From Dustby Vermillion ProseChaptersThe RubricaeThe PrincessThe ConversationThe DaemonThe SacrificeThe EndThe RubricaeAlarms screamed throughout the tortured corridors of the dying strike cruiser. Fire bled from severed chemical lines, explosions ripped through the ammunition banks, and precious atmosphere bled into the void through fatal rents in the ship’s hull. Mortal slaves died by the hundreds as bulkheads were breached and sections of the ship tore away under the relentless fury of capital guns. Debris spun away as the cruiser rolled under the punishing onslaught of macro shells and lance beams. Deep within the ship, in the engineering sector, were two armored figures. Astartes, ancient and terrible, betrayed by their brothers and traitors in turn, were surrounded by the sundered bodies of friend and foe alike. The defenders had killed their aggressors, but at cost. And now the enemy was wreaking their final vengeance. Only one remained truly alive in the room, held in the unmoving arms of his battle-brother. He reached up and placed a hand against the high-crested helm of the Rubricae, using the last of his strength to impart a message, mind to mind, soul to soul. One last command. ++I am so sorry, brother. The Long War was forced upon you, the Rubric, the millennia of nothing. But at last it is over. Be… free…++ The Rubricae watched the life fade from his longtime lord and friend with his ephemeral sight, the light of his soul flickering and fading. He barely registered the armored form in his arms fall to the floor from his grip. He failed to acknowledge the disintegrating hull around him. He did not perceive the warning klaxon of a warp reactor overload. All he saw was the blinding brilliance of the energies building in the warp drive. And then the world was Chaos. Twilight Sparkle had always loved the night sky. Stargazing was a true joy and the new telescope she had been given was a housewarming gift from Luna. The huge crystal castle that was now her home could certainly use some warming up. It did not have the pleasant coziness of home that Golden Oaks library had provided. Perhaps new memories made with her friends within her new abode would help it grow on her. She contemplated one of several astronomy books she had laid out on the balcony to reference during her stargazing, and a quill floated softly above an inkwell placed next to a mostly blank tome. Her own personal star journal. She was just beginning a lazy outline of her thesis on the nature of the Horsehead Nebula and what may theoretically lie within its foggy confines when the quill violently scratched across the page. She watched, jaw agape, as a nova of wholly unnatural colors blossomed into the night sky for a moment. She flipped the page and began frantically taking notes on the phenomenon, noting as much as precisely as she could, until she recoiled. A sickly aura washed over her, senses screaming at the presence of something at odds with the world. As quickly as it came, it passed, the light in the sky fading. Lights across Ponyville flashed on, ponies throughout town awoken by the disturbance. After a few moments, the night sky flickered with a shooting star here and there. The meteor shower quickly grew to a meteor storm, and the awoken ponies in town gasped in wonder, summoning others to enjoy the display together. Princess Twilight Sparkle, however, raced inside, calling for her number one assistant. She had a letter to compose and send, and duties to perform. And most importantly, there was research to be done. The Rubricae stood up. It had been thrown about mercilessly after the strike cruiser had taken an incredibly unnatural plunge through the immaterium. It reached slowly to its thigh, finding nothing there, then to its back, similarly missing what it sought. Boltgun. It panned its gaze around, and while it did not yet identify its weapon amongst the sandblasted wreckage, it did see something else. Jutting up at an angle just shy of vertical from a section of the wall which now served as his floor was a glinting khopesh. The sorcerer’s force sword. It moved slowly towards it and stopped within arms reach, head tilting down as if to contemplate the sword. It remained this way for several minutes, sand and bits of immolated hull brushing against pauldron and greaves in the dry wind. Finally, as if a decision had been reached, a heat blackened gauntlet reached out and grasped the sword. With a powerful yet smooth tug, the blade was free and in hand. After a moment’s more pause, it was slung at its hip, ancient mag locks holding it in place with a metallic thud. The Rubricae panned its gaze around the wreckage again before finally spotting what it sought. It walked over to a pile of debris and pulled a battered but functioning bolter from the pile. The disturbance shifted the detritus and it fell away, revealing the burned out armor of the sorcerer. Another Son turned to naught but ash. Once more the Rubricae stood as if in contemplation. Then, it turned to face a rent in the engineering section that revealed windblown sand and sky of the most remarkable blue, taking the sentry stance it had employed for millennia. Her first task had been to send a letter to the other princesses. The Sisters were currently hosting a delegation from the Griffon Empire, and thus would be unable to depart to investigate. Cadance was similarly occupied with a representative of the Zebras. The only consolation was the furnishing of a platoon of the Royal Guard to assist Twilight in maintaining the peace and quarantining anything of concern. While helpful in many capacities, their stony demeanor and utter deference to her left her exasperated rather quickly, although she would admit that they certainly secured the impact site she had traveled to quite quickly and effectively. Much of the debris she had seen had burned up before touching down, but a handful of larger pieces had made landfall. Of them all, the biggest had landed out in the desert near Appaloosa, which is where the only unoccupied princess had traveled. Most of her friends had been too busy, or in Fluttershy’s case, terrified, to accompany her. Rainbow Dash had accomplished her daily tasks in “ten minutes flat” and proceeded to catch up to the group in record time. As such, she was floating lazily above Twilight, and was about to complain about how boring it was for the seventh time when she noticed Twilight had become completely still and was wide eyed, wings tightly pinned to her sides. Rainbow rolled over and followed the alicorn’s gaze and proceeded to fall out of the air onto her hooves and let her jaw drop. Within the largest block of wreckage stood a towering form, what appeared to be a charred statue. It was nearly twice the height of either of them, and bore marks of combat, gouges and nicks in its surface a liturgy of endless conflict. It stood silent sentinel over a similar form, lying sprawled and broken in a pile of twisted metal crammed into the corner during the impact. They approached cautiously, and, noting that it remained completely unmoving, Twilight closed to inspect it. Under the blackening that covered the majority of the armor, she saw the gleam of metal with small flecks of blue, paint peeled or burned away by the intensity of heat and friction. Across its chest it held a boxy object with a protrusion curving downwards, a hollow cylinder extending from one end with a hole on each side. When she made her way around, she noted the curved sword hung on its hip, and the more she saw, the more she realized it was not a statue. It was a suit of armor. Then she inspected more closely, noting runes etched subtly into the trim all over the armor, most prominent on the pauldrons and plastron. Its high-crested helm bore two crystal lenses for eyes, the emerald fixtures glowing almost imperceptibly. The runes were unlike anything she had ever studied, and some seemed to turn away her vision, or make her head go numb. Staring at others too long threatened a headache or nausea. But they all had significance, of that she was certain. Giving Rainbow a warning to get some distance, she reached out with her magic to examine it. The amount of magic that had been infused into the armor was absurd, and it felt nothing like anything she knew. But it was almost familiar. Where had she sensed magic like this before? The Crystal Empire, in the chamber under the throne. The door infused with magic. Sombra’s dark magic. As the shock of recognition filled her mind her attention wavered and her magic touched something wholly different and foreign to her. It was a presence, something even more fundamental than magic. She touched a soul. She looked up into the eyes of the armor as the dim lenses blazed into life and a consciousness older than anything she had ever known overwhelmed her. She felt locked in place as the world slipped away. Visions of alien worlds and unimaginable battles of a scope she could scarcely comprehend flooded her perception. She saw glass pyramids, and a strange cyclopian being with coppery skin and untold wisdom in his single eye. Knowledge and lore flashed through her mind’s eye too quickly to glean anything useful. Then came the righteous fury, the countless battles, the martial pride and the loss of those who were as brothers. Then a verdict, despair, and betrayal. Unholy magic and a transformation. It was at this point that she began screaming. Rainbow Dash had been shaking her, trying to snap her out of it, but upon hearing her scream, she turned and lunged at the source of the problem, futilely pounding away at unyielding ceramite. Guards came storming in, some trying to aid the princess, others discovering just how useless the armaments they possessed were against the menacing suit of armor. Spears merely scratched at the charring. Spells deflected off ceramite and the ancient wards etched into the very fabric of the defensive plates. Twilight perceived none of it. She was too busy desperately willing her mind to cope with the impression of transformation left in her mind. She was aided by the numbing sensation of altered existence, the hazy and foggy memories that had accrued during millennia of servitude as naught but an automaton. She feared she would never break free until she perceived the final lasting mark on the soul. Be free. And so she was again. It had been standing for the better part of two days before the creatures had arrived. Auto-senses had detected movement and pheromone traces in the wind and indicated movement outside the sundered engineering block. No significant electromagnetic signals indicated a lack of higher technology, and magnetic signatures indicated simplistic weaponry comparable to the late middle ages of Terra. Little of this made any lasting impression upon the consciousness within the armor. No threat was present, and even if there was, there was nothing here to defend. Self defense was not even a concern. They had immediately frozen in place when they spotted it. It watched impassively as one of the creatures approached, curiosity overcoming the fear in her posture. Then the horn protruding from its equine skull began to glow and a familiar sensation brushed against it. It was not until the mental connection was made that consciousness truly manifested. His soul hungrily drew strength from foreign energy. He felt a power similar to that of his sorcerous brethren, yet on a completely different wavelength. And as he regained a semblance of self memory returned as well. When this pool of experience connected with the new energy, he felt that connection form. His mind was immediately awash with views of a grand city built into the side of a mountain, an immaculate alabaster creature similar to the one before him, a rural town and all manner of insane creatures and magics. His analytical mind, forged in the libraries of Tizca and honed by the warrior-scholars of the XV Legion Astartes, processed it all even as part of his psyche boggled at the bizarre new knowledge he was acquiring. He witnessed feats of spellcraft so very different to the ones he had witnessed in his service to the legion. He experienced a transformation so far removed from his turn to dust that he might have wept had he been capable of the act. And then it was over, and he did not ponder what he had observed any further as the power receded and his consciousness regressed once more. The Rubricae stood passively as unicorn and pegasi guards continued to wail upon it in futility. The PrincessTwilight Sparkle paced in her study, several scrolls listing the intricacies of a dozen mind spells floating along with her as she reviewed them again, triple checking to make sure the mental barriers she would be erecting would be sufficient for the task at hoof. After she had managed to calm her accompanying guards and one incredibly irate Rainbow Dash, she had enlisted their aid in moving the armor and as many of the intact relics from the wreck to her castle for further study. After several letters back and forth to the other princesses, it was agreed that, given the sorcerous nature of the armor she had found, it was right up Twilight’s alley of research. She once bore the element of magic, after all. However, the elite platoon of Royal Guards, trained by Shining Armor in all manner of defensive spells, succinctly displayed the concern for Twilight’s safety. After the first incident, precautions had to be taken. Twilight had been careful in her phrasing regarding the purpose of the strange enchanted suit, not wanting to discourage her peers from allowing her to study it for fear it would cause her permanent harm. The guards were, in fact, her idea; a bit of a concession, to ensure she could sate her curiosity, but in truth a welcome emergency measure. Thankfully, these guards were well versed in mind magics, a response to the previous changeling incursion. Quite fortuitous, the youngest princess reflected. The armor stood impassively in a magic circle inscribed on the ground, set to immobilize it if it tried to flee or fight. However, it had not reacted since her first contact with it, and had in fact been almost eerily inert. Her rough handling, figuratively speaking, of the connection she had inadvertently initiated before, had evidently put it into a dormant state. Hazy recall of unfamiliar battlegrounds reminded her that its current state was quite likely for the best. Who knows what kind of damage it could have done if it had been dragged here against its animating will? She shook off the shudder that traveled her spine at the thought and indicated to the guards that she was ready to proceed. She had spent the better part of two days pouring over the spells she would be performing today. Mind magic was dangerous, and best employed with every protective measure possible. it was not something she had practiced extensively, as it was not only incredibly difficult, but quite morally ambiguous. However, the circumstances seemed to justify her experiment, and she had too many hypotheses to simply let this opportunity pass. Her horn glowed fiercely as she cast a half dozen spells at once, utilizing the containment circle to focus her energies and improve spell efficiency. As the magic manifested, the world around her faded away and her perception focused on the primary construct of her efforts. And with a final burst of power, she entered the realm of the mind. He blinked. Realizing what he had just achieved, he blinked again. He had not blinked in millenia. He looked down upon himself and saw his body clad only in a crimson chiton. He realized he was somewhere, but looking around, it seemed as if he was nowhere. He had the distinct impression he was standing on firm ground, and could determine the relatives of “up” and “down,” but beyond that,he found himself in a hazy lavender void. His mind snapped into the logical structures ingrained in his psyche and he began to theorize aspects of his surroundings. Given his ability to influence the space, he was likely in a lucid state. Testing the theory, he tried to summon something familiar. In his hand, a khopesh appeared. He turned the sword through a blade routine he had learned so very long ago. He could not remember where he learned it, or who taught him. He felt as though he should, but he remembered very little in his current state. The only things that returned to him at will were those indelibly etched into his being, the mental equivalent of muscle memory. As he perused his mental vaults, psycho-conditioned knowledge made itself available, including the fact that he had received psycho-conditioning and hypno-therapy. He recalled what he was, what his purpose had been, and the tools of his craft. A warrior. A Legionary. A Space Marine. An Angel of Death. The training was accompanied by the psychic echoes of those who taught him, and he recalled his place as one of Magnus’s Thousand Sons. It stirred emotions of pride, eagerness, and, he reflected with some confusion, shame and betrayal. As these emotions churned and grew, the empty spaces in his recall began to fill. Twilight Sparkle was absolutely fascinated. She had prepared a wide variety of spells and even done the necessary research to merge a few, an accomplishment worthy of note on its own. They combined her experience restoring her friends from Discord’s magic, as well as telepathy and simple recollection spells. Quite useful for shopping trips or daily duties when checklists fail. She had not expected the mind trapped within the armor to show such plasticity, however. This time, before she had completed the connection, she had established filters and barriers that allowed her to view the mind without actually merging with it. As such she observed all that occurred within the dreamscape she had crafted. Luna had corresponded quite thoroughly in managing this particular detail. Several things had become apparent quickly. It was a he, or at least considered itself such. His recall existed, but as was the case with any unused knowledge, had become distant and hazy. She noted that not having a physical brain to store such information and being forcibly bound to a suit of armor might have that effect on somepony. The next was his form, bipedal and nearly hairless. Apelike, but with far more intelligent eyes. His arms bulged with muscle, and he was nearly as imposing without armor as he was with it. Or as it. The fact that the first thing he had summoned during lucid dreaming was a sword validated her concerns. He was a warrior, that was undeniable. What she found fascinating was the fact that he did not show aggression, or an immediate need for action when in an unknown situation. She could see the flow of his mind and the thought processes he followed. He was curious. Not just a warrior, but as his recall picked up speed, she could see he had been a scholar. His mentors had wielded powers that seemed an awful lot like magic, but were distinctly different. Less elemental but more unstable, if such a conceptual clash could exist. She observed with rapt attention as his mind repaired itself, the spells she had set in place taking back seat as his formidable mind saw to its own restructuring. In the real world the guards were shifting nervously. Since the princess had begun, its eyes had blazed into life, and the head tilted forwards as if to regard Twilight, but it had otherwise remained still. The princess, however, was furiously consuming parchment, ink, and several quills as her note taking spell recorded everything she observed, and there was an incredible amount as his mind picked up speed. The abridged, shorthand notes now totalled seventy-two feet of parchment. His journey through memory and experience had finally reached his arrival and the strange creature he had observed. Twilight noted with alarm the xenophobic reflex trained into him compelling violent action, but it was immediately overruled by the scholarly need to know the unknown. She let out a breath she had not know she was holding as he decided that the creatures did not pose a threat, and even if they did, could be dealt with. Instead, he recalled the moment of contact and drudged up the impressions he had received. Twilight watched her own patchy memories flit through his mind, an incredibly surreal experience, and saw the spark of recognition at every instance she used her magic. He was particularly enthralled by any knowledge related to the Elements of Harmony. But as his knowledge of her skills grew, so too did his suspicion. That was when the failsafe spell gave her a warning that he was probing the artificial dreamscape for mental constructs. If he could find them, he could pick them apart, mage or not, and discover her. She could already tell that a mental intrusion would warrant violent reprisal if she did not have time to explain herself, which she seriously doubted she would. So she followed her planned course of action and withdrew, opening her eyes hesitantly as she returned to the physical. The eyes in the armor continued to blaze for a few moments before dimming, but she could not know there was more light and life in those cold lenses than there had been since the Rubric was cast some ten millennia ago. The ConversationThe day after her observations, Twilight prepared a similar set of spells she had used before. This time, there was a greater focus on defenses and communication. Simply viewing the images in his head was not enough for full comprehension, and it did not help her understand him as an individual that well. She wanted, needed, to talk to him. So this session would be a foray into that. She knew it was dangerous. Mental spells connect the caster to the subject, meaning even one without magic or telepathy could use the link. And a being with such a strong will and nimble mind could exploit that to devastating effect. Thus the mental barriers. It prevented her from seeing his mind like before, but allowed them to communicate. She just hoped he wanted to. As she cast the spells, she realized he was even sharper than she anticipated. His mind recognized her presence the moment the connection solidified. He stood in that same void again. But this time, he recognized a presence there. He recognized it from his first encounter on this world. He turned to face her. Equine, shy of two meters tall. Unusual features, including a conical horn protruding from the forehead and two wings. Indications of psyker abilities or similar phenomenon. But what struck him the most, even in this false reality, was her eyes. They were so intelligent, curious. There was fear there too, but that was to be expected. No words were exchanged. She ruffled feathers as her thoughts reached out to him. He was shocked to find her mind quite similar to his own. She did not even attempt to communicate using language, instead transcending such limitations through their link and instead presenting raw ideas to him. She was of the ruling caste, and barring any harm he brought her domain, he was as welcome as anypony else. Anypony? Really? She recoiled as his dominating presence flashed his status to her. Warrior. Astartes. Thousand Son. He would brook no trespass. She composed herself before presenting her intent. Peace. Understanding. Friendship. Friendship? He cast his desire for answers out to her, and was surprised with forthright response. Concepts merged with his understanding to form words. Identity. The time between day and night. The effect of light on diffracting objects. Name. Twilight Sparkle. Curious, he projected the sensation of being lost and searching for a path. Her imagined muzzle scrunched up as she considered the best way to reply this information. If it was not an affront to all he had been taught, it would have struck him as cute. She finally passed what information she could, this time as images. A map of the land, with forests and mountains, deserts and the arctic north. An alabaster equine of the same phenotype as “Twilight,” but larger and more regal. A midnight blue one, with the added impression of relation. Sibling. Sisters, the sun and moon. Then a pink one, of all things, and the concept of love. Truly bizarre. Then came races of equines with fewer traits, creatures of ancient Terran lore. He recognized unicorns and pegasi, and conveyed his recognition and sent the impression of myth and legend. That received a quirked eyebrow. Then the exchange began in earnest. Had his mind not been conditioned long ago to process information at the speed needed to survive on a battlefield and demanded in the libraries of Tizca, he would have been overwhelmed by the curiosity that exploded into the void between them and all the attached concepts. He responded quickly, tagging irritation onto each response. Eventually, she took the hint and stopped, a blush presenting itself on her ephemeral form before she could quash the thought. He had learned much. It was a world so far removed from the galaxy he knew, and with the knowledge she had provided him, he was beginning to come to some conclusions. Finally, he implied his curiosity to her with the thought of stars and constellations. She immediately provided him a mental map of the sky so detailed he wondered if she did not have recall more perfect than even an Astartes. The void between them was empty as his mind processed what he had acquired. None of the stars matched up with anything he was familiar with. Constellations he had studied as a novitiate on Prospero did not exist wherever he was. He suddenly felt alone, something he had never been concerned about before. He then recalled his mentor’s last words to him. Be free. As Twilight severed the connection, she looked upon the armor with newfound awe. His presence was incredible, a solid sea of disciplined mental fortitude. But what most excited her was that he was not some two-dimensional thug. He was a scholar, or had been at one time, with a voracious appetite for knowledge. This commonality would be the perfect bridge between them. She could study all manner of unfamiliar skills, races, locations… the possibilities of it all! She gazed up at his form, and for the first time noticed that the lenses of his helm glowed more intensely, and that it now tracked her activities. It was, however, the only movement he made. Intrigued, she moved around behind him. He turned to face her, but otherwise remained in place. She scratched her chin idly with a hoof before approaching the spell circle she had crafted and disabling the binding enchantments. When he did not move, she gave a “come here” gesture. After a moment, he took two thudding steps, his massive stride easily closing the distance between them. She immediately lifted a hoof to still the guards, as they had begun to move from their stations to intercept. Observing that the strange armor made no move to harm the princess, they once again resumed their vigil. As she beckoned the armor to follow her from the study, the guards formed a moving perimeter around the two. As they walked, Twilight tested… I didn’t actually get his name… the warrior’s lucidity as they walked. Pointing out bits of architecture and some examples of her spellcraft as they walked. Nothing evoked any reaction from him, though he continued to track her activity. She frowned at this. In her analysis, she had determined that whatever had bound his existence to the armor had dulled his consciousness. His endless existence cost him the physical brain that made processing the world straightforward. However, comparing what she had observed today with her previous notes indicated that what she had concluded to be his soul, for lack of a better descriptor, coalesced further each time she interacted with him via magic. The sorcery laced through his armor seemed to be merging with the energies of her magic, and possibly the ambient magic of Equestria. It was a topic for discussion she was eager to cover with him after she had rested. Mind magic of the level she had employed was rather taxing on the user. She determined to research a simpler spell for basic communication come morning. It would be nice to be able to simply chat as they wandered. Eventually, they returned to the study and she gestured as best as she could for him to stay in place. She turned to leave, and had just left the room and started down the hall when she heard his heavy tread behind her. Guards had followed him and now stood barring his path out of the study. Curious, she trotted back to him and looked up into his imposing visor, showing far less trepidation than the guards, who were in fighting stances. They shot her glances, waiting for her command. The warrior lifted a segmented armor finger and pointed at his breastplate, then to one of the guards before him, then balled his hand into a fist and beat it loudly on his chest. He thought the guards would attack him? No, he had not shown any concern for that. When she simply gave him a confused tilt of the head and raised eyebrow, he stood for a few moments before repeating the fist-to-chest and kneeling before her. It was a salute. She blinked as she revisited his previous gesture. Pointed at the guard, then himself… She was a little shocked as the logic finally clicked. He wanted to be a guard. Her guard. She actually laughed at this ludicrous turn of events. However, she recovered herself before the perplexed gaze of her guards could linger too long and straightened her stance before giving a curt nod directed at the armor. With that, it stood, then positioned itself to the side of the study door and remained still. Her guards, now thoroughly confused, she dismissed with assurances that the armor would not be a problem. They remained reluctant to cease their watch, but when they were told to simply set a rotation of guards outside her chambers, they acquiesced. She then proceeded to her chambers, groomed, and laid down to sleep. She had a busy day planned. In the Everfree, within the Castle of the Two Sisters, where the final battle against Nightmare Moon had been fought, dark energy lingered. It was but a pale echo of the Nightmare that had once fueled rebellion, but the presence of unfamiliar and utterly alien energy gave it new life. Equestria had passed through the point in space where the warp rift had occurred, and as it did, residual echoes of the empyrean resonated with the sinister power there. None were present to hear the wet, throaty chuckle that whispered through the ruins that night. The DaemonThe study was filled with the light and hum of magic as Twilight finished her work, the last of a dozen interwoven spellworks combining into a lavender gem on a silver chain. Levitating it up, she gave it one last inspection before nodding in satisfaction and moving to the Rubricae standing nearby. After a bit of adjustment, the chain dangled from its neck to leave the faintly glowing crystal resting against his breastplate. With a satisfied nod, she stepped back and considered her work. The stone glowed gently as it rested against the plate, now cleansed of the fire blackening and restored to the blue it had been. He had not requested as much, but it had been a simple task with Twilight’s magic. The ouroboros mark on his pauldron had been left off, however, as he insisted that allegiance was now for nought. After her exhausting experience casting communion spells day after day for their study sessions together, she had deemed it wise to devise a more permanent solution. The crystal that now adorned him was attuned to his soul and her magic, allowing them to speak telepathically. They had spent the last couple days working through the language barriers that limited their exchanges, and finally a translation matrix had been conceived that was woven in with the telepathy spells worked into the communications gem. As such, they should be able to speak clearly to each other for the first time since meeting. All they needed to do was test it. “Well… here goes. Good morning?” ++Good morning to you, Lady Sparkle.++ Her eyes widened as a giddy grin plastered her muzzle and she began hopping around her study, thrilled with her success. His responses from that point on were faintly amused as they conversed in earnest. She asked questions about the races he had encountered, the technology of his race, his knowledge of psychic ability and how it might compare to magic, and a wide assortment of other subjects. He carefully steered her around the topics of war, weapons, and violence, knowing from his observations and her statements that conflicts such that he was made for were as alien as he to Equestria. That was what this place was called, he had learned, among other things. Fitting. Having fought many strange beasts, the bestiaries Twilight had aided him in researching hardly astounded him. He was merely amused and curious how so many of the creatures of Terran myth had all manifested in this one realm. As such, their discussion led them down many tangential paths, and it was a pleasant change of pace from his previous life as a warrior to simply be the scholar he was on Prospero. Twilight would have made a wonderful collaborator on some of his studies in Tizca. Magnus himself would have been most amused by her antics. This continued into the afternoon, Twilight solidifying the bond of friendship with the armor-bound soul that had been thrown into her world. She could tell from the way he spoke with her now that she had actually found a friend in him, and she could recall very few times she blushed as furiously as she did when he thanked her for giving him a new life and purpose away from war. It was unfortunate, then, that the wonderful afternoon be broken by a scream torn from Fluttershy’s throat. The edges of a massive beak curled up in a sinister smile as clawed hands tossed aside the broken body of a manticore, the beast’s blood dribbling down the talons to the loamy soil below. Watching the pathetic yellow creature that had been tending it flee in terror had been a delicious treat. It loomed up into the trees, gangly wings folded awkwardly against its sides. It had only manifested by merging with an essence that had dubbed itself the Nightmare, and as a result its normally iridescent feathers shifted through dozens of shades of midnight blue, to purple, to black in as many seconds, giving its already unnatural presence an oily sheen. It’s beak and limbs resembled those of a griffon, but it stood tall and gangly like a man. It’s limbs had too many joints, and its claws too many digits. Its form continued to subtly shift and change, the physical form it inhabited rebelling against the constancy of reality. The voices in its head it was accustomed to warred with the voices of the Nightmare. It was pleasantly cacophonous and maddening. It paused as it stepped from the shadows of the forest to bring a hand over its eyes. The sun was damnably bright, and it singed the edges of its feathers. But it was setting, and soon night would fall. And this night, if all went well, would last forever. Twilight observed the creature step forth from the woods, her eyes refusing to register all of its details, like the telescope she peered through refused to focus, yet everything near it seemed almost too sharply detailed by comparison. Even from her crystal castle, she could sense the malice radiating from it and taste the hideous sorcery that roiled within it. It reminded her of the warp rift above Equestria. She turned towards her study to go find the Rubricae to find it standing next to her on the balcony, facing the great beast. He was passive but she could sense the tension coming from him in waves radiated by the stone on his breast. Whatever this creature was, it was not a friend. Fluttershy burst into the study at that moment, tears streaming from her eyes. Twilight swooped over to her and embraced her as the meek pegasus described in panicked words what it had done. Twilight’s face twisted in revulsion and horror before taking on a determined cast. Snapping to her guards, she ordered them to make for the edge of town and establish defenses before disappearing in a flash of lavender magic. The guards were about to make their way out the door before a massive blur of blue and gold rushed through the doorway, his heavy tread emphasizing the urgency of his passage. Twilight stood before the creature, standing between it and Fluttershy’s cottage. The animals had fled at its approach, and now she was all that stood between it and Ponyville. It looked down at her with what she could only assume was amusement, but the malice in its eyes made her shudder. How could there be so much hate in a creature? She accosted it without hesitation, demanding it surrender itself and be held accountable for its crimes. It responded with a laugh that may have left a lesser pony unhinged. It did not hurt that she had skirted the line of madness enough to dance finely on that edge… You know not what you tempt. It gestured at her with a claw, and she noticed the blood and bits of viscera that slowly dribbled from the edges of the talons. Beyond the beast, she glimpsed the edge of a pool of blood slowly expanding from the undergrowth. She was struck with such sadness that a creature had been so abruptly ended without cause before anger flashed hotly to the fore. We are Nightmare Morphos, emissary of the Great Changer, greater daemon of… The nightmare-daemon was interrupted by a violent stream of incandescent violet, fired from the horn of a very angry pony princess. Twilight was a learner. She observed and processed everything that she observed or performed. Her battle with Tirek had been an eye opener about her abilities. And her anger was even greater now than it had been against Tirek. Tirek never killed. This monster did. The daemon began to splutter a retort but was silenced as Twilight grasped it by the beak and slammed it to the ground. It stumbled up, its eyes flashing dangerously as warpfire manifested in its grasp. It flung a ball of roiling energy at her, and it grinned cruelly as it broke upon her shield, awaiting the soul-searing flames to render its tormentor a screaming wreck. Instead, it found a chicken coop smashing against its face, making it cry out in surprise, pain, and fury. Then a solid punch from a hoof encased in a field of arcane energy left it reeling. Twilight landed before it, her demonstration of ability and intent complete. She demanded immediate surrender. The daemon responded by showing its full potential. Reality bent around its presence, holes in existences briefly manifesting around it and giving a glimpse of the madness beyond. It reached into one such rift and drew out a gnarled staff with the serpentine symbol of the God of Fate for the head. Raw warp power bled from the staff as it was channeled through, then Twilight knew a world of pain as the very ground she stood upon rebelled, the air around her shrieked, and only her hastily erected shield prevented her body from being torn apart by the insanity of impossibility. The daemon then flung incendiary waves unlike anything the mages of Equestria could have ever dreamed of conjuring. They were the balefires of nightmares, and what they touched burned, twisted into something hideous, or melted as if wax. The earth erupted around her, boulders and large clods of ground slamming down around her, telekinetic shields shattering under the force of it all. An uprooted tree crashed down on her, and she screamed as she felt a wing break and a hind leg dislocate. Blood trickled from dozens of cuts and from her nose, whether from a blow to her muzzle or the backwash of so many magical barriers breaking, she could not be sure. She desperately tried to summon up her magic, to escape, to heal, to do anything, but the pain and fear made crystallizing her focus or energy impossible. The daemon then manifested the most intense fireball yet, and flung it mercilessly at the trapped mare. Twilight had often wondered if a pony’s life did indeed flash before his or her eyes before they died, and if it did, if it would be anything like what her friends experienced when she had restored their cutie marks shortly before her ascension. As time slowed in her perception, that curiosity amused the detached part of her. She was still researching and hypothesizing even as she was about to die. Even so, no memories flashed. All she could see was the sickening rainbow of impossible colors as the warpfire hurtled towards her. She almost welcomed the darkness blotting out her life. Not her life, just the fireball. And it was tall, bipedal. She lifter her neck as far as she could and had a moment to recognize the Rubricae before the fireball erupted over him and blinded her with a brilliant explosion. The SacrificeThe guards had arrived and pulled her from the debris shortly after the Rubricae had arrived. Now freed from the crushing weight, she had been able to concentrate and mend some of her wounds, and a guard, at her insistence, had been kind enough to reset her hind leg. They now formed a perimeter around her, powering incredibly durable barriers and shielding her mind from anything the daemon might try. She had watched from that rubble as the Rubricae had taken a killing blow meant for her. She had feared he had sacrificed his unlife to save her. Instead, he merely pulled himself out of the rubble he had been flung into, the cracked pauldron creaking as he stood, and pulled forth the boxy contraption he had explained to her was a ranged weapon. He had stated that he would not demonstrate its use, as it had a limited supply of ammunition. He had but the one magazine, the curved box under it, left after his arrival. That weapon had roared so loudly she had wished she could cover her ears. The rounds it fired shrieked and blazed with sorcerous potential, and had blown great, flaming gouges from the flesh of the hideous creature, black ichor pouring from its wounds. The Rubricae had advanced steadily, emptying its supply of inferno bolts into the monstrosity that had invaded Equestria. Now, the bolter lay discarded twenty paces behind him, and he fought the beast with the keen edge of his mentor’s force sword. The blade did not carry the psychic might of its former owner, but the edge was keener than any mundane blade could hope to match, and it cut into the daemon’s flesh with ease. The daemon slammed great, merciless blows onto the possessed armor, and the damaged pauldron had shattered and fallen away. The crest that adorned his helmet had been warped by the passing of a roiling stream of warpfire, and one gauntlet was missing two fingers. One greave had a subtle crack running down its back, and a solid blow from the monster would destroy that leg. Yet still the Thousand Son fought on, heedless of the damage to his form, focused on one thing and one thing only. His lord, his mentor, his friend had told him to be free. He had used that freedom to befriend Twilight. He had learned of a place worthy of protecting. So he had made a choice with his newfound freedom to defend his new home and new friend. Even if that meant his destruction. So he fought, the daemon mercilessly breaking him piece by piece as he used his unholy endurance and strength to cripple the beast. He knew he could not best it. He was no great sorcerer like his masters or a great mage like Twilight. He had been a line warrior. He won through strength and cunning what sorcerers and mages won with power and wit. He felt his armored body crumbling with each blow he could not avoid or turn aside. The daemon had a score of wounds, and he reached into one to tear out gory pieces of its flesh. Daemons had little in the way of vital organs or natural anatomy, so he grabbed whatever he could and tore the dripping pieces from within its unnatural body. Shadows seems to pool in the wounds and attempt to knit them back together, the Nightmare attempting to maintain the physical form for the daemon, so the daemon’s sorcery could fuel the Nightmare. Even so, some wounds were too deep, Rubricae’s determination and desperation lending his blows the strength to cut deep. As the battle had raged, Twilight had been storming ideas to end it before it was too late. She could see the Thousand Son slipping away before her eyes. ++Twilight. You must end this.++ Her eyes snapped to the Rubricae. His sword was embedded in the ground a dozen strides away, knocked from his grasp by a swing of those massive, gnarled claws. He had grasped both of the claws and held the daemon in place, perhaps by will alone, leaving the daemon immobile. ++My life for yours.++ He filled her mind with the knowledge of a complex spell, a spell capable of unmaking warp entities with such violence that even a creature as powerful as this daemon could not survive. But the Rubricae had been bound to his armor by warp magics as well. He would be unmade with the daemon. Twilight desperately searched for another answer. Without thinking, she tapped the link for his knowledge, and to her surprise there was no resistance. She blazed through his memory, shrugging through the horrors of his world for the knowledge she sought. Then she found it, and with it, her determination. The Rubricae turned his head back to her and nodded once. She charged her horn and the air around her took on a clammy quality, frost slowly expanding outward from her hooves. Her guards looked at her nervously as she drew in warp power and wove it into her magic. Then she unleashed the destruction that only the immaterium could manifest. The daemon screeched its damnation as the tidal wave of power crashed over it. Onlookers who had observed the phenomenon of the Elements of Harmony would have likened it to a Nightmare Night rendition of the effect, a terrifying rainbow of colors that should not be, that turned the eye, and made observers for miles lose their lunches. The daemon’s skin peeled away in layers, warpflesh boiling away under the scrutiny of banishment. The Nightmare became a solid shadow extending from its form, slowly fading in the intense un-light of Twilight’s spell. It desperately connected with the shadows of the Everfree and slipped away, leaving the daemon to his curses in tongues long dead as it was burned out of existence. In the midst of all this, the Rubricae stood resolute, falling to a knee as the damaged greave shattered. Blue paint peeled away, gold filigree ran molten, and the wards woven into the armor were burned away. An eye lens cracked, the other shattered, and the damaged gauntlet crumbled away. The rest of the armor began to fragment, until in a blinding flash, the spell completed. With an unearthly sigh, the remains of the Rubricae fell into the pile of ashes that had been the daemon, and the light in the remaining lens in the cracked helm faded away. The EndConsciousness. It had returned. Surprised, he observed the world around him. First, his armored body was restored. It now shown a resplendent crimson, edged in ivory. Upon his pauldron was the stylized sun of his Legion, and in the center of it a six pointed star. He was in a study, the walls lined with books, covering subjects ranging from equine anatomy to astronomy to psychology. There were now several tomes about warpcraft and the dangers therein. He stood in a faintly smoking circle, with runes of power etched into them at precise intervals and angles around the circle. And in front of him stood a teary-eyed alicorn princess, exhausted after casting a modified warp spell fused with Equestrian magic. One used for millennia by a select few sorcerers to recover the souls of the Rubricae adrift in the warp. He did not even employ the faintly glowing stone worked into his helm crest to protest the sudden hug of said alicorn, instead kneeling and returning the gesture. Author's Note And that's that! I do hope you thoroughly enjoyed this diversion from my main story. One day, I shall find a weapon that can slay writer's block without fail. I initially intended this as a one-shot about the length of "Blooms in the Dust," but I just had to go and write more, didn't I? It's honestly been a pleasant distraction as I keep working on chapter 4 of "Wardens." The current chapter is a bit of a lull in the story arc so it's been a bit of a challenge to write to my satisfaction. This provided an excellent outlet for my writing desires and current 40k kick I've been in. In the mean time, I'd love to see some discussion about this story, and see what impressions it's left with all of you. I'm definitely looking forward to some comments on the writing style. I'm also curious if anyone would enjoy working on a story with me, or would like my input on one of your projects. Just drop me a message! I can promise I'll answer those.
The RubricaeAlarms screamed throughout the tortured corridors of the dying strike cruiser. Fire bled from severed chemical lines, explosions ripped through the ammunition banks, and precious atmosphere bled into the void through fatal rents in the ship’s hull. Mortal slaves died by the hundreds as bulkheads were breached and sections of the ship tore away under the relentless fury of capital guns. Debris spun away as the cruiser rolled under the punishing onslaught of macro shells and lance beams. Deep within the ship, in the engineering sector, were two armored figures. Astartes, ancient and terrible, betrayed by their brothers and traitors in turn, were surrounded by the sundered bodies of friend and foe alike. The defenders had killed their aggressors, but at cost. And now the enemy was wreaking their final vengeance. Only one remained truly alive in the room, held in the unmoving arms of his battle-brother. He reached up and placed a hand against the high-crested helm of the Rubricae, using the last of his strength to impart a message, mind to mind, soul to soul. One last command. ++I am so sorry, brother. The Long War was forced upon you, the Rubric, the millennia of nothing. But at last it is over. Be… free…++ The Rubricae watched the life fade from his longtime lord and friend with his ephemeral sight, the light of his soul flickering and fading. He barely registered the armored form in his arms fall to the floor from his grip. He failed to acknowledge the disintegrating hull around him. He did not perceive the warning klaxon of a warp reactor overload. All he saw was the blinding brilliance of the energies building in the warp drive. And then the world was Chaos. Twilight Sparkle had always loved the night sky. Stargazing was a true joy and the new telescope she had been given was a housewarming gift from Luna. The huge crystal castle that was now her home could certainly use some warming up. It did not have the pleasant coziness of home that Golden Oaks library had provided. Perhaps new memories made with her friends within her new abode would help it grow on her. She contemplated one of several astronomy books she had laid out on the balcony to reference during her stargazing, and a quill floated softly above an inkwell placed next to a mostly blank tome. Her own personal star journal. She was just beginning a lazy outline of her thesis on the nature of the Horsehead Nebula and what may theoretically lie within its foggy confines when the quill violently scratched across the page. She watched, jaw agape, as a nova of wholly unnatural colors blossomed into the night sky for a moment. She flipped the page and began frantically taking notes on the phenomenon, noting as much as precisely as she could, until she recoiled. A sickly aura washed over her, senses screaming at the presence of something at odds with the world. As quickly as it came, it passed, the light in the sky fading. Lights across Ponyville flashed on, ponies throughout town awoken by the disturbance. After a few moments, the night sky flickered with a shooting star here and there. The meteor shower quickly grew to a meteor storm, and the awoken ponies in town gasped in wonder, summoning others to enjoy the display together. Princess Twilight Sparkle, however, raced inside, calling for her number one assistant. She had a letter to compose and send, and duties to perform. And most importantly, there was research to be done. The Rubricae stood up. It had been thrown about mercilessly after the strike cruiser had taken an incredibly unnatural plunge through the immaterium. It reached slowly to its thigh, finding nothing there, then to its back, similarly missing what it sought. Boltgun. It panned its gaze around, and while it did not yet identify its weapon amongst the sandblasted wreckage, it did see something else. Jutting up at an angle just shy of vertical from a section of the wall which now served as his floor was a glinting khopesh. The sorcerer’s force sword. It moved slowly towards it and stopped within arms reach, head tilting down as if to contemplate the sword. It remained this way for several minutes, sand and bits of immolated hull brushing against pauldron and greaves in the dry wind. Finally, as if a decision had been reached, a heat blackened gauntlet reached out and grasped the sword. With a powerful yet smooth tug, the blade was free and in hand. After a moment’s more pause, it was slung at its hip, ancient mag locks holding it in place with a metallic thud. The Rubricae panned its gaze around the wreckage again before finally spotting what it sought. It walked over to a pile of debris and pulled a battered but functioning bolter from the pile. The disturbance shifted the detritus and it fell away, revealing the burned out armor of the sorcerer. Another Son turned to naught but ash. Once more the Rubricae stood as if in contemplation. Then, it turned to face a rent in the engineering section that revealed windblown sand and sky of the most remarkable blue, taking the sentry stance it had employed for millennia. Her first task had been to send a letter to the other princesses. The Sisters were currently hosting a delegation from the Griffon Empire, and thus would be unable to depart to investigate. Cadance was similarly occupied with a representative of the Zebras. The only consolation was the furnishing of a platoon of the Royal Guard to assist Twilight in maintaining the peace and quarantining anything of concern. While helpful in many capacities, their stony demeanor and utter deference to her left her exasperated rather quickly, although she would admit that they certainly secured the impact site she had traveled to quite quickly and effectively. Much of the debris she had seen had burned up before touching down, but a handful of larger pieces had made landfall. Of them all, the biggest had landed out in the desert near Appaloosa, which is where the only unoccupied princess had traveled. Most of her friends had been too busy, or in Fluttershy’s case, terrified, to accompany her. Rainbow Dash had accomplished her daily tasks in “ten minutes flat” and proceeded to catch up to the group in record time. As such, she was floating lazily above Twilight, and was about to complain about how boring it was for the seventh time when she noticed Twilight had become completely still and was wide eyed, wings tightly pinned to her sides. Rainbow rolled over and followed the alicorn’s gaze and proceeded to fall out of the air onto her hooves and let her jaw drop. Within the largest block of wreckage stood a towering form, what appeared to be a charred statue. It was nearly twice the height of either of them, and bore marks of combat, gouges and nicks in its surface a liturgy of endless conflict. It stood silent sentinel over a similar form, lying sprawled and broken in a pile of twisted metal crammed into the corner during the impact. They approached cautiously, and, noting that it remained completely unmoving, Twilight closed to inspect it. Under the blackening that covered the majority of the armor, she saw the gleam of metal with small flecks of blue, paint peeled or burned away by the intensity of heat and friction. Across its chest it held a boxy object with a protrusion curving downwards, a hollow cylinder extending from one end with a hole on each side. When she made her way around, she noted the curved sword hung on its hip, and the more she saw, the more she realized it was not a statue. It was a suit of armor. Then she inspected more closely, noting runes etched subtly into the trim all over the armor, most prominent on the pauldrons and plastron. Its high-crested helm bore two crystal lenses for eyes, the emerald fixtures glowing almost imperceptibly. The runes were unlike anything she had ever studied, and some seemed to turn away her vision, or make her head go numb. Staring at others too long threatened a headache or nausea. But they all had significance, of that she was certain. Giving Rainbow a warning to get some distance, she reached out with her magic to examine it. The amount of magic that had been infused into the armor was absurd, and it felt nothing like anything she knew. But it was almost familiar. Where had she sensed magic like this before? The Crystal Empire, in the chamber under the throne. The door infused with magic. Sombra’s dark magic. As the shock of recognition filled her mind her attention wavered and her magic touched something wholly different and foreign to her. It was a presence, something even more fundamental than magic. She touched a soul. She looked up into the eyes of the armor as the dim lenses blazed into life and a consciousness older than anything she had ever known overwhelmed her. She felt locked in place as the world slipped away. Visions of alien worlds and unimaginable battles of a scope she could scarcely comprehend flooded her perception. She saw glass pyramids, and a strange cyclopian being with coppery skin and untold wisdom in his single eye. Knowledge and lore flashed through her mind’s eye too quickly to glean anything useful. Then came the righteous fury, the countless battles, the martial pride and the loss of those who were as brothers. Then a verdict, despair, and betrayal. Unholy magic and a transformation. It was at this point that she began screaming. Rainbow Dash had been shaking her, trying to snap her out of it, but upon hearing her scream, she turned and lunged at the source of the problem, futilely pounding away at unyielding ceramite. Guards came storming in, some trying to aid the princess, others discovering just how useless the armaments they possessed were against the menacing suit of armor. Spears merely scratched at the charring. Spells deflected off ceramite and the ancient wards etched into the very fabric of the defensive plates. Twilight perceived none of it. She was too busy desperately willing her mind to cope with the impression of transformation left in her mind. She was aided by the numbing sensation of altered existence, the hazy and foggy memories that had accrued during millennia of servitude as naught but an automaton. She feared she would never break free until she perceived the final lasting mark on the soul. Be free. And so she was again. It had been standing for the better part of two days before the creatures had arrived. Auto-senses had detected movement and pheromone traces in the wind and indicated movement outside the sundered engineering block. No significant electromagnetic signals indicated a lack of higher technology, and magnetic signatures indicated simplistic weaponry comparable to the late middle ages of Terra. Little of this made any lasting impression upon the consciousness within the armor. No threat was present, and even if there was, there was nothing here to defend. Self defense was not even a concern. They had immediately frozen in place when they spotted it. It watched impassively as one of the creatures approached, curiosity overcoming the fear in her posture. Then the horn protruding from its equine skull began to glow and a familiar sensation brushed against it. It was not until the mental connection was made that consciousness truly manifested. His soul hungrily drew strength from foreign energy. He felt a power similar to that of his sorcerous brethren, yet on a completely different wavelength. And as he regained a semblance of self memory returned as well. When this pool of experience connected with the new energy, he felt that connection form. His mind was immediately awash with views of a grand city built into the side of a mountain, an immaculate alabaster creature similar to the one before him, a rural town and all manner of insane creatures and magics. His analytical mind, forged in the libraries of Tizca and honed by the warrior-scholars of the XV Legion Astartes, processed it all even as part of his psyche boggled at the bizarre new knowledge he was acquiring. He witnessed feats of spellcraft so very different to the ones he had witnessed in his service to the legion. He experienced a transformation so far removed from his turn to dust that he might have wept had he been capable of the act. And then it was over, and he did not ponder what he had observed any further as the power receded and his consciousness regressed once more. The Rubricae stood passively as unicorn and pegasi guards continued to wail upon it in futility.
The PrincessTwilight Sparkle paced in her study, several scrolls listing the intricacies of a dozen mind spells floating along with her as she reviewed them again, triple checking to make sure the mental barriers she would be erecting would be sufficient for the task at hoof. After she had managed to calm her accompanying guards and one incredibly irate Rainbow Dash, she had enlisted their aid in moving the armor and as many of the intact relics from the wreck to her castle for further study. After several letters back and forth to the other princesses, it was agreed that, given the sorcerous nature of the armor she had found, it was right up Twilight’s alley of research. She once bore the element of magic, after all. However, the elite platoon of Royal Guards, trained by Shining Armor in all manner of defensive spells, succinctly displayed the concern for Twilight’s safety. After the first incident, precautions had to be taken. Twilight had been careful in her phrasing regarding the purpose of the strange enchanted suit, not wanting to discourage her peers from allowing her to study it for fear it would cause her permanent harm. The guards were, in fact, her idea; a bit of a concession, to ensure she could sate her curiosity, but in truth a welcome emergency measure. Thankfully, these guards were well versed in mind magics, a response to the previous changeling incursion. Quite fortuitous, the youngest princess reflected. The armor stood impassively in a magic circle inscribed on the ground, set to immobilize it if it tried to flee or fight. However, it had not reacted since her first contact with it, and had in fact been almost eerily inert. Her rough handling, figuratively speaking, of the connection she had inadvertently initiated before, had evidently put it into a dormant state. Hazy recall of unfamiliar battlegrounds reminded her that its current state was quite likely for the best. Who knows what kind of damage it could have done if it had been dragged here against its animating will? She shook off the shudder that traveled her spine at the thought and indicated to the guards that she was ready to proceed. She had spent the better part of two days pouring over the spells she would be performing today. Mind magic was dangerous, and best employed with every protective measure possible. it was not something she had practiced extensively, as it was not only incredibly difficult, but quite morally ambiguous. However, the circumstances seemed to justify her experiment, and she had too many hypotheses to simply let this opportunity pass. Her horn glowed fiercely as she cast a half dozen spells at once, utilizing the containment circle to focus her energies and improve spell efficiency. As the magic manifested, the world around her faded away and her perception focused on the primary construct of her efforts. And with a final burst of power, she entered the realm of the mind. He blinked. Realizing what he had just achieved, he blinked again. He had not blinked in millenia. He looked down upon himself and saw his body clad only in a crimson chiton. He realized he was somewhere, but looking around, it seemed as if he was nowhere. He had the distinct impression he was standing on firm ground, and could determine the relatives of “up” and “down,” but beyond that,he found himself in a hazy lavender void. His mind snapped into the logical structures ingrained in his psyche and he began to theorize aspects of his surroundings. Given his ability to influence the space, he was likely in a lucid state. Testing the theory, he tried to summon something familiar. In his hand, a khopesh appeared. He turned the sword through a blade routine he had learned so very long ago. He could not remember where he learned it, or who taught him. He felt as though he should, but he remembered very little in his current state. The only things that returned to him at will were those indelibly etched into his being, the mental equivalent of muscle memory. As he perused his mental vaults, psycho-conditioned knowledge made itself available, including the fact that he had received psycho-conditioning and hypno-therapy. He recalled what he was, what his purpose had been, and the tools of his craft. A warrior. A Legionary. A Space Marine. An Angel of Death. The training was accompanied by the psychic echoes of those who taught him, and he recalled his place as one of Magnus’s Thousand Sons. It stirred emotions of pride, eagerness, and, he reflected with some confusion, shame and betrayal. As these emotions churned and grew, the empty spaces in his recall began to fill. Twilight Sparkle was absolutely fascinated. She had prepared a wide variety of spells and even done the necessary research to merge a few, an accomplishment worthy of note on its own. They combined her experience restoring her friends from Discord’s magic, as well as telepathy and simple recollection spells. Quite useful for shopping trips or daily duties when checklists fail. She had not expected the mind trapped within the armor to show such plasticity, however. This time, before she had completed the connection, she had established filters and barriers that allowed her to view the mind without actually merging with it. As such she observed all that occurred within the dreamscape she had crafted. Luna had corresponded quite thoroughly in managing this particular detail. Several things had become apparent quickly. It was a he, or at least considered itself such. His recall existed, but as was the case with any unused knowledge, had become distant and hazy. She noted that not having a physical brain to store such information and being forcibly bound to a suit of armor might have that effect on somepony. The next was his form, bipedal and nearly hairless. Apelike, but with far more intelligent eyes. His arms bulged with muscle, and he was nearly as imposing without armor as he was with it. Or as it. The fact that the first thing he had summoned during lucid dreaming was a sword validated her concerns. He was a warrior, that was undeniable. What she found fascinating was the fact that he did not show aggression, or an immediate need for action when in an unknown situation. She could see the flow of his mind and the thought processes he followed. He was curious. Not just a warrior, but as his recall picked up speed, she could see he had been a scholar. His mentors had wielded powers that seemed an awful lot like magic, but were distinctly different. Less elemental but more unstable, if such a conceptual clash could exist. She observed with rapt attention as his mind repaired itself, the spells she had set in place taking back seat as his formidable mind saw to its own restructuring. In the real world the guards were shifting nervously. Since the princess had begun, its eyes had blazed into life, and the head tilted forwards as if to regard Twilight, but it had otherwise remained still. The princess, however, was furiously consuming parchment, ink, and several quills as her note taking spell recorded everything she observed, and there was an incredible amount as his mind picked up speed. The abridged, shorthand notes now totalled seventy-two feet of parchment. His journey through memory and experience had finally reached his arrival and the strange creature he had observed. Twilight noted with alarm the xenophobic reflex trained into him compelling violent action, but it was immediately overruled by the scholarly need to know the unknown. She let out a breath she had not know she was holding as he decided that the creatures did not pose a threat, and even if they did, could be dealt with. Instead, he recalled the moment of contact and drudged up the impressions he had received. Twilight watched her own patchy memories flit through his mind, an incredibly surreal experience, and saw the spark of recognition at every instance she used her magic. He was particularly enthralled by any knowledge related to the Elements of Harmony. But as his knowledge of her skills grew, so too did his suspicion. That was when the failsafe spell gave her a warning that he was probing the artificial dreamscape for mental constructs. If he could find them, he could pick them apart, mage or not, and discover her. She could already tell that a mental intrusion would warrant violent reprisal if she did not have time to explain herself, which she seriously doubted she would. So she followed her planned course of action and withdrew, opening her eyes hesitantly as she returned to the physical. The eyes in the armor continued to blaze for a few moments before dimming, but she could not know there was more light and life in those cold lenses than there had been since the Rubric was cast some ten millennia ago.
The ConversationThe day after her observations, Twilight prepared a similar set of spells she had used before. This time, there was a greater focus on defenses and communication. Simply viewing the images in his head was not enough for full comprehension, and it did not help her understand him as an individual that well. She wanted, needed, to talk to him. So this session would be a foray into that. She knew it was dangerous. Mental spells connect the caster to the subject, meaning even one without magic or telepathy could use the link. And a being with such a strong will and nimble mind could exploit that to devastating effect. Thus the mental barriers. It prevented her from seeing his mind like before, but allowed them to communicate. She just hoped he wanted to. As she cast the spells, she realized he was even sharper than she anticipated. His mind recognized her presence the moment the connection solidified. He stood in that same void again. But this time, he recognized a presence there. He recognized it from his first encounter on this world. He turned to face her. Equine, shy of two meters tall. Unusual features, including a conical horn protruding from the forehead and two wings. Indications of psyker abilities or similar phenomenon. But what struck him the most, even in this false reality, was her eyes. They were so intelligent, curious. There was fear there too, but that was to be expected. No words were exchanged. She ruffled feathers as her thoughts reached out to him. He was shocked to find her mind quite similar to his own. She did not even attempt to communicate using language, instead transcending such limitations through their link and instead presenting raw ideas to him. She was of the ruling caste, and barring any harm he brought her domain, he was as welcome as anypony else. Anypony? Really? She recoiled as his dominating presence flashed his status to her. Warrior. Astartes. Thousand Son. He would brook no trespass. She composed herself before presenting her intent. Peace. Understanding. Friendship. Friendship? He cast his desire for answers out to her, and was surprised with forthright response. Concepts merged with his understanding to form words. Identity. The time between day and night. The effect of light on diffracting objects. Name. Twilight Sparkle. Curious, he projected the sensation of being lost and searching for a path. Her imagined muzzle scrunched up as she considered the best way to reply this information. If it was not an affront to all he had been taught, it would have struck him as cute. She finally passed what information she could, this time as images. A map of the land, with forests and mountains, deserts and the arctic north. An alabaster equine of the same phenotype as “Twilight,” but larger and more regal. A midnight blue one, with the added impression of relation. Sibling. Sisters, the sun and moon. Then a pink one, of all things, and the concept of love. Truly bizarre. Then came races of equines with fewer traits, creatures of ancient Terran lore. He recognized unicorns and pegasi, and conveyed his recognition and sent the impression of myth and legend. That received a quirked eyebrow. Then the exchange began in earnest. Had his mind not been conditioned long ago to process information at the speed needed to survive on a battlefield and demanded in the libraries of Tizca, he would have been overwhelmed by the curiosity that exploded into the void between them and all the attached concepts. He responded quickly, tagging irritation onto each response. Eventually, she took the hint and stopped, a blush presenting itself on her ephemeral form before she could quash the thought. He had learned much. It was a world so far removed from the galaxy he knew, and with the knowledge she had provided him, he was beginning to come to some conclusions. Finally, he implied his curiosity to her with the thought of stars and constellations. She immediately provided him a mental map of the sky so detailed he wondered if she did not have recall more perfect than even an Astartes. The void between them was empty as his mind processed what he had acquired. None of the stars matched up with anything he was familiar with. Constellations he had studied as a novitiate on Prospero did not exist wherever he was. He suddenly felt alone, something he had never been concerned about before. He then recalled his mentor’s last words to him. Be free. As Twilight severed the connection, she looked upon the armor with newfound awe. His presence was incredible, a solid sea of disciplined mental fortitude. But what most excited her was that he was not some two-dimensional thug. He was a scholar, or had been at one time, with a voracious appetite for knowledge. This commonality would be the perfect bridge between them. She could study all manner of unfamiliar skills, races, locations… the possibilities of it all! She gazed up at his form, and for the first time noticed that the lenses of his helm glowed more intensely, and that it now tracked her activities. It was, however, the only movement he made. Intrigued, she moved around behind him. He turned to face her, but otherwise remained in place. She scratched her chin idly with a hoof before approaching the spell circle she had crafted and disabling the binding enchantments. When he did not move, she gave a “come here” gesture. After a moment, he took two thudding steps, his massive stride easily closing the distance between them. She immediately lifted a hoof to still the guards, as they had begun to move from their stations to intercept. Observing that the strange armor made no move to harm the princess, they once again resumed their vigil. As she beckoned the armor to follow her from the study, the guards formed a moving perimeter around the two. As they walked, Twilight tested… I didn’t actually get his name… the warrior’s lucidity as they walked. Pointing out bits of architecture and some examples of her spellcraft as they walked. Nothing evoked any reaction from him, though he continued to track her activity. She frowned at this. In her analysis, she had determined that whatever had bound his existence to the armor had dulled his consciousness. His endless existence cost him the physical brain that made processing the world straightforward. However, comparing what she had observed today with her previous notes indicated that what she had concluded to be his soul, for lack of a better descriptor, coalesced further each time she interacted with him via magic. The sorcery laced through his armor seemed to be merging with the energies of her magic, and possibly the ambient magic of Equestria. It was a topic for discussion she was eager to cover with him after she had rested. Mind magic of the level she had employed was rather taxing on the user. She determined to research a simpler spell for basic communication come morning. It would be nice to be able to simply chat as they wandered. Eventually, they returned to the study and she gestured as best as she could for him to stay in place. She turned to leave, and had just left the room and started down the hall when she heard his heavy tread behind her. Guards had followed him and now stood barring his path out of the study. Curious, she trotted back to him and looked up into his imposing visor, showing far less trepidation than the guards, who were in fighting stances. They shot her glances, waiting for her command. The warrior lifted a segmented armor finger and pointed at his breastplate, then to one of the guards before him, then balled his hand into a fist and beat it loudly on his chest. He thought the guards would attack him? No, he had not shown any concern for that. When she simply gave him a confused tilt of the head and raised eyebrow, he stood for a few moments before repeating the fist-to-chest and kneeling before her. It was a salute. She blinked as she revisited his previous gesture. Pointed at the guard, then himself… She was a little shocked as the logic finally clicked. He wanted to be a guard. Her guard. She actually laughed at this ludicrous turn of events. However, she recovered herself before the perplexed gaze of her guards could linger too long and straightened her stance before giving a curt nod directed at the armor. With that, it stood, then positioned itself to the side of the study door and remained still. Her guards, now thoroughly confused, she dismissed with assurances that the armor would not be a problem. They remained reluctant to cease their watch, but when they were told to simply set a rotation of guards outside her chambers, they acquiesced. She then proceeded to her chambers, groomed, and laid down to sleep. She had a busy day planned. In the Everfree, within the Castle of the Two Sisters, where the final battle against Nightmare Moon had been fought, dark energy lingered. It was but a pale echo of the Nightmare that had once fueled rebellion, but the presence of unfamiliar and utterly alien energy gave it new life. Equestria had passed through the point in space where the warp rift had occurred, and as it did, residual echoes of the empyrean resonated with the sinister power there. None were present to hear the wet, throaty chuckle that whispered through the ruins that night.
The DaemonThe study was filled with the light and hum of magic as Twilight finished her work, the last of a dozen interwoven spellworks combining into a lavender gem on a silver chain. Levitating it up, she gave it one last inspection before nodding in satisfaction and moving to the Rubricae standing nearby. After a bit of adjustment, the chain dangled from its neck to leave the faintly glowing crystal resting against his breastplate. With a satisfied nod, she stepped back and considered her work. The stone glowed gently as it rested against the plate, now cleansed of the fire blackening and restored to the blue it had been. He had not requested as much, but it had been a simple task with Twilight’s magic. The ouroboros mark on his pauldron had been left off, however, as he insisted that allegiance was now for nought. After her exhausting experience casting communion spells day after day for their study sessions together, she had deemed it wise to devise a more permanent solution. The crystal that now adorned him was attuned to his soul and her magic, allowing them to speak telepathically. They had spent the last couple days working through the language barriers that limited their exchanges, and finally a translation matrix had been conceived that was woven in with the telepathy spells worked into the communications gem. As such, they should be able to speak clearly to each other for the first time since meeting. All they needed to do was test it. “Well… here goes. Good morning?” ++Good morning to you, Lady Sparkle.++ Her eyes widened as a giddy grin plastered her muzzle and she began hopping around her study, thrilled with her success. His responses from that point on were faintly amused as they conversed in earnest. She asked questions about the races he had encountered, the technology of his race, his knowledge of psychic ability and how it might compare to magic, and a wide assortment of other subjects. He carefully steered her around the topics of war, weapons, and violence, knowing from his observations and her statements that conflicts such that he was made for were as alien as he to Equestria. That was what this place was called, he had learned, among other things. Fitting. Having fought many strange beasts, the bestiaries Twilight had aided him in researching hardly astounded him. He was merely amused and curious how so many of the creatures of Terran myth had all manifested in this one realm. As such, their discussion led them down many tangential paths, and it was a pleasant change of pace from his previous life as a warrior to simply be the scholar he was on Prospero. Twilight would have made a wonderful collaborator on some of his studies in Tizca. Magnus himself would have been most amused by her antics. This continued into the afternoon, Twilight solidifying the bond of friendship with the armor-bound soul that had been thrown into her world. She could tell from the way he spoke with her now that she had actually found a friend in him, and she could recall very few times she blushed as furiously as she did when he thanked her for giving him a new life and purpose away from war. It was unfortunate, then, that the wonderful afternoon be broken by a scream torn from Fluttershy’s throat. The edges of a massive beak curled up in a sinister smile as clawed hands tossed aside the broken body of a manticore, the beast’s blood dribbling down the talons to the loamy soil below. Watching the pathetic yellow creature that had been tending it flee in terror had been a delicious treat. It loomed up into the trees, gangly wings folded awkwardly against its sides. It had only manifested by merging with an essence that had dubbed itself the Nightmare, and as a result its normally iridescent feathers shifted through dozens of shades of midnight blue, to purple, to black in as many seconds, giving its already unnatural presence an oily sheen. It’s beak and limbs resembled those of a griffon, but it stood tall and gangly like a man. It’s limbs had too many joints, and its claws too many digits. Its form continued to subtly shift and change, the physical form it inhabited rebelling against the constancy of reality. The voices in its head it was accustomed to warred with the voices of the Nightmare. It was pleasantly cacophonous and maddening. It paused as it stepped from the shadows of the forest to bring a hand over its eyes. The sun was damnably bright, and it singed the edges of its feathers. But it was setting, and soon night would fall. And this night, if all went well, would last forever. Twilight observed the creature step forth from the woods, her eyes refusing to register all of its details, like the telescope she peered through refused to focus, yet everything near it seemed almost too sharply detailed by comparison. Even from her crystal castle, she could sense the malice radiating from it and taste the hideous sorcery that roiled within it. It reminded her of the warp rift above Equestria. She turned towards her study to go find the Rubricae to find it standing next to her on the balcony, facing the great beast. He was passive but she could sense the tension coming from him in waves radiated by the stone on his breast. Whatever this creature was, it was not a friend. Fluttershy burst into the study at that moment, tears streaming from her eyes. Twilight swooped over to her and embraced her as the meek pegasus described in panicked words what it had done. Twilight’s face twisted in revulsion and horror before taking on a determined cast. Snapping to her guards, she ordered them to make for the edge of town and establish defenses before disappearing in a flash of lavender magic. The guards were about to make their way out the door before a massive blur of blue and gold rushed through the doorway, his heavy tread emphasizing the urgency of his passage. Twilight stood before the creature, standing between it and Fluttershy’s cottage. The animals had fled at its approach, and now she was all that stood between it and Ponyville. It looked down at her with what she could only assume was amusement, but the malice in its eyes made her shudder. How could there be so much hate in a creature? She accosted it without hesitation, demanding it surrender itself and be held accountable for its crimes. It responded with a laugh that may have left a lesser pony unhinged. It did not hurt that she had skirted the line of madness enough to dance finely on that edge… You know not what you tempt. It gestured at her with a claw, and she noticed the blood and bits of viscera that slowly dribbled from the edges of the talons. Beyond the beast, she glimpsed the edge of a pool of blood slowly expanding from the undergrowth. She was struck with such sadness that a creature had been so abruptly ended without cause before anger flashed hotly to the fore. We are Nightmare Morphos, emissary of the Great Changer, greater daemon of… The nightmare-daemon was interrupted by a violent stream of incandescent violet, fired from the horn of a very angry pony princess. Twilight was a learner. She observed and processed everything that she observed or performed. Her battle with Tirek had been an eye opener about her abilities. And her anger was even greater now than it had been against Tirek. Tirek never killed. This monster did. The daemon began to splutter a retort but was silenced as Twilight grasped it by the beak and slammed it to the ground. It stumbled up, its eyes flashing dangerously as warpfire manifested in its grasp. It flung a ball of roiling energy at her, and it grinned cruelly as it broke upon her shield, awaiting the soul-searing flames to render its tormentor a screaming wreck. Instead, it found a chicken coop smashing against its face, making it cry out in surprise, pain, and fury. Then a solid punch from a hoof encased in a field of arcane energy left it reeling. Twilight landed before it, her demonstration of ability and intent complete. She demanded immediate surrender. The daemon responded by showing its full potential. Reality bent around its presence, holes in existences briefly manifesting around it and giving a glimpse of the madness beyond. It reached into one such rift and drew out a gnarled staff with the serpentine symbol of the God of Fate for the head. Raw warp power bled from the staff as it was channeled through, then Twilight knew a world of pain as the very ground she stood upon rebelled, the air around her shrieked, and only her hastily erected shield prevented her body from being torn apart by the insanity of impossibility. The daemon then flung incendiary waves unlike anything the mages of Equestria could have ever dreamed of conjuring. They were the balefires of nightmares, and what they touched burned, twisted into something hideous, or melted as if wax. The earth erupted around her, boulders and large clods of ground slamming down around her, telekinetic shields shattering under the force of it all. An uprooted tree crashed down on her, and she screamed as she felt a wing break and a hind leg dislocate. Blood trickled from dozens of cuts and from her nose, whether from a blow to her muzzle or the backwash of so many magical barriers breaking, she could not be sure. She desperately tried to summon up her magic, to escape, to heal, to do anything, but the pain and fear made crystallizing her focus or energy impossible. The daemon then manifested the most intense fireball yet, and flung it mercilessly at the trapped mare. Twilight had often wondered if a pony’s life did indeed flash before his or her eyes before they died, and if it did, if it would be anything like what her friends experienced when she had restored their cutie marks shortly before her ascension. As time slowed in her perception, that curiosity amused the detached part of her. She was still researching and hypothesizing even as she was about to die. Even so, no memories flashed. All she could see was the sickening rainbow of impossible colors as the warpfire hurtled towards her. She almost welcomed the darkness blotting out her life. Not her life, just the fireball. And it was tall, bipedal. She lifter her neck as far as she could and had a moment to recognize the Rubricae before the fireball erupted over him and blinded her with a brilliant explosion.
The SacrificeThe guards had arrived and pulled her from the debris shortly after the Rubricae had arrived. Now freed from the crushing weight, she had been able to concentrate and mend some of her wounds, and a guard, at her insistence, had been kind enough to reset her hind leg. They now formed a perimeter around her, powering incredibly durable barriers and shielding her mind from anything the daemon might try. She had watched from that rubble as the Rubricae had taken a killing blow meant for her. She had feared he had sacrificed his unlife to save her. Instead, he merely pulled himself out of the rubble he had been flung into, the cracked pauldron creaking as he stood, and pulled forth the boxy contraption he had explained to her was a ranged weapon. He had stated that he would not demonstrate its use, as it had a limited supply of ammunition. He had but the one magazine, the curved box under it, left after his arrival. That weapon had roared so loudly she had wished she could cover her ears. The rounds it fired shrieked and blazed with sorcerous potential, and had blown great, flaming gouges from the flesh of the hideous creature, black ichor pouring from its wounds. The Rubricae had advanced steadily, emptying its supply of inferno bolts into the monstrosity that had invaded Equestria. Now, the bolter lay discarded twenty paces behind him, and he fought the beast with the keen edge of his mentor’s force sword. The blade did not carry the psychic might of its former owner, but the edge was keener than any mundane blade could hope to match, and it cut into the daemon’s flesh with ease. The daemon slammed great, merciless blows onto the possessed armor, and the damaged pauldron had shattered and fallen away. The crest that adorned his helmet had been warped by the passing of a roiling stream of warpfire, and one gauntlet was missing two fingers. One greave had a subtle crack running down its back, and a solid blow from the monster would destroy that leg. Yet still the Thousand Son fought on, heedless of the damage to his form, focused on one thing and one thing only. His lord, his mentor, his friend had told him to be free. He had used that freedom to befriend Twilight. He had learned of a place worthy of protecting. So he had made a choice with his newfound freedom to defend his new home and new friend. Even if that meant his destruction. So he fought, the daemon mercilessly breaking him piece by piece as he used his unholy endurance and strength to cripple the beast. He knew he could not best it. He was no great sorcerer like his masters or a great mage like Twilight. He had been a line warrior. He won through strength and cunning what sorcerers and mages won with power and wit. He felt his armored body crumbling with each blow he could not avoid or turn aside. The daemon had a score of wounds, and he reached into one to tear out gory pieces of its flesh. Daemons had little in the way of vital organs or natural anatomy, so he grabbed whatever he could and tore the dripping pieces from within its unnatural body. Shadows seems to pool in the wounds and attempt to knit them back together, the Nightmare attempting to maintain the physical form for the daemon, so the daemon’s sorcery could fuel the Nightmare. Even so, some wounds were too deep, Rubricae’s determination and desperation lending his blows the strength to cut deep. As the battle had raged, Twilight had been storming ideas to end it before it was too late. She could see the Thousand Son slipping away before her eyes. ++Twilight. You must end this.++ Her eyes snapped to the Rubricae. His sword was embedded in the ground a dozen strides away, knocked from his grasp by a swing of those massive, gnarled claws. He had grasped both of the claws and held the daemon in place, perhaps by will alone, leaving the daemon immobile. ++My life for yours.++ He filled her mind with the knowledge of a complex spell, a spell capable of unmaking warp entities with such violence that even a creature as powerful as this daemon could not survive. But the Rubricae had been bound to his armor by warp magics as well. He would be unmade with the daemon. Twilight desperately searched for another answer. Without thinking, she tapped the link for his knowledge, and to her surprise there was no resistance. She blazed through his memory, shrugging through the horrors of his world for the knowledge she sought. Then she found it, and with it, her determination. The Rubricae turned his head back to her and nodded once. She charged her horn and the air around her took on a clammy quality, frost slowly expanding outward from her hooves. Her guards looked at her nervously as she drew in warp power and wove it into her magic. Then she unleashed the destruction that only the immaterium could manifest. The daemon screeched its damnation as the tidal wave of power crashed over it. Onlookers who had observed the phenomenon of the Elements of Harmony would have likened it to a Nightmare Night rendition of the effect, a terrifying rainbow of colors that should not be, that turned the eye, and made observers for miles lose their lunches. The daemon’s skin peeled away in layers, warpflesh boiling away under the scrutiny of banishment. The Nightmare became a solid shadow extending from its form, slowly fading in the intense un-light of Twilight’s spell. It desperately connected with the shadows of the Everfree and slipped away, leaving the daemon to his curses in tongues long dead as it was burned out of existence. In the midst of all this, the Rubricae stood resolute, falling to a knee as the damaged greave shattered. Blue paint peeled away, gold filigree ran molten, and the wards woven into the armor were burned away. An eye lens cracked, the other shattered, and the damaged gauntlet crumbled away. The rest of the armor began to fragment, until in a blinding flash, the spell completed. With an unearthly sigh, the remains of the Rubricae fell into the pile of ashes that had been the daemon, and the light in the remaining lens in the cracked helm faded away.
The EndConsciousness. It had returned. Surprised, he observed the world around him. First, his armored body was restored. It now shown a resplendent crimson, edged in ivory. Upon his pauldron was the stylized sun of his Legion, and in the center of it a six pointed star. He was in a study, the walls lined with books, covering subjects ranging from equine anatomy to astronomy to psychology. There were now several tomes about warpcraft and the dangers therein. He stood in a faintly smoking circle, with runes of power etched into them at precise intervals and angles around the circle. And in front of him stood a teary-eyed alicorn princess, exhausted after casting a modified warp spell fused with Equestrian magic. One used for millennia by a select few sorcerers to recover the souls of the Rubricae adrift in the warp. He did not even employ the faintly glowing stone worked into his helm crest to protest the sudden hug of said alicorn, instead kneeling and returning the gesture. Author's Note And that's that! I do hope you thoroughly enjoyed this diversion from my main story. One day, I shall find a weapon that can slay writer's block without fail. I initially intended this as a one-shot about the length of "Blooms in the Dust," but I just had to go and write more, didn't I? It's honestly been a pleasant distraction as I keep working on chapter 4 of "Wardens." The current chapter is a bit of a lull in the story arc so it's been a bit of a challenge to write to my satisfaction. This provided an excellent outlet for my writing desires and current 40k kick I've been in. In the mean time, I'd love to see some discussion about this story, and see what impressions it's left with all of you. I'm definitely looking forward to some comments on the writing style. I'm also curious if anyone would enjoy working on a story with me, or would like my input on one of your projects. Just drop me a message! I can promise I'll answer those.
