Dragon's Descent

Chapters

Extra Verse
Alternate Verse
Prologue ~ 'Once more...'
Recap ~ The Fate of Four Years
Act 1 Start
Act 1 Verse 1
Act 1 Verse 2
Act 1 Verse 3
Act 1 Verse 4
Act 1 Verse 5
Act 1 Verse 6
Act 1 Verse 7
Turn
Act 2 Start
Act 2 Verse 1
Act 2 Verse 2
Act 2 Verse 3
Act 2 Verse 4
Act 2 Verse 5
Act 2 Verse 6
Act 2 Verse 7
Act 2 Verse 8
Act 3 Start
Act 3 Verse 1
Act 3 Verse 2
@c+ E V3rze 3
Act 3 Verse 4
After Verse
Forgotten Verse

Extra Verse

The passageway beyond the door is narrow and rather tidy, as though meticulously carved from the earth. Reminds me of a mineshaft, minus the wooden supports. It’s also lit like one, though there isn’t a lantern in sight. Makes for some cozy ambience as I walk along, if a little strange.

So Spike ol’ pal, we’re on the straight-ish path to our perp. Care to take guesses as to the nature of the ordeals Hecate mentioned?

“I’ll worry about them when I face them. Speculating is just a waste of focus.”

Yes, that is true and most wise. But it makes passing the time such a bore.

“For you. I like the quiet.”

That’s a back-handed way to say you don’t want to chat. Fine, be like that then. Hmph!

Guarantee you’re still gonna gab regardless, I think as I go down a sloped section of tunnel. It’s begun turning to the right, and there’s these dips like ramps that take me lower and lower until I end up in a small dome-like room. Absolutely bare and unremarkable, save for the… large square hole in the center of the floor.

Perfectly cut, smooth edges. Leaning over, it’s total darkness as far as my eyes can see.

Now isn’t this a promising sign! And of course you’re gonna dive right in. (What did I say?)

“I’m not seeing any other way. And it wouldn’t be the first dark pit I’ve jumped into.”

Indeed, indeed. Remember: deep breath.

I sneer, taking a step back. No point in hesitating, and no one around to push me in. With a light hop, I take the plunge.

After ten seconds of falling my feet and knees touch down on… something squishy. And wet… and warm. The smell hits me as I straighten up, and immediately next I see that… I really shouldn't be surprised. It was just a matter of time before I found the meat room.

Extra Verse

In The Flesh

Specifically it's the bottom of a tall square rectangular pit, where every discernible surface I can make out is covered in meat. Living meat at that, judging by the warmth and how everything throbs and undulates constantly. At least it's reddish meat, based on the color and the tang of iron in the air. I'd probably be more disgusted if this was viscera I wasn't already intimately familiar with (a very concerning statement if there ever was one). Still, very frickin’ gross. There's also this weird-ass droning sound that makes all this feel more uncomfortable.

“This better not be some monster's stomach.”

Ohhhhh ho ho, that cheeky bitch.

“What? Did she seriously send me to get digested?”

No no, my boy. It's more she sent us to an… “alternate” Tartarus, so to say.

“What do you mean?”

*Sigh* Frankly it would be too long and complicated to explain, and most of it would go over your little scaley head anyway. Just focus on getting us out of this flesh pit like a good spelunker, would you?

Alright, yeesh. Didn't know I hit a nerve there (or maybe he's just grouchy from before. He’s petty like that).

A closer look and I see recesses in the meat walls: ledges slanted as slopes that lead up to outcroppings. Too smooth, sharp, angular for natural flesh, but I mean, look where I am.

I step over and hop onto the lowest ledge and start climbing up. The flesh underfoot is slightly slippery, but firm and solid (again very unnatural). A few meters up, I have to leap across to get to a higher ledge—twice in fact—but otherwise it's a straightforward (if sticky) climb.

Eventually I hoist myself onto the highest ledge… and almost immediately fall off upon spotting the giant eyeball glaring from the ceiling. It takes me a moment to realize it's merely tracking my movements and nothing else. Creepy, but harmless. Better move before it decides to prove me wrong.

And now there's a massive set of teeth in the flesh wall. But when I get within a foot of it, the mouth splits with a wet smacking sound (eugh). Rather handy; saves me from doing some impromptu dental work.

Stepping through the opening, I find a narrow bridge of meat spanning a vast black chasm, another toothy mouth visible at the other end. Not ominous at—

“Dragon. Turn back now.”

Oh swell, a disembodied voice. Wait… organ music?

“The layers of this palace are not for your kind. Turn back, or you will be crossing the will of God.”

What god is he (sounds like a “he”) talking about? Also, who would call this a palace?

“Who was that?”

Clearly someone who doesn't want you here. Let's delve deeper and see what it is!

“Would you happen to know who that was, by chance?”

Hmmmm… No, won't spoil it. Discovery is an integral part of any adventure. Besides, you said you would take them as they come. Need to keep your adaptability honed, after all.

“Oh ha ha, wise-ass.”

Age begets wisdom, child. Now tally forth~.

Whatever; be all tight-lipped about it. Though, should I be concerned that he knows what’s ahead…? Naah.

I move across the flesh bridge, digging the out-of-place chamber music. Past the next icky mouth door, I stop before a long, shallow pool of yellow, steaming liquid, undoubtedly acid (guess this is the stomach). What makes it weirder are the octagonal rock pillars spaced widely apart in a line, moving left and right in the liquid. The spines set into the walls add a nice macabre touch, however (ah yes, bones was what was missing).

Bet you weren’t expecting a platforming challenge here, did you?

On the contrary: I’m more surprised I didn’t see any sooner. Welp, time for leaping.

I take a few steps back and sprint-leap to the closest pillar. Land on it smoothly, look over to the next and leap to that as it moves to the right. Wobble a bit on the landing, but steady up and leap again.

Getting to the fourth pillar, I stop to assess the wall of thick teeth and darkened gums sliding side to side. Luckily there’s a handy gap for me to leap into. Gripping my claws between the rightmost teeth (ick), I see another pillar and, waiting for them to align, I push off and onto safety. It’s one more hop and I’m back on firm flesh, with yet another set of chompers waiting for me.

Expertly done, Spike! Not a scratch on you. Though you could have zipped more quickly, in my opinion.

Like I’m being graded on speed in a place like this. Get real.

The next mouth holds a small room and, oh boy, another square hole to fall into. Odd to find one so soon after the last one. Deep holes must be a running theme in this place (alongside the entrails).

Care to push your luck some more?

No question: it’s down down down for me, baby, I mentally chant as I take another plunge.

Slip and slide down a curving fleshy shaft then get dumped onto… a massive stone palm? Before me are three additional stone hands, aligned side to side with palms upright over a black abyss. I say they’re stone, but the feel and look of them is more akin to ashened flesh. Somehow this strikes me as more unsettling.

That voice suddenly rings through the air again.

“Your choice is made. As the righteous hand of the Father, I shall rend you apart! And you will become myth once more.”

‘Once more’?

“Out of curiosity, at what point in history would dragons have been considered mythical?”

From his worldview, your species shouldn't even exist. Or rather, shouldn't have existed for a long, LONG time.

“Interesting. Still no chance of giving any hint on how to handle him?”

Stay light on your feet is all I'll say.

“I always do.”

I make good on that by bounding over the hands, leaping from fingertip to fingertip, following the beam of red light shining down on the thumb of the furthest one. This turns out to be illuminating a ledge of flesh and the narrow, rectangular hole set into it. And by narrow, I mean only knee high.

Looks like you're going to have to get down and dirty for this one.

Yes, yes it does (asshole). I go down onto my belly and get to crawling. It's slow, cramped goings, wiggling my way like a lizard (ha). I'm not getting soaked with blood or juices doing this, oddly enough. It's only the sensation of being soaked, which is arguably just as bad. Faster I move, the faster I can (hopefully) get out.

Over one tiresome minute later the space widens out, and I can once more stand upright before a mouth door. Past this one is a very long, darkened corridor. At the end of it, I step out onto an open, circular platform of stagnant flesh (what else?). The outer rim is lined with spinal bones, beyond which is darkness in all directions. Scratch that: I spot the massive pulsating heart across from me, hanging over the abyss. And there's another huge moving eyeball embedded in the center of the platform because sure.

But, as I walk further in, I get the impression this platform looks like an… arena.

Probably because it is, hohoho.

Moving closer to the eyeball, I'm suddenly blinded by a loud, golden shaft of light. My eyes adjust enough to spot the figure materializing within.

“Behold! The power of an Angel!!”

The light disperses, leaving some guy in full armor, made of glowing steel with gold trimming, hovering above the eye with a set of ethereal blue wings. He flaps them twice before zipping down to me and ah Ah Crap!! I hop back and stumble as he comes at me with a golden sword. The first two swipes nearly hit me, but I regain my footing and whip out my own sword to deflect his third. This halts him, giving me the chance to spring back and put some space between us.

Told you to stay light on your feet.

Yeah, no kidding.

“Playing at swordsmanship? What pitiful mockery.”

The guy conjures two golden axes (maces?), clacks them together, and throws them at me like some oversized boomerang. I sidestep, and instantly he’s right up in my face with a fresh sword. But I’m ready to parry, although he swings real frickin’ fast and I’m barely able to deflect his blade. He spins and holds, charging for a wide sweep (I swear there’s a gleam), which is time enough to slash back.

It connects and there’s a spray of blood, but I don’t see a cut. He doesn’t even appear fazed by it. Instead he pulls away, his sword gone as he hovers with arms crossed.

“A mere reptile is all you are.”

Holding out a hand a golden spear appears in his grip, before shooting up out of sight.

Above!

I dive from the plunge attack, then dive again from the ludicrously quick follow-up.

“An abomination that needs to be cleansed!”

Look up in time to see the “angel” pull back and toss the spear down at me with explosive force, as that’s exactly what happens when it hits the meat floor. The blast throws me onto my back, and I struggle to hurry back onto my feet. Turns out there’s no rush, as he’s just hovering and judging me.

“Surrender your life, serpent.”

Talking smack already. Though it's sorta refreshing facing someone who skips the monologue and goes straight to fighting. Speaking of, he comes rushing at me once more. If he's gonna be aggressive, I'll try leading him on.

Back away as he goes swinging, practically sprinting to keep out of his reach. He does his wind-up again as I hurry back a few more feet, then executes a charging lunge. Bingo.

Sidestep and bring my sword across his back in passing. Another gory spray, yet the guy turns around to toss another ax-staff at me without pause or even a sound (what's he made of??). My blade catches the projectile before it guts me, the impact knocking me on my back. This allows me the perfect view of metal boy popping up overhead before dropping like a guillotine.

I roll before I get skewered and keep rolling, stopping after he does his second plunge. On my back, I look over to see him pull back, cueing me to twist my sword around and bat away the spear. There's an explosion in the darkness as I spring up and my attacker just hovers.

“Foolish, dragon. Utterly foolish.”

Is he gonna talk shit this entire fight?

Maybe do more than “leading him on”, perhaps?

Fine: let's give direct aggression a spin.

The knight rushes me for more swipes, but I respond in kind. Duck and shift from his slashes while landing my own, drawing more of his blood without leaving a single scratch on his armor (seriously how is this even possible?). Another of his pauses and I choose a quick straight punch to his side, which actually knocks him back in a splash of red. Unfortunately it also leaves my fist sore (owch).

He's quick to recover as he clacks two fresh axes and sends another blade frisbee that I duck under (whew!).

“You are less than nothing.”

We'll see about that flyboy because, yep, you've gone back up to the rafters. Backflip from the plunges this time around, and face him dead on as he pulls back to toss his spear. It goes loose, but I leap, snatch, twist, and fling it right back at him. He cries in pain as his own weapon hits and explodes in his face; weren’t expecting that now, were you?

Excellent shot!

Hell yeah it is. And it even clipped his wings, leaving him to fall down to my level (and looking nowhere as radiant, either). Yet the millisecond his feet touch the floor—

“Enough!!”

His wings sprout back into being—now a searing yellow—and his armor switches from silver to bright crimson. A corona of pure wrath envelops him, along with a ring of golden swords circling his waist. He draws his personal one before flying at me wait whoa WHOA!!

“Stand and face me, coward!”

Not while you got a gilded buzzsaw whirring around your waist, ass! I run from guaranteed evisceration as he swipes madly, but in a blur of blue he teleports to directly in front of me!

The front of my shirt gets nicked before I force myself onto my butt and he does a pincer move that could have cleaved me in two. I roll and spring backwards onto my feet in case of, yep, that spear attack again, only coming down faster. Once, twice—three times, frick! And he throws his spear even harder, the explosion being bigger.

“You make even the devil cry!”

Are you really going to take that, Spike?

Yeah screw this. You want to raise the intensity? I got intensity.

Dig a claw into my free palm, get a trickle started, but I’ve barely wetted the blade when a golden doomerang comes down. Smack it away with my sword but it overshoots as he rushes in for more melee. Keep my distance from his sword skirt, outstepping his swipes, prep myself for his relocation BS. But there's a flicker and I'm suddenly surrounded by swords pointing at me—Aah! Jump before they close in, only for the bastard to come at me swinging midair.

“Your existence is blasphemy!”

And your mouth needs to shut, gergh!

Try staying focused here, dear boy.

I know!

Lower arm's cut, but I manage to land some on him, so the blood tally’s still in my favor (different story if the sword hula-hoop stuck around). I hit the ground and side roll back onto my feet, whispering the incantation as my blade gets its special coating (thanks for the assist, idiot). Heat growing in my grasp, that ignition of green over steel, then throw out a Jade Slicer the instant it's prepped.

It hits full-on and bursts, but the dude remains in place (seriously, what is he made of???). Don't let it distract me from flinging out two more Slicers: one hits, but the other misses completely as the raging trashtalker shifts well over sideways. Clack, toss, and it's another ax staff I twirl around before dashing from his rapid plunges.

Then I get a crazy idea.

Oo-hoo-hoo, risky. Go for it!

Before Anger Management throws down his spear, I load up my sword with more fire, but my target is downward. Plunge the sword tip into the flesh and set off a Malachite Piston just before the spear hits, making a dual blast of green and yellow. Soaring up high into the dark expanse above the arena. Completely open, no cover or means of maneuverability. He charges at me, that gleaming sword set to end me.

Predictable.

An aerial twist brings me and, more importantly, my burning blade to face him, and as he's in midswing, my own finishes and I set off another Piston… Directly into his head.

Everything slows down as darkness is replaced with glaring, fiery green. No sounds, save for a singular shout of pain.

Takes me a good moment to come back down, landing back on throbbing meat in a smooth one-knee crouch (nailed it).

“What..?”

Ahead of me, Mr. Almighty has somehow landed onto the eyeball in the arena’s center, still in one piece. But he's kneeling in exhaustion, his armor reverted back to gray, wings and divine glow gone.

“How can this be?” he whimpers, raising his head. “Bested by this… this creature..?”

Clutching his helmet he rises, shuddering, his wings reappearing. The whole room shakes as he throws out his arms.

“You, insignificant FUCK! THIS IS NOT OVER!!”

That blinding light shaft from before booms in, encasing the guy before shrinking and disappearing, taking him with it. The eyeball explodes (lovely), and it's only me, that giant pulsating heart, and calm.

“May your woes be many. And your days few…”

All that and he just bails? Little disappointed, not gonna lie.

Huh. I didn't expect him to turn tail so readily.

“Now can you spill as to who in the hell that was?”

Someone of considerable prestige and importance, so pat yourself on the back. You did marvelous in fending him off!

That doesn't fully answer my question. Meh. “Should I be worried about him coming after me, given what he said?”

Only if we stick around. Once we return to our Tartarus, he will have no hope of finding us.

“Riiight, you mentioned this was a different Tartarus. Probably should see about getting back.”

My suggestion exactly!

I approach the rim of the crater where the eyeball had been, sheathing my sword. Surprisingly there’s no trace of gore or even eye goop. Unsurprisingly, another square pit awaits a few feet down. Only this one looks lit and… metallic? Certainly cleaner than the current surroundings, from what I see.

Very gracious of him to open the one exit out of here. Shall we be off, or do you want to soak in the scenery a little longer?

“I’ve soaked in enough of this place. And I’d rather not chance being here when he decides to come back.”

Smart move. Downward, ho!

And into this latest pit I do go. Hopefully it leads somewhere way less unsanitary (better not have jinxed myself thinking that). More importantly, I hope it gets me back to the Tartarus I started out in. Otherwise me and the warden are going to have a few words…

TIME: 6:37.431 B

KILLS: 0 S

STYLE: 3174 S

I did say you could have moved quicker.

“Shut up.”

Author's Note

Not even two weeks later, baby!

So funny story: I had only two bonus chapters originally planned after Dragon's Descent's completion. But while writing up Pinkie's, I had the silly thought of "Spike fighting Gabriel Ultrakill", and I enjoyed it so much that I went and made up an entirely new DLC chapter featuring everyone's favorite angelic f***boy. Something that never could have happened seven years ago (given the game didn't even exist then). As such, plus a few other factors, I don't believe this can be considered canon to the main plot.

Past reviewers/commenters had mentioned how boring and tiresome the fight scenes could get in Death by Dragon, so I figured I'd make this one snappier, see if that does anything. Though there will be no such restraints for the final DLC.

Hmmm, so we've had a Pinkie Pie and a Gabriel chapter. Who will be featured in the very last bonus chapter? I guarantee you won't be able to guess! Unless you know me really, really well.

And for those of you who still don't know what Ultrakill is about, here's a handy primer (ie the thing that got me to play the game in the first place).

Alternate Verse

Alternate Verse

Karmic Convergence

This is it: The Final Showdown.

The sky around me is apocalyptic orange; the land far below aflame. The bastard responsible hovers before me with his tryhard scythe, dumb red cape, and that punchable smirk. I stand firm, sword primed, ready for whatever this psychotic weirdo will throw at me. And more than antsy to strike him back for the years of strife and death he's sown. Show him how much pain his precious “conflict” can induce.

But his smirk drops suddenly as he tenses up, eyes darting around. Distracted.

“That can't…? No, there's no way.”

As I'm about to ask what he's muttering about, I feel it as well. Slight, but distinct. Something else has shown up.

I spot the chunk of masonry soaring toward Not-Charon, who smacks it into rubble with a quick bap of his scythe. Then he holds up the blade end to catch the roundish brown object dive bombing him. There's the sight and sound of steel on electricity before the attacker is shoved forcefully away.

Four-eyes lowers back onto the dais while the brown thing somersaults down into a crouch behind me off to the side. The brown I discover is some kind of cloak made of a coarse fabric, one arm of it held out, a black-gloved hand holding something grayish silver. But what's really caught my eye is the length of humming green light sticking out of it. Like a bar of pure neon, or plasma. Explains the sparks but… a sword of energy? How?

“Looks like I caught you at a bad time.”

In a wsshk the light sinks back into what has to be some portable emitter (like a flashlight, maybe?) and gets pocketed before he (definitely sounds like a “him”) rises to his full height… of just under my chest level. His head is covered by a thick hood; the only thing I can make out within are two big, glowing yellow eyes. A line of script appears midair along with music.

Reunion -Theme of Hero 55-

“Not such a good feeling, is it?” Brushes his hood, throws down his hand and strikes a commanding pose as the music spikes.

It's

SQUISHY!!

“The freak are you doing here??” reaper man demands, annoyance replacing his sinister cool.

“I could ask you the same thing, ‘Master’,” answers the little guy as he steps up closer to me but keeping those eyes fixed squarely on his “master”. “You leave us hanging in limbo for over a decade, just to mess with these guys instead? You must be really scared of us.”

“I'm not afraid of you, you twerp: I made you! And haven't you forgotten the last time you interfered? I literally flattened your runty behind!”

“Yeah, because it was for fun.” Little man folds his arms. “But this is something very important to you, that you don't want to have interrupted in any way. Kinda like how we don't like being bothered by you or some version of you, but it still happens anyway.”

“Only here I can do away with interruptions instantly, so all you've accomplished was waste my time.”

“Neh, more than that.”

The blatant author self-insert is about to deprecate, only to have an immediate freak-out upon realizing what's been lost. Spike is also unsettled by the perspective shift.

“My omniscience!” the bald baddie whines. “What did you do??”

“Just leveling the playing field,” our good Jawa responds. “It's not fair for us mortals if you have all the powers. And we always have to have our narrator for these scuffles.”

I deeply appreciate that, Squishy. It's great being back at the helm! But oh boy, is our host fuming.

“You, you literal rat bastard!!”

“Hey, you didn't get censored. Hmmm…. Damn. Ah, neat!” The Jawa nods happily before refocusing. “Anyway, you're only half right: I know exactly who my dad is. And while it's not the best relationship, we still keep in touch.”

“I know: I loosely based it on mine. And I can just as easily saddle you up with the same emotional baggage.”

“Okay I have no idea what the frack is going on.”

Squishy unfolds his arms and looks up to the vexed drake. “Didn't mean to ignore you there, Spike. I wanna say thanks for helping deal with Gilgamesh. Really saved our bacons.”

“W-who? When??” Spike comically shakes his head. “Who even are you, and how do you know him?”

“Sorry, sorry. I'll keep it simple.” Squishy points. “He's a god from another universe who likes messing with people. Usually calls himself Contractor.” Points to himself. “I'm one of his oldest creations, here to help get him out of your guys’ hair, er, so to speak. And I'm Squishy, by the way.”

“Uhh, okay. Hi?”

“That’s what I was about to do you moronic midget!” sputters the malding malefactor. “Everything was about to be resolved all neat and tidy, but you're here looking to muck it up like a meddling pissant!”

“Things were going to get resolved the way you wanted it to, and that's not how it should go.” Squishy boldly steps forward. “You’re getting the punishment you deserve for terrorizing these good horse people. And whether we succeed or fall…” In a masterful motion the stout savior whips out, activates and points his lightsaber in challenge. “You Will Know Our Names!!”

“That's gotta be the lamest song transition ever, Jesus. But you wanna ball? Fine, we'll ball. And it's going to be hella messy!!” The Contractor braces his scythe, accepting the challenge. Squishy also flourishes his weapon as he looks to his unwitting charge.

“Come on, Spike: the sooner we beat him down, the sooner we can get all this fixed!”

Spike is still confused over these proceedings, but regardless he raises his blade and fixes his stance. Deep down, he understands that no matter how bizarre the circumstances, the only way forward is to

FIGHT!!

Squishy immediately pops off like a missile, engaging his creator in a flurry of slashes. As light and steel clash in bursts of sparks, Spike charges for Contractor's blind spot, but the demigod spots him. His scythe blocks the oncoming sword slash following a lightsaber deflection, then he side flips away to avoid getting ganged up on.

Spike pursues and makes a wide slash that the wily manipulator unfortunately pivots away from before spinning back to execute a retaliatory slash of his own. Our lizard lancer bends back to avoid getting harvested, which consequently grants an opening for Squishy to come in with a flying kick.

It connects with the would-be reaper's ribs and forces him to stumble, but he recovers enough to bat the Jawa away when he attempts a follow-up. That wicked shaft is put to further use deflecting the swipes from Spike's sword, getting spun left and right unnecessarily to catch every blow before being shoved against the besuited drake. With some breathing room afforded, Contractor grabs the hem of his cape and wraps it around himself to pull off a literal disappearing act, vanishing in a ruffle.

Squishy and Spike pause and look warily around for their foe to reappear, neither noticing him sneakily slipping out from behind a pillar a ways to their back right.

“Oh come on! You're part of me; you're supposed to be on my side!”

Sorry, but I need to be impartial and detail events as they happen, such as how Squishy springs on the sneaky schemer in an instant, bringing his lightsaber down on the absurdly durable scythe. Contractor gets pinned, falling to a knee, and after a moment of consternation, he looks to the side before grabbing his glasses and flinging them off in Spike's direction. He instinctively catches the flying specs, only for its owner to apparate within and deliver a devastating headbutt. This sends the young dragon reeling, but it's not a total success.

“Fack that wasn't smart. Aagh my head!”

Contractor winces and rubs his brow, Squishy charging in the meantime. Unfortunately his creator notices and punts him away like a football, yet it doesn't stop him from Force Pushing his way back for a second go. It's hardly any better as he manages a brief exchange of counter blows before Contractor grabs his shabby robe and dunks him hard off the ground. But retaliation comes swiftly in the form of a maniac adorned in combat fatigues coming in with a dive kick.

Contractor raises his scythe to block, but the impact is enough to throw his arms open, allowing the attacker to rapidly fire off blaster shots into his exposed torso while pulling off a sweet aerial backflip. The shooter lands on his scarlet stilettos a ways back, his wild red facial hair aglow from the backdrop.

“The hell are you doing here?!” Contractor snarls, butt-hurt at getting ganked.

“I always wanted to deal grievous harm to my creator, and now seemed as good a time,” General Chris replies, holstering his piece. “Welp, my cameo assist is up. See you back in our universe, dipwad.” He gives a Falcon salute before rising offscreen via mouse cursor.

Spike and Squishy come rushing at the stricken demigod, but being fed up with ground combat, Contractor forsakes gravity and yeets himself into the air. Hovering out of harm's way, the floaty felon ignites his hand and tosses a flurry of fireballs down at the heroes. Squishy scampers, using his lightsaber and the Force to raise rubble to take the heat, while Spike dances expertly around the flames, coating his sword with hand blood to return his own fire. Once properly dampened he draws back the blade, but pauses as Squishy perches himself upon the bloody edge.

“Toss me!”

“Err, sure.”

Spike swings and launches the Jawa like a sling straight into Contractor's face, who then proceeds to bap and clamber all over his bald head.

“Let go of my head you fucking bush baby!!”

Contractor futilely grasps at the midget assailing him, dipping a couple feet in his distraction. This grants Spike the opportunity to run up, grab the lower hem of the cape tightly, and slam the deity back to the ground with a mighty yank. Then he slams him the other way, then back again, then tosses him into some masonry like a bag of trash.

Looking over, he finds Squishy lying dazed on the ground, having been knocked loose by the first impact.

“Oh. Sorry bout that.”

“Itssh cool,” the Jawa woozily assures.

Spike senses something and makes a split-second glance before twisting away from a flying scythe, only to get tackled to the ground by a raging Contractor, losing hold of his sword. The mastermind appears to have reverted back to monke, as he’s trying to bash in the drake’s snoot with a rock. Spike shifts his head away from the blows before grabbing Contractor's shoulders, bending his legs and kicking the mad god off with his footsies.

Contractor bounces off the back of his neck but reorients upright and lands in a backsliding crouch. After stopping and straightening himself, he glares at the impudent dragon boy and recalls his scythe back into his hand. But Squishy has hitched a ride and spin kicks the surprised composer back off his feet. Spike rejoins the desert-dweller by this point, and Squishy Force Tosses back his sword in welcome.

“Let’s lay into this clown!”

Spike nods firmly, and after igniting his sword into an Emerald Lancer the swordsmen of space and fantasy charge. Contractor manages to get up on a knee before he’s bum-rushed as the music crescendos, the warriors laying down slashes of flame and energy in rhythm to the guitar. Their creator suffers a relentless barrage of cuts from all directions before it culminates with Spike knocking him skyward with an upward slash, then Squishy bouncing up from the dragon's shoulders to saber slam the god back into the ground like a volleyball.

Spike shudders as though coming to his senses, looking at his claws while switching off the heat. “What exactly just happened?”

“A Jam Attack,” Squishy answers after landing. “It's pretty cool stuff.”

“I wasn't even thinking. It was all automatic.”

Before the nature of that coordinated phenomenon could be further discussed, an exploding mound of rubble announces Contractor's return, wobbling himself erect and only slightly worse for wear.

“How is he still in one piece after that??”

Spike's disbelief is compounded further as Contractor shakes his head and tosses his scythe away in frustration. “Right, that's more than enough Financer-style. Let's give the rest of the ensemble a fighting chance!”

As he says that, he digs into his britches and whips out two energy pistols, posturing before a bolt of captions.

COMPENDIUM

SHUFFLE

The godly gunman levels his pieces and starts popping off energy rounds, forcing our heroes to hustle out of the way while he circle-strafes at a casual pace. Gold coins pop out from the deity's shoulders, and these he shoots to trip up the duo with homing ricochet nonsense. This trick shootery is made even more absurd when Contractor intermittently twirls and fires his shots into the ground and surrounding fixtures to either bounce off toward the heroes or into the airborne coins.

Spike and Squishy quickly find themselves in a growing constellation of money and gunfire that pauses momentarily when Contractor pulls out two honkin’ railguns and fires! The bolts zip and zing amid the myriad coins, and Spike manages to register that they’re converging on him before Squishy leaps in with lightsaber raised. The saber catches the bolt, and the world pauses for one hard second before the railshot redirects upward and Squishy’s weapon bursts into deactivation.

The Jawa falls to the ground stunned, and is booted aside by Contractor as he rushes Spike brandishing two sleek daggers. Spike cling-clangs the onslaught of slashes with his blade and rallies back with his own swipes. Contractor throws one dagger past the drake’s shoulder, then relocates to it to attack from behind, then throws another one to appear off to the side, and keeps up the peekaboo routine in rapid succession (I never played Final Fantasy 15, but those tele-knives are so heckin’ cool). Barely is Spike able to twist around and defend, but winds up stumbling off-balance. Contractor raises up one hand to strike, only for the knife to fly out into the hand of Squishy who runs back into the fray!

Creator and createe have a short crossing of blades before Spike joins in with his much longer one, at which point Contractor further escalates by conjuring himself a spear. He pokes, baps and twirls his lengthy armament around, and when Squishy tries to cut out his feet, Contractor hops up onto a sudden floating spear and smacks away the ankle-biter. So now Spike is left dealing with a dude surfing on a polearm and whirling midair in a frame of spears like his name is Pucci, but Squishy’s lightsaber has reactivated so he's back on his A game!

The little Republic defender rushes ahead and strikes away his creator's platform, and as the wannabe Machia-villain flees up a staircase of spears, Squishy tosses his lightsaber to knock them away. Contractor falls back to the ground and draws an absurdly massive cleaver to catch and hold a sword strike from Spike. Spike grits and pushes his foe backward in an effort to squash the meddling prick through sheer force of will, which happens to allow Squishy to hop over his back to get behind the red-cladded rapscallion and deliver a searing slash.

Contractor cries at the sting, but allows himself to fall, roll off the Jawa's head and spring himself to freedom. Airborne and pursued yet again, the floaty fiend summons an array of cylindrical objects with an arcing wave of a hand, and rains them down with a commanding thrust. To Spike's surprise and disgust the incoming missiles are dildos of various shapes and colors, but that doesn't prevent him and Squishy from dodging and slashing away the barrage. Squishy mixes in some sick flips with his parries, but gets beaned by a slab of iron passing for a sword. Spike meanwhile has his sword arm snared by a whip held by the nasty ne'er-do-well.

“Gotcha!” Contractor says, then yelps as he's yanked from the air. Having pulled in his “captor”, Spike wraps his snagged arm around Contractor's and lays in several punches with his free claw. After taking a solid half dozen fists to the face, the ganked grappler gets spun around and judo thrown onto the ground, bouncing off into a clumsy heap. He takes a moment to straighten his face in time to see Spike gunning for him.

Rather than make an attempt to flee, Mr. Fivehead quickly but calmly raises a pristine conductor's baton and flings the pointy end right between the charging dragon's eyes. Spike is momentarily blinded by acute pain, reeling and stumbling while Contractor pulls out a sweet-ass guitar to shred.

“Look out, Spike!”

Squishy leaps in with his own guitar and engages Contractor in a dueling duet, their instruments firing beams of face-melting musical intensity that collide in seizure-inducing radiance. The two rise and hover in place, their fingers going wild and their concentration steeled as they concentrate solely on breaking the other through sheer rockitude. Contractor is so engrossed in laying out the sick riffs he doesn't catch Spike running to a spot below his back, nor does he register the drake warrior driving his flaming sword into the ground to fire off a Malachite Piston.

When he does sense something amiss, it's the instant before a rocket-fueled kick collides with his head, the impact sounding off like a bunker buster bomb and exerting enough kinetic force to crack the dummy deity's glasses before launching him up into the sky. Eventually he comes back down and, wop, back into an embarrassing mangled heap of failure and ownage.

“Alright I get it you're biased, just lay off!” he grumble groans as he wrangles his arms back into functionality. And though I shall relent, the same can't be said of Spike and Squishy, who touch down a few steps away.

“Looks like that wore him down good,” Squishy assesses.

“Then let's end it,” Spike says while raising his blade, but Squishy halts him with a raised hand.

“Just one more thing.” Squishy takes a few steps toward the fallen god, who has managed to get on his elbows and knees.

“You… fuckin’... shit,” Contractor seethes through gritted teeth.

“I say you're about done, chief, so let’s wrap it up.”

Holding out his hands, the Jawa calls forth several flat digital pages that circle him in a sparkly ring, the sight of which grabs the loopy lamenter's attention. “That’s—!”

“Yeah, you remember them. In exchange for helping me out, they wanted me to bring them along for some payback.”

“What!? I gave you those; I'm the one that helped you, not them!!”

“That attitude's probably why they don’t like you so much. And that whole thing was technically your doing, so neh-neh to that.”

Contractor slams a fist on the ground. “Ingrateful, pipsqueak—!”

“Too bad Sylvia isn’t here to join in, but they should be enough. Have at him, fellas!”

Raising his arms, Squishy sends the .txt files skyward to begin the Spectacular Finale.

One file lingers and pops, and a Latino punk in a hoodie drops onto the scene. Flashing a grin, he sprints for the downed creator, kicks him upright and whacks him with a rusty length of rebar. Drawing a pistol he fires some rounds into Contractor's chest before booting him into the grip of a snarling one-armed Lycan.

“You let that codger take my arm!”

“Because you got cocky.”

“Then take my cock in your mouth!!”

The wolf-man slams Contractor into the tiles, then uses magic to form a stone hammer arm to smack him off to the side, where he lands before a two-tailed anthro fox boy in a yukata (not Tails). The kitsune delivers a flip kick that knocks him toward a haughty tanuki girl.

“The cunning Konata Kuronami hates being made a fool of!”

In a puff of wrath she transforms into a roaring bear and uses her massive paws to pick up Contractor, body slam him, then suplex him off the ground and into the air. A creepy floating child in an officer's uniform telekinetically catches him, stretches him all out, dribbles him and fires him upward, where he gets ping-ponged between two opposing starfighters before being blasted out of the sky by laser fire.

Down below, a bad dude in black winds up a baseball bat wrapped in Christmas lights and smacks Contractor several yards into a heap. The interloper wobbles to his feet, only to see a nasty fellow in a garish rain slicker approach him.

“Hey hold up—”

Contractor gets slashed across the face with a set of razor-tipped fingers, and as he stumbles away from the sting the bruiser from before bats him in the gut. He goes back and forth between the two, getting punched, slapped, bludgeoned, slashed, until a bat to the face brings him to the feet of a nervous teenage lad.

“Oh uh um, I'm not sure how to go about this.”

“It's real straightforward, kid.” Out of nowhere, that gruff General Chris steps in to show alternate Chris how it's done. “First you get them by the collar or shoulders, hit em with a headbutt to daze them. Then a punch to the gut to knock the wind out. Maybe throw in a stomp to the toes, and then slap em around to assert dominance. Now.” He spins around the sorry sod. “Go ahead and kick him in the jewels.”

After a brief hesitation, the young man sends his foot into the baldy baddy's groin, making him choke out a whine.

“That's the spirit!” Big Chris praises before tossing Contractor overhead backwards, into the waiting jaws of a two-headed yellow dragon.

“Aaah Aahh AAAAHHH!!”

Using both arms and legs he locks himself in place to keep the pair of chompers from lunching on him, but that just allows them to slam him into the ground before spitting him out. Tumbling and stumbling upright once more, Contractor gets whammed in the face by the portable shield of a bronze-toned and wily “tradesman”.

“Now over to my ‘clients’!”

Horribly concussed and wobbling about, Contractor fails to notice the brown cobra slithering up his leg and torso, his attention caught only after she sinks her fangs into the base of his neck.

“Oh come on!” he slurs from venom injection as he fumbles to grab at the slippery cobra. While she evades his mitts she shouts out, “Be ready, mon cher!”

“Certainly, mon chou.” A Frenchman standing off to the side holds up and closely inspects a finely carved bed post, nodding his approval. “Yes, this should do nicely.” He pulls back and swings the post right as Contractor gets close, hitting his noggin and making him spin away.

The demigod barely has time to appreciate this latest discombobulation before a black and white Border Collie who in no way looks similar to Winona scampers up and clamps her teeth on a calf.

“H-hey! Get, get off, Get!!”

As he’s wrangling two feisty female beasts, another odd couple step up from the side.

“Let’s do this, Mike!” shouts the lady standing on the man's palm.

“Up you go!” the man says before yeeting his pocket-sized wife upward, then pulling out an ornate wooden mallet he hurriedly recites, “Grow Bigger, Grow Bigger, Grow Bigger, Grow Bigger!”

The cobra and dog disengage and flee right before a titanic foot slams down onto Contractor with the force of a piston press. When it lifts away, the be-redded bastard raises his head and discovers a six-year-old girl standing before him.

“The UFO wants a word with you, Mr. Bad Man.”

Contractor makes a bemused face, but looking up further he lets out a panicked scream as a purple flying saucer impacts him in a loud, fiery explosion. When the smoke and flames clear, we see him drag himself out of the resulting crater, filthy, his clothes in tatters, and with practically no fight left him, laid low by his myriad creations.

“I just wanted… to make an awesome ending,” he whimpers. “Is that really too much to ask?”

“Well you're about to get one!” proclaims Squishy as he takes a stance by his scaley ward's right side. “Time for the ultimate finisher, Spike!”

In a blinding plume of radiance the diminutive and grubby Jawa glows up into the tall, broad, brilliant, and imposing form of the Crimson Waltz (which is like Black Waltz No. 3 from FF9 but red and shiny. It's a very long story). From waist high to nearly a head above Spike's—barring the steeple hat—the avatar of passion holds out his left hand and conjures a staff into it, then turns his stoic gaze over to Spike. The young drake nods in understanding, then standing shoulder-to-shoulder the two raise their weapon arms as one and lower them in Contractor's direction and fire up.

Flames of green and red erupt and dance around their very beings, coursing and winding their way along their arms, over sword and staff, then intersecting into a growing, roiling, raging ball of brown (honestly disappointing that that’s what red and green make. Eh, work with what you got). More and more the ignition warriors feed it, making it grow bigger and bigger and more furious, and right when it appears on the verge of going critical—

“AUBURN ANNIHILATOR!!!!”

All that built-up energy is released in a volcanic beam of plasma that melts and glasses the very ground it covers, which in under three seconds covers the distance and hits a surprised Contractor head-on, instantly engulfing him in fierce volatile immolation that almost instantaneously detonates into a sight and sound clearing explosion. Finally putting a close to the battle… for good.

…Though that's not the end.

In a space faraway, outside of time, two fractals sit on a cliff edge overlooking a deep, pristine valley, gazing upon a vast vista rendered orange and mauve by a sun just set.

“You feeling a little better now, Steve?” asks the little one.

“Yeah, a little,” the tall one answers. “Not like it was going to fulfill me for long. But that funk I had been in has long passed, so it’s no biggie.”

“Just another bit of unfinished business that you won't have to worry about, then.”

“Yep, though much still remains. But, weirdly enough… that doesn't bother me so much now.”

“Really?”

“Yeah: other things have been keeping my spirits up.”

“Right. You're finally taking therapy. And those new friends of yours.”

“Exactly: Jade, Trini, Sol, derg, Mu, and many others besides. They’ve brightened things up considerably since I came back. Made my outlook on the present and future… more positive.”

“I'm guessing they have something to do with the collar as well.”

The host fingers the blue dog collar around his neck. “Yeah. Just trying out some alternate fashion. New things.”

“It's good you found something else to keep you going.”

“Yeah. They really are a wonderful bunch.”

“I bet.” A moment of silence as the two look out at the all-encompassing scenery. “So… does this mean you won't be writing anymore?”

A shrug. “I don't know. It's just not a prerogative at this time. Perhaps at a much later date I may be compelled to write something. Or it could be within a month. I'm fickle like that.”

“You sure are. But you might want to wrap up things here properly, first.”

“Yes. It's not the neatest conclusion as is, I'll admit. They deserve more.”

“It was still fun, though.”

“That it was.” A look back upon the vista, a deep breath. “Welp. Back to it.”

With the raising of an arm, this tranquil aside ceases with a singular snap.

Another fine, gorgeous day. Just like every other one this past week. The kind of day perfect for a group photo.

I step out the door of Sugarcube Corner, fluffing out my shirt and jacket to get any crumbs I might've missed. It's not the usual black: tan, almost velvet-like, a real varsity sort. A bit too preppy for my liking if I'm honest, but you gotta look good for these occasions.

“Later, Spike!” Pound calls out from behind.

“Yeah; I'll see you guys later.”

“You better!”

“Yeah yeah, Pumpkin!”

That extra exchange adds a smile to my face as I let the door close. The Cakes had offered me brunch yesterday as a sort of micro-celebration for the restoration work being done. Not that I did that much work, but I always enjoy hanging with the twins (and who can turn down free sweets?).

It was a good family get-together kind of deal: real simple and casual. Now I'm kinda imagining how it'd look if Gummy was around. Funny, I haven't thought about him in a while; he hasn't been seen or heard of since leaving that day. Hopefully he's off living his best, most zen life, passing off wisdom or something like that. I wonder if he stuck around if he'd end up being my new sparring partner. More for meditation purposes, or perhaps to improve my wrestling skills.

Man I'm having weird thoughts outta nowhere. But luckily there's a delightful sight heading my way to redirect my focus.

“Spike!”

Sweetie Belle comes cantering giddily over, looking extra radiant. Maybe in part due to the pregnancy, but either way, it's something to further bolster my smile.

“Hey, baby girl.” I brush the side of her face when she gets to me, then trail my claw down her neck and side to caress her toned tummy (still way too early to be showing). “And baby baby.”

“Don't you think about being frisky while we're out here,” she says in that sweet faux serious tone.

“Nothing wrong with saying hi to our little one.” I raise the caress up to sensual. “And showing their momma some loving attention.”

“Spike, darling!”

Oh, here comes Rarity. Better reel it in. Sweetie is giving me a cheeky smirk (yeah, deserved).

“Hiya Rares.” Turns out, Rarity did the good kind of flip at hearing about Sweetie’s pregnancy. The prospect of being a doting aunt can do marvels for an older mare’s heart, I suppose.

“A good afternoon to you as well, dear. What luck to bump into you on the way over to town hall.”

“Not so much luck as my feeling that he would be around here.”

“Indeed, Sweetie Belle. Quite the intuition you have for your partner.” Rarity eyes me up. “Is the jacket still comfortable? No hindrances?”

“Oh, not at all. Like there's nothing there.” I give a flap of my wings to show their unrestricted state. “Bang up job as always.”

My extra appendages definitely surprised everyone else when I showed them off (couldn't exactly hide them, and why should I?), but they got over it and accepted it just as quickly as I did. Took some adjusting, mainly when it came to sleeping comfortably, but they're quite stylin’, and the extra subtle sensations of touch and movement have been a good kind of weird. Haven't had a chance to see if they're flightworthy, though. Maybe tomorrow.

“That is delightful to hear, although nothing so brutish as ‘banging’ went into its assemblage, I assure you.” An eye roll from her sister. “I say, Spike, are those crumbs that I spy?”

I look down over my shirt and jacket. “I had a muffin and cinnamon roll earlier, but I don’t think any got on me.”

“Nonsense: it’s as clear as day. Let me get that for you.”

Rarity's horn lights up just before I feel my clothes stretch and get fluffed out for a second time.

“Come on, sis, it wouldn't even show in the photo.”

“Now now, Sweetie dear, one always has to look picture perfect for any occasion. It's in the phrase: picture perfect. And Spike deserves to be captured looking his best, for all he's done.”

“I appreciate it, though—”

“Let me inspect that shoulder seam real quickly.”

I'm yanked into bending down to Rarity's level, my arm held rigid and her horn rather close to my neck. Perfect whispering distance.

“While it's nice knowing you still retain amorous feelings toward my precious baby sister, I find it worth reminding what an awful tragedy it would be should her heart ever be broken.”

Perfectly even tone. Level as a straight edge. “Y-yeah. Unthinkable.”

“Happy you think so.” I'm freed from her thaumic grip and she resumes regular volume. “All in perfect pristine order!”

“Great. Can we head over now?” Sweetie insists.

“Of course, dear. Let us be off!” Rarity trots on over to her sister, carefree and without an ounce of tension. I keep forgetting how scary the old girl can be. Nice to have these “reminders”, I think as I join the two.

It's not even a minute before we're in sight of town hall, and as expected there's a crowd gathered. Local volunteers, heads of the community, some griffon representatives including one of the king’s guard (Gibson; pretty chill guy out of uniform), and of course…

“There he is!”

“Heya, Twi,” I say as everyone’s favorite (living) princess canters over to me for a quick hug. Even though she’s been her old self for years, it still warms me seeing her this open. “Hope I’m not holding things up.”

“You were beginning to, but I don’t think anyone really minds.”

“I don’t see why they should: this is marvelous weather for chatting,” Rarity comments as she goes up to Twi for her own fashionable hug. “You are positively radiant today, darling.”

“Oh, I hardly did anything with myself. You’re still the expert in good looks.”

“Yes, which is how you know I’m not spouting false praises.”

“Heehee, okay. Let’s head over.” We nod and the four of us go over to the rest of the group. “We’re all accounted for, Ms. Mare.”

“Very good, Your Highn—I mean, Twilight,” responds Mayor Mare. Gods, so many years and she barely looks any older. Her voice certainly hasn’t lost that gentle yet authoritative edge, either, as she speaks to the crowd. “Alright everyone, it’s time for the photo! Just group in tightly in front of the entrance, and soon we’ll have lunch!”

That gets everyone moving as they take places before the building. As they’re shuffling and lining up, the ol’ mayor looks over to me. “I hope you don’t mind standing near the back? Being as tall as you are, though it’s not the most glamorous of places.”

“It’s no problem at all, ma’am,” I assure her before bending down and giving Sweetie and head rub. “Let’s make it pop, babe.”

“More like knock ‘em dead,” she says, refreshing my toothy grin as I step on over to the back of the group. I scootch past two griffons and sidle up close to a familiar red earth stallion.

“Afternoon, Spike,” he cordially drawls as I take my spot, looking hella respectable with the hat and scarf (ascot?).

“Hey, Mac,” I say as I shift into a more photogenic stance. “Got those famous fixings lined up?”

“Eeyup. AJ even helped some.”

“Awesome. It’ll be fun guessing which.”

He grins as the shifting begins petering out. Before us, a camera has been set up on its tripod (or it might’ve already been there), with Featherweight making final checks and adjustments.

“Alright, I’m about ready. Get nice and still.”

Standing, waiting for the cue, I find myself taking stock of the moment. Twilight, Sweetie, Rarity up front, looking happy and at ease. Surrounded by acquaintances old and new. An unbelievably gorgeous, life-affirming day. Community, warmth. Serenity.

It hits me: These are the results. The hardship, the weirdness, the devastation. Somehow, it has led to this. The fruits of my labors. And not one trace of darkness to besmirch the vast open path beyond.

“Okay, hold it steady. Say ‘Cheeeeese’!!”

Pony, griffon, dragon, we all say it as one. My smile is wide, even, genuine… then sideways as a divekick from a certain pink psychopath collides with my face a moment before the shutter clicks.

Like Rarity said: Picture Perfect.

END

Author's Note

Took me over three months to finally finish this one, but here it is: Done, over. And just in time for Christmas. Happy Holidays everyone! I'm dealing with a cold as I'm typing this, so I hope your celebrations are going more smoothly than mine, heheh.

Sorry for the long delay. I had been preoccupied by work and some art projects. Plus, as I mentioned, I'm not feeling as compelled to write these days. Before that'd stress me out, that I had fizzled away, but no. I've come to accept that there is more to validating one's existence than needing to pump out stories. It's about having a positive mindset, and good company really helps. I still get my off days, my anxieties, but I'm not dealing with it alone now. And I hope you all have your own little support groups to help you along.

Anyway, that's it for Dragon's Descent. A bit sloppy there at the end, but honestly I never envisioned how the final scene would play out before I started writing it (though I knew it'd end with that final paragraph, huhu). Now let us celebrate and appreciate one another, and snuggle up as we await the new year.

As always, all the best, friends :)

Prologue ~ 'Once more...'

A legacy of blood and corpses…

Their rotting forms flicker all around, too many to count.

Darkness covers everything, rife with the stench of decay and misery.

Only Death resides, its Herald standing above all else.

Primed to strike… Ready to Kill…

My eyes snap open, breaking me from my impromptu snooze and letting me scan the blurry scenery, a constant wind buffeting me. I spot my shades dangling close to my face, and I reach out my free claw to take them. As I adjust them back atop my schnoz, I remember that I’m falling to a canyon floor hundreds of feet below amid a cloud of splinters and other debris… while upside down. I move my arms to orient myself back upright (though at the cost of having wind blow up into my clothes), just in time to spot a massive chunk of charred wood coming my way.

I bat at my side to move out of its fall, watching as smaller pieces of airship drop by along with a few bodies. I lazily glide myself amid the rubble, hopping off the occasional barrel or body to keep my elevation. As I’m thinking up a way to get out of this, a possible solution/unwelcome sight comes screeching at me. Flicking my right arm I bring about my sword to deflect the halberd being swung my way, powered by swift thick talons. I deflect the next lightning-fast strike, then do a back somersault to dodge the wide slash while also kicking away their weapon, leaving me to only face a plain muscular, armored griffon with razor-sharp mitts.

He thrusts a talon at my throat, but I duck while also grabbing his scaly arm, forcing him to flap his wings to compensate for the extra weight. He barely has a chance to start cursing at me when one of his buddies swoops over to lend a hand with a sword. I parry my own blade against his while keeping my grip firm on my unwilling parachute, and just as I’m getting into this weird exchange a ballista shot catches my opponent in the chest, leaving a squawk and some stray feathers.

Next thing that (literally) hits me is the front of an airship balloon which collides into me and my feathered chum. We tumble along the top of the balloon for a bit until my grip on his talon is twisted loose. I try to get up, but get bounced off when a pegasus drops in to do battle with his own blade. I’m go for another fall, but much shorter this time as I grab onto a support rope and slide my way down the side of the airship, stopping just short of the rudder. And of course it’s barely a moment of peace when an enemy cannonball blows out the back side of the ship, and me with it.

A tumble through not-so-empty air, as all around me there are pegasi trying to hold back the incoming griffons, as well as a few unlucky unicorns and earth stallions screaming to a messy death below. Luck would have it I’m heading straight for the deck of an airship, but after hitting and rolling up onto my feet onboard I step forward to bring up my sword to fend off a burly boarder and his mace. The momentum of my landing makes me stumble and I trip sideways with my next step (leaving an opening for the stallion behind me to drive his spear past). I spin clumsily so that my back hits the railing, but a stray helmet beans me in the snout and, wouldn’t you know, it sends me right over.

Once again I’m overboard, yet it’s only a few seconds of free-falling before something firm wraps around my free palm. I take hold of it, finding myself being airlifted by a set of sturdy pegasi wings. The guy maneuvers us through the hell storm of weaponry and aerial melee, bringing us to an airship that’s not being accosted (so far). I let go the moment there’s at least a six foot radius of solid wood beneath me and let go, falling roughly onto my rump while soldiers gallop about yelling orders over the racket of battle.

“For a slim guy, you’re pretty heavy.”

I look leftwise to see the pegasus responsible for catching my dragon butt. Golden lightweight armor, white fur, a yellow tuft of a mane waving free from the lack of a helm. None other than Daybreak, to my surprise. A little worse for wear than when I last saw him (like five minutes ago), but still a whole hell of a lot better than the others who were aboard that ship.

“Holy crap, you’re still alive?”

“I wouldn’t be much of a captain if I wasn’t sturdy enough for the job. Besides, the wife wouldn’t have let me die without her permission.” He flashes me a smile, even with a frickin’ air battle going on.

“Ha, I suppose not. Just that usually when I’m in an explosion, everyone else but me dies.”

“Us flyboys got much tougher since those days.” He looks toward the prow of the ship, which cues me to get off my ass and look like I have a purpose in this mess. The flyboys are indeed doing a good job keeping back the oncoming rabble, but the sky is still a mess with cannon and ballista fire, some of it coming from the ship we’re on. In the distance, I can see the distant fires of the enemy fleet.

“Gotta give ‘em this: they got us pretty good,” he remarks, to which I nod.

“Yeah. Definitely makes a mess of things. So what’s the plan?”

“We keep going ahead for the checkpoint as before, or what’s left of it. It’s dead ahead, where I imagine our forces will be needing some extra reinforcements. I’ll go rally the other captains to start descending so we can avoid those warships. Get more of our own troops on the dirt so they have a chance to tussle.”

“That sounds good enough to me.”

I look around, and an idea springs to mind as a grin creeps up my face. I turn and leave Davy shortly before he asks, “What are you gonna do?”

“Level the playing field a bit. I’ll catch up down below.”

No doubt he’s smiling at seeing me jog over to one of the loaded catapults. I hop up onto the boulder and crouch down right as the grenadier releases the catch, giving us immediate lift off. I hold tight as the rock and me soar away from friendly skies and into the enemy’s.

Once into the enemy front I kick off the boulder, redirecting it down into a griffon who figured (wrongly) that staying low would be safest. I glide headlong through their ranks until one rises up to face me, but I just take hold of his arm and swing myself down and up to gain some height. As I'm flipping upward I brandish my sword to deflect a trident while kicking at the beak of a sneaky birdy trying to catch me from below. Mr. Trident follows up to the top of my arc, but I bring down my sword with both claws to split his helm (and some of his skull, no doubt).

Two of the buzzards fly up to challenge me, but I break into a dive kick to bounce off the lead’s head. Fly through the air, bounce off another griffon’s back, slice off the wing of one in passing, and hold position on the back of a third so I can get my bearings before springing off in another direction. Skip my way over some griffons, and punch one in the face for good measure before flipping around to plant my feet into the canyon wall.

I waste no time kicking up my footsies to maintain momentum and keep horizontal. The enemy warships are coming up quick, and I make a slit on my palm for my next maneuver. Start breathing out onto the blade, get myself lined up juuuuuust about right, and… Malachite Piston’s away.

Blast away from the rock wall, twisting around to deliver a drop kick into the side of a griffon’s face with enough force to pretty much liquify anything above the shoulders. He launches off and blows through about a dozen other griffons, making a finer mess of things as I fall down onto the upper warship. I hit the deck hard, and they’re kind enough to have a welcome party waiting with all kinds of lovely sharp gifts to offer.

A spin of my sword and I go at them, slicing past whatever blade or talon comes my way. I lock steel with one towering griffon and his twin daggers before hearing the twanging of a crossbow. A bolt nicks my shoulder before I disengage and deflect the next two, the sting refocusing me back to the task at hand. I belch out some fire to put some space before me to do a backflip toward the front of the ship. Once in position, I spread out a quick coating of blood and fire before planting my sword tip into the wood and letting loose a Jade Slider straight ahead through the deck.

The fire wave tears up much of the deck and, more importantly, destroys the central masts, sending gears and propellers falling all around. The ship starts tilting portwise, and whatever birdies haven’t been blown away take flight. Steadying myself, I look over to see a warship below trying to take evasive maneuvers, but I have something else in mind as I leap off.

On the way down I grab the back of a fleeing griffon’s head, and with a good couple of spins I fling him downward into the uppermost propellers of the lower warship. The impact’s enough to break up some of the blades and cause the ship to stutter in flight (while making a mess of the feathery schmuck as well). I hit the deck in a kneeling position, but quickly get up and leap backwards as the ship from above crashes into the broadside of its unlucky compatriot, with torches from above landing and setting off a good blaze. After several meters I land on the prow of a third ship that’s doing its best to get away from the catastrophe happening overhead.

Some wood planks and a cannon drop down from above and tear some holes in the deck, but I decide to help out by prepping a Jade Slicer. Yet as I’m about ready, a griffon dive bombs me from above, knocking us clear from the ship. I tumble a bit before he comes back around and grabs at my sides with his talons, no doubt looking to rip me in half. I elbow him in the beak a few times before he lets go, which gives me enough time to angle myself and let off the Slicer that blazes through a few lines of griffons and shears off the front of the warship with a booming crack.

Then I feel those talons taking hold of my head from behind, those pointy tips looking to gouge my eyes out. Though he hadn’t considered that my shades were unbreakable. Nor did he take into account that our size difference gave my right heel a clear shot to his nuggets. Turns out they’re armored, but the blow makes him loosen his claws enough to allow me to spin around and plunge my sword through the opening in the side of his chestplate.

He squawks up some blood as I plant my feet onto his chest, riding him down to the canyon floor. I do my best to steer through the other griffons and oncoming friendly fire, all while my “buddy” claws at me to knock me off with the remainder of his strength. I give him a few punches to keep things steady, then brace myself as we make ground fall. My griffon landing board plows through several yards of dirt before I pull out my sword and spring up and away from him.

I break into a roll upon hitting solid ground, then pushing myself to a stop I stand up amidst the clattering of armor and the yelling of the battle-crazed. Looking around, I see our ground forces charging at the oncoming griffon land invaders. Barely taking a breath, I charge right along with them.

Around me there are stallions tossing spears and unicorns firing off spells and arrows. One unlucky mage takes a spear to the neck, and a griffon divebombs an axe into another stallion’s back. No time to worry about them as I approach my own set of eager aggressors. I give them a proper hello by bringing my sword around to slice off a talon, then another's throat and another's exposed waist.

A crossbowman some yards away takes aim at me, but a hunk of flaming wreckage crushes him, signalling the arrival of my early work onto the battlefield. Ponies and griffons alike make way for the debris while keeping up the fight, but I keep running forward. One griffon ahead tosses an axe at a flying pegasus, but I spring up to catch it, flip and fling it right at the sweet spot between his beady eyes.

It's utter pandemonium. Soldiers on both sides giving battle cries, aerial skirmishes raining down feathers and flesh, the screams of the dying filling the air. Ponies getting cleaved, griffons getting blasted by magic, and some of our Diamond Dog troops grappling bare-pawed.

It's mayhem I've been through before, but even as my own countrymen are getting slain and death is raining from above, I'm getting some of that old sick thrill. Such a long time since I got to cut loose to such an extent, and I’m clearly not the only one. Civility has taken a vacation, and wanton violence is the house-sitter.

That dumb analogy in mind, I bare my pearly whites and charge headlong into the grinder, straight at the maw of devastation, intent on leaving a bloody swath of feathers, armor and lion meat in my wake. Oh beautiful day.

Author's Note

And so it begins... again.

Recap ~ The Fate of Four Years

Whoa, that was something. Hell of a way to kick things off, huh? No doubt many of you are wondering how things got to that point, given where I last left off. And probably some of you don't care and just want to go back to the carnage. But I'll cater to the concerns of the former by providing context for this latest bloody spectacle. It can be annoying and maybe a bit jarring, but I just wanted to catch you up on some things, paint a picture and all. But don't worry, we'll get back to the action (eventually).

So, for starters, about four years have gone by. Four years since I killed two princesses, grievously maimed another, and murdered an Element of Harmony. Things have… turned out considerably well, surprisingly. The little government Twilight had set up did good in terms of keeping Canterlot and, subsequently, all of Equestria from descending into anarchy. Granted, it wasn’t much of a change from what it had been before. The main difference is that Twilight stepped down from full royal responsibilities, so that the regular politicians did all of the work. Of course she still did her part (keep the sun and moon moving), and weighed in on major laws and treatises and whatnot. But for all intents and purposes, it’s been strictly a constitutional sort of monarchy.

This meant a little less stress for the girl, as you can imagine. Less time-consuming responsibilities, no need to parade around evoking the regal spirit of command. Just live like anyone else (so to speak), help out in her own way. And she didn’t waste any time in doing that.

With things in Canterlot settled, she turned her focus on repairing the damage caused during her… initial tenure as princess. The first thing she did was repeal all the laws she had put forth regarding book lending and exchange, so that overdues and illegal possessions were no longer the death sentences they had been for years. Not so good for the literary black market, but that just meant more books coming back into the public when their once prime stock more or less got tossed out. Very win-win on that front, at least.

Afterward, there came the matter of my involvement in the whole affair. There were talks of tribunals, prison sentences, the death penalty. Eventually it blew over on the grounds of me just following royal orders as were approved by the central royal entity, that being Celestia. Plus the fact that plenty of times I helped protect the country from insurrections, cults and nasties from beyond our borders helped shine a positive light on me. That said, it still took some doing to convince the general population that I rather than tracking them down in the night, I would be sticking to the lone surviving princess’ side as a bodyguard. Hard to swallow since I had been on the cusp of murdering her as well, I know, but that got accepted as well, given Twilight’s vouchsafing me and the higher-ups seeing what a truly laid-back guy I can be (so long as I’m nowhere near them).

Her PR still needed a serious overhaul, which prompted what I like to call Twilight Sparkle’s Apology Tour (not the official name, mind you), wherein she went around the country offering consolation and compensation to those who were most severely affected by her laws and her idea of Order. I tagged along to provide protection and offer some counsel when things got heavy (and they often did), as well as give my own bit of apologizing (not quite as often) to better my own self-image. It got rough early on, being with her as she visited the surviving friends, family, lovers, orphans, and everyone else her form of justice had harmed. There were some nights I had to console her, hold her close as she let all that guilt sink in, sorrows and remorse smothered by some gentle pats on the back (mindful of those wing stubs, of course). I may have killed a lot of ponies, but I rarely stuck around to see the aftermath. Letting it fester over many years—the broken lives and shattered communities—then seeing the results up close can take a toll on someone who’s regaining their sense of compassion. But I was always around for those uncertain nights, to provide comfort. Gave me a chance to soften myself up some more as well. At least, in terms of being a shoulder to lean on.

It got progressively easier as it went on. Twi learned to shoulder the accusations and heartaches, while doing what she could to make up for the past eleven years. For the majority, though, they were pretty much complacent about it, or had gotten over it entirely. Seemed that apathy effect was of good use for something (probably what made dealings in Canterlot go by smoothly, come to think of it). Though what got me were the ones who said what I did was a mercy to their friend/family/acquaintance. Among the innocents and Average Joes, there had been quite a few unstable ponies (and other species) that could have done some serious harm if left unchecked, as I alluded to. Some good had been done, but all still a very messy and unglamorous business.

Once that was over, everything else went by swimmingly. Ponies adjusted well to the change in their rulership, with no cause for unrest or dissension or anything messy like that. Even so, the military Celestia had built up for years was still put to some use. Rather than dismantling it, Twi recommended they be used for peacekeeping purposes around the country, setting up watch stations and barracks in just about every city and settlement, rendering them into more of a national guard. Combined with a lax in military decorum for these stations, it didn't take long for the citizens to get real chummy with their new protectors, and vice versa.

I could just go on and on about these kinds of changes, but that’d take more time then you're willing to spare. Instead, I'll just take a moment to talk about Twilight’s other little project. Namely, with regards to friends long overlooked: the other Elements of Harmony.

The first attempt at mending the friendship fence was… somewhat shaky, to put it nicely. Of course, Twi hadn’t expected everyone to come jumping on her with open arms, and there were some loud scoffs at the supposed official meeting that had been set up (namely from Dash and Applejack). But in explaining how Discord had messed things around and pointing out how out of touch they’ve mostly been, they eventually softened up to the idea of being a little more cordial, and even changing their outlook on things.

Fluttershy remained as sweet and peachy as ever, so no mending needed there. Over the past few years Rarity had taken up her hoof in dressmaking again, eventually putting aside her, uh-hum, previous occupation. Nice to see that creative spark light back up in the ol’ girl. Rainbow still remained gruff and focused on the Wonderbolts, but she gradually loosened up and even came to hang around at holiday get-togethers. Same more or less applied to AJ, who became less focused on the bottom line in apple manufacturing. That didn’t do away with the excess crop that had arisen in years past, but that meant more food to go towards feeding the hungry instead of being a mandatory staple in school lunchrooms. A nice rearrangement, I guess.

Concerning Pinkie’s death, they were more or less alright with it. Not that they wanted her dead or anything, but with how distant they all had become her passing didn’t come off as particularly tragic. They understood the circumstances, that it was more or less a very Pinkie way for her to go. And pretty much everyone just went about their usual day-to-day, like regular ponies. I mean, it was evident that the world had no need for the Elements anymore. Equestria had gotten quite good at taking care of itself.

Which leads back to asking why I’m currently in the midst of slicing through a storm of griffon entrails while ponies of war cry havoc. To properly answer that, we would have to look back to about two weeks ago. That’s when the first big sign of the troubles to come arose...

Act 1 Start

FimFiction.net presents

In collaboration with Google Drive

The 25th Compendium of Steve FimFic

Dragon's

Descent

Act 1

The Spark of War

Act 1 Verse 1

Another Day

A pattering of little paws filled the empty space of the alleyways. Nothing around to provide obstruction, giving him free reign to run to his heart’s content. Barely older than a pup, with a ragged vest and collar to his name. Looked frantic, despite there being no one in sight. Good to stay cautious, though: the back alleys don’t provide safety for very long. I know them far too well.

Kept pace with him from above, quietly and out of sight. An approach I’ve gone over a few times in the past. Eventually he made it to an archway, going for the intersection beyond. As he ran through the shadows he suddenly came to an abrupt halt, going stock still and wide-eyed. Typical reaction whenever I pop up out of (seemingly) nowhere like that.

I looked down the scrawny Diamond Dog as he stood there and shivered. No doubt struck cold to the bone by the deathly sharp dragon eyes cutting through the darkness. The exchange of predator and prey; Mother Nature’s eternal dance.

“You seem to be scampering about in a hurry.”

No response, save for a pitiful whimper almost too low to hear. Not low enough for me, pal.

“If I didn’t know any better, I would say you’re looking for a bad time.” Flashed my cold steel to drive the point home. “Well, I’ve got plenty of that to offer.”

The pup yipped and jumped before running the other way, only to collide with two larger armored Diamond Dogs. Their meaty paws took hold he struggled to get past them and, more importantly, away from me, dropping the bundle he had been carrying up to that point to the cobblestones.

“What’s your hurry, runt?” one of them asked gruffly, unfazed by the little paw slapping at his face and shoulders.

“No! Let me go! He’ll kill us all! He’ll kill us ALL!”

“You’re coming with us.” As the two finally got a firm grip of the panicking pup, the second guard looked to me. “Thanks for the help, Spike.”

I gave them a two finger salute. “Sure thing, fellas.”

The guard (Mutton be his name) gave me a grin and nod before hauling the pup off in the other direction, his partner picking up the sack of pilfered goods. A swell dog, that guy. Real muscular, but had a soft spot for fluffy things, sheep in particular (hence the silly name). But so yeah, soon enough I was left alone in the alley, putting away my sword and deciding to get out someplace a little less dreary. Only took me a minute to get back into the open, sun-bathed streets and rejoin the bustling sphere that was Canterlot’s populace.

The capital hadn’t changed that much these past four years, aside from the noticeable lack of a grandiose castle and the suffocating amounts of military banners. It’s now every other street corner instead of all of them that you might find a guard, but even then they’re often mingling around in a very casual approach to keeping the peace. The lack of rigidity implemented by Twilight also meant more lax recruitment standards, so rather than a pony-exclusive army, any species willing and capable could join up. This proved rather smart as it gave Diamond Dogs something better to do than work for crime lords, and they were imposing enough to deter possible mischief (and can usually handle whatever mischief does arise). Which was especially comforting given how busy things were that day.

It was the first day of the Grand Equestria Pony Summit, and the city couldn’t have been more lively. For one, there hadn’t been one in the past four years, given the whole power shift and upheaval and what have you. But this year Twilight felt confident and well-rested enough to tackle such an event by her lonesome, and anticipation couldn’t have been any higher. A chance to congregate and deliberate in one place rather than in disparate meetings around the country, while also enjoying the lofty lodgings and catering the capital had to offer. Who wouldn’t be down for that?

The first day had gone off without a hitch: no riots, no squabbling, and everything running in good order. Twilight kept things lowkey compared to previous summits, which made it easier for her to mingle with the reps. I had done security detail for the morning assemblies, mainly walking around the halls of the fairly new, smaller castle (a third the size of the original. Still has a fair amount of pointy towers, mind). My presence made some uneasy, but they more or less tolerated me like any of the other guards.

A little past twelve Twilight gave me the rest of the afternoon off, to report back for the evening delegations. Figured I’d walk around the streets, maybe grab a snack and chill in a park before heading back home, until I happened upon the furry miscreant running by with some guardsmen on his stubby tail. So I thought, “What the heck?”, and decided to help out. Run across rooftops, be stealthy, all that good stuff.

I often do those kinds of things when I’m off-duty; all this peacetime can make me a bit restless, so anything to get me active was much welcomed. Intimidating unruly drunks, stopping muggers, even helping old ladies cross the street. I know, right? The menace of Equestria, a ruthless executioner, performing random good deeds. Although the reputation does help sort out some troubles, as you’ve just seen.

Having gotten my exercise for the afternoon, I decided some relaxation time at the apartment would do fine. Maybe freshen up for the evening, change of clothes, a light snack. Turned out the alleyway where I stopped the pup was just a few blocks from my place, past one of the local market streets.

As expected the streets were bustling with tourists and locals alike, of all sizes and shapes, too busy to mind the suited dragon walking in their midst. It's worth noting that I grew a few more inches the past few years, making me taller than most stallions. Nowadays the only things that can top me are Diamond Dogs and griffons, which makes navigating crowds a lot easier. I stick out like a sore purple thumb, though. Not the best color for camouflage.

Didn't take long to get through the bustle and make it to the front of the apartment complex. Rather nice if a bit on the ritzy side, almost like a condo (plus glaringly white). Stepped through the doors, waved to Cursive at the desk (a real crossword and Scrabble fiend), and took to the stairs. It was only up to the sixth floor, and a guy like me needs the cardio (not really, but whatever). The hall was empty when I arrived, so I headed straight to my door, whipping out the keys on the way for speedy entry.

Turn of the lock and I stepped into my humble abode. A little sparse in furnishings, or perhaps there was just so much space that it seemed that way. A lounge chair, some lamps, random art and pictures on the walls, fancy coffee table and one of those posh rectangular couches for me to lay down on, hardwood flooring that leads right for the kitchen, all bathed in the radiant afternoon sun from the big-ass landscape window. I placed my keys into the bowl by the door (amusing set-up) and put my sword and sheath on its place on the coat rack before making for the window.

When Twilight decided to move to Canterlot to better serve her country, I came along as well, first staying in the castle. After a time (and a distinct lack of threats), we figured independent living was up my alley once more. Didn't take long to find a place pretty close by, and rather nice at that. Pays to work for royalty at times.

I still recall the warm feel of the rays hitting my scaly face as I looked over the glistening skyline of the lower city, with the vast plains far beyond making for a stunning backdrop. The kind of sensations that makes you alive, on top of everything, almost unthinkable given everything I’ve done. How someone like me could deserve waking up to such a grand view everyday: a thought I’ve been able to digest over time, so that instead of just unease I feel revitalized everytime I look out there.

My city gazing/reverie got cut short by the sound of the front door opening. The dainty clip clops upon the floor told me who it was before the first word came out.

“Spike? What are you doing back so soon?” Sound of the closing door as I turned around.

“Twi let me off for the afternoon. Gotta head back by six, though.”

And there she stood: darling Sweetie Belle. I know, right? We managed to stay as a couple after all this time. Ever faithful and caring, and I've done my part to reciprocate as years of hardened stoicism faded away. Her singing career took off sometime after the… events, of four years ago, with concerts and recordings and the like. That meant an income that would allow her to put up with a bum like me (plus she still totally digs me. Crazy mare).

It was Sweetie who suggested we share the apartment, to serve as home base between her tours and to keep me close when she was on break. Real practical of her (and cunning). She also got practical with her fashion, tossing aside the fishnets for more respectable (though no less tantalizing) skirts and blouses. And that’s what she was wearing that time, only with more subdued colors befitting regular day clothes. Her off-white fur was still as spotless as ever, and her two-toned mane had gotten a little fuller over the years, practically rivaling her sister’s.

“That was nice of her,” she resumed, plopping her own set of keys into the key bowl. “You’ll be off in time for dinner, right?”

“Yeah, around eight or so. Just some private meetings, so it shouldn’t be long.”

“That’s good.” Sweetie lifted off the saddle bags on her back before continuing. “Don’t want to give Rarity cause to fuss about the food she slaved over going cold.”

“Heh, yeah. So how is she?”

“Her usual self. Keeping the boutique running, taking forever to pick out the ‘perfect’ fabric.”

I chuckled at that. For having been a mare of the night for several years, it was amusing and a dang comforting to hear her being the perfectionist I remembered as a kid. Sweetie used her magic to pull out some lengths of clothing from one of the bags, bringing it up for me to see.

“I had wanted something in a lime green for a refreshing look, but Rarity insisted I go with auburn because fall’s coming up. Which do you prefer?”

I shrugged. “You’d look great in either one, to be honest. Maybe switch them up every gig or so?”

“Gee, you’re a lot of help,” she teased with a playful tone, scrunching up her face in that cutesy manner of hers. I just smiled while she laid out the clothes on the couch. “Georgie happened to stop by the shop while I was there.”

“Oh really? On a nice day like this?”

“Yeah, running errands for his mom. He asked about you, of course. He also not-so-subtly hinted about being in the park on Saturday looking after his sister.”

“I see. Guess I’ll keep that in mind.”

I've been bumping into Georgie a lot since moving to Canterlot (to his endless delight, no doubt). He's grown from a snot-beaked kid into more of a respectable young griffon, having taken on the responsibilities of an older sibling. Sometimes we hang out, but more often than not we just say a few things in passing. Though given how much bigger he's gotten, I'm sure he'll start pestering me for sparring lessons pretty soon. Not that he gave any indication of that yet, but when you're growing into a teenager, you're gonna want to put that extra energy to some use (preferably not towards cutting down helpless civilians).

Back to the scene at hand, I grabbed myself one of the cookies Sweetie baked the other day, and whilst munching on it I made for the hall leading to the bedroom.

“So what will you be doing with this free time, Spike?”

“Just chill,” I plainly answered while taking off my dress jacket. “I did some running earlier, so I'm not looking for any extra exercise.”

“Running?”

“Yeah: helped stop a thief. Just a kid; no harm done.” I made it to the bedroom, where I tossed my jacket onto the bed. I'm working on my shirt as I said, “Made me a bit grimy though, so I'll be taking a quick shower.”

“Really? So early in the day?”

“Water conservation’s never been an issue with us, babe. Or is it? Is this something new we’re doing now?”

“Hee hee, no. But mind if I join you?”

“What for? You’re not grimy.”

I had my shirt off and in my arms when she sidled up to me. “How would you know? I’ve done my own bit of exercising: walking around in all that sun, carrying those saddlebags, having to shove my way through the busy streets, all because of the summit going on. The kind of thing that can make a girl like me work up a sweat.”

“And not as a flimsy excuse to be in a wet, confined space with me?”

The sound of magic and discarded clothes was the immediate response, quickly followed by Sweetie’s head and bare shoulder pressing against my bare torso. I recall picking up the smallest hint of feminine perspiration. Not so flimsy after all.

“Well now that…” Looked up to me with those big, cutesy, lascivious eyes. “Is just a bonus.”

I just planted a palm right above her horn. “Still the blatant flirt.”

“And you still love it.”

“I suppose I do.” I bent down to kiss her brow as she gave one of her knowing giggles before turning up her head to reciprocate. It's something she often does out of the blue, whether she's wanting to be playful or is just outright in the mood, dropping hints on my thick head. Despite being older and a bit more refined, she can still be the naughty tease. And much to her delight, I've steadily opened up to her advances and acted more like a, you know, loving boyfriend over the past few years.

Eventually we get off each other long enough to hit the shower and get cleaned up. Sometimes these shared cleanings escalate into something steamier, and sometimes it's just a regular old shower, just like with that day’s (sorry my fellow horndogs). Some scrubbing, lather and rinsing of the mane, gentle caresses on both sides, and a little deep-claw back massage. I've gotten real good at it (so Sweetie’s told me), and she's also been practicing doing claw massages with me on some of our days together. Steadily getting to Twilight's former level of mastery… Huh, you know, I barely remember what that entailed. Meh.

And that's how my days have usually gone for the past year and a half. You might think it’d get boring after a while, given what I used to do on a regular basis. But having to do that kind of stuff for almost a decade, this came as an unexpected but much welcomed vacation. With Twilight back to her old self, and a gal like Sweetie Belle keeping things warm and tender at home, it had started to seem like the vacation was here to stay.

But of course, as you saw, that wasn't going to be the case for long. And what took place that evening would be the first sign of that unfortunate turn.

Act 1 Verse 2

“Politics really isn’t my thing”

Six p.m. rolled around, and I was back on duty for the summit. By then the debates and panels were winding down, so the castle was pretty much bereft of its earlier buzz. All that was left were a few private audiences between foreign dignitaries and the princess, which I’d be attending as her bodyguard. First one was with a representative of Yakyakistan. Nothing all that big, just discussions for possible trade options to bolster relations between our two countries. Wound up settling on armor trading, maybe getting a few yak smiths over to Canterlot. A good twenty minute discussion, give or take.

The one after that, though, was where we get into the beginnings of our (and presently, my) troubles. As you might’ve guessed, it was a meeting with an emissary from the Griffon Kingdom. Originally it was one of those sob story kind of histories: former glory fettered away into squalor and stagnation, with just a bunch of busted buildings and nests on a mountaintop to make up their capital. Then ten years ago, they got their act together and started restoration, bringing them to a semi-industrial state in only a few years. Improved military, a proper monarchy, snazzier living spaces, and a dominion that neared half of Equestria’s (mostly around that mountain of theirs). And of course they made improved vehicles and weaponry, as you got a preview of.

As for the meeting, it started ordinarily enough. Just Twilight, the emissary sitting across the little negotiation table flanked by two well-armed (and armored) griffon guards, and yours truly standing close to Twi. Cuz really, that’s more than enough protection you need against some hulking eagle lions.

With tea and some of those little biscuit cake things between them, Twi began with the usual pleasantries.

“First I want to thank you for coming to represent your kingdom for this summit, ambassador Gavin. I hope you are finding it to your liking.”

“It is adequate enough,” he replied a little too curtly for my tastes. “Somewhat overcrowded for my preference. There's hardly any room to stretch my wings.”

“I'm sorry to hear that. I'll be sure to take that into consideration in planning next year's summit.”

“That would be appreciated. Now about this meeting, you have received letters from my station in the weeks prior, correct?”

“Yes I have.”

“Excellent. Then there'll be no sense dallying and we can cut to the chase. Regarding certain territory my lordship would like to add to his kingdom.”

“...The territory that was formerly the Crystal Empire, to be specific.”

“That's precisely it.”

Oh boy. If you recall my history lessons, you’d know the Crystal Empire is a pretty somber, touchy subject, what with the massacre and regicide and ensuing war and all. Not long after Chrysalis and the changelings were dealt with, the Crystal Empire was declared a memorial site, to be left uninhabited in memory of the tragedy that had taken place. This meant losing a lot of valuable resources, but you can't be stingy where sentiment for the dead is concerned.

Unsurprisingly, not everyone in the world had those same sentiments. For the past two years the Griffon Kingdom was looking to take up that unused land and have been pestering Twilight about it almost constantly. Yet time and time again, the answer was always the same.

“Then you are also aware of its status as an Equestrian memorial.”

“But of course, your highness. However, my king and by extension the rest of the kingdom feel it is a sorry waste of resources. As you are aware, our borders are expanding, and all that land can go towards additional housing, not to mention a boost to economy as far as mining goes. It can even be put to farming use, or into trading outposts. There's a wide range of utilization for that land if handled properly, which my lordship and his advisors are vastly capable of doing.”

A nod from Twi before she put on that “duty” face to say, “That may indeed be so, but as I’ve told the previous representatives, as well as the numerous requisitions sent to me otherwise, that land was host to a terrible tragedy which remains a painful memory to most of my citizens. Me, and by extension the general will of the populace, believe that to tread upon those grounds as though nothing had happened would be disrespectful to those who had died. Even if I were to re-establish it as a functioning part of Equestria, you’d be hard-pressed to find anyone who’d be willing to set hoof there, be they average citizen or economist. Until we get to that point when the majority of my ponies are comfortable with what has happened, that land will remain a place of mourning, not to be encroached upon by anyone.”

Yep, pretty much the same answer. To that the beaky diplomat gave his own nod, though from the way his neck muscles were tightening, it wasn’t out of empathy.

“Understandable. Yet, is that truly the state of things with your citizens? It has been six years: ample enough time to pay respects to the fallen. Although it was a considerably heinous act that brought an end to so many lives, the rest of the world moves forward. When our kind experience tragedy we pay our respects, but do so in a manner to allow us to stay current with the march of history. Our kingdom simply wants to progress things, rather than let it be bogged down in overwrought sentimentality. Do you not find it feasible to focus on the benefits of the living than on maintaining a prolonged vigil? You must realize it’s rather absurd when you look at it from our, or anyone else’s point of view.”

Hoo boy. Of course, Twilight’s all calm and collected. It wasn’t the first time she was talked to like that. The years of stoicism she exercised really does wonders in keeping one’s emotions in check (I should know). Not missing a beat, she responded.

“It may seem absurd to those living outside of Equestria, ambassador, but we ponies value the lives of one another very greatly. The ones lost that day weren’t just allies, but also friends, family, all dearly loved. They were precious to many, and to have them taken so suddenly is a shock that isn’t easy to recover from. Griffons may be hardened to these kinds of things, but ponies require time to heal. And lobbying to have them ‘move on’ won’t speed it along. I’m sorry, but my position on the matter is unchanged, and will remain so until such time as fitting for my subjects.”

The ambassador just “tch”-ed, then said, “I’m curious as to how long that will be. Another six years? Ten? Or perhaps forever? With you being immortal, it wouldn’t surprise me if you to hoard it until the end of time.”

“However long it takes is of none of your concern—”

“It is when it gets in the way of logical enterprise!” He slammed a balled-up talon onto the table, the rattle of china filling the air. So much for diplomatic decorum. “Our lordship finds it troubling and infuriating for progress to be halted simply because you ponies are slaves to your emotions.”

“Yet you seem alright with sacrificing composure for your own.”

Sick burn. His feathers ruffled, the ambassador coughs some posture back into his tone.

“Your continued refusal to even consider making negotiations for that territory has been testing my king’s patience. Our kingdoms have had a good understanding of one another ever since the griffons reclaimed their former glory, but this ongoing truculence is steadily making diplomatic entreaties like this increasingly distasteful.”

“If it is resources you seek, we can negotiate possible trade options,” Twilight countered, very calmly. “We have ample industry and goods to match what the Crystal Empire had to offer. As for residential purposes, surely there are unclaimed areas near your borders that could make do just as nicely.”

“Peh. You fail to understand that griffons do not simply ‘make do’. Making do was what led to our culture stagnating into a pitiful collective of ramshackle nests. Your ‘alternatives’ can undo all we have accomplished, the pride we had regained, and condemn us back to that former miserable state.”

“Not to belittle the gravity of such an outcome, Gavin, but that may be something of an overreaction. Being denied some territory surely cannot mean an utter halt to the rest of your kingdom’s expansion and enrichment.”

“Hmph, you seem to be forgetting something of our reborn culture, princess: what a griffon seeks, they take. Be it by politics, good favor or force, when we have our eyes set on something, it inevitably becomes our own. Then again, it probably isn’t a surprise that meek livestock like yourselves wouldn’t be aware of that, given that they’re ruled by a sheltered, bleeding-heart cripple!”

“Watch your tone there, turkey,” I said while simultaneously pulling out my blade and leveling it at his pompous beak. His guards take hold of their own weapons, but hold their ground. Smart move on their part. “I suggest you go back to talking nice, or our Diamond Dogs will get white meat on tonight’s menu.”

The birdbrain regained his cool pretty quick. “You should have better hold of your dragon, princess. I’m not one of your book thieves.”

Twilight waved a hoof to have me withdraw. I did so, and with my sword put away she looked to the ambassador. “He can be impulsive at times where my well-being is concerned. However, I’m no fragile sheltered pony. I’ve witnessed bloodshed and grave sacrifices and, yes, I have been responsible for quite a number of them. This means I’m one hundred percent certain when I tell you that the former Crystal Empire will remain in Equestria’s possession, and no amount of requisitions or harsh words will persuade me otherwise. You can take this—feel free to pass this along to your king as well—as a lesson in humility.”

Nice. The ambassador took a couple of seconds to recover from that, tapping his talons on the table and fuming with suppressed agitation.

“I didn’t want to mention this, but our meeting was intended to be his lordship’s final attempt at direct diplomacy. Personally, I didn’t think your stubbornness would come to that, but that’s how it is.” He stood up from his seat, forcibly pushing the chair back over the floor with a harsh groan. “There will be no more talks on the matter, I can tell you that much. But heed my words that once our king hears of this, relations between our two kingdoms may not stay favorable for very long. For the time being, however, I bid you good evening and farewell. My entourage will not remain for the rest of the summit.”

He took to all fours and headed out, twirling one of his talon to have his guards follow along. Once they left, Twi gave a deep sigh before looking to the door and projecting her voice.

“Send in the next dignitary, if you would kindly.”

No time to rest on her laurels just yet. There’s still two or three more foreign petitioners clamoring to share a word, and everybody loves a princess.

************

It was little over an hour later before the private discussions ended, allowing Twilight to walk about the castle freely for the evening, still wearing the gilded horse shoes and the amethyst necklace from those meetings. That’s really the only thing she wears out and about; very simple, modest, and the right amount of subtle regality (like Celestia’s style). I stuck by her side, of course, upholding royal duty even when she said hi to passing representatives and guardsmen and castle staff alike. Pretty mundane stuff, but inevitably the unpleasantness from earlier would rear its unsightly head as we walked down a corridor leading off the main hall.

“I say the summit has gotten off to a really good start, Twi. Real good work,” I said to her, just the two of us pacing down the tiled floor.

“Yes it has. I honestly didn’t think so many would be so eager to have it back, but just seeing the turnout has removed whatever doubts I had for future summits. May have to work on finding more accommodations next time, though.”

“Heh, yeah. Still, with so many ponies excited to talk politics in one place, I say this was a long time coming.”

“That it was. It fills me with no end of joy, and even pride, seeing them come together like this. Almost like how it used to be.” She sighed. “Though I wish things went a little more smoothly with ambassador Gavin.”

“You were courteous in telling him no. His fault he wanted to be a sore loser about not having his way.”

“Which was further exacerbated by you drawing your sword on him and making that threat. All he did was insult me.”

“I didn’t like the tone he was putting on. Gotta keep things in check for your benefit; you know how I am.”

During Twilight’s Apology Tour, we stopped by the home of a withered old earth pony and his grandkids in Hoofington, whose daughter was executed for housing a book smuggler. He managed to clock Twilight’s muzzle before she got a word out, with a speed that should never be found in an octogenarian. Cut her cheek and loosened a molar, but being ever the gracious ruler she made me withhold my claw. Plus, it would’ve also been in bad form to cut down a crying, grief-stricken geriatric while his grandchildren were present. But after that, I made sure not to risk another cheap shot landing on her, ever.

“Yes I do. Still, this is an important political event, and it’s just as important to keep a level head, even when others choose not to. Not saying that you’re the temperamental sort, Spike, but we don’t want to give off the wrong messages.”

And I have years of experience in that field.

“I know. Politics and government can make people all kinds of emotional. I know those assemblies in parliament often break into yelling fests every other month.”

Twilight sighed. “That’s true. Passion is good for your work, but consistent civility would be nice. You know, I forget the last time I had you oversee a proceeding.”

“Months, and nothing about them entices me to come back.”

“But they’re quieter and more focused when you’re there.”

“Exactly.”

We shared a laugh at that. Some Royal Guard ponies passed by around us at an intersection, and I wound up bumping the flank of one of them. I muttered an apology, but slowed my steps when something felt off. I glanced back and noticed the guy in his golden regalia had stopped to look at me a few seconds, moving only when one of his buddies called to him. Thing was, this was far from the first time I caught him doing that.

Every now and then when I’m about the castle or around the premises I see this same white-furred, blonde-maned pegasus eyeballing me, either as a momentary glance like what had happened or sneakily through some hedges or junk as if I wouldn’t notice. You probably already know who this is, but at the time I was a bit sketchy of him. It had been a common thing those first two years after Celestia’s death for the guardsmen to give me the stink eye, oftentimes coming up to confront me, be it with words or angered hooves. Had a few scraps (non-lethal, thankfully), and eventually those who resented me got it out of their systems one way or another. But this guy had the look of wanting to face me, yet never going through with it. I thought that it’d wind up being trouble when he finally did at the time.

Yet I turned my focus back to looking forward and staying with Twilight. No sense getting her to worry for my bum sake. Instead I told her I had to take my leave.

“Dinner with Sweetie Belle and Rarity, right?” she asked, already knowing that’s what it was.

“Yup. Have me some of that top quality fashionista cuisine.” (i.e. a whole lotta lettuce and soup. Good thing Sweetie will be on hand to expand the menu)

“That’s good. I wish I could join you, but I need to look over some things for tomorrow before hitting the hay early.” Good ol’ studious and responsible Twilight. About time she took her own sleep needs into account.

“I’ll be sure to tell them you said hi. Maybe bring some leftovers in the morning.”

She covered the giggle with a hoof. “You don’t have to, but if you insist.” To that I shrug and nod, then turn away down a hall toward the exit. “And don’t forget you need to get up early as well!”

“I gotcha,” I said while waving with my back turned. The rest of the night was uneventful: got home, dressed down, headed to Rarity’s to meet with her and Sweetie Belle, nice dinner, come back home and chill. The last two days of the summit also went by without a hitch, save an unruly drunk legal aid and two college pals engaged in some high stakes arm-wrestling (wouldn’t have been so bad if the two weren’t highly competitive minotaurs).

And really, nothing of note happened after the closing ceremonies, and for days to come. So I’ll skip ahead to when things took the turn.

*********

Nearly two weeks later, I was down in Ponyville having something of a picnic outside the Carousel Boutique. Spur of the moment kind of thing, having just come by with Sweetie to visit her folks when Rarity offered us some snacks and drinks out on the lawn of her home. It was a little past noon and a mostly clear sky, the sun shining and making everything idyllic as hell. I was having me an MLT (mustard-lettuce-tomato), chilling at a picnic table in needlessly elaborate yet tasteful tablecloth. Sweetie was next to me with her bit of salad, and across from us was an extra pair of young guests: a unicorn and pegasus, to be exact.

“How is school going along for you both?” Sweetie asked them, idly poking a crouton with a pink-encased fork.

“I’m doing good in track, alright in other classes,” Pound answered over his daisy sandwich, trying to disregard the sister pushing against his side. “Might try out for the team when they become available.”

“Can you believe that? A pegasus going for track. A pegasus!” aforementioned sister said, hovering one of her family’s trademark cupcakes in her own shade of blue. “He hardly even uses those wings while at school, or even going to and from there or anywhere. It’s almost like he’s afraid of flying.” She chomped her treat with the voracity akin to a certain hyper mare (as in just one flippin’ bite).

The Cake Twins had continued to live and grow up in Ponyville with their parents, learning to take care of the business as they steadily got closer to adulthood. Pound’s bulked up slightly with a minor growth spurt, but is still a soft-spoken colt. Unlike his sister, the little bragger she is. They still see me as a friend, despite me having… you know. They accepted the circumstances just like everyone else in that regard. I’m not quite the idol figure to them nowadays, but they at least keep themselves in check (mostly) whenever I come around. That’s bound to change when puberty hits them like a freight train.

“Nothing wrong with improving yourself in different ways,” I said idly over a biteful of sandwich. “Makes one more adaptable, open to new things. Good idea to try things out when you’re young and can afford to.”

“Plus he wouldn’t be the only land-based kind of pegasus. Fluttershy’s pretty well-acquainted with the ground,” Sweetie slyly pointed out.

“But with wings you can go more places and be above everyone. What I’d give to just flap up over a crowd. And here he is wasting those extra limbs of his, taunting me whenever he decides he’s too lazy for the stairs.”

“I only fly up or down them if I’m in a hurry, Pumpkin. And I get flight training in the summer and workouts with Rumble.”

“Bare minimum stuff, bro. I’d be flaunting those puppies every chance I got.” The filly then tapped her chin in thought. “You know, with how well my magic’s been coming along, I bet I can master self-levitation by graduation. Then I can become the family flier and spare you its burden of responsibility, my dear sweet Pound.”

“How considerate of you,” Pound deadpanned, a tone utterly lost on his self-praising sibling. All the good for her if she can pull it off with full control, unlike the first time she took her magic for a spin right out of the crib. Still makes for a funny story… dammit, reminding myself of her again.

By grace of good timing, the hostess had trotted up to the table with a fresh pitcher of lemonade. “Now really, you two shouldn’t bicker over such trivial differences,” she admonished while pouring everyone a new round. “With the real world fast approaching, you should be working together, pooling your talents to overcome the hardships life will inevitably throw at you. A dynamic duo against the tide of adversity, as it were.”

“Oh yes, I’d be sooo lost if I hadn’t stuck with my sister when I got into high school,” Sweetie said in that exaggerated style of sarcasm of hers.

“You know what I mean, Sweetie. Really, being successful and independent shouldn’t give you an excuse to act flippant toward your elders. Especially those who gave you room and board for absolutely free much of your youth without quibble.”

“Yeah yeah, I know, Rare. And I’ll always be eternally grateful for your sacrifice.”

“You’re very welcome.”

Back to her more sophisticated, stuffy ways. A brighter outlook on things, looking less worn down like you used to working those nights. She’s put on a bit of a pudge, but it adds a more matron-y look to her. Dunno if she’ll ever settle down or just remain single. Not that she’ll have to worry about me pawing at her door; those days of adoration had ended the moment I stopped being a Vanguard. We still make for good acquaintances, though. Always a good thing to keep bridges intact whenever you can.

“Is Twilight keeping well, Spike?” Rarity asked me.

“Uh-huh. Same old princess, same old life.”

“Well it’s certainly not the same as it was over a decade ago. The library has lost some of its charm when she moved out, but it’s still a delight walking by there and seeing a class of fillies and colts playing and reading books. Especially when I happen to spot these two.” She beamed to the Cakes, who gave a uniform groan and eye roll. Yep, still kids where it counts. “And the way she does those little lectures and story times when she does come visit, it’s like something out of a fairy tale.” She went silent, then blushed before waving a hoof. “Oh just listen to me prattle on and reminiscing like an old mare. Though it would be nice if Twilight were to come around sometime soon.”

Golden Oaks Library had done well for itself after its reconstruction. A unicorn from Trottingham was assigned as librarian after Twilight left. A very sweet mare, if absent-minded during downtime. Luckily, Owlowiscious stayed onboard as resident library aid/overseer to keep things in place. I offer him to come hang around us, but he usually declines unless there’s reading or mouse-catching to be had. I swear he’s about as tied to his job as Twilight was (though luckily without as much fatal devotion).

“Yeah, manning the library for a day or two has always been among her favorite getaways,” I replied. “I’m certain she’ll make a trip down here around the end of the month. I’ll be sure to mention it next time I see her.”

“Now don’t impose on my behalf.”

“No imposing; just casual conversation. You know me, love.”

“Now really, Spike.”

We adults had a good laugh at that. Pumpkin looked to me as we were quieting down.

“Been in any fights lately, Spike?”

“Pumpkin, dear, that’s not the sort of topic to bring up—”

“Had to wrangle some minotaurs a couple weeks ago.”

“Neato!”

“Please, Spike, you don’t need to humor her.”

“Were they really big?” Pound asked with fresh interest.

“Pound, please don’t—”

“Larger than average. Made a mess out of two reception rooms. Would’ve torn through the summit if I hadn’t stopped them.” Those eyes of wonder, respect and envy. A real comfort when some things never change.

“Did you get hurt?”

“Naw, Pound. Ruffled my clothes, but he looked the worse for it in the end.”

“How’d you take them down?”

“I cannot believe this is what our pleasant picnic has come to.”

“It’s actually pretty cool, Rarity. Let him explain.”

“Honestly, Sweetie Belle.”

“So, I managed to get to them in the middle of this arm-wrestling match that carried over into another room. Figured I’d separate them, so I made a running leap at the taller one and—” A gurgle in my stomach interrupted me.

“Are you alright, Spike?” Rarity asked me as I rubbed my belly.

“Yeah I’m fine. Just—urk—some indigestion. Should pass—” Immediately I let out a fiery belch, green flame filling the air over me to everyone’s surprise. Once the fires dissipated a lone scroll hung in the air before falling to the table. Rarity looked it over a moment.

“Were you expecting a message?”

“Is it from Twilight?” Pumpkin asked.

I took hold of the parchment and gave it my own look. Fine quality, waxed seal. Definitely Twilight. “Yeah it’s from her,” I said as I got up from my seat, tearing the seal with a claw while turning and walking away.

“What does it say?” Sweetie asked as I was in the midst of unrolling the thing. I remember the sun lighting up that bleached white material like a lamp, boldening the fresh black ink on the page. No formal or flowery greetings. A few terse sentences worth of information and instructions. Dire ones.

As you guessed, that’s when breaktime ended for our happy kingdom.

Author's Note

Wuh-woh, seems like things are escalating. But we already knew that, huhuhu.

Act 1 Verse 3

Marching Orders

I had hopped the next train to Canterlot only minutes after reading the message. I didn’t give details to Sweetie and the others; I only said it was important. And really, something like an invasion is not the kind of thing you just lay out before your good friends. Old me might have done that, embittered asshole that I was, but me at present just needed to get back to Twilight and find out more of what the hell was happening.

It was close to evening when I got back into the castle. No time to stop and chat or rest, instead hurrying up to the throne room. No time to stop there either as I got to escorting Twilight hurriedly to one of the central conference rooms. Whispers aplenty, but no certainties from any of bystanders. Good sign, Twi.

A few more minutes later and we had settled into the conference room, as did the others called to assembly. There was Gilded Quill, Head Representative of Canterlot Political Affairs (specifically that of its elite) as well as Twilight’s Chief Advisor. There was also Parcel Wind of Communication and Trade, a surly sort but damn good at his job and everyone involved. And there was Fair Deliberation of Foreign Affairs, a savvy old bird (unicorn).

But the other three in attendance was what made this extra worrisome. General Stonewall of Equestrian Land Forces and Gruffness Personified (my own title); Captain Stalwart Will of the Royal Guard; and last but far from least, Commander Rainbow Dash of the Wonderbolts and—as of four years ago—Overseer of Equestrian Air Forces, in her spiffy uniform. That sort of lineup effectively made the place into a war room, as you’d imagine.

Everyone was looking tense before we got things started. A feeling suitably expressed by our old chum Stonewall.

“Can you tell us what the hell is going on, princess? What sort of invasion are we talking here?”

“Take it easy, Stony,” said Rainbow, with an unwavering no-nonsense look. “We’re all here to find out and that’s what’s gonna happen. Right, Twilight?”

“Indeed, Rainbow Dash,” our princess nodded. “No doubt you all had your own engagements for today, so I’ll be upfront with what we know is going on. As stated by General Stonewall, this concerns an invasion taking place within our borders. But I’ll turn it over to Gilded Quill to elaborate.”

“Thank you, Your Highness,” the old unicorn bowed, then looking to the round table, he lit up his horn. The wood-paneled surface flashed in magical light before shapes arose all around it, forming an astral map of Equestria. Once fully-formed, he shifted it over toward the east before continuing.

“We received a message from a courier that the Griffonstone Station Trading Post had been attacked, possibly decimated by a considerable military force. And given its size, we’re to believe that they’re making a march toward our eastern border.”

“Was it the griffons?” Stalwart asked, only for his elder officer to snort loudly.

“Of course it was the griffons. How long ago was this, if I might ask?”

“Yesterday.”

That got a rise from the soldier boys, with Stonewall yelling, “And you’re just telling us now?”

“My courier only arrived this morning, covered in wounds and nearly dead from exhaustion,” snapped Parcel. “He flew the whole way here; we had to stabilize him and make sure what he was saying was true. From what he explained, he may very well be the only survivor of the attack.”

“So where does this put us? Why would the griffons attack?”

“I would suspect it had to do with some disagreements regarding land talks, Stalwart,” Deliberation spoke up. “My agents haven’t heard anything from the griffons ever since the summit. It was worrying to say the least, and it would appear those worries were justified.”

“But attacking a trading outpost—that they agreed to let us build—don’t you think that’s way excessive, Debby?” Parcel asked.

“Not by much, Percy. Griffons are naturally aggressive and have a history of going to war over similar impasses. To be frank, we’ve been able to have good relations with them because there had been nothing of significant worth for them until just recently. It is rather surprising how abrupt this particular attack is, though; no early warnings whatsoever, either from my aids or the rumor mill.”

“I have to agree on that,” Stonewall assented. “Aggressive as they are, they like to announce themselves to bring out their opponent’s full strength and readiness. Makes for more of a challenge.”

“But it seems they felt like they could just come on in and take what they want. I’m not all that surprised,” Rainbow sighed with a shake of her head, then looking hard at Quill she asked, “So what kind of invasion force are we looking at?”

Rainbow had really made much of herself since being made Wondercolt Commander by the grace of her dear royal friend. Mainly due to Discord’s influence, she focused on running a tight ship of her childhood heroes, staying on top of matters and being the first to throw her weight into any major military conflict, like with the war on the Changelings. It tempered her attitude considerably, and when you don’t have the freedom to goof off, play pranks and hang out with your oldest pals, you may as well commit yourself to doing a damn fine job. Her edge had softened a bit over the past four years, so some of her brash charm may shine through when she’s not wrapped up in her work. Speaking of which, her faithful aid Scootaloo was also in attendance, trailing her like a shadow. She also shaped up respectably like her idol. Had to admit, her secretary outfit made her look especially cute.

“As I mentioned earlier: considerable,” Quill answered. “The courier’s account wasn’t very precise—understandable given the circumstances—but definitely massive, with a fleet of aerial warships.”

“Those things are nasty,” Stonewall remarked. “Aerial gun platforms, both ground and anti-air. Only things my forces have that are effective against those behemoths are long-range artillery and spells.”

“Which is why you have us, Stony,” Dash said with a wink.

“Please stop calling me that, Commander…”

“They should be making their way to the border,” Parcel said to get things back on track. “One of our couriers can make the trip at top speed from there to here in one day without rest. However, with so many troops lugging all those weapons, it would take the griffons considerably longer. By my staff’s estimates, I would put them right about here at present.”

Parcel leaned forward and tapped a hoof by the edge of a set of mountains northwest of Trottingham and east of the Crystal Mountain range. My eye moved a little westward to a patch of barren ground surrounded by the razor peaks, remembering a certain assignment I did in that area in my early years as Vanguard. Not one of my fondest memories.

“Our control of the railroad over that stretch of water would normally be an effective deterrent in this kind of scenario, but with how griffons are ‘equipped’, that’s obviously not gonna cut it,” Parcel continued. “The mountains, however, are pretty narrow, and the most we’ve been able to do in that region is build small trading routes for overland deliveries. That should slow them down considerably.”

“And I take it that’s where we’re gonna take action,” Dash stated, to which Twi nodded in the affirmative.

“Correct. Now that you have been briefed, we need to begin formation of a defensive force to halt their advance, maybe even hopefully deter them into a retreat.”

“Fat chance on the last one.”

“Duly noted, General. For the defensive force, I have roles that I need each of you to fulfill based on Gilded Quill’s advice and my own understanding of military engagement. And before any of you say anything, I’ve done my fair share of combat theory and military planning, both as part of my station as ruler of Equestria… and for particularly thrilling downtime studying.”

Plus in being a beast at Risk and Stratego.

“General Stonewall, we’ll need a suitably-sized force to counteract the approaching griffons. Given the narrowness of the mountain passes as mentioned by Parcel, we should be able to hold them back with far less numbers than theirs. How many do you think we’ll need for this?”

“Hmm… Sound idea, Your Highness. The mountains are too high for them to fly over entirely, so they’ll be bottle-necked in those passes, them and their airships. I say two battalions of our army will suffice, just to be on the safe side. And we can place them here.” To this the general tapped a spot deep in the mountains. “I think that’s where one of our outlying border checkpoints is stationed. A little worn down, but with enough horsepower and fortifications it’ll be a hell of a blockade. Gotta be quick if we’re to meet those griffons proper.”

“Excellent. I want you to assemble your two battalions and send them out there right away, plus whatever staff and materials you need to make those fortifications.”

“Aye, I’ll have ‘em rounded up by dinnertime. And what about a counterattack?”

“We’ll discuss that after we’ve averted this invasion force, and doing that will require ample transport ships and enough escorts for them. Rainbow Dash, I’ll leave that in your capable hooves.”

“You can count on me, princess,” the cyan trooper affirmed with a playful salute. See? Just a little gleam there.

“I will want Parcel Wind to be in charge of communications for the operation. Your knowledge of the best shipping flight routes should keep messengers coming and going swiftly.”

“That it will, ma’am,” the weathered pegasus nodded.

“Fair, I want you to get in touch with any and all diplomats, liaisons and even couriers that have and have had ties with the Griffon Kingdom. See if we can get some way of contacting their king and settling this diplomatically.”

“Of course, Your Highness,” Debbie bowed.

“Dunno why you’d bother at this point, but as Her Highness decrees,” Stonewall grouched, to which Parcel nodded.

“Have to say we share the same doubts.”

“Quill will see to attaining the extra funds and resources needed to support this from the local merchants and our more prosperous patrons,” Twi kept on going unimpeded. “Government financing may be a tough sell, but the threat of griffons should make the negotiations a little more agreeable. And Stalwart Will?”

“Oh uh yes Your Majesty, ma’am, Your Majesty?”

“Hmhm, sorry I’ve ignored you thus far. I would like you to increase patrols and security around the city. Discreetly, at that. Also, I want you to send some of your most promising cadets and mages to join the defense force. Those that are combat-ready, of course.”

“Uh, m-ma’am?”

“Relax, Will; they won't be put on the frontlines. I want them as reserves at the opening into the mountains.” She pointed out the location. “It will be far from any possible combat, and they can perform support for supplies and intelligence gathering if needed by the main force. Seems an appropriate time for some field experience, wouldn’t you say?”

“Y-Yeah, definitely. But, what if the griffons break through?”

That got the room silent real quick. But gotta love Stony in keeping our backs straight.

“That’s only if they can break through, soldier. Earth pony engineering and mettle is thick enough to make minotaurs fold.”

“Ah, right, of course. Nevermind.” Will coughed himself back into the game. “Consider it done, Your Majesty.”

“That’s excellent to hear.” She took a good look around the room, over a handful out of her most loyal and dependable subjects. “Those are your assignments. It goes without saying I want them carried out as quickly as possible; if possible, have the first troops flown out by sunset. For the moment the citizens are unaware of what’s happened, and I want it to stay that way until we’ve had it properly addressed. I have the utmost confidence we’ll get through this before it becomes a devastating crisis. In Harmony’s Name…”

“We Defend Order.”

That little creed. Neat little addition when making the new government official. Dash of course is the first to get up, waving to her aid.

“Come on, Scoots. We have a fleet and some fly boys to rustle up.”

“Yes, ma’am!” Scootaloo snapped before following after her. The rest leave more soberly, with Quill staying around to no doubt do some more discussing on the plans our princess had just laid out. Almost as clinical as a tax review.

********

Little past dinnertime, and true to Stonewall’s and Twilight’s expectations, the first ship full of troops had flown out eastward. As the night began creeping in, the part of the castle close to the barracks was lively with the machinations of the war effort. Messengers, mechanics, armorers, inventory detail, and soldiers of all kinds scrambling about to do their assigned tasks or get to their assigned posts, a seemingly chaotic mess to the untrained eye. Undoubtedly ponies on the outside will be talking about all this noise going on, but that could be easily be dismissed as combat drills.

As though getting into the spirit of that excuse, Twilight had come down to oversee and do her own bit of inspecting, and I got to tag along with her. We were just walking through the corridors on our way to the airport and a talk with the port authorities. Possibly lend her presence to ease the worries going through all these ponies’ minds. Grace of the goddess and all that malarkey.

While navigating the currents of hurrying personnel, she decided to make small talk.

“Everything seems to be going along smoothly.”

“Hard to be the best, most well-equipped army in the world if they were stumbling. That’s one good thing that came out of the old way things were run.”

I try not to bring up Celestia whenever I can, at least not in a negative bitter way. It’s mostly out of habit nowadays, with it being four years later and all, but that doesn’t stop the sense of caution in bringing it up.

“I agree. Makes mobilization a whole lot easier for these kinds of situations. Certainly compensates for my personal lack of military experience.”

“You got the basics down: give instructions and let the experts do the rest.”

“Your confidence is very assuring.”

“Heck yeah it is. Speaking of, you know the military council is gonna give ya hell for staging all this without their go-ahead. They’ll say you overstepped your authority.”

“I know, Spike, but this is a serious matter and I couldn’t just wait around for some thirty ponies to convene before making a plan of action. What’s important is that the ones with highest authority are willing to work with me. But even if they had caught wind and stopped me I could still enact Emergency Royal Control, because let me tell you this can definitely be considered an emergency.”

She stopped and gave a huff in frustration before continuing. “I’m at my wits end here, Spike. The griffons attacking us like this and worrying that word will get out and there’ll be panic in the streets and, *groan*, I cannot believe he’d take it that far. King Gladius is a strict but fair ruler, so it doesn’t make sense he’d just go war on us over the Crystal Empire. First Grand Equestria Pony Summit in years and war gets declared right after. Could’ve offered part of the land; why’d I have to be so stubborn when he was clearly making a valid threat.”

Good thing she kept her voice (mostly) low and not that many ponies were around to hear that. Personally, I always feel relieved anytime I see her let out her anxieties like that. It serves as a reminder that she is still capable of expressing herself like any truly living being: that the old her, always proper and reserved and cold, was as dead and gone as her wings. Once she finished venting, I gave her a few pats on the shoulder.

“Too late to be worrying about those kinds of things now, Twi. Shit like this happens, and the guy was being an ass about the whole thing anyway. And if anyone should be blamed for instigating this, I was the one who threatened to serve him as cutlets to the Dogs. But those guys have been doing lots of good hard work and I thought they deserved something special without it having to be a holiday, y’know?”

She giggled at that, and after taking some calming breaths she went trotting along, with me following. “I guess that would be a rather provoking gesture. But you’re right: what’s done is done. I’ve just never done anything like this before, and I’m all anxious and frazzled and wound up. I just responded with how I felt we should act in an invasion scenario like this.”

“And I say you did a swell job. You certainly played it extra cool in the meeting, so at least they think you got things in order.”

“Well you know I have over a decade of repressing my emotions and giving the impression that I’m on top of things.”

And boy do I know. As we near the end of the corridor to the exit outside, she took us aside and turned to give me the look of someone that really needed a favor done.

“You always know the right things to do or say to keep me level, Spike. So there’s something I really want you to do to help me more in dealing with all this.”

“Sure, Twi. Shoot.”

“I want you to go out there with the defense force.” Color me unsurprised. “Not right away; on one of the last supply ships to fly out. My plan may seem sound, but there’s no telling what could happen. If something unexpected occurs, or there’s some kind of change to those mountains we’re unaware of, I’d like to know immediately. Parcel’s couriers are some of the fastest in the world, but I’d feel more assured having my most trusted dragon fire messenger there.”

Huh, intel gathering. Hadn’t expected my specific set of skills to be put to that discrete aspect of war. But whatever was needed to make her feel comfortable.

“I understand perfectly. Dragon fire is definitely quicker than pegasi. Plus I can help them out however I can so I’m not a waste of space.”

She nodded gratefully, her posture easing a good bit. “Thank you again, Spike. I’ll make sure to tell Sweetie Belle that you’re off on royal assignment. For now, go back to the castle and rest however you see fit while I make the necessary arrangements. Someone will come to get you when it’s all set.”

She turned and trotted for the exit.

“Uh hey, shouldn’t I come along for this?”

Looking back with a confident smirk she said, “I may not be the most powerful princess, but I can hold my own against some airport officials. Just go get your rest: that’s an order.”

“Okay.”

I waved after her leaving form, and after a moment I turned around and headed back to the castle proper. Might as well stop by the kitchen and get some grub on the way, I thought, then chill out in my reserved guest room. Do some stretches, take a shower, maybe get some zzz’s. No telling how long it’d be before I was to be shipped out to do my part.

******

Turned out not to be very long at all. About one or two in the morning, I was awoken from a light slumber by a knock at the door. That someone Twilight had mentioned had come to get my ass into gear. To my surprise, that someone happened to be Scootaloo.

“Whuh? Hey, Scoots. What’s going on?” was the half-drowsy greeting I gave to her, just a shirt on compared to her sharply-dressed and primed self.

“Get yourself ready, Spike. You’re shipping out,” was her straight, though friendly response.

“Huh? It’s time now?”

“Yep. Get a move on; you know how Dash is a stickler for punctuality.”

“Yeah yeah. Just… give me a minute to get my stuff. Be right back.”

After some fumbling in the dark and a hasty dress-up (shades and sword included), I was being led swiftly through the empty halls by my orange escort. Never took her for someone who’d pull off the whole military secretary type, especially a well-groomed one. Gotta say, though, it’s a nice look on her (plus that skirt. Just love a lady in uniform).

“You been doing alright, Scoots?”

“I have. I’d be doing better if you picked up the slack.”

“I just wanna catch up with you—”

“Then hurry it up.”

“I don’t mean that. It’s been awhile since we last hung out, so I figured we’d have a little chat.”

“I know, Spike. But being the personal aid of one of Equestria’s great military leaders—not to mention my lifelong hero—keeps me pretty busy. If it’ll make you feel better, we can go out for coffee or something when I’m available after you get back.”

“Sure, probably bring Sweetie Belle too. Also hot cocoa.”

“You still don’t do coffee? I guess you still are a kid at heart.”

Plus the last time I had coffee I lost my home and killed my mentor. “Yeah, maybe. How’re your wings holding up?”

“You’re seen me fly plenty of times, Spike. I haven’t had a problem with them since I was a kid.”

“I know. But always important to look after them, you know?”

“Which I do very well.”

Admittedly her wings did look pretty sleek, with not a feather out of place. But you can’t blame a guy for making small talk, right?

No further discussion between us for the long, long walk out of the castle and toward the cliffside airship docks. Much of the area was lit up with flood lights, which made for a striking contrast against the dark lands and sky beyond. The early morning air was really crisp, but that didn’t stop the formations of soldiers and other personnel running about, moving equipment and the like. Scootaloo expertly maneuvered us around the chaos, eventually getting us to the departures area.

“That’s the one you’re getting on,” she gestured after coming to a stop. Half bathed in the glow of the docking stations was a medium-sized troop airship, girthier than most other craft and sporting a larger set of balloons as a result. Designed more for carrying payloads than anything else, as was made apparent by the two separate lines formed outside of it: a line of crates being moved into the rear hull of the vessel, and a long column of armored troops through a side hatch.

“We’ve begun loading as you can see,” Scoots continued. “It’ll be part of the last batch of ships to be sent to the mountains. You’ll want to get aboard while there’s still room to move around in.”

“Thanks, Scootaloo. I’ll be seeing ya for that cocoa.”

“Heheh, yeah, sure thing, slowpoke. Have a nice flight.”

And like that she cantered away to what other task she had to do in her busy schedule. The pace she went at, you could have sworn she was born an Earth pony. All by my lonesome again, I looked to the ship that’d be carrying me out of Canterlot and strode for it, looking to find my quarters before everything got packed with supplies and sweaty stallions. Halfway across the loading zone I saw a group of pegasi talking amongst themselves, no doubt the escorts wrangled up by Dash. And to my immediate chagrin, among them was Mr. Distant Gazer, who was doing just that in my direction. That look of his bored into me like a spotlight during a hangover.

As though flying to a war zone wasn’t dandy enough, I was probably gonna end up bunking with one of the few unsettling elements in my life. I didn’t show my dismay for long as I kept on walking, ignoring him. No point getting hung up when I had places to be. Besides, given that I was gonna be confined in a flying wooden box for a day, I was sure he’d find the time to make things ugly for me, if he really wanted to. Now or never, as the saying goes.

Author's Note

Off to war we go, dum-dee-dum-dee-dum...

Act 1 Verse 4

Midflight Confessional

The majority of the flight was pretty mundane. The cabin reserved for me was a roomy number toward the stern, near the captain’s. It was no Ritz by any means, but it had a large bed, a shelf of books, a swanky wardrobe chest, and even some tapestry (i.e. rug hung on the wall). I instantly took advantage of the amenities after putting away my sword, finishing up the snooze from earlier without further disruption. After waking up, I headed up onto deck and saw that it was well into morning, possibly nearing noon. I’ve ridden in airborne chariots plenty of times, but there’s something about being able to walk about while hundreds of feet above the world that’s really refreshing. The verdant plains below, all bright from the morning sun; the ludicrously fresh air; the lulling drone of the airships.

Naturally I got bored pretty quick, just walking about there with hardly anyone else around, so I headed back down to get me some grub from the mess. Or what could be charitably called a mess, as it was more an elongated pantry. Still managed to swipe me some bread and water (yippee). After breakfast I took to the deck again, deciding to move about “inspecting” things with my shades on and looking all business. Nodded my approval to the deckhands, though I’d be hard-pressed to know any of this nautical stuff. Got to have some talk with a few of the escort pegasi, weather updates and words from the front, the like. No sign of my stalker, meaning he either flew the coop or he’s planning some kind of ambush. I really hated those kinds of revenge-seekers: minding your own business and they just come leaping on your back, spoiling whatever day you were having right then and there.

After my lazy excuse for a royal inspection I went back down to my cabin to read a book. Some airship captain memoirs, almanacs, weather guides, and some harlequin romances. Very riveting material for any restless traveler of the skies.

I managed to tear myself away from the haughty escapades of Smolder Hoof to get me some lunch, managing to have some ground soldiers as company. Not the sort to chat with, but it made things more congenial in a weird way. When that was done, I felt tempted to go back to my cabin to see what the promiscuous ne’er-do-well was getting into, but realized there was something far more productive and beneficial to my IQ and headed for the section of the ship that contained the armory. Asked around for sharpening tools, and the quartermaster got me a whetstone. Gotta love the classics.

So for the next half hour or so I put that thing to use, giving my travel companion a good honing. The ol’ girl had seen a drastic drop in action these past few years; mostly carried around for decoration, sadly. Every once and awhile I may cut to hinder, but nothing fatal. Yet in all this peacetime, I still make sure that my buddy maintains their killing edge… just in case.

A knock at the door interrupted the scraping of metal, yanking me from my personal meditation.

“Yeah?” I asked the door.

“May I come in?”

It had been a male voice (no duh; the whole ship’s one flying sausage fest). Not one I had heard from anyone up to then, and I doubted it was the captain whom I’ve yet to meet.

“Is it important?”

“It is… kinda sorta.”

That bit of uncertainty and the tone that carried it didn’t strike me as terribly threatening, so I said, “Come on in.”, while putting aside my sword and the whetstone.

This will come as no surprise to you, but it turned out to be my stalker come literally knocking at my door. He was in the standard issue gold of the Guard like the other times I saw him, his head uncovered to show off his tuft of blonde and that pair of powder blues as he walked in. Figured he’d finally confront me on this trip; at least he was civil in how he approached me. Like his voice he didn’t appear the hostile sort, almost like somebody come to give me an update or provide escort. Also he was shorter up close.

The guy stood a moment before saying, “I wasn’t interrupting anything, was I?”

I was gonna get smart with him, but clearly he, for whatever reason, hadn’t heard the sound of stone on metal, so I just said to him, “Nothing important. What are you here for?”

Usually this is where they get all serious and straight to the point (or throat), but remarkably he just goes, “Well, I should probably introduce myself first. My name’s Daybreak, Captain of the Thirteenth Royal Air Supply Unit. My friends and unit like to call me Davy. It kinda bugged me when someone first came up with that, but it really grew on me after a year or so.”

“I see, Davy.”

“I was a bit surprised seeing you back at the airport, and it was only a few hours ago I learned you were coming along on the princess’ behalf. I hope you’re enjoying the flight.”

“Boring, but nothing miserable.”

“That’s good. Normally my detachment doesn’t do escorts: we normally oversee the movement of supplies onto ships and perform inventory. Guess they wanted all the horsepower available for this one. I’m kinda nervous, to be honest, but we’ll be at the back away from everything, so we should be fine.”

I honestly felt a bit weirded out by the casual jibber-jabbering. But he had indeed looked like a nervous sort that needed to get up to pace, so I let it play out.

“Anyway, umm… I’ve been wanting to talk to you.” And there it was. “You’ve seen me around the castle, looking at you?”

“Yeah. A number of times.” See two chapters ago for my thoughts on his spying techniques.

“I didn’t mean to seem creepy or anything. I meant to talk to you sooner, but wound up getting wrapped up in indecision more than anything. Kept thinking to myself you were in the middle of something important, or that I didn’t have the time to get out everything I wanted to talk to you about. For being a captain in the Guard, I can be pretty indecisive about the little things.

“But, uh, I’m here now and I… well, I guess I can talk to you. Unless you’d rather be doing something else.”

Jeez guy, was my thought. Can’t go pussyfooting now. “No, I got nothing else going on. What’s on your mind?” Keep things as civil as possible, I told myself then. Plenty of times I had underestimated someone because they didn’t seem the strongest kind of individual… or capable of concealing very large, deadly weapons.

“Okay, the thing I wanted to talk about is… Actually, it’d probably be best if I started things from the beginning. Ease myself into what I wanted to say to you.”

“Sure. That’s fine with me.” Like he hadn’t already been doing that?

“Great! So, where to start… Umm, I’ve been in the Guard for about fifteen years. Got in as soon as I was old enough to enlist.”

“You don’t say? You look pretty young for someone who’s… thirty?”

“Thirty two this fall. But yeah, I eat healthy and get plenty of sleep, so I guess that makes for a young complexion, heheh. Anyway, I did well enough in training, but I wasn’t very adept at combat, so I got assigned stock duty. Didn’t like being cooped up, so I requested for transfer to Patrol duty, and wound up there for several years.”

“So one of those guys just walking about the place keeping it safe with ‘due diligence’?”

“Yeah. Not that much different than working in the warehouses, only I had to move around more and carry a spear. I’m ashamed to admit it, but I didn’t get the handling of those things down pat the first few nights and wound up stabbing myself a couple of times. Reeeeal embarrassing when going to the infirmary, I can tell you that much.”

“Heh, I can imagine.” I smiled at that, and he seemed to be loosening up as he smiled as well.

“But I’m grateful for my time there. I learned to take things more seriously and trained myself to act more like a soldier. It’s also where I met my wife.”

“Oh, that’s pretty sweet.”

“It sure was. Her name’s Lily Dusk. She’s a thestral; we met when I had to pull double shifts in the Night Patrol to make up for some sick days.”

“Thestral, huh?”

“Yeah. She came off as coerce and pretty arrogant, but she’s committed to her job, and she helped me be more confident in myself. We became friends after a while, then she asked me on a date and that’s when we became an item. Didn’t know what to think at first, being a pegasus-thestral couple, if there would be any problems from our friends or family. But nobody even batted an eye, so I was worrying over nothing. It’s something she teases me about to this day.”

“Uh-hum. That kind of intermingling might have been scandalous like, fifty years ago. But social norms have come a long way, so very few ponies getting bent out of shape over things being unorthodox.”

“Plus I was surprised shortly after how many other guard couples were like ours. Guess you could say it’s Equestria’s prevailing pairing in the Royal Guard.”

A sudden silence went down, but he seemed to notice it and picked up the conversation. “Had to owe it to Luna for integrating them back into society. They’re a pretty good bunch of ponies.”

“Cool ones, too.”

He nodded, then went silent again before continuing. “Lily was torn up over her death. A lot of thestrals were.”

“I remember that. There had been some downsizing in the Guard.”

“Not much use for nocturnal ponies if there were no princess of the night to defend. There were plenty of other jobs, but being a guard was Lily’s passion. Also fighting, which went well with guard duties. She was able to keep her station, thankfully, but at reduced hours. Kind of a blow to finances, but nothing terribly serious. At least until a few weeks later when…”

The air got real heavy after that pause. Seemed he was finally getting to the point.

“I was at the castle that day when it got destroyed,” he resumed, more somberly. “Just around the outer perimeter, but I got pelted by some debris and got a nasty cut on the neck. Had to get some stitches. The whole thing scared Lily unlike anything I’d ever seen; she was raring to tear down the reception area in trying to find out if I was alright. I felt bad making her worry like that. Though I’d have been the same if we had switched places.”

“So you wanted to tell me off for nearly getting you killed and upsetting your wife?”

“No, not at all. In fact, that incident was what finally motivated us to tie the knot. And it’s been a fantastic marriage, especially with our first foal arriving later this year.”

“Oh really? Congratulations.”

“Thank you. But what I really wanted to say to you was… Celestia was special. To me, to all of us. I still remember the first Summer Sun Celebration I got to witness her raising that sun in all her radiance. It floored me as a kid, inspired me.”

“She had a tendency of doing that each year, yeah.”

“It was the first time I felt pride in being a citizen of Equestria, seeing someone that glorious as our ruler. She’s what made me want to be in the Guard: to serve this country, to keep it as great as I remembered it. So of course, that day you killed her, it left many of us shaken.”

And so it finally arrived.

“So much of the Guard hated your guts after that day. All that collective anger and disgust, hanging like a poisonous cloud those first couple of months after Princess Twilight took control, it was stifling. Many of them talked of payback, and you’ve no doubt met the ones who went through with it.”

“Yup…”

“I knew a bunch of the guards that got killed that day. Some from way back in boot camp. I should’ve been in the same boat: thinking up a way to get back at you. To deliver the justice that had been denied for those of us left reeling from that day. And I certainly felt sore about you killing Celestia and all those guards, my friends. But as days, weeks and months went by without an opportunity to do anything about it, I was left thinking. And I came to the realization that… I felt no honest major resentment toward you.”

He left that hanging for a moment, no doubt to let it sink in for me. And gotta say, yeah, totally not how I expected this clandestine engagement to go. Lackluster, but still a surprise.

“I bet you think this is absolutely silly: a random guard who’s been spying on you like a stalker, confronting you just to say they hold no ill will toward you.”

“A little. More of a letdown, really.”

“But the thing is, I’m not entirely okay with how things happened, either. You still went and killed my comrades and Celestia, a pony everyone and their mothers looked up to. Yet I wasn’t fanatic about her, obsessed with her well-being. If anything, it was like you had… destroyed Equestria’s brightest symbol. The very thing that guided the country and made it what it is, but a symbol nonetheless. It seemed to me, at least.”

He huffed for a brief pause, then looked me dead in the eye and said, “I read the reports once everything settled down and the record was set straight. I understand that you… were put in a position that forced you to retaliate, and I cannot blame you for defending yourself. A lot of my companions didn’t want to see it that way, but I understood. Even so, there was this nagging at the back of my mind to go and do something about this, speak my mind, maybe wallop you, something, anything. To show that I, we, Celestia’s citizens, won’t stand for what you did.

“But time went on, and I did other things. I kept carrying on my duty, being with the one I love, living my life. I realized that I kept on with life like everyone else. I had accepted what happened and moved on, save for that nagging of my conscience. So after all this, what I really really wanted to say to you was… what you did was awful, and it damaged this country that I love. But what’s done is done, and you seem to be doing alright in keeping our remaining princess safe. So to me, at least, you’re still alright. And I’m sure Lily would be okay with you, too.”

Another pause, only it signaled the end of his piece. He looked emotionally exhausted, probably on the verge of tears. The kind of position where you have to broach things smoothly.

“You know, I gotta say… that was the most eloquent, sincere way of saying you didn't have the guts to fight me.”

“Kinda, yeah. Just thought I'd make it sound profound.”

“Have to hand it to ya, though: still took guts to come and say it to my face.”

“R-really?”

“Uh-hum. It's something that bothered ya, and you came to confront it. Took you a long while, but lots of ponies keep that kind of thing bottled up their whole lives. You can't do that to yourself if you want to live without regrets. Makes you a pretty miserable guy, so kudos on improving yourself.”

“Well uh, huh huh, thanks. I honestly hadn't thought it would go like this.”

“Neither did I. But it's a nice way of burying the hatchet. Didn't have to worry about about personal injury or property damage.”

“Definitely. Oh! That gave me an idea. Let me grab something; be right back!”

He turned and galloped back out into the corridor, but not even a minute later he came back, his left wing carrying a silver thermos and his face alight with a sly grin.

“I have a little something to help us in burying that hatchet.” He went over to the bookshelf and planted the thermos on top, then that wing of his reached back to this side and (somehow) produced two tin cups, which also got put up. “Usually take it along to ease the nerves or relax on long trips. Sometimes to liven things up with the boys when it gets really boring.”

That got my attention. “Booze?”

“Brandy, actually. It’s an anniversary gift from two years ago,” he explained while working the thermos cap with his hooves. “I’m no big drinker, but it can soothe me pretty good. Bet you think it’s weird I bring it around in a thermos.”

I shrugged. “Somewhat. Not the weirdest thing I’ve seen used to smuggle alcohol, though.”

“Hm, I’m sure. Care to have some with me, as a sign of goodwill?”

I smiled and nodded. “Sure thing.”

He got done pouring the cups, prompting me to get up and come over. He took a cup with his wing (freaky how dextrous those things are) as did I, then he raised his glass (so to say). “Here’s to the future, Equestria, and no regrets.”

I raised my cup and nodded. “And to your good wife and your coming bundle of joy.”

“Yessiree.”

We took our drinks to our lips and downed them like gentlemen. Been a long time since I had a taste of hard liquor, and my hiss of a breath made it obvious.

“It’s a good burn.”

That got a snicker from him. “Sorry. That’s just weird to hear from a dragon.”

“Well, I’m not your typical dragon.”

“Can’t argue with that,” he agreed before pouring himself another cup.

And that’s how it went for the next few hours, just me and Daybreak hanging out over some drinks. The brandy really got him to open up, sharing with me his early days in the Guard, the mischief and escapades he and his future wife would get into, about getting a promotion into the Supply Fleet to work his way toward a “desk job” to better support his family, his hobbies (stamp collecting and painting. PAINTING. Those wings, I tell ya), all that minutia. I even told him some embarrassing stories and day-to-day happenings of my own as well.

I guess it was something we both needed. For him it was obviously some kind of closure to simmering misgivings, and for me it was a chance to talk little stuff with a near total stranger, the sort of thing travelers may do to pass the time until their next destination. Learn some things, have some laughs, maybe wind up being fast friends. It had been a long time since I had been in that kind of scenario, and it felt really damn relaxing. For those few hours, it was just two chums in a cabin-shaped world with little care.

Yet as with all the nice things that miraculously stumble my way, something even worse has to come along to put things in balance. As our conversation started winding down, a shipmate barged in looking flustered as all hell.

“We got hostiles!”

Daybreak immediately snapped to attention, assuming the stance of the hardened officer. He certainly had the chops for his role, I give him that.

“What's our position?”

“Half a klick from the outpost, sir.”

“How can there be hostiles this far out? I was to be updated about these things.”

“I don't know, but hurry up on deck!”

And away he galloped off, leaving the captain to give an uncharacteristic curse (in accordance with the character I formed of him, anyway).

“Dammit! Come on, I think everything's just gone FUBAR.”

I got up from my bed and followed after him, bringing along my jacket and sword. Soldiers and sailors were raising a commotion, but I pushed through and sprang up the steps to the outside. Up top, I saw mountains passing by on both sides and deckhands working frantically, yet I ignored them and went after Daybreak. He came to a stop near the prow of the ship, and when I got there I took a good look down and whistled.

“Seems your prediction was spot-on, Davy.”

The canyon floor was a bed of activity. Reminiscent of ants going at each other, only one side gleamed faded gold in the evening light, and the other was kicking up a lot of feathers and flames.

“How did they get all the way here? We were briefed that they wouldn't get to the outpost until tomorrow.”

Looking up and forward of the ship, I tapped his armored shoulder. “I think that's the least of our immediate worries.”

He turned to have a look, blanching considerably (if that were possible). A fair ways ahead but steadily approaching was our advance fleet, over a dozen ships, engaged with what looked to be twice as many, if not more griffon-brand warships. Bristling with propellers, cannons and harpoons, they roared and advanced like a firestorm, a description further aided by the torches placed all around them. And of course, the hoards of feathery screeching warriors going at the smaller yet no less agile escort pegasi. Definitely paints a lovely picture.

“Think we should back up?” I asked the good officer to snap him from his petrification act.

“No. Too many other ships are behind us. We have to set her down and get our troops out right now.” About-facing, he shouted out, “Captain! Take us down!”

Our fair vessel kept sailing forward, nudging past the attack ships in the rear.

“Didn’t you hear me? I said bring us down!”

“I don’t think he can hear you,” I said over the din of the deckhands and the air battle. This earned a frustrated stomp from Daybreak.

“We have to get grounded right no—”

“Incoming!!”

We looked back to the prow, and immediately spotted the wave of slow-moving but very large and deadly cannonballs about to rain down on us.

“Hit the deck!”

Anyone barely had time to jump before the cannonballs struck. One managed to crash through the deck two feet from me, followed a moment later by a buckling and a blast before my senses went dark.

*********

And you already know what happened next. A little glide, some fisticuffs, and the good ol’ Spike brand devastation. Though the enemy caught us by surprise, I felt that we had a good chance to recover (especially with me around). Besides, there’s no time to fret when much ass-kicking needed to be had. So without further ado, we return to Equestria’s defense and my glorious return to mayhem...

Act 1 Verse 5

Already In Progress

The original plan for the defense force was to gather at the mountain checkpoint, build fortifications and hold out against the griffons for the foreseeable future. Yet it was apparent that said griffons arrived at the checkpoint way sooner than expected and overran it with hardly any resistance. The initial shock allowed them to gain nearly a kilometer of ground, but our troops sorted themselves and began pushing back by the time my ship arrived on the scene, and we pushed even harder once I joined the fray. Some ten minutes or so after I made landfall, one of our ships took critical damage and was coming down fast. However the captain, bless his crazed suicidal heart, stayed amidst the fires to steer his dying craft sideways into another flaming piece of wreckage on the ground, smashing up a lot of ground griffons and creating a formidable wooden barrier that separated the enemy’s ground forces, effectively clogging the canyon floor.

This barrier became the new command base, serving as rally point for our troops to dig in and a place for our airships to hold back the diminished (by yours truly) enemy fleet. I had spent an hour mopping up the stragglers still caught on our side before heading to this temporary base of operations, the canyon having gotten much darker in the interim. Scaling the planks and fresh footholds made by other soldiers, I hurry up to the top where the observation/firing deck was to be. Huddled against the wooden cover are several soldiers: two Earth ponies, a pegasus and a unicorn, looking tense and with their armor and fatigues tarnished or missing assorted pieces. To my pleasant surprise there’s also a light blue minotaur armed with what looked like a custom crossbow, and wearing some shoulder pads and a bandolier lined with what I guess are large explosive arrowheads (nice). I slide in and get myself cozy next to a grizzled-looking olive green Earth pony while spears, arrows and battle axes come flying overhead.

“How's it looking up here, boys?”

“Well if Hearth’s Warming didn’t come early this year: the Guard Killer himself has come to the rescue. And that's Major Buckler to you, scaly,” greenie grunts back. “The weather's just peachy. Enjoyed your frolick in the garden, I take it?”

“Oh yeah. Chased off some pesky birds, but otherwise it’s been swell. Also it was hard to tell your rank without the insignia, so forgive me.”

“Blame it on the damn griffons; they literally clawed most of my armor off. They fight like maniacs.” He shifts himself against the wood before saying, “Let me introduce you to the rest of my team. This here is Ensign Patchwork, a medic from my squad.”

He points to the pinto next to him, who I see is clutching a first aid box. He heard his name and, looking to me, he shyly waves.

“Over there is Corporal Quiver from the Eighth Archery Division,” he indicates the unicorn loading up their crossbow with a turquoise aura. “The pegasus is Downwind from our aerial escort group. And this darling bull of ours is Sergeant Dominic. Bit of a pyromaniac, he is.”

“Pyro-appreciator, thank you,” the minotaur corrected. “For all your sun-worshipping, you ponies have very little regard for the beauty of flames.” He looks up from his cover and lets off one of his arrows, filling the air with exploding gunpowder and agonized squawks. “Though seeing all the torchbearers on the field, I have to say the griffons have quite the affinity.”

“More than that, I say,” Quiver shouts over. “They’re real nasty the closer you get to those torches of theres. Literal beak and claw at that point.”

“What happened to the rest of your squad?” I ask the major before I’m forgotten.

“Some of them are holding up inside the wreckage, the rest I don’t know. Scattered, probably dead. I’m more focused on getting these grunts, mages and fly boys to work together in holding back these crazy vultures. And I say we’re doing a fine damn job, all things considered.”

“Yeah, it seems to be. So you’re managing this by yourself?”

“Negatory: got a few officers keeping things in check below, directing and keeping everyone’s collective shit together. Though it might not mean much for too long, with griffons battering at the doors and a fleet of airships ready to bombard us at any moment. That is if Goldilocks does a crap job making sure our own ships keep theirs busy.”

A light flapping sounds out, and dropping onto what could charitably be called a “deck” the ever diligent and seemingly tireless Daybreak lands in our midst. Looks the least worse for wear out of all of us (except for me, cuz I’m just that good).

“Well speak of the devil,” Buckler gruffed with a grin. “You finished up your errands, pretty boy?”

“We got all the troops we could unloaded, so whatever firepower we got is focused on holding back their ships.” He turns and registers me with a nod. “Looks like you finally caught up. Been keeping busy?”

I nod back, holding up my sword. “You betcha.”

“So Dave, you still wantin’ ta make a push for that checkpoint?”

“I don’t think there’s enough soldiers for that, Buck. We should hold out here till more reinforcements come along.”

“And how long is that gonna be? You see how many buzzards we got swarming down there? This love nest of ours isn’t going to hold for more than an hour if we’re lucky. Or until their ships get wise and send some cannonballs down our way.”

“They look to be more focused on what’s in front of them, sir,” Downwind points out.

“Oh yeah? How bout going up there and asking them if they’d be so kind as to flock off for another half a day. Better yet, maybe have them fire at their own troops, or crash on top of them.”

“Lay off him, Buck,” Daybreak steps in. “It’s not the best of plans, but we just have to hold them back until we get the necessary horse and firepower.”

“If I had thought of bringing along my mixing kit, I could’ve had a nice firewall set up,” Dominic grumbles. “Give those griffons something to think about.”

“And risk getting us cooked in the process,” Patchwork whines with a shiver, which makes his superior officer grunt in distaste.

“Unless those ships of yours are packing something super special, this thing will be coming down and we’ll be overrun by screaming feathers and really fast, sharp talons. I hope you’ve been working on your spear-handling.”

For all his complaining, he has a point. This wreck isn’t meant to withstand a siege, and way sooner than later this stalemate will tumble over and everyone’s gonna be neck-deep in griffons once more. I’d get worn out before I could cut through half of them, and there isn’t anyone around who could keep up and help (not anymore). And there are those warships that’ll make things even bloodier for those on the ground. How exactly can we take down both those and so many…

Idea. More a last resort one, and it’d do the job in the messiest way possible. Yet that doesn’t stop a devious grin from creeping up my face.“Hey fellas, you remember six years ago? When we were fighting the changelings?”

“Yeah. Those things creeped me out way more than these griffons,” our unicorn archer responds.

“You remember how it all finally ended?”

“You killed their queen. It practically became a holiday,” Daybreak answers, but Major Grizzle scoffs (almost spits).

“I enjoy reminiscing about my glory days as the next guy, purple cheeks, but this isn’t exactly down time in the woods given the dire lack of alcohol and marshmallows.”

That actually does sound like a pretty fun time.

“But you know what happened right before I got to kill the queen?”

“What in the sam hell are you going on abo…”

I see the realization lighting up in them one by one. That just makes me giddier.

“You mean you could do that, like, at will?” the medic nervously asks. Can’t blame you, buddy.

“Yeah I can. And I think that’ll be ample enough ‘firepower’ to give these griffons second thoughts. Maybe even knock those ships out of the sky in the process.”

“But we’d be at risk too,” Daybreak points out.

“Not if I go running in the opposite direction,” I tell him before I begin stripping down. “Just cover me while I change. And none of you better nick my stuff!”

“Don’t worry about your precious clothes and sword, dragon boy,” Buckler grunts his assurance. “Just go raise some hell for us.”

“You got it.”

Folding up my clothes and putting them down, I place my shades and sword on top of them and get to preparing. Greedy thoughts are what I need to trigger a transformation, and that usually defaults to thinking of food. I’m not feeling peckish thanks to the food I had on the flight over, so that just leaves the alternative: Lust. Closing my eyes, I let my mind drift to Canterlot. Warm, quiet nights. Me and my plushy unicorn diva. And…

Blank. Damn; all this killing and adrenaline is making it extremely hard to get in the mood (shocking, I know). No way I’ll be able to find some place private to work up a vivid tapestry; time is getting incredibly short for all of us. Gonna need some help.

“Hey fellas, I need you to do me a solid real quick.”

“Oh what? Need us to hold your will or something?”

“I need you to tell me what you find sexy about Sweetie Belle.”

“What? The singer?” Quiver asks, noticeably off-guard by this random topic shift.

“Yeah. It’s really strange and awkward, I know, but it’s very critical that you fill my head with lurid details, otherwise we’re done for.”

“I find that really hard to believe.”

“I understand, Daybreak, but it’s the truth. So help me out here, all of you.”

There’s a bit of an uncomfortable pause as everyone gives strange looks to one another. Oddly enough, the minotaur is the first one out the gate.

“She’s a little skinny for my preference. I like her mane style, though. Wavy, like a multi-hued flossy ocean.”“Real poetic there, Dom,” remarks Quiver. “But I like skinny: means she’s gotta be all kinds of flexible. Legs as slender as hers, I wouldn’t mind licking salt off them any day.”

“Thanks for that image, Quiver,” Downwind deadpans. “Though those are a fine set of legs on her for a unicorn. And she’s a natural cutie, too. Not all glammed up like those other singers. And that muzzle of hers, mmmm. Real kissable lips, is what I call them.”

“You think her being a singer would mean she’d give phenomenal blowjobs?”

“Most definitely, dude.”

Actually you know what, no. This is far too weird.

“I don’t think it’s working, guys. Could you talk about someone else?”

“Like who?”

Everyone looks up in thought, and it’s our fair archer who restarts the conversation.

“How about Lily Dusk? She’s real nice.”

“W-what??”

“Have to admit it, Dave: that wife of yours has some mighty fine assets,” Buckler asserts.

“With emphasis on the ass.”

“Really, Downy?”

“Thestral mares are already exotic and sexy as all hell, but with Lily? Woof!” Patchwork speaks up, participating at last. “Those wings never looked so good. I can only imagine how they feel.”

“Prehensile and leathery smooth. I can imagine plenty, huhuhu.”

“Lily is a feisty one while out on patrol. No doubt she’d be the same in the bedroom.”

“The dominating type for sure, major.”

“The fangs really add to it. I’d be down with her talking dirty while flashing them beauties, eyeing me like some prey in the night. As long as I got to rub my hooves along those luscious flanks while she’s on top.”

“The curves on them, too. Pure excellence.” A stomp rings through the air, and I catch sight of Daybreak not looking so friendly.

“That’s my wife you’re talking about! The mare who is carrying my unborn child!”

That got everyone to shut up real uncomfortable like… for a moment.

“...That is totally my fetish.”

“Seriously, Patch!?”

“I find baby bumps sexy. I’ve always wanted to rub one all sensually like, listening to a mother coo. I imagine they’d be sensitive.”

“I don’t know about, but you have to admit that it’d certainly add more cushion to the pushin’. Nothing wrong with some extra plumpness on an already sexy mare.”

“I wouldn’t mind taking hold of some bubbly pony backside,” Dominic says. “Pregnancy has always accentuated the female form among my species, and I can imagine it’d do the same with ponies. Particularly with the teats.”

“Oh man, don’t get me started. My mouth’s starting to water thinking that. So big and begging to be fondled while simultaneously smothering me—”

“I mean really guys!”

“That did it!”

I dash forward and hop the wood railing, images of lascivious, feisty, fat-bottomed bat ponies filling my head and heating my core. Three stories down I hit the ground running, weaving past two lines of confused griffons. The next line a feathered thug lunges at me, but I smack him aside with an enlarged arm. I hunch forward and feel my bones cracking as more griffon warriors come at me, and then my focus blurs as I take the major’s advice and unleash the demon.

Been a very long time since I got to let out my raw inner dragon, so of course there’d be a great big roar to say hello to my many feathered friends. I barely hear the distant cries of many beaks, mixtures of surprise, fear, and even anger. It’s their funeral if they think they can take on this mountain of draconic might.

Stomp my way through the ranks, no doubt getting feathers all over me. Sense them buzzing around me, a few little stings. They’re really dense, but they sure got balls getting up this close. Best give them a high five for effort.

Whirring nearby; looks like their ships are coming for their turn. Maybe they’ll give me a challenge. Pfft, yeah right. A boom vibrates along my arm; guess that’s one down. Something hanging right in front of me. Howzabout a tried-and-true Spike Mega Headbutt? Bit of a sizzle, probably the embers of those braziers they’re carrying around. Bit of a warm touch for my big ol’ schnoz.

...Actually, a little too warm. Getting much warmer. Did something catch fire on my face? Wait, it's spreading. And getting hotter. What—

Ow! What was—Yeow! What’s that thumping? Did I just give myself a migraine? What's that, grr, ringing sound? And it's getting louder—

AGH! Oh gods my mind; something’s pulling at me. Why is it getting hazy what the hell is going on Gotta Kill what’s making me so hot Must Burn can’t think can’t feel Destroy Them too loud too loud no no no it just won’t stop just stop it stay away from me let me go can’t control Burning Burn Kill CRUSH KILL KILL SMASH DIE DIE! DIIIIEE!!!

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGHHH!!!!!!!!!

----------------------

A pained groan is the first thing I notice, and I piece it together that it’s my own. All my limbs feel incredibly stiff, but I will my right arm up to where I hope my face is. Yep, there’s my snout. Now for the eyes… Good. Rub them open, and there.

Opening my peepers, I feel myself lying on a slanted surface. Barely see the sky overhead, but that’s probably because it’s almost dark. There’s light around me, and shifting my stiff neck, I see a whole retinue of military forces circling me at a distance with some torches. Lucky they’re on my side, and they even have their spears, swords and crossbows leveled at me in greeting. No, scratch that; that’s actually not lucky. What did I do this time?

Ahead of me, I catch a pegasus raising their hoof and looking around.

“Stand down. I think he’s gotten it out of his system.”

Well I’ll be damned: Daybreak to my rescue a second time. Guess he has command or something, since everyone lowers their weapons. With a flap of his wings he lifts off and flutters the couple of yards to my spot, touching down next to me. Looking the same as when I left him, so some comfort there.

“You okay there, Spike?”

“Yeah. Canyon floors don’t make for good napping spots, though.” I groan and flex my shoulders and arms, popping some joints. “How long was I out?”

“Ten, fifteen minutes. You collapsed after turning back to normal.” For some reason he’s looking me square in the face, tensely so.

“Oh yeah. How’d it turn out?”

“Your plan worked, but… faaaar too well.”

“‘Well’ nothing: he about ripped this mountain range a new asshole!”

I squint my eyes and bring up a claw, spotting the grizzled stallion and his cocky smile. “Oh hey there, uhh… Major, right? What exactly did I do?”

“Went damn berserk is what you did! You tore through them buzzards like a building-sized rabid dog, and even chunks out of the mountains too. Only took them bird-brains three seconds to realize the shit they were in before turning tail. Bout near the damn funniest thing I’ve seen today, the way they spun around and flew off.”

“When you say chunks, exactly how big are we talkin’?”

“See for yourself.”

I crane my neck over my right shoulder, and a ways past the line of soldiers I see a massive wall of dirt, boulders, and what appeared to be broken beams of wood. And by massive, I mean more than a third the height of the canyon wall. I also notice large scorch marks and a few lingering green fires spread over the general area. Yeesh, I definitely must have let loose.

“Crushed a good many griffons as they were running. Never seen anything like it,” Buck continues. “You weren’t kidding about having the firepower. None of their airships even had a chance.”

I only remember the one airship being destroyed. And certainly nothing about tearing down the canyon. Never a good sign to be blanking out during a rampage.

“Did I happen to get any of ours?” I ask to stay on track.

“Not one,” Davy answers, still looking me straight in the eyes. “You kept going the other way, like you said you would.”

Lucky. “Then why the warm welcome?”

“Well… better to be safe than sorry.”

To that I shrug. “Don’t blame ya. My transformations get unpredictable whenever there’s an audience, apparently.” I push at the ground and heft myself up onto my feet. Wiping away the dirt, I say, “So we in the clear? Mission accomplished?”

“I’d say so. We managed to take a few griffons prisoner, and some of our ships are touching down to help with the wounded. I put your clothes and sword on one of them.”

“Good. Shame your brandy couldn’t have been saved; I wouldn’t mind a drink about now.”

“Probably not a good idea. We just received a message that General Stormwall got onto a transport that left a few hours after we did. He should be arriving shortly with a resupply.”

“I bet he’d love to hear how well things went here.”

“Before that, uh, maybe you should, um, make yourself presentable.”

“The clothes are more a formality, Davy. I’m sure he won’t mind seeing me without that.”

“I’d agree with you. Except you’ve clearly been having very pleasant dreams and, uhm…”

“Hm?”

“...You’re incredibly exposed at the moment.”

It finally registers that something’s amiss, and looking down I discover that Spike Jr. is on full, painful display. No wonder Davy’s avoided looking at me below the neck (also would explain the lightheadedness).

“Well uhhhhhhhh, yeah. I guess they were pleasant… Not what the general would want to see,” I mumble with warmth rising in my cheeks.

“Definitely not,” he agrees, this time turning his eyes as far away as his sockets would allow.

“Yeah ummm… I should go… take care of this. Over where it’s… private.”

“Understood.”

“Riiiight… be back in a few minutes…”

Stiffly I turn about face, then start walking, doing my best to cover my pride while seeking out some recess or whatever dark spot I can find far from all those surprised (possibly envious) troopers. Certainly not what they had in mind when they enlisted, to get an eyeful of dragon junk. The whole rampaging thing and battle report I’ll deal with later. Right now I have to beat out (urrrgh) those lingering thoughts of Daybreak’s hot wife and get my head back in the game. Also, make a note to spend a nice long evening in with Sweetie Belle when I get back, so as to… further ease the battle tensions.

“Hey, do you need help with th—”

“No Patches. Just, no.”

Just my frickin’ day, right?

Author's Note

Now a quick word from our sponsors:

Act 1 Verse 6

New Plans

Five days have gone since the canyon battle and what was unquestionably the most awkward day of my life. The boys were swell enough not to mention my indiscretion to the general when he arrived, or to anyone else… that I’m aware of. He seemed rather disappointed missing out on the action before he got a chance to plant his hooves into some griffon skulls. But he was glad nevertheless that the invasion force had been completely routed, with only a moderate number of casualties on our end from the initial attack. Guess that was a good call on your part sending me out, Twi.

After giving my battle assessment and firing a quick parchment to Twi, I was put on one of the first ships back to Canterlot. The following day I gave the same report to Twilight directly. I told her upfront about me going on a blind rampage, since she was gonna hear about it from someone else eventually. I told her of the sensations I felt before losing consciousness, and that it may have been some sort of magical interference. I didn’t mention Discord, though; no sense muddling this up further, especially when he doesn’t seem to be a viable threat (yet). If there was any concern she didn’t show it; she just said she was glad I was alright and thanked me for keeping the enemy out.

Afterwards she gave me some time off, which I spent wholeheartedly with Sweetie Belle. The flight left me pretty wound up to my surprise, and Sweetie seemed to appreciate the added enthusiasm over my return home. At least, if the long hours and the blissed-out look on her face was anything to judge.

Things in Canterlot appeared the same, yet as I suspected, the sight of all those airships leaving from the harbor and the extra guard patrols has gotten citizens murmuring about invasions and war. It’s being treated as a rumor, but I can sense the unease among the citizens walking the streets. Twilight may need to make an official statement soon, cap this thing before it gets out of hand. At least the resident griffons haven’t started a revolution or something. Shows the rest of the world hasn’t gone insane.

Today General Stonewall has returned from the field, and I’ve been summoned for a staff meeting at the castle. Probably to discuss further actions, or maybe find out what the hell is going on over at Griffonstone. Hopefully the prisoners have squawked up some answers for that one.

After a light dinner I made for the castle a little past sunset. Striding along the polished corridors, fresh clothes flapping and sword at my side, I come across the captain of the Royal Guard.

“Hey there Spike!”

“Whaddup, Will?”

The unicorn gets alongside me and trots at my pace. Gonna be a while longer to get to the meeting room, so some company would be nice.

“Just finished evening inspections at the barracks. About to go get some food from the mess before heading up to the office for paperwork.”

“Gonna squeeze in the meeting for your busy schedule?”

“I, uh, wasn’t called for it. Guess it doesn’t involve the Guard this time.”

“Ah. I say that’s a good thing. Your trainees doing okay? The ones that Twilight wanted you to send.”

“Yeah they’re fine. They told me about what happened out there, though they didn’t see any of it up close. Makes me thankful it didn’t get bad enough for them to get involved. They’re good Guardsmen, but actual military engagement could be far too intense for their training.”

“At least they got to see a change of scenery. Bet none of them ever been that far out from Canterlot.”

“Not all of them. A few fliers did land surveying out there before enlisting, and one of them’s a griffon.”

Oooooh. “Don’t suppose they or, uh, any other griffons in the Guard felt conflicted about this.” That was actually a really dumb thing to say. Fortunately Will just laughs it off.

“Not at all. Sure there were talks and uneasy feelings, but none of the griffons took it personally. The one who went out afield grew up near Manehatten. I think he only has a grandfather back in Griffonstone, so no love lost.”

“That’s good. Things like this could cause schisms and the like.”

“Maybe if griffons still weren’t trusted by the general populace. Like back in the stone ages.”

“Heheh, yeah. The wife doing okay?”

“Still wonderful as ever. We went bowling just the other day. She’s still a beast on the lanes.”

“You should probably ask if I can come along the next time you do that. Been a long time since I last bowled, and I’m sure Sweetie Belle could go for it as well.”

“I’ll be sure to ask her when I get the chance. Sera’s something of a fan so I bet she’ll say yes. Be seeing you around, Spike.”

“Take care, Will.”

He and I wave to each other before he turns down another corridor. Seeing where I am, I’m nearly at my destination. That really passed the time.

I see the guards posted by the doors, and nodding they opened them. The room within was smaller and cozier than the one that held the war council, which befitted the smaller number of attendees. There was Twilight and Quill, of course, and also Fair Deliberation in evening dress, but no Parcel Wind. I felt Stonewall’s gruffness before I laid eyes on the warhorse, and Rainbow Dash as well, all seated squarely. Stepping on in, I make my way over to Twilight.

“Evening, Spike,” she greets me warmly. “You’re the last one to arrive.”

“Really? Sorry if I’m late.”

“Hmhm, not at all.” I move to my designated post by her chair, but she raises a hoof. “There’s no need for that tonight. Take a seat.”

“Oh, okay.” Very nice of her, so I get myself the chair to her left. As I scooch it forward and settle in, I see that I’m sitting across the Wonderbolt commander. Then I notice a distinct lack of something.

“Hey Dash, where’s Scootaloo?”

“I gave her the night off. She’s a great secretary, but it’d mess up my conscience having her waste her youth following me everywhere. Girl’s gotta relax every now and then.”

“Uh-huh.” Fair point, though I think this is the first time I’ve seen Dash without her number one fan trailing close behind. Come to think of it, I just remembered we were supposed to be going out for cocoa or drinks or something. Dang it! And here I am making plans to hang out with Will and his old lady. Gotta get my affairs sorted after this meeting. Speaking of which, Twilight looks around to speak.

“Thank you all for coming here once again. As you may have gathered, you’ve been summoned to further discuss the matter of the recent griffon invasion. We’ll start with General Stonewall, who had just returned from the field. General, what is the state of our border?”

“Thanks kindly for letting me have the floor first, your highness,” he gruffs humbly. “The battle site is completely secure: not a trace of the invading force remains. I have a small platoon keeping watch in the area, but so far there’s been no signs of any returning attackers as of yet.”

“What of casualties?”

“Very small, lucky given the circumstances. Only about fifteen percent of our armed forces there were lost, most of them being the first set of troops on site when the attack began.”

“Even one percent is too much,” Quill says gravely, and I see a nod from Deliberation.

“That I agree. And by my understanding, the griffons suffered far worse?”

“Yes indeed.” The general solemnly nods. “Just about the entire invasionary force got wiped out, all thanks to your royal envoy there, princess.” He nods at me. “Were it not for him, our losses may have been much higher before additional reinforcements arrived. Furthermore, he sealed off the canyon so that it’d make another surprise attack of that size considerably trickier to pull off. Of course, that also makes that particular overland trading route unusable.”

“Bet Parcel’s gonna love that.” Rainbow’s chuckle gets shut down by a look from her majesty. Straightening herself up, Twilight retakes the floor.

“With our border confirmed as being secure, let's discuss what prompted this attack. Have you gained any information from the prisoners taken?”

“Nothing, your highness. And it's the damnedest thing. They resisted violently when first apprehended, then slipped into some sort of daze on the way back here and were nonresponsive. Now they seem confused as to why they're here.”

“Probably shell shock?” Dash suggests.

“Maybe, given what they've been through. Or they're real dedicated to feigning ignorance.”

“I see. That is rather strange.” Looking to the diplomat in attendance, Twilight asks, “Fair Deliberation, what have you been able to find in your investigation?”

“Nothing as well, I'm afraid. This attack came as much a surprise to the griffon liaisons as us, meaning this invasion was orchestrated strictly within Griffonstone.” Adjusting her glasses, she finishes with, “It was either by order from the king, or his inner council, that this attack was enacted.”

“Could it have been a coup? It may not be the same government that did this.”

“Possibly, Quill. Yet there's been nothing in the way of political or civil unrest as of late. The citizenry seemed quite content with their current monarch.”

“It still doesn't seem right. The griffons have never done any forceful takeovers in the past decade.”

“That I agree on.”

“What in the way of communication, Fair? Have we made any contact with the king or anyone in Griffonstone?” Twilight asks, keeping things in order.

“None whatsoever. We haven’t even received word from the messengers sent out there. I can only fear the worse.”

That left a grim taste for everyone, judging by their expressions.

“So it’s pretty obvious they’re not wanting to talk,” Stonewall says bitterly. “Which leaves us to wonder what their next move will be. And my bits are on another invasion attempt.”

“What I still don’t get is how they got as far as they did so quickly for the first one,” Dash posits, rather astutely. “All those weapons and armor had to have weighed them down to some degree.”

“Or perhaps… they kept moving nonstop since the attack on the outpost,” came Fair’s suggestion. “I’m not well acquainted on the movement of armies, but that’s the only explanation I can think of.”

“Nonstop? As in no rest?” the general scoffs. “Griffons are sturdy, for sure, but they’d have to have taken a break at some point for maintenance, scouting, logistics, or simply to keep their forces from wearing themselves out.”

“They were definitely energized when they reached the checkpoint,” I point out to finally get my metaphorical foot into this verbal shindig. “Not an ounce of fatigue in their movements, attacks, and battle screeches. And there was hardly any discipline in how they fought. It was like they were in a frenzy to get at the closest opponent.”

“Based on what Spike has told me, I believe there may be some magical influence at work with this attack,” Twilight elaborates; thanks plenty, Twi. “There is no devoted mages guild or school in Griffonstone, and magic usage isn’t a component in griffon military tactics. Yet it may be possible that King Gladius has come upon some relic, or has gained an advisor that is enhancing his soldiers.”

“That’s well and good to know what’s driving them, princess, but would you have any idea what kind of magic it is?”

“That… I do not know at this time, Stonewall. I would need to have a look at the prisoners myself to see if I can get a residual reading, if there’s any left.”

“Well help yourself when you get the chance. Though I’m far more concerned about another invasion from these cockamany birds. The Griffon Kingdom’s army is formidable, and it won’t be long until they can muster up another force to make up for the one lost at the border. Probably going to be even larger because of that.”

“Not to mention the rumors popping up among the citizens,” Fair adds. “If another attack were to occur and more of our own forces were to be sent out, I don’t think we would be able to hide the fact that we’re at war with one of our neighbors.”

“Then we just tell them,” Rainbow straightly says. “It’s nasty business, but better that everyone’s up to speed then leaving them in the dark.”

“But imagine the strain on griffon relations this may cause, Rainbow Dash. There can be distrust, possible panic. And it could only worsen were this to go on even longer than just two or four more invasion attempts.”

“Plus the likelihood that they’ll eventually succeed at one of them, if they’re really persistent,” Stonewall gruffly adds, with a touch of severity. Debbie leans forward to continue.

“Unless we make some kind of talk with Griffonstone, your majesty, then we may find ourselves in an even bigger crisis as the good general mentions.”

“I might have a suggestion for putting a stop to that outcome.”

Everyone turns to the dapper unicorn who has barely said anything this whole meeting. Quill usually only has something to say if it has to do with the parliament or, well, advising. Now everyone’s curious to see what he has to say regarding foreign armed conflict.

“What might that be, Gilded Quill?” Twilight asks.

“It’s a touch extreme, and I’m out of touch with current espionage tactics since my retirement from service so feel free to express your objections, but perhaps this can all be resolved if we were to… apprehend the griffon king?”

Dead silence out of everyone.

“Y-yes it does sound rather absurd, my apologies. I just thought that if this whole thing was orchestrated by the king himself, then capturing him could end the whole affair without having to worry the citizens or further utilizing our military.”

“Real optimistic thinking there, Gildy,” Stonewall grunts. “You’re sure right about me having objections, though. How exactly could we get one of the most heavily-guarded rulers in the world out of one of the world’s most heavily-fortified countries? I doubt they’d fall for a Trojan Griffon or a rigged birthday cake.”

At least one pony could have made that work…

“I bet we could pull something like that off,” Rainbow says, rising to the challenge. “Have a small team fly in and snatch him up in the dead of night, and carry him back here before they notice what happened.”

“No chance of them not noticing with their skies equally covered,” the general counters. “You’d have to go in by hoof, which means past the villages, checkpoints and barracks they have covering the mountain that holds their precious tree.”

“What about teleportation?” Twilight looks straight at the warhorse. “General, I know a good fraction of your ground forces contain mages capable of short-range teleportation. And I also know that there have been instances that called for long-range teleportation in the field. What if a team went up to the border of Griffonstone and teleported into the heart of the city, possibly even the castle?”

“That’s a real risky proposition there, princess. But… it could theoretically work.” The general actually pauses to tap a hoof to his chin. “Just a few mages could carry a squad over two kilometers. And if they focused together, they could send in just one object or soldier even further.”

“So based on that, it may indeed be possible to get someone within Griffonstone itself undetected, allowing them a chance to meet with King Gladius. Or capture him, if it comes down to it.”

“That would be highly questionable having one of our own infiltrate the griffon capital for the purpose of capturing their monarch,” Fair Deliberation points out, but Dash just chuckles.

“I say we’re past the point of maintaining a good image with the griffons, Debbie. So Twi, you thinking of sending in someone to bag the king and yank them back out with magic?”

“I think that would be the simplest and most covert way of doing it, Rainbow.” Twilight gives a smug nod. A cough from the general ruins the mood.

“It’s not quite that simple. It’s a whole heck of a lot of ground to cover between the border of Griffonstone and its center. If this is to be done quietly and with little chance of being noticed, there can only be enough mages sent to send just one soldier into the heart of the city. For that to work, it’ll have to be someone who can not only hold their own against the king’s elite guard, but be able to subdue him and get him out for extraction, all on their own.”

“Then I guess I’m your dragon.”

This time it’s my turn to get the surprised, curious looks. It’s kinda fun, though it’s spoiled by the look of genuine concern coming from Twilight.

“Are you sure, Spike? You’d be willing to be sent in alone?”

“This is Spike we’re talking about, Twilight. The loner bad-ass that can take care of anything no sweat.”

Thanks for the sponsorship there, Dash. Yet, it’s another comfort having Twilight ask me. Shows again just how much things have really changed these four years.

“Yeah, she’s pretty right about that. And this wouldn’t be the first military assignment I was able to do mostly on my own. There was that whole sky pirate threat near the Smokey Mountains I helped with.”

“Yeah, I remember that,” the general reminisces a moment before looking to me. “Alright, you could be the one we deep strike into Griffonstone. After all, you know better than most how to handle and overcome… stiff opposition in as effective a way as possible.”

Why did he cock his eyebrow? And why put emphasis on that wo—Oh son of a bitch! Gods dammit I don’t believe this, grrrrr! Once I’m out of here I’m gonna find whoever talked and give him (or her) a workover with a roll of duct tape. See how chatty they are walking in the buff liked plucked chickens.

“There is still one critical aspect of this supposed operation.” That tone in Deliberation’s voice suddenly put a lid on everything. “What shall be done if it should fail, or any of the soldiers involved get captured? We may not be on good terms with the Griffon Kingdom at this time, but it will only get worse if they become justified with what could be viewed as an assassination attempt.”

“...You just go with plausible deniability.” Another round of surprised looks my way. “Can’t get in trouble if you’re not officially vouching it. And if things do go wrong for me, I’m sure that’ll satisfy the politicians still grumbling about me being around.”

“That would be true,” Quill agrees. “Not, entirely about satisfying politicians. But it would be less condemning on our part to deny any involvement should it fail.”

“And you are absolutely fine with that, Spike?”

I smile to her (bless her heart). “Absolutely.”

She lets out a breath, and relaxes into her seat. “Very well. Then I would like to discuss a few things with Stonewall and Rainbow Dash. Fair Deliberation, you are dismissed for the evening. Gilded Quill, I’ll need you to make preparations for the parliamentary assemblage tomorrow. There’s considerable grumbling I’ll need to address.”

“Of course, your highness.”

“Want me to attend it as well?”

“I may actually need you present there, Spike. But just await my summons as usual. For now, get some rest. If any new developments should arise… you’ll be among the first to know.”

“Gotcha.”

Push back and stand up, following after Quill. At the door I let Debbie pass (lady’s first) and walk out into the hall. So an evening to myself… or with Sweetie. Gah, got so many irons in the social engagements fire, like finding the cretin who told the general about my faux pas. But I think I’ll follow Twilight’s advice and chill for the rest of today.

Walking my way back to the castle entrance, I think about what I might have signed up for. I’ve done retrieval missions before, but never anything this high profile. And normally it’s the kind of thing thrust upon me. But, in some way, I felt a sort of obligation to see this through. I’ve already dirtied my claws keeping the border safe, so I might as well get to the bottom of this mess. To find out who’s behind this debacle and bring them to justice, be they king or commoner. And if anyone’s capable of yanking that feathery keister off that throne, it would be me. Or at the very least get some proper answers.

That is, of course, if Twilight would actually approve such a tactic. Which means I’ll just have to wait and see where exactly my sword will be guided.

Author's Note

Where shall it be guided, I wonder? Would be pretty lame if all this build-up led nowhere, eh guys?

Act 1 Verse 7

König im Baum

Only had to wait three days before I got the call. The course was decided: we had to kidnap the ruler of the Griffon Kingdom.

The talking Twilight did with Dash and Stonewall was about ironing out the details, strategies and, most importantly, selecting the best crew to pull it all off. Because hey, I’m dynamite at resolving violent conflicts, but I often need competent support to get me to where I need to be.

And a respectable lot it was that would get my scaly butt deep into griffon territory. There were the three necessary mages that would be tasked with zapping me to the target zone, and to provide magical support and defense if the need called for it. Then there were two Earth pony rangers to provide extra protection, a pegasus for aerial reconnaissance, and a Diamond Dog tracker to navigate the rocky terrain we’d be going over when breaching the border. And with me coming along it’d be rather big for a small group, but it’s good to have some extra hooves (and paws) to heft back what we’re aiming to retrieve.

As for the plan itself: after I got summoned to one of the castle’s private chambers, Twilight laid it out that the best approach was from the north, a good ways from the (demolished) Griffonstone station. We would get dropped off south of the Bug Bear region, and hoof it the rest of the way through the mountains. Our tracker would lead the way by ground, with the mages teleporting us through otherwise impassable terrain. In a few days’ hike we would arrive outside of Griffonstone’s border where the second, and most important, phase of the operation would commence.

The following two days I met with each member of the squad, got briefed on current info regarding Griffonstone defenses and the kind of opposition I’d face within the castle, dossiers on the target, equipment, etcetera. All prep for the big day when we finally ship out. It was an hour before sunrise when we were set to depart. Me and my team stood on the dock of the private airport, watching the small crew of the skiff that would be carrying us make ready for lift off. Very small, light craft, sleek and can get you places pretty fast undetected. Perfect for the job.

Some of the team shivered from the morning air, except for me, ranger Bramble, and our tracker. We’re wearing standard issue field vests, a sterling wash of beige brown with black straps. All the ponies were weighed down with survival saddlebags, while me and Whiff (don’t ask me) hefted backpacks. This being a military operation, I didn’t feel it appropriate wearing my usual shirt and coat, as I wouldn’t be focusing on looking cool but rather making sure there was less of me to snag on something. Same for my shades (wait for me, my darling).

After a few moments the head organizers came up for final inspection/pep talk: Stonewall, Dash, and Twilight. They also have membership in the Non-Shiverers Club, either because of their honed constitutions or the seriousness of the occasion.

“It’s gametime, boys and girls,” the general announces to kick things off. “You already know the sensitive nature of your mission. As you may have surmised, there will be no backup. You either succeed in your objective, or you’re left to fend for yourselves. There will be no rescue if things go south. With that said, I have the utmost confidence you’ll succeed and come back safe and sound. You’re among Equestria’s finest soldiers, and you will keep making this country of yours proud.”

Stirring speech there. Rainbow steps up next.

“Wish I could come with ya, but you’ll have to settle for some of the best airship crewmen in the Air Force. They’ll fly you safe and fast to the landing site, and they’ll be there for pickup at the word ‘go’. Time is important, so none of you better drag this out. I’m especially talking to you, Cirrus!”

“None from me, Sir!” our pegasus snaps a hasty salute.

“Atta boy! You be their eyes in the sky. And the rest of you, good luck.”

We all nod to that finer show of encouragement, which looks ready to be squashed by further words from Stonewall.

“You may now head onboard. Get whatever rest you need, and get moving once you hit foreign soil.”

“And be careful and vigilant in your mission,” Twilight adds, infusing regal confidence to the send-off. “Watch for one another. Let the light of Harmony guide you, and the magic of friendship keep your spirits warm. You have my blessing.”

Solemn but appreciative nods from the group, who then begin making their way to the ship. Dash and Stonewall depart toward the central port, and as I’m moving along Twilight steps in front of me.

“You feeling okay, Spike?”

“Yes yes, again for the twentieth time. I’m set for this.”

“Sorry, it’s just... this kind of mission, I worry about those involved. Especially you.” The averted gaze, the idle hoof swing. Too early for this shy cuteness.

“That’s usually Sweetie’s job to be worrying about me.”

“Maybe, but I’ve known you longer and know you far better than anyone else.” She breathes. “And what you’re doing is really brave, but I don’t want it to be because you felt you’re the only one who could do it.”

“Hate to break it to ya, but…” I shrug and grin. “I’m pretty much the most capable guy at doing this kind of nutty outfit.”

“It would seem that way…” She looks to me with a smile. “Although you have an impeccable track record of succeeding against near impossible odds.”

“And it’ll be no different with this one. I’ll send you a letter once we’re heading home.”

She leans forward and gives me a firm but gentle hug. Wow, surprise show of affection right there. Hope it doesn’t trigger any omen alerts.

“Be safe. Sweetie will be waiting for you.” She backs away, her countenance considerably brighter. Seeing that warmth gives me some as well.

“I’ll see you around, Your Highness.”

“Likewise, Spike.”

With that she trots off after the other two officials. I half-turn back and watch her cover a few yards before she turns back and waves, to the annoyance of a distant Stonewall. I wave back, allowing myself a smile before turning around and rejoining my team. No doubt they’re getting tucked in against the nippy weather. Best cozy myself up as well. For her sake, at least.

*******

It’s a very long flight, even in the relative speediness of the skiff. That means plenty of time to go over the proposed hiking route, make alterations, organize our kits, and discuss/re-discuss the second phase of the plan. Not much time to do that part once we’re on the ground, so we hammer it in as much as possible while we’re flying pretty. We make time for breaks, which is also a luxury we’ll be sorely lacking fairly soon. I sharpen and polish my sword, and after that I go around looking at the passing scenery and chatting with the occasional crewmen. As for the rest of the team, the mages mostly keep to their cabin. One of them, Sable Rush, casually reads a book on his bunk while the more bookish Cyprus focuses on his airsickness. In the corner the third unicorn, Cascade, checks and rechecks her supplies. The more battle-ready kind of spellflinger, not one for sitting around idle.

I get invited to play cards with Bramble and the other ranger for a bit. We tried inviting Whiff, but he was more interested in sticking his head out of one of the portholes, feeling the wind whipping at his jowls (coulda done that up on deck. Weirdo dog). Didn’t get to see much of our Eyes in the Sky, so I guess he’s getting his own bit of fresh air as well. Or practicing the whole reconnaissance role, whichever.

In a day’s time we’re flying over the northern badlands. Rather than go through the mountain range as I had last time, our skiff takes the long way around to avoid the risk of being spotted by any griffon scouts. Along the way I had looked to see the patch of barren brown earth that clashed with the blue of the Crystal Mountains. Still seemingly untouched. Forgotten by the world in little more than ten years. Probably for the best.

Day two and we cross the river to the other continent. We keep a sharp eye out for bugbears, but none show up. It’s a few hours before evening time when we reach the drop-off point: the very start of the mountain range that would lead us south toward Griffonstone. With our equipment on we disembark, barely getting a feel for solid ground again before the skiff takes off without so much as a parting “good luck”. If all goes well we’ll see her again.

We cover a good bit of ground by the time the sun sets, and cover even more before we pitch our tents for the night. We strike out just as the sun’s coming up, and it’s pretty much nonstop hiking from there. Whiff would at times stop the group to get a good sniff of the dirt (heh), pointing us to areas with firmer footing and were less prone to landslides. There’s practically no cover here in the mountains, so we leave it up to Cirrus to watch over us from above for upcoming obstacles, storms, and possible enemy movement. With his small frame and light coloration he’s hardly discernible from the vast open sky. Seems to blend in just like his namesake.

No one’s telling stories or cracking jokes; the moment we left the ship it had all been serious business. Sure, the mission’s insanely critical, but it would help to loosen up a bit during down time. Even some morbid, vulgar humor would be appreciated. Though I understand that not everyone would have her same tastes. Just wistful thinking.

After stopping for camp on the second night we go over the map to get our bearings, which thanks to Cirrus’ constant surveillance we’ve been able to keep moving south while giving a wide berth to what had been the former trading post and now likely griffon-occupied territory. The next day is overcast but luckily no rain. We make it to the Guto River, which is easily overcome thanks to our helpful mages. A handy thing, having teleportation-trained magic users in a group like ours.

The whole thing is arguably just as boring as the ride on the skiff, except we’re getting ample exercise. I’ve done my fair share of scouting trips and mountain treks during my Vanguard years; I’ve even done one here in these mountains. But that was almost a decade ago, on the hunt for a cartel smuggling books to the griffons. Now there were no griffon allies to show me around, and in the distance I can just make out the faint beating of drums. We’re getting close.

After one more night of sleep we enter the final stretch. The mountains are starting to get snowy, but not cold enough to be a hindrance. We stop in the early afternoon to get rested up for the final approach. Phase two called for darkness, when all else were sleeping away or sluggish in senses. I’m starting to get anxious, and so are the others, by the looks of it.

Dusk, we’re moving again. This time heading for the steeper slopes westward, watching our steps and keeping a sharper eye out for any air patrols that could be coming out this way. Sucks when your intel on enemy surveillance patterns is next to zilch, but luckily none showed up. In the waning light we spot the first smoke billows. Well into night, we’re still climbing. After midnight we clear the shoulder of one of the lower peaks. And that’s when we finally see our target: Griffonstone.

The capital is sprawling; even in the murky shadows of night I can pinpoint all the different districts, factories, and other buildings that make up the city. Smoke and fleets of whirring airships fill the night air, advertising a nation of iron and war. Hard to imagine that it all started out as some hovels on a mountaintop, only to spread down and way out from that very mountain. In the center of it all, towering high above the very griffon nation itself, the King’s Tree. Something else that got a drastic upgrade over the years, with turrets, stone walls around the base and a lot of stone edifices affixed to the bark of the massive birch. Somewhere down below I can see movement of a vast number of live, likely heavily-armed forms. The general wasn’t kidding about them being formidable.

No time to sightsee: there’s work to be done. Everyone gets into their places (by which I mean me and the mages). I pat myself over and double check my inventory. Ten griffon-dose tranq darts, some smoke pellets, rope and folding grappling hook, and of course my trusty sword.

“Found a good spot, Cirrus?”

“Just about… Yep, got one.”

Cascade goes over to our eagle eyes, taking the binoculars off his hooves. Probably shouldn’t be so hard for her to spot with all the fires blazing around the place. Guess the native-borns have gotten scared of the dark; certainly ruins the advantage of a nighttime infiltration.

“One of those upper-level guard houses on the slope. Looks empty,” he directs while the unicorn scans the area around it. Dropping the lenses she nods.

“Seems wide enough. It’ll have to do.”

She goes over to the other mages, who each get a turn checking out the chosen deep strike zone. Afterwards they space themselves equally from each other in a semicircle, with me facing the mountain.

“You got everything, Spike?”

“I do, Cass. Just don’t send me plummeting over empty air.”

“No worries about that. Worst that will happen with this casting is you getting stuck in the mountain. Just remember to tuck and roll.”

“Gotcha.”

The other ranger comes up to me (Dodger, gah I can’t believe I forgot to mention him) and says, “We'll move to the capture point once you're inside, so don't keep us waiting long.”

“I don't intend to. Should only take me thirty minutes tops, probably twenty. Just be ready to help take the weight off.”

“Thirty is all you'll have to work with,” Bramble firmly states. Yeah of course, we've read the same projected mission times.

“Yeah yeah. I'll be out real quick, Bramble.”

“You better: you owe me forty bits.” (remember, kids: never make bets against someone who’s more experienced at the game than you)

After another pat down and a loosening of my limbs, I take a breath. “I’m ready.”

Cass nods, and to her fellow mages she says, “Begin casting. Dodger, be ready to time.”

A firm nod from the ranger, then the three unicorns close their eyes and focus. Shortly light begins to glow from each of their horns, getting brighter over seconds. A creeping warmth starts rising up my scales, which cues me to stand really still. There’s a momentary whine of intensifying magic before everything erupts in a blast of white. Split second later I’m hit with darkness and a sudden weightlessness, telling me to curl up. Just a fall of two feet onto a hard stone surface. I get back up and shake off any disorientation, getting my bearings. The peak my team is on is a good several kilometers behind me, and in front of me is the near-flat face of Mt. Griffonstone. Let’s do this.

Reach into my vest, get out the rope and unfold the grappling hook. Attach, take a step back, get a good look up at my options… another step back, look up… Alright, twirl my rope and give it a good toss upward! Heck yeah, first try!

Tug the rope to set the hook in place, then get my feet up against the rock and start climbing. By the look of things nobody noticed the flash of light on this lonely part of the mountain, but still need to watch for any patrols. Gonna be a while before getting up top, so rundown of the gameplan: get in, maybe suppress some guards, bag the king, drag him out, give the signal, and have Cass and the others come and zip us out. Question though is how to get his lordship down the mountain to a good teleportation… Eh, I’ll get to that when I get to that.

Reach the edge of the top, lean to and peek around for anyone. No one, good. Heft myself up and press myself against the wall. Ruffling of feathers, clanking of armor, crackling of fires on the other side. I sidle quick, putting distance away from the main gates. Getting to a point that had to be close to the castle, I turn to face the wall. Running start up a few yards, claw up the rest of the way. Nice and quiet, easy does it.

Getting my arms over the edge I look into the royal compound. What had been the original site of Griffonstone township is now a garrison, with lots of barracks and equipment sheds where houses might have been. Large open spot in the middle, no doubt for combat drills. Bunch of soldiers milling about a large fire, as if they needed one with all the torches hung up around the walls. To my left is the towering edifice of the castle proper. Yep, pretty close. Some guards at the main doors, though. May have to go through the back.

Duck down when I spot a guard flapping up to me. Lands and moves away along the wall. Seems I'm still in the clear; best grip my way further left to be sure.

Arms getting tired after a few more feet, so I look up again. The guard is chatting with another sentry. Don't think my grip will last just waiting around. What would she do in this case? Oh right: screw it.

Clamber further along until I get past them, then swing myself up and get flat onto the stone. Reach into my vest real quick before one of them notices me.

“Hey, you th—!”

Run and grab the other guy's head and slam it into his pal before he finishes. I stick a dart into the neck of my battering ram, then spring onto the other guy before he can recover. Tries to grab me, but I inject some anaesthetic before he has time to squawk. Just two prone birdies in La-La Land. Look around; doesn't seem to have raised an alarm. Kind of sloppy, but at least I got nonlethal points.

Now to hide the evidence. I grab their tails and drag them further along the wall toward the back of the castle. Practically no light, and no one’s here. Seems one of these guys was the rear guard. Patrols seem light tonight; lucky me.

The backside of the enormous tree is leaning against much of the inner wall. Good little slope to break the fall of the two guards. There: obscured by shadow and tucked somewhere private and (probably) cozy. Now to get myself inside.

Quick leap and I'm off the wall and onto the birch. Good thing about wood is that it’s not very tough, so claw-climbing is much more pleasant. Keep on elevating and looking around for any fliers. Stay away from any windows and turrets for a while, till one nondescript one catches my eye with a soft orange glow. Get myself up to it and look through to find a decent drop down into a large spacious chamber, aglow from the flames of a massive brazier in the center. Must be the foyer, or possibly the throne room. Given the heat that fire’s producing I must be looking through a ventilation hole. More importantly is the lack of anything remotely dangerous from what I can tell.

Get myself into position, over the rim, hang down, and drop. Crouch landing on packed stone, quiet as a dust mote. Way toastier in here with the brazier at my back. Quick look around and it’s coast clear. Right, now I just gotta make my way to the bedchambers for our snoozing king. No doubt two or even three guards along the w—

“It appears a lizard has scurried into my throne room.”

Oh… no…

I turn around slowly, and looking past the fiery bronze container I see the throne and the source of that low, thunderous voice. Laying down on his side like most big cats do is the Griffon King Himself: Gladius. He certainly has the physique of a kingly sort, being twice the size of your average honkin’ bulky griffon. Though an interesting color palette for a bird cat: silvery, unblemished fur making up the lower half of his body, and plumage of flawless obsidian on the other. Those shimmering eyes of hardened gold, and a beak that’s, well, chipped and scratched in some places, but just goes to show you the kind of experience this monarch has been through. All makes for a commanding presence, even without the gilded crown barely fitting atop that head of his and the rod of gold-inlaid iron grasped in his calloused talons.

“I sensed that danger would come to mine court this night, and thus chose to greet it when it inevitably arrives.”

Of course the war-mongering king would still be awake in the dead of night, sitting in his throne room alone waiting for trouble. Why do I always put faith in something as unreliable as common sense?

“But I am a little surprised that you would come to disturb my sanctum. The young princess does me great honor in sending her personal assassin.”

Already off to the wrong impression (not like the truth is that much better). Gotta amend this quick. I carefully step forward to better present myself.

“Stay thy ground, reptile. Think me a fool in allowing you to get within striking distance?”

“I'm not here to assassinate or bring you harm, Your Highness.” Okay, now think of something quick. “I only wish to talk with you. Peacefully.”

“Surely? The cold-blooded cur that threatened my ambassador, slaughtered droves of my finest warriors without hesitation, and snuck into my castle under the cover of night, wishes to make parlay? I would be most amused if fury was not already simmering in mine breast.”

He's doing a good job of hiding it, if that’s true. Yet the way the fire is flickering around his eyes, almost roiling, definitely hints at some nasty inner animosity. Tread carefully, Spike.

“I speak in earnest, Your Lordship. Princess Twilight only wants to know why you attacked Equestria’s border without warning.”

“And he feigns ignorance as well! Mistake me not for a fool, boy; my mind is as sharp as your foul blade. Therefore I waste not my breath repeating what my ambassadors have been requesting for years. And what you had balked for the very last time.”

“But why go to such an extreme? Why do you need the former Crystal Empire so badly?”

“For survival. My people are expanding far more than our homeland can support. Fertile fields are needed to ensure that no griffon suffers from crippling want, to fight amongst themselves just to eke out the most wretched of livings. To lose their identity, their proud heritage, all over again over aimless squabbling and dead ambition. It appalls me that your princess, who preaches highly of acceptance and harmony, could overlook such a threat to so numerous a people, waving it off lightly as some mere land expansion. But greed is the furthest from what I seek, make no mistake.”

“But, it can’t really be that serious, can it? Out there, I don’t see a population crisis, or squalor or wretched living. By what you say, you’re trying to fix a problem that isn’t even there. And if you’re wanting to expand and offer more places for your citizens, they can always come to Equestria. There’s plenty of space in most of our cities, and they would be happy to take on some extra griffons. This doesn’t have to be dealt with through military aggression.”

“Then you recommend forsaking our identity to befit your ideal of contentment.”

Oh boy. “Not at all. They can remain as griffon as they want. Our land is one big melting pot, with flavors from many races.” Gods that’s cheesy.

“To stew amongst so many has the effect of diluting the rich flavor of the original ingredient. It blends, becoming indiscernible from the rest. Our kind is far greater than that, more glorious and venerable to merely assimilate. You remove a griffon’s place in the world and they will inevitably fall into petty thievery, greed, and misdirection.”

“I still say you’re taking this too—”

“I speak of this because I have experienced such bleak living myself.” Boomed that one right out. “I scraped and bickered among my brethren, finding little else to see me through the day. No one had aspirations, motivation, desire to better themselves. We were but vagrants in what was becoming more of a cesspit every day. Then on one bitter winter’s evening, a lone spark materialized from the vapor. Its minute but radiant glow caught everyone’s attention as it fell and lit up a lone scrap pile. In the blaze that followed everyone was captivated, and in those flames I saw promise, potential, a future for our kind. In that moment I remembered our heritage, how we stood mighty above all other races, and that we were a species that would never fade from the pages of history with nary a squawk. And I could see the same feelings welling up in the eyes of my brothers and sisters as well.

“From that day forward we strove to better ourselves, crawling out from the depths of stagnation to rebuild our once great empire. That fire guided us to the majesty we have achieved today, and will continue to light our way to greater glories. Griffons have remembered the heights they are capable of reaching, and as their king I will see to it that they are never weighed down by inaction ever again.”

I know that kind of talk. Getting that old foreboding feel. Still gotta try.

“It is not Princess Twilight’s intention to suppress your kingdom’s prosperity, Your Highness. Equestria and Griffonstone have always been on peaceful terms, and for it to be shattered over a land dispute would look petty. War is never a solution any wise and compassionate ruler would seek if things don’t go their way. I beseech you, on my princess’ behalf, that we put this aggression behind us and find more reasonable, nonviolent alternatives. No one’s questioning your strength; diplomacy is its own victory, worthy of the highest pride.”

“And so the true, inept face of ponykind reveals itself.” Crap; wrong words there, Spike. “You laud diplomacy for it is the most effortless. How simple it is to dismiss and denounce one through words then with your own might, to settle disputes in a physical, unquestionable manner. Ponies are weak, relying on negotiations and airy talks and titles and agreements, weapons of pens and parchment in favor to that of sword and shield. To become complacent through bureaucracy is its own form of stagnation. A form which I have grown tired of dabbling in, as you have grown tired of as well by being here!”

He practically launches himself up with that shout and, hoo boy, is he a biggun when he’s standing on two legs. If he had teeth, he’d be gritting them something fierce based on the tightening of his beak.

“Dost you think me a fool to believe that the bloodied sword of the equine princess, the Slayer of Gods, would come here to toss paltry words about? Your deceit is as thinly-veiled as the fangs in your soul! You have come to do me, and my kingdom harm, so waste not your breath or mock my intellect with your empty pleas.”

That scepter of his gets a mighty twirl before he slams the tip of it into the inner curve of the back of his fancy throne. Only it’s actually the head of a massive battleaxe, cuz that’s exactly what he hefts back up and clutches between his talons with a grand thrum.

“The blood of Grover flows through my veins, and I shan’t allow his legacy nor his citizens to be snuffed out by a lesser kingdom’s assassin!”

Those black wings of his flare wide before he leaps at me. I hop back right as that massive bladehead hits the ground; it's still shaking when I land. Dear lord, what's in that thing?

“Gladius, I don't want to fight you!”

“Then die!”

He steps forward and swings wide, leaving a noticeable gap in the air as I jump back. He follows through with a backswing, then ends with an arching slam. I don't quite leave the ground when the last one strikes, making me lose balance and fall back amidst the tremors. I roll left to avoid getting crushed by his leaping stomp. Getting up on a knee, I strategize.

Been a very long time since I’ve put up with this sort of boss, and I’m hella rusty. Yet the end goal here isn’t to kill him. I simply have to knock him out before he chops me into dragon cutlets. Wait, that’s not simple at all. But it still boils down to the right moves and the proper utilization of the tools in my possession.

I sprint forward to put my plan into action. He readies then swings around at me, but I leap up and heft over his downward-moving arms. Up over him I go, and not a moment hitting the ground I spin and go for his back. Only he's halfway through an overhead backwards swing, which I manage to leap and tumble away from. Damn that was fast!

“I've hunted geckos more fleet-footed than you!”

He stomps toward me, but I only take a step back before holding my ground. With a surprise show of speed he brings up his battleaxe and brings it down like a guillotine. I sidestep it so it splits the floor, then I leap up onto the shaft and run for its holder. Instead of surprise, though, I see fierce rage on his royal face before he brings up a talon and swipes at me. I get in a step so it's just his arm and not the claws that get me, but I'm swatted to other end of the chamber.

“Your simians antics won't help you; face me like a destroyer!”

Catching my breath, I rethink my strategy. He's moving and reacting way too fast for someone his size, and that blow is making me a bit woozy (I think?). I might want to actually make use of the tools in my possession now.

As he stomps toward me I reach into my vest. Before he can raise up his battleaxe I whip out and toss down some smoke pellets. They do their job and cloud up the immediate space between us, but I don’t delay and run to the right. Grabbing three tranq darts I divert left and make a beeline for the king. Reach out to inject into his side, but a great “fwoomp” and burst of wind clears the smoke instantly as I see his majesty take to the air on that magnificent set of black wings. Riiight, more than just for show…

He flaps midair before launching himself down at me, his axe leveled down like a lance. Another hurried hop back and I avoid getting cut/pierced, watching the head of the weapon dig straight into the floor. Then the king yanks up his axe like a massive ornate shovel, sending three chunks of rock and dirt arcing my way. I sidestep and duck around them, but looking up I see Gladius charging me. Instead of using his axe, though, he turns and leans in to shoulder me off my feet. Off I fly and hit the wall, losing hold of the tranqs while hitting the ground on my ass.

“See how pony politics weaken the strongest of warriors? And you dare preach such toxic drivel like a saccharine opiate. Now enough with the tricks and face me!”

Getting sick of those kingly taunts. Okay, fine, we’ll do things more your way. Plus it’ll mean one less thing to dig into my back while getting tossed around.

Up on my feet, I reach back for that familiar grip. Slide it up and forward, steadying it before me. Not the situation I wanted to get into this stance for, but man it’s calming. Seems to affect the king as well.

“Finally you bare your true nature. Now let griffon steel clash!”

Definitely not a calming effect, as he runs at me with gusto. Winds up for the slam, I hold my ground… then leap sideways as it’s halfway down. With his weapon grounded I lunge out with my sword at his exposed talons, but he jerks them back to ready a swing. I duck and step below the attack, then twist around to slash at his arms. Got a nick off him that time. This gets a a mad squawk from him as he whips out his arm to backhand me, but I’m ahead of his move via a backstep.

Gladius takes hold of his axe and swings it around, but I leap back rather than parry. No clashing of steel, pal. Though my blade is made of hard stuff, I don’t trust my arms (or even legs) to withstand the force behind those blows with a proper parry. He swings again, then abruptly leaps back several yards. Flexing his body, he crouches before letting his wings launch him straight at me like a ballista. Luckily he left plenty of clearance under him to roll through, but I just barely pull it off before he goes roaring over me.

Seriously, the speed on this guy is ridiculous! I have to keep pace with him if I’m gonna get anything done (or leave in one piece). Sorry, Gladius, but you’re forced me to bring out my own special bag of tricks.

While the good king is recovering from his charge, I bring up my sword and bring it down… through the side of my right foot. Yeowch! Only a flesh wound but boy it stings. Suck it up for the other foot and there we go. Now with two bleeding feet, I bring up my bloody sword and whisper out the enchantments. Let out some fire (seems brighter?), hone the steel. Ready to cast.

“Peridot Tracer.”

Whip my flaming blade right and left, setting off gouts of controlled flame from my wounds. Just in time, too, for the king is bearing down on me.

“En guarde!”

He leaps to bring down his axe, only I dash back on a trail of flames, leaving him to smash sparks. That actually seems to confound him, but only a split second before he comes charging again. I slide back and turn, then start skating around the brazier. Sweet move, huh? I actually got the idea from a dream, and Zecora was cool enough to work out the enchantments to make it a reality. Now blazing speed whenever needed!

Speaking of, I’m almost all the way around the brazier and coming fast upon the king’s back. I raise the back of my blade to wallop him, but he twists around and catches my sword with the shaft of his scepter axe with a clang. No time to be stunned as I zip backwards and go around for another pass in the other direction. He caught on for he’s facing me when I circle around, and he lunges forward with his axe. I spring up, palm off the axe and flip over him. Touching down behind him, I turn and spring at his exposed back with a fiery kick, hitting him dead on and singeing fur and feathers as I step up to his head. I try stomping at the base of his neck and shoulders to bring him low, but I only succeed at hitting hardened muscle and getting an angry growl for my troubles.

He swipes up at me, but I kick off his head, knocking off his crown in the process as I make for the ground before me. Touchdown and I hear some angry stomping before a loud bellow/screech. Finally got under his skin. Don’t bother sticking around to gloat as I dash forward to do another lap. Midway along I sense a disturbance, and looking up I see the crownless king flapping over the flames to intercept me. He drives his axe into the ground with earth-shaking force, which I have the forethought to jump over while also side-gliding to the right. I zip on past, but spot Gladius flapping over ahead of me, no doubt to cut off my escape. Figures going aerial will lessen my maneuverability. Two can play at that game.

After he lands and looks to face me, I veer to the wall on my right, then with a hop I angle my feet to hit the vertical surface. The boost from my Tracer allows me to glide up along it, past the king and along the lower rim of the ceiling. Maneuver around the windows, vent holes and roots as I skate along. After a few revolutions I head back downwards along the upper wall, then bring down my sword on the approaching Gladius. His axe is up to block it, of course, but the speed at which I hit it causes a notable shift in his stance. Zip back away to the other side skating all along the ceiling, bringing up my palm to give it a cut. Come on you wily bastard...

On cue I see the great griffon flying on an interception course to where I’m gonna be, but boy what a surprise I got for him as I whip back my sword. I slam my blade into the wall right as he’s about to smash into me, and the immediate Piston launches me right into his chest and sends him straight back the way he came. His back slams into the wall with tremendous force, and not wasting a breath I plant my feet hard on his upper chest and lunge at his neck with three tranqs. Dead on! He makes an angry surprised caw at the darts stuck in him, and though he tries to reach forward I see the drugs work instantly. His eyes blink and his head bobs; his axe falls from his grip as his shoulders slump; finally he falls forward like a lion-skinned sack with a graceless thud.

I jump off in time not to get smushed by His Bulkiness, and take a moment to catch my breath while looking at my handiwork. Lying all prone, no doubt in a very deep, dreamless snooze. Just one or two tranqs may have been enough, but wasn’t gonna chance it with the trouble he gave me. Plus I couldn’t keep my Tracer going for much longer. It’d have drained me almost as fast as my Lancer move. Right, this room’s getting way too stuffy for me; it’s time to vamoose.

Hope the rest of the team is still waiting out there. I think I’m still within the thirty minute window. Gotta hurry, which means dragging Gladius and his mountainous self out of this castle. Hopefully there’s a back door to this place or something. Enough stalling, so I walk up to his sleeping form, reach down for his talons and—GUUHK!! GAK! Ghk Ghk HWha???

One of those flippin’ talons is around my neck, and he’s, he’s looking at me. W-What?!

“Gutless cur.”

Lifting me up, guh, higher. Harder, breathe, not…

Immediate loss of gravity and orientation as I’m tossed backward and BWAH! Ow, Dammit. Slammed right into the brazier. Gods damned that hurt! Cough my throat back in order, see bits of fuel from the brazier burning in spots close by. And King Gladius standing tall and simmering with fresh rage.

“Think you I would succumb to such underhanded tools? Disgraceful, from what is supposed to be the noblest and most powerful of creatures.”

How?! How in the hell is he shrugging all those tranqs off??

“And you dare flaunt your kin’s flame, just to employ more shameless tactics.”

He reaches down for his axe, and I notice a trail of red running along the yellow the scales of his other talon. Had I cut him with my feet?

“You fetter away the majesty of your own blood for parlor tricks; sully the might of your lineage.” Takes hold of his shimmering axe and rises, as do I. “But the blood of griffons has withstood the trials of the world, been tempered and risen to prominence above other species.” Caresses the edge with his defiled talon. “Rather than fall from our heights, we proliferated far past our equals.” Raises it high. “And our guiding flame has only made us stronger, more supreme than the fallen dragons.” Slams the blade down into one of the fires, setting it ablaze. And as it spreads up along the metal…

“Spawn of dragons, danger to my kingdom, I shall free you from your crippling arrogance…”

Pulls back and swings around his fiery battle axe scepter, stomping into a war stance.

“And show you the calamity that blood and fire can truly wrought!”

This seriously can’t be happening. I must be knocked out. But the fire coming off that thing is way too hot. How is he doing that? What the freak am I supposed to do n—

DODGE!

That frickin’ axe leaves a flaming swath where my head had been but a second ago. I try strafing around as he makes another swing, spewing flame gouts through the air, then spins around to slam at the ground in a fury. Each hit’s like a miniature volcano with all the fire coming up, and it just spreads more of the stuff around the place. Suddenly Gladius rushes at me and swipes at me with a talon, but I deflect it with my sword, only for him to twirl around and bash me with the shaft of his weapon.

Tumble away, reeling from a major burning sensation, but I’ve no time to really recuperate as Gladius is charging towards me. I run right away from his stomps, yet when they fall silent I stop and turn. Really bad move, since I see him raising his axe with both arms, somehow conjuring more fire around the blade before slamming it down in my direction. I leap sideways from the roaring inferno sent my way, and looking up I see it trailing up the wall and over the ceiling. He realizes we’re inside a giant tree, right?

Need to run to cover, get some distance, figure out some way to calm him down. Run around the brazier, bypassing the flames—

Heads up!

Look up, and the king’s flying in like a flaming angel of death. His landing lets off a burst of fire, leaving him untouched whereas some of it gets on my vest. It actually stings; just what the hell kind of fire is this?? Of course the supreme griffon torch bearer won’t let me have a chance to ponder that since he’s back to swinging at me like a maniac. Can’t outrun him like this. Back to speed tactics.

Quickly I chant out and conjure my own fire (definitely brighter) and stab at my feet again to form another Tracer. Before the king can make another fiery swing I dash back in a burst to the other side of the brazier. Temperature is rising quick in here, although only less than half the room (and part of the ceiling) is covered in flames. Get to skating up the far wall and going up the ceiling; must make an attack from above. If tranqs won’t work then good ol’ fashion head trauma should put him down. Begin going in circles up above when something large and fiery slams into the surface before me, forcing me to veer around it at breakneck speed. Just what was—

Coming up.

Whuh?? I crane my neck and see Gladius flying at me, arm held back with his flaming scepter poised to strike. Split second stop saves me from getting smashed in by a bladeless scepter, yet I’m grabbed by an iron talon grip before being thrown violently away. My back muscles take a harsh burning impact as I collide with the edge of the brazier and go tumbling off through the air, over the sweltering flames and down onto the floor beyond, rolling over some small fires. Scramble back up but flinch at the pain running down my side, godsdamn! I spot Gladius landing before me, bracing himself before letting out a furious screech that seems to fuel the flames around the place. He then comes running at me with scepter to bare, and all I can do is lift up my own sword. The rod comes down at me again and again, from above and the sides, and I barely catch each overpowering blow with my own blade, my arms and legs buckling from each deflection. A lion’s leg springs up and kicks me square in the chest, sending me back a ways.

“Writhe in FLAMES!!”

Gladius begins swinging around his scepter, sending out waves of fire at me like sickles (hey wait a second!). I manage to sidestep them, and before he starts up again I cut my palms and make ready my own barrage. This whole thing has gotten insane, but he wants to play with fire than fine by me!

As he fires off his imitation Sliders I send out my own, catching each one before they get too close. But he keeps tossing them out like candy and I can only keep up, our clashing flame bursts splitting off to torch up more sections of the throne room. Suddenly he spins around, whipping off his own off-brand Slicer. It comes too quickly for me to react and I take a blazing hit across the chest. It cleaves through my vest, which sets off the remaining smoke pellets.

I cough and wave at the the grey cloud around me, made dark by the surrounding flames. I stagger forward a few steps before I’m body-checked backward. Push back up, but only for that familiar iron grip to take me up by the neck.

“Pathetic!”

I’m slammed down repeatedly, some head blows messing up my vision. Spots start forming before I’m tossed up, and I just notice that fiery scepter cutting through the dark before—

That was some distance.

Crackling of fires awake me. I’m on the ground. Eyes open up to see an orange blur, but I push myself up. Head’s real hazy. Feel something wet on my snout.

Not looking too good there.

Raise my left claw to my chest. Tender. Right claw is still gripping my sword despite everything. Can feel the heat of the surrounding fires, seemingly rising. Through the haze and the pain, I see… him.

“Your fortitude certainly befits that of your ancestors. But you still haven’t shown me your true destructive capabilities!”

Several yards ahead, standing tall with his weapon held out. Next to the brazier, holding his ground. Waiting for me. Taunting me…

That son of a bitch. Strutting around with that stupid-ass flaming scepter. Regal birdbrain just had to be awake, just had to make it waaaaay more difficult than it needed to be! Not wanting to listen, tossing me around the place, making me look like some kind of damn joke.

You need to get drastic, my boy.

Sputtering all that bullshit about being powerful, being better and all grand and noble and all that garbage. Who the hell does he think he is? He thinks he can control fire? He thinks he can master my element?? He has no idea about how things are supposed to work. How my way works!

That’s right.

“Why dost thou stall? Confront me!”

Keep thinking you’re about to win, asshole. I’m a God Slayer for a reason, and you’re gonna see it.

Make it happen.

Slap my snout, get it nice and damp. Get it over my sword. Why you just standing there? Think you can handle what I got? Alrighty, have it your way.

Get my chant going, let out my flame. Clear up all that orange with some proper green. Yeah, you seeing this? This more what you’re looking for you fat pompous rooster?

Don’t hesitate.

He looks like he’s saying something, eagerly beckoning with his talon. I can’t hear you over the destruction I’m about to rain down on you. You want majesty? You want some calamity? You want to end this and see just who’s strongest??

Kill or be killed.

Then get a load of this!!

“Chartreuse Phoenix.”

All is dark stillness. The brazier’s destroyed; the fires have all been snuffed. My mind is clear, though my body aches. Breathing is ragged. Claw still holding onto the hilt of my blade in a death grip. The unmoving form of King Gladius lies at my feet.

The main doors pull open, followed by the padding of heavy paws. Look over my shoulder, I see it’s four armored guards. No doubt a shock to behold: room in darkness, covered in scorch marks, and their king fallen before a lone, scaly intruder dripping with blood. One with a conveniently held weapon.

An all too familiar outcome, and with it a distant but just as familiar sinking feeling. No burst of purple this time, or words of disbelief. Just silence, shuddering breaths…

And the thought that I may have taken things much too far.

END OF ACT

Author's Note

Oh no, what have you done now?

Turn

I feel myself slipping…

“Show me the latest menace to join our ranks!”

There’s more to all of this, I just know it.

“What is it that you hope to seek?”

Even after all we’ve done, has it made any difference?

“Tch, you haven’t changed one bit.”

How far can I go without losing myself?

“Do you believe yourself to be above consequences?”

I have to get in pretty deep if I’m to find answers.

“You just need to keep your chin up, is all.”

No one will be safe.

“I call all the shots here, so you best remember that.”

I forsook their trust once before.

“I won’t let you unleash darkness upon the world!”

Whatever; I just have to protect HER.

“I welcome you, young dragon.”

Next Time:

THE

DESCENT

Act 2 Start

It was two days before shipping out to Griffonstone. I had been given a rundown of the griffon capital’s defenses and got to meet the mages for the team, and was given the rest of the day off to rest. I would hole up at the castle the following day, but I was permitted to spend one last evening at my apartment before then. It was nice enough, with a good home-cooked meal and chilling out, but I found myself struck with insomnia shortly after bedtime.

It was a little before eleven, which was quite early for my usual fare, but I still found myself sitting on the edge of our bed without an ounce of fatigue. I could feel Sweetie’s soft breathing against the mattress; it was mildly soothing, but not enough to ease my mind. I got up and went out into the living room. Not entirely dark, given the city lights coming through the large window. But incredibly quiet all the same. You’d think the capital of the country would be a little more loud with its nightlife. Just one of its charms.

I went up to the glass and leaned in, pressing my arm against its cool surface and resting my forehead, staring out over those brilliant towers and the inky blackness beyond. A waxing crescent was up high that night, and so were a few stars. Yet they seemed slightly dimmed by the restlessness plaguing me.

I picked up the soft hooffalls nearby. I turned back and saw Sweetie in that lacy nightgown she likes to wear in the springtime. A little spoiled by the look of worry on her face.

“Spike? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, Sweetie. Just can’t sleep. Thought I’d come out here and look at the city.”

“Is something wrong? What’s on your mind?”

Clip clop of her approach, to get in touch. I could’ve brushed it off, kept it to myself. But that would’ve been old me’s way of doing things. Twilight wasn’t the only one with heart-to-heart privileges anymore.

“It’s this assignment I have coming up. A real important one.” I turned away from the glass and gave my complete attention to Sweetie as she got within a foot of me.

“For Twilight?”

“Uh-huh.”

“And it’s got you nervous, or excited?”

“Not really a nervous feeling. Mainly I just have this… sense of foreboding about it. Like… something might go wrong.”

“That is something. You’re usually real calm and assured with any of Twilight’s assignment; I guess it must be something really serious.”

“Yeah, you could say that.”

She’s smart enough to know not to pry too much into my royal duties. Always has. One of the things I’m grateful to her for all these years later.

“Well we can’t be having that.” She turns and trots over to the couch, and after hopping on she pats the open space next to her. “Come on, sit.”

I do as she said, and tried to make myself comfortable despite the lack of a back rest (darn upscale furniture). She scooted up against me and looked into my eyes.

“Whatever it is, Spike, I know you’ll pull it off like you always do. With everything you’ve done so far, I don’t see any reason for you to think this time will be any different. You just need to remember that you’re the best dragon for the job, hooves down.”

That simple straightforwardness, that adoration and confidence. That same mindset that dismissed my flaws and only saw positives, that stuck with me even at my lowest point, when literally the whole world was out to get me. Rather foolish on her part back then, I still think, but it’s that kind of adoration that really smacks the doubt out of me… if only for a while.

“Yeah, you’re probably right, honey.”

“You know that I’m right. It’s all about self-confidence, and honestly, you’re the kind of guy who isn’t easy to dissuade, or changes their mind.”

I leaned over and kissed her forehead. “Thanks, Sweetie. You know just the right things to say.”

“Uh-hum.” That exaggerated nod. Dang adorable. “You still feeling awake?”

“Yeah, a little. Probably just gonna sit around here a bit longer. You can go back to bed; I’ll be there in a bit.”

“Or I can just sit here and cuddle with you until you’re nice and ready to sleep.”

“You don’t need to lose your beauty rest on my account, darling.”

“I don’t have anything important planned tomorrow, so I can sleep in if I wanted to. And besides, it’s really calm and cozy out here, just the way it is.”

She snuggled against me, resting her head against my side and turning her gaze to the window and the city beyond. And in that moment I felt a bit of introspection. Just me, my girlfriend, sitting together in the semi-darkness, bathed in the warm, hushed glow of the city that I’ve pledged to defend, even after I had come so close to destroying all of it. Despite it all, everything did turn out alright. I was still here, the ones I cared for were (mostly) still with me, and what I was to do would ensure they would still enjoy this peace that me and Twilight had worked hard on getting back in place.

I wrapped an arm around Sweetie and hugged her close, taking in her extra warmth while lying my head atop hers. Whatever may come on this mission, I reminded myself that things have a way of working out. They always do, in some form or another.

“Yeah. It really is…”

Act 2

The Descent

Author's Note

So begins the descent of Dragon's Descent.

Act 2 Verse 1

Three Weeks Later

I couldn’t get a wink of sleep, not that the trundling of the wagon would’ve allowed me to have it for long. The air was rife with the musk of stallions in sweat-stained armor, as well as that mild hint of rot that comes with these old models. Rain pattered against the thin wooden side, making it surprisingly noisy, further adding to anyone’s inability to catch some shut eye. The ride had taken up most of the day, but it felt even longer than that. Being stuck in an enclosed space with nothing to do and only a small lantern for lighting messes with your sense of time.

A shift and shudder in the wheels signals that this void in time has finally come to an end. In about a minute the wagon comes to a complete stop, and a few moments later there’s a banging at the door. A guard pushes it open, then they all get up and start filing out, the splashing of water reaching my ears. One guard stays behind to herd me out, away from the relative comfort of the wagon and out onto wet, muddy ground. And rain on top of that; lovely. At least I got this cloak for some modest cover.

It’s pitch black out here, but there’s some flickering light in the distance, which is where the guards corral me to. After a little march we get in full view of the light, which is two large torches placed at either side of one very big, very ancient, very ominous pair of metal doors set into the side of an equally imposing mountain. Even in the poor lighting I can make out the faded etchings, runes, depictions of times forgotten by much of history. An entrance to a domain no upstanding, sane, or contemporary citizen or creature should ever have the misfortune of being in the presence of: The Gates of Tartarus.

The captain of this escort (you can tell by the large flashy feather on his helm) approaches me and tugs at the shackles on my wrists with his magic. “Up front and center with you. They’re gonna want a look.”

I step forward and let him lead me the rest of the way up to the gates. The mountain provides relief from the rain, but by now my cloak is thoroughly soaked, and it’s starting to get chilly. We head up to the rightmost torch, where a guard booth is carved into the rock to the right. And situated in that booth is a guard, naturally. But not one that I would have expected.

A horned, triangular head atop a very long, slender, smooth-scaled neck, which is bent forward to allow a pair of dazzling red, slitted eyes to look over… a magazine? Looked to be some sort of fashion mag judging by the bright colors and fancy fonting. Makes sense given the polish on the razor sharp claws holding it carefully open.

One of those eyes looks up, and upon spotting us the black dragon lets out something of a pleased gasp before putting down its reading material and lowering its head at us.

“Ponies? This is certainly a pleasant surprise!” A female guard dragon. It just gets more surprising. “Have you come to visit? Oh ho ho, of course you haven’t. Just my little joke there.” And a very gossipy, friendly one at that. “Anyway, can you please state your business for coming out here this dreadful night?”

“We’ve come to drop off a prisoner,” the captain announces, nodding his head at me. The lady dragon stretches her neck forward until the tip of her snout presses against mine, the warm breath of her nostrils softly touching me. Even with my hood on I know she’s able to get a good gander at me, and in hardly a moment she pulls back.

“A young dragon; well isn’t that something. Kind of a runt, though, but such adorable cheeks! Uh-hum. What is the prisoner’s crime?”

“For threatening to disrupt the harmony of the realm through acts of violence performed in dire excess.” A glow from his saddlebags and a scroll flies out. “The charges are listed here accordingly.”

He levitates the scroll up to the dragon, who pinches it and daintily opens and unrolls it. Though the handwriting must be miniscule to her, she reads it over nevertheless.

“Dire charges indeed. Very well: the prisoner’s crimes are hereby deemed permissible to be punished by the encompassing, inescapable maw of Tartarus. Just let me get the door so you can be well on your way to some place far cozier and warmer.”

To everyone’s surprise the dragon slithers up and out of the booth like a snake, coiling and meandering up to the door before standing up and looking like a regular dragon again. Three times my height, and a powerful set of black wings on her. Has something of a serpentine-like figure. She brings up a claw to her mouth, then poofs out a small orb of black flame. Waving it around before the door, she creates a smouldering sigil that hangs in the air a moment before flaring out into smoke. The earth trembles and there’s a gargantuan groan, and before us we see the great iron doors move inward at a tectonic pace. Eventually they come to a stop, revealing the vast darkness within. Maw, indeed.

Looking to us, she waves a claw and says, “I’ll escort the prisoner inside. You little things just scurry back where you came from before you catch a cold. Thanks for visiting Tartarus!”

The guards just turn and march off stoically. Rather cold of them, but the she-dragon doesn’t seem to notice as she looks down at me and gently pats my back.

“Come come. It’s a bit of a walk to the prison proper, but I’ll guide you the whole way, little one.”

Beams me a sharp smile, right as I begin walking in with her at my side. Inside, lines of torches light up on either wall, revealing a very long, seemingly endless cave. The doors start groaning closed after we’re in a ways, after which my escort gets to talking again.

“Would you like me to introduce myself to help pass the time?”

“Sure.”

“Splendid! My name is Campe, and as you’ve seen I serve as Guard to the Gates of Tartarus. And I know that you’re Spike, and from what I’ve read in that scroll you’ve been very busy among the ponies. Killing all kinds of creatures, assassinating dignitary types, no doubt causing all sorts of fear and panic. I haven’t seen another of my kind for who-knows-how-long, but you certainly don’t come off as a violent marauder to me.”

“That’s nice of you to say; I try to hide it best I can. But I’m wondering why Cerberus isn’t guarding the gates. Not that you’re doing a bad job of it. If anything, you’re making it a delight.”

“Oo hoo hoo hoo, you’re so sweet in saying that, thank you so much! You see what I mean about you? Anyway, management decided to change things up a bit with how Tartarus needed to be guarded. Hardly anyone comes around these past couple generations, and it’s been three centuries since the last escape attempt, so they felt a watchdog wasn’t needed nowadays. So they decided to try a standard guard, which was me!”

“You got hired from somewhere or..?”

“Oh no, I’m very much a prisoner here. Did similar things to what you’ve done: ravaged the countryside, set fire to homes and fields, devoured the hardy and brave and so on. I had some severe anger issues in my early days, but being trapped beneath a mountain with other fiends calmed me down immensely, funny enough. Wound up getting this position because of good behavior. Managed to hail a passing griffon to bring me any newspapers, magazines and pamphlets that had gotten lost in the mail. It’s amazing how much the world has changed since I first got locked up.”

“Good behavior, huh? That mean they’re gonna let you out soon?”

“Oh no no no no, no. Everyone sent to Tartarus is a prisoner forever. They affixed a special seal on me before letting me up here, so that if I even tried flapping up more than thirty feet my wings would pop off and my heart would explode.”

“Yeesh. That’s harsh.”

“A little. But at least I get some fresh air, watch the changing weather, learn about the latest world events and fashions, and even try my claw at poetry. I just need to find some ink and parchment. Oh and look at that we’re here!”

She comes to a stop before the lip of a really, really massive hole in the ground. We just stepped into a very large, domed chamber, lit up by a ring of torches on the bare cavern walls. Apart from them and the hole, there’s nothing else.

“A little trivia: Tartarus is shaped like one gigantic oubliette. At least the main holding area anyway. Are you familiar with oubliettes?”

“I played a few games of Ogres & Oubliettes as a kid, so I’m a little familiar.”

“Then you know must know its very design makes escape quite impossible. Sure, one can try flying up here, but this place has plenty of safeguards against those kinds of escapes.”

“I see. And how exactly does one get down there to begin with?”

A firm push is my answer.

“Enjoy your eternity of penance!”

I bet she’s waving happily as I plummet into the abyss.

I sputter a breath into the dirt as I regain consciousness. Lying facedown, front half feeling immeasurably sore. Guess I finally got me that nap I’ve been wanting, albeit being too damn short. But at least it beats being splattered on some rocks. Actually, how am I still in one piece? That was a long fall.

The sounds of two approaching sets of feet turn my thoughts back to more important matters.

“It came from over there.”

“Whatchu think id is? Sum foods?”

“They never toss any food down here, you moron.”

“Ise just hungry.”

“You’re always hungry you worthless sack.”

I force my head up, and I see the two, uh… “gents” that have come to check on me. To my right appears to be a really tall brown goat, only he’s standing on two legs and the other two jut out into palms with fingers. Kinda like a scrawny dimestore minotaur… only more goaty. On my left is a sizable heap of muscle, like some kind of massive gorilla. Except he’s completely hairless, is wearing a loincloth (thank gods) and has… one singular bulging eye set above a gaping, mostly toothless mouth. Though to be honest, their respective smells was the second thing I picked up on. Guess showers aren’t part of this prison (which might be a good thing…).

“See? It’s just fresh meat,” says the satyr to his humungoid partner.

“You says it’s nots foods, Sal.”

“And it isn’t! I mean this is another sod that’s been dumped here to rot with the rest of us.”

“Ohhhhhhhhhh…” Cyclops scratches his chin with a dirty fingernail, then asks, “Cans I still eats it?”

“I can hear everything you’re saying, you know.”

The two of them look down at me, then to each other, then satyr dude gives one of those weird goat chuckles before squatting to leer his crooked face over me.

“Conscious already? Then listen up: I would have no have problems letting my pal Poly here gobble you up so he’d shut his damn yap about being hungry, but we’re under orders to bring any newcomers to camp. So count yourself lucky it’s us who found you. Food is scarce down here, and not everyone is as considerate to newbies.”

“That’s mighty swell of you.”

He makes a “Baah” at that, then straightens back up and looks to his partner. “Help me get our new friend here to the boss.”

“Oh uh uh, rights. Don wanna make da boss angry.”

One hairy hand and one meaty hand take me by the shoulders (good thing my cloak’s still on) and pull me up onto my feet. They start dragging me along, so I get my feet working and stay in line with them as I’m brought into Tartarus proper.

More torches set into the separate cave walls, which eventually widen out considerably into a far larger interior. It’s truly stygian in terms of scale and structure, like some massive hole gutted out from the depths of the earth and left to fester. Nasty outcroppings all around, and equally nasty stalactites hanging all around the parts of the ceiling that are visible in the firelight. Interestingly enough, there are little dots of yellow light bobbing around in the infinite darkness above, like fireflies or even will o’wisps. As my new chums keep pulling me along I eventually see something to break from the bleakness (somewhat): artificial structures, and the sounds of (rowdy) life.

Downward over uneven ground we go, till we reach the border of a ramshackle settlement. Nothing but a bunch of huts made from mud, rocks, rotted wood and heavens know what else. There’s creatures milling about aimlessly around pools of stagnant cave water (at least I hope it’s water). I see a grizzled minotaur, a dire boar, an emaciated lamia, pigmies waddling about with tiny spears (one getting gobbled by the aforementioned lamia). High above there are winged, feathered abominations screeching and clawing at one another, occasionally making blood rain upon some of the roofs (nice touch). More of those yellow lights overhead, but they're close enough so that I can see they're actually butterfly-looking carrying around little torches over everything, sprinkling some kind of incense through the air. Almost makes this hellhole look festive.

It’s nostalgic seeing these forgotten creatures of yore. Gone a tad savage, though.

I’m taken to the center of this “village”, where a good number of the locals look to be passing the time with games: cards, dice, and what even looks like checkers. But from the piles of metal and bone (I think they’re bone) bits kept close to them and the way one of those one-eyes socks his opponent into the dirt, I say they play for keeps. Bet she’d love to get on this action. Probably put up some streamers and punch for good measure.

At the center of this gambling ring is an arrangement of benches and tables, all overseen by some hideous thing with several pairs of eyes and what looked to be over twenty arms. Probably why it’s playing dealer for seven games at once, including one held at the nicest table I’ve seen so far… which more or less amounts to a cheap plastic poker table (but with stone).

It’s occupied with some voluptuous nymphs, dryads, and a scruffy dog sort. At the head of the table is someone in a ragged orange tunic missing the sleeves, which shows off his slick, scaled arms and hands. His head is full of shimmery, greasy locks, and his chin has a very douchey soul patch. Someone I know I’m immediately going to dislike.

Looks to be the big kahuna.

“Hey boss, we brought something for ya,” my goat escort announces.

Called it.

“I’m in the middle of something here, Saulos. Go toss it over on the heap and bleat off.”

“It’s someone new that got dumped down here.”

Soul patch snaps his eyes up and slams down his cards. “Why didn’t you say that first, idiot? Show me the latest menace to join our ranks!”

My escorts pull me forward up to the edge of the table, at which point all eyes there are on me (including the dealer’s dozen).

“Well pull the hood back, dumbasses! I can’t see shit with that on!”

Goaty pulls away my hood, revealing my bare head to the group. A slight “oooh” from some nymphs, but nothing else in the way of sounds. Boss man claps and rubs his hands together.

“Hot damn, do my eyes deceive me? A bonafide dragon; there hasn’t been one dumped here in ages. That’s one hell of a find to brighten up this dank-ass miserable day, boys. Kinda shrimpy, though. And something of a baby face.”

“Can kick your ass just fine.”

“He even talks! Double bonus: a sentient dragon for my roster! Last couple of dragons tossed down here were feral, completely useless. Had to snap the neck of the one that tried to go wild on my turf here, but I don’t see me having that problem with you, little guy. So, you got a name? I know you dragons have names. All honor and shit, y’know?”

“...”

“...Now you want to zip it. That’s cool; don’t like people running their mouths. On that note, here’s a set of ground rules for coming here to Tartarus.” The head douche stands up from his seat, planting his scaled hands on the table surface, trying to look intimidating. Please, he’s only half a head taller than me. “First and foremost, my name is Ty. I’m called the Father of Monsters, cuz given all the pussy I’ve had while on the surface, I guarantee you most of the freaks dumped here are my descendents. And I can whip the mouth off anyone that tries to backtalk me. As such, I’m the one in charge of this hellhole and I keep these wretches and crazies in line. I call the shots here, so you best remember that.”

A truly humble soul.

“With all that said, I'm always looking for new additions to my crew of cutthroat badasses. This cesspit is crawling with freaks, deviants, and all kinds of indecent nasties, but if you stick with me and my boys, you'll have yourself a cozy slice of Hell to hole up in.”

He starts moving around the table. “The choicest scraps, your pick from my personal stable of bitches.” He caresses the chin of a water nymph in passing. “Or if you’re a fudge-packer I got dudes aplenty. I don’t judge. And of course you get some decent shelter and protection among my ruthless band. Enforcing some order in this hole, get some kicks rather than wander around like those scrubs you saw on your way here. It's really win-win; sure as hell beats fending for yourself out there in the dark with the true crazies.”

Ty gets right up to me and lowers his face to mine. Gods his breath is rank. Also I see that soul patch of his, and even all of his hair is made of scales. He makes one ugly, smug smile at me.

“So whaddya say, slick? Interested in having a bearable internment?”

I heabutt that slimy face, sending him reeling.

“I'll take my chances.”

“Gah, goddammit; that fuckin’ hurt!” He rubs his face, trying to regain his composure. His dim yellow eyes are looking fierce, but he's missed a spot of blood under his nose. “Punk bastard, are ya? Well fine. I don't waste time dealing with asshats. You still hungry, Poly?”

“Uhhh, yuh?”

“Then eat up; little shit’s all yours. And save a few bones for my collection.”

“Guuhh, sure ting, boss.”

The cyclops backs away to reach down to the back of my skull, but he barely forms a grip on it before I rip my claws from my shackles and shoot a fist into his lowered eye. He clutches it and stumbles about wailing like a scared child; probably shouldn’t have lowered your head when reaching for me, bub. The satyr comes at me but I punch him straight in the face, and before anyone else does anything I grab my cloak and throw it off. As it flutters I immediately reach behind me, take hold of the hilt and slice through the cloth before me.

The cloak falling away in tatters, everyone present is able to see the no-nonsense dragon in the killer black jacket, snappy white undershirt, and the stainless length of lethal metal gleaming in the low light. And for good measure, I show them the difference a set of well-maintained pearly whites can do to a menace’s smile.

“Come get some.”

Author's Note

What a tweest!

Act 2 Verse 2

Recollections and...

My mind cuts back to the night that ultimately brought me to this forsaken realm. Blade drawn, the king at my feet, and four armored griffons standing with spears and swords raised. I remained standing in that wrecked throne room, just waiting for something to happen, be it from the four guards or whatever. The deathly silence had begun to wear on me.

A groan dissipated it, and Gladius pushed himself up from the ground, rubbing his feathered head. The lead guard stepped forward.

“My liege!”

“I am fine, Gordon. Only winded.”

“But the intruder—!”

“The altercation is over; be at ease.” The griffon king shook his head. “I’m feeling remarkably clear-minded, so worry not for me.”

The guard stepped back and nodded stiffly. “Yes, Sire.”

Gladius then looked up to me. “You have spared me, dragon. That attack of yours would have ripped me asunder and ashened the remains.”

“Believe me, I was very tempted to do just that.” That got some stiffening from the other guards.

“Then why did you avert your blow, when by rights you had earned such a victory?”

I shrugged. “I felt we needed to cool down first.”

There's a pause, then the king gave something of a chuckle. “I suppose we did.” He stood up to his full height. “In honesty, I felt like a griffon possessed during our battle. How that fire bent and twisted to my whim… sorcery most intoxicating. While being given mercy would have brought immeasurable disgrace in the old traditions, I find it better than to have been struck down not as a warrior, but as some blood-crazed fiend.”

Gladius looked around his ruined throne room a moment. “I can see things for what they are now; my eyes see clearer than they have for years. A nagging strain seems to have lifted from my shoulders, as well as a persistent heat that has plagued my spirit. My thoughts are… becalmed. But such clarity brings regret, namely over my most recent decisions...” He bent his gaze at me. “Whatever it is that you have done to free me from my temper, you have my gratitude. Yet you must still answer for your trespass into my domain.”

“I understand, your highness.”

“Though I feel it better we discuss this matter in my private chambers.”

“I must object, Sire: that's highly unwise! That creature has attacked you, and extinguished our Guiding Flame! Surely it would be more prudent to have him locked away in the dungeon.”

“I cast the first blow; he responded in simple defense. As for the Flame…” Gladius looked to the smouldering pile that had been the blazing brazier for some moments, then huffed before looking to his guards. “It appears to be the time that we follow the fires that dwell within us to show the path.” He stepped to turn in the direction of the back wall of the throne room, then looked back at me. “Come, dragon. I believe there were alternatives you wished to discuss, perhaps after we have both had time to cleanse and recline.”

“Yes. I could use a freshening up.” I sheathed my sword then, and immediately remembered something. “But actually, there were others that came with me. A party of six ponies and a Diamond Dog. They’re waiting a few kilometers from the easternmost gate into Griffonstone. Could you send someone out there to let them know I’m alright?”

“Mmhm. I suspected there would have been more involved than just you.” Gladius looked to his guards. “Gibson, send a search party to locate this cadre. Make no sign of hostile intentions, and see that they are brought here to the castle without harm.”

One of the guards bowed. “By your will, My Liege.”

“And have two of your number accompany us to my chambers. A prudent compromise, we can agree.”

“Aye, Sire.” The guard looked about him and nodded for two others to break away and walk to us, before he and the remaining sentry took flight back out the way they came.

To everyone left in the room, the king announced, “Let us adjourn to more hospitable confines,”, then got on all fours and led the way. Seeing no other choice but to follow, I recall wondering exactly where the remainder of that freaked-up night would take me…

A showdown with Equestria’s Most Heinous Rejects, apparently, as my mind switches back to the hornet’s nest I had so thoroughly kicked up.

“Stop gawking and kill him you dumbasses!”

At their leader’s command, the rabble charges. I slash at an incoming succubus and her sharp claws, then upslash a bleating satyr before delivering a sidekick into the stomach of a charging minotaur. I elbow him into the dirt, then spin around to slice off one of the card dealer’s arms, then back around to handle two more of them. A set of wooded vines spring up to try to ensnare me, but I chop through them before running at the dryad responsible and bash her with the hilt of my sword. My tail whips away a charging imp, just as a stone golem comes rumbling at me. He’s a bit rundown, cuz my sword cuts through him like butter as I take away his arms and legs before kicking away his crumbling head.

I spot a siren preparing to start a song and hurry over to drive my steel through its throat, forcing it to gargle blood instead. From above a lone harpy comes screeching with talons extended, but I bypass its dive and swing high, taking off a wing and sending it spiraling off into a hut. I punch a nymph in the face as she tries to jump me with a bone club, then I turn to see the dog fellow shambling over to me with fangs bared. I reach up and grab the bone that had been loosed by the nymph, grabbing the dog’s attention. I dangle it before his slobbering face while whistling before tossing it off someplace else, making one less freak to fight.

Over the melee, I can overhear the slippery Ty having an argument (amazingly enough).

“You were supposed to check him for weapons, Sal!”

“H-He didn’t look like he had anything on him!”

“That’s cuz he had a cloak covering himself, stupid!”

“And he had those shackles on; how was I supposed to know he could break out like that?”

“He’s a friggin’ dragon, of course he could! You seriously messed up this time, Saulos; you’re helping me straighten this out. Get over here!”

“Wait boss what are you doing no no no—!”

A bloodcurdling bleat of a scream rends the air as I punt away a riled-up pigmy. The rumbling at my feet foretells big Poly’s participation in the fray, and I turn around to see him and his red puffy eye barreling toward me. He wastes no time swinging those massive fists and arms at me wildly. There’s no focus or form in his movements: he’s just yelling and desperately trying to pulverise me like an angry child. Some of his swings swat away his fellows; it’s time I settled him down.

When he delivers a straight punch into the ground, I leap onto and run up his arm. Poly pulls back and stomps about trying to grab at me, but I hop on his neck and make him bend forward. During this moment I bring my arms around his head and plunge my sword into his eye, then rip it out and jump away as he roars a pitiable cry of agony, one hand clasping his face while the other fumbles around either for his assailant or for some kind of help. It’s a little sad.

That was needlessly cruel, even by my standards.

A wet wallop to the back of my skull cuts the break short and I stumble, struck by momentary disorientation. I hold my balance and come to a stop, then turning around I see that Ty finally came to join his cronies. In one hand he’s holding a hairy arm with a bleeding stump on one end, and his other hand is balled up in challenge.

“Come at me you little bitch!”

All the invitation I need. I run at him and bring up my blade, which he smacks away with his severed arm club. He bats away my downward slash before he lunges forward to smack my head, but I parry it before hacking at his weapon. It’s still (mostly) intact after three direct blows, meaning that goat had more fortitude than he looked. My latest blow gets pushed sideways, leaving me exposed as Ty delivers a left hook.

I duck under it then spring up with a rising slash, which severs his grim cudgel in half. He hops back a few feet before lobbing his stump at me, but while my sight is obscured by my batting away of the flying limb, something appears and latches around my throat, lifting me up in the air. Throat constricted and feet dangling, I look down to see Ty standing tall and smug, his right arm having turned into a long, scaly, whip-like tendril, which is what’s got me in this fresh predicament.

“Didn’t see that coming, didja punkass? I’m just a bag of surprises.”

So am I, I think as I bring a palm over to my sword. The tendril tightens around my neck, but I still manage to nick my palm deeply enough for a trickle.

“Too slow there, stupid. And look: you cut yourself. Of course, that’s nothing compared to the pain I’m gonna be inflicting on you before I get around to snapping your neck, like the last dumbass dragon that came to make a ruckus in my domain. I think I’ll let my concubines eat the flesh off your lower half before I do you in. To make up for the abuse you’ve done them, you know what I’m saying.”

Keep blabbering. Flick up my bleeding palm, get a decent splatter on the tendril. A nasty surprise coming for ya, buddy.

“Oh come on, I’m not squeezing that hard. Can’t a tough-as-nails hardcore dragon like you stand a little asphyxiation? Just a mild burning sensation?”

“C… Can you?”

I breath out a small flame that sparks up the blood patch, getting a “YEEOOW!!” out of my captor before the tendril loosens and I go falling. Crouch land on the ground, and looking up I bring up my sword, slather, chant, breath and spin out a Jade Slider before Ty can retaliate. His tendril’s halfway through a whip motion when the Slider connects, searing through the scaled flesh and bursting through a hut, decimating it.

Everything quiets down, except for the loud whimperings of the blinded cyclops, and the groaning curses of Ty as he’s writhing and kicking on the ground, clutching his stumped arm. (Irony)

Irony.

“Agh my arm you son of a bitch, goddammit! What the hell was that?”

I go up to his squirming self and stomp hard on his chest, level my sword tip at his face, and get to the point.

“Tell me about the lampads!”

“Lampads?”

“Yes: far distant cousins of Breezies. An ancient breed of fairy, believed to have carried torches that instilled madness into anyone bathed in their warmth. It’s the one thing that seems to match up.”

It had been five days since that fateful night in Griffonstone. Me and my team were shipped back safely after a day of being kept under close but comfortable watch, sent on the same skiff that brought us to the continent. After laying low in Canterlot castle for a few days, I had been called to Twilight’s personal study (not as big as the old one, but cozier), where she shared the results of her investigation, and where I first heard that word.

“The samples from the brazier you brought over has the same lingering magical signature as those that I recorded from the prisoners,” she elaborated further, looking over her notes (oh Twi and your notes). “It’s very faint, but I’ve concluded that it’s a form of chaos magic at work here.”

“Chaos magic?”

She turned to me and nodded. “Yes. It has boundless applications and effects, meaning it can perform what any other kind of magic can and more, though at the price of being more unpredictable and volatile. That being said, going by the reports of erratic, aggressive behavior shown by the griffons in the presence of their torchbearers, as well as the reaction it caused when it came into contact with your own innate draconic magic, it began to paint a clearer picture. You said you weren’t feeling quite yourself when in the throne room with Gladius.”

“Yeah. I felt more agitated than how I usually am in those situations. Like I needed to lash out.”

“Then there was how Gladius could manipulate fire willingly despite having no prior training in magic, and he calmed down considerably the moment the fire was put out. That just proves beyond a shadow of a doubt that that flame was the source of this unknown influence, if nothing else. And only chaos could potentially grant magic to those with no affiliation to it.”

After I sent the all-clear to Twilight, me and Gladius had a nice sit down to discuss all that had happened: the invasion, why I had been sent to Griffonstone, and how relations between our two kingdoms stood in the aftermath of the whole mess. He was calm, patient and reasoning during our talk; nothing at all like the raging monarch that seemed so desperate to expand his domain. He agreed to make direct talks with Twilight on how to repair the damage that had been done on both sides, imploring me to hand deliver his scroll stating his intent before sending me and my crew on our way.

As for the decimation of his attacking soldiers at my claws, he felt it to be fair’s fair: they sucker punch us, I leave them with a bloody face. There’s considerable risk in stirring a dragon, after all.

“Once I had all this information in hoof, I immediately went to poring over all text, tomes and scrolls that involved ancient chaos magic,” Twilight continued. “And only a few hours ago I found this nature log recorded during the pre-Equestrian era, a millennium before the three tribes united. There were far more dangerous, magical creatures that roamed the land, lampads being among them. Somehow one of them, or at least someone carrying one of their torches, must have appeared over Griffonstone to deliver that spark that Gladius mentioned in his story. A flame that stokes madness would surely lead a group to a more aggressive, even warlike disposition, given enough time.”

“So a random fairy flew by and accidentally lit a fire that coincidentally drove a nation to war. That’s pretty weird, but I guess that means case closed.”

“Not quite.” Oh brother, I had thought as Twilight levitated a dusty book down from a shelf. “Lampads were recorded as being servants to the ancient gods that once walked the earth, incapable of making their own decisions and taking action unless told by a master. Furthermore, there hasn’t been a recorded sighting of these creatures in millennia, so it couldn’t have been one just wandering around aimlessly.”

“Meaning someone sent one out there to Griffonstone.”

“Precisely. It’s still an open case, I’m afraid.”

Terrific. “Then we need to know where they came from.”

“And I may have an answer for that.” She opened and laid out the book onto a table, flipping through some pages. “While lampads haven’t been seen for thousands of years, it doesn’t mean they have gone extinct. It’s likely they were sent away, banished alongside other such creatures deemed too dangerous to co-exist with the likes of ponies. Which leaves only one possible location: Tartarus.”

Twilight stood back from the table to let me get a good look of the page she stopped on. An artist’s rendition of the most infamous, damned prison in existence. Pretty ominous, even with the fancy curls.

“It could be that a single lampad had escaped undetected and flown all the way to the Griffon Kingdom, having no direction or bearings in this changed world of ours. But I’m not very sure…”

I couldn’t have that. “Then I guess we need to investigate and see what’s up. And by ‘we’ I mean me.”

No surprise it got a surprised look from her. “You would go to Tartarus?!”

“It’s the only way to know for sure. It could have just been a freak happenstance like you say, or there could be someone cooking up something else to try and tear this world apart. And if they’re someplace where they’re surrounded by dangerous monsters unseen for thousands of years, then you’d need someone who can hold their own against monstrosities great and small. Making me the most qualified to go have a look.”

“But, Tartarus is meant to be inescapable, where unfortunate souls are cast to never see the light of day again. How would you get back?”

“I’m not saying I should go right away. We have to think this sort of thing out long and hard first, right?” I looked to her, sincere and unwavering. “It may be dangerous, but I don’t want you to worry over the possibility of another invasion, or something worse. Anything that dares to threaten this country, this peace, I will go out and put a stop to them. Whatever it takes.”

She looked aside a moment, flash of uncertainty. Gave way to understanding. Trust. “Okay… Better to be safe than sorry, after all. But no one's going anywhere unless I can find a safe means to extract someone from Tartarus. And if there's no such way… that will be that. We will then face any new threat as it comes.”

“And I'll be right on it the moment it shows.”

“I know you will, Spike.” She turned to peruse her collection before saying, “I'll start searching for extraction methods. You go home and surprise Sweetie Belle. You deserve the rest.”

“I appreciate that, Twi. Don't overwork yourself.”

“I won't.”

She was bound to anyway, knowing Twi. Though it may only be one all-nighter; she's been doing a good job pacing herself over the years. Shouldn't be long before she found a solution or none at all. But until then I picked up some books on classic mythology before leaving. Might as well do some studying of my own.

Certainly gave me some idea of what to expect, thinking back. Which brings me to the sorry sap sprawled under my foot.

“What are you talking about?” I dig my lower claws into the base of his shoulder. “Gach! What the hell, man?!”

“Those things flying around with the torches, who's controlling them?”

“Huh? Why’d you want to know that?”

“Tell me!”

Ty manages a smackable grin before making a defiant chuckle. “You're crazier than any of us; they did right sticking you in here.” I'm about to poke him a new nose when he says, “Those pixie-ass squirts belong to the warden. They're like monitors, her eyes in the sky. Also really damn hard to catch or swat.”

“Where can I find the warden?”

“And you got a serious death wish to go with the crazy. Fine by me, slim. You can find her further in, holed up in one of the deeper caves.” He nods in a direction outside the village's borders. “She doesn't like being bothered, and tends to rip up anyone who does. But I bet deep down she's awful lonely after all this time, so who am I to stop a strapping guy like you from saying hello?”

“You talk way too much.”

I agree.

“Just copin’ with losing a damn arm, you figure that? But yeah, keep walking out there and you'll bump into her. And if you happen to change your mind, then you best stay far away and hide in some hole, cuz if I find out you're still alive out there, I'll come slit your throat and dance in your blood. But not before I rip every scale from your body, one by one.”

“Noted. Thanks for the info.”

I lift back my foot, only to slam it hard into his head. Not enough to kill him, but should keep him down a while. I look around to see who has recovered. Good number of dead goons, some knocked out, some writhing and grasping severed limbs. Only sounds are Poly blubbering on the ground and a dog happily gnawing away at a bone.

Sheathing my sword, I step off the stricken Mr. Edgelord and make my way out of this craphole of a shantytown. Could’ve been him talking more BS, but it’s still better than no lead at all. Though an idea of there being a warden around down here is kinda interesting. Living amongst cutthroats, deviants and forgotten relics of the past, as trapped as the rest of them. To be considered a figure of authority in a place without law, they must be pretty powerful.

Hopefully I can make a better impression then I did with that lot.

Act 2 Verse 3

Of Doorways and Crossroads

A few minutes of brisk walking has put me a good long distance from the village (and any avenging cohorts). The holding area (as Campe called it) is vast, with what had to be networks of tunnels and caves dug out from the surrounding walls. No doubt made by the other inmates… the less friendly variety, if Ty’s to be believed. Didn’t want to go digging around if it meant fighting some nameless horror. I’d get worn out pretty quick.

However, there’s a wide cave opening with an inviting array of torches set into it close by, and would luck have it there’s a concentration of lampads hovering to and from it. A good enough place to start. I take to that opening, and follow those guiding lights further in.

I take a moment to reach into my shirt and pull out the necklace hanging within, checking on the green gem embedded at the end of the chain. Took Twilight five days to learn about and make this puppy: a teleportation amulet, supposedly capable of relocating someone to a set point from anywhere on the globe. My ticket out of here. She said she set it up so that only I could activate it, and that seems to hold true judging by the flawless shine coming off the gem’s surface. Doesn’t hurt to make sure it’s still there, at least.

As I’m putting the necklace back into the confines of my shirt, my “travel buddy” chimes in.

That surely was a rousing welcome from the locals. Though I’m surprised you didn’t take a more diplomatic approach in getting information.

“That guy seriously pissed me off. And in a prison setting it’s best to assert dominance from the get-go, right? Makes it less likely for them to get in my way later.”

Ahh, now that’s the right kind of thinking! And it serves as a chance to vent your frustration over not being able to kill off King Gladius in a satisfying, ultraviolent manner, as you’re wont to do.

Being able to hear Discord talk to me had been a major tip-off that something was screwy in the griffon king’s throne room. And the fact he’s babbling now is a good indicator that I’m in the right place.

Indeed: this place is rife with chaos energies. Not as concentrated as in the throneroom, though. It’s far more spread out. Practically pulsing with old chaos. It’s quite soothing to this old heart.

“So I’m guessing you’re able to talk to me because of all the chaos around.”

Absolutely! My, your deductive reasoning has improved immensely in my absence. Now I won’t have to bother explaining the obvious so much, huzzah!

“Are you gonna be talking the whole time?”

Well someone has to stem your boredom. You see this place? Aside from its residents, it’s not exactly the most thrilling place to visit. Besides, someone’s gotta watch your back down here.

“I work best alone. Why not go say hi to Fluttershy or someone else? Bet she’d be thrilled to know you’re back.”

But we make such a good team. Like how we worked together in hunting down Luna in her own home while killing several innocent guards and servants in the process. That was a stellar display of jolly cooperation if there ever was one!

“Right. So could you enlighten me as to the secrets and inner-workings of Tartarus? Provide something that I couldn’t gather from any pony-written document?”

Playing to my unfathomable wisdom; you’ll go far yet, kid. As for humble Tartarus, it is a very old institution of rehabilitory banishment. It has been in existence far longer than before the first pony trotted the earth, steeped in ancient magicks time has long since forgotten.

“I gathered that much already. So much for a font of helpful knowledge.”

Patience, young swordwielder: these things take time to build up. Now, the worst and most evil criminals and creatures are cast down here for the well-being of the surface. To ensure it remains that way, there are all sorts of safeguards, defenses and the like put in place to keep those put here from climbing out.

“Security measures. Such as?”

Apart from the massive iron gate and a very deep hole without ladders or lifts serving as the main entrance, I do believe the deeper reaches of Tartarus are labyrinthian in nature. I’ve never actually been down here myself, mind you, but if I was some lowly mortal who wished to imprison someone as grossly powerful and destructive as, say, myself, I’d want to make it as confusing for them to escape from as possible. Granted they don’t have clairvoyance or omnipresent sight, in which case your typical ancient architect would rely on a bevy of doors, gates, barriers, puzzles, riddles and traps to hold them back, or at least tire them out.

“Uh-huh.”

By the by, did you make sure that trinket of yours works? Twilight always has this tendency of making things half-cocked, and it’d be highly unfortunate and embarrassing if it fizzed out upon use.

“She wouldn’t have let me come down here if she wasn’t one hundred percent certain. You were saying about those security measures?”

Right right. Apart from traps, there’s the old standby of stationing capable guards to dissuade or suppress any escapees. Like the one bounding toward us right now.

Too late I pick up the approaching thuds, but I have enough time to turn before a thick wall of bone and fur slams into me and sends me flying. After a rough skid on my butt and a messy tumble, I spring up and see myself staring at the three drooling, growling faces of Tartarus’ head watchdog: Cerberus. Guess they stuck him here for the time-being (where else?).

You can’t go slouching with your reaction time down here, my precious ward.

Got that message loud and clear. Before I have time to reach for my sword, Cerberus comes bounding and snarling with all three jaws open. I bring up my claws in time to snag the upper and lower jaws of the middle head, locking them in place as I withstand his bulk. My feet tear through the ground a few yards before we completely stop, only his other two heads pull back to snap at my scaly self.

I loosen my grip slightly and let the closing lower jaw lift me up away from danger, letting go once airborne and landing on his back. I then notice the spiked collars around his necks, and immediately take hold of the center on and hang on for dear life. The three-headed hound hops and barks madly trying to buck me off, but I hold on through the rough bouncing.

I get an idea, and during one very high hop, I sidle off his neck without letting go of the collar, and swinging below him I put all my might in yanking down his collar. My pulling plus our descent allows me to slam the middle head hard into the ground with his chin. I back away and take out my sword while he staggers around, but with two heads untouched he takes little time to recover and stare me down, growling and snapping his three sets of jaws. I level my sword and wait for his next move.

“What has gotten you so riled up, my pet?”

Cerberus immediately settles down and lowers his three heads, stepping back timidly and whimpering at that gentle, yet commanding voice. Even I’ve gone still.

“Could it be that a new guest has come to pay us a visit?”

I lower my sword, then turn around carefully. What I see before me is like something peeled right off some ancient pottery art. Most of her body is covered in a simplistic, but spotless red and white toga ensemble that accentuates her strikingly slender frame. But most striking of all is that upon her lofty shoulders is the head of a well-groomed canine, with a long slightly curved snout akin to a jackel’s, or a very old hunting breed. Her fur shines as though anointed in oil, her ears are erect and keen, and her eyes glimmer majestically in the firelight. Her two slender arms are outstretched to either side, with one holding a blazing torch and the other a bow. Definitely a breathtaking sight, almost godly. And that’s not even counting the fact that she’s as tall as a grain silo.

Now I say this with utmost reverence: that’s a HUGE bitch!

“You move through these high-vaulted halls with purpose, to be able to withstand my faithful Cerberus. Not at all like the forlorn, pitiless souls whom I watch over. A pleasing sprig of vigor in a vast field of desolation.”

This is definitely the type of person I need to be diplomatic with.

“The others back in the village told me there was a warden hereabouts. I take it that it’s you?”

She cocks her head almost playfully. “A warden? What worth are titles in a realm devoid of civility? But if it is aptitude in quelling the unruly you speak of, then I am fairly high in that regard. Thus a warden I must be.”

She takes a long step forward in golden sandaled feet, and just when I’m thinking she’s about to step on me I notice in surprise that she’s inexplicably shrunken down to just twice my height. As I’m processing this shift, she goes over to Cerberus and pets his middle head, earning a happy whimper from all his heads. Then I realize that her torch had switched to the other hand and the bow is gone.

“I am Hecate: overseer of the souls condemned to Tartarus. As well as master of this prison’s most fearsome protector, Cerberus.”

“And the master of the lampads floating around.”

“That would be correct.”

Straight to the point, huh? Works for me.

“Normally it would be a surprise for one so freshly cast from the surface to be aware of my handmaids’ existence, but you are no ordinary arrival. And you have questions pertaining to my servants yet, which I will answer promptly.” She stops petting Cerberus and looks to me. “But come, walk with me. There would be little chance of interruption deeper into my abode, and we can talk along the way.”

The dog-headed warden turns and walks off casually, leaving Cerberus to sit and see her off. This practically screams of a trap, but I'm here for answers and I'll put my trust in the fates. Thusly, I follow suit.

I catch up and keep pace beside her. And it seems she's shrunk down to only a head taller than me. Weird.

“It has been a long time since anyone dared to venture into my cavern,” Hecate says, still carrying that torch. “I'm sure you and Cerberus would have gotten along famously in time. Few can match his might and prowess, and the poor thing could use a playmate that can handle him.”

“Yeah, he seems a swell enough pooch. And I've gotta say, you're very dignified for a canine yourself.”

“If that is in reference to those mongrels called Diamond Dogs, then speak no further. They put all their energies into the lowly act of digging, foregoing the thrill of the hunt to scrounge gems in the dirt. I weep over the waste of my species’ attributes. Though admittedly, I am a rather exceptional example of my kind. As were all other gods.”

The dog-headed warden steps ahead slightly, lifting her head in wistful memory. “Long ago, gods like myself were needed to maintain and watch over the world to keep it alive and fruitful. We measured the rain, raised the crops, controlled the seasons and granted safe passage and prosperity to those who paid their due respects and tributes. I for one was matron of the early hunters, and the keeper of knowledge in the handling of herbal medicines, to list but a few of my former roles. Yet as mortals became more self-reliant and capable of shaping both their land and their destinies on their own, the necessity for gods dwindled rapidly, and soon they vanished from both the earth and mortal memory. A sad fate, but as inevitable and unavoidable as the very passage of time itself.”

Oh joy, one of those reminiscing old betties. Don't you just adore how they shower melancholy over everything with their insipid stories?

“That’s the sad fact of time: things eventually change, and very few of them can stick it out as they originally were.” She smells strongly of olive oil.

“That it is verily, with you yourself being a prime example. Dragons have oftentimes been unruly, following their own creeds and shunning the ways of others, yet you walk in simple but finely-tailored clothing. And the sword you carry is nothing of the crude weaponry exhibited by your kind. Perchance you have allied with some kingdom of another race?”

“I grew up with them. Raised by them, educated, trained to defend myself. They sheltered me, and I protect them in kind.”

That’s quite a stretch with the last part, huhu.

“Peculiarly noble for a creature born into greed. They must have loved you no different than a true blood relation, and you must have cherished them just as devoutly—Pffffft hehehehe.—Even in your current environs you think only of their safety—BWAHhahahahaha oh that’s just too rich!—It is a commendable show of devotion—Oh please stop her my non-existent sides, haHA!”

“I suppose it is. And it’s those kinds of thoughts that make me curious about those fairies floating around overhead.” Gotta get focused here.

“Of course. They are the ones you came to know of, after all.” Lifting up a dainty hand, a lone lampad comes fluttering down and alights softly on her fingertips, flapping its wings and holding its own torch up. Really does look like the breezies in the pictures. “These lovely things were a gift granted to me for my aid in shaping the cosmos from the black ocean of chaos. The flames they carry were borne from the very first fires to bring warmth to the young world, and thus burn with essence from that original chaos.”

“Which can cause a mortal to go mad if near its light for too long.”

“Indeed; you are very astute. This effect of my little ones prove quite useful for my present role. They themselves go to and fro amid the depths of Tartarus, staying vigilant for signs of trouble and unrest, but the torches they carry help cull the inhabitants. Their warmth can muddle minds, disorient, and distract the lowly and the ill-tempered from focusing on uniting or forming a means of escape from their just sentences. In this manner, I preserve order without having to resort to violent means. A most tidy approach.”

She lifts up her hand, sending the lampad fluttering back up to its brethren.

“Yes. It’d be a real big mess if one of them happened to fly out and mess with the heads of someone capable of doing some great harm.”

“There would be no worry of that, young one,” Hecate says with a soft smile. “The lampads obey my word alone. So enamored to their master, there would be no concern for them to wander off and cause mischief.”

“Meaning if one were to fly around where it shouldn’t be, it would be because of their master’s command. Would that be correct?”

Ohhhhh boy, here we go!

The dog-headed goddess comes to a stop, no doubt feeling the hard look I’m giving her. Then she begins laughing softly. It seems she’s grown five feet.

“The mischief they caused must have been considerable, I presume.”

“I’d call it dire.”

“Then it is not my servants that you seek.” Her head doesn’t move, but she’s giving me a sidelong glance. “It is the answer to my indiscretion, yes?”

“That it would be.”

She shines her canines at me. “Your forbearance up to now is admirable, and for that you shall be rewarded.” She forwards her gaze. “We have arrived.”

I look up and around, and get a start over the abrupt change in the scenery. The cave walls had closed in a little, and there are doors set into them. Hundreds of them, of different materials, colors, and sizes, set evenly in rows and columns around the cave. Reminds me of a prison block, only no walkways and guards. Sucks for the ones locked up top.

Hecate starts moving about, waving a hand over the line of doors at mid-level… a good twenty feet up.

“While most of the inmates can be contained by my lampads’ flame, there are those far more tenacious, and much too strong of will to be so easily numbed. These exceptions are kept locked away in their own private chambers, which are carved specially to accommodate their respective dimensions, needs, and punishment.” I see her other hand wave out, now holding a set of scales. “Like any dutiful jailor bound to their service, I regularly check in on these individuals from time to time. Though it may be easy to throw something unwanted into a deep dark pit, you invite danger the moment you forget.”

“That’s good advice. But I thought you were going to explain yourself.”

She’s shrunken down, her torch having changed hands unseen. “It was during one of these rounds, close to a score of years ago, that I conversated with one particular soul. As I sometimes do, when there would be no harm in doing so. What made that occasion different was the request he had made. It seemed innocent enough: to use but one of my lampads to venture out from Tartarus and observe the world above and beyond, to see how much the world had changed since his imprisonment. Their existence was negligible to mortals, he reasoned, and if kept far above cities or other populated area then no misdeed can come about. Despite soft speech and suppliant form, I could sense a deeper motive, a desire for trickery. Yet I assented all the same, and let him make use of one of my servants, under the command that they only observe and never directly engage with mortals. He accepted this condition readily, and thus far he has upheld the agreement to my satisfaction.”

Very cunning of them. We’re dealing with one clever cookie.

“Only that lampad had nearly caused war between two powerful nations.”

The dog-headed goddess “hmm”-ed. “Even almighty gods fell victim to squabbling and petty conflicts of interest. It only takes the slightest offense to bring ruin to one’s house, as well as their neighbor’s.”

I forget how fond the old ones were with spouting warnings of ill-tidings and mortal follies. At least I learned to tell it up front when it was a bad idea to irk me.

“If you sensed trickery in what they wanted, then why would you let him have the lampad? That sounds to me like a very gross oversight.”

“It was very much intentional, though my reasoning for it was rather selfish. For in truth…” She turns to face me. “I did it because it meant I would come to meet you, Spike the Dragon.”

That got me surprised, and it must have clearly shown because she’s looking at me with a knowing look of satisfaction.

“I knew of our encounter for quite some time. Though my roles on the surface were numerous, I was primarily worshipped as the Goddess of Crossroads.” Suddenly two extra heads phase into being, one on each side. “I kept watch over the intersections faced by travelers, protecting them from the fell spirits of the afterlife and the beasts in the night.” As she’s talking, her heads phase in and out, each taking turns speaking. “I served as protector of doorways and entrances to any and all homes who pay me respect. I held dominion over the verdant earth, the boundless heavens, and the wine-dark sea, all at the same time. And for every soul I encounter, I know of everyone they have ever met and will ever meet.”

I find your head trick to be rather excessive than impressive, madam.

The phasing heads go away, leaving just the one. “I foresaw your arrival when that prisoner spoke his request, and my cooperation in his endeavor assured it.”

“So you let them have a lampad because you wanted to meet me? What for?”

“Because of what you are.” Now she’s up at my side. “Mine had become a life of monotony, you understand: overseeing the same wretched souls, who have long ago given up all that had made them fierce and virile. Yet in my talk with the one who wanted my lampad, I saw a glimpse of something fascinating. Of a being that radiated with a will and determination the likes of which I have not beheld in centuries. And having spoken to you, to be in your presence, I discover that there is so much more.”

She begins walking ahead. “You have met many in your travels… killed many. In you I see hardships overcome, empires fallen, lives irrevocably changed and destroyed, and an insurmountable devotion to upholding duty. Long has it been since I encountered a mortal who had altered the face of the world to the extent that you have. The moment I learned of your existence, there was no doubt in my mind of what course I had to take. To simply meet you was worthy of any unfortunate outcomes, and the consequences that may follow.” She turns to face me. “Now that you know the extent of my involvement, what shall be your course? A warrior of terrible might such as you surely wants more than simple explanation, in coming to this most wretched of recesses, the den of the world’s most wicked denizens. So I ask: what is it that you seek?”

The answer is obvious.

“I’m just here to find the one responsible for those unfortunate outcomes, simple as that. And if need be, to put a stop to them from causing any further trouble (whatever the cost).”

The dog-headed goddess nods. “Ever true to your original intentions. For a dragon, that is a another character trait deserving of fascination and reward.” Hecate begins walking to her left, carrying just a torch. “The one you seek has been committed to the deepest depths of Tartarus for a most diabolical crime. To venture there unguided would take weeks and prove excruciatingly arduous, even for one of your mettle. But allow me to open a more expedient route.”

Hecate comes upon a door matching her height of twelve feet, and holding up her hand her torch turns into an ornate key of solid, faded yellow metal, which she then uses to unlock the door with some unnecessary fanfare. The door pulls open without protest, and stepping closer I can see the dark hallway beyond.

As I’m about to ask her what I should expect, she beats me to it.

“Before you lies the most direct path to that which you seek. But heed the words of this deathless god: therein lies the worst ordeals Tartarus has to offer for you alone. You will face adversaries that will tire your body and weaken your heart, but if your will withstands and remains true to your objective, then you shall inevitably earn your prize.”

I look to her, then look into the darkness through the doorway, then look back up to her. “You say you know the people someone will meet in the future, right? Am I actually going to find them?”

“Though I know the answer, it is not my place as warden of this realm to interfere where unnecessary. Furthermore, one’s own future can only become theirs if they pursue it by their own merit rather than relying solely on prophecy alone.”

Sure didn’t stop you guys from throwing them around like lottery numbers.

“How will I know who it will be?”

She gave me a patient smile. “For one as perceptive as you, it will be no concern. And I am certain you will have help from that touch of chaos in you to see you to the end.”

Another surprise there, but I face forward so as not to let it slip again, then begin walking. Though after a few steps, I stop and look back up at her.

“Thank you for your help. It was a nice talk.”

“The pleasure was all mine, Spike. May you find success.”

She waves to me, and after a quick wave back, I bid the dog-headed goddess farewell and step through the door and into the corridor beyond. Comforting that this time around the door doesn’t shut behind me.

Aside from her buffeting us with those airs of hers, that was remarkably easy. Wise move there, Spikey boy. Never a smart thing to start an argument with a classical god type.

“The benefits of reading ancient morality plays during downtime at the library. But I got a feeling it’s only gonna get a lot harder and messier from here on out.”

With your track record? There’s no doubt!

That assuring thought in mind, I venture deeper into Tartarus, readying myself for the worst.

…

“Yours will be a difficult undertaking, troubled Spike. But know I have the utmost confidence in your success, for when we meet next, everything will be considerably more interesting.”

Author's Note

Never knew about Hecate personally until Touhou came around and set me straight. Kind of a neat figure in the Greek pantheon that I don't think too many people recall. Certainly makes for a neato extra boss with an equally killer boss track. Have a listen:

Probably wise on Spike's part not to fight this one, eh fellas?

Act 2 Verse 4

Fading Cinder

The passageway isn’t as bleak a trek as anticipated. The stones embedded in the walls give off a kind of murky glow, but there’s enough that it isn’t too ominous. And I don’t have to put up with it for long as I see the already wide corridor widening out even further just around the bend. Past said bend I step into a large, dome-shaped chamber, bathed in light by a ring of torches. No colosseum, but roomy enough for a game of buckball (bleachers included).

The place is empty; not even a random boulder or stalagmite. No discernible exits, either. Wonder who’d be holed up here.

Probably no one. It could just be the generic resting area before a big scuffle.

Or maybe not, as I see something at the opposite wall and head for it to investigate. Looks like a structure of some kind, and when I get up to it I find that I'm half right. It's a very large chair of roughly chiseled stone—likely granite—with arm rests and a high back, akin to an ancient throne. Fitting as it's occupied by what looks to be a statue of a muscular, broad-chested dragon of faded rust-red scales, a firm set of ridged horns on its head, and covered in dusty silver and gold armor. In the flickering shadows of the torches, it makes for an unsettling decoration.

“Odd place for a shrine.”

All kinds of dragon-worshippers in the dark ages, prostrating themselves to get roasted or eaten thinking it's an unparalleled religious experience. I'm honestly surprised there were any left to be thrown down here. Must’ve been really bored to have carved something this finely detailed.

The statue opens its eyes, letting out a dusty huff of air.

Orrr it's an actual living dragon sitting very still.

“What comes to disturb my vigilance? Why does it carry so familiar a scent?”

His sharp red eyes fixate on me before bending his head forward, loosening dust from his form. He then speaks again in that low, hardened tone.

“What fresh torment are you that my jailor has sent to me, to further while away the centuries of rot I have been confined to? Or state your name and prove that you’re no insufferable spirit.”

A real cheery outlook this one has.

“My name is Spike, and I’m not here to cause you any trouble.”

He shifts in his throne, upsetting more dust as he tilts his head. “Could it be that you’re… dragonkin?”

“That I am.”

Very slowly he shakes his head. “I had thought my vision had finally come to abandon me in this horrid lighting, but the scent you carry leaves no doubt. But you are small in stature, and lack a set of wings. Is this what my reckless brethren have been reduced to?” He sits back fully upright. “It does seem fitting, however, to be made perpetually juvenile to better suit their temperaments. Pray, what senseless act of destruction has sentenced you to this lonesome sepulcher?”

“I didn’t come down here due to a violent crime. And whatever had been destroyed by me, it was justified.”

“Hrmf, so you claim. But I can smell the blood of others mingled with that of my ancestors on you, still fresh. In my time, all dragons were lords of their own domains; each one of us held rule over every field, mountain, and mile of sky. And all of them, myself included, were belligerent beyond measure, ravaging all who could not match our might. To conquer and ravage is a calling no true dragon can stave off for long.”

No argument from me.

“I can assure you that I’m not here to conquer or even take up your time. I’m just looking for an exit out of here.”

He tilts his head. “Exit? Are the surface dwellers truly ignorant of this hateful place? There is no exit from Tartarus except by way of sweet, tempting death.”

Probably not as tempting as zap apple cupcakes (definitely not as sweet).

“I’m not talking about leaving Tartarus. I’m looking to go further in, like through a secret door or passage.”

His eyes widen slowly. The corners of his scaly mouth seem to twitch as he says in a grave tone, “Why, ever, would you want to go deeper into Tartarus?”

“I’m after someone, and I was told this was the way to them. If you know of another way around, I’d like to hear about it.”

His head lowers slightly so that he’s looking away from me. I can just make out a low growl. “There is only darkness beyond here. Yours is a fool’s errand.”

Like I haven’t had my fair share. Not this one, though. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to see that for myself.”

There’s a pause between us, until he goes, “I would say your eyes would do you no good there, but they have already been blinded by arrogance.” He lifts his head and glares hard at me. “I noticed the blade you carry upon your back. You served as knight for another? Subservient to one of the lower races? Then you may understand this: if you do not part from my hall, then I shall smite you where you stand. Leave me, and wallow someplace far from here.”

You’re not very good at dissuasion.

I was gonna say.

“I’m not one to be intimidated or easily turned away. And I can tell ya, this sword of mine has dealt with a whole lot of tough, overwhelming odds. So I’m not going to be leaving just because of a threat; I hear plenty of those in my day job.”

“So be it.” The dragon leans forward and pushes himself up from the throne, stiff groanings filling the air. “You have stoked my ire, and shall face the consequences.” As he’s getting up, he reaches his right arm to the side and pulls up a rusty longsword that had been placed in the shadows of the throne. Once standing at full height (only a quarter my height taller), a pair of dusty wings snap open with a “fwoomp”, the resulting gust making the torches flicker madly for a sec. “In your final moments, you shall bear witness to a Dragon Lord’s wrath.”

Guess no diplomacy for this one.

Heck no. Wasted enough time talking my way through this place, and he doesn't seem the reasonable type.

Suit yourself.

I withdraw my own sword as the other dragon approaches me. He raises his longsword and—

Dodge left!

I spring left as he slams it down, and raising it up again he—

Dodge right!

I go to the right to avoid another slam, and almost immediately—

Jump!

I hop over a swift, low sweep of his blade.

“Can you stop with the tips?”

“Impatient for your demise? Then I shall come at you with no restraint.”

Crap did I say that out loud?

You did, but I'll hush up. His tells are painfully obvious, anyway.

Gripping both claws on his sword, the elder dragon charges. I duck to evade a mighty upper sweep, then bring up my sword to catch his downward slash. The strength behind it is enough to rattle my bones, but it's manageable. He gives another swing which gets another block, then I give him a slash of my own. Sparks erupt from the tarnished surface of his raised blade as I press on, see if I can goad him into making a mistake.

Instead he opts to use those wings of his to leap back two yards, kicking up wind that ruffles my clothes.

“You cannot outmatch me where aggression is concerned, whelp!”

He springs forward, using those wings to give him some height for one powerful downward slash. I hold my ground and catch it full on with my steel (ah cripes my body), then push him back. He lands and backs up to steady himself, but I'm on him right as he focuses on me. I show him some more of my own aggression, striking at him from all angles, not giving him rest after each of his blocks. He suddenly raises an arm and backhands me, his greaves catching my blade and knocking me back.

“What worth is that energy if there is no precision behind it?”

He comes at me swinging again, and as I'm blocking I figure I'd show him some precision. I withstand his attacks patiently, my arms getting mildly sore with each impact, until he raises his sword high to bring it down to cleave me. Not a chance, as I sidestep and immediately swing a fist up into the side of his jaw (yeow that's hard), and while he's stunned I spin in place and drive my sword backwards through the seams of his chest armor.

My opponent coughs in pain and surprise, and I give a few twists before ripping my weapon out. He clutches the ragged hole I just made, and as he looks at me his legs give out and he collapses forward in a clatter. I stand there, waiting to see if he tries getting up, the only sound being the burning torches and the soft drips of blood falling from my sword. He remains completely still.

He went down like a complete chump! That was majorly disappointing, I must say. You’d think he’d last much longer.

“Sitting in that chair for so long in all that armor was bound to make him sluggish. He could still pack a strong hit, though.” I whip the blood off my sword and sheath it before turning around. “Now I just need to find a way out of here.”

I make my way over to a random spot of wall to begin my exit search. My limbs are still trembling from the repeated blows of the dragon lord, but they’ll have time to settle down as I feel around every inch of this place. That’s what I figured, until the clang of metal splitting rock echoes through the air. Crap.

Probably shouldn’t have turned your back on the body.

I turn back around, and there’s the dragon lord straining to pull himself up by the hilt of his embedded sword.

“N-n-no! I cannot, allow you…” His left arm gets positioned under him and further helps him up, allowing him to aim his razor-sharp grimace and equally deadly glare at me. “It, resides in you. I felt its abominable presence, coiled around your mind.” Now he gets a foot under him, balancing into a kneel. “Ruin is what you’re seeking. Catastrophe, devastation, for all things.” His other leg gets under him, and he wobbles up steadily to full standing height, never dropping that steely gaze. Blood is trickling steadily from his wound, leaving a stain down his waist and leg coverings.

I guess I was wrong about him.

“I shall not allow its agent to get past me.” Once fully erect, he shakes himself before widening his stance, fist clenched and sword held to the side. “I won’t allow you to unleash darkness upon the world!”

I feel a warm breeze as all sound ebbs away, only to be broken by the distant tolling of bells. I look to see where it’s coming from, but my eyes fall back on the dragon lord, whose chestplate appears to be radiating. The glow spreads out, quickly enveloping his body, and I see the blood along his armor takes on an orange, burning hue. Lines, cracks of some inner fire pop up through his exposed scales, especially his face and horns. Then his sword goes “fwoomth” as a sheath of flickering burgundy surrounds it, giving it a smouldering shine. After a moment, he brings his radiant legs and arms together, grasping his flaming sword with both claws and holds it firm before him.

“You shall be cleansed until not even ash remains.”

Looks like we have ourselves a two-parter. Better watch out.

Great advice, cuz the revived dragon lord spins and slashes that fiery sword, letting off a massive fire crescent. I jump and roll out of its way, and the rapport of exploding rock turns my attention to the corridor I came from, now caved-in. Double crap.

“No escape for your ilk.”

He pulls back his sword, then sprints forward before snapping it around in an arch. The blade misses me by a foot, but the gap is immediately filled with a wave of blazing fire that catches the front of my jacket. While patting it out he slams his sword into the ground, unleashing a small explosion at my feet that pushes me back.

Serious Gladius flashbacks here, only it's not chaotic flame I'm against, but plain old (though pretty strong) dragon fire. Very manageable.

I run at the fiery lord and get to slashing. He blocks two of my hits, but I bypass his guard and cut across his armor. His wings flap out like a cape lined with burning coals before sending him flying back from my attacks. Once he's landed, I only see a streak of bright yellow where there should've been blood on his chest. Not good.

Those crackling wings push him skyward on wisps of flame, then launch him down into a dive. I roll forward to avoid getting skewered, but another explosion erupts and pushes me further away. I recover and go at his back, slashing and cutting yellow lines through those wings before he spins around with a warding fire slash. He rears back and breathes a stream of flame at the ground before him that billows and rises into a thick firewall, blocking him off from my sight. I keep my sword level, eyes darting around for any breaks in the inferno, when he launches out with his own sword pointed at me. The broad side of my blade catches his before it can pierce me, but the force behind it throws me off my feet and far back into the room until my back and ass collide with the wall, knocking the wind out as gravity dumps me onto the floor.

Try fighting fire with fire. I mean, this is a battle between dragons.

I was about to think that, pushing myself back up onto my feet. I roll up the right sleeve of my jacket, then run a claw down the length of my arm up to my sword hilt. Dunno where that extra fire of his is generating from, but might as well show mine.

A puff of green and a chant grants me my own sweet-ass flaming sword, which looks to give my opponent pause. Not feeling so special now? I charge and engage him with my Lancer, red and green flames clashing amidst the cry of steel. We slash and clang at each other, sending up flames and sparks with each impact. His strength is pressing down on me again, so I even the odds by letting off a Malachite Piston on the next hit. This knocks away his sword forcibly, yet he still holds onto it, leaving him open wide open for slash at his chest.

That seems to do something as he cries out, then immediately springs up and over me in an acrobatic spin. He claws into the ground with his free claw as he skids into a backward crouch landing, spitting off some fireballs that go up into the air before coming down at me. Those get dodged promptly, but when I get myself straightened out I see the dragon lord standing tall and in the middle of driving his fiery sword into the ground. This leads to orange spots appearing in places along the floor, and immediately I get to dodging the columns of fire that start erupting everywhere.

I run, turn, and sidestep around the flame pillars, though one does catch my left arm. Mostly ruins the sleeve, but the heat is very pronounced through my scales (more so than lava). I hurry along through the flaming maze until I get back within sight of the ancient swordslinger. Jumping up, I spin out a Jade Slicer at him, and landing I sprint at him as he’s stumbling back from the hit and drive my blazing sword straight into the center of his chest plate.

The flame pillars snuff out instantly as their summoner backpedals, dropping his sword while clutching the latest hole I’ve given him. The embers peeking through his scales dim considerably as he falters.

“You, you cannot be allowed to pass. I won't let you!”

He groans and falls to his hands and knees, while the torches around us blaze up. In the enhanced lighting I see the dragon lord’s limbs and back bulging out and expanding, snapping his armor off as he grows. In no time he’s grown enough to take up half the room, becoming more like a dragon overtaken by severe greed as his groans get deeper and more animalistic. Once he stops growing he slams down his massive front claws, twists around his neck, expands his wings, then lets out a shrieking roar as his internal fire reignites a fresh coat of brilliance on him.

I don’t believe it: it’s a three-parter!

His right claw goes high before falling in my direction, which I dodge only to do the same when his left one comes slamming down after that. He pulls his head back before roaring out a massive inferno at the ground before him, forcing me to backpedal or get completely engulfed. The flames are barely gone when he starts clawing his way forward, reducing my wiggle room in his pursuit. I let out a Jade Slider to push him back, but when it hits his snout it only seems to agitate rather than actually hurt or dissuade him. Bugger.

May have to be more strategic if you want to topple this nasty customer.

I know as much, sheesh. I stab my Lancer against the sides of my feet, and a quick chant gives me a Tracer to go with my fiery sword. Have to get super mobile for this.

I zip to the left and leap onto the wall, speeding up to the ceiling before springing downward. A smouldering wing is there to brush me forward into the path of an oncoming claw, which I bat away. That only knocks me into his gaping jaws, though, which he gnashes as I get close. I grasp onto a nostril as he chomps madly for my dangling feet, but I shove my blazing sword into the roof of his mouth instead.

The appetizer makes him screech and toss his head around, which sends me flying back to the spot where I started from. As I straighten myself, he rears back for another fire breath. I put on a speed burst to outrun the flamethrower, which follows me up along the wall. I get to the ceiling and launch down again, letting off a Slicer at the wing as it comes up and tearing it to shreds.

I land on his back, but the pain-crazed dragon slams against the side of the chamber, then slams the other side. I'm thrown about to his left shoulder, where a claw awaits to crush me. Instead I leap right onto the claw tips, stab the gap in-between, then backflip off as he's shaking it.

Angle myself, aim, and with both claws clutching the hilt I drive my sword into the top of his head. While he's writhing I brace myself, chanting and holding on for the critical seconds leading up to the firing of a supercharged Piston. The ensuing explosion of green and crimson blots my sight as my ears fill with one deafening death cry.

All is quiet as before. The blast had blown out most of the torches, but I can still see clearly in the dimness. Before me is the bulky remains of the dragon lord, fallen and bereft of his infernal glow, giving his body the coloration and texture of ash. Much of his skull has been blown away, with just his mouth and neck left intact.

That blast may have been a bit overkill, Spike.

After my fight with Boulderstorm all those years ago, I made a note to always double-tap when I land a critical stab to a hulking monster's head.

Ah, very prudent. Definitely can’t take any chances with these unsavory sorts.

Exactly. Now that he's definitely out of the way, I turn toward the wall.

“Cursed, youth…”

Dammit. I turn back, but to some relief it's only his parched jaws and raspy voice struggling to move.

“Before you part, and before this body draws its last breath, I shall tell you of the crime that had sent me here.”

Parting words. Alright, I think as I sheath my sword.

“During one of the coldest winters this world ever bore witness to, I was caught by a violent blizzard and forced to take ground in a sequestered valley for shelter. There, I discovered a tribe of equines in squalid huts unsuited for the harsh cold. Knowing they would not survive the blizzard, I took pity... and showed them the secret to producing fire from materials borne from the earth, so that they could withstand both the storm, and future winters. When my fellow lords learned of this, they were enraged. To share anything with anything beneath them, was tantamount to treason. They apprehended me, and cast me into Tartarus for that single unthinkable act.”

Cracks pop up around his body as bits of his chin fall off. “I was exiled for a show of compassion... for giving hope to something less fortunate than myself. Condemned to life underground, far from the skies I ruled over. But never did I curse myself for that decision. Not once…” More cracks on his face. “I… did not think myself above the world as my brethren did, for I had met with darkness. Felt its coldness, its maddening influence. I understood that it was a threat to all living things, great and small. I took an oath to combat it in any way I could, yet one act of compassion isn't enough, I realized in coming here…”

He pauses, as a chunk of horn breaks off. “A great abundance of it is stored deep in this dreaded vault, longing to escape and smother all that is pure and innocent. I have kept sentry to ensure that it never does, and swore to strike down all those who seek to release it. No matter what, or who, they may be.”

Should say something. “I am not looking to release anything.”

“Truthfully?” He makes some choking grunts as laughter, then cranes his neck to raise his mouth at me, parts of his neck crumbling away. “Don't bother with false comforts. Dragons only venture in service to their greed. Though you be stunted in height, though your blade strikes true, you really are no different than any of our kind."

More cracks split open over his form as his voice gets lower. “If you insist on being different, then turn back. To continue further would only spell disaster for yourself, as well as others. But, if nothing else, know that Prometheus fell in defending the living, and that he did everything in his power to halt... the coming… darkness…”

His raised head drops, dissolving into dust upon hitting the floor, as does the rest of his body. In seconds the great form of a noble dragon is reduced to a large pile of ash. There's a rumbling, and I look ahead in time to see the granite throne split and break apart, revealing a small, darkened archway.

That looks to be our exit. How unimaginatively arranged.

“I guess.”

Saves me the trouble of searching the whole room at least. But first, I let my legs give out and plant my butt onto the ground.

Hey, you're tuckered out by that? He was nowhere as tough as King Birdface. And surely his breath couldn't have matched the power of Tia, sun incarnate.

Maybe not. But his hits kept rattling me, and the Lancer and Tracer combo got me pretty drained. Just need to rest a bit.

Suit yourself. I suppose no shapeless horrors will come rushing in while you rest your little dragon legs.

Yeah, thanks for the assurance. I take in the silence, get in some calming breaths. Look over to my left sleeve and see it's scorched all to hell and hanging on by a thread. I rip it off, save myself the bother. It then occurs to me to reach into my shirt for the necklace. Still in one piece, good. Sure can take a pounding, and I guess it really is only me who can break it.

I think to Prometheus’ story in these recuperative moments. To my knowledge, there aren't any records of pony-dragon relations from before Equestria's founding. You’d think they’d make a sizable footnote over something like that, or at least a local legend. Meaning he either lied, or it goes to show what gratitude you can expect from those primitive types.

Hell if I know.

Author's Note

Thus unkindled becometh ash.

Act 2 Verse 5

Encompassing Darkness

After I'm rested up I head for the revealed exit, stepping over the chunks of granite and onto some stairs. It's a short flight down, ending at a small, ancient bolted door. Judging by the amount of rust that's sprouted all over it, Prometheus did a good job guarding it.

Makes you wonder if anyone's really down there.

“Your coaxing isn't needed for this one.”

Well shucks, aren't you the eager one?

There's a metal bar over the width of the door, seriously rusted. I get down and grab at it with both claws, then pull… then I give another pull… Man this thing's really stuck in. Alright, one more time… Gods damn it's stuck on good!

Need some more rest there, oh plunderer of Tartarus?

Screw you, and screw this. I get out my sword and chip at the rust on the ends, clean down to the other side. And now I pull it up and off (crud this thing's heavy, too). That out of the way, I look and spot the door handle. Taking hold, I brace myself and pull it back, forcing it open after gods knows how long of not being touched.

It groans and resists but I force it open completely, then immediately look inside to see… darkness. There are no torches, and my eyes can see nothing but black for yards. Must be one really big and empty room or corridor. But I feel a fringe of a chill brush my front, and I suddenly get a sense of foreboding over what might lie beyond.

Something very old dwells within there. The likes of which pony memory would have no recollection.

“Would be nice if you could be more descriptive.”

I would be… if I could actually recall it.

“That's comforting.”

I gaze into that void some more, dread steadily creeping up my legs.

Maybe a torch would help.

“You know what… let me try something.”

I puff out a small flame plume. No change in the shadows. Just grand.

It was worth the suggestion. Just tread carefully; even I'm not sure what you'll encounter.

Thanks. I loosen up my shoulders then, taking a breath, I step through the doorway.

Immediately the sound level drops. It was quiet before, yet stepping onto this cold floor is almost like being encased in a vacuum. Just the sounds of my breathing. I walk a few steps. Completely muted. Some kind of noise dampening spell or something.

“What do you make of this?”

No echoes. Even worse, no answer.

“Discord?”

…

...Oh boy. I’d find that to be a relief otherwise, but I really don’t want to be alone in this place. Wait, why am I thinking that? Gotta soldier on like I always do. It's eerie, but nothing's jumped out at me (yet).

Right, so moving ahead. Still nothing discernible through the dark. I can still see three feet around me, though, so it’s not a complete blackout. Sorta like that time I fought Luna in her shadow dome thing. Count myself lucky that I’m not fighting something this time around… for the time being.

A dampness around my feet draws my attention to some wispy vapor on the floor. Hardly visible, but very much flowing in from… somewhere. Looking around for a source, I notice the darkness becoming slightly less intense. Above me I begin to see the ribs of an arched hall’s ceiling supports, lighting up from some dull grey glow. But where’s that coming from?

Something moved. I whip out my sword and turn around, scanning. I ease my stance when I see it’s some floating blobs, as thin and smoky as the vapor version of large dust balls (dumb analogy, yeah). The light is steadily growing; still a dull lifeless grey, but better than the nothing from before. Those blobs look to be coming from the mist, and moving right on past me. Keeping my eye on them, I see them shift into more definable shapes… familiar ones. Holes of light start forming in the upper part of their mass, emitting that grey glow as they position themselves to form blank eyes. That explains the light, I guess.

They look more to be crawling through slush than actually floating or even walking, as I keep watching them go by without a sound. No, not really soundless: there’s something of a very low, persisting whisper seeping into my ear, but no actual words. They seem to be heading somewhere; might as well follow. Better than just standing around or going back where I came from. Keep my sword at the ready just in case.

I march alongside this ghostly procession deeper into the arched cavern. Really hope this isn’t leading me into the afterlife. I’m still feeling pretty solid, and that chilliness is still mighty bitter, so a good sign. After a few more steps, some of the ghost blobs shift their dead gazes at me. Looks like they finally noticed the living among them. None come forward to face me, so I just keep walking on through the mist.

That lasts another couple of yards before something takes form to my left, the mist coalescing into something more distinct, and far more familiar. Never could forget that soft-serve hairdo on such a wrinkled head.

“It has been a while, dearie,” the shade says in a low, sweet whisper. “Are you keeping well? You had left me in such an appalling state, and made me worry my old heart over those precious books in my final moments. Such a cruel way of treating someone so feeble and lonely.”

Yeah right. Some sweet old lady, coming at me with chainsaws and rusty nails. Just move along. Another mass arises to my right. Bigger, more burly. And nowhere as sweet.

“My tribe treated your kind as equals. We shared the same land, slept under the same sky and drank from the same rivers. But you repaid us in death and fire. Not even your traitorous handlers could have been so ruthless.”

Keep on going. Another shade on my left, lanky and with jagged edges.

“I couldn’t just subsist like my hive once did and remain hidden. You drove me to such drastic actions. Do you feel anything for those ponies I had to kill to survive the world you and the pink one had thrown me into?”

You forced our hand first, just like I said. The lighting dims noticeably, and a little further up to my left another specter forms from the ether. Only this one does so with considerable grace, letting its long, slender limbs take form whilst expanding its majestic, dark wings. I stop a moment to take in its immaculate form, and especially their weary, sad expression.

“I haven’t had rest in so long. My thoughts were all out of place. I just needed time to sleep and gather my wits. If you had let me, I could have gotten help.”

It raises its drooping gaze at me. “You spared the Griffon King in spite of his madness. Was I not worthy of that same mercy? Was I no more than some mindless animal in your eyes?”

No, just… it had to be that way...

Other defined forms arise, taking position like statues. Glowing eyes watching me pass by. Judging. Questioning. Lamenting.

“Couldn’t you have just taken me in?”

“You saw me having dinner with my family. Did you have to do it then?”

“I would have turned myself in.”

“I wasn’t even armed.”

The light of the hall is growing dimmer. More shades crowding around. Get my feet running before I lose sight of the other end. Still more whispers.

“I was borrowing the book for a friend.”

“She was my sister. I had to protect her.”

“It was to be a gift for my little foal. Now they won't even get to see the world.”

“He didn't know better. Why make him suffer as well?”

“No one to watch the orphanage when I'm gone.”

“Did you have to let me burn so long?”

“What do you think you're running from, dumbass?”

That last one stops me in my tracks. It didn't come out as a whisper, and is something I can't ignore. I look up, and in the pitch blackness ahead there is an unmistakable silhouette in my way. A single piercing orb of blue bobs around where the face should be.

“They were only reading down your list of accomplishments, Spike. Shouldn’t you be feeling honored? Content over such fond memories?”

This is crazy. I've had enough of phantoms. “I don't have time to waste.”

“What, too busy to acknowledge what you’ve done? Just going around, acting like some decent Joe, high on morals and clean of conscience. Tch, you haven't changed one bit.”

Gods how I hated that condescending tone. “It's nothing like before. Things are different.”

“Are they now? Sure, there’s just one princess, and only five Elements of Harmony left, but you're still the relentless killer badass I groomed. Yet you go around being all reserved, keeping the peace, showing everyone how much of a no-threat softy you are. But we know that's nowhere close to true.”

“But it is.”

“And there's an army of chopped and smashed griffons that beg to differ. You're a killing machine through and through, lizard boy, and no amount of public service or humility is gonna make that go away.”

That's… that's asinine.

“Everyone's safe now. They have nothing to fear.”

“Heh, why are you trying to convince me? They can't see the raging ball of violence bouncing around, looking for any excuse to get out and cause some havoc. I bet it felt good killing those griffons, huh? Though it's nowhere as nostalgic as cutting up ponies, especially those who can actually fight back.”

“Stop… Stop talking. You don't know anything.”

“I think you need to get reacquainted with your inner slayer. Remind you of the violence you're truly capable of.”

Suddenly a round space tears into existence next to the blue orb that widens and overtakes me. I raise up my arms and brace against it, but only feel a mild wind burst that’s quickly replaced by a smouldering heat. Lowering my arms, I’m standing in the living room of a house currently in the midst of being on fire. Flames covering almost every surface, licking at the powder blue wallpaper. All this kitsch, the furniture… no. The crumpled corpse tossed at the back to prove it beyond a doubt.

I make a run for the front door and burst out into the cool mountain air beyond. The house ablaze is the only light around, shining over the two rows of matching brown houses facing each other down a lone street. How did I get here? This doesn’t make sense!

There are others standing around, shocked, open-mouthed. Some look to the trail of fire connecting me to the home of their (dead) leader. Who are you judging? Bunch of equal sign-wearing weirdoes. The bitch deserved it: she shouldn’t have cut my face like that! Had to come at me like some stupid annoying cat instead of taking it quietly!

No get ahold of yourself, don’t think about it just get out of here. I break for the left and run out into the darkness of the open plains, further and further from that taunting pyre. It’s not long before I outrun the light, only for everything to light up in a sickly green, revealing the rotting cellar of an old keep. Then I notice the pitchblack floor is wiggling around before dozens and dozens of blank blue eyes turn up toward me as the air fills with little chirps and screeches.

They swarm around me, climbing up my legs. I try to shake them off, but that just attracts more to come onto my arms. No biting, no scratching, only gripping on and crying out. Begging. I swat them off, watch as they erupt into spurts of green ichor and broken carapaces. Get myself out of this place. Each step makes a squelch and a crunch as more frightened grubs desperately crowd around looking for something to comfort them, protect them, someone to keep them safe and alive—

Just get off of me! They won't give me space; I have to stomp my way through. The more that get (murdered) squashed the more they keep piling in. I just give up and run for the other end of the room, tearing through them to escape. I see a door ahead, and throwing myself at it I shoulder it open and break free.

The decor is now polished stones and pillars swathed in a deathly crimson light from the large windows before me. Look left and right; this hall is all-too familiar. Feel the floor shake and see the corridor collapsing on the right, so I run for the left. Specters arise from the shadows: disfigured, sorrowful, but unmistakably guards, butlers, maids. Civilians.

“I had no control over myself.”

“We didn’t want to attack you. Why did you have to kill us?”

“I didn't even approach you.”

“Why couldn’t you stop to catch me? I didn’t have to die so horribly.”

“I saw you smile. Did our enslavement amuse you?”

I reach a corner a snap around it without slowing, bumping against the outer wall on the way. Dash through some drapes and come out to be bombarded by intense sunlight. I can see the unblemished marble and tapestries, but I'm not safe. Guards in shining gold have come for me.

“The princess was in danger.”

“You wouldn’t stop resisting.”

“I couldn’t let a monster like you threaten the city I love.”

“It was our duty to stop the threat.”

Outpace them all (they weren't even trying). Another corner, more drapes, and it's back to a false night. Keep running, and then I'm back into day.

“I wasn't the best fighter.”

“I served faithfully for fifteen years. I never asked for this.”

“I was only supporting my family.”

No doors anywhere. How am I supposed to get out? (never)

“You were so kind and innocent.”

“I cleaned you when you were just a wee thing.”

“We had sparred a few times. Couldn't you recognize me?”

Have to find some way out of he—

“Didn't you care what would happen to us?”

“I couldn't get out in time.”

Some trick to this place. Out the window? Hidden wall? Must be some—

“You could have run past us.”

“You could have run away.”

“You could have spared us.”

“You could have saved us.”

Shut the fuck up I’m trying to think! Back the hell away from me! Raah!What… What am I doing? Swinging my sword at nothing; get a grip, man. I notice that the daylight has narrowed down to a spotlight over me, leaving vast darkness outside the circle (what’s with the lighting in this place?).

Back up against a pillar, cool down, get my head straight. Why am I all rattled? Just some noise and whispers. But that pungent odor of changeling blood and mildew, all fresh. The heat of the flames; the same heat I had inside when… Oh gods what did she do to me… (wasn't her. Not possible. Can’t be)

The light patter of flesh on stone makes me realize I've been standing in absolute silence up to now. I look to my left at the approaching steps, and coming into my little spotlight is yet another spook. At least it's not intimidating in the slightest.

“Hey, are you alright? Why are standing here in the dark?”

I can't believe I was ever that small and pudgy, or sounded like such a kid. Those stumpy arms and legs, those wide concerned eyes. Only our colors seem spot-on.

“Are you okay, mister?” He—rather, me—tilts his head, looking me up like I'm some puzzle. What a dork.

“Yeah I'm… alright, maybe.”

Another tilt before he folds those little arms. “You don't seem like it. Are you in trouble?”

I snicker (so unreal). “No, I'm not.”

“Then is it something on your mind? Would you like to talk about it?”

“...I don't think talking will do it any good.”

“A friend of mine says that keeping worries inside will just make you feel crummier over time. At least you might be able to let some of it out just by saying a few things? I'm a really good listener, too, if that would help.”

You (I) got me there. Already played along this far by answering, so what the heck.

“I got worries, all right. Like trying to find my way out here, but mostly it's about… stuff I've done.”

“What kind of stuff?”

Oh aren't you going to be in for some nasty surprises. “Let's just say… bad stuff, but necessary.”

“Okay.”

Slide down the pillar to have a sit. Might as well get comfortable. “It's like, I know they were bad, yet had to be done. At least, that's how it seemed at the time.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I don't want to go into all the details (for your/our sake), but they happened and everything went on like normal. I eventually learned it was, in fact, not normal, that what I was doing never really needed to be done. And that the ways I did them, were seriously uncalled for. So I did what I could to make up for them. It definitely seemed fine after that. Yet now… I'm not really sure.”

“I see,” he/me says with a nod.

“Like I keep thinking things could have been done differently. If I wasn't so impatient or angry, things could have been better for me and others. And, I have this... feeling, that I might make the same mistakes again. It's been weighing on my mind for a while; I'm not sure how to stop it. It's a real headache.”

“Yeah. That does sound rough.”

“You don't know the half of it.” Sigh. “Sorry, but I don't think sharing this has made me any better.”

“Well that's a shame.”

“Yeah. Sure is…”

“...You could always try killing yourself.”

“What??”

“I mean, you almost did it once. Ghastly Gorge, remember?” I get up and back away, right as the light gets sucked up into the base of his scaly feet like a sponge as he talks. “The way you stared over the edge, thinking how easy it would have been to shove off into nothingness. Save you from all this guilt swirling inside of you, those worries. Sounds like a great plan to me.”

The little guy’s smiling, sounding delighted. Holds out his tiny claws as they gleam menacingly, along with his eyes (the hell is this??).

“All that dread, all that remorse, gone in an instant. Your very spirit free to fly away from the pain of living, after committing so many atrocities. But you let your chance slip, and so you’re left to suffer. That’s really unlucky, huh huh.”

“Who, what, are you?”

His smile gets absurdly wide as it lets out a slow laugh that rises in pitch with every “ha”. What comes out next aren’t the words of a kid. Or even a boy.

“Of course you wouldn’t fall sway to this illusion. Not one as scarred and jaded as yourself.”

He, it throws out its arms, summoning wisps and tendrils of the darkness to wrap around them. Darkness winds around its legs as it grows, losing the pudge and getting slimmer. Those tiny claws extend and sharpen into curved needles, and their eyes switch to a grayer tone. Not the empty gray of the damned: they’re shining like pure silver.

Clothed in swirling shadow, it looks to me with its piercing peepers through a face contorted by a darkness more radiant than the black we’re standing in.

“Long has it been since a dragon had entered my domain. I see you quiver beneath your hardened scales at my matchless form. Your base instincts still remember how to act in the presence of the most terrible of the Undying Gods. But it is no wonder, for all things living and mortal fear the treachery of the night, the beguiling touch of Nyx!”

The way she’s waving her hands and raising her voice all dramatically. Definitely the godly sort. Bet Trixie could get some good notes from her.

“How readily your thoughts rise to mock my speech and gesticulations,” she accuses, pointing one of those steely fingers at me. “Your world was mine to command when Dawn withdrew her rose-tinted fingers. Daemons roamed free at my call, and I delivered visions both sweet and dire when sleep made heavy the eyelids of the civilized. Countless piles of succulent hecatombs were sacrificed in my name whenever mortals sought safe passage through my darkest nights, and so shall you remember to respect me in equal measure.”

“How about respecting this.”

I run and slash at the yammering witch, instantly chopping off the head of a shocked Royal Guard hold on what? Head and body have disappeared, and a whoosh of air turns my head to the goddess floating casually on her side.

“What impulse. The mark of a dangerous warrior. But no mortal blade can touch my majesty; you may as well try to slay air itself.”

Another whoosh, and she's out of sight.

“Yet when the tribes united and expanded, they no longer wanted their fates controlled by beings as untouchable and unforgiving as the elements.” A closer whoosh. “They wanted gods that could be touched, that understood their pain intimately.”

I spin around, and rising up from the dark appears Celestia as I last saw her: dressed for war and with a pronounced hole in her chest. The blood has besmirched her white coat, but she's making the most twisted smile.

“But a god born of flesh can easily be slain by a brash soul if unprepared.”

I rush up and jam my blade back in the hole it had made. Only there's a scared, bespectacled Earth stallion trembling at the other end of my blade, coughing through the blood going out the corner of his gaping mouth.

“P-please, h-h-help me…”

I blink, then pull out the sword with a determined tug. The retreating back slash cuts through a row of ponies, their cries and blood filling the air before vanishing abruptly. What the actual f—

“Execution comes naturally to you, it appears.”

To my right it's the midnight blue of Luna that's arisen, looking more tangible than earlier. Which makes the dripping slash on her chest and manic smile more prominent.

“Where your blade shines, death is sure to follow. The ground runs red, and the lamentations of the innocent rend the air wherever you step.”

She disappears, then pops up elsewhere as a mutilated and charred Mrs. Belljar.

“Even if you were to bury that foul weapon, the arms that wielded it would remain. As would the fierce, undying brutality that empowers them.”

To my left a pony comes running covered in flames, letting out screams too horrific for something so (mild) (frail) (wronged) to produce. I make to defend myself, but he vanishes into embers upon touching me.

Next I see the green-splattered chitin of Chrysalis, black insects crawling and feeding on the exposed innards of her neck. Even with her head split in half, the mouth halves talk and grin unhindered, flopping about on the scant remains of neck muscle.

“Who in their right mind would ally or associate with something so vicious and unpredictable, when a violent death can come to them as suddenly as to so many others?”

Vanishes again, then reappears as a bloodied, headless Boulderstorm.

“And it's even more worrying when the monster himself feels no confidence in their restraint.”

Vanishes again. The air has gotten heavy.

“Done so much. Seen so much. It can all do so much to one's mentality. Hardens the body against adversity, but inevitably seeps inward and alters the soul.”

A pinprick touches the top of my head, and a deep chill shoots through my insides. I see them running, fighting, crying, begging. Each and every single one, going by like a merry-go-round.

“I deliver the dreams of the living. I see their ambitions, potential, hopes. And more importantly, their fears.”

The needle is withdrawn and I stumble back, taking a loud breath. That demoness drops before me in her original, shadow-cloaked form.

“You are troubled.”

Hey you’re not looking so good there, Spike.

Figured he’d want to come hang out. He seemed bothered or something.

Well he’s kinda reclusive. After all he’s done, can you blame him?

“Though buried, or burned, or destroyed, you carry your victims through the passages of day as well as the night. The horrific ways they perished. The unnecessary ways.”

...though a bit disappointed that I couldn’t bring in the last living Changeling... well, alive.

“I wouldn’t say awesome, only necessary.” Well, maybe not entirely necessary.

“...Then know that I’m sorry.”

She brings up a needled hand to her face. “They are all faces you still see whenever you close your eyes. Their pleas, curses and cries fill your dreams.”

It hurts... The rays, it hurts so much—

All that I ask is that you let this old mare enjoy her last few years quietly. Not very many of them left, I should say.

I sincerely pray that when sorrow strikes, you are bereft of all feeling. Otherwise, you will suffer a thousandfold more than those you have slain.

“What's more, you're afraid you will succumb and destroy once again. Long after the battle is over, you find yourself waking in the middle of the night in a cold sweat. Even when laying next to the one you claim to love your spirit remains haunted. It’s most pitiable.”

Spike? Are you okay?

Yeah, Sweetie.(Stay away)Just can’t sleep. (You’re not safe)Thought I’d come out here and look at the city. (A monster. A monster waiting)

“...You’re wrong.” She just titters like knives on glass.

“Am I? It happened less than a moon ago. How you shivered, how your breath grew short. The tears that formed as you fought for control of your rampant heart. Those visions of blood and fire yet to be spilled at a moment's notice. You never admitted it, never told anyone the true source of your troubles. And whenever someone does happen to catch you, you try to pass it off as excitement or simple anxiety. Leaving them blissfully unaware of the torment inside. Of the beast waiting to spring and claim more for its grim harvest.”

It, it really was just nerves that night! Going to Griffonstone, of course I’d be nervous, who wouldn’t be?! Just a, just a bad dream, needed to cool down, yeah yeah. Get the shakes out and not wake up Sweetie. She… she doesn’t need to know… Can’t know.

I feel the cool edge of those fingers brush my cheek. “So many years of sorrowful deeds, and only recently you’ve been able to experience the full depth of your regrets. You have done well in hiding it, but the only one not fooled by your calm charade... is you.”

I swipe out with my sword, but only darkness and echoes. Why are my arms trembling? How come my mouth’s dry? She comes floating down before me.

“Do you believe yourself to be above consequences? Your actions and anxieties leave marks that can never be completely hidden, and even if others have accepted what you have done, that only leaves your very being to mar. And it is your sins that assemble the cage I have designed for you.”

Her spindly arms spread out, and her silver eyes flash as ghostly images of frightened ponies and mass destruction rise up around me. They swirl around us, interlocking and forming a gusty enclosure, warping, expanding, shrinking wildly.

“All things that are slaves to a conscience steadily craft chains with every thought, every action they come to regret. From these misgivings I form chains that make mortals prisoners of their very minds. Fear, cowardice, remorse, all enhanced to contain without the need of stone or iron or seals. The most intimate and spiritual form of entrapment, weaved beautifully and without compare!”

The images of my past float and dance about, before sinking back into the blackness.

“You lack the resolve to end your own life, and you cannot bear the falsehoods you constructed to protect yourself from empathy any longer. So you have come to Tartarus for the most effective, fitting punishment, delivered by its most apt and merciless torturer. For your efforts, you will be cast into the abyss of your anguish and misgivings until your soul withers to nothing, or life has abandoned your body. All while my sweet darkness keeps you tucked away from the interruptions of your previous life.”

Suddenly five massive clawed hands burst up in circle around me, fingers spread and itching to grab at something (me). Something of a silvery smile cuts through the dark under her eyes.

“Deliverance, that only the true Night Goddess can exact.”

The hands slam down, and darkness encases me completely. A cold hard wind blows while a massive pressure bears down on my head, shoulders and back. There’s a howling in my ears, a cacophonic mess of words, shouts, screams from every sentient race I’ve (killed) met. Their curses, their death cries and rattles, their groanings, pinings, pleadings. Clap my ears shut, but they keep murmuring. The pressure forces me onto my knees. Legs are going cold and numb. Now I see their faces, so many of them. Countless, endless. Won’t shut up won’t leave me alone why I couldn’t do anything it’s all over just just…

Should’ve done it different. I know I know, why did I let it happen like that? Someone needed to stop me, stop her, stop us. No no no no please I never wanted to stop. It’s cold, cold; keep away from them. I’m sorry I’m so sorry…

What is all this whimpering about, Spike?

Huh?

You didn’t cave in this quickly to my head games, yet turn out the light and lower the thermostat and you’re throwing in the towel? Unbelieveable! And that drivel about fear and despair. You realize there are other emotions in your repertoire, right?

My eyes snap open. The howling grows faint.

That’s it. Your one standby when courage, duty or common decency couldn’t see you through. The very fire that makes your kind a force to be reckoned with by EVERYONE.

Heat filling my extremities. Darkness burning away.

The drive, the force, the RAGE that devastates the land and obliterates kingdoms. The night holds nothing to one who can blaze his own daylight at any given moment. Darkness burns away just as easily as everything else.

Get up off my knees. Pressure is weakening. Breath growing hot. A thumping in my head. Control.

There’s the Spike determination I know. No cage, physical or not, can contain you once that anger has been tapped. Now, let it guide you to that floaty bitch and show her exactly what you’re made of, and what she’s WHOLLY unprepared for!

On my feet, I look out into the vortex. No faces, no cries, only swirling darkness. Through the tempest I sense the source. Flex my claws, focus, snarl. Eyes ablaze and with one step forward, I stab directly at her heart.

...You are attuned to the ancient Chaos.

Such madness renders my influence incomplete, and denies the walls of this prison.

So be it.

Yet, as I have said before, I only enhance what is already there.

You have severed the veil, so see what lies within.

The very core of your heart.

I remain still, the wind having ceased, my arm stuck in something solid. I retract it, noticing a sudden wetness. I bring it up and see it coated in a fresh layer of blood, so I look to my victim. My stomach drops.

A delicate mass of purple fur, lying still in a pool of red, smelling faintly of lavender. My feet carry me back, lips quivering and breath erratic. There's a body of a youthful offwhite, a beige pegasus, a griffon youth. Blood is running down my other arm. A giggling fills my ears as my mouth fills with the taste of copper, bone and feathers. Heart races, teeth gnash, I'm becoming drenched. It's dribbling down my chin. The bodies keep lining up, missing more and more parts. Legs shudder from a full stomach, the giggling gets louder. Louder, louder, redder. Dead, dead, more, more, MORE.

The next thing I hear is my own startled gasp. I'm on my knees again, breathing rapidly for oxygen. The darkness, the goddess is gone. Just cold stone beneath me, and a faint orange glow from surrounding rocks. There is no blood, there is no giggling. I look to the spoils of my latest rampage and see… Nothing…

I stare blankly, for seconds… maybe minutes. Just cave walls. No shadows. No pressure. Pull it together.

I shore up the energy to move. I reach out to the side, pawing at the dirt until I feel my sword’s hilt and grasp it. Comfort and stability. I stand up, take a breath. Start walking.

It's just a plain cavern, smaller than the last one. Only tricks. Just tricks…

There are forms lying about the floor. Most are withered husks. Some show movement and let out weak groans. Forlorn. Hopeless. Disgusting.

I could, make it better. Just a plunge of my sword. Or step on them. Snuff out, see them gurgle and—

No! No, there's no time. Have work to do.

See a recess in the other wall, head there. Stumble to my left. Darn loose dirt. Tread slowly, steadily. Take another breath.

The recess holds an ancient lift, in working order, maybe. Step into the metal cage, turn and slide the gate closed. There's a shuddering, screeching of gears, begin lowering deeper into Tartarus.

Soon it’s only dark shaft walls around me. Vibration of the rickety cage. Suddenly hit with a wave of exhaustion, fall back against the lattice. Just fine, all fine.

Slide myself down further, have a seat, pull in my knees. A little rest, nothing wrong with that. Only a little tired, nothing serious. Nothing wrong. It's fine. I'm okay.

I'm okay.

I’m okay.

I’m, o… kay...

Act 2 Verse 6

A Short Crossing

Been walking down this length of cavern for some time. Faint teal glow of the rocks lead me ever forward. I’ve been hearing the sound of moving water, getting louder with each step.

The cavern widens out, and I come to the edge of a vast, subterranean river. The water is murky and churning with a swift current. I cannot see the other side, nor can I make out the ceiling above. Just a great black void. A faint bitter aroma hangs in the air, almost like wine.

“Hey! HEEEY! Hold up right there!”

I look upstream, and floating along the dark surface comes a small wooden skiff carrying someone that's waving at me energetically with one hand and holding a long pole with the other. After catching my attention, he commits both hands to steering his craft to the shore, sailing against the current with ease to land smoothly at the water's edge in front of me.

The pilot is tall, little more than my height, and wearing a grey shirt and pants made from light wool. A brown hooded burlap cloak covers his face, but the pale, hairy hands that hold the steering pole are plain to see. There's a confident ease to his stance as he looks me over (I assume that's what he's doing).

“Look at that: an actual living soul standing by the shores of the River Styx! Looking worse for wear, but still breathing, no doubt bout it. Let me tell ya, it’s been a three-headed dog’s age since something fresh came around these parts. But given the lack of anything exciting to do, I'm not surprised.”

The verbiage he's using is that of a rancher, but there's no matching accent. In fact, his tone of voice is practically null. Bizarre.

“Anyway, welcome to this lonely neck of Tartarus, friend!” He bows with an added flourish of his free arm. “Charon is my name, and ferrying is my claim.”

Awfully perky for a boatman. Now he’s beckoning me over, looking like a hunched geezer.

“Don’t be shy; I’ll carry you safely to the other side. The river has a tendency to swallow people who try to swim on their own. The Devil’s Water it ain’t so sweet, ya hear?”

Weird saying. I step forward and onto the boat, making it rock slightly from the added weight. I sit down to help steady it, and once it settles the boatman pushes off from the shore and back into the current with his pole.

After the skiff lines with the middle of the river, a few prods of the pole keeps its course straight and smooth. My navigator begins humming some cheery tuneless melody, changing rhythm sporadically but with no lesser degree merriment. Seems my keeping to myself gets noticed, cuz he stops his diddy and looks at me.

“You doing alright there? Not to pry, but you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Listen to the gentle lapping of the water against the hull.

“Heh, for all I know you probably have. But cheer up, okay? It’s a smooth cruise with me at the helm, plus I’ve already ferried my fair share of Gloomy Guses and Glorias. With you being alive I thought I’d finally have a chance to chat up with someone who’s, well, lively.”

Wonder what would happen if I dip a claw in. Probably something unpleasant. Better just sit still and relax.

“So what brings you down here? Not being among the deceased and all,” he asks me, turning to focus on steering. As he should be.

“Looking for someone.”

“Oh? Like a loved one? A mentor, father/father-like figure? Please don’t say it’s to find treasure. No good end comes to those seeking clues for a greedy hunt.” A stroke of his pole. “Judging by the sword on your back, I’m guessing it’s a far more serious matter than getting advice or directions.”

“...Yeah.”

“Uh-huh, I see. Personally I don’t see the point in it, since they’re suffering a ton as is, this being the ultimate prison and all. Did they do you some great wrong? Or are you here on someone else’s behalf?”

Why must he ask so many questions. “They’re endangering a lot of innocent folks, whoever they are. I’m here to see that they’re stopped.”

“A noble quest, then! A very dang long time since a soldier of justice came storming in. That used to be all the rage in the classical ages, you know? Plunging headlong into the void, slaying the remnants of corruption left in the world, all for the greater good. Kinda fell out of fashion when they discovered that the valiant types tend to get eaten up pretty quick here. But you, you’re different.” Another stroke. “The way you carry yourself and mope around, you’ve seen lots. You’re not dazzled by high adventure or glory. You have the look of someone who’s seen the worst the real world has to offer, and maybe even partook in some of it. Not making assumptions here, so don’t be offended. Just saying that it takes a bit of corruption to navigate the treachery this place can breed. Know the enemy and all that.”

Charon just paddles along for a while, then stands still, facing forward off the bow. “With that said, you also need a little optimism to get you through as well. Corruptive agents are bad for a reason: too much and you get bogged down and can’t go anywhere. Keeping them in mind is important, but you need to be positive for pretty much everything else. That’s the key to making the most out of a very brief existence. For most races; you dragons can live a heck of a long time.”

He gets back to paddling, but looks over at me while doing so. “You look like you’ve had it rough, but you’re still young. Gotta get out and have fun while you still can; keep yourself from growing old way too soon.”

“I’ve had enough fun…”

“Hmmmmm, I highly doubt that. You got many more years ahead of you if you don’t do anything too reckless, and the sky can’t stay overcast forever. And even when it is, the sun will always be there waiting to pop out and say hello. Optimism in a nutshell.” He turns around to face me fully. He taps his head, and tilts it as though… winking? “You just need to keep your chin up, is all. Do that, and it’s all gravy.”

He turns back around and gets to paddling again, keeping quiet. I’m feeling a little lighter, and my chest doesn’t feel so tight. Weirdest damned place for a pep talk, but it’s gotten me feeling more comfortable so I can’t really knock it. Now I’m wondering when we’ll be getting to the shore.

“That looks like a good spot to land.”

Oh, answers that. In a few seconds Charon steers the skiff toward the other riverbank, and sets it slightly aground with hardly a bump. I get up and step off back onto dry land, then look up to see the massive opening before me. It’s a massive, gaping entryway with all the charm of a screaming mouth of torment, but without the teeth or lips or eyes, which makes it creepier. Made from polished black stone, like obsidian. The air coming from it is stagnant.

“Down there is one very bad hombre,” the boatman cautions. “Supposed to have done some really nasty things up on the surface. Only the Mistress comes by, so I can’t exactly tell you what to expect. Just watch yourself.”

“I will, thanks.” I make to go forward, but then remember something important and look back. “Don’t I owe ya something for the ride?”

He only turns aside and waves. “Oh don’t worry about it. You have important things to do and I don’t want to hold you up any longer. I’ll just get the payment from you later. That sound good?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Great! Well, best of luck to your travels. And don’t forget my advice.”

He pushes off from the shore, and just like that he and his little boat are taken away by the deep river. I watch him shrink away into a spec down that unimaginably long stretch of liquid damnation.

A very chipper ferryman, that one.

“Come back to stay this time?”

When the end is so near? I’m with you the whole way, little buddy!

“You sure this is it?”

Abso-posi-tivinitely! Our troublemaker is just down that corridor, waiting for a heaping dose of Spike Justice. So let’s get ‘em!

“Super. Alright then…” I turn back toward that ominous carved opening, eyes focused. “Let’s get this over with.”

Into the foreboding passage I go. Who, or what lies in wait ahead…

Only one way to know.

Author's Note

Sorry for the short chapter, but it quite literally was a short crossing. No real need to prolong it more than necessary. But hey, now we're gonna see who the big bad in this little adventure will be! The anticipation is real!

Act 2 Verse 7

Confrontation

It’s a short downward walk over untouched, strikingly smooth cobbles. Pillars of a clay-like color adorn each side of the corridor, guiding me forward until the walls, floor and ceiling end, giving way to a view overlooking an insanely massive cavern. Seemingly a dead end, until I spot the set of stairs to the left of the edge and head down. Several twisting flights, at least fifteen stories worth, brings me to a damp patch of rock and soil. What looked like darkened ground high up turns out to be a large subterranean lake, with a lone island near the center and a rotted wooden bring floating between it and the stairs.

Goes without saying, but I got a feeling what I’m after is on that island. And my guide seems to think so, too.

I just know they’re over there waiting. But, there’s something off about this cave.

May I ask what that is?

A kind of magical disturbance. Actually, it’s the lack of magical energies that’s strange. It’s vaguely familiar, but I can’t quite put my paw on what or where from just yet.

I’ll be mindful. Cross the bridge no problem, walk onto the island. Step over dirt and moss, which suddenly gives way to cold solid stone. Taking up the majority of the island is a flat, almost empty space of laid-out marble masonry. There are two towering wall structures to the left and right on the outer edges of the flooring, and set into them are different nooks and crannies filled with an assortment of random things: scrolls, quills, books with tattered bindings, pots, cooking utensils, bowls, jars. Gives this peculiar structure the feel of some manor or forum either half-completed or half-demolished.

It’s no Ritz, but this fellow has some awfully roomy accommodations.

A tapping fills the air. No, it’s more like… clip-clopping. Out from the shadows of the distant left wall there appears a hunched, robed figure. As it gets closer, I note the four cloven hooves that clopped purposefully over the smooth stones. They stop three yards before me, standing idle, as though measuring me up.

“A most interesting visitor has come to my lonely refuge.”

A pair of faded red hands rise from the robe and take hold of the cowl, pulling it back to unveil the bearer of that rickety voice.

“I welcome you, young dragon. Please, make yourself at home. The trip here must have been dreadfully tiresome.”

His face is a lot like a satyr’s: wispy white goatee, stubby horns, silver nose ring. Yet he's very… old. Disfigured with age. But an unnerving pair of yellow pinpricks for eyes. Sorta ruins the kind smile and welcome.

Now it makes sense.

What does? Who is this?

“I was in the midst of making stew,” the satyr-horse continues. “There is ample to share, if you care to have some.”

He turns and trots away. Cautiously I follow behind, though not too closely. At the other end of the platform is a black cauldron I hadn't spotted before, burbling with a small but strong flame. A strong, hearty scent surrounds it. The hermit grabs a wooden spoon and stirs the contents.

“A recipe from my homeland. Comforting, but by no means exquisite. It's the most I can manage with such meager supplies, I'm afraid.”

He stirs a few more times before stopping completely. While his stew bubbles, his head slowly shifts over his right shoulder. “Though… I suspect you had not come here for pleasantries.” A gravelly laugh comes from him. “I imagine that you wished to discuss something. Specifically… the matter of a little lampad in my service.”

That settles that. He drops the spoon, then turns to face me, clasping his bony hands together.

“You couldn’t have found this chamber without the directions of Hecate, and of course she would tell you of her loaned helper. But, a brief introduction: My name is Tirek, a former lord of the surface. And you, young warrior, are Spike.” Must’ve caught the twitch of my cheek. “No need to be surprised. The little servant had done an excellent job in taking detailed notes of the upper world’s political landscape. Particularly the reign of terror that befell the populace for the better part of a decade, ending on the severance of a thousand year-long dynasty. Where so many had tried and failed, you succeeded almost effortlessly. Quite the accomplishment, for an errand boy.”

Triggered.

No, not for that. Been far too long for that to still matter.

“I’m sure you want to press me for something more severe than simple aerial observations and cartography,” he continues. “I won't waste your time or intelligence in denying my actions, nor the consequences that have resulted from them. What I will say is my reasoning for doing what I did: it was done in the name of balance.”

“...Balance?”

“That is right.” He turns aside on those hooves of his. “The shape of the world has undergone a most… unexpected turn in the last decade. It felt to me that history’s course had been shifted by some unnatural force, and great suffering had come to the world because of it. I simply sought to correct this, and restore the harmony that once filled the world.”

“By starting a war between ponies and griffons.”

“War is but the natural by-product of an advanced civilization. If there was but one kingdom in the whole world, it would inevitably turn on itself via civil strife, dissidence and anarchy. But a global conflict between two mighty powers could wipe the slate clean, and throw off the bindings of a cruel, unseen manipulator.”

To think, not only has someone noticed my tapestry of dissonance from the outside, but it moved them into taking adverse action against it. I’m, *sniff*, so touched.

“Before you pass judgment on my character, tell me: has the good lady Hecate told you the exact nature of my crime, or made any mention of it?”

Nod of the head. “Somewhat. Said it was something really heinous. Should it matter?”

“Perhaps not. But you may find it interesting nevertheless.” He turns around completely, leaving his cloaked pony rump facing me. “It’s funny she would say that. In truth, I had not the chance to even commit a crime. I was sentenced away by the Royal Sisters simply for planning one. Wouldn't you say that was a gross overreaction on their part? A rash use of their power?”

With those two? Not at all.

Definitely not.

“I admit, the crime in question was purely one made for selfish gains. But in seeing what the surface world had become, I felt it was my own bid for redemption, meaningless though it may be in this dreadful prison. Though I remain trapped, the ones who are free could have at least been given a chance to awaken and take hold of their destinies, rather than numbly follow the path set by another. And if nothing else, I was at least able to restore a proud race of warriors back to the glory they so rightfully deserved, given their noble heritage.”

Yeah, I’m not buying any of this crock.

As well you shouldn’t; not even I can pull off that much insincerity.

“A lot of people died over what you did.”

“Most of them at your hands. Oh yes, don’t even try to shirk the blame from yourself. It was the last report I received before you came to Tartarus. Though no kingdoms have been decimated, blood had still soaked the earth in great quantity. A good sign of promise for the next attempt.”

“There won’t be a next.” The sound of my sword leaving the sheath made that abundantly clear.

“...Is eternal damnation not enough? Must my life be taken as well, without trial? Truly the surviving princess’s justice at work. Even deep in Tartarus, no one is safe.” A heavy sigh fills the air, while I hold my blade to the side at the ready. “But, you came here to eliminate the danger that threatens your majesty’s peace, her interests and, by extension, her citizens. I understand my fate, and will face it as it is delivered without fear or hesitation.”

He turns around, holding out his arms, looking at peace and accepting of the demise I am to deliver. Until he makes a nasty looking smile.

“But first, permit me a farewell snack.”

He opens up his mouth and a reverse scream comes out, and I feel a sudden pull. My scales prickle as I see a purplish smoke rise from my chest before my legs give out. I hit the floor, my arms feeling like lead and failing to stop my fall. I'm numb all over and finding it hard to breathe; what the hell is happening to me?

When the freaky screech ceases, I feel like I just ran over half of Equestria in an hour. I struggle to lift my head up, seeing the centaur has ditched the robe, showing off a taller, buffer, less aged physique. He's looking at his bright-red hands, flexing his fingers, looking triumphant.

“Aaaaaaah, refreshing. I haven’t had a taste of raw draconic magic in centuries. Topped with a few layers of unicorn spellcraft, and a hint of… chaos? Interesting.”

While he's marveling his fresher look, I spring back up to my feet. Or I would have, if it didn't feel like there were weights on my extremities and I was pushing against several fathoms worth of ocean pressure. Instead I barely manage an arduous, tiring, unsteady rise. My heavy breathing during this struggle brings Tirek’s attention back to me.

“You can still stand after that? Your endurance is impeccable.”

I grunt, and drawing what little strength I have I wobble forward and swing my sword wide. My slow arc gets batted away by an arm, and the other backhands my cheek and sends me toppling over. More stinging numbness hits me, and I can't make out where my arms are. He didn't hit me that hard; why am I so damn weak? What did he do to me, Discord?

...Discord? Discord! Gods be damned, not again!

“Effortless. And much more rewarding than having to wait on my original plan to come to fruition.” Clip clops ring out as he turns to my fallen self. “I believed that a war between two powerful nations would eventually reach the gates of Tartarus, granting me the opportunity of escape. A plan like that would require much time and great patience. I had been lucky in discovering that sorry lot of griffons so early on. I doubt a similar stroke of luck would come just as easily on the next round. But fortune would have it that someone would come to investigate the true source of the conflict, and carrying ample magic on them as well. Now I should stand a chance at getting past that mangy Hecate and crawl my way out of this pit.”

“What, what the hell did you do to me?” I weakly growl, crawling painstakingly around to face him.

“Taking what should have been rightfully mine when I first came to this backwater land. Before my own brother betrayed me to those insipid sisters.”

I get back up, wobble forward, working on getting my sword arm up along the way. Doesn’t even get up an inch before his outstretched arm pushes me onto my ass like a goddamn six year old. My right shoulder hits the floor, forcing my grip to come loose and my sword to clatter away. Dammit!

“You were carrying magic equivalent to fifteen unicorns. Latent, but no less empowering. This will help me immensely… Hmm?”

I keep slipping trying to raise myself on my elbows. More clops, but then a heavy cloven hoof presses down into my stomach. Manage to lock my elbows against the pressure, but that’s no joy when I see his red fingers come down and dig into my shirt, only to pull back with a snapped necklace in hand. He gives it a lookover, his mug deepening into a scowl.

“An Emergency Relocation Charm? You mean you planned on escaping the inescapable Tartarus after killing me?”

“Give that back!”

A surprise burst of willpower pushes me at him, but I’m rewarded with two hard hooves kicking at my shoulders. Hit the ground hard on my side, and I barely move a claw when those hard hooves start going to town against my torso.

“Was coming here and sacrificing your freedom to serve your masters not good enough for you? Such a disgusting act of cowardice, especially when it is with my own brother’s handiwork!”

A side swipe gets me in the face and knocks me along the ground. Eyes black out a moment as the taste of blood starts filling my mouth. Have to… get up, do something. He’s still talking.

“This was a contrivance Scorpan made for pony kind to be used whenever they needed to flee in the absence of any readily available mages. So weak-minded and sentimental, it’s no wonder he came to adore what amounted to saccharine livestock. Ironic that his contribution for their well-being will serve as my own means of escape. And activating it will be no concern, now that I possess your magical signature.” I hear the tinkling of the chain as it’s lowered. “But before I get ahead of myself, there’s still one more thing to ensure.”

I hear him trotting off to the side in the midst of my breathing. Need to steady myself. Recoup. A soft ringing of metal reaches my ear.

“Griffon steel. Expertly crafted. Such a fine blade for what’s supposedly an era of peace.” Clop clop. “You’ve meddled enough in my plans. I cannot leave my freedom to chance, no matter how miniscule.”

Got my other palm down; now to work on my legs. Bend the knee. A grip like iron takes me by the throat and yanks me up. I could only raise my claws and loosely hold his wrist, limply kicking as he observes me.

"In my time, there was a saying I was particularly fond of.” I see my sword rise up. See its deathly gleam from this angle, its edge matching his voice. Heart races. Kick more. “Those who live by the sword…”

One motion, and I feel the piercing pain of having my longtime ally plunged through my chest. My eyes go unfocused as he holds it in there.

“Inevitably die by it.”

With a twist he yanks it back, forcing me to choke up a gout of blood. I see one last sneer before he lets go, sending me to the ground once again. I gasp and cough from the impact, as my steadily numbing arms clutch at the wet, faintly warm hole in my chest. Hear my sword clatter next to me, then more of his talking.

“A fitting end for a swordsman like yourself, wouldn't you agree? Not hung upon the gallows like a lowly criminal, or dashed asunder like some pitiful insect, but to be felled by your most steadfast companion. The very least I can do for you in granting me this opportunity. Be at peace, young dragon. Your time is mercifully at an end."

Despite the pain, I look up. See him step away, craning his neck upward.

“Now to bid farewell to this realm of torment, and greet the world above with open arms.”

Raises the one arm. The arm holding the necklace. No!

“N-no… s-stop…”

Start crawling to him, ignoring the weakness. Have to reach him, stop him! Keep him away from Twilight! Keep her… keep her safe. Reach out for him. Must, stop...

“And give the surface its true ruler at long last.”

In my dimming ears I hear the smash. In my waning vision there's the flash of light, and then he's gone. Back to the castle. Back to Canterlot… no. No, no, NO!

Nooo! No Goddammit! Get, back here! Come back! How could I just—

Anger draining into fatigue; I'm fading fast. I have to fight it; have to get out. Have to get up, have to save them, save her, have to save…

Protect Twi… I have to protect…

...I must save you, Twi… Twilight…

Twi… Twi… help, Twi… Twi… Twiiiiiii……..

………………………………….

Author's Note

Oh no! D:

Act 2 Verse 8

Libera Me…

No sweet angelic hymns. No tender memories. No coarse blankets. No warmth, no cold. Just nothingness.

First time in years, in forever, I don't see faces. Don't hear the cries, the pleading. Only null serenity. No sense of self here. Some dwindling thought about doing something, but can't recall. Just slip into this sweet void…

Resting on your laurels already? That's not the workaholic Spike I know.

Oh for gods’ sake, can't you let me die in peace? Let me have this one thing?

I most certainly would, wholeheartedly; I'm not the type to deny a man's final. But there's the trifling fact that you're not dead.

What?

Go on: open your eyes, buddy boy.

And I do so, with extraneous effort. A groan escapes my lips, my body trying to draw in some long-deprived air. I feel a slow, weak pulse, steadily getting stronger. Past my eyelids I find I’m lying on my side, half-curled up. A lighter shade of darkness surrounds me, tinted with red. Unfocused, but at least it’s nothing blinding. Someone’s looming before me; I can sorta make out a distorted pair of legs.

“What did I tell you? You’ve been dead twenty minutes, but I infused you with some of my chaos magic to revive you. It never ceases to amaze, the kind of miracles I can pull off, right? You'll be feeling rather stiff, so take your time getting up.”

Twenty minutes? No, too long. I force my arm out and slap the ground with my palm, then get this lead weight of a limb to push me up.

“Or not…”

Grit down my teeth while taking more breaths, getting my other arm into motion as he continues on.

“I would have revived you sooner, but I had to restore myself first after Tirek went and sucked up a good chunk of me. Can you believe the nerve of that guy? Takes your possessions, breaks your heart, and leaves you to rot in a literal hell hole. Definitely a scumbag in any respectable lady’s book. And I bet you he’s making a fine mess of things back up in Canterlot, sucking up the magic from every pony in sight without so much as an ‘excuse me’ or ‘bon appetit’. I would have even settled for ‘itadakimasu’. At least, some weeaboos would have.”

Got both my arms under me, now working on the legs. Too weak to raise my head for the moment.

“Why didn’t you… say he could absorb... magic?” Still too much strain to talk. Back to making a stand.

“I thought they had put a seal on that power of his, to be honest. He’s usually very straight up, one-dimensionally evil when he’s got the upper hand. I didn’t think he’d learn subtlety; I’m as much surprised by that turnaround as you are.”

Left hand gives out and my right knee takes a hit, but the pain is a good motivator that I’m getting better.

“You still could have said something. You… you knew what he was.” Catch my breath, plant my foot back down. “Would’ve acted, sooner. Could’ve… ended him, right then.” Both feet down. Now to slowly unbend upwards. So frickin’ stiff. I sense Discord moving off to the side (chicken doesn’t want to face me).

“That’s the iffy thing about hindsight. Coulda woulda shoulda, and all. But what’s done is done. Our primary focus is rising up to the challenge of our rival and settling the score. Oh, and saving Twilight and Equestria’s magic and all that gab.”

Wobble myself up into a crooked stance. Take some breaths; wore myself out doing that. Grab at my chest. There’s the hole in my shirt, but smooth scales beneath. Miracle indeed. Wish he’d made me less sore.

“How… how exactly am I supposed to do that? That necklace was my, *huff*, way out.”

“Well maybe if you looked around you’d have a more promising scope of options.”

I do so, and would've shifted back in surprise if I didn't feel so tired. To my left is a wide, loooong set of polished ebony stairs going up. Can't make out the top; either way high or blends in too well against all the black.

“Where… did these stairs come from?”

“Being the extra caring and considerate friend that I am, I took it upon myself to carry your corpse over here to a convenient exit before reviving you, saving you the hassle of searching for one in your groggy condition. Speaking of which, I know for a fact that cardio does wonders on relieving stiffness and getting re-energized. So how bout taking that first step on the stairway to freedom, while there’s still time to fix this messy turn of events.”

I feel him wisp off up the side of the stairs, out the corner of my eye. No better option than to follow, and get the stiffness out of my legs. I take a few careful steps to the landing, then lift up one foot onto the lowest step. Solid and firm. Take the next lowest. Still holding. I go up the next three, but then I notice the length of spotless steel jutting out to my left, which I swear hadn't been there a second ago.

“Can't let you leave your precious sidearm, can we? Rather hard to exact fitting revenge without it. I even got it polished, as you can see.”

I look at the sword a moment, uncertain. That's only brief as I grab the hilt and pull it from the stone (smooth). Looking upward, I take a few more breaths, then resume climbing. To my right, I sense Discord hovering about just out of my peripheral.

“While you’re conquering these stairs, let me tell you a story to pass the time. A very old, fascinating one.” He floats over to my left unseen. “Back before time existed, there was only a vast, chaos-enriched ocean of darkness. Lots of nasty things dwelled within those undefinable waters, and none reigned more supreme and nasty than the Titan of Chaos. Eventually, though, the universe sprang into being, and with it came light and form to displace that dreary ocean. In setting up this sparkly new realm of existence, the First Gods felt the monstrous Titan would be a sticking point in their plans of order, so they had him sealed away. To further add ironic insult to injury, they reshaped his body into a prison to hold all the undesirables and outliers of the old chaos no longer needed in the world. And you could probably tell me exactly where they stuck him by this point.”

I’ve overcome several dozen steps during that story, and once it finishes he zips off to some ways above.

“But you’re almost at the end! Come on, only a little more to go. You’re not gonna let some lousy stairs leave you gutted and useless as well, are you?”

The hell I am. The stiffness is pretty much gone from my legs, so I hurry up the remaining dozen steps. Once I reach the top, I take a moment to catch my breath. Pain in my chest is nearly nonexistent as well. Still a little hazy with my thoughts, not helped by a small headache (better than the alternative). My “savior” arises behind me.

“Well done reaching the top, old friend. Now, see what you have won. I present to you, the literal Heart of Tartarus, and your new ticket out of here!”

I lift my head and look ahead. My eyes focus through the darkness onto a massive, bulbous structure, painted in dull yellow and encased in a net of black, reddish webbing. To anyone else it’d look like some ancient desecrated stone, but I can make out the subtle textures that are associated with once-living skin. Then there’s the barely detectable odor of leather coming off it. But… not one trace of decay. Musty, but preserved.

“That ticker has laid dormant for eons, but it’s easy enough to fix,” Discord exposits eagerly. “All it will take is a boost of chaos energy to jump start it, and you have more than enough in you to spare. Just plunge your claw deep in there, and Tartarus will awaken and break free from his earthly bindings, along with everyone and everything residing within him, including you. Tirek wouldn’t see it coming, and it would surely come as a spectacular inconvenience to have his jail buddies interrupt his surprise takeover. Though undoubtedly, Tartarus would be immensely cranky from his millennia of imprisonment, and would want to vent that out on all the unsuspecting surface dwellers. And of course, all the villainous sorts that would pour out to raze, rape and pillage as they once did before in more unlawful times. It will be messy, downright catastrophic. But it’s the quickest way out of here. Nay, the only way out.”

He slips away, leaving me to stand there and idly rub my chest. The soreness is long gone, so I stop the motion, but don’t remove my claw. I stand there staring at that shriveled organ, the most obvious thought going around my head.

“You could have done this at any time. After I brought you in, you could have left and come straight here. Why put this on me?”

That devious chuckle, somewhere to the left of the heart.

“You know me: I get a real kick out of watching someone grapple with a moral quandary under great pressure. Though, if we’re going to be honest, the choice being made here is unsurprisingly obvious. Which brings up an entirely different question: how does it play out? You lucked out the last time, but will this end in salvation once more, or in bitter tragedy? Shall you be akin to Orpheus, shouldering the perils of the underworld to save fair Eurydice? Or will you be the viper that condemns her to her doom?”

His presence now reclines atop the thing.

“You know you can’t stall much longer. Each passing second allows Tirek to become more and more powerful, and puts your cherished Twilight in deeper peril.” A passing whisper by my ear. “So turn the key, release the shackles… and bring forth calamity.”

A fluttering of cloth, and he’s gone. For good this time.

So here I am: left dead, brought back to life by the element of disharmony, and put standing before a dire choice. To decide what sort of reckoning will befall Equestria: that of a vengeful tyrant, or a monster too old and terrible for history to remember. It’s a decision that requires careful thinking, weighing of options. Determining which outcome is more manageable, or the least worse in the long term. A choice that cannot be made rashly…

I just straighten my head and walk forward. That Discord’s an asshole, always has been, but he’s right (again). Twilight is in danger right now, and I can’t afford any contemplating. Getting back to her, to save her from that soul-sucking freak, is all that matters. Everything else secondary. Like I really cared about anyone else’s opinion, or what I’m about to do will make any difference to what they already think of me.

I wonder what she’d think, after I go through with this. It’s only brief; doesn’t even slow me down. Whatever comes will come, and will be dealt with someway. I just need to be at her side.

I come to a stop before the heart. Just a boost of chaos, right? I raise my right claw. Look over its lines, the cuts and wears of time. The number of injuries made by it. The lives ended. When they learn of this (if they learn), will they remember the predator in their midst? Will their last thoughts be in condemning me?

Whatever. Let them question, let them curse. I forsook myself once of their trust. What's another round? Only this will be for something that actually matters.

Head, heart and claw steeled with determination, I pull back my arm and, as instructed, plunge it deep into that hideous muscle. There's a dry squelch, then I feel a stinging warmth run through my arm. It trails into my claw tips and seeps outwards. A dim light appears around the entry point, spreading and becoming brighter. Then it lets out a pulse, both felt and heard. Then another. And another.

As the beating gets faster and life starts being pumped into the beast, my mind slips. My consciousness wavers, thins out, expands. I'm suddenly able to sense what is going through Tartarus.

The rocks flare up in brilliance. Every inch of cavern shudders and trembles. The prisoners take hold of whatever they can. Far, far above, the ground parts.

I see glimpses of the outside. Beneath an evening sky the land quakes, felt by all. The Badlands splits open, and raw chaos shoots from the depths. The sky above swirls into red that bleeds out far and wide, bringing a fatalistic dusk to the world. A writhing mass of primordial energy oozes upwards, steadily solidifying. Something that was never bound by the laws of physics twists and writhes into a physical form. Thick, monstrous limbs slam into the devastated plains, raising up a disfigured body the size of a mountain that could barely contain the vast power stored within. All along its skin the prisoners of its body are pushed out, letting them take their first breath of freedom in centuries. Their eyes, along with the mesh of misshapen ones on the Titan’s face, look out onto this new world with one unified thought: Conquest.

It sees the shocked looks, the dismay, the fear of those who see its ghastly shape darkening the blood-red horizon. Zecora, the Cakes, Georgie, Sweetie… Tirek. Stunned, just like the rest of them. Not so smug now, ya bastard? You brought this upon yourself. Upon everyone.

Tartarus rears back and screeches a cry that shakes the sky, then begins to move. This serves as the signal for the monsters and criminals to leap away and fly off, spreading out to bring havoc. Some cling on, either incapable of flight, too weak, or waiting for a better place to set down. As for me, I wait high up top his hunched back, looking ahead with sword held ready.

There will be no running from this, Tirek. No hiding. No one will be safe.

Because for the first time in millennia, despite all the efforts put forth by gods, heroes, and even the Elements of Harmony…

Chaos Reigns.

END OF ACT

Author's Note

Are you feeling it, Mr. Krabbs?

Act 3 Start

Act 3

CHAOS REIGNS

Act 3 Verse 1

When The World Comes

The crimson above roils and pulsates with each earth-shaking stomp of the grotesque behemoth. It's a steady march, but each movement of Tartarus’ gigantic limbs clears miles of open land, smashing through any hill or small mountain in his way. In under ten minutes the Titan clears the Badlands and steps onto verdant plains, which instantly wither and mutate from his very touch.

I'm watching his single-minded progression while holding onto a broken pillar. The altar that held his heart was among the many things that got pushed out onto his skin, which luckily gave me a lift up to the top. Has the look of a destroyed temple set atop the bristly rind of some hairy fruit.

Down below far ahead, I can make out the cluster of houses that make up Ponyville. From the look of it, the Titan will overstep it completely (thankfully). I look around and see more creatures leaping off in different directions, looking to plunder and/or destroy. Hopefully everyone below has taken cover… Or at least will pick their battles wisely (I know Zecora will).

My attention snaps to the distant mountain and the city embedded at its halfway point. Should be minutes before we’re over it, and I need to find some way off of here by that time. I let go of the pillar and start running off; no time for further sightseeing.

Hop and maneuver over the jutted flesh and masonry, thinking up the options. Don’t have wings like some of the former inmates, and jumping off would only give me a far messier state I doubt even chaos can fix (neatly, anyway). Probably could hitch a ride, but I have to find someone/thing first. For now I’ll make for the shoulder, possibly clamber down the head. At least lessen the fall distance if it really has to come to that.

Keep running, compensating for the shakes coming from Tartarus’ steps so I don’t trip and lose my pace. I look ahead and manage to catch what looks to be a sphinx rearing back and springing up to take flight. Damn, just a little late. Legs keep me speeding along without pause.

What does give me pause is the thing I come across next. Or rather, who.

Sitting there on a rock, casually watching the hell breaking loose over the land. Same red and beige toga, but no torches in hand. Not bothering with the giantess look, either. I think I caught a snippet of a hum, but that could have been the harpies screeching overhead.

Her ears perk up and she turns her head as I come to a stop.

“The dauntless warrior Spike crosses my path once more. Ever the delight, same as before.” She looks out to the monsters touching down on the red-stained landscape. Weird time to rhyme. “It is a sight as breathtaking as the creation of the universe. To have the old rulers of the earth return and render everything to a more primal state. Back when the world was fresh and full of boundless potential, unfettered and wild.”

“Kinda goes against the whole order thing you guys were working for,” I point out, which only gets a hum out of her.

“In due time balance will be restored; there is always great upheaval at the advent of any new change. Undoubtedly many lives will be lost in the process, but tis the way of evolution. I am rather excited what world order will arise from this particular event, if I am to be perfectly sincere.”

“You knew this was gonna happen. That’s why you let me go ahead.”

“Hmhm. Precisely, oh perceptive one. After all, tis the dream of every prisoner to experience freedom, be it from imprisonment or a tortured existence. And I for one lean toward the optimistic outcome.”

“That might not last too long.”

“Then at least I will have had a chance to breathe the air I once walked over.” She goes back to doing so.

“Right. Well, enjoy that. I gotta get going.”

“Be careful out there.”

I nod and start up my run again. Then a thought hits me that makes me stop. It’s an idea; really absurd. But with chaos running around it may not be that crazy. I back up and catch the goddess’ attention again.

“Hey, Hecate, uh… could you help me out? I have to get to ground level in a hurry.”

Those canines flash me knowingly. “But of course, my liberator. And I know just the thing to help you.”

I’m holding the thick leather collar tightly, keeping myself steady with my sword held out, wind whipping my frills. It really is desperate. Really dumb and dangerous. But lucky me that Hecate keeps Cerberus at her beck and call, and that he’s one obedient pup under all the fur, muscle, and nasty sets of teeth. Now I got him following my directions, and he’s not purposefully trying to buck me off this time around. Thoroughly whipped by his master, but still a rampaging ball of mythological strength if I slip up.

My three-headed mount has covered the distance from the back of Tartarus down to the right shoulder in practically no time. Which is just perfect, because the mountain holding Canterlot is now coming beneath us. And luck would further have it that the arm we’re riding down to will be the one nearest it.

I tug his collar, signalling to stop at the edge of the shoulder. Two of his heads grunt back at me, but I wait for the right timing. I feel the bone and muscle below lift us up, indicating movement. Ahead and below I see the immensely thick, dark length of the Titan’s arm lifting and stretching forward toward the side of the mountain before and below his head. I kick at Cerberus’ sides, and immediately he leaps forward into a run.

We're practically plunging ahead along the wide surface of the arm, Cerberus clearing the upper half in under a minute. I look ahead to see the stump of a hand slam into the side of the mountain, giving us a hard jolt that the dread hound overcomes easily. I kick his sides, urging him to go faster as we pass the elbow.

More monsters have taken flight, undoubtedly looking to plunder the jewel of civilization down below. I ignore them; focus on getting into town first, and then deal with whatever chumps decide to get in the way. Though from the look of smoke and fire rising from around the city, there’s bound to be plenty of opposition.

We’re down to (what I think is) the wrist, about to get down the hand. Suddenly, several flame bursts erupt around us, casting smoke and heat. I dig in my heels and pull against the collar, prompting Cerby (yeah, my nickname) to spring off, clearing the remainder of the hand on a straight shot for the ground.

We cover over fifty yards airborne before his meaty paws smack into the dirt. I’m jolted and jumbled as he stumbles to steady himself, which he manages to do despite the rough landing. Getting myself straightened up, I see that we landed within the city limits. Just some tightly packed buildings, some warehouses, the pedestrian gate a ways back. All looking deserted. Probably evacuated before Tartarus came stomping by, but what could be safer around here is anybody’s guess.

Cerberus starts barking and growling as I catch the sound of flapping flesh. I look around, spotting a swift shadow circling overhead. It flaps to a stop, allowing me to see it as…

Oh you're kidding me. Him, seriously??

“Howdy, shitbag!”

He's still wearing that ragged orange tunic and that punchable grin, but the rest of him is… different. Most noticeably he has a right arm again, yet the rest of his body has buffed out considerably. His legs legitimately look like too headless pythons curling up where the feet are. Even his soul patch has upgraded to a formidable scaly beard. A pair of green bat wings flap him aloft, though they look to be made of soaked snake skin.

“Can you just imagine my surprise: not only do I find you still alive and kicking, but you also snagged the Head Bitch’s lap dog! You’ve been doing well for yourself, slick.”

Cerberus growls viciously at the flying douche, who only chuckles back. “I’ve been doing pretty fantastic myself. That seal placed on me by those crusty assholes went away the moment Tartarus woke up, meaning I got all my powers back.” He flexes his right arm, marveling his shimmery bicep. “Was able to regrow my arm, so now I’m back at full strength.”

He holds out his arms and legs, which grow out into very long, thick tendrils the size of tree trunks, before retracting them back to their former size and shape as though finishing a morning stretch. A bit freaky, the way they morphed so fast to and fro.

“Plus I got my little buddies back. Check it.”

Suddenly over a dozen snakeheads spring up along his shoulders and atop his head, all hissing and some of them letting off streams of flame. Okay, now that is definitely freaky.

“Heheh, and let me tell ya: they’re way more reliable than those dumb bitches and assholes that made up my last posse.” The snakes all retract back into his body with a “slurp” (ew). “I have to say, I’ve never been so pumped in a very very long time! Everyone else is out there wrecking havoc and destruction and all that good shit, and I’m just hankering to get in on the action. Cut loose and show these surface dwellers who the deadliest badass around is.”

“Yeah, so go have fun with that. I’ve got somewhere to be.” Before I can move Cerby’s collar, Ty holds out a clawed hand.

“I would, but there’s priorities I need to take care of first. I recall saying that if I found your purple ass still alive I’d slit your throat. You know, for cutting off my arm and stomping my face. That deal?”

“Later, I promise—”

“No not later you retard! I can’t enjoy myself knowing you’re running around unpunished, and now that I’m refreshed we’re settling this here and now! Unless you’d rather I chase you down like the scrawny lizard that you are.”

Hoo boy… Probably should’ve taken Discord’s advice for this one. And I’ve wasted enough time just listening to this jackass as it is. Only one recourse to be had in this situation.

“Let’s go with B.”

I kick Cerby’s sides, pull at his collar, and off he sprints down the road leading into the city.

“Then the hunt’s on, bitch!”

My head starts thumping as Cerberus gallops along the empty road, deeper into the outer residential district. Get myself surrounded with cover, I should be able to lose him. Or at least avoid him long enough to get to the inner city and get myself an even better advantage.

That hope gets tossed out quick when I spot Ty flapping up to us high on the left. He smiles before a snakehead pops from his shoulder and spits out a fireball. I veer Cerby right to dodge the ensuing blast, but through the smoke I see Ty flap over to the right before another fireball comes down. It blasts a few yards in front of us, which Cerberus side leaps on his own. Three more fireballs rain down from the flying snake man, all narrowly avoided as the road space narrows and the houses come in closer. Ty then takes position ahead of us, and as he rises a row of snakeheads spring up along his shoulders and spew a stream of fireballs.

“DadadadadadadaDA!”

The road is immediately blasted into mulch and ash before the barrage, and I have a split second to turn Cerby off-road before we're obliterated. He does so without hesitation, tearing through a burning house followed by another and yet another. Rather than put up with ramming through more buildings he leaps us up onto the rooftops, never slowing down as he bounds from roof to roof into the inner residential area.

Ty is close behind, loosing another devastating fire stream that blows up the houses we leave behind. Cerby leaps over across the road to a row of taller roofs to try to shake him, but that snake bastard just follows along. Unfortunately he uses his brain and fires at the buildings further ahead of us.

Cerberus starts running and stumbling over collapsing buildings, which makes him do an unsteady leap back to the other side of the road. Ty decides to swoop in to snatch me, but I slash at his arm and get us some breathing room for a hard landing onto a balcony. The fixture shatters from the weight of impact, so Cerby leaps downward and takes to the road again.

There are storefronts now, most of which are on fire. There are diverging lanes, both paved and cobblestone, and the buildings are taller, more slick and modern. The inner city. Man this dog can run fast (another fine quality for a guard dog).

There are ponies running around as well, who luckily are not so panic-stricken they remember to step out of the way of the stampeding hell hound. Also some escaped convicts and monsters marauding in the streets, who luckily don’t have the right mind to avoid being trampled. A great shadow envelops the city as Tartarus begins moving overhead. That, combined with the taller, tighter building layouts should help out in losing that snakey nutjob.

“Peekaboo!”

And like that he’s flying in from the side ahead of us (really need to shut my metaphoric mouth). He rears back and has his snake array belch out a wide stream of fire that we barely manage to sprint under, but Cerby lets out a yip over having his backside toasted. We speed further into the city along the winding road, and I look back to see if Ty is keeping on our tail. Then I immediately duck my head to avoid the churro cart flying by and smashing apart on the pavement before us. A mailbox and some lampposts come flying in as well, so I have Cerberus turn and charge into a gutted out storefront. Knock past some minotaurs and take to a set of crumbling stairs, which Cerby climbs up higher and higher.

A huge section of wall blows open on an upper landing, but rather than stopping or redirecting, Cerby charges upward and then leaps out, mouths open wide and snarling. Some good instincts on him, cuz through the smoke and ash his rightmost set of jaws snaps down on one of Ty’s legs as he’s floating before his handiwork. I swing around my sword arm and wrap it around the collar as we dangle from under the scaly freak as he flaps about the skyline (really thick sinews he has there, jeez).

Amid the highrises, smoke and fire whirling around me, I catch the sight of some harpies going after a pair of panicking pegasi. With alliteration to guide my claw I snatch one of the passing harpies by the neck, then toss the smelly bird upwards, succeeding in bopping Ty’s stupid head. He just shakes it off and jerks his buffed leg forward, breaking Cerby’s grip and sending us tumbling onto the roof of a hotel. Lucky enough for me the hound goes skidding along his side, so it’s just an abrasion on my bare arm instead of my whole body getting smeared in an unflattering coat of red.

My resilient mount gets back up on all fours, right as Ty flutters down with arms held open and sporting that self-satisfied sneer. I get a look around, and it kinda looks like the same general neighborhood that my apartment is in. Meaning the castle should be… I can see it. Still a ways away, but I can make out the tallest point, and—was that just an energy beam? Orange and fiery, nothing like Twilight’s. Gotta get over there, now.

I glare back at my pursuer, then direct Cerby to jump off to the left in the direction of the castle.

“Oh not this time!”

Cerberus had just taken off when we’re jolted to a stop, his heads giving off some sharp whines and gasps over the two muscular lengths of scales now wrapped around his middle head. I heft myself up the collar and slash at the tentacles, but it’s like chopping at marble. That seems to be more than enough to have Ty take drastic action, which translates to the twin tentacles tightening their grips before twisting in opposite directions, tearing through the thick neck and popping off the center head like a cork.

I yank the collar through open space and go tumbling off Cerberus. My back slams against the side of a building, then my front gets pinballed off another as I plummet downward before my back hits the street. I skid along the pavement, the smell of burnt cloth reaching my nose when I come to a stop. Spring back up, shake off the disorientation, see that I'm standing in some alleyway. I'm still holding my sword and the blood-dripping collar. Ahead I see Cerby make a messy landing on the street, stumbling over its legs as he runs off with a bleeding gap between his two frothing heads. So much for my ride.

Not that it matters, since Ty has come down to block the alley opening. He brings up a dripping tentacle and licks off the crimson before smacking his lips.

“Nowhere to run now, cockstain.”

I think a moment, then toss aside the collar so I can grip the sword hilt with both claws, leveling it before me. Seems I really have no choice.

Ty cracks a sneer before lunging at me like a sprung coil. My sword goes up to catch his sharpened nails, clanging with each rapid swipe I deflect. After he attempts a spin slash I go at him with my own swipes, which he swivels and flaps away from before he sends a roundhouse kick to my face. I lose my footing and bang against a trash can before I steady myself, getting miffed by this dumbass being this much a nuisance.

I charge at him and bring down my blade, which he catches with his fingertips… which have turned into several tiny snakes, all off them biting onto the blade. I pull it back, then get to dodging fistfuls of hissing, snapping snakes. They come at me so fast; I feel my frills getting nicked whenever they go for the side of my head. Eventually I go on the offense and cut at his arms, which he doesn't bother pulling back. Probably because I'm only making small cuts despite putting my full strength behind each blow. He slaps me away, chuckling with that smug look that seriously needs to die.

“You need to hit harder than that. I'm just too buff!”

And still an ignoramus. But new tactic. I step back a bit, then grab the trash can I bumped into before and toss it at the flying pain. He bats it away, but it’s enough distraction to allow me to leap to the wall, spring off and kick at his head. It connects and knocks him down a notch, and once on ground level again I charge and stab at him full force. Unfortunately he’s recovered enough to grab my sword in his bare scaly mitts, and with a hard jerk he flings me through the brick wall to my left.

There's a breaking of wood when I come to a stop. Getting up, I see I'm in some kind of bar or tavern. There's some unicorns huddled nearby looking scared (how bout helping me out or something, you louts?). Across the wrecked dining area I see Ty hover into the hole he made. I scowl, then shove a claw into the wrist of my sword arm and tear out a decent gash. After letting the blood run a bit I give a flick and it goes aflame without fuss. You want me to hit harder, huh? Well how about hotter.

“Ooh, turning up the heat, little guy? Bring it on!”

Oh just shut up will ya!? I dash from the wrecked bar, clear the floor space and engage. He tries to grab my sword as I swing it, but surprise surprise, asshole, it's too hot to touch! That unpleasant realization is apparent on his idiot face, as he flaps out into the alley like a coward.

I hop out the hole, and facing him he begins whipping with those stretchy arms. I take a quick lash or two, but it doesn't slow me down as I rush him and bring around my flaming sword. I catch a look of panic as he flaps back from my wrath, only to fly up and over me, trying to pull a fast one. I'm on top of that shit, as I spring and go into a fiery backwards somersault that ends with me slamming my sword in a scorching blast upon landing.

He manages to avoid it by zipping forward, but that's no worry. His back’s to the wall… unless he flakes out and runs. And looky there, he's too stupid to consider that.

“Think you're hot stuff, lizard boy? No one's hotter than me!”

That line of snakes pop up along his shoulders and hiss at me, their disjointed mouths filling with fire. I step forward and hiss back at them. Show them what proper fangs look like. They actually whimper before retracting into their master's body. His reaction is hilarious.

“W-what are you guys doing? Get back out here!”

He looks down at me and starts grinding his teeth. Not feeling so cocky now, huh?

“You damned freak; what is your problem?!”

You are, ya frickin’ scrub. I begin walking towards him with my sword held out, still blazing. He rears back and fires off a massive stream of black flame. It's impressively hot, but it only fuels the fire of my upraised sword.

I spring forward through the inferno, and catch the look of surprise right before my blade connects with his waist. No resistance as it goes through his scales and muscles like they were cardboard. His lower half goes spinning before me, blood trailing through the air. Much of it falls onto my sword, seemingly gravitating toward it, sizzling in the fire. My knees become weak as a sudden warmth fills me, starting in my right arm and spreading to every part of my being. It’s electrifying; I go light-headed. But in a moment the rush is gone and my head becomes clear. I look down and see the fire has gone out on the blade. The wound in my wrist is gone as well.

Turning around, I see the upper half of Ty leaning against the alley wall, his waist cauterized as he huffs in pain and frustration.

“The-the hell, why can’t I grow my legs back? What did you do to me?”

I begin walking up to him slowly, sword still out. He sticks out his hand which has morphed into a snakehead, and his shoulder snakes have sprung up as well (got their courage back, I see).

“Don’t think you’ve won you lousy dragon punkass: I’ll flambe you just as easily as I can tear off those pretty scales of yours! I won’t get to dance in your blood, but you’ll make a good snack to help me get my legs back. So come on and try me. That luck of yours won’t work a third time, I guarantee you th—”

There’s a massive thump that shakes up the both of us, and looking around I see something large has landed at the mouth of the alley. Haunched on two powerful legs, towering at nearly twenty feet, with hideously elongated arms ending in some just as frighteningly long claws. Its whole back is matted in sharp silvery quills, while the rest of its body is obscenely pale baggy flesh. Red eyes with black pinpoint pupils scan the skies as it snarls with a mouth that I can only guess is a cross between that of an anteater and a crocodile. It flexes its claws before screeching out to the city at large in a tone that could barely be distinguished as female.

“The day of prophecy has finally arrived! When sky adorns the dread hue of blood and the land is ravaged by the spawn of chaos, my long exile finally comes to an end. So sayest fell Echidna, Mother of Monsters, who shall maim and devour all who have opposed her. Tremble and whimper prayers to your false gods, for cruel reckoning is steadfast appro—”

Her doom speech is halted once her beady eyes catch sight of us. Or specifically, the half snakeman leaning against the wall. Then something weird happens: her face brightens up, and she claps her claws together with eyes lit up in joy and her voice losing much of its menace (not all of it).

“Typhy~!”

“Huh?” is Ty’s immediate response. The hideous she-thing stomps herself into the alley, her bulk tearing away some building in the process.

“What vast relief and elation it is to find you after so long! When I lost trace of you all those millennia ago I feared the worst, but of course no mortal could slay the ruthless, indomitable Typhon.”

“Who’re you?”

“There is no need to feign ignorance now that you are free, my love! Surely you recognize your beloved mate Echidna? How I long yearned deep in my cramped cavern for the chance to see you, to hear your strong voice once more. And my most heartfelt wish has come true, on this most glorious day when the damned inherit the earth.”

“Look, I don’t know what you’re going on about…” Cold, dreaded realization drains his face like an ice bath as his eyes widen and his scaly lips quiver. “No. Nononononoohfuckno.” He snaps his gaze at me and holds out his normal hand at my sword. “Hey hey, buddy, can you do me a solid? I want you to end me here. I’m not joshin’ ya or anything like that; go ahead and finish me off. Drive that thing through my head or my heart, it doesn’t matter. Just don’t let this crazy bitch take me—”

“YOU SHALL NOT LAY A FINGER ON HIM!!”

Ty gets swiped up by a deadly set of claws, yet the their owner just holds him gently to her freakish face, doting over him.

“My most cherished loved one, you have been wounded most grievously. But worry not, for I shall watch over you as we reclaim our place as king and queen of this world. And the proliferation of our bloodline will be a fine start, wouldn’t you agree? Our children will certainly want more siblings after all this time, teehee.”

Her poor attempt at sounding girlish does nothing in calming down her… beloved.

“No let me go you bag I’m going nowhere! Come on, man, throw that sword of yours at me already. Help a bro out! Help me! Help MEEEEEE!”

Echidna holds her hubby close as her huge legs spring her up and through a skyscraper across the street. I walk out of the alley, looking at the gaping hole left behind as I register the immediate calm. Definitely bizarre…

At this moment my jacket snaps from my left shoulder and dangles from my right. I pull it off and look it over. Yeesh: the whole back is in tatters, barely keeping together. I drop it. No sense subjecting it to more abuse.

Come to think of it, I got pretty banged up as well. Yet I'm still feeling okay, not even a little tired. And the abrasion on my arm seems to have gone. Huh… No time to dwell. I have to get up to the castle.

Looking up the empty road, I start running. There's overturned carts, smashed windows, random debris and fire, but no one around. I do hear a distant screech and/or cry, maybe an explosion or two. There's also a wet crunching sound that seems to be getting louder as I run.

I find its source right quick. In the ruins of a small boutique-cafe-something, a large black form is nestled in it, long slender neck hunched over a pulpy bundle of blood and feathers held between a pair of red-stained but otherwise pristine claws. It takes a bite out with sharp teeth, munching on it with relish. A red slitted eye looks up and spots me, and immediately it turns its head in my direction.

“Well hello there, Spike! A surprise seeing you here,” she says through the gore in her mouth. Quite smoothly, too.

“Yeah, same for you, uh… Campe?”

“Uh-hum!” she nods happily. “It's so weird: barely a day has gone since you got put in, and suddenly everyone's been let free! I never would have thought something like this could happen, but it goes to show to never say never. Even the irredeemable have their day.” She takes a bite out of her snack. “You cannot believe how excited I was when I felt my seal go away. Nothing was keeping me down; I was free to fly wherever I wanted to! So I figured I’d do a little flying tour of the different fashion capitals of the world I read about: Manehatten, Hoofington, Prance, and even the up-and-coming little town shops they like to mention. But I decided to check out the fashion district here, rest up, grab a snack, plot out my list of stops.” Another crunch. “Sorry if I'm rambling, but I'm just soooooo excited about being able to see all these great places! Well, at least before they get destroyed. Which is why I should hurry up with this.” She goes back to eating.

“It's no problem; I’d be pretty excited, too. Say, uh, that wouldn't to be a… pegasus, per chance?”

“Huh?” She looks to the meat. “Oh no no no. Just a bothersome harpy trying to wreck one of the hat stores. Can't be having that when I just got here.”

“I see. Say, could you do me a favor?”

“Hm?”

“I'm, gonna be heading up to the castle, and don't want to be bothered. Could you possibly stick around a while and keep away anyone non-pony heading in that direction? If that's not too much to ask.”

“Oh, not at all. I can spare another thirty minutes, maybe an hour. Hard to determine that with no sun or stars to go by, though. But I'll keep a lookout for you, since you asked so nicely. Only the small ones though, like this harpy. I'm nowhere as hot-blooded as I was back in the ancient days.”

“Anything you can offer is greatly appreciated. Thanks a bunch, sweetheart.”

“Ooh hoo hoo, you're very welcome, cutie. You have fun now.”

“Yeah. Enjoy your snack.”

“Mmhm, that I will.”

Campe goes back to her bloody meal, and I get back to running. Hope I haven't wasted too much time. Gotta step it up.

Just hold on, Twilight. I'm coming.

Act 3 Verse 2

In Harmony’s Name

Running for minutes. The calm after my little skirmish didn’t last nearly as long.

All around me the ancient forces of chaos are overtaking the city. Mythological outcasts running and flying amok, causing mayhem and cackling all the while. Dodged the stinger of a feral manticore before slicing it off, sidestepped some swooping harpies, and had to veer through a store to avoid a rock monster’s rampage. But I still kept running forward and upward with unwavering determination.

A few instances I spot the Royal Guard stepping in to fight the monstrosities. A few where it’s only civilians. No time to stop and help. Not until I get to Twilight. Until she’s safe.

Reach the top of a hill, and there I see it: Canterlot Castle. The red sky has cast much of it in shadow, giving it the ominous look of a tyrant’s lair, or even a prison. Otherwise it seems to be mostly intact, save for missing towers on the left side. Speaking of sky, there’s about a dozen flying freaks hanging around overhead, occasionally swooping down at the castle… only to get blasted away by an angry thick yellow magic beam. Another one shoots out when another bogey tries getting in too close. It’s the same beam I saw from downtown. Definitely doesn’t have the same divine radiance of Twilight’s brand, and I don’t know anyone in the Guard or on staff who can wield that kind of power. Which only leaves one candidate.

“H-hey…”

Hm? Was that a voice just now?

“Over here…”

Yep. I look around, and I see a corner of a building cracked and caved in. Embedded amid the rubble is a mass of gray, hardbodied fur wrapped around some thick limbs and one heck of a chiseled chin. There’s dried blood covering his chest and forelegs, and he looks pretty roughed up (duh), but otherwise he seems to be in one piece.

“General?”

“So you’re not a hallucination. That’s some relief,” he grunts out, partly from pain. “You always show up at the most opportune times.”

“What the hell happened to you?”

“I didn’t want to make small talk either. Well, it’s a hell of a thing. Was making rounds in the barracks when the alert came. Someone breaching the inner chambers. I came in with some troops to back up the Guard. Got up to the princess’ private study, and there’s some red four-legged minotaur freak sucking out this, this life energy or something from some guards, cuz they went down like they were doped. Stalwart Will was among them, and the princess was lying right beside that thing. So, I charged him, only he got me by the neck and… get this: he threw me out the damn building. No windows, all walls. I just woke up a few minutes ago, and it’s the Celestia-damned apocalypse. Say, we wouldn’t happen to be dead by any chance?”

“‘Fraid not, hoss.”

“Damn. Well, I know who to exact this disappointment on.” He yanks his upper limbs from the building, resting them on his dust-covered barrel. “It’ll take more than a toss from a castle to put this warhorse outta commission.”

“You probably wanna rain check that. You’re not looking so hot, and that centaur would just suck you dry.”

“Since when did you care about my looks, boy? But yeah, my legs aren’t as limber and durable these days. Need to get patched up first, or at least get some stretches done. At least you can go on ahead. That’s exactly what you were planning to do, right? Charge in there like a fool, like how I did?”

“Exactly. Only difference…” I wave out my beauty. “I’m properly equipped.”

“That you are. Just get in there and save the princess, son.”

I nod, then look to the castle. Veiled in shadow, beset by the damned. “Just hang tight, Gruff-n-Stuff. I’ll take care of this mess.” I begin walking.

“What did you just call me?”

I continue my march, passing the empty guard stations on a beeline through the courtyard. No one around, no bodies. Some mussed shrubbery, but that’s it. Get up to the main doors and kick them open.

A total disaster zone within. Columns broken, rubble lying strewn about from the gaping holes in the ceiling (so much for the outside view). Bodies all around, both pony and other, all veiled in the sinister red of the sky. Some burnt, some gashed, others seemingly untouched. A wind howls through the entry hall, carrying with it the scent of blood and charred flesh. Seems a storm's brewing.

Dead ahead, on the central stairs, I see something moving. I hurry to and up them, and I find it's Stalwart Will, struggling to pull himself down the steps. He’s deathly pale, even with the white fur. He weakly turns his head up to me, and those clouded eyes tell me he’s been drained pretty bad.

“S-Spike? Is that, you…?”

“Where's Twilight and Tirek? Back upstairs?”

“Please, Sera… make sure she's—”

“Where is Twilight, Will!? Tell me!”

“D-d-down there…”

He languidly points a hoof to the bottom landing. Looking closer, I see the bodies form a loose trail to the west hall. Probably should have followed that first.

I leave Will behind and get back to the ground floor and into the hall. It looks like the aftermath of a prolonged firefight. Sections of wall and ceiling have been gouged out, leaving ashened marks. I step over the blown apart corpse of what may have been a satyr, Diamond Dog, something. Soon I pick up the sound of magical discharge, and quicken my pace until I come to the ballroom. One of the doors has been blown to splinters, and the remaining one is hanging by a hinge and halfway open. I approach, then peek around.

Not as messy as the hall… though I can make out the upper rooms through the missing two-thirds of ceiling, and the far wall and windows have been blown out completely. And bingo-bango, standing before a calamitous backdrop is that red devil-horned son of a bitch. Looking taller and bigger from when I last saw him, arms all buffed out, his legs looking thicker, a full white tail (what’s up with everyone getting beefier on Doomsday?). His back’s turned to me, but I can see those horns of his have grown up to being nearly as tall as the rest of him. And between those horns is a yellow orb of light that expands before firing a magic beam to the skies above.

“Incessant vermin! Still they hover around to pester me, with no sense of self preservation. Have they not realized by now that only death awaits them in confronting me!”

As he’s talking loudly to himself, I scan the room a millisecond more before my eyes land on the bundle lying close to his hooves. Faded purple, mane made unkempt by duress, head upraised, but looking so tired, so fragile. Alive, but in danger.

I silently move my feet onto the checkered floor and slowly, carefully, begin to cross. Shoulders low, gaze focused on that burly freak of magic and nature. Two meters, Twilight turns her head and spots me. Our eyes meet; relief, surprise, concern going at it in those pale violet eyes.

That’s right, Twi, I’m here for you. Just keep still, no noise. It’ll be over soon. Halfway there. My sword arm’s itching. Thatta girl. Only a little longer. Just a little further and I’ll—get blasted back by a pillar of scalding yellow magic.

“Spike!!”

“That was not your pet! I have told you already, princess, that the dragon has been—”

“Yo, what’s with the harsh welcome, Tiramisu?”

Get their stunned looks as I step past the smoking remnants of the remaining door. What’s left of my shirt falls away, revealing my unscathed, rockin’ bod. Cock a cool smile at horn bro.

“Is that any way to say hi to a helpful buddy?”

“Spike!” Proper relief in her voice mixed with the fear. See some tears in her eyes.

“Sit tight, Twilight. This’ll be over soon.”

“Impossible!”

Tirek rears back before shooting off another yellow beam, but I have my sword up front and center to intercept it. That magic splits down the middle and blasts away the walls behind me, but once it stops I’m still standing there without having moved an inch. I look over my gleaming baby and give a whistle, smitten by its stainless shine.

“I tell ya, that’s one killer polish I got on my darlin’.”

Next he sticks out a meaty palm and I feel the tug of an invisible force. But there's a blink of darkness and the binding spell dissipates. Good to know that’s in working order.

“Not gonna happen. But nice try.”

All four of his cloven hooves come stomping forward, their owner looking red in the face over that bushy white goatee (Pffft-hahaha oh man he looks like such a chump).

“I know not how you got back on your feet, or what wards you have acquired, but I’ll sap the necromancy straight from your wretched bones and return you to dust!”

His yapper goes wide and starts to suck, and I feel that familiar pull. Only I smile as I watch the trail of sickish yellow glide toward him. Right down the hatch… and see his black eyes widen before breaking out into a nasty coughing fit. Serves you right, you gluttonous goat bastard.

“Bwah, so much, *cwoof*, corrupting agents! How, *kuhkah*, is that possible?”

“Say Tirek, here’s a saying that I’m rather fond of: don’t bite off more than you can chew.”

“Damn you,” he snarls, regaining some of his menacing image. “This had been your doing: set the world aflame just to get at me. Utter madness.”

“Yeah, well look at where we're standing, Goat Face.” I twirl my blade and hold it forward. “Talk time is over. Now is where you get your hands dirty.”

“Befouled serpent, I will drive you into the earth!” Tirek slams his hooves apart and snorts an angry nose flare in challenge.

“Spike, be careful!”

I look to Twilight, then back to Tirek. I nod. “It’s in the bag.”

Time suddenly slows down. A familiar warmth spreads out to my extremities. My chest is thumping both from my heart… and a fresh, invigorating power. That chaos Discord gave to me, I must’ve subconsciously tapped into it during my fight with Ty. My fatigue, my aches, my worries, smothered away. With my final target standing before me, I draw from the well completely. My head is pinging with giddiness; I’ve never felt more alive. And soon enough that towering homewrecker is gonna feel the full brunt of it.

My smile widens as everything before me brightens up. It’s time for Finale.

I rush at him and get to slashing, but my sword just cuts at an invisible shield. Tirek then breaks out a flurry of punches that I back away from until he puts out his palms to blast the floor at my feet. I spring up and land, sitting pretty atop his noggin between the horns. He growls and swipes at me, but I spring off back to the ground. I turn in time to back away from a cloud of fire breath being belched my way, which covers his own rush as he charges me with horns lowered to gore. I take hold of them and slide backwards before bringing us to a stop, then immediately twist and throw his massive horse self to the other side of the room.

He gets up quick enough, then disappears. A flash above catches my gaze, and I see him standing on part of the ruined second floor before he fires a death beam at me. I hop back from the blast zone, then pull back my arm and toss my sword upward. It flies true and sticks into the upper wall, which I translocate to to deliver a kick to that red mook in the side of his face.

He staggers back in pain and surprise, but leaps up through the ceiling. I snatch my sword and spring up into the next floor, and follow him up as he tears up to the next one. As I’m springing upward I flick my sword, send a few fireballs his way, scorch that ashened flank even more ashen. Catch him once, but he’s unshaken and keeps bounding up through the floors with me (literally) hot on his tail. We burst forth through the final ceiling and land opposite each other on the very roof of the castle. Plenty room for our final confrontation. Let’s get crazy!

Tirek charges at me and starts swinging with a pair of electric fists, but I bounce, sidestep, and bap away those grubby sparking mitts before crouching and spinning to send a reverse kick upside his head. He grunts before winding up and punching the roofing, letting off a frosty blast of subzero magic that nips my behind. I land and turn back around to see him point a finger at me and let out several concentrated beams. I deflect them as they come, and bring up my left claw to deflect the ones aimed at my exposed head before pointing and shooting off my own finger beams. His raised arms make a shield, so I shoot at his hooves, get him to dance a little (dance goaty dance!), then I swing my sword upward to tear a quick hole over him. A snap of my fingers, and the bastard is dancing from a hail of bombs!

I laugh loudly before launching at him in a hyper death spiral. He grabs my spinning sword to catch me, tearing his palm up like a bitch in the process, and starts slamming me about. I get the message and let go, flying up into the air, but after a quick adjustment I stretch out my arms and go for the horns. Once gripped I yank myself back down and headbutt his face like a cinderblock, snapping off one of those stabbers like a branch. I dump the useless horn and grab my sword and a wayward bomb while he stumbles back, then toss my ordnance at him as his back legs give out.

I land and strike a pose with the explosion behind me, yet two thick arms wrap around me and get to squeezing. The look on his face when he realizes it’s just a cackling sprite he’s trying to crush. Made even more perfect by the soaring dropkick I deliver.

It’s enough to snap that stupid nose ring off amid a spout of blood. This really pisses him off, as those yellow pupils flare up, his fists spread out, and he lets out a furious roar that causes the eruption of several fire geysers. Another snap of my fingers and just as many corks drop down to put a lid on things. Gotta watch those fire hazards, yo.

This bewilders him a moment, only to get even more riled up as he opens his mouth and yells a column of pure magical energy at me. I open my mouth to harmonize with my astounding voice, and that not only dispels his yell but also dazes him, tweety birds and all. I spring up high, then land behind him so to grab his tail and put him on a wacky wild airplane ride. Destination: that tower over yonder!

Which probably wasn't the best idea since that same tower is flying at me and hits me, hard. Stone and wood blast all around me as I'm knocked off the roof, but I air stroke and grab onto the edge, then heft myself up next to the polka band which is doing a damn fantastic job providing accompaniment. Tirek is charging in to spoil the mood with crackling electric fists, but I beat him to it by snatching an accordion and slamming the leathery bellows onto his head. I give it a few good pumps before twisting my legs into his chest, knocking him back and destroying the instrument completely (RIP in pepperonis BibleThump). I toss away the scraps and, dropping my sword, I rush at the centaur and wail on his torso with both fists in rapid ORAORAORAORA before bashing him offscreen, then fire off a grappling hook to reel him back in to deliver a bloody flying uppercut (Toasty!).

After flopping about on the roof, Tirek rights himself up and smashes the roof with his fist in frustration (what a loser). “Enough of your games!”

And I’ve had enough of seeing your face still intact, but he’s kind enough to make it and the rest of him vanish wait hold on—

I duck just as a guillotine swipe goes over my head, then spring away from a powerful hoofstomp. He pops up behind me and slams me through the roof with a double-fist slam, but I pop back up behind him to smash a toilet against the back of his shoulders. This doesn’t stop him from vanishing again and reappearing to buck me hard in the back with his hindlegs (tit for tat, Pat). I bite down on my sword as I’m tumbling along so it comes for the ride, and punching my claws into the tiling I get myself to stop. No time to catch a breath as I see Tirek’s eyes light up before some sick-nasty beams shoot out up along the roof leading up to me, which hails in a line-up of explosive fire.

I fire out from the fire and get to slashing at him, this time he’s just barely able to bring up those handy arm shields. I bring the claws of my other hand to bare as well, unleashing a whirlwind of sharp stabby death that steadily chips away his fancy magical defenses. A flash of his eyes, though, and his shields become swords that he uses to try to overpower me. Their size would cramp my style, so I fall back onto my tail and get to bouncing. Bouncy bouncy bounce away from him, then I coil my tail down hard to launch up waaaay high into the air, drawing my arm back to cleave this sucker once and for all!

Wind whistles around me during my deep strike before I bring down my blade, which Tirek manages to catch between his hands in one ludicrously quick, well-timed clap. No worries: I’ll just pick him up with my sword and slam him about like some grotesque meaty hammer! Gavel gavel all up and down the block, then leap up, power up spin, then drive us home straight down through the roof. All aboard for the ground floor, hahaha!!

After a marvelous explosion of confetti and anguish, me and Tiara rise to discover we’ve demolished an inner servants’ quarters. And even some servants… or did we? Nope they’re cowering over there. Hey guys! Still wearing those snappy uniforms, and looking dirtfree as well! You’re doing a real bang-up job. Speaking of bang-up, I think this beatdown has gone on for long enough. Let’s put this hunk of goat cheese to bed.

I twirl my trusty blade and stab it into the ground, then pull it back some yards to make a nice black indentation. Tirek wobbles himself upright, and seeing me looking my ever cool cavalier self, he growls and stomps toward me, grabbing an overturned table along the way. Oh man, he looks fuming under the blood and bruises. Gonna do a real number with that table. Coming straight for me, eyes squarely on me… completely ignoring where his hooves are clopping onto. Just a few feet from me, I snap my fingers. Dead on!

The black indent widens and from it a subway car spews upward like a massive steel Jack-in-the-Box, smacking the underside of Tirek as it launches upward with its train of fellow cars. I stab one of the cars and catch a ride up and out of the castle, high up into the sky. As my lift loses momentum, I pull back and yank myself up high, clear past the falling arc of the subway cars and well past Tirek’s stunned, battered body. I stop myself a little ways up and look down. Good, just the right spot. Now to pull back my leg for the wind-up. Have to build up that power real good for the proper finisher!

[Tap B!]

B B

B B B B

B B B B B B B B B B

B B B B B B B

B B B B B B B B B

B B B B B B B B

B B B B B B B B B B B B B

6100 BEATDOWN BONUS!!

“HELL-EVATOR EXPRESS KICK!!!”

I twist my whole body and send my leg right into the centaur’s torso the moment he reaches me. There’s a pause as the hit’s registered, then instantly he’s launched back into the castle, making a sizable hole down below. That had to be Platinum at least, easy. Anyway, better survey the spoils.

Some calm falling and a badass landing later, I hop on over to the hole dear Tirek left and jump on in. I land in one of the upper bathrooms, broken fixtures spraying water or giving off sparks. No Tirek. A quick looky loo and I see something of a trail leading into the adjacent room, which would be one of the guestrooms. Random crap seemingly pulled, dragged along the floor. I follow along, humming merrily to myself, until I come upon another gaping hole. Down this one, I’m back in the West Wing. Still no centaur around. However, I do pick up a fresh wave of spilt blood trailing away. I follow it, skipping and grinning along.

The scent brings me back to the ballroom entrance, and stepping through I find him at last. Limping along, his rear left leg dragging, one horn missing and the other missing its tip. I walk on in, making my steps nice and loud to announce my presence. He whips around, showing his bloodied face and beard, looking wild and desperate. Given that his right arm has Twilight in a chokehold, that's to be expected.

“D-don’t come any closer, or I’ll crush her neck! Pop her head off easily! I’m warning you, dragon!”

Twilight’s struggling weakly, gasping from having her airway constricted in that burly arm. I see her eyes watering, rolling around helplessly, often looking to me. I can only chuckle.

“Oh Teary Teary Teary… that wasn’t smart.”

My tail pulls back and plunges into the ground behind me, then spears up through Tirek’s shoulder an instant later, severing his arm completely. Twilight falls to the ground unharmed as Tirek wails and blubbers over his spurting stump, his complexion paling as red spills over his grasping fingers. I charge and tackle into the crybaby, knocking him to the ground with enough force to send us skidding to the broken edge of the wrecked room. With his head dangling over the abyss I grab his neck with one claw while raising my sword with the other, staring him down as I ready for the coup de grâce.

“Time to die, Billy Boy!”

“Please, have mercy…”

I freeze.

Something about those words, that tone, that look of pain and helpless fear. How many times I’ve heard similar pleas, seen that face, from this angle. All of them lying still, without a chance, in the dark, out of sight. Only for me to truly know.

My grip on his neck slackens, as does the tension in my sword arm… but it hardens again when I catch the clenched teeth and the spark of magic. I swing my blade down, severing the neck and sending his head flying before his death beam fires. It blasts through much of the upper castle before dissipating, registering there’s no longer something to funnel magic from. I watch the head drop unceremoniously down to the plains below, and keep staring even after it ceases being a speck.

I just stay there, knees pressed down on a warm corpse, lost to the distant sounds of calamity, but most of all to the silence within me. My legs eventually find the need to unbend, so I gently lay my sword down and get back on my feet, head bowed. I hear the subtle clopping of hooves slowly approaching from behind. Followed by that voice.

“Spike, are you alright? Is he… is he dead?”

Just stand there, contemplating those last few moments.

“Spike?”

It becomes clear.

“It’s so apparent…”

“Huh?”

“Give them an ounce of mercy, and they come for your life. That’s the kind of threat we’re facing now.”

“What do you mean?”

I look out to the plains, the crimson sky beyond. Mottled with grotesque shadows. Deathly beasts. Danger.

“It’s not safe the way it is. Leave it like this, and you forfeit your life. I’m not gonna let that happen. Not again, ever.”

“Spike—”

“I’ll make it safe for you. I’ll take out each and every one of those hideous wanton bastards before they have a chance to lay eyes on you, or even get close to you!”

“Why are you talking like this?”

“But I have to get you away from here before I can start. Faaaaar away, where none of them, or anyone, can find and harm you.”

“I-I don’t understand.”

I’m not liking that fretful doubt. I turn around, to give her my complete and undeniable assurance. She gasps, bringing a hoof to her mouth. Now she’s getting it!

“It’s simple, Twi. I’m gonna protect you, like I’ve always done. Like I should’ve done today before this asshole came around!”

“S-Spike, your eyes…!”

“It’ll work out, you’ll see. I always get the job done; I never welch on my word, no sirree. You know I’ll keep you safe no matter what, so don’t be scared, Twilight. No one’s gonna lay a finger on you eeeeever again!”

“No don’t, don’t come closer. You need to calm down.”

“Why are you afraid? I’m here, so everything’s gonna be alright. I’m all you’ll ever need. And soon, this world will be right peachy dandy, and we can live together and have fun like we always did. We’ll even have a BIG party to celebrate. That’s no lie: I WILL make it happen. And it’ll be a total BLAST! Aha, hahahahahaha-HAHAHAHAHAHAAAHHAAHAHAHA—”

My well-earned chortle halts when I notice some pale yellow glowy gas shit rising up.

“What the deuce—?”

Suddenly the breath is knocked out of me and I hunch over from an immense pressure of heat tearing up my insides. I groan, barely registering my footing giving way from the blinding sensation blasting through my brain along with some deep rumbling coursing through every fiber of my being.

THE USURPER WAS DESTROYED

You shall obtain the Essence of Harmony… and a power

that is beyond all reckoning.

It goes away in an instant, leaving me panting harshly in a kneeling position. My heart is pounding like crazy, and my head… is absolutely clear. It feels like some prickly fog just went away or something. Next thing I sense is Twilight coming up to me.

“Spike! Spike, are you okay?”

“Y-y-yeah, I’m fine.” Take a gulp to steady my nerves, then I look up to her worried face. “What happened?”

“I-I-I don’t know! Something came out of Tirek and you absorbed it and-and-and… are you truly okay, Spike?”

I remember that frightened look of hers, but it’s been replaced with genuine concern and relief. Seems whatever conniption I had is gone, or at least is no longer visible enough for her to see. I nod shakily. “Yeah, yeah. Feeling kinda, worn out. Gonna, sit down.”

I fall back and land on my rump, resting an arm on a knee to further calm myself. I notice Tirek’s body is to my left. Dunno how I got pivoted. Gods, that was some head trip, bobbing from one extreme to the next. Twilight sidles up to me.

“Spike, all those things you were saying, the way you looked and talked… what came over you?”

Yeah, so much for that break. Okay, Twi, some honesty. “Bad reaction. Down in Tartarus, I got a hefty dose of chaos magic pumped into me.” Not complete honesty, though. “I guess I got a little overwhelmed there. But whatever Tirek had must’ve balanced it out.”

“What do you mean?”

“The magic he absorbed. With him dead, it had to go somewhere. And I guess I’m the lucky candidate.”

“Oh, right. I’ve never read or encountered something like that, but it would make sense if none of it belonged to him. Although why would it get absorbed by you rather than disperse?”

“Maybe… maybe this chaos energy of mine is acting like a magnet or sponge or something, I dunno.”

This chaos stuff keeps getting to be more of a hassle. On that note, I look over to the sky and land beyond the hole in the castle. More winged horrors flying about, close and in the far distance. And somewhere Tartarus is still stomping about causing more mayhem, delivering more monsters. The end of the world, delivered by yours truly.

“It’s just awful,” Twilight laments, having caught my outbound gaze. “So much destruction, and no one able to help them.”

“It’s a tall order for sure, Twi. Even for me.” Not the best time to be cracking jokes, Spike.

“I have to find Rainbow Dash, Stonewall, whatever soldiers or guards we can find. We have to save them.”

“I saw the Guard doing a good job here in Canterlot at least, so they’re ahead of the curve there.” I feel a tingle in my left claw. Looking down to it, I notice it’s glowing. Mildly, but definitely glowing. Lifting it up slightly, I see little particles moving between my claw tips like dust motes. It then dawns on me. “Actually, there might be a better alternative.”

“Huh?”

I raise my claw up before me, and Twilight’s dull eyes widen at seeing the glow. “I absorbed all of that stolen magic, including yours.” I bend and reopen my claws, making the motes dance. “Alicorn magic: a power that can rule a nation. The kind of thing that could restore harmony in an instant if need-be. And something I should be able to give back.”

She looks to me, then to my claw, then to me again. “Are you sure?”

“I think so. It only occurred to me now, so it’s not definitive. But there has to be some way of transferring this magic if it was that easy to suck up.”

“Would you want to?”

“I have to give it back eventually. Plus I’d be lousy at using it. I only know how to use my fire attacks, and I just about lost it just from attempting chaos magic. It’s best handled by an expert. If anyone can use it properly to fix all this, it would be you.”

She shifts her head, as though hesitant, then says, “Listen Spike, something’s been worrying me. Before you came here, Tirek told me that he… killed you, before he escaped. That he left you in a, a pool of your own blood.”

Hoo boy. “Oh, that? Complete exaggeration. He just knocked me out cold. One heck of a nasty haymaker on that guy.”

“Was that it? Because he, said that he used your sword and—”

“Hey hey hey, don’t get hung up over what he said. I’m perfectly fine, see? No holes anywhere on me. I’m a tough guy to put down, if my, er, fight with Celestia was any indication.”

“Y-yeah, of course. Or when you, eh, fought me.”

“Yep, heheheh.”

No use getting bogged down in technicalities. Whatever equilibrium that extra magic has set up within me, I can feel it eroding. Gonna lose myself if we wait any longer, so there’s no time to argue or get emotional. Also no time for proper goodbyes... although…

“Hey, Twilight?”

“Yes?”

I reach forward and wrap my arms around her, nuzzling against her neck. Still as soft and comforting, even after all these years. That well of soothing assurance. The light in the darkness. Hope worth going to hell, and back, and back again to preserve.

“Spike?”

I withdraw my arms and sit back, smiling. “For the hug you gave me, before I went to Griffonstone. Just felt like repaying it.”

“Oh, you didn’t have to.” A light giggle, and maybe a blush? It’s so subdued beneath the faded colors.

“I know. But, after everything I’ve been through… I’m just happy you’re alright.”

A tender hoof rests on my shoulder, joined by angelic smile. “And the same for you, Spike.”

Just want this to go on. Just us two, looking at each other, safe and separated from the world. Nothing more… I reach up and gently move her hoof back down. One last childish thought.

“Well, let’s get this show going.”

“Would you know how to do it?”

I look to my glowing claw. “Maybe…” Hold it up before her. “Here goes.”

Deep breath, focus. Close my eyes, imagine the magic in my claw. A buzzing warmth begins to fill it; good start. Now to imagine pushing it forward, outward. Feel my claw tips warm up, followed by an intangible flowing sensation. Focus more on that, keep it steady… It’s holding. Streaming out from me at an even rate. Start to feel a prickly numbing sensation after some seconds, but I keep doing it. Serenity betakes my heart. My mind gets comfortably numb. For the first time in so very long, true peace...

Everything leading up to this moment… has been a mess. I managed to screw things far worse than when I killed Celestia and Pinkie. Despite my efforts, the Destroyer leaves another indelible mark. Still, I got to live something of a normal life up to that point, did some good to sorta make up for the harm I’ve caused. And this time around, there’s the possibility that my latest screw-ups will be undone. It just takes an injection of hope to put things right and see it through. A shame I won't be around to see if it pans out.

But, I think that's a fair enough price to pay. Wouldn’t you agree?

Inspirations

Pandora Hearts

Legacy of Lunatic Kingdom

Xenoblade Chronicles

Bloodborne

Bayonetta

Dark Souls 3

Persona 3

Undertale

Mirai Nikki

The Cat Lady

I Wanna Get Cultured 2

LISA

Mother 3

The Odyssey

The Divine Comedy

Mythology

Dead Space 2

Umineko no Naku Koro Ni

OFF

Special Thanks

Toby Fox

ZUN

Edith Hamilton

Austin Jorgensen

Hideki Kamiya

Shigesato Itoi

Shogo Sakai

Homer

Warmer

Dante

NOMA

Equestria Prevails

FromSoftware

Atlus

Jody Quine

Hirohiko Araki

Pendulum

Bossfight

Mortis Ghost

Jun Mochizuki

Yuki Kajiura

zts

ぺのれり

Monolith Soft

PresentPerfect

Stinkycheese890

Gaywizard609

Pieceofcheese87

overmind2000

Steadfast Hoof

Pyro The Faithful Reader

Distribution

FiMFiction.net

Production

Google Docs

END OF DRAGON...?

Author's Note

...I don't think so.

@c+ E V3rze 3

Act 3 Verse 3

But Wait!

“Who said you could die a peaceful death?”

A ringing fills my ears as some concussive force blinds and knocks me away from Twilight. I hit the ground with my back and bounce to a stop, my head spinning. When my brain settles I prop myself onto my elbows and look ahead, only to immediately notice the abrupt change in scenery.

Everything has turned gray: the sky, the floor, the castle, and even Twilight. More messed up is that everything has come to a standstill, except for me. Like I’ve just fallen into an old-timey still-frame. The only thing out of place is the long, weathered brown wooden pole jutting from the ground before Twilight’s frozen look of surprise. I catch the tick (or possibly a tock) of some hidden clock before everything goes silent again.

Then I hear the soft thudding of leather boots. Heavy, measured, getting closer. As the echoes grow louder, my vision blurs and something takes shape before me. Tall, slim, dressed in gray, with a brown shoddy cloak, laced with the stench of grease, madness and pound cake (whut?). The specter walks up to me and stops beside my sprawled form, and I look up to see a grin beneath the shadow of the hood.

“Charon?”

“Heeeey, buddy,” he says all chummy, like he’s about to ask a favor. “You remember how I said you could pay me back later for the ferry ride?”

An arm shoots down and cold fingers wrap around my neck like a vise. I choke in surprise as I’m raised up to two feet off the ground, the boatman’s grin deepening while I grimace.

“Well I say it’s high time to collect!”

I spit a ball of flame at his head, and immediately fall and hit the ground while the boatman backpedals, frantically patting his flaming hood.

“AahGodmyfaceisonfireYAAAaaAaAAaH!!”

I charge and leap at him, only for my entire body to freeze in midair as invisible bindings hold me in place, pressing down on all my muscles including my throat. Charon’s right hand is sticking out open-palmed, while his left is covering his flameless face. The hood is destroyed, but through his fingers I see a wicked smile beneath a bespectacled gleam.

“...Tenacious punk, arentcha?”

“H-how? It, shouldn’t be…”

“Affecting you?” He lowers his left hand, showing off a very bald head affixed to those glasses. Well, not entirely: some neat clumps of light brownish hair on either side, but nothing else. “Not possible, right? For a binding spell to work.” He chuckles derisively. “Silly lad, why should I be stopped by the very thing I gave you?”

“What?”

He looks to both sides of the still world around us, then looks back up at me. “Let’s move to somewhere a little more… private, before we continue.”

Suddenly a rush of wind buffets my senses as I go completely weightless and fall upwards. After a quick spin in the air I land onto something, and with a groan I get up. From the looks of things I'm standing on a section of flooring that looks to have been… reassembled, high up in the air. No sign of the castle, only vast empty sky, which has regained its sinister crimson shade.

Looking ahead I see various stones, pillars, tilings and wood panels have formed a long platform leading to a set of steps going up to crude stone chair or throne. Then I see Charon drop down from above, then hover before landing gently before the stone chair.

“Better. Though a wardrobe change would help.”

With a flourish of his arms his shirt and pants flare from gray to dark red (I’m seriously getting sick of the color red).

“There we go. I've also taken the liberty of getting you properly dressed as well.”

I look down, then jump at seeing my arms being clothed in familiar black. There’s even a white shirt underneath. My usual outfit…

“Superb. Oh, fyi, I have a magic barrier set up, so don't bother charging or shooting fire at me.”

He crouches, picks up a random pebble and tosses it, where it bounces off a flash of glittery light a few yards in front of me.

“See?” He says matter-of-factly, before going up to the throne and popping a squat, even taking a moment to ensure he wasn’t sitting on the end of his cloak. Once his squat was thoroughly popped, he claps and rubs his hands together. “Now! I bet you have a ton of questions.”

“Yeah, starting with who or what the fuck are you.”

“Ooo hoo, right to what matters. Alright, fellow straight-shooter, I’ll get right to it. Although, my identity should be quite obvious from what you’ve seen and experienced up to now.” He leans forward, resting his chin on his wrist and looking smug.

“Can’t really see how.”

“Then some clarity for the working man-dragon.” He pulls back. “So firstly, my name actually isn’t Charon.”

“Now that’s obvious.”

“Indeed, but not just for obvious reasons. You recall where we first met, hm? Down by the River Styx? It surprised me that it never occurred to you, either then or now, about how peculiar that meeting spot was, given all the research you did before diving in. The thing is, the River Styx isn’t actually a part of Tartarus. It’s something that’s found in the Underworld which, according to historical accounts, is about as far above Tartarus as heaven is above Earth. A flub in names, maybe, no real biggie you’re thinking. There’s a bunch of things that don’t match up when you stop and think about it.” The way he keeps gesticulating and making faces, like he’s extra caffeinated or something. “However, the kicker here is that Tartarus’ river is the Phlegathon, the river of fire. And as you well know, the river I ferried you over was quite damp. Which raises quite the pertinent question.”

Now he props his right arm on the armrest and leans over, planting his smiling head upon the fist. “Who, or what, would have the means to either A) Relocate a landmark like the Styx effortlessly and without anyone’s notice, or B) Snuff out the infernal flames which only a mythical river can produce?”

Something about the way he talks. Obnoxious, droning, but kinda familiar. Further supplemented by him curling up, springing off the chair into a provoking stand.

“That’s right: I’m talking the True Mastermind behind everything! All the trials you faced, the suffering, the violence and the bloodshed, don’t you see?” He jams his thumb against his chest and shouts triumphantly, “It’s me, Spike! It was me, all along, Spike!”

That last part’s ringing in my head as though two different voices were saying different things at once. Other than that…

“Hunh?”

“Speechless? Surprised? But of course you would be!” He babbles/rambles on (bambles?) “Never in your wildest dreams could you have predicted that a throwaway character such as I would be the big bad behind it all. But it’s just as the old trope goes: The boatman did it! Well, actually, the phrase is ‘the butler did it’, but they both start with ‘b’ so alliteration wins out, or something.”

Riiiiiight. “Not to break your stride, but you seem to have experienced a schizophrenic episode, and I really don’t want to deal with a crazy person right now.”

“But I’m not just any crazy person: I’m the crazy person! The one you swore to seek out, way back since verse six of act one. The culprit is revealed, and confronting you, this very moment, upon the apex of calamity!”

We just stand there, his arms and head raised up, his eyes shifting around awkwardly at my lack of immediate response or acknowledgment. Did I scorch his brain or something?

“You’re not convinced.”

“Yes. Mainly because of the HOW factor missing from the equation.”

“...Seriously? The, the whole, time-stopping thing, and floating in the air, reassembling debris, putting clothes on you hasn’t clued you in?”

“Neat tricks, yeah, but that’s a serious leap in logic from what you were saying up to now. You’re just spouting nonsense and, honestly, I’m finding it hard to take you seriously.”

He just stands there, looking hurt or confounded, then pinches the bridge of his nose. “Dammit. I always have a hard time getting my message across. Frickin’ hell…” He sits back down in the stone chair, fiddling with his glasses and grumbling to himself like a spazz. He then claps his hands, rubs them together, takes a needlessly deep breath, then points both fingers at me. “Alright. Let me try a different approach. Do you find it a little weird how all... this, came to pass?” Exaggerated wave over his head, indicating the blurry red sky. “That Tirek happened to spot your getaway charm, knew how to use it instantly, and then you were faced with only the one option to follow him, resulting in the destruction of the world?”

“Wait, how did you know…?”

No way. He hums.

“Guess saying that should’ve been sufficient to prove my case. But nevertheless, don’t you find it funny how those particulars just so happened to fall into place, as though arranged, lined up to lead to this specific outcome?”

“It’s… weird, maybe a bit coincidental, but that sort of thing happens. Cause and effect.”

“Heh, maybe for you. Maybe for your precious structured little world, all handily crafted with just the right amount of nicks and imperfections to make it all seem real.” His tone seems to be getting… sinister. “Consider this: Think back to when you were a wee boy, that time when Cerberus ran amok in Ponyville and Twilight had to lead him back to his post. The same time you gorged on ice cream to make a statement about time travel, or something.” What, how would he…? “That would have been an opportune moment for Tirek to make his escape from Tartarus, with there being no one to guard the gates. But an alteration had been made to keep him there. An alteration that told him to wait when there was no need to. A sort of alteration that could, oh I don’t know… turn a newly-crowned princess into a tyrant, drive another princess insane, motivate a queen to murderous conquest, and warp the minds of sooooo many others simultaneously in the span of a few years.”

The pit of my stomach drops out. My vision narrows as my breathing halts. That, that can’t be. How can he possibly know this, unless he’s, he’s…

“Discord?” No wonder his kooky-ass behavior and condescending tone struck me as familiar, son of a bitch! Yet, he only grins maliciously.

“Good guess, but that proxy has been retired. Only the user remains, son.”

“Whaaaaaaaat?” P-proxy??

“Hehehehehehehehehehehehehehehahahahahahaha. Yes, I’m afraid the Discord you truly know has been gone for quite a long time. Twas not a draconequus that slipped down into Tartarus and whispered the idea of lampads into the centaur’s ears, nor was it the Lord of Chaos who delved into the minds of citizens to alter their personalities en masse, including yours. It was never your lovable trickster who forced you to face your innermost regrets and granted you the gift of darkness to do battle with the light at that critical confrontation. And it certainly wasn’t him who brought you back to the world of the living, brought you to those shadowy steps and offered you deliverance... for a heavy price.”

I… I… I’m at a loss. It can’t possibly be true, but the levelness in his tone, the absolute, undeniable certainty in his words have dug into my mind like icepicks. And this… whatever he is, is lounging like he’s in a gentleman’s club, straightening up his posture with a self-gratified smile.

“To put it simply: Tirek was merely a puppet, while Discord served as my mouthpiece, a facade to mask the true malefactor. The composer, the conductor, the playwright and the director, of this unfortunate series of events that you had to suffer and endure. Along with everything else bad that’s happened to you and your friends these past twelve years.”

Disbelief, confusion, shock. As those words start registering, I start getting a grip. The icy hold on my brain ebbs way, heating up with another emotion while my gut hardens.

“You’re saying that… Tirek, Twilight, Pinkie Pie, Chrysalis… all of that… it was your doing?”

“Indeed Indeed INDEED! It’s been me this whole time, exactly as I said before. The corruption of Twilight and co, the Crystal Empire massacre, the apathy and war, all done by me! Oh it’s so wonderful being on the same page.”

“But why?! Why the fuck would you do all that!? For what purpose?! What did we ever do to you!?”

“The million dollar question at last! We’ve covered about every other step of the investigative process but the why. Well I’ll tell you exactly why. And it’s not for something as trite as a vendetta or conquest.”

He sprang back up from his chair to deliver his answer.

“It comes down to one simple thing, me boy: Conflict. Conflict of interest, conflict of opinion, conflict of taste, intellectual conflict, spiritual conflict, global conflict. There can be no good story without some form of conflict in it, and that applies to the universe at large. Our universe operates on the principle of entropy, and conflict is one of its primary agents. When the swift rabbit is inevitably caught and devoured by the vigilant hawk, one life ends and another begins. It’s the same principle with the rise and fall of nations, the beginning and end of eras, evolution, extinction. Life at its core is a perpetual dance of creation and destruction, and I’m simply here to further perpetuate it. Conflict leads to progress; without tumult there would be stagnation. I’m giving this world of yours meaning. I’m maintaining its purpose, ensuring its survival, its relevance in the grand scheme. I am Chaos’ herald, its arbiter and executor, and I’ve come to take you lowly beings on one hell of a joyride. Hail Pippina!!”

He shoots a fist into the air, practically foaming with self-indulgent mania. This guy’s more unhinged and full of himself than Discord, or anybody else I’ve met ever was.

“Things had gotten so boring and samey around here, it was practically dead. So I took the liberty of livening the place with some shadowy manipulations and war. Yet I find you wanting to ruin all that by offing yourself to restore balance. In other words, cutting the story short by depriving it of its leading man. Well that's fine and good. I'll simply come up with another catastrophe or crisis to keep this flaming ball rolling in your absence. Have a new hero rise for that, mix up the status quo of protagonists in this world.”

He plops back down into the chair, then a halo of astrally-projected blue screens form around him, which he swipes through with a casual finger.

“Let me see… I could instigate another war, possibly with the yaks this time around. There was a changeling back in Nyx’s cave, so I could bring them back for laughs. Maybe a horror from the deep sea, or even a proper alien invasion. The possibilities are literally endless.”

He’s saying all these things like he’s picking out carpet swatches! No, I’m not gonna let this insanity continue!

“There are no possibilities, because you’re going to be doing nothing here anymore!”

“And why not?” he bellows, smacking away the displays. “When did you start caring all of a sudden? You were ready to drop dead before I stopped by, so why should you be concerned with my plans which have nothing to do with you, hmmmm?”

“They do have something to do with me, cuz putting down nutjobs for the sake of others is part of my (former) job description! So there’s no way I’m gonna lay down and let you trample over everyone like it’s your deranged playtime.”

He leans back and caresses his chin with a thumb and forefinger, smirking and chuckling. “You still have that defiant, righteous spark going for you. Very well. Then you know what needs to be done: if you want to set things right, you’re going to have to stop me yourself. This world will never know true peace while I’m around, so you’ll have to take me out completely. Or wind up dead and gone from this world, as you were fated to be. Either way, it’s a win-win for you, if I’m to be completely honest.”

“Being dead once was enough for me.” I step forward and harden my gaze. “I say you should take a crack at it, baldy.”

“Oooh hoo, slinging those threats like the bad-ass I intended! Now I’m really fired up! Though, it’s gonna be hard for you to follow through without one of these.”

He snaps his fingers, and I feel a sudden weight in my right palm that I instinctively clutch. Little surprise, it’s my sword.

“Can't have you go unequipped if I'm to expect a proper fight.”

I’m about to say the same to him when he gets up from his chair and takes hold of his boating pole which I swore hadn’t been leaning there before. He steps up to the edge of the steps, then plants his pole to his side like a staff.

“The curtain is raised, the veil is cast, your greatest challenge stands before you. This is no domestic squabble like what you had back in the Librarium. The whole world is hanging in the balance. You best keep that in mind and fight accordingly. No holding back, no slip ups. Now, without further ado…” There’s a schling as a silvery curved blade springs out from the pole. “It’s Show Time.”

His feet lift off the ground as he begins rising straight up. The magic barrier shatters as he hovers up to fifteen feet in the air, then he stretches his arms before bringing them and his pole-turned-scythe to his chest, giving him the look of a damn reaper. Yet, his countenance, makes it more sinister.

MIRAGE COORDINATOR

He just hovers there, sizing me up, making me tense up my sword arm. Then with a gleam off both glasses and smile he disappears. I'm off-put momentarily before I feel a draft and lift my blade behind me, immediately connecting with steel that pushes me forward. I whip around to see the whacko with scythe raised before charging me. My sword goes up to meet him, but he disappears only to reappear up to my right. I deflect it in time, then catch him floating backwards before he starts blinking all over the place like a strobe light. He pops up in front of me swinging, which I block before he goes shuttering again. I turn around to catch him coming at me with scythe spinning like a propeller, so I bring up my sword arm and hold against the spinning blade, forcing him to pull back and swing wide. I catch it from the side, then stop the next one and a downward cleave in quick succession. Suddenly he goes transparent and fades through me, and twisting around I lower my blade to stop an upward slice.

That deflection spins me about, but I get steady and rush him. The wood of his scythe is put to work in stopping my own slashes, and it's extremely resilient wood at that. After a few goes the Not-Charon pulls back his right arm and throws a punch, which I grab before it connects with my face. I take the opportunity to backflip kick his chin, knocking him up into the air before he poofs into nothing. I look around for him, but the wait is short as I cartwheel from a plunging slash. Back on my feet I see him hovering and gloating.

“Haha, that's the spirit! Really get into it!”

He vanishes again, only to reappear above me for another downward slash. I run from three of these before he pops up in the air ahead of me, firing off a flash of hot magic from a radiant palm toward where I stand. My toes get burnt while leaping away, and the asshole just chortles as I land.

I immediately charge and leap up at him, and as he brings up his scythe to defend I plant my feet against it and crouch to punch his face, snapping his glasses (real funny now, huh?). But his glasses fix themselves and he glares at me before pushing me off. I hit the platform and bump against one of the mangled pillars, looking up in time to see his swooping charge. I get down as his scythe cuts clean through the pillar, which then explodes into several chunks.

I get up and look around, seeing no sign of him. Then off to the side I see him hover up some distance from the platform. Lifting up an arm he raises a familiar-looking boat from the depths below, and a flick of the wrist tosses it my way. I dive to the side to avoid the incoming skiff as it crashes and explodes into planks and wood chips. So much for the bond between boatman and vessel.

The reaper-wannabe floats about before raising his hand again, this time producing a fireball that he chucks at me. I run to the left to avoid it, then run back right to avoid the next one, and back left to dodge yet a third. He builds up a bigger fireball which he shoots at me, one that I’m forced to slice at with my sword. Instead of exploding or snuffing out, the ball is knocked back to sender, who bats it back at me with his scythe. I swing again, knocking it far left, but the guy pops up in time to knock it back. Same thing happens when I hit it high right!

This tennis game goes on a few more passes, getting faster and faster, until finally he slips up and gets hit by his own projectile. His clothes don't burn, but he looks dazed, so I slit my arm and send him some of my own fire with a Jade Slicer. He takes it full on and goes spinning through the air, but rights himself and hovers back looking fumed. Then with a devious grin he holds out his left hand with the fingers down, then spreads them. I wobble as the platform beneath me splits into several smaller platforms that spread out like a disjointed chess board (just great!).

He comes swooping down at me again, cackling as he swings his scythe. I duck then backflip to an adjacent platform as the curved blade passes below. He zips over after I land, twirling his scythe before pulling back and slamming it into the platform. I leap off as it turns to rubble and land on a different one, but I leap to another as reaper man slices up from below. He tries getting close, so I get to swinging, pressing at him to keep him at bay. When he tries going up, I spring up to step on his scythe and head to make my way to a few platforms over.

There's another wobble as the platforms start circling each other in different directions. If that wasn't enough, he hovers to the center of the array and, with a wave of a hand, he splits into three, then five copies! The four on either side fly upward, then come charging me from different angles, scythes raised. I do some twisting and blocking as they swoop by swinging their weapons, but I feel a solid kick to my back that knocks me off the platform. I fall onto another one and slide over it before getting back up, but by then two of the clones fly at me and swing their scythes upwards, catching my blade and pushing me to the edge. A flailing of the arms later I force myself back forward just as a doppelganger dives down from above, missing me entirely as I slice at him, only for him to evaporate. Three of them approach me with scythes locked together to form a spinning ring around me, and at the last moment I spring up as they slice, allowing me to flip over and do a spinning cut of my own at each of their heads.

They go up in smoke as well, and back on my feet I see clones aplenty swarming around as the platforms begin moving up and down along with revolving around each other. The clones, numbering more than twelve at least, congregate and line up five yards before me, sharing the same mocking smile, although I notice some of them fading around the edges. As one they raise their scythes, then cleave down the line until the fifth one unleashes a black energy orb at me. Nice try ya prick, I think before whipping my blade to smack it back to sender.

It hits and the clones vanish, but Mr. Illusionist conjures up a fresh dozen that he lines up to charge at me. I hold my sword before me for impact, but it’s like resisting a wall in a hurricane for all the good it does me, and I’m tumbling through the air accordingly. I flail my sword around and stab it, luckily sticking into a platform so I can get hold of something solid, albeit hanging off the edge. I work on climbing up, but see one clone swoop low at me with scythe pulled back, so I dig in my left claws and pull out my sword to defend. The force of the strike is enough to tilt the platform back, only for another clone to fly in and shoulder the underside, knocking me off it to slam my back against a different one. I’m barely able to dangle off this one, both arms behind me, and I look up to see the clones group up and compress into one asshole, who sneers and lunges at me.

“Now you’re mine!”

Need to think quick. Wait, the platform I was on is stable again. Alright, desperation tactic! I yank down with my arms hard to dip my platform, and as it starts going back up, I let go with one hand and flip around to push it upward, forcing it to turn over and get me horizontal. As it readies to dip for another flip, I plant my feet and kick off hard, feeling it move away from me. Immediately I hear a yell and the sounds of breaking stone, only to be immediately replaced with a deafening pop.

I’m back on level flooring somehow, yet I look around and see myself in some kind of warped black-and-white checkered hallway. Images of fear, pain and death arise from mist, and past them I hear his voice.

You're slipping back into your old ways. Ignore the suffering of others to get at your target. It didn’t occur to you that I could have pulled up Twilight at any time to shield me from your counterattacks. That would have made for a deliciously cruel twist.

I start running down the twisted hall.

That's twice you nearly killed her: First with taking her wings, and now with letting Tirek escape. Your dearest friend, your most precious someone. She's become frightened of you, you know? Fears for her life whenever she's in your presence, constantly asking herself if allowing you to live had been a mistake. And those fears will be validated when she finds out that you were the one who resurrected Tartarus.

“Only because you forced me to!” Not gonna work on me, you bastard. Not this time.

I forced nothing out of you: I only gave you a choice. You could've just laid down and died; I'm sure everything would have worked out swimmingly without you. Certainly would've been far less destructive. I wonder exactly how many have died in your desperate rush to get up here, hmhmhmhm.

More despairing imagery, but I draw on contempt to see me through. Catch a flash of burlap, and immediately slash way. The checkered hall instantly shatters, and I'm back on the platform as it once was, the scumbag standing across from me holding up his severed cloak. He inspects with a grimace, then drops it to take hold of his scythe and locks his legs into a prep stance, and same goes for me with my sword. Even footing, facing one another, no tricks. All the makings of a true showdown to start.

...Save for the giant bulbous black mass of fetid flesh, dotted with huge misshapen eyes, that’s risen up from the side to get in the way of our stand-off.

“Oh bugger, I forgot about you.”

Tartarus lets out a tremendous groan before bringing up a malformed arm to slam down into us. The platform is completely smashed and I’m flailing about through the air, not really falling or rising but being thrown around by a sudden tempest. I spot Edward Scytherman a ways above (below?) me with his arms held out for stability, and even with the wind and debris whipping at my ears I can somehow hear him clearly.

“Of course you had to come around and make a mess of things. But that just means I can crank things up a notch!”

He holds his arms to the left, then goes into a tornado spin, somehow letting him corkscrew through the air like some deranged living drill. I angle myself to get a load of Tartarus and all his enormity, right when the spinning maniac plummets feet first into the Titan’s head. There’s an agonized screech followed by several beams of light from the Titan before everything flashes white.

When my vision returns, I’m faced with a fresh new horror. Taking up a good chunk of airspace is the body of Tartarus, only vastly mutated. Instead of only fetid black flesh, there are now extra appendages: arms, legs, tentacles, heads, tails, torsos, of different creatures and grossly enlarged. And the centerpiece on this living mountain of nightmares is McAsshole himself, his upper half jutting out from Tartarus’ brow like a freak fungus, looking like the harbinger of doomsday with his tattered cloak and massive-as-all-hell scythe. A figurehead of calamity, all large and in charge.

EGOIST

He casts his cliff-sized gaze at me, and with a grand smile he pulls back his scythe before pointing it at me, causing a line of meaty stalagmites to fire out from the flesh near his waist (ewww). I react by dipping steeply through the air to give those projectiles a wide berth. Hmm, gravity appears all whacked because of Tartarus’ influence, and I seem to have free reign over my movement without having to deal with pesky wings. That’s pretty sweet, and also incredibly useful for this newest development.

Wasting no time over this discovery, I lean forward and launch straight at him. Cut off the big bad’s head, and hopefully none of the other ones will pick up the slack. With a wave of his arm an array of thick, armored tendrils shoot up around him, forming a wiggly barricade as one of them lashes out at my approach. I spin to the side, but two more come at me, and I’m able to dodge one but get smacked by the other, sending me into freefall. I stabilize myself a ways down, shake my head. Guess that’s not gonna work.

There’s a nasty loud squelching that announces the sprouting of a very long, thick, greenish tendril from out of the amalgamation’s belly that pulls back and whips at me. I pull myself waaay back to avoid its sting, and float about to witness it writhe slowly about as screeching, goo-covered harpies fire out from along its length at me. Air’s getting thick with these hellish missiles before I know it. Need to drop down, and fast!

I maneuver through the barrage, but find myself heading straight for the tip of the tendril. Angle myself so I skirt past and begin heading along the side, but I then start feeling a pull from it that’s making my flight controls sluggish. Rather than crash into it, I get my feet down and take to running. Suddenly the tendril lengthens, and hardened ridges pop up along it, especially in front of me. I leap up, and the moment my feet hit the spiny ridge I find myself grinding along it. Weird, but okay. As I’m gaining speed, rows of snake heads sprout up and shoot fire after me, but I’m going too fast for them. Spiraling around and around, gaining more speed and fast approaching the base of the tendril. Idea springs to mind, so I stab at my wrist with a claw and ready my sword. Closer and closer, then just before I slam into the side of the beast I spring up off the ridge and unleash a Jade Slicer down at the base of the tendril. There’s an agonized screech as fire separates flesh, the tendril disconnecting as I land onto Tartarus.

There’s a flash of warmth in me and I catch a glimpse of green mist pouring into me, boosting my energy. Seems I still have chaos absorption powers. New plan, then: cut through the excess, whittle away as much as I can, and then chop off the head. The ol’ Giant Toppler approach.

And a fresh new excess comes bulging up a ways up the side of the deformed Titan, a giant boil that takes on the shape of an eyeless cyclops. It groans and blubbers pitifully before choking and vomiting out a wave of pus and snakes at me (I mean seriously, gross!). I’m running before that spew even comes close to me, but it starts hocking mucus like cannonballs. I run from side to side to avoid them, as well as the myriad of arms and claws rising out to grab at me. I hold my sword sideways, line up, and once close enough I sprint to the side and slice the top half of the cyclop’s head clean off. Well, clean save for the blood and nasty yellow stuff spraying everywhere (sorry again, Poly).

Another boost of energy, but then I feel the ground rumble beneath me, so I spring right up to avoid an array of newly-formed spikes. There’s a weightless feel as I turn about through the air, but manage to reorient and crouch land onto the tip of a massive batwing. Looking up, I spot a huge muscular arm covered in gold and silver armor gripping a familiar-looking rusty sword, albeit extremely large. The arm waves its sword around a bit before slashing in my direction, and instinctively I leap off before pressurized air tears through the wing I had been perched on.

Land back onto the main body again, now with that sword-wielding arm as my target. It seems to sense my intention, because it immediately hoists up its weapon, which dons a wreath of smouldering flame. Yellow spots form around me, and I take that as my cue to run ahead before the eruptions start. Luckily eruptions of fire instead of bodily fluids, but still looking to encroach on me with each blast. Seeing that the eruptions aren’t stopping me, the arm and sword wave about before slamming into the ground, sending out a wave of fire at me. Don’t want to take my chances seeing if I can withstand that heat, so I’ll go for something else. I spot a yellowing patch of skin a ways ahead, and putting on some extra speed I sprint toward it then leap, reaching it just before it erupts. The flames hit me, but the position I was in when it did launches me forward over the flame wall and, more beneficial, straight toward the arm. I hone my sword, then slice through that arm in passing.

My trajectory has me flying upwards away from Tartarus, but before I can worry about that I see some long, winding lengths of bone popping out from him. They seem to encircle him, and weird enough one of them happens to be lining up to allow me to land on it, which I do (don’t see any better option). I get to grinding along the bone rail, making my way around toward the back of the beast. To my shock and surprise I see a giant-sized Hecate, her upper half and right arm sticking out at an angle, with her left hand trying to break away from the monster. Clearly in complete agony, however her right arm rises up, revealing the torch she’s carrying that flares and gets swirled around. Suddenly a swarm of something appears and swirls around her before breaking off and flying at me, revealing themselves as lots and lots of angry lampads (obviously). I light up my sword with an Emerald Lancer and spin it before me, tearing through the mass of fairies as they collide with flaming metal and burst into chopped fiery bits, fueling the Lancer and myself with chaos energies.

The rail dips down toward the tail end of Tartarus, and as it levels out a few feet over the surface, three large canine heads burst out and start barking and biting at me. I get my arms and legs moving to avoid those snapping jaws, and I keep wobbling about as more heads (or the same ones) keep cropping up and going for my arms and ankles. I slash at them, managing to cut one up good, but then one pops up far ahead and snaps through the rail. I leap off to the side, fall some yards and then hit the ground running, plunging my flaming sword through the thick hide and dragging it along. After covering plenty of ground I set off a Malachite Piston and shoot upwards, blowing a sizable hole in the monster.

Once airborne I feel myself back in control of my own gravity again, so I look around and see that my jaunt had carved off one of Tartarus’ back legs, earning a deep mournful groan and a release of energizing green haze. Furthermore, I see the asshole in command has his back to me, and given his position there's no way for him to look around in time. Just gotta hurry!

I thrust myself forward, aiming to stab that colossal doofus before he realizes what’s happening, possibly blow a hole in his back with a Piston and end it there. Suddenly there’s a thunderous cracking noise as he swivels his whole torso one-eighty degrees and grins at me. Of course he can do that!

He holds up his empty hand and sweeps it down, and I witness two rows of spiny quills sprout up along Tartarus’ back before shooting skyward, each one the length of three hoofball fields. They ascend far up, then stop and angle themselves at me before launching off again. Now it’s massive needles I’m flying around to avoid, but I see Faux Charon hasn’t erected his wall of armored tentacles, so I soar toward him amidst the needle storm. He sees me coming, as indicated by his raising of his huge scythe with which he looks to split me asunder. Me flying around and being as small as I am keeps me safe, but the quickness of his slash does catch me off-guard, and the air dispersal of that blade knocks me around. Still, I stabilize myself down near his waist, then shoot straight up for his face.

He’s still smiling down on me as I get closer, but then there’s a sharp impact to my side as an errant quill catches me there. That sends me tumbling out of control back down onto the body, and I manage to see that I’m heading for the lower right shoulder of the beast before I impact. Get up, only to see five familiarly massive clawed hands pop up in a circle around me. They flex in anticipation, before the undersides of their fingers sprout a layer of spikes. A sinister laughter fills the air as they begin lowering, but I make a deeper cut on my arm and get the blood flowing. Heat’s rising good when they are upon me, and right as they’re about to smush me I activate Chartreuse Phoenix and blast off, tearing the hands apart in a plume of green fire. Their essences join my jet trail as I get a good distance away from the possessed Tartarus before flipping around into position, looking at that gargantuan moron.

Alright, enough scampering around, and enough of that weeaboo symphonic tech-rock. Let’s Hit The Climax!

I reach deep down in myself, drawing on the abominable powers of chaos and rending them with the primordial flame born from my ancestors. I roar out a massive plume of fire that billows and gathers into a great fiery mass above me, becoming the living and very ripped Avatar of Draconian Might, Bahamut! No doubt seeing this massive green elemental has got the Titan Jacker pissing himself, because he immediately raises up his wall of armored tentacles. Matters little, as my summoned familiar, enhanced with raw chaos mixed with sheer dragon ferocity, reaches out two flaming claws, grabs those tentacles and rips them away like kindling. With Not-Charon defenseless, Bahamut winds up, then unleashes a devastating flurry of punches all over the schmuck’s body, pelting him in scorch marks as well as bruises.

After several dozen of these bashings, he’s left dazed and smouldering. But we’re not done yet! I hold my sword up high and draw back in Bahamut, focusing all that ancient magic and fire into the steel. I lower and draw it back, focusing even harder and channeling more power into the blade, resulting in a long, wide swath of concentrated fire to extend from it. The air swelters and shakes from the intense heat and magical resonance, but I keep it growing more and more, until...

“Viridian Execution!”

I swing with all my strength, bringing around that massive flaming blade. That pummeled asshat can’t even flinch as the blade connects, then cleaves right through his midsection, severing him from the rest of Tartarus. There’s a deep groaning as the main body begins to fall and writhe, its skin starting to flake off as though crumbling to dust. But then there’s a sharp jab of pain in my head, and then another that blurs my vision.

I clasp my claws against my head and close my eyes, but it keeps getting worse, throbbing harder and harder as a piercing whine rings in my ears. I suddenly can’t feel my limbs, and I’m stricken with vertigo. I feel like I’m falling inwards; gods what’s happening to me?!

Flashes of red, black, a dragging sensation. Drawing me deep down, away. Deeper, deeper, deeper, deeper, deeper.

Then nothing.

To the Next Phase ^o^/

Act 3 Verse 4

That Sweet Victory

All-too familiar sensation of my head being cotton. Only it’s loosening up considerably quicker than usual.

...ook, he’s waking up…

Sounds a bit warbled, but also clearing up fast. Feel my limbs, now getting my physical orientation.

Spike? Can you hear me?

I’m lying flat. Alright, let’s get these eyes open and see what’s up… huh, apparently Twilight is what’s up. Looking both concerned and relieved, under some kind of cloth ceiling. Like a tent?

“Hey, Twilight. What’s happenin’?”

“Oh thank goodness,” she sighs in further relief. “I’m so glad you’re okay. You... are okay, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. A bit groggy, but that will pass.” I give my arms a stretch, and I’m surprised to find them bare. But they’re supposed to be, last I checked. “Are we in some kind of tent?”

“Yes: a medical one, set up outside the castle. We brought you here once you got back.”

“Got back?” Rub my head, drawing a blank. “Could you fill me in on what’s happened? Memory’s a little fuzzy.”

“Hmph, that’s no surprise after what you been through. Anyway, you had, uhm… ‘defeated’ Tirek, and were about to transfer to me the stolen magic you absorbed, but then—”

“SPIIIIIIIKE!!!”

And here comes the cushy glomp express, courtesy of a tearful and flustered Sweetie Belle.

“Hey there, Sweetie,” I say through the flossy mane being shoved in my face with how she’s shoving hers into my chest.

“Why would you go making me worry like that! You didn’t bother letting me know you had come back to Canterlot. I was fine with you ignoring me years ago but not anymore, you lughead. You’re still a reckless, dashing hunk of a fool after all this time!”

“There there now, sshh sshh, I’m all fine.” I pet her mane to affirm that. “I’m sorry if I slipped into old habits there. I would’ve checked in on you sooner, but I was a bit preoccupied. Running around while armageddon is happening tends to skew one’s priorities, babe.”

“Yeah. It can be distracting, even for you,” she says calmly, before pulling back her head and giving me a smile. “I’ll forgive you for that, and also for what an amazing job you did with taking care of yet another major crisis.” She kisses me on the forehead. Still doesn’t fix the memory block.

“About that, Twilight was about to tell me what happened. It’s a blur right now.”

“Hmhm, why don’t you step outside and get a refresher? Err, or are you okay to walk?”

I check that option… “Yeah I can.”

“Great! Then come on out!” She bounds off for the tent opening, practically skipping. Only Sweetie would be so chipper at the end of the world… no wait, that’d be someone else.

“She sure is glad to have you back in one piece, Spike, as am I,” Twilight says after having a giggle, then looking to me her horn lights up as one of my suit jackets hovers over. “I grabbed this on the way here. I thought you would want something to cover you up.”

I hold up my claw and grab the coat when it gets to me, and once the aura around it goes away I realize something. “Oh hey, your magic’s back. Guess the transfer worked.”

“Uh-hum, and then some.” She begins heading out. “Come and see for yourself.”

I slip on the coat, get up off the cot (an awfully cozy one) and head for the flap leading outside. A harsh flare of sunlight stuns me momentarily, but the moment it clears I’m still transfixed. It seems to be the area outside the front guard station of the castle, with a few other brown medical tents and ponies milling about. But what has got me gawking is the crystal clear blue sky, chirping birds and soft breezes that seem to be everywhere. Some of the surrounding buildings have chunks missing out of them, but none are smoking or on fire. And far beyond where I can see the plains down below it’s all serene picturesqueness. No scorched earth, corrupted vegetation, no indication that the apocalypse had stopped by.

I shake off the surprise and go up to Sweetie Belle and Twilight, the latter of whom is beaming proudly at me.

“This is wholly different from what I expected to see…”

“It’s truly remarkable,” Twilight remarks. “Tartarus had reappeared right next to the castle as you were returning my magic, and before I knew it you got up and leapt onto him. He backed away at a rapid pace, and there was a great flash of light. Before I knew it the sky had returned to normal and my energy and magic had come back instantaneously, with no trace of Tartarus whatsoever.”

“And that’s not all!” Sweetie chirps in. “All the monsters that had been running around also disappeared—like wiped away—and even the fires too. You fending off that one monster fixed everything!”

“A most miraculous feat, I acknowledge freely.”

I look around and see the group of a half dozen griffons that had just arrived. Armored griffons, carrying weapons, and one of them being twice as big as the others and wearing a familiar crown.

“King Gladius? This is a surprise.” Gross understatement.

“A suitable reaction, given how we last parted,” he cordially booms. “But the moment my kingdom witnessed the sky turn crimson over this land, I took it upon myself to personally rally my finest warriors and vessels, leading them in flight to lend aid. Yet as we crested the peak of yon mountain the sky cleared and the crisis was over. Fairly disappointing to have flown so far so urgently in vain, but I take some comfort in the knowledge that Gordon had had done some good in rescuing you.”

“Rescued me?”

“You were falling through the air high over the plains,” speaks the griffon guard I recognize from back in Griffonstone. “I had managed to spot and catch you before you could hit the ground. You were completely bare, but you kept holding onto your sword all the way back. Gripped tightly in your claw like it was an extension of your very arm.”

“And which I happen to have right here.”

Look to the side and here comes a unicorn stallion with a mussy black mane and wearing the chestplate of the Royal Guard, carrying along my sword in a magical grip.

“Will! You’re okay!”

“That I am.” He hands me my sword. “Only a little tumble down the stairs, but once the sky turned blue again I had my magic back and feeling right as rain. And I’m not the only one doing alright.”

He looks over to the group of ponies approaching our sizable group. Gee willikers, it’s the War Council!

“Stonewall, Debbie, you’re all okay?”

“Told ya I just needed to do some stretches,” the bandaged general says. “A damn pity you took care of that horned freak before I could take another crack at him.”

“I may be approaching my autumn years, but this diplomat knows how to handle a foreign dispute directly when it comes to her doorstep,” a mildly-frazzled Fair Deliberation declares.

“My fencing practice worked marvelously alongside my special forces training. Quite the exhilaration since my early days of quelling insurgents,” Gilded Quill recalls wistfully, looking immaculate without a spot of blood or soot on him (damn that’s classy).

“I was much too flighty for any of those screechin’ hellspawn to catch,” Parcel Wind says with unironic pride.

“Only because I kept kicking them off your flank, Percy,” chides Rainbow Dash, still in uniform but having ditched the grooming standards. Bet she got a kick out of this day. “But guys, you won’t believe this: me and the Wonderbolts just got done surveying the city, and so far there have been no reported casualties!”

“Are you serious??”

“Totally serious, Twi! Just injured civilians coming in to be treated. Everyone in the city is A-okay, even the entire Guard. Really, it’s just the buildings and the streets that were majorly affected from the looks of it.”

That is unbelievably lucky. I coulda swore I passed some bodies during my run earlier. Guess it was a trick of the eyes, or they were knocked out or something. Either way, wow. Gladius takes a step forward toward Twilight.

“And to express our renewed relations, Princess Twilight, I would like to offer the services of the Griffon Kingdom’s architects and workers to aid in the rebuilding of those areas most heavily affected. If you will accept.”

“By all means, Your Highness. You are truly gracious in offering the help of your people for Equestria.”

Twilight bows humbly before the griffon king, and after she gets up he offers a hefty talon, which she takes to complete a (admittedly one-sided) handshake. Fair Deliberation comes up to the two dignitaries, adjusting her glasses smartly.

“I hereby declare another grand victory in the name of diplomacy.”

Cheers go up ‘round our motley group of ponies and griffons, resounding with the joy and promise of a new era of peace between two nations, once at war, now the most bosom of bedfellows. Forever, until the end of time. (What kind of thought was that??)

“I say we celebrate by going out for a game of bowling!”

A wave of “Yay”s ring out in response to Stalwart Will’s suggestion, which also adds to the promise of this day ending in good times. Seemingly overflowing with all this goodwill, Sweetie snuggles up to me.

“All of this was because of you, you know? You saved the day once again.”

“Yep. I certainly did,” I say, taking a deep breath in self-accomplishment, the cloud of doubt and uncertainty that had formed in me deep in the bowels of the earth eradicated by the warm rays of success and optimism. Things are looking up again, even better than before.

“Say, with everyone of us in a good mood, this might be a good time for me to tell you some really important news.” Sweetie leaves my side and moves to the front of me.

“Oh really? What about?”

She faces me, blushing with nervous anticipation, making that scrunched-up face when she’s anxious. Taking a breath, she looks me in the eye.

“Spike… I’m pregnant.”

Everything stops. No one is cheering, not even the griffons. They’re all locked in place, all their faces turned toward the two of us, mouths agape in silent gasps. There’s a trace of burning curiosity in Twilight’s look, downright shock in Debbie’s and Stonewalls, and a corner of Dash’s mouth twitching its way to a lewd grin. Whatever their expression, they’re all expecting some kind of response from me.

Well, really only one thing to say to something like that.

“Oh…”

( CAST )

SPIKE

Fully Redeemed

TWILIGHT SPARKLE

Perfectly Preserved Persevering Princess

SWEETIE BELLE

Expecting and Real Dang Excited!

RARITY

Unsuspecting Aunt-To-Be

POUND & PUMPKIN CAKE

Twins On The Sidelines

GENERAL STONEWALL

Indomitable Military Gruff

GILDED QUILL

A Spot of Tea with Politics

FAIR DELIBERATION; PARCEL WIND

Keeping Those Foreign Relations Downpat; Courier Carrying On

STALWART WILL

Heading the New Royal Bowling League

RAINBOW DASH

Still Kicking It Cool, 120%

SCOOTALOO

Finally Got That Cocoa Date

DAYBREAK

At Home with the Missus

BUCKLER; PATCHWORK

Working on That Temper; Expanding His Preferences

QUIVER; DOWNWIND

Arching It Up; Staying Afloat

DOMINIC

Burnin’ For You

SABLE RUSH; CYPRUS; CASCADE

Expanding His Library; Sticking to the Ground; Up-and-Coming Perfectionist

BRAMBLE; DODGER

Making a Killing in Las Pegasus; Trying to be Memorable

CIRRUS; WHIFF

Fast-Track to Promotion; Vacationing in Gem Exploration

KING GLADIUS

Ruling Justly

CAMPE

On a Worldwide Fashion Tour

ECHIDNA; TY(PHON)

Reunited with Her Hubby <3; Wishing for Death

SAL; POLY(PHEMUS)

In Need of A Hand; In A Better Place

CERBERUS

Infernal Doggo

HECATE

Overseeing Life’s Intersections

PROMETHEUS

Defied Darkness To The End

NYX

Still Sealed Away for Our Sakes

TIREK

Very Dead Would-Be Usurper

CONTRACTOR

Back On Hiatus

Heartfelt thanks to PresentPerfect, Pascoite, and all

the other wonderful, zany people I met on the

old MLP writers IRC chatroom, who helped make me

the competent writer I am today. And extra thanks to

those who have read, followed, and commented on

my stories. You helped make them

seem worth it.

All The Best.

Steven W.

Author's Note

And there we have it: 25 complete stories on FiMFic. Always told myself the 25th spot would be reserved for a Death by Dragon sequel, and by gum here it is. And now the afterword.

After Verse

Parting Words

Three days have past, and I still can’t believe how well everything turned out. After every official in Canterlot got over the shock of the world not ending, the aerial and ground response divisions of the Guard were sent out into the surrounding areas to survey the damages. Destroyed buildings, mulched-up roads, but not a single loss of life. Anywhere; not even the wildlife. If those freaks and convicts had stuck around a bit longer they might’ve started a death tally, but it seemed Equestria as a whole had lucked out (as had I).

Twilight concluded that I had managed to seal away Tartarus once more (somehow), and consequently that included all the nasties that had escaped. Or only most of them, as it turned out. A quick recon of the gates of Tartarus showed Cerberus was in place rather than Campe, who has been reported flying in the direction of Prance, not messing with any towns or cities thus far. I’ll make sure to put in a good word for her if she runs into any issues upon landing; she’s a very stand-up kind of dragon, if casually visceral.

The recon also revealed some stragglers left outside the gates, who turned out to be political prisoners locked away when their respective societies found their views or actions unfavorable. To little surprise, none of them were hostile: just disoriented and long separated from their time periods. What was surprising was that one of them was a Changeling Queen, who had been locked up for the abominable suggestion of peaceful coexistence with the other races of the land. Some pretty high hopes for reviving the species under more amiable terms, particularly with Twilight (ever the mare of science).

As for me, I’ve been holding up remarkably well, all things considered. For one, that fatal chest wound never came back, so He was definitely true to his word there. Yeah, I’m starting to remember that surreal conversation with the… “Overseer”, as He called himself. Bits and pieces at a time, also like He said. And those bits and pieces are among the repertoire of mental ponderings I’m having while I’m busy pounding in some nails to a wooden plank.

Some explanation: with Canterlot’s stability given the all-clear and the griffons offered by Gladius helping out in the city’s reconstruction, Twilight felt an official inspection of Ponyville’s welfare had been delayed long enough. Naturally she thought it best that she’d personally carry it out with me watching her as bodyguard, and also bringing along Sweetie Belle as “emotional support” for myself. Really it’s a flimsy excuse for the three of us to go back to that sleepy burg and see how well it held up during the insanity. And turns out, way better then a lot of other places. Tartarus literally overstepped it, leaving only small fry to mess up the place.

Which is what I’m currently tending to. While Twilight is catching up with Owlowiscious at the library, I volunteered to help with the clean up of the town. Sweetie in the meantime is visiting family, to probably very likely spill the beans of her new passenger. I read about kirins in an old mythology book way back, but never thought it was possible for one to come into existence, as previous romps with Sweetie had proven. I suppose it had to have happened that day I got back from the border defense; there may have been some lingering chaos energies affixed to me that made conception possible, or it’s one of those “surprises” He mentioned. Whatever the case, it’ll be the first viably recorded birth of a pony-dragon hybrid in Equestrian history. Along with the advent of peaceful changelings, Twilight is utterly beside herself with glee. And Rares is definitely gonna flip once she hears. Whether it will be the good kind or not, we’ll see.

For me, I’m not sure how to feel about suddenly becoming a father. It’ll probably sink in and I’ll be a blubbering nervous mess in no time, but for now I can just focus on tending to Sweetie’s needs and making preparations for a settled family life. Usually I would scoff at the idea of such luxury, but with the way everything has resolved itself, and His final words to me, I’ve got a good feeling that my days of peril and bloodshed are finally at an end. If anything, I’m more adjusting to that particular change in lifestyle then with fatherhood.

Anyway, I’m nailing some wood. Or placard, really. I’d already helped out with moving furniture, equipment, and random refuse for various homes and stores, so I’m helping restore the hanging sign outside Quills & Sofas. It’s a few hours past noon and the sun is shining down gloriously, with a few clouds passing by to provide some shade every few minutes. Standing on a step ladder, pounding away at the nail to fasten the support plank on the upper half of the sign, thinking my thoughts. Currently it’s speculation about if He personally made it so that things weren’t so badly fucked after I got back, and why such benevolence didn’t add up with how He acted originally.

By all accounts I made a massive screw-up in reawakening Tartarus, and the world should have suffered immensely because of it. But no reprimands, no repercussions, no cause for remorse for my otherwise selfish actions. Kind of messed up when I think about it, so instead I’ll switch to considering going over to Sweetie’s parents’ place instead of going back to the library after I’m done here. Maybe grab a home-cooked lunch, be there for the big reveal if it hasn’t happened yet, so on. Hope Rarity doesn’t kill me if she happens to be there when that bombshell drops.

About this time I’ve fully driven in the nail, and I look it over. Looks pretty good; just one more and this should be done.

“Here.”

“Thanks,” I say after taking the proffered nail. I proceed to pound it into the other side of the plank, and after a few hits it’s secure. Fists on my waist and a nod of approval over a good job. I step down from the ladder back onto soft grass, intent on getting some refreshment.

“It’s a nice sign,” comments the helpful stranger in a low, gravelly voice.

“Elegant in its simplicity, yeah,” I agree, making my way over to the table the shop owner had put out with aforementioned refreshment. “Care to have a drink?”

“I would love that, thank you.”

I get to the table, grab a paper cup and a sweating pitcher of lemonade (the standard of yard work refreshers) and help myself. Drink in hand, I go over to one of the generously provided wicker chairs and take a seat, regarding the stranger as he makes for the table. Figured he’d need a cool down with that heavy cloak on. Dunno why he’d wear that on a day as warm as this; it's a good time for loose and breathable clothes like the work shirt I got on, or nothing at all like the locals. Maybe the heat doesn’t bother him at all.

He reaches out two hands of claw-tipped digits to pour himself a cool one, then comes over and pops a squat on the ground next to my chair. He’s nearly at head level with me; a big fellow indeed. Figured he’d be sweating up a storm under those rags, but I’m only getting a subtle earthy scent. I shrug, take a long sip and let out a gratified sigh. Cold and sweet, that’s the ticket.

“It is fantastic weather today.”

“Certainly is,” I agree. “Some pleasant times before it really heats up.”

“Indeed. Though I personally prefer the cold that marks the coming of autumn, when the leaves begin to turn. It is always so beautiful to witness in this land.”

“Sure is.” Hear him take a good drink from his cup. “Never saw you around here. Just stopping by on travel or visit?”

“Something like that. I have actually been away from Equestria for quite some time, and only returned some days ago.”

“Wow. So world traveler, eh?”

“In a sense. Though ‘wanderer’ would be more fitting.”

I take another sip. “So I take it you don’t hang around places for long? Sorry if I sound nosy.”

“It is fine. I typically venture away from large settlements, townships, the like. Only on some occasions I would stop by and speak with the locals. Or even other wanderers.”

“The shy type?”

“Somewhat. But mostly because I feel out of touch with those who I pass in my travels.”

“Can’t keep with the times unless you socialize.”

“True. I suppose I could venture further in than the fringes. This country appears more friendly and receptive of outsiders then when I left it.”

“Quite the step up in racial tolerance this past decade. Something you’d pick up on just from staying awhile in any town.” Another good sip. “So why’d you come back after so long, if you don’t mind me asking.”

“I returned to see the state of everything in the wake of that great beast’s rampage. I needed to know how much of what I once cherished had been destroyed.”

“Bet you were surprised to see it hadn’t been much.”

“Yes, very much so. This country had always struck me as a domain blessed by great fortune, ruled over by such benevolent leaders, capable of upholding peace without subjugating its populace or being subsumed into another nation. And such luck it was for Tirek to have been foiled yet again.”

“Uh-huh.” He takes a drink, and so do I. “It was only officially announced that that thing had been Tartarus set loose. No mentionings of anybody else who escaped, especially Tirek.”

“I had a feeling he had a hand in this. Seeing the shadow of that forsaken Titan appear on the horizon, only he could have orchestrated its release from the abyss.”

That’s not entirely how it happened, but let’s not muddle things.

“Yeah. A conniving sort he was. But you probably already know that.”

“More than you can believe. It is rather impossible not to, when it comes to close siblings.”

“Siblings… so your brother?”

A big drink from him. “Correct. And be assured, I have not come seeking revenge or to express my grievances over how you… dealt with him.”

“Well that’s comforting. But you still sought me out regardless. What for?”

“To meet the one who finally put an end to my brother, and who managed to save this land from the very Titan of Chaos.” He takes a more reminiscent drink. “Ours was a typical upbringing, for what it was. But whereas I was humble and a bit coddled, Tirek was full of ambition, and ruthlessness. That ambition, the might in his convictions, induced both both admiration and fear in me. I was enthralled, or rather cowed by his whims, as they grew progressively crueler and more senseless. By his volition we abandoned our birthplace and came to a land rich in raw magic, to begin his dominion.”

The stranger puts his empty cup onto the grass. “But where he saw a resource to be harvested, my eyes took in a realm of such radiant pastel beauty the likes of which I had never seen. Of a populace so lively, so free, so full of potential with their inborn gifts. I begged my brother to leave these creatures alone, but he ignored me, chastised me for my ignorant whimsy. Like all other times I spoke against his wishes.”

“He’s really not the kind of guy you negotiate with, was my impression. Give him an inch, he’ll take you for miles and miles. Or stomp you into the ground.” (Which was essentially my case)

“Aye, he only understood might. But I was too weak to stop my brother directly, thus I sought the aid of the Royal Sisters who ruled this land to seal him away. After what he tried to do, I felt too ashamed to remain, and departed this peaceful land. Yet there was always this dread in my mind over him escaping; his desire for power and dominance was that severe. It worsened when I learned of the demise of the Sisters, and became reality when the sky turned red. Hrff, imagine my dumbfoundedness at seeing the world revert to normalcy in less than a day’s time.”

“I know. Even I'm stunned by it.” Despite knowing what (Who) had fixed it. But even with my acquiescence, he sighs a mournful sigh and brings up his arms over his covered knees, exposing his weathered brown arms and cracked, worn claws.

“In truth, I was vastly relieved that the matter had been resolved so quickly. I had the notion that the time had come for me to finally confront my brother and put a stop to him myself, as I should have done long ago. Yet, in my heart, I knew that I could not. Not because of my love for him, or because of a difference in physical strength, but simply because I was too afraid to. Even after a thousand years of separation, Tirek still had my soul chained in fear.” He plants his brow onto his arms. “I was an utter coward, to back down and tremble, instead of intervening against a threat that I knew about.”

“To be fair, it was a pretty tall order with all that craziness going on, and the usual heroes were preoccupied with the shit that thing was throwing around.”

“Which makes this land even more fortunate that it has the likes of you to defend it.” He turns to look at me, showing a pair of golden eyes through the shadow of his hood. I get a sense of a smile there as well. He goes grave again as he looks away. “On my way here, I understood that there may not be another lucky break for this place, for no matter how long something lives and prospers, luck never lasts forever. And if that time truly comes… I should be prepared to fight for it.”

He stands back up to his towering height. There’s some extra shifting in the back, like something else moving there.

“What are you gonna be doing, then?” I ask.

“As I stated, I am much too weak to do much. Hardly any different from that young lad who blindly followed his brother up to the edge of destruction. In light of all that has happened, I shall go and harden myself in mind and body, to bear the kind of unthinkable burdens that could destroy this nation, this people… so that it will not be relegated to only a select few. To have done more than any mortal should ever have to do.”

He begins walking away in that stoic kind of cadence of seasoned wanderers, of lost souls and endeavouring apprentices alike (weird analogy there).

“Hey,” I call out. He halts, cocking his head back my way. “I could help you out, if you want me to. I’ve been thinking of starting a self-defense class or something. You might get some weird looks, but it would be open to all comers.”

Silent for a moment, then huffs. “I will consider that.” He looks ahead and resumes his departure. “After I have wandered a little more, done some of my own conditioning, I might pay you a direct visit. Perhaps bring a gift.”

“Nothing too fancy.”

“So long as it is sincere.” He chuckles, low but powerful enough to carry back to my ears.

I watch him leave for the edge of town, and nobody else around for it. Very brief and unexpected encounter right there. Weird that he would come to me just to talk about himself and then be off like a passing ghost. Kinda like when you’re sitting at a bar and some crusty old dude begins yapping about living with the nightmares of a war and giving sage advice and praise to the younger generation for taking a more pacifistic approach to life. Guess it’s a kind of compulsion thing, like with what Daybreak had in talking to me out of the blue. Just that weight in your gullet you either hold in forever or let out when it’s well past the point of relevance. The very nature of regret, I reckon.

And I guess that applies to me as well. Though that weight seems to have all but vanished. Probably His doing again, or dying and coming back to life had put things into perspective. Whatever: a first-time father no longer has the luxury of moping anytime he wants (a decent one, anyway). I drink up the remainder of my lemonade, looking up to the sky and idly picking at my wingtip. I wonder what he or she will be like. What kind of name should they have? I’m betting Sweetie has already got a list—

Hold on. Wingtip??

I get up onto my feet and snap my head left and right. There are two identical purple-scaled wings sticking out of each side. I gingerly reach up and poke the one on the left. Definitely solid, and I definitely felt that. I give a mental command, and they flap as one. Imagine that: I finally got my wings. Only they most certainly weren’t there before I sat down. Special dragon growth spurt? But probably You-Know-Who. Sheesh, it’s gonna be a rough day for Rarity, alright.

...I wonder what other surprises He left for me.

Forgotten Verse

Judgment Call

I’m jarred awake by a sudden jolt. Lift my head up, see that I’m still sitting in the cage, which has come to a stop. Must’ve nodded off on the way down. Hardly surprising; haven’t had any rest since coming down here, and my last two scuffles had been pretty taxing. I get up, slide open the door and step out.

Appears to be another cavernous tunnel, cast in a watery-green hue from the rocks embedded in the walls. Straightforward; I can go for straightforward (I need some straightforward). Quick look over my surroundings out of caution, and hearing/seeing nothing, I head down the path.

Only manage a few steps before I stop again. There’s been a shift: a change in the air, the rocks, something. I can’t see anything, or smell anything besides earth. But it’s that encroaching feel of unease and paranoia right before something pops out. So cautiously I turn my head around… then get decked in the cheek by something fast and pink.

“Surprise!!”

I hit the cave floor tumbling, but spring myself back up, sword drawn ready to face my attacker. Even in the dismal lighting, they stand out clear as day. And immediately my stance falters as I go slackjaw.

“Pinkie??”

My brain might still be sputtering from the sucker punch, but I can’t perceive anything other than a glaring pink, poofy-maned, eyepatch-wearing menace, standing on her hindlegs and flashing a familiar smile of unabashed savagery.

“Nice to see you too, scalie britches,” the physical figment of my imagination says. “You thought I was gonna stay a lame-ass NPC? Think again, sucker!”

💚

Pinkie Pie is blocking the way!

The thing before me is supposed to be a very dead, very exploded pony. Better CHECK to be sure… Yep, that’s most definitely Pinkie Pie, looking as solid as on that gods-awful day, and just as raring to FIGHT. Her mane is especially lively.

“How is this possible? You’re supposed to be dead.”

“Then I suppose I'm a manifestation of that screwed-up head of yours. Orrrrr, I might've sucked up something from that Nyx bitch to make me whole again. All kinds of magical BS down here, so is my coming back such a shocker?”

“Yet the first thing you want to do after resurrecting is get into a fight??”

“Naturally! You know how after a very long nap you need to stretch and get all the kinks out? That’s exactly how I’m feeling right now, and I need my scaly punching bag to help freshen me up!”

She tosses up a hoof, and suddenly columns of cupcakes roll down either end of the cave. I spot the fuses embedded in the frosting when they’re mere feet from me and get hopping. Several explode, several keep rolling, and a few spring up to pop off in my face. I manage to toss myself back onto the craggy floor, hard. Back on my feet, the confectionaries are gone, but the Baker From The Crypt remains posturing.

Those blasts felt real enough. Dammit, I thought I left the nightmares behind, but the horrors still persist (and so must I).

Pinkie sizes you up.

“How exactly is that stretching?” I question.

“What, you honestly wanted me to go all-out? It’s been a few years, Spikey; I need a few turns to warm up. I figured your slow ass would appreciate that, but by all means. What’s your opener?”

“Nothing.”

“EEEENH!! Wrong answer!”

Pinkie reaches behind her and throws out striped party poppers that flash a few seconds before going off. I'm already twisting and dodging, because they're firing off daggers, nails, shards of glass and thumbtacks alongside the confetti. A dozen of them fly up and detonate at once, and the moment they pop I contort myself and freeze. Instinct paid off: I'm completely untouched, while the ground around me looks like an office space minefield.

The party's begun in Tartarus.

“I've got somewhere to be, Pinkie; I'm not in the mood to fight!”

“Well news flash, Quicks McGee: this is as much for your benefit as it is for mine. You're in the belly of this sucker, so you got to be prepared. And like hemoglobins am I gonna let years of hard work trip before the finish line if I have anything to say about it, so show me what you got!”

“Pinkie!!”

Instead of listening like any sane individual newly risen from the grave, she instead tosses out a miniature maypole to a spot next to me, replete with streamers of razor-sharp paper. One of them is wrapped around a hoof, which she yanks to send the pole spinning like a top that would've eviscerated me if I didn't get to ducking and weaving. Somehow it's able to suck up the crap from the floor, becoming a tetanus tornado (surprised I hadn't faced one of those till now).

I slash my sword to smack away any incoming nails and cleave the stupid whirligig the moment it gets in reach, ending the attack. I face Pinkie with sword brandished, which unfortunately gets her elated.

“Finally brought out the old slice-n-dicer to play, I see! And your dodging seems up to snuff. Now how about some offense?”

“I said I don't want to fight you! Are you seriously refusing to listen??”

“I could ask you the same, nutsack!”

It doesn't appear Pinkie Pie wants to talk.

There's some kind of dinging, then a wall of very thick chocolate eclairs burst out of the ground and surround me. They pulse and throb before spewing streams of hot filling at differing heights and intervals (oh what the frick!), then one tips over in my direction. I back away, then get to sidestepping and leaping as the others follow suit like dominoes in trying to crush me with lethal carb-loading. A dodge roll from the last one, and getting up I find the treats and their cream have evaporated away. Seriously, what the hell, Pinkie?

Smells like blood and frosting.

That smile of hers deflates a bit. “Okay, I get you're good at dodging. You can retaliate now.”

“What have I been saying?” Already getting exasperated here.

“Fine. Dodge this, then.”

I hear the shifting of rocks, and looking behind me I see some massive spiked wheel rolling down the cavern, with a rolled dessert at its center (a pinwheel, oh haha funny). I try slashing at the spokes, but they're made of indestructible peanut brittle (of course), so I beat a retreat in the other direction. But guess what: there's another one rolling in from the opposite direction on the ceiling!

Wait, why have one up there? A look back and ascertain that the other one only reaches halfway, so a short dash and I spring myself up over that spiny sucker. I've barely landed when I see another death wheel coming, so spin and run back, wait for the one above to pass, then spring back over. I repeat this another two times before I see more, then pause to catch my breath. Barely hear the smaller rolling sound before the cupcake bomb detonates behind me and sends me to the floor (frickin’ cheap shot…).

Things are heating up.

“I'm about done warming up,” she tells me as I'm getting back up. “Last chance to get a mostly easy hit in.”

“I don't—”

“And your chance is gone!”

She throws out dozens of decorated tubes all around the cave floor, which fire off mortars of various colors. The fireworks blow out chunks of the ceiling that I have to dodge, then of course dozens of tubes appear up there and fire rockets down on me.

Lots of explosions, rocks and noise later, I'm still standing in one piece (though a bit dusty). Good; just gotta keep on my toes.

The ground—

“Wait Wait stop it right there!”

Everything comes to a record scratching halt as I look at my tormentor.

“Did you seriously stay in place for all of that?” she straight asks me, sounding genuinely (angrily) baffled. “You could have run at me, taken a swipe, but instead you dance around like a lobotomized monkey. You’re not being coy here; I want to know what your deal is. Where's your fighting spirit, your drive? Why aren't you doing anything, dammit!”

“If you just for once listen to—”

“NO! You're clearly not taking this seriously, and it's pissing me off!!” She hoof-stomps the ground, making the whole cave rattle. “Did my punch turn you pacifist, or are you thinking MERCY is the way to go? Did you forget where you are; what kind of freaks live here? I doubt you talked your way to this point. Or maybe because you beat me the one time I’m not worth the effort? One loss and I’m beneath you, is that it, huh??”

No that’s not, gah! “Pinkie—”

“That’s the stupidest, most asinine begging-to-be-offed-like-a-bitch mindset you can have! This isn't some pamby rematch or revenge hit you can brush off: this is about survival. And it's high time I remind you how deep in the shit you really ARE!!”

The cave walls flare a menacing pink with a roar like a hell-borne chainsaw as Pinkie Pie… becomes ENRAGED (oh fuck me).

“Either prove you can nut up like a champ, or I'm putting you in the bucking ground, here and now! Either way, heeeeeeeeere's Pinkie!”

It's a Bad Time now, bucko!

Pinkie launches up and dive bombs for me! I leap away from the hoof slam of the Gods, then duck as she rockets a flying kick to where my head would have been. She pinballs around the cave with kicks and hoof slams, raising the speed and testing my reactivity before she back somersaults to her starting point.

“Let’s cut to the chase!”

She holds up a hoof loaded with gleaming knives before flinging them at me. I sidestep, then see Pinkie swap to the other end of the cave before sidestepping the next batch. She pops to the other end to toss knives up at the ceiling, which spread and ricochet downward at me. My sword knocks these aside and I twirl to avoid the ones coming from behind, because of course Pinkie fwooped back over there.

She executes a slide that I jump over, while also throwing up knives I barely wiggle around. Back on her hindlegs, Pinkie snaps a hoof, there's a shift in the air, and I roll forward to dodge the wall of knives that shoot from behind me (whether she placed them or conjured them into being are both valid explanations).

Cutting it real close there.

“Here's a fan favorite, and their extended family!”

Something wheels in from the shadows and… no. It, it cannot be. That robin egg blue, the daisy decals. But there's no way; impossible. I Killed YOU!!

Yet the Party CannonTM mocks both me and reality by existing before my very eyes, and amplifies the horror by firing. Not confetti and streamers, but a godsdamned ENERGY BEAM!

I hop up to avoid getting vaporized, then spot a second cannon roll in from behind and leap over its shot (she's right: they're breeding!!). Another two sprout in succession from the ceiling, then two others pop up in the upper corners, the lower corners, ladder up along either side of me, and then make criss-cross formations before leveling the ground with one aerial burst. Though it got a little tight and frantic, I managed to not get singed (thank gods they’re well-telegraphed).

Pinkie is looking pretty DETERMINED… to kick your ass!

“Let’s see you move around when the floor’s like this!”

At that challenge, Pinkie swipes the air to conjure a wave of colorful party hats along the floor. Knowing the deal, I leap up high, and I’m only allowed a second to determine how I’m gonna land without getting pricked before my feet touch something thin yet solid. Huh, random floating platform. Very convenient/considerate.

“Batter up!”

What’s not convenient/considerate is Pinkie Pie swooping in on a rope tied to her waist with a bat raised and primed for some block-knocking. I sidestep and nearly fall off to avoid her swing, then spot a different platform moving by in the opposite direction. I hop onto that before Pinkie comes back around, but somehow she comes back even faster, so I gotta en garde.

I deflect the bat with my sword, the impact causing Pinkie to twirl wildly but only to swing back as a whirlwind of pain. I keep deflecting this resilient-as-hell wooden bat as my tormentor refuses to relent, until finally I duck and let her by. Of course that's when she snaps the rope and plunges down on me, so another desperate roll, this time onto spiky party hats!

Except the hats are gone, leaving me safe from the explosive slam taking place behind me. Pinkie has already hopped back to her starting spot by the time I've upright (for the umpteenth time).

Playing defensive can only last so long…

“Come on, get your ACT together and FIGHT back!” she demands. “That flailing of yours barely counts!”

Actually, why aren't I fighting back? I've done it plenty so far, and it's clearly the quickest way to end this bull. It'll be easy, just like last… No, I'm not playing this game of hers. Just gotta wait for her to fizzle out. She can't have that much energy for a corpse or whatever.

“No comebacks? Suits me!”

Pinkie winds back and tosses a bundle into the center of our fighting ring and it… bursts into confetti? Just a big, shiny, expanding cloud of silver and gold glitter, not even corrosive. Two more packets are tossed around, filling the air with more shimmery crap. Good: it will make hiding, uh, dodging easier. Or this is probably supposed to blind me. Wait, I'm smelling… gunpowder? Oh crap oh crap OH CRAP!!

I turn heel and make it a few steps before that psycho clicks a spark off. For a full second the space is a roaring inferno, then jarringly it goes right back to normal. Miraculously I managed to dive into the one corner of the cave not covered in explosive glitter (how long is this luck gonna last??).

How long, indeed.

“Quit napping: it's only gonna get worse!”

Pinkie leaps into action once more with something primed in her hooves, and it's far bigger and crustier than a glitter bomb. In a blink she tosses the pie with supersonic force, barely missing me as it detonates into fiery shrapnel on the opposite wall. She blinks to somewhere else and fires another bunker-breaker pie, then another and another followed by a whole bakery battery barrage. I'm stepping/dipping like so many other times these past few minutes (ad nauseum), and I'm on the verge of getting dizzy when I notice the pink blur overhead.

I stand on my tippies and thrust out to avoid getting driven into the earth like a rail spike, then get knocked forward as Pinkie rips a hole out of the ground to retrieve her hoof. Again I'm on the floor, eating dirt. Falling over and over. That's how it should be; that's what—

I see the way forward is clear. A straight shot. Maybe, I can end it like that. Except…

You feel your sins crawling on your—

No, it’s not like that. I’m not trying to run; I’m not denying what I’ve done. It's just… I can't deal with it her (my) way. I mustn't.

Besides, I know for a fact that Pinkie will not let me RUN.

“You keep groveling! Pick yourself up and stay up like a man! I told you it's gonna get worse, and now I'm gonna go into Maximum Overdrive. Ready or not, here it bucking COMES!!!!!”

Pinkie flexes with the might of a volcano before bursting forward with a haymaker that would have shorn my arm off if it had been higher. Almost immediately she turns and launches into a flying kick that would have decapitated me if I had jumped. Rebounding off the wall she zips up over to the ceiling, grips it hard and strains Whoa Ah Crap What The Hell AAAAAAAAHH!!!

The entire cave is whirling like a hamster wheel and I’m being bounced around like laundry. Through the spinning I can make out Pinkie above (???) me, dancing upright outside the frame (?!?), throwing down knives and muffins and party crackers while I bounce up down and all around. I’m flying through this junk with seemingly no control, and honestly I’m surprised I haven’t blacked out from hitting the walls so much.

There’s a screech and I’m instantly flung clear down the length of the cavern, colliding and bouncing off the far back wall into a pit. After ping-ponging from wall to wall I plummet straight down a loooooong shaft, and who should be following close above but that persistent bitch and, of course, that damn cannon(s) of hers. I will myself side to side to avoid columns of energy as they blast down in an array of patterns, then abruptly I land smack inside a waiting cannon below and get fired into another subterranean corridor (or is it the same cave???).

Pinkie follows below astride her own rocket cannon, whipping out eclairs the length of baguettes that get hurled ahead. They go offscreen (w-what?) and molten marzipan erupts from their impact sites, meaning more things to barely dodge. Pinkie shoots ahead, and I catch her leaping up before something cracks against my ribcage.

I fly back, hit the wall and then feel another cracking blow to my back. Into the opposite wall I go, and I'm able to see Pinkie with the bat below more just before I'm knocked into the ceiling. It's a seemingly endless cycle of hitting walls, getting whacked, rebounding, again and again and again in all directions, then without warning I'm permitted to fall to the floor in peace.

Dizziness begins to set in, but I'm denied that mercy as the raging pink fury charges and hoists me upright. Her steely grip on my shirt sobers me up, and that singular piercing gaze shuts down whatever amusement there might have been.

Nothing but arresting stillness.

“Still you do nothing.”

Spat like a snarl.

Her hooves slam me down onto the dirt and I bounce. I don't even cough.

“No parries, no ripostes, no sidewinders or sucker punches, not even one stinky whiff of your fire magic malarkey! Never in any of our sparring sessions did you play pussy for this long. Not even those times your weak-ass caught the flu!”

Because it was the only way I could go back to bed, you maniac, is what I think as I get my elbows under me.

“I was dead only a few minutes ago, but you're the one looking fit for a dirt nap,” she keeps haranguing me (just shut up and end me). “‘Fighting’ you has become downright embarrassing, so I've decided to get answers instead. What's your malfunction? You got enough life in you to at least say.”

“I, have told you, over and over…” I huff out. Trembling. Not from fatigue. Just can't… “I, did not, come down here, to fig—”

“Stuff it: there's more than that. You didn't want to fight me the last time, but you still did it anyway (No, don't). You understood I was an obstacle (No) that needed to be dealt with (Just stop!), and did what you had to do. And the situation here is no different (Please!). Yet you’re holding back. Like you're honestly looking to die. And really, that's no fun at all.”

I feel her come up to inches before me, crouching. That eye boring into my lowered head. My soul.

“No more bullshitting: what's got you hung up? Why won’t you just do a repeat of last time and get this over with?”

“Because last time was a mistake!” Slam my fists into the dirt. “All of it was a mistake! It never should have happened!”

“The fudge are you blubbering about?”

“Those ponies at the castle, Luna… you. None of them had to die.” Shuddering, sniffing. “It didn't have to turn out that way.” So weak. But finally out there.

“Are you seriously having regrets over all that now? Tch, amazing. I mean, holy guacamole, it's been years, Spike. And at least in my case, it was deserved. I was cool with getting offed.”

“I could've run away, knocked you out like I did with AJ (excuses excuses). I, I gave in to anger and frustration, took the lethal route. The simplest. It… was just so easy. Letting myself slip like that. The same with all the others.”

“Heat of the moment, kid. You stick with the most reliable method and save the considerations for later.”

Your reasoning is wasted here, you psychopath. “...I thought I accepted it. That it was truly said and done. Nothing could undo what I did to you, or anyone else, so just move on, right? And like you said, the way you messed with me, it was justified.”

“Uh-huh. Buuuut..?”

Deep, halting breath. “You, annoyed, the living hell out of me. Almost every day since you became my ‘mentor’. Still, I never wanted to kill you. Never wanted you to actually die. But, in that moment, when you were dancing on my chest… I let it slip.” No, oh gods, my chest. Too heavy. “What if I slip again? I thought it was the conditioning that made it so easy for me to kill, over and over again. That shut down my revulsion, kept me numb. But, when fighting the griffons, Gladius…”

“What the hell are you getting at?”

The crux. The fucking crux.

“...It came back so readily. That focus, the disassociation. It felt… fun.” More shaking. “I’m afraid it’ll happen again. Not because of some magical haywire or mind fucks, but because that’s what my true nature is. Only some small trigger to bring out the killer. To harm those around me. Just waiting, waiting…”

I can barely hold my head up. The shivering’s constant. My body surrendering. Becoming another forlorn lump in this damned place. A fucking husk. How was I able to lie to myself for so long? Fooling everyone, making them trust me. But now, it won't go any further…

“Jeez, she messed your head up reeeeeal good.”

That blunt tone still keeps me aware, keeps the dark from closing in (damn her).

“Instead of gracefully accepting she'd been outplayed, she plants a stinker in your brain as a parting gift. Talk about a sore loser.” Feeling her sickeningly sweet breath on my frill. “You’re really letting the dream-raper kneecap your conviction? Some dusty living nightmare, among a whole bushel of literal monsters that have done—I betchu—far worse things than you or even I.”

“I’m so tired…”

“What?”

“Tired of justifying the violence. Of the death and suffering I caused. Too much has already been done; I never wanted it to happen again. And I can’t stop it from happening if I keep frickin’ doing it.”

“Holy cannoli you’ve really softened over the years!” Sense her backing away in disgust (good). “Luckily Auntie Pie is here to get this nipped before it blossoms into something really bad.”

Comes back over to me. But the stance, her tone…

“Spike, I already said I hold nothing against you for what you did to me. And the ponies close to you aren't holding anything against you, either. Sure, there's hundreds out there who will never forgive you, will always hate your guts. And nothing you do, no amount of sniveling and regret and shame is gonna change that. So screw them. You've been doing a good enough job of that up to now.

“And you know, I didn't start out the amazing baker and party planner you had first met. I made plenty of mistakes, felt ashamed, wished I could have a do-over. But I didn't dwell on it. I took each failure as a lesson and kept going, kept getting better. Knowing how to avoid the mistakes, if possible. That's exactly what you need to be doing. Keep going, keep doing better. I mean, you eventually managed to surpass me.”

A sickening recall. “That's not what you were saying before.” Feebly clutch the dirt. “You kept insisting I was a killing machine, a ball of rage waiting to explode. That no matter what good I did, I can never erase all the evil I've committed.”

“That croney-baloney went and twisted what I was saying. Well… not completely. Okay yeah, I like saying shit that gets under your scales as a motivating tool (and it being funny). But what I was trying to say is to not pretend all that killing and wrecking didn't happen. That's how you end up forgetting and repeating mistakes. Even if it's a tiny wiggle in the back of your skull, you gotta own that burden. That's how you stay tough for the rough times, such as now. You can't let these freaks, or anyone, take that away from you. Otherwise, who's going to defend the ones who can't toughen up?”

Still not enough. “I thought I had it completely controlled only a few weeks ago. What if the next time I'm wrong… it's bucked beyond repair?”

A sigh. “Now you're dwelling on the ‘what if’. The thanks I get for trying to perk you up.” Rescinding hoof falls. “You're better saving that for the precious ones that are waiting for you, who are there to listen. And there are ‘professionals’ better suited for all that head talk. I'm no shrink: just an old biddy who lives in the moment. And that's my last bit of advice to you, kid: focus on the now. Like getting out of this cesspit. It's no place for getting in touch with your feelings.”

The hooves grow more distant. “Besides, you have no business dealing with ghosts. Frankly you suck at it. You best hurry back to the land of the living. Where you belong.”

A rush of air, a drop in temperature, stillness.

Finish what you started, Spikey. Then you can do what needs to be done about that conscience of yours…

I keep my head down a few moments longer, then raise it. No trace of Pinkie, of course. And not just that: the rocks are back to glowing teal. A glance back, I see the lift only a few yards away.

This could have all been a hallucination. I probably just collapsed; probably more fatigued than I thought. Very likely. But I'm wide awake now.

I get back on my feet, brush myself off. Another look around, some blinks, and it's back to walking. Hear the soft drip of distant stalactites; decide to follow that. Easy pace, but alert. This is no place to be caught napping.

Not while a mastermind’s scheming.

Some later time…

(Though not by much)

A truly fine, beautiful, life-affirming day. Practically picture postcard perfect, with clear blue skies, radiant sunshine, pastoral landscapes, and the quaint ever-humble hamlet of Ponyville as the centerpiece. You would never suspect or even imagine that the literal shadow of annihilation could befall such a darling town, but it did. Only three days ago, in fact! Yet still it stands, as lovely as ever… barring some clean-up. Doomsday is rarely a tidy affair, after all.

But it's a most picturesque, spotless sight that greets the individual climbing the hill on the outskirts of town. She stops upon the very crest, letting her gleaming pair of baby blues take in the full splendor of it all.

“All these years, and it hasn't changed one bit.”

With a grin sharp enough to etch steel, she resumes a casual yet eager trot downwards, poofy mane and tail bobbing to her internal rhythm.

“Let’s see what passes for a welcoming committee these days.”

Author's Note

So, here we have it: the first DLC chapter for Dragon's Descent. Only took... seven years. Heh, insane. Makes me wonder how many people have come back to reread this over that period. New readers trickle in and add it as a Favorite, sure. But who considers this one of their all-time favorite works of derivative fiction?

...Anyway, this is an encounter serving as an interlude between Act 2 Verses 5 and 6, and something of a cheeky continuation of the epilogue. I had written up the beginning and opener of the fight, but then I lost interest and it just sat there in my backlogs, seemingly never to be completed. This had been the case with the extra chapters of Death by Dragon (god I've forgotten so much), only here the hiatus was almost Berserk-level. So why bother finishing up and posting extra material after such a long time?

Well, as I said in a musical I published on FanFiction.net some months back, it's because I'm the only one who can tell it. I alone can bring this specific chapter into being. Plus, it's something productive to do. I've been struggling to focus on writing original stories the past few months. Yet, going back over that unfinished fragment, and filling it in... it came easy. It was familiar, soothing. Just the thing for my mental state. It won't have nearly as much punch as how I had once envisioned back almost a decade ago, and is rather sloppy, but at least it's out there. At least it's available. At least it's real.

For those of you who cared to read this far, I hope you enjoyed it. There are other bonus chapters in the works, and just maybe, hopefully, they will be coming relatively soon. Hope you're doing alright, wherever in life you are, and all the best.