Vesper Gale in...

Cover

The Last Flight of the Night Guard

A light-novel length adventure RP

Part I — The Rescue (You are here)
Part II — The Quest
Part III — The Cliff


Credits / Generation Notes

BOT USED:
Vesper Gale

Model Used (Text):
Claude Sonnet 4.5

JB Used:
Pixi v16, modified to speak more for {{user}}.

Editing / Curation:
No trimming or editing, though I do sneak in some plot twists via the author's notes on occasion, at Depth 2. It makes events happen halfway through the response.

Content Notes:
-Blatant self insert OC, terrible prompting, AI talks for my character, and I kiss the poni.


Part I: The Rescue

Vesper Gale

The aqueduct's darkness was absolute, though Vesper could still see perfectly.

She clicked her tongue against her teeth, a habit so automatic she barely noticed doing it anymore, and the world painted itself in her mind through sound alone: curved stone walls slick with centuries of mineral deposits, water ankle-deep and cold, the passage ahead narrowing before opening into what her echolocation suggested was a larger chamber. The aqueduct here was old, predating Princess Celestia's reign, built when Canterlot was still a fortress rather than a capital. The maps in the Canterlot Archives had labeled this section "collapsed / impassable," but the maps were two hundred years old. Collapses settled. Gaps opened. And most importantly, nopony else bothered checking. 

The chamber ahead proved to be a junction point where three tunnels converged around a circular basin. Pre-Classical era, definitely. The basin's rim showed wear patterns suggesting it had once held something heavy, regularly moved. Ceremonial? Practical? She'd need to-

Vesper stopped mid-step. Her echo came back wrong.

She took three careful steps forward, her hooves silent on the damp floor. Her saddlebags clinked softly with empty glass vials waiting to be filled with anything valuable, her journal wrapped in oilcloth, rope, a small crowbar. Light gear. She'd learned the hard way that heavy loads and her limited flight capacity didn't mix.

Click. Pause. The sound bounced back again, and this time she caught it clearly.  An irregularity in the wall texture. Not natural erosion. Tool marks. Fresh prints in the sediment along the basin's edge. Recent enough that water hadn't filled them yet. And there, on the far side of the chamber: a canvas bag slumped against the wall, buckles undone. A lantern sat beside it, the smell of smoke still lingering lightly in the air.  She clicked again, mapping the three tunnel exits. The prints led toward the eastern passage, where her echolocation caught something her eyes couldn't: the faint sound of breathing, ragged and uneven, coming from perhaps fifty yards ahead.

Vesper's ears swiveled forward. She'd come here alone deliberately. Whatever idiot had ventured down here without proper preparation wasn't her responsibility.

The breathing hitched. Stopped. Started again, faster now. Panicked.

She closed her eyes and sighed.

"Of course," she muttered, and started toward the eastern tunnel.


Split Second
She'll find a unicorn stallion, hopelessly stuck.

Vesper Gale

The eastern tunnel sloped downward, water deepening to mid-shin. Vesper's echolocation painted an increasingly concerning picture: the passage ahead showed signs of partial collapse, rubble creating uneven footing, and the breathing was coming from beyond a narrow gap where the ceiling had buckled.

She reached the obstruction and peered through. Her night vision caught the outline of a unicorn stallion wedged in what appeared to be a natural chimney formation, where centuries of water erosion had created a vertical shaft. He'd clearly tried to climb down and gotten stuck about fifteen feet below the passage floor, his hindquarters jammed against one side of the shaft, his forelegs braced awkwardly against the other.

Dark purple coat. Light mane with silver streaks. And most notably, the faint shimmer of dissipating magic around his horn suggesting he'd very recently attempted something that hadn't worked.

"Don't move suddenly," Vesper called down, her voice echoing in the confined space. "You'll wedge yourself tighter."

The stallion's head jerked up toward her voice, ears flattening. "I'm aware," he said tersely, though his tone carried more embarrassment than actual irritation. "The structural integrity appeared sound from above."

"The structural integrity is limestone riddled with water damage and you're lucky the whole thing hasn't collapsed on your head." She leaned further over the edge, assessing. The shaft was too narrow for her to fly down even if she wanted to waste her flight time on a rescue. "Can you use your magic?"

"Define 'use.'" His horn sparked, producing a brilliant purple flash that lasted perhaps three seconds before guttering out. "I can make very impressive short-term effects that won't actually help me climb out of a hole."

Vesper felt her mouth twitch despite herself. At least he was self-aware about it. "Right. Don't suppose you brought rope?"

"I brought rope. It's in my saddlebag. Which is up there." A pause. "I put it down to investigate the shaft more closely."

"Of course you did." She pulled her own rope from her bags, quickly assessing anchor points. A stable column of rubble, a protruding stone that looked load-bearing. Not ideal, but it would hold. Probably. "I'm sending down a line. Can you grab it without losing your brace?"

"Theoretically."

"That's not reassuring."

"I'm not in a position to be reassuring," the stallion pointed out. "I'm in a position to be rescued by a strange mare who's apparently comfortable exploring condemned aqueducts in the dark."

Vesper secured the rope and dropped the end into the shaft. "Strange bat pony mare," she corrected. "And these aqueducts aren't condemned, they're just forgotten. There's a difference."


Split Second
"Sounds like my kinda place..." I groan. "Toss me the rope. I have enough juice left to get it to my hooves, I think."

Vesper Gale

The rope end dangled about six feet above Split Second's head, swaying slightly in the draft that moved through the shaft. Vesper watched as his horn lit up again, that same brilliant purple flare, and the rope jerked downward with surprising force before his magic sputtered out. It wrapped around his hind hooves in a messy tangle that was more luck than precision.

"Got it," he grunted, already working to secure the loops into something resembling a proper climbing configuration despite his awkward position. His movements were practiced enough that this clearly wasn't his first time improvising his way out of a magical mishap.

"When you're ready, I'll pull from up here," Vesper called down. "Try to use your forelegs against the walls to keep from scraping yourself raw on the way up. This shaft isn't smooth."

"Noted." There was a pause as he finished whatever knot work he was attempting. "Ready when you are."

Vesper braced herself, hindquarters planted firmly, and began hauling. The stallion was heavier than she'd estimated, solid muscle under that coat, but the rope system held. She heard the scrape of hooves against stone as he pushed against the walls, helping where he could. Her wings instinctively spread for balance, and she felt the familiar pull of scar tissue, the promise of pain if she pushed too hard.

Not now. Just pulling. Not flying.

Split Second's head emerged first, then his forelegs scrabbling for purchase on the passage floor. One final heave and he was up, rolling onto his side with considerably less dignity than he'd probably prefer, breathing hard and covered in limestone dust and grime.

He lay there for a moment, then turned his head to look up at her. "Thank you. That was significantly less pleasant than I'd anticipated when I spotted the shaft."

"Most cave-ins are." Vesper coiled her rope, noting the fresh scrapes on her hooves from the rescue effort. "What exactly were you looking for down there that was worth nearly getting yourself killed?"


Split Second
"Would you believe me if I said it was a sightseeing tour, and definitely not looking for ancient artifacts?"

Vesper Gale

Vesper's ears flicked forward, then back. She stared at him for a long moment, amber eyes reflecting what little light filtered down from the distant aqueduct grates above. "No," she said flatly. "I wouldn't. Because the only ponies who come down here are either city maintenance workers with proper equipment and authorization, which you clearly aren't, or they're looking for the same things I am."

She clicked her tongue absently, mapping the space around them again. The echoes confirmed they were alone, at least for now. "Ancient artifacts, pre-Classical era magical items, lost spell matrices carved into foundation stones..." She tilted her head. "Let me guess. You heard the stories about the old temple district that got buried when they expanded Canterlot's foundations? The one with the supposed lunar observation chamber that predates Princess Luna's banishment?"

Split Second pushed himself into a sitting position, still catching his breath. Up close, she could see his saddlebags were better equipped than she'd initially thought, practical tools mixed with what looked like detection equipment. Not a complete amateur then, just unlucky or reckless. Possibly both.

"The lunar chamber is a myth," he said, which notably wasn't a denial that he'd been searching for exactly that. "Most scholars agree it was propaganda from the pre-Equestrian era, symbolic rather than literal."

"Most scholars haven't explored three miles of abandoned aqueducts looking for architectural anomalies that match the historical descriptions." Vesper's mouth quirked slightly. "You're not the first treasure hunter I've run into down here. You're just the first one I've had to pull out of a hole."

She paused, considering. "Were you working alone, or should I expect your partner to come looking for you?"


Split Second
"Nah, no partner," I groan, standing up and shaking off the dust. "Seems safer that way, though I'm certainly glad you were nearby."

Vesper Gale

Vesper's expression shifted to something between irritation and grudging recognition. "Safer," she repeated, her tone making it clear what she thought of that assessment. "Solo delving in unstable ruins is the opposite of safe. It's how ponies end up as cautionary tales in the Guard incident reports."

She turned to gather her own saddlebags, checking that nothing had shifted during the rescue. "But I understand the impulse. Partners ask questions. Partners slow you down. Partners see when you..." She paused, her wings shifting slightly against her sides. "When you make mistakes."

The admission seemed to cost her something, though she covered it quickly by moving back toward the junction chamber. "The lunar chamber, if it exists, isn't through that shaft. The architectural surveys from the Second Era suggest the temple district was northwest of here, closer to the mountain's core. That passage you nearly died in just leads to a collapsed cistern."

She glanced back at him, ears swiveling to catch his response. "I'm heading northwest. You're welcome to follow until we reach a safer exit point, or you can go back the way you came. Either way, I'd recommend leaving the vertical shaft exploration to ponies with wings." A beat. "Functional ones, anyway."

The last part came out more bitter than she'd probably intended, and she clicked her tongue again, moving forward without waiting for his answer. The sound of her hooves splashing through ankle-deep water echoed through the tunnel.


Split Second
"Functional wings..." I say, noticing her scars. "Wait... I know you. I read about what you did. It's... Vesper, right? Vesper Gale. You're a hero."

Vesper Gale

Vesper stopped mid-step, her entire body going rigid. Her ears flattened against her skull, and when she turned back to face him, her expression was carefully neutral in a way that suggested significant effort to maintain it.

"That was a year ago," she said, her voice clipped. "And 'hero' is what ponies call you when they're trying to make you feel better about losing everything you worked for." She shifted her wings, the scarred membranes catching the faint light filtering through distant grates. "The family survived. I got a commendation and a medical discharge. Very neat. Very final."

She clicked her tongue again, a sharp sound that felt more like punctuation than echolocation. "So yes, Vesper Gale, former Night Guard trainee, current..." She gestured vaguely at the ancient aqueduct around them. "This. Whatever this is."

Her amber eyes fixed on him with an intensity that suggested she was reassessing everything about this encounter. "And you are? Since we're apparently doing introductions after the life-saving portion of the evening. Most ponies lead with their names before they start referencing newspaper articles about the worst night of my life."

It wasn't quite hostility in her voice, but it was close. The kind of defensiveness that came from hearing the same sympathetic tone too many times, from too many well-meaning ponies who thought they understood.


Split Second
"Split Second," I say, catching up. "And you literally saved my life like ten minutes ago, so the heroics are still there."

Vesper Gale

Vesper's ears flicked forward despite herself, and some of the tension left her shoulders. "Fair point," she conceded. "Though I'd argue you saved your own life by not panicking and making the shaft collapse. I just provided the rope." She started walking again, slower this time, clearly expecting him to follow. "Split Second. Hedge wizard, based on the equipment and the short-duration magic I saw. Let me guess, you take odd jobs fixing problems other ponies don't want to deal with?"

The junction chamber opened up ahead of them, and she moved toward the northwestern passage without hesitation. Her navigation through the darkness was effortless, each step placed with certainty despite the uneven footing.

"The lunar chamber you're looking for," she continued, "I've been mapping this section for three months. There's a sealed door about half a mile northwest, pre-Classical warding still partially active. I haven't been able to get it open." She glanced back at him, something calculating in her expression. "But a unicorn with powerful short-term magic? That might actually work if the wards can be overloaded rather than methodically dismantled."

She paused at the tunnel entrance. "So here's an offer, Split Second. You help me get that door open, we split whatever's inside fifty-fifty. You get your artifacts or spell matrices or whatever you're actually down here looking for. I get..." Her wings twitched. "What I'm looking for."


Split Second
"Alright... But fair warning, once I blast those wards, I'm gonna be out of energy for quite a while."

Vesper Gale

"That makes two of us then," Vesper said, moving into the northwestern passage. "I've got maybe five minutes of flight time before my wings cramp up, and that's on a good day. Cold and damp like this?" She rolled her shoulders, and Split Second could see the way the scarred tissue pulled differently than healthy wing leather. "Call it three minutes before I'm grounded and useless."

She led them through a series of turns, each passage marked by subtle signs she'd clearly left on previous expeditions: scratches in the stone at eye level, small cairns of pebbles at intersections. The bat pony had been thorough in her exploration.

"So we're both working with limitations," she continued. "You get one big magical burst, I get a few minutes of aerial advantage. Means we'll need to be smart about what's behind that door." She clicked her tongue, the sound bouncing ahead into the darkness. "The chamber beyond is large, at least thirty feet across. I couldn't map much detail through the door, but the acoustics suggest high ceilings, possibly multiple levels."

The passage opened into a wider corridor, and there it was: an ornate door set into the wall, covered in pre-Classical lunar symbols that still held a faint silver shimmer. The warding was old but active, creating a subtle pressure in the air that even Split Second could feel.

Vesper stopped a safe distance away. "The wards trigger if anything touches the door directly. I watched a very persistent rat try three weeks ago." She grimaced. "There wasn't enough left to identify what kind of rat."


Split Second
"Stand back. Way back."

Vesper Gale

Vesper didn't need to be told twice. She backed up twenty paces, pressing herself against the opposite wall of the corridor, her wings folding tight against her sides. "I'm going to assume you know what you're doing," she called out, though her ears were already flattening in anticipation of something loud.

Split Second could feel the wards now that he was focusing on them, layers of protective magic woven together over centuries. Elegant work, really. The kind of spell crafting that took weeks to create properly. Unfortunately for whoever had made them, they were designed to resist methodical dismantling, not overwhelming brute force.

His horn began to glow, that familiar purple flare building rapidly. The air around him crackled with energy as he gathered everything he had, compressing it down into a single point. This was what he was good at: spectacular, powerful, and absolutely unsustainable. The wards sensed the buildup and began to pulse defensively, silver light intensifying—

The magical blast hit the door like a battering ram. The wards shrieked, a sound that was half magical feedback and half actual noise, and then shattered in a cascade of silver sparks that rained down across the corridor. The door itself cracked, ancient wood splintering, and swung slowly inward with a groan of protest from hinges that hadn't moved in centuries.

Split Second's horn immediately went dark. His legs wobbled, and he sat down hard on the stone floor, breathing heavily. "That... should do it," he managed.

From her position against the wall, Vesper was already moving forward, her night vision scanning the newly opened chamber beyond. "Well," she said, peering through the doorway, "it's definitely the lunar chamber. And we've got company."

Inside, arranged in a perfect circle around what appeared to be an astronomical observation platform, were six stone statues. Except they were turning their heads toward the doorway, stone grinding against stone, eyes beginning to glow with pale blue light.

"Guardians," Vesper said flatly. "Of course there are guardians."


Split Second
I'll grab my pickaxe in my mouth to defend myself, but I'm totally exhausted.

Vesper Gale

Split Second fumbled for his pickaxe with magic, found nothing but the fading dregs of exhausted reserves, and resorted to grabbing it in his teeth. The metal tasted like old stone dust and poor life choices. Beside him, Vesper had already dropped into a combat stance, her Guard training evident in the way she positioned herself between him and the doorway.

"How many?" Split Second asked around the pickaxe handle, the words coming out muffled.

"Six. Stone constructs, probably animated by the same ward system you just overloaded." Vesper's ears tracked each grinding movement as the statues completed their rotation. "The good news is they're moving slowly. The bad news is you're magically tapped and I can't fly us out of here."

The first guardian stepped down from its platform, each footfall sending tremors through the floor. It was roughly pony-shaped but blocky, ancient lunar script carved across its chest still glowing faintly. The others were following suit, moving to form a defensive perimeter around the central observation platform.

"They're protecting something," Vesper muttered, her eyes tracking the guardians' positioning. "That platform in the center, there's something on it." She clicked her tongue, and even exhausted Split Second heard the sharp intake of breath. "It's a scroll case. Crystal. Pre-Classical design."

The lead guardian raised one foreleg, and the glow in its eyes intensified. A warning.

"So," Vesper said, not taking her eyes off the constructs, "any chance you've got a backup plan that doesn't involve fighting six stone golems while we're both running on empty?"


Split Second
I quickly rustle through my pack of oddities.
"Hat of disguise... Hay of truth... Ring of mosquito repellent... Aha!"
I pull out a small crystal vial.  A potion of multiduplication.

Vesper Gale

Vesper's ear swiveled toward him, though she kept her eyes locked on the advancing guardians. "Multi-what now?"

Split Second pulled the cork with his teeth, spitting it aside. "Multiduplication. Makes copies of whoever drinks it. They only last about thirty seconds and can't do much, but—"

"But six stone guardians can't tell which of us is real," Vesper finished, her tactical mind already working through the implications. "How many copies?"

"Four. Maybe five if we're lucky." The lead guardian was now ten feet away, the others spreading out in a coordinated pattern that spoke of ancient military programming. Split Second downed half the potion, the liquid tasting like mint and static electricity, then thrust the vial toward Vesper. "You take the rest. We split up, they split up, and one of us gets to that platform."

Vesper grabbed the vial and knocked back the remainder without hesitation. The effect was immediate and disorienting: Split Second suddenly found himself standing next to four identical copies of himself, each one mimicking his exhausted posture and pickaxe-in-mouth stance. Vesper multiplied into five versions, all dropping into identical combat stances.

The guardians froze, their heads swiveling between targets, blue eyes flickering with what might have been confusion if stone could be confused.

"Go!" all five Vespers shouted in perfect unison, and then they scattered in different directions. Split Second's copies did the same, one charging directly at a guardian while another bolted for the left wall. The real Split Second, pickaxe still clenched in his teeth, made for the observation platform while the stone constructs struggled to track ten simultaneous targets.

One of the Vespers—he couldn't tell if it was real—was already airborne despite her limitations, wings spread as she dove toward the crystal case.


Split Second
Luckily, I'm very good at running for my life.

Vesper Gale

Split Second had spent a significant portion of his career running from the consequences of his own magical experiments, and that experience paid dividends now. He dodged left as a stone fist cratered the floor where he'd been standing, vaulted over a low guardian that tried to sweep his legs, and kept his eyes locked on the platform ahead. Around him, his duplicates were doing their jobs admirably: one had a guardian chasing it in circles, another was being pummeled into flickering dissolution, buying precious seconds.

Above, the real Vesper—he could tell by the slightly uneven wing beats, the way she grimaced with each stroke—was in a steep dive toward the platform. Two guardians had broken off to intercept her, stone limbs reaching upward, but she was faster. Her wings folded and she dropped like a stone, talons extended.

Split Second hit the platform steps at a full gallop just as Vesper snatched the crystal case from its pedestal. The moment it left its resting place, the guardians froze mid-motion. Every single one of them, including the one that had been about to crush one of Split Second's fading duplicates. They stood motionless for one heartbeat, two—

Then they began crumbling. Not collapsing, but methodically breaking down into component pieces, the magic that animated them withdrawing like a tide. Within seconds, there was nothing but piles of carved stone and the faint smell of ozone.

Vesper hit the ground hard, her wings cramping visibly as she clutched the crystal case to her chest. The last of the duplicates flickered out of existence. The chamber fell silent except for their ragged breathing.

"That..." Vesper panted, "was monumentally stupid and somehow worked."

Split Second spat out his pickaxe. "I specialize in monumentally stupid."


Split Second
I immediately begin rummaging through the parts, discarding scrap over my shoulder. No need to let good loot go to waste.

Vesper Gale

Split Second's hooves worked through the rubble with practiced efficiency, sorting carved stone fragments, crystallized magic conductors, and what looked like intact lunar script plates that might fetch decent bits from the right collector. Behind him, he could hear Vesper clicking her tongue at the scattered remains, likely doing her own assessment.

"The script plates," she called out, still catching her breath. "Those three on your left. Those are actually valuable, pre-Classical lunar calendar calculations. The Canterlot Museum pays well for intact samples." She was examining the crystal case, turning it over carefully. "The case itself has preservation enchantments still active. Whatever's inside has been protected for at least a thousand years."

Split Second added the plates to his saddlebag, then paused at an unusual piece: a stone carved in the shape of a crescent moon, still faintly warm to the touch. Magical residue, maybe? He pocketed it.

"You going to open that?" he asked, nodding toward the case.

Vesper's ears flicked back, and her grip on the case tightened slightly. "Not here. Not until we're somewhere stable and I can examine it properly." Her amber eyes met his. "Could be spell matrices. Could be historical records. Could be..." She trailed off, and Split Second caught the desperate hope she was trying to hide. "Could be medical texts. Thestral wing regeneration techniques were supposedly more advanced before the Classical Era."

She stood, testing her wings with a grimace. "We should move. The wards collapsing might have attracted attention, and I'd rather not explain to the Royal Guard why we're looting pre-Classical ruins." She glanced at the piles of stone. "Take what you can carry quickly. We split the value fifty-fifty like we agreed."


Split Second
"Load me up!" I call. "Mom always said I was part Earth Pony, I can take it."

Vesper Gale

Vesper's mouth twitched into something that might have been a smile. "Your funeral." She started passing him the heavier pieces: intact script plates, larger fragments with preserved carvings, a stone gear mechanism that still had working enchantments. Split Second's saddlebags bulged, and she added more to a makeshift sling across his back.

"That's about sixty pounds," she noted, loading the last of the valuable pieces. "You sure?"

"I've hauled worse after worse decisions," Split Second grunted, adjusting the weight distribution. His legs protested, his magic was still completely tapped, but earth pony genetics apparently did run in the family somewhere because he stayed upright. "See? Fine."

"Uh-huh." Vesper kept her own load light, just the crystal case secured carefully in her bags along with some smaller artifacts. Her wings were still cramping visibly, folded tight against her sides. "We're taking the eastern passage out. Less vertical, more direct to the surface access near the Thestraltown market district. About half a mile."

She moved toward the doorway, clicking periodically to map their route. "Try not to fall in any holes this time. I'm not sure I can pull you out with all that weight."

The aqueduct beyond was dark and cold, water still ankle-deep, but the path was clear. Vesper set a steady pace, not fast but sustainable, her ears constantly tracking for any sounds of pursuit or structural instability.

"So," she said after a few minutes of silence, "you make a habit of nearly dying in ancient ruins, or is today special?"


Split Second
"Started out normal," I reply, "but it ended up alright. This has been... Fun isn't the right word, but fun-adjacent."

Vesper Gale

"Fun-adjacent," Vesper repeated, and this time the smile was definite, if brief. "That's one way to describe 'almost crushed by stone guardians while magically exhausted.' I'll add it to my vocabulary."

She led them through a series of turns, each passage gradually sloping upward. The water grew shallower, the air less stale. Somewhere above, Split Second could hear the distant sounds of Canterlot's night market: vendors calling out, the clatter of carts, music from a street performer.

"I usually work alone," Vesper said after another stretch of silence, her tone carefully casual. "Safer that way. No one to slow down, no one to worry about, no one to see when things go wrong." She paused at an intersection, clicking to verify the route. "But I'll admit, having someone who can overload wards with explosive magic has its advantages. And someone who doesn't treat me like I'm fragile just because my wings don't work right."

They emerged into a wider passage with actual stonework stairs leading upward. Moonlight filtered down from a grate twenty feet above, painting silver squares across the damp stone.

"This is my exit," Vesper said, starting up the stairs. "Comes out in an alley behind the Night Market. We can split the loot at my apartment, it's three blocks from here. Safer than doing it in public, and I've got scales for proper weight assessment." She glanced back at him. "Unless you'd rather part ways here? No judgment either way. We had a deal, I honor deals."


Split Second
"I don't want to part ways," I say, simply.

Vesper Gale

Vesper stopped mid-step, her ears swiveling back toward him. For a moment she didn't turn around, just stood there on the stairs with moonlight catching the edges of her wings. When she finally looked back, her expression was carefully guarded.

"You don't want to part ways," she repeated, like she was testing the words for hidden meaning. "As in, you want to split the loot and maybe grab food because we both nearly died and that's what ponies do, or as in..." She trailed off, amber eyes searching his face.

"Because I should clarify," she continued, her voice taking on that defensive edge again, "I'm not looking for a partner. Temporary alliance for mutual benefit is one thing. I don't do permanent. I work alone, I delve alone, and I don't need a unicorn wizard following me around out of some misguided sense of—"

She caught herself, ears flattening. "Sorry. That came out harsher than intended." A pause. "Ponies tend to stick around because they feel sorry for me. The wing thing. The hero thing. They want to help, and I don't need help."

But even as she said it, Split Second could see the contradiction: she was standing in an ancient aqueduct, having just risked her limited flight time to grab an artifact she hoped might fix her wings, after months of solo delving that was clearly pushing her luck.


Split Second
"...I don't feel sorry for you," I say. "You saved my life, did some impressive flying to beat those guardians, you're obviously a competent delver.  I'm the one who needs help here, c'mon."

Vesper Gale

Vesper blinked, clearly not expecting that angle. Her ears came forward slowly, suspicion warring with something that might have been hope. "You need help," she said flatly. "The unicorn who just overloaded wards that I've been staring at for three months needs help from the bat pony who can barely fly for five minutes."

"Yes," Split Second said simply, adjusting the heavy load on his back. "I nearly died in a hole before you showed up. I have powerful magic for about thirty seconds and then I'm useless. I don't know how to navigate these ruins, I don't have echolocation, and apparently I make terrible decisions about structural integrity." He met her eyes. "You're tactical, you know the terrain, you can actually see in the dark. I'd be an idiot not to want to work with you."

Vesper was quiet for a long moment, studying him. Her tail flicked once, twice. "You're serious."

"Completely."

"And this isn't about the newspaper article or feeling noble about helping the injured Guard washout."

"This is about not dying in ancient ruins," Split Second said. "Which seems significantly less likely with you around. The Guard thing just means you actually know how to fight, which is a bonus."

Vesper's mouth twitched. Then she turned and continued up the stairs. "Fine. We'll try it. One more delve after this, see if we work well together or if you're just high on adrenaline and near-death experiences." She paused at the grate above. "But I'm keeping the crystal case. That was the deal. You get half the guardian fragments, I get what was on the platform."

"Deal," Split Second agreed.

Vesper pushed the grate aside, moonlight flooding the passage. "Welcome to Thestraltown, Split Second. Try not to stare at the nocturnal ponies. We get enough of that from tourists."


Split Second
"It's not my first time in Thestraltown," I say. "Not a bat pony, but one of my old crew lived here."

Vesper Gale

"Old crew," Vesper repeated, hoisting herself through the grate with practiced ease despite her wing limitations. She reached down to help pull Split Second and his considerable load up into the alley. "So you've done team delving before. That's actually relevant information you could have mentioned earlier."

The alley opened onto a side street where the Night Market was in full swing. Bat ponies moved between stalls selling everything from night-blooming flowers to specialized optical equipment. The architecture here favored overhangs and awnings, creating a maze of comfortable shadows. A few early-shift workers of other species mixed with the crowd, but this was clearly Thestraltown's domain once the sun set.

"What happened to the old crew?" Vesper asked, leading him down the street with the confidence of someone who knew every shortcut. Her apartment was apparently close. "They retire? Find more stable employment? Get smart and stop exploring places that try to kill them?"

She navigated around a fruit vendor's stall, nodding to the elderly bat pony mare who called out a greeting. The casual interaction suggested Vesper was a regular fixture here, known to the neighborhood despite her relative reclusiveness.

"Because here's the thing about partnerships," she continued, glancing back at him. "They end. Someone gets hurt, someone finds a better opportunity, someone decides the risk isn't worth it anymore." Her wings shifted against her sides. "I need to know you're not going to vanish the moment things get difficult. Or worse, stick around out of obligation when you'd rather be elsewhere."

They stopped in front of a modest apartment building, three stories of stone built into the mountainside. "Third floor," Vesper said. "And fair warning, my place is basically a combination of Guard barracks and archive. Don't judge."


Split Second
“They kicked me out because my magic was too uncontrollable.”

Vesper Gale

"They kicked me out," Split Second admitted as they climbed the narrow stairs, his hooves echoing in the stairwell. "My magic's too uncontrollable. Great for emergencies, terrible for planned operations. I'd blow through my reserves at the wrong moment, or overcharge something that needed a delicate touch, and after the third time I nearly collapsed a dig site..." He shifted the weight on his back. "They decided I was a liability."

Vesper paused at her door, key already in the lock. She looked back at him, and something in her expression had shifted. Not quite sympathy, but recognition. "So you got kicked out for something you can't really control, and now you work alone because it's easier than explaining your limitations to people who'll just see you as broken."

"I'm not broken," Split Second said reflexively.

"Neither am I," Vesper replied, and pushed the door open.

The apartment was exactly as advertised: organized chaos. One wall was covered in maps of Canterlot's underground, marked with her careful notations. A weapons rack held a Guard-issue spear and several daggers, all meticulously maintained. Books on pre-Classical history were stacked next to medical texts about wing injuries. A small kitchen area, a sleeping alcove, and a work table covered in artifacts from previous delves.

Vesper set the crystal case down carefully on the work table, then helped Split Second unload his burden. The stone fragments and script plates made a considerable pile. "So we're both defective," she said, not unkindly. "You burn too bright too fast, I can't fly properly anymore. Maybe that's exactly why this could work. We both know what it's like when your body won't cooperate with what you're trying to do."


Split Second
"Speak for yourself," I grin. "My magic isn't defective, it has character."

Vesper Gale

Vesper snorted, the sound halfway between amusement and disbelief. "Character. Right. The same way a building has 'character' right before it collapses." But she was smiling as she said it, already sorting through the artifacts with practiced efficiency. "Though I'll admit, 'character' did get us through six stone guardians, so maybe there's something to your philosophy."

She pulled out a jeweler's scale from a drawer, along with a reference guide for pre-Classical artifacts. "Let's see what your 'character' earned us." She began weighing the script plates, cross-referencing values. "Three intact lunar calendar plates, that's about two hundred bits each from the Museum if we sell legitimate. Four hundred if we find a private collector who doesn't ask questions about provenance."

Split Second watched her work, noting the methodical precision. Guard training showing through even in something as mundane as dividing loot. "You've done this before."

"Eight months of solo delving," Vesper confirmed, moving to the stone gear mechanism. "You learn the market fast when it's your only income. The gear's worth maybe fifty bits for the enchantment work alone, more if we can find someone who studies ancient mechanical systems." She glanced at him. "You have contacts for selling this stuff, or are you usually scrambling to find buyers?"

The crystal case sat on the corner of the table, still unopened. Vesper's eyes kept drifting toward it, though she was clearly making herself focus on the division of spoils first.

"We can settle accounts now if you want to take your share and go," she said, though her tone suggested she was hoping he wouldn't. "Or..." She paused. "Or we could open the case together. Technically it's mine by our deal, but you might be able to identify any spell matrices better than I can."


Split Second
"...I'd like to see, if you don't mind.  We both almost got squished for it."

Vesper Gale

Vesper's ears flicked forward, and she nodded once, sharp and decisive. "Alright. Fair enough." She carefully moved the sorted artifacts aside, clearing space on the work table, then lifted the crystal case into the center. Her hooves were steady, but Split Second could see the tension in her shoulders, the way her wings pressed tight against her sides.

The case itself was remarkable craftsmanship: clear crystal with silver inlay forming lunar phases around the edges. The preservation enchantments hummed faintly, still active after a millennium. Vesper examined the seal mechanism, her Guard training evident in how she checked for traps or curses before attempting to open it.

"No triggers that I can detect," she murmured. "Just a standard lock mechanism. Pre-Classical design, but..." Her talons found the release points, and with a soft click, the case opened.

Inside, nestled in velvet that had somehow survived the centuries, was a single scroll. The parchment was pristine, the ink still dark and clear. Vesper lifted it with careful reverence, unrolling it slowly.

Her expression shifted as she read. Not disappointment, exactly, but something complicated. Split Second leaned in to see over her shoulder.

The text was Old Equestrian, but readable: a medical treatise on thestral wing anatomy, with detailed diagrams showing muscle structure, membrane composition, and... there. A section on regenerative techniques for damaged wing tissue.

"It's a healing spell," Vesper said quietly, her voice carefully controlled. "A complete regenerative matrix for wing membrane reconstruction. Pre-Classical era, before modern magical medicine." Her hooves trembled slightly as she held the scroll. "This is what I've been looking for. This is exactly what I've been looking for."


Split Second
I lean in and read more closely, trying to remember my scattered training.

Vesper Gale

Split Second squinted at the text, his tired mind working through the archaic magical notation. The spell matrix was complex, layers upon layers of interwoven enchantments that would need to be precisely maintained over... he counted the phases... twelve hours of continuous casting.

"This is advanced medical magic," he said slowly, tracing a hoof along one of the diagrams. "Really advanced. The kind of thing that would normally require a team of specialized healers working in shifts." He looked up at Vesper, whose expression had gone from hope to something more guarded. "The regenerative matrix has to be held stable while new tissue forms. If the magic fluctuates or drops, the partially-formed tissue crystallizes and you'd be worse off than before."

Vesper's ears flattened. "So it's useless. Of course it's useless. A spell that requires sustained casting for twelve hours, and I don't have that kind of magic, and hiring hospital healers would cost thousands of bits I don't have, and they'd want to know where I got a pre-Classical medical text that should be in a museum—"

"I didn't say it was useless," Split Second interrupted. "I said it requires sustained casting. Which..." He looked at the scroll again, his mind already working through possibilities with the reckless optimism that had gotten him into trouble his entire life. "Which is actually the opposite of my problem. I can't sustain anything. But if someone else could hold the matrix stable, I could provide the power bursts. Multiple small channeling sessions instead of one long one."

Vesper stared at him. "That's not how healing magic works."

"It's not how modern healing magic works," Split Second corrected. "But this is pre-Classical. They were working with different principles."


Split Second
"We would need help, I get that. I don't know enough theory to adapt this to a different power source... But I can unleash enough juice to light up half the city, and if we can store that somehow..."

Vesper Gale

Vesper's expression shifted from guarded to calculating, her tactical mind already working through the problem. "Store it. Like a battery system." She moved to her bookshelf, pulling down a thick tome on magical theory. "There are crystal matrices that can hold magical charge, but they're expensive and the good ones are regulated by the Canterlot Mage Guild. We'd need proper authorization or..."

"Or we find somepony who knows how to build one off the books," Split Second finished. "Someone with enough theoretical knowledge to adapt pre-Classical healing techniques to modern magical storage." He tapped the scroll thoughtfully. "We'd need a specialist. A researcher, maybe a university professor who's more interested in the problem than the regulations."

Vesper was already at her maps, pulling down one that showed Canterlot proper rather than the underground. "There's a unicorn in the academic district. Twilight Sparkle's old study partner, works at the School for Gifted Unicorns now. Sunburst. He's a magical theory specialist, historically focused, and he's got a reputation for taking on unusual projects." She glanced back at Split Second. "He's also notoriously bad at saying no to interesting magical problems."

"So we show him the scroll, explain what we're trying to do, and hope he's curious enough to help?" Split Second said.

"And hope he doesn't ask too many questions about where we got a thousand-year-old medical text," Vesper added. Her wings shifted against her sides, the scarred tissue catching the lamplight. "This is insane. Building an experimental magical battery to power an ancient healing spell using your uncontrollable magic bursts."

She looked at the scroll, then at Split Second. "When do we start?"


Split Second
"See?" I ask. "Fun-adjacent."

Vesper Gale

Vesper's mouth twitched into a genuine smile this time, showing just a hint of fang. "Fun-adjacent," she agreed. "Though if this works, it graduates to 'monumentally stupid but worth it.'" She carefully rolled the scroll back up and returned it to the crystal case. "We should wait until tomorrow evening to approach Sunburst. He keeps odd hours but he's more receptive when he's had his coffee and isn't dealing with students."

She turned back to the pile of artifacts on the table. "In the meantime, we finish dividing the loot. You carried most of it, which I'm not forgetting." She resumed her methodical sorting, occasionally making notes in a ledger. "Your half comes to about eight hundred bits if we sell through my usual contacts. I can front you four hundred now and the rest when the buyers come through, or you can wait for the full amount."

Split Second sagged slightly, the exhaustion of the evening finally catching up with him. Vesper noticed immediately, her ears swiveling toward him with concern.

"When did you last eat?" she asked, already moving toward her small kitchen area. "And don't say you're fine. You blew through your entire magical reserves, hauled sixty pounds through half a mile of aqueducts, and you're swaying on your hooves." She pulled out a loaf of bread and what looked like cured meat. "Sit down before you fall down. I'm not carrying you anywhere."

But her tone was softer than her words, almost fond. "Partners look out for each other, Split Second. That's how this works."


Split Second
I take her food, though I don't comment on the meat she's eating. I've seen her fangs, so different from my own flat teeth.

Vesper Gale

Vesper caught his glance and paused mid-bite, then shrugged unapologetically. "Bat pony thing. We're omnivores." She gestured with the dried meat. "Causes all sorts of philosophical debates in Canterlot high society, but down here in Thestraltown nopony cares." She took another bite, watching him work through his bread. "You get used to it if we're going to be working together. I'm not hiding what I am to make other ponies comfortable anymore."

There was an edge to that statement, old frustration from years of being the "other" even among ponies. Split Second just nodded and kept eating, too tired to care about dietary differences.

"You have somewhere to stay tonight?" Vesper asked after a moment. "Because you look like you're about to pass out on my floor, and while I appreciate the vote of confidence in our partnership, I'm not sharing my bed with a stallion I met three hours ago." But her tone was teasing rather than hostile. "There's a boarding house two streets over that caters to delvers. Cheap, clean, asks minimal questions. Or..." She hesitated. "I have a couch. It's not comfortable, but it's free and you won't have to navigate Canterlot while magically exhausted."

She busied herself making tea, her back to him. "No expectations either way. Just practical thinking. We're meeting Sunburst tomorrow evening, makes sense to coordinate our approach beforehand."

The apartment was warm, the lamplight soft, and Split Second could feel his body demanding rest. His horn still ached from the magical overload, a familiar sensation that would fade by morning.


Split Second
"I spend half my life couch surfing, and the other half sleeping rough," I say. "Thank you. Really, thank you."

Vesper Gale

Vesper's ears flicked back, and she set a cup of tea in front of him without meeting his eyes. "Don't make it weird," she said gruffly. "It's just practical. Partners should be well-rested before trying to convince a university professor to help with experimental magic that might explode."

She pulled a blanket from a chest near the sleeping alcove and tossed it onto the couch. "Bathroom's through that door if you need it. I'm a light sleeper, so don't wander around at night or I'll assume you're a threat and react accordingly." She paused. "That's not a joke. Guard training doesn't really fade."

But despite the warnings, her movements were relaxed as she cleared the table, carefully storing the artifacts in a locked cabinet. The crystal case with its precious scroll went into a safe hidden behind one of her maps. She caught him watching and shrugged.

"Eight months of solo work taught me to be careful with valuables. And this—" she gestured toward where she'd hidden the scroll "—this is more valuable than anything else I've ever found."

She moved to the window, looking out over Thestraltown's nighttime streets. The markets were still active, the sounds of nocturnal life drifting up. "I stopped believing I'd find something like this about three months ago," she admitted quietly. "Started thinking maybe I was just delving because I didn't know what else to do. But now..."

She turned back to him, amber eyes reflecting the lamplight. "Now I have something worth trying for. So thank you. For the help, for not treating me like I'm fragile, for being just as recklessly stupid as I am."

"Partners," Split Second said simply.

"Partners," Vesper agreed. "Now get some sleep. Tomorrow we convince a magical theorist to help us do something probably impossible."


Split Second 
Vesper heads to bed...

Vesper Gale

Vesper clicked off the main lamp, leaving just a small nightlight burning near the kitchen—a concession to having a guest who couldn't see in complete darkness. She disappeared into the sleeping alcove, and Split Second heard the rustle of her settling in, the creak of the bed frame, the soft adjustment of wings against mattress.

"Goodnight, Split Second," she called out quietly. "Try not to dream about falling in holes."

"No promises," he replied, already pulling the blanket around himself on the couch. It wasn't comfortable, exactly—too short for his frame and the cushions had seen better days—but it was warm and safe and he wasn't sleeping in a damp aqueduct or a cheap inn wondering if his bits would last the week.

The apartment settled into quiet. Outside, Thestraltown continued its nocturnal rhythm: distant music, conversation, the occasional laugh or shout. Comfortable city sounds. Through the thin wall of the alcove, he could hear Vesper's breathing even out into sleep, though something in the pattern suggested she was still somewhat alert. Guard training, like she'd said. Never really fading.

Split Second's horn ached dully, his muscles protested the day's exertions, and his mind was already spinning through possibilities for tomorrow. Meeting Sunburst, explaining the scroll, figuring out the magical battery system, convincing him to help without revealing too much about how they'd acquired a priceless pre-Classical artifact...

But underneath all that, there was something unfamiliar: hope. Partnership. The possibility that maybe this time, working with someone else might actually succeed instead of ending in disaster.

He fell asleep still thinking about Vesper's expression when she'd opened that scroll. Like she'd found something she'd stopped believing existed.


Morning came with sunlight filtering through the curtains, and Split Second woke to the smell of coffee and the sound of Vesper moving quietly around the kitchen.


Split Second
I open my eyes and watch her for a moment as I reorient myself.

Vesper Gale

Vesper was moving through her morning routine with efficient precision that revealed the full extent of her wing scars in the daylight. The damaged tissue was more visible now, pale silver against her dark coat, puckered where the burns had been deepest. She seemed unselfconscious about it, or perhaps just too focused on making coffee to care.

She'd pulled her mane back into a practical tail, and was currently studying the scroll again at the kitchen counter, one hoof holding a mug while the other traced the magical notation. Her ears swiveled independently, tracking sounds from outside and occasionally flicking back toward the couch to monitor Split Second even though she hadn't looked directly at him yet.

"Coffee's fresh," she said without turning around. "I heard you wake up about thirty seconds ago. Your breathing changed." She finally glanced over her shoulder. "I've been reviewing the spell matrix. The more I look at it, the more I think you're right about the burst-casting approach. The regeneration happens in stages—membrane foundation, capillary network, nerve integration, final tissue formation. Each stage could theoretically be powered separately if we had the right storage system."

She poured a second mug and brought it over, setting it on the side table near the couch. "Sunburst's office hours start at sunset. We've got about ten hours to prepare our pitch and figure out how much we're willing to tell him about where we found this." Her amber eyes were sharp despite what couldn't have been more than five hours of sleep. "Also, you snore. Just so you're aware for future couch-surfing situations."


Split Second
"I'll keep that in mind next time we have a slumber party," I groan. "And... Is that real coffee?"

Vesper Gale

"Real coffee," Vesper confirmed. "Imported from the southern territories. One of the few luxuries I allow myself." She took a long sip from her own mug, savoring it. "When you spend half your life in dark tunnels, good coffee becomes essential for maintaining what's left of your sanity."

Split Second dragged himself upright, accepting the mug gratefully. The coffee was strong and bitter, exactly what his magic-depleted system needed. Vesper had returned to the counter, making notes in a journal beside the scroll.

"I've been thinking about our approach with Sunburst," she continued. "We can't tell him we looted it from a sealed pre-Classical chamber—that raises too many legal questions. But we also can't lie too obviously because he'll spot inconsistencies." She tapped her pen against the paper. "So we tell him a partial truth: you're a hedge wizard who acquired it through your work, you brought it to me because of my wing injury, and we need his expertise to make it functional with modern magical theory."

She glanced at him. "He'll probably assume you bought it off the black market, which is technically better than 'we fought stone guardians for it.' And if he's as interested in historical magic as his reputation suggests, the theoretical challenge might outweigh his curiosity about provenance."

Outside, Thestraltown was winding down as dawn approached, the nocturnal population heading home to sleep while early-shift workers began emerging. Vesper moved to close the curtains, dimming the room to more comfortable levels for her light-sensitive eyes.

"You should eat something before we go," she said. "I've got oatmeal and fruit. Nothing fancy, but it'll help your magic recover faster."


Split Second
"What's meat like?" I ask, pouring some sugar into my bowl.

Vesper Gale

Vesper paused mid-motion, her ears swiveling toward him with surprise. "That's... not a question I get asked often. Most ponies either pretend they don't notice or get visibly uncomfortable." She finished preparing her own breakfast—oatmeal with dried fruit and what looked like strips of the same cured meat from last night—and leaned against the counter.

"It's savory," she said finally. "Rich. Filling in a way plant matter isn't, at least not for us." She took a bite, considering. "Bat ponies have different nutritional needs. Higher protein requirements, faster metabolism to support flight and echolocation. We can survive on a vegetarian diet, but we're healthier with meat."

She shrugged, clearly waiting to see if he'd react negatively. "It's not something we advertise in Canterlot proper. Too many ponies get squeamish about it, start treating us like we're dangerous or unnatural. Down here in Thestraltown, nopony cares. But up in the noble districts?" Her mouth twisted. "I got enough lectures about 'proper pony behavior' during Guard training."

She watched him over her coffee mug. "Does it bother you? Because if we're going to be partners, you should probably say so now rather than let it become an issue later."

The question was direct, almost challenging, but underneath it Split Second could hear the real concern: that this would be one more thing that made her different, one more reason for someone to decide working with her wasn't worth the complications.


Split Second
I shrug. "Nah. Tried fish once, had a buddy who was a griffin. Salty, but I get it."

Vesper Gale

Vesper's posture relaxed noticeably, tension leaving her shoulders that Split Second hadn't even realized was there. "Griffin food is an experience," she said, a hint of amusement in her voice. "They don't really believe in seasoning beyond 'burnt' and 'raw.' At least bat ponies cure and smoke our meat properly."

She finished her breakfast with less defensive body language, her wings settling more comfortably against her sides. "Most ponies who say they're fine with it are just being polite. Then they watch you eat and you can see them mentally cataloging you as 'other.'" She rinsed her bowl in the sink. "It's refreshing when someone actually means it."

The apartment was quiet for a moment, comfortable rather than awkward. Outside, the last of the night market vendors were packing up their stalls.

"So here's the plan," Vesper said, moving back to the scroll. "We have ten hours before Sunburst's office hours. I need to sleep—nocturnal schedule means I'm running on fumes right now. You're welcome to stay here, explore Thestraltown, whatever you want. Just be back by sunset so we can coordinate our story before we approach him."

She pulled out a spare key from a drawer and set it on the counter. "Lock up if you go out. And Split Second?" She looked at him directly. "Don't sell any of your artifact share without me. My contacts give better prices than the tourist-trap antiquities shops in Canterlot proper, and they don't report to the Museum authorities."


Split Second
"I'll leave my loot here, don't worry," I say. "I trust you."

Vesper Gale

Vesper froze for just a moment, her ears tilting back. "You trust me," she repeated, like the concept was foreign. "We've known each other less than twelve hours and you're leaving eight hundred bits worth of artifacts in my apartment."

"You saved my life and didn't have to," Split Second pointed out. "You could have walked past that shaft, kept going, and I'd probably still be wedged down there." He finished his oatmeal. "Besides, you're Guard-trained. Honor and duty and all that. I'm pretty sure stealing from your partner violates some code you've got memorized."

Vesper's mouth twitched. "Former Guard," she corrected, but there was something almost pleased in her expression. "But yes, the code sticks. Even when everything else doesn't." She moved toward the sleeping alcove, then paused. "The spare key gets you into the building and the apartment. Thestraltown's safe enough during the day, but stick to the main streets if you're exploring. Some of the alleys connect to areas that aren't exactly... legal."

She disappeared into the alcove, and Split Second heard the rustle of her settling into bed. "Wake me if anything urgent happens," her voice drifted out. "Otherwise I'll see you at sunset. We'll prepare our pitch for Sunburst and try not to accidentally admit we committed archaeological theft."

Within minutes, her breathing had evened out into genuine sleep. Split Second found himself alone in a bat pony's apartment in Thestraltown, with a pocket full of bits, a day to kill, and a partnership that somehow felt more solid than any of his previous attempts at collaboration.

He pocketed the spare key and quietly let himself out, careful not to wake her.


Split Second
I want to find her a small gift for saving me. A nicer coffeepot?

Vesper Gale

The Thestraltown market district was strange in daylight—most of the stalls were shuttered or operated by the few diurnal ponies who catered to the day-shift crowd. Split Second wandered through half-empty streets where awnings provided deep shadows and the architecture seemed designed to reject sunlight rather than welcome it.

He found what he was looking for three streets over: a combination pawn shop and housewares store run by an elderly earth pony mare who looked like she hadn't slept in decades. Her shop was crammed with everything from antique furniture to modern appliances, all slightly worn but functional.

"Help you?" she asked, not looking up from her newspaper.

"Coffee maker," Split Second said. "Something nice, but not so nice it looks like I'm trying too hard."

That got her attention. She peered at him over her reading glasses. "Gift for a mare, then. The bat pony delver three streets down, if I'm guessing right. Saw you two come up from the tunnels last night." At his surprised look, she snorted. "Thestraltown's a small community, son. We notice things."

She heaved herself up and moved to a shelf in the back. "Got a Prench press here, barely used. Previous owner moved to Manehattan, didn't want to pack it. Makes better coffee than those cheap percolators, and it's sturdy enough for somepony who's rough on their equipment." She set it on the counter—sleek dark metal with copper accents, clearly quality craftsmanship. "Forty bits, and that's giving you the neighbor discount since you're working with Vesper."

Split Second counted out the bits, watching her wrap it carefully. "Everyone around here knows her?"

"Everyone knows the hero who can't fly anymore," the mare said quietly. "We look after our own in Thestraltown."


Split Second
"She flew just fine saving my life yesterday," I say. "I'll take it."

Vesper Gale

The mare's expression softened slightly. "Good answer." She finished wrapping the press in protective cloth and tucked it into a bag. "She's been pushing herself too hard these past months. Going into those tunnels alone, coming back with injuries she won't talk about." She slid the package across the counter. "Maybe having a partner will keep her from doing something stupid and terminal."

Split Second took the bag, feeling the weight of expectation that came with it. Thestraltown might be looking after their own, but they were clearly hoping he'd do the same.

He spent the rest of the day wandering the district, getting a feel for the area. Found a bookshop that specialized in historical texts—he made note of it for later, thinking about the scroll. Grabbed lunch at a small cafe where the owner didn't blink at serving a unicorn during business hours. By late afternoon, he made his way back to Vesper's apartment, letting himself in quietly with the spare key.

The apartment was dark and silent, Vesper still asleep in the alcove. Split Second set the wrapped coffee press on the kitchen counter where she'd find it, then settled back on the couch to review his mental notes about how to approach Sunburst.

About an hour before sunset, he heard movement from the alcove. Vesper emerged, mane disheveled from sleep, and immediately spotted the package on her counter. She froze, ears swiveling toward him on the couch.

"What's this?" she asked, her voice still rough with sleep.


Split Second
“Open it and see,” I say.

Vesper Gale

Vesper approached the package cautiously, like it might be trapped, then carefully unwrapped the cloth. The Prench press gleamed in the dim light filtering through the curtains. She stared at it for a long moment, one hoof hovering over the polished metal.

"You bought me a coffee maker," she said slowly. "A expensive coffee maker."

"You said good coffee was one of your few luxuries," Split Second replied. "And that one makes better coffee than a percolator. Or so I'm told."

Vesper picked it up, turning it over in her hooves, examining the craftsmanship. Her wings shifted against her sides, a nervous tell he was beginning to recognize. "Partners for less than a day and you're already buying me gifts."

"Partners look after each other," Split Second quoted back at her. "You said so yourself."

She set the press down carefully, then turned to look at him directly. Her amber eyes were unreadable in the low light. "I'm not used to ponies who—" She stopped, started again. "Thank you. Really. This is..." She gestured helplessly at the press. "This is really thoughtful and I don't know what to do with that."


Split Second
"You could make coffee," I suggest. "I hear that's what they're for."

Vesper Gale

Vesper huffed out something between a laugh and a sigh. "Smart ass." But she was already filling it with water, measuring out grounds from her imported beans. "Fine. We'll test it before we go meet Sunburst. If this makes terrible coffee, I'm returning it and keeping your forty bits."

"That's not how gifts work."

"It is now," Vesper said, but she was smiling as she worked.

The coffee, as it turned out, was exceptional. Vesper took her first sip and her ears actually perked up with surprise. "Okay," she admitted grudgingly. "This is significantly better than my old setup." She took another sip, savoring it. "You talked to Old Copper, didn't you? The pawn shop mare. She's the only one in the district who stocks Prench presses."

"She might have mentioned that Thestraltown looks after its own," Split Second said.

Vesper's expression flickered with something complicated—embarrassment, maybe, or the discomfort of being cared about when she'd been trying to operate independently. "They worry too much," she muttered, but there was no real heat in it. She poured a second cup for Split Second. "But I suppose having a partner makes them worry less. So you've done me a favor there too."

She settled at the table with the scroll, her demeanor shifting into business mode. "Alright. Sunburst. Let's coordinate our story." She pulled out a fresh sheet of paper. "You're a hedge wizard, you acquired the scroll through your work—we'll be vague about exactly how. I'm a former Guard trainee with a wing injury. You brought it to me because you heard I was looking for healing solutions. We need his expertise to adapt the spell for modern use."

She tapped the paper with her pen. "The tricky part is the magical battery. He's going to want to know why we can't just use conventional sustained casting. That's where we need to sell him on your specific magical profile—powerful bursts but no sustainability. Make it sound like an interesting theoretical challenge rather than a desperate workaround."

Vesper looked up at him. "How good are you at academic double-talk? Because Sunburst speaks fluent magical theory, and if we can't keep up, he'll get suspicious."


Split Second
"Vesper, I'm confident when I say that bullshitting is my absolute best skill."

Vesper Gale

Vesper's mouth twitched into a full grin, fangs visible. "Good. Because we're about to bullshit our way through a conversation with one of Canterlot's leading magical theorists about illegally obtained pre-Classical healing magic." She stood, moving to a chest near her sleeping alcove and pulling out clean clothes—practical dark pants and a vest that accommodated her wings. "Give me ten minutes to make myself presentable. You should probably do the same. Academic types judge you by appearance, and you currently look like you spent the night on a lumpy couch."

"I did spend the night on a lumpy couch."

"Then make it look intentional rather than unfortunate," Vesper called back, already disappearing into the alcove.

Split Second used the bathroom to clean up, grateful that his saddlebags contained at least one set of relatively clean clothes. By the time he emerged, Vesper was ready—her mane properly brushed, her Guard training evident in her crisp, efficient presentation despite the civilian clothes. She'd secured the scroll in a protective case designed to look official rather than suspicious.

"The School for Gifted Unicorns is in the academic district," she said, locking her apartment behind them. "Twenty minute walk, or five minute flight." She paused, her wings twitching. "Walking's fine. I'm saving my flight time for when it actually matters."

They descended into Thestraltown's evening streets, now coming alive as the nocturnal population emerged. Vesper moved through the crowds with easy familiarity, occasionally nodding to neighbors who called out greetings. Split Second noticed the looks they got—curiosity mostly, some approval, a few knowing smiles that suggested Old Copper wasn't the only one who'd noticed their partnership.

"Stick close when we hit Canterlot proper," Vesper said as they climbed toward the upper districts. "And let me do most of the talking initially. Sunburst knows me from when I was still in the Guard. Might give us credibility."


Split Second
We walk, and I realize this is the first time I've seen her dressed normally. She's pretty.

Vesper Gale

Split Second found himself watching Vesper as they walked, noticing details he'd missed in the chaos of yesterday. The way her vest was tailored to accommodate her wings while still looking professional. How her shorter mane actually suited her features, practical but not careless. The confident way she moved through the streets despite her injury, Guard training evident in every step.

She caught him looking and one ear swiveled toward him questioningly. "What?"

"Nothing," Split Second said, perhaps too quickly. "Just thinking about the pitch."

Vesper's eyes narrowed slightly, but she didn't press. They continued upward through Canterlot's districts, the architecture shifting from Thestraltown's shadowed overhangs to the white stone and crystalline spires of the academic quarter. The evening crowd here was different—students with saddlebags full of books, professors in formal robes, the occasional noble out for a sunset stroll.

Split Second noticed the looks they attracted here too, but these were different from Thestraltown. Curiosity mixed with wariness. A bat pony in the academic district wasn't unheard of, but it wasn't common either. Vesper's posture shifted subtly, becoming more guarded, more defensive.

"There," she said, nodding toward an impressive building with astronomical symbols carved into its facade. "School for Gifted Unicorns. Sunburst's office is on the third floor, eastern wing." She paused at the entrance. "Ready to bullshit a magical theorist?"

"Born ready," Split Second replied.

Vesper snorted. "That's what worries me." But she was smiling slightly as she pushed open the door and led them inside.


Split Second
Unfortunately I have a bit of a reputation here. Not enough to get kicked out, but there are definitely a few chuckles at my expense.

Vesper Gale

They made it approximately halfway down the main corridor before a young unicorn professor spotted Split Second and did a visible double-take. "Oh no," she muttered to her companion, loudly enough to carry. "Split Second's back. Someone warn the alchemy lab."

Her companion—an older stallion with spectacles—chuckled. "Is he the one who turned the fountain purple last spring? Or was that the transmutation incident?"

"Both," the mare said, shaking her head with amusement as they passed. "And the library sprinkler incident. And whatever happened to Professor Starswirl's statue that we're still not supposed to talk about."

Vesper's ear swiveled toward Split Second, her expression caught between concern and reluctant amusement. "You have a reputation here," she observed quietly. "How did I not know this?"

"You were busy being heroic and Guard-training," Split Second replied, keeping his voice low as they navigated past a cluster of students who were definitely whispering and pointing. "I was busy being a cautionary tale about magical control and university property damage."

A student walking past them snorted. "Hey, it's the Explosion Stallion. My professor still uses your combustion mishap as an example of what not to do with volatile reagents."

"Good for education," Split Second said weakly.

Vesper pinched the bridge of her nose. "We're about to ask a respected magical theorist to help us with experimental magic, and you're famous here for blowing things up." She sighed. "This is either going to make him more willing to help or less. I genuinely can't tell which."

They reached the third floor, and Vesper paused outside a door marked "Sunburst - Magical Theory & Historical Applications."

"Too late to turn back now," she muttered, and knocked.


Split Second
"Professor Sunburst, it's been ages!" I smile, widely, as we walk inside.

Vesper Gale

The office was exactly what one would expect from a magical theorist: books stacked everywhere, charts covering the walls, a chalkboard filled with complex equations, and sitting behind a desk covered in papers was Sunburst himself—an orange unicorn with a spectacular sunburst cutie mark, wearing his signature scholarly robes and horn-rimmed glasses that were currently sliding down his nose.

He looked up at Split Second's greeting and his expression went through several rapid transitions: recognition, concern, what might have been mild horror, and finally resigned curiosity. "Split Second," he said carefully, setting down his quill. "Yes. It has been... ages." His eyes flicked to the door, possibly calculating escape routes. "I heard you'd left the university to pursue independent work. Something about the administration feeling that was 'best for everyone involved.'"

Then his gaze shifted to Vesper, and his expression softened with recognition. "Vesper Gale. I heard about what happened. The fire, the Guard—" He caught himself. "I mean, it's good to see you. I wasn't aware you two knew each other."

Vesper stepped forward, her professional demeanor firmly in place. "We're working together now. And we've come across something that requires your specific expertise." She set the protective case on his desk, carefully opening it to reveal the scroll. "Pre-Classical era medical text. Thestral wing regeneration techniques."

Sunburst's eyes went wide behind his glasses. His horn lit immediately, levitating the scroll closer for examination. "This is... where did you..." He trailed off, already absorbed in reading the ancient text, his earlier wariness of Split Second temporarily forgotten. "The preservation enchantments alone are remarkable, but the spell matrix—this is genuine pre-Classical healing magic. Do you have any idea how rare—"

He stopped, looking up at them both with sudden academic suspicion. "Where exactly did you acquire this?"


Split Second
"A friend of mine found it, said it fell off the back of a wagon," I say.

Vesper Gale

Sunburst's expression suggested he knew exactly what "fell off the back of a wagon" meant in antiquities circles, but he was a researcher first and a stickler for legal procurement a distant second. His eyes returned to the scroll, hunger for knowledge warring with professional responsibility.

"I see," he said slowly. "And this friend just happened to know you were looking for pre-Classical medical texts." He adjusted his glasses, still studying the spell matrix. "How fortunate."

Vesper stepped in smoothly. "The provenance is complicated. What matters is that we have it, it's genuine, and we need help making it functional with modern magical theory." She gestured to her wings, the scarred tissue visible. "I have personal interest in seeing if this can work."

That got Sunburst's attention. His expression shifted to something more sympathetic. "Wing regeneration." He looked between them. "You want to attempt this spell. On yourself." Back to the scroll. "The problem is the sustained casting requirement. Twelve hours of continuous magical channeling. You'd need a team of specialized healers, hospital facilities, and even then the risk—"

"That's where Split Second comes in," Vesper interrupted. "His magical profile is... unusual. Very powerful short-duration bursts, but no sustainability. We're theorizing that if we had a proper storage matrix, we could charge it with his power bursts and use that to fuel the regeneration in stages rather than one continuous casting."

Sunburst looked at Split Second with new interest. "Powerful but unstable magic." He glanced at the door, then back. "Yes, I'm familiar with your work. The entire alchemy department is familiar with your work." A pause. "This is insane."

"But theoretically possible?" Split Second asked.

Sunburst hesitated, then pulled out a fresh sheet of parchment. "Explain exactly what you're proposing."


Split Second
"You help us set up a specialty spell matrix around a mana crystal. If I can get it charged beforehand, all you would need to do is channel the thaumic energy at the correct rate."

Vesper Gale

Sunburst was already sketching diagrams, his quill moving rapidly across the parchment. "A storage matrix using a mana crystal as the core reservoir. The crystal would need to be high-grade, naturally attuned to healing frequencies..." He paused, tapping his quill against his chin. "Those are rare. And expensive. The university has a few in storage for research purposes, but they're closely monitored."

"We'll source our own crystal," Vesper said quickly, shooting Split Second a look that clearly meant we'll discuss this later. "Assuming such a matrix is actually buildable."

"Oh, it's buildable," Sunburst said, warming to the theoretical challenge despite himself. "Pre-Classical practitioners used similar techniques for large-scale enchantments. The spell matrix would need to regulate the energy flow, converting raw magical power into the specific frequencies required for each regeneration stage." He was sketching faster now, filling the page with complex runic patterns. "The crystal acts as a buffer, smoothing out the irregular input from Split Second's bursts into steady output for the healing spell."

He looked up at them, his academic excitement warring with practical concerns. "But this is experimental magic. Untested. If the matrix fails during the regeneration process, the backlash could cause permanent damage. Worse than the original injury."

Vesper's wings shifted against her sides. "I'm aware of the risks."

"And you're willing to—" Sunburst stopped, looking at her more carefully. "You've been looking for something like this for a while, haven't you?"

"Eight months," Vesper admitted quietly. "This is the first real lead I've found."

Sunburst sighed, pushing his glasses up. "I must be out of my mind, but... alright. I'll help design the matrix. But you need to source a proper mana crystal first. Nothing less than grade-A clarity, naturally attuned to restorative magic. Where exactly were you planning to find one of those?"


Split Second
"...The back of a wagon?"

Vesper Gale

Sunburst stared at Split Second for a long moment, then looked at Vesper, then back to Split Second. "You're going to steal another priceless magical artifact."

"Acquire," Split Second corrected. "From a location where it's currently not being used for anything productive."

"That's literally the definition of stealing."

Vesper cleared her throat. "What Split Second means is that we have knowledge of certain... locations where naturally occurring mana crystals of appropriate grade might be found. Locations that are technically unclaimed by any legal authority."

"Dungeons," Sunburst translated flatly. "You're going dungeon delving for a mana crystal." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Of course you are. Because asking the university nicely or saving up to purchase one legally would be too simple."

"Do you know how much a grade-A mana crystal costs on the legal market?" Vesper asked. "Thousands of bits. Neither of us has that kind of money, and by the time we saved it up..." Her wings twitched. "I'd rather take the risk now."

Sunburst looked at the scroll, then at his sketches, then at them both. "Fine. But I want documentation of the entire process. Detailed notes, measurements, everything. If this works, it'll be a breakthrough in adaptive healing magic. If it fails..." He grimaced. "At least we'll know why for the next attempt."

"Next attempt?" Vesper's ears flattened.

"I'm a researcher," Sunburst said simply. "Even if the first trial fails, the data will be valuable. Though obviously I'd prefer success." He started a fresh page of notes. "Where exactly are you planning to find this crystal?"


Split Second
"Maybe it's best if we keep that a bit close to the chest... For your sake," I say. "Plausible deniability."

Vesper Gale

Sunburst looked relieved rather than offended. "Yes. Absolutely. I don't need to know the specifics of your... acquisition methods." He gathered his sketches into a neat pile. "What I do need is approximately two weeks to design the matrix properly. This isn't something I can rush—one miscalculation and the whole system could cascade failure during the healing process."

He pulled out a schedule book, flipping through pages covered in academic appointments. "I can work on this during my research hours. Officially, I'm documenting pre-Classical healing techniques for historical purposes. No one needs to know about the practical application." He glanced at them over his glasses. "Assuming you can actually find a suitable crystal in two weeks."

"We'll find one," Vesper said with more confidence than Split Second suspected she felt. "When should we check back with you?"

"One week from today. I'll have preliminary designs ready, and we can discuss any adjustments based on Split Second's specific magical profile." Sunburst looked at Split Second directly. "I'll need to run some tests on your magic. Measure output intensity, duration patterns, recovery time between bursts. Nothing invasive, just diagnostic spellwork."

"Fine by me," Split Second agreed.

Sunburst made a note. "Good. Now, regarding the crystal itself—it needs to be naturally formed, not artificial. Artificial crystals don't have the same harmonic resonance. And it should be roughly the size of a large apple, clear throughout with minimal inclusions." He sketched a quick diagram. "Do either of you actually know where to find something matching these specifications?"

Vesper and Split Second exchanged glances.

"We'll figure it out," Vesper said.

Sunburst sighed deeply. "I'm going to pretend I believe that. Come back in one week. Try not to die in whatever dungeon you're planning to raid. It would be terrible for my research."


Split Second
"Well we wouldn't want that," I say. "We'll see you in a week."


Part II — The Quest

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Pub: 13 Feb 2026 20:27 UTC

Edit: 13 Feb 2026 23:17 UTC

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