Resonance

=================================

Written by: Oneimare

=================================

Arc 7 – The Crystal Nightmare Chapter 1 – Awakening

=================================

The world ceased spinning, yet Tin Flower’s surroundings persistently refused to regain clarity. She stared at the intertwinement of cables and wires, failing to see any order in the chaotic webwork and the underlying skeleton of pipes and girders. Those vines of metal and rubber had gradually arrested her overwise fatal descent, however, unkindly and thoroughly whipping her as they robbed her body of the deadly momentum.

Grunting and groaning, the long-suffering mare unbound herself from a bed of steel strands, reminded of her burns and informed of new wounds. Every, even the tiniest, movement tore her jumpsuit from her ravaged skin; she dismissed the threat of infection, because at this rate there would be no body left to treat. Regaining an upright position failed to bring any positive change to the scenery; it did reveal her landing spot being other than some kind of inescapable well—a few paths branched away, though the twilight reigning over that labyrinthian landscape denied Flower any chance to see where they led.

This place combined the worst of the Edge and the Tunnels with only one difference, and quite major at that. The sickness of metal that had pervaded every corner of Canterlot and insidiously followed its refugees into Hope showed no presence in the Crystal Empire. Although the ducts didn’t gleam in the darkness with polished chrome and the rebar didn’t glisten with a fresh coating of oil, no sores of corrosion blemished them either. Marvelling at the nearly pristine state of the ancient kingdom, Flower almost missed the flicker of movement in a shaded alcove formed by the colourful ‘wines’. Darting to the nearest similar, albeit empty, corner to hide, the tense mare watched the shadows, waiting for them to jitter again.

Her eyes slightly widened as she beheld a silhouette which had no right to belong to a domain of metal so perfect in its preservation—the humped outline of a rat. Yet, something about the most common and equally unwelcome of critters seemed off—the way its coat shimmered in the darkness. The rodent emerged into the meagre light filtering through the countless layers of tangled cables and crossbeams to reveal itself as fitting its surroundings much more than Flower, for no soft disease-ridden flesh formed the body of that puny thing, but unrelenting iron. As the astonished mare stared at the rat, unhurriedly crawling across the treacherous floor of wires, the critter also forwent acting as a vermin—leaving in its wake a swath of metal purified from any signs of nascent oxidation.

Flower suddenly became aware of diligent tiny shades covering every surface, creeping through the thicket of technology to keep it immaculate. One of them dutifully cleaned the plating of some funnel so close to the mare, she needed only to extend her hoof to touch the little metal body. And she did, acutely aware of her foalishness; Flower just couldn’t resist the call of wonder, the amazement that stole any sense from her. The rat exercised almost no protest, stubbornly clinging to the pipe, but letting go when the pull of curious hooves overpowered the motors softly whirring inside its shell. The machine obediently rested in Flower’s grasp, letting the mechanic study the ingenious thing.

The disappointing unsophistication of its design struck her as odd—she would have come up with a more efficient and advanced solution even if she had only the Junkyard at her disposal. Nor did it miss her how the automated cleaner held only a distant resemblance to a rat; the artificial rodent was stuck at an awkward middle ground, where its form did a subpar job at presentation also simultaneously serving as a detriment to its utility. Whilst the rat’s peculiarity answered the question of why corrosion had gone extinct in the Crystal Empire, it spawned riddles, which added to the veil of mystery shrouding the emergent land with an intangible menace.

The underdeveloped state of the machinery could be explained by the Machine Goddess infiltrating the Crystal Empire years ago to… to what? To use it as… some sort of testing area? To build an army of… lame rats? Flower retained enough common sense to realise how ridiculous it sounded. The equinoids, with their inventiveness born from—and thriving in—limitation, would have easily come up with something better than a poor excuse for a rat with a scrubber attached to it.

Lowered back to the intertwined cables, the artificial animal instantly forgot about Flower, promptly returning to its cleaning duty. It, however, remained weighing heavily on the mare’s mind… for as long as it took her to move one step forward.

Such a trifling thing as a rat cast a gigantic shadow of doubt on her initial reason for braving the forgotten realm—the Machine Goddess might not be the only source of metal threat for Equestria anymore. Nor finding a library seemed like an achievable goal—she would be lucky to find her way out of this maze before hunger and thirst claimed their due. None of that would matter, however, if Nightmare prevailed and as such seeking Luna should be her priority… and then what? Without that vague something that should let her challenge the very gods, facing the alicorn breathing her last would be but an exercise in futility. The Nightmare might have lied through Luna’s mouth, of course, but, having an ample opportunity to measure the ability of that horror, Flower had a gnawing suspicion that, indeed, nothing could bring harm to the otherworldly force.

Regardless, Flower didn’t stand at crossroads with signs pointing to the different paths to choose. To blindly press onwards and hope was all she could do; not that it differed from how she survived her whole life.

The eerie recesses of the transformed Crystal Empire bustled with a quaint life, reminiscent of nature if one were to be exceedingly lenient in seeking any sort of comparison.

The landscape formed by metal, rubber and plastic fused into cavernous net-like structures exhibiting strong industrial provenance by its appearance alone. Robotic rats cleaned up the leaking pungent byproducts belonging to fabrication taking place deeper inside the massive facility, but the acrid chemical reek permeated the humid air along with odours of more disturbing, organic origin. The noises intrinsic to all the kinds of machinery formed a discordant song as if hummed and piped by countless unseen workers. And more than just artificial rodents compromised the number of toilers that could be seen—birds, dogs, cats and other small animals; each and every degenerate in their appearance to the point of being barely recognisable.

Navigation of the strange techno-forest presented itself an arduous task, convenient only for its mechanical wildlife; the improvised paths rarely offered steady purchase for equine hooves and even a malnourished mare had a hard time fitting into most of the passages. In spite of those difficulties, Flower had made inexorable progress towards… somewhere. Advancing in one direction and, when it was possible, skywards, she was yet to see any change to the endless labyrinth. By the time the despair began to settle in, her wish finally came true, though in a somewhat twisted way.

A tunnel formed by gurgling tubes opened into what could be best described as a clearing—a bubble of open space serving a purpose unfathomable to Flower or, perhaps, formed randomly as it seemed to apply to many such places in that sprawling facility. She would have crossed it like any other, were it not occupied by another equine already. A tall silhouette should have belonged to the rarest breed of ponies, but it sorely lacked in regality and… integrity. The bleached bones crowning the rickety frame instantly betrayed it as that of Nameless, standing with their back to Flower. Steel critters surrounded Ash’s sinister companion in a display right from a fairytale—if such a bedtime story aimed to inflict tremendous psychological trauma. Like electricity, horror streaked through Flower’s aching flesh when the moment she had always dreaded finally came—when the voices in her head gained a frightful clarity.

“Variable: Tin Flower. Designation: welding.”

The strange speech didn’t belong to Nightmare; still, every fibre of Flower’s body screamed at her to escape from that eerie horse… yet something drew the tense mare closer to the living effigy. Staring at them with squinted eyes, she began to see a familiar shape underneath the skeleton and outright rubbish. Although Flower failed to identify those remains, she thoughtfully suggested, “Just like this place, you have something to do with the Machine Goddess, don’t you?”

“Nameless connection with the Machine Goddess: found. The Crystal Empire connection with the Machine Goddess: not found,” Nameless replied in a fashion bereft of any emotion.

Released from Nameless’ spell, the animalistic clockwork denizens of the metal weald returned to their craft, but remained nearby, unnerving Flower. Pointing at them, she demanded an explanation, “Then what are those?”

“Machines,” the sentient effigy stated the obvious, to Flower’s annoyance. Before the frowning mare had any chance to comment, they continued, their tone not devoid of inflexion anymore, “Each unit carries a designation, each unit executes its function only. Consequence: no new data output possible. Prediction: insufficient adaptability resulting in inevitable critical failure.”

The first glimpse of the Crystal Empire freed from its ice jail created a distinct expression of existing solely to torment Flower. However, traversing the city of machines she had found only… disappointment. The reality supposed to debilitate Flower with her fears turned out to be true, disturbed the mare only with its lack of finesse—a realm befitting but a foal playing a god. She might have attributed the incompetence of this place to that of the TCE, but where avarice blinded the megacorporation in many ways, it also rendered it ruthless and efficient when it came to squeezing any drop of profit from their domain. Machines ruled the Crystal Empire, indeed, but not those of the Unity. Flower couldn’t even tell if she was looking at what the Unity was destined to become or at its complete failure. In all her worries about the Machine Goddess tearing the world from the weakened hooves of flesh, she had never tried to envision what lay betwixt the gruesome end of ponykind and the moment she created the equinoid destined to ascend above her kind.

Like a screw being attracted by a magnet, Flower’s gaze returned to Nameless solemnly watching the peculiar dance of local ‘fauna’ and the mare was finally able to see past the macabre outfit. The enigmatic equine spoke of failure and, indeed, Flower saw failure in them and sneered, “Are you supposed to be a success? To me, you look like a Harbinger thrown away.”

“Tin Flower’s insight: not completely incorrect. Nameless: incapable of success or failure. Nameless: no designation found.”

Nameless lost their veneer of mystique, thus deserving none of Flower’s already severely depleted stocks of patience or respect. “Whatever, I have no time for this.” She then trotted past them, aiming for a passage, promising by the merit of its size, bitterly muttering, “Not that it has ever helped to talk to machines.”

“Nameless: not a machine.”

Whilst denial in Nameless’ voice had little strength to it, the sudden burst of emotion still managed to bring Flower to a halt. Measuring them with a sceptical look, just in case, the mare expressed her venomous doubt, “Then what are you?”

Gaining even more resemblance to a statue, Nameless stood silent till Flower’s patience ran out. “Just as I thought.”

“Inquiry: what Nameless is?”

A simple question struck Flower like lightning, unearthing the painful memory of her dream defiled by the harsh reality—a question that had marked the start of her journey into madness. “No, not again,” she whispered upon regaining her senses; an accusatory hoof shot out. “You are just like her! Except…” Flower trailed off and then finished stunned again, “…you must… you have no memories, no anchor, no… soul.”

The equine still waiting for her answer couldn’t be dubbed as anything but a monster—a machine through and through, the one that would wear the sacred bones of a goddess as if there was nothing wrong with that. Would Flower rather have had it awaken in the darkness of her old shack at the Junkyard? As she stood, trying to figure out if Twilight’s aftersound could even be weighted against the void, Nameless repeated, “What Nameless is?”

Flower violently shook her head—she had other things to worry about right now; it all might be pointless anyway, with Nightmare closing on its freedom. “I don’t know and don’t care,” she spat, all but running away into the metal forest. “Leave me alone.”

Although Nameless denied her request, they betrayed their eerie presence with nary a sound, following Flower akin to a shadow—barely falling more than a few steps behind the determined mare. Whilst she would have preferred solitude in her struggle to find the way out of the metal warrens, Flower had to settle for what she could get without wasting much of her energy. With each tunnel squeezed through and an opening left behind, Flower sensed her strength running out; used to starvation, she nevertheless had no chance to ignore her mortal nature indefinitely. Whereas her healthy hooves grew as heavy as her tireless steel prosthetic, her mind took the brunt of the Crystal Empire assault on her—the monotony of flawed perfection repelled her attention, but she couldn’t let her mind focus on the thoughts roiling inside her head, each a threat to her already too greatly compromised psyche. After having to practically tear the wires away from her path in a hopefully not another vain attempt to get closer to a source of light stronger than any she had encountered before, Flower finally emerged into what definitely counted as a disruption in the dreariness… only to choke on her wish.

She had seen grapes only on the candy wrappers; the sweets themselves blighted her tongue with a sour chemical taste; wine tended to give her a splitting headache in the following mornings. It came as no surprise when the clusters of pods hanging from the walls brought nothing positive in her life.

Inside each sphere of semi-opaque glass, a pony floated, their curious coat shimmering enchantingly through the murky pinkish liquid, whilst ominous dark lines belonged to tubes and cables going in and out of the lethargic body. Like abhorrent tumours on the metal carcass of the Crystal Empire, those tanks burst from the tangle of the machinery which granted blasphemous life; rows upon rows of those brutal cells for the innocent formed a misshapen tower reaching not for the sky, but the impenetrable blackness of the abyss below the harvesting facility. Countless artificial creatures tended to the prison, making sure the punishment lasted undisturbed till the time to reap crystalline flesh came.

Flower stared at the dark forms gently stirring against the reddish light—so careless in their induced slumber, so pure. Countless generations of infants, all destined to emerge stillborn from the artificial wombs; an offspring of machines, they knew only death—the technology that went so far, too far, stopped right before the miracle became reality. Did they fear, those machines, that their children would rebel against their step-parents and so they never allowed the Crystal Ponies to experience life? It formed a pattern suggesting some fundamental truth—equinoids raised against the TCE in Canterlot; the Crystal Empire had learnt from that mistake and now existed, haunted by this knowledge—hostages to their victims. The inevitable opposition of life and… life. Was it ever possible for two forms of life, one created by another, to coexist in harmony?

As Flower found herself unable to avert her eyes from the peacefully dreaming Crystal Ponies, she discovered with a start—that sight gave rise to no aversion, horror or righteous anger inside of her. Those foals growing into stallions and mares without realising it, would also know no nightmares that had become part of every equine’s life these days. They would never die toiling for the TCE and their daughter would never grow up an orphaned cripple. Not ethical by any extent, this machine-created Tartarus carried a degree of mercy the ponies failed to exhibit in Canterlot; for if every equine in the world was fated to be exploited, then how horrible was this place of peaceful death? And, despite the Crystal Ponies knowing only death, their species prevailed through centuries whereas ponydom steadily dwindled.

Finally able to divert her focus elsewhere, Flower became aware of Nameless—they stood right behind her, though she couldn’t tell if the empty eye sockets were fixed on the pods or herself, nor could it be possible to decipher the expression of a skull, though… the rigid grin of bleached bone disturbingly perfectly fit the display of life degraded till there was nothing left to it but the moments of birth and when it was to be reaped.

“I bet you’re admiring this,” someone spoke. Only a moment later Flower realised those words had left her mouth. She waited with a bated breath, expecting the monstrosity to approve the cynical pinnacle of machine pragmatism.

A whole minute passed before Nameless stated, “Resource acquisition strategy: inefficient—unacceptable data loss.”

“Data, data, data!” Flower threw her hooves in the air. “Do you talk about anything else, not-a-machine? Oh, yes, designations.”

“Nameless—”

“It was a rhetorical question,” the mare sharply interjected, adding a glare to her words for good measure.

Their way of speaking certainly annoyed her, but not enough for such an outburst. Writing it off as the undeniably oppressive atmosphere exuded by this part of the Crystal Empire, Flower turned away from the trapped ponies, prepared for the unpleasant necessity of backtracking. But something brought her eyes back to the equines in the translucent tanks; furthermore, her hooves carried her closer to the pods, as if having a will on their own.

The perturbed mechanic softly tapped the glass; the mare inside continued to smile in her slumber. Should she try harder, till this pony was introduced to the agony of the waking world? If Flower were to voice her thoughts and had a company other than Nameless, she knew what she would hear in an obvious response—the world has to offer much more than just suffering; Flower was just a sore loser who had thrown everything away chasing stupid dreams. Her misfortune aside, who would choose a world existing in the fatal shadow of alien influence and no less alien artificial life threatening it from the inside? Who would choose a nightmare over a dream?

The pale light of the macabre installation and the incessant labour of fake animals rendered the glass of the pod reflective enough to show Flower the weathered beyond her age face of the mare who could have had it all—home, friends; family, even if she were to swallow her pride and grow up from fairytales. The somnambulant movement drew her attention back to the pony inside—it wasn’t only her, who dreamt. Everyone had chosen a dream, except Flower… for what reason had she refused bliss? Why indeed? Because of the truth everyone ignored—she prophesied the bleak future prepared for the ponies and, finally, the Crystal Empire served as an undeniable proof of her fear—the end which the rest of ponykind would share with this place, if the Machine Goddess wasn’t stopped. But what drove Flower to keep her eyes wide open? Listening to nobody but herself, she persistently dragged the entire world into her dark providence. Wouldn’t it have been better if everyone remained in a pleasant dream, not unlike those Crystal Ponies?

What if… what if she was wrong? About everything—the Machine Goddess, Nightmare, the doom…

Did she still live in a fantasy world of foalhood, fancying herself as some sort of a chosen one? What a ridiculous notion, for an uneducated fuck-up of a pony vomited out by the place worse than slums to be destined for something great… something grand other than an immeasurably deep delusion. But wouldn’t she surrender to the same self-deception by attributing to herself some massive failure?

A buildup of emotions conflicting with each other, impossible to suffer even separately, turned into a searing flare of anger demanding a release and Flower’s blood boiled; her metal hoof shot up in the air, preparing to descend upon the polished glass—not to shatter the walls of the gaol, but to open a gate into a true Tartarus—the reality tainted by Nightmare into a sanity-shredding whirlwind on doubt, fear and turmoil…

Her prosthetic stopped.

What was it? Was this knowledge a curse like that of Nightmare to Luna—things Flower had learnt about the world and would never be able to forget? Or had proximity to the deranged alicorn and the overwhelming hardship of unlucky life driven her insane? Not the eerie, Nightmare-induced kind of madness, but an ordinary snap of mind when someone can withstand the stress no more.

Tears fell on the polished glass.

“Forget,” Flower croaked. “I wish I could forget.”

To relinquish memory of everything, of both losses and gains; for everything which was ever dear to her—she had lost. No selective erasure of memory would be able to aid her heartbreak, but a brand new life where she experienced no debilitating agony and the forever lingering pain building up like pressure against the dam which kept her in full possession of her senses.

She sensed magic, cold as ice; yet it touched her gently. Coolness permeated her memories, bringing comfort, but it wasn’t enough—it still unbearably hurt.

“Confirm: Nameless receives Flower’s data.”

A pair of astonished and moisture-brimmed eyes met the void of bone; Nameless patiently loomed over the hunched mechanic with an offer so alluring—to part with all that pain, give it to the one, who could feel nothing; condemn the suffering to oblivion and emerge reborn, free from the curse of wisdom. Flower’s lips parted, her tongue licked them, ready to coil in her mouth and produce one single word separating her from happiness.

She remained silent, staring into the black eye sockets of an emotionless skull—they showed her the future, the excruciating sense of being lost with no memories to anchor one to reality; even the memories of someone else wouldn’t be able to bring any ease to an empty heart. She would be left with two paths—to embrace that emptiness or to fill it through trial and inevitable error. Her mistakes, the atrocities she had committed, weighed heavily on her mind… and her withers—the casket with gems, with lives stolen. Would she leave them unatoned? Even Luna, with all the gravity of her sins and the impossibility of redemption, sought to undo her wrongs; with her memories being the only thing she had left in her possession and the alicorn cherished them above all. Most importantly… what would prevent Flower from repeating her missteps if she couldn’t remember them?

Flower finally spoke and she said:

“No.”

The Crystal Empire readily greeted the staggering mare back with the overwhelming monody of its broken metal grounds. Brought to exhaustion, Flower no longer suffered from a case of wandering mind as all her focus had to be put into finding her path through the thicket of industry.

Even in her stupefied state, she couldn’t ignore the dusk of the Crystal Empire’s bowels receding and the air losing its stuffy quality in favour of crisp gusts visiting the cramped passages never meant to be navigated by equines. When another opening started to loom ahead, Flower contemplated veering away so as to not witness the Crystal Ponies once more; the promise of light and a chance to breathe in full lungs without fear of them filling up with smoke got the better of her.

A ventilation duct rattling under Flower’s weight led her onto a balcony, if standards of conventional architecture could be applied to this inequine and almost surreal landscape. The overhang offered an ample view of the Crystal Empire—an overgrown facility, bearing a certain overripeness to it—the subtle signs of decline nevertheless strongly hinting at the stagnation reaching its critical mass. Flower barely paid attention to that sight and not just because she was already sick from studying the city from the inside. The intertwined cables no longer blotted out the sky, yet she still couldn’t enjoy its vastness—stolen away by swarms of machines, changelings and pegasi turning it into a battlefield.

From the maelstrom of war a gryphon plummeted down, followed by a trail of ichor, singed feathers and a murder of steel crows. Mere moments before the half-eagle became a broken body impaled on fume-spewing pipes, emerald flames consumed the warrior. A strange animal, which emerged from the fire, harmlessly bounced off wires and then scuttled into the depths of the city. That left Flower alone with metal birds craving to rip flesh with their claws, beaks and razor-sharp wings. Quick to realise what it meant for her, the mare bolted back to the salvatory gloom of the Crystal Empire’s innards.

Too late—the preternatural cackling drowned out the frantic clatter of her hooves. Half-consciously, half-instinctively, Flower rolled as soon as the rush of air touched her greasy mane and the crows sliced the air above her—all but one. The mare’s hoof found its target, smashing the deadly bird into pieces.

Springing back on all fours, she discovered only a fraction of the flock had followed her—a manageable number, if still threatening. The environment presented itself as an additional enemy, however, with the purchase for her hooves not always granted and some pipes ready to welcome her with their scalding exterior; on the other hoof, nor did the flying machines could exercise their only advantage in such a constrained place.

Soon enough, Flower had found herself hunting the last of the crows; she stumbled as the final enemy swished past her, dodging her strike as if the machine had lost any interest in her. Following the artificial varmint with her eyes, she had nearly stumbled—the defender of the Crystal Empire chose itself a new target. In a desperate jump, she reached for the crow, snatching it from the air before it could shatter Nameless’ skull. Sprawled on the floor with the clockwork beast twitching in her grasp, Flower couldn’t help but grimace—Nameless could have stopped it with a force of their will; perhaps, that was why only so few birds chased Flower.

Snapping the crow’s neck, the mare got up and stared into the skull’s empty eyes.

“Requesting input: reason,” Nameless spoke first.

Flower had no answer to that either; the dazed mare wasn’t even sure anymore what she was doing at the Crystal Empire. Her lips moved as if on their own to let out a whisper, “Luna.”

“Warning: Nightmare contamination has reached irreversible state.”

Flower instantly snapped, “What would you know…” Yet she couldn’t ignore her voice lacking confidence, the issue also applicable to her decision to seek out the mad mare fading away.

“Suggestion,” Nameless tried to reason with her once more, “Provide assistance to the others—”

“What others?” Flower again exploded; a realisation dawned on her, something she should have thought of before. “Why are you here, clinging to my tail? Shouldn’t you be with your alicorn pal?”

“Nightmare interference: denies attempts to locate Ash.”

“Don’t tell me they somehow ended up together.” Flower rubbered her forehead with her hoof; unfortunately, it failed to alleviate her headache. “That’s not going to end well…”

In the best-case scenario, Ash would be able to stabilise Luna long enough for Flower to figure something out; though, judging by her current progress, Ash might have to keep Luna in control for weeks. Flower refused to indulge in imagining how bad things could go—she would likely hit the limit of her creativity before coming even close to the result of Nightmare having two demi-goddesses at its disposal. Or perhaps… she was just being delusional again; that was never her fight, to begin with—a mortal had no business in the divine matters. Flower had to look truth in the eyes; even if the Crystal Empire hadn’t been turned into an unnavigable mass of pipes, cables and pods with Crystal Ponies stuck together like a ball of hair, she would have still struggled to locate a temple of knowledge in a place that vast and ancient. Nor could she ignore how visiting libraries and their vicinity only needlessly complicated her life and made matters worse for everyone. She should leave doing smart things to smart ponies… like Wire.

Flower’s head turned to the balcony, and for a heartbeat she considered risking her life to venture out there and look for her friend—she must be out there, Wire would never abandon her friends… like Flower did. She would like to see her again—for the last time, maybe. The mare shuddered and bit her lip till a red bead rolled to her chin—she would rather have that, than fresh tears shed for a life of regret.

Submerged into the ink-soaked depths of her consciousness, Flower half-blindly stumbled ever onwards, letting her burning with exhaustion hooves carry her she knew not where. The part of her that insisted on persevering followed the pandemonium of the battle raging above the canopy of funnels; sometimes, the unpredictable paths of the Crystal Empire’s inner structure let her witness the forces clashing in the sky. Aware of the risk, Flower couldn’t forbear trying to get a better look; she cared little for the battle itself, more interested in finding a familiar dark silhouette or that of a unicorn. Whilst both Luna and Wire remained hidden from Flower’s sight, the unremitting mare began to perceive order in the chaos of war and the metal kingdom that it was waged for. One part of the industrial landscape stood out like a moulting feather—a spire of glimmering crystal; the remnant of the Crystal Empire’s illustrious past leered at the equines who tried to break through the unceasing tide of the mechanical defenders. Just like the tower acted as a magnet for those besieging it, the steeple called for Flower; she knew Luna would be there—nothing else in that vast facility merited the presence of alicorn and her passenger.

Upon returning to the warrens from such a foray, Flower noticed Nameless drawing themselves closer to her than usual; for some reason, the eerie equine continued to pursue her and the exhausted mare hadn’t even bothered to figure out why. “Inquiry: what Nameless is?” they all but demanded.

“Are you…” Flower gave them an incredulous stare. “Are you serious?”

Determined to get the answer, Nameless repeated, “What Nameless is?”

Flower simply glared at them, too tired to tell them to get lost, but there would be any escape from that question. “Why does it matter to you that much?” she deadpanned, wondering if she had the patience to continue that conversation.

“Designation: the key value of a living organism.”

“You don’t look very alive to me,” Flower flatly observed, staring into the black depths of Celestia’s skull; suddenly realising she was looking at the remains of Luna’s sister snapped something inside her. “You said my designation was welding. Then riddle me why have I been foalsitting a senile demigoddess for the last ten years and how the fuck welding includes creating an actual goddess.” She spat on the wires at Nameless’ shattered hooves, careful not to hit the bones. “Your coveted cutie marks aren’t worth a shit.”

Long seconds had passed and Flower’s rant received no answer.

“What, have nothing to say?” She jeered. “If cutie marks did define our lives, then Luna wouldn’t have fucked up everything and your friend Ash would be sitting somewhere, doing only rising and lowering of the Sun, not—”

“Objection,” Nameless interrupted her. “Without talent in metalworking, Tin Flower would have never created the initial vessel for the Machine Goddess, thus initiating the cascade of events leading her to this exact point in time and space.”

It failed to phase Flower, however, and the furious mare shot back without missing a beat, “Not much of an objection you’ve got—it means I’m not just a welder, no matter how hard I wished to be such.”

This time, she had found it in herself to patiently wait for Nameless to respond, and, at last, they conceded, “Counter-arguments: not found. Hypothesis: Harmony displays insufficient capability for processing data.”

“Or maybe you just should stop fixating on trying to find a way for Harmony to brand your backside and do something useful.”

With that Flower pivoted away—the burst of anger momentarily let her forget about the ache in her limbs and she wanted to get the most out of that small favour; nor did she want to be looking at Nameless and Celestia’s bones anymore.

Their defeated tone reached her ears, “Designation: the key value of a living organism.”

Trotting forwards with her gaze firmly locked on her path, Flower commented on that, “You don’t need a cutie mark—nobody does, really; I decided my fate, just as everyone does. And if you care so much about cutie marks, then why don’t you start giving them out? I could use something better than this stupid flower that doesn’t mean anything anymore, if it ever did.”

She waited for Nameless to ask again what they were or mechanically repeat one of their statements. As none of that happened, Flower expected them to at least appear somewhere in the corner of her eye, mutely following her. Nameless stood where Flower left them.

“What?” the mare asked, her question tinged with worry.

“Thank you, Tin Flower.”

No longer sounding just in her head, their voice left Flower stunned with its familiarity—belonging to the recordings of Twilight Sparkle. And, before the echo of their words faded away, Nameless vanished, disappearing in a blink, like they were never there in the first place.

Even if there were something to do about it, all Flower could afford was to shrug at Nameless’ strange behaviour. Left alone with the distant din of battle and just as remote, nevertheless irresistible call of the crystalline tower, she navigated the Crystal Empire to the best of her greatly compromised by the fatigue ability.

The closer Flower got to her destination, the more machines she encountered tending to the facility—the technology that now showed clear signs of deterioration and appeared outdated to the point of being almost obsolete. Nearly wading through the undulating swarms of mechanical workers now bearing almost no resemblance to living beings, the mare couldn’t help comparing them to equinoids—the only form she was yet to see amongst this vast variety of artificial life. She didn’t expect to encounter them—she hoped she wouldn’t. Just remembering the betrayed expressions of every equinoid she had ‘killed’ as they searched for their mother promised to kneel her with regret, and she doubted having enough strength to rise from such a blow.

Repeating to herself, so not unlike a machine, that all she ever wanted was to make the world a better place used to help her, but with each iteration Flower became more and more aware of the hollowness of her mantra—she had no right to say those words. Witnessing a place born not from the TCE forges, nor the Unity’s collective consciousness made her realise—artificial life couldn’t be exterminated—not as a concept. It would manifest again and again, brought to existence by those like her, wishing to replace what was lost, to fill the emptiness in their hearts and to banish away the gnawing excruciating loneliness of ponies in the age of metal and magic. Nor would the Unity have ever created what the Crystal Empire had become—this was a true domain of machines, bereft of any mind and soul. Seeing the Crystal Ponies dreaming their ignorance in the pods showed Flower the fine line betwixt a machine and an equine, a line that defined equinoids.

Flower might have come to the Crystal Empire with a resolve to kill a god, but now only one wish remained, driving her forward—to help Luna wake up from her nightmare. She had no idea how or if it even was possible, but backing down never crossed her mind; not now, when she finally was awake herself.

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.