Arc 3 – Convergence Chapter 3 – Red Horse

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Despite Hope succeeding in not letting its sewers become a breeding ground for hazards, the passersby—almost exclusively Canterlot natives—steered away from an unassuming ponyhole cover when it began to rattle. Some did it out of habit, whilst others had learnt the hard way—hoping for the best in that city was a foolish habit to develop.

Only on the third try did the rusted metal disk slide away, and the two mares dragged themselves out, carelessly plopping onto their backs in the dust; groaning as sunlight cut into their darkness-attuned eyes. Yet those whinnies turned into relieved sighs as the chill arid air of the winding down day washed over their burns instead of the foetid and damp breath of the sewers.

They lay there, eyes closed, in the middle of the street, relishing the winds’ relative purity and the Sun’s warm touch, completely uncaring for the looks varying from mild worry to tittering amusement.

Red Wire broke that peace first:

“I’d say we should part ways here, but I can bet my horn your police station doesn’t have even one half-decent medic,” she croaked. “And I do feel a teensy bit guilty for roasting you, so”—her voice suddenly gained a mocking stiffness—”on the rights of Her Majesty Queen Heterocera’s Royal Advisor I hereby invite thee to the Hive.”

Night Wind blew a raspberry and shooting Wire a cross look grumbled, “Your horn should be confiscated anyway.” The Kirin then rolled on her belly and scrambled up, hissing as motions too wide stretched her singed hide. Observing the extent of the damage—patches of sore skin amidst the charcoal coat, she morosely added, “What are the changelings going to do, kiss my burns away?”

Sharing Night’s plight of entering the world of pain by doing anything more strenuous than breathing, Wire took place beside her colleague-for-today and would-be-guest. Aside from having swaths of her fur that would need to be regrown over weeks, she wobbled unsteadily, holding her head with one hoof; the other wiped her nose still dripping red.

“You should have your sense of humour confiscated, commissaire,” deadpanned the unicorn. In a less dry tone, she continued, “The Swarm organised a clinic fully equipped for treating all kinds of equines—another effort that has found no appreciation. Still operational, however, in case I have partied too hard.”

The dark twisted form towering over the city got a doubtful look from Night—a common treatment from all except its inhabitants. The longer the Kirin starred at the Hive, the less stalwart her prejudice held, crumbling under the dull pain settling in.

“Considering the city maintenance chief is likely at the station already, waiting for me to explain why I thought it would be cool to demolish a whole section of the sewers…” Night mumbled, cringing as her mind vividly conjured the impending earful and mounds of papers she would have to fill to cover the fallout. She bowed her head and quietly said with a small smile, “Thank you for the invitation.”

However, the Kirin hesitated to move; and not just because of how unpleasant the walking promised to be.

“Will your queen be alright with it?”

The wrinkles on Wire’s muzzle, formed by her splitting headache, smoothed out to let a mischievous grin claim her expression.

“Well…” She chuckled. “You might have to contribute to the Swarm’s stores in return.” To ensure there was no other interpretation, the unicorn wiggled her eyebrows, oblivious to how it looked on her blood-stained face, not to mention the prosthetic.

“Uh…”

Suddenly, the prospect of being scolded by the mare who was half-grease, half-hangover and spoke only in swear words gained an unexpected allure. Maybe, some other day… but not when the Kirin wanted to avoid touching most of her body herself for the next few days.

“Relax,” Wire hastily calmed the other mare’s imagination; she waved her hoof only to instantly regret that. “The Swarm isn’t like Stalliongrad. Heterocera would be… delighted to know someone else other than me was using the hospital for once.”

Yet, the mares still lingered at the gaping hole in the road that breathed at them with humidity and premonition. They simultaneously glanced at the underground entrance, but it was Night who spoke.

“She isn’t coming with us, I suppose.”

Any levity Wire’s face had gained evaporated at once and, no longer wasting any time, she hobbled away, scowling not only from the pain.

“I seriously doubt she was with us the whole time. Anyway, Heterocera must hear about what happened as soon as possible.”

Only due to Wire’s burst of speed proving to be a short-lived bout of overconfidence, was Night finally able to catch up with her. The exhausted mare trotted by the slowed-down unicorn, watching in concern at how heavily she limped and panted—remorseful for pushing her considerably lowered limits.

As soon as the Kirin regained her breath, she asked, “Didn’t the Machine Goddess say it’s no use right now?”

Her hopes that mentioning the mechanical alicorn wouldn’t reignite Wire’s ire withered under the slightly mismatched askance look. At first, it seemed the question was to be ignored; as Night refused to avert her patient gaze, the unicorn relented with a heavy sigh.

“I don’t care what that tinhead says,” Wire barked; the frown that had never left her face since the first mention of the goddess turned into a fierce scowl. “We’ve got agents from Canterlot of all places sowing chaos in Hope—something has to be done about it. And the Swarm is the only part of this damned city that’s going to care.”

Night bit back a snippy retort that the police force—even if represented only by its commissaire—wouldn’t ignore such a threat either.

“A god fought on our side and we almost got killed,” she coldly noted. Wire opened her mouth to protest, but Night spoke over her, “It seems like something out of our league—it should be left to those who can still face those ‘agents’ even after being melted into a puddle.”

Wire began her rant the moment the last word flew off the Kirin’s lips, “First off, without us on her side, not dying would be all she had achieved. Second, I don’t trust leaving that mess in the Machine Goddess’ filthy arcanium hooves. Thirdly, we aren’t puddles on the floor as you can clearly see.”

The unicorn’s eyes met Night’s glower without a waver, not even blinking. Despite the locals not hesitating for a heartbeat to free the path for two bloodstained mares (their posts also adding to the effect), the commissaire deemed it highly unwise to have a staring contest whilst walking down the street. But she didn’t want to acknowledge her defeat by withdrawing either.

“What’s your problem with her?” she snapped at Wire. “Are you one of those who still think equinoids only mean harm to organic life?” Her hoof shot out in a wide arc—almost every edifice it pointed at wasn’t risen by those who inhabited them. “Hope wouldn’t be here without their help and Canterlot would have been a grave to everyone here if not for the Machine Goddess!”

“I don’t care about equinoids or what they mean to us—it’s all one big grey morality riddle not for me to solve.” Wire shrugged and grimaced; again, the armour chafing against the burns could take only part of the blame for her change of facial expression—into severe reluctance. Ultimately, she continued with a sigh, “You were right—I’ve been there when the Machine Goddess couldn’t decide if she was a long-dead mare miraculously given a second chance or an Accursed. I watched her become something in between—she is neither a machine, nor a living being, and that is what bothers me.”

“So, are you going to just ignore all the good she has done?” Night demanded, her voice getting an edge; a blue glow bloomed deep in her eyes. “Are you willing to compromise this city’s chances of survival over that?”

Wire abruptly stopped.

“There is something I can’t ignore,” she said through gritted teeth.

Her hoof clutched Night’s vest collar to bring them muzzle to muzzle. A fire not unlike that of the Kirin’s burned in her eyes despite the moisture glistening in the corner of her healthy one.

“I wasn’t the only one who watched her ascend—my best friend was with me, too, all the way. She created her, she almost died for her, she—”

The unicorn’s strained hiss abruptly died and the mare took a shuddering breath before gravely finishing, “The Machine Goddess ripped out her heart, leaving her not even a shadow of the mare she used to be.”

The bloodied and soot-stained hoof let the mare go and Wire swayed, clenching her eyes, stricken by the old ache. However, she managed to conjure enough energy to bitterly state:

“She has the drives of an equine, but in the end—it is all about cold calculations. I’m not even going to bet this time—our chances of survival have already been computed. Except this time I’m not going to sit back and watch her make them a reality.”

Not waiting for Night’s reaction, the mare, sapped of all life, hobbled away, followed by the Kirin’s wide eyes.

Night’s first reaction was to point out that the omniscient being would have accounted for any of Wire’s actions into her plans, but the witty response died on her lips along with any other sensible statements—the unicorn must have known that herself.

The Kirin’s hoof, no less grimy, brought a patina-touched badge out of the tattered kevlar vest and its engraving gleamed in the Sun—a name that fit a pegasus more.

The temptation had always lingered in the back of Night’s mind—to blame everything that happened that day on the Machine Goddess and her infamous maths. The urge to bitterly yell that a true goddess might have arranged it so that Night wouldn’t have to wish to return the stained badge to its rightful owner. But the Kirin didn’t have it in her heart to blame the nearly all-powerful alicorn; she didn’t even hate the poor filly that killed her sister.

A sad sigh left her dry lips—Night would lie if she said it was a battle won. Today proved that.

Her eyes returned to watch Wire stubbornly shambling towards the Hive and they held fire no more—only sympathy.

If the Hive and its chitinous occupants hadn’t played a pivotal role in Hope’s infrastructure, that ominous place would have shared the fate of the Citadel. Only a small number of locals didn’t mind the proximity to the chthonic wind-polished mockery of a castle; the others either had no other choice in choosing their living quarters or actively seeking a new place to relocate to. Betwixt the Citadel, the Hive, Stalliongrad and areas like the First District casting long shadows, those unfortunate ones had a very little opportunity—the main reason of Hope growing in size whilst its population dwindled.

When the jagged silhouette claimed the entire horizon, Wire had found in herself a second wind, but as the yawning entrance into the depths of the changelings’ domain came into the clear view, she suddenly froze in her tracks.

“Wait here, Night. Something’s not right.”

The commissaire could see that herself—an unusually large number of dark forms clung to the warped spires, disappearing into their black entrances only to reappear from the other grotesque skylights. The entire Hive was abuzz with an activity it hadn’t seen since changelings had reclaimed their ancient home.

Wire made a bee-line to the familiar mare clad in arcanium armour hovering over the files of her brethren hurrying to get into their dwelling. The stalwartly calm and unwaveringly friendly changelings looked around in fear, some in—despair.

“Teleta, what’s going on?” the unicorn hoarsely called above the crowds.

The Praetor captain cried a few more orders and landed before the mare barely holding herself upright; she gave her a questioning look but held the curiosity back, instead gloomily informing Wire, “Out of the straws we’ve been drawing all these years we’ve got the shortest yet. Stalliongrad has set us up—they forced Heterocera to use the amplifier to move the Sun.”

“But the Swarm doesn’t have enough magic…” Wire mumbled in confusion the first thing that came to her mind.

“Now we don’t have enough.”

“It can be fixed, right?” Night chimed in from the unicorn’s side.

In doing so, she shared with her the same silent interest from the changeling; Wire glared at the Kirin but chose to address the captain instead, demanding in a worried tone, “Where is Delight?”

“Our Queen…”—Teleta averted her eyes—“has gone to the Citadel.”

Wire’s scowl didn’t regain her attention—venomously green eyes aimed over the unicorn’s head to where the sinister arcanium needle seemed to burn in the zenith rays; she wanted to believe it didn’t glow with the glee of watching the Swarm fleeing Hope in dismay.

“The Machine Goddess can’t help us,” Wire deadpanned.

Teleta clenched her jaws and stayed silent for a few seconds pregnant with swelling gravity.

“Yes,” she said darkly at last.

Whilst Night glanced betwixt the two, perplexed, Wire’s expression went blank but only to twist into ugly fury after a moment of aghast comprehension.

“Fuck. Fuck!” she spat. Spinning in place to follow the changeling’s grim stare, Wire lost her balance as her hind hooves gave up. Ignoring the pain and drawing the attention of everyone around she roared. “It was all a distraction!”

Her wobbling front hooves threatened to send her sprawling and yet the wrath that would impress any Kirin granted her enough strength to stomp the dust and add another, “Fuck!”

And then she began to topple.

As much as her injuries allowed, Night rushed to her side.

“Wire—”

A hoof struck out, feebly pushing the Kirin away; it almost succeeded. Night’s attempt to not let the unicorn become prostrate on dirt turned into a struggle to subdue a blindly thrashing mare.

“Don’t ‘Wire’ me!” she hissed. Her horn sputtered with sparks and its glow died. “At this point, she might as well have faked the whole incident!”

Against her better judgement, the tongues of flame licked Night’s coat as her draconic aspect kicked in, aroused by a few ‘lucky’ hits and the smell of blood from the reopened wounds. Before it was too late and she added to Wire’s collection of burns, she once more tried to reason with the mad unicorn, even aware of its futility, “That’s just paranoid thinking!”

“No! I told you!” Wire’s throat rattled with a howl. “I’ll kill that metal cunt—”

A pair of armoured hooves got the unicorn in the vice of a headlock. The Praetorian Guard was no match to the mare shaking from physical pain as much as fury, but that didn’t stop her from resisting.

“Wire, calm down,” Teleta said in her ear. “We’ve got everything under control.”

“Bullshit—you are dying.”

The captain winced as if struck and Wire tried to use that to wrench herself from her hold—to utterly fail.

She then tried a ‘diplomatic’ approach, snapping at Teleta, “I need to see Del.”

“No.”

“My rank is higher than yours,” Wire pressed on.

“It’s not about rank,” the changeling captain shook her head. “You’re in no condition and the Swarm needs you right here right now. Heterocera needs you with us.”

A long moment passed as Wire kept tensing against the hard yet careful grasp of chitinous limbs. The snarl bubbling in her throat became a stertorous heaving ending in a whinny and the mare went limp. Then the sniffles came.

Teleta shifted to turn the harsh lock into a comforting hug.

“Sorry, Teleta.” Wire pressed her muzzle against the arcanum shoulder armour. “I just… Nevermind.”

The captain mirthlessly chuckled. “It might sound strange, but hearing you say that I can’t help but think our Queen couldn’t have chosen a better advisor.”

“Yeah, of course,” the unicorn bitterly muttered, wiping her nose. She allowed her one more sniffle before her voice regained its hardness, if horribly weak, and she straightened herself. “What’s the situation?”

“I’ll fill you in on our way to the clinic.” Teleta also gave Night another look, noting how the Kirin tried to do her best to not collapse as she watched the royal advisor break down and gather herself up. “You should come, too—you both look like you have fought a dragon or… each other.”

Where Wire almost eagerly surrendered to the ministrations of the changeling nurses and gladly welcomed the pungent odours of a strange medicine, Night hesitated. However, after the Kirin, reluctant and shooting fire-laden glances at the healers, allowed the dubious-looking balm to be spread on her burns, she couldn’t deny the soothing bliss it bestowed.

Before long, Night echoed the unicorn’s contented sigh when the agony finally released them both from their clutches. Teleta took that as a sign to pass everything that transpired in Wire’s absence, her droning voice quickly going through the unfortunate events with a professional lack of inflexion—almost; more than once her voice quivered, becoming tenser as she neared the sombre ambiguous finale. The medics finished bandaging the offended flesh of the two rugged mares as the captain concluded her story with a poignant silence asking for an opinion.

Throughout the report, Wire’s expression had grown progressively grimmer. Night couldn’t help but share it even though the situation barely concerned her—yet; knowing Stalliongrad, the Kirin community that, too, had refused to join the Technocracy might be next on its list.

Despite the Machine Goddess not playing the last role in the story of today, the unicorn reacted to her name with as much distaste as to any other. It seemed that letting out some steam had helped her even more than the medical attention. However, the fire hadn’t receded completely—the malevolent tide ebbed into the golden depths of her eyes… becoming the usual constant smouldering that let itself be known through sarcastic quips.

The unicorn grimaced whilst trying to choose which of many responses to pick and ultimately settled on grumbling, “Frankly, I’m surprised Del didn’t kill Maudlin outright. And disappointed.”

“You tried your hardest, but, thankfully, not too much of your… methods… rubbed off on our Queen,” the captain deadpanned, unamused.

Wire shot her a half-hearted glare. “Of course, she wouldn’t, that was a joke. Though, you’ve got to admit—that’s a new low for the Technocracy.”

“Hopefully, they can’t go any lower.” Scowling at the choice of her words, Teleta venomously added, “Not that we can count on that in this city.”

“Well,” Wire darkly chuckled, “good luck to them besieging the Hive.”

The changeling captain once more refused to share her morbid sense of humour, grimly commenting, “They haven’t even bothered to rally up their forces—in their minds, time is going to do all the heavy lifting.”

Wire scoffed, “It isn’t?”

“No. Heterocera will find the solution. Or you will.”

The unicorn shook her head, her mottled crimson mane falling over her eyes, leaving only a lopsided smile to see.

“We have been trying to do that for ten years,” she uttered, the weight of all that time ringing in her words. “Nothing short of a miracle is going to help us.”

Teleta cocked her head and a murmur in her ear betrayed a transmission; her eyes suddenly lit up.

“Come again?” she asked with a smile. Returning her attention to the conversation with Wire, she informed her, “We’ve got a visitor—it’s Sunburst.”

Wire’s surprise didn’t last long—though for a moment she shared a spark with the changeling, a moment later she grumbled with a sigh, “Just because we live in Hope doesn’t mean you should get your hopes high, Captain. He might need just another translation or something.”

“You should see him anyway.”

“Can’t you do it?” The unicorn scrunched her muzzle. “He became a Former One by boring his death to death. I’d rather make up for entertaining the arcanium bitch—you could use some help.”

“I have to make sure we’re ready to host Maudlin’s friends if they do decide to swing by. But that’s something I can take care of, thanks.” The hint of the changeling seeking the camaraderie of her family hung heavily in the air, so Teleta tapped the mare on her horn. “That, and only you can make sense of what he says.”

“I’ve probably overstayed my welcome,” Night whispered, following Wire through the Hive.

The changelings’ dwelling pressed on her from every side, despite ceilings high enough to accommodate the fliers—which from time to time spooked the Kirin with their sudden chirr. Barely lit, the ribbed passages of something more alive than stone seemed like a maze; Night would have fled them long ago if she had the slightest idea how to navigate her way out without help.

“As long as you don’t dig into my snacks, you can loiter around indefinitely. It’s not like the Hive is short on space.” Wire unintentionally confirmed the mare’s fears. When her joke failed to evoke any response, she tried again. “And don’t you want to witness a Former One? I know it’s not as impressive as the shining flanks of the Machine Goddess you adore so much, but how many of them have you seen?”

Too focused on not losing Wire to the shadows, Night curtly replied with a question of her own, “Didn’t you say Sunburst is boring?”

“You ain’t a treasure trove of fun yourself…”

“Hey!”

Wire grinned, pleased with herself. “But you make a good kindling.”

A new colour joined the green phosphorescence of the pulsing lanterns—a mix of blue and purple coming from behind the smirking unicorn; she made sure to put a bit more distance betwixt herself and the emerging Nirik.

The unicorn achieved that by taking a sharp turn and to make sure Night wouldn’t lose her, she threw over her shoulder, “Now you’re fun.”

Then Wire spoke again, looking back to where she was headed, “We’re here, Sunburst.”

Night entered into a cave-like room brimming with book-laden shelves right in time to witness a somewhat unassuming old stallion look up from a book in his withered knobbly hooves. The motion threw his cowl back, revealing a knot of wrinkles framed by unkempt silver hair.

“Oh, hello Red Wire.” His grey eyes that held only the barest hint of blue twinkled from behind thick lenses and Sunburst closed the tome with a resounding slap that sent a cloud of dust into his face, where it comfortably settled with more of its kind. “Didn’t see you, but glad to.”

“What brings you here, Mr Bookworm? Have you run out of elder scrolls?” Wire asked as she took a step back from the fallout zone, scrunching her nose as the dust still followed her, even though it shouldn’t. “The Swarm is a bit too busy at the moment to host guests.”

“Is that so?” Sunburst suggested with a fake innocence that clashed with his chapped lips forming an insidious grin. “Does that mean I can congratulate you on finally finding a spouse rather than indulging in one-night stands, courtesy of the changelings?”

Wire’s healthy eye bulged out of its orbit and Night at her side erupted in a cacophony of choking sounds that were supposed to be words. The outburst of frantic motion resulted in them leaning away from each other with bewildered stares that became glares when they simultaneously faced back the elder unicorn.

“What are you doing here, Sunburst?” Wire recovered first, her tone suggesting her hospitality was suddenly finding itself almost depleted. “It’s really not the best moment to discuss ancient literature.”

“Why, I also read modern books.” Sunburst rattled with a reserved chuckle and let himself indulge in paying an amused look to the flustered mares. As their collective glare intensified in return, he hurried to give an actual answer, “I found some text in the ruins of Neighponia which might get your attention for once. Apparently, your legend of changeling origin might be… a bit different from what may have happened.”

True to his prediction, Wire instantly dropped all the hostility, intently listening. Even the Kirin perked up her ears.

“It got the actors and the scene right—it all started with Princess Platinum’s sister as she split from the rest of the unicorns during the foundation of Equestria… but you have never had the finer details, have you?”

“There isn’t that much of the finer details that matter,” Wire grouchily retorted. “Quicksilver had been already dabbling into certain unwholesome arcane techniques and it—surprise—backfired.”

Sunburst’s long beard swayed as he shook his head, mildly scowling.

“The details do matter. A few of the scrolls I recovered and deciphered hint to the changelings being the result of some sort of a hex, but the text heavily references the other source without going into depth.”

“Stop speaking in riddles, old stallion. What other source?”

The elder shot Wire a glare and spoke, drawing out the words on purpose, “Always so impatient, the young ones.”

She had a sharp-witted response to that, however, “Says the immortal one.”

That earned her another glower, though it held a hint of sadness; maybe because of that subtle inflexion, Sunburst answered the young unicorn without any more distractions, “The Neighponese used to have one of the oldest libraries before the gods decided to give it a facelift—it references the Crystal Empire’s archives.”

The anticipation died on Wire’s face, leaving behind an ugly corpse—a profoundly disappointed grimace. “You might as well have told us it’s at Nightmare Moon’s castle up in the sky.” Realising the lengths to which Sunburst must have gone to find and deliver that knowledge, she added with a bow of her head, “Thank you, still.”

The stallion himself didn’t seem to be satisfied with his words and mirrored Wire’s motion, even if for other reasons. “I’m sorry. I wish I could help you more…”

Wire waved her hoof in dismissal, though her frown only deepened.

“Unlike me, you did make some progress.”

Completely lost in her unpleasant thoughts, she seemed to abruptly leave, but Sunburst’s grim voice called her back to reality.

“That’s not all of it—the Crystal Empire hides another secret.”

Both mares once again found themselves peering into the aged eyes hiding long lost knowledge; their ears prepared to catch every word.

“The Neighponese somehow angered the gods, but nobody knows exactly what they did,” the stallion vaguely began another of his messages, coming from afar in his trademark frustrating fashion.

To prevent him from preaching another lecture, Wire dryly commented, “Even the Machine Goddess wasn’t told, according to what Delight shared with me.”

“The Neighponese had found a way to kill a god,” Sunburst bluntly stated; Wire’s and Night’s eyes shot wide open to that. “But they didn’t come up with it by themselves—the incoherent fragments had been gathering dust in their archives for ages until the Crystal Empire sprung back from the snows five centuries ago and they got the final pieces for the puzzle. That’s why the Princesses banished it in the first place—not because of King Sombra himself but what knowledge he could eventually uncover.”

Long moments of contemplating the information and the gravity it possessed resulted in an obvious question:

“Why didn’t they just destroy the Crystal Empire library?” Wire accompanied it with an expression that doubted either the factuality of Sunburst’s words or alicorns’ intelligence.

“Only a fool would do that,” snapped the eternal scholar. “There were just two of them and by that time Princess Luna had been already showing concerning signs. That knowledge was too important to cast into oblivion, so Princess Celestia sealed it until she had at least one more pony to rely on.”

Once more, the silence settled betwixt the equines, but this time a deep worry accompanied Wire’s inquiry, “Do the gods know?”

“If you are too arrogant to study a single book, how do you expect them to sift through hundreds of tomes in ancient languages?”

Wire bristled in response to his admonishment, but held her tongue back—Sunburst wasn’t wrong, after all.

“Until the danger is up in their faces, they won’t budge,” the elder continued. “And their newest member has her eyes somewhere else, too, it seems. The Machine Goddess doesn’t know who I am, but your queen is a friend of hers—it would be easier for Heterocera to pass the message.”

A dark shadow passed across Wire’s face as Sunburst patiently waited for the answer, oblivious to the unexpected paths he might have offered with his message.

“I’m not sure we’re friends with her anymore, Sunburst,” Wire carefully said and the stallion’s face fell. “Thank you.”

Nothing could pierce the heavy stillness that came after Wire revealed to Sunburst that his visit happened during a time that twisted the goals he meant to achieve into something he might regret. With his muzzle becoming a stone mask hardly hiding a deeply disturbed expression, he wordlessly left, the mares barely noticing his furtive retreat as they digested the potentially game-changing news.

Wire, mostly; Night had been worriedly observing the unicorn whose muzzle shifted betwixt different, but still unreadable, albeit dark, expressions for a while.

“What now?” the Kirin asked, unsure if she wanted to know the answer.

“Everything is interconnected.” Wire shook her head; the frown that claimed her face for a while now, deepening. “But I can’t see who moves the pieces. For once I’m not sure it’s even our resident schemer.”

Night held back a relieved sigh—she expected a different attitude in regards to the Machine Goddess.

“But what do we do?”

Wire shrugged, still captive to her ruminations and diverted her attention to the conversation with a visible reluctance. “The investigation is over. You can stay, you can go—your choice. I’m going to wait until Delight returns.”

“What if she doesn’t?” Night pressed on, much to the unicorn’s annoyance.

“Then, I guess, I’ll have to start looking into how to survive the Windigo.”

It was how Teleta caught her—with hooves spread in a helpless gesture and grimacing; frustration etched in every feature of her tired face.

“Wire, we have another visitor,” the captain announced even before she crossed the doorstep.

“All we needed to finally get the Hive popular was to put the changelings on the brink of extinction.”

No different from any other such comment, the quip left no impact on her professionally neutral face, half-hidden behind a helmet to aid in maintaining that mask. However, this time she didn’t need that assistance; not because she didn’t find Wire’s joke even the least bit funny—a haunted quality lingered in her eyes.

“Who is it?” Wire impatiently asked.

The changeling hesitated with the answer, but it did come, “She refused to come in, but asked for you.”

Now sharing the barely hidden disquiet with her, the unicorn coldly demanded, “Who is it, Teleta?”

“Tin Flower.”

Night barely managed to keep up with the mare who, despite all her wounds, practically flew through the dank passages of the Hive, never stopping, even when she cried out in pain. However, when the light of the fading day finally cut the darkness of the changelings’ abode, Wire abruptly stopped, refusing to step out of the shadows.

The silhouette at the entrance didn’t stir—the young sombre mare stared at the sunset, the melancholy rendering her deaf to the panting echoing from the Hive’s walls. Then she snapped her head to the newly arrived, greasy locks whipping her face, and tensed, staring into the blackness.

Gulping, Wire called in an unsteady voice, “Hello, Flower.”

“Geode Gleam,” Flower greeted her in an almost mechanical fashion, her tone betraying nothing.

“You still remember.” The unicorn tried to smile and finally stepped into the orange glow.

Flower instantly took a step back.

“I don’t forget.”

Wire jerked as if from physical pain and Night leaned in her direction, reluctant to intervene in the exchange but ready to catch the unicorn were she to collapse—which seemed to be a real possibility.

Yet, the moment of weakness didn’t last. Though Wire took no more steps forward, she straightened herself and forced her face to bear a less despondent expression before trying again, “Have you deci—”

“No,” Flower harshly cut her off. “I need your—”

She shut her mouth just as abruptly, grimacing. When the dismal mare spoke again, she seemed to be choosing her words very carefully, seemingly reluctant to say anything at all, “Luna’s about to lose control. I don’t know what’s going to happen when she finally does, but we have to…to… have to protect the Machine Goddess.”

Already shaken by everything that she had been through that day, Wire stared at her in abject horror as her mask of cool shattered completely—her already suspicion-blighted mind starting to see everything as no coincidence from a much more objective and terrifying angle.

“What are you talking about, Flower?” she whispered.

“She must not even meet me,” Flower gravely continued.

“I’m afraid it’s too late,” a melodious voice rang through the stunned silence.

Following it, an arcanium statue caught ablaze in the waning rays as it constructed itself from thin air.

Flower recoiled from the Machine Goddess with a snarl, taking a low stance, her hoof shooting to her saddlebag but stopping before she could produce whatever it concealed—ready to any moment.

Unperturbed by that display, the deity softly smiled and just as kindly said, “I know you don’t share it with us, yet we’re happy to see you.”

“You!” Wire shot an accusing hoof at the metal alicorn, coming to her senses. “What did you do to Delight?!”

Just like before, the aggression bounced off the serene form of the Machine Goddess. She stepped to the side, leaving in her place a tear in reality.

“Why don’t you ask her yourself?”

The door to somewhere else showed the changeling queen, as she promised, and along with her Luna, Spike and Rainbow Dash.

Author's Note

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

Stay awesome.