Ponest Dungeon

Chapter 9: Concluding Confluence

Week 23, Day 4, Mid Afternoon

Cursing, Blueblood climbed the rickety ladder which led to the top of the Abbey’s belltower. “You’d better have a good reason for hauling me up here,” he said to Double Diamond as he crested the trapdoor and pressed himself against one of the walls.

He peered through the horizontal slats of the storm shutters which covered the tower’s huge windows, and caught a glimpse of the sun through a smoky haze. Long shadows lanced throughout the town wherever the light was able to pierce the thick soot. They fell upon the team of a dozen or so mercenaries scurrying around at the base of the hill, futilely trying to drag and push the now-two-wheeled cannon towards the base of the abbey hillside.

Blueblood allowed himself a grim smile. “If there’s an upside to this situation, it’s that they aren’t getting that cannon up here anytime soon.”

Double, who’d taken cover behind a support strut, peered through the window slats. “While that’s indeed fortuitous, I actually called you up here because of our worries about the fires spreading. Look over there.”

Blueblood’s gaze followed Double’s hoof east past the various blazing sections of the town and towards the Everfree. “What am I looking at?”

“Storm’s coming in.”

Blueblood squinted his eyes. He could make out dark clouds over the Everfree. They were heading towards Ponyville, very quickly.

“It seems the weather team is going to have another big one to fend off.” Double shrugged. “But at least it’ll take care of the fires.”

“Wait a minute.” Blueblood surveyed the town again. “There are a lot less buildings ablaze than there should be.”

“Sir?”

“Look.” Blueblood pointed to a few buildings in town. “Not many have actually gone up.” He squinted again. “And the fires don’t really seem to be spreading. A town like this, with all the thatch? The whole place should be burning by now.”

Blueblood indicated a few structures which were belching out smoke like industrial stacks. “The few individual buildings that are on fire are pumping a lot more soot into the air than what I’d expect from a normal house conflagration. It’s like somepony piled them up with damp fuel and coal, or something.” He rested his elbows on the ledge and steepled his hooves. “But why?”

“To make it look worse than it is?” Double didn't sound entirely convinced. “Come to think of it, there weren’t as many dead bodies in the roads as I’d expected on our way across town.”

“Expected?” Blueblood shot Double a suspicious glance. “I thought you said you didn’t know this was coming.”

“I didn’t.” Double continued to scan the streets. “But I’ve been in a town that was sacked before. You never get a real feeling for how many ponies there are in a village… until you see them all laid out for the crows.”

“Your town was razed?”

Blueblood saw a single tear roll part-way down Double’s cheek, before it froze in place.

“Yes, Our Town.” Double brushed the thin line of ice away. “I met Starlight out in the frozen north, shortly before she decided to build the place. It’s where I met Sugar, Night, and Party. I won’t bore you with the politics or philosophies of the place, but suffice it to say that it was our home.” His gaze traveled down to the floor, and his brow furrowed. “But then they came.”

“Who?”

“We don’t know for sure. Their armor was grey, and marked with no livery, just shoulder and dorsal spikes. They wore peculiar masks with tiny red horns in front, and the eyes… all of their eyes glowed a sickly green.”

“And these were ponies?”

Double nodded. “They came at night, drove everypony from their homes, and butchered them in the streets. We would’ve met the same fate, but Starlight led a charge to the vault and opened it, giving us a fighting chance.”

“So you beat them?”

“No. There were too many. When it became clear that we’d lost the town, she held them off by herself; fought like she was possessed by a demon, and bought us time to escape.” Double shook his head. “We thought she died.”

Blueblood wasn’t sure what to say to that. “Then why are you even here?”

Double met Blueblood’s eyes. “Because she found us again, and asked what we’d give to snuff out evil far beyond what took Our Town. Starlight was blind, but… she could see so much more than any of us. She told us that what we would be part of, here, now, is more important than any of our plans to restore Our Town, or any of our plans for revenge. So we came.”

Something itched in the back of Blueblood’s mind. “And she trusts all of you implicitly?”

“I think she does. At least, she trusts us to do the right thing. And… that’s why she wasn’t truthful with us.”

“Come again?”

“Starlight knows that I will lay down my own life for her, and that the others would as well. But her foresight probably told her what would have happened if she told us about either the invasion or the fleshforms. She must have known—”

Blueblood let out a humorless laugh. “That you’d try to stop it.”

Double looked at him again and nodded. “The ponies of this town and your company didn’t swear their lives to Starlight; we did. It… it wouldn’t have been right to just let ponies be killed.”

“She really left nothing to chance.” Blueblood looked back out over the town, and then to the Everfree. “That storm really is coming in fast,” he observed. “Prolly be here within the next ten minutes; it is really tearing along.”

A loud rumble accentuated his statement.

“How appropriate,” Blueblood muttered.

A loud crash, much closer than the approaching storm, echoed up the abbey’s tower. Then came another, and another. There was also a subtle reverberation that came with each crash. Blueblood and Double both looked out the window, but were unable to see anything. The impacts fell into a regular rhythm. The sound of splintering wood led Blueblood to wonder if something was hammering against one of the abbey doors.

“Did you see them haul up a battering ram or anything?” Blueblood rushed over to the ladder and started to descend. After they’d made it about a quarter of the way down, he looked up and immediately regretted going first. Double was fast enough that he was right behind Blueblood, and his underside was a little too close for comfort.

“No. I didn’t see anypony extraordinary approaching any of the—woah!” There was a clattering of metal as Double lost and then quickly regained his hoofing. He’d only slipped down a single rung, but another would have resulted in a collision.

“Don’t fall,” Blueblood said sardonically. “I don’t need you riding me like a bobsled to the bottom.”

“Believe me, the last thing I want to do is ride you anywhere.”

“Is that a crack at my promiscuity?” Blueblood smirked as they continued their descent.

“Sorry Sir, but I don’t have a sense of humor that I’m aware of.”

That forced a bark of laughter from Blueblood, despite their current plight. He could hear the manure eating grin behind the words. “Tempest already used that one on me. Glad you can joke, even in these circumstances.” Now that he thought back on it though, Tempest may not have been joking.

“Inability to make light in a dark situation only leads to despair.”

“I’ve heard that before, too.” Blueblood reached the bottom and took a quick glance around the abbey’s sanctuary, seeing that most ponies had moved clear of the main doors. “You’re not quoting saints or some such, are you?”

“Solmare said it the other day.” Double placed his armored hooves back on terra firma. He unhooked his helmet from his saddlebags and donned it. “She always has a way of lightening the mood.”

“Had a way,” Blueblood replied. “Wow, that just killed any joviality I’d been feeling.”

Breath steamed and froze from Double’s helmet. “I admit that as a harbinger of winter and death, I do tend to accidentally bring the mood down.”

“Well then, I bet dealing with whatever’s trying to break in and kill us will play more to your strengths,” Blueblood said as they approached the source of all the racket.

One of the door hinges popped free from its moorings and dangled like a pony strung from the gallows. The creaking of distressed wood echoed throughout the building as the impromptu barricade was bent by mounting pressure.

Blueblood turned to the gathered ponies. “Civilians, get as far back as you can! Yona, Aloe, Applejack: come here.”

“Sir?” Double looked at Blueblood expectantly.

“Congratulations Double, and meet your new team. I need you, Yona, Aloe and Applejack to keep the civilians alive as long as you can.” Blueblood cringed as another hinge popped free from the wall “Stick together if you can; you’ll all do better if you group up.” He turned to the others. “Listen to his orders.”

As soon as the words had left Blueblood’s mouth, the door gave way with a splintering crash.

The twisted mockeries of Moondancer and her team burst through the entryway, sending the pile of pews and other assorted furniture flying in their wake. Despite appearing as they had in life, Blueblood couldn’t help but think that Moondancer, Lemon Hearts, Twinkleshine, and Minuette all moved like bags full of snakes that were pretending to walk—and failing miserably.

“These… creatures are the same as Ametrine?” Double sounded less than convinced.

“I don’t understand why these ones never developed as completely as Ametrine. She was complete the same night I met her, but these ones... even with all the work I put in—”

“It’s because you didn’t want it as much.”

Blueblood’s blood boiled as he saw Starlight enter the Abbey with an emaciated unicorn stallion by her side. He didn’t recognize the newcomer directly, but felt that if he were to vomit in that instant, his stomach contents would be about the same hue as their fur. Yet as he studied the gaunt pony’s haughty expression and familiar jawline, he felt sure this could be none other than Sour Puss—offspring of Neighsay, and mastermind—scratch that, lead moron—of this invasion.

“You actually cared when you forced your will upon Ametrine,” Starlight said. “You even cared somewhat for Zecora, which is why she’s more complete. But these others, even your poor foalhood friend Moondancer, they were mere tools to you.”

“Starlight.” Blueblood spat the name through gritted teeth. “I knew you played with lives, but this is a new low, even for you.”

“I know.”

If Blueblood didn’t know better, he would have sworn that he heard sadness in Starlight‘s reply.

“Enough talk,” Sour said, stepping forward and swinging out a foreleg like an over-exuberant attorney making an objection. “Flesh things, kill them all! But save the Prince for me.”

“The Prince imprisoned us! He’s ours!” Moondancer hissed in a voice that could barely be described as equine.

Sour turned to Moondancer. “If you kill his friends, you’ll cause him even greater pain.”

The statement caused a wicked grin to spread across Moondancer’s face. She and the others slithered forward into the abbey’s main hall.

Double shouted orders to his team, first sending Yona charging into Lemon Hearts, crushing the masked creature into a stone wall. The sound of multiple cracking ribs did little to stop the simulacrum from laughing, spraying blood onto Yona with each chuckle. Then Lemon Hearts’ mouth tore open into a shark-tooth filled maw, which snapped viciously. Yona grunted, forcibly spun Lemon around, then used one of her massive chain-braids as a garrote and started choking the Tartarus out of the abomination.

Applejack shuffled as best she could to block Moondancer’s advance, planting her uninjured foreleg and letting fly with both of her hind legs. Moondancer quickly slid forward, deflecting Bucky McGillicuddy, dodging Kicks McGee and backhoofing Applejack into a group of villagers, knocking them all down like bowling pins. She advanced on the prone ponies, hissing and brandishing new limbs full of claws.

Aloe raised a hoof, wrapping Minuette in a burst of brambles. Then Aloe’s body glowed as Lotus possessed her and frantically swung her blade to deflect the plethora of retaliatory razor-limbs that Twinkleshine flailed in her direction. Were it not for the dead mare’s preternatural speed, she would have been quickly shredded.

Blueblood watched all of this unfold in an instant. But time slowed down as Zecora approached Blueblood and Double with menace in her rubbery steps and a murderous gleam in her eyes. Seeing her—or even a simulacrum of her—alive again raised a potent cocktail of emotions. The fact that she wasn’t wearing her hood only accentuated them.

“Do you have anything to say?” Zecora pushed ahead and lifted a foreleg, which ripped open into a razor-sharp crab claw that she pointed at Blueblood. “Hurry up, we don’t have all day!”

The claw opened and closed quickly as Zecora charged. Double dashed to intercept her, blocking her snips several times before she caught his sword and gripped it tightly. The two spun as they began a desperate tug-o-war for the blade.

Blueblood drew his sword as Sour approached him, apparently unarmed. He felt a brief pang of regret for killing Neighsay, though mostly for the sake of how many of his wretched spawn the act had led him to encounter… and subsequently kill. He briefly found himself trying to remember how many were left.

“Sour Puss, I presume,” Blueblood said as the two took measure of each other. “Facing me without a weapon? You must be anxious to join your brothers, eh?”

“Hardly.” Sour’s snide grin turned Blueblood’s stomach. “I’ve come to break you.”

“No offense,” Blueblood said as they faced off, “but unless you're better at swordplay or magic than your brothers were, then you’ll need a real ace up your sleeve to pull that one off.”

“Bring her.”

Glancing past Sour towards the entrance, Blueblood felt his eyes widen. He watched two of Sour’s mercenaries escort Ametrine into the Abbey, soon taking up a position beside Sour.

Blueblood’s eyes met hers.

Sour’s grin widened. “Still feeling confident, Prince?”

“Ametrine.” Blueblood immediately knew she’d come willingly. The memory was still fresh in his mind, of when she’d sprouted more blades and ferocity than was possessed by his entire company. There was no way that Sour and his mercenaries could have forced her here against her will. The fire that he’d felt—to fight back against Sour’s invasion, and against the rogue fleshforms—was snuffed out, like a candle thrust into a bucket of water.

“Fleshbeasts!” Sour held up a hoof. “Stop, and watch your captor break!”

Zecora and the other fleshforms temporarily ceased their brutal assault and turned.

“Go.” Sour turned his cruel grin on Ametrine. “Tell him. I want to see the look on his face.”

The two mercenaries stood aside, allowing Ametrine a clear path. It seemed as if everypony’s gaze was on her as she approached Blueblood. But all she seemed to be able to do was stare deeply into his eyes.

Blueblood saw the pain in her gaze. He felt it.

Ametrine’s words echoed in his ears. Everything you’ve done up to this point has, in one way or another, been about you.

“Do it.” Blueblood knew then, that Tempest was right; while he’d said Ametrine was his highest priority, that was not how he had treated her.

Think about it; everything you say and do revolves around you somehow.

“Kill me.” Snuffing out his horn glow, Blueblood allowed his sword to clatter to the floor. He looked to the group of cowering villagers, and the remaining members of his company. There was pain and fear etched across their faces. “Ametrine, please... spare the others; they’ve done nothing to earn your wrath. But for everything I’ve done to you, and everything I’ve failed to be for you, I deserve it.”

Ametrine reached out, her forelegs grasping Blueblood by the sides of his head. He knew how easy it would be for her to crush his skull in her grasp, or to end him in any number of other horrific ways. Instead, she pulled him close. “I know,” she whispered into his ear. “But deserve’s got nothing to do with this.”

“Kill him quickly, Ametrine!” Zecora said with a maniacal lilt in her voice. “For him to live, is obscene—” Her voice became a choked gurgle.

A deathly stillness overtook the interior of the abbey. Silence reigned. It was broken only by the sound of Zecora choking on a suffocating mass of calcification that blocked her airway.

Blueblood’s eyes widened as he saw the massive limb of bone that had erupted from Ametrine’s back, flashed through the air, and forcibly thrust itself into Zecora’s mouth and down her throat.

“I was never a fan of the rhyming.” Ametrine withdrew the appendage from Zecora, and Blueblood cringed at the sight of the limb’s sharp tip freely leaking a liquid whose color matched that of Sour’s fur. Wherever the fluid spattered on the ground, there was a caustic hissing as the stone floor was burned.

Zecora opened her mouth as if to speak, but instead shrieked and retched. Her forehooves flew to her muzzle in a reflexive attempt to stem the coming tide, and were instead drenched as bilious sludge poured forth from her gullet. Her jaw and forehooves rapidly dissolved into a putrid slurry as she screeched and flailed in a quickly expanding puddle of herself.

Blueblood’s gaze shot from Zecora to Ametrine. He stared deep into Ametrine’s sparkling violet eyes. “Why?”

“There are worse things,” Ametrine said, rubbing a hoof gently along his cheek, “than being the only thing in this world you care about besides yourself.”

“I… I love—”

“Shut up.” Ametrine put her hoof to Blueblood’s lips. “You’re ruining the moment.”

“What?!” Sour shouted. “She’s an abomination as well? What is this treachery?” He backed slowly towards the door.

His two accompanying mercenaries drew their weapons.

The other fleshforms hissed in a manner very similar to the bubbling material which was all that remained of Zecora’s body.

“You monsters are no siblings of mine.” Ametrine turned to face the slithering quartet. “Now, return from whence you came!” Her acid-stinger flailed menacingly. “Or you will share this one’s fate!”

The fleshforms routed like green military cadets, their horrible voices wailing in terror as they bolted past Sour and through the abbey’s entrance. Their exit was punctuated by the rumble of thunder from the dark clouds that had, at last, subsumed the town.

“You speak of betrayal.” Starlight faced Sour. “But it would seem that Ametrine has finally realized where her loyalties have lain all along.”

Sour dashed past Starlight, wild panic in his eyes.

The two mercenaries looked at Blueblood and his company, then at Ametrine. They shared a glance, and ran after Sour.

“Troops!” Sour shouted to nopony close at hoof, as he and his mercenaries bolted from the abbey with Blueblood and Ametrine close on their heels. “To me! Now!”

Lightning flashed down from the dark sky overhead.

Sour was struck by a sudden gale that whipped across the top of the hill and intensified by the second. He saw a half dozen or so of his soldiers galloping towards the abbey. The fleshforms, however, fled away to the east, towards the Everfree, and away from both the cannon and his reinforcements.

“Cowards!” Sour called after the retreating abominations. “Worthless… you there!” he shouted at the other group of mercenaries, who halted, albeit briefly. He and his two escorts galloped towards them, but stopped in their tracks when they saw the fear etched upon their faces.

“What is going on?!” Sour shrieked over the wind.

Two Bit stood atop the mountainous corpse of the shark-monster, posing for his companions. “Look at me!” he said, flexing his foreleg muscles. “I have slain the beast! I’m king of the world!”

Most of the others laughed.

“Good one, Bit,” said Dredger, laughing heartily and clapping his massively muscled forelegs together.

“Get off of it,” Dagger said. “You’re gonna catch some shark disease or something.” She frowned. “Besides, you didn’t do anything but soil yourself when this thing charged. The cannon did the killing.”

“Spoil-sport,” Bit said, hopping off the pelagic monstrosity. “I’m just trying to have some fun.”

“Yeah?” Dagger said. “Well let's keep everything at least semi-professional until we’re done burning this backwater town to the ground. Hey, wait… isn’t that Sour Puss running out of the—”

There was a flash of orange and blue, and Dagger’s head was suddenly pinned to the ground by a spear. The surprised expression on Dagger’s muzzle contorted as the Pegasus who held the weapon twisted it.

“Dagger?” Bit felt something smack into his right shoulder, knocking him back into the shark. He looked down in confusion and saw a crossbow quarrel sticking out of him. Redness began to spread from the protrusion, soaking through his armor and cloak.

Dredger jumped to his hooves but then yelped and fell onto his haunches, yelping again and rolling to his side. Several iron caltrops were imbedded in the soles of his hooves and in his rump.

A minty-green, bipedal monster ran out from the darkness of an alleyway and grabbed Dredger by his mane. The beast lifted his head into the air with one horrible talon, and punched him right in the throat with the other. The colossus dropped Dredger unceremoniously to the street and left him to thrash around and suffocate to death.

Two other ponies strode from the beshadowed alleyway: a thin orange unicorn with the most massive crossbow… thing… that Bit could possibly imagine being pony-portable, and a cream colored earth pony with a mean-looking axe.

“Quick!” Bit yelled at the two-dozen or so mercenaries who had frozen in shock. “Load the cannon! We can—”

The wall of leathery flesh that he had been leaning against twitched.

Bit turned his head to see one of the shark’s lifeless black eyes staring at him. The whiteness of a nictitating membrane covering that stygian orb made it appear as if the blackness had rolled over to white. He opened his mouth to scream, but his chest was bitten in half before he could manage it.

“Look out!” Lyra jumped back and pulled Flash out of the way as Sharktavia’s tail swung around in a violent arc. The massive appendage smashed one of the mercenaries against the cannon, pulverizing and pulping the pony. The impact lifted the massive iron contraption several hoof-lengths into the air. When it landed, the two remaining wheels which supported it burst into piles of splinters.

“Well,” Snails said. “Looks like they really can’t move it now, eh?”

Sharktavia tore through more of the mercenaries, spraying blood and gore around in all directions. Lyra and Flash backed far away from the macabre display, looks of concern on both of their faces. What remained of the mercenary force had completely routed, galloping full-tilt up the hill towards the abbey.

“Something’s wrong,” Bon Bon said. “I’ve never seen Octavia lose control like this in a fight. I—” She looked around “—where’s Vinyl?”

When Bon Bon said the name, Sharktavia turned to face her and Snails. The top half of a sobbing stallion hung from her jaws and looked at them with a pleading expression that sharply contrasted the dead blackness of the beast’s eyes.

“Oh… The bastards must have killed her.”

If Octavia recognized her allies, she gave no indication, only pausing to gulp down the stallion before advancing on them.

“We must flee.” Bon Bon swallowed a lump in her throat. “If she’s not in her right mind, she’ll end us all.”

As Bon Bon backed up, Snails instead advanced towards the finned, frenzied form of Sharktavia.

“No!” Bon Bon shouted. “No! Snails! She’ll kill you!” She could only watch in horror as Snails continued to walk closer to the massive maw, which was filled with bloody teeth and scraps of pony flesh.

Sharktavia’s dead eyes showed no emotion as she snarled at Snails, opening her mouth wide and leaning forward to devour him.

“I lost my best friend to this place.”

Sharktavia stopped.

“It happened before you and your best friend joined the company.”

The charnel house of jaws backed away and slowly closed.

“For a while—” Snails continued to lock eyes with the beast “—I didn’t know how I’d go on. I was sad… but I was angry too, eh?” He held out a hoof. “I got lost in it. But the place I was in… only had emptiness in it. And my friend wouldn’t have wanted me to stay there.”

Octavia took another staggering step backward.

‘Don’t let yourself get lost in it, too.”

The terrible teeth receded, and Octavia began to shrink. The transformation, though alarming, was somehow more resigned than before. And, at last in her pony form, she wept. Trying to blink away the torrent of tears which ran freely down her cheeks was like trying to plug a hole in a dam with chewing gum.

“I know it hurts.” Snails walked towards her.

Octavia wrapped her bloodied forelegs around Snails and broke down into choking sobs.

“You three need to chase down the rest of the invaders,” Snails said. “I’ll stay with her, eh?”

Bon Bon nodded, slowly, then motioned to Flash and Lyra. They all headed up the hill, following after the fleeing mercenaries.

Blueblood galloped down the hill toward Sour and his bodyguards, glad to have Ametrine by his side. Yet he kept his focus on the knot of ponies before him, and his mind fixed on how he’d turn their numerical advantage against them.

But in the midst of his contemplation, he heard Sour screaming over the gale into the blood-streaked face of the mercenary he’d gripped by the lapels: “What do you mean it wasn’t dead? Useless!” Sour threw the petrified mercenary to the side and pointed back at the pursuing Blueblood. “C’mon, you cowards! Your primary target is right there! Kill him! Kill him!”

But the mercenaries backed away slowly, pointing back at the abbey.

Blueblood risked a glance behind him.

Then he stopped dead in his tracks.

A black-clad figure slowly emerged from the structure’s shadows. He saw who it was, but then saw the look on her face. The hopeful expression that had looked both ways before trying to make its way across his muzzle was t-boned by a wince. He took a few wary steps back.

“What are you waiting for?!” Sour turned back to the abbey. “Just rush them and—” His jaw dropped.

“It took me a while to track down the soldiers you had scattered around the town,” Tempest said. “But they did not put up much of a fight.” She looked uncustomarily scuffed and bruised, and significantly more irritated than normal, if that were somehow possible. “Let us see how you fare.”

“Stay back—” Sour drew a concealed knife and swung it in panic as Tempest rushed him.

Tempest effortlessly batted the weapon aside, sparks of electricity forming at the point of impact. She wrapped one foreleg around Sour’s neck just below the jawline, reached across to grab his shoulders with the other and then, slowly but implacably, twisted them in opposite directions. The end result was Sour’s head being rotated one hundred and eighty degrees relative to his body, without allowing his neck to bend. The successive sounds of snapping vertebrae was singularly unpleasant.

“Pathetic.” Tempest dropped the paralyzed, yet still living, pony to the ground. “I had high expectations after the last one. I wanted a challenge.” She watched dispassionately as Sour shuddered for each breath. “May the suffering which marks your end be a lesson to others.”

“You missed the cannon,” Blueblood said flatly.

“No.” Tempest pointed back to the strewn bodies and wreckage at the base of the hill. “I’m not the only one here.”

“How many—”

Lyra, Bon Bon, and Flash crested the hill.

“A few.” Tempest replied. “Speaking of a few…” She turned to the remaining mercenaries Sour had commanded, and pointed a hoof at their dying employer. “I trust that you have learned a lesson from his mistakes.”

The mercenaries threw their weapons onto the ground and held their hooves in the air.

“Smart choice.” Tempest watched Sour’s choked gasps fade in intensity, until he finally let out a death rattle.

Lyra and Bon Bon began to tie up the prisoners. “Lyra and I will haul them down to the constabulary,” Bon Bon said. “If it isn’t burned down, we can toss them in the cells.”

“Good idea,” Blueblood said. “If it is burned down, throw them in anyway.”

The eyes of the mercenaries widened.

Blueblood looked up to the storm clouds, then over to Tempest. “I assume all of this is yours.” He gestured around as the deluge began in earnest.

Tempest looked into the abbey. “Later; I have business with the pony who dropped a ceiling on my head.”

“Starlight?” Blueblood knew he‘d hit the mark when Tempest’s eyes narrowed. “Damn her. This… all of this, it’s unforgivable.”

Tempest cracked her neck with a sound reminiscent of a shotgun blast. “I agree. She left me for dead in a pitch black tunnel, buried under tons of debris.”

“It doesn’t seem to have affected you as much as I’d have expected.” Blueblood walked with Tempest and Ametrine as they stepped back inside.

Starlight was waiting for them. Her horn was lit, and a wall of force held the others in the abbey at bay.

“While I was rendered unconscious, several of the larger stones fell in such a way that I was caught in a debris-free cavity underneath them. As for how I survived the initial impact... It might have something to do with some extra enchantments that were placed on my armor without my knowledge.” Tempest’s eyes narrowed even further as they locked onto Starlight. “It is as if she planned it so that I wouldn’t die there.”

Blueblood leveled his harshest gaze at the blind mare, even though she couldn’t see it… probably. “Solmare, Vinyl, Big Mac, Party Favor, Night Glider, and Sugar Belle.” He shook his head. “Dammit Starlight, I told you I’d have your head for just risking more lives with your games. This… catastrophe has cost the lives of seven of our friends, and who knows how many Ponyvillians. Even if their losses were an unintended consequence of your actions, I’d see you hang for all this death.”

The anger Blueblood felt made one of his eyes begin to twitch. “But you are so damned accurate with your predictions. I have to know—this invasion. When you set it up, did you know exactly what would happen? Did you know exactly who would die?”

Starlight let her hornglow fade, and the magical barrier vanished. “Yes, I knew. I set this entire chain of events in motion, and I knew exactly who would die because of it.”

Villagers and company members alike gasped at Starlight’s reply. Ditzy fainted. Blueblood tilted his head. He wasn’t even sure when Ditzy had arrived.

There was a sudden commotion as, springing out of the crowd, Applejack threw herself at Starlight. She was stopped a little over a mare length from smashing in Starlight’s face, being physically restrained by Yona. “You monster!” Applejack shouted. “You caused this?! Let go of me, you oversized yak! My brother’s dead! I’m gonna kill her!”

“I’m pretty sure that she’s responsible for my death,” Lotus said, with extreme hatred in her voice—until Aloe repossessed their body. “Especially since she was so quick to offer us this dual-nature solution.”

“All this death, all this destruction.” Blueblood shook his head. “You’ve really given me no choice, just like how you never gave anypony else a choice in this whole matter.” His gaze locked on Double for a moment. “Not even those who would have given their lives for you.” He lit his horn, magically lifted his sword into the air, and pointed it at Starlight. “Let’s… let’s get this over with—”

“No.”

Blueblood turned to Ametrine, and lowered his sword. “What?”

“I said: no.” Ametrine fixed him with an intense stare. “Blue,” she pleaded, “you can’t.”

Double stepped towards them, sparing a brief glance at Starlight. “No, Ametrine. It has to be this way.” He shook his head sadly. “She knew this would be the cost, and she did it anyway.”

“But,” Ametrine said. Pain tempered the iron resolution which filled her voice. Tears formed in her eyes. “I don’t care what she’s done. She helped me see. Blue… if she hadn’t, you’d be dead.”

“Ametrine.” Starlight’s voice sounded calm, but Blueblood heard hints of barely suppressed fear. “Don't cry for me, I’m already dead. I accepted that I would be sacrificing my own life when I decided who would live and who would die in order to produce this outcome.”

“You don’t deserve this.” Ametrine lowered her head.

“You said it yourself; deserve’s got nothing to do with this.” Starlight looked to Blueblood and nodded her head. “It’s time.”

Blueblood returned the nod. Looking first to his sword, then to Starlight, he found that he couldn’t lift the blade to strike. He sheathed the weapon. “Tempest... you'll have to do it.”

Tempest nodded and assumed a fighting stance. She tensed, waiting for Blueblood's signal.

He looked towards her and held up his hoof in the “hold” gesture. Preparing to lower his foreleg, Blueblood hesitated, and took a good, long look at Starlight. It seemed clear from her stance that she had accepted this fate long ago. And her left foreleg was wrapped in blood-stained bandages—self-inflicted, he concluded, as there was no way her foresight would have allowed her to accidentally mangle her entire limb. She must’ve been… punishing herself. His years of politicking allowed him to see the traces of very well concealed fear bleeding through her facade. Yes, she’d known this would be the outcome for a very long time—been expecting it even—and yet, it still scared her. She was putting on a brave face, for the sake of Ametrine, to spare her as much anguish as possible. It was all the mercy she could offer.

Unbidden, Starlight’s words returned to him: “You’re right. Nothing from Equestria will be able to spare me from your wrath.”

He looked to Ametrine, then to Tempest. “As quickly and painlessly as you can.”

Tempest scrutinized him for a moment, nodded, and adjusted her stance.

Blueblood’s hoof dropped.

Tempest moved like lightning. Her hoof struck Starlight directly where her left foreleg met her barrel. There was the sound of snapping bones, a crackle of electrical discharge, and Starlight fell backwards, clutching a hoof over her stopped heart.

Double rushed to Starlight’s side, knelt, and took one of her limp hooves in his. “Goodbye, old friend.” His breath frosted in the air as his eyes locked with hers. “Don’t worry, I know he didn’t have a choice; I’ll stick by the Prince until this place takes me.”

Starlight twitched a few times before becoming suddenly still. A surprisingly peaceful smile was etched on her features.

Opening his mouth, Blueblood paused, finding himself speechless.

“I shouldn’t forgive you for this,” Ametrine said from beside him. “But I shouldn’t have forgiven you before either.” She wrapped her forelegs around him.

“I’m sorry,” Blueblood said as he stared at Starlight’s unmoving form. “For this, and everything that came before.”

“Forgiven.” She hadn’t even hesitated.

Blueblood wrapped one foreleg around Ametrine, but found that he could not remove his gaze from Starlight. “She said that there was a purpose to every action that she took.” He shook his head. “I’ll be damned if I know why she forced this specific outcome, though.”

“Like a master chess player,” Tempest said, drawing the eyes of the others, “she planned many moves ahead of current events. Her actions likely have yet to finish playing out. If she truly had flawless foresight, then there is no way to tell how long the ripple effects of her machinations will continue.”

Blueblood furrowed his brow at the thought. Then he shook his head. “We need to find out where all of the company members are. Ametrine, where is Shining?”

“I don’t know, Starlight did something to sever all the viewer connections.”

“Well outside of town,” Tempest said. “Mister Armor is with his sister and a newcomer, watching over Miss Dash and Miss Rarity, both of whom are unconscious. The rest of us ran ahead, to aid in dealing with Starlight’s treachery.”

“Unconscious?” Blueblood furrowed his brow. “Well, explain later; we should get them to the sanitarium. If Dash and Rarity are hurt, being caught in the rain isn’t going to help them any….”

Blueblood glanced back to Starlight’s body. He watched it warily, almost as if he expected it to come back to life and—

“Oh,” Blueblood said as he realized the number of deaths caused in the town raid. “I’m not going to get any sleep tonight.”

“No.” Ametrine shook her head. You won’t. But probably not for the reason you think.”

“We should rest,” Tempest said. “We will be unable to do anything useful in this storm. If it has dissipated by tomorrow, we can survey the damage then. We can at least take small consolation that the rain will put out the fires.”

“Small consolation indeed,” Blueblood said, looking out into the downpour.

The five ponies had taken refuge just inside the Everfree Forest. Twilight stood watch at the very edge, using a single tree as cover. Shining and Cadance were a little further in, watching over Rainbow and Rarity as they slept.

“You must care a lot about her,” Cadance said, using her wings to shield Rainbow and Rarity from the downpour.

“Yes,” Shining said as he knelt beside Rainbow. Water dripped from his brow. “She may have her flaws,” he smiled and ran a hoof along her cheek. “But they’re all part of what I love about her.”

Cadance smiled. “It’s always nice to see when two ponies fit with each other so well.”

Shining looked up at Cadance and tilted his head slightly.

“Something the matter?” Cadance asked.

“I… I don’t know,” Shining said. “It’s just that when we were younger—”

“We were an item, I know.”

“Yeah, we were pretty wild together.” Shining’s smile morphed into a frown. “But then my sister ran away, and I never saw you again… I missed you.”

“Shining,” Cadance said. “I enjoyed the times we were together as well. But we’ve both moved on. I’m married to a stallion I love, and you’ve found yourself a wonderful mare to be with.”

“I know,” Shining said, looking up into the rain. “I’d never give up what I have with Rainbow.” He looked sidelong at Cadance. “But I’d always wondered what things would have been like if we’d stayed together.”

“I’ll be honest: I don’t think it would’ve worked out.”

“Why not?”

“Well,” Cadance said, “I’m not sure I’d approve of your treatment of foals.”

“What?” Shining pounded a hoof against his chest plate. “I’d be a great father! I’m a complete gentlecolt!”

“I remember this one time that I was babysitting Twilight, and you threw her like a javelin—”

Shining smashed his hoof into his forehead. “I’m never going to live that down, am I?”

Week 23, Day 4, Midnight

“Where are they?” Blueblood paced in his room, surprisingly awake, despite not having slept—barring last night’s grievous head trauma—for several days straight now. A flash of lightning and immediate boom of thunder made him jump slightly.

Turning, Blueblood looked over to where Tempest silently stood in a corner, her eyes as alert, if not more so, as his own. A sideways glance revealed Ametrine, who sat on his bed, her furrowed brow and crossed forelegs suggestive of exasperation.

The flames in the fireplace danced away. Blueblood wasn’t actually sure who’d lit it, but a small fire had been in the hearth when they’d entered his room. It had been easy enough to stoke the blaze to be large enough that any fleshforms that decided to visit could be quickly disposed of.

“I already told you a dozen times.” Ametrine glared at him. “They’re not coming.”

Huffing, Blueblood moved to the window and looked out into the dark downpour. “Why not?” He slammed a hoof against the wall. “They’ve always shown up before the grandfather clock hits the twelfth chime!”

“I’d have thought the answer would be obvious. Especially to you.”

“Well—” Blueblood spun to face Ametrine “—obviously it’s not as obvious as you thought.”

Ametrine pointed a hoof at Blueblood. “I suppose I’ll just have to show you then.”

“Show me wha—” Blueblood was stunned as something struck him in the face. It was a liquid of some kind.

Brushing a hoof against his face, Blueblood pulled it away to see red. The metallic odor made him realize that his hoof was wet with blood. Ametrine’s foreleg had opened and sprayed him in the face.

Blueblood saw Tempest tense and lock eyes onto him, but otherwise she did not move.

“Why did you—” Blueblood suddenly felt canine fangs in his mouth, and a desperate thirst. He looked at his own foreleg and struggled to resist the temptation to lick the delicious blood from it—why was his mind insistent that it would be delicious? “What… is this? What is happening to me?”

“You’re not going to get any more visitors,” Ametrine said, “Like I told you before, it sends things like me if it needs something from you, or if it wants to try to infect you with itself. One thing Starlight told me was that Zecora was the last fleshform The Heart would ever send to you. It wouldn’t send any more, because by then you’d have already passed the threshold.”

“What threshold?”

“Blue—” Ametrine’s voice was devoid of mirth “—welcome to the monster club.”

Blueblood’s tongue ran across his new teeth, stopping to feel the unfamiliarity of the pointed tips. He just wanted to bite them down into something warm and juicy… and living. “What did this to me?”

“Prolly has something to do with the blood you soaked up.” Ametrine made circles with a hoof in the air.

“Blood?” Blueblood eyed Ametrine warily. “What blood? And soaked up? When?”

“I’m talking about when I poured that blood and wine mixture on your arm.”

“You mixed blood into that wine?” The thought made Blueblood actually feel more thirsty, instead of the expected pressure of bile threatening to force its way up his throat.

“No.” Ametrine rolled her eyes. “That wine already had blood in it.”

“Blood from that mutant rat?” Blueblood held onto a small sliver of hope, though he suspected much worse.

“No. Pony blood.”

“Pony… blood.” Blueblood actually licked his lips, but then forced his tongue back into his mouth, and ground a hoof into his forehead. “How in Tartarus did pony blood get into the wine?”

“It is possible that somepony cut themselves when the crates were being shipped out.” Tempest’s tone of voice suggested how little she believed that statement.

“No.” Ametrine shook her head. “Zecora had almost finished analyzing the wine before she… perished. The blood was old, and corrupted, drawn from somepony who had been exposed to far more corruption than you are currently. But Zecora was having trouble pinning down the exact type of pony. Every time she tried to see if it belonged to an earth pony, pegasus, or unicorn, the tests all came back positive, for all types.”

Blueblood looked to the floor and put a hoof to his temple as he thought. “It was Celestia’s blood, then,” he concluded. “She was an alicorn. Alicorns have aspects of all the pony types; their blood should have all the markers and have strange and incredible properties. Zecora would have been excited about the alchemical implications.”

“Yes.” Ametrine said. “Zecora’s notes expressed enthusiasm over what the unexpected results could mean for her own research.”

Blueblood looked up from the floor as a question drop-kicked his brain. “Wait. Why were you going through Zecora’s notes?”

“One guess, and her name begins with Starlight.”

“Figured. But why did you flay the skin off my arm, and then douse the wound with wine that you knew was corrupted?”

Ametrine sighed. “Do I have to list all the reasons?” Holding up her hoof, she started counting off on it as she spoke. “You insisted on a solution. The corruption was already spreading uncontrolled. I hated your guts.” She smirked. “That monster arm of yours was not doing it for me in the sack.”

Blueblood gave Ametrine a flat look.

“Ok fine! And Starlight suggested it.” Ametrine glared at him. “Need any more explanations?”

“Her reasons are irrelevant,” Tempest said. “What is important right now, is that it stands to reason that all of the wine from the hidden room was tainted by this corrupted blood.”

Blueblood suddenly felt dizzy. He staggered to the bed and placed both hooves down on it for balance. “We sent all of that wine to Canterlot! Fancy said he’d gotten a letter from Coloratura saying they were going to serve it at the Grand Galloping Gala! We have to stop them, recall the wine… what day is it?!”

“The day of the Grand Galloping Gala.” Tempest managed to deliver the line without a hint of panic, or sarcastic irony.

Ametrine canted her head. “Blue… we may have a problem.”

One week earlier...

It was the fifth time that Coloratura had read Fancy’s latest letter. Again, a smile came to her muzzle. She reached down with her teeth and plucked a quill from several that were lined up nicely on her desk, just like a healthy set of pegasus primaries.

She dipped the quill and began to write her own response.

Dear Lord Fancy Pants,

I am indeed doing very well, thank you for asking.

I hope that my response also finds you in equally good health.

I must say, the wine you sent is absolutely delightful! It has a heady, aromatic bouquet and a thick, full-bodied taste, with some peculiar hints of flavor that will be sure to intrigue the guests at the Gala. It has actually made me feel quite invigorated. Why, I would dare to go so far as to say that just this one bottle has made a new mare out of me!

In response to your query, I absolutely agree that all hundred cases should be used for the festivities. Your worries of substandard quality are completely unfounded; it is simply to die for! Why, I can practically guarantee that the nobility will be killing each other over this vintage! We will have to commend Blueblood on his impeccable taste.

I also look forward to seeing you again in council.

Until then,

Countess Coloratura

“Swift Post!” Coloratura called out as she set the quill back into what she’d been using as an inkwell. “Do you think—” She stopped when she took in the sight of her pegasus messenger.

Swift lay across her desk. His tongue lolled out of his open mouth, with glazed eyes staring out at nothing, and an expression frozen in shock and horror. Where his neck had been was a crimson ruin, a blemish upon his otherwise pristine white coat. One of his primary feathers had been plucked and then shoved into his exposed jugular vein.

Tsking, Coloratura shook her head. “No,” she said. “I suppose I’ll have to find somepony else to deliver this now.”

Seeing the mangled state of Swift’s neck made Coloratura smack her already bloodied lips in anticipation. With a horrid sound, similar to tearing canvas, her snout elongated until a hideously large proboscis erupted with a squelch from her flesh. She plunged the grotesque extension hungrily into Swift’s neck wound. Pushing deep into the chest cavity, she finally felt liquid being pulled up and into her mouth. Gulping greedily, she could not prevent excess liquid from spilling out from the sides of her lips and staining her light-aquamarine coat with ruddy shades of crimson. The feeling of feeding filled her with euphoric ecstasy.

When Coloratura finally dropped Swift to the floor, he made a hollow sound. He was completely drained.

“Oh,” she moaned, pressing her hooves to her red-stained lips. She smeared the blood all over her muzzle, her face, and up into her mane. “This Gala is going to be the best. Night. Ever.”