Grog dragged his paw across the sooty wall of the damp tunnel. He brought the appendage to his muzzle, sniffed it, and grimaced. It reeked of mildew, mold, and wet dog. Better than rotting dog, he thought.
He trudged silently through the dark cave. His meaty paw gripped a large spiked mace and rested it against his shoulder. A crude iron helmet, more akin to a dented bucket, was strapped to his chin via a leather strap. Two dark auburn eyes peered through the helmet and attempted to pierce the thick darkness that surrounded Grog. The diamond dog grumbled, flared his nostrils, and pivoted his ears.
The scent of moist earth assaulted his nose, and the rhythmic echo of dripping water made his ear twitch. Darkness clung to him like mange. Grog grunted and followed the odor of the groundwater. It was just two hours ago when the newest portion of the burrows collapsed upon expanding into a patch of saturated soil. Now their gem shipments were going to be behind schedule – not that they weren't already behind as it was. Grog growled when his hind-paw sank ankle-deep into dark muck. He had a pup to feed, ancestors damn it! They couldn't afford any more delays and setbacks – especially now. His nostrils flared again as he reached the end of the tunnel. A higher dosage of wet dog smell invaded his nostrils as a cold furry something brushed against his foot.
Grog crouched in the dirt and reached for the furry something with a paw. It was as cold as it was three seconds prior, and still furry. He slowly groped the furry something with his paw and felt several clawed appendages attached to a longer cold furry something. This other furry something, which Grog's astounding intellect concluded was part of a bigger furry something, was also quite soaked and protruded from a slanted wall of dirt that blocked Grog's path.
Ancestors damn it, Moon Moon… Grog growled. Not you too…
Grog rose to his feet and glared at the wall in front of him as if it had just offended his mother. They needed to commission a team to come down and survey the damage and find out where the river flowed. Then it would take a week to just dry out the tunnel and pull out any casualties. So many variables – so many hazards.
Grog sighed somberly before stamping his foot with a growl. They would persevere. They always persevered. They were diamond dogs. Living under mountains and in the dark wet underground of Equestria was a hard life, but was their life. The diamond dog scratched his back and made the slow trek back to the main chambers.
A gurgled howl stopped Grog in his tracks. He peered down an adjacent tunnel where several raised voices reached his ears. Grog hesitantly plodded down the passageway with a forepaw on his mace. The leather binding around the handle creaked under the pressure of his grip. The diamond dog craned his head around the corner and saw the silhouettes of four figures standing in the tunnel.
Three stood in a line facing away from Grog and toward the dim torchlight that illuminated the tunnel. The center diamond dog stood erect with his paws folded behind his back while the two outer diamond dogs were rigid and bore an apprehensive stance. Their ears were flattened against their skulls and their paws gripped their spears tightly and directed them at the fourth figure.
The fourth figure knelt on the ground with his paws up submissively. His ears were splayed back and in the mid light Grog could see the matted fur on his face. The air reeked with a coppery taste.
"No, no…" he stammered. "Wulfer is fine… Wulfer well. I just have a sore throat. No big deal… Grog? Grog!"
Grog's eyes widened when the three guards turned around to face him. He met the gaze of Wulfer. The dog's eyes were sunken in and almost ghostly. Spots of his fur were gone, exposing raw bloodied skin beneath. Grog tore his eyes away and met those of the center dog, whom he recognized as Rover – the pack Alpha.
Grog bowed his head in respect to the Alpha, and he gave Grog a nod in turn. Wulfer suddenly began hacking and heaving on the ground. Blood splattered the dirt as the guards took a reflexive step back and snarled.
"Grog…" Wulfer whimpered. "Tell them I'm fine… Tell them Wulfer is fine."
Grog could only close his eyes and look away from the whimpering dog.
Rover audibly sighed and gestured to his guards. "Take this poor mutt to quarantine."
The two guards grumbled before nudging Wulfer with the butts of their spears. Wulfer shakily rose to his feet and walked down the passage while muffling sobs and whimpers.
Grog watched the trio go down the passage before a firm paw rested on his shoulder. He turned his head to see Rover watching them with a sad expression. The Alpha let out a sigh before following them.
"Walk with me, Grog," he commanded. Grog obeyed wordlessly.
"What's your accident report?" Rover inquired as they walked.
"The passage collapsed about forty paces in." Grog began after a moment of silence. "It looks like the miners hit a stream. I confirmed at least one casualty."
"Damn it…" Rover growled. "That's the second one this month. They have no idea what they're doing… With all our best foremen and engineers on sick leave, accidents are starting to pile up."
"Any improvement?" Grog looked up at Rover hopefully.
"No…" Rover frowned. "We lost another one last night."
It was then that the duo stepped into a large chamber. Numerous dogs filled the room. Some lined the walls, armed with spear and shield. Others huddled together in bundles, passing around clay bowls of mush. Many dogs were without bowls, Grog bitterly noticed.
"When is the next shipment from Dimondia due?" Grog asked.
"Three days. We should hold out on food until then. Medicine, though?" Rover snarled. "Those pompous poodles that eat the scraps from King Fenrir's plate can't be bothered to care enough about us miners to send us adequate supplies. Let's see them feast and drink away their wealth when their mines are filled with corpses."
"There must be something we can do…"
"If…" Rover began. "If the King won't help us, then we may have to take what we need from the ponies."
Grog's eyes widened in shock at the prospect. Attacking the ponies was practically suicide. Were they really that desperate? He opened his mouth to object to the Alpha when he finally looked closely at his face. Rover's muzzle was twisted into a frown. Bags drooped beneath his eyes. He looked… tired. Grog knew that this plague was affecting all of them, but just then he realized that it was hitting Rover in a unique way. He was the Alpha, and the Alpha was responsible for the pack. The pack's failure was his own failure.
And the pack was full of the sick and dying.
Grog lowered his head and tightened the grip around his mace. His thoughts turned to his pup, who was a scant few meters away lapping up a few mouthfuls of his daily ration. His thoughts turned to his mate, who was busy tending to the dogs in the infirmary. His thoughts turned to his father, who was one of the first claimed by the sickness.
"Wait…" Rover growled as he reached to the sword on his waist. "Something's wrong… Do you feel th-"
An ear-splitting screech suddenly pierced the solemn air of the chamber as a frigid gale blew through the cavern. Several diamond dogs collapsed to their knees and wailed. They cradled their heads in their hands as blood seeped from their ears. The wind tore through the chamber, snuffing out torches and casting dust into their eyes.
Grog craned his head up and squinted his eyes toward a passage on the opposite end of the chamber. A ghastly aura of death and despair emanated from the darkness that gurgled from the tunnel like a thick black fog. Someone was shouting, whimpering, or wailing. He wasn't sure which - maybe all three. Grog could only focus on the raw dread that clung to the rapidly chilling air, the ghostly moan that left his legs quaking, and the predatory growl that rumbled from the dark fog that churned like an angry sea.
His throat tightened as three long gashes formed along the wall at the entrance to the tunnel. Grog's mutilated ears shivered at the sound of metal carving through stone and the rattle of heavy chains. The fog squirmed as the air was pierced with another demonic wail. A writhing mass of dark tendrils, smoke, and shadows shot out like murderous hands. Three diamond dogs fell with an explosion of gore and the splattering of blood. Entrails were spewed across the floor as a line of guards were shredded, flayed, and cleaved like butter against a glowing hot knife.
A diamond dog sailed through the air and into a crate like a toy tossed by an enraged child. Another was hoisted several feet in the air at an awkward angle. The smoke and smoldering shadows churned and solidified. Long arms and hands with clawed fingers materialized from the mass. A monstrous demonic face – like a mutilated and deformed manticore - formed from the smoke, revealing a sadistic grin filled with several rows of razor sharp teeth that sank deeply into the dog's neck. Glowing crimson eyes glared, unblinking, at Grog – even as a spear harmlessly sailed through its torso. The creature dropped its plaything with a wet squishy plop.
Grog could only soil his fur as the demon lunged at him, maw spread impossibly wide to swallow him whole.
Someone was screaming.
Grog realized, as he became impossibly cold, that it was him.
Twilight Sparkle pressed her muzzle deeper into her blanket. A rumbling snore betrayed her otherwise peaceful sleep. She laid on top of a hay mattress supported by a wooden frame. Her body was covered by a deep purple blanket that matched her furry coat. Numerous constellations dotted the dark fabric.
She was overjoyed when Princess Celestia granted her request to make her stay in Ponyville permanent. Twilight spent the day celebrating her new assignment and Princess Luna's return along with her new friends. It was past dusk when she returned to the Golden Oaks Library. Her nonstop activity for the past fifty-odd hours came back with a vengeance as she entered the guest room on the library's second floor, and she promptly fell asleep before her head hit her pillow.
The room was empty save for the two overnight saddle-bags sitting in the corner and the sparse pieces of furniture that called the guestroom home. A plain writing desk, a mostly empty bookshelf, an occupied bed, and a woven basket dotted the room. Deep snoring rumbled from a small curled form in the basket by the bed. Displaced moonlight shone through the single window and the leafy branches of the tree-house, illuminating the room in a broken dim silver light.
A bracing blanket of chilled air suddenly smothered the room. The shadows lounging on the floor and the walls stiffened, coiled, stretched, and sharpened while the tree groaned. Several of the darkest shadows slithered up the wall furthest from the bed like molasses. Two ghostly azure lights materialized amidst the shadows as two spectral two-dimensional wings spread across the wall.
The azure eyes casted an eldritch luminosity over the room. They narrowed upon Twilight as she shivered and wrapped herself tighter in her blanket. Deathweaver glanced at the basket, where purple and green scales shimmered in the light, before returning his attention to the unicorn. The silhouette of the Pale Alicorn coalesced and stretched away from the wall like inky black taffy. His wings melded with his torso and a black hoof landed on the floor with an eerie silence.
A dark figure stood at the foot of Twilight's bed. He was clad in a black trenchcoat that shrouded his body from his neck to his fetlocks. The ghostly glow of Deathweaver's eyes peered out from beneath the concealing shadow of a black fedora. He was as silent as the grave while the unicorn slept peacefully under his gaze.
Let us see what lurks within your soul, Twilight Sparkle.
Deathweaver's eyes blazed with a fierceness that engulfed the room, and all was black.
A magenta orb slowly materialized in the darkness. It hovered in the void like a dim purple star. The surface of the orb rippled and flowed like water or a thick gas. Movement stirred beneath the orb – obscured by the churning surface. Deathweaver's consciousness formed outside the sphere as a writhing mass of darkness.
'She is dreaming' he thought to himself. 'This will prove much easier.'
A tendril of darkness slithered forward and brushed against the sphere, causing the surface to distort and part like fog. The tendril retreated and became sharp and rigid before sliding into the magenta miasma like a hypodermic needle and colliding with a solid wall. Deathweaver internally grimaced. He focused his consciousness upon the intruding tendril and injected himself through the new doorway.
The miasma gave way to another sphere. It was covered in thick square plates that rotated and shifted across its surface like a fast-paced rubik sphere. Deathweaver spread his consciousness over the clockwork and studied it from every angle. Every armor could be exploited – every lock picked. He slithered over the complex mechanical barrier as he observed the patterns of its rotating mechanisms. Then, with a blurred flash of movement, a tendril shot out and pierced a thin seam between two plates. The plates separated and the whole machine came to an abrupt grinding halt. Deathweaver twisted the tendril and a click echoed through the mindscape. Several of the plates faded away into the void, revealing a square hole in the spherical mechanism.
Deathweaver grinned in satisfaction as he siphoned his consciousness through the hole.
A blinding light enveloped Deathweaver. If he weren't in the mindscape, he would have blinked at the sudden luminescence, but instead he asserted his mind upon the light and willed it to dim. It gave way to a long stone hallway lit by interspersed globes of white light. They were neither blinding nor dim, but cast a pleasant radiance upon the polished stonework. Deathweaver stood in the center of the hallway, in the form of the trenchcoated stallion, facing a pair of dark stained wooden doors. He slowly approached the door. The lights dimmed in the wake of his silent steps as they reacted to his foreign presence. His azure glowing eyes flashed with a modicum of will and the door clicked open with a creak.
The door revealed a large foyer covered in waxed marble tiles. Its floor was spotless and shone with a pristine gloss. Stone pillars, adorned with the carved images of solar disks, pressed against the walls. A wooden reception desk sat in the center of the room where an elderly unicorn mare with a gray mane and black horn-rimmed glasses shuffled through papers and books with a stamp held by a purple aura. She had a content smile on her face. Suddenly, she looked up and narrowed her gaze upon Deathweaver. Magenta eyes flared and her warm smile crumbled into a disapproving frown.
Deathweaver's eyes widened in surprise before his body dispersed in a cloud of shadows that clung to the walls. He wrapped several enchantments of concealment and subtlety around himself while his disassembled mind-puppet sunk deeper into the mindscape's shadows. Once he concealed himself, Deathweaver tugged on the psychic tether that led out of the mindscape and to his own body. He returned his attention to the receptionist after ensuring it was stable.
The receptionist scanned the area around the door for several seconds before returning to her cheerful demeanor. She levitated a book off a large stack, opened the cover, stamped the inside, and placed it on the opposite stack.
'Blasted…' Deathweaver glowered from his hiding spot. 'Construct guardians. It appears I underestimated this foal. She has trained her mental defenses far beyond most mortals. Nevertheless, I could simply smash my way through her mindscape like it was glass, but that would alert her to my presence. This will require subtlety. I do not wish to reveal myself to these "Elements" just yet…'
The splintered form of Deathweaver's construct shifted and coalesced into a single shadow on the wall. It was tall and predatory like a lion stalking through the savannah. Large wings spread out above its torso and a spear-like horn protruded from its forehead. The shadow ascended the wall with a flap of its two-dimensional wings and glided along the ceiling above the receptionist. Deathweaver studied the room in more detail from his vantage point. Several other hallways branched out from the foyer.
Deathweaver darted down the nearest corridor. The passageway flew passed him until he came to another room. Bookshelves filled with hefty volumes and bulky filing cabinets lined the walls and formed scores of aisles through the warehouse-sized chamber. Each of the isles wooden signs that were nailed to the ends of the shelves and declared their contents.
'Let's see…' Deathweaver's shadow drifted along the shelves. 'Grammar and Language… History and Lore… Mathematics and Science… Arcane Theory and Applications… Biographical Notes… My my, aren't you the organized one. It certainly makes my job easier. Ah, here it is… Notable Figures.'
The Pale Alicorn veered down the aisle and skimmed the numerous spines. Each shelf bore a single name. Conveniently, all of the names were in alphabetical order. Deathweaver stopped and focused on a single shelf. A barrage of images, emotions, and broken bits of conversations flashed before his eyes. He saw glimpses of a white stallion glad in golden armor sitting beside a purple filly. The stallion's mane was an electric blue and a bulwark shield adorned his flank. Admiration, nostalgia, and a fierce sororal love radiated from the memories.
'Interesting…' Deathweaver's stony face crumbled into a frown. 'Older brother. Shining Armor. Oh, and also the Captain of the Royal Guard? Could prove useful.'
Deathweaver moved on to another shelf. This one was much larger than the others. The wood trim was expertly carved and the books were far more ornate and cared-for than the rest. Powerful emotions of unconditional love, unshakable and pristine admiration, and an almost motherly attachment surged from the near blinding image of a tall alicorn with a coat white as snow, a mane that shimmered like a rainbow interwoven with the dawning sun, and wings as big and white as clouds that yet held the power of a hurricane. A golden torc, regal crown, and shining shin plates adorned the image of Princess Celestia de Solis.
Deathweaver sneered mischievously as his mind was bombarded by rapid glimpses of Twilight's tutelage under the Solar Monarch. 'I wonder, Celestia, do you feel the same for your student? Or is she simply a pawn?'
He drifted to another shelf, but the clang of metal against tile echoed through the mindscape. His shadowy form shot through the aisle like a bat out of Tartarus before stopping at the end. Deathweaver peered out from behind the shelf to see two clones of the white stallion stalking the halls with fierce determination in their eyes.
'More constructs…' Deathweaver frowned in annoyance. 'I cannot stay for much longer.'
Deathweaver slithered through the aisles like a serpent in the brush. The construct guardians continued to patrol the halls as they were drawn to the presence of the foreign entity. However, Deathweaver proved too elusive and more experienced in the mindscape. As he explored the numerous shelves, he added several more memories to his growing collection of Equestrian knowledge. He slowly expanded mental dossiers of nobles, celebrities, business-ponies, and constructed a map of the modern geo-politics.
Finally, Deathweaver slipped through a double door – narrowly missing another patrol. He allowed himself the luxury of a relieved sigh before turning his attention to the current room. Several more rows of shelves greeted his eyes. Foggy apparitions drifted here and there through the aisles. They were faceless shades that effortlessly faded into the background. Off to the side were several large pillows on the ground where a few shades congregated. One pillow, however, was occupied by a small purple filly with a dark lavender mane. Her muzzle was buried in a book that was practically as thick as her barrel. The filly's lavender eyes were wide and focused while a content innocent smile was plastered on her face.
"Gee, Twilight, I never knew reading could be so much fun!" a cheery voice echoed through the mindscape.
The filly Twilight looked up at one of the shades as color bled into them. Its greyish black was replaced with a vibrant pink. Two sparkling blue eyes and an impossibly cheerful smiled greeted Twilight's gaze.
"Yeah!" piped up a blue Pegasus filly with a rainbow mane. "The thaumaturgical properties of weather magic sure are awesome!"
One by one, each construct of Twilight's new friends gave their own positive opinion on whatever subject they were reading. Twilight beamed at the approval reflected upon herself. Deathweaver silently watched the scene from beside the door. A small frown drooped beneath the shadow of his fedora.
"Thanks, girls!" filly Twilight grinned. "I'm glad we could spend time together today! I was afraid you would think I was some sort of nerd or something…"
"Of course, darling." Rarity replied. "We're your friends! Friends always enjoy doing things their friends like."
"Yeah, Twilight." Fluttershy softly agreed. "We're your friends. Friends don't think badly of other friends."
"You poor, poor child." Deathweaver thought to himself. "So ignorant. So naïve… It is time I depart, Element of Magic. Do not worry. I will return. You have far too much potential."
Deathweaver gestured with his forehoof. A miasmic black orb materialized from his hoof and drifted to a nearby shelf. Tendrils, like wispy spider legs, emerged from the orb and latched to the books. The orb skittered between two books and vanished into the obscurities of the dreamscape. Finally, Deathweaver turned and opened the door. Light spilled through the doorway, drawing the attention of the dream constructs. Before they could react, however, the trenchcoated stallion vanished into the light that quickly vaporized the dream.
Twilight jerked up with a snort. Her foreleg kicked reflexively as she craned her head to look around the bedroom. She squinted her eyes in confusion. The bed didn't quite feel right beneath her barrel. It was too firm. Or maybe it was too soft. Twilight couldn't tell which. An unfamiliar ambience filled the night. The scents of wood and grass replaced dust and old stone passages, and the distant echo of hooves against stone and the murmur of the city was exchanged for chirping crickets and the verbal mulling of night birds.
This isn't Canterlot.
The thought cemented the reason for all of the eerie changes to her sleep-addled mind. She sat up and frowned at a nearby open window. Twilight engulfed it in a violent aura and gently closed it with a light click. Her eyes fell upon the small basket at the foot of her bed – and the slumbering form within. The familiar sight and sound of Spike snoring the night away brought some ease to her troubled heart. However, the reality of her previous decision was finally presenting itself.
I'm not in Canterlot anymore…
Twilight's gaze drifted to the window and eyed the full faceless moon that slowly sailed over Equestria. She was so ecstatic for finally winning friends of her very own – friends that might finally love her for her and not for her status – that she neglected to consider the life she built for herself in Canterlot. How would she tell her family? Would she have to abandon her studies? They were always so proud of her for what she had accomplished. Would they see her moving to this rural farming town as neglecting her dreams and shunning their family name? What would he—
"Twilight?"
She was jolted out of her train of thought when the quiet voice broke the silence of the dark bedroom. Twilight glanced down to see a small scaled hand resting firmly on her fetlock, which was absently stroking her tail. Yellow claws were gently pressed into her purple fur. The arm led to a pair of green reptilian eyes that stared at Twilight with concern and unwavering loyalty.
"Twilight, what's wrong?" Spike asked.
"Wrong?" Twilight tried to give him a reassuring smile. "Nothing. Nothing's wrong. Why would there be anything wrong?"
Spike calmly sat beside Twilight and wrapped his spined tail around his body. He folded his arms across his chest and raised his eyebrow at the smile that came off more as a manic grin – which went quite well with her frazzled mane.
"Twilight." Spike replied as he pried her hoof from her tail. "Mom. You're doing it again. Now, tell me what's wrong."
Twilight stared at the baby dragon for a moment before releasing a resigned sigh. She lowered her head and rested it on her folded hooves. "I guess I'm just… Thinking about home."
"Let me guess…" Spike pondered as he brushed his claws through Twilight's mane and worked out the tangles. "You're worried about Grandma, Grandpa, and Uncle Shining?"
"In part… I'm also thinking about all the ponies who might disapprove of me moving out here. I mean… It's going to look like I'm being punished for something, or I'm turning my back on my university studies or all my duties in Canterlot."
"There will probably be some ponies that will think that, but they won't matter. Sure, it will be a bit harder to pursue your degree living all the way out here, but hey! You're living in a library now! You can just buy the books and keep 'em here! And now that you have your own space, you can finally build a decent lab to do your experiments. No more cranky butlers or snobby nobles getting mad about you blowing stuff up."
"I do not blow stuff up… often." A blush darkened her cheeks.
"Besides, rich ponies move out into the country all the time." Spike climbed up onto her back and began to knead her shoulders. "If anypony asks, just tell them you wanted to get out of the city for a while. I can see the headlines now… 'Princess's protégé, Twilight Sparkle, moves into exotic new home in beautiful Equestrian countryside'!"
Twilight snorts. "Yeah… Maybe you're right, Spike. Besides, I think you'll be happy here. You probably had fewer friends than I did in Canterlot. Hopefully you can meet some foals your own age here."
"I suppose that would be nice…" he grew quiet as memories of his first time in pony school drifted into his mind. "A-anyway, you should get some sleep. I'm sure you have a long itinerary for us tomorrow."
"Mhm… The Princess said that some of our things will be coming by train sometime tomorrow. I'll need your help to carry it over here."
"Sure thing, Mom…" Spike released a yawn before curling up next to Twilight and swiftly falling asleep.
"Look at you…" Twilight nuzzled Spike as she wrapped her tail around his small frame. "I thought I'm supposed to be the supportive parent around here."
Something was terribly wrong.
Beatrix sat silently in the coach of her wagon. A purple blanket was wrapped around her slender figure while the blueish silver hue of her horn illuminated a concerned scowl. Her soft violet eyes scanned the starlit sky. She glanced down at the darkened path before her and back at the map folded beneath the glow of the lantern above her head.
The unicorn's gaze narrowed upon the empty moon as the gears in her mind turned. Beatrix knew by her charts that sunrise should have been hours ago, but night still blanketed the land. It was obvious that whatever happened to the Mare in the Moon had something to do with this. By Luna, it was…
Beatrix's eyes shot open. She opened the door into the main cabin of her wagon with a wave of her horn and dove into the darkness within. A quick spell ignited a lantern and several candles. The blue unicorn trotted over to one of the shelves that lined her sparse living space.
"Let's see…" she mumbled to herself. "Where is it? Where is it? Ahah! Here it is… Prophecies and Visions by Domina Noctis."
Beatrix wrapped the bound tome in her telekinesis and delicately pulled it from its perch. She placed it on her desk and blew off a cloud of dust from the cover. Her nose wrinkled in a suppressed sneeze before she pried the pages open. Ancient yet intricate calligraphy greeted her on worn yellow parchment. The mare's violet eyes narrowed slightly as she deciphered the Old Equish that filled the pages.
It shall come to pass
That Shadow and Hate will arise
From Grief and Pain.
The Sun will be eclipsed,
The Stars will weep,
And the Moon will burn with Fury
Yet when Light is consumed
And Darkness eternal
Harmony will reveal Salvation
Order and Chaos restored
Shadow shackled
Friend now Jailor
Heavens sundered
And It shall come to pass
A lonely Millennia
A thousand Summers
The Heavens will darken
Shadow reborn
Death incarnate
Hatred to swallow the World
She stared at the verses in silence as the stories from her grandmother surfaced in her memory. Beatrix remembered tales of the illuminant and graceful Night Princess – how she diligently guarded ancient Equestria against the terrors that lurked in the dark. While the Solar Queen was the political face of Equestria and its Shield against the world, Luna was the Sword – the knife in the shadows. However, her elusive and dangerous image came with a price. Equestria, her charge, feared and loathed her and praised her elder sister. This drove her to jealousy, greed, hate, and finally violence. The Lunar Rebellion was one of the bloodiest events in Equestrian history. It was so horrific that only a scant few history fanatics are even aware it transpired at all after most of the records were burned.
Beatrix focused on a single line from the prophecy – 'Harmony will reveal Salvation'. She reached with her telekinesis and plucked another book from the shelf. The true history of the Lunar Rebellion became diluted by centuries of folklore and legend to the point that no one really remembered Luna as anypony other than the infamous Nightmare Moon.
"However," Beatrix verbally continued her train of thought. "Even the most foalish of old mare's tales still possess some truth to them. Here we are!"
"… Mare in the Moon…" she skimmed down the page. "… Myth from olden pony times. A powerful pony that wanted to rule Equestria… Defeated by the Elements of Harmony and imprisoned in the moon… Legend has it that on the longest day of the thousandth year, the stars will aid in her escape…"
Beatrix gulped.
"… And she will bring forth eternal night."
"Well, Rupert." Beatrix looked down at the small canine that peaked out from underneath his blanket. "Now we know the reason for the odd behavior in the sky tonight. It seems that the return of the Night Princess has finally come. I never believed it would happen in our lifetime, and I doubt very many ponies know the full story of their new monarch. Last time I checked, the Elements of Harmony were in the ruins of Castle Circadia in the Everfree Forest… which happens to be a short gallop away from our next destination."
"I guess it's up to us, then…" Beatrix looked up through a window at the now vacant moon that shone ominously over the Equestrian landscape. "It's up to us to find those Element of Harmony and save our beloved Princess from herself."
Grog was cold.
He floated aimlessly through the dark void. It was like drifting in an underground stream, except he was not wet. The darkness swaddled him in its soothing numbness like a newborn pup wrapped in a blanket. Grog could see nothing, which was not unnatural given he spent the majority of his life in a cave. However, neither could he smell anything. This should have worried Grog, but he could not seem to find the energy nor the motivation to care. It was cold. It was quiet. It was nice.
It was the perfect place for a nap.
But…
Despite the seemingly perfect sleeping arrangements, Grog simply couldn't get comfortable. A nagging and persistent voice poked and prodded the back of his mind. While he floated restlessly through the void, his thoughts turned to his last few memories. They were hazy at best. He remembered a shadow, screaming, and blood.
So much blood.
Grog didn't want to think about the shadow. He didn't want to remember the numbness of fear. However, his other memories weren't very pleasant either. Too many nights of growling bellies, whimpering pups, and burning the dead. The diamond dog remembered, when he was young, that he had poked his head out of the burrow. He remembered the warm sunlight filtering through the trees, casting a greenish light. Grass was like silk beneath his paws, and the smells… By Cerberus, the smells! Grog could have explored that wondrous world for days and never discover everything. He had planned to do just that, before his father yanked him back into the burrow by the scruff of his neck. When Grog questioned him, he replied with only one word.
Ponies.
It was common knowledge in Grog's burrow that ponies and diamond dogs did not get along. Whenever his kin would try to approach the pony village to trade their gems and ore for food and medicine, the ponies would always chase them away with their spears and magic. They threw rocks at them and labelled them "savages" and "monsters" before forcing them back underground.
Who are the real monsters?
Grog growled in the darkness. It was their fault. It was the ponies' fault that they had to live in these caves. Every drowning, every death of every cave-in, every time a pup went hungry or a dog choked on their own blood in the night was their fault! Their blood was on their hooves!
Grog clenched his paws and howled into the void. The comforting numbness now felt like chains that restricted his escalating rage. A hundred images passed before his eyes as his limbs thrashed through the black molasses. Every funeral, every whimper in the night, every howl of anguish flooded his mind and fanned the fury. A blue inferno ignited across his body and pushed away the darkness.
Grog opened his eyes and screamed. He could hear the others. Their wails and howls and screeches empowered his own. The suffering and sorrow of his brothers gave birth to dark hatred and fiery rage that engulfed their hearts and minds and gave strength to their stiff bodies.
Rise.
He needed to get up. The cold numbness of the abyss was still clinging to his bones. Grog stretched out his paws and pressed them against the ground. His muscles strained and his bones creaked, but sheer will fueled his strength. He shakily rose several inches before collapsing onto his elbow. A gurgled groan emanated from his clenched teeth. On his second attempt, Grog managed to get a foot beneath him and finally rise.
The first thing he noticed was that this was not the burrows. Dark shadows of dark trees stretched over the ground like a tarp. He looked up and saw a thousand stars sprinkled across the night sky like strokes of silver paint over a black canvas. His gaze lowered and met that of his brother. Deep gashes decorated his torso and continued to discharge fresh blood, but that was okay. He knew he was no longer in pain, because neither was he. Their wounds were merely marks of their trials – symbols of their strength. Two ghostly blue flames burned where his eyes once were, but that was okay. They were the gift of the Master. They marked them as kin.
Dig. Build.
He obeyed. They all looked to their right where a decrepit castle stood watch over the gloomy forest. His feet shuffled towards the ruin as his hands summoned knowledge of architecture and fortifications from one of his brothers. Then he immediately went to work.
He couldn't seem to remember his brother's name, but that was okay…
Because he couldn't remember his own, either.