From the shadows K’Umetk observed the mournful procession with a casual interest. The candlelight ceremony commemorating the lives and deaths of Princess Luna, Prince Shining Armor and Princess Cadance was as he had expected – grand beyond imagining. Hundreds of thousands of ponies stood outside the castle, each of them holding a lit candle, the flickering of flames in numbers untold was so very reminiscent of the stars that lined the night sky above. A somber parade of adjuncts, dignitaries and elites filed their way along the cobbled path leading to the castle gates, a black garbed Celestia at its head.

In its wake were held aloft the portraits of the three deceased royals, framed in gold wreathes and roses. While silence was the norm, many of those in observance openly cried, with no small number of them expressing flabbergasted looks of disbelief, as if their perceptions of reality had been altered. With his one remaining eye he took note of a special group of ponies who flanked the princess as they walked along the mournful path.

With what little he could find out, he vaguely understood that these six equines were held in high regard amongst their kind; something about a gifted power or whatnot. To him, they looked no different from any other pony, but, as he was not a pony himself, he felt it impossible for him to fully understand such things. Looking around him once again, he still tried to understand the mentality of these people. From what he understood it to be, the number of their kind lost to Gho'Zra's wrath could be tallied in their thousands, yet they mourned for just these three.

Naturally, they were very important figures to their empire – but to hold such a lavish ceremony for so few did not set well with him. His own people held different views of death. The dead were to be honored, yes, but never to such opulent extremes. Furthermore, all those who died were honored with equal regard – to hold such a great vigil for only three seemed so very wrong to him. Perhaps it was to do with the way ponies viewed death.

Where he had come from, death was often a fact of life – many youths died to famine, war and disease before their twentieth summer; something that these ponies were not accustomed to, if he were to judge by what he saw. They doubtlessly thought that death was something that happened at the end of one’s life; when their bodies had become so old and feeble as to finally give out. His thoughts were momentarily interrupted when the princess turned to speak with all those present.

He ignored all she said. He had heard it a hundred times before. His home island was no stranger to death, and he had lost many a loved one and listened to many a eulogy before. Instead he turned to leave, casually noting how Ghur’Tcha watched the whole thing in a detached manner. Speaking with a hushed tone in their native language, he spoke his mind to the youth. “These ponies are soft in spirit – they don’t understand hardship and so they seek culpability through words instead of actions.”

Slowly turning to his elder friend, Ghur’Tcha meekly replied, “They honor their dead much as we do our own, K’Umetk, to criticize them is pointless.” Gruffly muttering, the old captain countered, “They honor the deaths of their nobility, yet none spare words for the countless others who died while fighting for their people; this is not right.” With a rare flash of emotion, the young sailor hissed, “They are not like us, Captain – what do you expect of a people who do not know hardship as we do; do you think you are better than them because of it?” Lowering his head in shame, K’Umetk conceded to the boy’s words.

“You are right, of course,” he began, “I am no better than they are, and perhaps I am of a worse sort; I have become cynical in my age.” His young friend looked out across the sea of ponies, and K’Umetk was certain that the discussion was over – Ghur’Tcha was obviously not in the mood to talk with him. So it was to his surprise that the young Chameleon did indeed speak, saying “I admire them.” At K’Umetk’s look of disbelief, he elaborated further. “Our people are so divisive and quarrelsome, yet these ponies stand in unity despite such calamity befalling them – they hold a respect towards one another I have never seen before.”

While the old sailor mulled over the youth’s words, Ghur’Tcha focused his sights upon a particular pony; Her Alicorn features making her easy to distinguish from the others. As her violet eyes surveyed the great multitude around her, they momentarily locked with his – a nod of mutual respect passing between them. When he had first met Princess Twilight Sparkle some three weeks prior, he had come across a sad, desolate shell of a pony – a girl mourning the death of her brother, yet unable to confide with anyone in her sorrow. She had immediately struck a chord with him; he himself still grieved over the loss of his own brother, Xa’Tchee, taken from him by the same beast that stole her sibling away no less.

Over the following days the two of them had developed a unique relationship – a strange sort of friendship, one that crossed the barriers of species and race and took strength from their shared tragedy. While they remained respectfully distant towards each other, the camaraderie they had was strong enough for them to eventually open up to one another. What followed were many a night of deep and meaningful conversations over such varied topics as life, death, dreams… and fate. Fate was a driving element in much of what they saw, and it naturally bled into their conversations.

All had gone much the same in the following weeks, that is, until the disaster of the Equestrian Empire’s first military action against Gho’Zra that took place two days prior. With the death of yet another person of great importance to her, Twilight lapsed back into the pitiful state he had first met her in. What was worse, she seemed intent to hold herself up within the confines of the great oaken tree that was her home in the nearby town of Ponyville – never leaving nor letting others in (himself included). It had only been at the personal behest of her monarch that she even set foot outside.

Now she stood at the right hand of her mentor and ruler, a look of empty grief marring her gentle face and a slight hunch giving voice to her exhausted state. Her sunken eyes were proof enough that she had been foregoing sleep. For what, he did not know, but as soon as he had the chance he intended to confront her about it. He needed to help her in some way – she had done so much to help him move on and he intended to return that favor in any way possible. As the eulogy drew to a close Ghur’Tcha was surprised by Celestia’s final words – “- And I swear upon my life that there will be retribution; I will seek neither rest nor respite until this terrible threat to our very existence is stopped.”

And with that, the ceremony came to a close – no clapping, no fanfare, not even an ‘Amen’; the Princess and her retinue carried on towards the castle whilst the surrounding citizens slowly made their way towards wherever their homes may be. Amidst this wave of equine flesh Ghur’Cha frantically searched, intent to finally confront his newfound friend over her sudden standoffish behavior. From the corner of his eye he spotted her distinctive violet hue and with reptilian reflexes swiftly made his way towards her.

For her part, Princess Twilight Sparkle was only slightly surprised when her Chameleon friend appeared from seemingly nowhere, grasping her arm with his bizarre zygodactyl fingers and pulling her aside. With a hushed whisper, he announced, “Please, I understand very much why you are being this way – I have felt this way greatly for some time; to be ignoring it is impossible – it will not work.” Looking her in the eye, he raspingly hissed “Speak; use words and talk with me – with anyone – holding this within, this is wrong.”

With weary, red-rimmed eyes, the young Alicorn gave a soul shuddering sigh before retracting her limb from his reptilian grip. Sniffling slightly to clear her head, she croaked out, “Everything is falling apart.” Even as tears began to pool beneath her eyes, she could not cry; she had already done too much of that these past few days. With a gaze that spoke of deep empathy and understanding, Ghur’Cha replied, “Yes, yes they are – but to mourn while tragedy still looms is pointlessly selfish.”

Eyes widening at such caustic words of truth, she barely contained a shuddering sob before turning away from him, saying, “I know… but that’s not why I’ve been so distant lately... I’ve been working on something.” This piqued the Chameleon’s interest as he voiced his intrigue. “Working on something?” He asked, “Working on what?” A dark look passed over Twilight’s face as she waged an internal battle with herself. Her anxious grimace of consternation soon dissipated as she finally made up her mind. Turning once more to him, she answered, “Let me show you.”

… With a final grunt of pained exertion the towering behemoth extracted the last dozen meters of obsidian from its torso, the rivers of blood slowly receded as the gaping crater in its trunk rapidly closed up – the pain of reknitting flesh and bone was all but ignored in favor of the relief it felt at no longer having a pillar of glass constricting its breathing. Tossing the offending rock aside, Gho’Zra raised his eyes towards the horizon. The night was closing fast – the stars on the horizon were quickly fading; the newly liberated moon all but a distant sliver of waning light.

Things had drastically changed, of this it was certain; the natural equilibrium was still broken, but already things began to feel as they once had – the moon no longer hovered over the earth, content to finally return to the greater tapestry of the night sky. The air, too, was calmer – like a great weight had been lifted from it. Flaring its nostrils with a heavy whiff, the leviathan could smell the saltine breeze of the sea; the memory of a hundred thousand generations before him traveled through his blood and rejoiced at the return to what once was in ages past.

But the land was still sick – he could smell the rot of decaying earth; the weight of misuse and abuse was great. The perversity the beast had felt when the land was physically coerced into attacking him was sickening in the extreme – he had heard the way in which it had cried out in pain and misery. It had felt as if an extension of himself had been violated, and it was something which he sorely wished to never experience again. Again the image of a city of dressed stone and crafted wood passed unbidden before his mind’s eye; the sickness came from there, wherever there was.

With a heated snort, Gho’Zra rose up in newfound determination. The smoldering embers of anger were given new life beneath a billowing gale of righteousness that stoked the burning coals of his soul into a blazing furnace of vindictive rage once more! A rumbling tremolo of simmering fury clawed forth from his throat. Unable to contain himself any longer the mighty avatar of wrath let loose a spine-tingling howl that echoed across the plains and reverberated against the craggy peaks of distant mountains.

To the north and east, that was where the strands of destiny tugged him. And to the north and east was where he went – the rolling thunder and crashing waves of his unrelenting advance were carried upon the wind, caught up within a swirling dust cloud that cast an amber haze against the backdrop of the early morning horizon. The mounting speed and inertia of its gargantuan form as it raced across the badlands was a terrifying sight to behold – nothing so large should conceivably move so swift! It was a testament to its otherworldly strength.

… Early rays of sunlight poured into the paneled windows of the great oak tree. The trilling song of a mockingbird pierced the calm morning air as the citizens of Ponyville began to wake from fitful slumber; a new day (in every sense of the term) had dawned. The solid mahogany door of the library was pushed aside - the creaking moan of its old, wrought-iron hinges the only sound to be heard amongst the dust covered shelves. Quietly crossing the threshold, Princess Twilight Sparkle beckoned Ghur’Tcha to follow her as she purposefully made her way across the lacquered floor.

Casting a wary gaze about the great arboreal atrium, the young Chameleon hobbled uneasily upon his mangled leg as he slowly followed her lead. With mechanical motions, the young Alicorn made her way along until finally stopping at another door, this one made of Peltogyne purpleheart – its chocolate exterior of rich violet a testament to its age. With a momentary look of hesitance, Twilight inclined her head before speaking. “What lies beyond this door must stay a secret between both you and I,” she murmured before sharply turning on him, asking, “Do I have your word on this?”

Focusing his eyes upon hers, he stood rigid as his skin took on a slated tone of lapis before clasping his neck in the tradition of his ancestors as he spoke, saying “I swear to you by my father’s blood as it runs through me, I shall hold all you show me in trust.” The princess continued to stare at him for another minute before nodding to herself. Pushing the postern open with little fanfare, Twilight Sparkle descended down the steps and into the darkness below. Pausing only long enough to wonder at such secrecy, Ghur’Tcha quickly followed likewise.

The stairway was only a short affair, but in such complete darkness it felt much longer. As the last step passed beneath his feet the Chameleon was momentarily blinded by the blaring light of a dozen halogen rods activating at once, their dull, throbbing hum sending a chill down his spine. As his eyes finally adjusted, he gasped at what he saw. All around him there stood rows upon rows of strange and menacing contraptions – scientific instruments strewn across every conceivable surface, the walls covered in all manner of schematics and charts.

Twilight stood at the center of the room, a look of guilt cast upon her face as she surveyed her basement’s surroundings. She could still hear her brother’s words – still remember the promise he’d made her swear upon. But she had just as quickly gone and broken her vow, so sure of her skill in the arts of science and magic - so sure that she could save him - that she’d immediately set to work searching for a cure to his sickness. The night she'd stood witness to Shining Armor’s passing had been like a slap to the face; the cold realization that not only had she gone behind her brother’s back, she had failed to save him despite her monumental efforts.

That night she had wrecked the laboratory in a fit of heartbroken rage. But it seemed that providence was with her, because it was on that night that she had made her breakthrough. With a great inhale of breath, she looked to her friend as he stared in awe at everything around them. Gaining his attention, she began, “You know of my brother; how he was sick and dying from an incurable sickness brought on by the monster?” With a nod of confirmation from the reptile, she took the liberty of continuing her dialogue.

“All of what you see before you is a result of my efforts towards saving him.” No words were needed to convey Ghur’Tcha’s realization – he knew well enough that her efforts had obviously failed. Regardless, she continued, “When he… when he died… I flew into a rage; I came back here and destroyed near everything I could get a hold of.” Running a hoof across the surface of an electrode tube, she stared off into nothingness as she explained further, “It was there that I made my discovery.” Turning to a pallet at the edge of her alchemic cove (a desk covered in all manner of compounds and formulas, an array of various sized mortars and pestles inlaid into its form), the violet Alicorn scooped up a bowl of silvery spheres.

Taking a dozen or so tentative steps across the cement floor, she came to rest at the edge of a great aquarium tank filled with all manner and sorts of fish. Ghur’Tcha watched on in rapt attention as Twilight took a single pellet of the mysterious substance and dropped the mercurial marble into the salty water, where upon it settled into the gravel lined bottom with a silent plink. With hurried strides the princess backed away from the glass, stopping beside the young reptile as they both watched on. A look of morbid reservation had fallen upon her countenance.

As the seconds passed, the scene that unfolded before them brought a mixture of fascination and revulsion. Leaning forward, Ghur’Tcha watched with captivation as the metallic sphere seemingly frothed and effervesced within itself before breaking cleanly asunder in a spectacle of lathering foam and quicksilver bubbles. With a start the Chameleon scrabbled backwards as the water began to fiercely churn, its consistency like that of rolling surf.

But what startled him most were the fish – seconds before they had been content to swim around their container with little thought towards anything else. Yet as the water turned white in aeration they began to violently thrash in place, trembling under a paroxysm of agonizing pain! And just as soon as their convulsions began they ceased, replaced with the overt stillness of death. With bated breath Ghur’Tcha watched on, his eyes held wide in terror as he beheld the true horror of Twilight’s work; the stasis of expiry was shattered. As one the piscine cadavers began to degrade into a liquesced slime of biological matter; their forms like melting wax.

In the blink of an eye the sloughing gruel of amorphous flesh disintegrated into a black mist, leaving behind a graveyard of stark white bones. Yet even those remnants found no peace, as they too began to quickly evaporate into nothingness. By the time it was over, all that remained thereof was a roiling tank of viscous grey liquid – not a single shred of proof remained that this tank had once been full of pristine water and schools of colorful fish. When the water finally calmed down enough to be heard over, Ghur’Tcha shivered and asked, “What foul sorcery was that?”

With a hollow voice, Twilight answered, “Ether Splitter… I call it the Ether Splitter.” Turning away from the spectacle, she shambled slowly to a nearby counter as she explained. “On that night, I discovered a substance capable of breaking the magical bonds of the air that we breathe – a single drop, when brought to liquid, would doubtlessly be capable of wiping out entire cities…” Rounding upon her friend, she looked him in the eye before continuing, “When I finally understood what it was that I had discovered, I couldn’t eat… I couldn’t sleep… It terrified me beyond imagining – what good could come from it?”

Crossing the room as she spoke, she stopped at a picture of her family hanging on the wall. Reaching out with a shaky hoof, she gently caressed the image of a happier time in her life as she went on saying, “I was determined to bury my discovery into oblivion – content to never think of it again.” Lowering her head and retracting her arm, she could not stop the tears that leaked forth as she said, “But then another person I cared for was taken from me by that thing – that monster.” A flash of anger beneath her eyes was all that showed through her impassive face as she stared once more at Ghur’Tcha.

“I realized then that life was too short, too unpredictable – the only thing one can insure in their life is the legacy they leave.” Straightening herself into a more professional posture, she explained, “So I came back to my chance discovery, intent to take it to the furthest it could go; what I had discovered was a weapon, but I’m certain that given enough time the Ether Splitter could be developed into a tool for good – a constructive element capable of bettering the lives of others… That is why I have been so distant.”

The two remained in silence for many a minute as they both took in the severity of it all. No words were exchanged as they ascended the stairs and made to exit the laboratory. It was only after the great portage had been shut that Twilight spoke – “Ghur’Tcha, I’ve never shown this to anyone – you are the only other person who knows of my work.” Grasping his shoulders with both hooves she pleaded, “Promise me, Ghur’Tcha – promise me that you will keep this a secret; the outside world isn’t ready for this – not yet, not in its current form.”

With a grave nod the young Chameleon took hold of her arms and squeezed them in reassurance, before backing off and turning away. He would keep it a secret; what he had witnessed was nothing short of apocalyptic in its revelatory scope – he felt ill at the thought of such destructive capabilities. As he slowly limped towards the train depot, he wondered if the world would ever be ready for such a device; Twilight's optimism seemed ill placed for such a terrible creation. As he rode the train to Canterlot, he stared off at the horizon – the dark storm clouds that loomed in the distant a mirror image of this new burden upon his soul...

Author's Note

Hah, finally. Sorry for the delay. I've just got back from a month long 'business trip' in Hawaii; CNS sent me as a liaison to represent P9 Studios - the new Korean branch CEO wanted to work towards streamlining the overseas animation transfer process (we're going digital on that, finally!)
Anyways, I'm extremely proud of this chapter; Dr. Daisuke Serizawa has always been my favorite protagonist element to rise from the Godzilla franchise - his character is of the long standing German tradition of the tortured scientist who has lost control of his work and ultimately his life. While this story greatly differs from the original movie's script, I am extremely happy with the aquarium scene! I am told by my wife that I actually hand wrote that entire scene on a bar napkin whilst intoxicated at a bar and grill on the island of Kuai'i.
Finally, I am proud of how I portrayed my own pet projects, the Chameleons. They do not stand out as particularly impressive, nor do they appear to be one dimensional in scope - they come off as living beings trying to make sense of a world gone wrong. If this sounds braggish, understand that I'm slightly intoxicated right now, so I feel that I can toot my own horn, so to speak, and not feel to guilty about coming off as egotistical.
Anyways, I'm going to go lay down for a bit, the flight back was arduous, and I'm feeling heavy with whiskey.
Until the next chapter, ja?
Auf Wiedersehn.