Malevolence

Chapter Six:

Our Sickness

The cool evening air wrapped around me as I stepped out of the cave tunnel, greeted by the last whispers of daylight. The sky, a deep purple canvas, was streaked with tendrils of pink and orange, the sun’s dying light battling against the encroaching night. The meadow before me was a serene tapestry of soft hues dotted with firefly lanterns that cast a warm, inviting glow. Their light flickered against the faces of the gathered thestrals, their expressions ranging from concern to outright fear. Beyond the meadow, the forest loomed ominously, its ancient trees casting long, grasping shadows that reached towards us like specters in the twilight. The peaceful ambiance was abruptly shattered as the thestrals broke into a panicked frenzy. High-pitched squeaks filled the air as they clustered around Lily and the elder at the center of the clearing. Some darted about, gathering vines and foliage in a desperate attempt to camouflage the entrances of the upper caves, while others hurried to dim or cover the firefly lanterns, their soft glow quickly vanishing into the gloom. I moved purposefully through the chaos, my presence parting the crowd until I stood before the elder. His wise and weathered eyes met mine with a mixture of relief and urgency. "Ah, Lord Tenebrae, your timing is impeccable," he said, his voice steady despite the turmoil around us.

I nodded curtly. "What's the situation?" My tone was sharp, cutting through the noise like a blade.

"A party of Arachne slavers followed the trail your group left through the woods," the elder replied, his voice tinged with worry. "They’re standing outside the gates as we speak." I let out a slow, deliberate sigh, annoyance flickering in my chest.

"Is that so?" My gaze drifted towards the gate, where I could faintly hear the grating voice of one of those accursed griffons barking out threats.

"I'm so sorry, grandfather!" Lily's voice broke through, trembling with guilt. "This is all my fault. I was so focused on getting everypony home safe and speaking with Lord Tenebrae that I didn’t even think to cover our trail." The elder placed a comforting hoof on her head, his voice softening. "Hush, child. You did what was most important: ensuring everypony’s safety. That’s what matters." As he consoled her, I strained my ears towards the gate, catching snippets of the griffon’s taunts. They were crude, colorless, and utterly predictable. I turned back to the elder, my patience fraying.

"How many?"

"About thirty or so," the elder responded, his concern deepening.

"Only thirty?" I mused, a dark edge to my voice. "Then their thirty corpses will serve as a warning to others." Without waiting for a reply, I started towards the gate.

"Lord Tenebrae!" Lily’s voice rang out, startled. She shrank back under my icy gaze.

"These slavers have interrupted a critical discussion with the young goddesses," I said, my voice as cold as the creeping night. "They will not live long enough to regret their interruption." I strode through the crowd, the urgency in my chest intensifying with every step. My heart pounded, not out of fear but from the gnawing need to return to the princesses. The thought of crushing the hearts of these slavers brought a grim sense of anticipation. The act may calm my own restless one. The gatekeepers, two thestrals, fluttered down from their posts as I approached. The elder of the two, a grizzled silver stallion, clutched a crude bow, his quiver shaking slightly as he saluted me.

"Lord Tenebrae, thank the night princess you’ve come," he said, his voice tinged with relief. "That griffon out there is making all sorts of threats, demanding we hand over the one responsible for killing his brother named Chopper."

"Brother?" I echoed, a bitter chuckle rising in my throat. "Ah, yes, I remember. I turned that one to dust. Facing certain death for some vain notion of avenging a fallen brother... how nostalgic." My chuckle grew into a deep, resonant laugh that echoed across the meadow, only to die away in a sneer of disgust. "And utterly worthless." The gatekeepers exchanged uneasy glances; the younger, a dark blue mare with rose-colored eyes, finally dared to ask.

"Are you alright, Lord?"

"I'm perfectly fine," I replied, my voice calm and steady. "Just reminiscing." I glanced at the gate, then back at them. "Open it."

"But, Lord Tenebrae," the older stallion began hesitantly, "if we open the gate, they’ll rush into the town!" My gaze hardened, baring my fangs.

"I said open the gate." The two thestrals faltered, glancing at each other with uncertainty. The mare opened her mouth to protest again, but a commanding voice cut through the air before she could speak.

"You heard his majesty, open the gate!" Fang Seeker emerged from the shadows, flanked by ten other thestrals. A few of them strode past the gatekeepers, beginning to work the pulley mechanism with practiced ease. As the gate creaked open, Fang Seeker gave me a deep bow. "Majesty," she addressed me, her tone filled with deference. Majesty? I thought, a flicker of curiosity passing through me. But there was no time to dwell on it. I pushed the thought aside and stepped through the gate. The Arachne slavers were waiting on the other side; a motley group spread out in a line with the griffon leader at the center. His beak clicked with barely contained fury as I emerged. "Well, well, well," he sneered, his voice dripping with malice. "You must be the shit stain that killed ma’ little brother." I looked over the slavers, noting their positions, their stances. They were spread out just enough to make this easy.

"Yes," I replied, a slow, sinister smile spreading across my face. "And soon, I’ll be the one to kill the rest of you." I readied my spell. The griffon opened his beak to speak, but I surged forward with lightning speed before he could finish. My hoof pierced through his chest with a sickening crunch, obliterating his heart. His eyes widened in shock, his arrogant words forever silenced. The slavers gasped in horror as I lifted his lifeless body, still impaled on my hoof, up to my face. “Hmph, pathetic,” I muttered, disdain dripping from my voice as I tossed his corpse aside like a broken doll. The body thudded to the ground, limp and useless. The slavers had only a moment to process the gruesome scene before I unleashed my spell. The earth beneath them shuddered as jagged spears of stone erupted from the ground, skewering them in a gruesome display of power. They were lifted into the air, suspended on the stone spikes like grotesque marionettes. Most died instantly, their bodies limp as blood poured from their wounds. But a few unfortunate souls clung to life, their hooves twitching as they feebly tried to grasp at the stone impaling them. Their bloodied bodies adorned the tips of the spears, crimson trails streaming down, pooling in the dirt below. The meadow fell silent once more, the cries of the dying slavers fading into the cold night. I stood among the carnage, surveying my handiwork. The griffon’s body lay at my hooves, his expression frozen in a twisted mask of arrogance… an arrogance that never had time to comprehend death. I sighed into the silence, wiping the blood from my hoof on the grass before returning to the gate.

“By the goddesses…” The elderly gate guard’s voice was a mere whisper, his eyes wide with awe and fear. His younger counterpart trembled visibly, her terror palpable as she clutched her bow, trying to steady her shaking hooves.

“Close the gate,” I ordered, my tone sharp. The mare flinched, bolting toward the pulley mechanism. She nearly tripped over her own hooves in her haste to comply. I turned to the elderly guard, my gaze piercing. “Inform the elder that the danger has passed.”

“R-right away, Lord Tenebrae!” He stammered before galloping off toward the fountain where the elder and Lily stood, surrounded by the frightened thestrals. As I passed through the gate, Fang Seeker appeared at my side, a wet towel offered in her hoof. The group behind her whispered amongst themselves, but I paid them little mind. My focus was on cleaning the blood from my hoof; the crimson smears were a stark reminder of the violence I had just unleashed.

“Well done, Your Majesty,” Fang Seeker said, her voice filled with admiration and respect. “You made quick work of those slavers.” As I took the towel, she and the others behind her dropped to their knees, bowing deeply. “But I wouldn't expect anything less from an ancient war god.” I narrowed my eyes at her, a low growl rumbling in my chest.

“Eavesdropping, were we?” My voice was laced with irritation, but she remained unflinching, her pose submissive but confident.

“Not intentionally, Your Majesty,” she replied calmly. “I wanted to speak with you before you retired but overheard your conversation with the princesses.”

“I see.” I closed my eyes briefly, my mind turning over the implications. “I must admit I’m impressed you managed to listen in without me detecting your presence. Not many could accomplish such a feat.” Or perhaps I was so engrossed in the conversation with the sisters that I had simply let my guard down—a rare but not impossible occurrence.

“Your words honor me, Your Majesty.” Fang Seeker lifted her gaze slightly though she kept her bow. “We thestrals possess unique abilities that set us apart from our kin. One such ability is our highly sensitive hearing; we can hear and communicate in frequencies too high for others to comprehend.” So, that explains the high-pitched squeaks I’d initially assumed were merely signals. They were speaking to one another in a language I hadn’t understood. Interesting.

“Just how much did you overhear?” I asked, my voice cold. “And who else knows?”

“Only those present, Your Majesty, I made sure of that,” Fang Seeker answered, her eyes briefly flicking toward the thestrals behind her. Some were the same ones who had been consoling Lily in the clearing earlier—likely her friends. “A few others and I only caught the first half of your conversation with the princesses.” I sighed, tension coiling in my chest. This could become a problem if word spread.

“And?”

“And what, Your Majesty?” Fang Seeker asked, genuinely confused.

“What do you intend to do now that you know my identity?” I asked, my tone dangerously low. “What do you hope to gain? Are you planning to reveal my secret?”

“Certainly not!” Fang Seeker exclaimed, rearing up on her hind legs in a frantic gesture of denial. “Rest assured, we have no intention of saying anything about this!” The others nodded fervently, echoing her sentiment.

“Let’s say I believe you,” I said, my voice steady but with an undercurrent of threat. “Why reveal this to me? Depending on your answer, I may have to kill you or erase your memories to keep my secret safe.” Fang Seeker visibly tensed, her composure faltering for the first time.

“I-I understand Your Majesty,” she stammered, taking a deep breath to steady herself. “But we have a favor to ask of you.”

“A favor?” I repeated, my interest piqued. “Then out with it.” Without hesitation, she and the others fell into a more profound bow, their faces pressed against the dirt.

“PLEASE TEACH US HOW TO FIGHT!” they cried out in near-perfect unison. Though hidden by my helmet, my eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“You want me to train you in the arts of war and death?” I asked, masking my surprise with a stern tone. Fang Seeker looked up from the dirt, her eyes filled with determination.

“Yes, Your Majesty!” she affirmed, her voice unwavering.

“Why?” I demanded. “Tell me your reason for wanting to become warriors.”

“Because we’re sick, Your Majesty,” Fang Seeker began, her voice trembling with a mixture of anger and desperation. “We’re sick and tired of being weak! Of having everything we know and love taken from us! Sick of watching our loved ones be captured, beaten, tormented, and used for profit and amusement by heartless creatures—while we remain powerless to do anything about it!” Her voice rose with each word, her body shaking with barely contained rage. “And because… because…” She hesitated, her fury giving way to a softer emotion. “Because our beloved princess shouldn’t have to bear this burden alone.” Her last words struck me, catching me off guard. The fire in her eyes, the desperation in her voice—it was something I hadn’t expected. I stood there, momentarily silent, contemplating her plea. The silence stretched on as I weighed my options, the forest around us eerily still in the wake of the slaughter.

“So, you would follow the path of war and become killers—monsters, even—for her sake? No matter how much suffering and pain it would cause you?” My voice echoed in the silent clearing, carrying a weight that made the thestrals before me tremble. Fang Seeker, though, held her ground, her voice barely a whisper as she responded.

“Yes.” I felt a spark of curiosity ignite within me. What has Little Luna done to earn such unwavering loyalty? I closed my eyes for a moment, gathering my thoughts. These ponies were undoubtedly our grand descendants, but it may very well be these thestrals who are worthy of such an honor.

“Before I answer, are you all certain about setting upon this path?” I asked, my voice stern. “There will be no going back once you walk the path of a warrior; you will live as a warrior and inevitably die as a warrior. You will be pledging yourselves to the equine god of war. Your fate, your very souls, will ultimately belong to me; your past, present, and what you will become will all be mine. Are you truly ready and willing to make such a decision?” The group finally rose from their bow, exchanging glances. Some showed uncertainty, their eyes flickering with doubt. But Fang Seeker was the first to step forward, her voice unwavering.

“If it means I can acquire the strength to protect those I love and care about, then yes. If I can ensure that nopony else would ever have to suffer the way I did, then my soul would be a small price to pay for such a thing.” Her words hung in the air, heavy with conviction. Before I could respond, she raised her hoof, her gaze locked onto mine. “However, Your Majesty, make no mistake—even if you do own our very souls, even should we give you everything we are in exchange for the strength to stand against our attackers and protect what we treasure most—we will never betray our princess of the night or her trust.” The others nodded in agreement, their determination clear. I couldn’t help but allow a slight smile to curl at the corner of my mouth.

“A fine response,” I acknowledged, closing my eyes once more in thought. “Very well, then. If you are certain, I will teach you the ways of a Courser.” They immediately dropped to their knees again, bowing deeply.

“Thank you, Your Majesty! We won’t disappoint you!” Fang Seeker’s eyes sparkled with hope as she looked up at me, replacing her earlier fear with fierce determination.

“For now, I must return to the princesses; your training will begin soon after I hear what Night Weaver has to say.”

“Yes, Your Majesty!” they chorused, their voices filled with a renewed sense of purpose.

~~~

I approached the modest wooden door of the room where Celestia and Luna awaited and squeezed through, the hinges creaking softly. “I have returned,” I announced, my voice low and measured.

“Oh, welcome back, Tenebrae,” Celestia replied warmly, lifting a delicate porcelain teacup to her lips. The sisters had brewed tea while waiting, and a small pot of steaming liquid was sitting on the table between them. The gentle aroma of herbs and honey wafted through the air, mingling with the faint scent of parchment and ink. I maneuvered around the table, my armor clinking softly, and sat across from them. Little Luna was already refilling her cup, her magic steady as she poured another, which she then floated over to my side of the table.

“Was everything okay?” she asked, her eyes filled with concern as I accepted the cup.

“Yes, just some stray spiders that needed to be crushed,” I replied, sipping the tea. The overly sweetened taste flooded my senses, starkly contrasting the violence that had just transpired outside the gate.

“You mean Arachne!?” Both sisters exclaimed in alarm, nearly spilling their tea in their haste to react. I raised a hoof, signaling them to calm down.

“They have already been dealt with,” I assured them. “And before you ask, yes, everypony is safe. They never made it inside the gate and couldn’t cause any damage.” The tension in the room dissipated as they sighed in relief.

“That’s good to hear,” little Luna said, her voice soft with genuine concern. I couldn’t help but chuckle at her remark, the sound rumbling in my chest like distant thunder.

“What’s so funny?” she asked, her eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“Nothing,” I replied with a slight smile. “I just find it amusing that you would still worry so much despite knowing what I am.”

“I know it’s still hard to believe,” Luna admitted, her gaze dropping to her cup. “But I still can’t help but worry about the thestrals, especially after everything they’ve already been through.”

“They seem to care for you as much as you do for them,” I noted, my voice thoughtful. “Their devotion to you appears rather absolute from what I’ve witnessed. I do wonder what you did to earn such love from them.” Luna’s cheeks flushed a deep shade of red, embarrassment creeping into her expression. “Perhaps you can tell me about it another time,” I suggested, my tone lightening. “Shall we continue our history lesson?”

“Yes, please!” Celestia’s voice was eager as she leaned forward, her eyes shining with anticipation. She poured herself another cup of tea, adding far more sugar than necessary. I chuckled softly, watching her with amusement.

“I can see that, but first…” I cast a sound barrier across the room, ensuring our conversation would not be overheard again.

“What was that for?” Luna asked, her curiosity piqued.

“A barrier to prevent any more ponies from listening in on our conversation,” I explained.

“Any more? Wait… you don’t mean…” Luna’s eyes widened in realization. I nodded, confirming her suspicion.

“Yes, some of the thestrals overheard a part of our conversation.” Luna shot up from her chair, her expression panicked.

“You didn’t kill them, did you!? Or mess with their memories or anything, right!?” I chuckled again, shaking my head.

“It’s a fair question to ask, given what I told you about Sandy Digs. But rest easy; they are perfectly fine.” Luna let out a sigh of relief, sinking back into her chair. “I admit I was surprised when they approached me asking for a favor after I had dealt with the slavers. It was quite brave of them to gather together and approach the god of war in such a manner.” I sipped the remaining tea, the warmth soothing the lingering tension in my body. Celestia and Luna exchanged glances, curiosity, and concern mirrored in their expressions.

“What did they ask for?” Celestia inquired, her voice laced with intrigue.

“They asked me to teach them how to fight,” I replied, setting the empty cup on the table. Both sisters looked at me with wide eyes, their surprise evident.

“And… did you agree?” Luna asked hesitantly.

“I did,” I answered simply. “They are willing to give everything for the strength to protect what they hold dear. I see potential in them a fire that, if properly nurtured, could turn them into formidable warriors.” Luna’s expression softened, her eyes reflecting pride and concern.

“I just hope they know what they’re getting into…”

“They do,” I assured her. “They made their choice and are prepared to face the consequences. I will guide them, but the path they walk is theirs alone.”

"Now, picking up where we left off," I began, my voice measured and deliberate. "After the news of Razekel's destruction at the hands of a mortal race of Bicorns spread throughout the known world, my father, Malacar, quickly sprang into action. He rallied the supporters he had carefully cultivated over the ages, spurring his fellow Bicorns—who were under the tyrannical rule of a primal known as Charron—to revolt. The war for their freedom was long and bloody, with untold millions perishing in the fight against Charron's artificial metal monsters and grotesque magical abominations. Five hundred years of unrelenting bloodshed and horror passed before my father defeated Charron and claimed victory. The streets were filled with the bodies of the fallen, yet the survivors shouted cries of triumph, celebrating amidst the devastation." I paused, my gaze distant as the memories stirred within me, the weight of our history heavy on my shoulders. "But Malacar did not join in their celebrations. He was devastated by the cost of victory, cursing himself for the countless lives lost. These Bicorns were not warriors or fighters; they were workers, farmers, bakers, librarians, miners, and simple folk thrust into the horrors of war. My father realized that to continue his fight and free all the Bicorns, he needed true warriors—beings of unmatched might and ferocity capable of standing against the primals' monstrous creations. He needed the Coursers, but they were half a world away, with several kingdoms and primal-ruled domains between them. My father could not be everywhere at once, and there was no guarantee that these war-loving Coursers, whom he knew little about, would even consider joining his cause. So, after much thought, he decided to use his special talent, what he called soul-forging, to create a powerful being to act as both a general and an extension of himself." Celestia and Luna exchanged glances, their brows furrowed in curiosity. "Using his talent, he took the soul of Charron, rewrote it, purified it, reshaped it, and mixed it with a shard of his own soul to create a new Bicorn. Thus, his first child, his first Deustrier, was born—Ophanix Chariot, a Manafray, and my elder brother."

"Wait, wait, wait," Little Luna interrupted, waving her hooves as if trying to grasp the concept. "I thought you said you were the firstborn, Tenebrae."

"I am," I replied calmly.

"But you just said Ophanix was first," she insisted, her confusion evident.

"I did." Celestia, who had been quietly absorbing the story, finally spoke up, her voice tinged with disbelief.

"But that doesn’t make any sense. How can you be the firstborn if Ophanix was before you?" I couldn’t help but chuckle at their bewilderment.

"Yes, I suppose it does sound confusing. As I said, my father's special talent allowed him to take a living or recently deceased creature's soul and reforge it into something completely new. They essentially become family by using a fragment of his own soul during the process. It's similar to how offspring are created, with a shard of both parents' souls fusing, creating the newborn’s." The princesses' expressions constantly shifted, their minds racing to understand the intricacies of soul-forging. Watching their young, pretty faces struggle with concepts far beyond their years was amusing. "Ahem," I continued, simplifying it for their sake. "My father had nine colts, nine Deustriers, or divine children. I was number six out of the nine, but I was the only one not created from a defeated primal's soul using his ability. I was the only one who was naturally born; hence, I am the firstborn."

"Alright," Little Luna said slowly, trying to piece it together. "So, you’re saying you’re the sixth Deustrier out of nine, which makes you the sixth divine child of the God-Emperor, who is a Courser and worshiped by Bicorns as their god of war?"

"Yes, that's correct," I affirmed, nodding. "And it may interest you to know that I was also the only Courser Deustrier." Luna rubbed her temples, clearly still processing the information.

"Okay, I guess that makes sense. It’s weird and convoluted, but I think I understand… I think." Celestia, ever the thoughtful one, tilted her head and asked,

"So, out of all nine of the God-Emperor's children, you were the only one with a mother, Tenebrae?" I nodded, my expression growing somber.

"Yes, but she died during childbirth." Their faces softened with sympathy.

"Oh, I’m sorry to hear that," Celestia said gently, her voice laced with concern.

"Don’t be," I replied, trying to keep my tone even. "It’s not like I knew her, and honestly, I didn’t even know I had a mother for a very long time…" Their confused expressions returned, and Luna was the first to voice the question.

"What do you mean, Tenebrae?"

"It was quite the secret at the time," I explained, my voice tinged with a hint of sorrowful nostalgia. "One of the only lies my father ever told… a lie that almost brought us to ruin." Luna leaned forward, her eyes wide with concern.

"Tenebrae, are you okay?" I shook my head slightly, clearing the thoughts that threatened to cloud my mind.

"Never mind that for now. It’s irrelevant. Let’s get back on topic." I could sense their curiosity, but I wasn’t ready to delve into that part of my past just yet. Instead, I pressed on with the history lesson. "With my father’s victory over Charron proving that it wasn’t only the Coursers capable of defeating a primal, his rebellion grew substantially. Bicorns from every corner of the world flocked to join him in his fight. Armed with everything he had learned from his five-hundred-year campaign and with his new Deustrier by his side, it wasn’t long before another primal fell. One by one, the primals began to fall, and with each victory, another Deustrier rose to join the now-celebrated God-Emperor of Bicorn kind’s pantheon. Finally, he reached the shores of Ilieh." The mention of Ilieh seemed to capture their full attention, their eyes wide with anticipation. "He would go alone to meet with the Coursers despite the objections of his generals and Deustriers. My father knew that if he brought his army or his children, the Coursers would perceive them as an invading force and attack them. He needed this meeting to go well, for at that time, his fight against the elder primals, the oldest and most powerful of their kind, was starting to lose ground and suffering immeasurable casualties. Without the Coursers, he knew they would eventually lose the war. He walked upon Ilieh’s black shores and into the island's interior, hoping to be granted an audience with whoever ruled the Coursers. As his hooves touched the black sand, he knew they were watching him. He could feel their gaze with every step he took through the dark and unforgiving wilderness. He traveled for ten days through poisonous valleys, battling fierce monsters and evading traps, perhaps remnants of Narmu’s failed invasion. At last, he reached the Coursers’ home: a large blackened star-point fortress made purely from the fabled Adamantium—the material that had sparked his rebellion." I raised my hoof, mimicking the proud stance I imagined my father must have taken as he approached the fortress. "‘I am Malacar Aeonsovereign, the leader of the Bicorn rebellion against the primals on the mainland. I wish to speak with the ones in charge!’" I declared, my voice booming in the small room. Little Luna and Celestia burst into laughter, the tension in the room dissolving into a shared moment of delight. Their laughter was infectious, and I couldn’t help but smile as well, though the story's weight still lingered in my mind.

“I don’t think he would sound like that, Tenebrae,” Celestia giggled, her voice light and teasing but with an undercurrent of sincerity. I arched an eyebrow.

“Hmph, how would you know? You’ve never met my father or heard how he sounds.”

“That’s true,” Celestia conceded, still chuckling, “but it seems like you’re making fun of your father with that cute little pose and that accent.” I leaned closer, a mischievous glint in my eyes.

“Oh, you think I’m cute, huh?” Celestia’s cheeks flushed a deep crimson as she stammered, “I-It’s just a turn of phrase, is all I meant by it!” She quickly looked away, trying to hide her embarrassment, but I saw the shy smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“Liar,” Luna mumbled under her breath, her voice barely audible as she faced away. It's amusing how often they forget about my heightened senses, making these little exchanges all the more entertaining.

“Regardless,” I continued, letting them off the hook, “I don’t think a Courser has ever been described as ‘cute.’ But let’s move on, shall we?” My tone became more serious, drawing them back into the story.

“Yes, let’s,” Celestia agreed.

“Very well,” I resumed, my voice carrying a weight that pulled them into the ancient past I spoke of. “Now, after stating his intention to talk, the massive blackened doors swung open to a sight my father was unprepared for. Standing at attention were rows upon rows of fully armored Courser warriors, their blackened steel armor gleaming ominously in the dim light. They flanked both sides of the cobblestone street, forming a path that led to the large dome in the center of the fortress. They stood as still as statues, their gazes fixed straight ahead, saying nothing as my father passed between them. The Courser warriors, formidable and silent, were like guardians of a forgotten world, their presence both awe-inspiring and intimidating. He followed the path to the central dome, ascending a grand staircase. The stairs led him to a set of towering silver doors, intricately carved with scenes depicting the events following the Scarlet Dawn. These doors, engraved with battles and victories, showed the defeat of Razekel and the rise of the Coursers. When the doors opened, they revealed a vast hallway, its walls adorned with trophies of countless beasts, their heads mounted as grim reminders of the Coursers’ prowess. Crimson carpets lined the floors, leading to the throne room at the end. The room was as grand as it was foreboding, with high ceilings and pillars carved from the same blackened Adamantium as the fortress. A massive silver throne at the center loomed, adorned with black spikes and rubies that seemed to pulse with a sinister light. The Courser warriors flanked the room, their eyes tracking my father’s every move, their silence echoing in the cavernous space. My father approached the throne, but three colossal Coursers emerged from behind it before he could ascend the steps. These were not ordinary warriors; they were the Courser champions, their bodies adorned with battle scars and armor that had seen countless conflicts. The first one stepped forward, his voice deep and resonant as he spoke.” I shifted my tone.

“‘He said one like us would come, yet not like us would seek to rule us.’” The second champion’s voice followed, rough and commanding.

“‘That we would be needed in the conflict that he would spawn in his brilliant blaze.’” Finally, with a voice like gravel, the third champion stepped forward, his weapon gleaming in the dim light.

“‘We knew you would come, and we have been waiting.’”

“A test of strength, my father thought, and these three were the Courser champions. Though he did not understand who ‘He’ was at the time, he understood their words and what he must do: victory or death.” Celestia and Luna exchanged glances, their eyes wide with anticipation. The air seemed to thrum with energy as they waited for me to continue. “One by one, my father fought the Courser champions; though he felt it was a waste of such talented fighters, he had no choice but to kill them, for that was the only way to prove himself. The battles were fierce, and even with the strength of divinity on his side, my father barely emerged victorious. When the last champion fell, he ascended the steps to the throne, but to the surprise of the gathered Coursers, he did not sit upon it. Instead, he bowed before it and proclaimed that while he would rule them, however, this throne was only fit for a Courser worthy of Tenebris’s legacy. The Coursers, impressed by his actions and words, accepted him as their leader. They gifted him their most treasured artifact, the Codex-Maledictium.” Little Luna interrupted, her curiosity piqued.

“That’s the Courser holy book you mentioned before, right?”

“Yes, The book Tenebris himself penned with the blood of those who had fallen in the Scarlet Dawn. It detailed the new truth and social doctrine the Coursers would take. Essentially, Tenebris’s philosophy outlined his view of a perfect societal structure and belief in the true balance of all things. I won’t go into too much detail, as the book itself is… let’s say, extensive, and we don’t have the time for it tonight. But know this: my father was beyond impressed with its teachings and agreed with most of them. As I mentioned before, he would ultimately adapt the Codex-Maledictium to incorporate all the Bicorn species and use it as the groundwork for his imperium. Now, fast forward a little; after the Coursers joined Malacar, their rebellion’s momentum increased, and the elder primals fell one by one. With each defeat, a new Deustrier would rise until finally, after nearly five thousand years of war and bloodshed, the primals were no more. Malacar Aeonsovreign, the now god-emperor of Bicorn kind, claimed a vast portion of the continent and established his Imperium, leaving the rest to the other races who had been enslaved or oppressed by the primals. Thus began a golden age of peace and prosperity for Bicorns.” As I finished, both sisters applauded, their hooves enthusiastically clapping against the stone floor.

“That was an incredible history lesson, Tenebrae,” Celestia said, her eyes shining with newfound knowledge. “I can’t believe so much had happened in our ancient history that we knew nothing about.” She nearly knocked over the sugar jar in her excitement, catching it just in time.

“Indeed!” Little Luna agreed, her journal now filled with notes and sketches. She made another of those adorable squee sounds that never failed to amuse me. “And thankfully, I had just enough space in my journal to fit it all!”

“We’re not done yet, you know. That was just act one of our little history lesson.” I smirked, watching as little Luna’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Only act one!?” she exclaimed her voice a mix of astonishment and dread.

“Of course,” I replied with a grin. “The next part will cover how our imperial society functions and its intricate structure.” Little Luna’s gaze darted to her journal, flipping through the pages frantically, searching for any remaining space. Finding none, she let out a defeated sigh, her ears drooping.

“Celestia, can I please use yours for this next part?” she pleaded, her large eyes shimmering with the innocence of a filly. Celestia sighed, rolling her eyes in affectionate resignation.

“Fine, but no peeking at anything I’ve already written. I mean it.” With a delighted squee, Luna’s horn lit up, levitating Celestia’s journal from beneath the table. She flipped eagerly to a blank page, her quill at the ready.

“Thank you, dear sister!” she chirped, her excitement palpable.

“Your enthusiasm is awe-inspiring, little Luna,” I chuckled. “But let’s continue. Our society was structured around a caste system. The Manafrey were our researchers and developers, leading the way in all things magical and technological. The Drudcey were the builders, farmers, and workers responsible for infrastructure. And the Coursers, of course, were our military. Think of it as our magic, builder, and warrior caste. These three castes formed the base of our society. All were equal in rights and were bound by the same laws, regardless of race.” As I spoke, I could see little Luna’s quill darting across the pages, capturing every word. The soft scratching of the quill was a comforting sound, grounding the intensity of the topic. “Above these castes,” I continued, “was our Noble caste. Unlike your nobles, ours weren’t born into their titles. Instead, nobility had to be earned. To become a noble, a Bicorn had to graduate from the educational systems of all three castes. This may sound trivial, but remember, our lifespans are incredibly long. It took millennia to graduate from all three. The reasoning behind this was simple: one cannot govern a race without understanding it deeply. Without knowledge of their customs, how would you know their needs or wants, especially when dealing with multiple races?” Celestia’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully, her hoof gently tapping the edge of her teacup.

“That’s… quite ingenious. By ensuring that nobles truly understood the people they governed, you likely reduced corruption and ensured only the most qualified individuals held power.” I nodded, impressed by her insight.

“Exactly. The consequences for negligence or abuse of noble status were severe. If found guilty, the entire noble household was eradicated, with no exceptions.” Celestia’s expression tightened.

“That’s brutal… but effective.” A pause lingered in the air as they both absorbed the weight of what I’d said.

“Now,” I resumed, “above the nobles was the rank of Paragon, the highest any Bicorn could achieve. The Emperor chose Paragons from the nobility, selecting those who contributed significantly to the Imperium. For example, Paragon Heartfelt, who created our healing potions, or Paragon Phazor, who developed the Phazon Shield technology. These were not just titles; they were earned through monumental achievements.” Little Luna looked up from her writing, her brow furrowed in concentration.

“And I’m guessing that even you and your brothers had to go through these educational systems?”

“Yes, that’s correct. Although we Deustriers were gods, we were not exempt from this process. Each of us had to learn from the other castes and each other. Our father hoped this would bond us as a family.” Celestia smiled softly.

“That’s rather sweet.” I couldn’t help but chuckle at her sentiment.

“My father was anything but sweet, Celestia. Some of the lessons we learned, particularly from my brother Su’thur, were… questionable, to say the least.” Luna tilted her head, curiosity gleaming in her eyes.

“Su’thur? He’s one of your brothers?”

“Indeed,” I confirmed, a shadow of a grin playing on my lips. “The third Deustrier.” Celestia leaned forward, her interest piqued.

“Why were his lessons questionable?” I cleared my throat, choosing my words carefully.

“Let’s just say he was the family's wild child and leave it at that.” They exchanged skeptical glances, but I could see they weren’t going to press further, at least for now. Little Luna turned back to her writing, but after a few moments, she hesitated.

“I… I have a question,” she began, her voice softer, more hesitant than before.

“Of course,” I said, intrigued. “What is it?” She glanced nervously at Celestia, then back at me.

“I was curious about… your customs for… a special somepony.”

“A special somepony?” I repeated, genuinely confused. “I’m not familiar with that term. Could you elaborate?” Her cheeks flushed a deep red, and she tried to hide her face behind her quill.

“You know… like spouses, potential marriage partners… things like that.” Understanding dawned on me, and I laughed, causing her to blush even more.

“Ah, I see. Are you asking about the customs for Bicorns in general or for the Coursers specifically?” Celestia, who had been silently observing, now spoke up.

“What do you mean? Are they different?” I nodded, leaning forward as the firelight danced across my face.

“Yes, they are quite different. Manafrey and Drudcey's customs are very similar to yours here in this age,” I began, my voice calm but commanding. “The only significant difference lies in their final rituals…their marriage rituals, to be precise. Manafrey marriages culminate in a ceremony where the bride and groom complete a special magical contract, binding them together for life. In contrast, Drudcey marriages end with the pair creating something together—a piece of art or a crafted object—or they paint together, symbolizing their union.” Celestia nodded thoughtfully while little Luna’s quill paused mid-air.

“Interesting,” she mused, “and it fits with how you described them earlier. Now, what about the Coursers?” I took a moment, letting the silence stretch just enough to build anticipation before answering.

“Courser customs were entirely different from the other two. The most significant difference was that Courser stallions had multiple spouses, whereas the Manafrey and Drudcey typically took only one.” The sound of the quill dropping onto the table was loud in the room's stillness. Little Luna’s eyes widened, her expression turning unexpectedly sharp.

“They what?” she asked, her voice laced with an uncharacteristic edge of anger. I met her gaze evenly.

“Courser stallions would take multiple spouses,” I repeated firmly. “Don’t make me repeat it.” Both sisters glared at me, their eyes flashing with disapproval as if I had committed some grievous offense. Their expressions made it clear they were not pleased, but I wasn’t about to let their misunderstanding go unchallenged. “Don’t give me that look,” I said, my tone steady but slightly irritated. “It’s not what you think.”

“Oh really?” Celestia’s voice dripped with skepticism as she and her sister crossed their hooves, waiting for an explanation.

“Yes, really,” I responded, my voice now carrying an edge of frustration. “It was done out of necessity.” Celestia raised an eyebrow, her tone becoming even more confrontational.

“How so?” I sighed, knowing that the explanation would not be an easy one.

“Look, following the death of Razakel and the detonation of the soul bomb, the birth rate for Courser fillies and colts changed dramatically. The ratio became thirteen to one, with far more mares being born than stallions. Whether this was due to the Coursers’ proximity to the soul bomb’s energy or some final curse from Razakel, I don’t know. Not even the Manafrey could determine the cause after millennia of investigation. But as you can imagine, such a disparity, especially in a warrior culture like ours, where only males fought, wasn’t conducive to a growing population. So, it became common for Coursers to take multiple mares as spouses.” Their tense expressions softened slightly as the reality of the situation dawned on them. Little Luna’s anger faded into a reluctant understanding.

“I… I guess that makes sense,” she conceded, though her voice still held a trace of poutiness. But then, her curiosity got the better of her, and she asked, “Wait, just how many mares did you have then Tenebrae?” The room seemed to grow colder as both Celestia and Luna fixed their eyes on me, their gazes now filled with a different kind of intensity. I looked away momentarily, the weight of my past pressing down on me. After a long, weary sigh, I answered.

“None.” The shock on their faces was palpable. They had clearly expected a different answer.

“None?” Celestia echoed, her confusion evident. “That doesn’t seem right. Given your status as a Deustrier and the only Courser among them, I figured you would have had quite a number of them.” I shook my head slowly, feeling the old regrets bubbling up to the surface.

“I never had the time to select any. It may sound strange, but even though we took multiple spouses, we were very selective about who we chose as mates. And to be honest… the mares feared me upon my return to the Imperium.” Little Luna’s eyes softened with concern as she leaned forward slightly.

“What do you mean by your return?” she asked gently. I closed my eyes, the pain of the memory tightening in my chest.

“Nothing,” I said, dismissing the question with a wave of my hoof. “Forget about it. Let’s move on.” Little Luna looked disappointed, but she nodded, respecting my reluctance.

“Alright,” she murmured, her voice tinged with sadness. “I won’t pry.” After a few moments, Celestia adjusted her sitting position, breaking the tension.

“I have a question of my own, Tenebrae,” she said, her tone curious but cautious.

“Go ahead,” I commanded, my voice once again steady.

“You mentioned earlier that you were in the middle of a battle before being awakened from that block of ice. I have to ask… what exactly were you fighting?” Her voice was calm, but I could sense the weight of her curiosity. “After everything you’ve told us, I find it hard to believe anything could pose a threat to the Bicorns, especially after the war with those primals.” I felt a surge of emotions, anger, regret, and an overwhelming sense of loss.

“And you would be correct in thinking that… If only things had gone differently.” My voice began to rise with anger. “If only my father hadn’t planted doubt with one lie… If only my brothers had kept their faith in his vision… If their resolve had been stronger!” I slammed a hoof on the table, causing the sisters to flinch. “If they hadn’t allowed their minds to be taken by those FUCKING SOUL PARASITES! If I hadn’t fallen into that void! If I had been stronger….” The words came out in a torrent of rage and sorrow. Celestia and Luna had started to back away from the table, their expressions a mix of fear and concern. Only then did I realize what I had done. My war blade was buried deep in the stone beneath the table, the air around me crackling with the energy I had unconsciously summoned. I let out a long, shuddering sigh as I retracted my blade, forcing myself to calm down. “I think that will do for our lesson tonight,” I said coldly, trying to regain my composure. “It’s far past midnight, and you two must rest.”

“A-alright,” Celestia stammered, her voice small and shaken. “I’m sorry if we upset you, Tenebrae.” I sighed again, softer this time.

“It’s fine. It just brought up some old, unpleasant memories,” I said, placing a hoof against my breastplate, feeling the painful throb where my ravaged heart lay beneath. “I’ll be fine now. Go and get some rest. There will be much work for us tomorrow.” They both hesitated before heading to the door, their movements shaky, the weight of the evening’s revelations pressing down on them. But just before they left, they turned back to me.

“It may be a little late to say this,” Celestia began, her voice filled with sincerity, “but thank you for telling us all of this, Tenebrae. We appreciate learning about our lost past and are grateful that you trust us with this knowledge.” She gave me a small, respectful bow, which little Luna quickly mimicked, though her eyes still held a trace of worry.

“You’re both welcome,” I replied, my voice softer than before. “Now, get some rest. We’ll talk more later.”

~~~

The underground theater was a cavernous space, with rows of stone benches rising in tiers along the curved walls. The air was cool, and the echoes of Lily's hooves against the stone floor reverberated softly. Above, a giant globe filled with fireflies emitted a warm, steady light, casting soft shadows on the carved stone. The light was cleverly amplified by reflective surfaces strategically placed around the cavern, giving the space an almost ethereal glow. The chalk lines, meticulously drawn and nearly pristine, traced intricate paths on the ground, circling the center of the room where the seats converged. As I surveyed the area, the silence was only broken by the gentle flutter of Lily's wings as she flew up to clean cobwebs from the firefly globe. Her movements were graceful but tinged with a sadness that seemed to cling to her as she gently wiped away the dust of disuse. "Will this place serve your needs, Lord Tenebrae?" she asked, her voice carrying a mix of respect and lingering sorrow as she descended back to the floor. I nodded, my gaze still taking in the vastness of the space.

"Yes, but what is this place used for?" I asked, curiosity piqued by the unusual setup. Lily’s expression softened with a hint of nostalgia as she responded,

"It used to be our town meeting hall, and it also served as our modified Hoofball court." She let out a small sigh as if the memories were a weight she bore silently.

"Hoofball?" I inquired, raising an eyebrow. The name was unfamiliar, but it clearly held some significance to these ponies.

"A sport we enjoyed in happier times," she replied, her voice tinged with sadness as her hooves touched the ground lightly. Her gaze drifted over the room as if she could still see the ghosts of those joyful moments etched in the walls. I glanced around again, noting the absence of any signs of past conflict, bloodstains, or shattered armor, nothing to suggest the kind of ‘sports’ my race might have partaken in.

"I see," I said, my tone thoughtful. "I may have to make a few adjustments. I hope that will be acceptable." My mind was already working on the modifications I would need to transform this space into what I required. Lily nodded without hesitation.

"Make any changes you want, Lord. I don't know what you intend to use the space for, but please use it however you like." Her trust was unexpected but not unwelcome. I gave her a brief nod in return.

"I shall. Inform me the moment Night Weaver returns, I will be here." With another respectful nod, she turned and headed back out through the tunnel, her hoofsteps fading into the distance. As the cavern's silence enveloped me again, I focused on my task. "Now, to make the crucible for my new recruits," I murmured to myself. My magic surged as I began to reshape the stone, molding it to fit the rigorous needs of what was to come. The theater would be transformed, its purpose reborn, just as I intended my recruits to be.

~~~

The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and the soft rustling of leaves as we stood near the settlement's central fountain. The gentle trickle of water was the only sound breaking the afternoon's stillness, save for the occasional murmur of voices from the nearby dwellings. The water shimmered in the sunlight, a small oasis of calm amidst the turmoil gripping these lands. Night Weaver, a thestral with a lean build and eyes that spoke of years of hardship, splashed water onto his face. The cool droplets clung to his fur, offering a brief respite from the tension that had settled over us all. He shook his head in disbelief, his wings twitching as he processed the reality of the situation. "I can’t believe the princesses themselves have come here to aid us in our plight," he muttered, wiping his face with a foreleg. His voice carried a mixture of awe and weariness. "Or that they’ve employed an actual warrior strong enough to beat not only an entire Arachne Bliss operation but also kill an Itzalwurm." His gaze met mine, filled with a mix of respect and curiosity. It was mid-afternoon, and the sun hung lazily in the sky, casting long shadows across the settlement. Night Weaver and his group had just returned, looking haggard but relieved to be back. Red Veil had apparently come across them on their way home, filling Night Weaver in on the rescue of his kin and our return to Blossom Heights. The elder, a figure of quiet authority, stood beside us, his expression solemn as he listened to our exchange. Little Luna and Celestia had greeted me warmly when I arrived, but I could see the weight of our previous conversation lingering in their eyes. The knowledge I had shared was not easy to digest, and the burden it carried was evident in their somber expressions. Still, they stood resolute, their presence a testament to their determination. Night Weaver, after offering a deep bow to little Luna, an act that seemed to come from a place of genuine reverence, turned his attention back to me. "I’ll answer whatever questions you have, Lord Tenebrae, if it’ll help bring those heartless bastards down." I nodded, appreciating his willingness to assist.

"Tell me about Hammer-Hoof," I said, my voice steady but laced with underlying tension. "We need to know everything about the port and its operations if we are to strike effectively." Night Weaver's expression darkened, and he took a deep breath as if preparing himself to relive painful memories.

"Hammer-Hoof is a port town, heavily fortified and crawling with Arachne. They control everything: the docks, the markets, and most importantly, the mines on the outskirts. Those mines... they're where they force countless slaves to work, extracting silver and iron to fuel their greed." As he spoke, the image of the town began to form in my mind: rows of dilapidated buildings, the stench of saltwater and sweat, and the oppressive presence of Arachne overseers looming over the enslaved. "I was fortunate enough to escape," he said, his voice tinged with bitterness. "But not before witnessing the horrors they inflicted on my kin. Arachne... they don't just use physical force to keep the slaves in line. They employ a dragon, a massive, terrifying beast that answers to them like a loyal dog. Its name is Vahlok, and it's the main enforcer of their will. Any sign of resistance, any whisper of rebellion, and they unleash that monster to make an example out of us." At the mention of the dragon, my blood began to boil. The very idea of such a noble and proud being used to terrorize the helpless stirred a deep, seething rage within me. Had they devolved to such a state as well? My heart pounded in my chest, and I felt the familiar, primal urge to strike, to rend flesh and tear apart all who would dare defy me. The sisters noticed the shift in my demeanor, their eyes widening in concern as they took a cautious step back.

"I will tear its fucking heart out," I growled, the words escaping through gritted teeth. The promise hung in the air, heavy with the weight of my wrath. Night Weaver, though visibly shaken by my outburst, nodded in agreement.

“Don't underestimate it, Lord Tenebrae. Vahlok is as cunning as he is powerful." I took a deep breath, forcing myself to calm down.

"Night Weaver," I said, my voice now controlled but still carrying an edge, "can you draw a map of Hammer-Hoof and the mines? We'll need every detail if we're to take them by surprise and be successful in our attack." He nodded, already moving to retrieve a piece of parchment from his satchel.

"I'll do my best to recall everything I can. The layout, the guard patrols, the entrances to the mines…whatever you need." I glanced at the sisters, their expressions of determination and concern. With Night Weaver’s map and the knowledge he provided, the pieces were slowly falling into place. The time to strike would come soon, and when it did, Arachne would learn the true meaning of fear. But first, I gazed towards the tunnel entrance leading to my new crucible, where I had Fang Seeker and the others standing by.

“Let's see if you thestrals are truly worthy as our grand descendants,” I whispered to myself.