The trio had been up immediately at the break of dawn, and after a quick breakfast consisting of the canned food that Sawblade had found, the group covered up the campsite and hurried their way out of the dank hallways and dusty rooms of the abandoned school. All of them dressed in the jackets that had been provided by Sawblade, the group of ponies set out into the streets.

Upon leaving, the two Stalkers had talked about their next move and what would be best to do, finally deciding that leaving the town would be the smartest choice. Willow wanted to protest, but kept his mouth shut, and quietly hoped that the others were still alive and well, hoping that perhaps they got the same idea and that they would meet somewhere along the road.

Willow shuddered slightly as a particularly strong wind blew across his legs.

“I say we try for the nearest train station.” Crescent claimed from his place in the lead of the trio. “We could follow the tracks, and if we’re lucky they’ll lead us right out of town.”

“Maybe.” Sawblade responded, keeping an eye out for trouble behind Willow. “If the bridge hasn’t collapsed into the ocean, that is.”

“Well, the Bleakers must’ve used something to get into town.” Crescent said. “I doubt they used any sort of boats.”

They said nothing more, and kept on traversing the frozen streets with the silent agreement of doing what Crescent said. Willow felt both surprised and thankful that they didn’t encounter anypony else, despite walking for hours on end. The sun was already high in the sky when Crescent told the others to stop.

“I’d forgotten just how big this damned city is.” He said with a sigh. “I’m hungry. Anyone else?”

Both Willow and Sawblade nodded and agreed.

“I think I saw a store just a little while back.” Sawblade said. “Shouldn’t take more than a couple minutes to get there. Might have some food or supplies left.”

“Good, let’s go.” Crescent said, and the trio turned back the way they came.

Fifteen minutes later they arrived at their location, and they hurried inside just as a strange feeling of unease snuck up on the group. At first, Willow felt a bit of excitement when they explored the building, but that initial feeling soon became distant, and he started to become more and more worried and anxious.

“Well… this is hopeless.”

Crescent’s head popped up from behind the counter of the small shop that the trio of ponies had been scavenging through, a look of disappointment plastered on his face.

“What do you mean?” He asked Sawblade, who was leaning against the side of the empty doorframe leading back outside, observing the frozen wastes of snow.

“This.” Sawblade replied. “There’s nothing of use left here, the place was picked clean a long time ago, probably by some other Stalkers. Whatever used to be here was taken to The Heart years ago, I’d say.”

“Says you.” Crescent said back to him before diving back behind the counter again. “I found myself a new pair of goggles!” A beige hoof shot up in the place where his head had just been, a pair of shiny goggles that looked almost identical to his old, broken ones, resting on it.

Sawblade sighed. “We should leave before we’re spotted.”

Willow, who had been entertaining himself by kicking about an empty can on the other side of the room, perked up when Sawblade spoke. “Spotted by what?” He asked, cautiously. The can rolled away from him and hit the counter with a low clank. “More Bleakers?”

“There are far worse things than Bleaklings out there, boy.” Sawblade said.

“Like Banshees.” Crescent filled in, still crawling and rummaging around behind the counter.

“That’s just an old pony’s tale meant to scare foals.” Sawblade quickly responded, unexpectedly raising his voice a bit.

“I highly doubt that.” Crescent said as he stood up, the new googles hanging loosely around his neck, and placed his fore hooves on the counter, crossing them over each other “And you’d be a fool not to believe in them.”

“Oh, please, you’d be a fool if you did believe in those stupid things.”

“You know perfectly well that I already am a fool.” Crescent hopped over the counter and made his way over to Sawblade. “Besides, Red believes in them, and I trust his word.”

“Believed, not believes.” Sawblade said sternly.

“Fine, fine. My point still stands, and so does my belief.”

Sawblade muttered something inaudible under his breath.

“What was that?” Crescent asked.

“I said that you only believed him because you slept with him.”

Crescent’s posture seemed to somehow change, shift altogether as the realization of what Sawblade had said sunk in. On the opposite side of the room, Willow’s eyebrows raised so high they almost left his forehead.

“You... You knew?” Crescent whispered slowly, as if he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer.

Sawblade scoffed. “Of course I knew.” He turned his face towards Crescent. “Everypony knew, Cres. C’mon, it was obvious, the way you two acted.”

“So everypony knows I’m bisexual?”

Sawblade nodded.

Crescent pinned his eyes on the floor. “…. Well, damn it.”

Without another word, Crescent turned his back on Sawblade and meandered his way back to the counter, where he unceremoniously threw himself on the cold stone floor with his back resting against the counter. A few seconds later, Sawblade sat down next to him. They sat there in silence for a good long while before either of them spoke.

“What happened between me and Red, that…” Crescent said slowly. “It was just a momentary thing. We were both drunk and lonely and just… things happened, things we both regretted afterwards. It was just a stupid mistake.”

“But you liked it, didn’t you?” Sawblade said, his voice bearing just a hint of a teasing tone.

Crescent gave his friend a long look. “…. Why do I call you my best friend, you big fuck?”

“Because you love me.” Sawblade said with the tiniest of smiles.

“Ha, you wish. You know I’ve got somepony else now.”

“That I do. And that pony is a real klutz.”

“Oh, shut up.” Crescent said.

“Can’t even walk a straight line without tripping over.”

“But she’s one hell of a good flier, so shut up.”

Sawblade smirked. “Did I hit a touchy subject, Cres?”

“Yeah, maybe you did.” Crescent answered before turning away with an almost childish pout over his lips.

“Come on, you know I’m just messing with you. But you have to admit, she’s clumsy as all hell.”

Crescent didn’t say anything back.

“Alright, I’m sorry.” Sawblade said. “Come on, it’s not like you to be this way, Cres. I’m sorry, okay?

His apology fell upon deaf ears.

“Fine, she’s a good flier, probably one of the best, and I promise not to make fun of her anymore. Alright?”

Crescent suddenly snickered quietly.

“What so funny?” Sawblade asked.

“You really fell for it, huh?” Crescent said, turning back to him, the previous pout now replaced by a wide smile. “You know I’m not a grumpy pony, but you fell for it.”

Sawblade rolled his eyes. “Asshole.”

Another moment of silence descended upon the duo.

“Hey…” Crescent whispered. “Remember… Remember that one time last year, when Specter was sleepwalking?”

Sawblade chuckled. “Yeah, of course I do. Damned idiot walked straight into a blizzard in the middle of the night.”

“When we woke up we all panicked and started searching for him…”

“And found him stuck in a thorn bush!” Both Stalkers said in unison, before chuckling quietly.

“Then Stomp got stuck in the thing as well when he tried to get his sorry ass out of there. They sure weren’t happy ponies at that time.” Crescent said with a smile, followed by a heavy, deep sigh. He turned his head to Sawblade.

“How did we ever end up in this damn mess?” He asked. “Where did we go wrong?”

“I… Guess it all started with that human, Dust? The king. Everything went to shit quickly after his death.”

“No, not like that.” Crescent said. “Not on that… grand scale, no. I mean us. You and me.” He made a gesture, pointing his hoof back and forth between them. “What are we doing here?”

“Because it’s our duty to help and protect.” Sawblade responded. “We swore that sacred oath when we became Stalkers, to always do good.”

“What we’ve been through lately goes far beyond the call of duty. What the hell did we do wrong, Sawblade? What did our friends do to deserve their fate?”

“I don’t know…” Sawblade said before tilting his head backwards, staring at the ceiling with intent. “Shit, Cres. They should be here, all of them. Specter, Red, Stomp… They should be here.”

Crescent nodded solemnly. “And Bucket… Phantom.”

“And… what about…” Sawblade began, carefully, as if he was afraid to finish the sentence. “… What about her?

“I suppose I’ll never see her again.”

“You may, Cres. One day.”

“And until that day, I’m stuck with your sorry ass.” Crescent said.

Sawblade pushed him to the side, just a little bit. “Oh, fuck you.”

“Love you too, buddy.” Crescent responded before giving Sawblade a nudge back. “… Wait a minute. Is it just me, or is something not… right about this room suddenly?”

“What do you mean?” Sawblade asked.

Crescent looked around the room and then slapped himself in the forehead. “Just a minute ago, we were three. Now there’s just the two of us. Willow’s gone.”

“Oh, crap.”

The Stalkers quickly rushed to their hooves.

“You let your guard down for one second and the brat instantly runs off! Willow!” Sawblade shouted before running into the back of the shop, leaving Crescent to follow in his trail.

Before he did, however, he took a quick peak out the door. The street outside was quiet and empty, and upon not finding any other traces in the snow leading away from or around the store, Crescent headed back inside.

He entered the same room as Sawblade, but found neither him nor Willow, just a big hole in the floor, a stairwell leading down into nothing but darkness.

“Guys?” He called into the blackness. “You down there?”

“Yeah, we’re fine!” Sawblade’s voice answered after a few seconds. “Come down here! I think you should take a look at this!”

He hesitated for a moment. The previous feeling of unease suddenly made itself known again, and he felt a cold shiver run down his spine, chilling him to the bone. He really didn’t want to go down there. Something told him it was a bad idea to ever have entered the store in the first place.

“Come on, Cres!” Sawblade shouted yet again.

He took a deep breath, trying to chase away his fears and steel himself. Then he trotted down into the darkness.

After just a few seconds, he could see the bottom, where a pale light illuminated the last few steps and the concrete floor it lead to. Once there, Crescent noted that the light came from a small, square window to the side, at the highest top of the wall. Frost coated the sides of the glass, and a few stray snowflakes landed on it every now and then, but it wasn’t enough to shut out the light.

The room itself was rather big, but as dull as any other. Grey concrete floor and ceiling, same as the walls. With the stairs behind him, there was a collection of scrap and debris in the corner to his right, as well as a steel barrel that had probably once been used to store gasoline. To his right lay a long, narrow hallway.

A very long, very narrow hallway. Crescent almost felt ill just looking at it, a strange sensation reminiscent of vertigo, like the hallway was warping and trying to draw him in.

“Sawblade?” He called out again.

“Just down the corridor!” Came the answer.

“Of course. Great.” Crescent whispered to himself before pushing on down the strange corridor. On one side, nothing but concrete, and the same type of windows lining the top of the wall, these partially buried in snow unlike the other one by the stairs. On the other side was row after row of metal fence and gates.

Crescent guessed it had once been a storage area, but when he looked at them now as he passed them, they looked more like cages. It furthered his worry, and told him he should not be here. The closer he came to the door at the end of the hallway, the more he wanted to turn around. He didn’t want to know what it was that Sawblade thought he should see, he just knew that it wasn’t good.

As he walked, the wire cages ended, and he passed a door on his right, one that was slightly ajar and gave him a glimpse of the barren room on the other side. Instantly, a cold chill ran up his spine, and a distant thought started to brew in his mind.

Something was very wrong.

When he finally reached the end of the hallway, he found himself standing by the door, just standing there, staring and not moving an inch. He felt compelled to turn around, and did so very slowly, fearing that somepony might be behind him. He breathed a sigh of relief to see the hallway empty. But something was still off, and he suddenly remembered something; a dream he had earlier. He’d been in a hallway just like this, chased through the woods, and…

Her voice. Whispering his name. And then that dreadful face, the white wolf that haunted his dreams. He looked back at the door he’d passed, and to his horror he came to a stark realization; this was the corridor from his dreams. The very same one, with not a single slither of a doubt.

Something was very, very wrong.

Crescent pushed away the urge to run, buried it deep down, and then entered the room. Inside, he stood dumbfounded.

He’d expected something terrible. Something dreadful, some sort of universal horror. But there was nothing of the sort. The room was much bigger than the previous one, probably three or four times, with a thick supportive pillar in the middle. It didn’t look special or different in any way, except… the things on the walls.

Sawblade and Willow both looked at the strange walls in awe, and even Crescent found himself staring. He’d heard of these things before, but to actually see it himself… It left him completely speechless.

“Have ever seen anything like it?” Sawblade muttered under his breath as he approached Crescent. “It’s… I don’t know what to say.”

“…. Yeah….” Crescent whispered.

All around them, covering every inch of the walls, was thick, clear ice. Not normal ice, no, it was clear that this ice was filled with some sort of magic, and they could almost touch the pulsating aura it gave off.

Willow stood still, staring with huge eyes at the things inside the ice. Ponies. Bodies of countless ponies, frozen within the ice, forever stuck in what may have been their dying moment.

“What… happened to them?” He asked, quietly, in a single, shaky breath.

“It’s… We call it a Magisurge.” Sawblade said. “Strong outbursts of magic. During The Fade, these things where common. Unicorns where gathered up and tortured and beaten. From their collective suffering and will to be free, a surge could take place. It’s a powerful wave of magic, fuelled by emotions, magic that could kill everything around it. A sort of defence mechanism, if you will, when the suffering became too great to handle.”

Crescent looked around more closely, and found that every pony within the ice was indeed a Unicorn. Mares, stallions, even foals, all dead and cased within the clear crystal. Some had their hooves raised over their faces, as if to protect themselves. Others seemed to scream and shout in agony, and some just cried quietly.

His eyes then stopped upon one pony on the other side of the room. Crescent’s heart came to a full stop.

“By the looks of this, something went wrong.” Sawblade continued. “The magic backfired, killed the users instead. Look, see that black spot in the middle of the room? The magic probably originated from there, then moved outwards. Probably fast as all hell. It was quick, they never felt any pain.”

“That’s just horrible…” Willow whispered. “I-I wanna leave. Please. I never should’ve gone down here in the first place, I’m sorry. Can we please leave?”

“Sure, let’s go. Crescent?” Sawblade asked. “You ready to-“

Crescent didn’t respond. He was sitting on the other side of the room, right in front of one of the frozen ponies. Sawblade carefully walked up to him.

“It’s… It’s…” Crescent whispered slowly, his voice flat and hollow.

“Cres? You okay?”

Crescent didn’t listen. He reached a hoof up and placed it against the ice. A few inches apart from the pony on the other side, who was reaching out its own hoof as if to ward off something.

“…. I finally found you.” Crescent said. “It’s me, sis’. It’s Cresentine. I’m here, I’m with you.”

“That’s… is that her..?” Sawblade muttered in shock.

“You left so long ago, without even saying good bye. I missed you so much, but you never came back. I even kept your lyre, sis’…” Crescent leaned his forehead against the ice.

“It’s actually her…” Sawblade looked at the frozen mare, astonished. She looked just like Crescent had described her; her golden eyes, minty mane, and aquamarine coat. Her cutie mark bearing the likeness of a golden lyre.

“I’ve been looking for you for so long… I thought I’d lost you for ever…”

In all the years that Sawblade had known Crescent, he’d never seen him cry. Not once, no matter what happened, he stayed strong, and Sawblade had always thought Crescent to be a strong stallion, even stronger than himself.

“I did all I could, I never left your side. I even gave up my horn for your sake! But you were already gone, little sister… So far gone.”

Now, tears streamed down the Stalker’s cheeks as he wept quietly, pressing his face against the ice.

“…. Lyra.” Crescent whispered, his voice finally breaking and cracking into loud wailing.

His sobs echoed through the cold basement, as the once proud Stalker wailed and cried like a tiny foal, like a pony that had lost all hope to live. The kind of wailing that would make you shatter in a thousand pieces.

Crescent slumped to the cold stone floor, his tears smearing on the ice. Sawblade could do nothing but try to comfort him as best as he could, put his arms around him and hold him. Nothing else besides his crying no longer existed in the world, and nothing else mattered.

He shouted his sorrow into Sawblade’s embrace, screaming and crying his sister’s name.

The Stalkers never noticed Willow sneaking out through the door.