Aftersound

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Written by: Oneimare & Geka

Preread and edited by: Jay Tarrant, IAmApe

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Assumption

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“You sure have a lot of spare parts,” I absently-mindedly murmured, gazing upon the vast number of ceramic plates hanging over me as I lay on the table.

Replacing another cracked patch of my ‘coat’, Three snorted, “Eleven gets something broken every week without fail.”

Ah—the equinoid who met me in the hangar, her plating held together by metal stitches…

My speaker cracked with the beginning of a phrase, but no words came. The caustic poison that ate at my mind finally won over attempts to distract myself by spewing irrelevancies.

I wanted to believe that Luna was just ignorant on the matter or lashing out at me in her struggle for lucidity, but the ghosts of mindless things living under the city refused to leave my vision, prowling in the corner of my eye. And, seeing Three taking care of me, obviously happy to offer her help to her beloved mother, I could only feel the sharp guilt of abusing kindness that didn’t belong to me.

“Three…” I whispered. “Who am I?”

The equinoid paused her motions and gave me a concerned look; at least I hoped so—the porcelain mask showed nothing.

“What a strange question… Lady Sparkle,” she said in a carefully neutral tone.

“How do you know I’m Twilight Sparkle? You have never met her.”

I wanted to slap myself—despite my efforts, frustration had slipped into my voice.

Three paused again, for longer this time. She lowered her hooves from the table and looked aside, silent and still. My eyes bore into her—a parent who didn’t remember her children, staring in pain and confusion at a daughter who didn’t remember her mother. Daughters and sons—all of the Twelve participated in this conversation.

No mask could hide that truth.

None of the Twelve differed from a filly or a colt who wanted a lullaby sung to them; like Flower, they didn’t care if that melody came from a throat or a speaker. They must have been aware that the Twilight who created them was dead and unrecoverable; and the Twelve didn’t even seem to want that Twilight to be back—Thirteen didn’t and for a good reason.

I slid from the workbench. Three had finished replacing most of my damaged plating and the rest, covered by the holograms, didn’t bother me enough to overpower my desire to be alone at the moment.

On second thought… Wallowing in my misery felt more alluring than ever, but I had no time to spare and a promise to fulfil.

When the door rapped with a reluctant knock, I had been lazily leafing through one of the unfamiliar tomes—‘Binary boolean enchantments’ by Twilight Sparkle and Moon Dancer.

“Thirteen,” I sighed the greeting out. The ‘changeling’ equinoid stood at the doorway, expectant, and a bitter mutter escaped my mouth, “Just don’t call me Machine Goddess, please.”

He coolly regarded me and wryly promised, “I won’t.” As I remained somberly silent, he added, “You didn’t call me here for a chat, did you?”

“I actually did. May I ask a few questions?”

Thirteen trotted into the chamber and sat in front of me, a patient but somewhat sly expression claiming his features.

“Fire away.”

I mulled over where to begin and started simply:

“What do you know about gods?”

“Ha! I knew you were going to ask that, ” he barked, then apologetically continued, “And I’m afraid that you know as much as I do—there are some hypothetical entities attributed to certain nations, but with no direct proof of their existence, anything we have belongs to the territory of pure speculation. It’s said the gods destroyed Neighponia two centuries ago, but again—no evidence.”

Just as I feared—if the royal archivist knew nothing, then that lead proved to be a dead end. Unless I wanted to ask the demi-goddess; but not only wouldn’t she cooperate, trusting her advice could be… foolish, at best.

Another sigh concluded my thoughts.

“Thank you nevertheless, Thirteen.”

Yet the equinoid didn’t dismiss himself and as I tore my gaze away from the page full of vaguely familiar but still mysterious diagrams, my eyes met his intent look. He smiled.

“I think you’re missing the point.”

“Which is?”

“You aim to become the Machine Goddess.”

I frowned at Thirteen.

The equinoid huffed, “At such a rate, you aren’t going to achieve anything in a year.” Seeing my persevering confusion, he explained, “All you need to be accepted as a saviour is to bring the Unity to the equinoids.”

The rest of my face joined the furrowed brow to form a grimace and shifting my bitter gaze to the pages taunting me with riddles, I muttered, “The Twelve told me the Prime Code is incomplete.”

A hoof engraved with circles to resemble the holes in chitin covered the formulas and yanked the book away.

“Have you already given up?”

“I don’t even know what the difference is between it and the enchantments of the TCE’s equinoids!” I snapped and, pointing at myself, barked, “I barely understand what a memory anchor is.”

Thirteen met my outburst with a glare and pressed together lips, however, none of that filtered into his voice as he calmly said, “That’s the trick—memory anchors are a crutch, the TCE’s workaround.”

“But without them, an equinoid would be an Accursed.”

He made a sound that I could only describe as distinctly and disturbingly insect-esque.

“Who put that dumb idea in your crystals? An Accursed is what happens when the consciousness degenerates until only the basic survival directives remain, crammed into utility gemstones.”

The shadows at the corners receded but didn’t leave yet.

“Then… what would happen if you launched an equinoid without an anchor?” I asked, afraid to learn the answer—what could be worse than those… golems?

“The same as if a pony woke up with no personal memories but the intelligence of an adult—a severe existential crisis, almost always... terminal.”

Numb, I mumbled, “Exactly what happened to me...”

Terminal.

“You have Twilight’s memories,” Thirteen discontentedly retorted.

“It doesn’t help,” I practically growled at him.

He bristled in response, snapping, too, “Without them, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

“Sorry, I just…”

Clenching my jaws I drew a deep breath, closing my eyes momentarily. Thirteen only wanted to help, nor had he said anything wrong. Shoving the entire conundrum to the back of my mind, I focused on the knowledge just shared with me.

“How did the Twelve solve that issue?”

“They didn’t,” Thirteen replied, his voice suddenly hard. “Moon Dancer used another band-aid—she linked them and, together, they had managed to figure out their identities. The catch is that it only supports twelve entities.”

Raising my eyes I failed to meet his—a frown cast aside; not randomly—Thirteen bitterly stared at Kismet and the urn the doll guarded.

My whisper rustled through the shrine, “I’m sorry.”

Thirteen’s features softened and he uttered with a sigh, “It worked out in the end.” Composing himself, he stated in a clear tone, “In theory, the Prime Code is supposed to have a Nexus that should be able to connect an indefinite amount of individuals—that’s the unfinished part.”

He held out his hoof, offering me the thick tome.

I opened it to the first page.

A mere section of the book remained to be learnt when the door gently rattled with a request for an invitation. Grimacing, I forced myself to overcome the spell of the scientific work to glare at the entrance into Moon Dancer’s dwelling. Unsurprisingly, peering at the door revealed nothing, but a chirring mare’s voice called from beyond it:

“Sorry for the intrusion, Machine Goddess. My name is Acus. I’m working on treating Spike—”

The changeling hastily took a step back as I pulled the door so eagerly, it slammed into the wall.

Seven nervously guided me through the semi-abandoned science wing of the Sky Palace. I kept getting ahead of her, only to be reminded that I didn’t know where to find the old Hydroponics Laboratory. Each time dismay stung me—the Twelve could see how I anticipated the reunion with my foster child; they might think of him as more favoured, but the truth would be quite sad.

I hoped to finally be recognised for who I was.

The arrival to our destination became apparent even before the faded sign on the door could be read. The heavily armoured guards with stun guns at the ready left no freedom for guesses. By them stood a changeling in medical scrubs, Trixie and Sunset by his side.

The strained equanimity of their expressions crippled my enthusiasm with a sudden tension, infecting me with burning worry. As I reluctantly approached them, reserved nods greeted me.

The changeling medic cleared his throat and masterfully avoided my eyes—a behaviour shared by all three equines—and busied himself with studying the tablet, quietly speaking:

“The patient’s condition is stable. Sunset and Thorax—”

“Trixie,” the mare in question begrudgingly noted. Sighing deeply, she reluctantly picked after the physician. “We dispelled the magic affecting Spike. It was the spell... used to reanimate Crystal Ponies as golems.”

One of many vile practices devised by the warlocks during the war. But how?

As though reading my thoughts, Sunset joined in, “Someone must have fed him the tainted crystals in ignorance.” Her dark tone, tinged with fulmination, suggested the possibility of other reasons.

“He’s better now, isn’t he?” I asked, futilely trying to meet the eyes of the trio.

The medic coughed into his hoof and muttered, “It no longer causes the fusion of prosthetics with his soft tissues...”

“What are you not telling me?”

None answered me and I scowled.

“I’m going in.”

Trixie and Sunset swiftly exchanged glances and the former stood in my path. Steeling herself, she uttered, “The revivification curse… The way Sombra had designed it, only the flesh was forced to fight again.”

She trailed off, finally meeting my eyes with a stare full of pity.

“Spike’s mind was never affected.”

I held Trixie’s gaze only for as long as it took her words to sink in.

She didn’t resist when I shoved her out of my way.

The magic fueling the unquenchable fire of dragons’ hearts came neither from Harmony nor even past it, but from the arcanium core itself—an enigma. That mystical energy made dragons one of the most unique and dangerous creatures inhabiting this world.

The dragon before me had no danger left in him.

Out of Spike’s limbs, only his right arm remained and only the shoulder part of it—an ugly, freshly stitched stub midway to where his elbow should be. A few patches of scaly skin barely covered his flayed body; muscle, withered and dark, twitched, exposed to the air. Spike had so little left of him that the glow and beat of his heart could be seen through the gaps betwixt his bared ribs.

My eyes stopped at Spike’s, the only part remaining unmutilated—emeralds glimmering amidst raw flesh that couldn’t convey any expression.

The initial impact faded and from the shock emerged the emotion that refused to succumb to empathy or horror.

“Why?” I asked, my tone as cold as the howl of the Windigo.

Spike stayed silent for so long that I thought he wasn’t conscious, but then his penetrating gaze shifted away.

“They all would have died anyway,” he measuredly hissed; the pain and absence of lips failed to mask the disdain in his weak and hoarse voice.

“Elaborate,” I ordered.

“I needed to survive, I had to eat,” Spike replied matter-of-factly.

“You could have asked for help!” I barked.

Spike eyed me condescendingly and a low growl came from his torn throat, “I didn’t want any help from the traitors.”

“Chrysalis tricked them all.” My hoof shot up in the general direction. “The TCE is beyond evil, but not everyone is the TCE!”

As before, Spike met my outburst with cold regard, as much as his skinned muzzle allowed and then rumbled, “When Chrysalis under the guise of Rarity exiled me into the Dragon Lands as ambassador, I kept in touch with Fancy Pants, the only decent aristocrat that ever lived.

“He wrote to me in his letters about how ponies obediently accepted the wrongs of the Crown, how only so few joined Pinkie’s and Fluttershy’s rebellion even though thousands of refugees suffered horribly. Chrysalis is a murderous wretch and the TCE directors are abominations, but the actual villains are those who gambled on their neighbours being squashed so they could prevail, even knowing they would be the next.

“The ponies had a choice and they chose a nightmare.”

“So that’s how it is? You think of yourself as justice incarn—”

“You were in the Tunnels,” he barked and crimson drops fell on pristine sheets. “That mare who was with you reeked of sex and blood… Tell me, how many good ponies are out there?”

“She’s a good pony!”

“A needle in a haystack,” Spike scoffed. “If I killed a good pony, it’s mercy—Canterlot or the Crystal Empire would have defiled and killed them. If I’d executed a rapist or a murderer, I would have made this city better.”

My mind blanked out as I stared at Spike who calmly gazed at me in return.

“You are insane,” I finally said, sadly shaking my head. “It’s as if you forgot how you were raised amongst ponies, forgot your friends... your mother.”

Something stirred in Spike, his heart flaring under the yellowed spokes. The stub of his limb pressed into the linen, painting it red and the naked tendons rung with sudden exertion. Against all logic, the mangled body rose above me and his fanged mouth roared, spewing blood, saliva and soot:

“The friends who turned away from my mother! The ponies who cried out ‘Hero Killer’ and ‘Traitor of the Sun’, desecrating the grave of the one I loved the most!”

The fire alarm drizzling from the ceiling brought me back to my senses and I realised that I had been cowering before Spike, his panting grotesque silhouette simmering with pain-fueled fury as he overhung me in merciless judgement.

And then I understood.

“It’s been five centuries,” I tenderly said, all my anger ceding to sorrow.

Spike deflated and heavily fell back on the five hospital beds put together to accommodate his massive, even if whittled down body.

“Time passes differently for dragons,” he bitterly whispered.

“I know. You can stop now. I’m back.”

“But you’re not her.”

An explosion of porcelain sent ceramic shrapnel pinging off the dingy walls.

Seven’s frantic hooves fought mine as I tried to writhe myself free—she’d caught me blindly galloping through the maze of the science wing.

“Mother!” she cried, distressed, and her crimson skeletal limbs finally stopped my escape attempts. “What’s wrong?”

As she fell for my ruse, I pushed her away, skidding on the floor myself.

“Leave me alone! I’m a mother to no—”

I choked on my words as Seven stumbled back—struck. I slammed my hooves down, sending black cracks climbing up my varnished skin and yelled, howled in frustration and desperation. Stared at the floor with an intensity that should have bored a hole in it.

The struggle to give control over my body and mind back to rationality filled the empty and dark corridor with tense silence. The ground under the anchors that secured me to reality had been rejecting me and I felt myself drifting... away.

Terminal.

Shutting that voice down with my own, I pleaded, “I’m sorry, Seven. I didn’t mean to say that.”

“You did.” My head shot up. “You don’t want us.”

Seven’s tone compensated for the lack of tears on her unmoving face.

“That’s not true,” I weakly retorted—the last conversation I’d had with Twelve pointed otherwise. Defeated, I almost sobbed, “I just want to know who I am.”

Paradoxically, her expression softened—something did change in her.

“We… understand,” Seven quietly said. She looked at me sympathetically and I thought she smiled, sadly. “We wish we could show you, but the Prime Code has yet to be finished.”

I hung my head—another hope that might end up hollow; still better than nothing. Thinking of asking to get me back to the workshop I opened my mouth, but Seven spoke first.

“Clandestine Delight has been seeking you—she’s at her ward.”

I melancholically watched as Teleta bolted to the door next to Del’s, chided by the nurse for the violation of visiting hours. Either my solemn presence or the reason behind the changeling’s eagerness to see Marmor stopped the nurse, leaving me alone before the entrance to the unknown.

As much as sheer curiosity goaded me, the desire to not see anyone left me glued to the hospital floor. I wanted to be around the Twelve even less; inevitable though it might be, considering my task, I couldn’t help myself but stall.

But time stood against me and not only because of the looming evacuation.

Yet I hesitated before pushing the door open. My magic reached under my plating and left it without a neon coat—no need to bother Delight further; something told me the conversation wouldn’t be easy for her, whatever she chose.

Del didn’t turn away from the window she was leaning on as I came in, her eyes following the changelings milling outside in the red glow of the reflected sunset. The tray with cold food rested on the bedside table and the sheets were crumpled into a pegasus-sized bird nest.

Still as a statue, she asked me, so quietly I barely made out her words, “Would you hate me?”

“What?”

“Would you hate me if I were to say ‘yes’?” Del uttered again just as hollowly, but slightly louder.

“Why would I?”

Only as the nonchalant question disturbed the sombre air of the dark room, did I realise what she just said.

Leaving me no time to give that proper thought, she said, “Queen Chrysalis killed a pony very dear to you.”

Her head snapped to me as I hysterically laughed.

“What’s wrong? Twi—”

The titters of my mirthless laugh died; the cold and razor-sharp blade of my voice cut her off, “Don’t.”

Delight peered at me, moon-eyed; turning off the holograms suddenly felt foalish, futile. Her lips formed a thin line, turning pale; then the tension left her expression and she ruefully breathed out.

“So, we’ve come full circle.”

“Everyone who knew Twilight Sparkle told me I wasn’t her,” I snippily responded. “Everyone—my friend, my Princess, my…”

I trailed off, once again overwhelmed by the sensation of my existence being rejected.

“You’re Twilight to me.”

A scowl would have contorted my ethereal muzzle if I had it; static came from my speaker as a bark formed in my mind, but Del leapt off the bed and before I could say something we’d both regret, swiftly spoke, trotting to me.

“You’re not an equinoid, but nor are you a pony, as not a single pony has ever seen in me more than a mare for a night. Even Flower and Wire look at me and see ‘one of those’,” the pegasus said, unable to hide her bitterness; yet none of it laced her next words as she stopped right in front of me and put her hooves on my shoulders. “You’re Twilight Sparkle—my friend, the only Twilight I know and that matters to me.”

I shamefully bowed my head before her; then my hoof rose to move aside the plate on my chest that hid the true me from the world.

“Once you become a queen, you may look in my crystal heart and see that it harbours no love for Princess Celestia and no hate for Queen Chrysalis.”

Though Del met my reply with a pensive grimace, she reached out with her wing and her primaries flicked the switch; the ceramic of my mask lit up with gloomy neon.

“Perhaps, my new abilities would let me help you to figure out… yourself.”

If I lasted long enough. That thought and the subtle meaning of Del’s words prompted me to dryly note, “We indeed need to focus on our promises.”

“That’s not exactly what I wanted to say, but you’re not wrong,” she admitted with a frown. Sudden nervousness marred her features. “Will you come to the… coronation?”

I forced myself to smile.

“Of course.”

“Why haven’t you finished it?” I demanded from Five and Thirteen who had been trying in vain to explain to me the intricacies of the Prime Code for the last few hours.

After days of hitting the books and finding them more confusing than helpful, I resided for the help of Twelve and also Thirteen. Seven, who’d volunteered, sat in front of me, semi-conscious as her eyes projected in the air the complex runes and lines of code that formed herself.

Five sighed and grumbled, “No matter what we tried, the Nexus still requires a crystal matrix that doesn’t exist and isn’t possible to be created.”

I glanced betwixt her and Thirteen, feeling my proverbial hackles rise.

“So, the thirteen of you, who know those enchantments inside and out, want me, who’s seeing that code for the first time, to do in a month’s time something that you couldn’t do in five centuries?” The final words of that winding accusation I practically spat out.

“You’re giving up again,” Thirteen coldly noted.

“Please...” I groaned.

Both him and Five met my frustration stoically, patiently and almost stubbornly waiting for me to continue my study and research. I couldn’t deny the truth in his words; that and my time was running out—the prospect of Delight’s help offered some hope, but two chances were better than one.

Closing my eyes for a few moments to compose myself, I calmly said, “Alright, let’s go through it again. What does this part do?”

“Nothing important—just some commentary,” Five shrugged, her porcelain clinking softly.

“Well, I would appreciate some commentary from the one who wrote that code.” Against my best effort, venom crept back into my words.

Five shot me an inscrutable look and set the segment for extracting the data.

However, nothing happened and I almost decided to move to the next part of Seven’s consciousness. Then her eyes flared up.

Moon Dancer stood in front of me.

“Good to see you again, Twi,” she spoke in a raspy voice that matched her appearance.

A dirty lab coat hung from her withers, thick glasses held together by at least three types of tape perched on the tip of her nose. She peered at me above the grimy lenses with a crooked cryptic smile.

The projection flickered in a distinct way—her pose shifted to the start of the loop.

“If you’re seeing me, then it means you made it back and I, well…” Moon Dancer shrugged and let out an annoyed sigh. “The first thing I want to tell you is that I truly regret how it all turned out.” She glanced away guiltily and thick sadness permeated her voice as she continued, “I know things weren’t so peachy between us as of late, but I still did everything I could for you to return to a world where you’re remembered for your achievements, rather than your mistakes.”

“The transference attempt,” I bitterly commented.

“Yes, among other things.”

“What other things?” I squinted at her. “Or, rather, which?”

“I’m sorry, my responses are limited, you must ask the right questions.”

She said that in a deeply apologetic tone but I also caught a half-condescending, half-mischievous very subtle hint.

Though I never believed in that hologram being a full recording of Moon Dancer’s consciousness, that answer solidified the theory that I’d stumbled upon a message left for Twilight Sparkle. Regardless of who I decided to be, it must have held information I shouldn’t dismiss.

Presented with a riddle that I had a real chance to solve, my mind began to wind up.

Moon Dancer spoke of Twilight’s deeds and misdeeds. She didn’t linger on the transference, so it must have been something else; Twilight had failed to move on—too personal; the TCE turning the Crystal Empire into a nightmare—not directly related to her and it happened much later; that left one thing…

With an almost audible click, the pieces of the puzzle came together—if Pinkie and Twilight were dead, Trixie gone, then who told the runway equinoids about the Machine Goddess but not about the betrayal? Somepony very carefully fed them the information with a purpose.

“You created the legend about the Machine Goddess, didn’t you?” I asked the hologram.

“Yes. Nothing less can operate the Nexus—you said it yourself.”

“Was that the initial plan?” I gaped at her. “To become a goddess?”

Moon Dancer shook her head without a hint of the pride for the fundament she’d laid for Twilight Sparkle, so her friend could redeem herself and fix her mistake. And she wouldn’t leave the solution half-baked.

“How do I become the Machine Goddess?”

“I’m sorry, my responses are limited, you must ask the right questions,” she deadpanned.

I tapped my muzzle with my hoof, producing sharp clicks.

“Is there even a way to become a goddess?” I tried again.

The hologram beamed at me.

“That, my friend, is the right question.” Moon Dancer’s eyes glimmered under her grey bushy brows. “But you’re asking the wrong pony. Program terminated.”

My hoof tapped the door and it answered me only with an animated but muffled conversation beyond—a fight, rather, judging by accusing curses. The creak of hinges shut it down and I beheld the Former Ones in all their glory.

Trixie and Octavia had their hind hooves on the table, Fotia failing to follow the example only by the merit of her filly size; however, she still participated in the game, cards in her hold. Empty bottles, rubbish and half-disassembled devices littered the floor around them.

The trio stared at me, caught unawares. My eyes went over this… den.

“Really?”

“What else are we supposed to do?” the half-phoenix grumbled. “There’s only one Moth in the palace and she’s retired.”

“Really,” I deadpanned.

“Don’t listen to her, she has birdshit for brains,” Octavia commented apologetically.

Fotia responded immediately, “Says the one who has to cheat to win.”

“I didn’t. You just don’t understand the rules…”

The fight reignited and before it pulled all the Former Ones into itself, I hastily called, “Trixie, there’s something I wanted to speak with you about.”

Reluctant, she approached me and we went out of the room, standing by the doorway barking with the critical accessions of intelligence.

As I tried to come up with the correct words to approach the goal of my visit to her, Trixie’s nervous expression grew more intense in its quality until the grimace broke down into guilt.

“I didn’t lie to you. I didn’t know!” she stammered in a pleading voice.

I frowned at her. “What’re you talking about?”

“Spike, he’s—”

My raised hoof abruptly interrupted her.

Carefully controlling my voice, I levelly stated, “I don’t want to talk about this. And I don’t blame you.”

With the obvious direction of the conversation rejected, curiosity claimed Trixie’s expression and I remained indecisive. Reminded of Spike’s horrible state, I suddenly recalled Sunset’s words and before giving it a proper thought, wondered aloud:

“What did Sombra do to you?”

The surely unpleasant question didn’t deeply affect Trixie, however, though her face-mask did grow sombre.

“I passed the plan of the Crystal Empire’s defences to the Equestrian Army,” she quietly said. “I was with him when your brother stormed in; King Sombra put a spell on me that made my body decay.” The Former One swallowed hard. “Slowly.”

“Shining Armor would have helped you,” I uttered, my sympathetic voice matching hers in volume.

Trixie shook her head.

“He had just learned that Princess Cadence had been dead all that time. I tried to dispel the curse but could do nothing. So, I grabbed an unfinished spell King Sombra had been working on—it was supposed to make him a god or something like that. And it didn’t help either—it didn’t work at all… at first.”

Moon Dancer was right. Still, I patiently prompted Trixie to continue her story. “How did you end up in Canterlot?”

“I rushed after my friend, Starlight Glimmer. When I met her on the outskirts, I found out that, like the rest of the Coven, Sombra tasked her to destroy the cities of Equestria.” She paused, grimacing. “Things got heated and I… I didn’t mean to, I didn’t want to harm her.”

She fell silent and I respectfully joined the sorrowful silence.

Finally, Trixie whispered, “Magic that works outside of Harmony always has a price. With the last component the spell was activated and I became who I am now.”

Her leg moved up, leaving one shadow outline, midway, then another. The shades lingered for a moment and merged, disappearing into the arcanium shell.

A pony with two shadows and absolutely nothing else.

“I wish to undo what I did, but the spell is too powerful,” she sadly concluded.

I gauged her melancholic expression and dared:

“Trixie. Do you still have it?”

The steel and plastic of the Sky Palace’s interior changed into cut rock without any warning. The stone passageway didn’t stretch far—dark glistening bone-like structures claimed the walls. The green pulsing luminosity of strange lanterns hanging from the arched ceiling replaced the cold artificial lamps. The air grew humid, heavy with the spicy scent of chitin and unfamiliar alien hints.

However, the Twelve and I encountered no inhabitants of the Hive, though faint clicks and chirrs kept appearing on the edge of my hearing; shadows flickering in the corners of my eyes. Finally, the seemingly endless journey through the foreboding bowels brought us to a membrane that retracted on itself as we approached.

Like stars in the night sky, countless eyes of changelings—thousands upon thousands—glowed in the darkness of the spacious cavern. Only an elevated place in the middle of the chamber emerged from the whispering blackness, a rune-inscribed platform with a sinister twisted throne.

In the dim light of green arcane letters, I found Delight shaking, Chrysalis and Sunset waiting, lost in their thoughts. The faint radiance caught the muzzles of Wire and her family in the front rows, the gleam of Rainbow’s armour and Trixie’s body, Flower’s prosthetic shifted uneasily.

The shadows concealed her expression, but I had no trouble imagining her discontent with my consort of twelve porcelain equines who so starkly stood out amidst the sea of obsidian carapaces. As I took only a single step in her direction, she backed, dissolving into the darkness without a trace.

With all the dwellers and guests (except for Luna) present, I expected the ceremony to commence, the changeling queen climbing onto the true throne; instead, she only regarded it, sadly and longingly.

In the abrupt and almost deafening utter silence, she said ever so quietly, “Thank you, Sunny. For everything.”

“The pleasure’s all mine, Chryssi,” Sunset replied just as softly. “Farewell.”

In a shaking voice, Del whispered, trying not to make it too loud, but failing, “Will it hurt?”

“No,” Queen Chrysalis said.

At the same time, Sunset stated grimly, “Yes.”

The changeling gave Sunset an amused glance, then smiled encouragingly to Delight, motioning with her head for the shaking mare to come closer.

Del, struggling to make her violently shaking limbs obey, climbed the stairs to the throne and wicked runes. Then, with as much difficulty, she made it onto the seat itself, its height posing a sudden obstacle for the pegasus.

Their eyes met, a creamy pink and milky white of resolute nervousness staring into the verdant depths of resigned deception. A full minute passed before Chrysalis spoke, her tone kind and sorrowful, “Please, care for them like I couldn’t.”

With that as the only warning, the queen’s horn flared up and the air around them exploded with magic.

A wild whirlwind of arcane energies enveloped the platform, the runes pulsing with an erratic heartbeat. The hurricane of jade fire craved to consume everything and everyone in the cavern, but it never went outside the invisible wall marked by the ancient symbols. Its contained rage reflected upon chitin muzzles glistening with fresh tears.

Deep chanting in the lost language of the Unicorn Tribe drummed over the roar of magic. Betwixt the Harmony-violating words, screams of pain filtered through—Sunset hadn’t lied.

Beyond the curtain of viridian flames only silhouettes could be seen—Chrysalis, a lighthouse with her horn ablaze, that fed the maelstrom as much as she guided through it; and a dark form with eyes wide and glowing, her size and outline lost in the constant movement of dancing shadows.

In a just as unheralded fashion as it started, the ritual stopped, the chanting voice dying out and the chrysalis of emerald flame beginning to unravel, falling like a screen at a theatre play to announce a new act. The runes winked out, leaving only charred marks on the grey stone.

Chrysalis’ body regained its black colour. Before yielding to the silent void, the last spurt of fire let me witness it fall into itself in a shower of cinders. The comforter, only slightly singed, covered her remains; the crown rolled to the throne with a melodious clutter.

Whilst the changelings, little lights of artificial bodies and limbs refused for the darkness to reign absolute, it managed to claim the platform.

The silence rang with breaths held. The air tingled, every pair of faceted eyes, those love-hungry stars of the chitin-black night fixed themselves on the nothingness in the heart of the Swarm, waiting for the newfound aching void in their chests to be mended.

Glowing deep green eyes opened in the darkness.

The soft light of myriad lanterns lit by the Swarm rendered the cavern as bright as dawn, revealing the slightly taken aback form of a changeling queen sitting on the throne.

Her chitin, yet to harden, matched that of her predecessor in its milky whiteness. Periwinkle mane, save for the subtle hint of poisonous green at the tips, cascaded down her shoulders in a waterfall of curls. Magnificent wings extended from her back on their own, glimmering with all the colours of the rainbow, just as soft as her chitinous coat, but only for so long.

A chorus laden with love, joy and respect, shook the floor and the walls.

“Hail Queen Heterocera! Hail Queen Heterocera! Hail Queen Heterocera!”

I stared at the open pages, the pencil in my magic absently tapping the workbench. The book, that book bound in leather, displayed the poorly scribbled notes of a complicated spell. I fought back the desire to flip through the rest of its contents for any clarification, but Trixie insistently asked that I not dig through her diary.

Suddenly, I had nothing to tap with—the pencil in my magic had turned into a small pile of dust.

I glared at Trixie, inky shadows still bubbling around her horn; she mirrored my expression, including the frustration that went deeper than the loss of a writing utensil. Though it had been days since she’d brought her notes, we had made almost no progress.

King Sombra was no fool when it came to writing spells, but the problem rested not on the deciphering of the rare and crude cuneiform of the rams and goats woven into his creation; first reluctant to even offer me the spell, Trixie eventually offered invaluable advice as soon as she fully understood my intent.

According to her words, the enigmatic entities referred to as gods had unlimited access to the planet’s arcanium core and its energy, despite Harmony being specifically created to prevent that. The spell Sombra had been working on aimed for the same result, through the means of shadow weaving, already exploiting Harmony—the combination of caprine blood magic and whatever he’d glimpsed from Princess Luna.

However, it proved insufficient.

Besides me refusing to use said practices due to their well-known cost, the inkling provided by the spell’s draft strongly hinted at the necessity to basically tear a hole in Harmony for anything to work—a deed that required an energy output comparable to the effort of moving the celestial bodies.

Trixie stopped giving me the stink eye and reclined on the chair, it creaking menacingly. She groaned, “Damn it, Tavi, if only you hadn’t given those crystals to the Stalliongrad assholes.”

“They’re helping us, remember? I didn’t go through all those troubles only to hear you whining,” Octavia grumbled, momentarily tearing her gaze from ‘A Farewell to Hooves: The Arcane Prosthetics’.

“I’m not whining. I’m complaining.”

“You’re whining,” I commented, refuelling Trixie’s annoyance with me.

Ignoring her, I bored a hole with my eyes into the scrawls on aged paper. As before, they refused to disclose anything new.

“We’ve been over this already,” I said and my voice turned grim. “The only possible external source of the required energy is the Crystal Heart.”

Then I suddenly remembered and scoffed, “Or the Elements, but good luck even finding six ponies in the Sky Palace, virtuousness aside.”

With that I busied myself tidying the improvised table, stacking papers, digging the tablets out from beneath them.

Octavia slammed her book over the materials, strewing them all around, and huffed, “You unicorns are always so quick to give up.”

“This isn’t the time for your jokes,” Trixie barked, giving me an apologetic glance.

“Trix, from what you told me, the Elements are the tool of Harmony—an arcane device,” Octavia said to her marefriend then turned to me. “And every device can be hacked.”

I rolled my eyes.

“If it is so easy, why has nopony done it already?”

“How many have tried?”

Recovered from the now completely empty ruins of the Royal Castle, the most powerful artefacts in Equestria lay on the workbench like some cheap trinkets, half of them disassembled so only the gems remained, connected to mainframes.

Substantially changing the beyond complex enchantments written in runes more ancient than Equestria, perhaps even older than the Tribes, proved an impossible task, even overlooking the time constraints imposed on us.

Each Element had a part that evaluated the Bearer and another that determined the threats to Harmony. We targeted the segment that connected those two core components.

And when we finally started to make progress, another problem arose, unforeseen.

“I’m not letting you do that!” Octavia yelled at Trixie.

“Who else?” Trixie snapped; her expression grim, but determined.

“Ask your friend Sunset, nobody is going to miss that war criminal.”

“Queen Heterocera needs her. Canterlot needs her.”

A recursive loop would lock the ‘evaluating’ part in an undefined condition and allow the rest of the program to proceed. But the Elements still needed a target to release the energy for Sombra’s modified spell.

Octavia turned to me.

“Please, let me do it. Not because I want you to become the Machine Goddess—it’s none of my business. But I do care for that dum-dum.”

I knew why Trixie had volunteered—it would be a win-win for her; Octavia must have known that as well.

Former Ones violated the rules of Harmony by default, regardless of whether their state of existence was a choice or not. I… trod on the grey moral ground and we had no idea how the Elements would react to an entity such as myself.

I could try, however, and return to the necessity of choice if it didn’t work.

So, I said, “I’ll do it.”

The truth I didn’t want them to know was that if anything went horribly wrong…

Almost always...

Terminal.

The Elements waited on the stand of deaf arcanium… menacingly.

Whenever I moved, the empty ritual chamber echoed with ominous echoes, reminding me that at least a dozen rooms in every direction lay deserted as well, in fear of collateral damage; the furthest wall divided me from Canterlot, a long way down.

Despite the huge risk established by the inability to test out any part of the endeavour, the numerous unknown variables and no possibility for a second chance, I had barely talked with anyone.

As the queen of the Sky Palace, Delight knew and disapproved, due to the dangers the ritual posed for her friend; Sunset wished me luck and it took me an inordinate amount of effort to get Trixie and Octavia out of this room; though nobody had informed Flower, I caught a glimpse of her metal leg on the way here; the Twelve readily encouraged me without the slightest hint of concern—they had complete faith in their mother.

My magic opened the pouch and poured the arcanium dust onto the floor, following the intricate patterns dictated by the spell, placing runes in specific places, until almost the entirety of the room glimmered with the malignant sheen.

The next step would be activating the spell and… surviving it.

Though we’d designed it in a modern non-verbal manner, the rustle of arcanium carried by magic winds began to whisper its song as rune after rune, layer after layer of the spell was weaved. The pink glow around me and the Elements darkened, bubbling with inky black and green, wisps of red interconnected the room like a web.

The Elements flared and a rainbow instantly found me, rushing with terrifying purpose in my direction; the spell began to absorb it.

The energies roared and I felt more than heard my plates cracking when the spell began to gradually charge. I fell to one knee, still maintaining the flow of magic, an impossible amount of power washing over me. The ceramic exploded and my skeleton started to glow; then my eyes melted away and with a pop absolute silence came.

I sensed my crystals shattering.

Nothing.

Having no senses, I couldn’t tell how much time had passed or even when it started to. No beginning and no end—oblivion.

I became a thought in the void.

But I was thinking, therefore I still existed.

Suddenly I no longer occupied the infinite emptiness alone.

A mote of golden light, an incandescent grain of sand, soared towards me like a comet. Or it could be crawling as I had nothing to compare it with. It could be the Sun itself.

My eyes didn’t move, didn’t focus, I couldn’t take a better look or turn away. I could only witness.

Time had passed—or maybe it hadn’t.

The shining dot was no longer a dot, but a glowing equine silhouette of golden dust.

As suddenly as the incandescent equine appeared, it stopped. Perhaps it had never moved; it could have been there all along.

It wasn’t a voice that I heard, but my thoughts being thought by someone else.

“Razed Neighponia as a message—a warning.”

Thirteen told me about the connection betwixt the gods and the calamity that descended upon the land of the unicorn divergents. If they had turned an entire country into a ruin for what neighponians did… what had I brought upon Canterlot?

“They called us out by devising the Tools—a hammer, a blade and a hoof shoe to cheat Harmony through the Dead One’s heart.” Thoughts that didn’t belong to me appeared in my mind. “We put out every forge, slew every smith, buried every mine. You wrote a spell—we shall burn every parchment, break every horn, level every school.”

My entire being turned into a mental scream etched into dread:

“I’m not the same!”

“Why grasp for the core?”

“I want to become the goddess to protect my children—the equinoids.”

Would it mean something to the entity for whom all mortals meant so little?

A pause followed, no question and no answer burned into my mind. Then, a voice, a real sound I could hear, deep and powerful, yet gentle like sand rustling in a sunset breeze, came.

“You are wrong. We care.”

Though I now had a body, a glowing purple magic outline, I dared not move, standing in the middle of the void, awkward and confused.

Above me towered a figure resembling a Saddle Arabian horse, tall and majestic. Swirling sand formed neither a stallion nor a mare, carrying with it exotic spicy scents and the distinct sensation of being under a blazing sun.

A Dune Dervish.

“Yes, we are,” the equine answered my thoughts. “Each of us watches over our mortal kin, and we won’t tolerate any threat. The so-called equinoids can become one, but we have no right to wipe out a nation just out of fear.”

“But what about Neighponia?”

The Dervish glared at me, golden eyes without pupils drilling into my very being.

“They challenged us and lost. Still, we bestowed grace—they are scattered, not gone.”

The barely readable expression of the Dervish relaxed and they continued, “Peculiar creatures of metal—neither mortal nor immortal. The others are wary. The newcomers need an eye. Perhaps, you can be given a chance.”

“Thank you,” I stammered, bowing my head.

“We shall observe your every move, make no mistake,” the Dervishes commented in a voice like the wind of the night desert.

“How many of you are there?”

“Enough.”

“Why did only you come?”

“A pony was our friend once,” the Dervishes replied, their shining eyes half-lidded. “The Sun.”

“She’s gone now.”

“We know.” The elegant golden horse bowed their head. “It is a shame her work was never finished.”

“Her work?” I echoed, tilting my head.

“The Sun tried to better Harmony, extend its rules and create exceptions. She devised a demi-goddess, though not true, and planned to make one more.”

“You mean Princess Cadence?”

I wondered why the Dervish stopped prying both answers and questions from my consciousness. Hopefully, out of respect for an equal.

“Names mean nothing to us.”

An uneasy silence took reign.

The ironic coldness of the desert gods and their laconic answers promised no satiation for my appetite for knowledge. Not to mention the dangers of pestering a god.

However, they broke the stillness first.

“You should know—the Windigos lured by the follies of ponydom have brought great woe to many, and those who protect them seek vengeance.”

With that, the Dervish turned from me to trot into nothingness, leaving in their wake golden hoofprints full of dissipating sand.

“What should I do?”

“It is up to you now, Machine Goddess.”

“Could you give me any advice?” I desperately called after the fading deity.

“You shall choose.”

Once again, I remained alone with the void, my glowing body as the only thing disrupting its absolute and suffocating emptiness. I raised my hoof before my muzzle and lines of runes and numbers met me—code; that reminded me how and why I ended up here.

I suddenly became aware of the magic that surrounded me, that formed me—the endless ocean of arcane energy with different currents and the bottom.

The core—the enormous mass of arcanium twisted time and space with erratic heartbeats, sending protuberances of raw power crashing into an invisible wall. Harmony separated that primal magic from the rest of the world, the source of energy so potent that it could allow an individual to forever tear celestial bodies from their orbits.

I tapped into that well of power.

Unlike anything I had experienced, it infused me with a sensation of total omnipotence and yet I instantly felt the erosion it brought with the ability. I cut off the torrent, refusing to indulge in drinking more—I’d had enough for now.

The ‘spigot’ remained, however, the link established beyond the spell we crafted. I now had access to a tool stronger than Harmony, than anything, save for the freezing hunger of space.

I’d become a goddess.

And yet I hadn’t.

My fragile mortal mind could embrace only the tiniest fraction of what the core offered. I was just a mage without any limitation, still bound to this world. Though, in the end, no amount of power mattered—only its application.

The loud clatter of fallen metal heralded my arrival into Flower’s workshop—it possessed the solitude I sought.

My body took the most familiar form—a unicorn mare, but I didn’t bother to define any detail.

Explosive though my entrance might have been, it only partially contributed to the devastation. The TCE had visited this place, rummaging through every container, turning everything upside down.

The door creaked pitifully and fell off, my gentle nudge, preceded by the rude entrance of the TCE sniffers, becoming the tipping point. Rust scrunched under my ethereal hooves as I climbed higher and higher, following the steps of my previous two bodies.

The hill brought me to the view I’d witnessed so many times before, though it never ceased to amaze me. The city of the future—a future tomb.

Evacuation?

Rather a jailbreak that demanded sacrifices.

I could deceptively easily change that—turn the TCE quarters into a fine dust. But would my first act as a goddess be bringing the heavens upon those I thought to be wrong?

The scenery of Canterlot no longer intimidated me, nor caused aversion, for I finally began to understand the riddle it posed; Spike had given me the last hint.

How did it come to this?

Equestria had become a land of freedom and therefore everyone had a choice now. But why did the ponies and whatnot choose a nightmare when they had an alternative?

Of course, sometimes life offered no better choice.

Making a world where not a single creature would ever have to choose betwixt two losing scenarios lay beyond possible. Nor would that fix anything, for having a better alternative didn’t mean it would always be chosen.

As a ‘goddess’ who’d witnessed two timelines, dipped my proverbial hooves into two eras and caused ripples, I had an experience not many could relate to. Yet even with all that, I wouldn’t dare to call my every step true and leading to only victory.

If Chrysalis had known that successfully invading Canterlot equalled marching into a gilded cage, she would have never considered that option. But she was desperate and afraid.

Luna, even knowing how her deal with the Nightmare might turn out, asked for its help again.

Everyone I encountered over the past two weeks could offer me such an example.

Our hearts won against logic. A reverse of a coin—the price for having emotions, for being more than a machine, for being alive.

Even equinoids, artificial beings, participated in the bargain like any other. I could absolve them of that flaw. Rip out their hearts and make them into the arcane golems some considered them to be.

But what would a choice be worth with no emotion to it, no gamble?

A mathematical function aimed at finding the best solution, an optimal course of action leading to… what? We were specks of flesh and the tiniest sparkles of magic on a mote of dirt soaring through the deadly void of the uncaring universe. There was no final goal, no ultimate reason, but the one we chose for ourselves relying on our hearts.

However, all that didn’t justify the nightmare in front of me.

The mess Equestria had become couldn’t be fixed. Ponies, equinoids, Kirin, neighponese, goats—everyone would have to start anew. But if that nightmare happened once, it could happen again. Rainbow spoke truly—everything, no matter how significant, would be forgotten; the river of time had no mercy.

There had to be a way to prevent a second Canterlot.

I could become a goddess ruling equinoids with a proverbial iron hoof, making them subdue the organic population of Canterlot into order. In truth, the equinoids needed so little to overcome any others and make them kneel. Yet pushing my sense of justice and my ideals onto someone was nothing but an exercise in self-righteousness.

Life, artificial or not, never needed a ruler, malevolent or benevolent. The gods of other nations were but legends—they were a choice.

Not so long ago I thought of ponies who chose virtue, refusing to succumb to loathing or bitterness. Equinoids had done that too—Adamant Smash and Svarka.

Virtue couldn’t be forced and made to stick in a society, not permanently. It had to be a choice like anything else. I now had the ability to offer an alternative to every equinoid and to make it obvious, unobscured by emotions without removing them.

My purpose as the Machine Goddess lay in bringing every equinoid who wished so into the Unity, a network powered by the Prime Code with me as its Nexus. Every member of the Unity would see the virtues and flaws of the others and would have a choice. Of course, it would be naive to believe that every equinoid would choose virtue over a flaw, but, as much as they had faith in me, I believed in them being better themselves.

It would be a society of empathy, where not a single equinoid would be able to hurt another without feeling that pain. They would understand each other, know every feeling and thought. It would be a society with a choice, and it would be an example for organic life.

It wasn’t an absolute solution for all woes of ponies and equinoids, but another choice I had to make, guided by my faith, unable to foresee the consequences. I wasn’t a goddess, after all—the future would always remain a mystery to me.

My footsteps echoed through the grave silence of the tunnel, disturbing the reddish dust and ashes which once could have become my last resting place. The incandescence from my shining body lit my path—the equinoids had an expectation of how their Holy Mother looked.

It took me no effort to call slivers of arcanium from the soil and make it submit to my will, covering the swirling blazing sun of my flesh with shining plates. The rusty cables and wires of the Junkyard became my mane, clinging like snakes, trying to bite into the incorporeal golden halo.

I sensed the magic of the equinoid inhabiting these passages, though I could also find a way to her by orienting to the smears of oil on the floor—my dark, undrying blood.

Brass Litany didn’t notice me at first, her attention focused on picking up the fallen, slightly less rusty than average metal junk.

A piece of metal in her mouth had red ulcers cleaned away, leaving a reflective spot. That tiny part of the half-decayed skull mirrored my radiance.

Before the sound of the equinoid skull rolling across the floor died out, she joined it, bowing as low as she could, almost lying on the dirt, her chain-mane ringing like a hundred bells.

When my hoof touched her, the corrosion of her body faded away—her copper mane and tail turned to fire, her steel skin shared mine; shining with an immaculate polish.

In curiosity, my magic went deeper—into her crystals.

BLD-003.745.MK-44 with a dream of working as a part of a mechanised construction crew at the Inner City. Then came her own memory—of the greedy owner saving on skipping the scheduled crystal cleansing. She and her crew craved freedom and on one of those misty neon nights, they tried to break their chains. Only she’d made it underground, where Alnico found her, broken and hysterical and his sweet promises turned her pain into a righteous rage—another purpose.

She was never given a choice.

Not anymore.

Author's Note

Special thanks to Jay Tarrant.

I hope you've enjoyed reading this story so far.

If you notice any mistakes sneaked in through the editing, let me know.

Stay awesome.