Arc 8 – Hearts Crystallised Chapter 3 – Showdown

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“I can’t survive that,” Sunset retorted, wincing as the field medic from Teleta’s squad tried to figure out how to properly bandage a dragon’s wound. To begin with, the gauze smouldered on the contact with her scales and neither the chitinous mare had a solid idea if it would be of any use.

“Twilight and Moon Dancer designed my armour to withstand anything.” Rainbow refused to give up.

Her argument bounced off the bulwark of Sunset’s body that barred the way back to the crystal spire’s base, which had to be abandoned when Ash’s inferno consumed the chamber to stave off Nightmare’s spreading influence. As much as Sunset served as a living barricade letting no foolhardiness pass through, the dragoness stood a warden against the flames surging into the mechanical depths of the reborn Crystal Empire; her outstretched wings soaked the heat, letting but a harmless fraction filter into the underground passages. The solar blaze also had a curious effect on her crystal-ravaged flesh—it healed, if slowly; the multitude of wounds inflicted by the king’s malice no longer threatened her life, but it would take Sunset more than sunbathing for a few minutes to fully recover from the battle. Jerking her claws from the unsuccessful changeling nurse—and earning a glare from Delight—the dragon slyly smiled at Rainbow. “That is why you were dodging every Sombra’s spell?”

Before the pegasus came up with something more verbose than a low growl, Red Wire perked up. “Speaking of which,” she rasped. “Sombra’s shadow might give me some new ability—”

“Don’t you dare to try anything until we figured out what exactly you did!” the changeling queen interrupted her, accompanying her scolding with a menacing look.

“You are a mom to changelings, not me,” the unicorn snapped back at her without hesitation.

“Nothing is going to give you any chance against Nightmare,” Sunset grimly warned the young mare. She unwaveringly met the defiant glare of her slightly mismatched eyes and then gave the same silent warning to each and every equine, who might have possessed a bit too much faith in themselves.

“But they are out there!” Rainbow rejoined the argument.

“They are a goddess, a demi-goddess and… something,” Night reminded her, daring to reason with a pony who set an unhealthy example of unnecessary heroism.

Rainbow ignored her, continuing in the same nearly desperate tone, “I can’t abandon Luna like this—deep inside, she is still my Princess.” Quieter, almost inaudibly, she added, “We used to be friends.”

“We have never had such a bond…” Sunset began, before trailing off—her relationship with Luna could be called complicated, at best. She tried again more firmly, “I understand, Dash. But she is already dead.”

Their bickering blurred into an undulating drone in Flower’s ears, blending with the pulsing roar of raging fires. Luna deserved a better coronach. Nothing exuberant, for a horrible tragedy had walked her to the deathbed and as such called for a solemn way to lay the last Princess to her well-earned rest. Yet, that insipid tune still missed a subtle upbeat tone—the celebration of salvation.

It cost Flower a tremendous effort of will to sit her vigil, even so—motionlessly. Her hooves itched with a craving to throw herself into the torrents of fire and shadow raging against one another. Amidst the cacophony of elements and voices of the living, a whisper lured her into the embrace of darkness—incoherent, it nevertheless carried a clear message; one so familiar and thus repelling—Flower had deciphered its true meaning. Whilst it posed a challenge not too bothersome to overcome, regret and hope always demanded considerable mental fortitude to deal with. Once again fate denied Flower closure; she had never bid Luna farewell, had never thanked the elderly mare for her patience and had got no chance to ask forgiveness for lacking it herself. And, perhaps, neither the flames nor dark mist would bring her harm, so she could—

Flower shook her head. Sunset Shimmer’s words echoed in her mind, replaying over and over like a broken record. The crystal chamber had nothing to offer her other than death and she could only wish it had what it takes to bring peace to what remained of Luna.

Blackness crept into Flower’s vision, belonging to both physical exhaustion of keeping her, already pushed beyond its limits, body under control from the lunacy she shared with Luna. Despite the heat rolling in waves down the tunnel, she shivered—no—violently shook. It shouldn’t be possible—it mustn’t be—she didn’t share the revelation, had noticed no certain signs in the waltz of stars and dreams. But then, when Nightmare abode by any rules? Would it have let its puppet reveal its principles for any who had even the slimmest chance to exploit them? A scream—warning—bubbled in her throat, but Flower couldn’t unclench her jaws; she only watched in horror, how the others bickered, oblivious to the shadow looming over them. And then…

“They are gone,” three simple words left her lips, quiet and pure as a snowflake. Flower almost sobbed, “They are gone.”

She struggled not to collapse. It hurt—as blindingly as when she had lost her hoof; some part of her was gone forever, ripped away with no mercy and in a burst of gore. The wound gushed blood, burnt with agony; yet, with every drop, poison drained from her mind, leaving behind aching hollowness to be quickly filled up with a searing clarity of retrospection. And amidst all that pain a black lone flower bloomed—infinitely sad and heartbreakingly beautiful, a rose that would never wilt. The worst part—Flower wouldn’t ever be able to tell if that sorrowful void in her soul belonged to Luna or Nightmare.

None dared to doubt the verity of Flower’s verdict, given the unbearable look etched into the mare’s features like some sort of grotesque mask welded upon her visage; none questioned the boundless longing in her eyes, either. As the blaze no longer threatened to melt down the Crystal Empire and the deadly heat gradually abated, everyone silently agreed to follow the withdrawing warmth—to witness the aftermath, to tally up the losses.

Limping, Sunset emerged from the fire-ravaged passage the last, only mildly surprised to set her claws upon the floor sunlit—Ash’s fury got rid of the crystal arches of the blockage; partially, at least, letting dimmed light of the approaching evening spill into the charred chamber. Nor did she find herself wondering why there were more figures underneath the vaulted ceiling than had been there when she and the assorted equines had fled the confrontation of divinity and blasphemy. And, because of that, she stood amongst very few displaying any semblance of collected composure.

The sight of such a strange creature as a draconequus arrested everyone’s steps almost immediately; the majestic and ominous glory of Spike’s conflagratory flesh, too, advised caution; if one were to take a better look at the equinoid standing in the shadow of those two salient entities, they would surely congratulate themselves on being wise to not get near any of those three. Rainbow instantly took a low stance, ready to turn the last island of the old Crystal Empire into a battlefield. One equine shared, though not rivalled her animosity—Ash, a survivor of the pyre, struggling to remain in a vertical position, eyed the Prophet in a manner utmost unkindly. Such tension proved to be virulent, for soon every pair of eyes fluttered from one face to another nervously; the enmity in the air hung almost palpable and volatile with a promise of bloodshed. Like nepenthe, the fresh menace erased the concern for Nightmare and Luna, for nobody but Flower bothered to pay any attention to their absence. The moment her eyes found the only hint of what transpired—Nameless standing over the dark spot on the floor belonging to no soot—the forlorn mare froze, transfixing her gaze on the shimmer of magic taking care of the final traces of the longest nightmare. She then abruptly turned away and avoided looking in that general direction, clenching her jaws and refusing to meet anyone’s eyes.

All, with the exception of Nameless occupied with their curious craft, drew together, if glacially slowly and choosing every move with care, till the equines and whatnot were clustered at invisible borders, crossing which would be considered a declaration of an immediate war. Before that could happen, the Machine Goddess called:

“No need to do anything rash.” Her voice lacked authority, however, compromised by a sour note of worry; the divinity had no confidence in her ability to divine what was going to happen the next few minutes.

“Or what?” Wire snapped back, her venomous defiance carrying more than just rejection of the order. The changeling queen stood by her side, tall and scowling, yet with her head slightly bowed—so her warped horn pointed at the Machine Goddess’ mask of equanimity. The Kirin joined Wire on the other side, smouldering with a promise of unleashing her draconic nature.

“We have questions,” Heterocera demanded, glaring at the metal alicorn.

Rainbow, ready to pounce, kept herself a bit away from the trio of mares, but still close to them; she barked, nodding at Discord, “Like, what is he doing here?”

“I’m just here for a… friend.” The draconequus dismissively waved her eagle claws at her, and his last word came out awkwardly—as if he pronounced it for the first time in his existence; it also reverberated with a peculiar inflexion—that of a great value.

“The Lord of Chaos doesn’t do friendship,” deadpanned the pegasus.

“He does,” Ash responded to her, meeting Rainbow’s hard expression unwaveringly. She ruffled her singed feathers, but her attention was on another equine already—the Prophet, who observed the gathered with a grim but overwise inscrutable stare of his eerie eyes. The ashen alicorn addressed the Machine Goddess, “I have questions, too.”

“I can answer everything at once,” Red Wire suddenly announced, her tone vitriolic. Night’s intent to shush the unicorn only led to the latter raising her voice, “The whole ‘we’ve got to work together and save the world’ plan was a scam. You—”

“The world is safe isn’t it?” The Machine Goddess firmly, but calmly, interrupted what promised to be a winding and colourful accusation. “For now, at least,” she added, trying to inject as much nonchalance into that little part as possible so it wouldn’t sound like a threat. Even if she succeeded, her next words couldn’t be interpreted in any other way. “However, you are not completely wrong.”

“You are after the Crystal Heart, I knew it!”

Consumed by her indignation, Wire failed to notice Flower shaking her head with a wry smile; the Machine Goddess, too, grinned, but in a considerably more benevolent fashion.

“And why would I need it?” the equinoid asked, but before the unicorn had a chance to answer, she stole a sly glance at Discord and explained it herself, “In another universe, the Unity might not exist without a Crystal Heart, true; but it would also be a world without a Machine Goddess.”

The arcanium equine put the fragile truce under enormous stress—she approached the changeling queen and betwixt them the air flashed to reveal a massive bluish gem finely cut into the shape of a heart. It however above the floor, motionless, and, yet, everyone felt a steady beat in their chests. Sunset noted, with surprise and annoyance—her mouth instantly watered. Heterocera looked at the Crystal Heart, then at the Machine Goddess; her eyes round like moons.

“It might not be what you seek,” the deity said. “But it is a dependable crutch to let you move forward with your goal—to free your children.” The Machine Goddess’ gaze, sparkling with amusement, travelled over the stunned expressions of almost everyone else—Discord’s eyes rolled back in sheer boredom and Spike’s muzzle consistently wore no emotion—and added, “Unless anyone has a claim on it.”

“I… I thank you.” The changeling finally regained her ability to speak; she, however, let the crystal remain untouched. “But… what about Harmony? You didn’t lie about it, did you?”

It took a few moments for Sunset—and the others, too—to recognise the equine that answered as Nameless. Bereft of Princess Celestia’s bones, they bore an uncanny resemblance to the Machine Goddess. The shattered remains of an arcanium statue formed a familiar figure, save for one feature—it had no face; in the place where the equinoid sovereign wore a metal mask, void gaped at everyone—a hollowness framed by shards of a metal skull and lower jaw. They left their post by Luna’s remains—if eradicating Nightmare had left anything at all—to join the confrontation with an announcement, “Harmony analysis: data processing function has been compromised; integrity has been compromised. Possible solution: external intervention. Applicable candidate: Nameless. Nameless’ des—” The equine momentarily faltered, then corrected themselves, “Nameless’ cutie mark: aiding Harmony.”

The message was met by an exchange of confused glances—mostly; one mare reacted to it vividly—Ash hobbled to them as quickly as her beaten state allowed and imploringly stared into the emptiness of Nameless’ visage. “But…” protested the white alicorn, getting tongue-tied, “You will be—you can’t—” Her voice died out like fire, leaving behind only one ember—a fading whimper. Ash’s shoulders slumped as she sat before the broken statue, but then as if some force flowed through her body, she straightened. When she met Nameless’ absent gaze again, her expression was that of resignation and determination mixed.

“I’m happy for you,” she uttered; not without difficulty, but genuinely as it could be.

Nameless hesitated with a response, but when it came, it had almost no mechanical coldness to it, “Thank you.”

The alicorn’s self-control wavered when she quietly asked, “Could you stay for a bit longer?”

“Delay: acceptable.”

Sudden motion caught Sunset’s attention, forcing her eyes to slide past Ash and Nameless, to where the latter had been dealing with Nightmare. Her jaws involuntarily parted to let out a gasp when a filly rose from the pile of charcoal, shaking the dark flakes off her light blue coat and pale navy, almost grey, mane.

At first, Ash’s mind did contain some thoughts—questions such as ‘Who is she?’ or ‘Is it Nightmare?’; presently, it went completely blank as she, bewitched, shuffled closer and closer to the mysterious filly. Yet something brought her to a halt a dozen steps away from the alicorn—yes, the little mare sported both wings and horn, which, somehow didn’t amaze Ash in the slightest.

The two alicorns stared at each other. The older—with no expression, for she knew not what to feel; mild curiosity sparkled in the filly’s turquoise eyes—round and naive, full of pure wonderment. She sat amidst strips of an ashen husk, neither lost nor with an air of even the most trifling purpose; simply existing, taking in her surroundings with no judgement and with ever so distant comprehension of the situation. No recognition—everything stood equally strange before her crystal clear gaze and deserved the same share of interest, which she dispensed generously.

With great difficulty, Ash turned away from her to give Nameless a questioning—worried—look. The faceless equine returned it with an answer that Ash suspected only she could hear, “Life form: alicorn. Cutie mark: photoscotopic cycle controller. Data: partially restored using third-party dataset. Data includes: basic common knowledge; Equestrian language—limited vocabulary. Variable name… Name: not found.”

Any further questions died on Ash’s lips when she heard steps—uneven, with loud clicks of metal against crystalline tiles. Tin Flower reached her side, but the mare herself hardly noticed that. The white alicorn patiently waited for the grim mechanic to say anything, to simply come out of her stupor—and, eventually, she did. Flower’s brow furrowed and she gave Ash a hard look; her eyes burned with an inseparable mix of emotions—a storm of fire little different from what Ash could conjure. When her glare lasted long enough for Ash to shift with acute discomfort, Flower once more glanced at the filly—only briefly; infinite wistfulness flashed in her gaze, in a heartbeat withering into bitter disappointment, and she abruptly pivoted to walk away.

As Ash followed the stumbling mare with her eyes, she searched the expressions of the others, only to find in them the reflection of her own confusion. When with a sharp pop, her head became heavier—something perched itself atop it. Rolling her eyes up, she beheld a tiny Discord hanging from her horn. He leant to her ear, clutched it with his claws to whisper, “It is bad manners to not greet a newcomer and neither is it appropriate to neglect to introduce oneself.”

Ash nodded—mostly to encourage herself to take action—gulped, and willed her hooves to bring her closer to the nameless alicorn. The filly met her approach almost indifferently, fixing Ash with a look of reserved expectation.

“Hello,” the white mare finally managed to squeeze out of herself.

“Hello,” the filly echoed her in a voice delicate and tinged with a slight accent; it rang with more confidence than Ash hoped to ever muster—the filly as if mocked her.

“My name is Ash. What is yours?”

Panic flashed in the turquoise eyes and the little equine froze, becoming still as if she wasn’t even breathing. Silence stretched, and Ash, shaking like a leaf, offered, “What do you think of the name ‘Luna’?”

The filly’s muzzle lit up with a smile. “I like it.”

Something compelled Ash to glance back and she met Flower’s eyes—the mare watched and listened to the exchange from a distance. Anger contorted Flower’s features, but the disapproval failed to linger on her muzzle, snuffed out by sadness—she looked utterly heartbroken the next moment. However, her visage refused to house that expression for long, too, but neither she could decide on what to don next. Flower curtly nodded, then turned away, letting Ash catch the glimmer of moisture gathered in the corners of her eyes and the faintest bittersweet smile on the chapped lips.

It could hardly be debated what had changed over the years more—a pegasus who once introduced herself to a wandering equinoid as Clandestine Delight or the world, where they existed. Regardless, Luna had imprinted a lasting impact on the future queen of changelings—that of sheer lunacy, of power frightening in its scale in instability… of tragedy so profound, it shattered the sanity of a demi-goddess. Numbly observing a filly lively chatting with her counterpart, Delight couldn’t help but wonder if she would ever be able to forget the madness attached to that name—Luna. Yet, as the little alicorn looked up to gaze into Ash’s eyes with naive hunger or curiosity and listened to the apocalypse-hardened mare with her breath baited, Delight witnessed the chastity of spirit inherent to but children and the divine—the truest of divine, whose holy presence had hardly blessed their world; not during her life, at least.

Children and deities were who surrounded her—the changelings lost betwixt the wildly disproportionate ranks formed by the goddess made of a machine; the ruler and slave of entropy; the dragon, who broke the limitations of his mortal coil; two demi-goddesses of the firmament; a suspicious not-quite-an-equinoid shadowing all of those might have belonged to their throng, too. The confusion of the changelings, however, came not from the inability to mingle with those who defied mortality, but from suddenly disconnecting from their own evanescence. Ever since Chrysalis passed down to Delight the green embers of metamorphosis, they gnawed on her life force with voracious intent and without mercy. Were the queen to close her eyes and open her sight to the web of emotions, she would always sense that hunger before all—the unquenchable fire consuming her and her children. Somehow, the slow beats of the stone-cold heart quelled those flames; for the first time in her changeling life, Delight knew satiation and she had no idea how to feel about it. In one unexpected turn of events, she was unplugged from a haze of her ever-imploding reality; the changeling nightmare ceased to exist and now she as if groggily blinked, trying to comprehend the waking world—the world where she and her vast family weren’t dying from starvation.

The voices of alicorns faded into a pleasant buzz of innocence and Delight had found herself itching—all but shivering with a drive to act, to bring the Crystal Heart to the Hive and share its soothing blessing with the rest of the Swarm; she sensed Teleta and her comrades wanting the same, the shared desire echoing betwixt all of them, amplifying itself. She swivelled her head to the Machine Goddess to announce her departure, but the deity seemed to be already expecting a petitioner—Wire marched to her or, rather, tried to the best of her ability greatly compromised by the long day.

The metal mare patiently waited for the unicorn to approach; she stood tense with an emotion held back—Delight tasted amusement in the air; however, her mask expressed nothing but politeness even when a hoof unceremoniously poked her chest.

“You manipulated us!” Wire spat in her moveless countenance. “Risked our lives!”

The Machine Goddess remained silent and still—an epitome of tranquillity; the unicorn raged on.

“You could have just told everyone your genius plan outright and not sow so much chaos—” Wire’s healthy eye widened and she snapped her head at Discord.

The draconequus floated nearby, filing his claws; his copy—or original—also kept company to Ash and Luna, the former introducing the latter to Nameless. Wire’s stare jumped betwixt the two Discords, also struggling to choose what to express.

“Truth is…” the equinoid deity saved Wire by bringing back her attention to herself. “There never was any real plan. And no, it wasn’t all Discord’s doing.” The Machine Goddess shot him a glare. “He could have helped me more, actually.”

“I have risked a lot already, involving myself in your schemes,” the Lord of Chaos grouchily responded. “And there is my thanks? Exactly.”

The Machine Goddess turned back the unicorn, who eyed her instead of Discord; now, the young mare had no trouble with choosing her expression—sour, as if she bit into a lemon.

“And would you have trusted me, Wire?” the deity asked, tilting her head.

“Of course not! And I am never going to trust you from now on—it was pure luck that we came out of it alive.”

“Maybe luck, maybe not,” Discord absently commented. “You are welcome, by the way.”

“It wasn’t about luck, it was about faith,” the metal alicorn raised her voice so it would echo off the crystalline arches and vaulted ceiling. “I might have given each and every one of you a push to set everything in motion, but everyone had a choice. I believed you would make the right one and I wasn’t wrong.”

Wire gave her a long look—a glare—then grumbled, “Do it again and I’ll seriously consider killing you.”

A flash of light startled the Kirin; it marked Nameless’ departure and left behind a deteriorated statue that would have immediately fallen apart, were it not for Ash’s and Luna’s clumsy magic ability holding it together. They still had no other choice than to gently lower the shards and exchange glances to check if one of them had an idea what to do with the remains—if they ought to bury them or just leave the abandoned shell amidst the mess of melted stone and shattered crystals. In the end, the alicorns reluctantly abandoned the arcanium slivers to rejoin with the rest, gathered around the Machine Goddess.

Luna graced Night with a long look, though none escaped the filly’s polite curiosity. Albeit the little alicorn’s previous incarnation easily inflicted debilitating terror, the commissioner met her inquisitive stare with no effort; she even let a small smile sneak on her lips—the half-dragon couldn’t help it. The reborn Mistress of the Night held herself with an air of dignified mystique, yet beneath carefully maintained veneer wholesome childishness swelled with mischief.

The Machine Goddess’ confrontation with Wire had naturally become the centre of everyone’s attention—not that anything else really merited one’s interest—and the deity used that to her advantage.

“It is fair to question my methods,” she admitted, slightly bowing her head only to continue on a higher note a moment later, “Either way, the crisis is averted. However, I didn’t quite lie about the resources of this world having limits—the moment when our home can no longer sustain our existence is real. It might not come tomorrow or even the next decade, but I suggest actually working together to be prepared for when that day starts to loom on the horizon.”

Even Wire solemnly nodded in agreement, unable to deny the wisdom of those words. No vows took place, but none walked out of this improvised meeting either. Ash, with Luna by her side, took a few steps forward; they exchanged looks and the white alicorn spoke for both of them.

“We are to assume our roles as those who rise the Sun and lower the Moon.”

None dared to object to that; Heterocera and her changelings looked even relieved to hear their announcement, smiling at each other. Discord slithered to the alicorn duo through the air and, wrapping his mismatched limbs around the mares’ necks—much to Luna’s disinclination—chuckled, “Obviously, such sensitive matters demand proper supervision and there is no better tutor than the one who is in the know of the cosmos’ deepest secrets.” He then winked at Ash. “And who knows what other boring stuff I can teach them?”

“I doubt it is a particularly good idea,” Rainbow Dash suddenly commented, her tone cautionary.

“Oh, Dashie.” The draconequus dismissively waved his lion paw at her. “I’m not going to convert them into acolytes of entropy—I’ve learnt to be constructive, if you haven’t noticed.”

The pegasus refused to dignify neither his gesture nor answer with anything other than a glare and a grunt. However, Ash had something more to say.

“Luna and I are returning to Canterlot.” Although her words came loud and firm to reach everyone, they were meant for but one equine—the Prophet; the stallion met her challenge with a defiant glare. Ash then promised in the same, almost threatening tone, “We are going to rebuild it as a city that would never again know suffering and tyranny.”

The Prophet only responded with a scowl at first, but as he hesitated with a verbal reply, his expression softened. When he spoke, his voice sounded defeated, “It is my wish, too, to see Canterlot as a haven and not a prison. Now, when it is free of the Windigos, and I should be free of my stupid prophecy”—he glared a dagger at Discord—“it is time for me to return to the name I once have chosen for myself. Fixit.”

The news of malevolent everwinter spirits no longer assaulting the fallen city echoed with a faint murmur of astonished reactions; Ash, in particular, was shaken by learning her home would welcome spring for the first time in many years. One mare shared none of the cheer, however.

“Does it mean there are no Windigos left?” Heterocera asked, growing increasingly disturbed—to everyone’s wonder, for such a matter shouldn’t cause worry. “The changelings’ origin might be closely connected to their nature and if they are gone…”

The changeling queen’s voice failed her; she and her children hung their heads in silent acceptance of their fate sealed once again. They didn’t notice Fixit approaching them till he stood before Heterocera.

“Not all of them,” he said and produced a jar with what seemed to be a tiny blizzard raging futilely inside; the equinoid offered it to her.

Heterocera gently accepted the somehow captured Windigo, too astonished to even properly thank him. But Fixit didn’t pay any attention to the queen’s manners—he turned to meet Ash’s eyes with an unreadable expression.

“Fine,” she ultimately grumbled and heaved a resigned sigh. “We can try to work together.”

Fearing the imminence of her hooves giving up underneath her, Wire split off from the small congregation, letting the conversation, no longer gravely important, lose its clarity. The winds, which carried the infestation of malice no more, eagerly filled the silence, easing the unicorn’s mind with memories of harsh fillyhood. The clashing of ice and fire disfigured the strange pile of technology resting right in the middle of the chamber; it remained as a molten together scrap metal, prompting another pang of nostalgia. Wire cared only that the mound offered a dependable surface to lean on and the unicorn didn’t hesitate to accept its modest offer. She quickly found herself not alone in indulging a little rest—Night, too, discovered the meeting’s details not being of her concern and couldn’t resist the allure of support from other than her undoubtedly similarly exhausted flesh; they both were mortals after all and not battle-hardened soldiers like most of their transient brethren present here, though even the chitinous equines moved with a certain degree of tiredness.

When the Kirin slumped on the smoothed by heat stones, she gave Wire a long look, then suddenly asked, “Why does your mom call you Geode?”

Wire glared at her, but her features promptly relaxed and she murmured, “Because that’s my actual name—Geode Gleam.” Not letting the obvious question be asked, she explained, “When we used to live at the Junkyard, I managed to defuse the Pink Butterflies’ bomb and save the day.”

“And you did it again,” Night concluded, a smile on her lips.

“There was a second one,” Wire deadpanned. “My mother lost her eyes and my sister—legs. My name and prosthetic remind me of that—of how I wasn’t good enough.”

A heavy silence settled betwixt the two mares and Night had found herself impotent to break it; she feared to even look in Wire’s eye—to gaze into the bottomless abyss of pain and guilt. If years had failed to convince the unicorn in that tragedy not being her fault, then a Kirin, who knew her for but a few days, had no chance; Night refused to give up, however.

Before the commissioner came up even with the faintest idea of what to say, Wire spoke, though her eyes were on Delight and the changelings trying to figure out the logistics of transporting two objects immeasurably valuable for the Swarm, “I wonder if she is going to take me back.”

“You’ve never left,” Night reminded her. “Not officially, at least.”

“But the thing is… I might not want to go back.”

Night stared at her, but spared no comment, patiently waiting for Wire to explain herself.

“Remember when Tin Flower acted like an asshole? When she blamed all of us for abandoning ponydom?” The half-dragon equine slowly nodded and Wire continued, “I’ve kept thinking about what she said—it wasn’t all wrong. I thrive in Swarm’s shadow, but a lot of ponies in Hope live no much better than they did in Canterlot and Canterlot had no future.” She spared Ash and Luna a glance. “Though, maybe it does now. The Swarm… they should be alright; they are in no dire need of me, that is for sure. But ponies need all the help they can get.”

Silence followed her words—of a contemplative kind; with her eyes half-closed, the Kirin observed Ash’s and Luna’s horns lit up like beacons. By the time the Sun dipped below the distant mountains and the Moon sheepishly peeked over the horizon, she had an answer.

“You know, I’m part pony myself—not a gryphon or…” A mischievous smirk played on Night’s lips. “Oh, sorry, I forgot, you do like gryphons.”

Wire’s hoof missed her horn by a split hair; the unicorn didn’t try to swat her with harmful intent, either way. When both mares grew motionless again, Night spoke, and, this time, without any mirth colouring her voice.

“In recent years, Hope has started to remind me of Canterlot too often,” the commissioner gravely agreed. “But back then I was barely older than a filly. Today I stand where I have a chance to make things better and I don’t plan to miss it.”

“Let’s not be too hasty, however. Even if I proved useless to Swarm, I probably shouldn’t abandon Delight—”

The changeling queen materialised from behind the ruined terminals, as if saying her name worked as a summoning incantation. She beamed at Wire and said, “I’m glad to hear you still think of me as a worthy friend.”

The unicorn gave her a curious glance, but seeing Delight having heard only the last words at most, decided against pressing the issue—yet; her golden eyes suddenly found the floor quite captivating and she muttered, “But I might have gone too far.”

“No, you were right all along and I should have trusted your judgement.”

With that, Delight wrapped her black limbs about Wire’s neck, carefully not to embrace her too tightly; Wire returned the embrace with as much care, closing her eyes with a sigh—a sigh that brought her more relief than Sombra’s defeat or Nightmare’s banishment. The crystals reflected a glitter of green flame and her eyes shot open; the next moment she, making indignant noises, pushed Night Wind away or, rather, a tittering with amusement changeling queen. The gems flashed once more—with Night’s ‘appreciation’ of a joke; on the verge of turning into a Nirik, she glared at the tussling mares, Delight specifically. The mock tussle promptly winded down—there had been enough fighting for one day. Delight’s expression grew serious and when she met Wire’s eyes, the smile faded from the unicorn’s visage.

“I have a favour to ask of you,” the changeling queen uttered. “I want you to search for the traces of Quicksilver, to find out how she became the first changeling. It might be—certainly will be—dangerous.”

Wire averted her eyes and replied only after a few long seconds, “It is not the perils that scare me, but my ability—I tried to help the Swarm for so long… I’m not sure it is something I’m capable of…”

Night, fuming—figuratively and literally—no longer, was by her side in an instant to give the doubtful mare a friendly shove—received with a glare, nonetheless. Undaunted by Wire’s ire, the Kirin supplemented herself with verbal ardour, “Are you kidding, Geode? You defeated Sombra!”

At first, Wire only rubbed the offended shoulder with no change to her crestfallen expression, but then her eyes ignited with the infectious fire and she absentmindedly touched her prosthetic before stating, “You know what? You are right.” However, a frown creased her forehead but a heartbeat later. “Speaking of which—I might want to consult Trixie after all.” She grimaced at the prospect of confronting the mare, whose privacy she violated. “I have a very vague understanding of what I’ve done.”

“So, that is the plan,” Delight concluded. “First, you meet Trixie—she has been busy with some matters at Hayseed Swamps—and then travel to the Olden Lands.”

“You can count on me.” Geode Gleam nodded, her muzzle blooming with a smile.

The night ushered the Sun away; the golden light refused to abdicate the firmament, lingering on the horizon line, transformed into a bead of blood and flooding in its reluctance both sky and earth with stifling redness. The crimson glow stained every stone, infused every crystal—sunk the Crystal Empire into the sea of blood, recreating the scenes from Rainbow Dash’s past in vivid detail; or, perhaps, those images belonged to her nightmares—she couldn’t tell the difference in that piling collection of regrets.

Sombra could be considered dead—closest to the death he had ever been; Rainbow harboured no doubts about the unicorn kid and Trixie—or even Sunset—being able to see to him never return to the world of the living. Nightmare, too, threatened the realm no more… unless Ash followed Celestia’s hoofsteps with an exceeding zeal. Neither of those, no small victories, succeeded in welcoming ease into the pegasus’s mind; sitting silent vigil in honour of everyone who didn’t live to witness the Crystal Empire liberated, she heard the gears turning—the engine of war ready to grind fates of thousands into mere lines on the granite of a war memorial. After all, the machine never stopped; war ended not when the battlefield fell mute with the aftershock of its own atrocity—it went on as long as the last soldier carried the memories of fire and blood to a grave. But it wasn’t only about her. Gazing upon the red-lit landscape, Rainbow knew—the Crystal Empire would find no peace, for avarice put an unbreakable curse upon this kingdom of glittering riches. The iron bones of earth were destined to clash with the soft bones of those who walked upon it, over and over, for both to return into the soil together, whilst the crystal throne stood vacant.

Rainbow’s lips formed a wry smile as her gaze fell to rest on the sword; the soot-stained blade, which somehow survived the fire equal to which it had been born from, mocked her. By accepting Valour from Sunset’s claws, the condemned soldier reminded herself why she fought—not to be a hero and fell warlocks or drive back incomprehensible horrors; she had ponies to protect, mares and stallions, who depended on her now more than ever. The future promising endless strife terrified her like never before—she could afford diving headlong into any massacre; death had forgotten about her—others shared with her no such hex.

However, the fateful weapon failed to captivate her—from the sanguine haze a phantom emerged; it climbed the stones to stand before her—a Crystal Pony; one of Sombra’s faithful, Rainbow realised, and not a visitor from the distant battle staggering into the sunset. She watched the glimmering mare approach like she would observe a butterfly fluttering on the breath of noontide breeze—with absentminded wonder, falling prey to airy thoughts and dreams all too vague and fleeting.

“He is dead, isn’t he?” Quiet with disbelief, the question disturbed the peace with discordance, for two notes rang out of tune in the mare’s silvery voice—desperate hope and solemn acceptance.

Like a surgeon who had just reached an immutable outcome of surgery, one of many to which she had lost count, Rainbow replied, “He is.”

The Crystal Pony straightened, her eyes ignited with pride.

“He died a hero.”

Very few carried the torch of memory to shed light on the terrors the king committed to win the war of attrition by prolonging the siege of the Crystal Empire; not many remained to remind how Sombra utilised any tool to turn the tides of battle and that his soldiers used to be his most effective and gruesome instruments of warfare—psychological warfare, foremost. The warlock hadn’t bothered to impart that part of history upon his new disciples; he offered them a sweet promise of glory—all that was ever needed.

Rainbow blinked.

Not glory—those mares and stallions put everything on a sacrificial altar not in the name of rising, exultant, over the battlefield. They abandoned everything, even the truth, to have a place they could call home; to reclaim that which had been lost. She had no right to stand in their judgement.

“The Crystal Empire is liberated,” Rainbow listlessly informed the mare. “It is yours.”

Passing the proverbial key to the city to its rightful owners brought her more relief than watching Sombra writhe in clutches of terror when his overconfidence finally caught up with him; those words gave her more freedom than the coils of Nightmare losing their maddening grasp on this realm. She got up, intent to, after all these years, finally return to Ponyville; not to take off her stuffy armour, but, perhaps, put down the sword.

“Could you lead us?”

The pegasus’ head snapped back to the mare, adorned with an expression befitting those who witnessed an equine grow a second head on a whim. For a moment, she doubted her sanity or ears; but allowing such thoughts to lead without a question would be the first step to losing one’s mind. Instead, she mentally listed every reason why this Crystal Pony’s request made no sense. “I was Sombra’s enemy,” Rainbow started with the first one.

“He respected you.”

The self-proclaimed king would debase even himself if it suited his needs; whether his current entourage ignored that or never realised, was a good question. Either way, their reasoning stood nonsensical.

“What if it was me who killed him? Are you still going to ask me to lead you, knowing that?”

A tiny part of Rainbow’s mind did hold resentment towards Wire for claiming the bounty on Sombra’s head, but the pegasus stole her glory that moment not out of envy. Once, thousands upon thousands would have glorified the name of the one who committed regicide; these days those numbers weren’t quite so high and equalled those, who might see such a deed as a great disservice… or a display of power too dangerous to be left unchecked.

However, Rainbow’s admission failed to bring any change to the mare’s resolute expression. “That would mean you are stronger than him,” she retorted without missing a beat.

The notion of appearing a leader better than Sombra in the eyes of his most devoted sickened Rainbow to her core. Perhaps, she had lost sight of self and the Crystal Ponies’ offer ought to be considered a call for thorough self-reflection; perhaps, the warlock deluded them so intensely, those fugitives had become raving lunatics and his death only worsened their malady. Without a word or even a glance spared for the mare expecting her answer, Rainbow sharply turned to leave, but a bulwark of char-stained and blood-speckled orange scales barred her retreat. She met Sunset’s eyes with a glare, mutely demanding an explanation.

“Without help, they are going to lose this place again in no time,” the dragoness noted the thing already obvious to Rainbow.

For a moment, the pegasus hesitated; with her abrupt departure and with the answer. Ponyville would be swept into the ocean of death by the tide of a new war; but those ponies were no strangers to getting back to the drawing board—they could flee even to Vanhoover, now that it should be free. The fight would follow her wherever she went, but she would rather ponies die for a promise of the future than the hope of keeping a patch of frozen earth for themselves. And as for those lost ponies…

“Maybe they deserve it,” she hissed—out of spite rather than to be unheard by the crystal mare. “Look at them—they are Sombra’s followers, through and through.”

“They are followers and they follow the one who is the strongest,” Sunset pressed on, her tone firm but calm. “Do you know where the true strength lies?”

Rainbow tried to hold the dragon’s stare, but had found herself unable to and not because of its unblinking nature. Whatever gave Sunset the ability to precariously balance betwixt being the biggest traitor Equestria knew and its saviour also had an interesting influence on the pegasus’ own loyalty.

She looked back at the Crystal Pony, stifled a sigh and approached her.

The mare’s bevelled eyes harboured no sympathy for Rainbow; grudging respect at best. Yet, something else glittered in those crystalline depths—hope; desperate longing for to be lost no longer. However insane Sombra might have rendered the survivors of the old tragedy, they retained enough comprehension to see their odds in this harsh world. They would gladly abandon pride, if it meant to be saved from extinction and oblivion.

“Regroup and report to me,” Rainbow barked.

The mare saluted. “Yes, sir!”

For but an eyeblink, it seemed as if a smile tugged up the corners of her lips. Rainbow followed her brisk departure with a thoughtful gaze. It would be a lot of work, but she knew how to make a rookie a soldier who would die for their country, not its dead leader.

Sunset’s rumbling voice broke her reverie, “You might need a dragon by your side and someone who knows how to run a place bigger than a summer camp.”

Rainbow finally let a grin sneak on her muzzle.

“A dragon running a Crystal Empire, ha.”

One after another, the equines and whatnot departed from beneath the crystal spire, deserting the place; even the sunlight almost faded, letting darkness once more reclaim the Virus’ lair and grave. The Machine Goddess offered to open portals for those who wished to shorten their travel, but none accepted her help and so she watched Discord snap his fingers to warp himself, Fixit and two alicorns to Canterlot; Delight, Wire and Night helped the changelings to carry the Crystal Heart and the last Windigo to the Swarm’s temporary camp, where a hovercraft waited them; Sunset and Rainbow departed in different directions, but sharing one goal. Spike gave her a long unreadable look and the Machine Goddess wondered if she would ever see him again, but dared not to ask—he had his own and unique path to follow.

She was left almost alone. The arcanium alicorn slowly approached the mare stranded on the island of golden light; the soft waves of night’s shadows would soon merge above it. Leaning on the debris, Flower didn’t stir; even her ragged breath didn’t change in the presence of the equine she despised the most.

“There once was an equinoid who, trying to achieve control of everything in the Crystal Empire, had become both a god and a machine,” the Machine Goddess softly uttered when the red disk of the Sun finished slipping below the horizon. “Almost makes me consider changing my name, but my children wouldn’t understand.”

Like before, Tin Flower remained motionless and silent. A heavy sigh escaped the lips of the arcanium alicorn; it belonged to someone wholly mortal.

“I wish things were different,” she murmured and turned to the darkness of the chamber; the air shimmered with the outline of a portal—the Machine Goddess doubted it would be used, but she had to offer.

“I don’t. But I am sorry.”

Frozen, the deity asked the Twelve to check her sensors first and then used the memory banks to replay those words in her mind. Then again… and again. No sarcasm tinged them, no venom dripped from that plea for forgiveness.

Flower spoke again, barely louder than a plaintive whisper of cold wind, “I demanded unreasonable things and acted unreasonable when I didn’t get what I wanted; and when I finally got what I wanted…” She trailed off and shook her blood-crusted muzzle. “I saw monsters everywhere, but it was only my reflection; it wasn’t just Nightmare’s messing with my head.

“If I were to wish for something… I wouldn’t know what to ask. Maybe only one thing…” Her hooves weakly moved, struggling to produce a casket from the tatters of her saddlebags. It almost dropped from her grasp and she simply left the box by her body, then slumped on the broken wall again. Magic picked it up and opened the heavy lid; rows of crystals glimmered in the glow of the rising Moon.

“There was a dragon who used to be feared by everyone,” the Machine Goddess said, letting her magic flow through the preserved souls of her lost children. “He, too, hunted equinoids and just like you, he refused to shatter their hearts. He wasn’t the Souleater everyone claimed him to be, even though he, too, hated what he had become.”

“Are you going to turn me into…” Flower bitterly scoffed. “Whatever Spike is now?”

“I only gave him a chance, he has achieved the rest himself.” The Machine Goddess received no answer, so she continued, murmuring in an absent-minded manner, “Somebody has to make new bodies for these equinoids.”

She feared the conversation had died, but then Flower whispered to the night, wistfully, “Once, I created something wonderful and it would be nice to do that again.”

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.