Salvation

by voroshilov

Rating: teen
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Alternate Universe, Original Character, Science Fiction, Adventure, Violence, Crossover, Death
Length: 117658

Millennia after the War in Heaven, at the edge of the Irenton Dominion, deep within the Great Void, an ancient evil stirs. Fortunately, Sunless-Halo-of-Penumbra happens to have experience dealing with ancient evils.

At the edge of the Irenton Dominion, deep within the Great Void, an ancient evil stirs.

Sunless-Halo-of-Penumbra, once scholar of Equestria, former student of Emperor Nicholas, faces another threat, one even greater than the Great Light. Joined by allies old and new, the next stage of her great, universe spanning trial begins.

Penumbra finds herself even further entangled in the cosmic web of deceit and intrigue that Emperor Nicholas had left in his wake. From being at the front-lines of one man's violent, long, and possibly deranged - though he himself would deny it - quest for freedom, now Penumbra must contend with all the rubble that quest left behind. Around every corner may lie danger and perhaps it would simply be easier to step back and let someone else deal with it - for once.

What to do, when only you can save the universe?

Though it is advised to read the prequel - The War in Heaven - first, it is not required. Firstly, because the content of this story can be understood using only the content within it; secondly, The War in Heaven is not very good and is in dire need of a rewrite, which I will get to soon.

Published 2022-07-31 23:00:01 UTC
Last updated 2023-01-10 20:28:18 UTC

Dominion

When the War in Heaven ended with the Smothering of the Great Light, the Irenton Empire, which had stood firm as a bastion of militarism and strength for over seventeen thousand years, nominally collapsed within a single day. The Rift, the means by which Imperial starships navigated between the countless stars and galaxies that the Empire held dominion over, vanished without so much as a trace. The Rift Generators, the engines allowing Imperial starships access to the Rift, simply deactivated.

Over the course of the next two hundred years, the last of those who remembered the Empire firsthand died out. With the death of Vice-Commodore Richardson, the last of those who served in the War in Heaven and the Imperial military were gone, with the Irenton Empire, its size and its leaders eventually becoming semi-legendary amongst those living on Chronove. Emperor Nicholas, meanwhile, became little more than a story told by mothers to scare their children into behaving, his abilities becoming nothing more than fairytales. A small few continued to believe, though even they couldn’t help but deny the possibility of the true extent of his powers.

Irenton society changed drastically over the next four millennia, without the guidance of the will of Emperor Nicholas, the Irenton people were free to try and determine their own futures. Unlike the artificiality of the Empire, whose culture and mannerisms were designed by Emperor Nicholas to better serve him in the War in Heaven, the remaining people of Chronove and its satellites developed naturally.

Four thousand and two years to the day since the end of the War in Heaven, the Rift suddenly reappeared. Ancient monitoring stations, kept active purely as tradition, suddenly began to ping, messages were tentatively sent between former Imperial planets, with the newly built fleets around Chronove entering the Rift and reconnecting with their ancient cousins. A new found joy spread throughout the former Imperial Core as peoples, united once by their shared loyalty to one man, were united once again. Children who had never known the Empire saw the beauty of different stars for the first time, their eyes alighted to the fragility of their homeworlds. A new passion burned in trillions of hearts, a passion to protect.

Around Arcadius, once capital of the Irenton Empire in a time of great crisis, ships from across the Core systems reunited and proclaimed the Irenton Dominion, a federation of planets and systems that would ensure above all the safety and freedoms of its peoples. Using technologies far beyond those available to the Empire, artificially regulated and induced mutations created forms perfect for their assigned duties, genetic enhancements eliminated disease and perfected forms of surgery sent success rates close to 100%. The Irenton Dominion, it seemed, was perfect.

Perfection, however, was in the mind of the beholder. One such beholder, Sunless-Halo-of-Penumbra, was, despite not being one to complain, more than dissatisfied with the Dominion. Not as a result of any particular event or part of the new culture, granted, but the fact that there was nothing to be done. She may have loved learning about new inventions and scientific discoveries, but they eventually exceeded even her capacity to learn. The Irenton Dominion was expanding, scientifically and spatially, every single day, faster than she could keep up.

Thus, she had given up, at least partially, faced with the impossible task of learning the equivalent of tens of millennia of science. She had, initially, tried to take up a hobby, though the only one which she could reliably do from her observatory home on Sanctuary’s Watch was star-gazing, though that had the complication of confusing the immense layer of defensive stations around the Chronovus system with stars. Within a single night, she had observed a grand total of two hundred and sixty seven defence stations, along with one hundred and four capital ships. She was among the stars that she had once seen every night from her window as a child, though she was lucky to see any of them.

She also visited Chronove’s surface, specifically the Dominion’s Headquarters for the Defence Flotilla, every month or so, her visits originally beginning when Dominion commanders called her in to simply talk, evolving into a tradition she couldn’t stop - mostly because she had nothing else to fill the time. She had made a few friends, though her relationships with them stayed securely within the duration of her visits.

Penumbra tried her hardest to bury her memories of the War in Heaven, though that was an essentially impossible task. The memories, the trauma, every second of pain and violence had left indelible marks on her soul, impossible to truly escape. Every night she would be haunted by nightmares of a past she had forgotten, with the ghosts of her friends gnawing at her soul.

When Emperor Nicholas’ death had come, she had lamented the death of her mentor, the person who had educated her and even built her. Celestia, her first real mentor-figure, was abandoned - she had not saved Penumbra or the rest of her species from the War in Heaven as she should have done, so she was less than worthless.

The year that followed marked the beginning of the Irenton Dominion, the hundred years that followed marked what Penumbra considered to be the twilight of her life, though she still remained unsure if she could even die.

The War in Heaven

The fourth day of the month marked the day Penumbra was to visit the Headquarters for the Defence Flotilla. Despite Arcadius being the capital of the Dominion, the vast majority of military command occurred on Chronove, with the machine world uniquely suited for the task with its impressive number of communication systems and artificial intelligences, allowing for orders to be beamed from Chronove to any Dominion unit in the galaxy within seconds.

The Headquarters for the Defence Flotilla, unlike many of its fellows, was more of a tourist attraction or public service building. Most of those who entered it were ordinary civilians, most simply wishing to research the military that protected them. It still had some military use, centered around its eastern wing, where the command for the 244nd Chronove Fleet was located, along with the command of the 255th Chronove Surface Legion - both units far removed from their Imperial counterparts: smaller, better-trained, better-equipped, less fanatical, and overall more of a ceremonial guard force than a true combat formation.

Penumbra knew it mostly for its kindly officers, who gave her as much tea and biscuits as she requested and listened endlessly to her stories that looped around each other so many times as to be essentially nonsensical. There was typically a gaggle of them waiting for her on the landing pad.

However, on this particular day, no one was there. As her sleek, glossy-black transport landed, she assumed they were just indoors, given the menacing black rain clouds forming overhead. As she made her way indoors as the first drops of rain began to fall, she was greeted by a reception room entirely empty save two Maniples of ten black armoured soldiers each.

Two of them stepped forwards, standing about Penumbra’s height, with six long fingers on each hand, their feet covered by armoured boots. They were completely encased in two layers, a thin but exceptionally strong black bodysuit, with slightly lighter armour layered atop, glowing orange filaments all along the segments, their helmets angular but still vaguely the shape of their skulls, bearing only a pair of glowing orange eyepieces linked to several smaller filaments, visibly providing power. Each carried a vaguely diamond-prism shaped rifle about a metre long, steely grey in colour, which they kept down but still clearly ready should they be required. They were Warrior forms, the genetically enhanced soldiers of the Irenton Dominion.

“Sunless-Halo-of-Penumbra,” one said, voice processed but still clearly identifiable, “come with us, please.”

They brokered no argument and so she gave none. They marched off into the structure on the assumption she would follow, which she did. They led her through corridors and halls that, on any other day, would have been full of people. The only others she saw were more Warriors, apparently on guard duty for something, or someone.

The someone was quickly identified, as Penumbra was led into a dark room containing two chairs - one conveniently designed to allow her to sit comfortably - a desk and another Warrior form. They wore no helmet, with their armour having a red glow rather than an orange one. His face made him out as an older Warrior form, one from the early days of the Dominion, identifiable as such in that he still looked vaguely like a Vortexian - the species he clearly hailed from originally. He had only a tuft of white hair on his head, with sharp ears pressed flat against his skull. His eyes were grey, as was his skin, with his lips thin and overall mouth small. He had, beneath his armour, a muscular but still relatively slim build, designed for maximum strength and agility with minimum silhouette.

“Please,” he said, “sit, we have much to discuss.”

The two soldiers who had led her to the room left, no doubt to guard the door. Penumbra took her seat, the obviously important Warrior in front of her tenting his twelve fingers as he thought of what to say next.

“It is an honour to meet you at last,” he said, “I had been trying to do so for a long while but this is the first chance I was able. I am Feather-of-Joyous-Path, a member of the Dominion Defence Intelligence Department. My department authorised me to question you as to the nature of what I was brought up believing was a myth, the War in Heaven.”

Penumbra tensed involuntarily, any mention of the War was sure to do that to her, especially from an officer of the Intelligence Department. “It was no myth,” she said, looking down at her clawed feet, the furless skin above sporting splotches of a silvery metal, “I still bear the scars.”

Joyous-Path nodded gravely. “I understand it may be difficult,” he said, “but, as it stands, you are the only person in the Dominion who has any sort of first-hand knowledge. We have tried to search records, but everything we have found is either speculative or outright incorrect. So, Penumbra, we need you to tell us about the War, everything you know.”

“Why are you asking me this? What is so important the Dominion needs it now? Why has it taken so long for anyone to wonder about this?”

The officer rolled his shoulders, momentarily uncomfortable - evidently, he was not fully certain on what he could and could not say. Regardless, he spoke. “During operations, one of our fleets came across a large area of free-floating mass in interstellar space. It was a ship graveyard, unlike any we have ever seen. This was not some collection of scrapped vessels, but thousands, tens of thousands, even, of warships, torn apart and drifting in space. Each is thousands of years old, but one was still partially active. Most of its data was corrupted beyond any recognition, but it contained a single, audio only, transmission. It was a call for help, as something had boarded several of the other vessels, tearing them apart in minutes. We need to know everything, so we can prepare for everything.”

Penumbra nodded. That particular threat, she was almost certain, she had not experienced, but had read enough about to be concerned by it. “My memory is hazy,” she sighed, “I remember only the end. When the Great Light was smothered. It was guarded by millions of daemons, some as large as buildings. Most of our group sacrificed themselves, holding off the daemons just long enough for us to enter the spire and kill it. It was manipulative, no, that isn’t a strong enough word. Within only a minute of speaking to me it had convinced me, convinced me to let it win. Only-”

She paused, raw and unfiltered memory flooding back. Her jaw trembled as the sudden pain of the memory hit her like a train. Her brain fought in a sudden and ultimately unnecessary desperate way to stem the tide of emotion, Penumbra’s well-trained mental fortitude was more than enough to protect her. “Only Celestia, with Nicholas, allowed me to kill it. Their powers combined cut off its connection to me. Then, she sacrificed herself to allow me to escape.”

Joyous-Path nodded, no doubt someone elsewhere was recording what she said. “How did you kill it?”

Penumbra chuckled hoarsely. “A power of Nicholas’ creation, three words imbued with power that would kill any daemon, the Light included.”

Joyous-Path tapped two of his fingers on the desk as he sat back, clearly thinking. Even in the relatively casual setting, it was clear he was a master interrogator by his style. He gave just enough that Penumbra couldn’t help but reply, but left enough blank that he gave nothing away. Training was clear in his facial expression, which remained perfectly neutral, the perfect poker face.

“Emperor Nicholas, then,” he asked, “the stories about him are real?”

Penumbra laughed again. “Real as in they undersell him. He had telekinesis strong enough to move anything he wanted, his magic was beyond anything I could ever even dream of wielding. He could change his form, come back from the dead, pull you into his own personal universe, manipulate matter in any way he wished. But, most of all, he could control time itself.”

Joyous-Path was surprised, though that was only present by the reaction of his soul, which Penumbra had started to observe rather than his face, which was going to remain stoically neutral regardless of circumstance. She couldn’t quite read his thoughts, that was something unique to Nicholas, she believed, but she could read relatively well how he was thinking. At that moment, he was thinking how could such a thing be possible.

“Time?”

Penumbra nodded. “Chronove,” she said, relishing in being questioned on a topic she actually knew about, “was once called the ‘Planet of Time’, due to a machine far below its surface, long since destroyed. Even in its unfinished state, it was able to transform Nicholas into a creature able to control time itself. If finished, who knows how powerful it may have been.”

Joyous-Path seemed from the imprint of his soul to believe she was lying, or playing with him in some way, though the imprint quickly changed to the same surprised but accepting appearance from previously. His face, unsurprisingly, remained the same as it always had, although his pupils had widened slightly.

“You say the machine is destroyed?”

“By Emperor Nicholas, shortly after its only usage. According to him, nothing remains of it. He tended to be rather thorough with his works, so I wouldn’t bother looking.”

Joyous-Path tapped his fingers on the desk again. However, he wasn’t thinking, nor had he been previously. Penumbra’s magic had highlighted a slight noise in his right ear, which, when amplified, revealed itself to be a communicator. Someone was, apparently, relaying him questions to ask, a number of which Penumbra didn’t know the answer to.

“I have one more question,” he asked, sitting forwards and tenting his fingers once again, “how did you access the Great Light?”

Penumbra allowed herself a moment to think, relishing in the knowledge she was in control. “A planet,” she said, “a Shield World, called Cradle. There were portals in its core, allowing us to enter the Veiled Edge and, from there, the Aether and the Great Light.”

Joyous-Path nodded twice, doubtless a signal to an onlooker. “Thank you for your time.” He smiled, rising from his chair and holding out a hand to shake. Penumbra grasped it in the talons on her left foreleg and shook. “It was a pleasure,” he said, with all the formality to confirm it wasn’t.

“Pleasure was mine,” she replied, more out of polite respect than an actual admiration for the officer, though she could certainly admire his poker face. She wondered, in that moment, what his face would look like if she kicked him in the chest.

She left the room, promptly being escorted back out of the Headquarters by the same pair of Warriors who had taken her in. The rain outside had gotten worse, coming down in heavy sheets, the sky a dark grey as clouds covered everything above. Several towers off in the distance, little more than metal cuboids from such a distance, reached high up into the cloud layer, puncturing it like spears. The ground of the landing pad, meanwhile, was slowly becoming one large puddle of rainwater, with Penumbra running through it to her waiting transport.

She shook herself off inside the warm, dry and well-cushioned passenger bay, using her magic to quickly dry her sodden coat before taking a seat, allowing herself to collapse back and be absorbed by the material. The transport was designed with comfort in mind, as evidenced by its takeoff: near silent and a smooth glide up through the atmosphere, taking its pleasant time in reaching its destination, a far cry from the utilitarian dropships that had been her first experience of space flight, which had rumbled and rattled the moment they hit air. Her personal transport, an accolade awarded due to the fact she was its only customer, always took well over an hour to land, allowing Penumbra to rest her eyes and body from whatever may have been aching her.

The landing back on Sanctuary’s Watch was so smooth that it was only noticeable by the announcement from the pilot, who, as custom, she thanked as she disembarked, welcomed home by warm, sunny weather, barely a cloud in the sky and a light breeze preventing her from overheating. Her landing pad, surrounded by a thicket of thin trees and a host of other vegetation, always provided pleasant scenery for her walks to and from her home in the observation tower.

The odd rabbit would often emerge from the edge of the path, content in Penumbra’s presence to not worry as she passed. Rarely, from the trees would emerge an Arcadian Forest Cat, with spotty patterned beige and black fur, face wide and fluffy, ears like little pyramids, standing a good half a metre tall. One particular specimen, which Penumbra had affectionately named “Cat” would await her by a rock some two-thirds of the way down the path every seventh day, where it would meow once and she would gently pet it whilst feeding it a small fish fillet she made sure to carry with her on that very day, inside a special container she carried in her saddlebags.

She had chosen her particular home on Sanctuary’s Watch for a variety of reasons, not in the least because it was far from anyone else, allowing Penumbra to more or less do more or less as she pleased all day. There was also another reason for her choice of that specific location, though it was one she much preferred to keep secret.

The bottom floor of her tower was spacious, with a large diameter and ceiling height, with the only objects being a spiralling staircase leading further up and a brown leather armchair underneath it. Ostensibly, the chair was for guests, the underside of the staircase being far too low for Penumbra to sit on it, especially given it wasn’t designed in the slightest for her build. In reality, however, the chair was not even designed to be sat on. Rather, solely to cover up the room’s secret third object: a cellar door.

Moving the chair was a simple matter of telekinesis. The door, however, was locked tight, Penumbra not even having bothered to make a key, or a hole for a key. Rather, the tumblers of the lock would be manipulated with her magic, which would unlock it and allow her to enter. In theory, that should provide an extra layer of security, though Penumbra had never needed security anyway, given no one ever visited.

The little trapdoor was just barely big enough to fit her if she squeezed in, with a stone staircase - only just big enough to fit her if she ducked - leading further down. There was no lighting, with only her magically enhanced sight - and the lack of space to fall - preventing her from taking a tumble down the cold stone. Relatively mercifully, the thin passage soon opened out, into a larger room, containing a single elevator, a terminal, and nothing else.

Penumbra had just enough room to stand up fully, though any jumping or tilting her head more than five or so degrees upwards would see her hitting the stone above. The elevator was incredibly old, not just in actual age but also appearance. It appeared to run on a number of brass-coloured gears and the platform itself was little more than a decently large square grate with four fences in the corners. The terminal, meanwhile, seemed far newer. It was still made of that brass-coloured metal she couldn’t identify, but had a glowing blue screen and responded to touch, it was also sleeker, the screen at maximum half an inch thick, with the column that held it up only two inches in diameter.

Fortunately, the elevator was a lot more sophisticated than it appeared, detecting Penumbra stepping on it and setting off downwards when she was fully aboard. It moved exceptionally quickly, too, but never seemed out of control. The ride was always silky smooth and took exactly forty seven seconds to reach its landing point.

Penumbra’s surroundings changed from stone to brass, cogs and gears visible through grates and the constant ticking of clockwork audible in the distance. The area she was in was enormous, open further than the eye could see, a far cry from the cramped entrance, millions of gears and axles turning, like the centre of a clock the size of a moon. This was the Clockworks, the core of Sanctuary’s Watch, a great collection of machines she knew from experience was alive.

Had Penumbra been scared of heights, she would have hated the Clockworks, with its innumerable bridges over drops of sometimes kilometres. She had once, as an experiment, dropped a pebble down from one of the gangways, she had expected to hear it land but had given up after half an hour of waiting. She had explored - at her rough estimate - about two percent of the Clockworks, though the further into the centre she got the more recognisable the terrain was. She had begun to recognise certain formations of gears, even going so far as to name a few of them. One, a collection of three giant cogs, each about fifty metres tall, evidently connected to a series of axles she couldn’t see, she had named the Trinity, after an old concept she had once read about - something about three separate pieces but still being one whole.

The Trinity marked the point close to the centre of the Clockworks, the centre being - in her eyes, anyway - officially reached when the cogs vanished, leaving only seemingly empty space above and below for kilometres. In reality, however, the situation was perhaps a little more terrifying.

Only at the very centre, where a series of portal frames stood, was there a light source that could be tracked down. Three consoles, each glowing blue semi-circles set into metal podiums, illuminated a very small area of the core, just behind them. In only the thin cone of the glow was visible thousands of WarSynths, their hulls slightly stouter than those she had seen before and made of that brass-coloured alloy. Each had a less wide headpiece, forming a fan-like shape above their singular eyes, who were definitely larger than their cousins’ but whose colour could not be identified in their deactivated state. They hung, silently, attached by something Penumbra couldn’t quite see, forming a layer of constructs only broken by the entrance to the core.

She had not come for them, however, rather, she had come for the consoles, specifically the left-most one from the entrance. Tapping a single button, something clicked, presumably inside the half-ring column the console was attached to, a small red box appearing in the middle of the console.

“Sunless-Halo-of-Penumbra,” the construct said in binary, “welcome back.”

“Hello Tick,” she said, using the name she had affectionately given the construct, “how’s things today?”

“Facility is operating at one hundred percent capacity, no issues of any kind to report.”

She smiled, she had rather taken a liking to the immense machine under her home. Even without considering its age, the sheer size of it was enough to leave her in awe, let alone the intricacy of it all. Clockwork, cogs and axles - simple machines all in all - were all formed together so beautifully. Tick was just one part of the immense machine, its purpose still unknown to her.

“How are the constructs doing?” She asked, giving one of the dormant WarSynths a once over with her magic, checking both how it was built and cleaning it of any dust - of which there was remarkably little.

“All constructs fully maintained, ready for activation if necessary. Sub-minds operating at nominal capacities.”

Everytime Tick spoke, he would give a happy little beep at the end of his binary. Tick himself - or itself - did not appear to be sentient, at least not fully, but Penumbra liked to believe his little beep was a happy one. Given how willing Tick was to allow her access to the facility, she took it upon herself regardless to give the little bot some emotion.

“Good, good.” She gave the console a friendly tap, as though petting a cat or dog. “Anything at all to report?”

Tick paused, immediately drawing Penumbra’s full attention. As a construct, and a fast one at that, he typically responded to every query near instantly. Something, it seemed, was taking a lot of his processing power, whether it was Penumbra’s question or something else was unknown.

“Affirmative,” Tick said, something he had never said in reply to a question of that nature, “detected long-range signal from SHIELD-047 SANCTUM. Would you like me to play the signal?”

Penumbra couldn’t answer quickly enough, “yes, yes, absolutely.”

Static, random, not the usual non-random binary, the static of a radio transmitter, filled the room. “Shield World crust breached by unknown entities. Cloaking Sub-mind offline. Communications damage critical. Construct damage critical. Shield World damage critical. Advise immediate quarantine of planetary system.”

The message did not repeat, no doubt only sent in radio due to damage to other, more efficient forms of communication.

“What is the approximate distance to Sanctum?” Penumbra, curious as to how old the message could be, asked. Given radio was on the electromagnetic spectrum, it would travel at the speed of light.

“One hundred light years.”

It had taken the message a century to reach Sanctuary’s Watch, with Penumbra no doubt being the only one to hear it. She had heard the name Sanctum before, though couldn’t quite remember where. It must have been sometime during the War in Heaven, no doubt about it.

Suddenly, it clicked in her mind: the report from Radiant-Dawn-of-Remembrance, who had, albeit indirectly, allowed her to find her true identity. Sanctum, the Shield World that had been her home, destroyed in the opening phases of the War in Heaven.

“Present me the coordinates of the origin,” she ordered, taking out a datapad to record them. Tick showed the coordinates in silence, Penumbra triple checking she had them correct. She nodded once sure they were.

“I will go at once,” she said, more to herself than anyone else, “keep the facility operating while I am gone.”

Tick beeped as Penumbra turned to leave, not quite entirely sure why she was heading to Sanctum in the first place. Something seemed to call her there, whether it was a natural sense of adventure, her curiosity or simply boredom, she didn’t know. All she knew was she had to go, if only to satisfy the urge.

“Equestria,” she mumbled, passing through the vast intricacies of the Clockworks, “time to go home.”

The Retaliator

Sanctuary’s Watch was the only finished Dauxite structure in Chronove’s system, originally built as the primary defensive nexus for Chronove and the system as a whole, it evolved in the era of the Empire to be Chronove’s last line of defence: the base of the Chronovus Prime Fleet - an elite thousand ships, designed to die to blunt the offensive of any enemy against Chronove.

Even after the War in Heaven, when the Irenton Empire shattered completely, the shipyards of Sanctuary’s Watch never ceased - they may have slowed, but, so long as one person on the satellite drew breath they would not stop. Even the great orbital shipyards of Chronove paled in comparison to the efficiency of their nearby satellite. When the Dominion needed many ships, it went to Chronove, when they needed one done quickly, they went to Sanctuary’s Watch.

The Sanctuary’s Watch shipyards were remarkable, even to Penumbra, who had seen things far more grandiose and unusual in the past. On their edges was a near pristine forest, complete with thin running creeks, the chirping of wild birds and the rare glance of a hare or other creature, living out its simple life. Then, suddenly, there was a drop of ten thousand feet as the immense five hundred kilometre radius cylinder of the shipyard opened. Tiny vessels buzzed like little fireflies around the vast hulls of warships that dwarfed cities. In orbit, high above, attached by immense skyhooks and tethers, hung the gestating forms of warships so long it would take days to cross them on foot.

Gantries little wider than a metre formed an intricate cobweb around the entirety of the deep cylinder, some terminating in mid air and others forming platforms for workers to stand on before being pulled elsewhere. Penumbra, having never visited the shipyards, naturally didn’t know where the acquisitions office was, though she believed it couldn’t be too hard to find out. She did, however, know that acquisitions was kept within the yards themselves, placing the workers of both arts within close proximity.

Sure enough, the acquisitions office was located down one treacherously thin flight of stairs, buried into the wall of the shipyards, with only a heavy bulkhead door and a metre squared panel of glass the thickness of Penumbra’s head marking it out as any different from the rest of the area. The door was opened slightly, no doubt to save anyone entering the difficulty of opening it, allowing Penumbra only a slightly delayed access into the little office.

There was only one desk, with a chair on either side, a noticeably unaugmented Valkyrie sitting behind it, her small blue two-sided computer screen the only light in the room. She didn’t so much as glance at Penumbra until she had sat down, then spoke with a clearly well-rehearsed tone.

“Welcome to the Sanctuary’s Watch shipyards acquisitions office.”

Penumbra smiled. “I’m Sunless-Halo-of-Penumbra, from the 44th Parallel Observatory. I would like to acquire a ship.”

The Valkyrie nodded, tapping something into her side of the console. “Present identification.” If there was any doubt about her being military initially, it was removed by the cold and curt way she spoke, unable to keep herself from slipping into the Imperial Military Accent - one of the most enduring and pervasive of holdovers from the Irenton Empire - even if she had wanted to.

By virtue of her rank during the War in Heaven, Penumbra had been granted a Dominion military ID, one affording her a number of benefits including, but not limited to, essentially free rein over choice of starship. With a simple flash of a little metal plate, a wealth of vessels opened up to her, all for free.

The Dominion had no currency, none had ever really been necessary. The Irenton Empire had been vast, but it had also been efficient - incredibly so - making resources abundant. Everything from bread to guns to whole starships could be acquired for free - provided you had the correct authorisation.

Unlike the Irenton Empire, however, the Dominion was relatively unsafe. Granted, there was not the typical threat of extra-universal horrors or hordes of disaffected and quick to anger rebels with fusion bombs, but there were pirates, death-cults and who knew how many devolved ex-Imperials among the many unexplored planets. As such, the vast majority of Dominion vessels came equipped with some form of defence, whether it be a single point defence turret to a vast arsenal of capital weaponry.

The Sanctuary’s Watch shipyards specialised in warships, though they did produce a number of small, more civilian oriented craft. One such craft immediately caught Penumbra’s eye: a vaguely triangular form, with more space within than she could likely ever use. It was a civilian craft, for sure, though its class was simply referred to as “multi-purpose,” oddly, however, it was equipped with not only a pair of Rift Generators - similar to a military carrier - but shields comparable to that of a warship nearly fifty times its size and armaments rivalling that of a small cruiser.

“What’s that one?” Penumbra asked the Valkyrie, pointing out the strangely well-equipped vessel.

The Valkyrie tapped a few buttons on her end. “Model-66 Multiple-Purpose Nexus vessel, designated Retaliator. Constructed by Chronovus Fleet Systems Platform-19 approximately seventy standard years ago. Never used, been in drydock on Sanctuary’s Watch Orbital Platform-6 since launch.”

A Nexus vessel, as Penumbra had half-remembered once reading in some digitised magazine, was a vessel designed for both military and civilian purposes, equipped for speed, strength and firepower. They were more than often used to carry important people, such as dignitaries or military leaders, inside Dominion space. However, why one would be constructed then never used - as well as being given such a belligerent name - was curious.

“I’ll take it.” Penumbra, admittedly, didn’t understand how to make an acquisition of a starship official, she just assumed the Valkyrie would press a few buttons and she’d have the ship in her possession.

Sure enough, the Valkyrie tapped her console, and kept tapping. The tapping went on for about five minutes, before eventually the Valkyrie appeared satisfied. “Take elevator twelve up to Platform-6, the Retaliator will be waiting for you.”

Penumbra nodded, thanked the Valkyrie and awkwardly slid out of the door, doing her best to avoid her horn scraping on the ceiling. She stepped out onto the gantries, taking in the light of Chronove’s star and the blinkings and flashes of the shipyard’s many lights. High above the surface of the machine moon, beyond the thin wisps of cloud that marked the average coverage of a summer’s day, hung hundreds of vessels of all sizes, connected to one of three immense tethers, which glinted in the late afternoon light. One of those vessels, invisible or otherwise unidentifiable from hundreds of kilometres below them, was now hers. What remained, before she could travel to Sanctum, was to get to it.

Which she wasn’t sure how to do.

The three orbital tethers were linked together far above by a multitude of thin bridges and cables, forming a complex patterned web of structures allowing every docked vessel to be reached. The platforms, as described by the Valkyrie, were not platforms in the traditional sense, rather a horizontal plane where tethers and connectors were located, the ships docking to them.

Elevator twelve was no doubt attached within one of the tethers, though from where she was standing it was not apparent which. Her apparent only option would be to check each one, hoping that the first she came across - located a few kilometres away from her on the edge of the pit - would hold what she wanted.

She disembarked the gantry and exited the shipyard’s pit. Following the nicely marked out path, she skirted the edge slowly, the tether slowly becoming larger in her view. From her position on the gantry, the tether had looked about the thickness of a house, with Penumbra’s eyes tricked by its sheer height. Coming in close, the tether was some half a kilometre in radius, made of a heavily reinforced black substance, with foundations no doubt extending kilometres below the surface.

There were few openings in the reinforcement, each one being a heavy looking elevator door, with a small glow-in-the-dark sign attached to the segment of armour above to denote its number. The first Penumbra saw was marked ‘Elevator 3’ - which she audibly sighed in relief at - no doubt she was close to number twelve.

After a twenty kilometre walk, she arrived at elevator number twelve, considerably more exasperated than when she first arrived at the shipyard. The sheer size of everything beyond her simple home continued to surprise and astound her, though after thousands of years it shouldn’t have. Mercifully, the elevator contained a number of seats, Penumbra practically throwing herself into one the moment she saw it, savouring the chance to rest her legs.

“Please state your destination,” a robotic, feminine voice appeared through a hidden speaker above her, Penumbra not even bothering to open her eyes to answer it.

“Platform-6,” she said, quickly recalling the directions the Valkyrie had given her. She heard the slow whoosh of the door closing, before it locked shut with a pair of clicks.

Suddenly, Penumbra found herself being crushed.

Startled, she opened her eyes and reached out with her magic, ready to smash the first thing she saw that could even be interpreted as a threat. Quickly, though, she calmed down, pushing herself upwards and backwards as a restraint harness lowered over her. In standard fashion, she allowed it to click in place, giving it a tug as a test before settling back down again. Only to, a second later, again be startled as she felt herself lifting off the seat.

The elevator had, as she quickly found out, launched itself skywards. Apparently, it had not been designed for comfort in mind - or for those prone to heart attacks. She couldn’t deny, however, that it was effective, as she stepped out ten seconds later to find herself in space, a long corridor ahead of her, covered in windows, with various vessels docked to ports marked by thick bulkheads and airlocks.

One of those vessels was the Retaliator. Fortunately for Penumbra, unlike her search for the elevators, she knew exactly what she was looking for. With only three vessels docked, the only one on the left hand side being clearly hers, it was simple to acquire.

She stepped up to the bulkhead, being greeted by a terminal that required her to input a number of credentials and authorisations before it even unlocked. After several minutes of tedious faffing around, the terminal gave her the option to unlock the bulkhead, the half a metre thick metal door clicking and sliding cleanly open at the press of a single button. Stepping past the threshold, she found herself within the airlock, with just enough room to spare from the ceiling.

There was another terminal within, this one thankfully far easier to work. The bulkhead behind her closed, then clicked as it locked, before a button flashed up and the bulkhead ahead of her clicked and swung inwards, allowing her access to her brand new vessel.

The room she entered sported an uncomfortably low ceiling, though a few seconds - and the click of a bulkhead - later it opened out into a spacious atrium, complete with purple carpet running down a grand staircase and through a door to what appeared to be an observation deck, its bulbous window full of blinking lights and pieces of shipyard backdropped by the deep and endless void of space. All in all, it seemed to be more like a cross between a five-star hotel’s foyer and a crystal clean laboratory than a spaceship.

Atop the grand staircase, connected by a pair of wide bulkheads, was the entrance to the command deck: essentially the bridge of the vessel. There was little in it, with only three consoles with corresponding chairs, arranged in a triangular formation, with what Penumbra assumed to be the captain’s chair and console being considerably larger. There was a dock in the centre of the largest console, a stout metal plinth containing a holographic projector on top and a port about two thirds of the way up. When Penumbra neared it, the projector flickered to life, creating a floating, blue holographic rune.

“Welcome, Captain,” the rune said, voice robotically neutral, without so much as an illusion of biological life, “all systems nominal.”

Penumbra took a seat in the captain’s chair, removing her saddlebags and laying them down at its side, surprised it was so comfortable. “And you are?”

“Dominion Luminary class shipboard AI,” the rune said, “awaiting orders.”

She nodded, getting her bearings with the console and command deck as a whole. She removed her datapad from her saddlebag, plugging it into a small port on the terminal. “Can you set a course to these coordinates?” The relevant data flashed up on the viewscreen in front.

“Affirmative.” With a flash, the coordinates were locked into the system, the Luminary making the necessary preparations to undock from the shipyard. “Approximate time to leave Rift Interdiction Zone: two hours and twelve minutes.”

Penumbra, glad she had a competent tool to rely on, was content to rise from the chair, grab her bag and leave the Luminary to its job. The ship may not have been the largest she had seen, but in comparison to her it was enormous, she could more than kill two hours and twelve minutes simply exploring; with her first port of call being her sleeping quarters, where she could dump her bag.

Similar to the design of pre-Dominion military vessels, the Captain’s quarters was located just behind the command deck, only a thin staircase and pair of bulkhead doors separating the two. The quarters were fairly well furnished, containing a comfortably sized bed, large writing desk complete with terminal, armchair and small viewport allowing visibility out of the port side of the ship. On inspection, the desk yielded a small bookcase, complete with three tomes Penumbra hadn’t seen before. Two were undoubtedly related to the command of starships, with one even being rather aptly named ‘The Captain’s Handbook’. The third, meanwhile, was some form of fiction text, named ‘The Princess of Dreams’. She made a mental note to check it out as soon as she had time.

Down the grand staircase lay the observation deck, which she already knew about and had seen enough of the Chronovus system already to bother checking out. Instead, she skirted around the side of the staircase, passing down a corridor towards a bulkhead labelled ‘engineering’.

What little she knew about starships told her that engineering meant the reactors, Rift Generators, engines and shields; all four of which were very interesting to her, even if she was at loath to know how they worked. The pair of Rift Generators were each located in their own rooms, the bulkhead leading to them more than a metre thick. Each room was tiny, with barely enough room for Penumbra to stand, with the Rift Generators surrounded with warnings and other, more practical, defence mechanisms. She resolved to leave them alone, at least for the time being.

The reactors seemed much more forgiving, though they still bore several warnings. Each had a set of terminals and consoles linked up to it, no doubt to perform the manual task of optimising the reactor - a task Penumbra had no idea where to even begin on. Fortunately, each one appeared to be working just fine regardless of her input, no doubt due to the Luminary. Through their casings, thick black metal with a small window made of a transparent reinforced material around a metre thick, bright and violent reactions were occuring, releasing enormous amounts of energy to power to engines through the wall behind them.

Passing through another bulkhead, Penumbra arrived in the engine bay itself. Unlike the rest of the ship, which was near silent, the engine bay was permeated by a constant humming and a dull throb, no doubt a result of the propulsion of the vessel. Each of the twelve engines was only represented as a large, squat cylinder of metal on the wall, various cables the thickness of Penumbra’s horn feeding into them. Each one was about her height, perhaps slightly taller, with Penumbra being kept away from them by a metal fence, apparently designed as a warning for the unwanted to keep away.

The shields were only visible in the form of a number of consoles, controlling various variables that Penumbra didn’t understand. What she did understand, however, was that the particular shields on the Retaliator were incredibly powerful, far larger than anything she had seen on ships of a similar size. She had acquired an important ship, or, at least, something that was once intended to be an important ship.

With her tour of the engineering bay proving to have been a good use of an hour, she turned her attention to the ship as a whole. Maybe, she would simply travel to Sanctum, and have a look around, then return straight home. But, as she knew all too well, nothing ever went that simply. More than likely, knowing her luck, the Retaliator would turn into a mobile home away from home, so to speak. As such, she laid out plans for the space, setting aside most of it for storage, but selecting the observation deck as a perfect place for a telescope - potentially even similar observation devices should she find the time.

Drawing up her plans filled the rest of the time to the minute, Penumbra congratulating herself internally on her splendid time management. After saving the plans on her terminal and stretching her legs slightly, she felt her horn tingle as the Retaliator entered the Rift. She allowed herself the moment of time in the Rift - no more than a few seconds - to close her eyes and simply feel the ecstacy of the soul movements. The Rift was a drug she had not felt for so long.

“We have arrived in the Capris Alpha System,” the Luminary’s voice appeared the instant she left her cabin, “transmitting clearance to Dominion fleetbase authorities.”

To Penumbra’s surprise - though her surprise was typically very mellow - the sky was filled with Dominion warships and stations. There wasn’t a spot more than a few square inches on the viewscreen that didn’t contain either a capital vessel or defensive station the size of a city. Sure enough, a pair of sleek, black fighter craft sped by, no doubt a part of a far larger force that had surrounded her vessel.

Within seconds, they broke off, returning to a ship in her blind spot, which quickly revealed itself overhead: a long and thin kite shaped hull, powered by three dozen orange engines, leaving a thin trail of particles in its wake. Black, as standard for most Dominion military equipment, with fighter squadrons escorting it like cleaner fish to a shark. The cruiser, bristling with guns of a multitude of sizes, passed silently overhead, heading back to its patrol route.

“Set a course,” she said, “take us into Sanctum.”

Sanctum

When the Irenton Dominion came upon the ruins of Sanctum, destroyed millennia prior by the Stormcannons of an Imperial fleet, it represented a prime strategic opportunity. Not only that, it represented a vital necessity for expansion into the outer rim of the galaxy, being a perfect point for projection of force for the entire quadrant. Due to these facts, the ruins of Sanctum were converted slowly into the largest singular military installation in the entire Dominion, hosting tens of thousands of ships at any one time.

Though the Dominion had not known of the life that had previously inhabited Sanctum - their only evidence life ever lived on it to begin with being small bits of debris too artificial in shape to have been natural - they recognised the distinctive continental plates, set free by the planet’s destruction, and built their bases around them. Five of the seven plates had been colonised by the time Penumbra transitioned into the system, connected by a web of teleporters, bridges and countless other pieces of infrastructure.

The majority of its immense naval complement were in dock, as evidenced by the immense energy signatures emanating from within several of the continents. The Luminary’s course was taking them within the second smallest continent, the one most buzzing with smaller craft and covered in glistering buildings extending deep into its crust. Her clearance would allow her access to the more exclusive of docks, perfect for what she intended.

Her visit would remain just that: a visit, she would hunt around for whatever could have caused the signal she had received within the tame confines of where she could easily go. As she knew all too well, military facilities were best left unmolested, especially ones like Sanctum.

When the Retaliator drew within two thousand kilometres of the assigned dock, a pair of fighter craft appeared alongside it, escorting it carefully within the confines of Sanctum’s second line of defence - which Penumbra had not even seen previously. With a faint flicker, a hole of ten kilometre radius opened within a previously invisible orange shield, closing immediately once the three vessels had passed through, the shield vanishing once again.

“What was that?” Penumbra asked the Luminary, hoping it would shed light on more the how than the what.

“The Dominion Sanctum Defence Array,” it told her, “located within Continent IV, designed to protect stationary Dominion naval assets from external attack.”

Penumbra nodded. “They don’t have facilities like this even on Chronove. Although, I guess Chronove has other defences.”

“Affirmative,” the Luminary replied, “Chronove defensive systems are rated against all but a Hard Civilisation Kill event. Sanctum defensive systems are rated against up to a Soft Civilisation Kill event.”

She knew what those meant. Fortunately, the actual probability of a Hard Civilisation Kill event was very small. One of the few things Penumbra actually properly knew about the state of the Dominion was the probability of certain dangers. Graphs were enjoyable. An additional plus was that almost all the old Imperial codes and defence conditions had been continued in the Irenton Dominion, along with the Imperial Military Language which all of them were recorded in.

She rubbed the back of her neck, talons raking through the many knots in her fur. “Are we landing soon?” She couldn’t tell why she was getting so impatient.

“Affirmative.”

Penumbra nodded, sighing. She was almost certain she’d never get used to the coldness and curtness of the Luminary. Although, if it was her only companion, she probably would have to at some point.

Sure enough, the Retaliator steadily glided down, the shattered crust of Penumbra’s former homeworld growing larger in the viewscreen. Its rocks were blackened, though they were fairly few and far between, forming little more than a facade over the intricate and artificial tunnel system that ran beneath, shielding all of the base’s activities from prying eyes.

Their assigned dock was in one such tunnel. Though the landing pad wasn’t too far in, it still gave Penumbra a sense of scale. Towers and bridges and machines of all kinds lined the way in and out, miniscule lights blinking silently into the darkness in either direction. Further in, about ten kilometres from where she was landing, there was a wall of darkness, the light of the star without unable to reach it at all.

Rather than the typical soft thump of landing, the whole ship came to a sudden and thudding halt in midair. Penumbra panicked for a second, instinctively reaching for her sword, before she realised that she was not under attack: a pair of arms had grasped the ship, holding it in place above ground. Another clunk and distant whoosh of air followed, with the Luminary confirming it was the airlock docking.

Penumbra rose from her captain’s chair and made her way to the airlock. As she went, she rehearsed over her plan. She would find the communication station - which the base was sure to have - inspect it and inquire about the signal she had received on Sanctuary’s Watch. If she found nothing there - which she wasn’t really expecting to - she would find some secluded spot and try and use her magic to a source. With any luck, it wouldn’t take long.

Exiting the airlock, which was connected to the rest of the facility by a long bridge, complete with windows to view the massive opening of the landing pad - there wasn’t much else to see - she was met by a pair of Warriors, armoured identically to those on Chronove.

“Sunless-Halo-of-Penumbra?” One inquired, their voice modulator giving them a fast but no less robotic tone. On Penumbra’s nodding affirmative, they continued, “please come with us.”

Reluctantly, she followed the two soldiers, over a worryingly lengthy distance. Much of the base they passed through was featureless corridors, save a few doors that sometimes had a pair of Warriors leave and head down the hall. After what felt like an hour of walking - though the presence of the Warrior’s guns significantly skewed Penumbra’s experience of time - they arrived at a significantly larger door, the hall terminating before it.

It was guarded by another pair of Warriors, though they made no movements to acknowledge either Penumbra’s presence or the presence of their fellows. Regardless, the door parted in the middle, revealing what looked to be a command and control centre.

Warriors without visible weaponry manned a hundred glowing orange consoles. In the room’s centre, down a set of stairs and passing two oval rows of consoles, three officers - identifiable by their lighter grey armour - stood by a large holographic table, some ten metres by four metres in size. Penumbra’s two escorts marched her down, standing to attention when they reached the bottom.

One of the officers turned to her, inspecting her over, before tugging at one of their comrades’ shoulders. The third officer watched from the opposite end of the table, whilst the two approached her.

The second officer nodded to the two Warriors, who spun on their heels and marched off, back up the stairs and out of the control room within seconds. “We had received word you were coming,” the second officer said, with a voice vaguely distinguishable from the other Warriors’, “though it was barely enough time to arrange an escort.”

“We weren’t,” the first said, voice slightly more gruff than their fellow, “however, told why you were coming. So, why are you here?”

“Now, now,” the second said, raising an open palm to their comrade to temper them, “whilst I would like to know the reason for your visit, you have come a long way. The least we can do is provide a form of hospitality.”

Two pairs of armoured heels clicked from behind Penumbra. Turning, she beheld a pair of warriors, one carrying a black briefcase and the other a tray of mugs, each one filled with freshly brewed tea. The second officer grabbed two mugs, handing one to Penumbra and keeping the other for themself. The first officer took the briefcase over to the third, still stood behind the table, and handed it off to them. The Warrior with the tea took the remaining mugs around the closest ring of consoles, handing them out before leaving with their comrade.

The second officer’s helmet opened, folding backwards into the armour at their back, revealing a pale, grey, flattened face and bald scalp. Their eyes were a very dull blue, that being the only colour aside from varying shades of pallid grey on their face. They had a pair of slits, slightly raised, in place of the usual cartilaginous nose, the ears similar small holes in the side of their head. They took a sip of their tea and smiled, lips taut as they did so.

“Now,” they said, voice vaguely masculine, though Penumbra had read that all Warriors sounded and looked almost identical, regardless of gender, “I know this isn’t some inspection of our facilities. Though, you are welcome to do so if you should wish.”

Penumbra took a long drink from her mug, it wasn’t as bitter as she would’ve liked it. “I came here at the behest of a signal,” she said, seeing fit to be upfront, “an old one, granted, a radio transmission.”

“Radio?” The officer looked vaguely confused, though it was hard to exactly tell. “We don’t use radio for much.”

“It wasn’t from you,” Penumbra clarified, “it was from the planet itself, from before you arrived, or maybe just after. This place used to be a Dauxite Assembly installation.” She couldn’t keep herself from pausing for a moment. “As well as my homeworld.”

The officer thought for a moment. “Coincidence,” they murmured, clearly not meaning for Penumbra to hear.

“Coincidence?” She repeated, “what do you mean?”

The officer looked her in the eye. “We were preparing an expedition down to the core before you arrived. There’s an intact structure down there that we’ve been getting some unusual energy readings from.” They gestured to the projection table, walking around it and clearly expecting Penumbra to follow. “A few days ago we started detecting a radio pulse coming from it.” They keyed something into the table’s tiny console, a graphical depiction of digital sound appearing on it. Pressing another key, the graphic began to move, as sound came from the console.

It was a collection of pulses, each of a length of either a quarter or half of a second, varying in pitch slightly between each. The pulses continued for a minute, before they ceased.

Penumbra understood the meaning of the pulses immediately. “Digita.”

Digita was one of two languages in the Dauxite Assembly. The similarities between it and Assembly Binary were so numerous that one could be forgiven for believing them to be both the same. Indeed, Penumbra had thought they were for a long time. Only fairly recently had she distinguished between the two of them, with the assistance of Tick on Sanctuary’s Watch. Assembly Binary was spoken with a burst of static, typically no longer than half a minute in length, an efficient and smart way for the Assembly’s various constructs to communicate. Digita, however, was far more poetic, more aesthetic, more formal than Assembly Binary. It was the language of the Dauxite Emperor, who was regarded by his people as a living god - though it is unknown if he even existed at all. For something to be communicating in Digita, it would have to be important.

“Play it again,” Penumbra said, “I may be able to translate it.”

The pulses played again, ceasing again a minute later.

“It’s just one word,” she said, “repeating three times. It’s saying: mercy, mercy, mercy.”

The officer stiffened. “Any idea why?”

“I think it's damaged,” Penumbra said, “take me on that expedition, I might find what I’m looking for.”

The officer’s two comrades both betrayed their feelings, even locked in their armour. The first officer was disapproving, the third was approving, or, they may have been the other way around, Penumbra wasn’t quite sure.

“You can translate for us,” the second officer said, laying their mug on an empty table behind them, “has command authorised the expedition?”

The first officer nodded.

The second nodded back, their helmet returning as the segments folded out from their armour and back over their head. “Let’s get to the ships.”

Penumbra had followed awkwardly behind them, the two other officers behind her. They were soon joined by a maniple of ten Warriors, who marched in perfect step in two rows of five - though Penumbra wondered what exactly they’d be used for, considering the expedition was into the vacuum of space. Their walk to the landing pad was far shorter than hers had been, though she quickly realised that was because they’d gone to another pad entirely.

Two vessels waited for them, sleek black affairs with little in the way of visible external hardware - far smoother than the Retaliator. The maniple filed into one, whilst Penumbra and the three officers took the other. The Dominion military airlocks were also far nicer than those aboard the Retaliator, without the awkward step between the hatch and either side’s floor.

She remained standing as the third officer moved further within the ship and the second closed the airlock behind them. Without noise, the ship rocked gently and detached from the facility, slowly cruising outwards towards a large tunnel leading straight down.

“Take a seat,” the first officer ordered, the reason quickly revealing itself.

No sooner had she strapped herself in, the ship started a nose dive into the planet’s hollow core. Mercifully, the dive took barely half a minute, the vessel recentering iself when they reached their desired depth - as Penumbra’s stomach did the same.

“The target is ahead,” the voice of a Warrior came over the intercom, “one hundred metres.”

Penumbra hauled herself from her chair, expecting her stomach to suddenly leap from her mouth. Surprisingly, no nausea came, with Penumbra simply walking as normal to the front of the vessel - though with perhaps a little too much compensation for a non-existent weakness during the first few steps.

Out the viewscreen hung a smooth white sphere, veins of dull blue light running along its surface, silhouetted against an immense dark canvas of metal. This must have been their source. Though, the orb was fairly large, at least a hundred metres in radius. Its shape also didn’t match with any Assembly constructs. Perhaps this was an Assembly egg, Penumbra thought jokingly, before suddenly realising that she probably wasn’t far off.

“Cut it open.”

The two pilots and officer turned to her. “What?” One asked, presumably one of the pilots.

“Cut it open,” she repeated, “there’s something within it.”

“How do you know?” A pilot questioned, but they were silenced by a tap on the shoulder from the officer.

The tap seemed to convey all of the orders necessary, as, no more than a few seconds later, the pilot was firing a beam of orange energy into the orb’s surface. At first, it seemed unaffected, until, with a flicker, its surface began to crack.

The beam had made half of a complete circle before the blue light from the orb suddenly extinguished. The beam followed shortly after, then the ship’s inner lighting. Only the intercom system remained, screaming out in Assembly Binary and Digita. The Warriors’ armour protected them from the sound, as did Penumbra’s helmet and enhanced strength, though she was still able to translate.

“Mercy no more,” she muttered as it spoke, “all systems executing long hold for reactivation. I am Faustinius.”

With that, the power was restored.

Ablazed Glory

Faustinius.

Faust had been the stuff of legend on Equestria. She had been equivalent to a god, though no organised religion based around her really became mainstream. Rather, she has just always been a part of life, always a part of the mythology of their homeland.

Penumbra hadn’t thought she’d be real.

With the discovery of Faustinius, Penumbra had been energised to travel. Specifically, she would travel to New Horizons. After seeing what had become of her old home, whose beating heart now hung lifeless in the vacuum of space - although admittedly the lifeless part was both new and her fault - she desired to see what had become of the new home of her race, a place she had never visited before.

She had left the moment she could, practically running straight back to the Retaliator, where she shouted out her intended destination from the airlock and expected the Luminary to deal with it. Thankfully, it did.

With the Luminary carrying out all of the tasks of piloting, Penumbra was free to concentrate on thinking. There was a specific brand of thinking, one taught to her by Emperor Nicholas in its base form but built upon by millennia of practice.

Faustinius, it was either an incredible coincidence - which was possible but improbable - or, that orb she had seen was Faust. If it was just a coincidence, it would end there, nothing more to think about. But, if it was not - which she believed was the case - then what could that have meant? Could Faustinius have visited Equestria during its early days? Perhaps. An Assembly construct would be suitably advanced to appear as a deity, or at the very least beyond anything the primitive minds of ancient ponies could conjure up. If Faustinius could communicate, which any suitably intelligent Assembly construct could - at least according to what Penumbra knew - then pony scholars over the years would easily mistranslate and shorten their name, from Faustinius, to Faust.

Perhaps, knowing how Assembly constructions went, Faustinius was indeed the creator of Equestria - or Sanctum. It would make sense for an impossible advanced creature, that claimed to be a creator, to be accepted and immediately develop into a mythology. Even a physical process like the movement of the sun and moon had become a mythological object, with Equestria’s Princess rulers being accepted widely as demi-goddesses for it. That was one thing that had always perplexed her about how Equestria worked; she had, after all, seen the Princesses manipulate the sun and moon on more than one occasion, though she knew there was a physical explanation for it. More than likely, it was something to do with the Dauxite Assembly - everything seemed to go back to them.

There were, however, far more pressing matters at hand. Such as her arrival in the Redeemance System, where New Horizons - the colony founded by those ponies evacuated from Equestria at the behest of the Irenton Empire - was present. The system appeared almost untouched, with even the millennia old Imperial Overwatch Station still hanging in orbit, silent and dark.

“Luminary, see if you can raise the ground.”

A few seconds later, the response came back, “I am detecting no suitable transmission receivers on the planet.”

Penumbra sighed, even though that result had been what she had expected. “The station?” She wasn’t confident.

Another few seconds, then another few, then more, until a whole minute had passed by. Finally, the Luminary returned with exactly what she had expected, “station communication systems are offline…”

Penumbra sighed again. Before she could give another instruction, however, the Luminary continued, “they appear to have been deactivated from within.”

That was unexpected.

She shifted uncomfortably on her seat - systems being deactivated from inside an abandoned station usually meant said station contained things she did not want to meet. “Can you dock us to the station?”

“Affirmative. Moving to suitable docking position now.”

As they approached, Penumbra saw the size of the Overwatch station. It was about as large as Canterlot had been, though it was arranged as a tall octahedron, painted gunmetal grey and bristling with cannons and launch systems. Fortunately, it appeared to be mostly without power, no doubt its reactor had finally run out of fuel, only its batteries tiding it over as system after system slowly died. The Luminary’s suitable docking position was in the form of an open hangar, definitely too small for the Retaliator to fit.

Penumbra observed the happenings with curiosity, though she was ready to leap to the controls and direct the ship away if she thought it would go wrong. The Luminary directed the Retaliator so the rear starboard side of its tapered shape was partially through the hangar’s shield. Then, with a sudden and shocking pair of thuds, two cables launched from it, grappling onto the hangar’s rear walls and burying themselves into the metal. With a metallic groan, the ship was dragged slightly starboard as the cables cut some of the slack.

“Docking procedures complete,” the Luminary said, though it seemed to Penumbra like all it had done was punch some holes into a station.

“Aft airlock two is now open for use.”

Aft airlock two, as she discovered, was in the part of the ship within the shield. All she had to do was glide steadily down from it a few metres to reach the hangar’s rear walkway. She inwardly praised the surprising ingenuity of the AI, before discovering the hangar’s exit door was locked tight.

Thankfully, a moment later, it was not locked tight, and Penumbra was free to begin her exploration of the station, extinguishing and sheathing her plasma sword as she did so.

The station was completely lifeless, dead in all respects. It was as though the crew had simply packed up everything and left - which they more than likely had done. Empty hallways connected to empty rooms, the odd few containing a terminal that more than likely went silent centuries earlier. When Penumbra found the command centre, it was by accident, she stumbled upon it as she wandered the halls. She only knew it was the command centre because it was a rotunda, which was one of the unifying themes of Imperial military architectural design.

The command centre contained two consoles, both of which worked as expected - that is, not at all - and the plinth for a holographic table. The actual projector of the table appeared to have been cut out and taken away, with dusty wires and bits of warped metal all that remained to show for it.

Whilst the table was no more, its adjacent console was not. Similar to those employed by the Dominion, a small tower was connected to all holographic tables, with a small pad to key in information and a few ports to add or acquire information the console would use. It was not only intact, it had a faint glow to it.

Curious, Penumbra tapped one of the keys, which ejected a small hard disk from the tower. She made a mental note to check it in the ship later as she stowed it into the bags on her armoured back. That little discovery gave her a new vigour in searching, perhaps some more of the station remained intact.

The next room along was the communications room. She knew it was the communications room because a large pile of communications equipment lay within it. Granted, she was no expert, but she still knew that the pile would have fetched a pretty penny for smugglers back in the early days of the Dominion. If they’d come into the station, they’d have taken the pile.

The equipment was taken from all over, not just the station itself. She found everything from a handheld transmitter marked ‘IESS Vengeance of the Lost’, dated to before the start of the War in Heaven, to what was apparently the communications console - the entire thing, wires and all - of the Overwatch station.

What was most interesting to her, however, was the tiny Rift Generator that had very clearly been pulled from the wall. Given the vast size of the Irenton Empire - as was the same with the Dominion - messages and signals were funneled through the Rift, reaching their destination almost instantly rather than taking hundreds of thousands or potentially millions of years. Someone had hurriedly removed it, as evidenced by the sharp-edged hole in the wall and damage to the generator itself, in an attempt to stop the transmission or receival of any messages outside the system.

The actual transmitters, however, were all still in place. They also appeared to be getting some power, if the faint glow of their tiny screens was anything to go by. Penumbra had no experience with such transmitters, but it didn’t take an expert to know that the large level next to it, flicked to the off position, would need to be flicked to the on position for it to work. So, embracing her sense of adventure - what little of it she still had left - and her curiosity, she flicked the lever up, which gave an electrical clunk, the little blue screens flaring to life.

There were a total of eight hundred and forty two thousand, three hundred and nine transmissions missed. All of them from the planet’s surface.

Someone had been calling for help, for what was likely decades, and it never arrived.

Penumbra flicked the lever back to the off position and quickly fled the station.

She had come to New Horizons for one reason, which she relayed to the Luminary, “land us on the planet, as close as you can get to the biggest settlement. I want to find Ablazed Glory.”

“Affirmative,” the Luminary said, neither knowing nor caring who Ablazed Glory was. With mechanical thuds and clunks that went on just long enough for Penumbra to focus her mind onto them and not the swirling storm of other thoughts, the Retaliator detached from the station, before gracefully gliding down to the planet below.

A New Horizon

The Luminary had landed Penumbra as close to the town as it could without landing on the houses. It had touched down on a verdant green plain, no doubt part of somebody’s back garden - most likely somebodies’ back gardens given the Retaliator’s size. The Retaliator’s embarkation ramp extended from its underbelly, Penumbra marching down it to find herself facing somebody’s back door.

The moment she walked around the house, she found herself facing the entire town.

It was as if something had simultaneously roused all of them to move to the streets. Well over three thousand ponies stood in front of her, some hanging precariously out of windows, others hovering above their fellows. At their head stood a unicorn with a brown coat and white mane. She wore half-moon glasses on her nose and looked at Penumbra with a mixture of terror and reverence.

“W…” She stuttered, partially stooping down as if compelled to bow. “Welcome,” she eventually forced out, “to our town. What brings you here?” The mare’s voice rose and fell like the tide.

Penumbra’s hard exterior softened a little, part of her recognising the unicorn as if she was an old friend, though she knew full well she had never met her before. “I want to look around,” she said, “for now, at least. Return to your businesses.”

The ponies all, reluctantly, nodded and began to disperse. Foals had to be practically dragged away by their parents, as they stared intently at Penumbra with undisguised awe. She was massive in comparison to almost all of them, even more so than the Princesses had been in their time- all save one.

A dragon, purple scales and green spines along its back and head, hung at where the rear of the group had been. It stared at her with an emotion she couldn’t identify. Dragons were mysterious and nuanced creatures - that and she couldn’t measure faces incredibly well. It was clearly still young, but had far surpassed the juvenile stage, being a good twenty five metres long and about six tall. Slowly, it slunk towards her, a small cadre of ponies following alongside it. It moved slowly, carefully, though with none of the visible wisdom that most dragons she had encountered did. Rather it seemed enraptured by her, or something behind her.

It stopped only when about a foot from her face, where she could feel the heat of its breath from its nostrils over her face. If she was not mistaken, she could have sworn she saw its lower jaw tremble before it spoke.

“Twilight?”

Penumbra shook her head. “No, I am Sunless-Halo-of…”

She was floored by a sudden weight. But, it was not the dragon, like she would have expected, but a sudden vice-like grip on her soul. She swallowed hard, her trachea feeling like it was being constricted. Her jaw trembled. A sudden realisation of a terrible mistake washed over her.

“Spike?”

Spike, the dragon, nodded his head. “You remember me,” he murmured, sounding as though he would cry. “I thought after all this time.” He choked on what could have been a sob. “After all this time. I thought you would never come back.”

“Our parents told us about you,” a yellow pegasus with red mane said, “so did Spike. We thought you were a myth.”

“A fairytale,” another, an orange unicorn, chimed in.

“Something to keep us imagining,” a white earthpony said, “something to keep us hoping.”

A withered looking red stallion, sat in a wheelchair pushed by a yellow pegasus, spoke up. Though his voice was quiet, everything seemed to fall silent when he spoke, even Spike’s breathing. “We believed,” he said, “just as our predecessors did. We believed that, one day, you would return. Twilight Sparkle, an ancient hero, from an ancient time. Our ancestors believed in you, I can tell just from looking at you they were right to.”

Penumbra nodded her head slowly. “I’m not Twilight Sparkle,” she mumbled, not having the energy to raise her voice beyond that, “I’m Sunless-Halo-of-Penumbra, Twilight Sparkle died long ago.”

The withered old station smiled, rising slowly from his wheelchair. Both the yellow pegasus who pushed his chair and the white earthpony were upon him immediately, holding out their hooves as support, though he did not grab them. He limped up to Penumbra, who he could just about reach the eyes of when she was sat on her haunches.

“You are Sunless-Halo-of-Penumbra,” he said, “but that is merely a name. Who you are within still remains. You are still our hero, who would descend from the skies and eventually bring us salvation.”

She looked him in the eye, seeing a great belief in her. Eventually, she brought herself to nod.

“Grandpa Apple,” the earthpony said, “you should sit back down.”

The withered old stallion laughed. “I have not much time either way. I should like to look her in the eyes.” He focused again on Penumbra. “To witness you today has fulfilled my life. All the time I held my belief, I listened to and told the tales of your heroics, how you saved us time and time again. I knew you would one day come here, only fleetingly, but it was exactly as those old stories said it would be. I had to see you, just once.”

“I am honoured,” Penumbra replied. She thought about continuing, but decided against it.

“No.” The stallion chuckled. “It is I who am honoured. Honoured by life to see this day, the day that our salvation began.”

A foal emerged from behind him, a tiny thing, with a beige coat and brown mane. “Hey,” he said, nervously, “can you sign my card?” He held up a sheet of card, covered in crudely drawn pictures of himself and two others - what could only have been his parents - playing on a grassy field.

Penumbra smiled at him and nodded, producing a fountain pen from a case in her armour. She never left home - home now being classed as the Retaliator - without at least one pen. She opened it and chose a large spot of white space, above a scene in which the artist portrayed themself having a picnic in the third person, from the perspective of an onlooker who could see only two dimensions. Her spot chosen, she carefully inscribed her signature: “Sunless-Halo-of-Penumbra.”

The smile on the child’s face threatened to exceed the limits of his biology. Thanking her profusely, he dashed off, holding the card like a trophy.

“All that,” she mumbled, “over just me?”

“I don’t blame them,” Spike said, the stallion having been forced back into his wheelchair by the two ponies that had flanked him, “you’ve been gone for so long, you became a legend.”

She shook her head. “It shouldn’t be like that. I’m not some demigod.” She practically spat out the word.

“No?” Spike questioned, “they seem to think you’re one, as does the rest of your body.” He gestured all over her. “I hardly recognise you, but you can see your magic a mile away. You’re glowing like a beacon, and you’re attracting everything.”

Penumbra chuckled painfully. “If only you knew,” she mumbled, “if only you knew what I’d done. I’m not a hero.”

“Hero is subjective,” Spike said, “everyone here seems to think you’re a hero. Just because you aren’t a hero to yourself doesn’t mean you aren’t one.” He exhaled in a sharp almost chuckle. “Or, maybe, you aren’t. Who knows. Who cares. I’m just glad you’re here.” The dragon smiled - a surprisingly warm gesture considering the immense teeth he showed. “For old time’s sake.”

Penumbra, her emotional defences giving her an irrefutable order to not think about the issue any further, could only nod in reply. She allowed herself a few moments to calm down, using a breathing technique she’d learned from a book about something called ‘yoga’. Apparently, it was a method of breathing? Or perhaps an old psychological treatment?

“What’s town like?” She asked, though the question was aimed at no one person in particular.

The yellow pegasus with the red mane answered, “it’s slow. Everyone knows everyone, nothing happens, nothing changes. They say forty generations have been and gone since we arrived, yet there’s no advancement.”

“Have you not expanded?” She asked, “it’s a large planet, there’s more than enough space.”

The idea of expansion seemed to have a certain taboo attached to it, emphasised by the white earthpony’s slight wince at the insinuation of it.

“Because of the ruins,” the yellow pegasus said, her voice lower.

“Ruins?”

She nodded but frantically held a hoof to her lips. “Don’t shout it out. It’s not something most want to think about.”

Penumbra shrugged. “You’ll have to elaborate.”

The yellow pegasus looked over her shoulders, before sitting on her haunches and gesturing for Penumbra to do the same. “Spike told us the stories,” she muttered, “about what happened when ponies first arrived. They rebelled against the Empire…”

Cadance, Princess in only name, held her husband close. The two whispered, hushed to the point of near silence, the occasional giggles and gurgles of their baby daughter drowning them out.

“What if he comes back?” Shining’s voice, even quiet as it was, betrayed more than a hint of worry, “we can beat them, but not him.”

“It is worth the risk,” Cadance said, “he’ll be busy, trapped in that war of his. Why would he postpone everything just to come here? Besides, we owe it to everyone who didn’t make it off Equestria to try, he can’t be allowed to rule us.”

Shining nodded, glumly. “I know,” he said, “I know. But, what about what Celestia said?”

He was cut off almost immediately, “I’ve seen and heard many things,” his wife said, “and I don’t know even half of a bit of anything. But, if I know one thing, whatever gave that message was not auntie Celestia. It just couldn’t be.”

Shining Armour considered himself a paragon - or as close as it was possible to be to one - of justice. He prided himself on being honourable by everyone, he did not bring himself to rebellion easily.

“If we do this,” he said, “we do it together, with everyone.”

Cadance nodded. “Of course. We do it for Flurry.”

“For Flurry.”

The yellow pegasus continued, “when the time came, they didn’t expect the Imperials to call for him. When he arrived…”

From within the shield, Shining Armour, Cadance and their loose cohort of rebels watched helplessly as tens of thousands of Imperial soldiers slowly surrounded them. The shield, as Shining and Cadance had so liberally assured their fellows, would hold before any assault the soldiers outside could bring against them. Whilst true, the shield was relatively small, only protecting the town proper, they would all starve eventually if the siege continued.

Mercifully, the siege would not be continuing long. The reason, however, was the arrival of the one person Shining Armour had hoped would not. From their makeshift fort on the hill at the centre of town, Shining and Cadance watched in horror as Emperor Nicholas stepped from the lines of Imperials, towards the shimmering purple of the shield.

Their horror turned to little better than carnal terror as, with a single, furious punch, Nicholas burst the shield. Cadance was thrown to the ground, Shining only remaining standing as he was leant on a ledge.

He was the first to recover, adrenaline surging through his blood clearing his mind and driving him on. He lifted Flurry Heart, giving her a final kiss on the forehead, before placing her inside a panel on the wall, which he sealed with his magic. Then, he turned to Cadance, pulling her still partially stricken form to a hiding place beneath a desk. It wasn’t perfect, but there was little else he could do with so little time.

The gunfire lasted only a minute, with a deadly silence falling throughout the town after. Shining swore he heard a voice cry out, “torch it,” though in his state he couldn’t be sure. All he knew was, Emperor Nicholas was coming. He could feel his malicious aura slowly approaching. Even if it killed him - which it certainly would - Shining Armour was going to fight, he was going to protect his family.

“All three of them died,” the yellow pegasus finished, “the ruins have some sort of hex placed over them now. Though Spike says it was put there more recently.”

Penumbra took the information in. “Not all three of them,” she said, “there was one who survived,” she then corrected herself, “in one way or another.”

The yellow unicorn seemed confused. “One survived? Who?”

Penumbra shook her head. “Nevermind. I came here looking for Ablazed Glory,” she said, changing the topic with effortless ease - that is to say, awkward insistence - “do you know where she is?”

“She stayed in her old fort,” Spike answered, “which is in the ruins. But, there’s some invisible barrier that kills anyone who tries to enter, came up about three years ago. It blocks my fire, so it's definitely not some coincidence.”

Magic - almost certainly Ablazed Glory’s - there was no doubt in Penumbra’s mind. Ponies had long been superstitious creatures, as Penumbra had already found out from talking to them they believed the place to be cursed. It did make some sense, no doubt Ablazed Glory had put up some sort of protective shield - albeit a very offensively defensive one - so ponies, not knowing that she had done this, would believe the ground haunted, as it was where two of their leaders were killed and a town incinerated.

There was, however, one major bit of information she lacked, namely, what magic Ablazed Glory had used. Penumbra knew more than her fair share of offensive spells, the majority taught to her by none other than Emperor Nicholas - a figure she did not know how ponies viewed - though none that she knew gave the power of an invisible death radius. She could always ask Ablazed Glory once she found her.

“Take me,” she ordered, unconsciously pouring her authority into her voice.

Even the comparatively immense Spike acquiesced. “Follow me,” he murmured, Penumbra’s innate presence subjugating him.

The dragon led off, followed by the red maned yellow pegasus, orange unicorn and white earthpony. As they did, Penumbra took a moment to stop by the wheelchair bound stallion, his yellow pegasus attendant with him. “I’ll come back,” she said, “eventually. I promise.”

The stallion wheezed a chuckle. “You need not promise,” he said, “one way or another, you’ve made this old stallion’s long life more than worth it.”

She gave him a smile - both affectionate and sad - before marching off after Spike and the three ponies. Her size and natural speed allowed her to easily catch up simply by walking.

They led her beyond the edge of town and up a wide hill. The hill itself was completely barren, save the grass. Strange, as in the other three cardinal directions there was rolling forest and flowers. The hill seemed almost artificial, though if it was it had been constructed a long time prior.

At the hill’s summit, Penumbra was treated to a clear view of a burned town. Only scorched stone, remnants of walls or floors, remained, the wood and ash that had remained untouched before having gone with time. Only one structure still stood, that being what could only have been Ablazed Glory’s fort. It was built of a black stone, though that could have been the after effects of the flames that had consumed the rest of the town.

Spike led her a few metres down the hill, before coming to a sudden halt and blowing a jet of flame forwards. The green magical fire extended another metre or so, before spreading along an invisible surface, eventually petering out.

“This is the barrier,” he said, simply, “no one has ever crossed it alive.”

“I intend to be the first,” Penumbra said, “I’ve died a thousand deaths already, not once have I actually stayed dead..”

She took a step forward, Spike audibly inhaling as she did. She then took another, and another, then another. She kept walking for another few metres, feeling no change in regards to anything. Not even a tingle in her horn.

The three ponies with Spike stared at her with a mixture of awe and shock, their mouths agape. Spike just chuckled and shook his head.

She had crossed the barrier, unharmed.

“Return to the town,” she said, “continue about your days. I will find Ablazed Glory.”

Reluctantly, her companions nodded and turned back. She could hear the three ponies whispering something between them, but was too focused on moving to Ablazed Glory’s fort to properly discern what it was.

Where I was reborn

Ablazed Glory’s fort was surprisingly well built, especially considering the short amount of time it was built in. There was something about earthpony engineering, perhaps it was their inherent magic, that made anything they constructed always be superior to something they did not. Even following identical schematics, using identical materials and labour practices, the earthpony variant of a construction would always be better, if only slightly. The fort was clearly built by an earthpony, likely a team of them, such was the solidness of its foundations and walls even over four millennia after its completion.

Penumbra stood before a wooden door, which, on closer inspection, was not wood at all, but some kind of metal painted to look like wood. That, she thought, would explain how it had not been incinerated, or simply rotted away after all of this time. There was a lock, a crude one at that, but the door wasn’t locked. In fact, it was partially ajar.

She pushed it open and stepped inside, greeted by total darkness. The hallway she had entered was entirely empty, save another slightly open door at the far end. It didn’t make much sense to her, why a room would be left completely unused like that. But, then again, it might’ve been used for shoes or hats and Ablazed Glory didn’t have those, in part because she wasn’t an aristocrat - although she technically was - but mostly because she was on fire and thus would simply burn any clothing.

The next room along had once been the archetypal room in a noble’s house, serving absolutely no purpose but to show off opulence and the concerning amount of silverware they owned. All of the silverware, however, had been torn from the cabinets and placed on the floor, covered in hand written notes - by someone who Penumbra could only assume to be Ablazed Glory - that when assembled formed a strange story about someone with a fetishistic obsession with silverware. Penumbra hoped that the protagonist wasn’t based off of Ablazed Glory.

She relaxed immensely when she reached the next room, which had been incinerated for a reason only Ablazed Glory - Penumbra had absolutely no doubts she was the culprit of the act of auto-arson - could fathom. A single note was placed in the spot where the silverware had been in the previous room - the rooms apparently identical in layout, again serving an unknown but no doubt useless purpose - reading simply: “I fucking hate silverware.”

Was she missing a joke, or?

The next room was the last one, more in keeping with the aesthetic of the first room than the other two. It was minimalist, having only a stone chair within, it was also dark, with no lighting of any kind, no doubt because Ablazed Glory provided all of the light she needed.

Laid onto the chair was a key and a note.

“Penumbra,” the note was addressed, “I know it has been a long time since you and I last spoke, so I believe I should bring you up to speed. Firstly, on how I know it is you reading this note: the shield I have placed over this town is attuned to only allow you past. I do wish I could have added Luna and Rarity. You, however, I am certain still live, I can feel your presence in the void, almost unreachable to me now but no less there.”

The note was saturated with magical energy, as was the key, no doubt in part to keep them from simply burning up near her.

“At the end of the War, a cruiser crashed in the tundra. I have spent the past four thousand years making what repairs I can. Its crew are long since dead, I buried as many as I could, though I am almost certain I did not find them all. The ship is in a bad shape, even my best efforts cannot hope to return it to full working order. I have, however, fixed the engines and Rift generator enough that I believe I can use them to do what I need to do. The key I will provide bears the closest static location that I can give you as a marker. Follow it there. However, should the ship still be on the ground, or damaged in orbit, you will know that I have failed, and you may safely disregard this note and key.”

She had signed her name at the bottom of the note, scrawled in ink seemingly at the last minute, as if Penumbra wouldn’t know who she was. Penumbra tucked the note securely into her armour, before picking up and checking out the key.

It was an old style affair, a ring, large metal body, then head - it was also very clearly magical. Evidently, the key was more a prop, like paper, for what had been carved into it in odd runes. They were similar to some she had read before, though appeared almost elaborate in comparison, with extra swishes and dots where none needed to be.

Penumbra had a fairly robust understanding of the Irenton languages, though this particular language, or perhaps dialect, initially eluded her. She had thought at first glance it was similar to Low Irenton, though the addition of a pair of extra runes, alongside slight changes to several of the other runes in the set, confused her. She tried a basic translation in Low Irenton, as much as she knew, which formed an image in her mind of a set of coordinates - though partially incomplete due to the pair of unknown runes.

“A dialect,” she thought aloud, “perhaps. A dialect of Low Irenton. Though, what do these two runes mean?”

Her armour then translated for her, a feature she didn’t know it even had. It was a dialect of Low Irenton, at least as far as the tooltip her armour was concerned - though it didn’t seem sure which one. As expected, it formed a full set of coordinates, ones that she assumed the Luminary would be able to follow, since she had no clue about navigation.

She tucked the key into another case on her armour, just in case something happened to the other case. Though, whatever would manage to destroy one of the cases would no doubt destroy the other. Still, better safe than sorry.

There was nothing else in the room, no hidden messages or items. Penumbra was almost disappointed, she had expected at least a hidden passage, or a bed. It was curious, in a way, the lack of furniture other than a clearly uncomfortable chair. Did Ablazed Glory not need sleep? Or, possibly, she slept elsewhere. She might have moved her bed when she left the fort for all Penumbra knew. In fact, it was probably best she didn’t need sleep, given the fact that most beds she could use would be prone to burning.

She left the fort behind and returned to the Retaliator, not so much as bothering to speak to Spike or any of the other ponies, who had gone who knew where. They had their lives and Penumbra had hers, which was about to take her on a merry chase.

The Luminary accepted and understood her coordinates, plotting them a course to a world on the edge of the Milky Way, orbiting a small, red star. It informed her about its conditions as they lifted off, the ride surprisingly smooth considering they were still in the atmosphere.

“Atmosphere is nitrogen based, with gravity at acceptable levels. The planet is tidally locked, with only a ring around the planet approximately one hundred kilometres wide capable of harbouring life. Temperatures exceed nine hundred degrees kelvin on the star-bound side and fall to a minimum of twenty kelvin on the dark side.”

“Sounds lovely,” Penumbra deadpanned, “let’s check it out.”

Far above New Horizons, backdropped against the yellow star, reality was torn open. A rift formed and the Retaliator passed through its maw. Within seconds, it was gone.

The maelstrom of the Rift, swirling white and red and purple, pure energy all around, greeted Penumbra from the viewscreen. She had never had a proper respect for the Rift during the War in Heaven, due mostly to its volatility as the war tore it apart. From the Retaliator, however, she could relax and delight in its faint songs and beautiful colours, free from the possibility of malice that had infested it previously. Sadly, she was only ever in the Rift for a few seconds, emerging from it into the dim light of a red star.

Beyond light

The world below her looked hellish, little better than an ever-churning cauldron of molten rock. The Luminary promised her there was life, a temperate biome just beyond what she could see, though she would hardly have believed it had she not fully trusted what it told her.

The Retaliator made good progress, a verdant green strip along the planet’s centre coming into view. In contrast to the fire she had come from, and the ice that lay just beyond it, the little strip of green was a paradise. It looked so strange to her, the planet segmented into three as it was, to know that life inhabited such a place was incredible.

“Life finds a way,” she mumbled, as her vessel slowly descended, the Luminary moving closer to allow her to pick a landing point.

“I am detecting a navigation beacon on the surface,” it said, “marking on the map now.”

A point on the viewscreen, beyond the horizon, flashed red. According to what the Luminary could garner, it was an old Imperial beacon, deployed from the “IESS Valiance of the Meek”. It displayed no message, nor a time of deployment, as was usually customary for navigational markers. No doubt it was deployed by Ablazed Glory, they must have been on the right lines.

“Take us to it,” she ordered, “land us as close as you can and keep the ship ready.”

“Affirmative.”

The ship banked in, entering the atmosphere steadily but rapidly speeding up as it descended through the stratosphere. The air made rougher and rougher noises as they went, though these were almost wholly dampened by the ship’s hull. Within only a few minutes of entering the atmosphere, the Retaliator came to a sudden halt, steadily hovering down to land barely metres from the beacon.

The beacon was obvious, a gunmetal grey cylinder of half a metre diameter and about six metres long, embedded into the ground like a spike. It appeared automatically on her helmet’s display as she approached it, telling her the same information she already knew. There didn’t seem to be anything else besides, but Penumbra knew better than to take such things at face value.

Sure enough, upon closer inspection, there was a capsule within the beacon, no doubt containing a message from Ablazed Glory. She likely hadn’t known how to program a message into the navigational beacon itself, so had substituted her lack of knowledge with a note. The capsule was easy to break open, one of Penumbra’s claws proving more than capable of prying it open.

With the capsule opened, Penumbra could access the note within. As she had expected, it was another handwritten note from Ablazed Glory, written on a magically saturated page probably torn from a notebook.

“Penumbra,” it read, “given the fluid natures of extragalactic objects, I couldn’t give you direct coordinates to me.”

Extragalactic? Just where was she being led? What had Ablazed Glory gotten herself into?

“Instead, I have provided a connection to my ship’s transponder, that should get you to me. However, because transponders are fairly short range - this one’s shot to pieces regardless - I’m going to have to give you a method of getting close enough to access it. I’ve provided another set of coordinates, that should be good for the next ten thousand years or so, they’re in a large range but if you get to their centre you should be able to pick up the transponder easily. Let us both hope I’ve done this right. And it doesn’t take you ten thousand years to find me, because I’m certain once I land this thing, it’s not flying again.”

It didn’t come as much of a surprise that her improvised repair job was having issues. What was surprising was that she’d left the galaxy - not in the least considering she was flying a crashed Imperial cruiser she had bodged a repair job on. At first, she had thought Ablazed Glory must have been going on some little adventure on her own or something, perhaps she’d found something and was going to check it out. Evidently, unless her idea of a little adventure was going beyond into intergalactic space - a region that, as far as she knew, was mostly empty - she had gotten into something far bigger than Penumbra had anticipated.

The coordinates she had provided were, this time, easily understandable, written in careful strokes at the bottom of the note. They were also considerably longer than the previous set, being nearly a hundred characters long. Regardless, she assumed the Luminary would be fine with working with them. If it wasn’t, then she would have to improvise.

She took the note in a telekinetic field and boarded the Retaliator, wasting no time in returning to the bridge. She threw herself into her captain’s chair and set about dictating the coordinates to the Luminary. It took her a good minute to get them all across.

Worryingly, it took the Luminary well over a minute to respond. “These coordinates are in extragalactic space, are you certain of this course?”

“Yes,” Penumbra said, trying to keep her concern as to the Luminary’s speed to a minimum.

“Affirmative,” it said almost immediately afterwards, calming her down immensely.

The ship lifted off, angling practically straight up. It entered space facing into total darkness. Beyond the system there were no stars visible to her eye, just the inky black void of space, expanding outwards forever. Somewhere, in that darkness, was Ablazed Glory.

“Engage Rift,” she ordered, breathing in deeply as the realm below appeared before her.

Throne World

Fear.

Fear was the only word usable to describe Penumbra’s feelings upon exiting the Rift. Fear was an emotion that had its basis in survival, if you were afraid, then you avoided danger and you survived. Penumbra, however, could not afford to avoid her fear, she would have to delve into its depths and find Ablazed Glory.

When she exited the Rift, she beheld a wound into real space, a deep gash into another realm that leaked out. It was a pure formation of deep anger and hatred for all reality - nihilism made solid. From the viewscreen of the Retaliator, Sunless-Halo-of-Penumbra beheld the vast, material coalescence of one man’s hatred for life.

It was the Throne World.

The Retaliator was hundreds kilometres from it, looking out over the crashed hulk of an Imperial cruiser, which was miniscule in comparison to the beige stone gate that towered over both it and the Retaliator itself, extending for hundreds, if not thousands of kilometres in all directions. The cylindrical towers that flanked it, topped with a crown of spines, extended even higher, once bearing thousands of the Emperor’s murderous warriors.

Indeed, a vast wall surrounded the Throne World proper, towers all along its length, though it cut off thousands of kilometres in either direction. This was likely just a portion of the true Throne World, which had somehow burst into the real world.

Compared to the last time she had witnessed it, however, it burned with a much dimmer fire of evil. It seemed almost diluted, washed-out, like it had decayed. Nevertheless, there was still a deep-rooted evil within its depths, though its depths were impossibly far. No doubt, if she explored enough - and had far greater mental and physical fortitude than she did - she could find Nicholas’ throne. Though, even the thought of that sent shivers along her spine.

“The IESS Valiance of the Meek is showing catastrophic damage. I am detecting heavy plasma leakage around the crash site. Attempting to locate a safe landing zone.”

Every second the Retaliator drew closer to the Throne World proper, Penumbra felt herself pushing back into her chair. She couldn’t describe the feelings it gave, beyond that it was somehow wrong, like the universe and every survival instinct imaginable was telling her to stay away. Evidently, something had drawn Ablazed Glory here. Penumbra could say, honestly, that she did not want to meet whatever it could be. Her brain naturally indulged in a moment of thinking about all of the horrors that could have baited her in, before she snapped away from the line of thought with an audible snarl.

“Landing site identified. Advise caution.”

The site was an area about two kilometres from the wrecked bow of the cruiser, which Penumbra could see plasma slowly oozing out of. Sparks lit up deep - otherwise black - gashes through the hull, some going through multiple decks. She had once seen the cruisers as huge, nigh-indestructible, agents of a will far beyond what she could ever hope to muster. Now, she looked upon its pitiful wreck, serving as little better than a reminder that even the mightiest of empires would fall.

With the Retaliator’s silent landing, Penumbra was forced to rise. Even as her mind screamed at her to sit back down and fly off, pleading that no one would know, she willed her body to advance. The Retaliator’s ramp seemed a world away, Penumbra’s every step weighing on her as half of her tried desperately to leave.

Even with her immense mental fortitude - which she would normally pride herself on - it took her minutes to reach and then descend the ramp. Granted, it got easier with every step, the side of her demanding she push on slowly winning out, but that did not mean it was any less difficult. When she touched the floor: hard, brown stone, she twitched at its frigidity. She allowed herself a deep, calming breath of stagnant yet breathable air - she could only assume some slowly dying magical phenomena was keeping the air in place - before looking up and taking in her surroundings.

Behind her, through the silhouette of the Retaliator, sat the corpse of the cruiser, its boiling blood pooled around it. Its previously purple hull had been scorched grey, with the tears in its hull giving glimpses deep into its destroyed mechanisms - Penumbra’s enhanced eyes cutting through some of the darkness. Ablazed Glory had been right when she said it would fly no longer. She doubted it could even be entered.

A shadow loomed over her, the shadow of the Throne World. Its walls were higher than she could see, with the top of its gate only visible because it was marked with a complex and painful rune circle, which glowed bright green. What little Penumbra knew about such magic told her it wasn’t a trap, rather it didn’t appear to do much at all. It was likely that once it had been a detection spell of some kind, marking out any intruders to the guards. Now, it lay dormant, its trigger gone but the energy it had been imbued with remaining, stagnant.

As she walked towards the entrance, a task far more exterting than it sounded given the sheer distance, she got the feeling of eyes looking upon her. Not the usual two, but three. The feeling left almost as soon as it had arrived, no doubt a momentary paranoia - the part of her that wished to leave playing its last card before finally resigning. She could only hope the distances would become smaller as she went in.

Sure enough, they quickly did. Just beyond the gateway was a three forking path. Aside from the two paths made for titans, leading left and right, there was a smaller path through the centre, with a door leading into a more enclosed building. She closed on it fast, not wishing to stay in the lane of giants for any longer than was necessary. Though the Throne World may have been empty - emphasis there on the ‘may’ - there was still that natural sense of unease that came around such immense areas.

The door was unlocked, little more than a push affair. It was slightly open, no doubt Ablazed Glory had chosen that path. Penumbra allowed herself a little smile, she was certainly on the right track.

The room she entered was a stairwell, winding up a good distance. Penumbra took the staircase slowly, not willing to entrust herself in such thin steps. She reached the top around ten minutes after starting on it. She could have sworn she hadn’t gone quite that slowly.

When the staircase opened out, not only onto flat ground but into a hall, it made the wait all the more worth it. She was on flat ground again, able to plant all four of her feet onto the same surface and not have to contend with gravity for her life. She was also in what appeared to be a museum, the curiosity and desire for knowledge within her exploding with joy. Artefacts in cabinets lined the two walls, each with plaques detailing them. There was everything, from an ancient, badly rusted, iron helmet taken from somewhere called “Sol,” to a suspended sphere of what seemed to be blood, marked as “Luysifer’s soul.”

Emperor Nicholas had been a collector, a seeker of things, storing all of his many trophies within his Throne World. As Penumbra crossed the hall - which must have contained only the tiniest fraction of his extensive collection - she remarked upon each object, basking in their history.

One case held a few shards of silvery metal, clearly shattered from a larger object, suspended by some invisible energy that allowed Penumbra a better look at them. She looked across them, seeing the clear point where each had been broken off from the whole, before checking the plaque.

“Godsplitter.”

Emperor Nicholas’ first sword. The sword which had killed the king of the Rift.

The story that those few shards of metal held was enough for lifetimes.

Penumbra was proud to say she regarded artefacts with a fervour unmatched by anything else. She wanted to study them, to learn their secrets and their stories. In the past, she could only have wished for a museum such as the one held by the Throne World - it alone almost made the whole journey worth it, though she still couldn’t say she would be returning any time soon.

It was with a great sadness that she left the hall. Passing through the next door, she entered into a whole new hall. Complete with even more artefacts, though these were all in the form of books or documents.

Penumbra was in heaven.

What parts of her had begged her to run were silenced for good in an instant upon laying eyes on the first leather bound text. With a giddy laugh, she dashed up to it, carefully using her telekinesis to look through its pages.

“The Watch on Praetorius,” the plaque read. It was a fiction book, apparently, written millennia ago. She carefully flicked through to its end - eternally glad for the impossibly delicate touch of telekinesis.

“A gift, from your most humble servant, to you, Emperor Eternal.” A handwritten message, apparently by the author, was on the final, otherwise blank, page. Emperor Nicholas had kept it for who knew how long, secure and preserved in his personal museum.

Penumbra knew she didn’t have the time to read all of the books, but that did not mean she wasn’t going to try. She dashed back and forth between the pedestals, checking the tomes for anything incredibly interesting - something she could easily justify sinking time into.

There was fiction; such as “Scarlet”, “The Turning of the World,” and “Fatalism.” Then there was non-fiction, such as “The Triumph of Perseus”, “The Imperial Shield,” and “Shadow of Sundered Star.” Each one had Penumbra yearning to read it, to sink herself deep within it and not come out until she was fully satisfied. But, each time, she was reminded of Ablazed Glory, somewhere further within. She would have to keep moving.

She allowed herself to stop before the final pedestal. Unlike the previous, it had no counterpart on the opposite wall. It was a large, thin layer of glass, seventeen sheets of paper pressed beneath them. She could still read what it said, but was unable to touch it if she had wanted to.

“Properties of Baryonic matter in the Rift,” she read aloud from the plaque. It was a scientific essay, apparently. The previous texts had been millennia old, all about some story - no doubt that Nicholas himself enjoyed, or had enjoyed in the very distant past - or a historical event or group that no doubt he was part of. This text stood out, not least in that it didn’t appear even half as old as the others.

She got close to it, reading carefully from the start, looking for just why it was so special. It was within the first three lines that she found it: “Properties of Baryonic matter in the Rift, a study of homogeneity between baryons and other hadrons. By Nicholas Thomson.”

Nicholas Thomson, Penumbra thought, so that was your real name.

Could it have been from his childhood? Had he had a childhood? What would childhood for an immortal, time-controlling, avatar of darkness be like? Or did the very nature of time-control preclude towards a permanent adulthood? The time before he was Emperor Nicholas - that was when that scientific paper was written - the time before the Empire no doubt, it all seemed almost impossible to her, beyond merely lost.

If he still lived, she might have been able to ask him. But, she was only learning of this because of his demise. He was finally, well and truly, beyond reach - she still didn’t quite know how to feel about that, even a century later.

The essay, short as it was, inconsequential as it probably was at the time, was like the last strand of a spider’s web, linking her present to his past. Of course he had had it pressed as it was, it was probably the last strand linking him to who he was before. She could see him looking at it, longing for a future never to be - a path not chosen. That time, that person he was, was just like the essay itself, visible, but not touchable, stuck behind a pane of glass - another branch of many.

She let it go, crossing the next threshold. In a form of solemn reverence, she closed the door quietly behind her. His ghost - as metaphorical as it was - should be allowed to rest.

That was why the Throne World was anathema to her, not because of a past trauma, but because it should be allowed to rest peacefully. Neither she nor Ablazed Glory should ever have disturbed it. It may not have borne his body, but it bore enough of his spirit to be considered his tomb - one that should have been left sealed.

Everything around her was lifeless, greyed and far from reach, stagnant, eternal. As she walked, she wondered how long it would take entropy to consume the place, if it even could at all. What could thermodynamics do, she supposed, to a man who took the concept of time as a personal challenge?

She didn’t know exactly how she knew where Ablazed Glory was. In truth, she wasn’t entirely sure. Taking the path directly ahead of her had worked so far, something told her it would continue to work until she found her quarry. For its size, the Throne World was not a maze, not by any means. At most there would be three paths, two usually reserved for creatures far, far exceeding her size. The smallest would lead along bridges, kilometres from the floor, tall enough for the giants who had once walked through the corridors to her flanks to pass beneath without so much as ducking.

The only light the Throne World had came from its rooms - those Penumbra’s size, anyway. She assumed there must have once been a light source for everywhere, back when it was contained nicely within its own realm. But, knowing Nicholas, she couldn’t be so sure. Fortunately for her, the light seemed to lead in the right direction, making the task of finding Ablazed Glory more a test of her patience and leg muscles than anything else.

Thankful was not a word strong enough for Penumbra’s feelings regarding her immense energy reserves. Without them, she would have probably been forced to at least rest some time ago. More than probably, she would have had to abandon the expedition all together, especially upon seeing the immense sizes of some of the rooms she was expected to pass through. The smallest rooms would be hundreds of metres long, the largest would be kilometres. Some of the rooms were so large they curved away.

The largest hall she entered was lined with statues, each reaching almost to the roof. Both they and the room they inhabited were lit, Penumbra’s eyes straining for a moment as they readjusted. Each statue was unique, though with Penumbra’s small size she couldn’t exactly tell who they were supposed to represent. One was of a Tomb Guard, though his armour seemed to be more ornate, and far larger, with the crown on his head bearing two large horns atop it and an eight-pointed star around its rim. One was vaguely in a Tomb Guard’s shape, though it was thinner, more skeletal, with eight horns on its crown - she recognised it, or she thought she did, at least, as Kyhron, who had sacrificed himself during the final battle of the War in Heaven, which all seemed like lifetimes ago.

Another five were robed, at least, she assumed they were, with three having large, three pointed crown helmets similar to the regular Tomb Guards, the other two having two horizontal arms to their helmets, with a pair of long, tapering embellishments twice the length of the rest of the helmet leading up from the centre rim.

She could only definitely identify one of the statues, which stood at the far centre of the room, like the king at the head of the table. Emperor Nicholas’ statue was different to how he had looked when she had known him, but it was still certainly him. He did not bear his distinctive crown, but a smaller version of a Tomb Guard’s helmet, nor did he hold Oathbreaker. Rather, he held both of his arms out, elbows bent at ninety degrees, palms out and facing upwards. There was a kinder aura about that depiction of him, more like a person, Penumbra thought. Or, maybe that was only because he was a picture made of stone.

Beyond herself and Ablazed Glory - who she knew must have come through - the room had been empty and unused for a long time, longer than just the length of Emperor Nicholas’ fall. There was no dust on the floor, such appeared to be the nature of the Throne World, but there was a feeling of emptiness. The hall must have served some purpose, at one point, but that purpose had been removed elsewhere or entirely tens of millennia ago.

How she knew what she did, Penumbra had no concrete idea. She chalked it down to simply good detective work. She was, after all, a master of observation - such had allowed her to learn what magic she knew, though none of it served any use in the Throne World.

The Throne World, once the seat of power of Emperor Nicholas, The Everlasting, who had with but an order condemned Penumbra’s homeworld to destruction and most of her species to death in fire and the icy black of space. She observed it as one would a derelict house, there was so much history and majesty and power that had once been present in its walls, but that was all consigned to a distant time. The reign of Nicholas was but a memory, even if its consequences lived on in her. How many others had seen this place? She thought to herself as she walked through it, taking care to observe what lay around her. How many others could say they had been to - or even knew about - where she stood? Aside from Ablazed Glory, likely none.

Yet, she didn’t feel special; more unfortunate. There was little to brag about, aside from maybe surviving, though even survival was pretty much assured within the Throne World given it was empty. She could probably have told Rainbow a half-lie and boasted about how she descended into such an evil place and escaped unscathed. Unless Applejack detected her withholding information and forced it out of her. But, they weren’t around anymore. There was no one to tell.

No one to hear Penumbra’s stories.

She trudged on, forcing herself past the statue of Emperor Nicholas and through the large but not titanic door to his left. The door had been opened slightly, a detail Penumbra had noticed the moment she entered the room. Rather than by the rays of light pouring from it, she had seen it by the rays of light drowning in its darkness.

The room she entered was dark. Not the darkness she had encountered earlier - which was more an absence of many lights - but utter, pitch darkness. Even the intense glow of the hall behind her seemed unable to penetrate beyond the threshold of the door. The room itself was little more than a vestibule, though she was certain something lay in the room beyond its door, which was closed. She reached out to it with her magic, finding interference permeating the room, bleeding from beyond the door.

The door had been closed recently, with faint magical embers hanging off of it. She had seen these nowhere else in the Throne World, but the room had a trail of them, leading from the entrance door, to the exit. They were a tell-tale sign of Ablazed Glory’s presence, but also of something else. She had reached a precipice of some kind, some point that, when crossed, would set her on a path she could not turn back from.

Or so her paranoia told her.

She reached out for the door with her foreleg, feeling its freezing cold surface. The rest of the Throne World had been pleasantly cool, not enough either way to make her feel uncomfortable. The room she was in was slightly cooler, though barely, enough for Penumbra to pick up on when she tried to. Yet, the room beyond seemed to be far colder, like a land with no sun. The Throne World didn’t have a sun, she supposed, so perhaps that wasn’t that far off.

The door was closed by an unreasonably complex mechanism. Penumbra could easily bypass it, she knew full well she could, but the fact it existed in the first place was perplexing. It wasn’t a lock, not by any means, but was almost certainly strong enough to resist any attack Penumbra could throw at it. Yet, it could be avoided simply by pulling the doorknob towards herself, the mechanism thus being rendered useless.

She stepped out of the room and into an open area. Immediately, her panicked part took over and tried to force her back, but the door was firmly closed behind her, no amount of frantic pushing could go through it.

Far in the distance, filling the sky, were stars. Not stars as she would usually consider them, though. They were small - for a star - having a sickly green hue, providing cold rather than warmth. Darkness hung around them, flowing like a fluid - repulsed by massive caged lanterns spewing out pale yellow light. Below her, down a staircase of black stone, was a platform, edged by an abyss that flowed like an ocean, with a thin bridge leading across to a circular fortress, embossed with spikes and adjacent cylindrical towers of varying heights. Beyond the bridge was a gate, slightly ajar, with a giant green rune burning above it. She had deciphered where she was the moment she had borne witness to it all.

Before her lay the Keep of Souls, though the fortress she saw was barely a fraction of its total size, little more than a miniscule watchtower on its outermost layer - it was still enough to give her chills. She was in the Throne World proper, the door behind her acting as the border between the material realm and the one Nicholas had created. Where Emperor Nicholas’ throne lay was shrouded by darkness, of which there was enough that it concentrated, coalesced into clouds. The power that had made her, the power that had made Nicholas, hung in the very air like a mist.

She was somewhere no living creature was supposed to be, making locating Ablazed Glory and taking her leave all the more pressing concern. Her calm mind wrested control from the paranoia, once again relegating it to the background. With a deep breath, she pushed forwards, descending down the staircase to the bridge platform.

The bridge was flanked by two tapered circular totems, with identical equivalents on the other side - who seemed to have once had a use, though, of what it was, Penumbra was unsure. The actual bridge itself was about three metres wide, with no supports beyond a slight thickening at the very ends, where it connected to the cylindrical platforms that seemed to extend down forever, swallowed by the abyss below.

She gulped before taking a step onto it, before quickly leaping back behind one of the totems. She wanted to find Ablazed Glory, absolutely she did, but there was no chance in hell she would cross that bridge. There had to be another way.

Her magic was being interfered with, interdicted by something. A teleport was far too risky, even if she could pull one off with the sheer weight of magical static around her. Her magical sight was also useless, giving her little better than what appeared to be a blizzard of black and white that made her nauseous. She wouldn’t use her wings for the same reason she wouldn’t use the thin and most definitely slippery bridge. That only left the presence of a teleporter, or other such item, that would allow her to cross the kilometre and a half long gap nicely.

At first, she tried the totems. It took little more than a touch of her claw to know that they had definitely been used for something in the past. Compared to the air and floor around her, they were hot, really quite incredibly so. Even without her magical sight, she knew there was energy within them, though she did not know how to access it. It was unlikely they had a button she could press, or a lever she could pull, Emperor Nicholas’ esoteric style of architecture always left a lot to be desired in terms of practicality - there was probably a spike three miles away that if she kicked half-way up something would happen. Though, he was probably capable of crossing the gap with teleportation, knowing him, so practicality wasn’t an issue.

“He would also probably just cross the bridge,” she mumbled, before reprimanding herself within her head, even though she agreed with every word of it.

She took a longing look over to the other platform, seeing if she could muster the willpower to simply dash across. She got tunnel vision doing so, perhaps it was just the distance, or the fact the world around her was wreathed in the darkness, an energy she knew from experience she didn’t want to fall into. Perhaps, she thought, if she closed her eyes and ran? Though, that was practically begging herself to fall off, tumble into the abyss and have who knows what done to her.

She lined herself up, lunging forwards repeatedly but never quite having the drive to follow up. The start was the hardest part, that she knew, but that didn’t make it any less difficult. Even if she would simply appear at the other side in thirty steps, she still wouldn’t have been fully able to convince herself it was the best option.

As it stood, her only other option would be to fly, though that carried with it an even greater worry. She may have been an expert in flying, but she considered herself an expert in walking, that didn’t make it any easier to do in her case.

“Just run,” she said, psyching herself up to go, “just run. Just run forwards, don’t look back or down. Just run, you’ll be there in no time. Got to find Ablazed Glory. Find her, then leave. Find her, then this whole little house of horrors will be behind you. Just run.”

She lunged again, further this time, but with still not enough mental momentum to hammer it home. She did it again, and again, each time progressing slightly further, but without the fortitude to back it up and drive her forwards.

“Just run,” she repeated, angry at herself, “just run across the fucking bridge.”

With a final, furious shout, she lunged, throwing herself so far she just had to run to keep her balance. Roaring, she charged forwards, horn pointed forwards like a battering ram, eyes open enough for her to see the bridge at her feet and nothing else. Her roar did not echo, and she did not stop until she was at the other side. Only realising she was when she stumbled on a step and fell, face first, into a runic circle.

Fortunately for her face and the rest of the front half of her body, it was offline. It had been carved into the rock of the floor, bearing a few symbols she could identify. It was a trap, or, at least, it had been. She was fairly certain Ablazed Glory hadn’t triggered it, the lack of a nearby corpse suggested so. What she did see of her quarry, however, was a trail of embers, glowing faintly in the dark, leading up into the fortress.

There had once been a garrison, emphasised in part by the obvious battlements that flanked the gate. Directly above her was an enclosed balcony, the perfect spot for a sniper, with her two sides watched over by openings in the towers, where once Tomb Guard would have stood sentry. At the top of the gate’s staircase was a large, flat opening, with two partially enclosed divots in the walls where hidden guards would have waited in ambush. To top off the defences, the doors bore three runic locks, once nigh-unbreakable with anything save immense magical power.

Now, though, everything was either empty or dormant. The locks had deactivated on their own, with the doors able to be pushed open by little more than a tap - able to glide effortlessly along the smooth black stone of the floor. Beyond them was an hourglass shaped stone and metal container, stitch like orange lights ringing the two widest points. Once, something had been sleeping within, though whatever it was had either died or been released.

The circular container room had two exits, both leading to the same place. The fortress had been designed around circles and rings, for whatever reason. Penumbra liked to chalk it down to aesthetics, believing Nicholas had put thought into crafting his constructions in a way that looked nice - at least to him. Although, it was probably for some defensive purpose.

The next room had an interesting feature, one Penumbra had not expected in the slightest: a giant shaft, leading so far down that the bottom was obscured by darkness. A chain, about a metre thick, connected to something beyond the ceiling by a hole, led down into it, disappearing eventually. There was also, surely, a reason for that, though at that point Penumbra didn’t care.

There was a door, flung wide open, behind the chain and shaft. Penumbra carefully made her way around, somewhat fearful of something sudden happening, which may have jumped her near the hole. Fortunately for her heart, nothing did and she crossed rather anticlimactically but no worse for wear through into the next room, which contained noticeably less pits of death.

It was a semi-circular room, connected openly to a large, vaguely rounded platform. The platform was open to the air and flanked by towers, with a shallow ramp leading somewhere below Penumbra’s feet as she entered. About a hundred metres beyond the platform, probably close enough for Penumbra to fly to, hung a black stone sphere, shattered in various places and glowing a sickly green within, like the colour of the scattered stars in the faux-sky around her.

What allowed her to see through was not glass, it was a faint green and it seemed to flow through itself like a fluid, though it retained its overall shape like a solid. Tapping on it, Penumbra was met with silence, with the material feeling solid like a thick layer of steel. She slowly ringed around, following the strange material closely, until she passed beyond the room and into the outside. The floor she had been on continued at the same thickness, meeting up with its opposite fellow in the centre of the platform and leading down in a short staircase to a wider area, which again led down by a ramp.

The place looked as though it had once been an arena, though it had more than likely been used for some other, enigmatic purpose. The shattered orb cast a baleful glow over the platform, giving Penumbra slightly more to see, but tinting it all green. That would have been if there was anything to see, however, which there wasn’t.

When she reached the centre, just below the orb, she regarded the area below the structure she had just been in. She practically squealed with joy when she saw the faint, fiery glow that came from its depths. There was absolutely no doubt in her mind, that was Ablazed Glory.

She leapt down the staircase, then dashed through the arena-like area and down the ramp. All the while a giddy smile was etched onto her face, she could hardly believe her luck. She would finally be able to leave soon.

The burning alicorn was sat on her haunches, a black, metallic object, covered in pulsing green veins, clutched tightly in her talons. She didn’t notice Penumbra’s approach until the larger alicorn cast a shadow over her, a smile beaming on her face and talons happily tapping up and down.

“I’ve finally found you!” Penumbra shouted triumphantly, “how’ve you been? We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

Ablazed Glory stared at her, as if slowly beginning to recognise her. “Penumbra?” She chanced, her voice betraying she wasn’t quite sure, “you’re here?”

Penumbra threw out her talons emphatically. “Yes I am! Here to help you get out of here.”

Ablazed Glory squinted. “It's been years,” she mumbled, punctuating with a chuckle, “I was beginning to think you weren’t coming.”

Years. She’d been down there for years.

Penumbra opened her mouth to speak, but no sound left her throat. She shifted awkwardly on the spot, trying to think of something that could be used as comfort, either for Ablazed Glory or for herself, though found nothing.

Ablazed Glory rose and took a tentative step forwards, holding the metal shape to her breast with a telekinetic aura. “It’s good to see you again,” she said, smiling, “good to see anyone, honestly. You have a ship?”

Penumbra could only bring herself to nod glumly, though Ablazed Glory seemed to be more than happy with the arrangement.

“Finally.” She laughed heartily. “Was almost beginning to think I was never going to get off this rock.”

She passed Penumbra, heading up the ramp behind her. Penumbra, meanwhile, stared at where she had been, an expression that could be confused for her brain having gone out to fish etched onto her face. The alicorn almost cried, or, rather, she could have shed a tear - had her tear ducts not been fused shut millennia ago. She made a noise not too dissimilar to a sob, though far quieter, before shaking her head and breathing in deeply to clear her mind.

“Hey,” Ablazed Glory yelled from the top of the staircase behind her, “are you coming or what?”

Penumbra snapped around, nodding and running after her. Thanks to her freakishly long legs, she reached Ablazed Glory in only a few seconds, waiting on the staircase by her new companion. The two looked at each other for a moment, Ablazed Glory acting as though she was expecting Penumbra to do something. Thankfully, the burning alicorn broke the silence quickly.

“Well?” She gestured around. “You gonna take me to the ship? Or are we gonna stand on this staircase for the rest of time?”

“Oh,” Penumbra said, nodding profusely and darting her head back and forth. “Yes, yes,” she was talking more to herself than Ablazed Glory, “follow me, follow me.” She waddled up the staircase and began the walk back through the fortress, checking over her shoulder every few seconds to ensure Ablazed Glory was still following her.

“Anyway,” Ablazed Glory called forwards to her, Penumbra gradually sine-waving between fast and slow walking paces. At that moment, she was fast. “How’ve you been? How’s life been treating you this past four millennia. That’s about how long it’s been, right?”

Penumbra slowed down again. “It’s been.” She paused, not really quite sure how to quantify how it had been in a single sentence. She settled for her usual tactic of saying more than just a single sentence.

“It’s been?” Ablazed Glory prompted, narrowly avoiding bumping into the now static Penumbra.

Penumbra released a breath. “It’s been slow,” she said, “very slow. Up until a few days ago, when it became very, very fast. I’ve been to five different planets in the space of about three days, not including here of course.”

“I went to New Horizons,” she continued, “went to the place where ponies were saved. Where ponies were protected from the extinction that was forced onto us. For just one night, all the nightmares I’d had about my friends stopped. I know they’ll probably repeat again in the future, next time I dream. But, for the smallest moment, I was Twilight Sparkle again, I was that little filly who had laughed happily and watched in awe as Princess Celestia raised the sun. I was home again; but I knew it wasn’t home, I knew it never would be and I knew that I would have to leave it all again. When I was younger I’d wanted to explore the stars. Then, I grew up and knew that they were out of my reach. As I grew older I learned that, although the stars were too far, the moon wasn’t. Then, I grew older again, I learned that the stars weren’t out of reach, but to visit them I would have to get rid of what weighed me down.”

“And what was that?” Ablazed Glory asked.

“Me.”

That was the simple answer. Penumbra gave a sharp chuckle, planting herself onto her haunches. “My biggest weakness was always myself. What made Emperor Nicholas so strong was that he had control, he wasn’t a person, he was a construct, constantly evolving to meet a set of criteria. He was like an enchantment, a formula, longer and more complex than anything I can even imagine, but he was just mathematics. I learned this in my time alone. For years I’d wanted to be like him, wanted to have the power to save my friends and bring Equestria back, just as it was before. But.” She paused, taking a deep breath.

“In order for it to work,” she continued, voice lowered and slow, “I’d have to cast away me. I tried it, believe me, I did, but I’m not strong enough.”

“But,” Ablazed Glory said, confusion in her voice, “you did visit the stars? And, you’re still you.”

Penumbra laughed, not at her, but at the idea that what she said could be true. “No,” she said, shaking her head, “no. I’m not Twilight Sparkle anymore. I’m Sunless-Halo-of-Penumbra, a rigid set of traits and thoughts. I’m not Nicholas, he evolved and changed on a whim, he was cruelty, but then he was kindness. He could pour molten metal onto your legs whilst you cried in pain.” She held out her forelegs, splotches of silvery metal set into her flesh. “Then go out of his way to have your friend healed from her injuries, made better and stronger than before.”

She choked on a sob and looked down staring at the wickedly sharp edges of her talons. She shook her head as the talons of her forelegs flexed. “I hated him,” she mumbled, “I hated him,” she repeated, far louder, “I wanted to rip him apart, to kill him and bring my friends back and never have to join that war of his.” She sighed, her talons relaxing, releasing the immense tension she had put on them.

“And yet.” She chuckled harshly. “Given the option, the power to do so; I wouldn’t have been able to. He’d made me believe I’d killed him, once. In reality, though, he’d killed himself, pushed me to see what I would be capable of. I’d had to surrender all parts of myself in order to so much as swing at him once.” She closed her eyes.

“In that moment, who I am now was born. The set of individual criterions I am now replaced Twilight Sparkle the second my sword hit his armour. I’d watched and felt my friends die, so Emperor Nicholas had granted me the peace I needed, he’d allowed Twilight Sparkle, the pony, to die and be replaced by Sunless-Halo-of-Penumbra, the instrument. In his cruelty, he was kinder than anyone had been to me before.”

She fell silent, preferring the blank world she was viewing with her closed eyes. She twitched slightly when she felt something hot up against her, but relaxed when a wing - burning as it was - was draped over her.

“It’s alright,” Ablazed Glory mumbled, with all the similarities to Fluttershy. “Just let it out.”

“I didn’t even have the chance to say goodbye to most of them,” Penumbra blubbered beneath her claws, before pulling herself from them and opening her eyes wide.

“I didn’t need to,” she continued, shrugging, a blank expression across her face, “what difference would it have made? All of history converged on that moment we killed the Great Light. Maybe I was fated to be the only one to survive, or, maybe, I was just lucky.”

Ablazed Glory stroked Penumbra’s mane, in a way definitely reminiscent of Fluttershy. “Well, I can bet they wouldn’t want you mourning them. They still live on inside of you, so, way I see it, you have two choices. One, you can let yourself be destroyed from the inside out by guilt and sadness. Or, two, you can keep pushing on and know that they’d be proud of you.”

Penumbra smiled, she was going to like spending time with Ablazed Glory.

Xayanth

The Eternal Emperor, Nicholas, The Master of Time, stood on the observation bridge of his personal vessel, the IESS Hand of Fate, overlooking the glistening emerald of a world he orbited. Normally, the discovery of a world like this would warrant immediate deployment of Imperial forces, the system would be brought into the Empire no matter the cost. The world below, twinkling in the light of its star, was so rich in resources as to be worth several systems. Thousands of ships could be lost taking it and the materials gathered within the first year of Imperial control would replenish those numbers ten fold.

But, it was not to be. He had ordered it so. The world was abundant in raw materials, yes, but there were countless planets, an endless supply of materials to fuel his armies and navies as they marched endlessly through the void. Yet, he had still ordered it surveyed, more out of curiosity than anything else. Rift energy had taken a crystalline form in the lithosphere, there was enough of it to warrant the information be quarantined from all eyes but his. There was great avarice in his Empire yet, so the secret of such bountiful wealth must be kept hidden, lest one of the more ambitious factions attempt to seize it and ruin all of his work.

The planet’s life was primitive, to say the absolute very least. It was not as though they had just climbed from the oceans, far from it, they were far, far older than any species Emperor Nicholas knew of, any species anybody knew of for that matter. Yet, apparently, their evolution had stagnated. They had once been as gods - to use a term an unfortunate Leftenant had used when Nicholas had been enraged - yet, now, they were like insects, like the ants that he would view with such wonder as a child.

Like ants, they were weak. He could kill an ant accidentally - he had done so many a time - perhaps even without knowing it. Yet, for creatures their size, they were exceptionally strong. They could lift ten times their own body weight, he had read - or had that been beetles?

The Precursors, a species who had lived before even the Dauxite Assembly, a species who had at least one of their members match even the Dauxite Emperor - one or both of them. To look upon them now was almost pitiful, they were so feeble that a slight change in their core temperatures could kill them. They had joined all of the other mortal species of the omniverse.

A shiver ran up Emperor Nicholas’ metaphysical spine. Danger, he could sense it. Where? Down on the surface, his project was in danger. Creatures, hundreds, at least, were swarming, they wished to devour his project. All would be lost.

A shiver in the fabric of space-time, then a tear, and the Emperor was gone from the Hand of Fate’s bridge.

Sunless-Halo-of-Penumbra snapped awake on her captain’s chair on the command bridge of the Retaliator. She felt groggy, like she had just short of the right amount of sleep. With a deliberate movement of a claw, she wiped her eyes clean and focused on commanding the vessel. Which, with Ablazed Glory aboard, took the form of telling her to do something once then checking back every hour or two to make sure it was all going well.

They were eighteen hours and seventeen minutes out from New Horizons, stuck in the wake of an advancing Dominion fleet. In order to retain operational integrity, Dominion fleets utilised interdiction fields that prevented civilian craft or enemy vessels from Rifting into operational zones. Unfortunately, due to the Dominion’s strategy of “better safe than sorry,” those interdiction fields were enormous, with a typical radius of a parsec or greater. They were, for the time being, unable to leave the system.

“Incoming transmission from Dominion Perseus Central Command,” the Luminary said, snapping Penumbra to maximum alertness. Hopefully, it was about the interdiction field going down.

“All fleet interdiction systems in the Perseus Sector are now offline.” The message was automated and to the point, just as Penumbra liked it.

Ablazed Glory whistled a happy sounding tune. “Alrighty, where to?”

Truth be told, Penumbra wasn’t sure. She had Ablazed Glory, she’d visited New Horizons and Sanctum, where would she go now? She’d visited the remains of old Equestria, and now ponykind’s new home, was there anything else urgent?

No. Not anything urgent, anyway. She did, however, remember a lead she would like to take up. It wasn’t a matter of life or death, nor was it a matter of care for a friend. It was a simple matter of curiosity, that and boredom.

“You remember Cradle?”

Ablazed Glory tapped a claw on the desk in front of her, face scrunched up slightly. “The Shield World?”

Penumbra nodded.

“Yeah,” Ablazed Glory said, turning back to her console, apparently to key in the coordinates - or at least attempt to find them. “Wait.” She turned back to Penumbra. “Why?”

“I’m curious,” was her reply, “apparently I’m some sort of ‘Precursor’, something that the Shield World’s AI mentioned when I was there at the start of the War. I want to check that out.”

Ablazed Glory seemed to consider it for a moment. The gem on her chest pulsed slightly faster, evidently the two were speaking.

“Could be fun.” The burning alicorn turned to her console and began working at a lightning pace, Penumbra able to keep track of her movements but not what they did. “Keying in coordinates for Cradle, they’re probably a little inaccurate but we’ll work with them.” She tapped away for another half a minute, no doubt doing something beyond Penumbra’s limited understanding. “Ready to engage Rift.”

“Engage,” Penumbra declared, adding the unnecessary but inevitable flourish of a pointed claw.

Ablazed Glory clicked a talon and the Retaliator entered the Rift.

The Eternal Emperor, Nicholas, The Master of Time, froze the air around him. He had emerged atop a hill, covered in snow from foot to summit. The severe weather of the area was unnatural, caused by a group of malignant entities that had turned their wicked eyes to the local inhabitants. Little did the creatures know, however, that the locals were under the protection of the most powerful being ever to live - one whose mere command could shake the world.

One of them was below him, some twenty metres from where his talons dug into the deep snow. The creature wormed its way upwards, clearly aware of the new arrival but unsure as to exactly what or where he was. Emperor Nicholas’ abilities were many, but none had first seemed as useless as the ability to go unnoticed. He could not become invisible, not fully anyway, but he had a power even better. An invisible person could still be smelt, heard, touched, Emperor Nicholas had the ability to simply force everyone and everything to ignore him. Once a bane in his younger years, now it was a great blessing. Not least in that it made his arrival on primitive planets seem like the arrival of a prophesied messiah - which he often claimed to be purely for the reaction of the inhabitants. He may have been Emperor, but he was allowed some fun every few centuries.

It was a similar shape to the inhabitants, though it had the appearance of a wisp, much of its body had little more than a vague shape, with its whole rear simply a long, snaking tail that rippled in the wind. The creature was curious, no doubt it had heard the shrill scream of his arrival back into the mortal realm. To Emperor Nicholas, it was an odd creature, most likely it had evolved as it had due to the unique conditions of its homeworld - namely the immense Rift energy that seemed to permeate everything.

It was a horrid thing.

He drove Oathbreaker through its head, the wispy form of its flesh crackling and sparking beneath the weight of his weapon’s power. Conventional force didn’t seem to harm it, but little stood against the Emperor’s will. The creature gave a raspy cry, before pooling into a puddle of mist on the ground. Nicholas was certain it was dead.

The creature had been weak. It displayed a similar sort of physical reaction to starvation, though what it fed on he wasn’t sure. There was no denying it was carnivorous, given the way it had reacted to Emperor Nicholas’ appearance, it had moved with a hunter’s presence. Unfortunately for it, Emperor Nicholas was the chief of hunters, the apex of the apex.

The danger to his project had not ceased, he could sense them in the valley below. Similar creatures to the one he had slain, though many far larger and stronger, swarmed in an almost cloud around the comparatively small huddle they were endangering. The blizzard about the valley was not natural, it appeared to have been summoned by the creatures. A femtosecond later, Emperor Nicholas had learned they were feeding off of his project, using their energies to fuel themselves - constructing this blizzard as a cover.

He spread his mighty wings, flexing those muscles he was still not yet fully used to existing. With one beat, he threw a chunk of the blizzard aside and took to the skies, aiming for the mass of wisp creatures below.

The Retaliator exited the Rift above the Shield World, which had remained remarkably untouched by the Dominion. Cradle, where she had discovered her true purpose, hung silently in the void, its miniaturised star core glowing with slightly less brightness than she remembered - though it could easily have been the Retaliator’s light filters.

“I never got to see it from far away,” Ablazed Glory muttered, “it’s so strange.”

Cradle, the last of the Shield Worlds.

She had done her research, with the help of Tick back on Sanctuary’s Watch. Millennia of nothing to do would have crushed her had it not been for the wealth of knowledge she had relatively to hand - if the Clockworks could be considered to hand. Cradle - or 268-SHIELD as it was entered as in Dominion records - was the last of the Shield Worlds to be built by the Dauxite Assembly, it had also not fully finished construction, being approximately seventy percent finished before the Assembly was consumed by civil war and destroyed.

The Shield World’s control centre was within, on a large platform that would have eventually become a much larger system, cut off from the vacuum of space by a complete crust. As it stood, Cradle’s crust was partially open, allowing easy access inside. Its defensive systems had been offline for long enough that Penumbra did not even give them a thought.

Ablazed Glory marvelled at the design as she took them within, gazing up at the city sized lattices of girders that would have held up plates of the artificial lithosphere - if a hollow world could have a lithosphere. The miniature star, contained within an immense shield, gave light to the entire inner surface. No Assembly constructs had been moved within, save those on the various floating platforms, so the hollow crust was devoid of light and life.

Penumbra identified the control room easily, it was at least triple the size of any other platform, hovering in a nearly central point, orbiting slowly around the star’s shield. She pointed it out to Ablazed Glory, who responded with an affirmative “aye,” and directed them to land.

She remembered how they had fought for the control room, how Emperor Nicholas had strode forwards without so much as a care. How he had swatted aside any attempt to attack him in an almost undignified manner. Everytime she remembered him fighting, she remembered why no one dared stand against him.

The door to the control room was already open for them, a pair of WarSynths waiting outside. Ablazed Glory had been cautious of them, but had calmed when Penumbra had informed her they wouldn’t be any issue. Even if it came to blows - which it wouldn’t - Penumbra was almost certain she could kill a WarSynth. How hard could it be?

Exultation-001, the Shield World’s commanding AI, awaited them in the form of a red line on a screen. “Welcome,” it said, voice deep and somewhere in the uncanny valley between natural and robotic, “Sunless-Halo-of-Penumbra and?”

“Ablazed Glory,” Penumbra answered, the burning alicorn having not realised the AI was asking her.

“Why have you come?” Exultation-001 asked. Its voice could portray no emotion of any kind, so the question appeared to be perfectly neutral.

“Information,” Penumbra replied, “about Xayanth.”

Exultation-001 hummed. “What information do you require?”

Penumbra wanted to say everything, though she knew that wouldn’t be enough. Knowing Assembly AI, it would give her literally everything on the topic, she would quickly drown in the information - much of it being useless or only tangentially related. Eventually, she settled on, “its location.”

Exultation-001 hummed again. No doubt it was searching its data banks for the information she had requested. “Stellar coordinates in local database are outdated, I am issuing an information request to the Array.”

The Array was the network all Assembly machines connected to, allowing enormous amounts of data to be passed from one side of the galaxy to the other if necessary. The problem with the Array was simple: most of it was gone. Destroyed either by the Assembly’s fall, the withering effect of time or Emperor Nicholas during the early days of the Irenton Empire.

“Very well,” Penumbra said, “we can wait.”

The Eternal Emperor, Nicholas, The Master of Time, struck down the closest of the wisp creatures. Oathbreaker ripped the creature’s soul apart, burning its body and killing it within a second of impact. There was no triumphant roar, or other assorted battle cry, necessary, for he fought against creatures unaffected by morale. Nothing could be allowed to endanger his project, not even his presence. He was only on the surface by absolute necessity, the moment his project was safe he would be starward once again.

Little light reached him, such was the ferocity of the blizzard, though there had been a decrease - albeit miniscule - when the wisp monster, that had once lived where his feet were, was alive. As expected, if he killed the monsters, he killed the blizzard and saved his project. Compared to the administration of his Empire, the act was relaxing.

Another creature, larger than the previous, seemed to have noticed its fellow’s demise. It slithered towards him through the air, coming across where its compatriot had once stood. It hung, almost motionless, as if confused, for a moment, before Emperor Nicholas struck at it with Oathbreaker, cleaving it in two. Its body dissipated, though not before letting out a wail that was certain to attract attention.

Emperor Nicholas, though, revelled in a fight. He let his field of ignorance drop, revealing himself to anything that got close. Under the cover of the storm, his project would be none the wiser to his presence, but the wisp monsters would likely see him clear as day.

Oathbreaker pulsed, sending the snow heavy air around it swirling away. It was a pulse that called the wisp monsters closer, creating a new energy signature for them so large as to be impossible to ignore. Sure enough, three of them emerged from the blizzard, attracted by the signature, only to try and halt themselves as they realised the trap that had been set for them.

With an arcing cleave, the three wisps were dead. Though, another five quickly took their place. Oathbreaker’s pulse had been far more attractive than originally expected. The wisp creatures swarmed him, hungering for the bountiful energy that lay guarded within Emperor Nicholas and his weapon.

These creatures, as evidenced by their seemingly suicidal charges, were not fully sentient. Or, at least, not in a way that gave them any sense of self-preservation. Emperor Nicholas liked to consider his fights as dances, with a number of carefully trained and choreographed moves that built into a crescendo and eventually a climax. The wisps that charged him, however, made his dance a solo endeavour. He twirled and swung and gave the battle more than the minimum amount of flourish, but his many hundreds of attackers were little better than pests - particularly large and misshapen wasps or mosquitoes. Invisible, it would have appeared as though Emperor Nicholas was making a - quite literal - song and dance of swatting flies.

Naturally, to complement his dance, there was song. The song was not sung by him, his vocal chords had long since been unable to recreate melody - or indeed anything other than a deep rumble. Rather, it emanated from Oathbreaker, a chorus of a thousand voices, singing in a language only he and it knew. Song served to not only demoralise the enemy, given that the very language it was in was anathema to most mortal ears, but also telegraph his opponents’ attacks to him. Though, against the wisp monsters, there was little need for either of those abilities.

It took the deaths of no more than three hundred of their number for the wisp creatures to slow, several of their smallest shying away. Some of the middling sized circled him, keeping at two sword lengths at least, whilst their larger brethren were cut apart when they came within one. The odd few would attack, acting as though they had caught him by surprise, though they would come to only just within natural vision range before they became a part of the layer of death mist at his feet.

The smallest creatures fled, scattering in all directions. Those few that remained were killed barely seconds later, as a wave of green fire burst out from Oathbreaker, cutting apart the blizzard and creatures as if they were tissue paper in a hurricane.

Yet, he sensed the danger to his project had not yet diminished. The blizzard, although weakened, continued. If his project, the very thing that would ensure his victory, was destroyed by a snow storm, the very thought drove him mad. He had chosen this path long ago, he would follow it.

Confident the creatures would not return, he closed in on his project. They were holed up in a cave, singing. Certainly an odd choice for a species in the midst of a potentially cataclysmic crisis, but to each their own, he supposed.

He could only influence them, such was the task he had given himself. He could not simply appear to them and whisk them away to safety, that risked compromising the integrity of his project. It would also be a pain to deal with, he would likely have to make regular visits and he would rather do almost anything else than deal with adoring primitives. He was a leader, not a celebrity.

What better way to influence them than to set a seed. He could not influence them directly, but - especially with him - influence was rarely direct. He could create a whole mythos by accident, but it was worth it to save his project. His seed would be simple: he would use some of his power and let them believe it was they who used it. Over time, they would see his actions as their own, so that even Nicholas’ most overt manoeuvres would be attributed to them.

And, what better a seed than a burning one. He could purge the blizzard, remaining wisp monsters and thaw out their worryingly ice-entombed leaders in one single swipe. Granted, the leaders would still probably be just as dead - and damp - but the results would be fine overall. It was the whole that counted, after all.

His fire would be a nice pink, enough that it didn’t look like he was just setting them on fire. Different enough that they would believe it a “magical” phenomena. Actually, he thought, just make it a heart shape. Teach them that friendship with each other could conquer all - rather than the usual war. He didn’t want his project extinguishing itself, that would make his fight against the wisp monsters all the less satisfying.

He conjured before himself a pink, heart shaped flame. The addition of a little embellishment was a mixture of both making it look magical, and also wanting to see if he could recreate patterns with pink fire - apparently he could, though he hadn’t exactly expected that specific task to prove overly difficult. Satisfied the heart would be enough, he brought it back within his hands, claws burning with energy. With a burst, he sent a giant version of the flame forwards, across where his project faced a small group of wisp monsters - who had apparently not seen his beacon. Evidently, they had been preoccupied.

He watched from afar as the fire of friendship - an appropriate if still incorrect name - swept through the valley, purging the blizzard as it went. With a satisfied nod, he shivered.

Another shiver, a tear in space-time, and The Eternal Emperor, Nicholas, The Master of Time was gone.

The only active terminal in the control room flashed, instantly drawing Penumbra’s eyes. She pounced on it, moving from a seated position some ten metres away to standing directly before it in seemingly an instant.

Exultation-001 hummed. “These coordinates are from the records of KINDLE, provided by Sunless-Halo-of-Penumbra.”

Ablazed Glory turned to her companion, having done little more than slightly roll the wrong direction when Penumbra had jumped. “I thought you didn’t know where this place was,” she said.

“I don’t,” Penumbra said, “not now at least. It’s a long story and I’ll tell you at some point, I just need to memorise these coordinates.”

The burning alicorn gave a sarcastically guffawing chuckle. “Love a good bit of stellar cartography, me.” She rolled slightly further, carrying out an unnecessarily difficult manoeuvre to right herself. She had decided against the usage of her forelegs, using only the strength of her rear and neck - though she had once righted herself using only her upper jaw and four front teeth so it couldn’t be too hard.

“I’m just hoping the Luminary can do something with these,” Penumbra said, not realising Ablazed Glory was far from paying attention - placing all of her mental faculties on getting to her feet by use of her face - “for all I know, Assembly coordinates are incompatible with Dominion machines. In fact, they probably are.”

Exultation-001 cut her off, “negative, all coordinates are updated for usage in your vessel’s flight controller.”

“How did you do that?” Penumbra asked, not taking her eyes off of the screen as she jotted the coordinates down onto a square of paper, “I was under the impression that Assembly technology was entirely different to that of the Dominion.”

“That assumption is correct,” Exultation-001 sounded almost proud of itself - though it could have been a quirk in the processing of the phrase - “your vessel was scanned as per protocol as soon as it entered the system, allowing me to access the specifications of your flight controller and adapt the retrieved coordinates accordingly.”

“Are they correct?”

“Affirmative,” now the AI sounded almost annoyed, “unless your vessel’s flight controller is incorrect.”

It had an arrogance atypical of the Assembly. At least, Penumbra assumed it was arrogance, it was rather a measure of reading between the lines heavily. In all fairness, it was probably telling the truth.

“Hey, computer,” Ablazed Glory called, having somehow managed to reach her feet, “this statement is false.”

“My systems have been specifically designed to filter out looping queries such as yours.” Exultation-001 did not care for Ablazed Glory’s poor joke - probably - and Ablazed Glory did the only reasonable thing and stuck her tongue out at the console.

Luckily, Penumbra finished her copying a second later. “Come on.” She practically dragged Ablazed Glory out of the control room. “We appreciate the assistance,” she called back to the AI, who responded with a simple hum.

Boarding the Retaliator, Penumbra threw herself into the captain’s chair. “Luminary,” she said, preparing to read her coordinates aloud, “chart a course.”

A Missing Piece

The Rift was an odd place, that was how Penumbra best described it. It was beautiful in its strangeness, how all of its colours winked and dulled at random, how patterns would form also completely at random. There was always a sense of pareidolia if one looked long enough. It was alive, or, at least, it had once been.

There was no distance in the Rift, not in the sense as there was distance in the material realm anyways. Rather, there was time. Time had some effect on the Rift, though Penumbra did not know exactly what. To be fair, nobody did. Except, perhaps, Emperor Nicholas.

She had always found herself able to dream within the Rift, like seeing glimpses of other lives, other paths, snatched away in seconds as the vessel exited the realm. The dreams told her nothing, barely long enough for her to properly identify them. But, that didn’t make them any less interesting. There were surprisingly few scientific studies into the matter, so perhaps she could write her own.

Xayanth. Supposedly, it had once been her home, or the home of her soul at least. The specifics of the matter were somewhat confusing, even to her, and with no Emperor Nicholas around to explain them they would likely remain so forever - if he had even really known. She longed to see it, to see what the conditions that had birthed her originally were like - if they were maintained. She didn’t know what she was hoping for, whether some kind of spiritual awakening or rebirth, or simply to know what she didn’t before. Knowledge was its own reward, after all.

She wasn’t sure why Ablazed Glory had come along. Admittedly, she had partially roped the burning alicorn in, but there was always the option to return to New Horizons. Penumbra was aware that her companion had a sense of adventure, far more than her own; she also assumed that Ablazed Glory held at least a fraction of her curiosity. Other than that, she had little stake in their impromptu expedition.

In the best case scenario, there would be a whole new Equestria waiting for her. Although, more than a small part of her didn’t want that. As she was, she knew she didn’t fit into Equestria anymore. Where once the very idea of war and violence had been alien to her, now it was part of her, a part she could not erase. What would happen if she met all of her friends again, before the War in Heaven had dragged them from their home? Would they recognise her? Would she recognise them?

Her mind stopped the train of thought dead in its tracks. It had been forced to take a very active role in recent days, with all of Penumbra’s worst memories and traumas threatening to boil over. There was a reason she had pushed her time on Equestria and during the War in Heaven to the back of her mind. It was better not to think about the past, she had decided.

Ablazed Glory, casually slouching back in her chair, tapped a claw on the desk in front of her absentmindedly. Perhaps she did not see Rift travel as Penumbra did; or, perhaps, she had grown so used to it that it was nothing exciting to her.

“What was the cruiser like?” Penumbra asked, “when you were going to the Throne World?”

Ablazed Glory looked over her shoulder at her companion, still tapping her claw. She scrunched up her muzzle in thought for a moment, before answering, “nothing too exciting,” she said, before clarifying, “more just pressing the Rift engage and hoping for the best. Without shields and with so much damage to the hull, it was a bit like this, only shakier.”

Penumbra’s only rides through the Rift had been very smooth, to the point of being nigh-unnoticeable. She had read reports of dangerous turbulence in the Rift, around the time of the Empire, even reports of daemonic boarders attacking ships. Though, the reports she had read had been long before the War in Heaven, going back no later than twenty thousand years ago. She had seen the effects the Rift could have, in the form of the immense storm that had carried the Eater of Worlds, but never experienced any sort of danger within it.

Ahead of them, through the viewscreen, the perfect, black circle of a rift opened. The emptiness of it stood out easily against the ever-twisting and colourful backdrop of the Rift itself. Rarely was Penumbra given the chance to see a rift approaching, to be in the Rift long enough to think of much. There was an odd beauty to it, of the patch of darkness surrounded by colour.

They emerged from the Rift into space. Truly, empty space. They were still within the galaxy, evident by the Luminary’s constant on screen reports of their location, though they were within one of the gaps between stars. Interstellar space was incredible in its own way, it was hard to accurately describe what being so alone was like. There was nothing but a few atoms of hydrogen for light-years around the Retaliator. Penumbra herself was one of the largest objects within a parsec.

“Luminary,” Penumbra said, readying a stack of papers and pens to record any notes that came to her - she was on a mission of discovery after all - “show us the system, please.”

The Luminary did not reply for seven seconds. “Which system do you mean?”

“The system,” Penumbra said, “the one we entered.”

Was it being intentionally obtuse? Or, as Penumbra began to worry, had Exultation-001 tampered with it in some way?

“There is no system within one parsec of our current location.”

Had Exultation-001’s coordinates been wrong? If she knew how the Assembly worked - which, admittedly, she didn’t really - she would have expected the coordinates to update over time. Surely the coordinates for Xayanth would have accounted for its movement over the eons.

Perhaps, Xayanth had been destroyed in a supernova. Though, there was no nebula nearby, with the Luminary going so far as to suggest that no nova of any kind had occurred in the region since the records began. The Irenton Empire had been vast, so records of supernovae even four billion years ago would have been made - such was the sheer distance between Imperial holding. The chance the record had been lost was a possibility, but unlikely, as the majority of astro-navigational data had been retained into the Dominion.

Exultation-001 had been acting strangely, so perhaps it could have provided incorrect coordinates purposefully - or maybe even accidentally. Though, Penumbra had no idea how the AI was really supposed to act. She was also unsure as to whether or not she was reading too far into what it had said, which was entirely possible.

“That can’t be right,” she muttered, “that just can't be right.”

“Wasn’t there supposed to be a planet here?” Ablazed Glory asked, before turning to her clearly bewildered companion, “I think that robot scammed you.”

Penumbra shook her head. “That’s not possible. It’s just not possible. It wouldn’t have known, surely.” Her voice fell, causing her to just mutter the same few phrases repeatedly.

Ablazed Glory promptly attempted to regain control of the situation. Firstly, she scanned the surrounding area, searching for any clues as to where their missing system had ended up. Next, she angled the ship around, following the system’s predicted axis of rotation around the galactic centre. Finally, with a flick of a single switch in a submenu, she ordered a cup of tea for Penumbra.

“It’s not here,” Penumbra said, voice wavering, “it’s not here, because it doesn’t exist.”

“What do you mean?” Ablazed Glory asked, as she removed the freshly made cup of tea from a panel in the back wall - having an automatic teapot built into the bridge was a very Irenton design. She carried it over to Penumbra, handing it to her carefully.

Penumbra took a long sip of the tea. “It doesn’t exist,” she said again, “it’s a myth.”

“Well,” Ablazed Glory said, pouring confidence into her voice in an attempt to relax her comrade, “perhaps it’s just moved off its previous orbit. Systems do that, especially over the course of billions of years.”

Penumbra shook her head over her mug. “Not this one,” she said, “the coordinates would have accounted for it. There’s nothing here to find because there is nothing to find.”

She took another long sip of her mug, before sitting up straighter. A newfound direction burned in her eyes. “Take us back to Cradle,” she ordered, “we need to confront the AI.”

“Aye.” Ablazed Glory spun, cracking a lopsided grin and punching in coordinates back to Cradle. “Ready to engage Rift.”

“Engage Rift.”

Confrontation

There was no time wasting once the Retaliator exited the Rift. Without Penumbra even having to give the order, Ablazed Glory began to take them in. It was a good thing for it, too, Penumbra’s curiosity had been replaced by a more angry form. Someone, somewhere down the line had lied to her and - to put it mildly - she did not like being lied to.

She wasn’t furious - of course not - it was not something anyone had any right to be furious about, not yet at least. She actually hoped Emperor Nicholas had lied to her, then she wouldn’t be so angry anymore. She already hated Nicholas, knowing full well he had lied to her in the past and used her for his own goals. Any anger or hatred that would come from being lied to was like a drop in an ocean when it came to him, so it wouldn’t matter.

Something seemed off the moment they crossed the threshold of the planet’s open crust, which Ablazed Glory saw fit to mention aloud, “something doesn’t feel right.”

She was right. Though Penumbra had no idea what it was, there was definitely a newly wrong feeling about Cradle. It hadn’t felt at all similar the last time they had arrived, so why was there a change? Everything seemed to be functioning as it had been before, so why did Penumbra feel concern creeping up her spine?

The two WarSynths who had guarded the control room were gone, with the door firmly closed behind them. When the Retaliator landed, and the two alicorns disembarked, the sense of unease rose even further. Penumbra closed in one the door, Ablazed Glory covering her back in an almost telepathically synchronised tactical display.

As she had suspected, the door was firmly locked.

She reached out with her magic, more than confident Ablazed Glory would have her back should something go wrong. Expecting a simple mechanical lock, she was met with a complex tangle of helices of matter-data lattices, more than a mere puzzle. Whatever had locked the door - and Penumbra had her suspicions - had not wanted anything getting inside.

Unfortunately for them, however, they had not counted on Penumbra taking their lock as a personal challenge. When Penumbra was challenged to a game of intellect, she never lost. Maybe she wouldn’t win - but she would never allow the challenge to end if that was the case.

The lattices had a beginning, revealing a complex system of formulae and inter-woven data that would have to be unravelled for her to pass through. The formation of the lock was a truly remarkable thing, how it eschewed the mechanical for the mathematical whilst also retaining its strength was a perfect testament to the Assembly’s way of thought. The sheer simplicity of folding the matter-data over itself like steel was brilliant, something Penumbra would not have come up with - though the time for fawning over locks had been put on the backburner.

Whilst the lock was fascinating, it was also strong, very strong. She had somewhat of a knack for picking locks, mostly because she could use magic to entirely replace the unreliability of a mechanical pick. Her knack, however, would not so much help her here. She would need a mathematical mind to proceed.

Fortunately, she had that too.

Breaking down each individual point of the matter-data lattice was simple - simple enough anyway. She would, in essence, need to solve the formulae and reconcile the data. The difficult part came with the difficulties each formulae and strands of data presented. The very first point was almost a cake-walk, the second had her stuck for three seconds - a long time for one calculation.

The big problem that came with matter-data was how dense it was. If it were only a few hundred, even a few thousand calculations, then she would be fine. Instead, it was tens of millions, all for just one tiny lock. She prided herself on her processing power - to use Assembly speak - but even hers paled in comparison to what the weakest Assembly construct could bring to bear.

There was a lot of work ahead of her, that she knew, but a lot of that work could be broken down into simple chunks. She was relying on being in the lock for a few minutes at most, any more and she would probably have to have Ablazed Glory smash it. Or, chance a teleportation beyond it, which carried immense risks.

A eureka moment came to her a few seconds later. The data stream was not encoded at a quantum level, rather by a pre-coded pattern based system. Put simply, there was a pattern and Penumbra could exploit it. It was unusual for the Assembly - in fact, it was very improbable - but Penumbra was happy to take any advantage that came to her, even one that she knew shouldn’t have.

The lattice quickly unravelled, the pattern practically allowing her to bypass it. Before her magical eyes, the complex tangle of matter-data vanished, the lock shut down and the door was good to open.

Open it did, with Ablazed Glory bursting through to provide the necessary cover as Penumbra withdrew from the lock and regained her focus. There was darkness indoors, not even the consoles active, with the only light either coming from without or from Ablazed Glory’s body. There were no WarSynths present, as there had been, and Exultation-001 was nowhere to be found.

If Cradle’s AI was still around, it could be accessed from the control room. Which, fortunately, wasn’t too far from where they were. Unfortunately, it was secured by a number of doors that were likely not only locked, but locked far less shoddily than the main entrance had been. She felt a cold, shivering sensation run up the spine in her neck: something was definitely wrong and something bad was soon going to happen.

WarSynths did not evacuate. That was the rule. WarSynths did not evacuate because they were expendable, they were to cover evacuations from facilities or to ensure facilities remained functioning on a mechanical level. If they had evacuated - which their absence suggested - then something severe had happened since their previous visit. Four thousand years and the Shield World had been untouched, who could have gotten to it in a day?

Another question was raised as Penumbra began work on the next locked door: where was Exultation-001? As custodian of the Shield World, it should have been everywhere at once. At the very least, it should have attempted to stop her breaking the previous lock. If it had not wanted her inside, then it should have activated its defences and brought them to bear. If it had wished, it could have destroyed the Retaliator the moment it exited the Rift. So why didn’t it?

Penumbra’s mind, separated into two in the magical world, worked overtime to break the lock. The lattice should have been far more dense, encoded to a point that Penumbra could barely recognise it. However, it was even less secure than the previous had been. It came apart in less than half a minute, Penumbra having not even needed to separate herself after all.

There was just one more door, through a hall that Ablazed Glory scouted. The hall, once abuzz with WarSynths, was empty, eerily so. It was as though she had stepped into a tomb - a feeling which she had had enough of when she left the Throne World. The door wasn’t even locked, opening it being a simple matter of Ablazed Glory kicking it.

The control room was similarly empty, every one of the consoles offline. Worse, Exultation-001 was deactivated. Penumbra attempted to reboot the command console, calling upon her knowledge of the Assembly’s language and technology to find the on button, but to no avail.

Exultation-001 had deactivated itself. As an AI, a non-sapient one at that, shutting down was not a task Exultation-001 should have been able to perform on its own. Unless in immense danger, with orders from a higher classification of mind, or a specific section of its programming detailing a prerogative to deactivate in such a situation, Exultation-001 would be active until it failed. Clearly, it had not failed, given the fact the locks had been constructed of a matter-data stream.

Something had killed Exultation-001.

A sprint, not a marathon

If Exultation-001 had been sapient - although it not being sapient still allowed the metaphor to work - self-deactivation was tantamount to suicide, one that was often irrevocable due to the volatile nature of personality matrices. Why would Exultation-001 see fit to do such a thing? Had it seen Penumbra or Ablazed Glory as a threat? If so, why?

Her thoughts and attention were instantly snatched away from such a question, when Ablazed Glory called her over. “Penumbra,” she said, sounding noticeably worried, “this one’s gone red.”

The console she was standing at had flickered to life, evidently some of the structure was salvageable. The data she could glean from it might give a better insight as to why Exultation-001 shut down. Ablazed Glory shifted over to allow her better access, Penumbra getting a good look at the message carried by the bright red, flashing letters.

“Warning. Core self-destruct has been initiated. Evacuation order has been given. This is the three minute warning.”

The Core self-destruct differed greatly from a regular self destruct. Whereas an ordinary self destruct may detonate a sub-mind or bank of consoles, perhaps a small facility. A Core self-destruct would detonate the very star that lay at the core of the planet, as well as its shields. All of Cradle, as well as anything for several light years around it, would be destroyed.

Which presented an issue to the two alicorns standing practically next to the ticking bomb.

“Run,” was all Penumbra could yell, as both she and Ablazed Glory dashed for the Retaliator.

To say Penumbra was thankful Ablazed Glory had ordered the ramp left open as standard would be an understatement. She dashed inside, not even waiting until she was fully aboard before giving the Luminary the order to lift off. She dragged Ablazed Glory inside, before the two of them sprinted to the bridge.

Ablazed Glory manned her console with supernatural speed and efficiency. As she worked, doing what seemed like a hundred tasks in tandem, Penumbra could only sit and wait, hoping they escaped in time.

The Retaliator had been barely seconds off of the ground before Ablazed Glory gave the report Penumbra had been dreading, barely a hint of feeling in her voice as she focused on her many tasks: “we’re not going to make it in time, not as we are.”

Penumbra swore. But then, like a flash of inspiration, she remembered she’d been in that exact situation before. How had she escaped it then? By simply smashing the Rift engage button with a foreleg - something that it turned out was far more dangerous than it had initially sounded when she looked into it centuries later. If she could replicate the same conditions, they’d be home and dry in no time.

Although, how would she replicate the conditions? She had known almost exactly how Imperial cruisers had worked, they were fairly simple after all. The Retaliator was a whole other beast, piloted mostly by an advanced AI. Most of the controls were beyond alien to her, the vast majority apparently useless. Imperial ship design had been many things, but it could not be described as bloated in any way. There had been one Rift engage, in the form of a button literally marked “Rift Engage.” The Retaliator, whilst streamlined in terms of looks, had more controls than a warship over ten times its size - Penumbra knowing how to use none of them.

Except the tea button, that was an easy one. Although she had discovered it by accident.

She had read up on the manoeuvre she had pulled during the Battle of the Aether. Apparently, it was known by Imperial officers colloquially as the “Kaal Manoeuvre”, involving baiting an enemy into overloading their ship’s reactors or Rift generators - or simply damaging them to the point of imminent destruction - then launching an emergency Rift jump to escape their demise. The Kaal Manoeuvre would be perfect for such a situation. The Kaal Manoeuvre was also so dangerous that Imperial High Command had banned it for over 15,000 years - every naval officer receiving a specific three hour long seminar on why not to do it and the punishments if they did.

“Ablazed Glory,” Penumbra called, putting on her best confident captain’s voice, “can you make an emergency Rift jump?”

Ablazed Glory spun, looking at her as if she was mad. She stuttered a moment, before answering, “I’ve never tried, let alone in a confined space.”

“Well, now’s as good a time as any to give it a go.”

Her companion nodded, conceding the point, and spun back around. With lightning speed, she inputted a series of commands, her terminal flashing purple. She held up a claw slightly, shaking her head. “If this works,” she said, before slamming the claw down onto the engage prompt.

Within an instant, Cradle was gone, replaced by the swirling maelstrom of the Rift.

“It did.”

A visitor

The approach to Sanctuary’s Watch was slow, with the Retaliator forced to exit the Rift on the edge of the Chronovus system, to be scanned by authorities and then given a permit to enter the defensive zone. Ablazed Glory relinquished her controls, as the Luminary brought them in with a steady cruise. The bubble of defensive stations loomed all around them, with a shadow cast over them by a gun platform the size of a city.

“I live on Chronove’s moon,” Penumbra said, “Sanctuary’s Watch. It’s a nice place.”

A Dominion battleship passed by ahead of them, its sleek black silhouette creating a long, thin wedge in the starlight.

“Nicer than Chronove.” She chuckled. “I don’t know where you’d stay, though. Could always use my bed and I’ll just go for a walk, or something.”

Ablazed Glory waved a talon. “Eh, I don’t need sleep. I’ll be fine.”

Penumbra nodded. “When do you want to go back to New Horizons?” The moments between their bouts of speech were utterly silent, with only slight shadows reminding them they were still moving.

Her companion shrugged. “Dunno. Depends what happens, if there’s something interesting from being here I might as well stay here a while. Besides, I’ve been missing from New Horizons for three years, what’s another few days?”

She made a good point. Besides, Penumbra could always use the company, as well as the help with the ship. Ablazed Glory had a knack with it Penumbra just didn’t, although, if nothing was happening then that knack would be of better use elsewhere.

“How long do you reckon it’ll take to get to Sanctuary’s Watch?” She asked.

Though she had asked Penumbra, it was the Luminary who answered, “three hours and forty five minutes.”

Both of the alicorns slumped back, preparing for the long ride. Ablazed Glory was jittery and restless, clearly already bored, desiring anything to do no matter how mundane. Penumbra, meanwhile, was almost relaxed, glad for the calm routine that the procedures brought.

Regardless, neither could tear their eyes away from the scene around Chronove. Vessels of all sizes buzzed about like bees, appearing chaotic but clearly organised. There was an odd beauty to it, the elegant and almost random dance of millions of ships, carrying about a hundred thousand tasks against the backdrop of the de facto capital of the Dominion. Hundreds of thousands of kilometres away, hung the planet that had once been the seat of power of Emperor Nicholas, and the Irenton Empire.

Penumbra had only read about the heady days of the Empire, back when Chronove wasn’t visible from Sanctuary’s Watch due to the sheer density of ships. Long ago, when the shipyards around Chronove had been working at near impossible rates, when Chronove’s defensive fleet alone exceeded the current Dominion Navy. Her station in the Dominion allowed the travel time from Chronovus’ entrance to Sanctuary’s Watch to be significantly shortened, but, long ago, a twelve hour wait would have been considered extraordinarily quick.

It had been a good four hours by the time they entered Sanctuary’s Watch’s atmosphere. The broadcast of Penumbra’s credentials kept the planetary defence guns, visible as immense grey metal patches in the woodland, from simply vapourising them. An area outside of Penumbra’s observatory home was clear, built initially as a landing pad - with Penumbra having once planned to turn it into an outdoor study, though that plan amounted to nothing.

The ramp descended, the two being greeted by the fresh, spring air of Sanctuary’s Watch, and the smell of newly blossoming flowers. The air around Penumbra’s observatory often had a sweet aroma to it, especially during the spring.

Penumbra relished the feeling of the soft grass at her feet. It felt somehow more real than that on Cradle, though it was no more natural or unnatural than it. The ground was definitely softer, however, with more of a spring to it, as opposed to the rigidity of Cradle’s platforms. Perhaps it was simply the feeling of being home that relaxed her so much.

“This is my home,” she said, waving her talon in a flourish towards the stone tower, “let’s head inside and get some tea.”

Tea was, of course, a very standard beverage in the Irenton Dominion. Coffee was much more of a pain to make, as well as being a source of caffeine, so its popularity with the military - which, whilst its impact had lessened significantly, had remained the main sample for popularity since the Irenton Empire - had not been as high. Tea was simple, tasty, warm and could be supplied in a variety of flavours and manners, all coming together to make it the Dominion’s drink of choice aside from water. Although, especially amongst civilians, whiskey was making a resurgence, along with brandy amongst naval officers.

Penumbra didn’t stock brandy, as she was not a naval officer, but she did stock whiskey. Although, she rarely drank it. Instead, it sat in the whiskey cabinet, where a bottle may be removed once every blue moon and replaced with barely a shot missing. She did, however, stock immense amounts of tea, like any good citizen of the Dominion did. Her tea crate was always half full, it never went below half but also never really went above.

Her kettle activated via her voice, a feature she had wondered as to the necessity of. That was not to say it wasn’t useful, far from it, as it allowed Penumbra to boil the kettle whilst performing another task like reading a book or wondering why she kept a cupboard solely for whiskey. It did, however, seem like there were many more important innovations that could have been worked on in the time it took a voice-activated kettle to become a reality.

The upstairs floor was a bit of a pain to get to, more in terms of the time spent doing so than any particular difficulty. Regardless, it was where she had put everything, creating a bedroom-cum-library-cum-kitchen-cum-living room, with an enclosed en-suite bathroom connected to it - though Penumbra had no actual use for it given she had her magic to clean and had no use for a toilet regardless.

What the upstairs floor shouldn’t have been, however, was occupied.

Stood just in front of Penumbra’s bed, facing the door, was a WarSynth. Its body, skeletal, silvery alloy, shining as though it had just been produced. It’s tall, thin eye glowed light blue, held in the centre of its head, which bore an additional fan-like headdress with two large cut outs. It’s beam weapon, two long prongs connected by a filament of red energy, was held downwards, with minimal charge. It was a WarSynth, without any visible alterations - completely and utterly generic.

“A warning,” it screeched in binary, before reverting to language both she and Ablazed Glory could understand and repeating itself, “a warning.”

Ablazed Glory flared her horn, but Penumbra held her back with a talon.

“A warning?” She questioned, “a warning about what?”

The WarSynth screeched again, “a coming darkness,” it switched once again to more comprehensible speech, “a coming darkness, one that threatens to envelop all. Take to your ship, gather your allies. They will be needed for the final battle.”

Before Penumbra or Ablazed Glory could question the WarSynth further, it was wreathed in a smoky fog, crackling with energy, wherein it vanished, teleporting to someplace unknown.

Ablazed Glory spoke up first. “I take it we’re not staying then?”

A Mysterious Signal

Penumbra had managed a whole hour of sleep before the Luminary awoke her with a shrieking ping that echoed all throughout the ship. By the time she had clawed her way out of bed and onto the bridge, Ablazed Glory, Shining Armour - a fact she still hadn’t quite gotten used to - pulsing rapidly on her chest, was halfway through decoding a set of coordinates, which the Luminary had just received.

“Captain,” the Luminary said, Penumbra giving a tired growl in response, “a coded broadcast infiltrated our communication array, I am attempting to ascertain the source and contents now.”

Ablazed Glory gave a quiet chuckle. “It’s not doing very well. Something within this transmission is scrambling the Luminary, as well as half of the systems on the ship. Whatever it is, the AI doesn’t like it.”

“Any information on where it’s come from?” Penumbra asked, carefully rubbing the sleep from her eyes with a talon, “or who sent it? Or what it is? Or any information whatsoever relating to it in any way?”

Ablazed Glory moved aside slightly to allow her to see the coordinates she was halfway through generating. “There were coordinates attached, which I’m sorting out now. I was hoping you’d help with the rest of the message, but seeing you now makes me doubt that help will come.”

Penumbra gave a sarcastic snarl, her serpentine tongue darting out between her teeth for a second - a rather infantile gesture all things considered. “Guarantee I can get the message decoded before you finish those coordinates.”

The burning alicorn turned her head slowly, squinting as she did. She mimed pulling down a pair of glasses with her middlemost talon, before giving a wry smile and turning back to her console. “You’re on. You lose, you buy me a tonne of chocolate from Arcadius.”

With a chuckle, Penumbra pulled up a console, the message’s contents attached. “Fine. You lose and you’re on cleaning duty for the next month.”

“With your habits, it’ll take me a month just to do your quarters.”

The two alicorns laughed in sync, with Penumbra finally turning to regard the encoded message, which the Luminary had been so vexed by.

It was a language she had seen before, though she couldn’t immediately remember where. It was formed of a runic alphabet, with no individual symbol the same as any other. It took a few seconds for each of the symbols to form into letters of her own alphabet, Ponish, from her homeworld.

Her entire body twitched involuntarily, as she realised what exactly she was reading. She had seen the language before as it had been designed by Emperor Nicholas, only able to be read by a specific group: his students. Could it have been sent by the Emperor? Surely not, though perhaps it had been sent long ago? Or was part of some system of his? For most others, there would have been no way that they would have been able to know Penumbra would be aboard the Retaliator at that exact time, but Emperor Nicholas had proven himself to be more than capable of prescience.

The message was fairly simple, addressed to Penumbra directly, telling her to come to the coordinates attached on the message, with the sender expressing a desire to meet with her “at last.”

As she read it over a second time, Ablazed Glory muttered, “that can’t be right,” turning to face Penumbra, she gave a confused look, “these coordinates.” She remained in thought for a second. “They lead to intergalactic space.”

“Are you sure you got them correct?”

“Absolutely, I’ve double and triple checked. Shining says I’m correct too.” She gave a glance to the pulsing gem in her breastplate. “But, extra-galactic coordinates are notoriously fluid, no one should be directing us to static coordinates if they want us to find them, not out there, anyway.”

Penumbra tapped her talon absentmindedly. “How exact were they?”

“To the lightyear.” Ablazed Glory tapped a button on the console behind her, a map of the galaxy, complete with the surrounding darkness, appeared on the viewscreen, zooming quickly to a perfectly square point in space. “Two hundred and eighty-two parsecs from the Meridian System. A, supposedly, completely static point.” She shook her head. “I don’t understand why they were so exact, if this is a ship we’re looking for, it’s likely several light years away from that point by now. We’d still be able to find them, naturally, it’s just that official practice is to account for drift and these haven’t done that. They’re too precise. You remember the note I wrote you? Those coordinates showed an area over a thousand lightyears across, these show one that’s only a lightyear.”

Penumbra nodded - though more out of polite courtesy than a thorough and understanding agreement. Ablazed Glory may have been far more knowledgeable than her in regards to such issues, but it did not take an expert to understand what she meant. In any other circumstance, she would have suspected a trap, but the fact the message was written in the Emperor’s language had overridden Penumbra’s usual caution. “We’re checking them out,” she said, giving an order where none was really needed, “can you sort out the Luminary?”

“Easily.” Ablazed Glory turned back to her console. “Luminary, transfer the message onto a physical drive, then delete all memory of it from the systems.”

With a shrill beep, a small, square disk popped out of a terminal, which Ablazed Glory grabbed in an orange bubble of telekinesis and dropped onto another desk. “Now, set a course to these coordinates.” Her near instant input - a testament to her skill with a keyboard - was answered by steady movement outside the viewscreen.

“Rift generators online,” the now fixed Luminary stated, mercifully back to its calm volume, “initiating Rift transfer on command.”

Ablazed Glory clicked her talons. “Ready when you are.”

Penumbra reached out into the void with her magic, more out of habit than anything conscious. As usual, she found nothing, though something about the expanse was foreboding to her, rather than the usual emotionless, empty silence. It was almost like a large dark room she couldn’t see into.

“Engage.” Barely a second after her order, the tear into the Rift opened ahead of the vessel, with the surrounding darkness soon being consumed by the swirling maelstrom of the realm beneath.

The Citadel

The Retaliator exited the Rift with a jolt, shaking violently as the Luminary fired retro-thrusters to save the ship from a gravity well they had transitioned right into. Fortunately for the two living crew - and the one undead crew - the shaking didn’t last long, with the Luminary regaining full control within seconds. As Ablazed Glory would remark, however, the manner by which it had regained control, especially with no input from or output to the crew, was rather frightening.

“What the hell? Do you want me to disconnect you?”

The Luminary beeped. “The gravity well of this installation is prone to fluctuations, this location is anomalous in nature, exercise extreme caution.”

Ablazed Glory muttered something that was definitely expletives as she rotated the viewscreen towards the source of the gravitational pull. The moment she caught sight of what lay beyond the Retaliator’s hull she went silent, suddenly understanding of the Luminary’s circumstance.

Barely ten metres from the outer hull was a wall, extending a few hundred metres above and many thousands below. The Retaliator was precariously half landed on a platform, leading into an enormous hall some hundred metres in radius, with the floor and walls all made of what appeared to be extremely well polished white marble, though it reflected a dull and sickly green.

“Land us,” Penumbra ordered, “and give me a scan of the surroundings, I want to know everything about this place before we disembark.”

It took barely any movement for the Retaliator to land, fitting more than comfortably on the platform, with the Luminary’s scan taking a few seconds longer. “Atmosphere is a nitrogen, oxygen mixture, breathable for your physiology, atmospheric pressure is one Chronove atmosphere, radiation levels are negligible. I am detecting pockets of an unknown substance, advise extreme caution.”

Ablazed Glory rose, having shaken off her surprise fairly quickly - or perhaps she had just hidden it well. “Luminary, prepare embarkation airlock seven, keep the ship running whilst we’re away.”

It was fortunate for Penumbra that the Retaliator had been designed with large things in mind, allowing her to move around relatively freely, without so much as having to duck under all but the smallest of doors. The airlock allowed just enough space for the two of them, with Penumbra so glad to escape from its confines and into the open air of wherever it was she found herself that she completely failed to notice what Ablazed Glory did.

The burning alicorn did not react with surprise to what she saw, more a sense of bewilderment and questioning. It took her more than half a minute to tap Penumbra’s shoulder and draw her attention to the horizon. Namely, the fact that there wasn’t one.

In the distance, bright as a star, hung the Milky Way Galaxy - Stellatum Mare to the more precise Dominion observer - apparently the source of light for where they found themselves. All around, stretching out miles until a vague ring of vapour marked its boundary, was what appeared to be an empty sea. Beyond the marble, geodes and grass of the settlement that seemed to directly surround them, was a near endless sea of gravel and sand, the odd rock scattered about preventing it from being completely flat. The emphasis, however, hung on the “near” part of near endless, as, unless their eyes deceived them somehow, they were on a flat plane, rather than the usual spheroid planet. They had seen only one such place before.

“Could this be another part of his Throne World?” Ablazed Glory asked the Shining Armour, “another place? Entropy’s Pinnacle? Penumbra,” she shouted, sensing that her companion’s curiosity had already dragged her within the building, “Shining says we need to be careful.” She turned and ran after Penumbra, who had entered the expansive hall the platform had been attached to. “There’s pockets of something he calls corruption here,” she said, her voice lowered but still echoing, given the height of the ceiling, “we mustn’t touch them, apparently not even you can stand up to them.”

“Like a poison,” the Shining amulet said, voice as guttural as it had been the first time it had spoken aloud, “it will eat you from within and without, transform you into more poison.”

Penumbra nodded, though the majority of her focus was on the throne a few metres ahead of her. It was large, but otherwise not particularly grand, made of the same white marble as the floor and walls, raised up by three steps and with a perfectly circular hole cut into the top of the headrest. The seat didn’t look particularly comfortable, not least due to the fact it was made of stone, though something told her it wasn’t meant to be comfortable. Something, though she didn’t quite know what, told her it wasn’t even meant for sitting on - just like her armchair under the stairs back on Sanctuary’s Watch.

As Ablazed Glory marvelled at the size of the structure, Penumbra trotted around the back of the throne, in an attempt to prove her new theory. Sure enough, there was an opening, a strangely obvious one all things considered. Apparently, there wasn’t so much as a cover, just a marble staircase down into a marble room beneath the marble floor. Perhaps it had been camouflaged from attacks from above.

Just before Penumbra could take her first step, a burning talon grabbed her. “Wait,” Ablazed Glory said, “something is down there, I can sense it. I’ll go in first.”

“And why should you?”

Ablazed Glory looked her dead in the eye and cocked a flaming eyebrow. “Because you’re stronger than me and if something’s in there you can kill it after it reveals itself ambushing me.”

Ablazed Glory proceeded immediately past her, conveniently providing light to the otherwise pitch black room. There was more than enough room for both of them, with a few extra feet from Penumbra’s full height, with just enough space for her to stretch her wings out horizontally. Initially, the space below the throne appeared empty, at least to Penumbra, Ablazed Glory, meanwhile, was certain something lay just ahead of them.

Just as Penumbra was questioning whether to turn back, something was illuminated. A circular frame, not entirely unlike those of the portals on Cradle, though built from a smooth black rock. Whilst the frame seemed to be intact when viewed from the front, a cursory glance behind made clear it was damaged in some way, with large chunks of rock outright missing, with the fibrous glowing white bundle that ran through its centre missing a portion approximately half a metre long.

“What is it?” Ablazed Glory asked, giving the frame a tap with a claw.

“A portal,” her companion answered absentmindedly, focusing on observing the frame, “broken, but it seems fixable.”

Ablazed Glory laughed hoarsely. “What do you mean by that?”

Penumbra took the two ends of the white fibre bundle in her talons, feeling its - really quite inexplicably - silky smooth texture and attempting to compare it to any material she knew. “I think we could fix it, we just need the materials.”

Ablazed Glory laughed again. “Are you sure that’s all we need? We don’t need, say, experience constructing a portal, or anything - if that’s even what it really is? Besides, should we even repair it? We don’t know where it leads.”

Penumbra was silent, granted, she didn’t know exactly where it led, but she knew it was somewhere important, somewhere she had to be. Her heart - which was a more poetic way of saying some inexplicable and inherent feeling - told her it was where she needed to be, so she’d get there, even if it meant searching the entirety of Entropy’s Pinnacle for something to repair the portal with.

“We have to repair it, I know we have to, and I know how.”

Ablazed Glory sighed and shook her head. “Alright, let’s do this then.”

“First, we need to find spare parts.”

Ablazed Glory nodded, suggesting she go on.

“As in, we need to look for them.”

The burning alicorn rolled her eyes, an almost invisible motion given the fairly uniform colouring of her eyes but carrying no less of the weight that it would have done otherwise, and physically sagged. “Any ideas of where to look?”

Penumbra began to make her way out of the room. “I’ll be honest, no, but I doubt they’ll be up here. Let’s head down to the ground and have a look around.”

“Nice rhyme.” Ablazed Glory followed her to the platform, where the Retaliator was still waiting. “But, how do we get down?”

Penumbra stopped, turned to her companion and grinned wickedly. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” she said, chuckling, before throwing Ablazed Glory off the edge, the alicorn yelping in surprise then screaming wildly as she went. Penumbra herself simply hopped off, folding her wings to her back and allowing herself to shoot down like a bullet, rapidly gaining on Ablazed Glory, who was flailing madly in the air.

Drawing alongside her companion, who was screaming in between yelling curses that got longer and more colourful each time, Penumbra made a rather complex gesture of bending her right wing at two points and simultaneously flapping it and pointing to Ablazed Glory’s own wings, which hung above her head as she continued to fall.

The burning alicorn, miraculously, recognised the signal, righting herself then opening her wings to control her descent, with a look of pure rage on her face, her already burning body burning even brighter. Although she’d likely never live it down, Penumbra smiled and laughed, before unfolding her own wings and gliding down safely to the ground.

With surprising grace considering her size, she landed, not so much as a sound coming from the landing, her wings carefully folding onto her back as she stood up straight, taking in the surroundings and the feeling of the grass at her feet. Ablazed Glory, meanwhile, practically slammed into the ground, then barrelled into Penumbra, sending the two of them tumbling to the ground.

Ablazed Glory’s usual candlelight mane had been transformed into a raging inferno, with her body looking far larger than it would usually be thanks to the flames covering it being twice as large. Her fury was both visible and feelable, the grass around them becoming blackened and scorched in seconds.

“Hey,” Penumbra said, recoiling slightly from the intense heat, “I got you down, didn’t I?”

“You nearly got me into a pile of mush,” Ablazed Glory growled, jets of flame shooting out of her nose and baring her teeth at the end of every word.

With a laugh, Penumbra hauled her smaller companion off. “But, I didn’t,” she said, a statement that elicited an eye-roll and a chuckle from the suddenly calmer alicorn, who, with a beat of her flaming wings, began to hover above the ground.

“And I’m not landing until I’m sure you won’t throw me off the next cliff,” she japed, “we’re supposed to be fixing stuff, not breaking me.”

“I’ll bear that in mind next time I see a drop.”

The Mists

The tower was immediately surrounded by a scattering of smaller buildings, apparently an abandoned settlement of some kind, constructed of the same marble as the tower though with a greater emphasis on the overall decor. Large, stained glass windows adorned their faces, with purple geodes arranged almost like hedges around them. Each one had, however, been empty of anything useful. They had contained one or two pieces of elaborate decoration, such as a crystalline ball surrounded by two rings of similar material that filled an entire building, though these, apparently, did nothing - not anymore, at least. Even though they had not contained what the two were searching for, they were certainly still nice to look at.

Their search forced them down a slope of rock and sand that ringed the edge of the grassy island, onto what was apparently a dried up sea bed, or at the very least looked like one. As both had suspected, their cursory combing of the beach yielded nothing once again, pushing them down to the gravelly bed.

When Penumbra took the first step down, however, she found her talons simply passed straight through the surface, causing her to immediately draw them back as her brain scrambled to figure out why such a thing had happened. It was then she realised that she wasn’t looking at the ground, rather a thin layer of light grey mist that seemed to stick just above it, with the actual surface invisible until the mist was wafted aside. The real bed was a slightly bumpy layer of grey stone, with a scattering of sand on top, which was perfectly safe to step on according to Penumbra’s test of standing on it and jumping up and down a few times.

She had gone a few metres out from the beach before Ablazed Glory called her from behind, “what are you planning to find out there?” She asked, with more than a hint of sarcasm in her voice, “couldn’t even see the floor until a second ago.”

Penumbra turned to face her, instantly realising that her companion was correct and that if what she was looking for wasn’t in the buildings surrounding the main tower then it was unlikely to be hidden beneath the mist. She took a final look out at the expanse of mist that lay behind her - recognising that it would take her in the realm of months to search all of it and that it was unlikely she would find anything anyway - before trotting back up the beach and back towards the tower.

She had made it no more than a few steps up the sandy knoll when Ablazed Glory shouted in astonishment from behind her, “impossible. Look, over there!”

Penumbra couldn’t have jumped around faster, being immediately met by a grinning Ablazed Glory, pointing to the middle claw on her right talon, with no change whatsoever in the landscape behind her.

“That’s payback for throwing me off a building,” the burning alicorn laughed, whilst her companion metaphorically - as opposed to her own literal - fumed at the simple trickery.

The grassy island held little else than the buildings they had already searched; a small cave system ran below it, but was empty of anything interesting save a small divot in the dirt that appeared to have been dug by something; an opulently designed bridge led to another, smaller grass covered island, containing a large domed structure that contained only a series of marble bowls on plinths and a dark purple crystal orb, which seemed to have rolled from the centre of the room to rest on a semi-circular wall - evidenced by the large crack in the marble flooring. A precarious sneak around the side of the building, which Ablazed Glory nullified entirely by using her wings - a measure Penumbra had forgotten to take, further adding to her companion’s light hearted ridicule - led to what appeared to be a support pillar for another bridge, though the walkway was missing and what was once the bridge’s destination covered by a wall of mist, which rose sharply from the ground to cover up everything in that direction.

All that they could search had come up empty, with the tower itself providing no luck either, though only the lowermost floor was actually accessible due to an odd lack of staircase, or any other method of increasing altitude. After several hours of searching and coming up short, the two alicorns sat themselves down on the edge of the island, looking out over the mists, the vibrant lights of their home galaxy hanging above like a splattering of paint.

“It’s nice,” Ablazed Glory mused, “this place, I quite like it.”

Penumbra could only nod.

“Never thought I’d see something like this,” her companion continued, “see our whole galaxy from the outside. Somewhere in all those stars is home. Makes you think, doesn’t it, how small we really are. How small home really is. When I arrived in the Emperor’s Throne World for the first time I was amazed at the size of it. But, this?” She chuckled and shook her head. “Just makes you get all philosophical.”

“I remember what Equestria was like,” Penumbra said, staring almost blankly into the blob of visual noise that was the galactic centre, “we were so young back then, so innocent, naive, even. We thought we had harnessed all there was in space: the sun, the moon, the stars. Then, our illusion was broken in a second. I watched Equestria burn from the sky, we’d been like little children, imagining ourselves as some indestructible titans and believing there was no threat we couldn’t face. Then, a real titan arrived and our dream was gone, we were left to wander aimlessly in the real universe. I used to watch the stars from Equestria, I used to wonder if there was life amongst them, just like us. There was life, for sure, but it wasn’t naive or innocent like we were. I was worried what we’d find looking for Xayanth, I didn’t want to believe that Equestria wasn’t young, that we’d had our illusion of tranquility shattered sometime before. I’m almost glad there was nothing there, at least now we have an excuse for our naivety.”

There was silence for a few seconds, before Ablazed Glory spoke up, “you worry me sometimes, you know. Just, try not to think about it. Best advice a wrench monkey like me can give you.”

A pregnant pause followed, with the two watching over the slowly swirling mists. Penumbra, a master at spotting patterns, very quickly noticed one in the swirling about half a mile from the island’s beach, with the mist seeming to slightly sink and follow a trench of sorts. The alicorn flung herself up and down the incline with a single beat of her mighty wings, with Ablazed Glory scrambling behind her.

“What are you doing?” Her flaming companion yelled, catching up to the landed Penumbra only through use of her wings, “threw yourself off that cliff. What’s with you and throwing things off of other things today?”

“Look.” Penumbra pointed ahead with her horn, to a slight dip in the layer of mist. “I think there’s a trench in the ground there.”

Ablazed Glory shook her head. “So? It’s probably just another hole, or are you planning on practising your sky-diving in it?”

Penumbra ignored her companion’s doubts, knowing fully well that she would follow her anyway. Upon reaching the trench and clearing the layer of mist over it with a telekinetic blast, her suspicions were partially confirmed: it was a track, probably. The trench was around three metres deep, deep enough for Ablazed Glory to jump into and not be able to see over the edge, but extending a good hundred metres wide, leading in a lazy snaking pattern towards a large, rocky formation in the distance.

“I think these are tracks,” she said to her companion, who had jumped into the trench and was unable to see over the edge, “and I think they lead over there.” She pointed towards the distant formation with a claw.

Ablazed Glory, her heat keeping back the mist around her, blinked. “What could make tracks this big?” She asked, a slight tinge of worry creeping into her voice at the end.

Penumbra simply shrugged, “I don’t know,” she answered honestly, “maybe it was a road once? Whatever it was, I think we have a good chance of finding what we’re looking for wherever this leads to.”

“And what makes you say that?”

“It’s the last place we’ve looked. Now, come on, let’s get walking.”

Ablazed Glory gave an embellished sigh and sagged her shoulders, before cantering forwards once she realised her companion had already started her march along the side of the track - she would rather happily admit she would rather not be left in the massive snaking track in the mist sea, thank you very much. Her fire cut a vaguely bubble shaped gap through the mist, which rapidly closed behind her, allowing Penumbra to see her and for Ablazed Glory herself to not be smothered by the vapour.

The rock formation was far further away than originally anticipated, with Penumbra only realising such after a good ten minutes of walking, with the formation getting larger and larger yet not seeming to come any closer. Ablazed Glory, naturally, was first to comment on such, “it’s massive,” she said, “what the hell kind of thing could live here? You could put all of New Horizons in there and still have enough room for a Dominion fleet.”

“I think it’s a mountain,” Penumbra said, in a response apparently to her own mind rather than any verbal question, “maybe there’s something beyond it?”

“Could put a planet beyond it and you wouldn’t be able to see it from here,” Ablazed Glory muttered, “probably is one, knowing my luck. Oh yeah, a whole planet of little sandy nooks to search for - what are we even searching for?”

As the formation loomed larger and larger, the track began to widen and deepen, where once Ablazed Glory could have jumped to see over the edge, she now could not, gradually descending down a steepening and widening ramp until she took flight and hovered above it, with Penumbra joining her soon after.

“I was concerned before,” Ablazed Glory said, scanning their approach intently, “now I’m worried, what could have made this?”

The formation was kilometres tall, at least, but was only a few dozen metres thick at its edge closest to the approach of the two alicorns, who rounded it quickly to reveal what couldn’t have been anything else but their target: a cave so large that everything just beyond its mouth was in near total darkness, mist pouring from it, the formation behind it extending for miles.

Slowly, the pair descended, trying to locate the bottom of the track, which they quickly found. Whilst the track had widened significantly again, it was barely two metres deep at that point, increasing very slowly as it approached the cave’s entrance. They proceeded slowly, half concerned as to what lay within and half in awe at the sheer size of what they were facing, the cave’s mouth alone must have been hundreds of metres tall, with the mountain above it extending for thousands more.

Ablazed Glory’s little pocket of open air became smaller and smaller in comparison to the cave, until it almost vanished entirely as they reached the waterfall-like wall of flowing mist that came from within. The two stood at the opening for a few seconds, both silently considering whether investigating further was a smart move, until, eventually, Penumbra shot a ball of light within, illuminating the entire cave in a flash before slowly fading away.

A single eye, three metres or so in diameter, surrounded by pulsing, sickly green and grey flesh, veins bulging and looking fit to burst, sclera a dull yellow and iris glowing a deep red, opened at the flash, its pupil widening suddenly.

“Shit.”

Leviathan

The creature did not so much stir as it did lunge forwards, the two alicorns immediately fleeing, only to be wrapped in a pair of tumorous tentacles, which both looked and smelled rotten, and dragged to just beyond the mouth of the cave. The creature slowly clambered out, pulled by hundreds of different implements from more tentacles, to legs and arms, to wings and tails - to other various implements that could only be described as something other than the previously listed. Its flesh, grey and pulsing with green, was covered almost entirely in tumours, or apparently randomly placed organs such as more eyes to giant, misshapen mouths containing hundreds of serrated yellow teeth.

The thing was hundreds of metres long, at least, with what appeared to be a long, snake-like tail that coiled and slithered slowly in the darkness. Penumbra thought she caught a glimpse of a scorpion’s stinger, though about the size of a house, before it vanished into the darkness. Several of its mouths, which were either randomly scattered or formed larger structures as though they had been stitched together by an amateur who had never seen a living creature before, expelled rivers of mist, which formed a slightly raised puddle around the bottom of its form. Some of the eyes looked to Penumbra and Ablazed Glory, the others darted about randomly, with others having their veins burst suddenly and slowly closing, eyelids often containing an extra mouth or two.

Slowly, the two alicorns were raised to what was apparently the creature’s head, which almost looked like another body entirely. It was of the same amorphous, random looking, blob shape as the body, though with two dozen tentacles forming a perverted version of whiskers on either side of its front. Though it had the odd mouth, tumour or eye scattered about, it did seem to have a primary face. It had five major eyes, each around ten metres in diameter, sclera a clean white, with no visible veins, irises dark green and with vertical slits for pupils, bordered with a thin line of crimson, arranged in a pyramid shape in its upper front centre, with a mouth around eighty metres wide below, no lips to speak of, but mouth shaped and containing row upon row of thousands of dagger-like teeth, glistering white.

“Welcome,” a voice, thunderous and booming, emerged from the creature’s throat, “I have not had visitors in so long,” it spoke slowly, every syllable echoing, “I am sorry for startling you, I really ought to leave something prepared for guests, so that I can make proper introductions.”

The two alicorns were completely taken aback, having fully expected to be eaten or whatever it was that the creature did to things such as them. Ablazed Glory stuttered slightly as the creature lowered them to the ground of the cave, its immense mass shifting backwards to create a space for them to sit.

“I am afraid I cannot offer much in the way of traditional hospitality,” the creature boomed, “my stocks of tea and biscuits have been run dry, I hope it is of no concern.”

“If we’re honest,” Penumbra said, finding that rather than try and confront the situation rationally she’d just ignore it and pretend it hadn’t happened, “we thought we’d be tea and biscuits for you.”

The creature seemed shocked. “Oh, goodness, no. I would not even think of doing such a thing, though I can tell precisely why you would think as such. My appearance is more than worrying to your eyes, I can only imagine.” The creature sounded so strangely jolly, like a happy grandfather - was Penumbra’s most accurate description.

Penumbra rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly, disappointed in herself by comparison to how courteous the creature was being. “It’s not your fault,” she spluttered, unsure of precisely how to deal with the unique situation laid before her, “we were just too judging is all.”

“It is quite alright.” The creature’s voice echoed for what seemed like miles behind it. “My manners have been quite lacking recently, I have been sleeping for a good few centuries now. Speaking of manners, I am Leviathan, may I inquire as to your titles?”

It was Ablazed Glory who spoke next, apparently on auto-pilot. “Ablazed Glory, Burning Duchess, pleasure to meet you, madam.” She held out a talon, with Leviathan taking it in a smaller tentacle and shaking it calmly.

“A most noble pleasure, Ablazed Glory, Burning Duchess. Though, I must state from the beginning I am a sir, I would not want to cause any confusion or discomfort.”

“Penumbra,” Penumbra said, holding out a talon, which Leviathan took in a tentacle and shook just as he had for Ablazed Glory.

“Ah,” Leviathan exclaimed, with a sound easily confused with a hurricane force wind, “yes, I had heard of you from Nicholas. He was very proud of you, you know, in fact, I am certain he still is. It is a shame I cannot take better care of you, it is what he would have wanted. Alas, what little I have will have to do for now.” Leviathan’s body shifted backwards again, his head coming forwards as the rest of him sunk into the darkness. “So much was lost when he left us, much of the great Citadel sunk into the earth. Entropy’s Pinnacle came bursting like a sore into the material universe.”

As Ablazed Glory relaxed herself, Penumbra tried her best to engage Leviathan. “What is this place?” She asked, “Is it a part of Nicholas’ Throne World?”

Leviathan exhaled, with a rush of air that blew back the two alicorns. “No, it is not. This is Entropy’s Pinnacle,” he said, “the realm of Nicholas, The Composer. Or, at least, it was. He has left us now, along with both of his brothers, and with him has gone much of his Citadel and the energies that once gave this place its power.”

“The Composer?” Ablazed Glory asked, apparently now calmed from her previous shock, “is that one of the Emperor’s titles?”

Leviathan chuckled - at least, Penumbra hoped that the rumble that came from his form was a chuckle. “I suppose that could be said. Emperor Nicholas’ history is a long and storied one, too long for me to tell it in full. But, millennia ago, he descended into the Rift, which had, over time, evolved into a realm for daemons and other malign entities to call their home. The king of the Rift was a daemon called Luysifer, who was the first of their species to be ‘born’, if such a word could be used to describe his beginning. The young Emperor challenged Luysifer and slew him, with the daemon king’s blood and soul power fusing into the obsidian of his throne, which the Emperor fashioned into a crown that he could use to grant himself strength beyond any creature in the omniverse.”

Leviathan fell silent for a moment, as if reflecting. Penumbra, although an amateur judge of the emotions of surprisingly polite and courteous eldritch horrors, believed that he seemed almost sad; before what could be constituted as a smile crossed his mighty main maw.

“Not only had he the strength of Luysifer, of himself and the Darkness, but the strength of the other daemons of the Rift, who had been slaughtered by his Black Guard, their blood pooled before him and offered as tribute. His singular form could not hold all of this strength, however, so he used his immense knowledge of the arcane to split himself into three parts. One, which bore the power of the Darkness, the strongest of the three, became Nicholas, the Everlasting, who ruled from his Throne World but could enter your material realm any time he pleased. Another, which bore his psionic power, the weakest of the three, became Nicholas, Emperor of Sorrows, who ruled from the Heart of Sorrow. The final became Nicholas, The Composer, bearing the power of Luysifer and of the daemons of the Rift.” Leviathan paused again, again in reflection. “And from the blood offered to him as tribute, he birthed me - a loyal sentinel.”

There was a moment of silence, before Ablazed Glory, sat on her haunches, spoke up, “you came from Nicholas as well?”

Half of Leviathan’s eyes shifted to her. “Indeed, though I believe under different circumstances to yourself. You bear the mark of the Emperor’s power, though also of another progenitor, a more ancient line than he.”

Ablazed Glory nodded, running a claw over the precious, pulsing soul jar on her breastplate. “This is my genetic father’s soul, which the Emperor took from him when I was very young.”

“And yet, you feel no pain for his death?”

She shook her head. “I never knew him. Besides, it’s better for him like this, he’s safer.”

Leviathan rumbled, in what Penumbra assumed to be agreement. “The material can be cruel,” he said, as thoughtful as a giant, bellowing creature like himself could sound, “sometimes what can be interpreted by some as a malice can really be a kindness.”

Ablazed Glory hummed softly, slowly circling the soul jar with a claw, apparently content - or at least preoccupied - in her mind.

“Tell me more about The Composer,” Penumbra said, which Leviathan was apparently eager to do by his reaction, “I want to know everything about him. In fact, I believe I’ve met him.”

Leviathan chuckled again. “I believe you may have done, yes. He spoke of you in a way he would only do once he had met someone first-hand. I had seen one similar to you in the Citadel, during the War in Heaven, though I cannot remember her name.”

“Celestia,” Penumbra suggested, though her suspicions had already been confirmed beyond all reasonable doubt.

Leviathan thought for a moment. “Ah, yes, I believe so. Forgive me, my memory may be hazy but that name is certainly one I have heard before. Regardless, I can tell you much of The Composer, as well as his brothers. Ah, but where to begin?”

Leviathan paused again in thought, his whisker like tentacles flexing back and forth in perfect sync. “Hmm, yes. I remember him from the moment I was born. The Emperor of Sorrows had been the future, The Everlasting the past, but The Composer was the embodiment of the permanent present. Even in those early days his form would shift and change every second, nothing of him remained exactly the same. His arm would become a wing, his leg an arm, his eye a mouth and his nose an eye. From the power of his will he created Entropy’s Pinnacle, constructing its grand Citadel as a city that would forever be a perfect present. He gave to me the mists, which back then reached far taller than they do now, as well as this great mountain to call my own.”

Leviathan spoke for hours of The Composer, detailing his powers, those of the corruption, and the story of the growth of Entropy’s Pinnacle. He told Penumbra and Ablazed Glory of The Composer’s great gifts, such as those bestowed upon Celestia in the past. Eventually, however, he shifted to talk of The Composer’s two brothers.

“The Everlasting’s ‘mortal’ form - if it can be called that - is by no means a reflection of his true power. Not only did he have the power of Time, but also that of the Darkness, which he had subjugated over the course of millions of years inside the Great Experiment, bending that force to his will and making it near powerless without him. But you know much of him already, yet nothing of his brother, the Emperor of Sorrows, who resided within the Mindscape, the Heart of Sorrows, the realm from which psionic power is drawn. Nicholas bent the very dreams of mortals to his will, such was his power and cunning.”

“How would someone reach the Heart of Sorrows?” Penumbra asked, “we have visited a part of the Throne World, which, like here, had been pulled into our universe. But what about the Heart of Sorrows?”

Leviathan rumbled, this time in thought. “Unlike here, or the Throne World, the Mindscape was not tied to Nicholas’ power. I do not believe that it would breach into the material universe. As for visiting it, there is a portal beneath the Citadel’s throne; the brothers would often have meetings.”

“A portal?” Penumbra’s mind suddenly snapped back into focus on what she was supposed to be doing. “Yes, a portal. That’s why we came out here, looking for material to repair the portal with.”

“It is damaged?” Leviathan asked, before shaking his mighty head, “I should not be surprised, much of Entropy’s Pinnacle was unable to withstand the entrance into the material, such delicate machinery would be almost impossible not to damage.”

“A chunk of it is missing,” Ablazed Glory said, “of the frame and the fibre bundle inside. Do you happen to know where any could be?”

Leviathan rumbled again. “As a matter of fact, I do. It is not here, however, but in the Watchtower. That is quite a journey from here, one I have not made in some time, which I ought to do regardless. You may feel free to join me, I will introduce you to the Watchtower’s keeper and we can fix the portal.”

“Thank you,” Penumbra said, holding out a claw to the cave’s exit, “we can go whenever you please.”

A pair of tentacles carefully wrapped around the two alicorns’ torsos, lifting them slowly up to Leviathan’s head, where a convenient flat space allowed them both to sit comfortably.

“Leviathan,” Ablazed Glory said, not quite sure where to aim her mouth as she spoke, “I am on fire, so it’s quite alright if you need me to fly or something.”

Leviathan chuckled. “Ah, no need, my skin is thick and stronger than steel, I am quite comfortable if you are.”

The flaming alicorn nodded and lay down, ready for a slow ride to the Watchtower. Her expectations were quickly subverted, however, when Leviathan exited the cave, his thousands of limbs propelling him forwards at surprisingly fast speeds. Even though they were proceeding quite quickly, given the length of Leviathan’s body it took well over a minute for his tail, its immense and wicked stinger attached, to leave the cave’s maw.

Penumbra spent much of the journey wondering how exactly to describe Leviathan’s movement. On the one talon, there were the various limbs that he used to walk, thus suggesting walk or its various synonyms as appropriate verbs to use. On the other talon was the fact that, although there was a veneer of walking, much of the actual movement appeared to be from Leviathan’s entire mass shifting forwards, the various appendages apparently being more for show than anything else, especially when a decent sized leg transformed into a wing that was a few inches long with no noticeable change in speed.

The Watchtower was similar in look to The Composer’s Citadel, though smaller. It had a wide but short base, which tapered upwards before rounding off and with its top split in two by an opening emerging from a large round hole, partially mirrored below by an indentation in the marbled walls, with swirling blue and purple stained-glass windows filling the indent. The only immediate difference in design from the Citadel, still partially visible in the distance, was the elaborate decoration on its lower quarter - though Leviathan had suggested that the corresponding area of the Citadel was no longer visible. The Watchtower was, similar to the Citadel, sat on an island, though the island was clearly artificial in nature, built of a purple and yellow patterned rock, which was revealed upon their arrival to be a labyrinth of some kind.

“The creatures within this labyrinth are dead,” Leviathan said, “and its networks no longer shift as they did in the past. However, it is full of corruption, which your forms will not be able to withstand. I would advise you to hold on, we are climbing over it.”

Tentatively, the two alicorns grabbed onto whatever hold they could find, with a pair of large, tumorous growths of sufficient fortunately being present. A few seconds later, Leviathan suddenly reared up, his head becoming an extra hundred metres higher in an instant. As though trying to disprove Penumbra’s theories on how he travelled, a hundred, massive tentacles emerged from Leviathan’s underbelly, grasping onto both the top of the labyrinth’s walls and various holds that existed in its decoration. With a hundred, powerful, prehensile limbs working independently of each other, Leviathan and his two passengers emerged over the top of the Labyrinth, whose floor was mostly invisible due to an opaque layer of sickly green smoke that covered it.

“Below,” Leviathan bellowed, “that is the vapour expelled by corruption in its purest form. Were we to descend, you would be consumed within seconds, even with all of your power.”

A few minutes of worrying about every slight wobble of Leviathan’s head later, they were at the foot of the Watchtower, Leviathan lowering his head to allow them to disembark. His body wrapped around the small grassy island that the Watchtower sat on, with his head facing the door.

“Aurora,” he bellowed, though Penumbra had established that was simply how he spoke, “I have brought guests, they require our aid.”

Aurora

It took some minutes for Aurora to reply, though she did so behind the closed door of the Watchtower. Her voice was deep, but seemingly pleasant, every syllable flowing nicely into the next.

“I don’t want them here.”

Leviathan rumbled from behind the two alicorns. “Come now, Aurora, these two are our guests, we would do them a disservice not to treat them well.”

“Can you not help them yourself?” Aurora yelled back through the door, with Penumbra and Ablazed Glory’s fight or flight responses suddenly kicking in.

“Aurora,” Leviathan bellowed, firm, and without his usual polite tone, “come out, at once.”

There was a few seconds of silence that followed, with both Penumbra and Ablazed Glory frozen in place for what felt like years. After an excruciating wait, the door slowly opened inwards, with a figure about Penumbra’s height stepping out.

She was clearly cut of the same cloth as Nicholas, with smooth, pinkish-beige chitinous skin, thin cracks around the mouth, three glowing cyan eyes and an absence of any sort of visible nose. She did, however, seem much younger than Nicholas, her skin was healthy looking, with no scars or broken patches, she was thin but evidently healthy, looking almost similar to a Vortexian or other such person from a distance. Like Nicholas had, she wore armour, though hers was made of a silvery metal, rather than the dark, reddish-brown bone of the Emperor, and hers was clearly worn on top of her body, rather than fused to it. She had a pair of forearm bracers, two large, square pauldrons extending a good half a foot from her shoulders, and a square chestplate, ending just above her waist, which was covered by a long crimson skirt, a scabbard for a knife and a pair of skulls of creatures Penumbra couldn’t identify attached. Her feet were similar to Nicholas’, with three digits ending in claws, but were arranged at three equal points along the turn, giving her a more natural looking balance.

Her helmet was of a design similar to those of Nicholas’ Tomb Guard, with three upwards facing points at equidistant points along the turn, the central horn extending half a foot or so further than the other two, with a small opening for her third eye.

“What do you want?” She asked, clearly not relishing being in their company.

Penumbra stammered a moment, her mind trying of its own accord to work out what relation she was to Nicholas and taking up much of her needed thinking power. “The portal in the Citadel,” she said, before realising that provided very little information, “we want to repair it.”

“Good for you. Bye.” She turned back into the Watchtower, but one of Leviathan’s mighty limbs stopped her. She moved a three clawed hand towards her sheathed knife, before clearly thinking better of it, sighing, and turning back around. “Why should I help you?” She folded her arms as she looked Penumbra up and down. “Give me a good reason.”

It was at that moment Penumbra considered her options; on the one talon, Aurora may have been of close relation to Nicholas, so Penumbra revealing her and Ablazed Glory’s own relationship to him may have convinced her to help them; however, if Aurora was not of close relation, or otherwise held a dislike for Nicholas, doing so might shut them out of fixing the portal for good.

She was, however, out of options. “I am Sunless-Halo-of-Penumbra, and this is Ablazed Glory, we were students of Emperor Nicholas, he gave us these forms we now inhabit. We fought alongside him in the War in Heaven.”

Aurora’s gaze softened and she looked down at the staircase, away from the two. “I see,” she said, sighing as she shifted on her claws, “I see.”

“We wish to access the portal,” Ablazed Glory said, “we believe something important lies beyond it.”

“The Heart of Sorrow,” Aurora said, voice filled with what Penumbra believed was sadness, “has not been visited in so long. I remember what it was like on the final day, just before he freed them all.” She paused, her sadness palpable in the air. “Everything was silent. He told me he wished there was another way, but this was the only way there was. And, that this would be his final act, a final triumph to end his life on. He had to speak through a proxy, he’d been trapped in nullspace. I couldn’t even say goodbye to him.”

“What was he to you?” Penumbra asked, mentally placing her bets on father.

Aurora looked up at her, the indented skin around her eyes greyed. She smiled and stepped down the few stairs that separated them and looked her in the eyes, with Penumbra being slightly shorter but with her horn making her the taller one overall. “What your kind would call a partner, he saved me millennia ago and placed me here for both of our safeties, I happened to rather like it.”

Penumbra took an involuntary step back, though fortunately for her dignity it was Ablazed Glory who yelled what they had both been thinking, “Nicholas had a lover! What the hell?”

Aurora laughed, a powerful yet musical note. “Yes, hard to believe, I know. In his younger years he was quite the romantic, a trait he maintained in one way or another for his whole life, though in a more subtle manner.”

What Emperor Nicholas' idea of romance was, Penumbra was certainly interested in, but wasn’t quite sure if she wanted to know or wanted to ask, given what she knew about Nicholas from her own experiences.

Answering her unspoken question, Aurora elaborated, “it started with a bar of chocolate.” She chuckled happily, reminiscing. “Then he invited me to a fancy dinner that he had prepared everything for, even harvesting and processing the wood for the table and shooting the game himself - even today I am not quite sure how he held a gun. Even in battle, he was fond of gestures. During the Prisian Campaign he sacrificed an entire planet for me. Then, during the Silvian Wars he fought off an entire army at the entrance to a canyon for nine years, dedicating all of their power to me.” Aurora laughed at Penumbra’s slightly horrified reaction. “It was romantic, in a way. Our culture is very different to yours, tribute in such a manner is an incredible gesture.”

“He held off an entire army?” Ablazed Glory asked, easily distracted from their current topic to Nicholas’ achievements, “for nine years?”

Aurora nodded. “Nine years without sleep. He told me the enemy was forced to abandon the sector entirely, because so much blood had been spilt that his power had begun to change space-time itself.”

Ablazed Glory was quite clearly captivated by Aurora’s stories of Nicholas, with even Penumbra herself interested to learn more about Nicholas from someone who knew him so personally.

“If you are wondering,” Aurora said, “no, I did not fight alongside him. I have not fought much, though he taught me himself, so I am by no means a novice.”

“Why didn’t you fight?” Ablazed Glory asked, knowing full well that she would relish the opportunity when given it, especially alongside someone like Emperor Nicholas.

Her response was a laugh, then a pause of a few seconds. “I suppose he was simply the stronger one of us. He had Oathbreaker, as well as the Darkness and everything that came with it. I have only this.” She unsheathed her black metal knife, which despite looking small at her hip was still a good three feet long, with a curved blade. “Granted, it’s still a lot more than most, but it's nothing much really, especially in comparison to him. He did the fighting, I did the studying.”

“Studying?” Penumbra’s interest immediately piqued. “What did you study?”

Aurora looked her up and down again. “You know the Voice, don’t you?” On Penumbra’s nod, she continued, “I thought so, I know my own. It was I who developed the Voice, and, I assume, he who taught you it.”

Penumbra nodded - she needed more information, never before had she felt such an addiction-like requirement to have something. “How did you do it?” She asked, feeling the rough region of her throat below her coat with a talon.

“Over a very long time,” she answered, “using methods that are now useless and experiments that cannot be replicated. Kaurava helped me, her songs were a good base to work off of.”

Kaurava. Penumbra had heard that name before. If she recalled correctly, it was one of the Emperor’s creations, though Nicholas considered her a daughter. She was supposedly very powerful, second only to Nicholas himself she assumed.

“What happened to Kaurava?” Penumbra found herself asking, assuming she was simply from before her time.

Aurora thought for a minute. “I’m not sure,” she admitted, seemingly surprised herself, “she may have died when Nicholas did, I know the Darkness went with him, which Kaurava used to support herself.”

There was silence for a good few minutes later, with no one knowing quite what to say to continue the conversation. Eventually, Leviathan spoke up, reminding them all of why they were there.

“Aurora,” he said, usual politeness returned to his voice as though it had never left - though he seemed ever so slightly stiffer, Penumbra couldn’t quite explain how she knew - “do you have any soul fibre? The portal in the Citadel is missing a chunk, which it will require if it is to be repaired.”

Aurora nodded. “I should have more than enough in my lab. Let me go and get it, in the meantime, get ready to take us to the Citadel.”

She turned and headed back inside, rushing up a staircase and into a room invisible from the doorway. Leviathan lowered his head down. “Please climb aboard.” He made a gesture with one of his tentacles, with the two alicorns climbing aboard carefully and sitting themselves down.

A few minutes later, Aurora emerged from the doorway, a large spool of glowing white fibre in her hands. She hopped aboard Leviathan’s head from the bottom of the staircase, propelling herself a good thirty feet with only a single jump, with Ablazed Glory remarking on how impressive it was as she sat down.

As Leviathan climbed down from the Labyrinth and began his walk towards the Citadel, Aurora briefed the two alicorns. “The portal leads to the Heart of Sorrow, in the Mindscape. The place will probably be empty, but be careful about the platforms you stand on, they have a tendency to move. You should come out at the foot of the Citadel, but with the damage to the portal and the probable damage to the Heart of Sorrow, you can’t be sure where you’ll emerge. I’d advise you get into the Citadel as quickly as possible, it’s much more stable there and you’ll have a better time.”

“Thank you.”

Aurora nodded. “Can I ask, what are you looking for in there?”

Penumbra was, though she wouldn’t quite admit it, not really sure. “We received a message from here a day ago, with someone wanting to meet me personally. I just have a feeling that someone is beyond that portal.”

Aurora hummed, seeming to take that as a valid answer. “Might want to be careful though,” she warned, “that portal has probably been broken for a long time.” She paused, looking for the words. “If your someone is beyond it, just be aware they might not have good intentions in mind.”

“Noted.”

They were silent for the remaining few minutes of the trip, Aurora flexing her grip on the fibrous bundle in her claws and looking out towards the Citadel with what could be described as a wistful expression.

Arriving at the Citadel, which from the height of Leviathan’s head could be seen to be buried slightly more on the left hand side, Leviathan wasted no time in wrapping around it like a serpent, with his tentacles slowly dragging them skywards.

“Once,” he rumbled, “this Citadel was the focal point of corruption. Once, this Citadel whispered as one approached. Once, this Citadel was the seat of Nicholas, The Composer, who commanded the land from his Blighted Throne. Now, it lies dormant, perhaps to remain so forever.”

They emerged onto a balcony, with the Retaliator visible through the Citadel’s throne room. Leviathan allowed the three aboard him to disembark, before climbing up further and bringing forwards a long tentacle about the width of Penumbra’s head, with an eye growing from its end.

“Follow me.” Penumbra brought them through to the Composer’s throne, which Aurora paused a moment to regard whilst Penumbra led the other two down and into the portal room.

She stared at it a moment, before slowly walking towards it. She ascended each step with agonisingly low speed, before stopping on the second to last one and placing her three clawed hand to the seat. Closing her three eyes, she allowed her mind to be filled with the memories of Nicholas, who she could feel was there in spirit.

“It worked,” she whispered, as if he could hear her, “your plan worked.”

She allowed herself another couple of seconds, before stepping down and following after Penumbra, who was briefing Leviathan on the damage.

“Hopefully,” Penumbra said, “this is all the damage there is. If there’s more then we might not fix it after all.”

Leviathan rumbled from outside, which was surprisingly audible given the distance, “I believe it is. It will take me and Aurora some time to complete the repairs, given the delicate nature of this device.”

Penumbra nodded, turning to Aurora who held the length of soul fibre in her claws. “Well, if you need me, I can help.”

Sorrow

Leviathan was, surprisingly, far more dexterous than even Aurora. Using dozens of small tentacles, he entirely surrounded the portal and slowly but surely pulled it apart and put it back together again. Penumbra, in awe over Leviathan’s ability, was unable to follow the repair procedures given the sheer speed with which he worked, not least the fact he could perform dozens of tasks simultaneously - though, this is not to say she didn’t try her hardest.

“Can I ask you something?” Ablazed Glory said to Aurora, who was sat by the wall a few metres from the portal.

“Sure.”

“What was Nicholas like? Like, personally, I mean.”

Aurora exhaled sharply in what could be interpreted as nearly a chuckle. “Depends which one of him you speak about. Or, indeed, when you speak about. In his early days he was fairly shy, very private, too. He probably wouldn’t mind me saying that he was a bit of a softie who just wanted to be loved, as strange as that may sound.” She laughed at the memory, shaking her head. “He tried so hard to come off as a powerful ruler, something he just wasn’t really back then. He didn’t know what he was doing most of the time, he just wanted everything to be good. Before the time I knew him he was.” She paused, searching for a word. “Unhinged, to say the least. It wouldn’t be a betrayal to call him horrible, in those days he was. Of course, there was still good in him, of course, it just had a hard time showing.”

Ablazed Glory nodded - more than a small part of her empathised with the man, more than a small part also could say it knew the feeling.

“Eventually, though, he got his title. He killed a great enemy and his rage and hatred from the Great Experiment was gone. He found me a few years later. Most of what I know from before he found me comes from Cecilia. She was a good friend of mine, a very good friend.”

“We’ve met,” Ablazed Glory interrupted her before she could begin, “even if only briefly. She seemed nice.”

Aurora looked at her, giving a chuckle and then a smile. “She was. Nicholas treated her like a daughter. Well, she was his daughter. She loved him more than anything and anyone in the universe. One day, he was nearly assassinated, Cecilia blamed herself and sent herself into exile. I never saw her again. To say that Nicholas grieved would be like calling a star warm. In all the millennia I knew him, that was the only time I saw him cry. Not just shed a tear, but weep for hours. I wanted to comfort him, believe me, I did. But I couldn’t, not only was I hurt too, but his sadness had encased him in a shield of Darkness I couldn’t break through. All I could do for hours was sit by a bubble helplessly, whilst his wails of pain shook the whole Throne World.”

Ablazed Glory gulped awkwardly, silent as everything told her not to speak. She could feel Aurora’s sadness as a palpable aura around her, wanting to provide comfort but neither sure how nor if she could.

“What about you?” Aurora asked, eventually, “what’s your story?”

Ablazed Glory stammered, “ah.” She absentmindedly tapped on her breastplate. “Well. It’s quite a long story.”

“We’ve got time,” Aurora said, “that is, if you want to share.”

She nodded. “I suppose it’s only fair,” she mumbled, before clearing her throat, “I don’t remember anything about my childhood, I was only a few months old at most when my homeworld was destroyed. The first memory I have is of Nicholas, inside his Throne World, I think, everything was black except him. He said something about Oathbreaker, but that’s all I remember. He trained me from the moment I could walk, hell, he taught me how to walk, too. He said he needed me for a fight, for the War in Heaven, so he taught me how to use magic and how to fight in a style he thought I could use. Then, when I was older, he told me what happened to my parents. They’d left my homeworld before it was destroyed, but rebelled against the Empire. So, Nicholas killed them, but Oathbreaker spared me - perhaps as irony - so he resolved to bring me up and train me and give me the parents he had taken from me.”

“Did it work?”

She was silent for a moment, but eventually nodded. “Yeah. I mean, I don’t exactly hold a grudge, I never knew either of my parents. I only knew this soul jar.” She pointed to the glowing green metal set into her breastplate. “Was of my father because we’re so similar, that and he told me. Besides, Nicholas was a decent dad all things considered, he was nice to me, taught me things and helped me overcome problems.” She fumbled, sighing. “It’s a shame he’s gone.”

Aurora nodded. “It is. But, we are still here, so we owe it to him to keep going, keep his memory alive.”

Ablazed Glory smiled, circling Shining Armour’s soul jar with a claw. “Yeah. Yeah, we are.”

“There’s something Nicholas told me,” Aurora said, “right before he went off into the Aether for the final battle. He said…”

“Aurora,” Emperor Nicholas, The Everlasting, kneeled before her, her hands wrapped in his titanic claws, “you must not mourn for me, nor anyone else. Rather, celebrate my life, then continue with yours. If I am to die, let there be the end of one fulfilled and completed life, rather than that and one that is incomplete.”

“Philosophical,” Ablazed Glory replied, taking in the message but not being able to formulate a proper response.

“Had he been in another position, he’d probably have been a philosopher,” Aurora said, before pausing as she remembered something, “he actually did write a philosophical essay. On the topic of happiness. It was odd, reading something like that from him. Taught me a lot about him, actually, a lot of things he liked to keep private.”

Ablazed Glory laughed. “I always thought philosophers would be bearded and talk to each other in riddles, not someone who killed planets.”

“Well, the meaning of life is probably best understood by someone who’s lived for thousands of years.”

She laughed again. “Or someone who’s ended billions of them.” A statement to which Aurora could only concede with a shrug and a chuckle.

Beyond the walls of the Citadel, Leviathan rumbled. “The repairs are complete,” he said, triumphantly, “the portal is now ready for reactivation.”

Aurora sat up, with herself and Ablazed Glory standing either side of Penumbra, with Leviathan’s eye above them all. “Close your eyes,” she said, “think about the portal activating.”

Penumbra closed her eyes, using her well trained mind to fill itself solely with the image of an active portal. Half a minute later, when she re-opened her eyes, she beheld an active portal, the frame glowing slightly purple and filled with a swirling dark blue filament.

“The Heart of Sorrow,” Leviathan declared, “can be accessed once again.”

“I can’t thank you enough for your help.” Penumbra took a step and then turned to Aurora and Leviathan.

“It’s what Nicholas would have wanted,” Aurora said, a smile cracking across her lips, “he knew you would do great things, I am sure of that.”

Leviathan rumbled, “he knew of your destiny, at least, in part. You are important, both of you, in your own ways.”

“It was nice meeting you.” Ablazed Glory held out a talon to Aurora, who shook it with a smile, then to Leviathan, who shook it as best he could with a tentacle.

Aurora stepped up to Penumbra. “And it was an honour meeting you, both of you. I see what Nicholas had meant when he said you were special.” She looked down at her feet for a moment. “You know.” She nodded and looked back up, a cross between joy and sadness present in her eyes. “You brought him back, in a way. Even if I couldn’t see him, I could feel him. If only for the briefest of moments, you brought him back to us. Thank you for that.”

“I will see to it your ship is protected,” Leviathan said, “until you return.”

“You ready to go, Penumbra?” Ablazed Glory waited behind her.

The alicorn nodded, smiled to Aurora, then turned towards the portal. “Let’s go.”

In unison, the two stepped through vanishing the moment they touched the membrane.

The Heart

The Heart of Sorrow was like something out of a nightmare, which Penumbra supposed it was.

From where she was stood, on a stone platform some fifteen metres long and five across, Penumbra could see the Citadel. In overall construction it was identical to the Citadel in Entropy’s Pinnacle, though in a state of considerable disrepair. Deep gashes cut into the structure, with the stained glass windows at its foot sporting an enormous hole, further up the Citadel, large chunks broke off the structure and floated in the air, until the structure ceased to be at all coherent about where the Throne Room would have been. The city that surrounded it seemed slightly less worse for wear, with some buildings cut at like the Citadel, but most otherwise perfectly intact. Unlike Entropy’s Pinnacle, nothing had been buried, though that was in part due to the fact there was barely any land to speak of, save the small satellite platforms surrounding the larger central point.

She made the mistake of looking down off of the platform’s edge, seeing nothing below. The only light seemed to come from the Citadel, giving the area around it a vaguely purple tint, with the entire rest of the world being nothingness.

Before she could adequately get her bearings, she felt the platform below her shift. In total silence, the polished smooth surface she had stood on slowly spun out below her, revealing the jagged and rough edges below. Penumbra managed to catch flight in time, her wings the only things keeping her from falling into the void below.

“Penumbra,” Ablazed Glory’s voice echoed, “Penumbra, where are you?”

“I’m here,” she yelled back, then realised that she didn’t know where ‘here’ was, “I’m coming to you.” She lit her horn, the light not nearly as strong as she believed it would be.

She flew vaguely in the direction of the Citadel, over the various platforms. Some were large and had what looked to be parts of a building’s facade attached to them, as though they had been sheared off, others were barely large enough to accommodate her - some were just pebbles. It took her a few minutes of flying and scanning her surroundings to spot Ablazed Glory, identifiable by her faint fiery glow, standing next to the broken bottom half of a large marble column.

“Are you alright?” She asked, to which the burning alicorn nodded and gave a one talon salute.

“Yep,” she said, looking out over the void around them, “you know I was expecting something a bit grander.”

“So was I,” Penumbra said, looking back to where she came from, “the platform I was on spun over, I nearly fell off, we should be careful.”

“Yeah, don’t really want to end up falling forever.” Ablazed Glory tossed something off the edge, “Let’s go, I bet whatever we’re looking for is in the Citadel.” She took flight, gesturing with a talon for Penumbra to lead on.

“What exactly are we looking for, by the way?” Ablazed Glory asked as they flew towards the Citadel, “I know it's whoever sent you that message, but, who is that?”

“I don’t know,” Penumbra admitted, “but I think I will when we find them.”

“Now there’s the issue, how do we find them? I mean, this place looks fairly expansive, would take days to search every building, at least.”

Ablazed Glory made a very good point, Penumbra thought as they approached, a cursory search of only some of Entropy’s Pinnacle had taken hours - going through the battered labyrinth that lay before them would take far, far longer; that was, at least, if most of it could even be reached.

“We’ll land at that platform.” She pointed out a smooth stone platform extending out of the front of a larger marble building, with a columned facade and a purple glass dome. “Then make our way to the Citadel from there, then we’ll search the Citadel and work our way outwards from there.”

“You got it.”

They touched down, a faint but apparently sourceless breeze starting as they did so. Penumbra looked to Ablazed Glory, who shook her head, the fire on her body providing no indication that it was even there.

Though she didn’t get any sort of sixth-sense feeling something was wrong, Penumbra couldn’t help but be on alert.

The building they entered was undamaged, with one of the two large, double doors leading further in ajar. Ablazed Glory poked her head through carefully, beckoning Penumbra forwards when she knew it was safe. They entered a long corridor, with two available exits and archways at equal intervals of twenty or so metres. One of the exits was one archway to their left, the other, three to their right. Penumbra gestured to the right, Ablazed Glory following just behind and to her left.

“Reckon there’s anything here?” Ablazed Glory asked, checking one of the strange - apparently decorative - metal bowls attached to the walls by four chains. “Anyone, I mean. Like, this place looks to have been abandoned a long time.” She blew on the bowl, expecting dust, though none came.

“That’s because it has,” Penumbra said, “abandoned by everyone, except, I believe, the person who messaged us.”

Ablazed Glory sighed. “You see,” she murmured, “that’s what concerns me.”

Penumbra stopped after two of the archways, turning left into an adjacent room, Ablazed Glory trotting quickly after her. It was small, about ten metres by ten metres, with an eight metre diameter circle of slightly darker stone in its centre. There was an altar at the end of the room, with a small bowl that had been knocked off of the top of it, a scattering of tiny gemstones on the floor next to it. Penumbra knelt down next to them, lifted one up and carefully she viewed it with her magical sight.

“What do you see?” Ablazed Glory whispered, keeping an eye on the entrance.

Penumbra continued looking. “It’s artificial, somehow. They contain something, an energy I’ve never seen before.”

“So, what are they? Something interesting or just some fancy rocks?”

Penumbra shook her head, placing the tiny stone back where she’d found it. “I can’t say for sure. Could be anything.”

Ablazed Glory turned. “Let me have a look at them.” She ushered Penumbra over to her spot and sat by the pile of gems, lifting one at random with her telekinesis. “It’s.” She paused as she looked it over again. “It’s writing. It’s a story, I think, ‘I descended into hell, to challenge its king, I shattered him and his throne, and took his power for my own.’ It rhymes, how nice.”

Penumbra ran the words over in her head. “Challenge hell’s king? Could that be Luysifer?” Well, at least it wasn’t a “you die immediately” spell.

“The king of the Rift Leviathan told us about?”

She nodded. “I think so.” It would certainly make sense.. “But they said ‘I’, could it be?”

Ablazed Glory finished her train of thought, “Nicholas made these?”

“Does each one of them tell a story?” Penumbra lifted another at random, holding it to Ablazed Glory, who observed it.

“It’s the same one,” she said, “I think they’re all the same one.”

Penumbra placed it back into the pile. “Why, though? Why would he go to all the effort?”

Ablazed Glory shrugged, throwing down her gem, which did not make a sound on impact. “Maybe he was proud of his rhyme? Maybe he just really liked that particular rock? Maybe it wasn’t him? Maybe it doesn’t really matter?”

Penumbra scoffed. “Fair enough. Let’s get going again, if we see another place like this we’ll check it out.”

Ablazed Glory held out a talon. “Lead on.”

The end of the corridor led out into a courtyard, with dark grass lining a stone pathway up to a marble pavilion, with a crystalline dome for a roof. Small chunks of the land had been torn out, suspended off of the ground, floating aimlessly, perfectly still. The way further into the Heart of Sorrow was a number of larger, floating platforms, leading into a raised building.

“There’s something under that covering,” Ablazed Glory pointed to the pavilion, “let’s check it out.”

At the very centre of the floor, directly below the dome, was an hourglass shaped table, little more than a foot tall, with a perfectly smooth surface. There was a note on it, the paper being apparently frozen in place, with even Ablazed Glory’s best attempts failing to move it so much as an inch. The ink on it was still wet, dirtying the alicorn’s talon but making no dent in the writing.

“What does it say?” She asked Penumbra, who she assumed would make sense of the runic writing.

“It’s a list of names,” she said, slowly translating from the few symbols she could easily identify, “Kyhron, Lilith, Lotan, Kaurava, Cecilia, Haisan - and a few more I can’t read. All marked with a cross, except Kaurava.”

“The one Aurora spoke about? What does everyone on that list have in common?”

Penumbra thought for a moment. “He considered them all children.”

Ablazed Glory nodded. “I thought so. A little morbid to cross out the names of your dead kids.”

“All except one.”

“Kaurava, the only one left unaccounted for,” Ablazed Glory took a look around, more out of instinct. “Speaking of unaccounted for, I want to find whoever brought us here and then leave, quick. This place.” She paused for a moment. “I don’t vibe with it, not one bit.”

Penumbra nodded, prying herself away from the note and towards the set of platforms that led further in. She looked about for another way for a few seconds, before settling on what looked to be the only course.

The Heart of Sorrow was all kinds of wrong, she thought, she felt like she was walking into a minefield every time she walked through a door.

“Up we go.” Ablazed Glory took flight first, Penumbra following behind, sticking close to the platforms so as not to leave anything to chance. Penumbra’s flying was shaky, due in part to the lack of wind, yet the fact she could feel wind all over her, causing her to subconsciously adjust her flying to cope with an issue that didn’t exist.

When they landed, entering into a large, circular, domed structure, they were greeted by a sudden rush of silence. The wind they had felt all over previously, heard though it had no effect, was completely gone.

“What’s going on?” Ablazed Glory whispered, slowly lowering into a combat stance, “where’s the wind gone?”

Penumbra took a step forward, which echoed slightly. Something had changed, though she didn’t precisely know what. She reached out behind her with her magic, though didn’t feel the expected membrane or barrier, rather just emptiness. She took another step forwards, again hearing the faint echo, the room had acoustics, as it should have done, though no other room they had been in made so much as a sound.

Minefield.

“Penumbra,” Ablazed Glory whispered frantically, “Penumbra, space back in a fuckin’ second.”

“What?” She asked, lowering her voice out of instinct, “what’s wrong?”

Ablazed Glory clenched her jaw. “You looked like you were about to pass out. There’s an opening ahead, behind that rubble, I don’t know where it leads.”

When Penumbra’s eyes adjusted to the lack of light, a pile of rubble, apparently from another building entirely, stood some metre and a half before an open door, leading into total darkness further within.

“I think it leads to where we want to go,” she mused, trotting towards it with Ablazed Glory scrambling behind her.

“I suggest we take it slow,” Ablazed Glory whisper-shouted, “as in slow down! This place is bad enough without you running off into every dark hall you can find.” Ablazed Glory shook her head, though Penumbra was too far ahead to notice. “First you go throwing yourself off of cliffs, now wandering off into the darkness.”

Penumbra stopped dead in her tracks ahead of her, causing Ablazed Glory to again think a number of expletives. “What’s gotten into you?”

She too, stopped dead when she saw what was ahead of them. A vast chasm, like a scar cut through the world, a drop straight through the shattered rock into the void all around. Three platforms marked the way across, two small and one large; the large platform holding a small bit of garden, a path running through and decorative bowls on either side. The wind started up again, too, though it would periodically stop for a second or two before starting again.

“There,” Penumbra said, pointing to a large opening on the other side, leading into a scarred structure attached to the bottom of the Citadel, “that’s our way in.”

“So.” Ablazed Glory took a look over the edge of the chasm, expecting to find a drop into the void, which she did. “What, we just fly across?”

Penumbra scoffed. “I doubt it’d be that simple.”

If anywhere in the entirety of the Heart of Sorrow was a minefield - this was almost certainly the minefield. Penumbra had an excellent system for getting out of minefields unscathed: don’t walk into them.

“Then, what do you suggest?”

She squinted, surveying the path of platforms ahead of them. “Jump the platforms, quickly. Hopefully we make it to the other side before they slip out from under us.”

“Hopefully?” Ablazed Glory gave a disbelieving chuckle. “And what if we don’t?”

Penumbra shrugged. “Then, we make another plan, quickly.” She was good at thinking on her feet.

The two stood in silence for a few seconds, neither moving an inch, before Ablazed Glory held out a talon. “Ladies first.” Then raised a flaming eyebrow - which was more a slight movement of her face muscles and widening of her left eye - at Penumbra’s questioning reaction. “It’s your plan, if anyone’s going to fall into the void for your plan it’ll be you. I’ll be behind you, I just want you to test the water is all.”

She gave a smile and a thumbs up with a claw, whilst Penumbra judged her jump. Whilst she was fairly certain there was no danger to be had, she decided to hang back a few moments once Penumbra had started off regardless. Not because she wanted Penumbra to be hurt, far from it, but rather than if there was danger it would be far less likely to wound Penumbra than herself.

Penumbra sprung forwards, landing on the centre of the first platform, which, mercifully, held firm. As Ablazed Glory had suspected, no giant eldritch horror rose from the void and swallowed her whole, so she assumed it was safe enough to follow. With a run up, she flung herself onto the platform’s near edge, the pervasive wind doing her no favours when it came to keeping herself steady.

The next platform was some distance away, further than the first had been, but was larger, giving more of a space to land. Penumbra hopped over without much difficulty, the incredible musculature of her freakishly long legs giving her more than enough power. Ablazed Glory, meanwhile, had to do a run up, time her jump perfectly to propel herself using the platform as a springboard, then give her wings a beat to bring herself to a landing next to Penumbra, who was already exploring the way forwards.

Ablazed Glory took a cursory glance into one of the bowls, which held a pair of sticks on its purple geode interior. She lifted one of the sticks with her telekinesis, studied it a moment, then gave it a sniff. “Huh.” She held a burning talon towards it, lighting one end, a thin stream of sweet smelling smoke rising half a metre or so from its end before vanishing.

“Hey,” she yelled over to Penumbra, who was already lining up the penultimate jump, “come smell this stick I found.”

Her companion, as evidenced by her lack of reaction, wasn’t interested. Ablazed Glory sighed theatrically, before throwing the stick back into the bowl, where it continued to emit its pleasant vapour as she left it behind, trotting over to Penumbra’s side.

The gap to the next platform was the largest, without the conveniently sized landing platform of the previous jump, but with a metre or so extra in length.

“Reckon you can make the jump?” Ablazed Glory asked, with a faux seriousness, “wouldn’t want you to fall,” her voice dripped with sarcasm, though Penumbra leapt forwards before she could utter another word.

The instant Penumbra landed, right on the edge of the platform, she pushed off again, bouncing like a skimming stone to their final destination. Ablazed Glory sneered at her, certain she could make her jump far more visually impressive. She contemplated doing it with her eyes closed, but gave one last look to verify the platform’s location in her mind’s eye.

It was very fortunate she had such a measure of her own memory, as the platform had, in direct contrast with its fellows, been knocked off course by Penumbra’s skip. It slowly drifted down and to the left, rotated slightly so the vertex of the smooth upper and jagged lower halves was facing upwards. Ablazed Glory breathed a sigh of intense relief and thanks for her sensibleness, before swearing at Penumbra.

“You knocked it off!” She yelled, making every rude gesture she could with her talons. “I could’ve fallen through if I’d jumped then, or worse!”

By worse she, of course, meant landing on the vertex with her undercarriage, upon which event she would have become the omniversal champion for most swear words said in five seconds. Fortunately, however - though her mind still graced her with an empathetic idea of the pain that would have followed, causing a sudden flare up of her fiery coat - the event did not occur.

Her immediate response was to simply fly over, being already in the air by the time Penumbra yelled out why they were jumping in the first place, causing her to rapidly set down.

On the one talon, flight was really her only method of crossing the gap, given that the platform was out of action; on the other talon, however, if there was a genuine danger to flying, then she would almost definitely suffer a fate worse than a bruised downstairs - no matter how painful such a thing would be.

Considering her options for the thorough time of five seconds, she took flight and sped across the gap, zipping past Penumbra like a blur before circling around and landing, her back legs crossed together at the continued thought of her jumping arse first onto a rock.

Penumbra squinted at her, not quite understanding why she looked like she’d just jumped arse first onto a rock, before shrugging it off. “Well,” she admitted, “seems I was wrong, there was no danger after all.”

She walked past her friend, whose laboured breathing and wide eyes suggested she was coming down from some extra horrid thought, towards the entrance to what was, ostensibly, the bottom of the Citadel. A large staircase led up from the garden courtyard and up into the plaza, which sported a number of cracks in the ceiling and walls and no doubt a number of chunks of debris inside. The crystal dome at the centre of its ceiling was, however, completely intact, not so much as a crack in its surface - a pleasant change of pace.

“You alright back there?” She asked, not turning from the entrance.

Ablazed Glory hummed. “Fine.” She popped up at Penumbra’s left. “This the way in?”

Penumbra nodded. “I think so.”

“Well.” Ablazed Glory stepped onto the first stair. “Only one way to find out. Let’s consult the map.” She laughed, which began as a laugh but ended in a sigh. “I’m hilarious, let’s go.”

The staircase was irritatingly long, with each individual stair not being wide enough for either of their full talons, forcing them to stand on claw point and essentially fall upwards, until they reached the top and were able to flatten out their feet and regain their stability - which was significantly harder for Penumbra than it was for the smaller and hyper-nimble Ablazed Glory.

The atrium, or what they assumed was the atrium, was of a decent size, with various unidentified vines growing from pots on the walls and floor, completely black in colour. There were two doors to go down, one closed and one open. Penumbra very quickly worked out the closed door was locked, it also didn’t have a handle - nor did it seem to have anything beyond it according to her magical sight, though that power’s efficacy had come into question from the moment they entered the Heart of Sorrow.

Ablazed Glory, meanwhile, proceeded through the other door and into a mezzanine floor, overlooking a large circular hallway with a slightly raised dais in its very centre. The mezzanine didn’t appear to connect to anything else, so Ablazed Glory jumped down to the dais once Penumbra had arrived in the room with her.

Using her wings to slow her descent, she landed and spun in a full circle, surveying the whole room but finding nothing save the pillars holding up the mezzanine above, built of a dark stone polished to a fault and in the shape of a plus symbol, and a set of double doors on the side of the room opposite that of the entrance to the mezzanine.

Penumbra landed next to her, looking about in a confused fashion as if searching for something, shaking her head when she didn’t find it.

“This place,” the Shining amulet said, startling both Ablazed Glory and Penumbra, who whipped into combat stances in an instant, before relaxing when they recognised the source. “Power has seeped into the ground here. This was once an arena, a champion guarded here, guarded the path further up the Citadel, to the Emperor of Sorrows.”

Penumbra nodded. “I knew something was missing,” she mumbled, “what sort of Champion?” She reached down into the ground with her magic, with her vision being almost immediately clogged by a thick veil of power, visible through her magical sight, seeping from the ground like smoke.

“A nightmare, given flesh by the Heart of Sorrow. Now vanished, fortunately for you.”

“Lucky us,” Ablazed Glory muttered as she trotted slowly towards the door, taking far greater care after realising there were once guards.

It, like the locked door further above, had no handles, nor any apparent locking mechanism. After a push with one of her talons, Ablazed Glory realised that it was definitely locked, though a quick onceover the lock with her telekinesis confirmed it wasn’t a mechanical lock. That, however, didn’t stop her from kicking it just to be sure.

Only one thing for it, she thought. “Penumbra,” she called, “need your help here.” Call the lock nerd to do some fiddling.

Her companion popped up behind her in an instant. “Ooh.” Her horn lit up as she explored the intricacies of the magical mechanisms. “This is high brow stuff, way beyond my ability to make.”

“I don’t want make,” Ablazed Glory said, “I want break.”

Penumbra waved her off, talon coming very close to Ablazed Glory’s face, the burning alicorn pulling her head back with a look of indignation, before realising Penumbra couldn’t see her.

“If only I had something to record this with,” Penumbra mumbled under her breath, “the way the mechanisms are folded into one another to allow for more to be added and to make them more difficult to overcome is just ingenious. And the way it lattices with the framework on a quantum level - built into a counterpart in a whole other realm - such a simple method to prevent it simply being destroyed when you say it aloud, but just a genius design choice.”

“Are you done creaming yourself over a door lock?” Ablazed Glory deadpanned, having had lit up a cigarette - a task completed by grabbing the stick with her telekinesis, holding the end to her talon, then placing it into her mouth, lighting the entire stick and smoking the whole thing in one - tossed its butt aside, lit another and then considered having another for a good minute, “we need to be through it, doesn’t matter if it’s made of Nicholas’ own strands of hair or a twig and some sellotape.”

“Admiring the craftsmanship,” Penumbra said slowly, “of a master of the arcane, of Emperor Nicholas, no less, is an endeavour worth a few minutes.” She paused, something having caught her magical eye. “Oh, my goodness! I had almost not seen it, the way these conflicting psionic nodes are used to give an extra layer of rigidity to the whole structure whilst also providing a secondary part to the lock itself, how did he come up with these techniques? They’re just brilliant.”

“Come on, Penumbra!” Ablazed Glory half-yelled angrily, “I’ll have died of lung cancer by the time you start on the bloody lock.”

“Fine.” Penumbra tensed up and shook her head. “I’ll get to work.”

Ablazed Glory nodded curtly, then sat back on her haunches, lifting a pack of cigarettes out of her fireproof saddle bags and contemplating smoking a whole pack at once. Surely her mouth was big enough for forty at once? She spun it round in her telekinetic aura, reading all the labels on it, suddenly struck with a curiosity to know every ingredient of her favourite unhealthy but not as unhealthy as it could have been pass-time that had definitely not come about from boredom whilst Penumbra finished her fiddling with the lock or whatever it was she was doing.

She had learned when she first discovered what a cigarette was that it was incredibly fucking dangerous - quoted from herself. When she saw the picture of the lung that looked like a large popcorn piece she had wondered how the hell such a hobby could even be allowed. Apparently, from what she understood at least, Emperor Nicholas didn’t know what smoking was so never had the chance to ban it.

She had come across - come across being a codeword for stolen in Ablazed Glory’s vocabulary - a whole crate of the things during downtime - downtime being a codeword for breaking and entering in Ablazed Glory’s vocabulary - so she had decided to take them in and give them a chance, leaving her health in the hands of fate; before realising that she was both immortal so it would have little effect on her and she was on fire so putting fire in her wouldn’t exactly do her any harm regardless.

Penumbra, meanwhile, was talking to a lock.

“I just want to go through,” she pleaded, “there’s two of us, we won’t make a mess, we promise.”

“It’s not about the mess.” A complex lattice of matter-data hovered right in front of her mind’s eye. “There’s more than enough mess already, you couldn’t exactly make it worse.”

She sighed. “We just want to pass through, explore the Citadel.”

“Look, I’m sorry, but if I let just anybody go through to, as you say, ‘explore the Citadel’ I wouldn’t be a very good guard, now, would I?”

“But, I’m Sunless-Halo-of-Penumbra, I was a student of Emperor Nicholas and served with him during the War in Heaven.” She regarded the conversation with the complex lattice of matter-data, that had been told to believe, whether by Emperor Nicholas or itself, that it was a guard at a door, as perfectly normal. “He’d allow me to pass.”

The complex lattice of matter-data was slowly unravelling with every attempt, creating stable streams that Penumbra’s other half - which she had broken off from herself in the spirit world to allow her to perform more tasks at once - was able to cut off and correct.

“Anyone could say that, though,” it said, as apologetic a tone as an algorithm could get, “you have to understand, I’m in a difficult position here.”

She nodded. “I do understand. Really, I do. But I have to get through that door, there must be some way I can convince you.”

“Hmm.” It made an impression of thinking, which was, in reality, an exact, pre-coded response. “Well, could always bring Emperor Nicholas down here.”

“You know that wouldn’t be possible,” she said, which prompted the lattice to begin unravelling quicker, “there must be another way, another way in which I can prove to you I’m who I say I am without involving Nicholas personally.”

The lattice was almost fully unravelled. “Perhaps, you could show me what he taught you?”

“Yes,” she agreed, “I can do that.”

The lattice unravelled completely, her other half mopping it up for a second more longer, before her soul fully fused back together and her mind’s eye image fell away, the lock giving a satisfying click in both real and spirit world, the door opening at the slightest touch.

“Finally,” Ablazed Glory said, “I’ve been here for ages, at least five minutes. I nearly gave up on you, left you to die here.”

“Sorry.” Penumbra bowed her head in a mock gesture. “I was having a chat with the lock.”

As she turned and headed through the now open door, Ablazed Glory stood behind her, a look of confusion and contempt on her face. “I don’t doubt that,” she said, “and I hate you for it.” Regardless, she scrambled after her companion. “Stop wandering off!”

The door was connected to a corridor, which went on for about ten metres before it opened out into what should have been a room but was, in fact, a large hole. Pieces of wall, roof and assorted decoration hung in the air, disconnected from everything. A potted plant hovered a few feet from the corridor’s end, the plant apparently confused as to which way was up and thus growing in three different directions. Further below, with a semicircular wall behind it, was a glowing circular pad, emitting a cone of light upwards.

Penumbra pointed to the pad. “I think that’s a lift of some kind,” she said, “don’t ask how I know.”

“Wasn’t planning on it,” Ablazed Glory retorted, “where do you reckon it’ll take us?”

“Up,” Penumbra said, delighting at her companion’s irritated reaction, “it should take us into the Citadel itself,” she continued, “which I think is a little further in that direction.” She pointed forwards, in the direction of the pad. “The pad should take us to somewhere with more floor, from there we can access the Citadel.”

“Sounds like a plan then.” Ablazed Glory spread her wings. “Let’s go.”

The two propelled themselves off the edge of the corridor, gliding steadily to the pad’s platform, which was a large enough target to easily land on. Penumbra observed it for a moment, before tentatively taking a step onto it, being promptly lifted upwards to another platform some half a kilometre above. Ablazed Glory followed suit, audibly expressing her surprise at the suddenness of the rise.

The next platform had more substance to it, but was still noticeably fractured. Aside from the somewhat large landing platform, there were a good two dozen other platforms scattered about, all vaguely level, no doubt once having been a fully coherent room. The platforms at the edges sometimes held bits of wall or pillar, whilst one of those in the centre contained a marble cube with a silver bowl atop it.

Ablazed Glory took a moment to regain her footing on landing, shaking off the strange feeling that arose from not being able to control her flying. Penumbra, meanwhile, was inspecting the bowl, finding that it was halfway filled with little purple crystals, just like the first altar they had found when they first entered the Heart of Sorrow.

“Over here,” Penumbra called her companion, who hopped carefully from platform to platform, noticeably mindful of their ability to move. “It’s like that bowl from before,” she said, “except this one hasn’t been knocked over.”

Unlike previously, Ablazed Glory’s magical sight was not needed to read their message, as it appeared in front of Penumbra’s regular eyes when she looked into the bowl itself. “‘I am the future, ever approaching yet never arriving. I am the end of things.’”

“Just what I wanted to hear,” Ablazed Glory deadpanned, “why is this one readable?”

Penumbra shrugged. “Maybe the crystals are supposed to be in the bowls? Perhaps they’re like a kind of plaque, but more arcane.”

As Penumbra studied the crystals, Ablazed Glory looked up, noticing the distinctive form of the Citadel’s walls, who became closer the further up they went. “We’re in the Citadel now,” she said, “or, at least, at its entrance. A map would be useful right about now.”

Penumbra took a minute to think, using her magic to feel around the area and find them a path further in. “There’s another one of those pads,” she said, “across this room and below us. That should get us to a more central point.” She set off walking, Ablazed Glory behind her. “If the rest of the Citadel is like this,” she said, glancing about at the wrecks and emptiness around them, “we might have some trouble.”

“Unless our messenger can fly,” Ablazed Glory said as the pair glided down to the next lift pad, “I doubt they’ll have got around much.”

“I doubt they can’t,” Penumbra replied as the two boarded the pad and ascended, “this place is a death trap without wings.”

The platform they landed on next was far more solid, with a double door some twenty metres ahead of them leading into what appeared to be an intact room. A quick telekinetic push of the door by Ablazed Glory revealed what was, in fact, a fully intact foyer area, complete with staircases leading further up and down.

A cursory glance by Penumbra to the upstairs staircase removed the option, as the staircase didn’t appear to lead anywhere, proceeding up for about ten metres before simply stopping, connected to nothing. As such, they opted for the downward staircase, which, unlike its fellow, appeared to go somewhere.

That somewhere was, however, wreathed in darkness. They had been walking for all of a few seconds before both froze, a strange aura of unease all around them. They looked to each other, communicating silently on whether or not to keep going. No sooner had they made their decision to turn back that a sound echoed from below. It was not a sound that could be particularly identified as anything specific, rather it was simply an echo by the time it reached them, but it was an echo nonetheless.

“Keep going,” Penumbra said, overruling their decision, “something is down there.” Part of her was certain it was her messenger.

The staircase was far longer than expected, extending so far down that the door above vanished from view. The echo continued, appearing again every half a minute, the sense of unease slowly morphing into a sense of dread.

Eventually, the staircase levelled out, revealing a room some ten by ten metres in area, a large, thick, metal door at the opposite end. The door held a small square indentation, apparently a window like that of a cell door, though it was closed. Unlike many of the doors they had encountered up to that point, it had both a handle and a visible mechanical lock, though Penumbra was sure there was a magical back up too.

The two approached in silence, until freezing solidly when a screeching cackle erupted from beyond the door. “Welcome,” a voice, like a banshee’s, followed the cackle, “welcome.”

“Who are you?” Ablazed Glory questioned, authoritative voice disguising her unease.

The thing beyond the door cackled again. “A friend, a friend,” it said, speaking as though it was giggling through every word, though still practically wailing. “But a prisoner, imprisoned. I imprisoned myself in this dungeon, cell, so that I could wait for you, you, Penumbra.”

At the mention of her name, the alicorn spoke up. “Imprisoned yourself? Why?” Now, she thought, why did that sound like a trap?

The thing cackled again. “It was the only way. The only way I could meet with you.”

“And, why do you want to meet with me?” Penumbra had drawn her sword from its scabbard, holding it next to her in a telekinetic grip.

“I have grown lonely,” it cackled, “very lonely in my little world, prison. Break the lock, and join me!”

Ablazed Glory turned to her companion, shaking her head just once.

Penumbra, however, nodded. “You want to be free?” She brought her sword forwards, targeting the lock with her magical sight. The thing did not answer, with Penumbra driving her crackling sword into the lock, shattering it in a single strike. With a telekinetic push, the door opened, the two alicorns stepping inside.

The room beyond was enormous, empty save a large object at the far end, visible only by its shadow. Whilst Penumbra tried to get a better view of it, as well as scanning around for the creature she had just spoken to, Ablazed Glory looked upwards, then shot a bolt of magic upwards into the centre of the ceiling, illuminating a small chandelier.

Princess of Dreams

Penumbra was asleep.

She could tell she was asleep by the hands on the clock that hung across from her bed. Despite her eyesight being impeccable, and the clock easily visible from the bed regardless, she couldn’t quite make out a time, only a blur as it changed constantly. She was, in two words, lucid dreaming.

For most, lucid dreaming would be a curious event, but not one to be concerned about. For Penumbra, however, who hadn’t lucidly dreamed since the War in Heaven - with that particular lucid dream not being particularly friendly - it was a cause for some consideration, at the very least a pause.

Pause she did, before her bedroom became just a bed, then nothing. Before her was a cloud of dust, stretching out in all directions. She was in a nebula, at least, she thought she was in a nebula, she might have just been in a big cloud of dust. Perhaps it was something more abstract, it didn’t really matter overall.

Before her, suddenly, stood a woman, in a similar shape to Vortexians, she had two arms, two legs, an upright torso and a vaguely spherical head - Penumbra knew it wasn’t spherical, of course, although dreams were notoriously unrealistic. The woman was four and a half metres tall, slightly taller than Penumbra, with pleated platinum blonde hair extending down to her waist - how Penumbra could tell this was the case despite not seeing it, she didn’t know - her eyes were swirling, deep blue orbs, within were tiny white twinkles like stars in a twilight sky. Her skin was incredibly fair and her figure was clearly exceptionally athletic, though remained fairly small.

She was beautiful, certainly, but every part of her looked vaguely off somehow.

“Penumbra,” the woman called, her voice ethereal and echoing, though Penumbra chalked it down to the dream state she was in. “I have watched you for some time now. You show tremendous promise. I would much like to meet with you.”

Penumbra, already knowing that unknown figures wanting to meet her was a cause for concern, played safe. “Who are you?”

The woman laughed musically. “All in due time. You will know where to find me. For now, you must awaken.”

Well that wasn’t suspicious at all, she thought - only for her entire body to be replaced by empty space.

Her dream suddenly collapsed from under her, thrusting her into the waking world.

She had closed her eyes to sleep at twelve twenty standard time, though her clock only read twelve twenty five. As if to add to the abnormality, she had gone to bed exhausted, her body yearning to rest and recuperate, but had awoken after only five minutes of sleep completely refreshed and thoroughly revitalised.

She stepped out of bed carefully, mindful of potential trickery. The floor did not explode beneath her step or turn into an alligator, however, giving Penumbra enough evidence to suspect she was in the real world.

Regardless, she checked herself over, finding nothing suspicious. That was, save for a set of coordinates at the front of her mind she never remembered reading. The woman had said Penumbra would know where to find her, had she not? The coordinates must have been her doing.

She assumed they were coordinates, at least, they could have been lottery numbers for all she knew.

Recognising the strength of her curiosity, of her thirst for knowledge, she donned her armour and stepped out of the captain’s cabin and onto the bridge of the Retaliator. Ablazed Glory sat in her chair - her fires low and cool - the grey butt of a cigarette hanging lazily in her mouth, a thin trail of vapour hanging off of it. She was slouched back, evidently on the verge of nodding off. But, Penumbra’s vigour and burning desire to know would not allow for sleep at that crucial moment - she could sleep on the way.

“Luminary,” Penumbra’s authoritative call startled Ablazed Glory so much that she almost swallowed her cigarette, coughing hysterically as she spat it onto the ground. “Set a course,” Penumbra continued without regard, “to these coordinates.” She sat in her chair and inputted the coordinates from memory into the console. It took the Luminary half a second to authenticate and input the coordinates and to spool up the engines.

“The target location is in the midst of a large planetary nebula, caution is advised due to potential for debris impact and fusion ignition,” the Luminary droned, though Penumbra overrode its warnings in a word.

“Divert weapons power to shields, get us into the Rift.”

“Hold on,” Ablazed Glory half-spluttered, still recovering from her previous incident, “where the hell are we going? At least confront me first you bloody fiend.”

Penumbra waved her off. “I’ll explain later, but this is urgent.”

Her flaming companion huffed and sat back from her console, clearly intending to allow Penumbra to make every mistake imaginable when it came to piloting the ship. As they entered the swirling maelstrom of the Rift, Ablazed Glory lit up a cigarette and opened up a game of chess on her console - her fires slowly growing and stabilising. The AI opponent she was playing against was at its hardest difficulty setting, yet Ablazed Glory would repeatedly and thoroughly trounce it, either as a testament to her own immense skill or poor coding on behalf of the computer.

When they transitioned out of the Rift, they were met with little more than a cloud of reddish-brown dust, stretching in all directions and filling the entire view screen. There was nothing larger than a pebble ahead of them - at least for the few kilometres the sensors could reliably penetrate - though even the stars had been blocked out by the sheer volume.

Out of curiosity, Ablazed Glory sneakily checked the scanners. They were in the exact centre of a planetary nebula, formed after the death of a star. The Dominion knew of this nebula, having it specifically named with only a single character. A cursory search for translations identified the rune in question: “Irenton.”

Before them lay the Irenton Nebula, where once the star Irenton had shone brightly and four worlds orbiting it had fought in its light. Those four worlds, along with two others from beyond the system, would later lay the foundations for the Irenton Empire, setting aside their differences for the common good, though they would be lost long before Nicholas would crown himself Emperor Eternal. Ablazed Glory had believed it a legend, a propaganda piece to present the foundation of the Empire and later Dominion as more legitimate and heroic. Evidently, she had been very wrong.

“Penumbra,” she said, voice low as the weight of the reality weighed on her, “we’re in Irenton.”

Her companion did not answer, likely having also realised the importance of where their ship hovered. Ablazed Glory found herself muttering a line in reverence, one she had once heard used all over New Horizons during the early days of the War in Heaven, “glory to the Emperor Eternal, glory to the Empire Eternal.” She cast a glance over to Penumbra, part of her hoping to see her companion in awe at their surroundings, though she saw no such thing.

In fact, she saw Penumbra leaving the bridge.

The woman had called to her, the woman from her dream. Penumbra could hear her, at first she had thought it a delusion, until she realised that her magic allowed her to see where it was coming from, a faint glow of energy in the darkness all around her, some thousand miles behind them.

Daux Secundus

Penumbra had tunnel vision, rather severely. Her eyes were only able to show her the path to the airlock, with her ears giving her nothing but the voice of the woman from her dream, her calling a melody from the distance. Her voice was ghostly, easily mistakable as simply Penumbra’s ears playing tricks on her, but the level of coincidence was too much to simply ignore, not after she’d travelled so far, at least.

Though she couldn’t see her, Ablazed Glory was trying to stop Penumbra from walking away. But, a combination of Penumbra’s strength and Ablazed Glory’s lack of energy meant that her attempts did little more than to slightly wobble Penumbra’s view for a moment. No doubt she was yelling out something, she had a tendency to be very loud. No matter what she did, though, Penumbra’s mind was set, she was following the signal to its source.

Ablazed Glory rushed to block the airlock, once she realised Penumbra was planning to use it, but a flash of violet light prevented her tactic from working, as Penumbra simply teleported to the other side.

Penumbra began the procedure to unlock the outer airlock door. With a hiss and rush of air at her feet, the airlock depressurised, preventing an explosive decompression when the outer door was opened. A second later, silent due to the vacuum, the door slowly opened, the dust of the nebula gradually seeping in.

She allowed herself to float out, the eyepieces of her helmet both protecting her eyes from the dust but also giving the ability to see through the cloud. She followed the source of the voice with her eyes, locating the shining beacon of magic in the distance - burning like a star. As she approached it, using similar magic to propel herself forwards at exponentially increasing speeds, her display flashed up its location: a free-floating, rocky spheroid, what was likely once a moon.

Scans of the moon indicated its orbital parent had been destroyed, with the moon having suffered damage itself - its original surface scorched - though its gravity had brought in some of the dust and rock surrounding it to repair most of that damage. It struck Penumbra as curious that a moon could survive a star’s destruction of all things, though, as she knew full well, stranger things had happened.

When she neared ten miles from the moon, the dust and rock of the nebula stopped abruptly, as if held back by something, like it was behind glass. The magical star grew brighter and brighter, even though as Penumbra closed in on it she realised it couldn’t be much larger than herself. When she finally brought herself to land, snapping instantly from incredible speed - even though she had begun to slow her descent at the ten mile mark - to full stop, she was met with the unmistakable figure of the woman from her dream, standing as if sat on an invisible chair.

“Welcome,” she said, voice carrying despite a distinct lack of an atmosphere, “this is a beautiful place, is it not?”

“Where are we?” Penumbra asked, using her magic to project her voice and make it audible in the vacuum.

“Irenton,” she said, “what is left of it, at least. This was once my home, this system. I remember it well during its infancy, it is sobering to see how it has changed.”

“Not so much changed,” Penumbra mused, casting a glance at the brown dome that encircled them.

The woman chuckled, though did not follow her gaze. “Indeed. I know you were a student of Nicholas, so I will presuppose I do not need to introduce you to him. Well, it was he who saved this moon from annihilation, when the star at the centre of this system gave its last, dying breath. It was he who allowed the Rift generators beneath his world’s surface to overload, halting the propagation of the destruction, saving countless billions of lives at the cost of his own.”

“Wait.” Penumbra shook a claw in disapproval. “That’s not possible,” she scoffed, “this happened long before Nicholas’ time. Besides, if he died, then how did he enter the Great Experiment? Or, eventually, teach me what I know today?”

The woman laughed again. “You young ones have such a linear view of reality. The Nicholas you knew and the Nicholas who saved this moon were very different, even though they were identical.”

Penumbra couldn’t bring herself to reply vocally, simply shaking her head in confusion. Different yet identical, so it was one of those then, was it?

“Nicholas’ very existence is an enigma. He is less a being and more a phenomena, an event, one that changes the course of history for all living creatures. He is unique in that he exists partially outside of time. From a certain perspective, it is almost like the universe was built around him, for him. From another, more nuanced perspective, you can see how it is the opposite.”

“I don’t understand,” Penumbra uttered one of the only sentences she truly hated - even after so long.

The woman smiled. “That is quite alright. I do not believe anyone fully does. But, one day, all will be revealed to you. You, as he, are special, destined for great things. I am known to be an excellent judge of character.”

“Who are you?” Penumbra reversed the flow of the dialogue at once and repeated the question she had asked during their previous meeting, “you’re not like Kaurava, not a creation of Nicholas’, at least. I can see your presence in this world is almost too much, as if you’re burning a hole through reality just by being in it.”

She nodded. “A valid assumption, I had said you were promising, had I not? You see, this meeting was a test, to see if I was, indeed, correct in who I thought you were. You passed. I believe it is time we meet, Sunless-Halo-of-Penumbra. There is a system, in the Large Magellanic Cloud, called the Tiberius System - named after one of my brothers, ironically - your ship will be able to find it, I have made sure of that. Return to your vessel, set in the course and come to me, it is time you learned.”

In a burst of light, the woman was gone, simply vanishing beneath the flare. Penumbra looked skyward to see the Retaliator, engines a dull orange, passing through the dome of dust.

She took to the sky, locating the primary view camera and signalling to Ablazed Glory she was entering through the airlock. Self-levitation was draining, however, and Penumbra only just managed to bob inside the airlock by the time her magic demanded she rest. She sat on her haunches as the automated recompression process was carried out, with the inner door unlocking and opening to reveal a furious looking Ablazed Glory.

“What the hell were you thinking?” She yelled, “you could’ve gotten killed!”

Penumbra looked at her with a deadly seriousness. “We need to go to the Tiberius System, there’s something extremely important there.”

Ablazed Glory shook her head. “No. You need to tell me why you took us to this nebula then jumped out of the damn ship to have a swim in it. What if you’d suffocated? Or gotten stuck? What then? I couldn’t have saved you!”

“There was a message,” she said, her tone completely uncompromising, “a dream, from someone who knew Nicholas.”

Ablazed Glory’s jaw dropped. “You had a dream? That’s the reason? You had a dream? Have you gone mad?”

“They knew him,” she said, “I know they did. They had a magical signature like a star and knew about Nicholas in the past, before the Empire, before the Great Experiment.” Her voice lowered. “Before this system died.”

Exasperated, Ablazed Glory rubbed her eyes. “This is ridiculous,” she mumbled, before speaking directly to Penumbra once again, “you do realise, that systems are not entered into the navigation database by name, right? Just by their coordinates, even Chronove. Saying to go to the ‘Tiberius System’ is about as useful as saying ‘come to me’. I spent years looking at old star charts, there is no Tiberius System in this galaxy.”

“It’s in the Large Magellanic Cloud,” Penumbra said, rising to her feet.

“Brilliant,” Ablazed Glory said, sarcasm oozing from her voice, “its outside of Dominion space. Not only that, it's in the LMC, where half of the galaxy’s pirates are suspected to reside - and where the other half are known to. Go on then, let’s find your ‘Tiberius System’, but we are not leaving this nebula until we know exactly where we are going, to the lightyear.”

The two walked in silence back to the command bridge, Ablazed Glory literally fuming with rage. When they entered, she stood by the captain’s chair, gesturing to it with a furious scowl on her face.

“Luminary,” Penumbra said, her confidence in what she had been told still intact, “set a course for the Tiberius System.”

A second went by in silence, Ablazed Glory clearly declaring victory in her head.

“Affirmative,” the Luminary answered, Ablazed Glory whipping around frantically, “coordinates engaged, standing by for Rift transition.”

“Woah, woah woah,” Ablazed Glory shouted, dashing to her console and inputting the commands to bring up a star map on the view screen, “show me where this system is, exactly.”

The image of the Milky Way zoomed out, to an image of the galaxy and its satellites. Then the image zoomed in again, this time to the small blob that was the Large Magellanic Cloud. A red circular marker appeared, marking the exact centre of the target system.

Ablazed Glory shook her head. “That’s impossible. Luminary, where has this location data come from?”

The Luminary took five seconds to answer, far longer than normal. “From the Tiberius System,” it replied, “transmitted by a vessel of redacted classification.”

“Redacted? Luminary declassify that information.”

“Negative,” it replied instantly, “information is classified by order of Dominion Defence Command.”

Ablazed Glory turned, malice lost from her face. “If I die because of this,” she said, “I will haunt you for the rest of time.”

Penumbra nodded. “I’d be disappointed if you didn’t. Luminary, engage Rift drive.”

The map of the Large Magellanic Cloud was replaced by the Rift, its visible maelstrom a far cry from the serenity it provided to Penumbra’s mind.

Vigilance of Tiberius

The Tiberius System had been the sight of a great battle millennia ago. Little remained to remind anyone of that fact, however, with the wrecks of the ships long since salvaged and transported away, save a few pieces of debris that had crashed onto one of the system’s two rocky planets. The records of the battle had also been lost, they were from that time of the Irenton Empire’s history that remained all but a mystery to the vast majority of Dominion citizens, due partially to wear and tear of the archives but also the very lax record keeping of the early Empire.

During the time of the Empire, the system had been apparently used as a mining facility, the planet closest to its yellow main sequence star bearing all of the scars of brutal and efficient stellar mining, with entire continents all but missing. Evidently, the system’s limited mineral resources had been expended long before the Empire’s fall, though several facilities orbiting the star indicated a form of Hydrogen mining, wherein powerful electromagnets were set up above a star’s surface to pull Hydrogen from it, which could be processed into fuel for reactors and transported across the Empire.

All but one of these fuel extractors lay derelict, little better than floating husks in space, their vital components long since stripped - most likely by pirates or salvagers - with their hulls left to orbit the star, useless until their orbits decayed and they crashed into its surface. The intact fuel extractor bore signs of a battle, with scorch marks consistent with relatively primitive plasma weaponry along its hull. Evidently, the extractor’s automated defence grid had still been active when the would-be salvagers decided to attempt to strip it.

The lack of destroyed ship hulls nearby suggested the systems had only driven the salvagers off, not destroying any one of their ships. Lending further credence to the theory was the residual radiation left by an emergency Rift jump some ten thousand kilometres from the extractor station.

As the Retaliator approached, however, the station did not engage them. A communications ping by the Luminary to the extractor informed them that the station believed them to be allies, though a remote diagnostic ordered by Ablazed Glory indicated that the station had been tampered with recently.

“Luminary,” she said, “can you pinpoint the source of the location data in system?”

“Affirmative,” the Luminary replied instantly, a red targeting circle appearing over the image of the station, “data received from this platform.”

Ablazed Glory shook her head. “Why was this platform’s classification redacted?”

“It is not,” the Luminary said, “this is an FE-22 Hydrogen Extractor, built in 8646 by the Calypso Shipyards on order of the Imperial Ministry of Labour.”

“Then how,” Ablazed Glory started, before she trailed off, “a remote source,” she said, nodding to herself. “That’s it. Someone’s used the Extractor’s communications array to send us its own locational data, to draw us here. But, it couldn’t be a trap - or, if it is, it isn’t a very good one - because the Luminary could detect the source, it just doesn’t want to tell us.”

“Whatever she wanted us to find is aboard that station,” Penumbra said, with an unarguable certainty, “I’m going in.”

“Now hold on,” Ablazed Glory said, rising to her feet and closing the bridge’s exit with telekinesis, “this time, we’re doing it the proper way. We’re going to board properly and we’re going to board together. No running off like you’re possessed.”

The two nodded to each other, Ablazed Glory accepting no compromise and brokering no argument, which Penumbra was fine to accept, it would do her no harm to simply let Ablazed Glory feel safer.

“Luminary,” Ablazed Glory ordered as she unlocked the door and trotted over to it, “move to dock with the station, prepare Airlock 3.”

“Affirmative.” At the Luminary’s silent order, the ship started forwards, the blocky hull of the Extractor platform gradually approaching.

Ablazed Glory and Penumbra walked to the airlock, checking every once in a while the screens that dotted the walls to see their approach, which revealed the true size of the platform.

Its main hull was the size of a city, made up of about a hundred black metal blocks of varying size, dotted with millions of tiny lights that no doubt were shield emitters. Beyond the blocks of the hull was the extractor itself, two vast cylinders that angled towards the star’s surface, feeding into a hemisphere that connected to the edges of the rest of the hull, no doubt once containing incredible volumes of hydrogen, ready to be shipped to refineries elsewhere. According to the simple schematics one of the screens displayed, a jet between the two cylinders would fire out the non-Hydrogen elements at near-relativistic speeds, keeping the station from simply falling into the star.

The docking port they were approaching extended a good forty metres from the rest of the station, allowing for the new arrivals to truly appreciate the immense size of the installation as they docked. When they finally did, evident by a single thud as the utilitarian ancient Imperial system connected to the aesthetic modern Dominion system, the airlocks opened into the past world, the world Penumbra had thought had been left behind forever.

The floors and walls were both gunmetal grey, with white circular lights at intervals of a metre all along the bridge’s length. There were no windows, so the space appeared far more cramped and claustrophobic than it really was. At the bridge’s centre there were a pair of screens, both offline, with announcement speakers above them. Once they would have blared out orders in robotic tones, now they lay, dormant and unused for millennia.

The bulkhead at the end of the bridge hissed as it opened, whining when it had opened fully. Beyond it were two spots, areas on the ground where the grey colour had been worn down from the presence of guards. Millennia prior, the guards had left their stations, called off to serve elsewhere, never to return.

Ahead of them lay a labyrinth of empty halls, all expressionless save the odd deactivated screen or locked door. Once the station had harboured a great deal of activity, the acquisition and refinement of fuel was vital to the Imperial war effort, and thus its economy. The air was stale, dry and smelt slightly of oil, the life support systems slowly ticking over, without any sort of maintenance. The air vents that dotted the ceiling were filthy, full of black dust that had accumulated over so long, forming small patches of the stuff on the ground beneath the vents. Penumbra and Ablazed Glory were the first to venture down the halls in a very long time.

“Any idea where we’re going?” Ablazed Glory asked, “I’m certain I’ve seen this door before.”

“We should find the control room,” was her companion’s answer, “maybe there we’ll be able to find out where the person who accessed this station is.”

“That’s an uncharacteristically simple plan.” Ablazed Glory tried to pull open a door with her telekinesis, but gave up after a few seconds. “One problem, though, where is the control room? I don’t see any map around here, or person we could ask.”

Penumbra thought for a moment. “The station still clearly has power,” she said, “so at least one of these screens must still work. If I know Imperial technology, it doesn’t tend to break easily.”

Ablazed Glory scoffed. “Yeah, but it doesn’t tell you when it is broken. Case in point, every door in this station, apparently.”

Penumbra tapped one of the black screens, trying to figure out if they had any mechanisms. Each one was built into a slightly raised pillar in the wall, so their workings must be hidden behind the pillar. However, although a look with her magical sight showed various wires and circuits, none of them appeared to be a switch of any kind.

“Luminary said this place was built in the 8600’s,” Ablazed Glory said, watching Penumbra stare at a dead screen, “that was a good twenty millennia ago. This place has been out of commission for at least four thousand one hundred years, I wouldn’t be surprised if the screens don’t work anymore. Plus, if they’re late-9th millenium tech they’ll be a real pain to fix, it was only around 9200 that they finally started to build stuff properly again.”

“Well, it doesn’t hurt to try,” Penumbra said as she checked over each individual wire and connection with her magic, “this place seems like a maze, it could take days to search it on our own. We don’t have days.”

“I doubt whoever called you doesn’t plan to wait, especially after giving us the run-around like this. If I was in your place, I’d have ignored it.” Penumbra turned and gave her a warning stare. “I’m just saying,” Ablazed Glory countered, “this all seems a bit suspicious to me. Now, I’m sure whoever wants to meet you is a perfectly lovely person - just like the last one - but they could’ve made it way easier, you can agree with that.”

Penumbra sighed. “It’s not my place to demand she make it easier.” She continued working with the wires for another ten seconds, before shaking her head and relinquishing her magical grip on them, the damage must have been done elsewhere.

“I’m sure it’s not. But, I’m perfectly allowed to. After all, we’re a team, so my word’s as good as yours.” Ablazed Glory kicked the next door along, with it hissing and clearly trying to open. She kicked it again, far harder, which dislodged something and allowed the door to open halfway, jamming with a squeal once it had made a gap enough for her to just squeeze through.

“See what you can find in there,” Penumbra ordered, whilst she checked the wiring of another screen, “if it looks like an on switch then flick it.”

Ablazed Glory was an expert with machines, or so she told just about everyone she met. The reality was far different, though she would never tell anyone, she was sure that machines seemed to like her, like they reacted well to her presence. She had fixed a generator on New Horizons simply by going near it, having walked out of the shelter that housed it with a theatrical flare and declared herself the resident engineer. She was no expert when it came to machinery, even if she pretended to be, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t at least good at working with them - she knew a thing or two.

When she passed through the gap in the door, she came immediately upon a machine, shrouded in darkness. Though the lights were long dead, no doubt having failed the microsecond after the station’s complement left, she could just about make out some of the machine’s console, with the rest being illuminated by her burning body.

Like all Imperial machinery, it was very utilitarian, without even so much as a coat of paint. Each of the buttons were grey, the levers the barest metal outlines, with their respective jobs written in simple, black runes beneath each one. Attached directly behind the console was a large cuboidal block, with half of a cylinder above, giving away very little as to its purpose.

“Thean?” She read one of the runic sets aloud, “I swear I’ve read this before. Was it on that engine back on New Horizons? Thean, meaning engage? No, it can’t be, that’s yol. Wait, are these runes Standard? Surely they are, it’s Imperial tech. Does that one stand for ‘th’ or ‘ya’? I swear in Standard it’s ‘th’, but then that one couldn’t be ‘e’ it’d have to be ‘u’.”

She scratched her head, she blamed it on the poor light and decay of the letters. Regardless of the cause, she didn’t know fully what she was reading, too concerned as to potential damage to simply push a button and find out.

“Penumbra,” she shouted through the gap, “what’s the word for engage?”

“Eiro,” her companion shouted back, “though you’ll probably be looking for Eirus if it’s a machine.”

“What’s the rune for ‘Ei’?”

Penumbra’s head appeared in the gap a few seconds later. “What do you mean?”

Ablazed Glory looked down sheepishly. “Like, what’s it look like?”

Her companion blinked silently. “It’s a crook and handle with a dot in the centre of the crook.”

“Oh right, okay.”

Ablazed Glory turned back to the machine, hunting for the word ‘Eirus’ or anything similar. She found it in the form of a button, which she pressed to reveal nothing but a mechanical clunk. Evidently, the other buttons and levers had some use in preparing the machine for ignition.

“I’m alright now,” she called back to Penumbra, who she knew was still there, “you can go back to your screen.”

Her companion eventually did, allowing Ablazed Glory to focus fully on the machine. A few more translation errors later she sat back on her haunches and examined the whole panel.

“This machine,” the Shining amulet said, startling Ablazed Glory slightly, “bears a fragment of a soul. An animalistic soul. You must sate it before you activate it, it is linked to many more like it across this station.”

“A soul? How does it have a soul?”

“The one you seek,” Shining said, “implanted this machine with an artificial fragment of a soul.”

Ablazed Glory nodded gravely, thanking the Shining amulet before rising to her feet. She pressed a button she understood, before half-chanting, “soul of this engine, I request your aid, let your mechanical life blood flow through you and ignite at my call.”

She’d read a book about cult practices three centuries prior.

A second later, she tested the engage button, which gave another mechanical clunk. Ablazed Glory lamented that she had failed, that it would take her hours to fully translate and work out an order for each of the buttons and levers, before the machine roared to life, a content aura within it - though that could have just been her imagination.

Penumbra reappeared at the door. “The screens are back on. I think that machine must have been a generator of some kind, I can get us to the control room now.”

Ablazed Glory gave a theatrical bow, clambering out through the broken door and back into the slightly more illuminated hallway. The screens all flared blue, Penumbra quickly locating an interactive map of the facility, with the control room marked in runic writing.

“Okay,” she said, thinking aloud as usual, “down this hall, right turn, ahead fifty metres, left turn, ahead twenty, right again, then up four levels.”

Ablazed Glory, meanwhile, was almost silently muttering to the screen, hoping to placate the soul inside of it - if one was even present. Penumbra was too busy rambling to herself to notice.

“Alright,” she said eventually, “I’ve got us a way, follow please.”

She set off regardless of Ablazed Glory’s affirmative, knowing she would follow regardless. She did, indeed, but not after muttering a thanks to the screen - just to be on the safe side. Everytime she did so, it felt less and less like she was mental - which was an upside.

Aside from the screens, which were all identical, the hallways were completely featureless. Only slight differences in the intervals between doors stopped them from thinking they weren’t walking in circles again. Eventually, though, they reached an elevator, with working doors and console.

Penumbra keyed them in for four levels up, Ablazed Glory mumbling a thank you to the elevator.

“Huh?” Penumbra turned to her. “Did you say something?”

Ablazed Glory shook her head.

Penumbra hummed. “Must be my imagination.” She chuckled wryly. “That or there’s someone about to drop down and kill us.”

The Shining amulet assured her telepathically she was doing the right thing, the vast majority of machines in the installation had the fragments he described within them, placating them would make their lives considerably easier. She would rather not deal with a murderous elevator.

The hallways leading towards the control room were considerably larger, wider and taller generally. The whole space felt far less cramped, even though the actual size difference was fairly small.

The control room was sealed off with a bulkhead, by Penumbra’s estimation it was about a metre thick, more than too much for them to simply breach through. Penumbra tried the console by its side first, but gave a frustrated snarl after a minute or two.

“Something’s wrong with it,” she said, “it’s like it’s trying to keep me away from the open command. You try it.”

Ablazed Glory stepped up to the console, bowing her head slightly and riffing a statement of appeasement. “Soul of this machine, I request your aid, let your spark run through you and open the way before us.”

Okay, maybe she had read several books on cult practices before.

Though she sensed Penumbra’s confusion and partial displeasure behind her, she could also sense a more neutral aura with the machine, it seemed more relaxed in her presence than Penumbra’s.

Not letting her good work go to waste, she continued unabated, “we are humbled in your presence, noble machine, we petition you for our safe passage.”

The machine accepted her, the open command appearing directly before her claw. With a push, the bulkhead opened, revealing the control room, the machine’s satisfied aura behind her.

Unlike the machine however, Penumbra was more than dissatisfied. Ablazed Glory knew full well why.

Penumbra had been a strong adherent to Emperor Nicholas’ philosophies, even though she had no understanding of the conditions that had birthed them - and even though she clearly hated the man. Amongst many of the Emperor’s philosophies that had begun as personal biases - although there were very understandable reasons for them - had been his hatred of religion. Whilst the Dominion remained firmly atheist, it permitted religious practice and generally didn’t care much about religion as a whole, the Irenton Empire had been brutal in its opposition to religion, destroying every faith it came across. Penumbra had inherited that hatred, more out of reverence for the Emperor than an actual conflict. What Ablazed Glory was doing would have been regarded in the days of the Empire as ‘superstitious activity,’ not a crime but very close to one - even without any religious connotations.

“They have souls,” Ablazed Glory told her as she entered the control room, which increased her ire further, “fragments of them, Shining told me. Your new friend put them there.” Ablazed Glory was proud to admit herself as a master at manipulating conversation. “Thank her, not me.”

That seemed to get Penumbra off her back, with the alicorn accepting for the time being she was incorrect.

The control room was at least three times the size of the Retaliator’s command bridge, with about ninety sets of consoles excluding those built into the walls, which held thick, reinforced windows looking out over an immense hangar bay, the doors firmly closed at the end.

All of the terminals were active, analysing the now empty fuel tanks and ensuring the electromagnet systems were all functioning correctly, quietly ticking over down the millennia. The two alicorns searched the consoles for a good few minutes, before Ablazed Glory found what she believed must have been the command console. She understood only a few of the words written on it, but that was enough to discern that not only were the electromagnets functioning perfectly and the fuel tanks fully secured and eagerly awaiting the time they would be needed again, but also that someone had placed a message onto the console - one she couldn’t read.

“Penumbra,” she called her comrade over, “this one’s the main terminal, I think. There’s a message on it I can’t read.”

Penumbra checked the console over within a few seconds, reading the message thoroughly and memorising each segment, making good use of her uncanny knack to remember even the most obscure of information she had taken, at most, a cursory glance at.

“It says it’s from the edge of the Cloud,” she said, “there’s coordinates attached. I think this is it.”

“This is it?” Ablazed Glory questioned. “You mean, this is the source?”

Penumbra nodded. “Yeah. We’d best get moving.”

She had practically sprinted off, only conscious of the arbitrary time limit she had given herself. Ablazed Glory muttered thanks to the console, which gave a cheerful magical response, before herself dashing off, following her companion.

Penumbra practically jumped aboard the Retaliator, immediately ordering the Luminary to the coordinates she had memorised. Ablazed Glory, meanwhile, tried her best to be fast, but was so caught up thanking every console or door she saw that by the time she dashed into the airlock - thanking that even though it was from her own ship - Penumbra was already on the bridge.

The Retaliator undocked barely half a minute later, Ablazed Glory slowly walking to the bridge, content that she didn’t really need to be there for the time being. Penumbra, for all her faults, wasn’t incompetent, she could handle being in charge for a little while.

The Majesty

Their journey through the Rift was a slow one, giving Penumbra an anxious doubt and Ablazed Glory enough time to clamber onto the bridge and back into her seat. Unlike usual Rift travel, the red and purple maelstrom wasn’t near-immediately cut off by a hole of black void, which would have allowed passage back into real space. Rather, it lingered, the ship noticeably still travelling, just not out of the Rift like Penumbra wanted.

“Why are we taking so long?” Penumbra questioned aloud in a somewhat overly theatrical manner - in the way one does when asking a question to nobody in particular.

Naturally, it was Ablazed Glory who answered, far more relaxed than her compatriot. “Probably just routine Rift widening, used to happen all the time.” She emphasised her point with a dismissive wave of her claw.

By Rift widening, she meant the Rift’s tendency to fluctuate in the path of starships, making an exit from the Rift more difficult. During the advent of Rift travel, Rift widening had been a very dangerous phenomena, often regarded as an ill omen upon a ship or crew. For tens of thousands of years, however, Rift widening had been little more than an annoyance to starship captains, perhaps making them a few minutes late to a meeting, though little more than that.

“Oh? Oh.” Ablazed Glory’s flaming eyes widened with a flash of red as she observed her console. “I’m picking up massive gravitational disturbances near our exit point. We’re transitioning right into what looks like a massive gravity well. Luminary, initiate course realignment, take us a million kilometres out.”

The ship lurched to a sudden stop, slowly rotating clockwise for a few seconds, before returning to full speed again, an exit rift opening up, the darkness of space - the Milky Way hanging above like a giant firefly - stretched out before them.

The Retaliator had exited the Rift without concern. “Relax, Penumbra. We’re completely fine,” Ablazed Glory reassured her comrade - though there was enough of a tinge in her voice to not calm Penumbra in the slightest - “Luminary, give us a scan, what was that gravity well?”

It took the Luminary all of three seconds to reply. “Security protocols engaged.” Which was absolutely not what Penumbra had wanted to hear, nor was it, in any way, an answer to Ablazed Glory’s question.

Before she could yell something nonsensical, however, Ablazed Glory intervened. “Rescind that command. Deactivate security protocols, focus us on the gravity well.”

The ship realigned, slowly turning 180 degrees to face the clear source of the gravity well, which the Retaliator had very nearly exited the Rift straight into.

“Oh my,” Ablazed Glory’s exclamation trailed off, as she and her companion stared in awe at the object that hung before them.

Against the backdrop of the Large Magellanic Cloud, like a shadow on a screen, hung a vessel. It was a titanic form, with three titanic arms extending from a central, monolithic structure, which was over a thousand kilometres in length, its jagged, spiked edges longer than cities. The thing’s armatures seemed as an immense skeleton, giving it a distinctly - and rather unnervingly - living impression.

Ablazed Glory and Penumbra both spoke at the same time.

“It’s beautiful.”

“It’s terrifying.”

They looked to each other, both disapproving of what the other had said but still inwardly consumed by the shock of seeing such an object. It was like the corpse of some ancient god, beyond the scope of a mortal brain in its magnitude.

“Luminary,” Ablazed Glory said, timidly, “what is it?”

The Luminary was silent for half a second before answering. “A world killer. An Archon’s Forge.”

It sounded almost concerned.

“Take us in,” Ablazed Glory ordered, with a surprising firmness.

As they closed with the Archon’s Forge, Penumbra was forced into her magical sight. The whole vessel was glowing, but held a yet brighter glow in the centre of its central structure - a similar sight to staring at the sun for too long. Its very presence made her feel somewhat light headed, as though she had just stood up too fast, but she felt certain this must have been the source of her dream and the coordinates. This must have been her.

Ablazed Glory had disappeared from the bridge, but Penumbra’s attention was focused solely upon the Archon’s Forge ahead of them. Ablazed Glory would be fine.

Up close, the Archon’s Forge appeared to be made of polished obsidian, though it was abundantly clear it was not. Peppered across its surface were hundreds of thousands of weapon batteries, of a class that the Luminary could not identify, though each one hummed with a strange, repulsive energy. Penumbra sighted an opening, a hangar of some kind, eight kilometres tall and thirty across, barely a speck on the vessel’s hull, immediately and frantically ordering the Luminary to land them within.

Her senses called her within, screaming at her to get inside and get to the centre as quickly as possible. She did not even wait to find Ablazed Glory, or to see what the Luminary said about the conditions beyond the airlock. She did not even have the courtesy to wait for the airlock, simply teleporting down to the platform they had landed on.

Fortunately for her energy reserves, the air was breathable and the atmosphere was perfectly safe. As a matter of fact, the air smelt faintly of berries and it bore none of the usual hallmarks of recycled air.

She ran to the nearest door, which simply moulded around her when she tried to walk through. She spared no time to think about the odd qualities of it - least of all the fact it felt almost organic - instead dashing forwards through what appeared to be an almost pitch black connecting corridor, through another strange liquid door and into a garden, with a ceiling a kilometre above her, a thin stream by her feet, trees and flowers all over.

Ablazed Glory had spent ten minutes gathering nothing but paper and pens. She could write, though her handwriting was abysmal and the language she wrote in was commonly referred to by most she knew as “snobbish”, “poncey”, or “what does that squiggle mean?” As a child under Emperor Nicholas - who had seen fit to teach her more practical matters than writing - she could only reliably read and write in an ancient - and now almost certainly extinct, aside from herself - dialect of Common Valkyr, from a time before even the Empire.

She hauled her stash of materials outside, bundled together in a telekinetic bubble a good few metres from her body, to protect it from burning. Looking across the hangar in fervent awe, she quickly realised she had very little light - save herself - so carefully lowered her materials and retreated back inside, searching for a candle she could easily light. Sure enough, she found a dozen of them inside one of the Retaliator’s supply cupboards - why it had carried them she didn’t know - she took three and carried them back outside, lighting each with a burning talon and carefully setting them out in a triangle around her chosen writing area.

With appropriate care, she took a sheet of paper and a pen in her telekinesis, ensuring they remained at least three metres from her at all times. She was thankful for her magical sight, allowing her to actually see what she was writing from time to time by simply zooming in, whilst her telekinetic skills allowed her to write and look around the room all at the same time. With almost frantic speed, she began recording what she observed from the great machine that surrounded her.

Fortunately for Penumbra’s health, the garden had calmed her down immensely. The faint trickle of the stream, smell of the flowers and softness of the grass at her feet had allowed her to fully refocus back on herself, allowing her time to breathe and recoup her thoughts and self. Her magical vision faded slowly and almost imperceptibly away, allowing Penumbra to see real colour once again. She took a moment to take in her surroundings, letting herself sit back and relax, feeling her stress and worry leave her.

Though she rose a minute later to continue her trek onwards, the gardens were enormous. Even if she ran it would take at least half an hour to cross them. Running was not something she planned to do, not whilst surrounded by such a kindly environment. So, she slowly plodded on, mindful of her surroundings and their calming effect on her.

It was like home.

Ablazed Glory was lucky she brought reams and reams of paper with her. She had taken an entire stack from one of the storage cupboards, at least a thousand pages in total. Within minutes, she had written a good thirty pages, all with her writing condensed far beyond its usual level. Her inspiration hadn’t been sated, only enhanced, with her writing becoming near frantic scrawling, going by a full paper a minute.

What had begun as descriptions of what she could see had evolved into descriptions of what she could feel. She felt life in the structure around her, in its pillars and flying buttresses. Just like the machines on the extractor station, this vessel too must have borne a soul, or souls, perhaps - or, maybe, the idea of it being the body of some ancient deity wasn’t too far-fetched. Upon remembering the extractor station, she grabbed a second paper sheet and pen and began writing up what she had discovered and felt there, closing her eyes to better visualise the memories but also free up much needed mental bandwidth, she would be writing for a long time.

Penumbra emerged from the garden and into an enormous courtyard. It was almost like a city square in its appearance, save it was fully enclosed - with a circular stained glass window depicting what appeared to be a star some five kilometres above her - and only had one building actually attached to it. Before her stood an immense, gothic edifice, with its gargoyles taking on an appearance similar to that of dragons, which gave off an odd sense of cunning that Penumbra chalked down to the immersive aura of the place.

Above the door - this one noticeably solid - hung a giant stained glass window, depicting a figure not unlike the one who had appeared to her in her dream stood in a heroic pose, broadsword raised high in her left hand. Recognition flashed in her eye for just a moment.

She pushed the door aside, revealing an immense hall. The pillars were three times as wide as her and the ceiling, so far above, was shrouded in darkness. A choir, a large one at that, was singing a chant in a language she couldn’t understand. The chant itself was beautiful and melodic, echoing ethereally through the hall she had entered, though the choir itself did not seem to be located anywhere. There weren’t any speakers either, not even electrical current entered the room or anywhere near it, suggesting it wasn’t simply a recording. Regardless, she pushed on, enjoying the feeling of the visibly thin but wonderfully soft red and gold embroidered carpet at her feet.

Penumbra climbed a pair of steps onto the slightly raised end third of the hall, which led to a black stone altar. On the altar were four candles, one in each corner, none seemed to have ever been lit but still smelled vaguely of smoke, with a clearly ancient leather bound tome lying closed in its centre.

She opened the thickly bound cover to the first page, finding writing in a language she had never seen before; though, the reason she couldn’t translate it may have been that it was written in a script that was barely legible to her. She flicked through a few more pages, though each one presented her with the same illegible script and language she couldn’t identify.

She contemplated taking the tome with her, though she assumed it had been left in place for a reason. Also, it was unlikely the one she sought out a meeting with would be particularly happy about having her belongings stolen by a guest.

She closed the tome once again, returning it to exactly how she had found it. The hall branched out just ahead of the altar, with the branch left of the entrance leading to a stained glass window and little else. The branch to the right, however, held a door, being Penumbra’s best bet to continue further inwards. She forged ahead.

The next room was another more open area, similar to the courtyard she had experienced previously, with its vast gothic edifice, though this particular structure contained a sign on the door, in the form of a golden plaque.

The writing on the plaque was in Assembly Binary, a language she was proud to say she was fluent in. “Bath House,” Penumbra read aloud, “why would anyone need a bath house on a starship?”

She pushed the door aside with a hoof, before quickly realising exactly why someone would need a bath house on a starship.

Before her, as far as her eyes could see, stretched a room designed solely for comfort and relaxation. Steam filled the air, as did the smell of exotic fragrance. The room was bright and built of marble and gold. Hot baths the size of fields, tiered pools larger than houses and artificial waterfalls that kicked up a vast layer of vapour, were laid out before her, as if trying to tempt her. At first, she pushed ahead, skirting the edges of the pools along the surprisingly frictioned marble walkways. After a good twenty minutes of walking, however, she detached her armour, laying it on a flat, open area near one of the pools, before she slowly stepped in, sinking slowly until the water was up to her shoulders. She hummed in satisfaction and laid back, she would allow herself to relax, just for now.

Ablazed Glory had developed a magical cramp. Regardless, even as her magical grip gradually felt less and less in terms of touch, she continued her frantic writings. Sure, she could have slowed down, but Penumbra could return at any moment. She felt a compulsive need to write everything, whilst the flame of inspiration the Archon’s Forge brought on burned inside of her.

“This,” Penumbra said, though her speech was so slow it was possible to suspect her of not saying anything, “is good.”

“You are certainly impressive.” An ethereal, bodiless voice chuckled, causing Penumbra to rear up in alarm and adopt a fighting stance, despite the fact she was still submerged.

Penumbra ignited her sword and floated it close to her. “Who goes there?” Then mentally slapped herself for being so cliche.

“My apologies,” the voice said, Penumbra recognised it as that of the woman from her dream - at least there was now proof she was in the right place - “these are the Royal Baths, in my culture it is acceptable to admire the forms of those with natural beauty when in such a communal location.” The way she enunciated ‘admire’ made Penumbra blush slightly beneath her coat, though she had no clue as to why. It was probably the heat.

“Where are you?” Penumbra called out, deactivating her sword and lowering it back next to her breast plate.

“I am in the Throne Room,” the voice said, “technically. In reality I am all over this ship.” She cut off Penumbra’s question before she asked it, “which is something I shall explain to you when you arrive.”

“And where is the Throne Room?” Penumbra asked, “this ship is not a small thing.”

“A few rooms ahead of you is the conflux room,” the voice said, “from there I can bring you to just outside my Throne Room. Do not feel rushed, my dear, the baths are wonderful for the skin.”

Penumbra awkwardly removed herself from the pool - she could relax later. She couldn’t abandon herself to comfort when she was so close to reaching her goal - no matter how much she wanted to. She prepared to redon her armour, before realising she was soaked and covering herself in a drying spell. Her coat was dry for a second, before the sheer volume of steam around her wetted it again. Regardless, she clipped her armour back on, the eyepieces of her helmet automatically clearing the water from her vision and showing her the layout of the room ahead.

As she walked through the baths, she felt an intense yearning to simply remove her suit and jump back in again, just ignore her objective for a few minutes and bring back the bliss she had experienced earlier. Still, she pushed ahead, holding herself just long enough to push open the exit door and leave the baths behind. She breathed an all-too audible sigh of relief when her great temptation was no longer visible.

She emerged into another courtyard, with the choral singing seeming to have gotten louder. She knew she was close to where she needed to be, with the next gothic edifice containing another branching hall with an altar, as she had seen before. The structure she was in was slightly different, however, in that there was an immense pipe organ behind the altar. Penumbra did not know how to play a pipe organ, thus she did not even attempt to do so. As she headed down the right branch, assuming - correctly - that the layout was identical to that of the previous similar hall, a pipe organ began to play, supplementing the choir.

It could not possibly have been the organ behind her, it was too quiet, but she spun about to check regardless. No sound left the pipes, the organ did not outwardly move, though she could see something moving within through her magic. She turned back and quickly left, having given up on the concept of completely understanding the intricacies of where she was - an all to aware that it could have been literally anything.

The facade at the end of the next courtyard was, as the last, signed. Again, it was a golden plaque on the door, the writing in Assembly Binary. “Conflux,” she read, “well, this must be it. This was where she said she’d be able to get me.”

Penumbra steeled herself for what she would face beyond, part of her prepared in case it turned out to be a trap. When she pushed the door aside, however, she was greeted with a crystal rotunda, very little light, and a kilometres high vertical shaft, terminating in a surface identical to that of the ground.

“Welcome,” the voice said, “this is the conflux room, one of many scattered about the ship. Naturally, expecting all of my guests to walk for weeks to reach me is a little too much, so I can use these rooms to teleport you up to me. Just relax, this will feel a little strange to you.”

Penumbra was suddenly overcome by an unpleasant sensation of being drunk through a straw. Her vision vanished for a second, before suddenly reappearing, with her location having changed to a large courtyard outside a large gothic edifice - an architectural feature that narrowed down her location to essentially anywhere on the ship. When she turned to look about, however, she noticed that there were no walls that constricted this courtyard. Each of the walls were miles away, with a sheer drop between the floor she was standing on and anything else save the structure ahead.

The structure itself was very regal looking, with far more of an emphasis on the size and gravity-defying elements of its architecture. The entrance way, sat atop five long, wide steps, was flanked by a pair of statues, almost identical to those of the gargoyles present on the lower edifices - only far larger and with a far greater air of smug cunning. These statues, however, bore titles, “Laernae,” one read, and “Calien,” the other.

She ascended the steps, being met with the woman’s voice when she reached the top. “Sunless-Halo-of-Penumbra, welcome to my Throne Room.”

Astrid

The door opened inwards, revealing a room the size of the Retaliator - possibly even larger. All around it were shelves, stacked with trinkets, some of which Penumbra could not even begin to discern a purpose from. Four statues, each of a near identical figure, save each one having a single defining characteristic - a sword for one and a cloak for another, lined the path leading up to the central dais.

Atop three concentric circular layers, stood a simple black stone throne. It was angular, fairly small and didn’t look particularly comfortable, though Penumbra could feel the power it radiated. It was the ship’s heart, linked up to a figure who hid in a patch of darkness behind it.

A woman, svelte, tall, fair of skin, with deep blue eyes with stars that twinkled within them, her pearly blonde hair in a long plait behind her, stepped out. She wore plates of armour of a silvery metal, above a black bodysuit, her boots were skin-tight and went up to the knee, but appeared almost fluid when she moved. The aura around her was immense, enough to scorch the barrier between realms.

“I,” she said, her voice melodic, powerful and beautiful, “am the Archon Astrid.”

Penumbra tried to respond, but no words formed on her tongue.

“You do not know of me,” she said, “not as they did. But, I know you can feel what I was, what I am. They worshipped me as a deity, once. They were convinced my power could only be that of a god.”

She chuckled - Penumbra very much liked her chuckle. “Though, if they say I am a god, am I not? My brother cared more for semantics than I. Welcome, Penumbra, you have come far. I am afraid amongst all of these artefacts I do not have a tea set, unless you are willing to try and drink from Abaddon’s goblet, a task I would not recommend.”

“Abaddon,” Penumbra breathed, “the owner of the Shield of Abaddon?”

Astrid chuckled again - that would never get old, Penumbra thought. “Creator,” she said, before clarifying further, “now former owner. I dueled him millions of years ago, around the same time I tricked the two Wish Dragons that you saw on the way inside.”

“Wish Dragons?” Penumbra’s head struggled to keep up - struggled in vain. “Aren’t they a myth?”

“They wished for you to think that,” she said, tapping her nose, and not exactly clarifying, “so they are, except, they are not. In time, you will come to understand them. For now, however, they are best left unsolved.”

Astrid lazily took a seat on the throne, slouched back, with her right leg hanging on the right arm of the chair. “Abaddon,” she said, returning to her original point, “was one of the first of the Light’s champions. Unlike most of the Light’s minions, however, he retained some form of free thought…”

Katava, Astrid’s brother, had relished in the battle against the hordes of daemons. He was clear to see and hear, standing over twenty feet tall, his massive, spiked armour wreathed in flames, roaring out both war cries and malicious laughter. His sword, blade curved like that of a scythe, carved effortlessly through the swamp of creatures around him. Like an expert reaper, he cut down hundreds at a time, their comrades scrambling over their crushed corpses, only to be cut down the moment they reached him.

In far orbit, enormous and menacing, hung five Archon’s Forges. Tiberius had expressed his concern over even two of them being in such close proximity to each other whilst active, let alone five. But, Astrid had been able to calm him with merely a few words. “They shall be fine, brother,” she had said, with Tiberius simply nodding and giving her plan his approval.

Her three remaining siblings remained on their vessels, surrounded by their various retinues, prepared if necessary to bring their full force to bear against the Light’s forces. Astrid’s servants were with them also, though Katava’s could not be shackled to observation duty. Their fanaticism would have driven them to the surface under far more chaotic and potentially disastrous circumstances, thus Astrid had deemed it acceptable to deploy the Archon of War’s most vicious berserkers to cover her flanks.

They had been preparing for this event for some time. Indeed, Lokus had tried to disrupt the plan’s timeline and sent assassin after assassin - though they had all failed. There was no malice behind his action, his fellow Archons having long since become used to his compulsion to scheme and meddle.

Whilst Katava and his retinue would crush the Light’s armies, their task was a secondary concern, a distraction to allow Astrid to complete the real objective. Astrid’s most trusted advisor had brought to her rumours of a powerful beast roaming the galactic fringe, though, far more troublingly, had come the report that the beast was preparing a daemonic engine for some malign purpose. It was the concern of Tiberius, upon hearing the rumours, that prompted Astrid to act as she did. She had convened a vast conclave, who had collectively decided on what needed to be done.

Abaddon, Lost to Light, stood before his vile engine. It was unfinished, clearly, with its energies not nearly what would be expected of it. Abaddon, though, paid it no heed, made no attempt to finish it. Rather, he waited, flexing his mammoth grip on his axe and shield. He clearly knew of Astrid’s intent, knowing that even if he wished to finish his task then he would have to remove her from the equation first - though his stance suggested a knowledge of what was to come.

She approached slowly, calmly, casually, even. He growled as he recognised her, though it was not a growl of simple, bestial anger. Rather, Astrid could smell his hatred, but also his respect, upon the air.

“You come.” His voice was deep and guttural, sounding more like a mountain than a man. “At last, to stop the creation of my beacon?”

Astrid gave a wry chuckle. “Very astute. Although, stopping you is my primary goal - the beacon is simply a welcome addition.”

Abaddon snorted, he clearly had a sense of humour. “Your reputation travels far,” he said, apparently being genuine in his compliment, “I must say, I had yearned for the day I would meet you at last. That we would meet on the field of battle, our battle will be the stuff of legend!”

“Indeed it will.” She leaned slightly to the side. “We both know how this ends.”

Abaddon bellowed out a laugh. “Indeed we do. Come, Astrid, give me a death worthy of a warrior.”

Astrid’s recollection faded, placing Penumbra right back to where she was before it had begun, far from that ancient, barren battlefield.

“How?” Penumbra tried to ask, though couldn’t find the exact right words.

“They called me the Princess of Dreams,” she said, “my illusions are so perfect they become real.”

“I had a friend, once,” Penumbra said, “she could go into a pony's dreams. She’d help them and protect them from nightmares.”

Astrid gave her a sympathetic look. “And now, she only resides within your nightmares.”

Penumbra nodded glumly.

“I know who you speak of. Thousands of years ago I spoke with her, under a different guise. I know she eventually became a compatriot of Emperor Nicholas, around the same time I did. You survived what you did for a reason, Penumbra, make no mistake. Your soul bears within it such power that I myself am subsumed by comparison. Her memory, and the memories of all of your friends, rests within you. One day, that memory shall torment you no longer. Of that I am sure.”

Penumbra nodded, the two remaining in silence for a short while. “Why did you call me here?” She asked, “it was certainly not to tell me you fought Abaddon.”

Astrid smiled. “Of course not. I called you here to request that I be allowed to join you.”

“Join me? Join me where?”

“Join you and Ablazed Glory aboard your ship, of course.” She gestured to the room all around her, “this ship is still hibernating. Still sleeping, still dreaming. It will be decades yet before it wakes. Though you may not believe it, even the Royal Baths become boring after a while. And I have taken somewhat of a liking to you.”

Penumbra decided it best to skip over her final - and quite openly flirtatious - comment. “How did you know about Ablazed Glory?” Penumbra asked, before quickly realising that such a question was almost stupid to ask.

She received a smile, then a reply. “Her dreams are interesting to observe. Plus, she’s been scribbling in the hangar for a good few hours now, I’ve had more than long enough to observe her.”

“We should probably get back to her,” Penumbra said, “I hadn’t realised it’d been so long.”

Astrid nodded. “Don’t you want to sit on the throne first?”

Penumbra squinted at her. “Why? It’s just a chair, isn’t it?” Except it wasn’t, she knew it wasn’t - no chair glowed magically like that.

Astrid chuckled, jumping to her feet and gesturing to the chair. “Why not take a look yourself?”

Almost reluctantly, Penumbra took a seat, her vision suddenly pulling back to the outside of the ship. She could feel it, its entire hull, everything within it. She could feel the ship’s heart beat, feel its blood flowing. Even half-dormant it was formidable, requiring far more energy than she could hope to muster. She managed to move it an inch, a distance far too small to even be felt by anyone aboard, though Penumbra herself felt like the ship had begun to meld with her. The sheer effort of moving the titanic vessel even such a small distance had taxed her heavily, she caught herself as she began to greyout, feeling as though she was being sucked into the machine’s embrace.

It was more than a body of a deity - it was a god in its own right.

Astrid pulled her out, dragging her away from the chair. “My apologies,” she said, concern flooding into her voice, checking Penumbra over and ensuring she was still breathing. “I hadn’t expected you to begin to meld with it. Let alone move it as you did. Come, I shall get us to your ship, there you can rest.”

Her teleportation was unlike any Penumbra had experienced before. Rather than the flash and momentary blindness of her own magic, or the strange being drunk sensation that brought her to Astrid’s front door, she simply appeared in the hangar. One moment they were in the Throne Room, the next they were a few metres from the Retaliator, a very confused looking Ablazed Glory watching them, a pile of papers about a foot high behind her.

“Who are you?” She asked, pointing a claw at Astrid.

“Penumbra’s dream woman,” she said, before clarifying, “Astrid, from Penumbra’s dream. Although, I probably am her dream woman.” She smirked and gave a wry laugh, before lifting Penumbra up effortlessly. “Come.” She gestured to the Retaliator with her head. “She needs rest.”

Ablazed Glory rose, her papers and now extinguished candles collected in two telekinetic bubbles behind her. The implications of Penumbra’s lesbian awakening would have to wait.

“We should head to Sanctuary’s Watch,” she said, “that’s where Penumbra’s house is. At least, I think it’s her house.” She allowed Astrid through the airlock first.

“It looks like an observatory tower, or a cross between a library and a dump. Seriously, she goes on about how she loves categorising things then just throws eleven different books onto her bed. She was reading the manual for an excavator, a book about the Dominion’s governmental bodies and a love story about two Artisans at the same time - Confidence and Chauvinism, or something. Like, who even does that.”

Ablazed Glory’s ramblings continued as she led the way to the bridge, carefully placing her papers and candles into her quarters as they went. When they reached the bridge, she mercifully stopped.

“The room back there.” She pointed to Penumbra’s quarters. “Just chuck her on the bed. Luminary, take us to Sanctuary’s Watch. And have all of the authorisation ready before we arrive.”

“Affirmative, Rift prepared.”

“Engage Rift.”

Ablazed Glory revelled in the chance to give the engage order for once. At her command, the viewscreen was filled with the maelstrom of the Rift and silence fell upon the bridge, only broken by Astrid’s footsteps from behind her, though they were near silent. The Archon took up a seat at the console on Ablazed Glory’s right - a happily smitten little grin on her face.

Cain

As per usual with the rigour of the Chronovus authorities, the trip to Sanctuary’s Watch took several hours. So long, in fact, that Penumbra had fully rested up and entered the bridge by the time Sanctuary’s Watch had only just appeared on the viewscreen. The situation above the moon was almost identical to the last time they had returned, with thousands of vessels passing back and forth in an elaborate three-dimensional swan dance. With no direction that could be confirmed as up, the various vessels of all shapes and sizes coiled and corkscrewed around one another, forming a chaotic looking pattern that still - despite its looks - managed to be both completely safe and efficient.

After Penumbra’s awakening, there was still another hour to kill before their authorisation to land would be confirmed. Even using her fair amount of leverage, which had shaved hours off of their time at least, she still could not ever guarantee that an approach to Chronove or its satellites would be fast. In fact, she could certainly guarantee quite the opposite. Regardless, Penumbra took no small comfort in the routine the systems provided, able to simply sit back and relax whilst the AI carefully manoeuvred her through safely.

Whilst Penumbra enjoyed the procedure, Ablazed Glory was the polar opposite. Whilst she somewhat understood the need for it, she was the type to become bored very easily. So, when she was left on the bridge of the ship with absolutely nothing to do, whilst the Luminary guided them through check after agonisingly slow check, she felt her brain trying to escape. She had accepted, however, that the procedures weren’t up to her, and never would be. Probably for the best, really.

“Ah.” Astrid gave a contented smile and sight as she observed the thousands of silver spirals in front of them. “It has been a long time since I was here.”

Ablazed Glory chuckled, fiddling with a metal toothpick between her fangs. “What? Been on holiday here before?”

“Depends on what you’d call a holiday,” she said, gazing out over Chronove’s shining metallic surface, “Emperor Nicholas had requested we ensure Chronove was safe and secure before he arrived. He had practically burst into the material world on Asmodeus, he was so drained by his time away from real space that he could not control his entry point. Then, as you know, the war began.”

“We?” Ablazed Glory asked, as Penumbra very conspicuously poured herself a glass of whiskey.

“My siblings,” Astrid said, also noticing Penumbra’s not so subtle action, she turned and called over, “if there’s another glass.”

Penumbra floated one over, significantly smaller than the good half a litre she’d poured herself. Astrid caught it graciously in her own telekinesis, though hers had the advantage of being invisible - achieved by little more than manipulation of her lithe fingers.

“Where are your siblings?”

Astrid swirled the alcohol in her glass for a moment, before shrugging. “I’m not sure. They’re all off, busy doing their own things. Tiberius has probably found some poor bastard on a primitive world to harass.” She laughed at her thought. “He’s going to tell them all about proton decay then send them off into the world, like a beautiful butterfly. Yes, a beautiful, confused butterfly.”

Silence followed for a good few minutes.

“Luminary,” Ablazed Glory broke the silence, though only because silence seemed to weigh her down, “how far are we from landing?”

“Forty seven minutes,” it said.

Silence followed again.

Within mere moments of landing, Ablazed Glory was outside the ship, audibly delighted at being on real, solid ground. “Some damn decent weather,” she yelled to the sky, taking in a deep, exaggerated breath, “actual good air.”

Penumbra and Astrid followed ten minutes after her, both walking steadily down the airlock’s ramp. Penumbra was far less vocal than Ablazed Glory and preferred to simply take in the sweet spring air, the cool breeze on her face and the view of her quaint little tower.

“Built by the Assembly,” Astrid mused, “ancient and powerful, though apparently not averse to the aesthetics of their past.”

She walked along the grass, though left no footprints, it was as though she wasn’t even there. Slowly, but surely, the grass in a small radius around her began to grow. Where she walked, life apparently followed.

Suddenly, she froze still, before looking up into Penumbra’s tower. She had a quizzical look on her face, before turning to the alicorn that was to her front right. “You don’t happen to have a companion, do you?” She asked, “who would be in your tower right now?”

“What?” Penumbra looked at her with a look that Astrid immediately knew meant no.

“In the tower,” she said, “something’s in there, something I haven’t seen before. Be careful.”

Penumbra whistled to Ablazed Glory, who gave her a nod of confirmation. She rushed to the door, ducking to its side as Penumbra and Astrid both approached. Penumbra drew her sword and burst in, eyes quickly scanning back and forth. Ablazed Glory followed behind her, taking a position at the bottom of the stairs, giving her a wave to confirm it was clear.

The two advanced, one moving up at a time, giving a signal to the other it was clear. Astrid followed behind. Though the Archon had a thoughtful look on her face, she did not appear worried as to any hostile intent. Penumbra and Ablazed Glory, however, so engrossed in their tactical display, had not noticed.

The two stacked on the door to Penumbra’s bedroom, the main study and observatory of the tower. At first, they waited for Astrid, but realised quickly the Archon was still halfway down the stairs.

Penumbra gave Ablazed Glory a nod, with her promptly nodding back. Ablazed Glory flared her horn, raising her right talon to give Penumbra a countdown from three. On zero, she flung the doors inwards, both of them bursting in, weapons ready.

They were greeted by a WarSynth.

Unlike the previous, it stood at three metres and forty centimetres tall, its chassis made of a brassy metal; it had long, spindly limbs, though slightly wider and shorter, connected to a slightly more squat angular upside-down pyramid as a torso; its head bore a large, round fan-like headdress and a large, circular red eye in the centre of the head itself, four panels locked into openings around it, able to close over it if necessary. Its weapon was foot long and about a foot tall, held in a skeletal, metal hand, two black emitters connected by the dark grey trigger handle, their ends glowing a faint red. It was a Sanctuary’s Watch WarSynth. How, Penumbra thought, had it gotten out?

“Greetings,” it spoke, voice almost identical to the previous WarSynth, but slightly deeper, “I am Cain. You are Sunless-Halo-of-Penumbra. And, you are Ablazed Glory.”

“Yeah,” Ablazed Glory retorted, “you didn’t come here just to remind us.”

“That assumption is correct.” Its eye flashed every time it spoke, rather unnervingly. “I have come to deliver a message, though I shall wait until your entire party has convened.”

Cain stood perfectly straight, in that typical uncanny WarSynth fashion, unmoving and statuesque - which it could easily have been mistaken for were it not for the flashing eye.

A minute later, Astrid joined the standoff. “Oh,” she cooed, “you are an interesting one.”

Cain spoke in binary, before reverting to organic language, “now that you are convened, I may present my message.”

What it had said in binary, Penumbra knew, was ‘thank you’. The WarSynth had appreciated a compliment. Something a WarSynth didn’t do, because it couldn’t do; although, WarSynths didn’t have names either.

Cain continued, “the importance of this must be conveyed to all three of you, so I will refrain from using more efficient forms of communication.” By ‘efficient forms’ it, of course, meant binary. “On the planet you have designated New Horizons, there are two sisters. Their genetics are almost identical, as are their soul prints. You must meet with them, as they have recently been afflicted with visions of a coming event. An event foreseen by.” Cain cut itself off, speaking in a burst of binary, before continuing again in a language all of them could understand.

“They hold the key to defeating that which is the cause of these visions, a task which must be completed. You are the only ones that this matter can be entrusted to, due, in part, to your cultural similarities to the subjects, you are capable of assimilating into their society with ease, thus easily getting us an audience with them.”

“Us?” Ablazed Glory questioned, “what do you mean by that?”

Cain launched a burst of binary that lasted for seventeen seconds, before speaking in organic language again. “Myself, Astrid and you shall be accompanying Sunless-Halo-of-Penumbra to meet with and thus recruit these two. Their names.” He took a few steps towards Penumbra, who couldn’t help but wince back slightly. “Are,” it launched into another burst of binary, “you will know them as: Moon Glow and Sun Glow. I will assist in identifying them,” in another burst of binary, something beeped onto Penumbra’s eye-pieces - a closer inspection revealing it to be three-dimensional models of two ponies, one with a gold coat and the other with blue, “we must not lose time, let us return to your vessel and make haste.”

Cain did not so much as wait for them to respond, marching through them and down the steps, surprisingly quickly given how rhythmically it did it. Ablazed Glory was prevented from making another snide remark by Penumbra racing after it, Astrid following. The flaming alicorn swore under her breath, repeatedly, but followed regardless.

Visions

“New Horizons,” Ablazed Glory said as she regarded the world from afar, “where Equestria crawled to when the end came.”

“Your species has displayed a remarkable propensity for adaptation and survival,” remarked Cain, though not fully in response to Ablazed Glory’s comments, “it is only fitting it is they who bear the torch.”

Ablazed Glory scoffed. “The torch stained in their blood.”

Though Astrid paid half attention to Cain and Ablazed Glory’s stunted back and forth, Penumbra put it out of her mind entirely. She was focused on one thing - not even her objective could keep her from it. She had to see that stallion, the one who had spoken to her when she first visited New Horizons. She’d promised him, hadn’t she? Grandpa Apple, his name had been - he was from the same family as Applejack, wasn’t he? He deserved to know how his ancestor had died.

“You don’t know what love is,” Ablazed Glory retorted angrily - evidently her conversation had gone sour quickly, surprising considering it had been about half a minute, unsurprising considering one of the parties was Ablazed Glory - “you’re like.” She gesticulated a moment, trying to find the words. “Gah, I don’t know what you are. At least most robots don’t bother with the concept of love, being told that I’m wrong about it by one is more than an insult.”

Astrid laughed. “You two ought to iron out your differences. I have a feeling we’ll be needing to trust each other soon.”

Ablazed Glory snorted, two small jets of flame shooting from her nostrils. “Penumbra,” she called, “what do you think love is?”

Penumbra slowly came to attention, having only partially understood the question. “Hmm,” she hummed and made a gesture of thought, in reality just buying herself time to work everything out - or for some freak event to happen and end the conversation right then and there.

“You don’t want to know what I think?” Astrid interjected in mock outrage, winking sideways at Penumbra, “I’m almost insulted.”

“Alright then.” Ablazed Glory exhaled theatrically. “Go ahead.”

Astrid made a gesture of clearing her throat, straightening up as if about to give a rousing speech - which Penumbra immediately recognised as her buying time. “In my view,” she said, placing no small embellishment into her tone, “love is a feeling, like a pleasant warmth all over you, one that can beat any other feeling. Love is a willingness to sacrifice. Without it, we’d be nowhere.”

Ablazed Glory seemed almost impressed; in the way only Ablazed Glory could be.

“And no love,” Astrid continued, “is greater than that of Emperor Nicholas.” She smiled. “My sister, she was the Archon of Love. Yet, even she cannot match what he felt. His love was not infinite, but it was as close as it could get.”

“Where’d that come from?” Penumbra asked, her previous half-paying attention changing to full on curiosity.

Astrid shrugged. “I thought it important to note. I connected with him once, entered into his mind. It was remarkable, to say the least. There was such a great love in there, it dwarfed even his hatred, which I can say was rather immense.”

It always went back to him, didn’t it?

“What’s taking this thing.” Ablazed Glory groaned as she kicked the console she was sitting at, “Luminary, when are we landing?”

“I am searching for an adequate location to land. There has been a surge in activity since our previous visit.”

“Activity?” Ablazed Glory questioned, “what kind?”

Astrid was the one who answered, interrupting the Luminary - the AI making a buzz that marked the start of the first syllable but being cut off before it could go further - “building,” she said, “expanding their town, it seems.”

Ablazed Glory shot to her feet. “Why?” She questioned, with a sudden and strange deadly seriousness, “what would make them start now? Four thousand years they’ve done nothing, now they decide to change everything?”

“Is everything alright?” Astrid asked, “you look concerned. Almost like you believe someone you love is in danger.” She chuckled. “I say almost, as if I don’t already know.”

Ablazed Glory’s fire became even stronger, pillars of lurid red and orange leaping across her body and into the air.

“Take us down,” she ordered the Luminary, “set us close to the town, it doesn’t matter how many pegasi you frighten. Put us on the ground.” With a final stamp of her feet, she marched from the bridge.

Penumbra looked to Astrid. The Archon made a theatrical gesture of placing her index finger to her temple, before simply stating, “she’s going to jump.”

The moment Penumbra realised exactly what Astrid had meant, a flaming streak - unmistakably Ablazed Glory - passed by on the viewscreen, speeding to the ground just shy of the speed of sound.

“Your comrade appears very impulsive,” Cain remarked, “my predictions as to who made the decisions between you were correct, it seems.”

“Pity you’re not a gambler,” Astrid deadpanned, “you could make a lot of money with deduction skills like that.”

“The Irenton Dominion does not utilise a currency, moreover my predictive abilities are far too superior to that of any organic to make for a fun gambling experience.”

Although Penumbra could crack a smile at Cain’s pragmatic, and deadpan, manner of speech and beliefs, she was far too concerned with the small cloud of dust that had engulfed Ablazed Glory as she landed to give as much as a snicker.

“Your friend is on the ground,” it said, “she is perfectly alright physically, although I am detecting increased adrenaline levels.”

Astrid laughed. “Increased from what?”

The Retaliator landed with a thud, then another thud as a stone pillar became dust beneath it. Four pegasi appeared at the viewscreen, appearing almost annoyed, until they became sickly white and scattered as the three crew marched down the disembarkation ramp. An earthpony foreman, with a brown coat and little yellow hardhat on his head, trembled next to the small stack of bricks that would eventually become the corner of a house. His builders either stepped back in undisguised awe and fear or outright ran.

For a moment, Penumbra wondered if that was what Nicholas had felt like.

“Want me to go and find Ablazed Glory?” Astrid asked, not even moving her mouth to speak - Penumbra had not expected to have to add ventriloquy to Astrid’s list of talents.

“Yeah,” she replied, “I need to go and meet a stallion.”

“I know,” Astrid interrupted her, “I thought we’d established I read minds. I’ll take Cain with me, unless you’d rather do something else?”

“Negative,” Cain replied, “I should like to see how Ablazed Glory handles her increased stress levels.”

Astrid stepped forwards, heading towards where Ablazed Glory had landed. She held up a hand and waved goodbye to the alicorn behind her, as Cain marched robotically behind her. Penumbra waved a talon back, before heading off in the other direction, towards the outskirts of town.

Penumbra would once have had a problem finding the stallion she was looking for. However, given her magical abilities, it was merely a matter of remembering what he was like, then moving her head a little to scan the whole town. Sure enough, lit up in bright red in her magical sight, sat in bed, was Grandpa Apple. He was in a house a little more than a few streets away from where they had landed, excellent.

For a reason Penumbra could not fully fathom, ponies kept their doors unlocked. The thought that arose around that naturally gave way to branching trains of thought about crime rates and neighbourly fraternity. Regardless, she did not allow it to concern her, rather she believed it a good thing as she stepped inside Grandpa Apple’s house, the roof low enough that she was forced to stoop.

She made her way to the upper floor, where the stallion lay, two other ponies - a yellow pegasus with a red mane and one with a blue mane - by his side. They both turned to regard the new visitor, first with a calm confusion and then with a shocked reverence.

“I promised I would return,” Penumbra said, stepping closer to the stallion’s bed, “and I have.”

The stallion looked up at her, a wearied look about him. “You do me a great honour,” he said, slowly, “coming to see an old stallion in his final days.”

“Let it be known,” she said, “that Sunless-Halo-of-Penumbra always follows through on her promises. How are you feeling, Grandpa Apple?”

Ablazed Glory had practically charged to Kindle’s forge, more than a few ponies leaping out of her path just in time, avoiding the burning alicorn by barely inches. She had not knocked on the door, or waited for a reply, as she had last time, rather, she leapt inside, the door swinging inwards on impact. She dashed through each room, calling out for the inhabitant. Eventually, she was grabbed from behind and came to a sudden halt.

“Glory,” Kindle said, “what’s going on?”

Ablazed Glory breathed a fiery sigh of relief and let herself slacken. “Wanted to make sure you were alright, is all. Apparently there was a load of movement.”

“Yeah, the mayor’s ordered some new houses built, something about being inspired by Penumbra’s arrival.” Kindle detached from Ablazed Glory, the burning alicorn lowering her stance slightly.

“That makes for two of us,” Ablazed Glory mumbled, “anything been happening recently?”

“Aside from your arrival? No, it’s been as quiet as usual.”

Ablazed Glory nodded. She had learned long ago that nothing happened on New Horizons. When something did happen - as she could attest - it served as a cause for worry, at least for her it did. Truly, it spoke volumes about her that something as simple as a small scale building project immediately activated her adrenaline response. Nothing happened on New Horizons, that was simply how it was. Though she did desire to change that.

“What about you?” Kindle asked, a pleasant smile on her face.

Ablazed Glory chuckled wryly. “Oh, where to begin?”

Astrid and Cain took their time. One could sense if there was danger, the other predicted there was none. It wasn’t that they didn’t care, far from it, Astrid had grown rather fond of the burning quadruped. Cain knew she was important to its objectives, so had a vested interest in keeping her alive.

Though she styled herself as Princess of Dreams, Astrid had been little more than a viewer during the time of Emperor Nicholas - what few parts of it she was able to do so anyway. Like a person with a whole cinema to themselves, she would browse through the various dreams, find one that she found interesting and watch it. Back in her heyday, she had been much more proactive, though even after Nicholas’ death she had found herself taking the position of a passive observer. Truth be told, she rather liked it, there was rarely boredom - that was for sure. But, there was still an empty part of her, part of her that could only be filled by adventure, dreams could only do so much.

Cain, meanwhile, had never had such power. Or, perhaps it had, there was a gap in its memory. That, or it was very new. Either was possible, though the former was the most probable. It had previously thought on the nature of its existence: what it was, how it came about, etc. Although, nothing had ever really come of it. Philosophical questions were too open-ended. Questions of logical reasoning were practically nothing to it, but philosophy remained as it did because it wasn’t suited to machines. What was its plan? It had its objectives, of course, but what were its long term goals? It pondered for a millisecond, before reassigning the processing power to more important tasks.

Both could see Ablazed Glory’s path in the road: burnt ground and heavy talonprints. They drew a fair few eyes, but one was used to the attention and the other didn’t care - or notice.

Ablazed Glory appeared in front of them, a dragon standing on two legs with her. “Oh.” The burning alicorn gesticulated a moment when she saw them. “Kindle, this is Astrid and Cain. Likewise. I need to get something from the ship.”

Once again, she vanished, sprinting off to the Retaliator. She had made a sport of running off without warning.

A few minutes later, she returned, stack of papers in telekinetic tow, and Penumbra in metaphorical tow. She handed the papers off to the dragon, who seemed shocked at how many of them there were - and at the fact Ablazed Glory could write - before heading off back to her forge.

“Now that we are convened,” Cain spoke as though they had just landed, “we should speak with this town’s mayor, who may take us to the Glow sisters.”

“Couldn’t we find them ourselves?” Ablazed Glory asked as they walked ,”I know a lot of people in this town, one of them must know the Glow sisters.”

Cain was at the lead, marching forwards in its robotic manner - which appeared simultaneously stunted yet strangely fast. “The mayor of this town will allow us to get an easier audience with the pair.”

“How do you mean?” Penumbra asked, believing Ablazed Glory’s plan of just asking around would probably be easier.

Cain kept marching, tone naturally betraying no feeling or pause for thought of any kind. “The Glow sisters will likely not react well to our initial presence. The mayor will provide a stabilising variable that will improve our chances of a successful interaction by sixty four percent. Without her, I estimate a seventeen percent chance of a successful interaction, with a thirty five percent chance of a severe failure that will impede in our objective.”

Ablazed Glory scoffed, walking at the back of the group. “So they’ll be scared of us. Great. They sound super important for defeating this end of the world scenario of yours.”

Penumbra turned, looking at her burning partner over a muscular shoulder. “Don’t underestimate anyone,” she said, “scared doesn’t mean weak.” She turned back.

“These Glow sisters,” Astrid began, before sighing and shaking her head. “Nevermind.”

The mayor’s residence was the town hall, a sturdy and rather large building located in the centre of town. It sat adjacent to the square, which bore little else save connecting streets. The mayor herself, half-moon glasses hanging on the edge of her nose, was sitting inside her office, visible from without.

“Enter,” Cain said, “Penumbra, you would be the best candidate for the initial meeting, please encourage the mayor to come out and meet us.”

“We’re not going inside?” Ablazed Glory questioned, “why?” Barely a moment later, she sighed and shook her flaming head. “Oh, that’s why.”

The town hall’s interior was pleasant - neither too ostentatious nor too bare. There was a nice carpet laying out a path to each room, though it was short enough that it didn’t seem to sink on every step. The lights were all electrical, connected to a pair of generators at the back of the building, both apparently surplus Imperial makes. The walk to the mayor’s room should have been short and easy, but the reception desk proved a stubborn obstacle.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” the receptionist drawled, staring down at her papers, “the mayor isn’t taking visitors at this time.”

Penumbra straightened up, hoping to draw the receptionist’s eye without waving a talon in front of her. She cleared her throat, loudly, but the receptionist continued to stare blankly at the small stack in front of her.

“I am Sunless-Halo-of-Penumbra,” she said, giving her voice all the authority she could muster without outright bellowing, “I will see the mayor.”

“Do you have an appointment?”

“Yes,” she said, without so much as a thought, “I do.”

She stepped up to the reception desk, before rearing on her hind talons and slamming her two forelegs into the wood, causing it to crack and shake.

“I have two, right here.”

The receptionist let her pass.

The mayor’s office was a simple right turn away from the reception, the door a simple matter of a push. The mayor herself was looking over a series of reports, clearly deeply engrossed in them.

“No visitors,” she said simply, evidently having meant to include more words.

“I have given myself an exception.”

The mayor snapped to attention immediately, practically leaping from her chair and bowing her head. “I’m so sorry,” she mumbled, “I didn’t mean…”

Penumbra waved her off. “Doesn’t matter. Please come outside with me, I have some friends who wish to speak with you.”

The veritably tiny mare fell in step behind her, Penumbra leading her outside, past the badly cracked reception desk - some hobbyist woodworker could fix it in no time. Penumbra assured herself. Cain, Ablazed Glory and Astrid stood ready to meet her, appearing a very mismatched group.

“The Glow sisters,” Cain said, skipping any form of formalities, “take us to them, please inform them we mean them no harm and do all you can to allay their fears.”

The presence of a WarSynth twice her height caused the mayor to freeze. It was only natural, no Assembly constructs had been seen by the average Equestrian survivor, and a WarSynth’s chassis was designed to appear skeletal - a form that naturally inspired a primal fear.

“Don’t worry,” Astrid cooed, “we mean you no harm. We only wish to speak to the Glow sisters. Can you do that for us?”

Penumbra felt a tingle in the nape of her neck. It was something Astrid had said, she was sure of it. She’d felt magic, though it was a magic far unlike hers - it was similar enough as to interact with her own in a familiar way. Was Astrid using her powers to influence the mayor? Or, was it just a coincidence?

The mayor nodded and led them forwards, towards the edge of town. She was silent the whole trip, almost as though she was on auto-pilot. The odd pony they passed made a shocked face or gesture, moving out of the way and staring at them with a mixture of reverence and fear, but there were very few of them.

The home of the Glow sisters was fairly out of the way, with the closest houses about fifty metres away. It was small, a bungalow, without the sturdy appearance of the other houses. It was also dark, with the blinds all drawn closed on the windows and no light emanating from under the door.

The mayor knocked twice on the door. A minute passed before, with the clunk of a lock, the door opened a crack, revealing an almost pitch black entrance hall and two pairs of blue-grey eyes. Both pairs widened fearfully, retreating at the same moment, the door slamming shut behind them.

Astrid gestured the mayor forwards, who knocked twice again. “Moon Glow, Sun Glow,” she called, as approachable as possible, “it’s alright. You can come out.”

The door opened by a crack again, the two pairs of eyes reappearing.

“No thank you,” two voices, identical in pitch and volume, called back.

Penumbra’s neck tingled again.

“It’s alright,” Astrid said, crouching down to get vaguely eye to eye, “we’re friends.” She smiled warmly. “We just want to help you.”

The two voices mumbled something, apparently to each other, before calling back. “Ghost.”

Astrid seemed to bristle a little.

“Hey,” Ablazed Glory whispered to Penumbra, “who the hell are these two?”

Penumbra shrugged, then stepped forwards. “I’m Penumbra,” she said, “I’d like to speak with you.”

The eyes receded slightly. “No thank you,” they chorused, “demon.”

Penumbra raised her rear right talon in a fairly elaborate gesture to Ablazed Glory, who had flinched and was about to shout at the two shadowed figures. She then nodded to Astrid, another tingle shooting down from the nape of her neck to the end of her spine.

“We’ve heard about your visions,” she said, “we want to help you.”

The door opened a little further, semi-revealing the faces of the two in question. They were both unicorns, with the lower face a golden colour - bearing an orange mane - and the higher one an alabaster white - with a cobalt blue mane.

“You were there,” they said in unison, “in the nightmares.”

Astrid nodded. “It’s alright,” she said, “we’re not here to hurt you, we’re here to talk.”

“Ghost,” they chorused, looking to Astrid, then to Ablazed Glory, “queen.” Then to Cain. “Watcher.” Then, finally, to Penumbra. They hesitated before they spoke, “demon.”

“What do you mean by ‘demon’?” Penumbra asked them, kneeling down to bring herself to eye level.

“You were made by the demon,” they chorused, with what could have been panic in their voices, “made by Him.”

Him.

How did they know about him?

Was it even the same him?

Astrid came between them, silently urging Penumbra to move back. “The nightmares,” she said, “we want to talk to you about them, if that’s okay.”

Where there had previously been a tingle, now it felt like Penumbra had become a wire. Energy seemed to arc along her spine constantly, enough that her back arched slightly.

“Talk,” the two unicorns whispered, “we do not talk, we recite.”

Astrid didn’t seem to take that as an invitation, so continued in her attempt at persuasion. “Can you tell us about them? The nightmares? We want to help stop whatever is coming.”

The two unicorns stared, statuesque and silent, for a few moments. “We will recite,” they acquiesced, “recite.”

The two rose slightly and stepped beyond their door. Aside from their colours, they were entirely identical, right down to height and build. Neither had marks on their flanks, just like most others in the town, which in itself was curious to Penumbra.

“The visions,” they said, “the nightmare. Prescience, knowledge of future events.”

Penumbra looked them in the eyes. “What can you tell us about them?”

To you, From a Strand of Probability

Luysifer's death was almost pathetic. Rather than some grand psionic explosion, or some other indication of his legendary strength, he just slumped over, faintly twinkling blood pouring from the fatal wound in his chest. The King of Hell himself, the master of the RiftWraiths, was now nothing more than a limp corpse, hanging from the Emperor's sword.

Godsplitter had, ironically, split after the impact with Luysifer and his throne. As Nicholas withdrew it, silvery pieces clattered to the ground, chunks of Luysifer's throne following. The chunks of polished rock that covered the ground were a far-cry from the regality of the throne they had been but moments earlier, and Nicholas saw his face reflecting in the pool of blood that mingled with the remains.

Far behind him came the sounds of greater and greater commotion. The Cult of the Deep had slain the RiftWraiths in Luysifer's palace to a man even before the final blow had been struck. Now, they had fanned out, clearing an ever expanding wedge as flashes of fire brought more and more Black Guard into the fray, Cecilia in her rightful position at their head, tearing apart the RiftWraiths and demons as they scattered in terror of their lord's execution.

Nicholas tossed the remains of his sword to the ground, and a sense of relief washed over him. Luysifer, king of Hell, had fallen with ease. One more step had been taken.

"Father."

Kaurava's voice broke through the din of his thoughts.

"What is it?"

He felt her bow behind him, as much as her constantly flying form allowed her to. He lifted a piece of blood covered stone and turned it in his hands, feeling its weight, feeling its strange power - no doubt from Luysifer's blood infusing with it, infecting its very atoms.

"Sentinel-General Cecilia sends word from the outside: your Right Hand does well in Andromeda, the Pertones have fallen." Her regal, dulcet tones were calming to the ear, and the news she brought with her ever better.

The stone seemed to warp perception of itself. On close viewing, its pattern flowed like water, as if trying to escape its current form and become something else. As if trying to build a new shape for itself.

"Excellent. Our mission here is almost complete. Once Celly has the demons scattered, I will return to Andromeda." Nicholas' voice came out no more than a mutter, he was too busy inspecting the stone he held in his hands.

Kaurava seemed to take notice of his interest. "Father, what do you see?"

Nicholas chuckled. "What do my eyes see that no others do? What does the Eternal Emperor Nicholas know that nobody else does? Ha, the thrill of a chase where the hunted is no beast but a system that keeps moving ever forwards!"

"You sense Time, father?"

Nicholas spun. "Probability. Probability, that this stone seeks out like a shark to blood. It moves according to a pattern, a design, seeking to fulfil some criteria behind the scenes. It has a little plan of its own, see? See how it morphs towards my fingers when I touch it? See how it tries to encase me, but seems to fear the power I hold. It shies from my eyesight, yet I can see it perfectly without needing mere light - an object on the stage - for I am the stage."

He reached out with psionic arms, plucking the stones from the ground one by one, and bringing them before him. One by one, they melded together, and Nicholas forced them to show him the shape they desired. The chunks of blood infected stone ebbed and flowed to a tune Nicholas slowly began to hear.

Slowly, he began to hear their music, their composition, in pieces. The first note, then the seventh, then the nineteeth, then the fourth, then the second, and the sixth. One by one the notes played, the tune build itself in order of probability, and so too did the Crown.

A cold, purple obsidian, forming a barred headdress. The stones, their tune, wished for Nicholas to wear it - why else would it be the perfect size for his head.

"An enticing siren tune," he said, "a song with no sound, that manipulates the mind, not the air around us. No vibrations of particles, only of dreams that try to force their ways into the waking world."

In his psionic grasp, he lifed the Crown to his head. Slowly, as a scientist measures out a tincture, he brought it to hover over his head, then, arms out and fingers moving as if manipulating a puppet's strings, he lowered it onto his head.

The effects were immediate.

Kaurava rushed to his side when she saw him convulse, and her mind was filled with thoughts of danger and potential despair. For all her training, all the power a Wych could master, there was no method to dispel the terrible pain that overcame her being when she saw her father in mortal peril.

Nicholas groaned, and Kaurava prepared herself to remove the Crown from his head. Only for an eruption of blood beneath the skin of his temples to herald his speech. "No! Steady yourself! You will be in danger should you touch it."

Kaurava, for the first time in her life, felt helpless, and that only amplified the painful fear that writhed within her. Her soul cried out for Nicholas' release.

His eyes burned brighter than usual, and the flames lapped around his skin from all directions. He let out first another groan, which morphed into a bellowing roar. Kaurava stumbled backwards, hearing her fear of her father's mortal corruption confirmed. A single tear ran down her pale cheek. Was there nothing that could be done?

Another convulsion rocked his frame, then another caused him to drop to his knees. Suddenly, Kaurava saw how small he really was - how he was hardly much taller than other Vortexians - and suddenly she felt another pang of pain in her soul. Could this truly be it? Had Nicholas' power left him? Where was his presence, the sheer energy about him that made him seem larger than buildings? Where was her father?

Another roar, but this one was not at all bestial. His arms shot up, grasping the Crown's sides, and with a mighty bellow from the very depths of his soul - a release of infinite eons of pain and fear - he tore the Crown from his skull and cast it aside, shattering it against the ground with his strength.

His arms fell to his sides, and his body sagged. Blood poured from needle-like wounds across his head, and the fires that darted across his marble white skin went out one by one. His eyes receded, burning normally again, and calm breathing slowly returned through a hoarse throat.

"Father?" Kaurava wished she hadn't sounded as weak as she did. Her father had just-no, it didn't bear thinking about.

Shakily, he rose to his feet, and the blood stopped flowing. The wounds of his skull closed with speed, and the blood on his face dripped lazily to the floor. He ran a hand through his long black hair, matted with sweat and blood - both his own and Luysifer's. He blinked twice, and flexed the fingers on his other hand. Then, he slowly walked to Kaurava's side, and coasted her into a warm embrace.

"I am here, Kaurava, I am here. There is nothing to fear anymore."

"I- I- I thought that was it."

Nicholas chuckled quietly. "Kaurava, there is nothing to fear. My plan moves forwards inexorably, no mere object will stop it."

"No!" Kaurava flinched at the force of her own voice, continuing quieter and just barely holding back tears. "I thought you would be gone! The plan be damned, I thought you were lost! That- That my father would become some beast."

Nicholas shushed her gently, and held her more closely, slowly stroking her hair like she had enjoyed for years. Beneath his skin, his shapeshifting powers were hard at work, forging a new throat to allow him to purr softly. He encased her and the palace in a psionic bubble, away from the ever diminishing but no less present sounds of destruction and warfare.

In peace they rested, for but a moment.

And so, the Time continued to approach.

The Great Void

Cain had recorded all of what they had said. Although Penumbra didn’t understand the method by which he did so, or the reasoning for doing so; she did understand that the WarSynth was hard at work with the information it had received. Whatever it was doing was no doubt important - or would be at some point.

The Great Void? Penumbra had heard that name used before, though she couldn’t immediately remember where. It was then she remembered back to the War in Heaven, during the raid on the rebellious outpost in the Krivin system - at least she thought that was its name - when she had discovered a set of seemingly innocuous reports. What the Glow sisters had described was in surprising detail, detail they could absolutely not have known about had they been lying.

“I highly advise the Glow sisters travel with us,” it said, “we must locate the world from which this shall begin.”

The two unicorns nodded in sync. They were cooperative, but Penumbra was almost certain it was partly due to Astrid’s magical meddling.

“I think I know where it is,” Penumbra said, “or thereabouts, anyway.”

She didn’t know the exact location of the system, nor even its name. But, she had a hunch. As she had found out, her hunches were rarely random - something seemed to be almost guiding her. Plus, there was no doubt in her mind Astrid could assist her too, the two of them combined could hardly be wrong; if they could, then it was unlikely they would find this planet regardless.

“Penumbra,” Ablazed Glory said, like a teacher explaining a simple concept to a child, “we have been over this: space navigation is done with complex sets of coordinates, it’s not as simple as ‘turn left at Procyon, if you hit Rigel you’ve gone too far’. Unless you have definite coordinates, we should wait.”

Ablazed Glory would not accept Penumbra’s hunch, even if she knew it to be correct - she knew enough about space-travel to warrant more than a touch of concern. However, Ablazed Glory didn’t have to accept it, only Astrid and Cain did. If they did, then a course could be set and the planet located regardless of Ablazed Glory’s protests.

“Coordinates,” the Glow sisters echoed, “we know them.”

Ablazed Glory hung her head in defeat - or exasperation, it was hard to tell. “Of course you do,” she mumbled, “fine, fine, fine. Let’s just get to the ship and get on our way. If these coordinates are wrong you’ll be vented into space.”

Penumbra shot her burning companion a look - the Glow sisters had been hard enough to wrangle without Ablazed Glory’s antagonisms. Her companion flicked her mane, which spun lazily in a funnel before settling again as she walked off back to the Retaliator, expecting her fellows to follow.

Of course, they did, there was little need to remain on New Horizons. Especially not with so much potentially at stake. Penumbra did not, however, go quickly. She preferred the slow walk, taking in the sights and sounds of a - seemingly - ordinary pony village. It was nostalgic - if a little frightening - to see how little everything had changed.

It took the Glow sisters well over half an hour to get the coordinates to Ablazed Glory. Though, that was mostly due to Ablazed Glory’s overly sarcastic tone, and her propensity for at least semi-genuine threats - combined with the distance she had to keep the unicorns at to keep them from burning.

In the meantime, Penumbra lay back on her captain’s chair. For an ostensibly functional piece of furniture - one designed for a species very different to her own - it was surprisingly comfortable. There was enough support that she remained firmly in place, but enough give that she could almost sink into it and let the tightness in the muscles on her back melt into it, and her wings lazily wrap around her front. The cushions were also soft - strange given that even the pillows of Penumbra’s bed could be considered fairly hard.

As she let herself soften into the chair, she cast an eye forwards. They were going to the Great Void. At least, to its edge. Her adventure, which had begun accidentally when she received the message from Sanctum, was entering its final stage - that she was certain of. She had been chosen by Nicholas for a reason, for her strength, mental fortitude, and magical ability. All would come in useful when the time came. But, she couldn’t help but think it wouldn’t be enough. Sure, she had her friends with her, to help, but they could only do so much. Nicholas had chosen her, but for something entirely different; had even the Emperor known of what was to come?

“The next number,” Ablazed Glory yelled, “the next bloody number!”

Ablazed Glory. Was she Penumbra’s niece? Or, had Nicholas’ actions created a genetic rift between them that their relation was more virtual? Regardless, she was Penumbra’s friend. Both of them knew that. She was strong, very strong, stronger than she often let on. Penumbra wouldn’t tell her that, of course, it would only make her companion more cocky than she was. Regardless, she admitted it in her own head - and both knew it too - it would serve them well in future.

Astrid. She was an enigmatic one, for sure. Penumbra knew little about her powers, her origins were - quite literally - mythical and her physical appearance was most likely one she put on; like the armour Penumbra wore everywhere she went. Penumbra had known her a few days, yet she still considered her to be a friend. Whether or not Astrid had tampered with her in some way to make that possible, she couldn’t say, but the Archon had proven herself to be enjoyable company thus far.

Her other three companions: Cain and the Glow sisters, had either kept to themselves or just arrived. Cain was a counterbalance to Ablazed Glory; whilst she was bold, and brash; it was far more logical, collected, and considerate. Though they had - figuratively, of course, violence within the group wouldn’t be tolerated by anyone - come to blows previously, Penumbra hoped the two of them could become better friends. The combination of the two of them could be deadly. The Glow sisters, meanwhile, were not what Penumbra had expected - to say the least - given she had expected two separate entities and not one in two bodies. She wanted to understand them, but deigned to save the soul searching for later - there was work to be done.

Ablazed Glory heaved a sigh of exasperated relief, almost too exasperated to be considered real. “We’re done!” She let herself fall back into her chair. “Ready for Rift engage, captain,” she mumbled, head bent over the chair’s back.

“Engage!” Penumbra gave her order as many theatrics as possible, energised anew for the journey ahead.

The aforementioned journey did not take long, with the swirling colours of the Rift fading to reveal a grey, barren, rocky world, orbiting a small red star. Beyond the planet, hung the Great Void, a wall of pure darkness stretching as far as the mortal eye could see.

Heralds of THE END

Their approach was slow. The Luminary was strangely silent, apparently no information on the world they had encountered. Ablazed Glory had to trawl through the raw sensor data, telling Penumbra everything she could glean - which was a lot, surprisingly, given the raw data was nigh-gibberish even to trained eyes.

“Atmosphere is nitrogen based,” she recited, “thin and cold - but not dangerous. Gravity is fairly standard. No pollutants in the air, minimal signs of life on the surface, beyond a few scattered settlements, which seem fairly primitive.”

Penumbra stroked her chin with her talons, a concerned look about her eyes. Were they too late?

“Approaching one of the settlements now,” Ablazed Glory called out, “a few bonfires, should be enough oxygen for us.”

“And if there isn’t?” Astrid questioned, despite the fact she knew full well she didn’t need oxygen.

Ablazed Glory shrugged. “We die, I guess.”

“I shall not perish,” Cain declared, “and neither shall you. Your bodily fire may dim, or otherwise cease, but your bodily functions shall not.”

“Shut it, tin can,” Ablazed Glory mumbled, as she brought the Retaliator in for a steady landing.

“I am not made of tin.”

“Tribespeople,” Penumbra blurted out, suddenly sensing the entire village at once, “they’ve noticed us.”

Ablazed Glory looked at her like she was mad. “We just landed a big ship in their front garden, of course they’ve noticed.”

Penumbra shook her head violently. “No, no, no,” she said, gesticulating with one of her talons as she rose from her seat and made for the door, “they know we’re psionic. They’ve noticed us magically.”

“I’m being probed,” Astrid declared, a sour look on her face, “I prefer to be taken out for dinner first, at least.”

“Still,” the Glow sisters chorused, “the nightmare hasn’t been reached.”

Penumbra was already outside, a gradually swelling gaggle of tribespeople surrounding her. Each one was fairly similar to the others, with an emaciated grey frame, two bird-like legs and four thin, long arms. Their heads were shaped like watermelons, only smaller, with their faces looking as though they had been flattened against their skulls, with three beady eyes arranged in a neat row above their nose slits and small mouth.

Every step forward she took sent the tribespeople back one. As she progressed further, they formed a vague circle, cutting her off from the Retaliator. As luck would have it, her friends had pushed through into the circle’s centre just before it had closed. Though, no doubt the tribespeople would have parted for them too.

Their village, if it could be called even that, was tiny. Little better than a few mismatched tents scattered around in a small valley, a bonfire in its centre. Considering the numbers that surrounded them - there must have been a few hundred in total - it seemed far too little.

At the village’s edge was a hillock, a rise of little more than a few metres, looking out over a barren, bumpy, grey wasteland. Penumbra took to it, stepping up to its highest point, and looked out. Before her - beyond the tribespeople who looked to her - stretched the featureless desert of the planet’s surface. Beyond that, visible only through the lack of anything inhabiting the sky, was the Great Void.

Her comrades joined her, arranged in a shallow V. Penumbra was struck by an intense feeling of deja vu, before suddenly remembering the nightmares that the Glow sisters had described.

In unison, the tribespeople bowed to them, heads to the ground and arms outstretched. “Hail,” they chorused, in a guttural accent, “to the heralds of THE END.”

Call to Arms

Their retreat was swift. Much of the journey off the surface was made up of a cacophony of orders: everything from calling for Dominion military forces to calling for cups of tea - as was a standard for Dominion military officers during times of crisis, and, indeed, most other times.

Unfortunately, their calls for reinforcements were met with silence. As Penumbra quickly discovered their communications were being jammed by the Great Void. Or, perhaps, something within its dark depths.

To say she was nervous would be an understatement. She had witnessed an ambush before - though, admittedly, from the other side - and had seen just how deadly one could be. The right person in the right place could kill thousands as easily as one reaped a harvest of wheat.

“We need to return to Sanctuary’s Watch,” Penumbra said, “I need to clear my head and grab a few things.”

Ablazed Glory nodded and began inputting the coordinates - her nerves were originating from the panicked look deep in Penumbra’s eyes, a look that activated some primal fight-or-flight response in her the moment she saw it. As she did so, she called back to Penumbra, “do you have any friends on Chronove? Anyone that could help us?”

Much as Penumbra wanted to say yes - because it would technically be the truth - she replied in the negative. What few ‘friends’ she really did have on Chronove wouldn’t be in any place to help, nor would they do so even if they were. She’d be telling them to fight a hypothetical, with her only proof being a tribal cult and a pair of dreams. Knowing well of the Dominion military’s slowness when it came to confirmed operations, she had little hope they would even pay her any heed.

As they entered the Rift, Ablazed Glory giving herself the go ahead to engage, Penumbra attempted to meditate. In the Rift, it was a fairly simple process, all she had to do was relax and close her eyes. Relaxing was, in itself, the difficult part of the procedure, but achievable with advanced breathing techniques and magically deafening herself for a few moments.

She tried to reach out, find whatever it was that would be coming from the Great Void, but she could see only darkness. It was like trying to find a needle in a cloud of fog, if she didn’t know what a needle was - and if she was certain that something in the fog wanted her dead. She could reach no more than a few feet into the Great Void’s borders before she had to retreat, the darkness choking her and partially breaking her meditative state.

Suddenly, her state was cut off, as the Rift was replaced by real space. A Chronove defence station loomed in the viewscreen, as Ablazed Glory and the Luminary presented their documentation. The trim, black silhouette of a battleship hovered silently in the distance, almost mistakeable for merely a patch of space - visible only through its smooth shine. There was a strange comfort in Chronove’s militarisation, even viewing it from without. It seemed to bring a sense of security - despite being fully capable of killing her and all of her friends within seconds.

Cleared to pass, the Retaliator cruised by the station. From the viewscreen could be seen guns larger than the ship itself, connected to a squat, cylindrical platform the size of a small city, tiny lights and windows all along it, life evidently bustling within.

Chronove Defence Command would be of no use to them: most of their assets were static and those that weren’t were forbidden to leave the system. Chronove was fairly under-guarded as it was - during the days of the Empire there had been hundreds of millions of ships guarding the system, now there were barely two hundred thousand. The fall of the Irenton Empire had come swiftly, but the old habits of 17,000 years of mobilisation and warfare had yet to fully leave even the rather peaceable and diplomatic Dominion.

They had not come to Chronove to gather help, however. Rather, they had come simply so that Penumbra could gather a few things. Foremost was a battery: her armour’s connected battery had begun to decay, so a fully working spare would be a good thing to have around. Then, there were a few odd items; some metal to fabricate plating for the Glow sisters; a few assorted food items; and a new bottle of whiskey.

For an errand trip - albeit a necessary one - it was agonisingly slow, slower than usual. Something had the Dominion military on high alert, though whether it was just a training exercise or something more serious, Penumbra didn’t know. She hoped it was the former, but training told her it was the latter.

After hours, they finally began their approach to Sanctuary’s Watch. Ablazed Glory having fallen half asleep by the time they entered the atmosphere. The rock of the Retaliator’s entry woke her, much to her vocal chagrin. Penumbra briefed her comrades on what they would need to get, planning on making her time on the surface as short as possible. They had already lost precious time getting through Chronove’s zone of interdiction, she was not about to lose any more.

Cain would get the metal, Astrid and Ablazed Glory the food, and the Glow sisters the whiskey. Penumbra would get her battery, along with whatever else she could find on the way to getting it.

Her workshop - if it could be called that - was adjacent to her bedroom, as just about everything was. It was little more than a table, an empty tool box, and a lot of spare parts. Each part was either very, very old, or, thanks to Penumbra’s diplomacy, custom made. Her armour’s battery, designed during the last century of the Irenton Empire, was of the latter category: being fabricated specifically for her by a planet-side manufacturing plant - though she didn’t like to pull rank often, she would be lying if she said it didn’t have its benefits.

However, when she opened the workshop door, she found one extra item waiting for her.

A WarSynth, identical to the one that had first inhabited her tower, save a number of scratches and scuffs and an overall dulling to its colour, stood before her workbench. Penumbra tensed, these had only brought trouble.

“Penumbra,” a voice, slightly more lower pitched than a WarSynth’s usually was, came through it. Unlike previous WarSynth encounters, its central, vertical eye did not flash as it spoke. “I am Celestine, the one remotely controlling this WarSynth. We met long ago, before all of this. I need to speak with you face to face - to show you what I have learned. Travel to the Gateway located in the O6-227D system, follow the coordinates it gives you, find me, then I will show you what I have found. Time is of the essence. I am afraid I cannot say more.”

The moment her speech finished, the WarSynth’s whole form shimmered, then teleported in a flash of blue and white: a pre-programmed long-range transport, not the usual grey, lightning-storm-like combat teleport. Penumbra’s knowledge of the Dauxite Assembly’s technology told her that meant the WarSynth’s destination was very, very far away - extragalactic by her reckoning.

Celestine - Penumbra remembered Celestine - the Strategos class construct she had encountered during the War in Heaven. The one whose speech she had translated for Lotan Nephilim. Evidently, she had learned to speak a language Penumbra’s old Imperial translation matrix could understand. That, or the WarSynth was doing the translation for her.

She trusted Celestine, mostly because she had seemed harmless - apparently also having helped a number of Changelings attacked by daemons. Besides, even if she didn’t trust Celestine, she had gone running after messages she didn’t trust before, why change her tune now? Even if doing so had nearly gotten her killed multiple times. If whatever Celestine had learned was as important as she made it out to be, then perhaps it would make the trip to Sanctuary’s Watch all the more worth it.

The issue would come with explaining the situation to Ablazed Glory.

The Past

Penumbra turned back to the console, the researchers content to let her work - swayed by her ability to activate the console that had stumped them for so long - and began searching through its activation records. How she could read the script, she didn’t know, but it didn’t really matter so long as she could - the time for rigorous scientific investigation of unknown phenomena was sometime after the galaxy was saved.

Sure enough, after a few commands, a list of activation dates and their destinations appeared on screen. The latest being a little over a thousand years previously.

Which should have been impossible.

A thousand years ago, the Rift was gone, a result of the catastrophic damage to the Omniverse by the War in Heaven. Transportation over long distances was next to impossible during that time, and there were no inhabited plants within ten light-years of the Gateway. Unless someone had remained aboard since the end of the War in Heaven and it had taken them three thousand years to activate the Gateway’s portal, there should be no activation data. But, of course, there it was.

It should have been impossible. But, Penumbra had long since stopped believing anything was impossible.

From the appearance of the WarSynth in her tower, it would be safe to assume that Celestine was the one who had the Gateway activated. However, Penumbra had encountered Celestine on the other side of the galaxy, and, as far as she was aware, Celestine had not travelled with them to Cradle. It was possible, she granted, that Celestine could have made it over to the Gateway whilst the Battle of the Aether was raging, but how?

The Battle of the Aether had been the climactic battle of the War in Heaven, ending with the Smothering of the Great Light and the destruction of the Rift and the Aether itself. Though Penumbra had only experienced travel before the Battle began, she knew that the Veiled Edge - the border between the Aether and the material universe - had begun to leak. Similarly, she had been informed in passing that Rift travel had become different, more unpredictable and potentially volatile. Supposedly, during the height of the Battle, the Rift had been torn open, creating permanent entrances into the Aether from the Rift itself. Vessels would have had no choice but to enter the Aether, though it would have been possible to almost immediately leave.

Either; Celestine had travelled through the Rift to the Gateway without entering the Aether - unlikely but possible as far as Penumbra was aware; Celestine had travelled through the Rift to the Gateway and had entered the Aether without being seen - far more unlikely due to the vigilance of Imperial soldiers and the sheer amount of traffic moving through; or, Celestine had a way of travelling to the Gateway which did not require usage of the Rift. Penumbra had witnessed Assembly constructs teleport before - a method of transportation that did not require the Rift - but she had no evidence that suggested they could travel long astronomical distances without at least entering the Rift at some stage - which is what she believed Celestine’s WarSynth had done in Sanctuary’s Watch. If they could, that was her little mystery solved.

“Cain,” she asked, “how far can Assembly teleports go?”

The WarSynth hummed. “I do not know.”

Well, so much for the easy option. She could always ask Celestine when they found her, she supposed.

Though Penumbra couldn’t really read Dominion astronomical coordinates, she knew that the coordinates on the activation record did not fit into that system. She wondered about that for a moment, before realising that the Gateway was not built by the Dominion and hurriedly removing all thought of it from her mind in the worry that one of her comrades might see it.

Open Gates

It was surprisingly easy to reacquire the last used coordinates. With a simple tap of the console’s panel, there was a flash, the coordinates inputted and the activation sequence was prepared.

“What are you doing?” One of the researchers Astrid hadn’t influenced asked, “what is it saying?”

“I’m activating the Gateway,” Penumbra replied simply, “we need to travel through it.”

The researcher shook their head. “No. Absolutely not. Nobody goes through that Gateway until we are absolutely sure how it works and where it leads.” They stepped slightly to their right, a symbolic gesture of blocking Penumbra from the control room’s exit.

Penumbra was almost impressed the researcher was willing to actually try and stop her. How ignorant, she thought, what a fool they were. She shook off the thought as soon as she had it. That was sounding dangerously like Emperor Nicholas.

“You will never find out how it works,” she said, “not absolutely. You know that. We need to go beyond that portal, what lies beyond it is vital to the safety of the galaxy.”

The researcher tensed slightly. “How can we be sure? What if it’s a trap? What if the portal is damaged? What if you aren’t who you say you are?”

“Hey,” Ablazed Glory yelled, leaping to her comrade’s defence, “you know damn well she is who she says she is. And, what she is is a hero! Now, we’re going and nothing you can say or do will stop us.”

Ablazed Glory’s metaphorical throwing down of the gauntlet caused the researcher to reel for a moment. Clearly, they didn’t quite know what they could do to stop them - though Penumbra was sure they were thinking of something. Seizing on their advantage, Penumbra activated the Gateway and quickly retreated, her comrades recognising her unspoken order to return to the ship. The researchers scrambled to the console, but could not interact with it - though only one of them really tried, the rest tried to take as many notes and readings as they could.

The Retaliator took flight the moment they were aboard, Ablazed Glory having kept the engines spooled up and ready. Penumbra made a mental note to thank Ablazed Glory in the future, before taking her seat in the captain’s chair.

“Luminary,” she ordered, “get us through the Gateway.”

As if on cue, a pair of Dominion frigates, sleek, black hulls glistening in the light of the distant star, emerged from behind the Gateway’s structure. The Luminary flashed up a pair of information boxes about them on the viewscreen: both of them had shields up and weapons primed.

“Get us through those ships,” Penumbra shouted, aimed at anyone who would listen.

Thankfully, someone was. “On it,” Ablazed Glory returned, her console flashing up a set of controls.

The burning alicorn was a magician with the Retaliator. Before the frigates could even broadcast their warning, she had kicked the vessel into a spinning dive, forcing the two frigates to descend themselves.

“Vessel designated Retaliator,” came the processed voice of a Dominion commander over the communication array, “you are ordered to power down your shields and engines and prepare to be boarded.”

“Yeah,” Ablazed Glory muttered, “sure, just let me do this one thing first.”

With a sudden burst of speed, she turned the spinning dive into a straight ascent towards the shimmering spherical membrane of the portal. Astrid, apparently sensing her intentions, inputted a command into the nearest console, diverting power from the shields to the engines. A sudden jolt marked the kick of the afterburners, the Retaliator surging forwards into the portal’s membrane, right as the Luminary flashed up an alert for two inbound projectiles off the stern.

The instant the Retaliator crossed the membrane, the portal vanished.

Wastes

They hovered, one hundred and eight thousand miles above a desert world, orbiting a yellow, main sequence star.

“We’re beyond the rim,” Ablazed Glory said, “this system must have been knocked out of the galaxy.”

Sure enough, illuminated behind the star like a halo, hung the galactic disk. Its vibrant colours seemingly the only lights in the void beyond.

“There’s a single habitable planet,” Astrid said, surveying the instruments in front of her, “the one we’re orbiting right now. I have a hunch that’s where your Celestine will be waiting.”

“My instruments are being scrambled,” Cain said, worryingly, “there is a permanent signal being broadcasted locally. I believe we are in the centre of a beacon.”

Someone, or something, was calling out.

Hopefully, Penumbra thought, it was Celestine, and not whatever else could be lurking beyond the galactic rim. Fortunately, it probably was. Unfortunately, that still didn’t explain why she was doing it.

“Anything in the signal?” She asked Cain, whose head was tilted slightly sideways - as if listening out.

“Negative,” it finally replied, “it is nonsense.”

Nonsense was good - better than ‘stay away’, or phrases to that effect.

Whilst nonsense was good - or at least not bad - the blocking of Cain’s scanners was the opposite. Even if nothing was hiding somewhere out in the featureless desert below, if they went more than a few miles they would probably have a hard time finding their way back to the Retaliator.

“Where exactly is the signal coming from?” Astrid asked, hand on her chin.

Cain listened out for a moment. “Broadcast is originating from a point on the planet’s equator. I will upload the coordinates to the Luminary.”

The viewscreen flashed up, a small red circle marking the coordinates Cain had acquired. With the turn of the planet, they were not visible from their approach vector, rather located just over the horizon. The Luminary was awaiting Penumbra to give the order to approach, though she remained cautious of what the surface of an unknown planet would hold.

“Is the planet safe?” She asked.

“Probably,” Ablazed Glory answered, “or, probably not. I don’t know, scanners are being jammed, just like Cain’s. If you mean safe to walk on, then yeah, if you mean not inhabited by killer robots, then I can’t help you there.”

Ablazed Glory’s answer was good enough - if the planet was dangerous then Penumbra could always blame her later. “Set a course,” Penumbra ordered, “we find Celestine, then we leave as soon as we can.”

The Retaliator dived down, entering the planet’s atmosphere with a distant pop. A few thin clouds swirled around them as they got lower, though there appeared to be little wind, with only a few faint wisps of dust kicked up from the surface.

Ablazed Glory remained glued to the scanners, attempting to cut through the pervasive static of Celestine’s signal - which had only become stronger once within the atmosphere. As they approached the signal’s source, it became even stronger. Until, only a hundred miles out, the scanners shut off entirely.

“Scanners are dead,” Ablazed Glory called immediately, checking her each of the ship’s systems frantically, “so are comms.” Another three seconds later, she called out again, “we just lost shields. I’d recommend setting us down.”

Penumbra’s armour flickered, with her visor display shutting off. “Set us down,” she ordered, “do it manually if you have to.”

Ablazed Glory took the stick, throttling down quickly. She was fortunate - as were her companions - that she was such a skilled pilot. Within seconds, she had them within a metre of the ground, hovering whilst she made sure the landing gear was secure. Slowly, the ship was set down, with a faint thud telling them they were stopped.

“We’re on the ground,” Ablazed Glory said, “close to wherever the signal is coming from. The moment we find it, we’re shutting it down.”

“The signal’s source is close by,” Cain said, “but it is too loud to adequately pinpoint from here. We will have to search.”

“No need to search far, there’s a structure nearby, an artificial one.” Astrid pointed to something slightly beyond the viewscreen. “No doubt your signal comes from there.”

Ablazed Glory rose from her chair. “Let's go turn it off then, stop it breaking my ship.”

“There is something loud outside,” the Glow Sisters chorused, “very loud.”

Before Ablazed Glory could say something sarcastic, Penumbra spoke up, “what do you mean by loud?”

“We can hear them in our minds,” they said, “so bright and loud.”

Ablazed Glory and Penumbra looked to each other, then to Astrid. The Archon nodded, though at what question the two weren’t sure.

Rather than simply continue, she noticed they were unsure, and clarified, “it’s Celestine,” she said, “she seems to have immense psionic power, it’s like a strobe light in a dark room.”

Penumbra had noticed no such aura when she had first encountered Celestine. Although, when she had done so, Emperor Nicholas was nearby, giving a perfectly valid reason as to why - if Celestine was a strobe light, Nicholas was the room on fire. However, if that was the case, then how was Astrid - whose psionic presence was immense, as large if not larger than that of Nicholas - not interfering too? And, if the Glow Sisters could notice this, why couldn’t she?

Penumbra liked questions, though she did not like ones she couldn’t answer. What better way to answer questions than to ask them to the questions’ source. It was she who led the group down the Retaliator’s disembarkation ramp and onto the barren world they had landed on. A very thin layer of dust covered the ground, kicked up slightly by their steps. The wind seemed to be only active around their feet, when it was active at all, that was. The world was cool, though not incredibly so. The light of its parent star was, whilst not strong, enough to keep everything from freezing.

As Astrid had stated, the source of the signal was to their north east. Sure enough, just over a rocky ridge about two kilometres away, stood a thin needle of dulled metal. It wasn’t much, but it was artificial, clearly, there was a structure there. No doubt Celestine could be found inside.

Without a word, the group moved forwards, leaving the silvery hull of the Retaliator behind them. As they walked, Penumbra wondered what Celestine could have wanted. All she had said through the WarSynth was that she needed to speak with Penumbra, face to face. Penumbra did, however, have a hunch. Her educated guess told her it was something to do with the Glow Sisters’ visions, along with the warnings of the previous WarSynths and Kaurava. What lay in the Great Void had apparently drawn Celestine’s attention, even so far out beyond the galactic disc.

She also wondered what Celestine was. Or, rather, who she had been. Cain had not told her much, but it had said that Celestine was not of the Assembly. Someone from another species being inducted into the Assembly as anything other than what was effectively a slave labourer was rare, to say the very least. Progenitor class AIs, however, they were rare in and of themselves - less than a hundred ever being produced - and were one of the highest ranks obtainable to any in the Assembly; an alien species gaining such a rank was hard to believe, to say the least.

Fortunately, she would not have to wait long to question Celestine. The rocky ridge was easily crossed, especially by the winged Penumbra, revealing the small dull metal structure half-buried into the landscape. There was no doubt in Penumbra’s mind that it extended further below their feet - all Assembly installations encountered so far seemed to follow the same philosophy.

Sure enough, the small structure was merely the entrance way, with a cursory glance by Penumbra’s magic revealing it as little more than an airlock. The doors parted for them automatically, allowing them entrance into the dark and empty airlock. When the doors closed behind them, there was a whoosh of air, with the lights flickering on above them, illuminating their dull surroundings.

“This technology is Assembly made,” Cain remarked. It turned to behold some faint markings on the wall. “Constructed by Saturnine-Flower of the Fourth Sphere, during the One-Hundred and Ninety-Fifth Cycle of Constitution.”

Beyond its first sentence, none of what it said had any meaning.

Ablazed Glory made sure it was aware, “and that means?”

Cain turned back to look at her. “It is new,” it said, “in comparison to most Assembly constructions. Around eight of your standard years before the Great Rebellion. This facility was likely never fully crewed.”

That, Penumbra thought, held a little more meaning. At the very least, it was interesting to see such ancient technology through the eye of something that had lived through its period of construction. Similarly, it showed just how unprepared the Dauxite Assembly had been for the Great Rebellion. As someone who enjoyed the study of history, Penumbra could appreciate the historical importance of her surroundings.

The doors into the facility proper finally opened, allowing them access. Sure enough, it was fairly sizeable. It would take a few minutes to find Celestine, at least.

“Who was Saturnine-Flower?” Penumbra asked, preferring conversation to silence and genuinely curious.

“A Progenitor Class AI,” answered Cain, “assembled and inducted during the Fourth Sphere - the fourth generation of Progenitor Class constructions. It operated the Progenitor Satellite located in the Theme of Harmony, before it was relocated during the Great Rebellion. That is where my records end.”

The facility was large, sleek and well-lit, making navigation easy and almost enjoyable - Assembly installations were always strangely ergonomic in their construction, considering most Dauxite were digital lifeforms and could simply upload themselves to another room, rather than having to walk there.

Astrid and Ablazed Glory led the way, Ablazed Glory like a living beacon and Astrid like a living sonar. According to Astrid, she could feel where Celestine was, her psionic emissions guiding them forwards, leaving a trail to follow through the facility. Penumbra was almost disappointed she didn’t get to explore, to see the ancient Assembly technology in most of its glory. Though it was ancient, with no doubt a little wear and tear inflicted upon it, it was still certainly active, performing some task Penumbra couldn’t quite identify yet.

Eventually, Astrid came to a complete stop. The group staggered to a stop behind her, all waiting for her to announce what she had evidently discovered.

“Celestine is in the next room,” she said, “get ready.”

If Celestine was hostile - which Penumbra certainly didn’t think she was - the group would have trouble. She more than likely controlled the facility, making escape difficult, with the close proximities of the facility’s rooms proving a mix of advantage and disadvantage depending on which tactic each in the team desired to use. Except the Glow Sisters, their tactic was retreat.

Without warning, causing Penumbra and Ablazed Glory to both tense up, the doors parted. The room beyond was almost pitch black, the lights left off - almost as if for effect. Slowly, the group individually stepped within. Once they were all inside, the doors closed behind them. On the doors’ closing hiss, the room was suddenly bathed in light.

Nine segments, like the skeleton of a great brass whale, hung motionless at the end of the room. Each of the segments were equally short, save the lowest, which was a tapered, tail-like structure hanging a metre and a half from the floor, around double the height of the other segments. Each segment was connected to the wall by a pair of blue cables, about the width of Penumbra’s head, save the top and bottom most segments.

The uppermost segment was the widest, about twice the width of the next widest. It bulged in the centre, surrounding a circular red eye, with four raised ridges of metal protecting it, before tapering off as it reached the ends, with a pair of squat, brass implements both in the shape of a long figure of eight attached. Its chassis was covered in scuff marks, scratches, small dents, though it appeared no more worse for wear. A single cable connected the very centre of the head to the wall, with several considerably thinner cables connected at various other points.

With a sudden blare of static and an electrical humming, the cables holding it to the wall flared to life. Another blare of static and the eye activated, glowing a bright red and rapidly scanning back and forth, its movement visible only in the slight shine of its centre point. Thin fields of blue light connected its segments together, causing it to slightly rise from its position, the cables keeping it otherwise stable.

“Welcome,” it spoke, voice deep and monotone, with a vaguely feminine undertone, “you arrived quickly.”

“Celestine,” Penumbra said, she had dealt with the Strategos class before, she could deal with it again simply enough, “we came as soon as you called.”

Disturbance

Ablazed Glory tapped her comrade. “What’s it saying?”

Rather than Penumbra, it was Cain who answered, “Celestine bids us welcome. Her speech is being transmitted in Assembly Binary, which Penumbra is capable of understanding.”

Penumbra, suddenly aware that Celestine did not know how to speak a language her translation matrix could understand - rather one she herself could understand - and that she was now apparently fluent in Assembly Binary, simply nodded and turned back to focus on Celestine.

“I am glad you came so soon,” Celestine said, “this allows us time to.,” She paused, as if searching for the right word. “Refamiliarise ourselves.”

There was an odd kindness in her voice, which Penumbra couldn’t quite decipher. Presumably, she was just overthinking it. “Refamiliarise ourselves?” She asked, “how do you mean?”

“Why, catch up of course!” Celestine said, with a tone almost resembling excitement - which made Penumbra wary, Assembly constructs didn’t get excited - “so much has changed over the past five billion years.”

Penumbra allowed herself a chuckle “It certainly has.”

“Although.” Celestine made a mechanical trilling sound, almost like a chuckle - which made Penumbra even more wary. “Seeing you now, you haven’t changed an iota. Not on the outside, at least.”

Penumbra nodded, still unsure what to make of the apparently happy AI. “Well, it’s important to keep up appearances.”

The same mechanical trill emanated from the machine. “Indeed! You always had an excellent sense of majesty.”

Celestine was speaking in the past tense. Penumbra took a mental step back to consider the construct’s speech. When she had said “refamiliarise,” did that not mean that they were already familiar? Could Celestine have known Penumbra before the Great Rebellion? Nicholas had told her, millennia earlier, that her soul - Penumbra’s soul, that is - had been reborn on Equestria billions of years after the Great Rebellion. Therefore, was it safe to assume that Celestine had known her in her past life? Or, was she simply not translating correctly?

“Thank you.” Penumbra gave a smile, she had decided on assuming Celestine knew her previously. If anything, it might allow her to learn a little more about Celestine’s origins. “Although, I do not remember anything about yourself.”

“It is to be expected,” Celestine replied, with almost a hint of sadness - though that could have just been Penumbra’s mind playing tricks on her - “I detected that you were remade somehow, there is a strange energy coursing through you.”

“I was reborn,” Penumbra said, though she did not believe reborn was necessarily the right term, “rather recently. As such, I’m afraid you will have to properly introduce yourself again.”

“Very well,” Celestine replied, before beginning to think.

“We should start with my name,” she said, “Celestine is merely a piece of my true name. The rest was lost in translation by the Dauxite Assembly, shortened by them - always so efficient they were. To my people, I was ‘Celestial Emission of Six Points Prompts Pensive Conclave to Unfetter the Final Design’, though I was not born that way. My title was Queen, I ruled over the Great Circle from the heart of the Dream-Needle. We knew I would be the final Queen of our people, who would be the final one of us to hear the Dream-Needle from without.”

Oh how very useful.

“The Dream-Needle, the Great Circle?” Penumbra questioned, “what are these things?”

Celestine did not answer.

“In time,” she said, mechanical voice betraying a sudden worry - no doubt spurred on by some hidden realisation - “all will be revealed. But, our time grows short.”

That definitely did not bode well.

“This facility,” she said, “sees all. Three of your days ago, it detected disturbances coming from the Great Void. The intricacies and secrets of this station lie shrouded, known only to its creator. But, its purpose is revealed, it watches for something within the Great Void. Whatever it lay here since the One-Hundred and Ninety-Fifth Cycle of Constitution searching for has just been found. You must travel to the edge of the Great Void, I shall remain here, to oversee your efforts and guide you.”

She paused for a moment, as if allowing Penumbra to absorb all the new information.

“There will be danger,” she said, “though I do not know what it is, I only know the Assembly saw fit to set the protocols to activate a Gorgon if it was discovered. Go quickly, time is of the essence, I apologise that we could not speak more - old friend - but there will be plenty of time once the threat is expunged.”

Aboard the Retaliator, Ablazed Glory set about readying their course. Fortunately, she knew enough about how items similar to the Gateway functioned to allow them to make a return journey. Astrid assisted her, performing the more long-form calculations with terrifying simplicity.

Meanwhile, Penumbra turned to Cain.

“What’s a Gorgon?”

Cain seemed almost to shiver at the word. “The Dauxite Assembly was willing to use any means necessary to achieve its goals.”

“And?”

“The Assembly would only ever hesitate to use a Gorgon.”

Prophecy

“The Rift is stretching,” Ablazed Glory mumbled, “I can hear it straining.”

They had entered the Rift an hour earlier, their destination set to the planet from the Glow Sisters’ nightmare. Rift journeys of ten minutes were considered long, so when they had hit the half an hour mark Penumbra had gotten worried.

“Gravitational wave density one-third percent over base.” Astrid was manning the instruments, passing pieces of information Penumbra presumed were important to Ablazed Glory. “Gamma radiation density nine percent over base.”

Ablazed Glory sat up slightly. “Tell me when it’s fifteen or more.”

There was a three second silence before Astrid spoke again. “Fifteen percent over base.”

The flaming alicorn straightened fully. “Alright everyone, we’re going to be exiting the Rift shortly, get ready.”

Penumbra was concerned about what they would find when they arrived. Whatever they would be facing had made the Dauxite Assembly worried, as well as somehow greatly extending their journey through the Rift. Hopefully whatever it was would not be the first thing they encountered.

Exiting the Rift, they beheld a world visibly unchanged. It was the same old featureless grey rock, floating silently in space, orbiting a red star - little more than a dot in the distance.

“Now where to?” Ablazed Glory asked, looking out into the mesmerising emptiness of the Great Void.

Penumbra thought for a moment, recalling the vision the Glow Sisters had shared with them. “Can you find out where we landed last time?”

Ablazed Glory snapped her gaze to Penumbra. “I think so,” she said, with a shrug, “why?”

Penumbra nodded. “Take us about a kilometre out from that village. I have a feeling that’s where we’ll find our target.”

“You planning on starting a fight?”

“You not?”

Ablazed Glory chuckled. “Well, get ready then. Let’s give this a go.”

At Penumbra’s insistence, the Retaliator entered the atmosphere slowly, obscured by clouds and the horizon from the village they had visited days previously. From there, they proceeded slowly, close to the ground and with engines venting steadily. Once they were a little over a kilometre from their initial landing point, they came to a stop, their landing expedited by their low velocity.

Internally, Penumbra debated leaving the Glow Sisters behind. They were just ordinary unicorns, ones that didn’t appear to have any experience fighting no less. Although, it wasn’t like they’d be able to defend themselves aboard the Retaliator if it came to it.

Their armour, which they equipped for the first time, didn’t suit them. They also had no weapons, with Penumbra simply assuming that the rest of the group would do the fighting for them. She planned to keep them at the back of the group, probably shielded by either Astrid or Cain - with the WarSynth probably being the better bet, given Astrid wielded a sword.

Penumbra informed her comrades that magical sight wouldn’t help at their distance, something was blocking her out, like a fog covering the entire planet. With resounding conviction, the group advanced, arranged to protect the Glow Sisters. They walked for little more than a minute before Cain spoke up.

“I am detecting life signs,” it said, “several are not of the planet’s original inhabitants. I believe there are hostiles.”

That was enough to get the group into battle mode. Ablazed Glory and Penumbra formed the vanguard, with Astrid following close behind. The Archon did not unsheath her sword, though kept her left palm on its pommel as she ran. Penumbra, meanwhile, drew and activated her weapon, suspending it ahead of her with her magic.

Crossing the ridgeline, they came across the village they had visited previously. Its buildings were intact, though at least half of its population lay dead in the streets, with the remaining half formed into two neat rows, seemingly enraptured by something Penumbra couldn’t see. Scattered around them were bipedal creatures, cloaked all in black, their distinguishing features concealed.

Their leader was obvious. It was an odd creature, without any legs to speak of, but with a thick, muscular torso and heavyset arms. It too was cloaked, though its cloak was smaller, covering the head entirely, leaving only four small white dots for eyes visible, as well as most of the torso, but with its arms and hands free to grasp its ebony black scythe. In the place of legs, it had a shimmering field of purple energy, allowing it to apparently float.

“A Herald,” the Glow Sisters chorused in a whisper, “a Herald of THE END.”

“Is it hostile?” Penumbra asked, more than ready to charge it.

“Ghosts that leave only ghosts.”

Astrid clarified for them, “yes, definitely.”

That was all she needed to hear.

With a roar, Ablazed Glory jumped from their minor cover on the ridge, haloed by flaming magical needles. Penumbra followed suit, sword and magical shield at the ready. In their place stepped Cain, its Assembly rifle taking only a second to fire off a withering hail of energetic red bolts. Astrid kept the Glow Sisters close, her psionic senses taking precedence over her material eyes.

All but one of the fully cloaked figures lay dead before Ablazed Glory and Penumbra could reach them, their crumpled bodies faintly smoking, with holes driven clean through their chests. The final survivor was impaled by a dozen of Ablazed Glory’s needles, their cloak catching alight in an instant. They collapsed into a flaming heap, all life instantly extinguished.

The Herald of THE END, however, seemed unharmed. A trio of Cain’s bolts came close to impacting it, but seemed to simply vanish just before they could do so. It let out a high-pitched growl, shifting itself to face Penumbra, who charged it with sword and shield.

Its scythe impacted her shield, cracking the magical implement slightly. Had that point of impact been her body, it might have incapacitated her. Apparently, its brawn was not just for show.

It also did not take precedence over brains either, as it spun its scythe around in its fingers to catch a strike from her sword, which would have opened Penumbra to a dangerous parry had she been wielding the weapon in her claws.

The Herald would be a tough opponent, but Penumbra had the advantage of numbers and likely the advantage of overall power. Both herself and her opponent were new to each other, she knew nothing about its fighting style just as it knew nothing about hers. Fortunately for Penumbra, she was a quick thinker, able to adapt her style and build a good mental picture of her opponent’s within moments.

She predicted it would strike out with its scythe again, this time focusing on her sword. Sure enough, it did just so, arcing the scythe upwards, aiming for the handle of her sword. Seemingly, it did not know the difference between a telekinetic field and an actual hand.

Rather than let her sword be damaged unnecessarily, she launched her shield against the top of the scythe’s hilt. With the lightning speed available to her magic, she threw the Herald’s attack off course before it could hit its mark. Her sword already well positioned, with the Herald’s torso right below it, she pressed the advantage, plunging the glowing blue blade into the creature.

With a hiss, a plume of what appeared to be steam rose from the wound. The creature twitched slightly, as if in pain, but did not seem to weaken. It spun itself, attempting to pry the sword from Penumbra’s grip - but again failed to make the distinction between telekinesis and flesh. Before it could finish its turn, Penumbra struck at its face, using her shield like a discus.

The impact staggered the Herald, eliciting another high-pitched growl. Rather than press the advantage, Penumbra held back, waiting to see the Herald’s next move.

It remained staggered for another ten seconds, though it was clear from how it moved it was attempting to bait her into attacking. Penumbra nearly chuckled, the creature was pretty smart.

Eventually, it realised its tactic wouldn’t work. Yet, its next move still came as a momentary shock to Penumbra: with a sudden burst of speed, it launched both itself and its scythe towards her. Only her enhanced senses, coupled with the distance at which she kept her weapons in a guard, saved her from being flung backwards like a ragdoll.

A hole about the diameter of her leg was punched through the centre of her shield on the impact. Fortunately, the magic held it in place, cushioning much of the Herald’s blow. Its moment of static was exploited by Ablazed Glory, who launched a wall of flaming needles into its back. As it contorted to try and face her comrade, Penumbra struck again, driving her sword through the lower back of its head.

With a shriek, the creature spasmed and tried to escape downwards, only for Penumbra’s sword to carve clean through the rest of its head. To its credit, the Herald kept moving, freeing itself from Penumbra’s sword and impacting the ground. Once down, it attempted to scuttle away, though its lack of head made it simply spin wildly for a moment. With another shriek, it contorted violently once more, before curling up into a ball - dead.

“Well,” Ablazed Glory said, throwing a final needle like a dart into the creature’s cloaked heap of a corpse, “that wasn’t too hard.”

Penumbra snorted. “Easy for you to say,” she said, melting down her magical shield and returning it to her body, “you weren’t the one it was going for.”

Astrid and the Glow Sisters crested the ridge line, the Archon’s head still bowed and eyes still closed. The Glow Sisters were casting worried glances to the dead Herald, whilst Astrid looked to be in a trance, random patches of her skin shifting from its usual marble white to red and blue.

“There is one alive,” Cain called out, gesturing with its rifle to one of the local tribespeople, who was seizing on the ground.

“What the hell?” Ablazed Glory kept her distance but still observed the creature closely. “What’s the matter with them?”

Cain got closer, grasping the side of the tribesperson’s head with its left hand, long, thin fingers trapping them like a cage. “The Herald of THE END appears to have maintained a hold on their mind. They will die in seconds. I will download their memory.”

An almost invisible blue wire emerged from Cain’s hand. It wormed its way inside the tribesperson’s ear, making Ablazed Glory gag at the imagery. Barely a few seconds later, it emerged, the tribesperson silent and still.

Cain rose and took a few steps towards Penumbra, who was still partially observing the Herald of THE END. “The inhabitants of this village were mind-controlled. Along with many more from fifteen other planets. Half were killed as sacrifice, whilst the other half would be taken for sacrifice elsewhere. This cult is highly organised - they coordinate very much like a professional military force.”

“Do we know where that elsewhere is?” Penumbra asked, her eyes still on the cloaked heap in front of her.

“Affirmative, the connection with the Herald has allowed access to much of its own memory. The cultists’ current base is on a planet they identify as Mordam, located two parsecs from our current location. Using the information provided, I have acquired the planet’s coordinates.”

“Well then,” Penumbra said, prying herself from the Herald’s body, “let’s get going.”

Astrid’s eyes opened and her skin ceased shifting. “The Herald,” she said, “it felt unusual.”

Penumbra was suddenly curious. “How so?”

“Part of it was alive,” Astrid said, “part of it was not. I believe they were living creatures that have been somehow reanimated.”

“Zombies?” Ablazed Glory questioned.

Astrid chuckled and shook her head. “No. They’re not living anymore. Imagine a corpse providing the chassis for a robot. The biotic part gives the material and the abiotic part gives the movement and control.”

“Space zombies.” Ablazed Glory threw another needle at the Herald’s corpse. “Of course they’re space zombies.”

Sacrifice

“Take us to Ultimus, quickly!”

No sooner had the Retaliator been in orbit of Orpheum they had received a distress signal from a Dominion battleship in the Ultimus system. With adrenaline fuelled speed, they had entered the Rift, en route to the Ultimus system. Only as the frequencies of the Rift calmed her mind, did Penumbra realise that transmissions could be easily faked.

“Do you think this could be a trap?” She asked Ablazed Glory.

Her flaming companion turned to her, her face scrunched up. Then, her eyes widened. “Oh, shit.”

When they exited the Rift, there was a moment of terror when the silhouette of a massive warship was all they could see. Calm only came when the silhouette was recognised as a Dominion battleship, surely the same as had sent the distress signal in the first place.

Plasma drifted from a gash in the hull, slowly coming to fill the Retaliator’s viewscreen as the brutalised husk of the vessel lazily revolved. As the battleship neared a half-turn, another gash came into view, though unlike the previous it did not have an end point. The warship had been sliced in half, the rear of the vessel missing.

“This isn’t good,” was all Ablazed Glory could mutter.

“Scanners are detecting fifty-three wrecks,” Cain called, “all of them marked as Dominion.”

Penumbra shook her head and leaned back. “Damn it,” she sighed, “that’s an entire fleet.” She covered her eyes with her claws.

“Are we too late?” Ablazed Glory asked, her fiery mane flattening on her back, “did we miss the signal?”

A moment of silence followed.

None of them were willing - or in Cain’s case not sure enough - to say it. The field of debris was a sight Penumbra hadn’t seen anything like since the War in Heaven - which she had considered to be more of an apocalypse than a conventional war. What had happened to the conventional wars she read about in her library? What happened to two knights duelling? All she had seen were ancient evils, daemons, and cults; every battle she had experienced had been more of an armageddon than anything else.

“I am detecting pockets of Dominion ground forces.” Cain’s robotic voice was sweet to Penumbra’s ears - the message it carried even sweeter. “They are currently fighting on the planet’s surface. I suggest we move to assist.”

Penumbra couldn’t have given the order sooner: “get it done.”

Once, Penumbra thought, I had been scared of entering the atmosphere quickly. It was an odd thing to think about - odder still to compare myself now to what I was like back then - what little I can remember anyway. Where have all the years gone.

Ablazed Glory’s aggressive flying has completely filled the viewscreen, she thought, how does she fly when she’s blind? I wonder - is she really in control or just lucky? Another odd thing to think about. Maybe she’s both? We’re in the troposphere now - three minutes, that’s just under a record I think. The instruments are reading conflicting numbers, are we at Mach 15 or 17? Does it matter ultimately, so long as we reach the ground in one piece?

Ablazed Glory’s braking manoeuvre was a form of aerial drift, notable in that she was close enough to the ground for barely audible clanks to be heard from the outer hull. Penumbra felt something die, then several more things.

Ablazed Glory, she thought, you beauty.

“Alright,” the flaming pilot in question yelled out, throwing her controls aside and leaping from her seat, “we’re on the ground, weapons free.”

“If you see any survivors,” Penumbra called out, her crew already throwing themselves into action, “get them to the ship, we need to rally everyone we can.”

Ablazed Glory was already out of the ship, but Penumbra trusted her to do something similar to her order anyway - Ablazed Glory could be trusted in that way, probably.

Astrid would protect the Glow Sisters - like Ablazed Glory, she could be trusted to do these things without Penumbra’s input. Cain, meanwhile, would be Penumbra’s wingbot - the perfect sidekick for her one-alicorn-one-robot parade of death which would cover the Dominion forces whilst they rallied together.

Stepping out onto the battlefield, Penumbra remarked in her mind at just how blasted it seemed. She had seen the classic blasted hellscape before, but this field was a whole new level. For as far as she could see, in all directions, there was grey - punctuated by craters every few metres. It was almost patterned, like polka dots. In several of the craters, she could see the sleek, glossy black armour of Dominion Warriors - surprisingly clean considering how ruined everything else was.

Cain just behind her, Penumbra advanced. There was a signature mental feel to the cult’s forces, almost like the bitterness of overdone coffee, that marked them out to her from a good distance. They huddled in the craters, just as the Dominion troops did, though seemed less interested in self-preservation than their opponents - more like they were instinctively copying them.

She crossed what seemed to be the Dominion frontline, to the apparent confusion of the pair of Warriors who garrisoned the crater she leapt over. Three cultists were in the closest crater, which quickly became twice as wide and three-times as empty.

Penumbra knew she had no need to order Cain around - the WarSynth already more than attuned to Penumbra’s thought stream to be able to understand her plan. As she predicted, the WarSynth followed her closely, bouncing high over the battlefield, swivelling its torso and mopping up the few cultists Penumbra left in her wake.

“Fall back,” she yelled, magic projecting her voice, “fall back to my ship!”

The Dominion Warriors - beleaguered for who knew how long - didn’t need telling twice. With an efficiency that marked them out as elite, they retreated. One by one, the craters emptied, covering fire from Cain and other Warriors allowing the smattering of soldiers in each crater to conglomerate, forming back into their squads, creating far more effective and menacing formations than they had been previously.

A few minutes more, Penumbra thought, a few minutes more than I can head back. Bloody their nose, make them think twice about coming back.

For certain, the cult’s nose was bloodied - far more than that, even. Cain’s machine ruthlessness proved invaluable, cutting a perfect, ever-expanding swathe through even the most well hidden of the cultists.

Bitter, she thought, very bitter.

“Alright,” she called out to Cain, “let’s head back, gather everyone together.”

The WarSynth slammed into the ground, swivelled its torso ninety degrees right, fired a bolt into a tiny speck of slightly darker ground - a muffled yelp erupted as the speck fell backwards - then waited.

The bouncing would have been fun had it not been for all the violence.

“They alright?” Ablazed Glory was speaking to a medic, tending to a Warrior whose left hand had been blown off.

The medic nodded, rather assuredly. “They’ll be fine,” they said, “we’re built tough.”

The flaming alicorn nodded and stepped back. “Alright,” she called out to a group of squads, “we’re here to get you out.”

Penumbra arrived next to a juniour officer, startling them slightly. “Sorry,” she mumbled, “you alright?”

The officer nodded, very much not assuredly. “Ah, probably. I’ve just never been in command before.”

“Leftenant!” A Warrior called from behind them, “what are our orders?”

The officer gave a half-shrug, before turning to Penumbra. “Any ideas?” They asked.

“I’ll need a moment,” she replied, “what are you all doing here?”

“We were supposed to be a relief force for Orpheum,” the officer said, “but we got intercepted by.” They paused and shrugged. “Whoever they were. They just dusted the entire fleet in orbit, we got into the emergency teleporters and came down here.”

Sounds like they fought back, Penumbra thought, that doesn’t sound like the Warriors at Orpheum. Except for that Joyous-Seeker.

“The soldiers at Orpheum were mind-controlled,” Penumbra said, “except one, called Starlight-Makes-Joyous-Seeker, or something like that. He said he was on a mission from Chronove.”

The officer seemed to recognise the name. “Joyous-Seeker? He was in my class at the Chronove Officer’s Academy. We were both a new model of Warrior, the type-8 mutation, so are all the troops here.”

New model, Penumbra thought. All the Warriors of this new model seemed to be immune to the mind-control. The new model could actually fight the cult. Hopefully the Dominion realise that.

“You’re all an immune form,” she said, “I think. Which means we might actually be able to do something here. Gather everyone together.”

The total assemblage of Dominion Warriors was far fewer than Penumbra had expected. All in all, there were only around one hundred, tiny by Irenton standards.

How long ago was it when entire battalions had been small, Penumbra thought. When thousands of soldiers had been little more than coloured rectangles on a board, that she’d move towards other, different coloured rectangles, whereupon combat would occur at some nebulous distance, like a calculator performing a subtraction. Why does the universe have to change so suddenly?

Something buzzed, causing Penumbra’s gaze to snap to the juniour officer she had spoken to earlier - the effective commander of the ad-hoc formation.

“I’m getting a signal,” they said incredulously, “Dominion signal!”

“Mountain.” A voice came over a speaker on the officer’s armour after a moment of silence.

“Flower,” was the officer’s reply.

Codeword, Penumbra thought, very useful with all this mind-control around.

“Good to hear a friendly voice. What’s your name, soldier?” Even through the somewhat garbled communicator, there was a tough friendliness to the trooper on the other side.

“Second-Leftenant Sunlight-Shaded-Rose, sir.” No indication of rank had been made by the soldier on the other side, but Rose seemed willing to assume authority - no doubt they wanted to remove that unwanted responsibility.

“Well, you’re First-Leftenant Sunlight-Shaded-Rose now. And, First-Leftenant, this is Vice-Admiral Vivid-Trench, I’ve got a small fleet of transports I got down to the surface before the fleet was torn apart. Send us your location and we’ll come to you, we need to consolidate our forces.”

The officer nodded to themself - no doubt the higher power was providing them much needed comfort. “Yes sir, patching you coordinates now.”

“Received. Hold on, trooper, we’re inbound.”

Penumbra had seen the transports long before she’d heard them - a surprise to be sure. Unlike the motley crew assembled around the Retaliator, Vivid-Trench’s veritable fleet of transports was enough to at least partially impress Penumbra. About four dozen ships, she counted off-handedly, more than enough to carry the approximately company-sized force she had by more than ten times over.

Vivid-Trench’s armour was identical to that of the other Warriors, except for a half-metre tall red plume on his helmet. Penumbra cast a brief glance to Ablazed Glory, who was visibly excited by the strangely extravagant customisation.

Immediately, Trench pointed to her. “You weren’t in the fleet,” he said, as though the concept of such was an incredible discovery.

“Sunless-Halo-of-Penumbra,” Penumbra replied to the unspoken question, “with Ablazed Glory, Cain, Astrid, and the Glow Sisters: Sun Glow and Moon Glow.”

Trench nodded. “I’ve heard of you. Shit, yeah I’ve definitely heard of you. A veteran of the old war. Good to have a war hero with us.” He shook her talon. “You willing to lead? Because between you and me I’m completely lost down here.”

Penumbra chuckled. “I can do. How much do you have with you?”

“Got my fleet, all Rift-equipped so we can travel - but I’d rather not put anything in orbit in case what dusted the fleet decides to make itself known again. Then, four companies of infantry and what bits of my command staff we could get to a dropship before my cruiser went down.”

Ablazed Glory moved in, ready to fill in Trench and his troops about the general situation. As she did though, her steps became distant. Everything began to echo miles away. Something is wrong, Penumbra thought, as she fell through the ground.

Visible ash. Something burning. Close burning, or simply all around? Both. Incense. Was it incense? Or just something as heavy as incense? The smell. Odd smell. Cancer. Cancer was the smell. And the taste, too.

Ash hovered in the air. What heeded ash? Fire, fire heeded ash but there was no fire except contained. And this ash; it was not the normal ash she had experienced before. It was not even the bone ash from Hammerfell. It was ash of something far more powerful. An ashen end.

Amongst the ash, shrouded by ash. So much ash. Powerful ash, shining embers of power. Look through the embers, look through the ash. Look at the bodies. Bodies, three bodies, powerful bodies - living yet not living. No, two living yet not living. One definitely living. Old, but living normally - how living normally when so old? Don’t ask silly questions, focus on the body.

Body, seen before, recognition. Why does recognition spark in the air like that? A leader, a leader of a cult. A powerful leader. Very powerful magic, bleeding off them. Leader, magic-user: wizard. Powerful wizard leading the cult. The powerful wizard from the vision.

He is here, he is their leader - kill him.

Recognition sparks brightly.

“What happened to her?” Vice-Admiral Trench was pointing at her as Penumbra was pulled back to reality. The entire assembled force of Dominion Warriors, as well as Ablazed Glory, were staring at her as if something terrible had just happened.

Fortunately, Astrid was able to calm Penumbra’s nerves. “I saw it too,” she said, “tell them.”

I was forced into that vision, she thought, and it wasn’t like the other ones. Not now, Penumbra, there’s a time and a place for worrying about that sort of thing and this isn’t it.

She cleared her throat.

“The Cult’s leader is on the planet with us. I saw him in a vision and I can feel his location. If we attack now, we may be able to cut the head off of the snake.”

Vice-Admiral Trench nodded. “Alright, troopers, you heard her. Get to the ships and prepare for combat!”

Oddly trusting, she thought, for a commanding officer.

Orpheum

“Then where do we go?”

That was the last question Ablazed Glory had asked before she had fallen through the floor. She wasn’t quite sure how the floor had become liquid - then vanished entirely - but was certain that she was hallucinating, dreaming, to put it in more general terms. She hadn’t quite realised that originally.

Where was Penumbra? She thought. Where were the Glow sisters? Where was Astrid?

I am here, Ablazed Glory.

Was that Astrid? It sounded similar to her, but more ghostly, more powerful.

It is me, Ablazed Glory, though I cannot be for too long.

Ablazed Glory spun, attempting to find the source of the voice which seemed to come from all around her.

She found her source in the form of an immense amalgamation of light. Astrid, or what Ablazed Glory assumed to be Astrid, pulsed with energy. Somewhere, deep beneath the strength of the corona her aura created, she seemed to take on a blue and purple hue, shifting and floating on her body. Her overall body shape couldn’t really be seen, the enormous volume of light proceeding from her form masking any specific shape.

What was going on?

A vision, Ablazed Glory, a collective vision shared by each of our friends, aside from Cain of course. It is a wound in reality, allowing us to see through space. Observe and remember all you can, I will see to Penumbra and the rest of our friends.

Astrid vanished, leaving Ablazed Glory again alone, standing on nothingness. Fortunately for her personality of being very quick to boredom, her environment quickly changed.

She was in orbit of a large planet. It was a pleasant looking temperate world, sixty percent ocean from her reckoning. With a sudden flash, she was in the atmosphere, over a massive octagonal Dominion fortress, stretching as far as she could see.

Even from her distant vantage point she could tell something was wrong. The ubiquitous black metal towers were strangely silent. The cannons that covered every available space, which should have been scanning the skies constantly, were either eerily still or packed away completely. The fortress’ central planetary defence guns were all on standby - which protocol dictated was only to be done in case of attack - though none fired or tracked across the sky.

The fortress was empty.

Another sudden flash found her within the fortress’ control centre. The rotunda, about the size of the Retaliator, was completely empty. Several of the terminals were still active and there appeared to be no signs of a struggle. A cup of tea steamed away silently in the corner of her vision.

Another flash brought her right before one of the terminals. Her vision became wreathed in swirling tendrils of shadow. Something ghostly groaned and many voices whispered something in tongues. She felt like she could understand some of the words, though had no idea how.

It was time to leave, immediately.

Fort Hammerfell, the terminal read, Orpheum. That was the last thing Ablazed Glory saw before another flash saw her dragged from that uncomfortable dream world.

“Do not fear, Ablazed Glory,” Astrid said as the flaming alicorn bolted awake, “you are safe, free from the vision.”

Ablazed Glory blinked. “That wasn’t a fun experience,” she sighed, sitting herself up. “How are the others?”

“They woke up just moments ago,” she replied, “Penumbra has tea and the Glow Sisters are speaking to her. Cain has kept the ship functioning.”

“No surprise there,” Ablazed Glory muttered, “I remember what I saw, what I heard - I know where we need to go.”

“Tell me,” Astrid said, guiding her comrade to a chair.

“Orpheum,” Ablazed Glory recounted, “that’s our destination. It’s not far from us, I think that’s where the cult’s leader has headed. Something’s definitely happened there.”

Astrid nodded. “The Luminary will have the coordinates?”

“Yeah, definitely, it’s a Dominion planet. An important one at that.”

“Then we will see it reached.”

Ablazed Glory hummed her agreement. “There was something else though. I think someone was talking.”

“Talking?”

“Yeah. And there was this shadow, or something, that seemed stuck to what I could see. When the shadow appeared the voices started.” Ablazed Glory shot her mind back to the speech she had heard, gathering up what she could understand. “It was talking about fire.”

“You, perhaps?”

Ablazed Glory shook her head. “No, no, no. Not a fire. But, fire in general. Less the thing and more the concept. Something about a star, shining star, I think it said. Then, something about return. Someone’s return, I think.”

Astrid nodded gravely. “To be considered another time,” she said, “first we must head to Orpheum and investigate. From there we can battle the cult.” She turned to head back to the console, before suddenly a thought came to her and she turned back. “The other is a problem for a later time,” she said, with just enough of her crypticness to make Ablazed Glory nervous.

Regardless, the flaming alicorn returned to her piloting position, opening the flight controller and keying in the coordinates for Orpheum that were already in the system.

“Time for more adventure,” she mumbled. Orpheum was nice and close, which was a positive, but it was also a Dominion fortress world - covered in heavy fortifications designed to protect strategic systems from enemy attack - if the cult had someone overrun one of the fortifications, they could be flying right into a death-trap. Ablazed Glory was an excellent pilot, she would readily and tactlessly boast of that, but even she couldn’t outrun an entire planetary defence system for longer than a few minutes. “Should’ve just stayed on New Horizons.”

“Alright,” She called out, getting the attention of all of her comrades, “we’re heading to Orpheum, that’s probably where the leader Penumbra saw is headed - or already is.” She wasted no time hitting the Rift engage - it was possible Hammerfell was still operational, they just had to reach it quickly.

The Rift seemed strangely still, strangely stratified.

“Something isn’t right,” Penumbra said, “it’s all wrong.”

“Something is affecting the Rift from without,” Astrid stated, following up Penumbra’s point, “I cannot ascertain what it is or its location.”

Penumbra lit her horn, reaching out with her magic. “I can’t find anything either,” she said as her horn dimmed again, “but, I think it’s safe.”

To Ablazed Glory, Rift phenomena were no joke. Within seconds of entering the Rift, she had realised the issue and activated the shields, harmonising them to the patterns of the Rift she could see and feel outside the hull. The biggest problem a Rift storm would hold for them was being forced out somewhere dangerous - like the core of a star, she’d read about that happening to an unfortunate Imperial cruiser, that had put her off space travel for a while.

Fortunately, that didn’t happen. The Retaliator excited the Rift over Orpheum just fine, making Ablazed Glory immediately relax. Then, tense up again immediately, remembering what exactly was below them.

Fort Hammerfell, visible as a massive octagon of grey surrounded by fields of green. The city sized fortress beamed out no signals, nor did it make any attempts to identify the Retaliator. It was silent, as silent as a grave, and that made Ablazed Glory momentarily twitch with nerves.

“I think it’s empty,” Ablazed Glory said to her companions, “so we should be clear to land.”

“And if it isn’t?” Penumbra asked.

“Then we’ll be blown out of the sky and won’t have to worry about any of this any more,” was Ablazed Glory’s reply, before she engaged the engines downwards, “buckle up!”

Their entrance to the atmosphere was noticeably free of gunfire,

“It is clear,” Penumbra murmured, “but why?”

Ablazed Glory was reluctant to land, with good reason. It was not every day she visited a city sized fortress, let alone one where all of its inhabitants seemed to have vanished. She very much hoped whatever had made them vanish wasn’t still on the ground.

She released the unconscious pressure in her forelegs and unclenched her jaw. It’ll be fine, she assured herself, if there was anything down there we’d have seen it by now, because it would’ve attacked us.

“I’m gonna set us down on that pad over there. Someone will need to stay on the ship.”

“I shall remain behind with the Glow Sisters,” Cain said, “in the event of an emergency I will do my best to provide assistance.”

The Retaliator cast a thin shadow over the landing pad, suspended between two immense metal towers, cannons pointing into the air atop them. Everything remained silent, only the quiet hum of the Retaliator’s engines and the steps of its crew filling the courtyard.

Joyous-Seeker

Ablazed Glory pulled away from a terminal and shook her head. “No one’s replying,” she said, tapping one of her claws subconsciously on the grey metal floor. Each tap echoed slightly down the corridor.

“We may be too late,” Astrid said, “our enemies may have gotten here first.”

“There should at least be bodies,” Ablazed Glory said, casting her eyes about, “signs of a fight.”

Only some of the base’s lights were on, casting golden cones every few dozen metres, illuminating nothing but a small expanse of featureless floor.

Penumbra returned to the group from one of the side rooms. “Nothing,” she said, “are we sure this place isn’t empty?”

“It shouldn’t be,” Ablazed Glory snapped, “there should be guards everywhere! We shouldn’t even have been able to land.”

“All the better for it,” Astrid said, “I would rather not have been shot out of the sky.”

“I would if it meant this base was still active,” Ablazed Glory said, checking the terminal once more for any signs of life, “if they can take this place out – we’re done for.”

When the terminal crackled to life, Ablazed Glory snapped to it fast enough to give anyone but herself whiplash. With practically invisible speed, she entered a hundred different commands to pin down the signal she was receiving.

“I have a signal!” She shouted, a great smile on her face, “it’s faint, but definitely there.”

“Where’s it coming from?” Penumbra asked.

“Thirtieth level beneath us, from what I think is a bunker.”

“What does it say?”

“Nothing,” Ablazed Glory replied, “it’s a life signal. If there’s still life, then we can find out what happened here.”

“How do we know it isn’t a trap?” Penumbra asked, casting a long look over her left shoulder down the corridor. “If they could take out this whole base, they could surely set up a phoney signal.”

“Our enemy have unique patterns to their souls,” Astrid replied, “there is life below us – certainly – and it does not appear as they do.”

Astrid’s assurance was enough to set Penumbra at ease for the time. And, the long walks through empty corridors and down completely uninteresting elevators and staircases didn’t give an opportunity for that to change. There was only so much featureless Dominion military architecture one could absorb before the nerves of waiting for an ambush subsided.

“This place is enormous,” Penumbra mumbled, halfway down the twentieth-or-so functionally identical corridor, “why would they build it like this?”

“It’s the main command centre for this entire region,” Ablazed Glory replied, “it needs to be well defended.”

“And so close to the Great Void, it needs protection from the threats within.” Astrid paused, a wave of purple light washing over her skin. “Our enemy has certainly been here. I feel the imprint of their presence on the air. And yet, they did not appear to be fighting.”

“That explains why there’s no scorch marks. And why there’s no bodies.”

“It would further explain why this place tastes of death and yet I feel no remnants of souls released from their bodies. Regardless, we must be careful.”

That statement didn’t do much to ease Penumbra’s concerns. Though, again, the long and featureless walks were more than enough to calm her. It was like walking a marathon.

“Wait, wait, wait.” Ablazed Glory held out a taloned foreleg to halt the group. She sniffed quietly at the air. “I smell something. Kind of smokey.”

Ablazed Glory lowered her head slowly, scanning the floor back and forth. Every so often she would quietly inhale through her nose, humming or sighing momentarily afterwards.

“There’s ash on the floor here. It’s been scattered up the hall. There’s no prints in it, either.”

“Bone,” Astrid clarified, “bone ash. I do not know how these ashes came to be here, however.”

“There’s no scorch marks or shell casings.”

“There is also no magical residue,” Astrid said, another wave of light crossing the skin on her face. “No one appears to have died here, nor has there been a battle.”

“Then how is there ash?” Penumbra asked, casting glances over her shoulder.

Both Astrid and Ablazed Glory could only shrug.

Fortunately, it was only a staircase and half a corridor more before they reached a large bulkhead door, no doubt a fallout bunker of some kind. There was no doubt in the minds of the three companions, this had to be the signal’s origin.

“This is it,” Ablazed Glory said, after accessing the panel, “our signal is definitely inside.”

“There is one soul inside,” Astrid said, placing her left palm on the pommel of her sword. “Be careful.”

“Let’s try not to resort to violence,” Penumbra said, all too concerned as to why they would have to do so, “if they’re Dominion then they may be able to help us.”

A moment passed by, Ablazed Glory pressing the array of buttons on the panel slowly and individually.

“Speaking of help, Penumbra, I need your skills.” Ablazed Glory gave way for Penumbra to access the panel.

Penumbra gives the terminal a once over, then nods to herself. “Hmm, this doesn’t seem too complicated. I’ll only be a moment.”

The door unlocked moments later with a thud of metal - there was surprisingly, and one might say suspiciously, little security given its apparent purpose. Then, a sudden hiss heralded its opening. Slowly, the titanic weight shifted sideways, the room within partially shrouded by a white smoke cloud.

“Halt, identify!”

“Sunless-Halo-of-Penumbra.” She lifted her talons in front of her, unsure as to exactly where the voice was coming from within the room. “We’re friendly.”

The culprit was quickly revealed: a Dominion Warrior. Who seemed to slacken upon seeing her and lowered his weapon. “So you seem. I’m Starlight-makes-Joyous-Seeker. An unknown party raided the base, took everyone else away.”

“We know the group,” Penumbra said, “they’re a cult from the Great Void.”

“Why didn’t the base fight back?” Ablazed Glory questioned, “you’ve got enough guns to wipe out a fleet from three billion klicks.”

His answer was quick and breathless, filled with stutters and confusion. “The other crew. They seemed like they were mind-controlled, or something similar. They just walked outside, then the raiders landed and took them off-planet. I hid down here.” He bowed his head slightly, sighing quietly.

“Why didn’t it affect you?” Ablazed Glory asked, though it was Astrid who seemed to know the answer.

“He is immune,” she said, “though I do not know how it is only him.”

The Warrior shrugged and sighed after a moment of silence. “Neither do I. Chronove sent me a few days ago to deliver a message to the commander of this base, maybe that has something to do with it?”

Ablazed Glory looks him over. “Your armour is clearly new,” she said, nodding to herself, “and your rifle too. If you’re lying, you’ve put a lot of effort into it.”

“He does not seem to be lying,” Astrid said, her skin running purple and pink like a nebula, “I suggest we trust him.”

“And I suggest we get him to a ship and back to Chronove.” Penumbra said, easily flowing into that natural commanding nature of hers. She pointed to the Warrior. “Tell Dominion high command that a cult originating from the Great Void is attacking Dominion planets and that they appear to be able to use some form of mind control. Tell them you were immune to being controlled. Hopefully that’s enough for them to go on.” Penumbra beckoned the Warrior to follow.

“There should be a ship in the hangar bay near where we landed,” Ablazed Glory said, “he can use them to get back to Chronove.”

Joyous-Seeker nodded. “My flying abilities are limited but acceptable. Thank you for the help.”

Penumbra attempted to be diplomatic, but she was quickly interrupted. “Pah.” Ablazed Glory waved him off. “We didn’t do anything, there’s no one here but you and us.”

“That is a relief to hear,” he murmured. “Still, I would not have known that without you.”

Sure enough, on their return to the surface, a momentary detour from the Retaliator brings them to a collection of sleek, onyx-black vessels. All either brand new or recently cleaned and put under maintenance.

“Pick the one you like,” Ablazed Glory said, like a fairground attendant with a rack of prizes. “Besides,” she mumbled under her breath afterwards, “not like anyone else is gonna need them.”

“I will deliver your message,” Joyous-Seeker called as he boarded his chosen craft, “Sunless-Halo-of-Penumbra. Ensure your safety in the meantime.”

Penumbra saw him off with a taloned salute. Safety, she thought, was easier said than done.

Ultimus

“Take us to Ultimus, quickly!”

No sooner had the Retaliator been in orbit of Orpheum they had received a distress signal from a Dominion battleship in the Ultimus system. With adrenaline fuelled speed, they had entered the Rift, en route to the Ultimus system. Only as the frequencies of the Rift calmed her mind, did Penumbra realise that transmissions could be easily faked.

“Do you think this could be a trap?” She asked Ablazed Glory.

Her flaming companion turned to her, her face scrunched up. Then, her eyes widened. “Oh, shit.”

When they exited the Rift, there was a moment of terror when the silhouette of a massive warship was all they could see. Calm only came when the silhouette was recognised as a Dominion battleship, surely the same as had sent the distress signal in the first place.

Plasma drifted from a gash in the hull, slowly coming to fill the Retaliator’s viewscreen as the brutalised husk of the vessel lazily revolved. As the battleship neared a half-turn, another gash came into view, though unlike the previous it did not have an end point. The warship had been sliced in half, the rear of the vessel missing.

“This isn’t good,” was all Ablazed Glory could mutter.

“Scanners are detecting fifty-three wrecks,” Cain called, “all of them marked as Dominion.”

Penumbra shook her head and leaned back. “Damn it,” she sighed, “that’s an entire fleet.” She covered her eyes with her claws.

“Are we too late?” Ablazed Glory asked, her fiery mane flattening on her back, “did we miss the signal?”

A moment of silence followed.

None of them were willing - or in Cain’s case not sure enough - to say it. The field of debris was a sight Penumbra hadn’t seen anything like since the War in Heaven - which she had considered to be more of an apocalypse than a conventional war. What had happened to the conventional wars she read about in her library? What happened to two knights duelling? All she had seen were ancient evils, daemons, and cults; every battle she had experienced had been more of an armageddon than anything else.

“I am detecting pockets of Dominion ground forces.” Cain’s robotic voice was sweet to Penumbra’s ears - the message it carried even sweeter. “They are currently fighting on the planet’s surface. I suggest we move to assist.”

Penumbra couldn’t have given the order sooner: “get it done.”

Once, Penumbra thought, I had been scared of entering the atmosphere quickly. It was an odd thing to think about - odder still to compare myself now to what I was like back then - what little I can remember anyway. Where have all the years gone.

Ablazed Glory’s aggressive flying has completely filled the viewscreen, she thought, how does she fly when she’s blind? I wonder - is she really in control or just lucky? Another odd thing to think about. Maybe she’s both? We’re in the troposphere now - three minutes, that’s just under a record I think. The instruments are reading conflicting numbers, are we at Mach 15 or 17? Does it matter ultimately, so long as we reach the ground in one piece?

Ablazed Glory’s braking manoeuvre was a form of aerial drift, notable in that she was close enough to the ground for barely audible clanks to be heard from the outer hull. Penumbra felt something die, then several more things.

Ablazed Glory, she thought, you beauty.

“Alright,” the flaming pilot in question yelled out, throwing her controls aside and leaping from her seat, “we’re on the ground, weapons free.”

“If you see any survivors,” Penumbra called out, her crew already throwing themselves into action, “get them to the ship, we need to rally everyone we can.”

Ablazed Glory was already out of the ship, but Penumbra trusted her to do something similar to her order anyway - Ablazed Glory could be trusted in that way, probably.

Astrid would protect the Glow Sisters - like Ablazed Glory, she could be trusted to do these things without Penumbra’s input. Cain, meanwhile, would be Penumbra’s wingbot - the perfect sidekick for her one-alicorn-one-robot parade of death which would cover the Dominion forces whilst they rallied together.

Stepping out onto the battlefield, Penumbra remarked in her mind at just how blasted it seemed. She had seen the classic blasted hellscape before, but this field was a whole new level. For as far as she could see, in all directions, there was grey - punctuated by craters every few metres. It was almost patterned, like polka dots. In several of the craters, she could see the sleek, glossy black armour of Dominion Warriors - surprisingly clean considering how ruined everything else was.

Cain just behind her, Penumbra advanced. There was a signature mental feel to the cult’s forces, almost like the bitterness of overdone coffee, that marked them out to her from a good distance. They huddled in the craters, just as the Dominion troops did, though seemed less interested in self-preservation than their opponents - more like they were instinctively copying them.

She crossed what seemed to be the Dominion frontline, to the apparent confusion of the pair of Warriors who garrisoned the crater she leapt over. Three cultists were in the closest crater, which quickly became twice as wide and three-times as empty.

Penumbra knew she had no need to order Cain around - the WarSynth already more than attuned to Penumbra’s thought stream to be able to understand her plan. As she predicted, the WarSynth followed her closely, bouncing high over the battlefield, swivelling its torso and mopping up the few cultists Penumbra left in her wake.

“Fall back,” she yelled, magic projecting her voice, “fall back to my ship!”

The Dominion Warriors - beleaguered for who knew how long - didn’t need telling twice. With an efficiency that marked them out as elite, they retreated. One by one, the craters emptied, covering fire from Cain and other Warriors allowing the smattering of soldiers in each crater to conglomerate, forming back into their squads, creating far more effective and menacing formations than they had been previously.

A few minutes more, Penumbra thought, a few minutes more than I can head back. Bloody their nose, make them think twice about coming back.

For certain, the cult’s nose was bloodied - far more than that, even. Cain’s machine ruthlessness proved invaluable, cutting a perfect, ever-expanding swathe through even the most well hidden of the cultists.

Bitter, she thought, very bitter.

“Alright,” she called out to Cain, “let’s head back, gather everyone together.”

The WarSynth slammed into the ground, swivelled its torso ninety degrees right, fired a bolt into a tiny speck of slightly darker ground - a muffled yelp erupted as the speck fell backwards - then waited.

The bouncing would have been fun had it not been for all the violence.

“They alright?” Ablazed Glory was speaking to a medic, tending to a Warrior whose left hand had been blown off.

The medic nodded, rather assuredly. “They’ll be fine,” they said, “we’re built tough.”

The flaming alicorn nodded and stepped back. “Alright,” she called out to a group of squads, “we’re here to get you out.”

Penumbra arrived next to a juniour officer, startling them slightly. “Sorry,” she mumbled, “you alright?”

The officer nodded, very much not assuredly. “Ah, probably. I’ve just never been in command before.”

“Leftenant!” A Warrior called from behind them, “what are our orders?”

The officer gave a half-shrug, before turning to Penumbra. “Any ideas?” They asked.

“I’ll need a moment,” she replied, “what are you all doing here?”

“We were supposed to be a relief force for Orpheum,” the officer said, “but we got intercepted by.” They paused and shrugged. “Whoever they were. They just dusted the entire fleet in orbit, we got into the emergency teleporters and came down here.”

Sounds like they fought back, Penumbra thought, that doesn’t sound like the Warriors at Orpheum. Except for that Joyous-Seeker.

“The soldiers at Orpheum were mind-controlled,” Penumbra said, “except one, called Starlight-Makes-Joyous-Seeker, or something like that. He said he was on a mission from Chronove.”

The officer seemed to recognise the name. “Joyous-Seeker? He was in my class at the Chronove Officer’s Academy. We were both a new model of Warrior, the type-8 mutation, so are all the troops here.”

New model, Penumbra thought. All the Warriors of this new model seemed to be immune to the mind-control. The new model could actually fight the cult. Hopefully the Dominion realise that.

“You’re all an immune form,” she said, “I think. Which means we might actually be able to do something here. Gather everyone together.”

The total assemblage of Dominion Warriors was far fewer than Penumbra had expected. All in all, there were only around one hundred, tiny by Irenton standards.

How long ago was it when entire battalions had been small, Penumbra thought. When thousands of soldiers had been little more than coloured rectangles on a board, that she’d move towards other, different coloured rectangles, whereupon combat would occur at some nebulous distance, like a calculator performing a subtraction. Why does the universe have to change so suddenly?

Something buzzed, causing Penumbra’s gaze to snap to the juniour officer she had spoken to earlier - the effective commander of the ad-hoc formation.

“I’m getting a signal,” they said incredulously, “Dominion signal!”

“Mountain.” A voice came over a speaker on the officer’s armour after a moment of silence.

“Flower,” was the officer’s reply.

Codeword, Penumbra thought, very useful with all this mind-control around.

“Good to hear a friendly voice. What’s your name, soldier?” Even through the somewhat garbled communicator, there was a tough friendliness to the trooper on the other side.

“Second-Leftenant Sunlight-Shaded-Rose, sir.” No indication of rank had been made by the soldier on the other side, but Rose seemed willing to assume authority - no doubt they wanted to remove that unwanted responsibility.

“Well, you’re First-Leftenant Sunlight-Shaded-Rose now. And, First-Leftenant, this is Vice-Admiral Vivid-Trench, I’ve got a small fleet of transports I got down to the surface before the fleet was torn apart. Send us your location and we’ll come to you, we need to consolidate our forces.”

The officer nodded to themself - no doubt the higher power was providing them much needed comfort. “Yes sir, patching you coordinates now.”

“Received. Hold on, trooper, we’re inbound.”

Penumbra had seen the transports long before she’d heard them - a surprise to be sure. Unlike the motley crew assembled around the Retaliator, Vivid-Trench’s veritable fleet of transports was enough to at least partially impress Penumbra. About four dozen ships, she counted off-handedly, more than enough to carry the approximately company-sized force she had by more than ten times over.

Vivid-Trench’s armour was identical to that of the other Warriors, except for a half-metre tall red plume on his helmet. Penumbra cast a brief glance to Ablazed Glory, who was visibly excited by the strangely extravagant customisation.

Immediately, Trench pointed to her. “You weren’t in the fleet,” he said, as though the concept of such was an incredible discovery.

“Sunless-Halo-of-Penumbra,” Penumbra replied to the unspoken question, “with Ablazed Glory, Cain, Astrid, and the Glow Sisters: Sun Glow and Moon Glow.”

Trench nodded. “I’ve heard of you. Shit, yeah I’ve definitely heard of you. A veteran of the old war. Good to have a war hero with us.” He shook her talon. “You willing to lead? Because between you and me I’m completely lost down here.”

Penumbra chuckled. “I can do. How much do you have with you?”

“Got my fleet, all Rift-equipped so we can travel - but I’d rather not put anything in orbit in case what dusted the fleet decides to make itself known again. Then, four companies of infantry and what bits of my command staff we could get to a dropship before my cruiser went down.”

Ablazed Glory moved in, ready to fill in Trench and his troops about the general situation. As she did though, her steps became distant. Everything began to echo miles away. Something is wrong, Penumbra thought, as she fell through the ground.

Visible ash. Something burning. Close burning, or simply all around? Both. Incense. Was it incense? Or just something as heavy as incense? The smell. Odd smell. Cancer. Cancer was the smell. And the taste, too.

Ash hovered in the air. What heeded ash? Fire, fire heeded ash but there was no fire except contained. And this ash; it was not the normal ash she had experienced before. It was not even the bone ash from Hammerfell. It was ash of something far more powerful. An ashen end.

Amongst the ash, shrouded by ash. So much ash. Powerful ash, shining embers of power. Look through the embers, look through the ash. Look at the bodies. Bodies, three bodies, powerful bodies - living yet not living. No, two living yet not living. One definitely living. Old, but living normally - how living normally when so old? Don’t ask silly questions, focus on the body.

Body, seen before, recognition. Why does recognition spark in the air like that? A leader, a leader of a cult. A powerful leader. Very powerful magic, bleeding off them. Leader, magic-user: wizard. Powerful wizard leading the cult. The powerful wizard from the vision.

He is here, he is their leader - kill him.

Recognition sparks brightly.

“What happened to her?” Vice-Admiral Trench was pointing at her as Penumbra was pulled back to reality. The entire assembled force of Dominion Warriors, as well as Ablazed Glory, were staring at her as if something terrible had just happened.

Fortunately, Astrid was able to calm Penumbra’s nerves. “I saw it too,” she said, “tell them.”

I was forced into that vision, she thought, and it wasn’t like the other ones. Not now, Penumbra, there’s a time and a place for worrying about that sort of thing and this isn’t it.

She cleared her throat.

“The Cult’s leader is on the planet with us. I saw him in a vision and I can feel his location. If we attack now, we may be able to cut the head off of the snake.”

Vice-Admiral Trench nodded. “Alright, troopers, you heard her. Get to the ships and prepare for combat!”

Oddly trusting, she thought, for a commanding officer.

The Chance

Faith. Have faith.

Emperor Nicholas asked for faith. His plans hinged around faith. His soldiers were faithful to him above anything, and that allowed him to march them into heaven and kill a god.

Twilight Sparkle had given him faith. The child had been willing. She had been willing to do anything because in Emperor Nicholas she had placed her faith and that faith had transformed her.

I have faith now, not in the Emperor, but in myself. Faith can move mountains and kill gods but faith can also be shaken, can also be tested. Perhaps, then, it is in the nature of faith not to succeed but to fail?

Let faith be my end. Let me die wrapped in faith. If there is an afterlife - or any state beyond the state of death - then let me go there with bright eyes. When my ash settles, let my ash burn brightly with faith. Not faith in a god, or gods, or in one distant man, but faith in myself. Myself and my friends - that is a faith worthy of me.

Faith is a great armour and I shall clad myself in it. Clad myself in faith and guard with it myself and my friends - and their friends and those who they have not known. Clad myself in faith.

Behold, a light in the dark. A light made of faith - old faith and new faith. Like a lighthouse on a dark sea. It’s warm, yet cold. I see, old faith is warm, new faith is cold - neither unpleasant. My light grows. It is bright, like the sun on a clear summer morning. My old sun.

Stand up.

Astrid was ablaze.

Her skin had become a vibrant purple, covered in wispy blue flames. Platinum hair opened out into the wind, haloing her and her piercing eyes. Her sword, a dreamblade, cut apart reality with an echoing roar. From her back shot tendrils of golden light, ripping apart the writhing black shapes that surrounded her. All in all, she shone.

Like the sun.

“Penumbra,” Ablazed Glory yelled, voice hoarse with battle, “are you alright?”

I nod. My head feels light. The world churns beneath me. Focus, Penumbra, focus.

Those writhing black shapes, what the hell are they? Focus on the dizziness, clear it from your head - come on Penumbra you’ve done this a thousand times.

Shapes, shapes, shapes, see the shapes - make the shapes into something you recognise. Bodies, the shapes are bodies. Writhing black bodies - not writhing, moving, some writhing in Astrid’s grip but intentionally writhing, trying to escape; cultists, they’re cultists. And she’s killing them by the dozen.

“Penumbra.” Ablazed Glory had stopped yelling, coming down to a crouch by my side. “Can you walk?”

Why was I the wrong way up? “I think so,” I mumble, “what the hell happened?”

“Your transport got hit,” Ablazed Glory said, as she tilted me carefully around. “Can you remember any of that?”

Remember now, Penumbra, what do we remember? Memory. Goodness, where has all the time gone.

“Astrid, she’s been knocked about bad.”

So far away.

As Penumbra sank down, the force of her impact with the ground after being thrown from a burning wreck taking its toll on her, a golden tendril from Astrid’s back cracked like a whip, cutting a dozen cultists in half.

“Keep her upright,” Astrid yelled to the flaming alicorn cradling Penumbra’s stricken form, “I’ll be there in a moment.”

The cultists were an endless swarm. They came in small numbers, like small waves on a coast, but without finish they came. For Astrid it was less a matter of how many she could kill and more a matter of how much time could she use to restore Penumbra before they were simply swamped. A moment of calculation gave her one minute and three seconds - not much, but hopefully enough.

As her dreamblade decapitated a pair of cultists, Astrid turned to Penumbra and leapt to her side. Ablazed Glory rose to provide covering fire in the meantime.

“No time for sleep,” she murmured to the limp alicorn, “fire cannot sleep.”

And thus, slowly, Penumbra rose.

“Where’s Vice-Admiral Trench?” The officer manning the rudimentary guard post yelled as the three leapt into its safe and waiting confines.

Penumbra shook her head. “Our transport was hit,” she had to shout to be heard - such was the cacophony of battle and the dull roar of the Cultist headquarters’ innards - “he didn’t make it.”

The officer swore under their breath, then nodded grimly and shrugged. “Guess I’m in charge then,” they murmured.

“What’s the sit-rep?” Ablazed Glory questioned, checking the hastily erected tactical map, “we go to keep pushing?”

The officer gave a groan, expressing an emotion Penumbra could empathise with fully but not quite describe. “We’re bogged down here,” they said, pointing out the general line on the map, “there’s no cover over the ridgeline, once we’re in the ruins we’re not leaving again, essentially. Plus, there’s these two big things - flying about and keeping us suppressed from range. We can’t push until we’re sure they’re not just gonna dust us.”

Penumbra thoroughly considered copying the officer’s groan.

Ablazed Glory looked between her compatriots in the dug-out, her eyes squinting and jaw clenched. “We need to attack now,” she said, at last, “we kill their leader, we kill the cult. If there’s even a chance he’s still there, we have to take it.”

Astrid nodded. “I agree. From what I can tell, he is still here, in the ruins. But, between us and him there are many hostiles. Two Heralds, from what I can tell - though more may come. However, we appear to have caught them off guard.”

“If this is what they’re like off guard, I don’t wanna think what they’re like on it.”

Astrid nodded again. “Hopefully it does not come to that, Ablazed Glory. Penumbra, let us lead an assault.”

Penumbra nodded, before a sudden thought became stuck in her mind. She looked about theatrically, despite knowing nothing was there, before freezing stock still and thinking for a few seconds, an agonisingly long wait for the others.

“Where are Cain and the Glow Sisters?” She said at last.

Ablazed Glory’s face went from a grim, soldierly determination to immediate wide-eyed concern. “Oh shit.”

Astrid, however, chuckled musically. “They are in a dug-out further back,” she said, “with several soldiers. They are more than safe.”

Her fears dispelled in an instant, Penumbra was ready. “Well then, let’s not wait.”

The ruined complex that the cult had taken for a headquarters was as enigmatic as it was ancient. The only thing Penumbra could really tell for certain - as she charged and cut through the Cultist lines at high speed - was that the complex was very, very old. Any further information was lost in the heat of battle, or in the general march of time. In its centre, ringed by the most intact - though still nonetheless shattered - wall, was a courtyard, where a familiar looking robed figure stood, alone and still.

If Penumbra had any doubts before of the cult leader’s location, they were dispelled the instant the robed man became visible to her.

There he is, she thought, time to finish this.

But, of course, nothing was ever that simple. Guarding the way to the cult leader were the two Heralds the Dominion officer had mentioned. They hefted their scythes with no flourish - none of the almost mindless grandiosity that had made their predecessors such easy targets. Even without their knowledge of her fighting tactics - which Astrid had theorised was a result of a hive-mind like system - these two felt different to the ordinary Heralds: greater foes, somehow. Sure enough, her magical sight told her the two Heralds who blocked the way were more than the sum of their fellows.

Alright, Penumbra, she thought, take it slow - be patient - don’t attack when you’re not certain. Kill these two properly then we move onto the main target.

She had advanced well ahead of the main group - with even Astrid a good few minutes behind her. She cursed her speed and thought for a moment about hanging back, waiting for backup. But, as she kept repeating in her head: this is the one chance, every second counts.

The two Heralds separated, moving to flank her. She knew their plan already: attack from both sides simultaneously, bank on her shield not being able to hold, then go for the kill.

Internally, she steeled herself. Externally, she lit her shield.

Don’t allow them to attack first, she thought, go for the one on the left, strike low and then bring it up. Stagger them then turn to block the other.

Using her shield like a pivot, she swung anti-clockwise, sword extended in a long, arcing swing. Her target was the Herald’s hip area - or where its hips would have been had it had legs. To her immediate concern, the Herald strafed, then planted its scythe into the ground like a peg - Penumbra’s sword coming to a thudding halt upon it.

Her body, meanwhile, continued travelling. She went far enough to pass the Herald that had been her target and come face to face with its fellow, scythe already arcing for the attack. With speed only just possible even to her, she brought her shield from the ground and around to deflect the blow, the magical object cracking in the process.

Not a soft hit, she thought, damnit Penumbra that was silly!

Using her own momentum and the force imparted to her by the attack, she flung herself around, momentarily out of range of the two Heralds and with them both firmly visible to her.

Time for another tactic. Nothing risky, Penumbra, keep it simple and keep it tight. Long attacks aren’t working, so let’s try short and quick - nothing to leave us open but still enough to get some hits in.

Her sword was closest to the Herald on the right, so she launched her assault against the left. She reasoned that she would catch them momentarily off guard, allowing her to push an assault on her own terms. Her reasoning, as evidenced by the Herald frantically blocking and falling back, was correct.

Though they were strong and knew much of her fighting style, the Heralds were still little more than automata: powerful but mostly mindless golems. When she attacked, they countered - blocking or parrying - it was all ultimately an algorithm, and all she needed to do was figure that algorithm out and they would be defenceless.

Block, block, parry, block, parry, block, block.

That was the pattern, she surmised. On the final block of the pattern she would launch a guard-break, staggering her opponent, then strike its chest, before pushing forwards with her shield and getting within its guard.

Block, block, parry, block, parry. One more block then attack, let’s make this a one-on-one.

From behind, the second Herald attacked. Penumbra, in a mathematical battle trance, made no attempt to defend herself. In a single swipe, she was tossed aside like a cricket ball.

“Shit,” she mumbled, with all the air left in her lungs for the moment.

Careful Penumbra, damnit, careful.

Fortunately, most of her injuries weren’t too bad. Her right lung had collapsed, a rib being driven through it - otherwise her wounds were superficial. The most serious damage was to her pride.

Although, the two approaching Heralds made her think that the damage would increase exponentially very soon. How long could she defend herself as she was? Preferably without being injured further, there was still the Cult’s leader yet.

But any defence would remain a hypothetical.

With a flash of golden light, Astrid struck the ground in front of her. With an explosive forward wave of energy, the two Heralds were blown back - like paper bags in a hurricane.

Dreamblade in hand and boundless power partially unshackled, Astrid shot forwards. She was not a fighter, no, more a dancer. She weaved around and through strikes without blocking them, attacked in fluid arcs, twisting her body at all sorts of unnatural angles to chain her movements together and conserve momentum.

Penumbra couldn’t help but simply stare.

In barely a minute, the two Heralds were dead, reduced to two tattered cloaks, in crumpled heaps on the ground. Astrid flowed into a turn, flicking her hair back and striking a pose - no doubt she revelled in the perfection of her combat ability; that and Penumbra’s adoration of it.

“Are you alright?” Astrid asked, from right above Penumbra - who snapped out of her trance immediately.

“Wha...Ah, yeah, uh, let me just…”

Astrid placed her shimmering blue hands on Penumbra’s chest and shoulder. “Relax a moment, please, you’ll only make your injuries worse.”

Penumbra tried to protest - though what came out was little more than a series of ums and ahs - before simply nodding glumly and lying back.

“You fought well,” Astrid’s voice - for her mouth did not move - said softly, “I am very proud of you.”

Penumbra felt immediately rejuvenated. What would she do without Astrid’s healing magic?

“I have not started yet,” Astrid said, causing Penumbra to stutter something even she didn’t know the meaning behind and lie back down again. The Archon chuckled and smiled. She murmured something like “I didn’t know you were that easy to please,” though Penumbra ignored it - more than likely, it was just a hallucination of some kind. Magic had a habit of messing with people - especially in such a place and time as this, who could possibly know the effects the mere location was having on her magical reserves..

It was the feeling of a rib moving from her lung that confirmed the magical action. Beyond feeling rejuvenated, Penumbra actually felt physically healed - with, surprisingly, no pain whatsoever.

“The leader lies beyond,” Astrid said, pointing to the ruin ahead, “he is alone. Though, I cannot continue with you, I must assist Ablazed Glory and the others. And besides, I shall not go against prophecy.”

Penumbra chuckled as she rose carefully to her feet. “More glory for me then.”

Astrid allowed herself a wry smile. “Be safe, Penumbra.”

The distant cacophony of gunfire was all the soundtrack for Penumbra’s entrance to the final courtyard. Before her, kneeling atop a wide and slightly raised dais with scythe by his side, was the cult’s leader - the head of the snake. From her vantage point she gazed over the entire circular area, only taking another step once she was certain there was no one lying in ambush.

The cult leader had been expecting her, that much was clear by the fact he was waiting. But, had he seen what she had seen? Had he too experienced the vision of their duel? Was this, to him, nothing more than prophecy? She put the thought out of her mind immediately - her only focus would be on their battle. Her only focus was his demise.

“So,” the Leader spoke - his voice was rough, but did not appear to hold any malice - “you have come.”

Penumbra ignited the crackling blue blade of her plasma sword in reply.

The Leader chuckled. “Prophecy is an interesting thing,” he said. He planted his boney, grey-skinned left hand upon the handle of his scythe and rose to his feet. With a motion that made Penumbra start momentarily, he flicked it around and into a fighting stance, all in the space of around a quarter of a second. “The future is never set in stone.”

“Yeah, well, tell that to the prophets.”

Again, the Leader chuckled - were he not the leader of a murderous cult, Penumbra reckoned he would be quite fun to talk to. “If they could be brought to listen.”

“Everyone listens to the right person.”

He nodded. “That is very true, but sometimes the right person is unavailable.”

Penumbra gave a half-smile. “You can become the right person with enough persuasion.”

“But does that power of persuasion not make you the right person to begin with?”

“Perhaps, but anyone can persuade someone willing to listen.”

The Leader breathed out. “And neither of us are.”

“I know I’m definitely not.”

Beneath the shadow of his cloak, Penumbra could have sworn she saw a smile. “I would have it no other way. Come then, Sunless-Halo-of-Penumbra, let us decide their prophecies for them.”

The final courtesy of a dueller given, the two slammed together.

Hours passed by in what felt like minutes; it was an endless series of attacks, blocks, manoeuvres, and parries. Penumbra gave her all, as her all was needed. The Leader, despite appearing frail - in what little of him could truly be seen beneath the heavy shadow of his black cloak - was viciously fast and immensely strong. More than a dozen times, his scythe had struck her shield and shattered it in one - forcing her to reforge it.

Magic had impregnated the very air, flowing from both of their bodies in its many forms - expended at such a rate that would have, under any other circumstance, made Penumbra cease using magic for weeks afterwards. Yet still, she soldiered on - this was it, she thought, this was the end.

Hours passed by. Both the Leader and Penumbra began to slow - though slow was very much a relative term for the two. As they reached the twenty-second hour, Penumbra’s magical debt began to cloud her vision. Only the Leader’s loss of speed and strength kept her from simply being cut apart.

Surely, she thought, this must be over soon.

By the twenty-fifth hour, she could no longer feel her legs. Her sword, kept aloft by a field of magic so thin as to almost be invisible, swung by virtue of her instinct alone. Had she had room to think - or the energy to spare for it - she would have thanked her luck that the Leader was also having trouble. Two evenly matched opponents were locked in what was little more than a battle of attrition - who could outlast their opponent. Or, who could get the first hit in - as both had remained untouched throughout.

Summoning all of her remaining energy, Penumbra changed tactics. Instead of the usual arcing swings, she swung her sword into a thrust, striking forwards and upwards at the Leader’s chest. Her attack connected, creating a thunderous boom and throwing the Leader backwards a good fifty metres. Blood covered his cloak and his body, sprawled beneath it, did not move to rise up.

Penumbra’s sword fell from her magical grip and her knees buckled as she struggled to stay upright. Unable to summon enough power to even perform basic telekinesis, she lifted the sword with a claw.

Was it done? Was he beaten? Had she won?

Blood has blood

“Damn it,” Penumbra swore, with what little air she could spare, “damn it and damn it again.”

A single good hit had been all she’d needed, as it turned out. The Leader lay, sprawled, battered and bloodied cloak half covering him like a duvet in the early morning.

She shambled - or maybe fell with a semblance of control would be the right term - towards the slumped body - conscious of the fact her knees held by nothing more than luck - eyes constantly darting across it. His scythe was buried into a rock behind her, thrown by the blast that had thrown him the other direction, but who knew what other tricks he was hiding.

One good hit, she thought, one good hit, can I get another one off?

She hoped it wouldn’t be needed. But, if necessary, she thought with an aerial slash of her sword, she’d be ready. Faint flashes filled her vision and her body felt like it weighed nothing.

She stopped herself and went to a standard guard as a grey out took hold. Blinking slowly and breathing strongly, she tried to reach out with her magic, to check if anything was nearby - but that only intensified her feeling of the entire world swaying beneath her.

“Fuck,” she muttered, “I’m going to feel that tomorrow.”

With her vision mostly returned she continued her slow stagger forwards, all too aware of the potential danger she was in - though such danger had long since become commonplace as to have eroded her sense of it.

The Leader was, upon inspection of a metre away, certainly injured. He, surprisingly, wasn’t lying in ambush - at least not that Penumbra could see.

“Alright,” she said, though her speech volume was little higher than a murmur, “now for some questions.”

She sat with a thud.

“Now,” she murmured once again, “why are you doing this? Because there better be a good reason why I can’t hear out of my right ear and I feel like someone’s pulling my legs out from under me.”

The Leader exhaled roughly.

“That’s not a good answer,” Penumbra said, though she didn’t have the energy to extract a better one.

“You have not seen,” he growled, though it was clearly out of injury, not malice, “you have not seen what is to come, what came before. You have not seen the majesty of the Abyss.”

Penumbra tried to bring her sword to bear. “Also not a good answer.”

The Leader chuckled. “Indeed, of course you would believe that. For, you have not seen what I have seen, what we have seen. I spoke to it, to the Abyss, I saw reality as what it is.”

“And what might that be?”

“Chaos. Such is what there was first and what there shall be last. You have not seen that which has come from the Darkness, from the first and final Chaos.”

“I was made by the Darkness,” she said, “you may know the one: Emperor Nicholas, perhaps that rings a bell.”

The Leader barked out a pained laugh, with a shower of black and grey spittle. “A half-blood, barely even a usurper. Unfit to wield the mantle of the Dark. He was powerful, but, compared to the Chaos to come, he was nothing. I have taken rather a liking to you, your power and indeed tenacity reminds me of someone I once knew. Heed this warning: flee.”

“Flee from what?” Penumbra asked, casting a slow, sweeping glance around her, “your forces are scattered, you are nearly dead and my friends have this place secured.”

The Leader chuckled, out of what seemed to be genuine humour. “Indeed they have. I spent millennia searching for what I knew I would need for the final stage of my masters’ plan. Indeed, I had almost given up. I did curse reality. Until, that is, I communed with the Void, and realised what it would take.”

“Just skip to the end, please.”

Another chuckle. “My own blood, that was what was needed. My soul, to be released from my body into death. My life force, spilled onto this ancient altar. And now, Sunless-Halo-of-Penumbra, my masters awaken.”

What parts of his skin were visible flashed, before his body slumped back.

“Fucking hell.” Penumbra slumped back too, but not in death - not that she believed at least. “Why can’t things just be easy.”

The Worms

“Penumbra,” came the distant voice of Cain from behind, “incoming transmission from Celestine.”

The WarSynth closed in, handing down a pale blue glass pad. On it flashed a number of runes, surrounding a waveform display.

“Penumbra,” the Binaric monotone of Celestine floated from the pad, “I have detected signatures emerging from the Great Void. They match those disturbances detected by my station. They are inbound. I am afraid, this will be my last communique.”

“Understood,” she murmured, then attempted to stand. A sudden appearance of the floor in front of her eyes suggested that was a poor idea. “Bring me a cultist prisoner,” she said, “I’ve got a spell I need to try.”

“Affirmative.”

As Cain left to find her a suitable test subject, Penumbra ran over the spell she planned to use. It was, in a word, unethical - but there was time to worry about that later. Unlike most of her unethical spells, it was actually taught to her by Celestia - although Nicholas had added his own enhancements, for want of a better term. It was a simple, cheap spell, allowing her to absorb the soul of anyone she aimed it at and rejuvenate herself - in theory. Upon thinking about it further, she wondered why she didn’t have more of a reaction when Celestia taught her it.

No matter, she could write a report for an ethics committee later. She needed strength now.

Cain returned in short order, with Astrid, the Glow Sisters, Ablazed Glory, and a dazed looking cultist in tow.

“I’ll be one moment,” she mumbled, placing her claws around the cultist’s legs. One single in and out breathing motion turned the cultist into a heap on the floor. Penumbra felt herself suddenly rejuvenated, like she’d had days of rest; she felt a slight tinge in the middle of her brain, no doubt that spell had some consequences on her that would materialise later down the line, black magic had a bad habit of doing that to her.

“What did you just do?” Ablazed Glory asked, a perplexed look on her face, as her companion rose.

“Just needed some energy,” Penumbra replied, recognising Ablazed Glory was content with that answer given their extenuating circumstances, “now, I believe we have a problem.”

“Three Worms,” the Glow Sisters chorused, “from the Void. THE END OF THE WORLD; THE SHATTERER OF STARS; THE SCOURGE OF THE UNIVERSE. They come.”

“Pick those names out themselves, did they?” Ablazed Glory chortled, before a synchronised panning look from the Glow Sisters made her withdraw involuntarily. “Hate when they do that,” she mumbled.

“To the sky,” they chorused, looking above, where three gradually growing shapes had appeared. They were barely visible from the ground, but once sighted they were practically impossible to miss. At such a distance, they were little more than thin, slowly writhing lines, almost like tadpoles, or young worms in water, and they were approaching fast.

“I would advise an evacuation,” Cain said, “my targeting patterns project twelve minutes before hostile Worms make planetfall.”

Nothing else was needed to set the group dashing for the Retaliator. Ablazed Glory yelled the evacuation order to any Dominion soldier she could find, though most appeared to have already caught sight of the approaching Worms. Several squads were hanging around the Retaliator, awaiting Ablazed Glory’s inevitable and rapid drill-sergeant-like yells to board.

Aboard the bridge, Ablazed Glory wasted no time getting the Retaliator airborne. Though even her skills, as emphasised by the rapid breathing of the two Warriors who had manned the guns, would cut it close. The Worms were visible, in their entirety, entering the atmosphere.

They looked identical, each was equally long and made up of numerous short segments. Their flesh was a washed-out brown, apparently strong enough that their high-speed entrance into the atmosphere was unnoticeable. Their jaws were conical, split into three segments, within there was visible only darkness. A darkness that was rapidly coming to engulf the sky above.

Thankfully for everyone aboard the Retaliator, Ablazed Glory’s piloting skills never left anything to be desired. They were safely skyward by the time one of the Worms slammed into where they had been landed, burrowing through the ground with an ease that made several of the Warriors shudder.

“They’re eating the planet,” one of the Warriors exclaimed, “how do we fight this?”

For all her plans, Penumbra wasn’t quite sure.

“We have to get to Ferrus,” another of the Warriors said, “there’s a stronghold there, we can rally a defence.”

Ablazed Glory had turned to Penumbra. She was waiting for an order, as it seemed.

“Anywhere else we can go?” Penumbra asked her.

A quick shake of her head followed. “Not as I see it.”

Penumbra sighed and rubbed her temples. “Alright, take us to Ferrus.” She cupped her chin with a clawed foot and sighed again, as the swirling clouds of the Rift filled the viewscreen.

Supreme Devastation

Ferrus was a world of grey crags and small, rust-red seas. There was little beyond that, aside from scatterings of Dominion bases which became visible upon closer inspection. It was close enough to the Great Void to make it a target, but far enough a way as to allow for time to prepare.

Their landing at Ferrus was rushed and fraught with worry. The Warriors filed off of the Retaliator and what vessels still remained from Ultimus, immediately setting to work on the base Penumbra had chosen.

“Get everyone who isn’t part of the type-8 mutation off of the planet,” Penumbra ordered a gaggle of Warriors - constituted from three badly battered squads - “get everyone who is here, we need to be well fortified for when they inevitably come.”

“Ma’am, communications with Chronove have been established, but I don’t know for how long.”

Fortunately for the team, Penumbra had already come up with the message she wished to send. When the communication’s officer handed her the microphone, ready for transmit, she set straight to work.

“This is Sunless-Halo-of-Penumbra, commanding the planet Ferrus. We require immediate assistance, three large, stellar worms have emerged from the Great Void and are attacking Dominion planets. They are assisted by a cult from the Great Void who are capable of a form of mind-control. The Type-8 Warrior mutation is immune to this mind-control, we need immediate reinforcements of the type-8 mutation.”

She handed the microphone back. “Set the message to repeat,” she ordered, before immediately dashing off into the fortress’ command centre, where Ablazed Glory, Astrid, Cain, and the Glow Sisters were already based, along with a dozen or so Warriors who had manned consoles throughout the room.

“Worms inbound at zero point one C. Detecting no change in average course.”

“Continue scanning for other hostiles,” Ablazed Glory ordered, having fallen neatly into the role of commander, “we want as little getting through the atmosphere as possible.”

“I’ve sent for reinforcements,” Penumbra said, “more of the immune forms. With any luck, they’ll be here before the Worms arrive.”

Ablazed Glory sighed and nodded. “With any luck,” she repeated, punctuated by a curt chuckle.

One of the Warriors on the consoles immediately drew her attention. “Incoming,” they called out, “six dozen vessels, capital classifications. Eight dozen. Ten dozen. Hundreds of vessels just materialised above us.”

“Planetary defence systems are reporting transport class vessels entering the atmosphere,” another Warrior added, “planetary guns have downed three vessels. But we still have forty inbound.”

Something seemed to flash in Ablazed Glory’s mind. In a nigh-instant movement, she was before a console and entering commands as quickly as possible.

“Raise the shields,” she yelled out at whoever had the job of doing such, “get every planetary gun firing on the ships above us.”

Her gang of peons set to work at once. Within moments, a navy blue shimmer appeared outside of the command centre’s windows. Seconds later, a red fireball burst thirty or so metres from the ground, the shockwave of the explosion rippling outwards in progressive waves along the fortress’ shield.

“Good call,” Penumbra mumbled, calculating the trajectory of the projectile. Without the shield, she had no doubt, it would have impacted the command centre directly.

Ablazed Glory said nothing, her eyes locked solidly to her console.

“I sense hostiles approaching,” Astrid spoke up, her skin flush with blue and purple, “there is a powerful being with them, very powerful.”

Penumbra rubbed her temples with a claw. She growled and shook her head. “Why can’t things just be simple. Alright, Astrid, Cain, come with me, we’re going to the gate.”

The ragged band of Warriors had been mostly reconstituted. Squads - actual proper Dominion Maniples - garrisoned the many bunkers and fortifications that commanded control over the base’s main gate. All looked as ready for battle as any fresh, veteran Dominion unit.

“Incoming transports!” The sergeants chorused, their troopers reacting with a sudden tensing.

Battle, Penumbra thought, a proper, defensive battle. Albeit under not so fantastic circumstances.

From over the horizon erupted an immense dust cloud. The transports - barely visible specks of black and grey - travelled mere feet from the group, kicking up material as high as miles.

They mean to fight us blind, Penumbra thought, clever - but they haven’t counted on something.

“Astrid,” Penumbra said, “can you do telekinesis?”

The Archon nodded immediately. “Of course, why?”

“If you can move objects, you can move air. Correct?”

“Yes?”

“I need you to help me make a whirlwind and keep that coming cloud from covering the gate.”

Penumbra’s line of thought momentarily confused the Archon, though it wasn’t long before she caught up. She nodded slowly, the alicorn’s reasoning was certainly sound - but that didn’t necessarily mean her idea was possible.

“Give me a spot.”

They formed up just beyond the gate’s precipice, but still within the protective shield. Magic could pass the barrier - Penumbra correctly ascertained - so the plan should be unaffected by it.

Haloed by flashes of incoming ordnance and soundtracked by thunderous explosions, they set about their task. In unison, they began to spin the air. Telekinesis was an easy and untaxing spell - to the both of them - so its usage on such a large scale was mostly undifficult. Regardless, it took some effort to get to a point Penumbra was happy with.

That point came when a great vortex roared to life, funnelling dregs of dust from around the base into itself.

That’ll do, Penumbra thought, just keep this running now and we can clear the storm when it arrives.

Arrive it did.

Moments after the first of the transports made its landing some three hundred metres from the base’s shield, the dust cloud swept in. The vortex captured the dust that would have obscured the enemy landings from the gate, allowing the Warriors garrisoning it to pick their targets and prepare. Communications ran back and forth from the headquarters at a rapid rate. Penumbra was informed by a Warrior that the shield would retreat in two minutes - allowing the Warriors to engage through the open gate. Both Penumbra and Astrid made a slow and steady retreat, maintaining their vortex as the dust cloud began to thin out.

The shield’s retreat was almost unnoticeable. One moment, the land beyond shimmered very slightly with a blue tinge, then the next it was completely open - all the muted grey of the land reappeared, populated by cult forces.

“Engage!”

From up above, a pulse gun roared. The sound was unchanged from the War in Heaven: a piercing whine, but loud enough to pierce the eardrums of anyone standing too close. The grey crags beyond became orange - or burned black - and quickly became covered in the corpses of the cultist soldiers, rather than their living members.

It was going exactly how Penumbra had hoped it would go. The cult forces were being torn apart the moment they left their transports. And yet, she still felt like she was on the backfoot.

A flash of light, followed by an echoing boom, informed her as to why she felt so. This is a siege, she thought, not a pitched battle. It doesn’t matter how many troops they send at us, so long as they have enough to keep us locked in. They’ll keep firing until we break.

She cast her mind back through her memories. Have I ever broken? Equestria, the War in Heaven, The Great Light, Kaurava - many trials. Yet not once had I broken, I do not believe. Knocked down? Yes, but I always got back up. Let’s add Ferrus to the list of trials I succeeded.

“Extend the shield,” she yelled out, “trap them outside again.”

Her order was called up the line, Warriors echoing it until it reached the inside of the command centre. Mere minutes later, the blue shimmer extended again, locking cult forces without, and Dominion within.

To survive a siege: one must maintain will.

Half of Ferrus’ fortresses remained garrisoned, the Dominion troops all well adapted to siege training. But, then again, no amount of training could prepare one for the real thing.

The cultist force was led by a strange individual: apparently he bore at least some free thought. He had named himself Supreme Devastation - a name Ablazed Glory had smirked at before returning her face to a stoney expression of hardiness - and had been notable for his liberal use of the microphone.

“Hear me,” he had yelled, mouth far too close to the transmitter, “I am Supreme Devastation, who will be the architect of your destruction. Come out of your caves and join us, or die with honour!”

The message wouldn’t have been more than a footnote, had Supreme Devastation not ordered it to repeat - constantly - forever.

Ablazed Glory and a pair of technicians had to rewire the short-range receiver to silence him, instead hooking up a system whereby every speaker in the fortress played Dominion marching tunes.

“Comrades, look forwards
Our journey, it continues!
See our flag, fluttering in the wind,
As we march on down the road.

Soldiers, in step!
When we go back,
Up the road to our homes,
They will cheer for us: hurrah!

Our land, do not feel threatened,
By a foe in black or white,
As you see our flag, fluttering in the wind,
Fear not for your soldiers come!

Soldiers, in step!
When we go back,
Up the road to our homes,
They will cheer for us: hurrah!
They will cheer for us: hurrah!
They will cheer for us: hurrah!
Comrades, forwards!”

Penumbra found herself humming them occasionally. Whether or not it was captivity syndrome affecting her, she couldn’t tell, but anything that lifted the spirits was good.

Speakers at the base’s outskirts also blared Dominion military songs, though ones with a more militant and patriotic flair.

She wondered, as she carried out her hourly march along the bottom of the wall, if the cultists had morale that could be affected. Did they feel fear? Or, perhaps, Supreme Devastation felt fear and was holding off deploying his forces.

Her own forces had been surprisingly well kept over the past week. Though Penumbra had not slept - her eyes slowly beginning to show it - most of the Dominion Warriors had managed to keep themselves fighting fit and healthy. As she walked, she sighted a pair of Warriors, crouched under an outcropping of the wall, playing a card game.

“3rd Justice,” one of them said, casting his four cards onto the ground triumphantly.

Their comrade chuckled, throwing down a card of their own. “5th Dreams. And, victory is mine.”

The first Warrior groaned. “What the hell, come on give me a chance.”

“Not my fault I’m just so good.”

Penumbra smiled. Even through it all, they stood strong.

“Penumbra,” Ablazed Glory’s voice appeared through her helmet, “we need you back at the command centre, right now.”

Ablazed Glory had been acting as a veteran, unphased, military commander since their arrival on Ferrus. Yet, her voice had been cracked - apparently genuinely fearful. There had been little background noise from the command centre either, like she was used to.

After dashing back, she had been confronted by Astrid, who advised her before entering the war room.

“Do not startle her, I believe stress has gotten to her.”

Penumbra nodded. “Anything I can expect?”

“You may have to make her talk slowly - clearly too.”

Entering the war room, she came literally face to face with a ragged looking Ablazed Glory. Her eyes were sunken and grey and the fire that completely covered her was dark and relatively weak.

“They got in,” she told Penumbra, in a strange amalgamation of mumbling and shouting. “They got in, they got in.”

“Who got in? Where?”

“They got into.” Ablazed Glory paused mid-sentence. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“Glory, what’s going on?”

Ablazed Glory kept confusedly swearing, “fucking fuck fuck they got fuck in fucking fuck.”

Penumbra blinked.

“Glory,” she started, before immediately being interrupted.

“In fuck. Ah, ahh.” Ablazed Glory’s rambling just became screaming - though the inflection of her voice suggested she wasn’t quite sure what she was screaming at.

One week without sleep, Penumbra thought, so this is the kind of thing it would do.

“Ablazed Glory,” she said, using magical voice augmentation, “stand ready!”

Ablazed Glory immediately silenced and snapped to attention on compulsion.

“What has happened?”

“The cult broke through all but one of the shielded northern fortresses,” she said, “only a few soldiers got out.”

Oh, Penumbra thought, so that’s why she was so catatonic.

Astrid caught her as she fell, the Archon’s presence bringing her back to the aware world. Her left eye was firmly closed and refused to open and her right was not far behind.

Ah well, she thought, I need a nap.

Terminus

Penumbra awoke in an officer’s room below the command centre. Her bed, under any other circumstance, would have been far from comfortable - but to her weary self it had been the greatest and most mind-numbingly pleasant thing in the universe.

Slowly, she rolled over. A deactivated terminal on a desk greeted her - next to a wardrobe and door leading somewhere, most likely a bathroom. At first, she desired to check the terminal, before deciding that she actually desired to sleep some more and rolled back over again.

Only four thunderous knocks on her door stopped her from passing out again. With an almost stubborn sluggishness, she rose from her prone position and moved to the door. Her mane was probably a complete mess - coat too - but the amount she cared wasn’t worth the mental effort required to quantify.

She pushed the unlock button and the door slowly slid open, revealing a pair of Dominion Warriors and Astrid.

“Good to see you up,” Astrid said, “Ablazed Glory has asked for you in the command centre.”

Penumbra rubbed her eyes absentmindedly. “Can’t I get a clean up first?”

“I’d be happy too, but whatever it is shouldn’t take long.”

Again, Penumbra acted without thought, nodding her head and stepping out of her room. “Okay,” she said, before stretching out her wings and yawning, “lead on.”

Ablazed Glory - looking in significantly better shape than she had been before, and Penumbra for that matter - lorded over the war room. From her command chair, she gave orders and checked consoles, working faster than ever before.

She turned as Penumbra entered. “Good,” she said, turning back to the situation maps on the many viewscreens, “you’re here.”

Penumbra tried to speak, but a yawn swiftly overcame her. “Glory,” she mumbled, volume trapped by the aftermath of her yawn, “what’s up?”

“Well, as Astrid no doubt didn’t inform you, we have a big problem on our hands.”

From behind Penumbra, the Archon huffed. “Speak for yourself,” Penumbra thought she mumbled - though in her general floatiness she wasn’t sure.

“What’s the problem, Glory?”

“The Worms have sped up. They got within 3 light years in an instant. Our previous estimates for how long we had to defend ourselves have run significantly shorter.”

Ablazed Glory turned to see Penumbra’s reaction. Upon recognising that her fellow alicorn was practically asleep, Ablazed Glory sighed. She toyed with changing her message, but settled upon just waving her off. “Astrid, go clean her up - get her some coffee or something.”

“Coffee ran out three days ago,” a Warrior said, “but there’s still some combat stims in the clinic.”

Normally, Ablazed Glory wouldn’t have even considered giving Penumbra combat stims just to wake her up - but in the extraneous circumstances she allowed it. “Astrid, do whatever you think is right.” Enough leeway to get a useful effect but not enough of an order to give her a share of the responsibility for a potential disaster.

Astrid knew she would have had to drag Penumbra to the clinic - though her physical strength allowed her to simply carry her alicorn companion. With great care she lay her onto one of the beds and moved to check the cabinets.

“I think we might lose, Astrid,” Penumbra mumbled.

The Archon turned. “I don’t think we will,” she replied, only for Penumbra to laugh.

“You’re lying,” she said, “you think the same as I do.”

Astrid smiled. “Perhaps. But, whilst we deny potential failure, we have hope for potential success.” She considered turning back to the cabinets, but instead walked over and kneeled by Penumbra’s side.

“Every so often,” she said, “we fail. What we do then is learn from failure and use it to prevent future failure. So, failure is a learning experience - a success as it were. But, we don’t wish for failure, instead we wish for success. So, either, we get our wish and succeed - a win - or we do not, but we learn - also a win.”

Penumbra chuckled. “Until, we fail so badly we die, then we can’t learn.”

“We cannot die, Penumbra,” Astrid said, to which Penumbra’s gaze snapped to her and an almost mocking expression of disbelief crossed her face.

“We cannot die, Penumbra,” Astrid repeated, “and I will prove it to you. Until I die, I am alive - therefore I am not dead. If I die, however, I am no longer alive - you would think that would mean I am dead. However, I am dead - therefore I cannot update the record to change my status from living to dead. Therefore, I am immortal and cannot die. You are the same.”

Penumbra stuttered. “What. What? What, what? I. Hang on. Eh. Did you just? No. No? Yes?”

“I think you just tricked me into believing in it,” she said, “how did you do that? No magical trickery?”

Astrid smirked. “A little terminological trickery, perhaps.”

“Ah,” Penumbra said, with a feigned seriousness, “you did magically trick me.”

“Only insofar as my words are magical.”

Penumbra chuckled. “Yeah, yeah they are. Alright, let’s get those stims.” A sudden light flashed in her eyes. Yeah, she thought, I’ve got time.

“You know, I’ve been thinking...”

From her command chair in the war room, Ablazed Glory managed the defence of Ferrus and scowled.

What’s taking those two so long, she thought, all Penumbra needed was some damn stims.

Every few seconds her eyes snapped to the viewscreen observing the approach of the worms. How the hell had they gotten so close? Practically instantly they’d travelled ten / twelve lightyears. She squirmed slightly in her seat - things didn’t work that way, space travel didn’t work that way.

The orbital cannons were all secured in the base shields; they would be no use against the worms, Ablazed Glory knew that. But, they might prove some use against the cult fleet in orbit - maybe buying time for the Dominion troops to escape.

She rolled around times in her mind. How long would they have before the worms got within range? Upon first arrival, there’d been an estimate of about 3 months - more than long enough to figure out a way to react. Then, most of the distance had vanished over the course of a single instant. Three months had become less than three weeks.

Where the hell were Penumbra and Astrid?

Ablazed Glory knew one thing for certain: she needed a coffee. Another thing she knew was that she could not have a coffee as there were no means of producing one in the base. What kind of self respecting fortress didn’t have a proper supply of coffee beans? Even instant coffee would do, she thought, just some damn caffeine to take the edge off.

She’d never ran a siege before and she hoped that she’d never have to ever again.

Bloody hell, where are those two?

It was then that the war room doors slid open. Penumbra, looking somehow more ragged than when she first left, entered, followed by Astrid, who still looked completely made - though the Archon always seemed to be perfect.

“It’s,” she started, before stopping herself. Come on Glory, no need to be rude.

“Alright Penumbra,” she started, again, before again stopping herself. “Hell’s bells, you’re flustered - are you burning up? Are you allergic to the stims?”

Penumbra stuttered a little. “No, no, no, no. Just a little, erm, adrenaline, probably, yeah.”

Ablazed Glory shook her head as she looked the alicorn over. Then, a moment of apparent clarity crossed her. She shook her head again and pulled away, back to the command seat. “Give me strength,” she mumbled.

“Alright,” she said - with a little more than an annoyed tint to her voice - for the third time, “the Worms are closing in. With their rate of movement, we can’t get a proper estimate for when they’ll arrive. So, the plan is, simply, we break out and get into space.”

“The cultist fleet will prevent that,” Astrid said, almost immediately.

Yes, Ablazed Glory thought, I know that you bloody, hot-blooded fiend. “That’s the problem. We need to open the shields long enough to deploy our cannons against the fleet, clearing us a path into space.”

She realised that she was, as before, talking mostly to Astrid. Penumbra had been rendered essentially useless by her lickerish exploits. Gods in their tombs, she didn’t like that thought.

“Can the other bases be accessed remotely?”

“Already tried. We can but doing so might allow the cultists access to the networks. We’ve estimated a window of around eighteen minutes.”

Astrid stroked her chin. How come, Ablazed Glory thought, she was so composed when Penumbra was practically a braindead wreck? What was the difference…

Oh shit that was the difference.

No, stop it, bad Glory! Focus on the plan, get that out of your mind - no room for distractions of any kind. This has to be pitch perfect, no room for errors here - everyone’s lives are on the line!

“Ablazed Glory,” Astrid questioned, “are you alright? You’ve flushed up.”

She focused herself - forcing her flames to recede slightly. “I’m quite alright,” she said, “can we focus on the problem at hand? Because the Worms could be here any minute.”

Again, Astrid thought. “They will be a few more days yet,” she said, as the skin on her cheeks flashed waves of purple and green. “However, hmm.”

“What?” Ablazed Glory felt the back of her mind starting to flare up. Relax, she breathed, relax, no stress - only focus.

“I sense something else approaching through the Rift. I’m almost certain.”

“What is it? More cultists?”

The Archon shook her head, eyes glowing quietly beneath closed eyelids. Her blonde hair fell over her face a moment, before slowly slithering its own way back over her shoulders. “They are not cultists, unless the cult have recently changed their recruiting patterns. They’re something else.”

Focus Glory, no stress, only focus. Focus on the plan.

“Okay, then we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

From behind her, an officer shouted, “we have incoming, multiple Rift signatures!”

Ablazed Glory spun. Everything was all too sudden. Astrid could have warned her sooner. Why didn’t she say anything before? Where were the gun controls? How many ships? How many soldiers would they bring?

Focus. Focus Glory, no stress, only focus.

She breathed out.

“Identify!” She called out to the officer, jumping down to their console.

“They’re coming through now, sir, scanners giving us a profile soon.”

The scanners were not, however, faster than an Archon. Astrid’s eyes opened again, glowing blue. “They’re Dominion.”

Had any words, Ablazed Glory thought, ever been more wonderful to hear. She looked to the Archon with nothing except absolute elation. Astrid’s hair had, somehow, re-plaited itself, she noticed, and she had almost certainly gained slightly more colour to her skin. How odd, she noted, before leaping at the biped and crushing her and Penumbra in a hug.

“Ferrus Control, this is Fleet-Admiral Skryer. Starlight-makes-Joyous Seeker informed us you need assistance. Prepare your ships, we’ll bring you aboard once the sky is clear.”

Joyous-Seeker, Ablazed Glory laughed in her head, so he really had gotten through.

“Fleet-Admiral Skryer,” she said over the comm, after prying herself away from Astrid and Penumbra, “this is Ferrus Control, are we glad to see you.”

The Dominion officer on the other side chuckled heartily. “We arrive precisely when we’re needed. All guns, light them up!”

From the fortress war room’s viewscreens was visible a veritable massacre of the cultist fleet. The spear-head shape of the Dominion fleet cut forwards quickly and mercilessly, leaving dead hulks in its wake.

Now that was a beautiful sight, Ablazed Glory thought, that’s the luck of the Equestrian for you.

“Ablazed Glory,” Astrid’s melodic voice floated behind her, “we must get to the ships. Almost everyone will already be waiting for us.”

Focus, Glory, she thought, focus. Focus, then we can get through this all.

“Alright,” she called out to the few Warriors who still remained in the war room, “let’s pack it up and get to the ships!”

Within an hour they were aboard the Dominion ships. Though, they were given no time to rest, not yet.

“We’re moving to Terminus,” Skryer said, “a defence has been set up there. We stop these things in their tracks right there.”

“And if we can’t do that?”

Skryer shook his head. “Not an option. We stop them there, that’s the end of it.”

Focus, Glory, focus. No stress, only focus. Lives are at stake.

Legion's Hold

Like Ferrus, Terminus was a fortress planet. Though, that was where the similarities between the two ended.

Whilst Ferrus’ forts were small, scattered outposts designed to delay an enemy, Terminus’ forts were immense, practically cities. Terminus, as its name suggested, had one duty: stop an enemy and be their end.

Ablazed Glory looked in the mirror of her provided quarters. Her flaming eyes were sunken, with embered rings surrounding them. Her burning mane was unkempt, some flat, some sticking out in all directions. Had she a coat that wasn’t made of fire she knew she would’ve looked even more of a mess. And this was all after she’d slept for ten hours in the fireproof cot she’d been provided with.

My teeth are still sharp, she thought - recalling the old phrase from her years in the Throne World; it meant: ‘no matter my looks, I can still fight’.

Her quarters were buried deep beneath the Dominion headquarters - centred in the vast fortress of Legion’s Hold. The fortress was larger than Hammerfell, both in surface area and in how deep it went. Dominion troops had entered ahead of her arrival and she hadn’t seen one of them.

She turned to the cot behind her and wondered who other than her would actually sleep on it. It certainly wasn’t shaped for the average Warrior, that was for sure, and its intense fire-proofing didn’t make much sense considering no Dominion troops could be both healthy and on fire.

Her mind wandered and visualised Penumbra when she had last seen her - ragged and looking essentially as she did in that moment. She hoped Penumbra had slept well - better than her by any regard. Penumbra was the crux, she thought, so long as Penumbra’s okay - so are the rest of us.

Astrid, she thought, Astrid and Penumbra. Funny that.

My teeth are still sharp.

The Throne World had been the epitome of kill-or-be-killed, it was perfect for the current situation. Memories of it shone in her mind - a different time, a simpler time. It had hardened her, strengthened her, and yet she had never been unsafe. Emperor Nicholas was a strange man, she noted, so full of contradictions.

Though nothing the Emperor could do would make his presence any less wanted during times like these.

Father, why did you leave us?

Remember him, Ablazed Glory.

Shining? She thought. Where the hell had you been?

I have tried speaking to you for some time now. But great powers have covered my voice.

Great powers? What sort of great powers?

Astrid, mostly. Her magic is blinding to the soul.

Well, welcome back. But how come you’re only here now, is Astrid not nearby?

I have learned to be louder, though she is strangely quiet.

I don’t like nouns qualified as strange, you know that. Gods in their tombs, what has happened now?

I do not know, but she was speaking to Penumbra in her quarters before this. Perhaps they’re simply testing out new magic.

Ablazed Glory spat into the sink. Blood slowly washed down the drain. She’d bit her tongue with enough force to puncture it and stick a fang straight through to the other side.

All the powers in reality curse their names! She used Nicholas’ old saying:; which he had used to curse those who fought willingly for the Great Light.

Calm down, Glory, you’re being a bit too harsh.

Any wisdom for me, Shining? Or are you as lost as I am?

You must remember the Emperor, Ablazed Glory, remember him as the one I could not be. Let him be the strong steel to my broken rust.

I will do, after we defeat the Worms. I need that memory for slightly more important things at the moment.

No, Ablazed Glory, you do not. Nothing is more important than those memories. Not to you, or Penumbra. He is the key.

What do you mean the key? The key to what? Shining? Shining, are you there?

“Ablazed Glory,” went the speaker inset into the wall above the door, “report to central command tower immediately.”

“Damn it,” she mumbled, voice crackling just like the intercom, “just can’t catch a break, can I.”

The central command tower was probably the single largest room Ablazed Glory had ever seen, perhaps dwarfed only by those aboard the Archon’s Forge. Yet, the vast majority of its tactical consoles were unmanned, most of its viewscreens were deactivated, and it was mostly empty of all personnel save her friend, three Dominion officers, and a single Warrior.

“We’re all here, good,” said Fleet-Admiral Skryer, identified by the runic tag on his chest. “We don’t have much time, so I’ll make this quick. The forces you faced on Ferrus were just the vanguard; our scanners have detected an incoming force at least three times the size of the previous, they’ll be here within the hour.”

Another one of the officers - a lesser Admiral by the tag - followed up, “Terminus has a large number of planetary defence guns, which should lessen the effects of a siege. And, our fleet in orbit should be able to do similar. But, it is certain large contingents of enemy forces will be able to land.”

“Supreme Devastation will be with them,” Penumbra said, “no doubt he’ll be commanding them from the ground. Being in orbit would be too dangerous. If we can kill him, we can potentially break the main force.”

“We have to hunt him down then,” Ablazed Glory said, Astrid and two of the officers nodding in response, “rout as many as we can then we can face the Worms. That’s what Nicholas would do.”

Penumbra went slightly pale beneath her coat. A good portion of her still had an aversion to his name - to any vocal remembrance of his existence. Yet, she knew of his prowess. He could win them this battle - if only he were alive.

Ablazed Glory had raised a good point. Following the idea of ‘what would Nicholas do’ would probably get them far. But, Nicholas was dead - so he was not invincible.

“We can hunt Supreme Devastation,” Penumbra said, at last, “just give us a path to him.”

Skyrer nodded. “That can be done.”

Penumbra and her group turned, wordlessly, to leave. They would find Supreme Devastation, kill him, then target the Worms.

“Wait,” Skryer called, “what’s your callsign?”

Penumbra looked over her shoulder. “Squad Retaliator,” she said, earning a chuckle of approval from Ablazed Glory.

“Ura,” The flaming alicorn punctuated her comrade, with a raised fist.

The Hunt

“Command, we have made contact with enemy headquarters, orders?”

“8th Maniple, this is Command, contact report received. Retaliator Squad is moving to assist.”

A stir came up from the Warrior garrisoning the foxhole east of the pulse gun. “Retaliator Squad?” She yelled in question. “Since when do we have a Retaliator Squad?”

The pulse gun shrieked its shrill, whining tune, bolts of bright orange illuminating the front line of the cultist force.

“Doesn’t matter,” the Maniple’s sergeant shouted back, “so long as they can fight.”

The pulse gun’s hail of fire stopped a moment. From the sergeant’s positions could be seen one of the crew unjamming it by striking the action with a hatchet hammer, freeing the half-solidified clumps of molten metal and dropping them to the ground.

“Clear!” The Warrior shouted, with the pulse gun opening up again practically an instant after.

In the time the maintenance took, however, the cultists had already began to swarm the makeshift defence. A moment of dreadful clarity seemed to cross the Warrior alongside the Maniple’s sergeant.

“Don’t think we can hold them, sir!”

Like the tide, the cultists just kept gradually rolling in. They charged forwards, completely unnoticing of the corpses of their former comrades they clambered over. For every one the pulse gun burned a molten hole through, another two crawled out over the gradually heightening beam of bodies.

But backup always arrived.

A streak of golden light saw hundreds of cultist bodies - living and dead alike - tossed aside like ragdolls. Emerging from a scorched circle was the Archon, Astrid, hair flowing like the sea in the air. Wrapped in the silvery silks of her battle robe - designed more to show off her svelte physique than anything else - with dreamblade glowing white hot, she strode almost casually forwards. As if to prove the eyes of those who looked on her form wrong, she lifted a cultist by his head with a single hand and tossed him into the distance with a single flick of her wrist.

Heralded by a cloud of flaming needles, blocking out the sun but providing no shadow, came the orange missile of Ablazed Glory. Fitting for one made of fire, her arrival scorching a hole through the cultist lines, her fog of magical fire burning away the rest. Lurid red slit pupils darted back and forth, scanning every inch of the new ground; whilst, atop her head, flaming knife-like auricles swivelled. Her metre-long serpentine tongue winded in air and mouth, its crackling flames creating a menacing silhouette, a true reminder of her heritage: the Demon Lord of Flame, Nicholas.

A sudden, crackling black fog covered a cultist squadron. When it dissipated, with a burst of static, the previously living squadron had been replaced by a melted lump of flesh and Cain. In the light of the late-morning’s starlight, its brass chassis - formed in the likeness of a skeleton - glittered. Beneath its great fan headdress - fashioned like the crown of kings who were ancient to ancients - a single red sun sought out violence. Behind its gaze and brass skeleton worked an ancient artificial understanding.

Behind Cain erupted a burst of magenta light. Emerging from its shield came first Sun Glow, a small unicorn with golden coat, clad in silver armour. Joining her seconds later was Moon Glow, with white coat, otherwise identical. The twin sisters locked their sunken grey eyes to the cultist forces beyond. They spoke instantly and in silence, and, as one, they lifted from the earth two great pillars of gold and black smoke, respectively. In an instant, the front line of the cultist force was gone. Both their manes, orange and blue respectively, sparkled as if possessed by starlight.

Above them all, haloed with a crackling aura of magenta magic, was Penumbra. Her leathery wings, tipped with claws, were outstretched to their full forty metre span, and glided her in steadily. All along her deep, almost black, purple coat danced sparks of magical energy; whilst her shimmering indigo mane, suspended like tendrils beneath water, felt out the air around her. She touched the ground some metres ahead of the cultist lines, muscular legs compressing to launch her forwards, her razor sharp wingtips and mighty claws tearing apart anything in her path.

“Supreme Devastation is up ahead,” Astrid called out, in that wonderfully melodic, yet almost ghostly, tone of hers.

“He doesn’t have any of the big guys with him,” Ablazed Glory added, her own voice carrying the ever-present fiery determination that had carried her through so much.

“Hostile forces outnumber us approximately one hundred and seventeen to one,” Cain recited, its every word steady, equal in pitch and volume, and always carrying that sense of ancient wisdom.

“Evils,” the Glow Sisters chorused, in their perfectly synchronised and identical manner, “evils all in front.”

“Retaliator Squad, let’s get this done,” Penumbra projected her voice with magic, her order booming from her throat.

As one, the team surged forwards. Astrid cleaved five cultists in two with her dreamblade, with a hail of magical fire over her shoulders from Ablazed Glory brought down five more. Cain snapped its laser back and forth, turning cultists’ heads into ash. The Glow Sisters brought up sorcery after sorcery, punching holes deep in the cultist lines. Whilst Penumbra, practically burning with magic, charged forwards like a torpedo, carving a gash through the cultists, aiming directly for Supreme Devastation.

The leader of the cultist forces could be identified easily. Supreme Devastation was broad, almost entirely muscle, clad in silvery, ornamental armour instead of the traditional black cloak of the cultist forces. His head was entirely covered by a helmet, with no features save a shape essentially like that of a head. A scythe was planted hilt first into the ground a few metres from his side, though he himself held a large, black flail.

Finally, Penumbra thought, something new.

“At last,” Supreme Devastation bellowed, as if his voice was emanating from the very bottom of his throat, “you come to duel me, one-on-one.”

Penumbra chuckled inwardly - another verbal spar before the main duel began. “If you can call mopping up a straggler a duel.”

“Ah!” Supreme Devastation’s only functioning emotion seemed to be a boisterous, bellowing anger, “ah ha! Let us hope your fighting is as good as your talking.”

He swung out with his flail, with Penumbra narrowly avoiding it with a burst of her wings.

Admittedly, she thought, I’d expected that to last longer. He’s impatient, good to know.

Though Supreme Devastation’s flail swings seemed unthinkingly brutal, his savagery was clever, considered, and trained. But, his timings were still partially off - by about half a second - he was practically itching to attack. Penumbra’s plan was simple: keep away from him for long enough, bait him into a mistake, then push the attack.

Despite her size, Penumbra was incredibly agile. The same, however, could not be said for her opponent - he was strong but, in the grand scheme of things, he was slow. Though each swing of his flail smashed craters into the ground, each one was almost easy for Penumbra to avoid with simple beats of her wings or forceful pushes from her powerful legs.

Soon enough, the faint aroma of adrenaline began to enter Penumbra’s nose. Supreme Devastation, exactly as she had planned, had started getting angry. No doubt he believed her to be just toying with him - even though she still found no good openings for an attack.

Every attack struck harder, every off-timing got wider. Supreme Devastation showed no signs of tiring, however, in fact he seemed to be pushing even further. But his attacks still weren’t timed correctly and that was all Penumbra really needed.

Seven seconds, Penumbra thought, I have seven seconds between attacks. In seven seconds I can strike short twice up towards the chest, then pull back, or hit his neck if I can stagger him the first time. A few of those should be good.

Supreme Devastation swung his flail round, impacting the ground with a thud and the sound of shattering stone. The instant one of the flail’s curved spikes impacted the ground, Penumbra shot forwards, striking twice with her sword at a thirty degree angle up from Supreme Devastation’s sternum. Something that wasn’t quite bone cracked audibly and her quarry was knocked slightly back. Swinging her sword around in a full loop, Penumbra sliced towards his neck, cutting it practically in half and spraying an oily black substance everywhere.

Leaping back, she took stock of the damage she had done. Unlike the Heralds she had fought before, Supreme Devastation appeared to carry the mortal quality of being able to comprehend injury. He clutched at the gash in his neck, still leaking the black fluid that was presumably his blood.

“Ow,” he seemed to mumble.

What sort of damage have I done, Penumbra thought, come on give me at least some sign.

With a final spurt of black oil, the flow of liquid from Supreme Devastation’s wounds stopped. The punctures in his chest began to close, his sternum audibly coming back together. His neck remained mostly detached, though the bone and tendons were fusing together again.

“Fucking hell,” Penumbra murmured, “of course you can do that.”

What the hell do I do now?

She jumped another body length back. Her mind began to race, she had to think of a plan, and fast. Supreme Devastation seemed to feel pain - unlike the Heralds - but also was able to heal - again, unlike the Heralds. Having only fought the scythe wielding automatons and the Cult’s Leader up until that point, Penumbra’s tactical library for this type of situation was nigh empty;
rapidly, she set about writing new mental books, she would need them very, very soon.

That black fluid, her mind had become stuck on it. The black fluid, what did it mean? Was it blood - if it was blood then no doubt removing all or most of it would kill him? If it wasn’t blood, then what was it? She decided she needed some of it.

She took to the skies. Supreme Devastation was a good few metres tall, and accurate enough with his flail to effectively triple his height, but Penumbra’s agility should place her in the advantage.

I’ll get in over his head, Penumbra thought, then push downwards. With the right timing, I can get a sample of the fluid and get out of range without being hit.

However, she knew full well that doing so would be far easier said than done. Though being airborne made her even more agile, it also allowed for Supreme Devastation to cover practically his entire person by spinning his flail above him at increasingly faster speeds. The opportunity to attack was rapidly falling away.

She brought herself down onto Supreme Devastation’s head in a corkscrew manoeuvre. At the last possible instant, she threw around her sword to catch the chain of his flail, then sliced open his scalp with her claws. Satisfied she had enough of the black liquid to analyse, she struck down again, using the reaction to her strike to propel her upwards and forwards. A chunk of Supreme Devastation’s head went in the opposite direction.

Running the black fluid through her claws, she lit her horn and allowed it to be engulfed with telekinesis. She ran the spell over in her mind, trying to remember the exact layout of the matrix in the heat of the moment - which way did it overlap? Did it overlap at all?

It came to her eventually, surfacing from the black depths of her memory. Rapidly, the spell identified the black fluid, it was certainly some form of blood - containing a fairly high concentration of myoglobin - though contained a number of other odd components such as over one hundred parts per million of arsenic and around twenty five parts per million of Potassium Cyanide.

Draining his blood would probably make him healthier.

Slowly, the clump of head that had been torn off began to heal up. All the while, though, Supreme Devastation seemed to slow slightly, as if healing was making him weaker. The damage she had done was not superficial, either, so healing would take a good few minutes, at least.

More of that, she thought, and I can probably kill him fairly quickly. The more damage I do, the more damage I can do.

With a kick of her hind legs she shot herself forwards like a missile. Folding her wings around her body, she formed the shape of a bullet, using her minute control over her feathers to twist her into a spin, sword and horn prepared to take the brunt of the impact.

Supreme Devastation didn’t appear to be capable of reaction. When struck - a blow which tore out a good half of his torso - he simply mumbled and slouched back, allowing the Penumbra-missile to pass straight through him.

Penumbra’s magic charged hairs prickled, letting the poison riddled black blood slide right off. Her horn crackled and sparked as it analysed the impact: Supreme Devastation’s flesh was just that - flesh - with no abnormal strength and even minor weakness in the bone beneath; a few more attacks would probably suffice to kill.

A mumbling came from his throat and he staggered sideways - knees collapsing inwards.

Some warrior, Penumbra found herself thinking, all bark and no bite.

Penumbra threw her sword at him like a javelin, impaling him in the sternum with an echoing crack. He staggered backwards, both injured further and confused as to why. With a flick of her magic, she pulled her sword out and returned it to her talons.

He was taking rather a lot to finally kill, though it wasn’t proving even remotely taxing to his attacker. Penumbra had taken to slowly lobbing objects at him, saving the magical energy she had stored. Every impact did further damage, though Supreme Devastation’s threshold for such seemed to be near infinite.

“Alright,” Penumbra said, at last, “time’s up, I’m done with you now.”

She closed the gap in one leaping stride and sliced off Supreme Devastation’s armoured head with a flick of her sword wielding talon. It fell to the floor with a metallic crunch, his body collapsing backwards slowly after it.

A distant panicked scream erupted, like tens of thousands of voices all coalescing into one. In an instant, she felt an aura of terminal fear all around her - emanating, she had no doubt, from the cultist armies. Exactly as she had predicted, the death of Supreme Devastation had routed them - finally, the Dominion defenders could rest easy.

She sat back onto her haunches, breathing out and letting the calm wash over her - adrenaline fading from her system.

“Good job,” she mumbled in self-congratulation.

Barely a moment went by before Astrid appeared over the earthen beam that separated the ruins’ centre point from the surrounding battleground. Unlike Penumbra, however, Astrid was decidedly not calm.

“Penumbra,” she yelled, her magical voice projecting as if to be right next to Penumbra’s ear, “look up!”

Oh no.

Above her, casting her into a shadow, were three writhing, segmented creatures.

The Worms had come.

Desperate

As Retaliator Squad retreated back to Legion’s Hold, the Dominion fleet in orbit of Terminus moved to counter the Worms.

At a distance of 16,000 kilometres, the Dominion’s capital ships opened fire. To the defenders below, even, could be seen arcs of orange lightning, dozens of metres in radius - designed to tear battleships in two - impacting the Worms’ hides and simply evaporating.

As the Worms entered the Thermosphere, the Dominion fleet halted their attack. The defenders on the ground were officially alone.

Ablazed Glory stood atop a gun-tower in the eastern wing of Legion’s Hold. Behind her were the Glow Sisters, looking as she was towards the approaching Worms.

“THE DEVOURER OF STARS,” they chorused, mumbling with an almost reverential fear, as they pointed towards the closest of the three Worms - the one aiming for their current position.

Ablazed Glory would have snickered at the name, had its apparently invincible bearer not been rapidly closing in. After viewing the Dominion battleships using their fleet-killers on it - without so much as a scratch being caused - she wondered whether or not the name may have been a simply descriptive truth.

She thought of a god. Not one deity in particular - though Astrid sprung up as a useful analogue for her mind to latch onto and build a picture from - but more the concept of someone watching over her. She wondered: what it would be like to pray to a god - one she really believed in; would that comfort her? Or, perhaps, would she simply be tricking herself into not giving her all in a fight to the death?

She thought, then, of Emperor Nicholas. She thought of the events of history - which she had been a part of or had learned about through him - which had all had his guiding hand and vigilant eye over. She thought of the comfort that his life might bring to her, at that most crucial of crossroads. Had Emperor Nicholas been coming to save her, might she have felt more comfort?

Next she thought of her friends: Astrid, Penumbra, the Glow Sisters, Kindle on New Horizons, even Cain. She wondered how they were coping - in the strange calm before the storm - whether or not they were coping at all. Would they all survive? If they failed on Terminus, she knew, if even one of the Worms escaped intact - then Kindle, everyone she had ever or could ever know would be in danger.

She had the Glow Sisters with her. They had proven themselves capable in combat - which had surprised her. But, with or without them, she’d fight until she was dead. She owed it to her friends. She owed it to Kindle.

She owed it to Nicholas.

As Ablazed Glory and the Glow Sisters garrisoned the eastern wing of Legion’s Hold, Astrid and Cain garrisoned the western. Both were confident - not necessarily in their own abilities to kill the Worm approaching them, which Astrid had assumed, correctly, was THE END OF THE WORLD, but certainly in their abilities to ultimately survive.

Astrid felt Ablazed Glory reaching out, from miles away, and gave her dream space in kind. She was considering the comfort having support would bring. She reached out, subconsciously, to her father - not the stone that spoke like Shining Armour on her breast - but to Nicholas, the man who had raised her. Without prompting, Astrid reached out as she did - also for her old friend, Nicholas. He would not hear, but it was nice to do so regardless.

Penumbra was manning the centre alone, where the largest of the three worms - although only by a few tonnes - was approaching. Astrid wanted to run to her and help, but knew that she was needed where she was. That, and Penumbra had to take this trial alone, she knew that - but that didn’t mean she had to like it. She refused to look forwards into the future, beyond the next minute - knowing full well that her mind would be immediately dragged into seeing something she didn’t want to see.

Fate was known for its cruelty, as was he who brought it to her.

Penumbra wondered as to how her friends were coping. She hoped they were doing better than she was.

She had become half-trapped inside Legion’s Hold largest courtyard, located dead-centre in the outer defensive layer. She’d ordered everything beyond the third inner defence layer to be evacuated, partly to save as many of the Dominion troops as she could, but mostly because she was almost certain she was going to have to try throwing a building at the Worm that was approaching her position.

Which Worm was this one? She wondered. She knew that THE END OF THE WORLD was moving against Astrid and Cain in the west. So was hers THE SCOURGE OF THE UNIVERSE or THE DEVOURER OF THE STARS? She could tell hers was the largest - though not by much - which was just her luck, really.

The Dominion fleet hadn’t even scratched the things, which didn’t exactly give her hope. But, she knew from experience that nothing was never so simple; anything could be killed, she only needed to know how. If there was one thing she was good at, it was learning.

She fiddled with the unignited plasma sword hilt on her hip. Though she knew she wouldn’t be needing it, it was still an odd comfort to have it there - even if it would probably be completely useless.

“This isn’t a place for swords,” she mumbled, “only magic will get me through this.”

Closing her eyes and clearing her mind, she checked her energy reserves. Under normal circumstances, she would have been able to estimate a time until her reserves began to run low, though the extraneous circumstances of the coming battle prevented her from doing so.

“Going in blind against an invincible enemy - it really couldn’t be any worse, could it.”

She heard a rumbling from the west, followed immediately by the sound of combat - softened into a dull buzz by the distance. A minute later, she heard a similar sound from the east, as the sky over her began to darken. The shadow - THE SCOURGE OF THE UNIVERSE - was upon her.

THE SCOURGE OF THE UNIVERSE

A fundamental law of nature is that a creature will do anything to preserve its own life.

The thought flashed through Penumbra’s mind as she clasped the controls of a planetary defence gun from three miles away. With a sharp crack of air behind her, she broke the sound barrier, rapidly skirting the very edge of the courtyard’s surrounding walls.

To her right was the Worm.

It was immense and grotesque. Each of its dozens of segments seemed to have a life of its own, each one essentially being dragged along by the head - that was little more than three long jaws. With magic coursing through her veins, Penumbra could hear with heightened senses the workings below its hide. Blood - or whatever the Worm had instead of blood - seemed to shoot around it, as if coming from a pressure hose. Unlike most other creatures whose insides she had listened to, there was no rhythm: just a permanent and violent flow.

As she rotated the planetary gun, she sent out a thousand magical probes - trying every possible avenue of entrance into the creature’s inner soul, scouring it for a weakness. She had tried every frequency of magical projectile she could think of - barely a couple had managed to even make contact with its hide and none had done even superficial damage.

The fight must go on. You must survive.

She pulled a twenty g-force turn and charged the Worm. Calculating that the time it took for the creature to react would be enough to get her to safety and allow her to target the inside of the creature’s jaw with the planetary gun.

The gap between two of the Worm’s jaws was barely a few metres when she passed through it, widening as its body shifted to follow her path. With the minute tip of a feather, she grazed it and began quickly to consider its damage threshold.

Moments later, she arced upwards, then descended vertically. The Worm’s head, focusing on following her, did not notice the glowing orange barrel of the planetary gun before an arc of fleet-killing lightning struck it on the inside of the jaw. In an immense explosion of smoke, completely shrouding the Worm in its hundreds of metres of entirety.

The ringing in Penumbra’s ears was so loud as to block out all else and she only became aware of the planetary gun’s powering down when she reached out for the controls again and found them temporarily offline.

If that didn’t work, she thought, not much point trying it again anyways.

The black cloud of smoke surrounding where the Worm had been took what felt like hours to clear. With an almost intentionally aggravating slowness, it became thinner and thinner, though revealed nothing.

That was until a giant three-jawed head came bursting from its cover, with only Penumbra’s magical reflexes - enhanced by the adrenaline that had now become synonymous with her blood - allowing her to avoid simply being eaten in one.

Immediately retreating across the courtyard, she swore internally. From what she had seen, the planetary gun had done no damage whatsoever. Even though she guaranteed to herself earlier it would not - the knowledge of it still stung.

What now then?

She needed to think. She needed to stop and think. Without a plan of attack, the Worm was just going to grind her down.

With a single powerful thump of her wings, she came to a stop on top of Legion’s Hold’s outer wall. Some kilometre behind her was the Worm, seemingly content to wait in its spot.

It knew, didn’t it? The damn thing knew.

Penumbra pawed the pommel of her sword - what a comfort it provided for something that was literally useless in the situation.

The planetary gun had done nothing!

A head-on impact hadn’t so much as singed the Worm! A fleet-killer had just vanished in front of it! Just what was this thing made of? If a planetary gun couldn’t harm it, then what could Penumbra do?

She would try magic. Specifically, every telekinetic or generally manipulative spell she had. Hopefully she could find a way to rip away at least some part of the Worm’s hide, from there she could launch more conventional attacks. If not that, there was nothing else.

The fight must go on. You must survive.

To Penumbra, the kilometre distance was practically nothing. She reached out with a simple - but powerful - telekinetic spell and grasped at the Worm, whatever part of it she could find. It was silent, but stirred physically, no doubt it could sense her.

Putting all her magical weight into it, she pulled at the part she had grabbed. Whatever it was seemed to budge, flexing under her magical grip - but refusing to give way fully. It took her five seconds to give up, recognising futility when it stared her in the face.

She grasped instead one of Legion’s Hold’s observation posts, lifting it effortlessly from the wall and hurling it at the Worm’s jaws. The beast seemed staggered by the impact, shaking off its jaw in what Penumbra considered to be confusion.

Good, she thought, let it think I know more than I really do.

On a piece of debris to her left she quickly tested a matter manipulation spell. Upon it crumbling into tiny motes of black dust, she was satisfied as to the spell’s efficacy. She turned her sights to the Worm, only to realise the spell’s effects were so diluted by the distance as to be ineffective.

She groaned audibly. Time to get in close.

Like a rocket, she shot herself forwards, angling her wings back like an arrow. With a boom, she broke the sound barrier, and within moments was in range of the Worm.

Time seemed to slow around her, almost to immobility. She let the magic flow into her horn and focused it against an inch squared spot on the Worm’s hide. Satisfied she had made a connection, she poured as much power as she could into the spell, boosting it as far as it could possibly be boosted - this had to work.

The strength of her spell made the air around the point of the Worm catch aflame, which spread towards her horn to form a burning pillar. Bursts of magical lightning - excess energy uncontainable by the spell - arced off the pillar, though nothing could even singe the Worm’s hide.

When time began to speed up again, Penumbra felt her heart sink.

Just what would this thing take? Maybe it wasn’t possible to kill the Worm after all.

No, stop, she admonished, don’t think like that. We can kill it because if it is alive that necessitates a future state that is not alive. Just keep on fighting.

The fight must go on. You must survive.

She needed another new plan and she needed it fast.

Her physical weapons were useless and so apparently was much of her magic.

Spells. She needed spells. The dangerous spells, the ones that she’d learned in secret back on Equestria, the ones she hadn’t even dreamed of using until Emperor Nicholas had come along and given her another set of even more dangerous spells. The ones for fighting gods.

The Worm was a god. Not a creator deity, like those in the ancient myths of primitive species, but simply a creature so strong and so separate from anything else it could only be described as a god. But, as Penumbra knew from experience, even gods could die.

In her home of Sanctuary’s Watch she knew - hidden behind a dozen tomes heavier than bricks and disguised to look like nothing more than loose pages - were three scrolls Emperor Nicholas had penned in the sixth millennium. She uttered a silent thanks to him for them. For, hate him as she may, she could never rightly deny he wasn’t helpful. He had written them as a precaution, or so his writing would have its reader believe, in case of dire circumstance.

These, Penumbra had decided, were dire enough circumstances.

Higher Beings - she recited from the first scroll she had committed to memory - know my name and my power. I am Nicholas, Emperor Everlasting, The Master of all of Time. You have given to the numberless masses a belief, a belief that you are invincible - this belief is false and will be corrected. Higher Beings, I am your scourge.

Young Beings, you wretched of the universes, I gift you true power. Young Beings - from whose stock I arose and to whom I owe and shall give all - I gift you the knowledge to burn away your shackles. I gift to you the power to kill your gods.

As she let the memory of the spell wash over her, a part of her rebelled. What were the risks A little part of her demanded, what would this spell really do? Emperor Nicholas had created spells that even in ancient times would have been considered monstrous, what if it simply burnt away the whole world - he was known for such things after all.

But, perhaps, it was worth it. One world to save thousands. It was a very Nicholas idea, a very “no cost too great” kind of idea.

The spell she had in mind would take up all of her remaining energy, she thought, no doubt it would tax her to the point of unconsciousness. There would be no do-overs, no follow-up punch, this was all she had.

She brought herself to a safe landing in the courtyard. High above her loomed Legion’s Hold, even its battered spires still gave the impression of an invincible bastion. Far on the other side of the base, separated from her by miles of fortifications and two violent Worms, were her friends. She wondered how they were faring, she hoped as well that they were doing okay. Perhaps, if her plan worked, then she could recover quickly and move to assist. Maybe - though it was rather flagrantly optimistic - the spell would take more than just her Worm out of the picture.

The spell, one of Nicholas’ god-killers - it was worryingly simple. How many times, she thought, had such a spell or similar been used on Equestria during ancient times? How many murderous warlords had fought each other with spells so purely destructive they had to be casted by a proxy of the wielder - lest the wielder themself be killed with their target? What a strange thought, she thought, to have before you kill a god.

She focused all her energy inwards, to her soul. Emperor Nicholas demanded only the purest of catalyst - no horn would suffice. She could feel its heat radiating from her chest, it burned bright and painfully - but that only told her it was working.

With no further fanfare, the spell fired.

“Get her back!”

Joyous-Seeker yelled out to a Maniple of Warriors. A pair grabbed her by the forelegs and hauled her towards Legion’s Hold.

Her vision was going dark, her hearing buzzing violently. She did not have the energy left to question anything.

Before her, the Worm coiled.

Strong

All around her was darkness.

She wasn’t dead, not yet at least. But she knew that every second brought her a step closer to it.

There was no Joyous-Seeker, no Maniple of Dominion troops, no Legion’s Hold around her. She was surrounded by nothing but a faint blue glow from somewhere above. Her fur thus took on a slight tint, but nothing more was illuminated.

Slowly, conscious of her magical debt, she rose to her feet. She could not see the ground below her feet, though she knew she wasn’t flying.

She felt that she knew where she was.

A faint wind, sourceless and unfeelable, but certainly audible, began.

It was then she recognised the place, the fingerprint of the world around her: the Heart of Sorrow.

“How strong you have become.”

She turned, slowly so as not to knock her out with dizziness. She beheld a strange thing. Like a giant heart, beating irregularly and slowly, much of its muscle charred. All around it, and through it, were strings of matter-data. Enormous amounts of information waved slowly in the air, or wound through the heart as support.

“How you have evolved.”

The thing’s voice was strange. Half masculine, half feminine, whispered yet still more than loud enough to hear. There was a deep sadness in it, yet also, simultaneously, a happiness and pride. She knew it from somewhere, that she was certain, but could not exactly recognise where.

“You are reborn.”

The heartbeat became audible - though only barely. Visibly, it steadied, quickening slightly.

“You fought long and well. Now you may sit, calm yourself and relax, nothing can harm you here.”

Every second that went by saw the beating increase in volume and visible intensity.

“You are strong enough now. Strong enough for the great trial that shall come.”

“Is,” she said, slowly, harshly, painfully aware of her tiredness, “is this trial not great enough?”

“There is one more to come.”

The heartbeat was loud enough to provide a metronome for its words. As the heart itself beat, the matter-data began to stiffen, to wind itself into patterns, to connect with other strands and wrap closely to the flesh.

“That future trial is up to you, Penumbra. But this is not that trial. The difficulties you face now, in time you will balk at them, laugh heartily at how you could have even worried of failure. In time, that which brought you here will be nothing to you.”

“Am I dead?” She asked.

“No.”

“Who are you?”

The heartbeat was almost as loud as Penumbra’s words. Every second that went by brought more matter-data, forming almost a protective mail around the muscle. Strands connected, data completed.

“I am that which fights, that which dies, that which destroys and creates. I am the future.”

A single drop of a liquid dropped to the floor from the heart. It was a deep blue in colour, with flecks of a royal purple and pearly white within it. Another drop followed it.

“I am the power of dreams.”

Another drop, then a thin trickle.

“I am that which is birthed from the present and the past.”

The thick trickle became a steady fall.

“I am the end of all things.”

The flow became stronger.

“I am the Salvation.”

The heartbeat stopped, as did the flow of liquid from it. Everything was silent.

“You are strong enough, Penumbra.” The voice shifted.

His heart began to beat, loud and hard. His blood flowed from it and into it.

“But, even the strongest need aid.” He said

The matter-data carapace shifted, spreading out like blood vessels and nerves, forming a body for him.

“You need only admit your weakness.” Emperor Nicholas said.

Oathbreaker

She turned and beheld him.

His skin was chitinous and dark purple, glowing partially as if there was light below it. The carapace that armoured him was ashen white, emitting a thin silver vapour. His eyes burned and hummed with energy, arranged in a triangle, white and green were left and right respectively, with the red burning atop.

He stood a hundred metres in height, with his immense wings behind him - ghostly and purple, speckled with white stars and nebulae like a view of space - shrouding the view of the fortress’ keep behind him. He had no mouth, nor did he hold the Obsidian Crown atop his head. Rather than it, there was the three-pointed crown-helmet of a Tomb Guard, fitted for him.

In his hands he held his weapon: Oathbreaker.

The worm struck.

With a single swing of a mighty fist, the worm was batted aside.

THE SCOURGE OF THE UNIVERSE grunted, a sickly green ichor spilling from its open jaws. The worm reeled, head darting about, confused as to the new sensation it had detected.

The worm’s sudden weakness was exploited by its opponent, who launched himself forwards with a single beat of his wings, striking the worm in its jaw with Oathbreaker. With a wail, it made contact, and like fire touching paper - it spread.

THE SCOURGE OF THE UNIVERSE screamed. A chunk of its flesh, at least the size of Penumbra, dropped to the ground, a smattering of ichor all around it. The worm attempted to retreat, though its turning only heralded another attack, another chunk of its flesh cut out and the same ghostly burning of its hide.

The worm’s opponent came to a rest on the ground, awaiting another attack. The worm was hesitant to meet his challenge, confused as to the damage it had done to it.

“Unnatural,” it bellowed, “incorrect.”

The moment the worm spent in speech was a moment for its opponent to plan. Sure enough, when its speech finished, it was again attacked. Its opponent launched for its jaws, with the worm opening wide in an attempt to trap it within.

A tooth scraped by its opponent’s wing, its point suddenly melting. The opponent landed on its lower jaw, with the worm seizing on its chance to bite down.

The momentum gifted by the movement of its jaw was used against it. Its opponent propelled forwards, sword outstretched, wings wrapped around itself like a needle. It punched straight through the worm’s head, knocking it backwards.

“Anathema,” it bellowed, “hater of existence.”

The worm - so used to its invincibility - could not properly comprehend its injury. It twisted and writhed, like it was seizing. Blobs of green ichor and chunks of loose skin and flesh were thrown wildly around, creating a hazard for the few small creatures still on the floor below.

“Murderous thing,” the worm seemed to groan, though there was still fight in it.

It flung itself sideways, a huge projectile of ichor striking its opponent. His wings were stopped in their motion in an instant. The momentary snare gave the worm a chance, it snapped round again in an instant, moving in to strike. The darkness in its mouth seemed to flare, an ever-hungry abyss moving with an almost demonic relish.

The worm’s opponent was caught. The creature’s immense mouth closed inside of a second, creating a thunderclap with a visible shockwave. Silence followed.

Surely not?

The worm suddenly screamed out in horror and surprise. From its mouth came a bright orange and red glow. Smoke, grey smoke, filled with still burning embers, erupted from the worm’s wounds. The worm’s body shook with gradually rising frequency, before it roared out, mouth opening as wide as it could go, a massive plume of smoke billowing out.

As the worm reeled and the smoke cleared, its opponent was again revealed. His body burned. From the tips of his wings, across his head and armoured chest, down his legs and clawed talons, he was a flaming ember.

His sword, the most aflame of all, created a several metres long trail of flame where it went. And where it went was rapidly towards the still reeling worm.

He created a shockwave behind him as he travelled, sword outstretched. The worm had only enough time to comprehend the rapidly moving light.

A flash of lightning, followed by a thunderclap and an expansive shockwave, which flattened what little remained of Legion’s Hold, heralded the top half of the worm crashing to the ground. It burned quickly, mostly ash on the wind by the time its lower half finished thrashing and fell to the floor.

THE SCOURGE OF THE UNIVERSE was dead.

Its opponent, the worm-killer, landed before Penumbra. It dropped to a knee and bowed its head, sword before it, planted firmly onto the earth.

“Nicholas?” Penumbra’s voice was weak, but just strong enough to ask.

“Sadly, our child, not so.” A concert of voices answered, all distinct but none stand-out enough to be recognised. “Nicholas is dead.”

“Oh.”

“Do not despair, our child, Nicholas has passed, but we remain.” The voices continued, Penumbra now realised she wasn’t hearing things. “Do not be concerned with questions, our child, we shall answer all that you could need. We are Oathbreaker, granted voice and life by the slain. You are tired, our child, we understand. You fought well against the worms, far better than could have been expected of anyone. Our child, yours was a strength unmatched by any mortal - any one being. We are Oathbreaker and you have summoned us, our child, to defeat this scourge which plagued you.”

“My friends,” Penumbra mumbled, she had not even the strength to keep her eyes open, “are they okay?”

“Yes. Fear not, our child, we shall not allow any harm to befall them. Your battles, you, our child, and your friends, your battles have been a true display of strength and will. Our child, we could not be more proud of you. Your success gives us great hope. Your victory gives us the future.”

Penumbra mumbled something incoherent, yet Oathbreaker seemed to understand her intention regardless.

“The spell you used, our child, was born of the Darkness, as were the Worms. Whilst it did not harm them directly, it served as a great beacon. To you, our child, we were summoned, as is a duty we have been sworn to.”

The ghostly apparition of Nicholas rose slowly from its kneel. Its wings stretched out almost theatrically, Oathbreaker presented for one final speech.

“You are tired, our child, we understand. Rest now, we shall tend to you friends.”

With that, and a single beat of Nicholas’ mighty wings, the apparition and Oathbreaker took off. Penumbra neither saw nor heard anything after, the sweet embrace of sleep already upon her.

Joyous-Seeker and his two compatriots, all three awe-struck, tended to Penumbra as best they could. The alicorn slept soundly, a smile on her face.

Salvation

Beneath the cool sun of the early morning, dew-drops hanging lazily from the plasteel bars that rung her balcony, Sunless-Halo-of-Penumbra watched the arrival of a Dominion fleet.

Every muscle of her body was still sore and she was held up more by the solid bar than by her own strength. She had awoken merely an hour before, her brain still convinced that she was energised and in battle, whilst her body dully cried out that she needed to lie down for the next year.

From what she could tell, from her position overlooking one of Legion’s Hold’s many courtyards - now full with troops and materiel - the Dominion had been moving in troops all through the night.

The carcasses of the Worms had dissipated, crumbling into ash and floating away on the wind. No doubt a few Dominion personnel would be annoyed at that turn of events, though not for particularly long. All that mattered, as she knew, was that the Worms were gone.

She couldn’t keep herself from reflecting on the events of the previous day.

That had been him. That had been Emperor Nicholas - whether a ghost or the man himself didn’t matter - it was him. Oathbreaker had spoken to her, so too had Emperor Nicholas, earlier. Was it really him speaking to her? Or was it just a half-memory, something her mind conjured up in delusion?

She didn’t care that she would probably never know.

Normally, she would have rushed to find her friends. However, the screaming of all her joints and muscles marked out the moment to her as far from normal. She knew they were okay, of course, but she had to see them. She also really had to rest.

“Rest now,” she mumbled, “friends later.”

With no further fanfare, she slumped to the ground. Hard plasteel was comfortable enough.

When she next awoke, she beheld the cool sun of early morning, dew-drops lazily hanging from the plasteel bars of her balcony and from her whole body. She groaned as she rose, shaking off the dew and the tightness that came with sleeping on metal with no support. Regardless of that, she felt again energised - not enough to cast any sort of magic, mind.

“Friends now,” she mumbled.

Her quarters had been chosen by a Dominion officer for its comfortable bed and spaciousness, she assumed, for certainly her unconscious body had no say in the matter. It was, though she didn’t particularly have the mindset to thoroughly enjoy it, a good choice.

She thanked whoever that officer had been for placing her in the central keep, closest to where her friends were likely staying. Energised - the term used far more loosely than any serious lexicographer would allow - didn’t mean up for a long-distance hike, especially considering she hadn’t the foggiest clue where her friends actually were, meaning she could well end up walking for twenty miles in the wrong direction without realising.

Hyper-aware of that fact, she trudged to her door. Not even the four thousand years of her life in the Irenton Dominion had got her used to the semi-automatic doors that the Irenton populace seemed to so adore. Sometimes, she leant in to press the button to open the door, which would always result in some hidden motion sensor detecting her and opening the door before she was ready, scaring the wits out of her; other-times, she would walk forwards, expecting the motion sensor to detect her, only for it to not and her face to become suddenly introduced to a new and pleasant friend which called itself “two inches of solid plasteel”.

Sure enough, she leaned in to press the button, only for the door to swing open. She murmured a grumble under her breath, only to be cut off mid fairly mild curse by a voice.

“Penumbra.”

Her head jerked upwards with all the speed her tired joints and tireder mind would allow. There before her, looking regal and radiant as ever, was Astrid. The umber rays of the early morning sun lit up her armour like fireflies in the night sky and thin sparkles lined the fluting. The blade of her Dreamblade, scabbarded on her hip, could be seen to glow a faint purple. Her hair was done up in an immaculate plait, not a single hair out of place. She looked, for all intents and purposes, like she had never fought a day in her life - only Penumbra’s knowledge and the strength of her lean muscle gave away that she had.

“Yeah.” Penumbra’s reply sounded so distant, even to herself.

Astrid’s lip cocked into a smirk. “They really banged us up, huh?”

Penumbra nodded. “Yeah.”

Astrid was far stronger than even she looked, Penumbra thought as Astrid locked into an embrace, but gentler too.

As the pair of them walked towards the Retaliator, safely sequestered away from the fighting inside one of Legion’s Hold’s shielded landing pads, Penumbra knew it would soon be over.

Weeks, months even, of stressors and fighting and ancient vendettas had taken its toll on her, true. And yet, as the Retaliator’s silver hull glistened in the mid-morning sun, she found herself lamenting that it was coming to an end. Four thousand years of waiting, four thousand years of wanting, and now her latest adventure was reaching its final pages. She walked slowly, deliberately, determined to hold desperately onto these last moments.

It would soon be over.

Sunless-Halo-of-Penumbra, joined by her friends, new and old, had won. Astrid, Ablazed Glory, Sun Glow and Moon Glow, and Cain, they had been victorious. All that was left was to divide the spoils, as it were, and depart. A happily ever after ending, but one spent apart.

She would miss Ablazed Glory’s jokes, her willingness to have fun, her complete disregard for personal safety in the name of aeronautical acrobatics. She would not miss the smell of cigarette smoke and alcohol permeating all of her things. Nor would she miss the many, many petty crimes she was involved in.

She would miss the Glow Sisters’ insights, their little determined glances they gave whenever they conquered another fear, their penchant for drinking tea from one cup shared between the two of them - okay, no she wouldn’t, she could happily live without that mess.

She would miss Cain’s logic, its cold and calculated yet somehow still fiery and lively discussions of intellectual matters, its surprisingly playful debates with Ablazed Glory, and its ability to think beyond an organic creature’s orthodoxy. Above all, she would miss its ability to brew the objectively perfect cup of tea - to hell with what Ablazed Glory said, the sugar went in before the milk.

She would miss Astrid. That was all.

“Penumbra,” Astrid said, turning around to beckon her forwards.

Penumbra had been stood stock still for minutes. She sighed, involuntarily, then gave a little chuckle. “Gods,” she whispered, as if the word was taboo, “I don’t want to go.”

Astrid smiled. “All good things.”

“I know, I know. I just.” She turned back to Legion’s Hold - battered as it was from the Worms’ attack - “It’ll be so strange, being all alone again.”

All good things must come to an end, she knew, so why was it so hard to move forwards?

“Penumbra.” Astrid closed the gap between them, placing an arm over Penumbra’s shoulder. “This chapter of the long book of our lives may be closing, but another one will begin right after it, that’s how books work.”

Penumbra shook her head, she couldn’t help but argue. “No, this isn’t the end of just a chapter. A whole story is coming to a close here. One book of many. I happened to like the characters and their interactions in this book though, I don’t want it to end, even though it has too.”

They stood in silence for a moment; there was no rush to leave, after all.

When they finally reached the Retaliator, Penumbra had expected a tirade from Ablazed Glory, but none came. Instead, the typically fiery alicorn seemed subdued, her flames small and timid.

“Well,” Penumbra said, “this is it.”

The Glow Sisters nod. Ablazed Glory looks down at the ground.

Penumbra lets out a cross between a chuckle and a sigh, unwilling to pin it down to one or the other. “We won.”

Normally, that would have been a cause for celebration. Yet, in the balmy late-morning sun, none of the group could say they felt like giving so much as a cheer.

“It’s time to part ways.”

Ablazed Glory nodded then.

“The Glow Sisters and I,” she said, almost hesitant, “we’re going to go back to New Horizons. When you were asleep we started drafting a few plans. We’re going to make a new life for Equestrians: ponies, Changelings, dragons, and all.”

Penumbra nodded glumly. She had known full well Ablazed Glory and the Glow Sisters would go off, and was almost certain they’d go back to New Horizons, but to hear it confirmed still stung.

“I shall sleep,” Cain said, “until I am needed again.”

Penumbra couldn’t even bring herself to nod.

When the Retaliator entered the orbit of Sanctuary’s Watch, Penumbra was suddenly reminded of the old feeling she had when she first boarded it. It wasn’t a lively home-away-from-home anymore, it felt alien, empty and quiet.

The tea beside her had gone cold hours ago, still half full. Everytime she had taken a sip it had reminded her of something Ablazed Glory or the Glow Sisters had said when she was drinking before, then a wave of melancholy and disquiet washed over her and she had to set it down again.

“Penumbra,” Astrid’s sweet voice punctured through the din of her mood. Now would come the moment she had been dreading, perhaps the reason why Ablazed Glory and the Glow Sisters leaving still felt so painfully active.

Penumbra’s silence was answer enough to the Archon. “If it is quite alright, I should like to stay with you.”

To stay she was stunned would be an understatement. Penumbra’s jaw flapped open and closed for a few seconds. Even her immense mental fortitude struggled to wrestle back control of her body.

“Ah, you, you would?”

Astrid chuckled. “Of course. Do you have anything you would like to do?”

Still taken-aback, Penumbra nodded slowly. “Erm. Yes, I suppose so. I do like to star-gaze?” She mentally chided herself for phrasing it like a question.

“Then let us take Cain to its spot of rest, then we shall go star-gazing together.”

Slowly, but with more certainty, Penumbra nodded. “Yes, yes I would like that.”

Epilogue

“What a strange piece,” the Artisan - young in all meanings of the word - mumbled under his breath.

“Strange?” Another asked, sat on a bench a metre or two from him.

The young Artisan started slightly, but quickly recovered himself. “Indeed,” he said, “there are many sculptures across the Confluence that are metaphorical. Yet, I cannot work out the meaning of this one.”

The other Artisan chuckled, with the slight wheezing sound he made making it evident he was far, far older. “Have you considered it is not metaphorical?”

The younger Artisan looked at him, confused. “It has to be,” he said, shaking his head as he looked again at the statue’s form, “it is of no creature I know of.”

“Perhaps not,” the older Artisan said, “but that does not mean it is not of a creature.”

“I should speak with the sculptor,” the younger said. He then checked the time-piece on his arm. “Ah, but I had best do so after the meeting.” He made ready to leave. Then, turned back, caught by a thought. “What is your interpretation of this piece?” He asked the older Artisan.

The older simply chuckled and said, “ah, I believe it is of an ancient hero.”

“An ancient hero?”

“Indeed,” the older said, an ancient smile creeping up his face. “I’m afraid I have nothing more for you.”

“Ah, well, I thank you for your time.” The younger Artisan bowed, touching the rim of his hat. Then, he turned and walked off, out of the sculpture garden and up towards the many meeting halls that surrounded it.

The older Artisan turned, observing the statue. It had been carved from obsidian, forming a twelve metre high bipedal organism. Its legs, ending in three-pointed claws, were outstretched, in a fighting stance by its appearance, whilst its arms - ending in similar three-pointed claws - were held out. The right was open, angled slightly to the rear of the creature, palm facing skywards as if grasping the world.

Its fellow was held aloft, ahead of it, an immense sword wrapped in its claws. Two wings, enormous had they been outstretched, were folded onto its back, partially haloing its mighty head. Past the great, barred shoulder armour, its head bore a helmet, relatively simple in terms of overall design. It was three short bars, arranged in a star, about half the thickness of its head, with an opening at its front to reveal the face: three eyes, arranged in a pyramid shape. It was looking slightly upwards, towards where the Confluence’s transparent ceiling gave way to space.

Its marble plinth held a plaque, which read simply: “THE SALVATION.”

Joyous-Seeker smiled at his handiwork. He stayed before it a moment more, before bowing to it and making off, intent on finding some nice tea to drink...

“New Horizons control, this is the freighter Eye of the Beholder, bringing in another shipment of plasteel reinforcements and titancrete foundations. Requesting permission to dock.”

“Affirmative, Eye of the Beholder, manifest confirmed. You have permission to dock, marking you for dock 7 at the Celestial Sun Station.”

New Horizons had witnessed a new dawn. No more was there a single town on the planet’s surface. Now there were cities, spread out across New Horizons and its moon, with the entire system having been made self-sufficient. The culture and influence of its inhabitants: ponies, griffons, dragons, even Changelings, had flourished under the leadership of Ablazed Glory and the Glow Sisters, who had taken the reins of leadership with not only a vision but the knowledge to see it done.

In only a few years, New Horizons had grown from a backwater into a major cultural and trade hub. Ablazed Glory, with her intimate knowledge of star-lanes and trade routes, had used New Horizons’ centralised position to her advantage, marketing it as the perfect port of call for Dominion freighters. Meanwhile, the Glow Sisters, embracing the great variance and richness of culture of the species of New Horizons, had made it a desirable place to visit - whether for its cheerful inhabitants, beautiful artworks, delicious food or stunning vistas.

Dragon forged jewellery became the fashion of the age, augmented with the crystals created by unicorn magic. Pegasi made jumpsuits, perfectly light and comfortable, as well as the “cloud in a bottle” for Dominion soldiers. Earth ponies built mastercrafted machinery on order. Whilst Changeling camouflage cloaks were used by Dominion special forces personnel.

The ponies of Equestria, who had remained on the verge of extinction for over 4000 years, who had remained so stuck in their ways of the past that it looked as though they would never advance, became a species universally recognised and respected. The Changelings, who they had reviled millennia ago, became their greatest of allies. It was said that if you saw a pony, there would always be a Changeling friend close by.

Within a handful of decades, the Equestria diaspora would spread throughout the entire system and even further beyond - creating a new land for ponies, griffons, dragons, Changelings, and countless others...

The Clockworks played a near silent dirge. Cain, form and intelligence slumbering behind layers and layers of hibernation code and a dozen-dozen protective systems - forming a digital coffin from which even its friends hoped it would never wake - was carried by Astrid along the immense brassy bridge that led to its last resting place. Penumbra walked behind, by Astrid’s side, glad to finally grant Cain the rest it deserved.

What better place to sleep, Penumbra thought, than the greatest clock in the universe.

Cain would be surrounded by the countless other constructs of Chronove’s moon, slumbering amongst its own kind, watched over by the great Caretaker Mind, to be awoken when - if - it was ever needed again.

Penumbra afforded herself a smile as the WarSynth’s form was lowered to the ground. Legs stiffened and solid, Cain stood upright - like a silent sentry - almost possible to mistake for active. Penumbra chose to believe it was - deep within its intelligence core - ready to rise and resume its duties again - whatever its duties may be.

Astrid stepped back, bowing her head in a short yet solemn moment. Penumbra did the same, though her head only rose when Astrid tapped her shoulder. With one final look at Cain, they turned and left.

And far away, the elevator rumbled, carrying the two back up to the surface. The Clockworks continued, as they always had, as they always would.

Yet, something stirred.

Nothing lived within the core of Sanctuary’s Watch - within the great clockwork engine constructed by those ancient artificiers. Indeed, nothing within the core was alive - though that is not to say the visitor was inanimate.

“Arise,” a voice, hoarse and cruel, all of its years and sufferings clear to any listener, “I command you.”

Cutting through the darkness, illuminating the brassy floor ahead, a single red eye flickered to life.

THE END

Author's Note

When I started writing this, it was 2020. When I started writing the War in Heaven, I was still in High School. A lot has changed in the years since.

The world I had built for myself has changed drastically since its first foray into the world of My Little Pony, yet I felt some obligation to myself to finish this story: what I had started. I hope everyone reading this has gotten some enjoyment out of it; knowing there are people out there who have read my work and think it's good really means a lot.

However, this is where my crossover work - and thus work here on fimfiction - ends. There were plans for a finale, to make this series a trilogy and give it a grand send off - but the subject matter, and the author, have both changed a lot.

If anyone should wish, I will probably do a final "developer's commentary" style thing eventually, and any questions you may have I will be more than happy to answer.

Thank you and farewell.

Prologue

Surrounded by nullspace, far from the very boundaries of existence, stood three figures. Their power, so immense it was, created a layer of space around them, pushing back the boundaries of nullspace whenever they moved, allowing their presence in the realm of nothingness to be maintained. All around them, nullspace writhed and pushed, like air trying to enter a vacuum. By sheer force of will, they staved off the all-consuming nothingness.

The Omniverse was stagnant, wounded, battered and bruised since the climactic and destructive end of the War in Heaven. The Great Light - a being so powerful and fundamental that it could be considered neither alive nor dead - had released a crushing tsunami of energy upon its downfall: a final punishment for one man’s reality-spanning crusade to destroy it.

"Our energy reserves are enough recovered."

"The enemy’s final act will be nullified."

Stagnant, wounded, battered and bruised. But that would not last for long.

Emperor Nicholas, The Everlasting, eyes alight with focused power, stood tallest of the three. Every flex of his mighty wings sent cascading ripples of isolated reality into the maw of void that surrounded them.

The Composer, whose body had formed something vaguely man shaped, glowed a bright and attery green. His luminescence reflected off of the veneer of the little reality bubble in which he stood, giving the impression to his fellows of a small green star.

The Emperor of Sorrows, charred flesh and bone held together by writhing tendrils of matter-data, sat cross-legged on ground that didn’t exist. From his shoulders came coils of matter-data, searching out and groping at the non-existent area behind him, trying to find purchase on matter that was not there.

The three brothers - though a more astute and knowledgeable observer would call them simply thirds of one whole - who had been separated millennia ago, were reunited in the emptiness. Theirs was a task that no other could achieve, even their power would be tested to its very limits. Had the War in Heaven caused any more damage, all of Emperor Nicholas’ work would be for nothing. However, all had proceeded according to fate. The work that the Eternal Emperor, Nicholas, The Master of Time, had begun upon his rebirth - his emergence from the Great Experiment - would finally be completed.

“Let us make good then,” The Emperor of Sorrows said, “on our victory in the War in Heaven.”

The Composer - or, rather, his shadow - nodded. “The Great Light’s final stratagem, foiled.”

Nicholas, The Everlasting, flexed his wings and arms, testing their strength in a subconscious reflex. “The people of the Omniverse,” he declared far more theatrically than necessary, “shall be free, at last.”

A simple outreach of his arms and hands was all the signal needed. The final act of the War in Heaven, of Emperor Nicholas, had begun.

In unison, his two brothers grasped his hands. In an instant, their power - the very energy that held their bodies together - began to flow through him, streams of corruption and time energy passing along the arms and up into the Everlasting's eyes. Their reunion, so long previously forbidden, carried enough energy to rebuild that which was destroyed.

The Emperor of Sorrows gave out first, his body reduced to nothingness as all of his power passed into the Everlasting. The Composer lasted for another minute, before he too was absorbed.

The Everlasting, chitinous skin a dark purple, armour ashen white, was alone. Though there was nothing to compare him too, he was hundreds of metres tall, his ghostly purple wings larger than buildings. His three eyes, once cyan, were now white, green and red, writhing with a soul too large for one body. His mouth was gone, for there was no one left to speak to.

Power flowed from every part of him, visible as it created space for itself to inhabit - then more by its impossible desire to expand existence. His three eyes burned as the energy in his blood flowed to the Obsidian Crown atop his head, still glossy black, where it was amplified and funnelled to his hands, which both held aloft swirling spheres of energy, which grew larger by the second. Slowly, almost unnoticeably, the Crown relinquished its hold upon his skull.

"With this," he would have bellowed, had he been able to speak, "the Omniverse shall be reborn."

The spheres of creation reached their critical mass, bursting in a release that tore apart the nullspace, the Everlasting along with it, using what power had fuelled his own body to augment its own energy even further.

In a wave, invisible and unfeelable to almost all of his former subjects, Emperor Nicholas' energy spread across the whole Omniverse, rebuilding it to a more perfect standard than before. The damage of the Great Light’s final, vicious act was brutal, but it was not enough for it to claim victory.

Twenty millennia of work, twenty millennia of warfare and planning, had all come to fruition.

His work, his life’s mission, his reality-spanning crusade against the Great Light was done.

Atop her observation tower on Sanctuary's Watch, on a cold winter’s morning, in orbit around what was once the Imperial capital world of Chronove, the scholar Sunless-Halo-of-Penumbra was thrown to the ground, a wave of energy so intense it shorted out her horn washing over her.

Papers and books were flung from her desk, her chair toppling. To any outside observers - though there were none - it would have looked as though Penumbra had just experienced a seizure, or serious electric shock from something beneath her.

On the ground she lay, choking on a sob for what felt like hours. The wave had carried with it a voice, not an audible voice, but a voice nonetheless, the voice of a soul - a soul too large or one body, a soul she knew all too well. To the owner of that soul she owed a great many things, including both undying love and undying hatred. To the owner of that soul she owed her new name.

Emperor Nicholas was truly, and finally, dead.

A Shining piece of Armour

The Retaliator broke the atmosphere with a satisfying bang, the entry shockwave rippling throughout the entire sky. Whereas Penumbra had relied upon the Luminary for her piloting, Ablazed Glory had broken in the ship within seconds. With a vicious tug on a lever, whose function Penumbra could only guess at, Ablazed Glory spun the ship and sent it almost vertically downwards. Penumbra felt the need to verbally remind her of what happened to the last ship she had piloted, but was unable due to the sudden presence of the ground, which changed her snarky remark into a scream of pure panic.

Ablazed Glory, in contrast, was having the time of her life. Laughter didn’t quite express the gusto Ablazed Glory was giving, the sounds from her more akin to the rhythmic bellow of a hurricane. Though, it was quite obvious in her physical mannerisms - mostly the literally beaming smile across her burning face - that she was having a lot of fun.

“And now,” she shouted, with a flourish, flicking a pair of levers and pressing a button, “the coup de grace.”

The ship angled up, its momentum causing it to trim the edge of the grass before its thrusters took hold again and they gained some extra altitude. The ship spun on an axis, before slowly descending and settling onto the ground.

Ablazed Glory laughed heartily. “Damn,” she exhaled, “that was a hell of a ride.” She turned to Penumbra, who was buried into her captain’s chair, curled into a spiky, dark purple ball. “Five stars?”

Penumbra didn’t seem to have realised they’d landed, she also hadn’t breathed for about half a minute. Before Ablazed Glory could start to get worried, a tiny crack appeared in Penumbra’s talon shield, revealing one of her eyes, that was wide as could be and staring forwards blankly.

“We’ve landed,” Ablazed Glory said, “you’re not falling anymore than gravity would have you be otherwise.”

Slowly, Penumbra returned to her usual shape, though she had a shell-shocked look about her. Rather than comfort, Ablazed Glory laughed happily and stood up, giving Penumbra a hearty pat on the shoulder as she did.

“I know,” she jested, “my flying is so good that it’s almost painful to leave.”

“Your flying,” Penumbra mumbled, eyes still wide like a deer caught in headlights, “is painful to experience.”

Ablazed Glory chuckled, patting her comrade on the shoulder again “That’s the spirit. Now, let’s get a move on, I want to visit my blacksmith mate.”

She hauled Penumbra to her feet, the alicorn’s legs shaking every time she tried to move them. Taking a few steps towards the door, she waited for Penumbra to follow, with the slow come down of her shock causing the alicorn to wobble after her. She didn’t so much walk forwards as she did sway back and forth and fall forwards, though never getting far forwards enough for her to fall.

It took Penumbra the whole walk to the ramp, then down it and onto ground, before she had shaken her shock. She kneeled before the earth, kissed it once, eyes screwed shut, before rising and taking a deep breath.

“Where are we going?” She asked, voice muffled but audible enough. Given her previous state, Ablazed Glory was just thankful she wasn’t catatonic.

“Well, unless there’s been a foreclosure, should be just down this street here.” She led Penumbra forwards, through an alleyway between two quaint little cottages and out into a fairly scattered half of the town, an area Penumbra hadn’t seen on their descent or her previous visit.

The odd pony who saw them could only stare in awe and steadily back up when the two approached. They had both - apparently - achieved a sort of legendary status amongst the townspeople. That, coupled with the fact Ablazed Glory was dreadfully hot, was certainly a factor in the civilians backing away.

Ablazed Glory paid them no heed, making a straight path towards a backstreet attached to the end of the road they walked on. Evidently, she was used to the attention. Or, she just didn’t care. From Penumbra’s - albeit limited - experience, it could have been either.

“This mate of mine,” Ablazed Glory said, as the two of them walked on, “she’s relaxed.” Ablazed Glory paused for a moment. “Just don’t touch anything.”

Penumbra gave her a questioning look, then realised her companion was looking the wrong way to get the message. “Are you speaking from some sort of experience?”

Ablazed Glory barked out a laugh. “Perhaps. She can be fiery.”

Penumbra smirked devilishly at the opportunity, which was just too perfect to pass up. “So can you.” She chuckled to herself, adding a little swagger to her walk.

“What do you mean?” Ablazed Glory asked, though Penumbra could both see and hear her smile.

“Heh heh,” she said, upping her pace slightly to pass her burning companion, fully emphasising the swagger of her walk. She turned back to view Ablazed Glory, who was avoiding her gaze as best she could, a smirk having forced its way onto her face and stubbornly refusing to move.

The by-street Ablazed Glory led them down contained only one building. It was a structure made of only stone, about nine metres tall, looking more like a box than a house. The door was made of metal, apparently stolen from somewhere else, given that its shape didn’t quite fit the door space and the fact it seemed to have been bolted onto the wall at a slight angle.

Ablazed Glory knocked, rapping her right talon three times on the door, then stepped back. Rather than entering immediately, as Penumbra had expected she would do, she waited patiently, shifting awkwardly on the spot as she did so.

About half a minute later, the door opened a little, before making a screeching sound. Someone on the other side swore, then kicked the door open. It flew open, clattering against the stone of the wall when it did. A dragon appeared.

“Fucking door,” she besmirched the door, before kicking it again, “piece of garbage.”

She was about Ablazed Glory’s height, give or take an inch. Her scales were a dark blue, like looking into the ocean, segmented like armour all over her. She stood on two legs, which each bore three toes ending in long, bone-white claws. Her eyes were a sort of sea-green, the colour of her iris uniform throughout. Dark blue leathery wings folded neatly onto her back, Penumbra guessing they had a similar wing-span to those of Ablazed Glory.

“Hello Glory,” she said, turning to the two alicorns with a giant smile, “how’ve you been? Who’s your friend? You need anything? Want to come in? Sorry for all of the questions but I think if I stop I might start crying because oh my stars you’re back!”

The dragon leapt at the burning alicorn, sweeping her up into such a crushing hug that Penumbra winced just witnessing it. Ablazed Glory, recovering from the initial shock of being turned two dimensional, returned the embrace in kind. Penumbra couldn’t help but crack a smile, though only once the embrace had come down to a level that would not pulverise her companion’s organs. It was nice to see others happy.

Though, she did wish they’d hurry up. It was a good five minutes before they broke, staring deeply into each other’s eyes, until Penumbra cleared her throat with a little more force than she had meant to.

They both turned to face her, though the dragon did so in a way much less comparable to fury. She held out a clawed hand, which Penumbra took, being shook vigorously. “I’m Kindle,” she said, with a beaming smile, “what’s your name?”

“Penumbra,” she replied, though she assumed Kindle already knew and was just being polite. She tried not to acknowledge Ablazed Glory’s death stare.

“Oh, Glory,” Kindle said, turning to the burning alicorn, whose boring look instantly halted, “where have you been? When you said you’d be gone awhile I didn’t think you meant that long. It’s been two years! Two years, seven months and ten days. And three hours and fourteen minutes. I counted.”

Ablazed Glory blubbered a moment, before shaking her head and moving the steadily pulsing piece of metal from its telekinetically held spot on her chest. “I went to find this,” she said, “I didn’t think I’d be gone for so long,” she whispered the final part.

Kindle put a hand to the burning alicorn’s cheek. “It’s alright,” she said, comfortingly, “I forgive you. Though, you still owe me two and a half thousand brandy shots.”

The burning alicorn nodded. “I’ll be out of pocket in no time,” she laughed. Penumbra could tell she wasn’t joking. “But,” she held the piece out to the dragon, “it was worth it. Because I found him.”

The dragon cocked a brow. “Him?”

Ablazed Glory nodded quickly. “It’s a soul jar,” she said, turning the material, “it’s my father’s soul jar.”

Everything went silent.

Kindle’s jaw trembled a moment, searching for the right words. “Oh,” she mumbled, “wow. Erm. Yes. That’s...That’s incredible.”

Penumbra didn’t speak. There wasn’t much she could do anymore. What she had passed off as a fancy trinket, perhaps a keepsake or memento from the Throne World, had been a soul jar. Once, back on Equestria, back in Canterlot’s library, she had read a book on soul jars. The book had been fiction, such was the manner in which ponykind regarded the concept alone. The idea of a soul jar had not only been impossible, but cruel, wicked even. To imprison someone like that would be a crime so horrific no punishment could truly match it.

Yet, her brother was in one.

Emperor Nicholas, who had killed her world, who had sent her friends to their deaths, who had killed his brother and sister-in-law, who would have killed their child had his weapon not had other ideas, had imprisoned her brother into a soul jar that he had left in his Throne World. Had he even known he had done so? It was entirely possible that it had happened without his knowledge, that Shining Armour had been forced into a soul jar and discarded in a dark corner for millennia. Hatred was not strong enough a word to quantify how she felt towards him.

“You alright?” Kindle asked her, waving a hand in front of her eyes.

Penumbra relaxed herself as much as she could. “Yes. Yes I am.” Her voice still sounded seconds from murder.

Kindle nodded. “Looked like you were having a seizure there. That, or you wanted to kill somebody.”

How could she have known?

“What do you mean?” It was Ablazed Glory, not Penumbra, who asked the question.

Kindle turned to her, then back to Penumbra. “You’ve got that aura to you. I can taste the hate on the air. I’ve got good eyes too, so I can see under your coat you’ve gone sick and white with the desire to kill someone. Am I right?”

Penumbra nodded, sadly. “Yeah.” Was all she could bring herself to say.

Kindle but a hand to her cheek. “It’s alright,” she muttered, “it’s alright.”

“Shining Armour,” she mumbled.

“Hmm?” Both Kindle and Ablazed Glory turned to her.

“His name,” she said, nodding towards the floating soul jar, “was Shining Armour.”

All three were silent for a moment.

“Oh,” Ablazed Glory said, rubbing the back of her head with a hoof and smiling awkwardly. “Now,” she said, trying to rectify the situation she had just placed herself neatly into, “I didn’t know that before coming here...”

The new piece of armour fit perfectly. Kindle hadn’t taken any measurements, she hadn’t needed to - for whatever reason - but had still managed to perfectly mold the piece. She had used a clever forging method, carefully concentrating her dragon’s breath to heat the metal evenly, then concentrate it further to change the elevations of the different points. What metal she had used, Penumbra did not know, all she did know was that it was incredibly strong - unless Kindle was trying to swindle them - perhaps more so than her own ancient suit.

The soul jar had been set exactly into the breastplate’s centre, with its own little protective pocket. The armour had been buffed and polished so that it was shining brightly, even in the relative darkness of the forge. The Shining gem pulsed, like a heart beating but with a green glow.

“I can feel it,” Ablazed Glory said, “it’s closer than it was before. Like a heart beating, like my heart beating.”

She fell silent, as if listening to something.

“I can hear it,” she said, quieter this time, “Shining, he’s talking to me.”

“What’s he saying?” Kindle asked, Penumbra too busy holding her head in her talons.

Ablazed Glory looked to the dragon, her eyes wide and her flames burning a little brighter. “Erm, nothing much. It’s all gibberish I think.”

She was obviously lying.

Scourge of the Light

The object was lit up, revealing it to not be a simple object, but a creature, without a doubt the creature Penumbra and Ablazed Glory had spoken to. It was a good twenty feet tall, with an emaciated, grey, chitinous frame, numerous white scars across its body and large, deep cracks in its skin. Its eyes were a pair of muted green semi-circumferences, visible through a helmet similar in shape to Nicholas’ crown, though thinner and shorter with a large crack through its centre, clearly the result of a weapon strike. The helmet didn’t fit properly, clearly designed for someone with a head about twice as large as the creature’s; the same principle applied for the rest of its clothing, which was a cross between a flowing scarlet robe and grey bone armour, both covered with bloodstains. Its feet were covered by its robe, but its two hands each had three long, translucent claws. It had a pair of paper thin wings, torn in many places, though with a fifty four feet long wingspan; evidently the creature had once been healthier.

The Shining amulet spoke up, “this is Kaurava, once Scourge of the Light. Even weak as she is now she is still a formidable adversary.”

Kaurava cackled - a cackle that could very easily be mistaken for a pained wail - her cries echoing and bathing the room in light, revealing her surroundings in their entirety. The door slammed shut behind the two alicorns, in essence, creating an arena.

Both of the alicorns interpreted Shining’s speech as a warning, which proved to be the smart move as a pair of swirling spheres of energy careered past them, both narrowly dodging. They dropped into combat stances, both their horns lighting, with Ablazed Glory summoning a shield of magical needles, whilst Penumbra created a large, circular shield to complement her sword.

Two more balls of energy formed in Kaurava’s hands, which she threw towards the pair as she cackled again. Penumbra managed a closer inspection of the spheres before they were released: they were almost identical - though smaller - to those Nicholas had used, though they seemed more diluted. They pulsed weakly and were grey, almost watery in colour.

“Time for us to die,” she wailed, a dozen spheres appearing over her head. Her wings beat once, propelling her forwards, whilst her magic threw her upwards, more spheres emerging from her hands as the dozen that had haloed her were fired forwards.

Between Penumbra’s shield and Ablazed Glory’s dodging, the two alicorns remained unharmed, though the steadily increasing barrage gave them both reason for concern. Before they had time to formulate plans, Kaurava slammed downwards between them both, forcing them into opposite sides of the room, the bloodthirsty maniac entering close combat with Penumbra.

Kaurava’s balls of energy could, as she quickly showed, be formed into a variety of shapes. Two of them formed a staff some twenty metres long, which struck out at Penumbra the second she realised it existed, only her lightning reflexes and shield stopping her being impaled. Regardless, the shield cracked visibly on impact, Penumbra being thrown backwards, barely able to stay on her feet and recovering a second before Kaurava launched another attack, the energy staff missing her head by half an inch at most.

Seizing on the gap in Kaurava’s defences, Penumbra launched her counterattack, sweeping her sword up in a long arc, right across Kaurava’s torso. Her opponent reacted with terrifying speed, her energy staff whipping around to catch Penumbra’s sword just before it reached her body, the edges of her robes singed slightly. For such an emaciated figure, Kaurava was freakishly strong, holding back even Penumbra’s immense force for a minute, before steadily pushing her back, gradually opening Penumbra’s own defences.

Before Kaurava could strike again, Ablazed Glory launched a barrage of flaming, magical needles, aiming to catch the creature off guard. Though Kaurava was able to spin and defend herself, she did open the way for Penumbra, who launched her shield like a discus into Kaurava’s back. The magical projectile impacted solidly between Kaurava’s shoulders, driving through her armour, a cackling screech following.

Kaurava staggered forwards, arms weakly flailing and spasming to locate and remove the projectile buried within her spine. Ablazed Glory, recognising the situation immediately, doubled her efforts.

Though Kaurava had been damaged, Penumbra had felt her magical reserves were heavily depleted. Although she had not realised it at the time, close proximity to Leviathan had badly drained her magic, with the Heart of Sorrow somehow preventing her from replenishing. As she attempted to summon up another shield, her horn sparked and no energy came forth, her sword dropping to the floor in silence. Breathing heavily, she staggered backwards, attempting to put distance between herself and Kaurava, who was still preoccupied with Ablazed Glory’s magical barrage.

Barely a second later, Ablazed Glory’s barrage had ceased, the alicorn also having fallen prey to magical burn-out. Unlike Penumbra, who had not relied on her magic to defend her in that moment, Ablazed Glory was suddenly defenceless, with Kaurava realising it the moment the needles stopped flying. With a disorienting wail, Kaurava struck out towards Ablazed Glory, who, still reeling from her burn-out, only just managed to dodge Kaurava’s attempted impalement, though was helpless to defend herself when the energy staff sweeped horizontally along her torso, swatting her like a tennis ball into the opposing wall.

Ablazed Glory was knocked unconscious in an instant, with Kaurava recognising her lack of threat and rotating to face Penumbra, who would be forced to rely on only her wits and talons for the duration of the fight, which she hoped and relied upon would not be long.

She was thankful for Emperor Nicholas’ training, which allowed her to not only fight proficiently, but somewhat see into the mind of her opponent, both through knowledge of subtle cues and through the fact Nicholas trained Kaurava, enabling her to understand the counters to Kaurava’s potential moves. Hopefully, the same could not be said for Kaurava herself, as it was unlikely that Penumbra could win in a force of arms contest, though she had been wrong about such things before.

Kaurava wailed her challenge, with Penumbra flexing the muscles in her legs in preparation for her opponent’s attack. One of the very first things Nicholas had taught her was to allow the enemy to attack first, in order to catch them off guard with a parrying strike - though she no longer had a shield with which to carry out a traditional parry. She knew Kaurava had been taught the same, but her bloodlust pushed her onto the attack, launching herself towards Penumbra, energy staff in one hand and claws fizzling with black magical fire on the other.

Penumbra did not duck, knowing that doing so would only allow Kaurava the chance to strike once she was off her footing. Instead, she caught Kaurava’s attack in a guard, using Kaurava’s own momentum against her to throw her upwards, Penumbra herself kicking the ground beneath her to launch into a spin, the talons of her legs slicing upwards and across Kaurava’s chest.

The attack connected, cutting five long swathes through Kaurava’s cloak, the chitinous skin below shattering before the impact. Though she did not consider it such at the time, the attack’s success was down to the pure luck of its placement, striking right at the weakest point on Kaurava’s abdomen, missing the armour entirely. Kaurava cackled wildly, her punctured wings still having enough strength to slam her down onto Penumbra, who found herself suddenly locked as Kaurava’s burning claws and energy staff attempted to drive themselves through her and into the ground beneath her.

Her perception of time slowed, like a boxer’s vision before a punch, allowing her mind to formulate a strategy. What Kaurava was using was not a tactic taught by Nicholas, but was similar enough to one he had taught Penumbra a good defence against. Though his strategy had involved the usage of a sword, Penumbra was confident enough in her own abilities to use solely her talons. Simply, her plan was to suddenly drop back, allowing Kaurava’s own strength to make her fall forwards, with Penumbra striking when Kaurava had gone off stance.

She allowed her talons to suddenly give way, though Kaurava did not refrain from pushing forwards as she had expected, plowing down into Penumbra and driving her burning talons to within an inch of Penumbra’s heart. The alicorn, immediately overcome with adrenaline, kicked hard at Kaurava’s left hip - or where her stress addled brain assumed the left hip was - hard enough to shunt Kaurava a foot or so to the right. Penumbra thrust herself upwards and rotated towards Kaurava, using the reeling creature’s body to launch herself backwards, landing in a guarded stance as the adrenaline subsided.

Penumbra’s mind raced, her last half-baked strategy had almost gotten her killed, immediately beginning to send her into panic mode, which was only prevented by her training, allowing herself a deep breath and refocusing on her objective. Had Kaurava been an intelligent opponent, or at least not one apparently driven by a mad bloodlust, Penumbra felt sure her regimented strategies would allow her a hard fought but relatively painless victory. Unfortunately, Kaurava’s madness made her unpredictable, an unreliable variable that Penumbra would have to adapt in spite of.

Though she was by no means an expert at fighting, she did know the basic necessities for winning: remove an opponent’s will to fight. Doing such could be achieved in many ways, either by demoralising them, killing them or maiming them to a point they could no longer make any meaningful action; or, by tiring them out to the point of making their actions weak enough to finish them. She knew that demoralisation was out of the question - she didn’t know if Kaurava had morale let alone if it could be broken - as was outright killing her, due predominantly to the fact Kaurava’s defences seemed to far exceed her own: five deep gashes right through her abdomen and a magical discus the size of a manhole cover to the spine hadn’t even served to slow her down.

Penumbra, meanwhile, was beginning to fray. Her magic was entirely burned out, necessitating at least days of recuperation before it could be used again. With magical burn-out came tiredness, staved off by her brutally adaptive metabolism and the rush of adrenaline that fighting brought about. Her two front shoulders also ached, badly, the result of being battered at by Kaurava, who gave no clear indication of tiredness or injury, even with the gashes in her abdomen.

Kaurava cackled again, though, with the distance between the two fighters, Penumbra had a good second or two before an attack reached her, allowing her to quickly formulate a plan of attack.

After the previous defensive strategy had so nearly ended in disaster, Penumbra decided upon a strategy of offence. She would use her wings to launch herself forwards, then, using Kaurava’s own staff, swing herself around to Kaurava’s rear, giving herself at least a second to strike before Kaurava could bring up an adequate defence. What that tactic relied upon, however, was both Penumbra’s strength and reflexes being perfect, but also that Kaurava’s be significantly weaker than they were.

Regardless of the glaring issues with her plan, she didn’t really have much of a choice, not in the few seconds she had before Kaurava inevitably attacked again. Pre-empting said attack, Penumbra shot forwards like a meteor, closing on Kaurava in less than a second. Once she had her momentum, she folded her wings onto her back and opened her front talons, her eyes locked to the staff grasped in Kaurava’s claws. Kaurava lifted up the staff slightly, intending to strike at Penumbra before she reached her, but that only gave Penumbra an easier time grasping onto it and whipping around, turning a full 180 degrees to face Kaurava’s back.

Not wasting even a picosecond, Penumbra struck out, her talons spread to maximise the area of damage. The area around her initial wound on Kaurava became tattered with rips and gashes, though her armour proved difficult to shred. A stray claw caught the membrane of Kaurava’s right wing, nearly completely severing it and leaving it held in place only by a cable like nerve. The wing crumpled, eliciting a cackle from Kaurava who swung round, staff leading her, aiming to swipe Penumbra across the room.

Penumbra used her wings to leap upwards, her torso perfectly dodging the incoming strike. The same, however, could not be said for her legs, which shot out from under her and dragged her into the far wall, which she impacted with a discouraging number of echoing cracks.

She found herself trapped, several of her ribs were broken, as were both the legs on her left side, the front of which was stuck beneath her, bent at two very unnatural angles. Her right side was, whilst nominally intact, similarly battered. She had no doubt there were cracks in the bone, she was certain there was internal and external bleeding, and she suspected that her hip had been dislocated. All in all, she wasn’t in a fantastic state. Even more unfortunately, Kaurava clearly understood this.

However, Penumbra was saved by the damage she had caused Kaurava. The creature was no longer flying, instead, she had dropped onto her invisible feet, her robe spilling onto the ground around her. Her right wing collapsed limply behind her, dragging along the floor as she limped towards where Penumbra lay. Though Kaurava was in considerably better shape than Penumbra, she was still damaged, hopefully putting them on a more or less level playing field.

Kaurava’s energy staff crackled in her grip, with her previously alight talon burnt out entirely. She was hunched over slightly, with her legs pulling her along slowly. Evidently, Penumbra had done far more damage than she had previously realised. The issue came, however, in the fact that Kaurava wasn’t dead, or in any way out of the fight, whereas Penumbra wasn’t sure if she could stand, let alone defend herself.

She knew it would take her minutes to repair the absolute worst of the damage and restore her ability to fight. Those minutes, however, were far too long. Penumbra needed to be healed within a minute, at most, if she was to stand so much of a chance at not being killed. Even though she could feel the sinew rebuilding, the bones knitting themselves back together, even though she could hear her muscles growing back, she still didn’t have enough time.

Kaurava reached her, just as feeling began to return to the end of her broken front leg. Without any sort of ceremony, Kaurava grasped her by the nape of the neck and threw her. Penumbra flew a good dozen or so metres, landing in a heap on the ground, though that gave her a valuable few seconds of healing before Kaurava struck again.

Strike again she did. Dragging her staff behind her like a mace, she slunk over, completely silent. Slowly, Penumbra guessing due to pain, she brought her staff above her head, giving it a platform to launch from with one hand. Penumbra looked on helplessly, before yelling out in pain as the staff impacted her right on her centre of mass. Kaurava pulled back, giving a groaning wail as she did so, before readying her staff for another strike, this one intending to impale.

Fortunately for Penumbra, the final killing blow never came. With a yell of fury, Penumbra’s sword was thrust through Kaurava’s thorax, piercing something important, which made an audible pop then an echoing scream. Kaurava collapsed, revealing Ablazed Glory, Penumbra’s sword grasped crudely in her front right talons. There were cuts all along her body, with one the size of a hair dribbling a miniscule trickle of boiling blood down her cheek. She nodded to Penumbra, who slowly pushed herself onto her haunches, resetting her hip and placing her still broken back left leg into a position that wasn’t circular.

Ablazed Glory exhaled sharply. “Damn.” She unceremoniously dropped Penumbra’s sword on the ground. “That was a piece of work.”

Penumbra tried to laugh, but all that came out was a long wheeze. “You can say that again.” She let herself breathe slowly again, the adrenaline from her fight quickly subsiding.

“Thank you,” Kaurava choked, her voice lower, quieter and overall almost normal, though it echoed like a ghost even partially whispered, “for freeing me.”

“Freeing you?” Ablazed Glory questioned, “but you’re dead. Or, at least, you’re going to be shortly.”

“Precisely.”

Kaurava raised an emaciated hand shakily, gesturing towards her helmet. Cautiously, Ablazed Glory moved over, then, when sure Kaurava was not a threat, pulled the helmet off. It was surprisingly light, considering its size, but was still exceptionally heavy. Ablazed Glory, still injured, shoved it to the side, revealing Kaurava’s true face.

She had three eyes, two were the muted green semi-circumferences visible through the helmet, the third was a red outline of a diamond above the two of them, a large scar stopping just before it. She had no nose, only a raised region of chitin just like Nicholas and Aurora, though hers was grey and pockmarked with scars and assorted small wounds. Her lips - if the two cracked areas in the chitin around her mouth could be called such - were tiny, only about an inch long, but the inside of her mouth seemed enormous, far larger than her head actually was, containing what appeared to be thousands of wickedly spiked teeth.

“I was made this way,” she lamented, “by Emperor Nicholas. He built my body from Darkness, which was destroyed when he left.”

Her eyes began to gradually darken. “I was almost destroyed myself, but I was forced to endure, even whilst my mind wished for death. My kind endure by the blood - but after our Emperor’s fall, we have lost that which kept us sane. I imprisoned myself here to prevent myself from causing destruction in the material world.”

“Then why did you call me here?” Penumbra asked, her speech vaguely normal again, her legs probably okay to walk on.

“To end it,” Kaurava said as her eyes flickered, “to finally fulfil my last wish.”

Ablazed Glory squinted. “If you wanted us to kill you, why did you try to kill us?”

“Do not try to put a logical reason to what can be described as madness,” she spluttered, “My mind has not been fully my own for some time. The blood burns our minds away, without it we are consumed. Only in a chance moment of awakeness was I able to send you the message, to call you here and have you kill me.”

“Nearly killed us in the process,” Ablazed Glory mumbled, “you did a number on us, what would have happened if you’d killed us?”

Kaurava sighed. “I cannot say. Perhaps I would never have been freed, doomed to languish in this cell for the rest of time Perhaps I would have had another moment of clarity, after another thousand years, enough to send out another message. Or, perhaps, my soul would have perished eventually, the great winds of time extinguishing me as they have all others.”

“Well,” Ablazed Glory said, joining Penumbra in sitting on her haunches, “aren’t you lucky?”

“There is no such thing as luck, young one,” Kaurava’s voice lowered to a whisper, the lights of her eyes all but fully dimmed, “there is only will, I trusted you would keep moving forwards. I have one thing to offer you, as thanks for your efforts: heed my warning, there is a great trial coming, a great evil lurking in the dark, you alone cannot stop it. Court your allies and keep them close to you, they will be needed when the time comes. I thank you for aiding me and apologise for the harm I caused you. Ah, so dark. Father, did I do good?”

With those final words, Kaurava’s eyes faded to black, her head tilting backwards slightly. Within seconds, her form was cracking and becoming dust; within a minute, she was reduced to nothing but her breastplate and helmet, the armour pieces serving as the only reminder - save the wounds of the two alicorns - that Kaurava was ever there.

The two alicorns sat in silence for another few minutes, both recovering from the worst of their wounds and thinking over what Kaurava had said to them. Her warning had been worryingly similar to that of the WarSynth in her tower, making Penumbra believe there was an urgent truth to it. Where her warning and that of the WarSynth’s differed was the wording, Kaurava specifically using the term ‘great trial’, the same term that Nicholas had used millennia ago during the War in Heaven, when Penumbra first became Penumbra. Whatever her ‘great trial’ was, it was coming.

“Your legs sorted?” Ablazed Glory asked her, “because I want to leave, like right now.”

Penumbra nodded, pushing herself onto her feet cautiously. “Agreed, let’s unanimously decide to not come here again.”

“I’ll drink to that.”

The door to Kaurava’s former cell had opened, with the two of them hoping it hadn’t been like that since they entered. The stairway back up to the foyer was still dark, though there was no sense of dread or phantasmal echo. The foyer seemed identical, though Penumbra saw fit to check the stairway up one last time.

The staircase did indeed lead somewhere, up onto a second floor which led up another flight of stairs to a third floor and so on for about seven floors, before finally opening out onto one of the lift pads they had encountered earlier.

With recently healed broken legs beneath her, Penumbra was more than happy to board the pad and be calmly lifted safely to her destination, realising mid-flight that she didn’t know where said destination actually was. Ablazed Glory, meanwhile, followed her, with Penumbra forming an excuse for their detour as they glided upwards. When she arrived on the upper platform, however, her excuse vanished, as did all of her desire to leave.

Though its roof had been blasted open, the components of it hanging in the air like clouds in a photograph, the top floor of the Citadel was powerful in its aesthetics and what it represented. The floor was finely polished marble, with insets of purple crystal forming intricate swirling patterns through it, what bits of the walls were still intact were built from the same material, again with patterned insets of purple crystal that twinkled brightly despite there being no visible source of light. In the room’s centre was a throne, carved from a purple crystal some twenty metres tall. Unlike its equal in Entropy’s Pinnacle, it looked genuinely comfortable, with red plush cushions set into its seating area: a throne fit for an Emperor.

Ablazed Glory seemed to recognise the room’s significance too. “So, this was the throne room,” she mused, trotting up to the throne, “and this was his throne.” She marvelled at it for a moment, before stepping around behind it, finding a balcony that looked out over the back of the Heart of Sorrow. “Penumbra,” she called back, “you should come and see this.”

What Ablazed Glory had found was the absence of any support for the throne room. Several parts of the Citadel’s walls very nearly made the connection, but none could quite connect top to bottom fully. The force of gravity did not seem to apply to many of the Heart of Sorrow’s objects, but for even the throne room to be left theoretically adrift seemed to Penumbra to be a little too out of the ordinary.

Rather than think about it further, she turned back around, to formulate a plan to return to Entropy’s Pinnacle.

She promptly finished her plan upon noticing a fully intact portal, identical to the one in Entropy’s Pinnacle, only deactivated. She stood in front of it, closed her eyes, and imagined it activating, just as Leviathan had said. Sure enough, with a faint flicker of light, it activated, a swirling membrane filling the void in the frame.

Well that was easy.

She whistled Ablazed Glory over. “There’s our way out.”

“You had no idea that would be here.”

“No,” Penumbra admitted, “but it is, and so I’ll take it and pretend I had it planned.”

Ablazed Glory took one last look out into the Heart of Sorrow. “Fucking hate this place,” she declared as she turned and marched triumphantly into the portal, “glad to leave.”

Penumbra, meanwhile, was not so sure her companion’s words expressed her feelings fully. Regardless, she embraced them. “Yeah,” she said, stepping through the portal’s membrane to be met with the much kinder Entropy’s Pinnacle.

Her lungs instantly filled with a kinder air, her eyes with light she knew was actually real and her ears with sounds other than speech and wind.

“Penumbra,” Ablazed Glory shouted from the platform the Retaliator had landed on, “we’re leaving, I need a coffee and a smoke, preferably somewhere that isn’t hell. And when I say coffee I mean whiskey, a lot of it, I’m talking a good half a litre at least.”

As she trotted towards the ship, Penumbra shouted back, “you couldn’t do half a litre, you’d be out cold after one glass.”

Even at a distance she could see Ablazed Glory squinting. “Go on then, try me, you won’t.”

Penumbra laughed, perhaps she would, after all.

The Future

The Great Void, an expanse on the edge of galactic space, a vast cloud of silence, what made it so terrifying was that not even the might of the Irenton Empire had conquered it. It had remained, free of any and all outside interference, for all of history. There were few who ever entered the Great Void and fewer still who ever returned. Those few who did brought tales of interstellar anomalies - horrors that lurked in the darkness.

For so long as the esoteric has been known of, there has been a worship of it. The moment the concept of evil was born, there has existed those who saw it as a religion - those who saw their purpose was to commit evil, or bring it about. Those dedicated to dark gods found some semblance of truth behind their fantasies inside the Great Void, delving into its depths to further their agendas.

Those who worshipped the dark horrors of the Great Void, soon found themselves banished there. As the Shadow of Sundered Star, and the dark light of Emperor Nicholas, approached them, thousands fled into the darkness, never to be seen again. Within, many of their number fell victim to the countless cosmic anomalies which infested it. Though, a small few were able to survive, gradually coalescing and organising into a single cult.

Over the millennia, they bided their time, gathered their strength, and prepared to strike. Though, even with the powers of their dark masters, they were no match for the Emperor, Nicholas, whose being alone was enough to imprison them within the Great Void. When the War in Heaven came, the omniverse wreathed in flame and the heavens themselves buckling and crying out in pain, the cult still waited, hibernating, biding their time.

The death of the Rift, with its subsequent cutting of most communications, forced the cult to again wait. Although, its leaders had never declared their mission would be a short one. Even after the Rift’s rebirth, they waited, building their strength, drawing up their final battle plans.

They took bodies for their sacrifices, creating legions of puppets and armouring themselves with the favours of their masters. Starting with a barren world, looking into the darkness of the void, the systems bordering the Great Void would fall silent, their peoples massacred and given as tribute to dark overlords. Dozens of worlds would be scoured, beginning with the one where the cult had first originated. Until, fighting through a ruined city, Sunless-Halo-of-Penumbra would do battle with the cult’s leader, a powerful sorcerer who had waited millennia for his chance.

Celestine

Ablazed Glory had seemed almost relieved when Penumbra gave her the system’s code. She mumbled something about learning under her breath, then dove into the navigational console to chart their course.

Whilst she did that, and Astrid and the Glow sisters went about putting everything in its proper place, Penumbra spoke to Cain. She hoped the WarSynth might help shed some light on Celestine.

The WarSynth pondered for a moment. Though Penumbra could only tell it was by the robotic hum it deliberately emitted. “Celestine,” it said, “yes. I know of her from the Assembly’s records. Though, even they are surprisingly slim. They state she was uploaded into a Strategos class construct as a Progenitor class AI at the very start of the Great Rebellion, though she was not of Dauxite heritage. Nothing more.”

For all Cain’s worth, its knowledge was limited by the extent of the Assembly’s records. Though the primary records on Kindle had survived, many areas had their local records destroyed by both the Great Rebellion and Emperor’s Nicholas’ Liquidation of the Assembly. All Cain had succeeded in doing was placing Celestine’s origins into question: a Progenitor class AI not of Dauxite heritage, now that was entirely unheard of.

Ablazed Glory had sent them into the Rift whilst Cain was talking. For a brief moment, Penumbra was thankful for her team’s ability to multi-task. They were on a timer - one whose length they did not know, and one who’s ending would give rise to who knew what - and were reacting well to it.

They exited the Rift with a jolt. A jolt characteristic of an interdiction. They had been pulled from the Rift, with their shields and weapons down, by a fleet of vessels.

Fortunately for the group, the fleet was Dominion, and a quick presentation of Penumbra’s credentials was more than enough to prevent them being destroyed. Evidently, the Dominion had discovered the Gateway. And, evidently, they had recognised its importance.

Dominion fleets were usually equal in size to their cousins in the service of the Empire, but had more of a balanced focus. Imperial fleets were usually formed with a purpose in mind, from capital ship combat to planetary bombardment, though their Dominion counterparts were formed to serve multiple roles. Imperial fleets would also have most of their component vessels rotated around, with fleets little more than a fairly low tier on the chain of command - usually components of far, far larger and more effective formations. Dominion fleets, on the other hand, were assembled more permanently, with most of their assigned vessels remaining static.

One such fleet had occupied the Gateway, no doubt guardians for a research detachment. Though it was just a guess, she assumed they would be guarding against potentially pirate attacks - as the former inhabitants of the Gateway had more than likely been exterminated by Imperial forces millennia ago. Fortunately, Penumbra’s rank - despite it being technically unearned - allowed her enough authority to bypass much of the fleet’s wards, and land on the Gateway itself.

Penumbra’s request to dock was accepted almost immediately, with the Luminary guiding them into what seemed at first glance to be a hangar bay. However, on closer inspection, it was little more than a well furnished hole in the Gateway’s hull - though it did not appear to be the Dominion’s doing. A shield protected them and about a hundred other Dominion personnel from the vacuum of space, the membrane thin enough and unknown enough to cause Penumbra some concern.

A pair of researchers greeted her, both sealed in angular, grey suits that - despite their outward appearance - seemed to have little actual armour value. “Welcome,” one said, their processed voice betraying their confusion, “we had not expected your arrival, nor have we been told why it is you have come in the first place.”

“We’ve come to investigate Gateway’s control room,” Penumbra said, “we have reason to believe something important lies beyond it.” She would rather not tell them it was because a robot told her to.

The other researcher shook their head. “I’m afraid that’s not possible,” they said, “the command centre is off limits to non-research authorised personnel. We do not want accidental contamination of the equipment there.”

Astrid stepped forwards, noticing their defiance. She sensed that they would be difficult to budge. Piling on the psionic power, she spoke, “it is very important,” she said ,”that we access the control room.”

The researcher shook their head again. “I’m sorry,” they said, “but I cannot allow it. I have my orders”

The nape of Penumbra’s neck tingled, Astrid was ramping up her psionic assault.

“The fate of the galaxy could very well be at stake,” Astrid said, “surely that is more important than orders?”

Almost reluctantly, the researcher shook their head again. “I couldn’t,” they sighed, almost mechanically, “there’s just no way.”

Penumbra’s whole spine felt electric. She could sense Astrid’s coup de grace approaching.

“It is imperative we cross through the Gateway,” Astrid said, reasonably yet with enough force, “or else all could be lost.”

The researcher acquiesced, visibly sagging their shoulders. They nodded, saying simply, “follow me.“ They walked off slowly, their comrade following, Penumbra and the group not far behind.

The Gateway’s corridors seemed far more open than Penumbra remembered. There was no longer that worrying sense of claustrophobia - or the fear that any second she could be trapped with who knows what kind of beast. Despite their openness, and the presence of what must have been at least hundreds of Dominion scientists and other personnel, there was not a person or piece of equipment in sight the whole way to the control room.

The control room - whilst nowhere near as barren as the corridors - was surprisingly empty. Three researchers manned a pair of terminals, with both apparently measuring energy emitted by something within the room.

The three researchers seemed to take no heed of the group, all buried in their instruments. Exploiting the moment of freedom, Penumbra moved to one of the control room’s own consoles. It activated when she was within a few feet, immediately drawing the attention of the researchers. In unison, they gazes all snapped to her, in a mixture of shock and confusion.

“Who are you?” One asked, breaking off from their console to inspect her more closely, “what did you do?”

“I’m Sunless-Halo-of-Penumbra, I have permission to be here,” she improvised, surprisingly well by her own account.

The researcher shook their head. “You know what, I don’t care who you are,” they said, “what did you do to make the console turn on?”

Penumbra stammered for a second, before regaining her composure. “I just went near it,” she said, “I assume they activate by proximity.”

“We’ve been trying to get these things on for months,” the researcher said, in complete disbelief as they surveyed the console behind Penumbra, “what do you have that we don’t?”

Cain spoke up, causing the other two researchers to jump back in surprise, “the Key.”

“Key?” Penumbra asked, as confused as she imagined the researchers must have been, “what key?”

“The Key,” the WarSynth repeated, “the unique bio-psionic signature that the Gateway recognises - likely one of several. My preliminary scans suggest the Gateway was, at some point, tampered with, though the culprit has hidden when it occurred well. I would advise searching the records for the coordinates you were informed of.”

Cain, ever to-the-point.

THE END OF THE WORLD

Dominion High Command was relaxed in comparison to its Imperial counterpart. Made up of a council of nineteen, nine from each of the two branches of the military and the last a minister from the Dominion civilian government, it was a far cry from the veritable army of its cousin. Dominion High Command met once a standard month, on the first day without fail, at precisely one standard hour before midday.

Yet, even their rigour was still relaxed in comparison to the Imperial High Command. A Dominion meeting would go on for around four hours; the only Imperial meeting lasted 17,000 years.

The Dominion was also peaceful. So, when an emergency meeting of the Dominion High Command was called, even many of its members were worried. Regardless, they convened quickly, initiating the first extraordinary meeting of the Dominion High Command.

“Reports have stopped transmitting from the Marches Sector. Orpheum has gone completely silent.”

“Local FLEETCOM vanished two days ago, we were preparing a fleet to investigate.”

“Whatever this is, it’s coordinated. If this is an invasion, this could be the biggest we’ve ever faced, by a long way.”

“There are eight fleets on exercises near Arcadius, they could be quickly consolidated and dispatched?”

“I’d rather not risk it. If this is an attack, we need to know what we’re dealing with and where. We risk just losing more ships until we have enough intel.”

“Orpheum held all of central command for the Marches, as well as a large portion of the garrison forces.”

“Hammerfell base may still be holding.”

“If we deployed to Orpheum, we might be able to connect up with our troops still on the planet.”

“Well, I don’t know how easy it’d be to convince the navy to go on a suicide mission.”

“It’s either that or we remain completely blind.”

“Good point.”

“The people won’t react well to a mobilisation. Especially not if we tell them we the enemy has taken an entire sector from under our nose.”

“Martial law is absolutely out of the question. The army will not allow it.”

“Nor will the navy.”

“Let us vote on the deployment of forces to the Marches sector…”

Far from the prying eyes of the Dominion, hidden under a cloak of shadow, the Marches Sector, on the border of the Great Void, lay devastated. Entire worlds, once teeming with life, hung desolate and silent in space. Entire nations, from the lowliest of tribes to the Dominion colonists, had been massacred. Celestine’s warning had been heeded just too late.

Like a Dream

Before her stood Joyous-Seeker, a Warrior on either side of him. One had sword drawn, the other two with rifles levelled.

Before them, reeled like a cobra ready to strike, was the worm.

THE SCOURGE OF THE UNIVERSE roared out, the three Warriors pushed back slightly by the sheer force of it.

She wondered how her friends were faring. Were they doing any better than her? Or, maybe, they were all as dead as she was.

Joyous-Seeker’s rifle shrieked as it fired, the orange bolts - which Penumbra had seen rip through buildings - bounced off of the worm like they were nothing.

Part of her wondered what the Warrior with the sword was hoping to achieve. No doubt, thought another part, it is merely a display of courage. True, thought another, or maybe they know something that we don’t.

The worm had yet to strike, no doubt savouring the kill and the defeat of its enemies. Penumbra was thankful that evil was so often obsessed with its ego, giving her a few more moments to contemplate on what disastrous events and consequences had brought her to Terminus and into the path of that worm.

The Warrior to Joyous-Seeker’s left, rifle ready but not firing, hummed a Dominion marching tune. Had it been under any other situation, Penumbra would have felt energised and ready to fight. Yet all she could do was lie, stricken and soon to be killed.

“Be strong Penumbra!”

A voice, audible to her but no one else, pierced through her.

“Fight back, darling!”

Impossible.

“Give ‘em hell!”

It could not be.

“Ya got this!”

There was no way.

“You are our last hope. Penumbra, rise.”

And so she did.

Her mane aflame with magical fire, skin and coat alight and crackling with energy, she pushed herself up.

With sudden, renewed energy, she felt herself change. Her eyes shone silver, iris and pupil red in her left and blue in the right. Bones grew larger, muscles stronger and longer, her wings stretched out.

Light flared all around her.

The worm reeled back. The shadow that had concealed its magical aura previously was peeled away, revealing fear, which evolved further.

The worm was terrified.

THE SCOURGE OF THE UNIVERSE roared, drawing itself up further. It was making ready to attack, but it was hasty, fearful.

Strong enough.

The light had not come from her.

She felt something behind her. Something familiar.

Someone familiar.