Arc 5 – Ponies after all Chapter 4 – Nirik’s Spark

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All living in Hope and the visitors of the emergent city knew about the Hive—something like that just couldn’t be ignored. When the first refugees stumbled into its vast shadow, the wind-eaten mass of stone became a foundation for the settlement of many… yet, all but changelings came to shun the archaic marvel of architecture. For even those tolerating the shapeshifting equines, at least out of gratitude for the food the Swarm’s biomass farms produced, could rarely find it in themselves to not shiver at the sight of the looming primaeval rock chiselled by time and nature into something amorphous and nevertheless sinister.

The Hive, with its true inner size being a popular rumour, effortlessly evoked anxiety. Its twisted spires ominously hung over the streets and the gaping dark entrances seemed constantly ready to spew innumerable chitinous equines to fill the air with horror and chirr of gossamer wings. In the case superstitions failed to overthrow common sense, memories came… of the Sky Palace and its unjust inhabitants—the infamous Crown, hard to forget and forgive.

Night Wind thought of herself as someone who didn’t belong to either type of Hope’s denizens, yet, standing before the Hive’s main entrance, she hesitated. Always a hub of activity, the changelings’ home stood ominously mute and the Kirin couldn’t decide if it lay in wait or stood vacant; nor did she know which was worse.

But she wouldn’t have been a commissioner if such worries had power over her.

Not a single Praetorian stood guard at the antechamber; no chitinous equines could be found there at all—Night’s steps echoed through the cavernous hall like peals of thunder. The Kirin flicked her ears—sounds of commotion from deeper inside the Hive reached her ears, however.

Since the last visit the unsettling interiors hadn’t improved, nor did it help that she no longer suffered the aftermath of Wire’s spell. So now Night fully experienced the disturbing little rustles permeating as if alive burrows lit by sparse light of luminescent mushrooms or other no less unusual organic sources.

Soon enough, other noises joined the maddening chorus—laughter and eerie yet still pure chirrs of nymphs coming from the dark depths of the Hive. Before she knew it, the first changeling emerged from the shadows when Night turned around the corner—a mare busy caring for the mushroom lanterns. The young changeling deftly cleaned and watered them, using only her hooves and mouth without changing into a form more convenient for the task.

“Excuse me, miss,” Night called her before she could dissolve back into the darkness and leave the Kirin alone with a mushroom glowing slightly brighter than before. “Do you know where I can find Captain Teleta?”

The changeling spared her a mysterious glance and smiled.

“Right behind you.”

Night pivoted on her hind hooves to be met with Teleta’s highly amused expression.

“Exactly what I expected,” the commissioner squeezed out of herself, hoping the changelings wouldn’t hear her heart threatening to explode.

“Got to admit, it’s a pleasant variety,” Teleta greeted her, still grinning. “Normally, nobody seeks the Captain of the Praetorians.”

The Royal Guard’s long shadows tarnished the new changeling elite force’s new armours; even Night, looking at those arcanium suits, couldn’t help remembering the dread of seeing the similar silhouettes in Canterlot—what if they came for her or her sister?

The Kirin tried to not sound too cold, “You probably know why I’m here.”

“Not quite.” The Captain shrugged. “Everything is quiet in Hope, for all we know, so it leaves very few reasons for the Police commissioner to pay us a visit.”

“It is never quiet in Hope,” Night levelly retorted. “Luckily, not the same way it used to be in Canterlot. Whatever your guesses are, I’m here to see Red Wire.”

Teleta answered her with a raised eyebrow.

“It’s an official business.”

“As you say,” snickered the changeling.

“You know, it’s unprofessional,” Night crossly commented as Teleta gave her another sly look she must have thought the Kirin wouldn’t notice; though, knowing the changelings, it might have been on purpose.

“True, but…” Teleta flashed her a mischievous grin. “Officially, I’m on leave.”

The arcanium armour she wore cast a substantial doubt on her statement and everything pointed out on the Captain most likely tailing Night since the moment she had stepped into the Hive. Perhaps, the commissioner coming to the changelings’ home led its protector to don her uniform and perform her duty.

Upon that realisation, Night awkwardly mumbled, “Sorry to bother you…”

“We all are on leave,” Teleta replied in a carefully neutral tone, flicking her ears. “Mother’s orders.”

“And sorry about your situation. I can’t imagine how horrible it must be.”

The changeling mare shrugged, though the gesture seemed to be somewhat forced. “It’s the ‘usual’ horrible.”

Night gave her a surprised look.

The Praetorian acknowledged it with a heavy sigh; though silence ruled the conversation for a while, till Teleta quietly explained, “To be a [changeling is to be unfamiliar with stability. Such a crisis happens not for the first time and surely not for the last. But we trust in our Mother’s love.”

The Kirin couldn’t help recalling the changeling queen’s desperation and hoped Teleta wouldn’t be able to pick up the aching echoes of Heterocera’s words. Did her children know she sacrificed her friendship to strike the deal with one of the most infamous mages in history?

“We are here,” the Captain announced.

Though Teleta left her alone before the entrance chiselled in the rock—or whatever constituted the Hive’s walls—Night harboured no doubt about a pair of green eyes watching her every step; more than one, most likely. Trying to ignore the intense attention of covert stares, the Kirin entered the shadow-flooded opening only to discover it being a short and sharp curving passage. At its end light filtered through a web-like curtain and upon the next breath, a warm smell of homemade food strongly tinged with exotic spices hit her nostrils; though, even those failed to hide the mustiness of mushrooms—the staple of the Hive’s biomass farms.

Stepping around the corner, Night found herself in a cavern-like chamber. Before she could even think of clopping her hoof against the floor to let Wire know about her arrival, a mare peeked into the room from a ‘doorway’—an arch cut into the wall—leading to what must have been a kitchen, judging by a sizzling pan in a telekinetic hold following her.

“Hello, dearie,” she greeted the Kirin. “You’re the first non-changeling to visit our home. Of course, it doesn’t mean you aren’t welcome here—the food is about to be ready in a few minutes.”

To no surprise, the unicorn bearing a striking resemblance to Wire ignored the commissioner’s startled expression, though her unseeing eyes didn’t prevent her from moving more dexterously than Night.

The mare gasped, “Oh, there are my manners—I’m Roche Dust and this is one of my wonderful daughters, Hollow Druse.”

Her hoof pointed at another unicorn. Lounging on a sofa, the younger mare bobbed her head crowned with massive headphones; her metal hooves twitched in rhythm with the soft throbs of music.

“Druse!” Roche barked.

The mare in question perked up, hastily taking off the headset.

“Oh.” Her eyes focused on Night. “Hey. Wait, who are you?”

“Commissioner Night Wind,” the Kirin introduced herself and seeing Druse tense up, added, without missing a beat, “And, no, you didn’t break the law, I’m here just to talk with Wire.”

Though continuing to eye Night warily, Druse relaxed and nodded at one of the doorways, the one with a scant glow coming from it. “Geode is in her room.”

Somewhat confused, Night promptly headed there—to defuse the awkwardness thickening in the air. However, as she passed Wire’s sister, Druse grumbled, “Maybe you will be able to drag her out of there for dinner.”

A subtle undertone of worry in the otherwise jesting remark slightly quickened Night’s steps, but before she entered the gloom of Wire’s ‘cavern’, Roche also spoke up, smiling warmly, “And please do join us later.”

Not even cataracts could hide the sadness and worry in the Mother’s eyes.

Night nodded and stepped over the doorstep, belatedly realising her mistake.

The main chamber violently clashed with the Kirin’s expectations of how Wire lived—she never knew the grouchy unicorn shared her place with her family; the notoriously bad-tempered Queen’s advisor seemed like a type who dwelt alone in a long-neglected cramped apartment where she only slept… but such a cliché applied just to Night, apparently.

The cosiness abruptly ended, divided from the rest of the home by another of those suspicious curtains. A horrible mess represented the interior of Wire’s room and in the centre of it a unicorn lay prostrate on the untidy bed; she hadn’t bothered to take off the clothes (except for the armour pieces) before letting the blankets embrace her battered body covered in a crust of blood and soot.

Everything fell right into place, but it didn’t feel right.

Whilst a single lamp cast a weak light on the chaos of Wire’s room, it failed to illuminate the corner where she rested; from there a glowing eye peered at Night.

“It’s you,” Wire rasped. “Fuck off.”

“Geode, language!” her Mother yelled from the kitchen.

Rolling her eyes, the unicorn snapped, “What do you want?”

Night suddenly found herself at a loss of words or, rather, she never had any to begin with—she knew not even what she had aimed to achieve by coming here other than checking on Wire. But now, witnessing her sorry state, she couldn’t leave Wire like that; not when her family worried so much about the unicorn that had lost all hope.

Meeting Wire’s baleful gaze and trying not to sound as disgusted as she felt, the Kirin demanded, “Are you going to just wallow in your own filth?”

“You’ve got a problem with that? Is it not allowed anymore?”

“What about…” the Kirin trailed off; Wire must have known it hurt her Mother and sister to see her like that, but it wasn’t Night’s place to remind her. She had to find some other way. “Technically, the investigation isn’t over and the Swarm still assists with it.”

“If you have forgotten already, I resigned,” Wire retorted acidly.

“There was no official procedure,” deadpanned Night.

“Go and fuck yourself.”

“Geode!”

Wire shot the Kirin a glare as if that was her fault and then mockingly taunted her, “Whatcha gonna do, commissioner? Force me to work with you?”

“Yes,” Night spat as portentous heat started to gather under her skin; she ignored it… for now. “That shouldn’t be a problem since you clearly have no spine.”

Nearly landing her snout first because of a blanket catching her hoof, Wire pounced out of the bed to stand so close to the commissioner, the Kirin could smell the reek of burnt bone—the lingering symptom of magic burnout.

The unicorn growled, “Say that to my face.”

A flame flickered in the tips of Night’s mane, but she held herself together, even as she loudly stated, “You are a pathetic excuse for a mare who abandoned her best friend when she needed you the most.”

Night expected a hoof to slap her face (and subsequently check out if the Hive had some sort of a fire alarm system), but despite looking ready to explode as well, Wire stood perfectly still, scowling. She then deflated, started to tremble and tears glistened in the corner of her eye.

Abruptly turning, the unicorn jumped back into her bed and Night could barely discern through the sobs futilely held back, “Just leave me alone.”

A sad sigh escaped Night’s lips louder than it had to—on purpose, to preserve the remains of Wire’s dignity and give herself a few moments to gather thoughts.

“It’s not too late, you know,” the Kirin uttered, not exactly sure if she didn’t lie.

Who knew what Heterocera had done already? And even if no foul pacts were sealed, would the changeling queen forgive her friend?

No answer followed Night’s words, only the gentle sound of Wire’s tears soaking the blankets broke the uncomfortable silence.

The commissioner prepared to accept her defeat and bolstered herself for presenting it to Wire’s family waiting for her outside the room with bated breaths, when the unicorn suddenly spoke or, rather, whimpered, almost inaudibly:

“It was never my time. I’m useless.”

“No, you are not.”

“I had one job,” Wire sniffled and burrowed deeper into her bed.

Night had to stifle another sigh and tried to placate Wire. “The situation is… complicated. Heterocera must have been too stressed out by everything happening to think clearly. Her children’s life is at stake.”

“Which also was my responsibility.”

The Kirin triumphantly smirked. “Didn’t you say you had only one job?”

However, her smile quickly died on her lips—Wire eyed her coldly, then asked in an infinitely tired voice of someone who had given up on everything, “Why are you here, Night?”

Although only the rock of the Hive’s walls met the commissioner’s suddenly sombre eyes, she nevertheless gazed upon the spread beyond it squat homes of many who tried not to just survive but to thrive, miraculously free of Canterlot’s inescapable nightmare… except its long echo kept resonating through the streets of sandstone.

“I, too, have one job—making sure Hope is safe.” Her unblinking and blazing with fire stare met Wire’s mismatched eyes—one bloodshot and the other glowing with sunlight. “And I bet my horn—whatever happens at the Crystal Empire isn’t likely to reflect well on our calamitous city. Ash and the Prophet are from Canterlot, which makes them the only links to the terrorist attack.”

“You’re just one mare,” Wire snorted.

A smile played on Night’s muzzle once more, this time radiating resignation along with humour. “That makes two of us, trying to shoulder a weight too heavy for our backs.”

Although Wire didn’t mirror her expression, she no longer sought refuge in the mess she made of her bed, nor did new wet streaks appear on her cheeks.

“Worthless it might be, I can bet my horn, too—the Prophet is behind those murders,” she noted thoughtfully. “The question is, what do you plan to do? Ask him nicely? He seems to be another of those countless ‘gods’.”

A shudder ran down the Kirin’s spine as she recalled the enigmatic survivor of Canterlot—if the Prophet indeed had a connection to the pony they fought at the sewers, then she would have to deal with someone able to outwit the Machine Goddess.

“It would be a good start and in case that fails, I’m going to find out if Sunburst told us the truth.”

That got Wire’s full attention. The unicorn seemed to expect something—a punchline—but as the silence lasted, she had to state, “You’re crazy.”

Night shrugged. “The world is ending.”

“I wouldn’t be so hasty trusting everything the Machine Goddess says, but she’s certainly trying to pull off something nasty. Someone got to stop her.”

“That’s the spirit!”

The Kirin let herself smile again, if only to hide the worry caused by the foreboding darkness in Wire’s eye.

The grim intent, however, promptly ceded to doubt. “And what if Sunburst is part of the trap, whoever is behind all this? Do you truly believe there is a weapon able to kill a god?”

“I’d rather believe that than lie and wait for things to get better. Or worse.”

Wire glared daggers at the commissioner, but ultimately grumbled, “Hate to admit it—you make sense.”

With that, she climbed out of the bed (more gracefully this time) and shook herself before heading straight for the door. As she passed by Night, the Kirin grimaced.

“No offence, but you might want to take a shower before we go anywhere.”

“I have to enjoy the smell of burnt hair every time I get near you, so deal with it,” the unicorn instantly retorted.

Tailing her and trying not to inhale too deeply, Night muttered under her breath, “It’s not that bad.”

“But let’s go have dinner, because if my mom gets upset, you will want the world to end.”

“Shouldn’t we hurry?” Night frowned.

Although she had no concrete plan in mind, one thing shouldn’t be disregarded—she shared the changelings’ plight—had no time to spare; even though, ignoring the smell of Roche’s cooking presented itself a tough call.

Swallowing the water in her mouth, the Kirin steeled herself and added, “Travelling to the Crystal Empire can take days and I have no idea when the siege is starting.”

Wire only chuckled, “You’ve just hitched us a ride.”

Night tilted her head.

“How?”

“Changelings have no concept of privacy.”

Author's Note

English isn't my native language; though I try my best and use various tools to aid myself, I'm aware that a result is far from perfect. That said, if you notice anything that you think should be fixed—please let me know.

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