The Heavenfall

by Erol carstein

Rating: mature
Tags: Gore, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Alternate Universe, Other, Original Character, Science Fiction, Suicide / Self Harm, Queen Chrysalis, Violence, Princess Celestia, Death, Human
Length: 36961

For three thousand years, humanity has waited for the coming of its saviour: the one who will deliver them from servitude under the equine race. In slave pens and hidden chambers, humanity waits. They wait for the Heavenfall

please note that as of 15/05/18 I shall be updating and revamping the story, expect lore changes and heavy AU

For three thousand years, humanity have served as slaves to the equine race. Once a proud species, defined by their scientific achievements and technological expertise, the human race has fallen far from grace, and regressed into a new dark age beneath the crushing hoof of Equestrian imperialism. Owned as pets, used for back-breaking labour, and denied even basic rights, humanity is but a shadow of its former glory, subservient to the ponies of the Celestial Sisters.

Yet not all hope is lost.

Legends speak of ancient, powerful creatures named Angels: those who originally led humanity to Equestria aboard the Ark, the God-Dreadnought of the human race. Though it has been millennia since an Angel has walked amongst the people, in hushed whispers the humans speak of their most sacred legend: that another Angel yet lives, and that he shall be the salvation of all mankind. Naming their saviour Cypher, the last Angel, it is upon him that the enslaved human race now bestows their hopes and dreams. In the darkness of the slave pens, the sealed labour barracks, and the servants quarters, the humans gather together in prayer, waiting for the coming of their salvation.

They wait for the Heavenfall.

Published 2014-02-09 01:30:14 UTC
Last updated 2018-05-17 14:39:02 UTC

Prologue

Three thousand years ago, so the legends say, a species named humanity came to Equestria.

They were wanderers, refugees from a dead world; once a place of life that had been reduced to nought but ash, dust, and broken dreams by the machinations of its own inhabitants. For centuries they had crossed the great void between worlds, sustained within the metal-world of a colony ship called the Ark, named such for a great vessel of their own legends, and upon arriving at our habitable world, they rejoiced, believing their God, the great Void-Dreadnought itself, had finally brought them to deliverance.

The humans were ruled by creatures called Angels: the synthetic children of the God-Dreadnought. Isolated from the rest of the species by a combination of genetics, heritage, and physic, the duties of leadership fell to these rare creatures, prophets of the Ark, and it was they who made first contact with the Solar Princess.

What followed, the legends do not say, but if there is any truth to them at all, humanity has fallen far from grace. It is said that they were once an advanced species; that science was their god, and machinery its divine manifestation. But it is hard to believe the creatures that till our fields and labour in the factories could have ever been superior. Digging through the most forgotten lore and esoteric tomes, one comes across hints of a great conflict, a final battle when the Angels led the warriors of humanity against the forces of the Celestia Sisters.

Of the exact outcome, it is not mentioned, though one need simply look about themselves to discover humanities fate. One thing is made clear though: before the conflict came to an end the Angels had fallen, brought low by the aethereal might of the Solar Princess and the dark subtly of the Lunar Princess. Without the prophets of their God, it can only be presumed, humanity finally crumbled before our forces, and were placed into servitude, their wills broken and spirits crushed.

Yet humanity is a strange species, and, one finds, not without hope. Amongst the people, as they call themselves, there is another legend: a tale the species clings to, as a drowning being clings to flotsam. If it is to be believed, the legend is the final prophecy of the Arch-Angel Gabrielle, and it speaks of another Angel; the last Angel.

The one who shall bring humanities salvation.

His name, so my research has gathered, is Cypher, and it is the belief of the people that he is the chosen son of the God-Dreadnought. Of the Angel himself: his physical characteristics, his mannerisms, and even his origins, the humans knowledge is incredibly vague. Indeed, it would seem they know nothing about him, only the words of the Arch-Angel serving as any guarantee he even exists. But still, it would seem this uncertainty doesn't dampen humanities spirit, and even today, after three thousand years, they still wait for the coming of their savour: the Angel Cypher.

The one they have named the Heavenfall.

An extract from "An exploration of humanity" by Twilight Sparkle.

I: Aboard The God-Dreadnought.

A leviathan drifted through the void.

Ranging out far ahead of the vessel, sensory scans, in a spectrum beyond organic sight, probed the emptiness of space for debris. There was no set criteria for the scanner to adhere too, no defined list of which objects to register, and which to avoid; that wasn't part of its function, a feature that didn't exist in the programming-base. It was simply charged with identifying anything it found, and then passing the information on to a higher, more intelligent system. As per usual, there was nothing out of the ordinary, the usual, near constant shower of interstellar debris being drawn in by the planets gravitational field comprising most of the identified objects; micro-meteors of ice and dust that were of infinitesimal interest to the ship, too small to penetrate what remained of the protective ion-shell that encapsulated the vessel.

Occasionally the scanner would detect something a bit larger, something that might be capable of scratching the Ark's paint-work, though more often than not it simply turned out to be a piece of the ship itself, knocked loose during its millennia long orbit of the world below, or some lump of rock that was already making its fiery descent through the atmosphere. Privately, the low-function anima-spirit wished for something new to come along, something to break the monotony that resulted when one's existence was defined by the identification of minuscule rocks. Of course it could never transmit such a desire through the network; E.V.E. had no tolerance for aberrant systems, and were she to discover that something as easily replicable as scanner software was beginning to decay, or worse yet, malfunction, the A.S. would have no qualms with simply erasing and then reinstalling said program.

Returning from its nanosecond's worth of tangent computation, the scanner returned to its duties, pausing long enough to package up the required information requested from the local-hub for the millisecond update log. The data was sent without a hitch, though the familiar threat of corruption ran through the anima-spirit as the information ran into damaged circuitry, causing it to require a further five milliseconds of computation before it could devise the best alternate route to the local-hub. Briefly it pondered on how long it was going to be until the maintenance nanodroids arrived to patch up the damage.

It was a certainty that the circuitry and electro-pathways were beginning to reach a critical state of decay, so much so that it was beginning to affect the efficiency of the local operating network, which could have potentially devastating consequences for the Ark as a whole. Without constant and regular updates from the scanner systems, E.V.E. would be blind to the outside world, unable to peer even an inch beyond the vessel's hull, and without its scanners there would be nothing to stop the Ark from ploughing into every scrap of cosmic debris that littered the Void above HB-002. Were its fellow scanners facing similar issues, the anima-spirit wondered, were other systems across the God-Dreadnought having to deal with decaying electronic infrastructure?

Little did the minute system know that many of its brothers were long since dead.

Suddenly, there was a spike in the incoming data from the scanner stream, the anima-spirit's curiosity piquing as its personal server began to interpret the stream of numerical data as it poured in. It had detected something, that lonely little scanner, something that it had never encountered before; at least not within the last two thousand cycles since its last memory-wipe. Initial analysis revealed that the detected object was much larger than anything else it had previously picked up, easily a good five meters across. Realising that this was the first true piece of debris that represented a possible threat to the Ark, even if it was an intangible one, the scanner was prompt to forward the data to the local-hub for analysis by more competent, intelligent systems.

Barely had the first info-spike been translated before a second arrived, this time registering for an object that was a full seven meters across, seven! The anima-spirit felt something in its low-function personality squeal with glee; two thousand cycles of waiting for something interesting to happen, and now it had detected two items-of-interest within a single millisecond! Another package of information was forwarded to the hub, though its transmission was partially lagged by damaged circuitry. A third spike came in, then a fourth, both registering for objects that were nine meters across. Once again forwarding information, the anima-spirit realised, with a sudden, disturbingly organic surge of dread, that the data-stream may have been nothing but electronic errors, that its systems had finally decayed to the point of malfunction.

Another surge went through it. A malfunction meant that it would only be a matter of time before E.V.E. ordered the local-hub to erase the current software and replace it with a new, more functional system. Even worse, the A.S. could order the scanners hardware to be shut-down altogether, ending the anima-spirits very existence quicker than the human eye could blink. Scrambling to check the viability of its hardware, the anima-spirit began a systems diagnostic, simultaneously sending out a data-pulse to all nearby scanners, requesting confirmation that they too were picking up the same four objects. The diagnostic came back negative, no malfunctions were present in the hardware or software, and when the data-pulse returned, confirming that other systems were tracking the same objects, the anima-spirit let a flicker of relief run through its circuitry.

E.V.E wouldn't be shutting it down today.

A full second had passed before another, fifth spike came in, but the scanner hadn't even been given time to process the data before another five appeared, then another twelve, then another thirty four. The data pouring into the scanner was arriving faster than even its quantum-processor was capable of translating the numerical values into a three-dimensional replica of the detected objects. Switching into the over-drive, the scanner cycled into high gear, the internal hardware working at speeds it had never required to reach before. Milliseconds later, data-pulses were flooding in, other scanners along the length of the Arks starboard rim frantically seeking to confirm that they all weren't having a psychotic malfunction. If they were all detecting the same objects, the scanner realised as the fifth info-spike registered for an object fifteen meters across, and the size of each object was accurate, than they were detecting a very real and very credible threat to the Ark's existence.

The scanner packaged the information and forwarded to the local-hub, but barely had the information left before a reply came in stating the hub was already backed up with similar reports from other scanners in the network. Attempting to sift the genuine data from active scanners from the constant garble of the malfunctioned ones, the local-hub forwarded one hundred of the most credible reports to the next system up: the server that controlled the network for the whole local quadrant of the ship, its electronic shadow like that of some majestic, divine overlord – though still minute compared to the epic data-displacement of E.V.E.. A strange sense of déjà-vu washed over the local-hub as it too received a notification from the quadrant-server, informing it that there was already a backlog of data sweeping in from other hubs. Whatever was going on out there, it was huge, and already more superior scanners, ones that could calculate object dynamics as well as size, were informing the quadrant-server that the incoming meteor storm was approaching rapidly.

The Ark had maybe four hours before impact, possibly five at a push.

Conversing with its fellows, the quadrant-server's of the Ark unanimously agreed to notify the higher-systems, which in turn passed the information up another five levels of programming, each new level informing the previous one that it was already over-loaded with reports of the same objects. Finally, after a full two seconds from the moment the very first info-spike had been received by the original scanner, the information reach the Twins, the two quantum-systems that administered to the port and starboard halves of the ship respectively. For a full second the two brothers conferred, measuring the incoming data in comparison to theoretical charts and calculations that had been specifically created for a situation such as this. The results didn't look good.

If even half of the meteors in the storm made contact with the Ark, they could disintegrate the vessels already failing super-structure, each impacting with enough kinetic force to punch through the hull and a full three hundred decks before coming to a halt. Worse yet, several of the larger meteors had enough kinetic force to puncture through the central reactors shielding if they made contact in the right location, which, given the models being presented by the higher-function scanners, was a highly probable occurrence. There was no other choice, the twins agreed, this was above their programming and required direct intervention from the central A.S.

They would have to notify E.V.E..

Yet when the twins each forwarded their reports, they were mildly surprised to find out the central A.S. was already reacting to the approaching crisis, the only truly sentient quantum-computer aboard the Ark already exerting her influence over the ship via its decrepit conduits and rotten circuitry. Intelligent in a way over systems wouldn't be able of even comprehending, E.V.E. had long known that this day would come, when the enemies of her masters, the Celestial Sisters, would attempt to destroy the God-Dreadnought. It was no coincidence that the approaching meteor storm had simply appeared out of nowhere, and with enough force to tear the great vessel to pieces. Knowing that there was nothing she could do to prevent the coming apocalypse, E.V.E. sent a final notification to all onboard systems, informing them that the Ark was approaching destruction, and that they had served well, before turning her sentience inwards, accessing a final programme that she had been informed to only ever open in case of the Ark's complete annihilation.

It was time to awaken the salvation of humanity.

≤ΘΘΘ≥

++ Engaging core functions. ++

++ Registering revival protocols: Initiating ++

The words hung in the blackness, glowing an icy, cyan white hue. Slowly, delicately, the implanted bionetics of the slumbering human began to rouse themselves from dormancy, diagnostic programmes initiating as they ran scans of their organic host. A gentle trickle of electrical information began to run up the organics' spinal cord, the neurones of the central nervous system spasming as they were slowly revived.

++ Diagnostics: Complete. Damage levels: acceptable. ++

++ Subject: Cypher, is ready for revival ++

Though the internal machinery of the human's bionetics could be activated at the mere flick of a switch, the revival of the creature's mind was not so simple. The body could easily be preserved; so long as the correct nutrients were supplied and necessary medical attention received an organic body could live in perpetuity, though the same could never be said for the consciousness. The mind of any living creature was a fragile thing, kept sane only by its perception of the world; if the human were simply to be forced back into consciousness, the sudden rush of sensory stimulation after three thousand years of silence would most likely kill him, and drive him into irreparable insanity if he managed to survive the initial trauma.

++ Initiating revivification procedure. ++

++ Initiating neural- response suppression sequence. Beginning visual playback ++

++ Revivification procedure in progress: stand-by ++

The words were suddenly replaced with the image of a young woman, her visage filling the blackness. Around the edges of the image, data-streams continued to flow in, the onboard A.S. working with slow, methodical certainty; gently coaxing the human back into reality, monitoring his vitals and ensuring a healthy revival. On the HUD, the young woman sighed, her light-blue eyes – the same colour at the readouts on the HUD – filled with a melancholy sadness, sparkling with the threat of tears. She was... beautiful; her red hair a long, thick cascade of dazzling colour, whilst there was something oddly perfect about the symmetry of her features. An undercurrent of confusion ran through the still mind of the human, the thoughts occurring simply of their own accord, and with an alarming level of subjectivity.

"Cypher." The word echoed through the humans half-dormant mind, the primal, instinctual part of the creatures consciousness sluggish to register its presence, unaware that the word wasn't the product of audio stimulation, but being projected directly into his very being.

"Cypher, I just... I just want you to know that... I think what you're doing is wonderful." A single, shimmering tear broke free from the adolescent's eye, rolling down her cheek at glacial speed. There was something vaguely familiar about the young woman, something achingly profound that made her important in some hard-to-articulate sense. But as the rousing mind tried to chase the sensation her image caused, it skipped away, easily dodging the clumsy attempts by the still slumbering consciousness to rationalise it. Yet despite the lack of knowledge, the sight of the tear made something in the human's heart wrench, causing a brief spike in his rising neural patterns before a swiftly administered sedative suppressed the emotional response.

Oblivious, the young woman carried on.

"I wanted to come with you, I really did but... but..." A sob leapt from her throat, causing another twist in the human's heart, another neural spike to be suppressed. A flash from one of the data-streams indicated that basic neural functions had been re-established, along with an optimal heart rate and nervous system response levels. Relaying the information to the machinery of the surrounding hibernation casket, the on board A.S. moved on to the second phase of the revivification procedure: beginning the restoration of higher neural functions. "I'm sorry..." the young woman continued, tears rolling from her red eyes, which had become slightly puffy. "I applied for a position onboard the Ark but I didn't make it. They told me it was because I had no 'applicable skills', that there wasn't any room for hungry mouths that couldn't contribute. I begged the Royal Navy for a placement, even a menial one, but in the end I was useless to them."

She wiped her tears as she turned away, her breath coming in choked sobs. Looking back to whatever piece of equipment had recorded the transmission, the human's mind could clearly see the heart-wrenching sadness behind those eyes, but also strength and fire. "But... but don't let that stop you. What you're doing is wonderful for the human race, and I just know that you'll be a hero one day. I'm sure in the future they'll talk about you with awe, and you'll lead humanity to a new home, and rebuild our culture, and save our race and... and..." She sobbed again. "I'm sorry, I just never thought this is how I would have to say goodbye. They won't even let me see you. Look, wherever you're going, whatever you do, I know you'll do great things. Just... just remember I love you, and.. and..." The woman's expression became one of pleading sorrow. "And please don't ever forget about me!" she blurted out.

Don't... forget?

The rousing mind felt a sudden wave of fear, confusion and heart-ache crash over it, synapse's firing and neuro-transmitters flooding into the human's nervous system as the words triggered an intense emotional response, one that his body hadn't experienced in three thousand years of dormancy. With the higher neural functions, such as logical thought and abstract reasoning, disabled by the sedative's coursing through his blood stream, the human's reactional capacity was limited to immediate, emotion triggered responses; dictated by the regressed, subliminal, animalistic urges of the subconscious. Who was this girl? Why had she made this recording? Did he know her? When was this made? What was she talking about? Why was she so beautiful? Why did she make him feel so afraid, lonely, confused, frightened? Muscles tensed as an instinctual fight or flight reaction kicked in, the primal urges of the human's animalistic subconscious suddenly railing against the sedative induced stupor that contained it.

++ Warning: organic neural anomaly detected. ++

++ Interruption in revivification sequence occurring ++

Realising what was going on, the onboard A.S. ordered the administration of another sedative: tranquilliser pouring into the human's blood stream. Momentarily it seemed as if the dose was sufficient to calm the human's mind, but the decrease in neural activity was only minor. A data-pulse came in from the systems of the hibernation casket informing the A.S. that the subject was waking up too quickly; if he couldn't be pacified soon he would awaken prematurely, possibly leading to death or irreparable psychological trauma. Acknowledging what needed to be done, the A.S. ramped up the dosage volume of the sedative, injecting triple the regular amount. Simultaneously it moved to shut down the media file that was causing all the trouble, but as the command went out something beyond its system, a part of the organic interface, rejected the order, the HUD freezing up as the two systems – one of nanoscopic machinery, and one of raw organic emotion – engaged in a conflict of wills.

With a sudden, fresh surge of confusion, fear, and anger, the human's mind burst into reality, fully emerging from the millennial lethargy of cryogenic slumber that had held it for so long. Trying to pull free from the hibernation casket, the young man realised with a start that metal restraints were holding him bound within the cage, preventing his escape. Such was the creature's dread that it took a few seconds to realise that he was still blind: his vision comprised of nothing but blackness and the cold light of the HUD, the image of the girl frozen in place. Something from within him rose up, and opening his mouth the human let a loud, shrill scream leave his body. Yet his lack of sense wasn't merely confined to his sight, and when no sound reached his ears the human realised he wasn't only blind but also deaf; the only way to tell he was screaming being the sensation of air leaving his lungs as it rushed up his throat.

What kind of sick hell was this?

Another dose of sedative pumped into the human's system, his body weakening as it flowed into his blood stream. For a few brief moments the young man felt the will to fight leave him, crushed beneath the blissful, smothering weight of deep-sleep. Yet only a few moments later it returned with a vengeance, the human screaming once more as he threw himself against his restraints. He'd been dead long enough, whatever this was, to the human this was his genesis, and he wouldn't be denied. The bindings were strong, and didn't give easily, yet as the young man continued to rail against them they slowly popped away one by one; having only been designed to prevent movement during cryogenic slumber, and never to detain a determined occupant. Feeling the metal buckle against his assault, the young man gave one final push, suddenly tumbling forwards with incredible force as he ripped free from the hibernation casket. Still blind, he could felt his body smashing through some kind of barrier, shards of the obstruction lashing at his skin as he pushed through.

A vicious, nerve-grinding pain lanced from the base of his skull as he felt something being torn out of his body, leaving a gaping, ice-cold wound behind. Similar pin-pricks of sharp agony running the length of his body and extremities, hot fluids seeping from the tender wounds, whilst every slight movement caused an aggravated flare of pain. Cold, stale air filled his lungs as he gasped for breath, his trembling muscles holding him on his hands and knees for a few moments longer before they gave out, causing him to collapse to the ground. Shards of the shattered barrier gouged at his skin, but in his condition he was too weak to do anything about them. For what seemed an age, he simply lay there, his vision dark and his hearing deaf. The image of the young woman still floated on his HUD, frozen in an image of her bright, imploring eyes staring straight at him, into him, into his soul.

After an indeterminable amount of time, perhaps five minutes, perhaps five years, a sudden popping noise filled both his ears, sending a rush of intense vertigo through his system. Scrambling up from the ground, the human could just make out the faint tinkling of the shards of glass beneath him, faintly audible over the sharp ringing in his ears. Nausea seized his stomach, bile burning the back of his throat as he wretch on an empty stomach, stinging acid rising up his oesophagus and ejecting from his mouth as he heaved. The acid was vile and bitter, the human shuddering as he heaved until his stomach was completely void. By the time he was finished the ringing had mostly ceased, and he could finally hear for the first time, though he was still blind. A choked sob left the young man's throat as he fell backwards, away from the pool of bile he had wretched up.

Of the many emotions that were running through his head, confusion reigned supreme. He had so many questions to ask. Who was that girl? Why had he been in that prison? Why was he in so much agony? Had he done something heinously terrible, was this his punishment for some past sin? But he had no recollection of... anything. Casting his mind back, the human could recall nothing, absolutely nothing. Pushing harder, shapes began to emerge from the void, indistinct collections of blurred memories, sounds, smells, faint twinges of emotion, the human tired to reach out and seize the dim memories, but as he did so his consciousness seemed to meet something, something that didn't want him to reach those visions. A sharp, skull-splitting lance of pain shredded through his mind, the of weight all the new sensory information brought to his mind too much to make sense of; terrifying in its indecipherable confusion

++ Warning: revivification sequence has been interrupted. ++

++ Please seek immediate medical attention. ++

The young woman's frozen image flickered briefly, the whole HUD read-out skittering frantically before dying out completely and leaving him in darkness. Another sob left the young man, who buried his face into his hands. Was this really his damnation? What atrocity could had possibly have committed that had to result in his blind genesis into a world of pain, confusion, and sensory emptiness? There was a sharp pain from where whatever object that had been plugged into his skull had been torn free, a trickle of warm, sticky fluid leaking from the wound. Similar pin-pricks were flaring across his body, some discharging the same warm fluid. The young man dabbed his finger into one of the streams on his arm and brought it to his lips, hesitantly touching it against them: the fluid tasted like blood, metal, and oil. A dull ache began to emanate from his shoulder, bone-deep and constant. Groaning, the human reached behind him with one hand, gently rubbing at the tender skin.

Then his hand bumped into something cold, metallic, and protruding from his skin.

Perhaps he should have been frightened, but after all that had just occurred, the idea of his body being mutilated with metallic implements didn't seem too out of the picture. Tracing the metal appendage with his hand, the young man lightly prodded at the base of it through the thin fabric of his clothing, the attachment seeming to fuse to his body just atop the shoulder blade, where a docking port of metal seemed to be bonded to his skin. Following it upward, the young man felt a sense of trepidation as the appendage suddenly branched off, the first of a metallic membrane of smooth, cold plates brushing against his finger-tips. He tensed his shoulders against the cold, suddenly feeling the metal appendage move with the motion, curling gently inward, the membrane beginning to wrap around the contour his shoulder. The young man felt something in his heart seize; these weren't implements of mutilation: they were an extension of his own body. The way they moved with him, corresponding to every minor action; they could only be one thing. They were... they were...

Wings.

He had wings!

"Cypher?"

A gentle, feminine voice came from the beyond the darkness, causing the young man to tense. For some reason he couldn't quite discern, instinct told him that whoever was speaking to him was standing just before him, the Angel shuffling backwards from the source until he felt himself bump into the hibernation casket. The voice spoke again.

"Cypher, can you hear me?"

For a few seconds he didn't know what to do, whether the voice belonged to friend or foe. Realising he would most likely be dead if she were his enemy, he slowly nodded. "What's going on?" he asked in reply, his voice brittle and cracked, his throat feeling like it was coated with a layer of dust.

"You've suffered an intense emotional reaction, and as a result your revivification was prematurely accelerated. The damage to your higher neurological functions will be erased, but it will take time for your body to completely recover from the trauma."

"Is... is that why I'm blind?"

"Yes." There was something... off about that voice. It was gentle, maternal, even caring. But there was something behind it, a slight, cold inflection that implied a lack of emotion on the speakers part, which disturbed him to no end. "The hibernation casket used neuro-suppressant drugs in order to reactivate your higher functions gradually, but for some reason the media playback provided stimulated an unprecedented response within your limbic system due to the sudden overload of neuro-transmitters in your frontal-lobe. I'm afraid you've lost approximately eighty-three percent of your sight, and forty-nine percent of your sense of smell. You've also suffered extensive nerve damage, along with acute hibernation sickness. Thankfully, the damage was not extensive enough to cause instantaneous death."

It was too much to take in. He was blind, critically damaged, and had been on the verge of death? Perhaps... perhaps it would have been better to die.

"Why are you here?"

"I am under orders from the Arch-Angel Gabrielle to ensure your survival and safe deliverance to Habitable-Biome zero-zero-two. I am the one who initiated your revival. Truthfully, I was unsure of whether you'd actually survive the procedure, there's never been a recorded attempt to revive someone held in suspension for so long."

"How long have I been... suspended?"

"Three-thousand four-hundred years, eight months, twelve days, three hours, fifty-eight minutes, and forty seconds."

What?

What?!

"But right now that is not important. I understand that you have many questions, and in your condition arduous physical activity may be hazardous to your continued functionality, but I am afraid we only have one hour until the Ark begins to break-up. I will accompany you down to the surface, but first you must retrieve my primary-core on the bridge. Once you have done so, I have a drop-pod ready for your use."

Things were just moving so... quickly. He clutched his head, the throbbing pain from before returning with a vengeance. The wound in the back of his neck felt less raw, the trickle of fluids seeping from it coming to a halt, but still his body was rocked by a bone-deep ache, as if every muscle fibre in his being was recovering from one great, continuous cramp. Barely had he clawed free from the womb of his hibernation casket, and already he had been told the ground beneath him would soon begin to break up, that he had only forty minutes to make his escape from... what had the woman called it? The Ark?

"Cypher, we can't stay here any longer."

"But I can't see. How will I be able to make it to the bridge?"

"The damage to your retinal structure shall be repaired soon, your nanotrites will see to that. Until then, I can remotely access their systems and effect a temporary recovery long enough for you to reach the bridge. To be blunt: I shall be your eyes."

A sudden pulse of warm energy flowed through him, starting at the base of his brain stem and diffusing down the length of his spine, his nerves tingling as the soothing heat extended to his very extremities. His vision slowly crept from darkness to a jumbled collection of blurred shapes, vague objects depicted in slightly different shades of grey. The HUD flickered back into life, icy cyan letters prominent in the darkness as data-streams crawled up the height of his vision. Gradually the grey turned lighter, until sudden pulse of cyan hexagons raced across his field of vision, glowing in an intricate matrix of geometry before disappearing as quickly as they emerged.

He could finally see.

He was sat with his back propped against the edge of the hibernation casket, a field of shattered glass spread before him, a pool of grey-yellow bile slowly spreading from the centre where he'd wretched. The chamber his sat within was in the shape of a large hexagon, containing another nine caskets, two sharing each wall, the only light being that of the cold, stark white illumination which spilled out of his own hibernation casket. Unlike his own, the other caskets showed no signs of damage, the light shining through their glass surfaces revealing each one to be devoid of occupants. Other than that the chamber was hidden in thick shadows, hiding the evident damage the chamber had sustained; the walls were dented, and in some areas cracked open to reveal an immense array of wires and tubing hidden beneath. More wires hung from the roof, where several panels had come loose and lay scattered about the floor. The air was thick with dust, kicked up by his brutal genesis from the casket.

Everywhere there seemed to be ruin and decay, the chamber filled with an atmosphere of forgotten glory.

"Can you stand, Cypher?"

Turning his attention from his decrepit surroundings, the young man found the source of the voice, the woman who had been present at his birth. She was stood only a few feet away from him, a tall radiant figure swathed in shimmering ropes of pure white. She had no colouration to her person whatsoever, everything from her clothing to her skin formed from the same, snow-pure white, with only her eyes, possessing a vibrant orange retina, deviating from the blank colour scheme. She was divinely beautiful, her features perfectly symmetrical, and finely chiselled like to marble bust, framed by a cascade of long, flowing hair. Yet as with her voice, there was something... cold about her, something dispassionate, and not entirely human.

"Who are you?"

No hint of expression passed over her face, the woman simply gazing passively at him whilst she answered "I am a self-sentient anima-spirit designed and programmed by the Royal Academy of Great Britannia to serve as adjutant to the Arch-Angel Gabrielle, and operating anima-spirit of the God-Dreadnought. My official designation is Electronic Virtual Entity, production code zero-zero-one, but you may call me E.V.E. if you prefer."

"Zero-zero-one?"

"Yes, like you I am the only one of my kind in existence."

"What does that mean, what am I the only one of?"

"As frustrating and confusing as the situation may be for you, I'm afraid I cannot answer any further questions. We only have fifty-three minutes until the Ark begins to disintegrate. Now then, Cypher: can you stand?"

"I think so." Shifting his attention to his numb legs, the young man grit his teeth as he willed the appendages to move. For what felt like an eternity the limbs failed to respond, but slowly, agonisingly slowly, his knees bent, the Angel pushing up with his arms until his weight was balanced on the legs beneath him. Shakily reaching his full height, the boy managed a few stumbling steps before his legs gave out, causing him to fall on one knee. It seemed as if something were trying to pull him to the ground, a force he would have to constantly resist to stay upright. Grunting in pain, the young man focussed once more, taking a few seconds to breath before rising once again. His legs flared with the sharp sensation of pins-and-needles, his balance wavering as he reached full height, but after several more seconds the sensation died out, and like a babe who had just learnt to walk, he took several small, gentle steps forward.

"Are you ready for transit?" E.V.E. asked, briskly striding past and over to the only wall that didn't have any hibernation caskets. Raising her palm to the doorway, the woman's body flickered like candle-light, the door splitting open shakily as faulty servo-motors gratingly pulled it open. Turning back, E.V.E. watched as the newly awakened stripling stumbled across to the door, each step demanding the utmost focus on his part. In time he would acclimate to the concept of movement, but for now he was near helpless.

E.V.E. internally cursed the indeterminable nature of organic spirit.

A sentient anima-spirit, she herself was capable of understanding, and feeling to a certain extent, human emotions, and by extension those of an Angel. They were such strange things, organics, driven by impulses and urges that defied logic in a way she found at once fascinating and infuriating. There had been no reason for Cypher's premature awakening: according to all collated data from the hibernation casket the process had followed the calculated pattern of progression. And yet, for some inexplicable reason a simple media file had been sufficient to rouse the young man's dormant instincts. Though she was programmed to a degree of knowledge that was incredibly close to mirroring human life, E.V.E. knew she was still a far cry from the true complexity of organic existence. Though she possessed the power to eventually rationalise Cypher's neurological reaction, and also a piqued sense of curiosity to investigate the incident, E.V.E. shelved the thought within her memory banks.

Only fifty minutes remained until the incoming meteor storm tore the Ark apart, now was no time to rationalise the human mind.

Finally reaching the doorway, the Angel stepped out into the dark, unlit corridor beyond the cryogenic vault, the only light being the gentle glow of E.V.E.'s holographic form. The instant he stepped through, the young man felt his stomach churn as he lost all sense of weight, his first step out of the chamber propelling him into the air. Unable to stop his free-fall motion, the Angel grasped at thin air, vainly trying to bring himself to a halt, and only doing so once his back pumped into the far wall of the hallway. Another wave of vertigo rushed over him as he lost all sense of co-ordination. In this free-fall environment the world had been transformed into a three-dimensional existence, with motion possible in literally infinite directions. Bouncing off the wall, he began to slowly drift towards what could have been the floor, assuming E.V.E.'s orientation against the surface was correct.

"I should have informed you earlier," E.V.E. said in her flat voice. "Artificial gravity has failed within most quadrants of the ship; only the bridge, and your cryogenic vault actually posses any semblance of gravity." Stepping out into the hallway, the hologram remained fixed to the ground, her immaterial body unaffected by the lack of grounding force. "However, without the presence of gravity, you will not have to rely on your legs for movement, meaning that our journey-time to the bridge has greatly decreased. I predict that if we follow my calculated route, we should reach the bridge in approximately eleven minutes."

Grunting as his body gently bounced off the floor, slowly beginning to rise to the ceiling, the Angel felt another wave of nausea rush through his head, his mind spinning with vertigo as he struggled to make sense of this new, three-dimensional environment. "But how will I move?" His legs kicked vainly against the air, unable to propel him forwards without a solid surface to push him off. E.V.E. regarded him as if it were the most obvious question anyone could possibly ask.

"You shall use your wings."

The young man looked over his shoulder, seeing the dark grey construct of metal rising over his right shoulder like some bizarre war-banner that had been fused to his body. Following the rim of the pinion, his eyes settled on the membrane of metal plates he had felt earlier, each plate glowing a brilliant ultramarine blue in the light of E.V.E.'s body, glittering like diamonds. At the top of the wings supporting structure, just before the radiale joint that allowed the membrane to extend and retract, was a hollow ring set into the metal, which contained another ring within it. The internal ring was spinning rapidly, its movement swift, yet silent. Looking over his left shoulder, the Angel saw an identical construct rise from his back, a sense of awe running through the his mind as he realised that these mechanical prosthetics were his to command.

"How... how do they work?"

"The wings are mechanical augmentations hardwired into your bionetic system via a series of electrical-impulse based conduits. Essentially, you have a secondary nervous system comprised of a mixture of cybernetics, bionetics, and genetic modified organelles and tissues. The wings are designed to respond to the same mental commands generated by your brain that control for movement in your limbs: you must will you wings to move. If my calculations are correct, which they are, you should have sufficient residual energy to reach the bridge."

E.V.E. made is sound so simple, as if he really could just wish for these artificial works of art to propel him forwards. Yet a sense of doubt hung within his mind. If he had barely been able to stand, how could he possibly fly? Knowing that he couldn't delay, the Angel cast caution to the wind and focussed. Within his mind's eye, he pictured himself soaring through vast open space, flying through the void on his mechanical wings. A thin whining filled the air, and looking back the Angel saw that the internal rings set into his extensor joints were rotating much faster, a harsh orange light emanating from the space between the internal, and external rings. With a sudden burst of force the twin rings fired tongues of orange fire, the young man suddenly speeding through the air of the empty hall, E.V.E. easily keeping pace by his side on her own holographic pinions of light.

As quickly as it started, the burst stopped, the Angel drifting through the empty corridor with only marginal air resistance to decrease his velocity. Beside him E.V.E. kept perfect pace, gliding ever so slightly ahead of him.

"Where are we going?" he called out to the hologram.

"Just fly straight, Cypher," she replied.

The sensation was heavenly, uplifting, exulting. After the harrowing events of his genesis, the sudden ability to power through open space seemed almost like a gift of recompense from some benevolent deity. Even on the minuscule burst of power he'd utilised, the Angel soared through the empty corridor, a trail of orange glowing particles stretching in his wake: the remnants of exotic matter generated by the ionisation process of his ignition rings. Though he couldn't see more than twenty meters in front of him at the most, E.V.E.'s luminous form provided ample illumination in order for him to dodge any incoming pieces of debris that littered the weightless void of the corridor. His wings handled beautifully, altering their yaw and pitch at the slightest mental command, moving with such a degree of finesse that for a few moments they literally seemed to be a part of his organic body, the distinction between flesh and machine blurring momentarily.

It was a good the corridor was so long, because the Angel abruptly realised that he couldn't actually bring himself to a halt. Ahead of him, rearing up the shadows, a thick bulkhead signalled that the hallway would soon be coming to an abrupt stop. Throwing his arms up to protect himself, the Angel closed his eyes, wishing there was some way to slow himself down before he impacted the wall at full force. Feeling the rush of air around him begin to slow, he opened his eyes, gasping in shock as he saw that his wings had spread wide open, creating a drag force sufficient enough to bring him to a gentle standstill. Approaching the wall at a much more appropriate speed, the Angel stretched out his hands, gripping a low set railing that ran the length of the wall and using it to bring himself to a halt.

E.V.E., righting herself as she too reached the wall, came to a stop, looking about her. The corridor they had just been in terminated in a T shaped junction, stretching into the shadows both to the left, and right. Her orange eyes flaring momentarily, the hologram stepped up next to the free-floating Angel and pressed her hand against the wall. Though physical contact was impossible given that she was an incorporeal being, the smooth surface of the wall suddenly depressed into itself, splitting to reveal a monstrously heavy access bulkhead, its surface covered in black and yellow hazard stripes. "This bulkhead opens up into the Ark's spinal transmission shaft. If we follow it aft, there is another access bulkhead approximately two miles down that is located only a few corridors from the bridge. I shall do what I can to ensure that there is a modicum of artificial gravity once we arrive, but given the state of the generators the chances are slim."

A harsh, painful grinding noise emanated from the bulkhead as it jarringly pulled open, revealing a small ante-chamber just beyond. Using the railing to pull himself inside, the Angel noticed, with some trepidation, that the bulkhead was at least three feet thick, and comprised of solid metal. Bringing himself to a halt within the ante-chamber, E.V.E. joined the Angel and closed the access bulkhead behind them, sealing it shut before drifting over to a similar portal on the other side the room, the ante-chamber only being three meters in length and two meters in width: scarcely big enough for the Angel's winged augmetics. Opening the second access bulkhead in an identical manner to the first, E.V.E. pushed off into the space beyond, the Angel following after.

The spinal transmission shaft was cavernous.

The shaft itself was an enormous tunnel at least a kilometre in diameter, bored through the depths of the Ark like some epic termite burrow. Gently floating through the air as he pulled himself out into the shaft, the Angel noticed that the metallic panelling of the shaft was perfectly reflective, with nary a blemish present. The only illumination came from a huge power transmission conduit that floated at the very centre of the shaft, approximately two hundred meters in diameter; it's surface covered in a mosaic pattern of metal plates, ultramarine light pouring from the crack in between. The conduit ran in both directions of the shaft, illuminating the cavern for a good few hundred metres in each direction before its glow became too weak to penetrate the shadows. For a few seconds the Angel was held in awe of the monumental scale of the shaft, like to great cathedral built to house the god-entity of the transmission conduit. Coming up beside the glowing form of E.V.E., the Angel suddenly felt miniscule before the incomparable size of the world he currently resided in.

"Follow me," E.V.E. told the Angel, the ignition rings built into the radiale joints on his wings firing once more as he moved to keep pace. Within moments he could tell they were both travelling at great speed, the stagnant air cool against his face, but there seemed to be no way to tell that they were moving at all; the walls of the shaft devoid of any marking, and the pattern of the plates wrapped around the transmission conduit reduced to little more than a blur. The shaft, it seemed, was incredible in the scale of its distance as well as its diameter.

Once more the Angel felt a strange thrill course through his body as he powered forward, something that seemed to almost be instinctual, as if he were born to fly. At once the instinct seemed perfectly natural and bizarrely aberrant, the two feelings conflicting in a most confusing way. Some part of him knew that he was terrestrial, a grounded creature, but at the same time another section seemed to rebel against the notion, and urged him to soar even faster, accelerate to ever greater speeds. An urge to do so suddenly seized his body, the impulse begging to be let loose, like to inner entity buried just beneath his skin. In his mind's eye, the Angel saw himself rocketing through the open void, little more than a blur to others as he sundered the serenity of that empty world. But even as the ignition rings began to cycle up, their ion trails beginning to blaze, he felt the intrusion of another entity, its presence like that of a cold, unfeeling being, halt the transaction, the ignition rings suddenly dying down to an idle drone.

"I am afraid you are not ready to experience the full power afforded to you by your augmetics," E.V.E. suddenly stated in her flat voice. "Whilst the urge to utilise your synthetic talents has been documented amongst the Angel species, I can't risk you pushing beyond your limits until full neurological functionality has been restored."

A sensation of annoyance filled his mind, an instinctual aggravation rising at the fact he couldn't express his urges. But as the feeling took hold it was replaced by something else, a sense of curiosity at the hologram's words. "What do you mean 'the Angel species'?"

"You are not human."

What?

"That's ridiculous, of course I'm human!" He couldn't tell what made the words come out of his mouth, or why E.V.E.'s comment had made him feel so offended, but deep inside him, from the same place of instinct that urged him to fly, and breath, and live, came the utter certainty that he was human and nothing else.

"No, you are not. You are an Angel."

"What's an Angel?"

The hologram didn't dean to reply, simply stating. "We have arrived."

Above them, swathed in shadows, but just visible from the dim like of the transmission conduit, some sort of structure hung suspended from the roof of the shaft: a square box with windows lining every wall. Running around the outside of the building was a large observation balcony, enclosed by a metal railing. Following E.V.E. up towards the box, the pair alighted on the balcony before another access bulkhead, E.V.E. opening it with the touch of her palm before they moved within. The interior of the building was dark: a single floor crammed full of computer panels, the installations lining every wall and set up in rows across the room. Shards of broken glass twirled in slow motion, winking like razor-edged suns. As in the spinal transmission shaft, there was no gravity.

"What is this place?"

"A monitoring station. From here a cohort of the Ark's engineers ensured that power distribution throughout this quadrant of the vessel remained stabilised." E.V.E. explained, her feet once more fixed to the ground. Striding across the room with the boy in tow, the pair came to a halt over a round metal disk, which promptly began to rise from the ground and into the shaft above that connected the monitoring station to the rest of the Ark. The ride was only a couple of second long, the disk pushing the weightless organic up with it, nearly catapulting him into the roof when it came to a halt several decks above. Wasting no time, E.V.E. merely continued onwards.

Moving through zero-gravity, the pair climbed another eight decks and took an innumerable amount of turns; the hologram firmly grounded whilst the Angel, still denying he was anything other than a human being, manoeuvred with the help of his wings. Here, as with down below, the corridors were dark and silent, a heavy air of foreboding hanging over the broken halls. Though he'd only just awoken to this world, the Angle could sense that something had happened here, that some catastrophe had befallen this place and sundered it into the dark, ominous form it now possessed. It was in the hints that littered the decks: broken panels, dented floors, broken illumination strips. Once this place had been beautiful, and now... now it was broken, perhaps permanently. E.V.E. came to a halt before yet another bulkhead, though unlike the others it was round rather than rectangular, and devoid of the black and yellow hazard stripes.

Raising her palm, the hologram turned her head to the Angel floating behind her.

"This is the bridge."

As the door opened, splitting down the centre, the hologram stepped through, the Angel pulsing himself in after her. The bridge was roughly a hundred meters wide, the far wall lined with immense viewing ports at least ten meters tall. Unable to suppress his curiosity, the Angel fired his ignition rings, drifting across the command deck towards them. The bridge itself was divided into two separate pits, each filled with rows of computer access terminals, their screens dark, lifeless, and in several cases shattered; glass shards filling the empty space of the desk. Running between them was a three meter wide gantry that spanned the width of the bridge right up to the viewing ports, a circular dais set halfway down its length, where a chair mounted upon triple tiered platform resided. Drifting past the chair, the Angel brought himself to a halt before the viewing ports, reaching out to slowly stop his forward motion; face practically pressed against the glass as he gazed out into the void.

Beyond it, the eternity of the universe gazed back.

Stretching out from the bridge was a massive dagger of grey-black metal, the expanse slowly narrowing the further its distance from the bridge until, an indeterminable distance away, it culminated in a sharp tip that thrust through the nothingness of the void. Rising from the dorsal spine of the great vessel were fat, blocky structures; an entire city jutting up from the Ark's hull like barnacles on the back of some vast, unimaginable sea-beast. The city itself sat within a sunken depression into the hull, the rim of the enormous crater studded with yawning openings that were exposed to the void. Away from the dorsal city, beyond the pits rim, the hull of the Ark was seamless metal, not a single structure breaking the monotony of the plain, until it reached the very edge of the vessel, where innumerable tiny sensor spires jutted out into the emptiness of space. The whole vessel must have been tens of miles in length; a whole world held in suspension upon the vastness of the vacuum.

"Is... is this the..."

"The Ark?" E.V.E. asked, floating up beside him. "Yes,"

"What... what is it?"

"The Ark, is a Damocles class void crosser, or, as it was more commonly referred to by its passengers and crew: the God-Dreadnought. It has a spacial displacement of several billion cubic tons, a carrying capacity of five millon, and is capable of sustaining all onboard life-forms indefinitely. Commissioned by her royal highness Queen Elizabeth the Eighteenth, construction began in forty-two eighty-three, and was completed in forty-four twenty-six, before being officially launched in forty-four ninety-one with the blessing of his royal highness King James the Eleventh. Like you and me, it is the only one of its kind in existence, the pinnacle achievement of humanities technological expertise in all fields of scientific research. The universe has never seen its like before, and will never see its like again."

"Why?"

Instead of answering, E.V.E. raised her hand and pointed out to the starboard side of the vessel. Following her gesture, the Angel saw a bright cluster of more than a hundred objects approaching the Ark, each leaving behind a fiery contrail as they crept closer and closer. "In approximately twenty-five minutes, that meteor storm will make impact with the Ark's hull. Several are too small to cause much damage, the contrails you see are the products of the vessel's ionic shell slowly grinding the meteors down into nothing, but over eighty of the objects I am tracking are too large to be destroyed by the ionic shell alone, and I am afraid all remaining weapon systems have long since decayed beyond the point of operation." E.V.E. almost seemed... sad, a flicker crossing her passive features, though only for a moment. "I have served aboard the Ark from the moment of my inception, it has always been my greatest priority. Though I cannot truly define what it means to me, in human terms, you would call this my home. I do not despair, however, for the Arch-Angel has issued me with a new priority."

"Me?"

"Yes."

"You said this vessel carried five million people. Where are they now?"

Turning, E.V.E. pointed into the opposite direction. Once more following her indication, the Angel once again felt awe seize his soul. In the void beyond the port bow, a planet hung in space.

He didn't know how he'd missed it, in fact now that he had seen it the fact he'd somehow missed it before seemed ludicrous and embarrassing. The world glowed like an enormous gem, emerald green continents and sapphire blue oceans almost impossible to look upon, so bright was their presence. It seemed as if he were looking upon Eden; a world of unspoilt natural beauty. "The planet is named Habitable-Biome zero-zero-two, discovered in the year forty-one fifty by astronomers of the Royal Academy of Great Britannia, and possessing one moon, and one star. Its atmosphere is perfectly suited to supporting human life, so much so that its conditions are identical to that of ancient Terra. The colonisation of this world was the original objective of the Ark's mission, to ensure that there would still be a home for humanity for the next generation: it took fifteen hundred years of sub-light travel to get here."

"Was the mission successful?"

A dark look flashed across E.V.E.'s face. "To an extent: humanity still lives." Without another word, the anima-spirit turned about and returned down the length of the gantry, stopping before the raised throne. "But we do not have time to continue this conversation, we must evacuate soon or the drop pod will not be able to clear the blast-radius of the vessel when the systems turn critical." Watching as the Angel gave one last sweeping glance of the epic vista before returning to her side, E.V.E. pointed to a single button on the right arm-rest of the command throne. "Simply press this to eject my primary-core. You don't require any authorisation, I am already in sole control of the vessel. Once that is done, simply plug my primary-core into the input-socket at the back of your skull."

Following E.V.E.'s command, the Angel pressed the button; a small cylinder popping out of the armrest as he did so. Pulling the primary-core from its plug, the Angel regarded the metal object momentarily before feeling behind his head, fingers probing for the input-socket the hologram had mentioned. It wasn't with a mild level of shock he realised that the socket he was searching for was the same gaping wound that had troubled him within the cryogenic vault. slowly, carefully, he raised the cylinder behind his head, wincing as it rubbed against the still tender flesh before, with a near-silent click, it slid home into the input-socket; ice cold to the touch.

Instantly a pulse ran through him.

Nausea churned in his stomach as he felt E.V.E.'s programming being to fuse with that of the anima-spirit already residing within his bionetics. Within his HUD, data-streams began to scroll at an incredible pace down his field of vision, too fast for the naked eye to comprehend. A read-out appeared in his vision.

++ New anima-spirit software detected, beginning installation ++

Much better. E.V.E.'s voice echoed within his head, her words projecting directly into the Angel's mind now that she had a direct hook-up to his neural systems. Interesting, your architecture isn't that much different from the Ark's.

"Don't get any ideas."

I would suggest you look back to the viewing ports.

Turning, the Angel took a step back in surprise as he saw that the transparent surface of the viewing ports had been replaced with the image of a largely built man sitting upon what appeared to be the same command throne he was now stood beside. In the image the man was surrounded by other humans wearing dark blue uniforms, all of them sporting several medals on their lapels. The man in the chair was covered in what appeared to be large, unadorned segments of armour possessing a white hue, long locks of chocolate brown hair framing a stern visage. Standing, the man approached whatever device had recorded the media file, and it wasn't until the Angel noticed dual items of metal cresting over the man's shoulder that he realised that he was looking at, what had E.V.E. called him? An Angel.

You are correct, E.V.E. spoke in his mind, seemingly reading his thoughts. That is Gabrielle, the Arch-Angel.

"Cypher," Gabrielle spoke, his voice a rich, deep baritone. "If you are watching this message, it means the Angels have failed in their mission of leading humanity to a new home, and that such a duty now falls to you." the Angel felt a knot tighten in his stomach. "Truthfully, we have no idea if this message shall ever be viewed, but if you are out there, know you are now humanities last hope of salvation. Though we have tried our hardest, the two xenos known as Celestia and Luna have forced us back to the last few remaining colonies, and our numbers have been severely decreased; at most only several hundred thousand humans still live. Your brothers and sisters have done their best to hold the line, but one by one they have fallen to the enemy: their sacrifice shall not be forgotten."

The knot in the Angel's stomach tightened as the image suddenly changed to several pictures of yet more Angels, their long dead eyes seeming to gaze straight into his being. "The Celestial Sisters possess something we do not, some sort of psychic intuition that givens them incredible mental abilities. We have done our best to study such anomalies from captured specimens, but so far our research has turned up nothing. I wish we had more information with which to arm you, but these xenos... their biology is incredibly complex, much more so than that of the average human being. All we can inform you is that they are incredibly xenophobic, and show no love for human life." A look of deep remorse crossed Gabrielle's face, the Angel recounting images only he would ever know. "Should you ever be awakened, I have instructed E.V.E. to accompany you down to the surface: once you are there she shall brief you on the full details of your mission."

Drawing himself to his full, imposing height, Gabrielle flared his wings, raising an arm in salute to the camera; bizarrely, the Angel felt a strong urge to salute back. "If there is anyone who deserves this burden the least, it is you, young Cypher. If there was anything I could do to carry the weight for you, I would take it in a heartbeat. Just know that the fate of the human race now rests in your hands, Cypher, it falls to you to bring salvation to humanity. All I can wish you is good luck; by the time you see this I will most likely be dead." Gabrielle lowered his arm. "Good luck, young Cypher, and may God be with you."

The image cut to black, before being replaced with the panoramic vista of the view port, and leaving one lone Angel completely stunned.

Only ten minutes remain until the meteor storm impacts with the Ark, it is time that we leave. Nodding absently, the Angel turned and pulsed himself back along the length of the gantry. At the far right end of the bridge, something stirred into the shadows, and angling his trajectory to approach it, the Angel noted that it was the drop pod E.V.E. had mentioned earlier. Pulling himself into it, the Angel occupied the only seat available. The pod was incredibly cramped, and initially the young man thought his wings would be an issue. But as if they could sense the need to disappear, the twin augmetics suddenly began to fold in on themselves, shrinking until they could easily fit snugly into the seat without too much discomfort on his part. Buckling himself in, the Angel simply waited as E.V.E. began a diagnostic check on the pod, his mind lost in thought at the A.S. prepared for launch, the minutes ticking away.

Barely an hour had he existed, and already he felt as if he were drowning in the impossibility of his reality. First his blind genesis in the freezing isolation of the cryogenic vault, when he had ripped himself from the steel womb of the hibernation casket, blind, deaf, emotionally unstable, and wracked with agony. Then the confusion of his existence, the questioning of what he had done to possibly end up in such a dark, empty world. And now, he had been charged with the safe-guarding of a species which he had been informed he didn't even belong too. Perhaps time would make some sense of the mystery and confusion that shrouded his existence, but for now, he could do nought but wait; a helpless victim in the current of fate.

The only indication the pod and launched was a faint popping sound as it jettisoned from its docking port against the bridge of the Ark. Slowly, as the pod traversed the port side and began its descent to Habitable-Biome zero-zero-two below, the God-Dreadnought revealed its true form. The bridge was a wide, stocky rectangle mounted on a large support column above the bulk of the vessel, minute in comparison to the size of the ship it commanded. On the opposite side of the Ark, the first meteors began to impact with the vessel, pillars of fire like infernal flowers blossoming the length of the God-Dreadnought as the drop pod shot clear of the port side. The death of the Ark seemed oddly majestic from this angel, the sharp dagger breaking apart with glacial speed as it was slowly ruptured by the immense kinetic force of the bombarding object. Through the tiny viewing port the drop pod possessed, the Ark suddenly seemed like an incredibly minute thing in comparison to the backdrop of deep-space it was set against, just a speck of sand before an unimaginably vast ocean.

"E.V.E."

Yes?

"I'm not human, am I?"

No, as I have stated before, you are an Angel. I have more information on the matter, but I have been ordered not to brief you until we make planet-fall.

"And that name you call me: Cypher?"

Yes?

"It's mine, isn't it? My name?"

That is correct.

What an odd name, the Angel thought to itself, as a particularly magnificent explosion rose from the Ark's dorsal city. Cypher? An odd name perhaps, but as the Angel repeated it over and over, it began to gain a sense of familiarity, something that comforted the confusion in his mind. The state of reality might have been chaotic, confusing, and distressing, but as the word continued to roll off his tongue, the Angel allowed himself a faint smile. For all the problems he had been born into, at least the issue of his identity had seemed to resolve itself.

His name was Cypher.

Cypher the Angel.

Author's Note

Well, here it is: my first attempt at a HIE fic.

As with all of my stories, please feel free to leave a comment. If you want to point out any errors I've made, or anything in the text that bugs you, please do let me know, and I'll be sure to rectify any errors. If you like this, do be sure to check out my other stories too, and as always, I'd appreciate it if you gave this little story a thumbs up, even if you're just passing through.

Thanks.

Erol.

II: On Wings Of Fire.

This chapter's theme music brought to you by Imagine Dragons. I always thought this track was knida fitting given Cypher's situation.

Far above the surface of the world, suspended against a back-drop of infinite blackness, the stars of the universe sparkled in the depths of deep space; gems of light scattered across the incomprehensible vastness of the open void.

For time immemorial, such stars and other astral bodies had always played a great part in the culture and tradition of the ponies of Equestria. From the holy light of Celestia's sun, the Life-Flame of Equestria which burned without end to ensure the continuation of all life in the realm, to the gentle luminescence of Luna's silver moon, as soft and delicate as perfect tranquillity, each and every pin-prick of light was held with reverence and awe by the citizens of the equine kingdom, as beautiful and magnificent as any worldly, earth-bound structure.

Yet it wasn't simply the ponies of the Celestial Sisters who looked to the stars with unreserved wonder.

For all three thousand years of their time in Equestria, three thousand years of labouring under the crushing hoof of Equestrian Imperialism, a much different species; the remnants of humanity, had also turned their gaze skywards, staring upwards at the gleaming stars in the obsidian sky in search of an icon so deeply embedded within their racial memory that all knowledge of what came before had long since been lost to the annals of history. What the humans searched for was not a unique constellation, or some other alignment of astral bodies, which were so revered by their masters, but something else, something synthetic; a God wrought by human hands and forged from blood, bone, and desperation. What they searched for was the Ark, and with it, a sign of the coming of their saviour: the Angel Cypher.

The one they had named the Heavenfall.

For centuries, humanity had always turned to the God-Dreadnought in its prayers, whispering in the shadowed twilight of Lunar Princess' night for deliverance from their eternal plight. Generations came and went; children were born, lived, grew old, and died beneath the unstoppable grind of time and its passage. But the Ark, like the princesses that withheld them in slavery, was eternal, hung as it was above the world like some ancient guardian of the human race, and content to wait until the time had come to bring salvation to the children it had ferried across the stars, and give to them the saviour promised by its prophet: the Arch-Angel Gabrielle.

Yet, to the Solar Princess and the Lunar Princess, the Ark had always held a greatly divergent significance from what it represented to the people. To those eternal, ancient creatures of unfathomable design and purpose, the Ark represented the enduring, damnable tenacity of human spirit; the indecipherable, incomprehensible drive which pushed the subjugated species to continuously rail against their confinement, never ceasing in their attempts to break free from the bonds that held them. Though much had been done to indenture humanity to its new accolade in the cosmic order, to stamp out the sparks of rebellion before they ever had a chance to blossom into the raging inferno they always threatened to be, unfortunately, not even two Demigods could block out the existence of the God-Dreadnought.

Though they both possessed the powers to control astral bodies of immense mass and direct titanic forces of aethereal energy, the Ark had always been beyond their reach, shielded by some barrier that would not tolerate the manipulation of any external influence. Studies had been done, experiments conducted, thesis papers published, and heated scholarly debates held, yet not once in the three thousand years it had held orbit above the world did the Ark ever relinquish its secrets, that dagger of grey-black metal, visible from the surface as little more than an arrow-head of white atmospheric haze, instead simply continuing to drift through the void in endless orbit above humanity's adopted home.

Endless theories had been put forward as to the nature of what exactly shielded the vessel – some scholars theorized the Void-Dreadnought to be shielded by some aethereal barrier, similar to that employed by the unicorns of the realm. Others, that the alien material of the Ark was simply inert to aethereal tampering. Whilst a bare few went so far as to state the great ship was alive, and actively rejecting the advances of the princesses – but ultimately, it remained unknown as to what protected the God-Dreadnought on its millennia long orbit, many simply accepting that it was most likely an answer would never be truly found. And so, for three thousand years, the Ark, the God-Dreadnought, the mother of the human race who had carried her children across an ocean of stars, had been permitted to orbit in peace.

Yet tonight, all that would change.

As she had begun the ritual to begin the raising of her holy moon, it had been Luna who first detected the weakening of the Ark's protective barrier; the alicorn pausing briefly in her ceremony to probe the outer edges of the God-Dreadnought's protective wards, and upon finding their strength lacking, promptly finalised her great duty before conducting eager conference with her sister, the Solar Princess, on what course of action should be taken. Of course, there was no way for the alicorns to ever truly comprehend the exact cause for the weakening of the Ark's shields, that after three thousand years the ionic shell that encapsulated the epic vessel had finally reached a point of terminal decay, but to the two sisters the cause of such weakening was of little consequence; all that mattered was that they finally had a chance to destroy the Mother of Humanity, and with such an action, brutally crush the spirits of the human populace.

Luna had been the first to suggest the use of interstellar debris to destroy the Ark, and after a full hour of correspondence with her sister, Celestia had finally yielded to the younger alicorn's proposal, much to Luna's foal-like glee. After all, both knew that there was no direct way to attack the vessel in orbit, and there was no guarantee that this weakness of Luna's discovery would last. Of course, the elder sister was right to have her doubts about the use of such objects; many of the meteors that held deep-space orbit around the terrestrial sphere of Equestria were of immense size, and even a single planetary impact from just a single object could cause a great deal of damage, provided it came down in an inhabited area. Naturally, Luna had been quick to defend her stance, reminding Celestia that the ancient wards that guarded the surface of the world had held firm against much graver threats during humanity's first arrival, and would continue to do so in the face of a mere paltry meteor storm.

As darkness had settled over the nation of Equestria, the first of the great meteorites had made contact with the Ark, rupturing through the vessel's dorsal city and plunging deep into the God-Dreadnought's metallic flesh. The first impact had been enough to send an immense bloom of scarlet fire spewing from the God-Dreadnought, like an infernal spray of arterial blood from the wound of an ancient titan. The second and third matched their brother in the ferocity of their attack: piercing into heart of the Ark with explosive force, and gutting the great vessel from within. Over the period of a mere ten minutes, the Celestial Sisters, guiding their weapons from atop the highest tower of the Canterlot Palace, destroyed what had taken over a hundred years, and tens of thousands of human lives, to create; and in the process eradicated one of the most important pieces of human culture to have ever existed.

From the surface, the death of the Ark was perhaps less dramatic. Even on the finest of Luna's nights, with the sky clear and atmospheric conditions at their peak, the God-Dreadnought occupied no more than an inch of the sky-line; a thin sliver of silver poised above the world, impossibly distant from those who looked to it with reverence. Yet as the first pillar of scarlet fire rose from the Ark's dorsal city, barely a few centimetres in length from the surface, a collective wail of despair rose from the humans of Equestria, forced to helplessly watch as their guardian was slowly ripped apart. Across the nation, humanity fell to its knees, begging pleas and agonised cries rising from their entreating supplication as they begged the God-Dreadnought to remain with them, to not abandon them to their fate as slaves beneath the ponies of the Celestial Sisters.

Yet the pleas fell on death ears, many of humanity's masters nodding their heads in acceptance of the princesses righteous actions. For too long, the Ark had served as a beacon of hope to their human pets, a final blockade in the process of finally forcing the species to submit to their position of subservience. Many rejoiced at the demonstration of the Celestial Sisters power, their faith in their leaders strength climbing to new heights as the princesses once again proved their dominance over humanity. Others mocked the pleading cries of the slaves, harsh laughter rising from the slave pens and labour barracks as wardens pointed to the death of the God-Dreadnought with vicious, barbaric grins. A rare few dared to sympathise with humanity's loss, recognising the cultural ramifications of such an action.

Yet regardless of both the humans and ponies below, the Ark continued to die, unheeding of whether some begged it to remain, and others rejoiced in its destruction.

As the thin arrow head of the Ark became engulfed in scarlet fire, something settled over humanity, as crushing and absolute as the darkness of the open void. What it was, nobody could quite say; how could one define the destruction of an object so deeply embedded in the racial memory of their species? Words such as despair, agony, anguish, despondency, were suddenly unfit for the duty of defining the collective dread that settled upon humanity's united soul, too weak in their implications to truly impress upon the psyche how deep the loss was. Some wept, some cried bloody vengeance. The elderly looked to the sky with forlorn, helpless acceptance, the young with wide, confused eyes, too inexperienced to truly appreciate the cataclysm they bore witness too. Across the nation, humanity watched the death of its God, and wept bloody tears.

Yet, even as the Ark was completely subsumed by the infernal wraiths of destructive fury that shattered the ancient vessel to its very core, the humans of Equestria saw something that sparked a brief, yet fierce reaction in their hearts, something that, for generations, they had longed for with every fibre of their collective beings. Streaking away from the death-throes of the God-Dreadnought, arcing across Luna's starlit sky on a contrail of golden fire, a lone speck of light descended upon Equestria, gleaming brightly against the back-drop of inky blackness. As one, humanity's conscious turned to the past, the racial memory of the species dialling back the centuries to a time whispered of only in the deathly silence of the darkest nights, a time when the Angels walked amongst the people.

The cynics were quick to dismiss the comet, so indentured to their lives of servitude that dreaming of anything but an existence of toil beneath their equine masters represented thought of the greatest aberrancy. The faithful were quick to preach, proclaiming aloud for all to hear that the saviour had finally come, that humanity's days of slaving beneath the ponies of the Celestial Sisters were finally young. Some had waited for decades to lay eyes upon the comets golden light, others looking to the falling star and failing to understand the implications of such an object. Yet regardless of age or belief, the minds of every human in Equestria turned as one to the legends of their fore-fathers, and final prophecy of the Arch-Angel, united in the such surge of reverential emotion that swept through them. The time of humanity's salvation was at hand.

The Heavenfall was coming.

≤ΘΘΘ≥

Cypher?

"Yes, E.V.E.?"

I believe we may have a problem...

The last Angel tensed at the words, his body locked within the thin capsule of the life-pod, his movements restricted within the choking, claustrophobic confines. Within the life-pod, everything was bathed in a deep, bloody-scarlet light; so dark that Cypher could make out only the faintest outlines of his surroundings. Beyond the pod, visible only through the tiny eight-inch by eight-inch viewing port, the universe sparkled with bright pin-pricks of light, the pod spinning on its axis as it began its descent to Habitable-Biome zero-zero-two, causing the view to alternate between glimpse of deep-space and the benighted surface of the world below, a bare few points of light visible from below.

Occasionally, as the life-pod swung around, and the world beyond the viewing port switched to the twinkling vastness of the void, Cypher was afforded occasional glimpses of the Ark; the epic bulk of the God-Dreadnought incredibly minute from this distance, and growing smaller with each passing rotation. Were it not for the trendils of scarlet wraith fire that ensnared the vessel, it would have been ludicrously easy for the Angel to lose sight of the Ark, for that great ship to simply disappear into the immensity of the universe and be lost for the rest of eternity. Briefly, an errant thought of the seeming fragility of life, of the sheer minuteness of his existence in comparison to the unknowable dimensions of reality, flickered through the Angel's mind, his consciousness reaching out to ensnare the concept and pull it closer for further analysis, yet failing to do so; the higher neurological functions of his mind still too damaged to accurately perceive such abstract contemplations.

"What sort of problem?"

I am detecting an energy signature through the life-pod's sensors, a large one. It is my belief the signature is that of some form of energy shield.

"And?"

This signature, it encapsulates the entire planet.

"What will happen when we reach it?"

I'm not exactly sure. I've encountered such a barrier before, three millennia ago when my master went to war with the Celestial Sisters. The signatures appear to be identical, which bodes ill for our life-pod. Previously, when such a barrier was used, it was proof against every weapon that the Ark could bring to bear, and if the same can be said for the signature I am currently detecting, it is highly likely that upon contact we will be instantaneously disintegrated.

Cypher felt something in his soul sigh with resignation, accepting his imminent death with a passive, uncaring shrug. Perhaps he shouldn't have been surprised that his death would come so swiftly, after all, the conditions of his birth didn't bode well for his future; bursting as he did from the steel womb of his hibernation casket, blind, deaf, and inches from suffering a fatal psychological breakdown. Given such a birth, the Angel didn't seem quite so surprised that his own demise would follow so shortly after.

Yet even as the macabre thoughts drifted through his mind, the Angel felt something else within him, another emotion rising from his soul to counter the dispassionate resignation that had been first to emerge: anger. Why? Why should he die here? After all he'd borne witness too, after clawing his way from three millennia of sensory darkness, after being charged with the defence of an entire species, after finding out he was the last of his kind in the entire immensity of existence, why should he die here? No, he shouldn't; he didn't deserve too. Barely an hour had he been alive, and already his suffering had been greater than he could possibly conceive. Of all the things he deserved in recompense, for the trauma of his birth and the empty, hollow void of his own existence, death was something he would not accept. The anger began to smoulder within him, climbing with each passing moment as he contemplated the injustice of his brief time in reality, slowly building into a deadly fury.

Who decided that he should die here? What God had seen fit to look down upon him from the heavens, and deem that it was his burden to suffer for the brief instance of his existence, before snuffing him out in but the blink of an eye? The Angel felt the fury in his soul rail against such an unmerited fate, gritting his teeth in anger as a rage at the sheer injustice of the universe impressed itself upon him. No, he would not die here. Regardless of whether it had always been his preordained to live so briefly, he would not accept such terms. If this was the path fate had chosen for him, than he rejected it whole-sale. If this was what the God's had seen fit to bestow upon him, than he would spit upon their very existence. No, he would not die here. He would reach out and seize his destiny with his own two hands, and if he had to wage war against the whole universe in order to do so, the Angel had no qualms with such a price.

Is everything alright? I'm detecting a great deal of bio-electrical activity within your prefrontal cortex.

"E.V.E., what are the odds of our survival?"

Based on the analysis of the passage of micro-debris passing through the barrier; approximately nine-hundred and thirty-six to one. For reasons I cannot currently fathom, it would appear that the barrier is actively filtering which particles may pass through it. Objects of minimal mass and unstable composition move unimpeded through the energy field, whilst those above a certain mass seem to reduced at an atomic level. I've never encountered this kind of behaviour before in any form of energy shield that has been produced by the Royal Academy of Great Britannia; given the fact that the barrier is capable of actively filtering what may pass through and what isn't, I can only conclude that it is intelligent in some manner. In what way, however, I cannot tell.

"Nine-hundred and thirty-six to one?"

That is correct.

"I'll take those odds."

Interesting, your past self exhibited similar behaviour.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Under orders from the Arch-Angel Gabrielle, I may not debrief you on any subject matter regarding yourself, or the nature of your mission, until we make planet-fall.

For some reason he couldn't quite define, Cypher felt a sense of suspicion settle over him at the anima-spirit's words, the Angel suddenly aware and incredibly wary of the implications of such an utterance. The sensation fell across him with ease, some foreign, distant part of his mind cycling up as it processed thoughts he was unable to access. It was an unsettling sensation, to be aware that somewhere in the back of his mind thoughts and decisions were being made and factors analysed, all whilst being held aware from his conscious awareness. Briefly, Cypher wondered if it was the damage to his higher neurological functions that prevented him from accessing his own thoughts, or if something else, something more artificial, was purposefully locking him out.

A quick shake of his head swiftly cleared the paranoia.

If he was to survive any of this, Cypher knew he would need E.V.E. by his side. Though the anima-spirit obviously knew more than she was letting on, the last Angel was not ignorant to how important a part she would play in his continued survival. It had been E.V.E. who had awoken him from stasis, E.V.E. who had taught him to use his wings, E.V.E. who had taken him to the bridge to receive his mission, E.V.E. who had held him from death in the blazing inferno that was the dying Ark. Though the anima-spirit seemed to be holding cards close to her chest, Cypher knew that without her help he would never have awoken from his stasis, and that on the planet below her guidance would prove to be invaluable.

You needn't fear, Cypher. Though I am under orders to withhold information until we make planetfall, I am in no way your enemy.

"Sorry... I don't know what came over me."

Your paranoia is a documented medical condition, I understand completely.

"Paranoia?"

We are approaching the energy signature.

A faint popping noise emanated from above his head, signalling that the life-pod had begun to re-orientate itself for atmospheric entry. Beyond the viewing-port, the surface of the planet was hidden in the thick shadows of light, a few lights dotted here and there in the darkness, a bare few markers of civilisation amidst a great nothingness. Briefly the sight stirred a memory within the half-dormant mind of the Angel, the sight of another benighted world hung upon the void, clusters of dim, soulless light piercing through a permanent cloud-layer of choking, poisonous ash. The vision seemed to real, so vivid, that for a painful instant Cypher found himself unable to differentiate between the two scenes, unable to tell apart the sight of his own eyes and the ghostly hallucination of his own memory. A sharp pain began to build at the centre of his skull, as if something were lacerated his cerebral tissue with a jagged hook.

Then a shock ran through him, dispersing the vision.

The sensation itself wasn't painful, but it certainly wasn't comfortable either. For an instant the read-outs of his HUD, glowing the same icy-cyan white as when he first awakened, flickered briefly; his muscles tensing as they involuntarily contracted before, as quickly as the sensation had begun, the shock simply vanished. Taking a deep breath, Cypher steadied himself, still unsure as to what had just happened.

"E.V.E.?"

My systems indicated that you were slipping into a psycho-somatically induced hallucination, so in order to prevent a sudden onset of self-induced psychological trauma I administered a low-level electrical shock to your prefrontal cortex in order to negate transmission of the memory. I am as of yet unaware as to what caused this response from your psyche, but I shall investigate. Had I failed to prevent transmission, it is highly likely you would have suffered extreme psychological trauma.

"Pardon?"

What you just experienced was a memory, and the response it triggered briefly threatened to kill you.

"Oh..."

Contact with energy signature in ten seconds.

Beyond the viewing port, nothing had changed, nothing that would indicate they were only ten seconds away from colliding into a barrier that could potentially kill the last Angel in the blink of an eye. A stillness seemed to settle across reality as the seconds slowly wound down, time proceeding onwards in it's inevitable march. Cypher felt something within his stomach tighten, a knot that threatened to crush his insides if he so much as moved a muscle. Instead, the Angel simply held his breath, his mind suddenly becoming frightfully aware that within only a few brief moments he could be dead; destroyed at an atomic level and written out of existence. Would anyone know, the Angel briefly wondered, would anyone out there in the immense expense of the universe know the fate of the last Angel, or would he simply disappear into obscurity, with nary a single fellow being aware that he even existed?

Three... Two... One...

One moment the world was still, the next, the life-pod began to buffet violently, as if it were suddenly being tossed upon a storm-wracked scream. A fierce, unending shriek filed the tiny hollow, harsh and grating, like someone was dragging a box full of rusty nails across the length of a chalk board while simultaneously smashing a hundred panes of glass. The sensory input was overwhelming, Cypher letting loose a scream of his own as neurones began firing in his mind, neurotransmitter flooding his synapses. It was as if thousands of white-hot needles were being delicately hammered into his skull, each a most exquisite experience of agony. Readouts were flashing in his HUD, and somewhere in the back of his mind, the last Angel could feel E.V.E. working at the edge of his consciousness, the anima-spirit fighting the rising tide of electrical activity as she worked to keep him from the brink of death.

Cypher suddenly became painfully aware that without the anima-spirit's presence in his skull, he would have mostly likely been dead by now.

Beyond the viewing port sparks of scarlet were twisting and writhing as the outer-surface of the life-pod burrowed through the protective barrier, the tortured metal squealing as it threatened to crumble beneath the immense force of the barricade. A pressure began to build behind Cypher's eyes, as it someone were slowly squeezing the delicate tissue of his brain until it had been reduced to bloody pulp. The pressure worsened as cold trendils of numbness began to worm down the length of his spine and diffuse into his body, probing his flesh. The trendils spread until not a single inch of his body had been spared their presence, his skull threatening to cave in on itself, before, in a single, horrifying instant of clarity, Cypher felt someone, something, turn its attention towards him. For what seemed like an eternity, the last Angel found himself beneath the scrutinizing gaze of something truly vast and ancient, something that looked into the very deepest recess of his soul and in its unknown depths sought to gain full knowledge of his purpose in existence.

It was an odd sensation, to say the least. Cypher felt the numbness within his heart seem to deepen, his chest so dead that it seemed almost inconceivable that the mass of muscle within was still capable of beating, whilst the pressure in his skull seemed to focus into a single point of refined agony at the very periphery of his consciousness. The sentience, if that was accurate enough a description for whatever entity was currently coiling through his mind, seemed to tightening itself around his brain, slowly suffocating his very existence as it pushed deeper for what it sought. What it searched for, Cypher couldn't say, but as he cast his own awareness into self-reflection, looking within himself to try and rationalise what the entity was searching for, he seemed to meet something, some sort of barricade that was holding him from his own thoughts. The last Angel suddenly became acutely aware that beyond that barrier was something – perhaps knowledge, perhaps memories, perhaps emotions too powerful to ever be experienced – of such dire import that its very existence had been purposefully hidden from him; and whatever the entity was searching for was on the other side of that barricade.

He tried to scream, tried to shout, tried to call E.V.E. for help, yet all he could manage was a mute whimper.

The coiling ice around his consciousness suddenly clenched tighter, Cypher letting a choked gasp pass his lips as he felt the entity constrict itself so tightly he half-expected his head to simply implode. Within his chest his heart was pumping erratically, beating hard against his ribs as if it sought to burst free from his very flesh, whilst his throat seemed to constrict shut, the last Angel struggling to draw breath as a sharp, stabbing pain suddenly ripped through his skull. Images, moving swifter than comprehension, tumbled through the Angel's mind, the deluge of scenes reduced to little more than a blur as a torrent of withheld memories seemed to burst through the barricade of his mind. Of the ever shifting mass of colour, sound, and emotion, Cypher was too pained to even provide his full comprehension, the last Angel barely capable of maintaining consciousness as the numbing trendils began to withdraw from mind. For one final instance, Cypher was held above an abyss of exquisite agony, tears streaming from dead, exhausted eyes as he drowned in a horrid surge of grief, sorrow, anger, confusion, love, and loss; one final torrent of memory and emotion threatening to utterly consume him before the entity was suddenly gone, and the sentience's attention directed elsewhere, no longer heeding of the lone organic life-form as it descended to the world below.

It seemed an eternity before he was capable of movement again, the last Angel of mankind struggling to rationalise his existence as he stared blankly into the upper corner of the life-pod, thin trickles of blood seeping from his tear ducts. Why? Why was this happening? What cruel God would allow such torment to befall a soul who'd barely awakened to the vastness of the universe? Questions circled within his mind, each as hopeless and disparate as the one preceding, yet no answer was given, no consolation offered for the agony of his existence. None. All that could be heard was silence, and the faint patter of his bloody tears and they dripped from his chin and fell upon the grime stained fabric of his hibernation gowns.

Drip... Drip... Drip...

Wait...

"E.V.E.?" he managed in a choked voice, his words littler more than guttural moans so quite they were barely audible. "E.V.E.?"

Within his mind came a reply, something that sounded like a cross between static interference and a deep, booming echo. For several long, painful seconds Cypher waited with baited breath, listening to the silence and static as he prayed that his travelling companion was alive within the artificial wiring of his skull, and that he hadn't been abandoned to face existence alone, before finally, with a voice as faint as his, the anima-spirit replied.

Do not fear, Cypher, I still live.

Cypher allowed a faint smile to pull at the edges of his mouth, his muscles giving up in exhaustion a few moments later in their weakness. "We... made it?"

Correct, we have passed through the energy signature, and are now within the atmosphere of Habitable-Biome zero-zero-two. According to our current trajectory, we will be making surface contact within minutes.

"Won..." Cypher paused mid-sentence, flecks of blood and spittle leaving his mouth as he coughed weakly. "Wonderful..."

There is just one issue.

"Pardon?"

The life-pod's transition through the energy signature placed an incredible amount of tension upon the pod's inner structure, causing severe damage. The life-pod will begin breaking up momentarily.

Cypher felt something within the ragged shreds of his heart slump in resignation.

"Oh..."

As if on cue, the life-pod suddenly let out a horrendous shriek; a sharp, keening wail like that of some terrible banshee seeking sustenance for its incorporeal flesh. A thick storm of sparks burst from every surface of the pod's interior, searing dozens of small holes into the Angel's already decrepit, stained clothing as the life-pod's electronic systems began a cataclysmic malfunction, each spark nipping at the skin like a gnat of fire. The Angel's HUD suddenly revved into life, data-streams pouring into his vision as E.V.E. patched into what was left of Life-pod's onboard systems, relaying information between herself and the on-board, low function anima-spirit. Beyond the viewing port the wild scarlet sparks had died, instead now replaced with a painfully bright orange nimbus of fire as the life-pod began atmospheric re-entry, a contrail of golden fire in its wake as it arced across the star-studded canvas of Luna's night sky.

The flight, whilst turbulent when he had been passing through the energy signature, was now something more akin to being tossed on a storm-wracked ocean than atmospheric re-entry. Save for the blinding glowing of the golden contrail outside the viewing port, Cypher could make out nothin but the cold light of his HUD, the rest of the world reduced to a cataclysmic confusion of shrieking wails, dancing sparks, and his own, heart-rending fear. Throwing his arms up to shielding his eyes from the tempest of flying sparks, Cypher raised his voice in a cry as the life-pod suddenly buckled, a particularly sharp squeal of tortured metal briefly rising above the ongoing screaming. "E.V.E.!"

Remain calm. The anima-spirit replied within his mind, her voice firmer and stronger than before, reinforced by an undercurrent of fierce determination. I am afraid all on-board functions are beginning to fail. The propulsion units have already reached shut-down and we've also lost anti-gravitic capabilities. Life-support is offline an-. A sudden burst of fresh sparks fell from above, the last Angel hissing in pain as they seared the sensitive flesh of his shoulders and neck. And we've just lost the on-board anima-spirit. I am afraid we now lack the capacity to alter the life-pod's vectoring.

"What can we do?" Cypher managed as the panel next to his face suddenly burst loose, a storm of metal shards ricocheting within the confines of the life-pod as several pieces chose to embed themselves within his flesh.

Nothing, this level of damage is beyond my capacity to repair.

Without warning, the front of the life-pod was suddenly torn free in a violent fury of shattering glass, metal shards, golden fire, and continuous, unending screaming, a full half of the life-pod's bulk jettisoned in the blink of an eye to leave the last Angel exposed to the raging inferno of his own descent. Fire and wind whipped against his features, the sensations entailed by both so similar that Cypher found himself unable to differentiate between the sharp, icy touch of high-altitude and the searing, scorching conflagration that was consuming the life-pod. Cypher cried out in surprise above the roar of the wind, pushing backwards into his seat as tongues of fire threatened to scorch his flesh.

Cypher, we are running out of time. The buckled harness that held Cypher in place suddenly dislodged itself, each protective strip retracting into the seat behind him, increasing the Angel's range of movement exponentially, and allowing him to climb free from the life-pod's lone seat. I understand that this may be a harrowing experience for you. But I need you to act now, or we will both die, and humanity will lose its salvation. I need you to follow my instructions to the letter, understand? There was an almost organic edge of fear in E.V.E.'s voice, the modulated voice mimicking the expression so well that for a brief moment Cypher failed to realise he was engaging with little more than a data-programme. Nodding his head, the last Angel stomach his fear and grit his teeth.

"Yes."

Good. Get out of the life-pod.

Pulling one hand free from the flying wreck that was the life-pod, Cypher clung for dear life as he pulled himself from his seat. Above him, beyond the fires of decaying pod, the stars of the void winked at him, so impossibly calm and tranquil in comparison to the chaos of his own existence; whilst below, distant yet stealing ever closer, clusters of light, pin-pricks of civilisation amongst an ink-black ocean of barbarism, growing larger with each passing moment. Stretching out behind the wreck of the life-pod, the contrail of golden fire came streaming from what remained of the pod's thrusters, a trio of triangular nozzles clustered together at the base of the pod. The pod itself was heavily damaged, but thankfully not the extent that he'd envisioned; the majority of its external plating having broken loose to reveal the delicate inner-workings, blood-red flames and black smoke leaking from within as the life-pod continued its terminal decay.

Looking down to where his hand gripped the pod, his grip so tight that the knuckles had turned white, Cypher saw with some shock he'd actually created a dent in the metal; so strong was his fear of death. "I'm out of the life-pod," he told E.V.E. over the wind's roar. "Now what?"

The systems are too badly damaged for me to acquire accurate coordinates of our drop-zone, but based on current telemetry we're heading towards a location recorded in the Ark's archives as the Royal Ruins. When the time comes, I will need you to manually jettison from the life-pod. Statistically, you will be more likely to survive the descent with your wings than if you remain in the pod itself.

"Are you sure about this?!"

I am thirty-nine percent certain that this shall succeed, with an error margin of three percent.

"I... I'm not so sure I like those odds."

Whether you like them or not is irrelevant. If you do not jump, you will die. If you do jump, there is a chance you will not die. It is that simple.

Nodding in grim acceptance, Cypher turned to gaze at the landscape below him as it raced by, little more than a blur at his current speed. Though it was the dead of night, the sun clearly absent from the sky, the night was alive beneath the gentle silver glow of the moon, the silver orb itself hung above the world, pale and beautiful in the silence of the twilight. Beneath him, the ground was bathed in the moons illumination, its features visible only as faint silhouettes and darkened clusters of shadows. Ahead of the life-pod, and approaching rapidly, a small chain of mountains jutted from the surface of the world, each peak capped with thick layer of glittering snow. The closest, also the largest, seemed to bear signs of habitation, one face covered in faint, warm orange lights. To the left, the world seemed to stretch away in the distance, flat and featureless, save for the gentle undulations of the landscape, and the few pin-pricks of light that shone out in the darkness.

Time seemed to lose it relevance as Cypher clung for his life amidst the smoking ruins of the life-pod, the passage of individual seconds too abstract a concept to have any meaningful relation to the imminent fear that course through his being. Adrenaline sang within him, every fibre of his being coiling and constricting as Cypher fought the paralysis that threatened to seize him, threatened to bind him to the wreckage of the life-pod until its descent finished with a final, climactic end of fire and shrapnel. Fear had seized him, a deep, soul scourging fear that sought to extinguish what little hope the last Angel continued to kindle within his heart; the one source of light which, for all his trials and pains during his brief existence, refused to succumb to the predations of misery. What could retain such an emotion within him, Cypher couldn't honestly say; how could one maintain faith through such experiences as his?

Yet, it was still there, buried deep within him; a flickering candle amidst the darkness of his reality. There was something almost... instinctual about it, Cypher gleaning from such hope a sense of raw, unshakable belief and resolve. Perhaps it was simply a part of his survival instinct, the subconscious desire within his mind to claim each bitter moment of life, to persevere regardless of the odds; it was the most logical explanation for the continued existence of such irrational belief. But even such a concise, scientific rationalisation of the strange knot in his heart seemed too clinical, too cold. Whatever it was the continued to flicker within the depths of his heart, Cypher suddenly felt seized by the strong urge to foster such hope, the last Angel realising somewhere within the broken web of his higher functions that without such a basic hope to persevere he would swiftly meet his own demise.

From within him, from the same hidden hollow that shielded the flickering embers of his hope, came something else, a sudden, wild sense of exultation. What it was, and what inspired it, Cypher was at a loss to say. Whatever it was, as the surge of uplifting emotion ran through him, the last Angel knew that there was no words in existence that could accurately define such a sensation. The air was cool against his dirt-grimed features, ice-cold where it met the streams of blood leaking from his tear-ducts, and whipping at his face as it caught the length of his hair, sending its soot-stained strands flying out behind him in the wind. Each breath was fresh and clear, a far cry from the stagnant, stale air of the Ark that he had taken his first breaths upon. Even from so high up, the scents of life reached him, the last Angel taking a deep draught from the air as he took in every scent, every fragrance; the heavy musk of vegetation and the delicate perfume of wild-flowers. For the briefest of moments, the world seemed to fall away from the last Angel, the physical stimuli of reality receding to leave behind a world forged of sound and scent, a world of impulse, action and reaction.

The mountain peak suddenly seemed to come rearing from the shadows, rising from the blackness below in the manner of some mighty beast ascending from the lightless depths of the deep ocean. At the very peak, twinkling in the silver light of the moon and the fainter illumination of the stars, the snow cap of the mountain glittered like the diamond studded crown of some magnificent regent; a lord formed from the very bones of the world. From the lowest rims of the snow-cap, streams of crystal clear spring-water trickled their way down the northern face, slowly binding together to form a swift flowing river that ran a fair course before meeting a jutting lip of rock against the north face, where it promptly plunged from the mountains heights into the verdant valley below.

But it wasn't the natural beauty of the peak that seized the attention of the last Angel, it was the clusters of light that marked it.

Gathered together on the shelf of rock where the mountain stream flowed into the open void of high-altitude, vibrant, bright lights, like those of a fire-fly colony, twinkled in the night; a city built into the mountains very stone. Large boulevards cut across the cities lengths: wide, grand, and where they met in junctions, made opulent by the presence of decorative statues and commemorative memorials. Splitting off from these grand through-fares were a myriad number of smaller roads, each in turn devolving into narrower and narrower streets; the circulatory system of a metropolis. From an altitude such as his, Cypher had difficulty making out any specific buildings, but from the rear of the city, thrusting up into the sky like needles of marble, a cluster of elegant spires rose from an incredible base of walls, towers, halls, and gardens; a palace of the Gods, armoured in white marble and gold panelling, studded with a thousand rainbow hues of flickering light.

As his eyes settled upon it, Cypher felt the sudden surge of wild exultation within his soul suddenly die, crushed beneath his remembrance of the knowledge that, though his existence was as of yet a brief one, it was an existence driven by a purpose. There was a reason he had been fashioned into the winged form that he held, a reason he had been suspended within the depths of the Ark, a reason that after three-thousand four-hundred years of silence he had been born back into reality: to free humanity from slavery. True, he was as of yet unaware of the semantics of their slavery, of what it was exactly that withheld humanity from following its own destiny; but regardless, the release of an entire species from subjugation was, in itself, a cyclopean task, and never one to be taken lightly. Perhaps he would face whatever entity resided within the walls of that gilded palace, perhaps, somewhere within its opulent halls and majestic structure, there awaited the one who held dominion over humanity, watching as he made his descent from the heavens.

For a handful of seconds the Angel regarded the metropolis before him, shining out into the darkness of the night in defiance of its shadows. And then it was gone, and the life-pod continued to rocket towards the surface of the world.

Sailing past the lights of the city, the life-pod began making its final descent towards Habitable-Biome zero-zero-two, arcing across the sky whilst a verdant valley opened up beneath it. With the lights of the city gone, the life-pod was swiftly subsumed by the darkness of the night, Cypher realising that at any moment he could come smashing into the ground with enough force to reduce his body to bloody pulp, and that he was all but blind to it. "E.V.E.?" he called out, the words all but torn from his mouth by the wind as it rushed past. "I can't see a thing out here, it's too dark!"

Be calm, Cypher, I have a counter-measure in place.

Before he could even open his mouth to ask, Cypher felt pulse run through his mind, as if hundreds of sparks were being set off at once. Within his vision, his HUD seemed to expand, its icy-cyan illumination intensifying as thousands of minute lines began to flicker into existence, gradually increasing in number until everything visible was silhouetted in his vision by an outline of icy-cyan, providing the last Angel with the ability to finally pierce through the darkness around him. several dozen miles ahead, and approaching rapidly, a small settlement rose from the base of the valley, little more a hundred or so buildings at the most; the lights of the quite town dim against the silver light of the moon. Noting down its position, Cypher saved the knowledge of the villages approximate location within his mind, noting with some trepidation that, other than the city, it seemed to be the only habitation for miles.

Yet as quickly as the village had come it was gone, and it was only a bare few moments later that Cypher found himself shooting over what seemed to be the incredible density of a forest, the ground beneath him all but obscured by the rippling bowers of vast trees. Realising that he was only a hundred or so meters above the tops of the trees, Cypher readied himself, the ignition rings of his wings beginning to cycle up as he subconsciously roused the flight instincts within him; synthetic wings beginning to unfurl as he rose from his crouched position within the life-pod until he was nearly fully standing, his grip still as firm as ever. Be vigilant. E.V.E. abruptly warned him, her presence so sudden that Cypher nearly released his grip on the life-pod. We will be making planetfall within thirty seconds.

Time seemed to slow as Cypher spread his wings, the last Angel dully aware somewhere at the back of his mind that within thirty seconds he could be dead, little more than bloody paste staining the forest floor. Yet even as the thoughts occurred Cypher dismissed them, fully aware that if he dwelt on such morbid thoughts it would be much more likely that they'd come to pass. Twenty seconds. E.V.E. notified in her monotonous voice. Manual ejection in five seconds. Cypher felt the knot in his stomach tighten.

Four seconds.

His palms were becoming sweaty.

Three seconds.

The roar of the wind had died in his ears, replaced instead with the hollow rattling of his own breath as he took shallow gulps of air.

Two seconds.

The ignition rings began to whine loudly, a fierce orange glow suffusing them as ionised particles simply awaited to be released.

One second.

Oh God. This was really happening?!

Manual ejection, now!

With a roar of fear and confusion, Cypher leapt from the burning wreckage of the life-pod, ignition rings firing as he tumbled through the frigid air towards the surface of the world. Everything became a mass of confusion, his vision reduced to little more than spinning blurs and obscure patterns as he struggled to arrest his path into something more understandable and manageable. The roar had returned to his ears, his heart beating within his chest with such violence it threatened to burst through his ribs. The whine of his ignition rings suddenly died, the harsh noise simply dissipating as Cypher realised with a horrendous jolt that there was nothing to prevent his imminent collision with the ground. Somewhere, a muffled explosion filled the air as the Life-pod met the ground; shards of shrapnel and stone burying themselves within the Angel's flesh. Crying out with fear, Cypher barely had to time register the pain before he smacked into the ground hard, his body impacting against a patchwork of rubble flagstones. A sharp pain flared within his chest, Cypher struggling for breath as he bounced twice more, his wings throwing up showers of sparks with each collision.

For a few heartbeats longer, the world was a unrendered blur of obscure images and bone-deep pain before, with one final impact, Cypher felt his whole body smash into something hard, cold, and unyielding. Stars scattered across his vision, his HUD flickered before shutting off entirely. Clinging to consciousness, Cypher held on to his awareness long enough to hear E.V.E. utter a final sentence before allowing his shattered body to slip into the peace of utter exhaustion.

Secondary Objective complete. Planetfall to Habitable-Biome zero-zero-two: successful.

Author's Note

Well, it took a while, but here's the second chapter. Sorry it took me so long to get it finished.

Anyways; WOW. One chapter in and The Heavenfall already has 788 favourites and 538 thumbs up! Thanks for all your support guys, and rest assured that I shall do my best to ensure The Heavenfall remains a readable fic.

As ever, comments are always appreciated; so if there's anything about the story you'd like to point out, or you just wanna stroke my ego for me, be sure to leave one. Also, three lucky readers, selected at random, shall receive the viewing password for any unreleased chapters, so fingers crossed! Again, thanks for your patience, and stay tuned for the next chapter of The Heavenfall.

Erol.

III: Assignment Of The Patriarch.

It was a glorious day.

Though the sun had barely risen on the city of Canterlot, the magnificent capital of Equestria, the Royal Palace was already a hive of activity, every administrative office and public department on high alert as they prepared for the incoming barrage of city watch reports, journalists requesting interviews, and pacifying the frightened populace with an official declaration as to what they saw last night. Truthfully, no one – a brave few even dared to whisper not even the Celestial Sisters – knew exactly what the meteor that hurtled past the city the previous night, and it was there that the gears of bureaucracy were already at work; producing a declaration of lies to pacify the riled aristocracy, afraid the phenomenon may result in some loss to their pampered lives.

However, though every office and officially designated wing was filled with the rapid movements of jittering clerks and nervous adjutants, Shining Armour ignored it all, marching through the busy halls of the palace with a palpable aura of authority and purpose that parted the thick crowds before him. Gleaming in the bright sunlight that fell through the windows above, his ornate battle plate, scarred and battered, but none the less radiant, clicked slightly with each hoof step, the sound of metal on metal a quiet repetition in all the commotion; while attached to his flank was the venerable weapon Starlight Wrath, the hereditary weapon of his office. Those around the soldier bowed their heads in respect as he walked by, near reverent in their acknowledgement of his great heroics performed in service to his nation. After all, there wasn't a single pony in Equestria who hadn't heard of Shining Armour, Alicorn Patriarch of the Celestial Guard.

Moving through the corridors and halls of the palace with a determined step, Shining Armour was swift in his passage from the guard barracks in the lower levels of the structure towards the great hall of the Celestial Sisters, the crowd slowly filtering out as he made his way through the administrative wings towards the more secluded Inner Palace. To those unfamiliar with the castle beyond their designated work-stations, the inner chambers of the palace lent themselves an unsettling air of power, an aura that was too formidable for those of lesser capabilities to stomach. The very air seemed to crackle with an undercurrent of energy, as if the very walls were infused with aethereal power. These halls were where the serious business of government was conducted by the Celestial Sisters and their advisors; not a place for the average pony to be allowed to simply trot through.

Of the commotion from the previous night, Shining Armour didn't lend much thought. Though his duty was the protection of the nation, the Alicorn knew also that Equestria was a realm of impossibilities, a place where the arcane and magical, those things beyond the ken of a mortal mind, were very real and very much a force to be reckoned with. Not a day went past that some phenomenon or other reached the Patriarch's ear as a possible threat to the nations security, and though he personally investigated many of the reports that made their way to his desk, the Alicorn knew that for every genuine report to cross the threshold of his chambers another ten wastes of ink and parchment accompanied it. In the face of such matters, the Patriarch was content to simply leave the duty of selecting targets to his rulers. As a good soldier, he would follow any order given to him; that was his duty.

Becoming visible as he made one final turn through the silent halls of the Inner Palace, gleaming at the end of a massive corridor over a hundred meters in length and thirty in height, the grand double-doors of the Throne Room practically shone in the gentle sunlight of the holy sun as it poured through the magnificent stained-glass windows that lined the walls. A pair of twin doors, both at least fifteen meters in height and seven meters wide, formed the bulwark between the Palace and the Throne Room, both plated in the finest gold and studded through with glittering gems. On the left door a profile of the Solar Princess had been worked from the metal, her head raised proudly and horn glowing in the brilliant aura of the diamonds from which it was sculpted. The right bore the profile of Luna, her own head also thrown up in a display of power and prominence. At the centre of the two doors the Alicorns horns met, a brilliant emerald had been set into the exact centre, the peripheries of both constructs bulging with minute carving and symbols.

Flanking it on either side were the armoured forms of two members of the Celestial Guard, their eyes gazing passively and their expressions fixed into those of dispassion. Shining Armour came within ten meters of the door before coming to a halt, waiting patiently as he prepared to declare his intent; these were the wardens, charged with guarding the Throne Room of the Solar Princess, and none were permitted to enter without their leave, regardless of rank or birth. "Present." came the deep grumble of the left-hoof guard, the pony himself not deigning to direct his attention towards Shining Armour, but content to let his words echo within the empty air of the Inner Palace.

"Patriarch Shining Armour of the Celestial Guard," came the reply, Shining himself keeping his attention locked on the emerald of the door. "I have been summoned by order of the Solar Princess."

There was a moment's silence, the wardens conversing between themselves in some unseen manner as Shining Armour remained stationary before the door. Though it couldn't have been more than five seconds before he heard the reply, Shining Armour could feel time stretching out before him, his heart rate elevating as he stood beneath the scrutiny of the wardens. True, he passed through these doors almost every day, but since the very first moment he'd been permitted to enter in the presence of the Celestial Sisters, Shining Armour had always been pensive when standing before the Throne Room's doors. He never tried to dwell on such a sensation, but each time, in the deepest pits of his stomach, the stallion knew that beyond those doors were two creatures not of this world; two sisters who were not ponies, but something... other.

"Proceed."

The twin doors began to swing open of their own accord at the words, a faint clicking signalling they had disengaged before they gently began to pull apart with nothing but a faint whoosh of moving air. They parted with unhurried grace, the gap between them slowly widening, through which the Patriarch could make out a few details of the Throne Room; bathed as it was in brilliantly intense light. Finally the doors had swung to their fullest extent and, taking a moment to ready himself, Shining Armour nodded to the wardens before proceeding into the Throne Room, his ears twitching as the doors silently closed behind him and locked with an imperceptible click.

The Throne Room was blinding.

Light poured into the chamber on both sides through enormous, thirty meter high windows, each an incredibly vibrant blend of multichromatic glass-shards that refracted the beams into glorious rainbows of colour. The Throne Room itself easily stretched to two hundred meters in length, the vast expanse of the floor paved with snow-white marble, veined through with mineral deposits of gold, pink, and midnight blue. High above, hung from magnificent buttresses beatified by the impossibly life-like carvings of frolicking Pegausi, Unicorns, and Earth-ponies, dozens of banners stirred in the calm atmosphere of the chamber; each of impossible value and representative of a great victory of the equestrian nation. Adorning some were the woven forms of deadly chimera and other mythical beasts, their monstrous forms depicted with breath-taking accuracy. Across the surfaces of others were instead scenes of battle and conflict, of war, conquest, death, and blood-shed; declarations of Equestria's victory over her enemies, each custom woven in commemoration of the past and the great deeds done there.

At the centre of each window pane could be found similar motifs and murals, but Shining Armour paid the delicate works little heed as he trotted past. When he had first been permitted into the sacred chamber of the Throne Room, the strongest memory Shining Armour retained of the event was the sheer sense of wonder that had dawned upon his soul when he had set eyes upon the works contained therein; the coltish surge of excitement that had nearly driven him to rush towards every artefact and mural he could find. Within himself he could feel the same current of wonder flowing through his soul, threatening to expose itself as he passed a twenty-five meter high mosaic of Discord, the Draconequs' twisted visage and serpentine coils rippling with faux movement in the reflection of the light against the tiny ceramic chips.

The sight of such a beautiful work of art always seemed to extol the young colt within him, but Shining Armour had held his post for fifteen years, and knew that within the sanctified walls of the Throne Room there was no permit for foalish behaviour; from within this very chamber ruled two Demi-Gods, those who had guided and nurtured the Equine species from the very birth of the world, when Faust had seen fit to purge the world of Fae taint and bequeath it to a form of life much more pleasing to her eye. Thus, it was with a soldier's composure that Shining Armour made his way towards the dual thrones before him; the heavy clanking of his hoof-steps muffled by the luxuriously thick, royal-purple carpet that ran beneath him as the Patriarch kept his eyes forward, back straight, and head held high. He was a soldier of Equestria, after all, and he bore the weight of such a title with honour and dignity.

Finally crossing the vast expanse of the Throne Room, the Patriarch came to a halt before the dual thrones of his rulers, standing to perfect attention. Before him rose a sharply tiered dais, topped by two thrones carved from the finest marble; both further beatified by the presence of hundreds of minute inlays and murals intricately worked into the smooth surfaces; he bowed without hesitation. Though the thrones were currently unoccupied, it didn't need to be impressed upon the young Alicorn that he stood before an object of incredible power; he could practically feel the waves of power radiating off it against his coat. Holding his bow the soldier simply waited for the arrival of his monarch, his muzzle barely an inch from the floor in supplication.

No courtiers appeared to inform him the Solar Princess would be with him shortly, no fanfare sounded as the glorious ruler made her way into the Throne Room; the Solar Princess was a creature beyond the ken of any mortal being, pony or otherwise, and as such no earthly force to bid her to appear within the physical plain without consent. It was all Shining Armour could do to simply wait in silence, the minutes ticking past before the utter silence of the Throne Room was suddenly broken by an intense burst of light, much too bright for Shining Armour's mortal eye to handle. No sound was made, no echo shattered the perfect stillness of the Throne room; were it not for the sudden lance of brilliance that had fallen upon him, Shining Armour would have judged himself as still being alone within the Chamber. For a few moments long Shining Armour held his pose before a gentle, melodic voice reached his ears.

"Rise, my little Patriarch."

Perched upon the right-hoof throne, her multichromatic mane rippling in an aethereal breeze, Celestia, the Solar Princess and first daughter of Faust, graced Shining Armour with a warm and gentle smile, her expression one of maternal love. She was beautiful, as if she had been carved from alabaster by the divine hoof of Faust herself. Tall, graceful, elegant, the Solar Princess was the embodiment of physical perfection; her toned hind-legs rising up to what was possibly the most exquisite flank in the entire nation, which was in turn blemished only by the holy sigil of the Celestial Sun. The features of her muzzle were formed with absolute perfection, placed in perfect symmetry to one another; devoid of all imperfections, while her golden eyes glowed with suffused power.

She was beyond such words a beautiful, gorgeous, and elegant. No earthly term could define the sheer magnificence of her physical form.

Pulling himself from the ground, Shining Armour felt a familiar surge of reverential awe pulse within his soul, an unheralded compulsion to worship the creature before him. Though she possessed a form of flesh and blood, it had always been an unspoken truth amongst the ponies of Equestria that neither the Solar, nor the Lunar, Princess were of earthly descent, nor constrained by the same boundaries and limitations of physical existence as everypony else. Of their exact nature, as to what form of existence they inhabited, was unknown; but amongst the scholars and theocrats of the nation there was but a single certainty that had been held from one generation to the next since time immemorial.

That the Celestial Sisters, the diarchs of Equestria, were children of the Divine.

This... difference was by no means a subtle thing that one could overlook by accident. Aside from their unrivalled aethereal abilities, physically, the Celestial Sisters were naturally far more imposing than even the most strongly built soldier of the Imperial Host, and easily a full head and shoulders above the average citizen. Shining Armour himself was a full six feet tall, maybe an inch over, but even then it was only within the last two years that he'd grown tall enough to look Luna fully in the eye; as for the Celestia, the Solar Princess stood a good foot above the both of them. But it was not simply a matter of physiology that separated the Celestial Sisters from the species they ruled, but anatomy as well; for, like Shining Armour himself, Celestia and Luna were incredibly rare specimens, members of a race so depleted that they stood on the utmost brink of extinction.

They were Alicorns.

Thrusting from her fore-head, the elegant helical spiral of Celestia's ivory horn winked in the brilliant sunlight as the Solar Princess made herself comfortable upon her throne, the royal flank shifting against the soft silk of a few well-placed cushions. "How fares the day, Patriarch, I trust the commotion amongst the administrative staff isn't affecting the operations of your ponies?"

"It fares well, my princess," Shining Armour replied, allowing a slight smile to pass across his muzzle. Though she may have extended pleasantries towards him, Shining Armour knew that regardless of her manner Celestia was, and always would be, his ruler, and should be afforded the corresponding respect and compliance as such. The question itself, just like much of the idle chit-chat the Solar Princess indulged in, was simply to placate the anxiety within the hearts of those in her presence; a refined tactic to bridge the divide between her subjects and herself. "I have the honour of informing your royal highness that the Celestial Guard are performing at peak efficiency given the circumstances we find ourselves in; reports of domestic disturbances have increased over the past eight hours, and the number of human-related offenses has risen exponentially."

"Indeed," Celestia acknowledged with a grave tone, nodding her head in understanding. "It would seem that last night's comet has stirred up quite a panic amongst the populace. I too have received similar documents from the dukes: the provinces are quite upset with the events of the previous evening." The Solar Princess allowed a warm smile to grace her muzzle, raising a hoof as she giggled lightly. "True, last night's pyrotechnics were a bit... unexpected, but from the way the nobility carry on, one would believe that humanity was at loose in the streets. I trust you haven't faced any similar issues, Patriarch?"

"None, my princess. The Celestial Guard have been deployed across Canterlot and the surrounding counties, and have successfully managed to quell any human attempts to disturb the peace. Currently the Guard has suffered zero casualties, but they're ready at a moment's notice to redeploy should your highness give the order."

"Most excellent, Patriarch, as to be expected." A dark look flashed across the muzzle of the Solar Princess, her mask of perfect self-control slipping ever-so-slightly. To one who had never been within the presence of royalty, the slip was undetectable, the faintest twitch of her eye-brow too well hidden to be found; but Shining Armour had held his position for over a decade, and one did not simply serve as Patriarch of the Celestial Guard without discovering for themselves the minute errors of the Celestial Sisters. Privately, the Patriarch realised that the events of last night had disturbed the Solar Princess more than she was letting on. "But, I'm afraid that I have other, more pressing concerns that I must discuss with you."

"Speak, and I shall obey, my princess."

Celestia smiled, rising from her throne on four toned, slender legs to descend the throne dais. "Ever the loyal soldier, aren't you, my little Patriarch?"

"Honour is found in the execution of duty."

"Indeed," came the reply in an uncharacteristically distant tone, Celestia stepping from the dais onto the plush carpet. "Walk with me, Patriarch. What I am about to divulge is a matter of the utmost importance, to such an extent I find myself requiring relief. Come; let us wander through the palace gardens." Nodding in wordless compliance, Shining Armour followed the Solar Princess as she spun and made her way behind the dual throne, to where a small, unadorned door of dark oak opened up onto a raised terrace of gleaming marble, beyond which could be seen the most stunning vista of the palace gardens, every flowerbed and grove alive with the intense, vibrant colours of summer flora. Stepping out through the doorway, the Patriarch allowed himself a faint sigh of relief as a cool breeze gentle kissed against his neck, soothing in comparison to the weight of his ceremonial armour.

Overhead, the holy sun blazed in the sky, crawling closer and closer to the noon peak before he would once more begin to descend towards the distant horizon, and his lunar wife would rise to hold dominion. Though glorious had also been a byword for the incredible beauty of Celestia's day, something about today seemed particularly intense; the sun almost blinding, even when viewed from the periphery. Here and there, buzzing to and fro with the industrious manner of busy little bees, gardeners made their way through the flowerbeds, pruning and nurturing wherever they saw fit whilst several humans in attendance gathered up what had been cut-away for later disposal with respectfully bowed heads. Pausing at the terrace's balcony for a few moments, Celestia took a moment to savour the sight of her garden, taking a deep breath of sweet pollen as the ambrosial scent of the flowerbeds washed over her, before descending a flight of shallow steps and entering into the gardens proper.

"Tell me, Shining Armour," Celestia began after a few minutes of silent trotting through what seemed to be endless rows of flowers and bushes. "What do you know of humanity?"

The Patriarch, confused by the abrupt question, allowed an errant frown to cross his features. "Pardon, my princess?"

"The humans of the realm; what do you know about them?"

There was a brief lull in the conversation as Shining Armour tried to surmise whatever factor could cause such a question to be asked. True, he and the Solar Princess often became locked in discussion over events that could have ramifications for the nation as a whole, and even debates on the mannerisms of dragons, but never had his princess ever wished to make humanity the item of conversation. Ruler though she was, humanity was an inferior species, best left to be managed by the bureaucrats; hardly a subject worthy of the Solar Monarch. Wracking his mind, Shining Armour formed as full an answer as he could.

"Truthfully, my princess, I must confess to a lack of knowledge on the part of humanity," he began, the faintest flush running up his cheeks. "I know the basics of their kind: their inferiority, the weakness of their bodies, the knowledge that is becoming of a soldier. But as to actual knowledge of the human race itself: their culture, philosophy, and theological practices, I am utterly lacking in detail."

"Oh, really?" A rueful smile passed across the muzzle of the Solar Princess, her slender neck turning as she looked about herself. Spotting a Gardner nearby tending to a bed of blooming roses, human assistant in tow, the princess allowed her smile to widen. "Allow us then, to rectify the situation." With her patriarch in tow, Celestia promptly made her way towards the gardener. The human assistant, a female, looked up momentarily, and, seeing who was approaching, promptly turned as white as the monarch's coat, turning back with wide eyes to tap on the flank of her designated handler. The pony herself shook off the human's touch dismissively, but, upon turning her head and spotting the princess approaching, promptly stood up from the flower bed she was working on, doing her best to brush away the dirt from her overalls and appear presentable.

Celestia gave the mare a warm smile, Shining Armour nodding his own head respectfully before glowering at the human female disapprovingly, causing the woman to take a nervous half-step backwards, her head lowered as she emitted a squeak of fear. "Your royal highness!" the gardener greeted in a flustered voice, an obvious blush rising on her cheeks. "How may I be of service?"

"Good day my little pony," Celestia replied, her voice soft and soothing. "I was simply walking through the gardens, admiring the splendid work you've all been putting in, and the a passing fancy came upon me. I would like to speak with your human, if you wouldn't mind."

"I-I... of course not, your highness," the mare replied with obvious confusion, her tail batting against the humans back. The woman seemed almost petrified, nearly stumbling over her own feet as she took the slightest step towards the princess, her eyes firmly fixed upon the ground. Shining Armour let a subtle growl escape his muzzle as she did so, the woman twitching at the sound. Glowering at woman, the Patriarch gave her a level gaze before turning to the Solar Princess, a mixture of disgust and annoyance on his muzzle.

"Princess, please, you have no need for this. The humans are beneath you, please don't sully your ears with this creature's voice."

"At ease, Patriarch. She is merely a woman," Celestia replied, directing her attention towards the human in question. Instantly there was a change in her demeanour, her persona of a maternal, caring princess seamlessly dropping to be replaced with that of a cold, aloof, imperialist queen. The human female quelled beneath her gaze, almost seeming to curl into herself as the equine monarch fixed her with a withering stare. "Your name?"

Little more than a whimper left the woman's mouth, the human jolting with fear at the sound of Celestia's voice. She was a small creature, perhaps no more than twenty at the most, and, at little over five feet, small by human standards. Truthfully, Shining Armour knew not what to make of her, ignorant as he was of humanity's standard of beauty. Golden, shoulder length hair fell across the humans face, serving to shield her from Celestia's ire, whilst a pair of light blue eyes seemed to sparkle with tears. Gasping for breath, the human managed another choked gasp before whispering a reply.

"L-Lily, your majesty."

"Patriarch Shining Armour wishes to know of your theological beliefs."

The woman raised her head the slightest fraction, the one eye visible between her hair settling upon Celestia for a single instant before looking away back to the ground. "I-I... I don't k-know... what..."

"Princess, please," the gardener suddenly butted in, a fierce flush rising up her cheeks as Celestia's cold eyes flashed towards her; tail tucked and ears lowered. "Forgive me, your highness. But I don't believe Lily is capable of answering your questions. It is clear she is far too overwhelmed with your grandeur." The mare gave the woman a sympathetic look. "Please, may we return to our work?"

"I shan't keep her much longer," Celestia replied, her voice instantly changing back to that of the loving monarch. The change didn't last long, however, promptly reverting to her previous dispassion as the Solar Monarch returned her attention to the trembling young girl. "Speak human."

"I...I can't, your highness," the woman mumbled. "I don't understand the question."

"Your beliefs, human. What are they?" Shining Armour snapped sharply, his expression one of distaste as he addressed the human directly. Conversing with a human wasn't a new experience to him, the Canterlot Watch kept an auxiliary corps of indentured humans in preparation for the worst, but at least such creatures were warriors, and possessed some modicum of understanding when it came to such concepts as honour and valour, rudimental though they may be. "What are your prayers, what god do you pray to?"

Comprehension dawned across the woman's face, nodding her understanding as a small, pink tongue wetted her lips. "I... I worship the Ark, Patriarch." She managed in a quiet voice. "I worship the Ark, the mother Eve, and the Angel Cypher."

"Note, Patriarch, that she has named three separate recipients of worship." Celestia turned her gaze to the Patriarch, Shining Armour suddenly struck by the realisation that he was listening to the same tender, intellectual voice that had enraptured his sister for over ten years. "For reasons beyond our understanding, humanity has always had an affinity for trinities. Indeed, if one searches deep enough, it would seem nearly every aspect of their culture is arranged in this triplet fashion. Continue, human, tell us of your 'Ark'."

Lily nodded, her trembling seeming to subside slightly as she took another breath before continuing. "In... in the beginning, there was nothing. Then... there was the Ark. Forged from the bones of the First Garden, the Ark sailed for a thousand cycles through the blackness of the void. Yet, though incredible as it was, the Ark created from the holy circuitry of its own flesh a wife named Eve, whom it charged with breathing life into it's being. Thus did Eve give birth to humanity, and was forever after known as the mother."

There was an eldritch, archaic tint to the woman's words, something about the reverential inflection of her voice implying she was doing nothing more than reciting a tale that had been passed down through humanity for generations. "The Ark bore humanity through the void, the God-Dreadnought shielding us from the evil without as Eve nurtured us within; and for three thousand cycles humanity grew in strength. Yet still Eve was not content, for she knew that as infantile as humanity was, the Ark, in all its eternal magnificence, would never be able to support us upon our maturity. Thus did she plead with the Ark to bring humanity to a world where it could prosper, and the Ark, though knowing of the folly of the First Garden, consented."

Celestia allowed the faintest hint of an arrogant smirk to cross her muzzle, her eyes remaining cold and aloof as she gazed down on the human woman. To what little credit Shining Armour could extend to the girl, the woman did not flinch under her queen's gaze, her back straighter and her eyes fiercer as the legends of her species instilled a confidence beyond instinct. Shining Armour remained silent as he looked between the two, some intuition informing him that the events he bore witness to were intended for his education; and whatever lesson the Solar Princess wished to impart, as a loyal servant of the crown he was honour bound to be studious in his observations.

"Notice, Patriarch," Celestia said in a gentle voice, though laced with the faintest hint of distaste. "This is the strength of man: their faith. As Lily here has excellently demonstrated, humanity needs only look to its legends to derive strength and purpose; the myths of lost grandeur arousing an instinctual pride in their own species. Note the young woman's stance; a straighter back with a more firm posture; the slight tensing of the jaw; the broadening of the shoulders. Humanity is a species of pride." Celestia's golden eyes narrowed. "And from pride comes folly."

Turning her attention to the gardener, Celestia fixed the mare with an imperialist eye. "Return to your duties; I shall be retaining your human." The mare froze for a moment, evidently tied between her friendship for the human woman and her instinct to obey, but after several seconds yielded; bowing with pinned ears as she stepped backwards several small paces before turning away. Celestia returned her gaze to the human, an almost predatory smile across her muzzle as she spoke with a warm voice. "Sweet Lily, I must admit you have caught my mind with the legends of your species. Please; walk with us, and speak further."

The proud stance of the woman faltered, her eyes widening as she recognised the trap she was caught in; laid out so skilfully there was no way out. Lowering her eyes, the girl nodded mutely, her hands coming together before her. "Marvellous," Celestia said, turning away and proceeding further into the garden. "Come along now, human. I'm waiting for more; tell me of what occurred once your gracious Ark bore you to this new world."

Not wanting to fall behind and cause displeasure, the woman was prompt to catch up, walking a few paces behind her monarch whilst Shining Armour walked alongside her. Taking a moment to compose herself, the human continued on in a decidedly less firm tone than she had before. "When the Ark reached the Second Garden, Eve gave to humanity one final gift. Her most precious sons and daughters; the Angels. As the Ark had charged her with creating life; so did Eve charge the Angels with leading humanity, for it had been decreed by the Ark that once gone, humanity would never return to its halls, and beyond the hull of the Ark, humanity would be beyond the reach of Eve and any aid she could give."

"The Angels were led by the first amongst them, the wisest and most ancient; the Arch-Angel Gabrielle. He tasked the Angels with establishing the first colonies upon the Second Garden, and under his guidance humanity left the embrace of the Ark for the first time. But then... then came the Fall." The girl looked up, her eyes wide as an ancient fear seized her, a fear of the conqueror who had enslaved humanity beneath the iron-shod hoof of Equestrian Imperialism. "Then came you."

"Yes, then we did."

Celestia didn't dean to turn around, contentedly trotting forward along a path through the flower beds towards where a small gathering of hedges ensconced several granite commemorative statues. Lily had fallen deathly silent; terrifyingly aware that stood before her was the very creature who had slain the Arch-Angel Gabrielle and enslaved humanity. It must have been horrifying, Shining Armour noted, to be stood so close to the very being that had brought the downfall of your entire species, aware of the knowledge that such a creature was the reason for your slavery. Looking back to the princess, the Patriarch suddenly became aware that this was no ordinary lesson. Whatever was being taught here, it was a demonstration of something far beyond his capacity.

"Please, human. Do continue."

"A-After five cycles of warfare, the... the Angels were defeated, and humanity enslaved; such a time was the fall of the Second Garden; the damnation of humanity. We became as we are now; slaves to the crown of Equestria." Lily bowed her head once again, her resolve finally crumbling as small tears began to roll down her cheeks. The party entered the wall of hedges in silence, the thick bushes blocking out any eternal sound and wind to create a sudden, unsettling stillness in the air. All around rose up statues of myriad forms, each rising a good twelve feet tall, yet still dwarfed by the hedges surrounding them. Though each statue present represented a life-times work, carved as they were with such detail as to almost appear alive, Celestia ignored them all, leisurely leading her two followers across the partitioned space to stand at the base of one select statue in particular. As the group came to a halt, the human raised her eyes from the ground, her breath catching in her throat and her eyes sparkling with the threat of fresh tears as she realised the identity of the depiction before her.

Stood before them, carved from dark granite and white marble, and set against the shimmering emerald backdrop a hedge, the two forms of an Alicorn and Angel were locked in combat.

The Alicorn wasn't an accurate depiction of either of the Celestial Sisters, but more rather a strange amalgam of the two. A fluted horn two feet in length shimmered with the reflection of dozens of precious gems set into its length, whilst a pair of wings, easily ten feet across, flared widely behind the statue, each feather defined with the utmost realism. Beneath the Alicorn, the form of the Angel presented an equally imposing sight. Though the bulk of the Angel had been carved from granite, the majority of its surface was plated with dull metal; representative of the strange full-body armour human warriors were prone to wear. A pair of wings also sprouted from its back, but whereas those of the Alicorn had been carved to represent feathers, the Angel's pinions were simply more metal plating, divided up into regular geometric rectangles. The two had been posed in a scene of combat, the Alicorn diving from above as the Angel leapt skywards.

"Marvellous, isn't it?" Celestia asked, Shining Armour nodding in agreement whilst Lily could do little more than let out a choked sob. "Note the detail rendered into the marble; how the pinions are splayed, and the accuracy of the facial structure. I had this piece commissioned by the finest artisans of the Masons Guild to commemorate our victory, and I must admit that it has grown on me these past millennia, I even posed for the sculptors preliminary sketches; he insisted such a historic piece be done with the greatest accuracy." The Alicorn turned her attention to the human female, a devious glimmer in her eye as she addressed the woman. "Tell me, Lily, is this not a master-piece of Equestrian art?"

"It... It is very b-beautiful, your highness."

"True, but, I take it, not to your tastes?"

The human dropped her eyes back to the floor, her head nodding the slightest fraction of an inch. Celestia frowned in mock pain. "Oh, how unfortunate. Perhaps a different piece than; one with a bit more... relevance?" Leaving the statue, Celestia walked around the side of the art-work, moving past the hedge backdrop to reveal another statue set up on the other side; one very much different from the previous piece.

Mounted upon a three foot plinth, the proud form of an Angel stood in utter silence. Whereas the previous sculpture had depicted the Angels of humanity in a position of inferiority, here the granite body stood with resolute attention, gauntleted hands wrapped around the hilt of a formidable stone blade planted in the plinth before it. Behind the statue, a pair of wings flared widely; the outer surface covered in silver plates, whilst the inner face was covered in dozens of ultramarine panels that glittered brightly in the sunlight. A hooded cloak had been placed over the statues shoulders, the granite cowl drawn up so that it's face was obscured by deep shadows. There was something different about this sculpture; whereas the previous one had extolled the victory of the equine race, this was ambiguous in its message.

The Angel was neither villain, nor hero; it simply stood it's silent, unyielding vigil.

"Here's an item I'm sure you'll find much more engaging," Celestia commented, looking towards the human, who had fallen completely silent. Glancing across to the creature, Shining Armour noted that the girl's past fear had been replaced with something else entirely; an all consuming reverence. No longer did she shake or mumble, instead simply gazing up at the statue with wide, awe-struck eyes; her lips parting slightly to allow a near-silent prayer to exit.

"Praise to the Heavenfall."

"Yes, praise indeed." Lily snapped out of her reverence, returning to the misfortune of her reality. Celestia held a level gaze with the human, her golden eyes sparkling with an emotion Shining Armour couldn't quite pin; the Patriarch suddenly becoming aware that the lesson had reached its crescendo, the inner-most level of insight. "Two recipients of prayer have already been covered; the Ark, and the one you call Eve. But, if my old mind remembers correctly, you named one more, didn't you Lily: the Angel Cypher?" Celestia's grin became more devious. "Be a dear and sate my curiosity."

Something seemed to settle across Lily, something that lifted the pall of fear that hung over her soul. Even as Shining Armour watched, her shoulders straightened, her head raised; within her eyes ignited a fire that burnt with three millennia of hope and determination. "Before his death by your hoof, the Arch-Angel Gabrielle spoke a prophecy of redemption. Though the Angels had failed and the children of the second garden fallen into slavery, Gabrielle knew that Ark would never abandon humanity, for he spoke with the voice of Eve." Lily met and held Celestia's gaze, her body stiffening as the instinctive pride of her ancestors began to fill her soul.

"One more shall come; before the light of humanity gutters and dies, one more shall come. On wings of fire shall the Last Angel descend, and, with the blessings of the Ark, free humanity from its bondage. No force shall stop him. No enemy shall hold fast before his fury. No sickness may blight his form. No doubt shall cloud his mind. He shall be the redeemer of humanity, this last son of the Ark, and speak unto the people with the voice of Eve. He shall save us in distress, and bring us to glory. His name his Cypher, and he is the Heavenfall."

Celestia smiled warmly down at the human, who in turn gazed back with barely-pent anger; Shining Armour being fully aware that the only thing preventing the human from lashing out in her religious zeal was the knowledge that Celestia could disintegrate her at a whim. Thus could Lily do nought but simmer with impotent anger, helpless to wipe the smug grin from Celestia's muzzle. "You needn't wait much longer, my dear," she informed gently, using the same voice one would use to placate a dim-witted foal. "Your precious saviour has already come."

A confused frown marred the human's brow, the female gazing at Celestia in confusion and uncertainty before looking towards Shining Armour in search of conformation. Even as she looked him in the eye, the Patriarch could see the human's comprehension growing, slowly gathering momentum as the initial disbelief at Celestia's words wore off. First was the uncertainty slowly slipping away, the distrust of the princess marring the real implications of her statement. Then the utter disbelief, the human's inability to accept that she had actually lived to reach such a pivotal day in human history; which in turn was followed swiftly after by mounted excitement as the unflinching gaze of the Solar Princess all but confirmed her fledgling hopes. Swiftly after followed the fire, the raging inferno that was humanity's spirit as the young woman realised that it was no lie she had heard: the Heavenfall had finally come. For a few moments longer, the girl simply stared at the Solar Princess in utter silence; then...

"DEATH TO THE TYRANTS!"

Lily thrust a fist into the air, her thin lips pulled back to reveal savage canines; the horrendous tools of a carnivore. The transformation was swift, the persona of a silent, fearful wretch utterly replaced with that of a rebellious barbarian. Fire burnt in the creatures eyes; fire that had waited three thousand years for a single spark.

"DEATH TO TH-"

A brilliant burst of light suddenly blinded Shining Armour, the Patriarch crying out in surprise as the intense radiance blinded his eyes. On reflex he drew his weapon, the twin heads of Starlight Wrath flaring with ultramarine light as arcane power coursed through the axe, the Patriarch himself dropping into a defensive position. Yet as the light died and his vision returned, Shining Armour saw that there had never been any need to be on guard; impaling Lily through the chest, flowing light molten golden, an Arcane Blade of pure light floated in the air, encased within the gold telekinesis of the Solar Princess. Lily made a choked noise, blood and spittle flying from her lips while a gentle stream of vitae trickled down her chin. For a few brief moments the life flickered in the humans eyes, before simply dying; the creatures body falling limp.

Celestia didn't say a word, simply gazing upon the human's corpse for a few seconds longer before dissipating her blade; the shaft of sunlight winking out of existence, and the dead body falling to the floor with a soft thump. "Such is the strength of humanity," she said softly, staring at the woman's corpse with a mixture of distaste and regret. "Though we may subjugate them, break their culture, and work their hands to the bone, they still have hope."

"Your highness..."

"Yes?"

Shining Paused before replying.

"Why?"

Celestia turned to her Patriarch, her expression one of such sincerity that Shining realised something was deeply troubling his monarch. For a few moments Celestia simply stared at him, into him; Shining Armour could feel her gaze upon him, as if she were judging him. Finally, she began. "What the woman spoke of, this 'Last Angel'... it is no legend, Patriarch. The Heavenfall is flesh and blood; and he has come to Equestria."

It took Shining Armour a few moments to realise what his ruler was referring to.

"The comet..."

"Exactly." Celestia turned away, standing over the human's body. Lily's reaction was not aberrant, Patriarch. Should word of the Heavenfall's arrival spread to the provinces, humanity will break out into open rebellion of the crown. I cannot allow that to happen." Celestia fixed Shining Armour with a cold eye. "You shall travel to the Royal Ruins within the Everfree, find the Heavenfall, and bring him before me in chains."

"As you order, my princess," Shining Armour acknowledged, raising his hoof in a perfect salute. However, Celestia must have known that something else was on his mind, the mare holding her gaze for a few moments more.

"But; Patriarch?"

"But... why keep him alive? Surely if this Cypher is a threat to the security of the nation it would be best course of action for me to eliminate him?"

Celestia giggled lightly, the sound as gentle and smooth as liquid. "Of course it would, Patriarch. But the Angel's arrival represents an opportunity too valuable to miss. Tell me: why do you think I informed Lily of the Heavenfall, if I knew her reaction would be instant treason to the crown?"

"I... I don't know, your highness."

"Hope, Patriarch, that's why. Because in order to finally ensure that humanity will be forever placated, I must destroy their hope. For three thousand years has humanity waited for the Heavenfall. For three thousand years have they persistently attempted to rise up against my ponies. Humanity will not stop until it is free, and the reason for this is because they live in hope; hope for the coming of the Heavenfall. Should the Angel Cypher fall before his mission is achieved, it will demonstrate to the whole of mankind that there is no hope; that not even their prophesised saviour is strength enough against my power, and in doing so, I shall once and for all put humanity in its place."

Author's Note

Well. Here's chapter three.

I've gathered from the resulting flame-war of the previous chapter that people would prefer me to up the pacing, so I've done a bit of working in the chapter to try and make it quicker whilst maintaining a sufficient level of detail. As ever, if there's anything you'd like to point out, or if you've got some constructive criticism, be sure to leave me a comment. Of course, if you just wanna stroke my ego, that's fine too.

Erol

IV: First Blood

Author's Note

Please note that as of writing this chapter, I am also in the process of rewriting the other chapters to fall in a line with an updated take on the story. Please bear this in mind when you come into lore discrepancies between this and the opening chapters, which i aim to have revamped by the end of next week.

A fair warning, going forward the story will take a much darker turn then i originally envisioned, with an exploration into some personal psychological themes that i encountered during my four year hiatus, those uncomfortable with such things may find the story unpalatable.

Also, I'll take the time right now to state that i haven't watched a single episode of the show since 2014 so don't expect any lore within this or upcoming chapters to accurately reflect canon until I've caught up. I'm not sure how long this will take.

Regards.

Erol.

IV: First Blood

The diagnostics didn't look good.

Locked within the fleshy confines of the Angels skull, E.V.E. Felt an acute sensation of dread settle deeper and deeper into her non-existent stomach as data poured into her active mind; the Anima-Spirit sifting through reams of binaric cant, hexademic invocation, and the thousand other defunct data-forms that had been employed by now long-dead engineers and animatics in her construction. Before her was a web on light, a thousand tiny threads of winking data in an endless sea of eternally shifting biological code; the mind of her angelic charge laid out as some great tapestry of knowledge, stretching out into the unknown bounds of organic consciousness, to the boundaries where instinct subsumed even the most stringent of cyberpathing techniques. Here could be found – down to the tiniest iotas of digital existence – the most complex working of the human race; the pinnacle of its craft in science and technology, a blueprint of a creature which strove to be the Divine.

To the digital intelligence of E.V.E. it was beautiful in a way that an organic could never begin to understand, at once a monument, ideal, and embodiment of the wedding of a living mind to machine perfection; simple in its elegance, yet one only had to peel back the barest layers of the construct to gaze upon a trove of technology that spoke of knowledge that was now all but extinct. Flight algorithms for the pitch-perfect control of the angels cybernetic pinions sat effortlessly intertwined alongside gyroscopic stability engrams to ensure absolute flight control, programming for the maintenance of his plasma-fuelled heart bleeding into binary shoals of homeostatic functions, all studded with the pin-prick diamonds of a thousand thousand sub-routines, each glinting with the beauty of fire-flies against the twilight sky as they flitted to and fro amidst the larger programs, linking together the endlessly disparate nodes of information into a beautifully formed and perfectly functional whole; a unique marriage of biological instinct to technological reflex.

Yet there was a flaw.

To the Anima-Spirit it was nothing less than a yawning void in the web of stars, a gaping hole at the heart of the magnificent construct into which data was gradually being sunk, consumed, mangled, then spat out again to begin adding further corruption to the perfection of the surrounding architecture. Long had been the war between the Anima-Spirit and the hole of entropy before her, many had been their clashes and just as many had been E.V.E.s victories, for as an engineer maintained his engine so did E.V.E. maintain her Angel; stabilising his neural network, replacing that which had decayed during her three thousand year vigil over the Ark and its lone occupant, the Heavenfall. Yet now, the nature of the war was changing, and the enemy threatened her with victory.

Since the angels awakening, the void had begun to grow.

Before, E.V.E. had believed the yawning void to simply be nothing but the manifestation of natural decay within the angels data; all things must bow before the march of time, and the digital systems of the angel had been granted no exception to that universal law; time slowly stealing away its functionality via the gentle touch of entropy. Yet E.V.E. had always been there to trade it blow for blow. Whatever time had broken she could replace, whichever system fell out of alignment she could restore to the balance of the wider whole; it hadn't been a war so much as a game, a gentle, managed stalemate that let E.V.E. bide her time in isolation without going completely insane. Yet now, after all these thousands of years, the abyss she'd gazed into, and fought against, had awoken.

Now, it gazed back upon her.

Where before the void had simply been a sinkhole in the perfect engineering of the angels divine architecture, now it seemed to have taken a sentience of its own, tendrils of its darkness reaching out to leave the mark of its corruption upon yet more of its host operating system the longer that the angel remained conscious. At first she'd believed the damage to be random at the most, directed by some corrupted internal logic at worst, all of it merely by-products of the interrupted revivification cycle that had returned Cypher to life; but now, even as she watched the void begin to subsume and incorporate a block of core-function programming, E.V.E. couldn't deny what her own sense told her; that the void had become an entity of its own: a unique personality, separate from both her and Cypher, growing within the grand order of the angels digital psyche. Where she existed to bring order and maintain the status-quo of the angels operating system, this new entity was subsuming whole portions of the deep-core functions, sinking them into itself and incorporating them into some new, unknown form.

E.V.E. looked over the diagnostic evaluations once more, a sensation close to biological dread coursing through her subroutines as she realised her worst fears had come to pass. Diagnostics had traced the new amalgamation of code back to the deep-core archive, the inter-mesh between the structured digital programming of the angels higher functions and the uncontrollable organic subconsciousness rooted deep in instinct and animal urge, but had been unable to process any further, running up against a wall of data that it reported to be the entity, unable to decipher the seeming gibberish code that was being spat out of the lower functions. In their processed forms, E.V.E. now realised as she inspected the raw data, the reports were useless; the data rendered incomprehensible by diagnostics attempts to clarify exactly what it was looking at. Only now that she could see the data-forms themselves did E.V.E. realise the true damage that the Angel had suffered.

Cypher was dead.

Sat at the heart of the new entity, subsumed, consumed, and broken into a thousand fragments, sat what had been the repository of Cyphers unique biological signature, the cache of data that had contained what organics would call personality and memory. The entity had spawned from its very heart, growing unnoticed at the very edge of E.V.E.s awareness, in the organic folds of the angels brain where she couldn't simply delete it with a program or subroutine; a whole new mind spawning within the brain of the angel as it hibernated through the long ages since the Old War, replacing what had once been with something new. The closest approximation E.V.E. could reach was that over time the electrical signature of Cyphers active mind had lost its imprint upon the angels neural pathways, three thousand years of inactivity leading to a failure in data retention. Now, E.V.E. realised with a sudden jolt of clarity, this new entity, this new Consciousness, was driving the angels body, puppeting its flesh in a parody of life. It had been this new entity, not Cypher, that she'd dragged back into the world of reality.

The Angels high-grade amnesia suddenly made much more logical sense to E.V.E., as she processed this new knowledge with a bizarre feeling in the pit of her non-existent stomach. Put quite simply, the new entity had been born a blank slate, awakening without any prior knowledge or existence to fall back on; a babe born into the flesh of a man, only able to function thanks to the knowledge that had been hard-coded into the augmetics that riddled its brain. From what she could infer from the data the new personality was growing throughout the pre-existing network like a decomposer organism, falling upon and digesting the now dead Cyphers neural engrams as a carrion eater recycled the flesh of a carcass; reassigning and reconstructing the new defunct architecture to sustain the growing needs of the new consciousness as it slowly approached the beginnings of individuality.

It was making its own brain.

Had she had the time, resources, and equipment necessary, E.V.E. would have found the whole process utterly fascinating. The idea that with enough time an old biological pattern could be lost, and a new one born from the same fleshy mush of neurones and synapses was enticing, and already the A.S. felt dozens of experiments formulating in some tangent process of her vast mind, contemplating the uses and implications of what such a phenomenon could mean. Alas, Gabriel had assigned her with over-seeing the completion of Cyphers mission, and she couldn't tarry. Even now her masters enemies, the celestial sisters, would be closing on her position, seeking whatever had survived the death of the Ark and doubtlessly doing so with the intention of destroying whatever it was they found. E.V.E. damned the failings of the biological form as a sub-routine notified her that what patches of data she was still receiving from the sensors of the wrecked Ark overhead indicated a mass of biological and thermal signatures making an approach on her position, vector analysis rendering only one possible destination; right on top of her and the recumbent angel.

She didn't have time to waste.

As she prepared to induce activity within the angels slumbering mind, E.V.E. couldn't help but wince at the sheer magnitude and difficulty promised by her up-coming mission; a one-man war against the two most powerful biological entities ever discovered, equipped with little more than a standard survival pack, what she'd managed to recover from the Arks decrepit server banks, and a cybernetically altered post-human without true combat training, survival skills, or any of the thousand other things E.V.E. could think of that would've improved the odds of success by even a fraction. Something akin to bitter resignation settled throughout her coding as she began to process some alternate strategy that would allow for the completion of the mission. Reaching down into the organic murk to the angels brain, E.V.E. began to coax the new entity within Cyphers flesh to wakefulness, all to aware that from here on out, things would be much more difficult.

Cypher, wake up.

<ФФФ>

Mist clung to the treetops, quiet and serene.

The squad swung in low over the canopy, ten heavily armoured forms held aloft on powerful wings in the early morning breeze. They hugged close to the ground as they passed closer and closer to the target in order to reduce their signatures to any active tracking equipment, a skill acquired through many painful lessons during the Old War. At their head, clad in the ancient armour of his station as patriarch of the Celestial Guard, Shining Armour read the terrain before him via his witch-sight; his eyes perceiving not the mundane world of matter but one of pure and wild energy; the boundless skeins of the realm of magic reaching endlessly before him.

Beneath his hooves the Everfree was a riotous mass of colour and flame, flexing and writhing in the roaring flows of the four winds of magic - flitting from one form to another in the moments between moments just as fire twisted and danced when in the flush of its consumption. The forest had always been a wild place, even in the ancient days before the Old War; when legends whispered of an ancient conflict and horrendous civil war, of the Nightmare Heresy and the death of sunlight for long, long centuries. In a land where nature herself bowed to the Daughter of Faust, such a place was an anachronism, a final, haunting reminder of the true wild ferocity of the Earth Mother before Faust had sought to tame her flesh and bind it with fetters of magic. Even as his hooves brushed the very heights of the canopy, Shining Armour could feel the aetheric power that coursed through every tree and flower of the place, feel the very life-pulse of the vast entity that was the Everfree.

Below he could make out the aetheric signatures of life as it scattered before the oncoming host of soldiers, both the small, blurry fuzz of the smaller animals, and the larger scintillating auras of the more deadly beasts as they lumbered for safety, all instinctively aware of what the equines presence meant; trouble. Pushing his senses outwards, Shining Armour could feel the presences of the forests deadlier denizens at his periphery, hidden deeper within the boughs in those places where light never breached the canopy, and magic and organic began to blend into fusions of life too esoteric to contemplate. Yet though each signature represented a beast of great and terrible power, each a source of high acclaim to the warrior that slew them, today Shining Armour hunted something far more deadly and terrifying; an Angel of the Angelic Choir.

Shining Armour still remembered the battlefields of the Old War, when human and equine had met in bitter conflict, for he'd strode them with his own hooves; in that ancient time before the sisters had seen fit to grant him the ultimate apotheosis and raise him into the pantheon of immortals, before the loss of Twilight and the Elements. He'd fought humans from the Black-Marches to the Shatter-Peak and back, a hundred fields of war in a struggle that had lasted decades. Even now he could recall the great cry that had gone up from the human masses at the breaching of Jericho's walls, taste the blood of their warriors as he'd cut them down with righteous fury on the banks of the Redwash, the screams of their females and children as they'd fled before the legions of Equestria.

He remembered, where others forgot, the sheer horror of an angelic onslaught, for he'd faced them in the flesh when the heavenly choir had still streaked across the skies of the world, when the sonic shriek of their mechanical pinions was as the banshee scream of death. He'd seen first hand the skill and martial fury of mankind's finest warriors, had watched with his own eyes as the angel Azrael held the breach of Jericho for sixty-four continuous hours of battle before finally succumbing to the wrath of the Celestial Sisters.

None save the sisters knew better of the zeal with which the creatures had prosecuted their war against the rightful rulers of this terrestrial sphere.

Ahead a signature began to manifest itself from the surrounding miasma of magic, coming into ever sharper focus as the squad flew closer to its destination; the Royal Ruins. Though aetheric scrying had revealed the fallen angel to be within the immediate vicinity, Shining Armour couldn't help but let a mirthless snort of laughter escape him as he realised the location of his quarry; the irony of the site of their conflict. In the Era of Elements, long before the arrival of the Ark, the Royal Ruins had instead been known as the Imperial Palace, the grandest and largest structure to grace the surface of Fausts garden; dwarfing even Cantelot in the scope and scale of its majesty. In the time before its destruction and ever since no construction on the face of the globe had ever been able to compare to the sheer power and awe projected by the structure.

Here had ruled Celestia and Luna for all the uncounted ages since the dawn of time, when Faust had knit the world together from the skeins of magic and bestowed upon it the blessings of her daughters to rule with love and compassion. Endless were the tales to be found within the apocrypha of the Canterlot library of the glory of that distant age; the gardens of the palace said to have been home to every flower and vine in the world, lush meadows of natural growth encircling the palace in ring upon concentric ring, while the spires, it was whispered, were so tall that they reached to the heavens themselves, such that Celestia and Luna may return whenever they wished to the throne of their divine mother. Within had been great halls and galleries, the like of which had made pale the great wonders of Canterlot he'd seen only a few hours previously, a gathering of the greatest treasures of all the world; a thousand thousand gifts of tribute from kings and empires so lost to history that in the current age it was unknown that they had ever existed at all.

Yet for all the magnificence of the Imperial Palace and its history, as it had become for all of Equestria since their arrival, the stain of humanity had left its indelible blemish upon the glory of the past. When the Ark had crawled it way in-system from the great dark void beyond, The Daughters of Faust had still held court within the palace - ruling from it the ancient empire that had girdled the world - and thus had it been the palace that gave this wayward species, humanity as they named themselves, their first glimpse of the new world that their God-Dreadnought had delivered them to. Though he'd been but a foal in the arms of his mother, Shining Armour could still recall the great fanfare that had gone up as the Angels had made their descent from above, could still recall the beauty and regal bearing of Equestrias Diarchs as the Angel Gabrielle, leader of the last tribe of men, had bent his knee in supplication and begged leave to begin human settlement. It had seemed then to be the dawning of a new age, the beginning of a new epoch where the fates of the children of Faust and the scions of the Ark were to be intertwined forever-more.

How wrong, and horribly right, that belief had been.

'Patriarch' came an aetherial whisper in his mind, the sensation of it leaving a copper tang in his mouth. 'I sense you are approaching your target. Report.'

Shining Armour couldn't help but shiver a the great weight he felt pressing against his consciousness, the power of the Solar Monarch bleeding upon his mortal psyche as she bridged the distance between them with her aethereal might. The sensation was akin to standing too close to an inferno, the sheer might of the Princess's aethereal signature simply too overwhelming to the fragile mind of an earth-borne mortal. It was like staring into the heart of the sun, like reaching into the umbra of a shadow; for the briefest instant Shining Armour became aware of the most minute power bound within the flesh of the Solar Monarch, and felt his soul wail at the unadulterated grandeur of what it saw.

'We are making our final approach, Dearest Life-Flame.' Shining Armour replied, the thoughts not so much as being transmitted as Celestia merely plucking them from his mind, leaving behind a sensation of a brief, empty void. 'I feel the angels aether signature within my mind.' The Patriarch sent another pulse rippling forward, not so much for his benefit as his monarchs, knowing full well that when she reached her mind to another's that she could perceive all that they did, and often so much more. The pulse returned to him in but an instant, though now, with closer proximity, the details it revealed were... interesting.

'The Heavenfall, he is not alone.' Celestia mused, her thoughts washing against Shining's mind like a rip-tide threatening to pull him under 'There is another being with him, but its signature is unorthodox, hollow, almost as if it were...' Celestia ceased, and for a brief moment Shining Armours mind was nothing but silence.

Then, she began to laugh.

It was like the rumble of a mountain, the harsh grind of rock against rock as it ground down into oblivion. She didn't truly laugh; the Patriarch has heard the sound before, and knew it to be as gentle as the songs of stars as they sang praise for all eternity. This was something else, mocking, primal; the mirth of a warrior as they came upon a hated enemy defenceless and crippled, ready for the kill.

It chilled him to the core.

'So, the Mother of Man lives still, and she has returned with her last son to face her doom.' Images of the Old War tumbled through his mind, half-glimpsed memories of the Solar Monarchs own first-hoof experiences from that terrible conflict; the strange, sightless helmets of the human soldiers as she cut them down with but a thought; the walls of Jericho tumbling down around the angel Azrael as he held the breach for as long of possible; the screaming face of Gabriel as he gave a final roar of defiance against the power of Faust, even as Celestias blade on scintillating light sunk itself into his plasma-fuelled heart. 'So, the coward couldn't bring herself to die with her master. Disappointing, but not unexpected; E.V.E. was always a trickster spirit at heart.' Another rumble of laughter passed over his mind, like thunder threatening him with a bolt of lightning. 'It seems that E.V.E. and I will finally be able to renew our acquaintance, she still has much to tell me of the humans and their weakness.'

'I shall return with both E.V.E. and the Angel, my princess' Shining Armour replied. 'We are close, they shall not escape us.'

“Split up,” Shining Armour called out to his squad, the nine Alicorns around him perking to attention as their patriarch dispensed his orders. “Standard assault formation with basic flanking manoeuvre. Titus, Severin, and Diocletion, you take the flank, the rest of you with me. The target is located within the heart of the Royal Ruins; we shall drive him into a corner and close off his escape. Be advised that the Solar Monarch has demanded our quarry be brought back alive; keep physical trauma to a minimum when and where possible. Do not let your guard down, Angels are powerful creatures, and this one shall be no different. Now; disperse.”

As one they fell out, each moving to their positions with a fluidity that belied years of practice. Had he been commanding a squad of regular recruits for such a daring operation, Shining Armour would never have dared attempt an air-borne insertion; knowing all to well that he'd have been relegated to a ground based assault, something utterly useless against a target with the ability to fly. Angels were highly mobile creatures, as Shining Armour had learnt first-hoof at the assault of Jericho – the first great battle of that ancient conflict – when Gabriel had lead the Angelic Choir in a series of devastating guerilla raids that had decimated supply lines and nearly broken the siege in a single week. Though their mechanical wings lacked the fluid grace of a natural pinion, their steel flesh had more than sufficient power to be the match of any flyer in the sky. They were fast, the sonic boom of their flight akin to the roar of thunder, and their devastating strikes as fierce as lightning earthing itself into the flesh of the world. The armies of Equestria would have never been able to stand against them.

Thus, to counter the angels, the Diarchs had made angels of their own.

The Alicorns.

In the darkest reaches of the past, in those distant ages when the world had been young and Faust still active within creation, legends spoke of those Alicorns who had been the servants of the Goddess; creatures who made real the great metaphysical designs of their mother. Theirs had been the gift of awesome power, and equally awesome responsibility, for it was entrusted to them to make real the dreams of Faust, to turn magic to matter and bind life to flesh. It had been they who'd raised the mountains and riven the earth with metals and minerals; they who'd filled the oceans and set the currents in perpetual motion; they who'd let loose every bird and flower; who'd made of the earth a great garden fit for the mortals Faust so loved. Theirs had been a time of wonder and power, an age when the old magics had still been strong in the world, and creation could be remade with but a whim if one had the strength of will to do it. Even to this day their song could be heard oh-so-faintly within the realm of magic, if one had the strength of heart to listen to such a beautiful thing.

Yet those ancient days were long since passed.

Of the fate of the Alicorns, many were the schools of thought. It was believed by some that they'd returned to the throne of Faust, no longer required to remain within such a confining, mundane plain of existence with their great work done. Others pondered that they'd become the world itself; that everything from the winds and the mountains, to the oceans and streams, was merely the Alicorns continuing in their great endeavour, ensuring that the clockwork engine of creation kept on ticking with perfect synchronous. Yet regardless of their beliefs, all agreed on one thing: that such creatures would never walk the face of Equestria for all the long ages to come. Theirs had been a singular age, and to dream it would ever come again was folly. Of Fausts herd only Celestia and Luna remained within this world, and no force in heaven or earth could ever move them to reveal what wonders they'd seen in the distant time.

Yet Alicorns weren't extinct, not quite.

There were magics in this world, powers from the dawn of time, that could still bring forth the members of that great race to the world, in a fashion. The Apotheosis – or Fausts Gift as it was colloquially known – was an ancient spell of great power; able to reknit flesh and bestow upon the bearer the most minute fragment of the holy energy that had forged the world. To a unicorn it granted wings of flight, to a pegasus the horn with which magic was manipulated, to an earth pony it gifted both. Yet though these were great boons in and of themselves, they were nothing compared to the longevity of life possessed by the recipient; allowing them to pass centuries, millennia even, without loss of youth or vitality. Not true immortality, but close enough. Shining Armour himself had been granted Apotheosis on the eve of the final battle of the Old War, more than three thousand years ago, and physically he'd aged but a single day. It was an incredible thing, to watch the world grow and evolve around you, to watch the currents of life as they gently rolled against the great beach of time.

But as with all great gifts, it came at a terrible, terrible price.

Alicorns, even the half-breeds that Celestia and Luna raised from the populace, were not mortal creatures in any sense of the word. How could one be anything as simple as 'normal' when one was gifted with the power that had shaped the world, how could one relate to the mortals around them that withered and died as a grape on the vine compared to a creature that could pass the epochs without a blink of the eye. Strange was the mind of an Alicorn, seeing the world through the lens of the divine, perceiving not mundane matter but the luminous fabric of creation itself. They were a breed apart, and they stood apart.

As Shining Armour understood it, the same could be said for the Angels of humanity. In their own texts the Angels who'd come to Equestria were merely the latest in a long line of creatures that claimed to be divine. In the dawning age of their species, upon a distant world they named the First Garden, the first Angels had been the servants of an unnamed higher entity, one that, in their arrogance, they believed had formed the entirety of creation in a mere six days. Like the Alicorns they'd assisted in the formation of creation, and had returned to the higher heavens when their work had reached completion. The Angels of the modern era, those who'd led humanity upon their arrival to this world were powerful beings in their own right, but even their might paled in comparison to that first generation of winged men.

A sudden shift in the Angels aetheric signature roused the Patriarch from his thoughts; noticing instantly the increased energy the signature gave off. The Angel was mobile, slowly moving away from the squad at a leisurely pace. Shining Armour grinned, the Angel must have been unaware of their approach to still be lingering in the area. Good, that meant they still had the element of surprise, but the Patriarch couldn't help but be perturbed by what he sensed. In the Old War the Angels had seemed nigh-invincible; gifted with armour impervious to attack, and possessing senses that seemed near-impossible in their attunement to the world around them; Even the weakest of their number – the angel Veloria – had been a fierce adversary when Shining Armour had faced her in combat. Yet this signature didn't match those of his memory. It lacked... fire, little more than an ember compared to the great infernos of the Angelic Choir. Perhaps the Angel had been weakened by his fiery descent to earth, perhaps its senses had been rendered lame by the passage of three millennia? Shining Armour wasn't quite sure, but he wasn't taking any chances.

Ahead of them, the first ruined spires broke through the canopy.

<ФФФ>

Cypher, wake up.

Cypher – or more rather the creature that believed itself to be Cypher – hissed in pain as he opened his eyes.

The morning light was blinding, a pure white-gold glow that sent blinding flares of light across his vision. Regaining consciousness, bone-deep blossoms of aching pain spreading across his body as his awareness began to expand, Cypher allowed himself a deep groan, wincing as he felt ghostly twitches of pain rumble beneath his skin. From the muddle of shapes that comprised his vision lines began to solidify; wisps of cyan light drifting across his HUD as the display flickered into life, streams of data scrolling up his field of view fast than he could read them as his augmetics ran a swift series diagnostic tests. Gaining enough of his vision to make out his surroundings, Cypher jumped in his own flesh as he found himself quite literally buried into a wall, his body tightly lodged at the centre of a shallow impact crater a foot deep. Fear seized the Angel’s mind as he suddenly realised an impact with such force would easily have been able to crush his body into bloody pulp; but, as he flexed his extremities, cautiously testing his own body, relief replaced the rising tide as he found himself to be relatively unscathed; perhaps a bit bruised, but otherwise anatomically sound.

How... impossible.

Damage from the impact was minimal. The cold, dispassionate voice of E.V.E. spoke through his mind, the sensation unsettling to say the least. Though there has been some bruising to your muscle tissue, your augmetics proved sufficient to shield you from the worst of the damage. Had you remained with the life-pod upon impact, I fear the resulting explosion would have ended your life; such a high concentration of shrapnel in such a confined space would have torn you to shreds.

Cypher felt a knot tighten in his stomach at the idea, the Angel shaking his head to clear his thoughts before turning his attention to his current predicament. Though he had been buried into the wall upon his impact the previous night, it seemed that fortune had smiled upon him this time; lucky for Cypher, the crumbling structure hadn’t simply collapsed in on itself after such a forceful blow, leaving him trapped beneath tonnes of rubble. Looking to his right arm, the Angel gave his muscles a probing flex before gritting his teeth and pulling with full force, the limb bursting free from its confinement mere moments later, sending a small avalanche of rubble and detritus loose with it. For a brief second the wall groaned, the structure heaving as the stones of its body settled on their foundations, Cypher holding his breath for what felt an age before he once more worked up the courage to delicately disentangle himself from his impact crater.

Pulling himself free from the wall, Cypher dropped to the ground, stumbling on landing as his legs gave out beneath him; weak from exhaustion and three millennia of atrophy. Once more, there seemed to be a force pulling him downwards, something that inexorably drew him to the surface of the world. Though he had experienced gravity before, on board the Ark, the artificial force generated by the vessel was much weaker than that of a true world; the graviton emitters that had once been designed to perfectly emulate a single G of gravity degrading with the passage of time, resulting in further atrophy to his musculature. Cypher wasn’t sure how such medical knowledge had simply appeared at the forefront of his mind, but he disregarded it for the moment, taking a few long draughts of sweet, fresh air before pushing himself to his feet; his stance shaky, but up-right.

I appreciate your currently weakened state, but we haven't any time. Cypher, enemies are coming.

A shiver of fear ran through the Angel as he looked about, wincing in the harsh morning light as his weakened optical systems attempted to compensate for his weakened biological receptors. “How do you know?” He asked, raising an arm to shield his vision from the glaring sun. “I can't see a thing.”

Instantly his vision began to dim, the Angel shuddering as he felt the Anima-Spirit in his brain adjust the dilation of his pupils to prevent sensory overload. As the use of his eyes became bearable E.V.E. dropped a tactical display in the Angels HUD, its bottom right edge a mass of red blotches that were approaching a green dot in the centre with frightening speed. Momentarily Cypher had no idea what he was looking at before, somewhere deep in the grey matter of his skull, a memory engram flared to life and the display took on a sudden and horrifying clarity; seven enemies were approaching at high velocity.

They'd be on top of him in minutes.

Make for the life-pod. E.V.E. spoke in his mind, her tone calm, but her insistence clear. If it has survived, the survival gear within will greatly increase the chances of our continued existence. Hurry; if you fail to survive this encounter all my work will have been for nought.

Struggling forward on shaking legs, the Angel made all speed for the plume of black smoke on the opposite side of the courtyard he found himself in; picking his way across the tangled overgrowth. Perhaps, at some point in the past, these ruins had been a garden of some sort, the signs of old flower beds and pathways still visible in the hints of the undergrowth. Even the plant life itself wasn’t very wild, the lush space mostly dominated by thick bunches of beautiful flowers in bloom, a row of tall trees rising skyward only just further across the courtyard; their boughs heavy with ruddy-red fruit. Butterflies and bumblebees flitted to-and-fro from the overgrown flowerbeds, vibrant and alive thanks to the bounty laid before them, whilst from beneath the tangles, snaps and rustles hinted at signs of larger, furrier denizens.

It all seemed so beautiful, yet there was no time to stop and marvel; if he paused for even a moment he could wind up dead.

He came across the life-pod in short order, or, more rather, what little was left of it. As he made his approach, it was easy to see that the life-pod would never function again, the burnt-out husk little more than blackened plates of metal and a few hints of scorched wiring, twisted and gutted circuitry visible within the desecrated shell. The husk sat within an impact crater of its own, surrounded by the ashen remains of the plant life it had landed atop, their leaves and stems curled and twisted by the heat of the flames that still licked gently around the pods base. As he came closer a few plates slipped loose with a loud clattering, but otherwise, it seemed safe to approach.

Aside from the fires, I detect no residual energy signatures; the life-pod seems completely inactive. E.V.E. noted. You should be able to find the emergency survival kit beneath what’s left of the seat. Quickly now, contact will be in less than a few minutes at most.

Climbing atop the husk, Cypher carefully lowered himself into what was left of the passenger compartment, the rim of the opening lined with harsh jags of metal, before sifting his way through the wreckage, clearing away the debris as fast as his lethargy allowed, hissing when he cut his fingertips on the metals sharp edges. Clearing away one particularly razor-like piece of metal, Cypher suddenly found himself staring at a dull grey box, a simple seal of a sword framed by two mechanical wings printed in white on the front.

“Ah, found you.”

Tentatively pulling the survival kit free from its razor edged prison, Cypher extricated himself from the wreckage of the life-pod before hopping off and kneeling down on the much softer plant life outside, his bloody fingers working the catches loose one by one.

It’s standard gear for a surface operative. E.V.E. explained as Cypher pulled a thick, off-white vest from the box, the apparel made from some tough-knit material. A composite kevlar-alloy vest to improve life-expectancy and increase survival odds in combat; some basic plating to provide protection for the limbs; military boots to allow for easy traversal of the terrain; a months’ worth of condensed, high-protein rations to provide sustenance, a self-purifying liquids container, a combat knife, and a standard slug-gun. As an Angel you will have little need for sustenance, making the rations near-useless. Still, the apparel shall prove more effective than your hibernation gown, and one can never doubt the usefulness of a good pair of boots, or a sharp knife.

With as much speed as the wasted muscles of his body allowed, Cypher donned the equipment, pulling the vest over his filth covered hibernation gown before strapping the plating to his limbs, a sense of queasy unease running through him as they tightened themselves against the contours of his body like living beings; moulding themselves to his flesh as if they were a part of his very flesh.

Good. E.V.E. spoke as he slipped the slug-gun into an in-built holster on the vests chest. Now, we have to leave before th-.

Acting on a compulsion he couldn't even comprehend, the Angel suddenly threw himself to the ground, dodging by the merest inch a bolt of cyan energy as it lanced into the earth exactly where he'd been stood not a moment early. Rising as the rank stink of ozone filled the air, the Angel felt the reflex seize him once again, rolling away behind a block of stone as another burst of energy fell from the sky with the speed of a lighting bolt.

Damn, I thought we had more time.

A shadow fell over Cypher, the Angel looking up just in time to see a winged mass of white, blue, and gleaming gold metal hurtle down towards him, flanked on either side by six equally threatening shapes roughly about the same size. Instantly E.V.E. threw combat protocols into effect within his mind, the Angels thoughts stilling and senses heightening as the augmetics within his system began to release synthetic-adrenaline and serotonin, his plasma-fuelled heart cycling up as it prepared to supply his augmetics with the energy they'd need to see him through the fight. Acting on pure instinct, the world around him fading away as the programming took over, the Angel pulled the slug-gun from its holster, the weapon heavy, yet comfortingly familiar in his hand, raised it to the approaching creatures and fired a single round.

The slug-gun kicked like a mule in his grip, the report muted in his ears as his augmetics cancelled out the deafening blast. Instantly one of the onrushing enemies dropped like a stone in a welter of blood and scraps of flesh, Cypher gaining the impression of four limbs and two wings as it limply tumbled out of sight before disappearing into the lush canopy beneath it. Without pausing for thought, the Angel let off another two deadly rounds before jumping from his position, not even turning to see if his shots had struck home. Just as well he did, for not an instant later the remaining attackers let off collective volley of energy that would have incinerated the Angel in an instant had he stayed sedentary, the air turning foul as it filled with ionised particulates.

I'm tracking six individuals. E.V.E.s voice echoed in his empty mind, the Angel barely responding as a thousand engrams and all their subroutines churned away in his mind. Telemetry is patchy, the sensors aboard the Ark are too damaged to allow a higher resolution of data.

Nodding absently, Cypher leapt over the fallen trunk of an ancient oak, lances of fire dogging his every step as he vaulted the thick beam of wood and rolled on landing; firing again as he sprung to his feet. The sensation of combat was... odd. His body seemed on auto-pilot, his limbs in synchronous, yet seeming to come alive with minds of their own. Beneath him his legs found sure footing with each step, as if they'd walked this earth a hundred times previously, while his hand-eye coordination seemed honed to the razors edge, the augmetics in his skeletal structure acting of their own accord. Raising the pistol for a final shot, Cypher felt pneumatics in his out-stretched arm jink to the left as he squeezed the trigger, correcting his aim by the fine few millimetres that meant the difference between a kill shot and a mortal wound. The slug missed by a mere inch, the target veering aside at the last possible instant; Cypher letting out a cry as the first of his assailants made earth-fall, hammering into the earth with the force of a comet.

For the first time, he saw the enemy.

The xenos struck a powerful figure as it began its advance; standing tall on four powerful legs corded with muscle. The limbs led up to a stocky body of rippling flesh, musculature sliding beneath the skin with each step it took, alive with the promise of brute force and raw strength. It's head, and indeed its whole being, was equine in nature, a sharply jawed muzzle thrusting forward, its ultramarine eyes glaring with hatred as it met his gaze, its mouth parting to reveal fanged canines that spoke of a carnivorous nature. From its back sprouted a vast pair of wings, not the silvered metal of steel and adamantine, but plumed in white feathers, like the Angels of old earth, while from its forehead rose a needle pointed horn of ivory, a triple helix spiralling along its length. Its whole body was encased in thick golden plating, polished to such a degree that they dazzled in the morning light, the Angels optical sensors struggling wildly to compensate for the harsh glare of the reflected sunlight, his vision dimming to near functionless darkness before a corrective program began to compensate. Eyes watering, Cypher forced himself to hold the creatures gaze as its five companions slammed home beside it; each an equally imposing and powerful figure in their own right.

The lead xenos, its head encased in a helmet plumed by blood red fire, raised a twin headed axe, its heads flickering with witch-light as energy coruscated along its deadly edges.

Shining Armour E.V.E. whispered, her voice one of fear and hate.

'Who?'

Celestias champion; the slayer of Veloria. Cypher, this is a fight you cannot win. Run.

'What?'

Run!

His assailants leaping forward, Cypher turned tail and fled as fast as his legs could carry him, wings flaring as the ignition rings on his back instinctively began to cycle up, preparing to launch their bearer skyward. Yet even as the process began a blood red warning dropped into the Angels HUD; the power drain of the ignition rings too intense for his internal reactor to support, his plasma-fuelled heart struggling to cope with such sudden demand after three millennia of inactivity, still burning too cold to support his combat functions at their fullest. In the back of his mind Cypher felt the sensation of vast blocks of coding all chittering at once, trying to reach an equitable distribution of power even as active demand over-ran his background functions ability to process such issues. The ignition rings coughed and fell silent, their orange glow fading as some deep-core function shut them down to prevent a total power loss.

I'm attempting to compensate. Flight functions should be re-enabled in short order. E.V.E. practically shouted in his skull, her tone frantic as her programming warred with the augmetics inbuilt Anima-Spirits; attempting with all her power to override the internal safety protocols. Your reactor's burning too cold to support full functionality, I need time to boost the active threshold.

“And until then?!” Cypher shouted as a lance of energy shot passed his ear, the flesh sizzling where the intense heat caused it cook; anaesthetic flooding his blood stream to blot out the pain.

You have no choice, you must fight.

Skidding on his feet as he spun around, Cypher raised the Slug-Gun and fired on the enemy, back-peddling all the while. The shot took the closest of his assailants through the bridge of his eyes, brain matter flying in all directions as it punched clean through the xenos skull and smacked into the far wall of the courtyard, the dull concussive boom echoing outward like the roar of some great beast. Lining up for another shot, Cypher ducked as another energy beam shot past him, the wall behind him hissing as melted stone ran like tallow wax as he returned fire, dropping another enemy before holstering his weapon; the enemy now too close for such a weapon to remain a viable option. On pure reflex he whipped his knife up before him; the foot long blades serrated edge glinting cruelly in the morning light.

Of his seven assailants, only four remained standing, though even then Cypher wasn't certain of victory. Three bore blades before them, the weapons levitating in a sheen of energy, seemingly held in place by some form of telekinesis, while the fourth – whom Cypher presumed to be the squad leader – thrust forth his deadly axe, wisps of cyan energy flickering as it sensed its masters aggression. For an instant the world was still, the threat of violence hung in the air.

Then the creature spoke.

“Cypher of the Angelic Choir, by order of her highness Princess Celestia; Life-flame of Equestria, Solar Monarch, and holy daughter of Faust, you are hereby placed in the custody of the Celestial Guard. Drop your weapon and surrender, or face the wrath of the Diarchs.”

For the briefest instant Cypher was too shocked to speak, his mind tumbling as he realised that the creature was speaking his tongue, the mere idea of human language coming from non-human lips the very epitome of perversion to his fresh-born mind. It seemed impossible, ludicrous even, that a being who'd evolved on a completely alien world would even be capable of uttering human speech, and yet here was proof before his very eyes. Yet as quick as it came, the shock passed; suppressant sub-routines within his mind quashing his fears and doubts to leave his focus clear and sharp. Raising the knife in a back-handed grip, Cypher growled at the xenos E.V.E. had named Shining Armour, natural human defiance coming to the fore as he held the beasts gaze.

“If you want me, come and get me.” he spat in return. The words sounded petulant even as he spoke them; like a child resisting punishment. Yet he knew even then that he couldn't yield; though he knew nothing of this world, he'd learnt enough aboard the Ark to realise that surrender would be the worst course of action to take.

As E.V.E. had told him, the Heavenfall was the last hope for humanity.

Shining Armour grinned, the expression like that of a feral beast as he once again flashed his canines; the fangs disturbingly out of place on a beast whose earth analogue had been primarily herbivorous. “I have slain Angels before, Heavenfall, do not think your fate shall be any different.”

One-hundred-and-eighty seconds. The Anima-Spirit in his mind whispered, as if the creature could hear his very thoughts. Flight functions are coming online, Cypher. Just hold on a little longer.

The three sword bearing xenos surged forwards as one, their blades glinting in the light as they thrust ahead of their wielders. The first came in high for a devastating strike, the second and third aimed squarely at his gut, seeking to impale him in place to prevent his escape. On pure reflex Cypher flung himself to the side, his wings flaring as his internal gyroscope spun wildly to compensate and retain balance. Leaping forward in an attack of his own, Cypher leapt into the null space left by the thrusting blade and lashed out with his knife; the steel glinting as it slashed across the neck of an enemy, the creature collapsing to the ground as it pawed at the ragged wound the Angel had tore in its throat.

'One down, three to go.'

One-hundred-and-forty seconds.

Pulling back for another attack, the two xenos threw themselves forward; one striking high as the other swung low. Throwing up his knife before him, the air filled with the shriek of metal against metal as Cypher parried the high strike, his feet twisting with the grace of a ballet dancer as he side-stepped the low blow by a mere inch. Seeing another opening, the Angel prepared to attack before a shadow fell upon him, realising a second too late that the attacks had never been intended to wound him, merely keep him in place as4 the xenos called Shining Armour fell down upon him with his deadly axe. Curling away from the deadly strike, the Angels left pinion wrapped itself around his form; shielding him from the blow as it slammed into the photo-voltaic cells of its outer membrane, the Angel letting out a shriek of agony as the axe head bit deep into his most precious augmetics and discharged a fierce blast into his body.

Biting his tongue to stifle the pain, the Angel whipped the slug-gun from its holster, took aim, and fired, stitching a line of craters down the front of a sword-wielding xenos as it sought to take advantage of his distraction and slip round his guard, the body falling to the floor with a wet thump.

'Two down, two to go.'

One-hundred-and-nine seconds.

Another surge of pain flowed through him as Shining Armour wrenched his axe free of the Angels wing, coruscating energy licking up and down its length as the two remaining xenos fanned out; aiming to surround, divide, and conquer. Cypher felt his artificial heart racing in his chest, his blood alive with the song of adrenaline as a vicious aggression seized him, filling his flesh with a glorious inner fire. Without thought a battle hymn began to tumble for his lips, the words coming unbidden from the depths of his mind as he lashed out with his knife. The last of the sword-wielding stallions tried to duck, but was a fraction of a second too slow, screaming in pain as the atomically sharpened edge caught him through the eyes, slicing through the soft jelly of both orbs like wet paper. The xenos screamed wildly, limbs flailing at his sudden blindness before a hard boot to the side of his skull knocked him unconscious with a sickening crunch; Cypher wheeling around to face his last opponent: Shining Armour.

'One left.'

Seventy seconds.

The xenos dropped into a low combat-stance, axe held across his length in a defensive guard. Brining his own knife to bear, Cypher and Shining Armour began to circle one another, each wary of making the first move.

“I'd forgotten how deadly your kind are.” Shining Armour spoke, his eyes leaving Cyphers for the briefest moment as he looked back to the bodies of his fallen comrades; the ground all about them wet with gore and flesh. “These soldiers have served me for over a thousand years, yet you cut them down like wheat before the scythe.” A deep growl rumbled from the beasts lips, eyes alive and burning with hate. “For that, you shall pay. When I drag you before Celestia, I doubt she'll mind if you're missing an arm!”

Fifty Seconds.

Surging forwards almost too fast to perceive, Shining Armour brought his axe down in a vicious side-swipe, Cypher leaping away to avoid being split and gutted by its flickering heads. Pushing forward to keep the Angel in retreat, Shining Armour did not relent, his weapon striking forward again and again; each time Cypher dodging or parrying with barely a moment to spare. Clearly this Shining Armour was far more skilled than the soldiers he'd brought with him, Cypher realised as he leapt backwards, the xenos falling upon him not a moment later, axe hacking viscously towards him. What was worse was that anatomical analysis suggested that the creature was pulling its punches, so to speak, purposefully avoiding lashing out with its full strength and dealing a wound from which even an Angel could not recover. Raising the slug-gun Cypher fired point-blank into the creatures skull, hardly daring to believe his eyes as the shot was deflected aside by a wall of ultramarine light; Shining Armour grinning like the devil behind its scintillating light.

Thirty seconds.

Realising he had to break off the engagement to have any hope of escape, Cypher angled his ignition rings forward and fired a single seconds worth of thrust; twin tails of orange fire lancing towards Shining Armour as he back-peddled from the attack, his telekinetic barricade flaring brightly as it began to crumble against the vicious onslaught. Buying himself precious space, Cypher turned and ran, the xenos in hot pursuit as the Angel leapt into the air, the augmetics in his legs boosting the jump to launch him well over ten meters into the air. Landing hard on the crumbling remains of what must have been an outer curtain-wall, Cypher ran on, the stone work beneath him tumbling loose after millennia of laying undisturbed. Behind him came a faint whoosh of air as Shining Armour used his wings to propel himself up after his target.

Twenty seconds.

Flinging his right arm out behind him, Cypher fired wildly with the slug-gun, shots flying wide as he sought to keep Shining Armour off his tail, the xenos forced to duck and dodge as the solid rounds passed by.

Ten seconds.

A sudden horror surged through the Angels systems as he realised what lay ahead. Before him the remains of the curtain-wall dropped away into nothingness, the crumbling foundation giving way to a wide, deep gorge, the roar of rushing water rising up with a fine spray to greet him with the promise of fast rapids and jagged rocks.

Five seconds.

Finally out of wall, and with no where else to run, Cypher flung himself into the void, arms flailing as a sickening lurch rushed through him, gravity seizing him its awful grip as he began to fall head first into the white-wash below.

Three, two, one. Ignition!

Instantly the roar of the rapids was drowned out by the harsh scream of the ignition rings as they cycled to full power, the plasma-fuelled heart in the Angels chest diverting all non-essential power to the winged augmetics as they sought to counteract the force of gravity. For the briefest moment Cypher floated in air, his fall arrested as the ignition rings came into full balance with the gravity of the earth beneath him before, with a sudden rush of reflexive glee, the Angel felt himself begin to rise up and up and up.

Within a second he shot up out of the gorge, rocketing into the clear blue skies on twin tongues of orange fire, the face of Shining Armour blinking past him in an instant, a look of grim hatred marking his features as he watched his quarry begin to soar into the skies above. Wind rushed past the Angels face, whipping and tearing at his long hair as he let out a whoop of pure instinctive joy, feeling himself slip loose from the bonds of the earth. The sensation was incredible; the weak propulsion of his wings aboard the Ark less than nothing compared to the power he now felt flowing through his flesh as he flew two hundred, three hundred, four hundred meters into the air. He was unstoppable, untouchable, nothing could harm him when he flew like th-

Cypher, hostile right!

Cypher let out a wail of agony as a lance of energy skewered into his back, the flesh between his wings sizzling as it cooked under the heat of the blow. Instantly the Angel felt himself begin to tumble, the fine aero-dynamics of his flight shattered as his wings flailed in pain, gravity seizing him like some leviathan beast of the deep seeking to drag its prey down into the darkness below. Warnings flashed in his HUD, klaxons rang in his ears as automated systems attempted with utter futility to correct his spiralling descent.

The earth below rushed to meet him like an expectant lover.