Blizzard Blast came finally to a stop.
Panting from the gallop, he looked around. The scenery around him was that of a small town. There was no sidewalks and the roads were narrow and unmarked. Well-kept houses lined their edges, dark and closed up. The sky was darkening, and storm clouds were letting loose a torrential rain.
It was the human dimension.
The lone warrior looked down. The storm was partly responsible for this. Floods of water had drenched him within seconds, tossing his mane into tatters. It glued to his side now, the green stripe shattered into a thousand strands tangled in blue. The waters pounded at him from every direction. He’d ducked his head down as to not be blinded by the torrent.
But there was also . . . something else.
It was something he felt. Somewhere, someplace, something wasn’t right. It was indescribable. Somehow, he sensed . . . something was happening . . .
And then - a scream.
The scream echoed with perfect resonance in his mind. Whether he physically heard it or not, he was unsure. It was a scream of pain, of suffering. Its echo tore through his brain like a grim reaper’s scythe through the fresh cemetery earth. There was something . . . familiar . . . in the voice. That smooth, silky, beautiful voice - Blast recognized it at once. It was his love, Twilight Sparkle.
Somewhere, someplace, she was in pain.
How he knew this was beyond him. Whether he knew this to even be was beyond him. But his instincts told him something was wrong. Terribly, painfully wrong.
And it was he who must act.
“I feel it too,” said a voice behind him. He whirled on its owner.
She wore a coat of fiery golden fur. Her blazing red mane, also damaged by the storm, clung to her in a matted mess. The mare’s crystalline blue eyes pierced into Blast’s soul.
“Don’t go,” Sunset Shimmer warned him. Her tone fell darker than the stormy night around them. “It’s Bellus. He’s returned.”
“Bellus . . .” Blast took a moment to process that. He spent far less time processing his reply.
“I’m going.”
“Did you not hear me?”
“What can I do but go?”
“You will die!” Sunset snapped. “You don’t know Bellus like I do. He’ll kill everypony in sight - including you, and especially me. I’m staying right here where I’ll survive.” She paused. “If you want to live you’ll do the same.”
“But Princess Twilight is back there! Without anyone to protect her she’ll be killed!”
Sunset peered into Blast’s eyes. “Better her than me.”
Blast was taken completely aback. He took an involuntary step backward and one hoof rested over his chest. His eyes filled with betrayal.
The two stood suspended like that for one moment. Silence sliced through the thick foggy air. It seemed for a split second that the very raindrops froze in the air. Almost like . . . they were waiting for something to happen.
The moment ended. The rain resumed its course. The look on Blast’s face shifted and hardened from betrayal to duty. His eyes narrowed in a strangely calm manner. With one swift stroke he turned his back to the mare. He began to walk away.
Sunset called after him. “Where are you going?”
He swiveled his head ninety degrees, giving her a sideways glance. “So,” he began. “You would rather me die than a traitor like yourself?”
“I said I would rather Twilight -”
“She won’t,” Blast replied, cutting her off rather rudely. His tone was calm and eerily cold. He turned his head back and took another step away. “Not when I’m through.”
Sunset’s look softened. It wasn’t about her anymore. Deep down, she didn’t want any more ponies to fall because of her arrogance then had to. She pleaded the stallion to stay. “Don’t go!”
He didn’t stop. As Blast sauntered away, the falling fog swept in around him, until he had vanished completely. “And Twilight calls you her friend,” was all he said.
The next day was long and hot.
The sun swept away any trace of last night’s storm. It seared and singed the asphalt roads. Heat waves rose from every metal object in sight. The blinding yellow glow filled the town. Everyone - every human at least - was locked up in the cooled comfort of their own homes.
Blizzard Blast hid behind one of them. He laid curled up inside a raspberry bush, meditating.
It was the only way. Summoning a portal back to Equestria took some serious energy. Blast knew he was far too exhausted from his last endeavor. He didn’t have what it took, and if he did there was little more he could do upon his return. The most he could do was meditate.
But his meditations were far from peaceful.
The screams continued in his brain. It wasn’t just Twilight this time. More voices appeared. He could hear his beloved sister Beam, his cousin Blade, even his dearest parents . . . all of them were suffering.
It ached to know he could do nothing.
Healing their pain was beyond him. He knew this. He knew this to be one deathly fact. There was nothing he could do but watch them burn.
Relax, a part of him tried to tell him. Relax, you are doing something. It was true. He was trying to regain his energy, as fast as possible, to recover his footing and lead a solo attempt to free Equestria and protect Twilight at all costs.
The fact remained, however, that he could feel their pain. He could feel her pain. And he could do nothing but wait.
And that fact was not his friend.
“Hang in there,” he whispered aloud. Whether he meant the message to his family - to stay alive until he could aid them, or to Twilight - to relax and know everything would be okay, or most importantly to himself - to reassure himself he was doing all he could, the exhausted Blizzard had no idea.
He let out a shiver as he tried to reserve his energy.
There was something strange about that stallion.
She just knew it.
Almost immediately after that encounter, Sunset had retreated to her apartment. It was the apartment she’d owned as a human. Why she had turned back into a pony all of a sudden was beyond her - it could be something to do with the new portal Twilight mentioned - but it remained the shelter was hers.
She stared out the window at the sunny day, deep in thought. That stallion . . . she thought. What was he thinking?! He was rushing head-on into a situation they both knew he wouldn’t survive. They both knew he was running to his doom.
So . . . why?
She watched a bird gliding overhead. Why is he doing this? What did he have to gain by sacrificing himself to an all-powerful demon? She simply didn’t understand.
There were many things she didn’t understand. Like why pegasi needed to control the weather. Clouds moved by themselves in the Everfree. Why was pony intervention needed in places like Ponyville?
The golden unicorn sighed. This is different, she decided. Her head shook in frustration. She really was trying to grasp this whole friendship thing. She was making an honest effort to understand the concept of helping another in need. And up until this point she’d felt like she was doing a pretty decent job.
She contemplated over Blast’s decision. Friendship was still fairly new to her, but she knew it when she saw it. And the strange thing was: she didn’t sense a friendship between him and Twilight. It seemed almost like . . . something more . . .
Whatever it was, she decided, she was needed now. That crazy stallion, in some strange way, was right about one thing: she could do nothing but go. She could do nothing but protect her friends in this time of need.
Sunset turned. A mare behind her stared back.
The elegant caramel mare was identical to herself. A mane of flaming crimson splashed from her face. Rivers of molten gold streaked it. A pair of beautiful blue eyes stared straight into her own.
Perhaps there was still time. That stallion didn’t have to die. His fire didn’t have to burn out in vain. Twilight . . . perhaps she could still be saved. Sunset’s eyes narrowed. She knew now what she must do.
She looked into her reflection.
“OK Sunset,” she told herself, “We’ve a ride to catch.”
“Ha ha,” Bellus laughed in satisfaction, “I do so love vengeance. Wouldn’t you agree . . .” He picked his teeth with one claw as he watched the figure. “Princess?”
Before him, trapped in a circling red sphere, shackled spread-eagle in an array of energetic red sockets, was Princess Twilight Sparkle. Her deep purple mane exploded from her face in floating fragments of chaos. She carried a number of minor injuries: a gash down her right shoulder, a burned arm, and a few others. The princess levitated there, displayed like a trophy for the whole of Equestria to see she had been defeated. To see that all hope was lost.
Twilight stared down the huge dragon, eyes filled with nothing short of rage. “Be warned, Bellus.” Her normally light and bouncy voice had taken on a dark tone. “When Blizzard Blast gets here, he’ll -”
“He’ll fall just as easily as his brothers and sisters,” Bellus finished for her. A smug look smudged itself onto his face. Twilight hated that look. “I’m basically all-powerful now. Let’s not forget that.”
Twilight gave a disgusted scowl. “Oh, shut up,” came her rather rude reply.
Bellus turned hostile. He frowned down at her. “I grow bored of your arrogance, princess . . .” he growled. His frown became a sadistic smile as he snapped his claws. “Let’s try something more . . . fun.”
On cue, a number of red energy bolts leapt toward Twilight. They visibly surged through her weakened alicorn body. The sore, tired muscles shook violently. Her eyes squinted shut under the pain. Her ears fell flat against her head.
And she screamed.
It was a scream that words utterly failed to describe. Pain, despair, suffering echoed in the delicately woven chords. It was the scream of a puppet. A puppet under the freakish control of some psychotic tormentor. A puppet doomed to whatever endless agony its master saw fit. A puppet nothing more than the fragments of some shattered nightmare.
Finally the terrific song came to a close. Twilight sagged in her cuffs - the reminder of her defeat had done its purpose.
Bellus laughed, seeing he had strung the note he had meant to play from the instrument before him.
“WHERE,” came the statement cutting him off. Bellus turned to see who had so rudely interrupted his fun.
Put next to the all-powerful dragon, the figure was absolutely and unequivocally puny. His bubbly blue complexion stood out against the demonic crimson sky. His eyes squinted shut in a sharp crease. His scar burned bright red over his muzzle. The Element of Honor glowed over his wrist. Two swords levitated at either side of the figure.
He was Blast.
The Blizzard repeated himself. “WHERE.” His vibrant viridescent eyes opened. They were still creased with something bordering on anger. One blade rose in a threatening manner to meet Bellus’ gaze. “IS THE PRINCESS?”
Without a glance Bellus silently teleported her away.
“WHERE IS SHE?!”
Bellus growled, despite the smile on his face. “Oh, Twilight? She’s getting herself fitted for a clipping.”
“A . . . what?!” Blast demanded. Sparks began to fly from the Element of Honor.
“Oh yeah,” replied Bellus, without a worry. He knew there was no way a Blizzard could defeat him - with or without that stupid trinket on his hoof. “That princess has got quite the trophy on her back. Any minute now . . .”
Another scream ripped through Blast’s ears.
“There we go,” Bellus cheerfully said. Two identical objects appeared before Blast’s eyes. Dreadfully he beheld them to be . . . his love’s own wings.
The twin purple objects spun in an energetic red bubble. Their feathers were still as death. Their bases, where they once were part of Blast’s dearest love, were merely stumps of deathly pale red. The crimson sun shone doom on Bellus’ trophy. Inside that sphere, under his control, was the freedom of a princess, the safety of her subjects, the fate of a kingdom.
And how did these fall into his hands?
Because I could not stop him, thought Blast. That was how he lost his father: he was not enough to stop his father’s going. His mother had fallen because of him too. He was not there by her side, he was not there to help his mother in need, and because of that she had been forced to leave him. All this because he wasn’t good enough.
Tears welled in the warrior’s eyes. He can’t have failed again! Not once more! “N-n-n-no . . .” was all that escaped him. His knees buckled and he shrank into the ground, clenching a hoof in agony. His swords fell lifeless to the earth. The Element of Honor was glowing hot now. “It . . . it c-c-can’t be . . .”
To which a victorious Bellus replied “Oh yes.” He just loved seeing those he hated in this kind of pain. He so loved it. “For one thousand years did your kind banish me to Tartarus to rot. Celestia - she - you - tore my freedom away for one thousand years! Now it is my turn to -”
He was cut off by an echoing “YOU!”
Something strange was happening to the unicorn. A burst of wind flared to life. It swept the blue fur bordering his bare white hooves. It smashed him in the face, blowing the tears out of his eyes. Slowly the tears froze into icy streaks, turning a lush verdurous color.
And he opened his eyes.
This time, they were not only glowing - it seemed verdant flames leapt from their edges. The usual minty coloration was gone. This time, they were the color not of green fire, but of its essence and its very soul.
The clenched hoof slammed into the ground.
The hot, hard earth crumbled under his grip. A shock wave exploded from the impact which rattled the very air. An ice crystal took root which slowly began freezing the landscape. The air was filled, after the shock wave, with an electric hum. The Blizzard’s swords, filled with a new, fresh vigor, picked themselves off the ground - ready to fight one last fight.
Blast’s horn not only glowed, but seemed to spark uncontrollably. Objects flew from its tip in every direction. They grew as they flew, growing a blue wrapping over their foliate green cores. The things - his trademark energy bombs - swarmed around him in a swirling explosive tornado.
He jumped to meet the dragon.
He soared far higher than he was supposed to. His form sliced through the air like his swords, ascending as if in an elevator. Soon he was at eye level with Bellus.
It was now he finished his statement - with a voice that was not his own. “MONSTER!!!” Every molecule, every fragment of energy in his body united in smashing his front hooves together. A spark of plasma ignited. It grew rapidly into an explosion of luminous green. It seemed to fire straight from the warrior’s heart as the liquid focused into a single shaft and fired.
Time slowed as it zeroed in. Distance closed. First it was two blocks, then a half a block, then ten feet . . . Time itself halted for one split second. It seemed almost to be considering actually letting the unicorn win. Letting him send this behemoth back where it came from and free Equestria. Letting him protect his love like he so dearly wished.
Whatever the decision was, time resumed as the searing green liquid met the dragon’s wrinkled scaly skin.
Another shock wave erupted from the impact. The energy slammed into Bellus with such force that he was catapulted into the ground. His massive body left a gaping crater in the earth. Debris and rubble sprang up from where he’d fallen.
Blizzard Blast began his descent. He fell toward the hulking dragon with a deathly glint in his glowing eyes. Two more plasma fires ignited - one over each fist he clenched. He slammed himself into the ground just before Bellus. The streets cracked to pieces beneath his hooves.
Bellus tried to get up, in annoyance more than anything. Why was he letting this pest toy around with him? Why was he letting this . . . this . . . weakling boss him around, the singular most powerful dragon the world has ever seen?! With a growl he got to his feet.
Blast didn’t let him. With two plasma fists he punched and punched and punched the demon. Each successive hit forced Bellus farther down. Each hit left a singing black scar. Each hit, one bite at a time, was taking back Equestria and the very essence of ponykind. One uppercut punch and the warrior sent Bellus flying backwards, tumbling end over end through the air.
Another scream tore the landscape.
Blast had a hard time registering it. This wasn’t because he had bad hearing. In fact his hearing was fairly sharp. It was just . . . he wasn’t quite being himself. He was in the Blizzard State. His senses weren’t exactly his anymore. Yet somehow . . . the message still came through.
And it only fed his anger.
He teleported inside of Bellus’ gargantuan jaws. Launching a frozen storm from his hooves, he froze Bellus’ mouth open. Around them sped the swarms of Blast’s energy bombs in a storm of personified destruction. He summoned four of them at his side, burning almost as furiously as the fire inside his heart. Without one uttered word the Blizzard launched them down his opponent’s throat.
They detonated at once.
There was the sound of muffled explosions. Flashes of blue firelight could be seen under the demon’s scales. One, two, three explosions followed the next. At the fourth a burst of fluorescent blue leapt from the dragon’s jaws, sending both combatants flying in opposite directions.
Bellus crashed again to the ground. He was beyond annoyed now. He was downright furious. That last blow had not annoyed him - it had sincerely hurt. How . . . how was this possible? It took legendary amounts of power to even dent his own! He had to do something fast before the situation really got out of claw. More clumsily than usual the dragon stumbled to his feet.
Blizzard Blast, despite having taken an explosion to the face, retained no signs of damage. He hit the ground on four hooves, skidding gracefully backward. His horn glowed as he slowed to a halt. Two telekinetic fields flared to life. At his sides they flashed in blue light into clones of himself. A trio now, he flew back into the fray.
The dragon was helpless as Blizzard Blast carved from the battlefield the tatters of his shattered soul. Green streaks sped over Bellus’ vision, trapping it in webs of hate. Slashes broke his scaly skin. Burning plasma strikes scorched his body. He began to feel something new to him. Something . . . he’d never felt before. Not in the thousand years he rotted in Tartarus.
Pain.
Bellus reacted violently. He’d felt captivity, he’d felt abandonment, but true, physical torment was something new to him. It was something that not a single being in the world had the power to inflict on him. Not a single soul besides his own knew this level of skill. And now he was being outmatched by this, this . . . BLIZZARD?!
Everything around Bellus exploded. Infernos coursed through the air. Blizzard Blast’s clones evaporated in the intense heat. Their swords, however - despite being made of ice and inside a flame like every anger, every hate, every lust for revenge ever felt combined - retained their shape. As if on puppet strings they flew to their owner: the original Blizzard Blast.
Again had he taken no damage from an explosion to the face. In a streak of green light he leapt to meet Bellus in the eyes. The clones’ weapons came to him also, totaling up to six copies of his signature double swords. They spun around him now. Six forms became the same streak of ethereal green. Six forms became speed. Six forms became a single deadly blow.
The buzzsaw met the dragon straight in the muzzle.
The speed and force of the impact alone sent Bellus smashing again into the ground.
Again Bellus rose. Rage burned itself into his eyes. Pieces of rubble fell from his face as he brought himself higher. That was the last straw. No longer would he let this weakling torment him.
The demon thrusted out its hand. An orb of red energy sprang to life around Blizzard Blast. Shackles appeared over his hooves. They flew to a spread-eagle position, pinning the warrior inside. A disabling spell drifted over his horn, halting any further resistance.
It was over.
Two swords, lifeless now, fell to the ground.
Blast hung his head in defeat.
“Relax,” said Bellus as the real Twilight - with both wings attached - appeared beside Blast, “I didn’t really take her wings.” Bellus had really no reason to tell Blast this, besides simply to see his reaction. “Rest assured, Blizzard, your princess is still in one piece.”
Red energy swirled around the warrior as his reply came in the darkest, strongest tone he could muster. “Mark my words, demon. I am neither assured nor resting. And until you crawl back into that pathetic hole you slithered out of,” the Blizzard lifted his gaze defiantly to the dragon’s, “I never will.”
With this he threw all the strength he had left into his limbs. He attempted with everything he had to tear himself free. Every fiber in his being came to breaking the energetic shackles holding him.
Somehow he knew it couldn’t be done. He knew this was the end. He knew he would never make it. He was terribly outmatched now and he knew this. There was no way he could escape this invincible prison or stand a chance against its creator. It was simply impossible. Inevitable. This was a game of chess, and he had already lost. The door was closed. There was no way he could fight his way out.
Yet still he fought.
He had to give it everything he had. More importantly, he had to be able to honestly tell himself he did everything he could. There were no half jobs. There were no corners cut.
He had to. He didn’t care who called him crazy. He didn’t care who called him irrational. As cleanly and as perfectly as there was no way he could escape, no way he could win, it was so there was no way he could not give his love every fiber in the fabric of his soul.
Blast could feel it coming. His muscles burned, ached with pain. They steamed with the agony of the pressure he put on them. It was coming soon. Soon his muscles would give out, would surge with an absolute explosion of pain.
He did not care.
It was love.
A split second later, his muscles gave out, having finally expended all possible energy they could have given. They exploded with the promised suffering that they warned him would come. The pain visibly surged through his exhausted unicorn body. The sore, tired muscles shook violently. His eyes squinted shut under the pain. His ears fell flat against her head. And he did the one thing he had energy left to do.
He screamed.
It was a scream that words utterly failed to describe. Pain, despair, suffering echoed in the delicately woven chords. It was the scream of a puppet. A puppet under the freakish control of some psychotic tormentor. A puppet doomed to whatever endless agony its master saw fit. A puppet nothing more than the fragments of some shattered nightmare.
Twilight gazed worriedly upon her stallion and opened her mouth. She wanted so deeply to tell him it would be okay. That somehow they could fix this. She wanted so dearly to feel his hooves around her, to nestle her head under his, to reassure him somehow the power of love would find a way to triumph. She found, to her despair, she had not the words.
Maybe it truly was over.
Bellus turned from the two ponies, intent on wreaking havoc elsewhere. He paused for one split second. What was this he felt? That bond those two ponies shared . . . no matter how much grief he had caused to both of them he had not broken it. What was this thing that ached in his heart for one split second?
Was it . . . remorse?
He shook his head and went on.
Do you now see? This is what it is to love someone, romantically or not. So it doesn’t matter if there’s even a chance. One remote chance the efforts will prove fruitful.
Because for you, I will fight forever.
Author's Note
I want each and every one of you guys to take that last part personally. Because I mean it.
I love you guys.
