Author's Note

Sorry about the long wait time. Life decided to team up with school and bludgeon me mercilessly with a cactus. I have no definite date for when Chapter Three will be up. This is due to the fact that I will be receiving Mortal Kombat XL soon, and it will most likely consume my life for a few weeks. Sorry.

Chapter Two

Demon of the Frozen North
Chapter Two

The changeling watched as the princess fell, screaming towards what would almost certainly be her death. Regret swelled in his chest, but there was no time to lose. As the guards below him rushed toward their fallen princess, he resumed his steady decline of the castle wall. After weighing his options, he decided that his best option was to teleport out of the Empire. However, the endeavor would have left him severely weakened, unable to continue. Thus, he came up with a plan. He had teleported to the side of the castle from the residential part of the Empire, and started crawling down it. Originally, he had been planning to use the element of surprise to catch the guards below off guard, allowing him to absorb some of the Crystal Heart’s magic. With the immense power boost it would give him, he would have enough energy to teleport out of the Empire safely, and make his way back home on hoof.

That was the plan anyway, before the princess had appeared. For a few moments, she hadn’t seemed to notice him, and he continued on his way. But when her horn started glowing, he knew there was little time to act. In desperation, he did the first thing that had come to mind. He attacked her. With that, there went any chance of acceptance from… well, Equestria in general. Cadance was well loved around the kingdom, and his actions would no doubt be considered a terrible offense to the denizens of Equestria. Wrenching his mind back to the present task, the changeling noticed that three guards had stayed, including Shining Armor. Damn it, he thought, why didn’t he go to her? This complicates things. The changeling frowned and continued his descent. As he neared the bottom of the wall, he heard the guards talking.

“Sorry, sir. This must be hard for you.” One of them said, though it was hard to tell which one. Shining made a sound somewhere between a sob and a growl.

“When I find the monster that did that to my Cadance and… and ou-our…” Shining Armor broke off into a small sobbing fit, before regaining composure. “Well, it stands to reason that he’ll come to the Heart. It’s the biggest source of love in the Empire, and I don’t see any other reason why he’d be here.” As the guards made their own statements of agreement, the changeling had to suppress a laugh. Yes, he was coming for the Heart and its love, but only as a last resort. But what they all failed to realize, was just how different a red changeling really was. And now was the time to show them the true extent of that difference. He lifted off from the side of the castle and dropped the remaining fifty feet to the ground. Just before impact, he gathered his strength, and burst into flame. Upon impact, a dust cloud twelve feet high rose into the evening sky.

As the dust settled, the changeling slowly stood, and raised his head to meet the wide eyes of one of the guards. He was a white unicorn, resplendent in his golden armor, halberd ramrod straight, even in his shock. The changeling shifted his gaze to the other guard. This one was different. He was a blue crystal pony, but wore simple steel armor. He had no halberd, but instead carried a hoof-and-a-half sword at his side. The scabbard was unadorned, and simple leather, but the changeling got the feeling that this guard knew how to use it. Finally, he looked at Shining Armor. He looked much the same as before, except someone had given him a sword and shield. The sword was in a sheathe that matched the armor it was with, and the hilt had several pearls and diamonds embedded in it. It was also a hoof-and-a-half, but judging by the way it wobbled slightly in its scabbard, the changeling inferred it was of inferior make. He smiled tightly. This would be easy.

Around him, the guards recovered. Shining Armor and the guard to his left drew their swords, Armor with magic, the other with his mouth. The unicorn lowered his halberd, and tensed his legs in preparation to charge. The changeling reached his right foreleg up and behind, gripping the hilt of the legendary greatsword, Dre’koul-Red Flame- with his fetlock. The iridescent red blade gleamed in the dying sunlight. Maintaining his ghastly smile, he drew the blade slowly, the sound of steel grating against leather echoing ominously in the cavernous hollow beneath the castle. The changeling fully extracted the sword, its crimson blade generating looks of astonishment from the two unicorns.The changeling spun the eight-foot sword in a large vertical circle before standing on his hind legs and gripping the hilt with his other fetlock. When he did not fall forward as his opposition had expected, as evidenced by their rolling of eyes. Their confidence morphed into unease. The unicorn with the halberd seemed the most affected, backing up slightly, the fear bleeding from his eyes. The changeling had an idea. He fixed his gaze upon the halberd-wielding pony, and gave Dre’koul a twirl before stabbing it into the ground before him. To their credit, not one of them broke rank. The smile died from his lips. He pulled the sword from the ground, and sliced open his left foreleg with it. As the blood dripped onto the ground, the guards’ expressions became a mixture of confusion and horror. The changeling flicked the appendage sharply, spattering the ground with his blood. The changeling twisted his head to the right, three sharp pops! issuing from his neck.
“I have no quarrel with you.” The changeling’s voice echoed ominously around them. The guards shifted slightly, never taking their eyes off of him. The changeling noted the look each had in their eyes. The halberd wielding one was afraid, but seemed determined not to disgrace his duty by fleeing. The crystal pony was watching him intently. His eyes and face portrayed no emotion. The prince...his eyes were full of pain and anger. There was no doubt in the changeling’s mind that the prince wanted his head on a pike. None seemed likely to hold back. That was fine. The changeling knew his abilities fairly well. He was fairly sure sure he could win. However, he did not know what kind of training his opponents had, he only knew his own. The changeling glanced up at the sky briefly, before returning his gaze to his opponents. The sun was already starting to set. Once the moon was at its zenith, he would be trapped outside for the night.
While awake, the changeling was confident he could take out anything that tried to cause him harm in the wastelands, but if he fell asleep… The changeling pulled his mind back to reality. The halberd wielder had begun moving slowly to his left, while the prince circled to his right, in an attempt to flank him. The crystal pony stayed where he was directly in front of the changeling. The changeling made no move to stop them. A few seconds later, the changeling heard the sound of pounding hooves from both sides as Shining Armor and the white one charged him. Still, the changeling made no move. The two ponies readied their respective weapons, no doubt preparing for a killing blow. The changeling sighed. Idiots. Just before they struck, the changeling ducked and kicked back with his hind legs. He curled into a ball and rolled back a few feet, before springing back up to his hindlegs. The prince and guard turned their weapons aside in time to avoid skewering each other, but still managed to smash into each other, falling to the ground in the process. Seizing the initiative, the changeling teleported directly above the two ponies, flipping Dre’koul downward and falling. However, the crystal pony had other ideas. He drew his sword, the sound reverberating through the air, and charged. He was deceptively fast, making it to his fallen comrades with seconds to spare. He held his sword up, flat pointed to the sky. The changeling fell, and drove the point of Dre’koul into the crystal pony’s blade. The force of the impact caused the crystal pony’s sword to bend and snap. The broken blade bounced off the pavement and came right back up, slicing the crystal pony’s foreleg. Momentum carried Dre’koul and the changeling down, and the blade wound up buried in the skull of the white guard.
The changeling yanked Dre’koul out of the guards’ skull and spun to face the prince and crystal pony. Blood dripped from the blade in the changeling’s hooves, pooling on the ground. Shining Armor climbed to his hooves, levitating his jewel encrusted sword by his side. The crystal pony spat out the remains of his sword and drew a combat knife from his greave. Without warning, the changeling charged at the crystal pony, moving fast enough to become a black and red blur. He swung Dre’koul faster and harder than any mortal being had a right to, and would have slain the crystal pony, had he not attempted to dodge. As it was, the changeling landed the blow, but where the crystal pony’s neck had been a second ago, was his eye. Dre’koul bit into his flesh deep, successfully gouging out his left eye. The crystal pony screamed and fell to the ground, clutching at his maimed eye. Blood flowed out from behind his hooves and pooled by his head. Once again, the changeling heard the sound of running hooves, and whirled around, swinging Dre’koul in a wide arc. However, the prince was ready for this, and vanished in a flash of violet light. There was a slight pop directly above the changeling, who immediately leaped back from where he was standing.
This proved to be the correct course of action, as Shining Armor landed right where his head had been seconds prior. Again, the changeling gave a flying leap, and swung Dre’koul with all his might. The prince raised his sword and deflected the blow. Somehow, the blade did not break. Perhaps it was not of inferior make after all. The changeling rushed again, and Shining Armor managed to deflect the blow for a second time. Still, the prince’s sword did not break. Shining Armor pulled his purple shield off his back and levitated it by his other side. The changeling growled in frustration. He leaped once more at the prince, but instead of swinging Dre’koul, he stabbed with it. The prince tried to parry the strike, but was much too slow. In his desperation, the prince threw his shield into dre’koul, deflecting it at the last second. The changeling let momentum carry him, spinning him around three hundred and sixty degrees. He slashed with Dre’koul, slicing the prince’s shield cleanly in two. Still flowing with momentum, the changeling delivered a spinning kick to the prince’s head, causing the magic the enveloped his sword to dissipate. The jewel encrusted blade clattered to the ground as the prince staggered back a few paces. The changeling came to a stop before leaping at the prince again. Instead of using Dre’koul, he rammed the side of his head into the prince’s chest, leaving a formidable dent in the metal while sending him staggering back further. with a final leap, the changeling drove the pommel into the prince’s skull, causing him to crumple to the ground in a heap. Turning his back on the defeated prince, the changeling calmly walked towards the Crystal Heart. The changeling kicked Shining Armor’s blade into a patch of bushes and out of sight. Before he could reach the Heart. However, he was blasted by a magical burst of energy that sent him staggering forward. He whirled around, and launched his own ball of energy straight into Armors left kneecap, shattering it. As the captain fell with a coarse shout, the changeling resumed his advance toward the Heart and the power that awaited therein. “Wait!” The anguish-filled cry made him stop. He looked over his shoulder and was surprised to see that Armor was already struggling to his hooves.

“Retain your senses,” The changeling cautioned “You’ll kill yourself if you keep this up.” Armor scowled and redoubled his efforts. “Your life is but a stepping stone on my path, yet I wish not to kill you.” Armor ignored him and finally succeeded in rising to his hooves, though he kept his weight off of his injured leg. The changeling released an exasperated sigh. “Alright, look-” the changeling was cut of by the prince rushing towards him. The changeling rolled his eyes and hoisted Dre’koul in preparation to strike. However, Shining Armor did the one thing the changeling had not been expecting. He charged right past him, towards the bush that concealed his sword. The changeling wheeled around, mentally cursing his stupidity. There was about one bush per several hundred feet. It stood to reason that Armor’s sword would be concealed within. The injured prince levitated the blade to his side in a field of violet magic. “Stand down, or I assure you this won’t end in a draw.” Armor bristled at his words.

“No! I can’t lose to you! You killed my wife! My unborn child!” The changeling’s eyes widened with horror. She had been pregnant? Why then, was she trying to assist in something so obviously dangerous!? When the changeling voiced these thoughts, Armor shook his head.

“I don’t know why, but you still killed her, and our child!” Armors voice had taken on a raw, throaty tone, one the changeling associated with grief. He suddenly found himself unable to meet Armor’s eyes. “Why can’t you just leave us alone! It’s bad enough that you nearly ruined our wedding, but was murder necessary!?” When the changeling didn’t react, Armor seemed to become more agitated. “Well!? Why don’t you just take what you came here for and leave us alone!?” The changeling’s head snapped up and around so fast, it visibly startled Armor.

“What do you think I am trying to do?” The changeling asked dryly.
He turned around and stalked over to the Heart, hovering on its pedestal. He faced Armor again. “I...I never intended for any of this to happen. I am...sorry.” With that, he opened his mouth as wide as he could, and the Heart began to glow with his crimson aura. He did the one thing he’d swore he’d never do again. As he absorbed the love from the Heart, he felt himself rise from the ground a few inches. His body grew warm, and as he looked at himself, he realized that a light blue glow seemed to be emanating from within his body. He hated to stop, but forced himself to. He didn’t want to leave the Empire defenseless from its surroundings, far from it. He just needed enough energy to do a couple things without killing himself. Once he had severed the flow of magic, he dropped back to the ground, a giddy feeling bubbling inside of his chest. He forced the emotion down. Now wasn’t the time. His horn flashed crimson, and he felt himself become weightless for a moment, before reappearing at the fallen princess’s side. The guards surrounding her gave a start, but he raised a small red bubble before they could react. He barely needed to concentrate to summon it. He knelt by Cadance’s head, and his horn started to glow again. One of the guards let loose a savage cry, and charged at the bubble, halberd lowered. His fellow guards called out to him, but he paid them no mind.

The guard’s halberd disintegrated on contact with the bubble. He was barely able to stop himself before he suffered the same fate. While the guards attempted to find a way to circumvent his ward, the changeling continued his spellwork. He put his hoof an inch over Cadance’s face and swept it over the length of her body, revealing the nature of her injuries. Broken spine...won’t fly again...unless...Cadance’s body glowed crimson, and the injury to her spine disappeared almost instantaneously. Heart’s sound...breathing regular...fetus...unharmed. The changeling let out a sigh of relief. Like he’d told Armor, not all of them were monsters. Cadance’s eyes shot open and beheld the changeling. She let out a shocked exclamation, and tried to put distance between them. Eyeing the bubble, the changeling held her in place with his telekinetic magic.

“Let me go!” She shouted angrily at him. The changeling looked her in the eyes.

“Only if you stop squirming. The bubble we’re in will disintegrate you if you touch it. And, I know this is pushing it, but it would be much appreciated if you called off the guards. I would rather not hurt anyone else tonight.” Cadance eyed him suspiciously.
“Why did you attack me?” She asked him. The changeling sighed.
“I panicked. “ He stated. “However, if I’d known you were, ah, pregnant, I probably would have teleported away…” He looked away, heat suffusing his cheeks. Not that anyone would be able to tell in the dark. He stood up and prepared to cast a teleportation spell. He looked at the princess again. “It is customary for people to give our names to the ones we have attacked, that they might wish to exact vengeance. I am Tra’kta. In your tongue, it means...ah...Steady...no Firm Firm Defier.” He said after a moment’s hesitation. He returned Cadance’s steely gaze with his indifferent one.

“Why are you here, Firm Defier?” Cadance asked. Tra’kta looked at her. “I am here so that I may reforge the shattered.” He said simply. ”I have tarried here long enough as it is. I have what I came for. Now I take my leave.” With that, his horn began to glow brighter, and he vanished with a pop!. Almost as if it were waiting for this, the bubble that had entrapped them dissipated. As the guards outside rushed to her side, Cadance pondered Tra’kta’s words. If he was an enemy now… she shook her head. There would be time for that later. First, she had to find her husband.

Tra’kta’s spell had been off. Instead of appearing in the midst of his brethren as he had intended, he had popped back into existence several miles south of the hidden village. He pivoted three hundred and sixty degrees, taking in his surroundings. The wasteland stretched for miles in every direction, the brown, dusty soil any farmer would have deemed unfit for crops turned gray in the moonlight. Here and there, scraggly bushes and cacti thrived on the harsh conditions. A rattlesnake slithered into its den for the night, a limp mouse in its jaws. Other than a few rocks, the landscape remained more or less the same.

Most others would be hopelessly lost at this point, but Tra’kta knew that the rock formation to his left wasn’t natural. He also knew that the outcropping of rock on the north side pointed directly towards where his swarm lay hidden. He set off on a brisk trot towards home. After a while, once the motion of walking had become repetitive, his mind began to wander. He thought about Cadance, and how he’d almost hurt her unborn child. He shuddered at the thought. Killing children, especially the unborn, was a hanging offense in the Bloody Swarm. Besides, he hated the idea of hurting anything so innocent. He passed a cactus that had been molded by magic to have one of its arms pointing in the right direction. He continued to follow the trail, dubbed the Bloody Path by historians.

As he continued on his way, he reflected upon the events leading up to his excursion to the Empire. It had started when the Swarm’s religious leader, called the Strus’mkai, had informed him of the legend. It was a secretive affair. The Strus’mkai had brought him to a building separated from the rest. It was old, made of stone and wood. It was three stories high, and dark as night during a new moon. They had sat around an empty fireplace on the ground floor, talking by candlelight. It was no secret that Tra’kta had no purpose in the Swarm. His parents had died a long time ago, and he had no friends. He simply worked as a rock breaker. Rock breakers did as the name suggested, in hopes of chancing upon gemstones, which they could sell for coins, called dilas, the currency of the Bloody Swarm. The Strus’mkai first told him of the Bitter Destroyer, the first of their kind.
The Bitter Destroyer was the eldest child of Queen Thra’kilp of the changelings. He’d had been next in line for the throne, and could have chosen any mate he wanted. However, the prince wanted nothing more than peace between the changeling kingdom of Uilk’Skay and its neighbor Equestria. The queen dismissed the idea as impossible. Changelings need love to survive. Equestria had it. There was no peaceful way to resolve the conundrum. One day, the prince defied his mother’s wishes and stole away in the dead of night to attempt negotiations with Equestria. He arrived at the castle in what would become known as the Everfree Forest and pleaded for an audience with the king. The guards, not knowing what to make of the strange creature that had appeared at the gates, sent a message to the king.
They waited for some time, and the guards inquired after several aspects of changeling life. The prince did not reveal much to the guards, but he did tell them what he was and what they needed to survive. The king had granted him an audience, despite the late hour. Once inside the throne room, the prince had marveled at the wealth displayed there. The king, a stallion by the name of Lionheart, listened attentively to the prince’s plea for peace. The king, having never seen a changeling before, inquired about the changeling way of life. The prince had answered as honestly as he could, although he had informed him that there were some secrets he could not share as long as his mother sat on the Tuw’ros, the Black Throne. The king had understood. However, he refused the prince’s requests, on the grounds that Equestria could not afford such a steep price, especially for a species that they did not know. The prince understood, but warned the king it would mean war. Around this time, the king’s two daughters appeared. The eldest met the eye of the prince, before her father stood from his throne. If war was to happen, the king reasoned it was best to initiate it with the death of an important figure. Namely, the prince’s mother. Of course, the changeling refused to assassinate his own mother.

The king was indeed saddened, but he couldn’t let the prince escape with knowledge of the castle. The battle that ensued was short and bloody. at its end, the prince stood over the bodies of fifteen royal guards. The king stood at the opposite end of the room. The daughters had long since fled, but for whatever reason, the eldest chose that moment to return. She had pleaded with her father to end the violence, but Lionheart payed her no mind. He attacked the exhausted changeling prince, who barely managed to deflect the king’s blade. Even then, the king managed to take out the prince’s right eye. Severely weakened, the prince fled, only to be caught in the king’s magical aura. The king severed the prince’s horn before his daughter stopped him, allowing the prince to escape. Exactly what happened after is unclear. By some accounts, the prince became so enraged at Lionheart that his physical appearance changed. Others claimed he became a vampire, feeding off the innocent. and yet others claimed that he died in a fiery blaze.
Tra’kta passed by a boulder with moss growing on the east face, indicating he still traversed the Bloody Trail. He looked around, focusing his senses. To his left, a desert snake slithered in pursuit of a shrew. To his right, there was only the expanse of the Wasteland. Directly in front of him, he could almost see the sounds coming from a seemingly normal boulder. As he approached, the sounds stopped abruptly. He was at the entrance. He touched a specific point on the stone with his horn, and it turned a transparent red before disappearing. As he climbed down the dark a oak ladder to his home, Tra’kta remembered vividly what the Strus’Mkai had told him next. Several years after the prince had escaped Equestria, he returned to his home. However, he had changed much since he had left. His eye burned crimson, the other obscured by a strip of cloth. His mane had turned maroon and now hung in dreadlocks, and one of his fangs was broken. He had grown taller than his mother, and sported the largest sword any changeling had ever seen. He refused to tell anyone of how he had changed, even the queen.

In fact, for reasons unknown, he had renounced her as his mother and changed his name to Chry’stoph, the Bitter Destroyer. His sword, Dre’koul, was unsheathed, a gout of red flames engulfing the blade. Chry’stoph laid waste to half the kingdom, after slaying his mother in single combat. Instead of declaring himself king however, he gathered a select few changelings he knew well and left the kingdom he once called home. They dubbed themselves the Bloody Swarm, and founded the city they lived in to this day. Pas that, his deeds remain unknown by the Swarm, as he turned leadership over to a close friend of his and departed for parts unknown. That was over a thousand years ago. The Strus’Mkai had looked at Tra’kta expectantly. When he sat there in silence, the Strus’Mkai had sighed.

“Tra’kta, there is something I must ask of you.” The elder changeling said. Tra’kta had been surprised. It must have shown on his face, for the elder’s next words answered his unspoken question.

“Why, you must be asking yourself, is this old changeling telling me all this? What could he possibly want with a mere rock breaker? The answer is...complicated. You are unique, Tra’kta. The Elder Blood flows through your veins. I believe that you can do what the rest of your people cannot.” The Strus’Mkai turned around and brought out a large bundle of cloth. His horn glowed a lusterless white as he unraveled the bundle with his magic. The cloth slowly fell away, laying bare the massive greatsword concealed within.

“This is Dre’koul, the Red Flame. The very same blade that once belonged to Chry’stoph himself.” The Strus’Mkai had said with relish. Tra’kta recoiled in surprise.

“Wait a moment. How in Tartarus did you even get that!?” Tra’kta burst out, his normally calm demeanor breaking for a moment. The Strus’Mkai gently placed the legendary blade on the ground in front of him.
“Dre’koul was given to the Bloody Swarm for safekeeping centuries ago, by a being half unicorn and half umbrum. He did not give his name, but claimed to have know Chry’stoph personally.” The Strus’Mkai said quietly. “At first, we did not believe him. Some of the Swarm became angry and attacked. They were eradicated by this halfling. I cannot tell you exactly how. All I know is that this halfling was incredibly powerful. He stated that Chry’stoph was a close friend, and that his soul had been shattered. Part of his soul was sealed inside Dre’koul. Another fragment, he claimed was sealed within a book.” The Strus’Mkai shook his head sadly. “Our best arcanists have confirmed this. His soul was split into four parts and each was sealed away in an object that had some significant meaning to Chry’stoph. What these objects might be… well, we have the sword, obviously. Then there’s the book.” The Strus’Mkai paused, as if waiting for Tra’kta’s reaction. Tra’kta thought about what the elder had said. Chry’stoph-the legendary founder of the Bloody Swarm and alleged member of the Lo’quan-had had his soul shattered and sealed away. Part of his soul was in his blade, which was laying on the ground in front of him. Another was sealed in a book...The sudden realization that the elder wanted Tra’kta to retrieve the book had struck him like a hammer blow to the chest. He was being given a purpose. If he did this, he would be able to bring glory to his Swarm. If he did this...he’d still go hungry at nights. His fellow changelings would still treat him as an outsider. Nothing would change. Sure, he might be congratulated upon return, but that would soon fade, and he’d be right back where he started.

He was steeling himself to decline the Strus’Mkai, when he spoke again.

“The arcanists have discerned the location of the book. It is called Demons, and is located within the public library of the Crystal Empire. However, not only do I want you to recover the book, I want you to work with the arcanists and recover all four vessels. Once they have been gathered, we could bring him back.” Tra’kta stared at the old changeling dumbfounded. To revive such a powerful being…there would be few who could stand against the Bloody Swarm. Especially since Equestria hadn’t seen war since Celestia had ascended to the throne. But what was the point? The Swarm would be able to act with impunity, of course, but to what end? Tra’kta found it difficult to believe that the Swarm had degenerated so low as to lust after power. That would be in direct contradiction to the beliefs upon which the Swarm had been founded. And that aside, Chry’stoph would be vehemently opposed to the idea. Tra’kta voiced these thoughts to the Strus’Mkai, who shook his head sadly. “You are correct. To bring Chry’stoph back for power would be foolhardy. Not only would this oppose our core beliefs, but he would never allow such a transgression.” He said. “However, the situation is more dire than you realize. Rath stirs beneath the hallowed grounds. I fear we may have need of his power if we are to survive.” The Strus’Mkai’s tone was grave.

“Take this blade, Dre’koul. It should imbue you with a small portion of Chry’stoph’s power. You may need it to retrieve the book.” He said matter-of-factly. Tra’kta shook his head.

“I never agreed.” He said flatly. The Strus’Mkai smiled at him.

“And yet you will, young one. It has been foretold.” He said, still smiling. Tra’kta mentally cursed the Strus’Mkai’s ability to divine the future. If it had been seen, there was little he could do about it. It was expected of him now. With a sigh, Tra’kta picked up the blade and strapped it to his back. Almost immediately, Tra’kta felt a surge of power course through his limbs. It felt as if fire had replaced the blood flowing through his veins. His eyes widened and he gasped, nearly collapsing from the intensity of it. And that’s only a small portion of his power!? Damn! He tried to grasp the entirety of Chry’stoph’s power, only to give up. It was simply too much to comprehend. His power was almost...god-like. Tra’kta shuddered at the thought. Tra’kta was wrenched back to reality as he slipped on a ladder rung during his descent. he cursed as his hooves left the ladder and he started to fall. He slammed his hooves into the wall, sticking to it. As Tra’kta came to a stop, he had to wonder: why did the even have ladders in the first place? Only changelings came down here, and they didn’t even need them. He shook his head and continued downwards on the wall. Once he’d reached the bottom, he lit his horn, enveloping Demons with his magic. He levitated it out from underneath Dre’koul’s scabbard and opened it. The first page had a single line of crimson text scrawled across it in a flowing, elegant form of Demonick. Take heed, and bear witness reader, for the truth’s contained within are the last legacy of the mighty Lo’Quan. Tra’kta’s heart skipped a beat. The Lo’Quan, the Demons, were the five most powerful beings in recorded history. However, despite their power, not much was known about them. In fact, they had faded from the minds of Equestrian’s several hundred years ago. Only two races remembered them: The gryphons and the changelings. The gryphons didn’t like to talk about the Lo’Quan, not since one of their own had joined the ranks of the infamous group and nearly destroyed Gryphonstone.

Tra’kta shuddered and replaced the book under Dre’koul’s scabbard. He trotted through the darkness, hoofsteps echoing dimly in the cave. The darkness was broken only by the infrequent lantern containing a red flame. The lanterns cast shadows upon the walls, dancing like marionettes on a string. Any other being would have been lost, and possibly frightened, but red changeling’s eyes had adapted to see well in the dark. As such, he could easily see the tunnel openings to his right, and read the glyphs etched upon the archway. He crossed under the one marked The Arcania and began descending further into the bowels of the earth. As he climbed down the stone stairway, the temperature declined slowly, until he could see his breath. He shuddered. The necropolis used to be housed here, but was given over to the Arcanists recently, when the necropolis moved to a deeper cave. A faint blue glow began to emanate from below. Tra’kta quickened his steps, eager to deliver the book.
The Arcanists needed one of the artifacts to study, so they could derive the enchantments and devise a way to break them and free Chry’stoph. Tra’kta descended the final curve of the staircase, and the Arcania came into view. The Arcania was where the Swarm studied the mysteries of magic. There were torches lit with mystical blue fire, called Bifrost. Why it had ‘frost’ in the name, Tra’kta would never understand. There were several low tables scattered around the circular room, each with a changeling either reading some tome, or doing other science-y things. The whole Arcania thing was lost on him. He was better with numbers. There were several researchers scattered throughout the room, but most of them didn’t show any signs of noticing his arrival. That suited him just fine. The changeling he was looking for was further in. He continued on his way, passing no less than fifteen Arcanists. Not one of them spared as much as a look at him. He trotted through rows of equipment and books, arriving at the opposite end of the room, where a large oaken door stood. The door was solid and devoid of decoration. Tra’kta enveloped the ring on the door with his magic and pulled it open. He trotted into the laboratory of a changeling by the name of Stre’zaol. Stre was one of Tra’kta’s only friends within the Swarm, and was the only one who talked to him on a regular basis. She was also the Keeper of the Arcania. She looked up from the massive tome she was currently reading as he entered. She clucked disapprovingly.

“Don’t you know, you’re supposed to knock before entering a lady’s private chambers?” She asked, arching a slender eyebrow. Tra’kta gave her his infamous death stare as he knocked three times on the already open door, in an exaggerated fashion. His stare had no effect on the Keeper. She stood from the cushion by her table and closed the tome, levitating it away in a field of purple magic. Stre’zaol was unique among the Swarm, mostly due to the fact that she had purple eyes, wings, etcetera. There was also the fact that she was one of three females in the entire Swarm. That fact alone made her the subject of many late-night conversations in Ger’xas’s bar. Said conversations usually turned rather...explicit after a few pints of ale. Tra’kta had partaken in a few of these conversations, although he made sure to leave before things got too risque. Stre stood about a head shorter the Tra’kta. Her body had the same black carapace that all changelings shared, but the webbing that made up her mane was a deep purple. The webbing hung down past her shoulders and remained one unbroken wave. Her horn was elegant, curving up and coming to a point, making a crescent moon shape, with the edge facing outward. Her eyes were a soft lavender, and her fangs were a mere two inches long. All in all, she was the single most attractive changeling Tra’kta had ever laid eyes upon. Of course, he’d never admit that out loud, especially not to her. She was Keeper of the Arcania and he was but a mere rock breaker. And besides, he valued their friendship far too much to even take the risk of jeopardizing it.

Tra’kta enveloped the book once more with his magic and set it down in front of her.

“I believe you wanted to examine this?” He asked, feigning irritation. She rolled her eyes, but smiled.

“Yes, I did wish to examine it.” She replied casually. She encased the small book with her magic and opened it to a random page. “Dre’koul suits you.” She said as she began casting a spell on the book. “Have you noticed any side effects since you began wearing it?” She asked in her doctor’s voice. Tra’kta gave a mental sigh. Of course. She was going to examine him too. After all, she probably needed as much data on this subject as she could get.

“Aside from a vast increase in power, both magical and physical, no.” He said neutrally.

“Good,” she replied. “because I’ve located the next artifact. I hope that increase in power was truly vast, ‘cause you’re going to need it.” She said gravely. Tra’kta looked at her inquisitively. “Your next target is...the left shoe of Princess Luna herself.” She said grandly. Tra’kta stared at her as if she’d lost her mind.

“The...left...shoe...of the Princess of the night? You can’t be serious.” He said numbly. Stre looked up at him.

“I’m afraid so, Tra. You have to steal a shoe from a princess. In Canterlot. In the royal palace. And not get caught by the hundreds of guards that will undoubtedly be prowling around.” She confirmed. Tra’kta sighed. Great. This was getting better by the minute.