Master

He awoke hours later. He turned his head to find Ruoia still softly sleeping beside him, her naked body warmly tucked under the quilt. He took another moment to gaze at her before quietly sliding out of the bed and softly begin walking in the dark. His footsteps guiding him to the long, royal crimson drapes. The Father opened them and was met with only the hard, eternal snow storm. Life in these remnants of a kingdom was extremely cold. The Crystal formations scattered around the area that, once a sign of the Kingdom, seemed to absorb all warmth.

As a dragon, his heart burns brighter. Therefor, he is more immune than his faithful group to the frosty winter. His faith proves to be fuel to this fire, making it cast shadows from here to the ends of the world. His symbol of Conveyance, directed by his god, will lead him. And, though him, others shall to be ripped from the miasma of confusion and hatred.

"Will thou rejoin me, Champion?" The seductive voice of Ruoia entered his mind. Day was nearly upon them, he could sense it. But he could see something else. Perhaps this is his Lord telling what to do? No, he felt it brewing, foaming inside of him. A sense, a warning. He would need to visit the High Church and ask his Lord why he was feeling this emotion.

"Lord's High Champion? Your wife is asking you to rejoin her in our bed, will thou reject her wishes?" She was growing restless. Still, he wasn't allowed to spend his time with her forever. Undoubtedly, there would be another uprising of Heretics somewhere.

"Excuse my absent-mindedness, Fire-savior Ruoia. But, I feel as if the time for less personal action is upon us." He said without looking back at her. He heard a minor hiss of annoyance and the slithering of a snake. He turned his head and found Ruoia was silently coming to him, the light from the window in front of him casting itself on her features.

Ruoia wasn't a dragon entirely. A very rare and unique mix between a serpent and a dragon, she shares qualities and traits from both reptiles. Fangs capable of delivering a minor venom. A strong resistance to heat. Below the waist, she was entirely a snake. Her tail was beginning to become plump with their new children. Her scales, albeit not as strong as a dragon's. normally changes colors. Most commonly, it was a strangely feminine shade of green or a cool red.

Once she got close, she sensually rubbed his shoulders. Ever so lovingly sneaking small kisses on the back of his neck and rubbing his exposed chest. Her rather ripe breasts pressing themselves on his cut-spines and back. Still having little effect on changing the Champion's mind.

"Omarmd.." He heard her whisper into his ear. "..Am I going to have to poison you and drag thine-self into bed with me?"

He merely chuckled and patted her hand on his chest. Without a word, he blew out a flame and it floated in front of his face. It wafted into his open hand. The green light rapidly changed colors. Red, velvet, white, grey. Staying on any color for no more than a blink of thine eye. Slowing down, ever so slowly. It finally stopped on a single, defining shade.

Black

A pure, hollow black flame nested itself in his hands. It, despite having almost entirely absorbed his palm, had no physical effect on him. Omarmd could hear it whispering.

Unless you believe

He blinked and found himself surrounded by sand. Miles upon miles of sand. Four cloaked ponies were kneeling to him, their faces couldn't be seen. They each wore crowns. One came with a masterfully-crafted, purely gold crown. Another wore a crude. moss-covered stone crown. He couldn't recognize the other two power-symbols. He heard the whispering again, but it was louder.

Don't you believe, *Spike*?

The voice said his former's name so loudly, he blinked hard in surprise. Surprised further once he finds himself back in his chambers and still in front of the window. Ruoia still attempting to drag him into the warm bed.

He shook off her hand half-hardheartedly and quickly went to get dressed. He crushed the black fire in his hand, it ever so quickly disappearing beneath his sharpened claws, as he reached for a long, highly-decorated, golden robe with several markings and symbols on each and every inch of the cloth. A chain going around the left shoulder and under the right arm kept in place the Veraces Secuutus Bible. His absolute most precious object, it offers The Father the power to forever hold true. He has every blot of ink upon the book's pages memorized. The Father had many questions he wanted to ask his lord, so he must travel to High Church of Sold Sacrifice, deep in the warm-seeking cold snow. A colossal arena. There, you prove yourself worthy of the attention of his god though the defeat of another.

Despite his status as High Champion, he too must prove himself over and over again. Bringing down whatever beast was placed in front of him and sending their souls directly to meet his lord. He got the robe around his scaled body and it fit him without error, standing or not. It covered near every inch of his body, giving him the slight appearance of a monk or priest.

Just beside the robe's former resting place, a foreign weapon used by an underground group of banished Centaurs. His own god enhanced this unique weapon for him as a gift. Centaurs made many weapons that ponies simply couldn't use. One of which was a curved great-sword given to the most powerful of the Mengls, meaning the queen or king. These hybrids were conquered by The Father. Under threat of enslavement, they quickly offered this strangely effective weapon. It has the frightful power to heal the user with each attack. He carefully slid it inside the back of his robe, the handle sticking straight up over his left shoulder. The title of Fevur graced the blade.

The Fire-savior retreated back to bed as he went on to reach for his next object. The Shield of Daiions' Neck. A sharp-edged barrier employed by the slender-bodied, light-weight Sareoles. For his swiftness to defend them from the powerful grip of Klure The Aching, the long-haired people gifted him wheat from their own fields, several large flasks of Liquid La Tie, and their best shield. It awaited him above the window. They also offered him their high-quality metal-bending skills.

It was tall. Spreading to his chest from the ground easily. The image of a roaring avalanche speeding down a mountain was to represent his faithful's constant presence upon any battlefield. Despite being strong enough to stop an raging bull's buck, it remains extremely light. He quickly strapped it to his arm.

He has equipped his choice of armaments mostly, he still must locate The Ever-Lasted Stave. Crafted by his own claws, a long-staff wrapped in symbols had quite the reach and a very threatening Draio tooth at the end. Draosi Apes commonly populated the Frozen North and end even the most seasoned and equipped traveler.

Omarmd heard Ruoia's disgruntled hmpf and she informed him that their daughter, Pupa, wished to pray to it. The Father nodded and walked out the room, leaving a pregnant Ruoia lying in the princess-sized bed. Several pony claw-maidens awaited outside and rushed in to service the Fire-savior in his absence.

The hall was expansive, grand. Despite the main source of light being the grey flooding in from the windows, the chamber still had the appearance of something a royal pony would imagine. Art of the old and deceased formerly hung from the walls. taken and incinerated many cycles ago. Now, the walls were mostly bare. Hoof and hand carved images freely marked the walls. The left side consisted of mostly Crystal Glass. The light reflected off every surface of the shining crystal.

A total of nine doors stood between him and the other set of large doors. All of which, like everything is in the abode, was composed entirely of the mineral known as crystal. Four of said doors contained his off-spring. The first door homed his first born, Katauc. A well known Druid outside of The Frozen North, he has lead several groups though the snow-storm that constantly batters this land. He is entirely draconian, and is to serve as The Starred Sair, or Lord's Mage, when he comes of age.

Two entrances down led to The Father's Daughter's room. Pupa Dral never invested into one set of skills. As the second youngest, she mainly graced the north near home. Rarely leaving outside the protective presence of the faithful, she is commonly seen browsing the clothing sections of any shop or store. Offer her a great-sword or a spear and she'll make an outfit to match the armament, then proceed not to wear the clothing, nor weapon. Her traits reminded him of a certain heretic he fancied commonly in his past life.

Without any thought, Omarmd slightly rushed to the door and went to open it just as the last door opened. Out walked his youngest of seed, Rao Tir. The weakest and thoughtless of all the many The Father had seen in all his days. So dishonorable he abandoned his name. The below average dragon isn't allowed to leave the castle, much less the Frozen North. The suspected heathen strictly wields a flanged mace and a small leather shield. Mainly do to his lack of skill or strength. His scales shine with a light purple and several, xanthous colored short spines ran themselves down his back.

The moment he noticed his father watching him, he quickly made for the door to avoid interacting with his parent. Unfortunately, Omarmd wasn't in the mood to let the whelp go.

"Son, where are you hurrying off to? Come, converse with The Lord's Champion." The Father heard his son's grunt and slightly frowned. Rao Tir turned, his only clothing being restricted to a Novice Scribe's toga and dragged himself to be presented to The Father. The inferior dragon hardly came up to Omarmd's neck and he nearly glared down at his son.

"Why hasth...thy calledeh..to myself-th?" The young fool remarked incorrectly, causally displaying such ignorance in the presence of Omarmd. In truth, he merely wished to somehow teach Rao Tir something worthwhile. He quickly jabbed the son's nose, instantly breaking it and sending the child sprawling on his back.

"Rao Tir..." The Champion pondered what to say for a moment as Rao Tir clutched his bleeding nose "..Recite the first line spoken by Laza The Tired in the Chapter of Lost Faith." Completely confident the child didn't know the page where the chapter even begins,  The Lord's Champion readied his shield arm and waited for the boy to stand back up.

"She said-" he was interrupted by the rude shield bash Omarmd performed on him, yet again sending him to the ground. Laza was a stallion, not a mare. The Father must ensure his bounty's knowledge of the past. With hardly a grunt of effort, The Father lifted Rao Tir from the ground with one hand around his neck. Shaking out a low moan of pain.

"Lift us up from indifference," The Father grumbled "Shift us into the light of significance." Omarmd quoted with ease. The Lord's Champion brought Rao Tir to the larger set of doors at the end of the hall. There stood a Utaosis Dog. A mixture between the Arctic Wolf and Diamond Dogs found near a heretic settlement. The result was a agile, slightly weak-minded, able fighter. Their packs were all under the Covenant of His Faithful.

He dropped the defeated dragon at the guard's paws with orders to escort Rao Tir to the Lowest Eye. The Lowest Eye being a prison designed for captured heretics, and Rao Tir shall spend a few days locked there with a Veraces Secuutus bible. With that bit of the unsavory action ended, Omarmd retreated back to Pupa's door and walked in.

Pupa was a tall, slender-bodied, fine-featured youngster. She takes more after her mother than her father in terms of appearance. Her room, although had no windows, was very lit. A bonfire at the other side of the room held a bright green flame, coating the room in a light green color.

Pupa herself was bowing before The Ever-Lasted Stave, chanting the Threnody Without Peace. Her servant, the heretic Princess Mi Amore' Cadenza, sat nearby and worshiped Lady Dral. Omarmd waited for his daughter to finish.

"You shall go to him and inform him I wish to make amends for my crimes."

The Princess continued, despite Twilight's expressionless face. Celestia merely laid back down and her eyes kept themselves on the ceiling,

"You will guide him here, and I shall.. take his faith he oh-so treasures." Her voice took on a minor venom near the middle, but it crossed well enough to her. Travel to The North, bring Spike back along with Shining Armor and Cadence. A few years back, Celestia sent her brother and his wife there to attempt to force Spike to back down from his throne. They've yet to hear back.

"Your escort will be leaving in the next hour, so I suppose you should hurry."

By the moment's passing, Twilight was rushed back out in to the antechamber by a Lost Paladin. The sight out here was somewhat improved from before. Jaimue was tossing glances at a slightly blushing Rarity while he held his halberd tight. At the sight of her emergence, the guard quickly straightened her back and look wholesomely more refined.

"What did our holy princess ask of you, Researcher of Day Sparkle?" She nearly shouted at her, assuming the causal guard's salute sharply.

Twilight walked past her and stopped at the door, turning around to respond to the question.

"Our monarch has requested the presence of Spike The Scribe."

Without another word, the researcher began her trek to topside of the Dying Hollow Star.