The Light Within Us

A couple of weeks after the completion and opening ceremony of the Equestria-Changeling Kingdom railway, a letter arrived for me on the train. Nothing special about it at first glance, as it was neither the first letter the hive had received in this fashion nor the only one in its batch. The fact that it had come from the princesses was no big deal, either, except that it bore the seals and signatures of all the princesses and Shining Armor.

“What do you make of this?” I asked Pharynx after mulling over its contents for most of the day.

He paid it a cursory glance from three steps away and shrugged. “Are you being invited to another party?”

“That’s just it. I don’t know.”

“Have you forgotten how to read?”

“Of course not,” I snorted. “I’ve read it several times during the course of the day but I can’t figure out what they want. They’re usually more direct and… less ambiguous…”

“Let me see.” He grabbed the letter from my hooves. “‘Dear Thorax, a matter we believe likely to be of some relevance to the hive and possibly to the diplomatic relations between our nations has been brought to our attention. There is no urgency in the sense of people’s safety being jeopardized by the situation, but we nevertheless wish to discuss the issue sooner rather than later. Please visit us in Canterlot at your convenience, and please bring Pharynx with you.’ What’s that all about?”

“See why I’m puzzled? They normally say why they want me there, and this is the first time they asked for you specifically!”

“You should verify it’s really them who sent this.”

“Who else would have sent it?”

“I dunno, perhaps a certain disgruntled former queen bent on revenge, trying to get us out of the way so she can seize back the throne?”

“Or maybe the ponies caught her!”

“Don’t you think they would have said so?”

“...right, probably. So what shall we do?”

“We’re sitting right here in the hive until you hail them via those communicators we gave them and verify that they really sent it. Then we’ll decide the next step.”

“You think they’ll tell me what it’s about when they didn’t want to in the letter?”

“They don’t need to tell you about that at this point. All they have to do is convince you that whoever’s on the other end of that communicator is who she says she is, and that she did send you a cryptic letter. There has to be some question you can ask whoever of them answers that only she would know the answer to. Can you do that?”

“I think so…”

“Good. You know where the communicators are.”

“King Thorax and First Commander Pharynx wish to see you, Princesses.”

Celestia and Luna rose up from their thrones as the guard ushered us into the room without needing a single word of explanation from us.

“Thank you for showing up so quickly,” Celestia said. “I hope we haven’t disrupted your schedule too much?”

“You didn’t, we hardly had anything going on. Are we disrupting anything by barging in unannounced like this?”

“There’s nothing upcoming that can’t wait, and it’s hardly unannounced if we summoned you.”

“Fair enough. What’s it about?”

“We have agreed it would be best to show you. Come with us,” Luna said. As we were leaving the throne room, she told one of the guards, “Please inform Shining Armor to meet us in the northern basement.”

“Restricted area?” Pharynx inquired.

“You are well informed,” Luna said. “The thoroughness of your former infiltrators at work, I presume?”

He nodded but offered no elaboration.

“What’s in the restricted area?” I whispered to him after a short while.

“No idea. The entrance was changeling-proofed and well guarded. Our agents never got in. Had they guarded the rest of Canterlot half as fiercely as that basement, Chrysalis would never have dared attempt the invasion.”

Shining Armor and his sister were already waiting for us at the bottom of a stairwell, next to a door that looked too imposing to open with a full-mana blast from an alicorn’s horn.

“These two are actually here in Canterlot?” Pharynx quipped. “Are you ponies sure you’re not the ones with spies all over the world?”

“We came after your brother hailed Twilight about that letter. Cadance would have come too but she’s expecting Neighponese delegates and it couldn’t be postponed on a hunch that you were about to get here.”

Pharynx glared at him for a few more seconds before mumbling something that sounded like ‘I don’t know why I believe you’.

Celestia interrupted the uncomfortable silence that had followed by casting a spell on the doors, which pulled open. “This way,” she said.

A little down a hallway was a room full of something that looked like weird storage cabinets. Once we were all inside, Celestia gave Shining a nod, and he pulled open one of the drawers, revealing the body of an unreformed changeling.

“I’m sorry for the secrecy,” he said, “but we didn’t want to discuss this in the unrestricted sections of the castle before consulting with you. Somepony could have overheard.”

I nodded, then gestured at the drawers. “Is this…?”

“Yes. Every one of these drawers contains a dead changeling, mostly the ones killed in the invasion of Canterlot, though some were found elsewhere at random times. In a way, this room is my fault. The invasion left me convinced that I’d failed as the Captain of the Royal Guard, and the public demanding retribution didn’t help any, so since I couldn’t change the past, I decided to make sure nothing like that would ever happen. That meant finding out everything about the enemy, and since you guys didn’t bring much in terms of unknown weapons and the prisoners were notoriously uncooperative, I was left with only one thing we could get anywhere with. As you can probably guess, there’s only so much that can be learned from corpses, so the investigation pretty much hit a dead end eventually, and everypony authorized to know about it simply put it out of their minds soon after being reassigned to other stuff.” He hung his head. “Actually, that’s not quite true. I didn’t put it out of my mind. Even after Cadance and I moved to the Crystal Empire, I kept hoping for some breakthrough that would get the investigation going again and produce some actual results. I thought I got that breakthrough when you showed up and was too stubborn to give up that hope to realize you were genuinely a good guy and how unfair it would be to turn you into a… uh…”

“A test subject?” I offered.

“...yeah… and I got dangerously close to that… and when I finally got over myself, I knew I should tell you about this room, but you weren’t authorized to know about it, and I kept telling myself that’s the reason why I didn’t tell you even after you overthrew Chrysalis, but eventually I had to admit to myself that it was only an excuse to conceal how ashamed I am of the whole thing. So I discussed it with Twi and Cady, neither of whom had known about it, and…” He shrugged. “... well, here we are. I’m sorry I never told you, Thorax.”

I wasn’t sure how to feel about what he’d just told me. On one hoof, I could understand his reasoning for why he’d brought this room into existence; we’d done horrible things and it was only normal for him to want it to never happen again, and it wasn’t like he could expect many of us to help him get there. On the other hoof, was this really the best way? Couldn’t he have come up with something less intrusive, even though we hadn’t given him a reason to think we could change for the better one day? And what about Celestia and Luna? One or both of them had to have authorized it; had they too been blinded by the stubbornness of our old ways and the hunger for retribution to the point where they didn’t bother considering the alternatives? Had they actually tried to consider alternatives only to fail to come up with any?

“I, uh, can’t say it’s alright,” I said eventually, “but I understand why you thought you had to do this. Just tell me one thing, and be honest: were any of these drones alive during the… experimenting?”

“No. A few were alive and locked up in prisons when the research started, but they died in their cells and were brought here afterwards. I was so worked up that I wouldn’t have held back from bringing the living ones from prisons if that meant getting results, but Princess Celestia outright forbade it. She and Princess Luna tried to talk some sense into me and didn’t get very far, but I still respected their decision even though I came this close to ignoring it every so often. That limit they set was pretty much the only thing that held me back and now I’m glad for it.”

“That makes no sense strategically,” Pharynx interjected. “You could only gain by trying to force useful information out of prisoners. Not that I’m complaining that you didn’t, but why didn’t you?”

“We had the opportunity to eradicate the changelings several times throughout history, even before my sister’s banishment to the moon,” Celestia said. “But it never felt right. I think I might have known on some level that you could turn good if given a chance.”

“Looks more like a thousand chances.”

“Indeed,” Luna said. “In the end, it was worth it to not give up on you.”

“Was it? What about all those subjects of yours that we captured and killed over the centuries?”

“We mourn their loss, and in the meantime, our defenses did their best to keep you away from as many ponies as possible.”

“I don’t think I would have condoned that approach if I were you.”

“Would you rather that we brought the changeling kind to extinction?”

He clenched his jaw but said nothing. Was he too proud to admit he was glad to be alive thanks to a ‘strategic mistake’?

The silence turned awkward and I attempted to break it. “I appreciate that you told us about this, even if it took a while. Are you still using the bodies for something?”

“We’re not,” Celestia said. “Even if the scientists hadn’t gotten everything they could out of them, the reason to keep them has long expired. We can release them to you whenever you wish to arrange the funerals.”

“Changelings don’t do funerals,” Pharynx remarked.

“We didn’t in the old days,” I corrected him. “Chrysalis probably thought it would waste training time or diminish our loyalty to her or whatever. There’s no reason why we can’t start, and judging by how many drones swarmed the archive a while back looking for relatives only to learn many were dead, I bet at least some of them would appreciate a chance to see them even if it’s just to say goodbye.”

“You do realize doing it once only means you’ll have to keep doing it whenever someling dies, right?”

I shrugged. “That’s the whole point of funerals, isn’t it?”

“Don’t you have enough going on already? And where are we even supposed to hold the funerals?”

“Why is it such a problem to you that a lot is going on in the hive? Noling ever said we all have to do the same thing! Okay, Chrysalis probably did, but she’s not around anymore, so… And the badlands are big enough that allocating part of it for a graveyard shouldn’t be a problem!”

“Except that all the corpses in the ground will attract the maulwurfs!”

“How did we handle that before?”

“We burned the corpses and dumped the ashes wherever.”

“Then we can keep burning them - it’s called cremation, right? - but instead of dumping the ashes wherever, we can do something respectful, say, plant a tree in them. That wouldn’t attract maulwurfs, would it?”

“...no.”

“Figured as much. Princesses, would the bodies fit in a train?”

“We can arrange as many cars as necessary and the ponies to carry them to the train station. The anti-decomposition spells seem to be holding. When would you like it done?”

“Whenever it suits you.”

“Then we’ll get right on it. Shining Armor?”

“I’ll issue a public statement.”

“There’s one more thing,” Twilight interjected. “When Shining told me about this, I remembered something you told me and went to check, and… well, there’s no easy way to say it, and you may have figured it out by now anyway, so… Thorax, Pharynx, your mother is in this room.”

“Don’t you think you’re overdoing it?”

After a couple days’ preparations, the procession of Royal Guards pulling the caskets had made its way through the streets of Canterlot to the train station as the crowd had stood by in revered silence, respectful enough to leave me not hanging too much onto the occasional mixed feelings in the spectators’ auras, unavoidable given the reminder of the horrors unleashed upon the city. Shining’s speech must have calmed the waters to an extent. The hive had already been informed and several propositions for the funeral arrangement had been waiting for us upon return; I’d added my own ideas, and after a long discussion of every detail from respectfulness and symbolism to feasibility and safety, we’d reached something that pretty much everyling agreed on. Putting it to practice had required another week or so of preparations, during which the drones had been saying goodbye to their tragically departed relatives.

Now that the preparations were ready and the funeral day had arrived, Pharynx still had his grievances.

“I’ve told you a million times,” I said to him, “I’m not overdoing it. The whole hive agrees nothing is overdone. Where do you see a problem?”

“It’s insane to see so many adults wail over an unavoidable fact of life.”

“Pharynx, they lost their parents and siblings, some even their children! Of course they’re sad! Wouldn’t you be if I were in one of those caskets?”

“I wouldn’t be making a show of it!”

“But you would be sad, right?”

“So?”

“So they are too, and sharing their pain will help them deal with their loss. Even if it doesn’t work for everyling, there’s no shame in mourning the death of a loved one. After all, we’re changelings; we can tell when someone’s hurting, therefore there’s little sense in trying to hide it.”

He rolled his eyes. “Fine, let’s get it over with.”

We flew south, past the stadium and the freshly-planted gardens, further into the badlands, where rocks had been cleared to make space for what was due to become a graveyard and eventually a memorial forest.

The ground had been empty a couple of days ago; yesterday, a grid of firewood beds had been laid out, far enough apart not to pose a threat of merging into one enormous bonfire. Now, the place was brimming with drones gathered around each casket placed on its respective mound of firewood; in place of their usual colors, the sea of chitin had temporarily turned greyscale as an expression of grief for the ones they’d lost. The only spots of color belonged to the four alicorn princesses, Shining Armor, Spike, Starlight, and other foreign dignitaries, that is, the parts of them that weren’t clad in black, and to the lit torches in the guards’ hooves.

Pharynx and I, greyscale ourselves since before leaving our bedchambers, landed onto the podium set up for us in front of the crowd.

When the last stragglers joined us and the crowd settled, I began my speech, still unsure it would do the occasion justice even after days of preparation.

“My dear changelings and friends from afar, thank you for coming together today in such great numbers. I wish it were for a happy occasion. I wish we could welcome our brethren back home, witness their transformation, and celebrate the beginning of their new lives. Alas, it was not meant to be. The circumstances that lasted for centuries unquestioned and unchallenged had sealed their fate and led to their tragic and untimely demise. Those same circumstances denied us the chance to know our parents and children, some of which we are bidding a final farewell to on this day. But I do not wish to cast blame; I fear it would only deepen the wounds and provide no relief from the pain of loss and the endless what-might-have-beens. I wish we could reflect on the time spent with the ones we lost, but except for those who lost a sibling and the rare few whom life brought into the company of their now-lost parent or child unaware of the bond you shared, we’ve been deprived of the chance to make the memories, and there’s nothing to reflect on. Some of you, I believe, already sought those who might remember your lost relatives - their teammates, for example - and those who haven’t thought of it yet, feel free to do so; I’m sure they wouldn’t mind sharing some stories through which you might get a glimpse of your loved ones. Some of you are still looking; whether your relatives’ remains are forever lost, yet to be found, or somewhere in the nameless caskets, please know that we grieve for your loss just the same as if you had a casket to present. We share this pain, and though we cannot undo the past, I implore you, let this be a warning, both to us and to our allies and former enemies: may we never allow ourselves to return to the hatred that claimed our brethren’s lives; may the future generations not repeat our mistakes.”

As the choir began to hum a mournful melody, Pharynx unraveled a scroll and read out the names and final assignments of each departed drone, waiting between names for the guards to light up the respectful pyre and for Antenna to pass a seed to the drones’ families, until he ended with a familiar name and, after Antenna gave me her seed, called for respect for the unidentified and unidentifiable remains for which he took the last seed.

The fires burned for a long time and the choir hummed their melody until the last embers died down. Then, the team of pegasi on standby in the clouds above us started a drizzle intended to cool the ashes and provide the water for the seeds.

One by one, the families dropped their seeds into the ashes and waited for Proboscis’ workers to cover the mounds with a layer of soil before placing the nameplate markers and silently withdrawing back towards the hive.

When my turn came near the end of the ceremony, I glanced at the acorn in my hoof before planting it into the ashes, wondering how many years I’d have to wait before I could finally sit in the shade of its future tree. Would it grow at all? Antenna had assured me she’d soaked all the seeds in a fertilizer potion, but what if it didn’t work? Would we have to replant the seeds that fail to grow? And how would the families feel about it? Would it be seen as their relative being undeserving of being remembered or leaving a legacy? And would enough of the ashes still be there for the seeds to grant the dead drones their final transformation?

Maybe, maybe not. But even if the ashes merged with the soil and the two became indistinguishable, the matter that formed the ashes would still be there, right? The matter, and the sorrow over the memories we’d never forged.

I let the acorn slip out of my hoof.

Goodbye, mother…

A little away, Pharynx stuck an olive seed into the unidentified drones’ ashes.

Later in the evening, after the foreign guests had left and the hour approached bedtime, I realized I couldn’t find him.

He wasn’t on the military training grounds, not that there’d been any training today for him to check up on, as everyling had been required either at the funeral or for guarding the hive from any intruders that might have attempted to use this opportunity to sneak in.

He wasn’t in the weapons factory, or in his workshop, or in any of the remaining armories.

He wasn’t discussing things with Psycho, Proboscis, or any of his drill instructors. He wasn’t in the throne room. He wasn’t at the train station. He wasn’t air-patrolling the hive’s perimeter. He hadn’t been seen or heard grilling any unsatisfactory or insubordinate soldiers. He hadn’t caught any intruders to imprison or interrogate.

He hadn’t come anywhere near his bedchamber as far as anyling could tell.

I was on the verge of waking Psycho in a fit of panic and asking him to organize a search when a random drone mentioned an unexplained bat flying south earlier in the evening.

There were hardly any bats around here! Maybe…?

Unsure of where I might end up, I decided to check.

I found him in the badlands, in the part that wasn’t yet the memorial grove, standing motionless, staring at one particular nameplate.

“Can’t you ever leave me alone?” he grumbled, never taking his eyes off the ground.

It looks like you need to not be left alone, I almost said, but knowing he’d only shut himself off under the first hint of an onslaught of comments and questions, I simply stood next to him, only paying him a glance as I mirrored his posture, hoping he’d fill the silence but knowing that no force in the world could make share his thoughts and feelings, no matter how stiflingly dark his aura became under their mercy.

He needed an outlet, I knew. With an aura as tempestuously dark as I’d ever seen it, he needed one desperately, but there was no promise it would come in my presence.

“I should have sent someling else,” he said after an eon of silence. “I could have done it. I could have invented a reason why she couldn’t or shouldn’t go, why someling else would be a better choice, or why she’d be more useful guarding the hive while the rest of you rampaged over there… but I wanted to be an exemplary commander. I knew Chrysalis knew I could see the blood bond listed in her record, and I knew I was supposed to ignore it… I knew she’d know why I’d done it had I changed her assignment and I’d probably have gotten punished… Maybe it was deliberate and she was just testing me, I don’t know. I thought it wouldn’t matter. I thought I was doing the right thing, and I thought Canterlot would fall, I never even considered the possibility of our defeat… and now it’s too late.” He turned to face me, and for the first time in our lives, moonlight reflected in the tears that welled up in his eyes and streamed down his face. “I made a mistake, Thorax. I made a mistake and now she’s dead… now you’ll never know your mother and she’ll never know you… she’ll never know one of her eggs hatched into a king… she never got the chance to witness everything you did and be proud of how much you mean to the hive… and it’s all my fault…”

He had by now collapsed into my hooves and I held him as he sobbed his heart out. “It’s alright, Pharynx… you couldn’t have known… and if it hadn’t been her, it would have been someling else…”

“You don’t know that… maybe the ‘someling else’ would have done something differently and stayed alive…”

“Or maybe they would have killed somepony, which is no better than what happened.”

“That’s not helping.”

“But let’s assume you had reassigned mom to hive duty and deployed someling else to Canterlot, and that her replacement died. After everything that happened, could you look that soldier’s family in the eye and tell them you’re the reason their father or whoever is dead and why?”

He pulled out of the hug only enough to glare at me.

“It wasn’t your fault, Pharynx; you were following orders. Yes, I’m sad that I’ll never know her, but I’m just as sad for every drone we cremated today. I didn’t want to taint that speech at the ceremony, but their blood lies on someling else’s hooves, not yours. You know who ordered that invasion and every other, you know who designed the system to be the way it was, and you know who would have punished you for disobeying that system.”

“Are you… holding a grudge?”

“I try not to, and part of me is still hoping she’ll come around, but there’s no denying of what she did. That’s, in a way, why we need all this.” I gestured at the graves around us. “A reminder of the past, lest we repeat it.”

He smiled bitterly. “That crown seems to be growing on you, you know that?”

I smiled back. “Come on. Let’s go back to the hive.”