The very heart of the world rests underneath its tallest mountain. Below Crackridge Peak lies a maze of caverns and tunnels, long abandoned by whatever people who had in furor dug themselves deeper and deeper into the earth’s beating chest. Tunnels, chambers, and impossibly long falls honeycomb the mountain—a dizzyingly complicated labyrinth that works its way down, down, down, through the bedrock.
The torch in Scorpan’s hand only illuminates a scant few dozen feet in any direction. It matters little; he knows the way well. Behind him he has passed quarries, temples, homes, all hewn out of the rock. Strange, why someone would choose to live down here.
Scorpan pauses a moment to appraise a massive terraced incline that falls quickly out of the reach of the meager light of the torch. The angles of the gargantuan steps of stone cut down and away, like a ziggurat in reverse. Scorpan wonders what sane being would cleave away the very rock beneath its feet to fall deeper and deeper down. What earthly purpose could this great stepped slope serve?
The ticklings of an answer tease at Scorpan, as he works at the puzzle in his mind. A grim thought occurs to him, and he almost shudders as the implications sink in. Perhaps the occupants of this catacomb didn’t burrow themselves down into these impossible depths. Maybe they had been digging up, away from what sits just below.
Scorpan turns away from the terrace and continues on his way. He walks with no hurry in his step, across subterranean bridges and over gaping holes that drop into empty dark. In the tunnels there are dusty, forgotten skeletons, half-buried in the dirt—each one all that’s left of some lost creature who had died clutching at itself, alone and lost in darkness.
For the longest time, there was only one other living being who knew the path from the caves at the surface down to the very bottom. And for the longest time those two had worked hard to keep their secret between them. But now, three more also know the way.
There are no bones in the lowest reaches of the caverns. As Scorpan approaches the deepest chamber, he feels rather than hears the the slow throb that shakes the dirt beneath his feet. From below him comes the muffled growls and barks of something very, very angry.
At last, he steps into the final chamber. It is huge: easily enough to hold a castle. From far above, the roof shines with a faded, orange light. It is faint from the distance but enough to see by. Scorpan puts out the his torch.
Once, long ago, Scorpan had flown up to the roof of the cave at the behest of his brother and had seen glowing stones pressed into the ceiling, the color of fire and shining as bright as suns. He had plucked out one of the rocks from its perch, only for it to dim and melt away into nothingness in his hand.
Near the entrance of the room is a white coated unicorn, his dark mane and beard just beginning to pale with age. The bells in his cloak and hat clank and jingle as Star Swirl approaches.
“It is nearly done,” says the wizard. “The Princesses have subdued him and are preparing the spell at this moment.”
“So he still lives?” The relief in Scorpan’s voice is evident, even to himself.
“Yes, he does,” Star Swirl says, “but I’m afraid time is short. The spellwork necessitates haste.”
Scorpan looks past Star Swirl. Off in the distance, his eyes catch a glimmering light—Celestia and Luna’s magic at work, no doubt. “Let me speak to him.”
Star Swirl nods. “Then let’s be off at once.”
Together they walk to the center of the chamber. The walk is long enough to make Scorpan’s heart twist helplessly at itself.
/~~~~~ o ~~~~~\
“You!” cries Tirek, as soon as the pair comes into sight. He pounds his mighty arms against the dome of crackling magic that imprisons him. “You led them here! What have you done, Scorpan?” Spittle foams and bursts from his mouth as he speaks.
“I warned you, Tirek. I begged you, brother.”
With a bellow of rage Tirek tears the medallion from his neck. His horns light with magic, and arcane energies pour into the amulet, focusing and coalescing into a glowing swirl. It is an ancient spell, a curse Scorpan had seen his brother perform many times before. But it won’t help him now. The magic fizzles and fades away, even as Tirek tries to shape it. Screaming in frustration, he slams the medallion against the walls around him.
“I’ve told the Princesses about all our plans. About every trap you set for them. There is nothing you can do now.” Scorpan flinches from the look of pure hatred that twists his sibling’s face.
“Where is my brother?” Tirek rages. “Where is the one who fought and bled with me? Where is the one who crafted the very weapons we used to strike down our father?” He shakes the amulet at Scorpan.
Around his magical prison, Celestia and Luna are carving runes and sigils into the stone floor. Their brows are wet with their exertion as their magic cleaves the rock below. Scorpan watches their work for a moment before turning back to Tirek.
“I regret the person I was. I regret each life we took. As should you.”
“And why? Because of friendship?” The word is spat out with disgust. Tirek growls. “Barkings of a mad dog! To accept friendship is to invite betrayal and defeat.”
“No, brother.”
“No?! Hypocrite!” He stamps his hooves, cracking the stone. “Here I stand, trapped, and you still call me ‘brother,’ you weasel!”
“Tirek, I—”
“Speak not my name, traitor! You may have deceived yourself, but not I! I know your true nature.”
Luna and Celestia turn to Star Swirl. They are panting and sweat-streaked, but there is steel resolve in their eyes. The wizard nods and speaks to Scorpan. “We’re ready.”
Scorpan only hesitates a moment before saying, “Then, begin.”
Three horns light with magic while the runes glow and growl. Slowly the earth opens up around Tirek to swallow him. The sound of hounds echo through the chamber.
Tirek roars in fury. “You can’t fool me! You cannot live in a world of flowers and ponies! Your true self calls to you!”
With a rumble, the ground closes above Tirek, muting his words.
For a long while, Scorpan stares at the spot of earth where his brother disappeared into. Even the runes are gone—melted away and leaving nothing but smooth, unbroken stone. Scorpan strains his ears, but he hears nothing from the prison below.
A hoof on his shoulder breaks him out of his trance. Scorpan turns to face Star Swirl. The unicorn’s face is fallen and weary; he looks far older than his years. Wrinkles etch their way around his tired frown.
“I’m sorry, Scorpan. If there was any other way…” Star Swirl trails off, surely from a lack of words to say.
“Tirek’s right,” Scorpan says, breaking the silence.
The first pony to recover from their shock is Luna. In a few bounds she’s up right next to him, pushing herself between him and Star Swirl.
“What do you mean ‘he’s right?” she demands. “We just put him in Tartarus because everything he believes is wrong. He was going to drain ponies of their magic. You said so yourself!”
“No, no,” Scorpan waves a hand in clarification. “He was right about me.”
The aggression in Luna’s form falls away instantly. She mutters and stammers before composing herself again. “Explain.”
“I am a monster,” Scorpan says, unflinchingly, “one that has no place in a land like Equestria.”
“You are not who you were before.” Star Swirl’s voice is adamant. “I can see that. Anypony could see that.”
Celestia walks foward and drapes a wing across Scorpan’s back. “Equestria will always have room for a friend. You are more than welcome to stay, and the ponies will come to love you as we have.”
“No,” he says, brushing away Celestia’s hug. “I have taken too many lives. My homeland lies broken and destroyed because Tirek and I craved power.” Scorpan locked eyes with each of the three ponies. “And I could do it again. Easily. I am likely the vilest, most evil thing you have ever laid eyes upon.”
“Stop it!” cries Star Swirl. “Stop it this very instant! You are my friend, and I will not see you do this to yourself.”
Scorpan looks at the fury Star Swirl displays in defence of a wicked, treacherous thing like himself, and it almost makes him want to weep. Such a noble creature would foul itself by calling Scorpan his friend.
“I am right, and I think you know it.” Scorpan turns to the Princesses. “Deep in your hearts, you know your little ponies aren’t safe with something like me around.”
Tears are forming at Celestia’s eyes, mixing with the sweat. Luna only nods, a gesture that pains her nearly as much as it hurts him.
“What do you—why would you say this!” Star Swirl’ paces this way and that. “Are you saying…” The bells in his hat rustle madly as he shakes his head. “No! I cannot banish my friend to Tatarus. If that’s what you’re asking for, I will not do it!”
“And I would never expect that from you,” Scorpan replies, “you are far too good for me to ask that of you. But for a wretch like me, I’m afraid its different.”
Scopan shifted his gaze away. He looked up at the ceiling and the soft light that came down from it. It reminded him of sunset.
“I will return to my homeland. I will try to undo my wrongs, and I will beg forgiveness from the few of my people that remain.”
Star Swirl paces, shaking his head. His face is twisted in sorrow and anger, but he doesn’t say a word.
Scorpan continues, “If I can set things right, if I can earn the friendship of the people I’ve wronged… maybe then I will be sure of myself. Then, I will know that I have truly and completely changed.”
Star Swirl bites his lips and hangs his head down. He sits on the stone floor. “You will return. Promise me you will return.”
“Yes,” says Scorpan as he relights his torch. “I will be back after I set things right. I swear that to you.”
He takes a final look at the three ponies. Star Swirl looks older than ever before, his face sagging in defeat. There are no tears in his eyes, but there is a sorrow beyond words in them. Several feet away, Luna is holding Celestia as the older sister quietly cries into the crook of her wing. The younger alicorn’s face is a rocky, cracking mask of determination.
“Goodbye,” Scorpan says, turning away from the three. He walks out of the chamber and up the spiraling tunnels to the surface, never once looking back.
