Steely Heart, Perpetual Spark

Nearly a week had passed with not a hint to the festival’s progress. Several saunters through the Everfree or short musical endeavors helped pass the time. On the sixth day, a knock resounded from her door. Due to the prolonged drought of information, Chrysalis’ patience was nearing its limit.

Assuming her persona, she opened the door. Standing at the bottom step, was a cheerful gray pegasus. “The mayor has informed the mail carriers that we could find a Sonorous here. Are you her,” the pegasus finished. After confirming her identity, the mail mare plunged her hoof into the mailbag.

While she fished around her satchel, Sonorous wondered how the pegasus could perceive anything with her eyes crossed. Extracting a scroll, she held it toward Sonorous. Noticing Celestia’s official seal, her magic quickly drew the scroll closer. Enthralled by what the message might state, she closed the door. Unperturbed by her rudeness, the mail mare flew to her next destination. Dropping her disguise, she ripped off the ribbon and unrolled the scroll.

Dear Citizen,

We’re happy to inform you that the preparations for Equestria’s First Continental Gathering of Artists, is complete. In five days, Canterlot will host a week-long celebration to both known and yet to be discovered practitioners of the performing arts. Each performance will be categorized by its genre.

If the theater isn’t your delectation or your specific preference is performing another day. Don’t fret, come join the fun at our citywide festival. Enjoy numerous games and entertainment hosted throughout Canterlot. Enjoy both cuisines and games from both native and foreign lands. All patronage will be allotted to the Equestria’s relief funding.

Princess Celestia

All her frustration instantly faded, leaving a somber expression on her face. As she stood there, images of her triumphant victory flashed within her mind. The four slain princesses, trampled underhoof as she danced atop their corpses. Informing all of Canterlot that she now sat upon the throne. Swept up in her ecstatic conceptions, she scanned the wagon‘s interior.

However, as the truth of her predicament seeped back in, she dropped onto her haunches. Dejected, she lowered her head as her smile morphed into a sorrowful frown. Chrysalis silently crooked, damn it, before assuming a prone position on the floor. The fleeting happiness she felt was replaced with a heart-wrenching sadness.

Desperate to ease her faltering mood, she slowly drifted to sleep. The next two days, Chrysalis remained shut up in her wagon. Even the slow decline of her energy didn’t rouse her from the stupor that had consumed her. On the third day, however, a rather loud knock reverberated through the door. Even after several refusals to open the door, the force against it only grew stronger.

Realizing that it wouldn’t hold out against such abuse, she reluctantly transformed into Sonorous. After a few more bashes, the door slammed hard against the wall with a loud thud. There stood in the doorway, was Octavia, righting herself to face Sonorous.

“I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it for myself. You’re the last pony I’d expect to see mopping,” she said in a stern tone. Laying in her bed, Sonorous turned to look at her.

“What do you want Octavia,” she halfheartedly replied.

Finding it hard to believe that the despondent pony before her was actually Sonorous, Octavia replied. “I thought you’d be interested to know that Vinyl has been released from the hospital. Although, you’d already know that if you weren’t wallowing in pity.” Sonorous just stared at her with dead eyes. With a cathartic sigh, Octavia made her way to her bedside and sat down.

“What’s wrong, this is very abnormal for you,” she stated with concern in her voice. Silence filled the wagon for several long minutes until the rustling of the covers cut through. Laying on her stomach now, Sonorous lifted her head wearily.

“I know that I should be happy, my desire to perform in Canterlot is coming true. It’s this realization that drowns me in sorrow. I just wish my family could be here to spur me onward during my performance,” she droned. Furrowing her brow, she attempted to comfort her. As she did, her mind recalled the story that Vinyl had relayed to her.

Feeling ashamed to have dismissed it so quickly due to Sonorous' apathetic attitude. “I’m sorry your family isn’t here but they’ll always be with you, both in heart and spirit. Besides, they wouldn’t want to see you so distraught, Octavia finished. After a meek word of appreciation, Sonorous turned her back toward Octavia.

Unsure of what else to do, Octavia stood up to leave. Stopping in the doorway, she turned back to glare at her. Anger rose within her, the pitiful sight of the once strong and confident pony made her sick. Loudly clearing her throat, she waited until she knew Sonorous was listening.

“I may not particularly like you and find you as emotionally aware as a rock. However, Vinyl considers you a friend, which makes us friends by association, even if we don’t want to be. I’d be remiss as her friend if I didn’t try to cheer you up. So I’ll tell you what you essentially told her. Get your shite together, I understand your hurting."

"We’re all been plunged into the depths of misery at one time. However, that’s no excuse to exclude everypony from possibly helping,” she growled. Sonorous didn’t move but her turned ear signified that she was listening. “I’ve seen you with other ponies, I’m sure they would lend you their help. I know for certain that Vinyl would do anything to help as well.

This moping isn’t productive at all, not to mention nopony can help if you don’t ask,” her voice livid. Unwilling to gaze at the miserable unicorn any longer. Octavia stormed out, slamming the door behind her. With a weak sigh, Sonorous turned her attention back to the wall. She appreciated what Octavia tried to do.

Unfortunately, she would never know the depths of her particular pain. It wrenched her heart to the point that made her wish for its exclusion during birth. She’d thought to seek containment of her grief and believed to have achieved just that. However, the recent wave of agony proved her control was nothing but a farce.

Discovering the cause of her anguish, only flung her deeper into despair. Her vendetta, the metaphoric blade that she brandished against the Diarchy. The very instrument brought forth to exact justice would inevitably bring neither comfort nor any conciliation. Only now did she realize that the memories of her fallen drones were inexorably tied to the princesses' fate.

The reaping of their lives would accomplish nothing but a hollow victory. Yet, her besmirched pride wouldn’t allow her to deviate from the path set forth. Disinclined to think about it any longer, she closed her eyes. Desperately hoping that sleep would fetch her a pleasant dream. Extending a salve, if only briefly, to heal her trampled spirit.