had gone numb from the cold, and he had no idea how long he’d been laying there. He had to move, didn’t want to risk hypothermia. He rubbed his hooves against his chest and stomach to try and get a little bit of warmth flowing through him from the friction.

He would give anything for the warm embrace of another stallion.

Another stallion.

Bucket sat up straight, sprung up from the ground in an instant as the thought hit him. Another stallion. Stallions. A mare. His friends. What had happened to them? In his head, images of Crescent’s body mangled and bruised appeared. Crescent impaled on a spike. Crescent gutted and dismembered, drowned and cold. That young mare that had helped him earlier, raped by Bleakers and killed.

He whimpered meekly at his thoughts, but hoped dearly that they were unharmed and well somewhere out there. Hoped that nothing bad had come to the, hoped that at the very least, Crescent would still be alive. He prayed in silence that he would be, hoping that the king and queen of old would yet hear him, hear his plead for help. His prayers to not be left alone.

After a few more minutes of silent wishes, Bucket managed to stand up on his hooves, albeit with a slight sway. His body still trembled, and whether it was due to the cold or not, he couldn’t tell. Instantly he looked around himself to get some sort of bearing or clue as to where he’d ended up, but all he could see was more Spruce trees on one side, and the cold river on the over. The water here rushed so fast that it couldn’t freeze just yet, it seemed. He thought that was a good thing, seeing the jets of water spouting around some rocks out in the water.

If that had been ice, he would’ve been smashed against it, and probably floating somewhere downstream, cold and dead, not standing on shoreline. Feeling like he was just that; cold and dead.

Still, he had to get out of here, had to move. If the Bleakers found him here, they would probably kill him in the blink of an eye. He could run into a pack of dire wolfs, or Wraiths, or.. Banshees. He wasn’t even sure if he believed the tales of those pale, demonic ponies with their ice-curdling shrieks and dead eyes, but the thought of such a creature even existing made him tremble even more. Had to move, had to get out of there.

Back at the fireplace, back when his friends was still alive, Red had been telling stories of the Banshees, stories that terrified him. Bucket was now sure that if he hadn’t been so scared by Red’s words, he would’ve never noticed the shadow, and he’d been ripped apart as well with the rest of his friends.

Maybe it was for the best to be constantly afraid in a world such as this, Bucket thought. Always ready to either fight or fly, always on the lookout for danger, never able to fully relax. If you did slack off, you’d be dead.

In silence, Bucket began making his way downstream, paying close attention to everything around him. He was hoping the rest of the Stalkers had washed ashore further down, and even if they didn’t, he couldn’t stay where he was. So he continued on, feeling his limbs getting warmer the longer he walked.

Then, he suddenly spotted something further down the stream. Something on the shore, something brown in colour, and the shape of... Bucket instantly recognized the hat as the one that Lilly had worn, just before the ambush. He reached down and picked it up between his teeth, feeling the scent of her the moment he did.

He had no idea how a lily actually smelled, but he bet it smelled like this hat did, like she did. It was calming, almost intoxicating to him. Even though he had no interest in mares, he couldn’t help but savour the smell for just a little while longer. Sweet, like the smell of that one red flower he once found, the only flower he’d ever seen in his entire life. Maybe all flowers smelled the same.

With a little twist of his neck, he placed the hat on top of his head and pressed it down over his mane. Better this way then to carry it around in his mouth. With a quiet sigh, he continued on. If her hat was here, then that meant that Lilly was close as well, or at least he hoped she was. Preferably alive and well.

A chill went down his spine as the wind suddenly sang its cold melody, and without realizing why, the little stallion started to hum a tune, something he’d learned a long time ago, when his mother was still alive. A simple lullaby, one he hoped could calm him down further.

As he pressed on, singing his mother’s old lullaby to himself, Bucket never noticed the shadow following behind him, never noticed that he wasn’t alone.

Crescent ran as fast as he could, weaving back and forth between spruce trees and moss-covered stone dotting the forest surrounding him. The sunlight was gone, hidden behind the canopies of the trees and the grey veil of rumbling clouds. His hurried hoof steps remained muffled against the ground covered in damp moss in purest green.

He looked over his shoulder for a split second and caught a glimpse of his pursuers; a golden, pulsating light slowly approaching between the trees behind him. Golden flames, bright as daylight and as warm as the sun itself, casting shadows on the ground as it advanced. Within the flames, he could see the silhouettes of countless ponies; the light distorted their figures and turned them all into long, black shadows, wearing evil grins and torches, their eyes burning with hate.

Suddenly, the forest around him spun around before his eyes. When his head slammed into the ground, he realized he’d been looking back for too long, and in doing so, tripped himself over. He rolled over as fast as he could before rising back up to his hooves. During the few seconds he spent on the ground, he could hear them shouting behind him, loud and full of anger. He couldn’t make out any words, just guttural and primal shouting, basic instincts of rage and bloodlust.

He cursed under his breath as a massive cliff wall became visible between the trees ahead of him. Crescent couldn’t see the top of it, and as he came closer, he couldn’t find an end to either side of it either. He was trapped.

As he spun around, he saw the flames of the torches coming closer and closer. In just a matter of seconds they would be on him. He took a quick glance at the wall behind him; trying to spot anywhere he could climb up, but found nothing but flat rock and more moss. His heart raced as the shouting and hollering became louder.

The stallion turned to his left and set off through the woods, hoping to confuse his followers, and maybe be able to run around them without them noticing. It was a long shot, but the only shot he had.

Somewhere far above him, a deep clap of thunder rolled across the skies, and a few seconds later he felt drops of cold rain pelting his face and shoulders. The moss underneath his hooves became wet in an instant, causing him to sink down further with each step he took.

If he could just reach the boat, he’d be fine. If he reached the boat he could get off this blasted rock and return home. Home to his normal life, home to his sister.

Around him, the forest grew thicker and bushes and other vegetation made it more difficult to move in a straight line. He cut his skin on branches and thick bushels of thorns, and his breath was heavy and strained, but he couldn’t afford to stop for even a second to recuperate. Panting and wheezing, Crescent forced himself to carry on as fast as he could.

But then he came to a sudden stop. For just a few seconds, he didn’t move and stared blankly at what had just appeared before him. His mind tried to understand what he was seeing, but couldn’t wrap itself around the possibility of the truth.

In front of him, in the middle of this ancient forest on an island in the middle of nowhere, stood a doorway.

A white and perfectly ordinary door, towering before him like some gateway out of reality, a tiny hole in the fabric of the world. slowly he inched towards it, both fascinated and afraid of this otherworldly object. The closer he get, the thicker the air around him seemed to get, and once he was close enough to touch the handle, a thick fog had rolled in out of nowhere and now engulfed everything around him. Even the sound of his pursuers had disappeared.

Before he even touched the door itself, Crescent walked around it to see that, naturally, there was nothing there but the other side of the door, just as white and simple as the front. He returned to the front quickly, unsure of what to do next, even though the obvious answer was staring him right in the face. As insane as the whole situation was, he had no other choice than to open the door.

Slowly, he pressed the handle down and opened it with a gentle push inwards. The fog seemed to suck itself closer and into the doorway as it slid open, turning into an even thicker haze before him. After everything he’d seen on this damned island these past few hours, he was no longer surprised by what he saw, and forced himself to simply accept it.

Beyond the doorframe, he saw a narrow corridor, its walls just as white and clean as the door itself. He couldn’t make out the end of the hallway due to the fog, and he had no idea what could be hiding within. With no other choice or possible way to escape, the stallion went through the frame into the hallway and quickly pushed the door close behind him.

Even though he’d been cut off from the forest, the fog remained thick within the hallway and he couldn’t see more than a few inches ahead of him. He stood still for a while, doing his best to catch his breath and try to settle down as best as he could. He managed to slow down his heartbeat enough to focus more clearly on the task at hoof.

Crescent took his first steps down the corridor, his hooves echoing slightly through the thick mist, bouncing around him, turning into the sound of a thousand hooves, somewhere beyond his grasp. The longer he walked, the louder it became.

He stopped and listened for just a few seconds. The echo faded away, and all was quiet, yet just before he stopped, he’d felt a tingling down his spine, as if somepony was watching him. The sound of hoof steps reached his ears, coming from behind him. With no hesitation, Crescent set off running once again.

All he could hear was the sound of the approaching pony, his own hoof steps somehow gone and his panting breath quiet. The sounds behind him came closer, eventually to the point where he swore he could feel something breathing down his neck. Panic once again built up inside him, but he still didn’t stop. He’d never been a stallion to show emotions, he always kept a straight face, even if he was screaming out of fear inside his mind.

“Crescentine?”

Again he stopped. Whatever was following him seemed to be too long gone to be heard, and once again he could hear his own breathing.

“Crescentine? Cresentine, why are running?”

His heart flew up into his throat. Only one living pony knew of his full name besides himself. Only one.

“Ly- ‘sis?” He whispered into the mist. “Sister, is that you? Where are you?”

“Right here, brother.”

Something emerged from the fog in front of him. It took Crescent a few seconds to come to the realization that it wasn’t his sister. This was something else, something much bigger than a pony.

The head of a giant wolf became visible, covered in white fur and eyes glowing in purest sapphire blue. It opened its maw and growled at him, its teeth sharp as razors.

He didn’t even have time to scream.

When Crescent came to, the room around him was quiet. Not a sound could be heard aside from his own jagged breathing. He felt the urge to call out for help, but realized that his tormentors could be just outside the door, and his shouting would undoubtedly reach their ears. Luna knows what they’d do to him if they heard him.

He’d been dreaming again. That damned island that always haunted his nightmares. The things he’d seen and done on that hellish rock would never fade from his mind. He remembered Canterlot Castle on that rainy day so many years ago. Remembered that his sister had acted in a very inappropriate way towards the King of old, and he remembered how he scolded her for it.

The smell of sea as they set off for the island, his King standing by the rail of the ship, the wind blowing through his unkempt, blonde hair, tugging at his cloak as blue as a winter night’s sky. His saddened face against the gloomy horizon.

Stepping ashore on that island had been the biggest mistake of his life, and Crescent had been blaming himself ever since for being so foolish, so caught up in his own greed. Even though his time out there had only been a few hours, those hours had forever changed not only his life, but his entire being. The things he did to stay alive, the pain of every wound and the sting of sharpened blades still echoed throughout his mind and body.

The scars would never heal, no matter what.

Now they would be joined by countless new ones brought on by the abuse he’d suffered since the incident on the river. Still hanging suspended from his chains, he was sure they would leave terrible scars around his fore legs, but at least there wasn’t any pain anymore. Been hanging for so long, his limbs had all gone numb, and the absence of pain enabled him to think more clearly.

It was impossible to tell what time of day it was since the small room had no windows and only one door. The only source of light came from a small light bulb hanging at the centre of the ceiling. If they had electricity, that meant they probably had an old generator somewhere in the area. If he could shut it off and leave them all in darkness, he and his friends could be out in an instant.

His friends. If they were still alive, that is.

Phantom and Sawblade could fend for themselves, no doubt, and so his worries fell upon that odd Pegasus, Willow, and little Bucket. He hardly knew the Pegasus, but still didn’t want to see him hurt or worse. Bucket, on the other hoof, was a different case altogether. He was small and weak and afraid of almost everything, but Crescent had seen what he would do for his friends, and what he was capable of doing in dire situations.

Still, he couldn’t help but wonder if his fear had saved his life more than once. And what about that mare, Lilly? She seemed strong, and Crescent was sure she could take care of herself. Maybe even better than she thought herself.

A clanking, metallic sound suddenly filled the tiny room and pulled him out of his thoughts. The door on the other side slowly slid open with a low screeching and somepony stepped inside the dank room.

“Have you come to end me?” Crescent asked with raspy voice. “Get it over with, then.”

The other pony didn’t answer. Through the gloomy light of the bulb in the ceiling, Crescent could see some masculine features, and figured it was another stallion. This new stallion walked rickety, limping slightly around the room, taking care not to step into the light. As the pony turned about in place, Crescent could see a big stain of black and red covering its entire chest, and a hoof pressed against it to stop further bleeding.

That explained the limping walk, Crescent thought.

“What is your name… Stalker?” The stallion suddenly asked from his place in the shadows.

Crescent was taken aback by the sudden question, but he didn’t answer.

“Please, tell me your name… I’m not… here to hurt you.”

“Why… should I tell you, Bleakling?” Crescent said back to the hidden stallion. “I doubt names have any value to your kind…”

The stallion emerged into the light for the first time, looking at Crescent with tired, weary eyes. Crescent noted nothing out of the ordinary on the pony, his fur and mane bleak and grey like every other of his kind. The only thing that stood out was the open wound in his side, from which blood still dropped in a slow but steady current.

“I’m dying…”

“You’re only getting what you deserve.” Crescent spat back in response. “You and your kind are a disgrace to Equestria!”

“Please just tell me your name…” The Bleaker wheezed yet again, his eyelids looking like they weighed a ton.

“Why is my name so damn important…?” Crescent asked.

The Bleaker sat down on his backside in silence and wrapped his dull tail around himself, almost like he thought it would shield him from something. He looked at the floor, and Crescent could see something build up in his pail eyes. Something he’d never seen in the eyes of a Bleaker.

“… I don’t want to die alone.”

Crescent couldn’t believe his eyes; a Bleaker, cowering on the ground, holding its tail like a blanket. Crying. A pail pony crying like a frightened foal.

“You… what?” Crescent responded, unsure how to react to what he was seeing. Bleakers weren’t supposed to feel emotions, especially not fear or sorrow. He even thought they were incapable of shedding tears.

“Please.” Said the pale pony. “Let me die with at least… the illusion of having a friend…”

“I… Crescent. My name’s Crescent.”

The Bleaker opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the door behind him slamming open with a deafening roar. It smashed against the wall as several other ponies stumbled inside. The Bleaker on the floor turned around, but didn’t make any move to get up or even budge and inch. The ponies where locked together in what looked to be a struggle, and the moment they came inside they tossed each other to the floor.

As they rolled around before him, Crescent could make out a familiar face.

“Sawblade!” He shouted, straining his throat to the max.

The second Bleaker broke loose from Sawblade’s grip and stood up on his hooves, grinning madly with blood running from the corner of his mouth. In an instant, Saw blade threw himself over him, grabbed him by the neck and pushed him up against the wall. The Bleaker didn’t make a sound as Sawblade began throwing punch after punch into his face, shattering his teeth.

One final punch before Sawblade smashed the back of the stallions head against the wall, and the Bleaker fell lifeless to the floor with a loud thud. His limbs twitched slightly as blood begun to gather around his mangled head.

Sawblade turned his head to the side, and Crescent met his gaze. Even in the weak light of the room, he saw in his eyes nothing but madness. Sawblade had clearly been thrown into a fit of rage, which Crescent hadn’t seen for almost a year. He’d been able to keep his calm in most situations, but as of now, he knew Sawblade was lost to his own primal instincts, and would stop at nothing.

Without making a sound, the big stallion made his way towards the crying Bleaker in the middle of the room, who had now gone back to staring at the floor. For a fraction of a second, Crescent felt something inside of him, and he couldn’t stop himself from opening his mouth and shouting.

“Wait!”

It didn’t do any good. Sawblade didn’t listen to his oldest friend, and grabbed the Bleaker from behind, putting him in a chokehold. The Bleaker struggled as much as he could, but due to his injury it didn’t do him any good. His mouth hung open and his tongue lolled out from between his lips. A low gurgle escaped his throat.

Crescent looked into the eyes of the Bleaker as his legs begun to kick by themselves from the loss of air. The last thing he made out in those teary eyes before they rolled into the back of the Bleakers head was fear.

Sawblade let go of the stallion, who fell to the floor quietly. Chocked to death in front of the pony that could’ve been his only friend, if so only for a few minutes. Just a moment later, Sawblade had approached Crescent and reared up on his back legs. With a roar he grabbed the chains that held Crescent suspended and tore them off.

He hit the floor hard, and a sharp pain instantly travelled through him. He could hear Sawblade muttering an apology before he felt the nose of the big stallion dig itself in underneath his chest. A few seconds later, he hoisted Crescent up on his back and made his way towards the door. Towards freedom. Before Sawblade exited and the room disappeared from his sight, Crescent threw one last look at the corpse of the crying Bleaker.

A heavy feeling instilled itself in Crescent’s chest.

Lilly wasn’t sure how to feel. Her stomach was a tight knot and her head spun around itself, her temples about to burst. Adrenaline rushed through her body, coupled with fear and worry, but at the same time, a tiny fragment of excitement.

When she impaled the rusty nail into the belly of the Bleaker, something changed within her. She felt like she could take care of herself, like she had nothing to fear. Like she could take on the whole damn world and still come out on top. Slightly bruised maybe, but very much alive.

It was a rush, deep within her mind and body, sending her spiralling down the path to self-consciousness.

As she ran along behind Duskshine with Willow following behind her, she felt more confident than she’d ever done in her entire life. She could do this, she’d find a way and they would all get out of there, and they’d all be back in Ashcraft in no time. She kept telling herself that it was the truth and that it would end happily.

Yet somewhere deep down, her worries still lingered, standing on the edge of her sanity, threatening to take a step out of the edge any moment. She was lost in the middle of nowhere with a bunch of Stalkers she didn’t know, trying to find their way out of a building she’d never seen, filled with ponies that wanted to hurt her.

At least she had one friend with her, one she knew well. One she could trust, and was running right in front of her, shielding her from any danger. It was a slight comfort, and combined with her constant repeated mantra, she managed to stave off her impending breakdown.

They would make it out, she could do it. She had to believe it, no matter what.

Suddenly, Duskshine stopped, and Lilly almost ran straight into his backside, but managed to skid to a stop behind him, sitting herself down to rest her body for just a moment. Willow bumped into her back and neck, but she didn’t take any notice. Duskshine remained silent, and held up a hoof next to his ear, signalling them to be quiet and don’t move.

The three ponies sat in silence, the tension building with each passing second. After a little while, Lilly stood back up and shifted her weight over on her front legs in order to peak over Duskshine’s shoulder. At first she couldn’t see anything but darkness, but then slowly, she was able to make out the outlines of a room around the corner.

“… We should keep moving…” Duskshine whispered without taking his eyes off of what they both saw in front of them. “We can’t help them.”

Lilly wasn’t sure if it was the adrenaline that kept her from panicking, or if she’d gone numb out of fear and couldn’t react properly to what she saw. Either way, she remained silent and observed the scene that played out before her.

On the opposite side of the room was a wall of iron bars, much like the ones they escaped from earlier. Beyond the bars, she could see the silhouettes of several bodies spread out across the cell. It was obvious that they were already dead. Dark stains coated the walls, and it wasn’t too hard to figure out what it was. But the worst part of the scene was what they saw just outside the cell. Heavy chains hung from the ceiling, bolted shut in the grey stone above their heads. At the end of each chain there was a massive hook, undoubtedly fashioned to pierce through meat.

A bunch of lifeless bodies dangled from the chains, covered in dried blood. Some of their limbs had been removed, creating gaping holes across their bodies.

Lilly couldn’t take her eyes off of them. She wanted to turn away, to close her eyes, but she couldn’t. Something inside of her forced her to keep looking, and it was pointless to resist.

“Bollocks.” Duskshine whispered under his breath. “There’s no way out of here.”

“What?” Willow asked, his voice trembling. “Of course there is… right?”

Duskshine shook his head. “We’ have to go back.” Lilly quickly opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off before she spoke even one word. “No buts, missy. There’s no other way.”

Without warning, a door was opened somewhere down the corridor behind them, making them all jump. Instantly, the sound of harsh voices reached their ears, and they were close.

“Fuck! Quickly, hide!” Duskshine ran into the room with the bodies, leaving the other two behind.

Lilly didn’t move. Somehow, she was still paralized from seeing the dead ponies, and now that a new threat approached from the hallway, she was about to shut down completely. She couldn’t hear anything, but she could feel Willow walk around her, see him stare into her face and say something to her.

His eyes breathed fear and his movements were spastic, but Lilly still refused to move. Willow left her and ran up to Duskshine, and for a moment, Lilly wanted to scream, wanted to beg them to not leave her alone. A few seconds later, Duskshine came back to her, and without a word he unceremoniously dove beneath her belly and propped her up on his back.

The voices in the hallway became louder each and every second, coming closer and closer.

Suddenly, Duskshine dropped her down on the floor, and again, she wanted to scream. The first thing that met her gaze was the bruised and bloodied face of a dead pony, its mouth open and tongue lolled out on the floor, dried and cracked. Its eyes had rolled into the back of its head, and being unable to blink, they too had dried and begun to wither. It made her stomach ache, but she couldn’t do anything about it.

Willow slumped down next to her, slowly, shaking. No more than a second after a stopped moving, a couple of ponies entered the room from the hallway they had just been in. Lilly couldn’t see them since she had her back against the room, but she could hear them, and smell them.

They reeked of death and blood, a heavy smell of iron and alcohol, and something else she couldn’t quite place. Something musky.

“These two.” Said one of the ponies. “Do they go to the kitchen now, or what?”

“I guess.” Answered a second voice. “Shame really. Nice mares. I wouldn’t have minded a piece of them.”

“I’m not stopping you.”

Lillys’ eyes shoot wide open as she realized what the other pony meant. The thought disgusted her deeply, and she was glad she had her back turned towards what was happening. She heard the sound of hooves against stone, followed by one of the chains rattling, then a loud thud. She guessed it was one of the bodies hitting the cold floor.

She heard some more movement, some sort of shuffling. Lilly felt tears build in her eyes as she imagined what the Bleaker was no doing to the dismembered body. Then she heard the other pony talking again, just a few feet away from her, probably right outside the bars.

“Shit, better get a new one if you’re gonna do that.”

Lilly’s body tensed up even more, if it was even possible at all. Every inch of her ached, and her mind raced as she realized that the Bleaker had entered the cell, looking for the next corpse to string up. A hoof stopped right in front of her face, just inches away from her snout. She forced herself to hold her breath.

“I like this one.” Said the pony standing over her. “She looks… tasty.”

The other pony in the room just grumbled in response.

Sweat began to pour down Lilly’s face, and she couldn’t help but let out a quiet whimper between her clenched teeth. Suddenly, she felt somepony grab her by her mane. It became too much for her, she couldn’t hold it in any longer even if she tried. Her body released her.

Lilly screamed at the top of her lungs.

Her legs started to kick involuntarily, and she felt the grip on her mane loosen. The Bleaker took a few steps backwards, unsure of what was going on. He tripped on the corpse next to her and fell on his back. No more than the blink of an eye later, chaos swallowed the tiny cell. She heard Willow rise up and shout something before throwing himself over the Bleaker on the floor.

He started hammering away at the stallions face, still shouting. The Bleaker struggled and landed a few hits upon Willow, but the Pegasus seemed to have been thrown in a fit of rage, and he didn’t stop. It terrified Lilly to see somepony like Willow lose control over himself.

In a haze, Lilly rolled around on her stomach and stood up, ready to once again run, or fight if she had to. When she looked out through the bars, she saw the other Bleaker on the floor, on top of one of the mutilated bodies. He didn’t move, he just stared at her, completely dumbfounded by what had just happened.

Duskshine suddenly leaped out of the cell and latched himself unto the Bleaker, and the two stallions rolled off over the floor. As Duskshine began to batter the Bleaker with his hooves, Lilly felt she couldn’t do anything at all. She backed up into a corner of the cell, too afraid to do anything.

On the other side of the cell, the Bleaker beneath Willow had stopped moving, and he slowly stopped his assault. He threw himself off of the stallion and crawled backwards into the wall, his face distraught, and his legs shaking.

“I… I can’t... Why did I… what…”

He couldn’t talk properly as his eyes watered, unable to look away from the pony he had just beaten. Lilly couldn’t fight her instincts, and crawled over to him, stopped next to him.

“... I killed him…” Willow said, his voice breaking down with each word. “I killed…”

She put her hooves around him and held him while he cried in silence, and for just a brief moment, everything around them became unimportant. They couldn’t hear or see Duskshine and the Bleaker still rolling across the floor, couldn’t smell the odour of blood. For just a moment, they felt peace, albeit fake.

Willow trembled in her grasp, still staring at the lifeless body. His lips moved slowly, repeating the same words over and over. Lilly couldn’t do anything but try to comfort him as best as she could, and resorted to rocking them both back and forth slowly like a mother would rock her foal.

“Oh, fuck!”

Duskshine’s yell filled her ears, and she looked up. He was on his stomach, about to stand up. At the opposite side of the room, the Beaker he’d been wrestling ran off around the corner. Duskshine tried to get up, but fell over as his legs bent underneath his weight.

“Stay here, Willow, I’ll be back. Don’t worry, we won’t leave you”

She let go of Willow and hurried out to Duskshine, who was still struggling to get up.

“Did he hurt you?” She asked quickly. “Is it bad?”

Duskshine looked at her with his typical sly smirk. “No, but I think-Ah!” He fell forward again, and Lilly hurried to catch him on her side. “Thanks, missy. I think my leg’s dislocated...”

Slowly, Lilly lowered herself to let Duskshine rest on the floor, partially rested against her.

“But… you can walk, right?” She asked, meekly.

Duskshine shook his head.

“Fine, we’ll have to carry you then.” Lilly said before standing up again.

“Missy…”

She didn’t listen to him, and instead hurried back to Willow, who was still lurched in the corner, but he’d stopped crying and shaking, at least. He turned to look at her when she came close; his eyes looked tired and weary, as if he’d been awake for days. Carefully, she helped him up on his hooves, and he took long, deep breaths in his attempts to calm down.

“It’s no use.” Duskshine said from his place on the floor.

Not listening, Lilly trotted back over to him and began digging her snout underneath his legs, trying to force him up on her back, just as he did with her. Quietly, Willow tried to help, but it didn’t do any good, he was too heavy for the two of them.

“Lilly.” Duskshine said calmly. “I’m done for, you know it.”

“Shut up.” Lilly spat back at him. “Don’t talk such crap, you perverted fucker.”

“Lilly…”

“No, we’re getting you out of here, and that’s it.”

She pushed and pushed as hard as she could, refusing to give up. She couldn’t leave him, not like this. She didn’t even notice the tears in her eyes.

“You’ll have to leave me.” Duskshine whispered.

“No!” Lilly responded. “No, I’m not fucking leaving you, you hear? Come on, Willow, push!”

But the more she pushed and heaved, the more she started to understand the truth, even though she didn’t want to accept it. Finally, she stopped trying and sank down next to him, panting, wheezing and crying.

“I’m not a fighter, missy.” Duskshine said to her. “It was bound to happen eventually.”

She didn’t say anything. She was spent, tired, terrified and angry. Every part of her hurt, her eyes shut and her lungs burned like fire within her chest. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. She rested her head against the side of his neck, and she felt his chin lean against her forehead.

“I don’t want it to end like this, Dusk…”

Duskshine was silent, and the only sound in the tiny room was that of the three ponies breathing and Lilly’s quiet sobbing.

“Missy?” Duskshine whispered. “Did I ever tell you… I once had a brother?”

Lilly opened her eyes and shook her head slowly.

“He was a good stallion.” Duskshine continued. “Dawngleam was his name. He had the same colour as me, but reversed. Orange coat and grey mane, instead of the other way around. We used to live together in Ponyville, a long time ago... Before the snow. Before the killing. Everything was fine, we had a good life, a good friendship and all the mares and cider we could ever ask for. But then one night at the pub, we had a little… argument. Or a pretty big one, actually. Things weren’t the same after that night, and I moved to Manehattan a few months later. Alone.”

“Why are you telling me this…?” Lilly asked when Duskshine paused briefly.

“Because it’s important. After I moved to Manehattan, I spent a long time sulking over what had happened, blamed myself for it. I crawled to the bottom of a bottle of whiskey and stayed there. Then just when I thought it was all over, I met someone. Somepony who changed my life, that turned me around and kept me straight, off the booze. And I was happy again, real happy. Until winter came, and with it, the fade. This pony was a unicorn, and had to run away. I couldn’t follow, even though I wanted to-”

Duskshine was cut off as the sound of hooves suddenly filled the hallway, accompanied by several different voices. The Bleaker that had gotten away had fetched reinforcements, it seemed. A few seconds later, a big group of Bleakers emerged into the room, instantly setting upon the three defenseless ponies.

Willow tried to struggle, but it was no use; they knocked him out before he had the chance to do anything. Lilly got up and tried to resists as well, refusing to leave Duskshine and refusing to give up without a fight. Desperate, she threw herself at the nearest stallion, her hooves ready to smash into his face.

A few seconds later, she was down, her legs tied together. They grabbed her by mane and dragged her off, same as they did with Willow and Duskshine. She was the only one to struggle and shout. Duskshine had closed his eyes, and Lilly was terrified that he’d given up completely, given up on himself, his life. Given up on her.

They dragged the three friends through narrow hallways, dank and filled with dust. Lilly had given up her struggling, realizing there was no point, and let her body go limp. In one final attempt, she envisioned herself to be heavier. One last, childish attempt to slow down her captors. It didn’t work, and they pressed on through the building.

Lilly groaned in pain as they pulled her up several flights of stairs, her lower back slamming against each step sharply. At the top of the staircase they emerged into a big, brightly lit room, lined with windows on every wall. She tried to catch a glimpse of the outside, but the glass was covered in so much filth that it was impossible to see anything beyond them.

And then they stopped. The three ponies was thrown against a wall, landing in a pile on top of each other on the floor. When she tried to get free, Lilly caught sight of Duskshine’s bindings, and she had to force herself to keep back a gasp. His ropes were lose. He could break free any moment.

She looked up at his face, and he gave her a stern look.

“… Where have they taken us?” Willow whispered from somewhere next to her.

Lilly and Duskshine shook their heads in response. Lilly took a look around the room, seeing nothing but dust, filth and dried stains scattered across the floor. She looked down, and her eyes shot open when she saw that the floor underneath her was thick with dried blood. A quick turn of her head, and she saw that it stretched out like a big puddle all around them.

A loud rumbling noise filled the room as another pony entered from a door in a corner. With him, he dragged a big metal box filled with wires, buttons and levers, shielded by a thick metal frame. Lilly knew what it was the moment she laid eyes on it; a generator, for electricity. But she couldn’t for the life of her understand what it would be used for.

The Bleakers inched closer from the corners of the room, and she could see the gleam of metal in between their teeth.

It was an execution site.

Lilly began to panic, and turned to Duskshine in wonder. He gave her that sly smirk again, and nodded his head upwards. She looked up slightly, and again, she had to force down a gasp. Far above their heads, the roof had been hollowed out, revealing the skeleton of the building, thick steel beams running back and forth across the ceiling, wires and trash hanging freely.

Perched on one of the beams was a pony, one that wore a pair of goggles over its eyes and a green scarf around the rest of its face. Lilly instantly knew who it was, and her heart skipped a beat. From his place in the ceiling, Crescent made a motion with his hoof across his mouth. Stay quiet.

The Bleakers slowly came closer, inch by inch, holding whatever weapons they could find; knifes, daggers, swords, spears, axes, meat hooks, metal pipes. Lilly didn’t want to think about how many innocent ponies that had been dragged to this room before them. Nopony had probably ever left it alive.

Once they had come closer, Lilly saw the Bleaker dragging the generator stop before bending down over it and pulling up several cords with metal clamps attached to the end. It dawned on her; electric torture. They would make them suffer as much as they could before they finished them off.

They were close now. She could almost feel the hate emanating from them. She partially registered Duskshine moving his legs underneath her, before realizing what he was doing.

Suddenly, Crescent fell from the ceiling.

He smashed his hooves on the head of two of the Bleakers, burying his blades into their skulls. Before he even pulled them out, Duskshine rushed into the crowd of ponies. He launched forward, clamping his teeth around the neck of the nearest Bleaker.

Lilly rolled around on the floor as the sounds of battle filled the room, trying to find something sharp to cut her ropes with. Willow caught on, and tried to crawl away from the battle. Looking around the room, Lilly’s eyes fixed on a knife a few meters away, next to the dead Bleaker that had been using it. Quickly she crawled over to it, keeping a close eye on the Stalker and Duskshine. Just a few feet away from it, she saw a Bleaker break from the crowd before staring straight at her.

She tried to reach the knife, but the pale pony was on her before she had time to move, rolling her unto her back. Despite her struggles, he managed to pin his front hooves against her throat, and pressed down as hard as he could. Out of instinct, Lilly tried to gasp for air, but to no avail, her throat had been sealed shut, preventing any and all air to enter her lungs.

Slowly, her body became numb, and her vision blurred. The mad grin on the face of the Bleaker blurred, and she couldn’t even muster up enough force to blink. Her mouth twisted, and her throat convulsed, trying to force air into her without any success. Her legs kicked and twitched as her body struggled to stay alive, and the only thought that went through her mind was that she missed her parents.

If she let go now, she would see them again. And Applebloom. Everyone she ever loved would be reunited with her. It was a soothing thought, and her body slowly stopped resisting and gave in.

“Enough!”

Through her dying haze, she heard a voice shouting, and suddenly, the grip around her neck loosened just a bit. Her body launched itself upwards as she inhaled as hard as she could, the sweet air of life once again filling her lungs. But the Bleaker didn’t let her go, he just gave her a slap across the face, sending her head reeling to the left.

And she saw. She saw the last thing she ever wanted to see. The battle was over; the bodies of several ponies littered the ground. Willow was covering in a corner, pressed down by two pale ponies. Crescent was on his stomach, held down by Bleakers, unable to move an inch. The blades around his legs had broken, and the glass of his goggles had shattered.

Duskshine was right in the middle of the Bleakers that still lived. On his knees in a pool of blood. Blood that ran down his side from a wound in his stomach. One Bleaker stood behind him, held his head in a tight grip with one leg, and the other pressed against his neck, the blade of his dagger resting against Duskshine’s jugular.

Lilly tried to shout, but nothing but wheezing came out of her throat, and she started coughing deeply.

The Bleaker holding Duskshine looked straight at her, his gaze piercing her eyes.

“This could’ve been so much easier.” He stated without taking his eyes off of her. “Why struggle when you know you’ll die either way?”

“Because we have something worth living for!” Willow suddenly shouted from his corner. “Because-!“ The Bleakers silenced him by kicking him in the ribs.

“Something to live for?” The Bleaker said, mockingly. “Oh, I doubt that. There’s nothing left to live for in this world.” He looked down at Duskshine’s throat. “There is only death.”

Lilly screamed again, as she saw the blade dig itself just slightly into his neck. Not enough to harm him severely, but enough to draw a small amount of blood. She tried to struggle again, but the stallion on top of her was too heavy, and he chuckled at her feeble attempts. Settling down, she rested her head back down on the floor. There was no use, it was all over. her, Duskshine, Willow, Crescent. It was over for all of them. Would anypony remember them?

In the corner of her eye, she caught a quick glimpse of the generator behind the crowd of pale ponies, but something seemed off. She only saw it for a fraction of a second before it was obscured by a stallion, but she was almost certain she saw somepony standing by it. Somepony other than a Bleaker. In her state of exhaustion, she waved it away as her desperate mind laying tricks on her, trying to keep some slither of hope alive within her.

“Lilly!” Duskshine yelled, his voice strained. “Lilly, look at me!”

She thought she saw a faint purple light behind the Bleakers, but again she thought nothing of it. Slowly, she moved her eyes back to Duskshine, too afraid to not look, and too afraid of what would come.

He looked at her with tears in his eyes, his mouth open as he tried to breathe through the vice-like grip of the Bleaker.

“Lilith. This is not your fault.”

The blade cut into his throat.

Lilly never heard herself scream.

Duskshine fell face first into the floor, shaking violently as blood pumped from his throat. Lilly screamed and thrashed about beneath her captor, trying to get loose, trying to get to her friend. He couldn’t die here, not like this, not now. No, it was impossible, he wasn’t dying, and the blade never touched him, no…

Lilly didn’t understand it, but before her eyes, something happened to Duskshine. His coat changed colour, became a black so dark it give off a gleam, like his entire body had been polished.

She saw the purple light again, but it didn’t register in her mind. She heard somepony shout, and her mind told her she heard the word “phantom”.

Duskshine’s mane shrunk back into his head, and his ears changed shape, becoming jagged and sharp. Big holes started to appear all over his legs, and for a moment, Lilly thought he was rotting away before her eyes, soon to be nothing but a skeleton.

A few seconds later, her world exploded. The Bleaker on top of her toppled over as an ear-shattering explosion tore through the room. Heat pressed against her left side, and she suddenly felt herself skid across the floor in the opposite direction, away from Duskshine. She still screamed, now more from fear than sorrow, her throat burning hot.

She hit a barrier with the entire right side of her body, and it shattered into a million pieces, sending shards of glass flying all around her. The unicorn screamed the name of her dead friend as she sailed through the air like a ragdoll.