The Elder Scrolls: Equestria

by Marik_Azemus

Rating: mature
Tags: Princess Celestia, Crossover, Princess Luna, Gore, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Other, Romance, Adventure, Sex
Length: 530324

A young blacksmith is wanted for a crime he didn't commit. As he and his friends set out to clear his name, they must brave the horrors of medieval Equestria, and uncover the vicious truth behind the onslaught of the dragons.

A young blacksmith wakes up in an Imperial cell, arrested for a crime he didn't commit. Along with a sharp-witted pegasus and a wise mage, he must brave the horrors of medieval Equestria, and uncover the vicious truth behind the onslaught of the dragons.

This may be based on Skyrim, but it is not the same story. The narrative switches between third person and first person points of view as the situation demands.

Published 2012-09-28 19:24:01 UTC
Last updated 2017-02-17 20:54:46 UTC

II - Songs from Stripes

“It's an end to the evil of all this land’s foes,
beware, beware, the Dragonborn comes!
For the darkness has passed and the legend yet grows,
you'll know, you'll know, the Dragonborn's come!”

There is no applause.

CHAPTER II - SONGS FROM STRIPES

The pathway weaves back and forth through the land’s gradual descent into a river, bordered by deciduous trees, whose leaves collectively descend into the rapids. The moist air from the river mixed with the chill of autumn makes Caro, who is still completely without covering aside from a few bandages, begin to shiver. Several times he refuses the help of Tohro, who offers to purchase him a fur cloak from a gruff traveling vendor. “I told you before, I prefer to go without clothing.”

The vendor taps his left forehoof in impatience. “Will that be all, or may I go about my business?”

“Well, actually, do you have any food?”

“Mmm, just sold my last stock to a zebra.”

Caro has never seen a zebra before. He is intrigued, though also disappointed that he will go hungry for a while longer. “Shame,” he says.

“Yeah, that zebra was a sly little mongrel. Wouldn’t have sold him the stuff if he hadn’t waved a sizable sack a’ bits in my face.”

“We all have to make sacrifices these days,” says Tohro, “even if it means doing business with outsiders.”

“Here’s hoping the Blackwings drive ‘em all out.”

With a salute, the merchant adjusts his large pack of goods and merchandise, clears his throat and swaggers away. Tohro waves enthusiastically. “He was nice!”

Caro is a little thrown off by how quick his companion and the merchant are to pass off a zebra as a ‘mongrel.’ He shakes his head in disapproval.

The river dips into a waterfall and the dirt road forks into a stone stairway to the right and a bridge on the left. “The bar I was talking about is in Ivarstable,” says Tohro. “It’s a quiet settlement away from the bustle of any city.” He points to the wooded area just past the bridge. “We Blackwings also have a camp there.”

Wonderful, Caro thinks.

For a settlement that is host to the Blackwings, Caro finds Ivarstable rather inviting, or maybe that is only in comparison to the dungeons and caverns that he had spent the last few days trotting about in with no sense of coordination. Even so, it is a pleasant sight. Colts and fillies are laughing and chasing each other up and down the single winding street surrounded by two story houses and small farmlands, where earthwalkers and unicorns are going about their business harvesting the daily crops. This is all illuminated by the sun as it peeks through a break in the large cluster of trees and vegetation.

Outside the farmlands there are clusters of empty campfires and tents adorned with lightning bolt crests, blue fabric and animal pelts. Caro assumes those to be the temporary homes of Blackwing soldiers. No barracks for rebels, he thinks.

Many Blackwing soldiers salute Tohro as they exit their tents. "Orders, sir?" asks a scrawny one with a claymore slung across his back.

"Nothing to report. I'm just here for leisure. At ease."

The scrawny fellow relaxes and lays down in the grass, looking relieved.

"Though..." Tohro says, "I am pleased to report that the assault on Gallopagos Keep was a success."

Another soldier approaches from behind. He speaks to Tohro as well, seemingly ignoring Caro's existence. "Did you find what you were looking for? Actually, for that matter, what were you looking for?"

"Our objective and whether or not we succeeded is classified." Tohro hesitates for a moment. "That's what Shokenda would say. Truth be told, I don't know, but if Shokenda is right, whatever we found could win us this war."

He looks to Caro, as if he's expecting some dramatic speech. Instead, all the earthwalker says is, "Uh, where's the tavern?"

Then there is laughter.

“The Broken Horn. Finest mead and produce in the southwest, and the barwenches, well, they’re not too shabby themselves.”

The bar is in better condition than the name suggests, but that isn’t much of a redeeming factor, given the chipped glasses, splintered tables and broken windows. The ponies drinking themselves into oblivion don’t seem to notice, the way they continually speak of their personal lives.

“I tell ya, once I get my payment, I’ll finally be able to propose to..."

“...my glass. It’s empty. Somepony fix that, now, please! Before...”

“...I kill that merchant! He sold me a faulty axe. Look, it’s snapped at the...”

Caro tunes them out and keeps to himself, moving quickly to the counter.

“What’ll it be, you two?” asks a unicorn bartender with an eyepatch and numerous facial scars.

Tohro takes a seat at one of two unoccupied barstools. “Heya, Jarvis. The usual for me. What do you want, Caro?”

“Um... whatever you’re having. Could I get some bread?”

“And make it quick. He’s quite literally starving.”

The bartender Jarvis grunts and ducks below the counter.

Caro continues to search the bar. He can’t help but feel paranoid in a place filled to the brim with so many Blackwings. According to a sign propped up at the windowsill, they all eat and drink for free in this place. No wonder it’s so crowded.

The constant droning of indistinguishable drunken conversations amongst the ponies ceases. Most of them turn their heads as a single figure steps onto the stage in the far corner, and removes his hood.

A zebra.

“Good day, fellow equines of the bar,” he says in a distinctive deep Saddle Arabian accent, “I have come so very far, to bring my music to your ears. Simply sit back, and let flight take to your worries and fears.”

There is stifled laughter amongst the drinkers. The zebra reaches into his large saddlebag to behold a lute. He sets it upon the floor, clears his throat, and begins strumming a slow tune.

“Our hero, our hero, claims a warrior's heart,
I tell you, I tell you, the Dragonborn comes...”

Caro knows this song. When he was only a foal, his master used to sing this for him as he worked the furnace. It used to make him feel so confident in himself.

“...with a voice wielding power of the ancient art,
believe, believe, the Dragonborn comes!”

For the longest time, he had wondered what the Dragonborn would be like if they were real. How they would appear, their powers... could they really summon fire, lightning and wind with only their voice?

“It's an end to the evil of all this land’s foes,
beware, beware, the Dragonborn comes!
For the darkness has passed and the legend yet grows,
you'll know, you'll know, the Dragonborn's come!”

There is no applause, except from his own hooves, which falters at the glares from the drinkers. The zebra clears his throat again. “This tavern contains a tough crowd. Should I sing a bit more loud?”

He has to duck and weave from the tomatoes and sweet rolls thrown at him in rapid succession. The jeering and hissing comes at an even faster rate.

“Get off the stage! Bring on the saucy singing barmaids!”

The zebra nonchalantly steps over to the counter, paying no mind to the red tomato sauce dripping from his otherwise clean white mane.

“Hello!” he says rather cheerfully to Jarvis. “Do you serve iced tea? If so, please pass one to me.”

Jarvis snickers. “Oh, we serve iced tea.”

The zebra eagerly awaits his order, but it does not arrive. “Um, what’s the matter? Has all the iced tea gone a-splatter?”

“We serve iced tea, in fact, I’ve got three bottles in magic ice right here at my hooves. We just don’t serve it to your kind.”

“How foul of you- you- um...”

“Can’t put a rhyme together, stripes? Here, I’ll make you one: Take your fairy tale mumbo-jumbo elsewhere, or I might have to skin you bare.”

Jarvis’ joke brings laughter to everypony at the counter, except for Caro. He looks to the offended zebra, who seems prepared to retreat into his hooded leather jacket and gallop as far as equinely possible from the tavern. He takes sympathy and passes the poor fellow his chipped glass of mead, which has otherwise gone untouched.

The zebra is surprised, confused, and simultaneously amused. He shows his thanks by raising the glass and draining half of it in a matter of seconds. He slams it down dramatically, causing Jarvis to stop and stare.

“You don’t serve his kind,” says Caro, “but that doesn’t mean he can’t drink.”

The bartender decides to avoid any argument and returns to his business.

The zebra continues to drink, and he speaks between sips, smiling away. “My thanks goes to you. To me, your kindness is new.”

“I’m not a Blackwing, and you could have picked a better bar.”

The zebra shrugs. “That might be a fact, but the ponies here don’t react-” he pauses as he takes another drink “-as badly to my skin as the Empiricals of your kin.”

Caro rolls his eyes. “That only barely rhymed while making sense. Must you always do that, or is it just a pretense?”

The zebra beams and gives Caro a hoof to the shoulder. “You learn quickly, that the tongue can be faster than the sword-”

Caro cuts him off. “But that does not mean that the rhyming’s untoward. Have you thought that perhaps, your kind is so hated, not for those stripes, but the rhymes so out-dated? Or maybe it’s because you sing better than them. Maybe that is why they throw at you their phlegm.” Caro smiles triumphantly as the zebra drums his hooves on the counter in applause.

“Ah yes, best me you have; grow great will your fame. Xephyr’s what I call myself, may I ask you your name?”

Caro extends his hoof in greeting, satisfied that he has found an unfamiliar yet friendly face. “My name is Caro, and don’t ask what I’m doing here, because, well, I don’t know.”

Xephyr takes Caro’s hoof and gives it a firm shake. “A loose cannon. Walking about, forsaking any plannin’?”

“Indeed. I’m traveling with somepony, and he’s been... helpful... but he’s far from good company. He’s, ah...”

Caro turns around and sees Tohro is no longer occupying the adjacent bar stool. Instead, he’s conversing with twin unicorn mares at another table, and they’re chortling at his story. It apparently involves a lot of action and suspense, the way he moves his hooves so dramatically.

“He’s inept.”

“No,” says Xephyr, “he’s just having fun, and he’s not the only one. These ponies with their friends chug on their mead, and in this life, it’s all they need.”

“Most of these ponies have blood to their name, and would gladly see your head on a pike.”

“They are misguided, but even still, I hardly bear them any ill will.” One last gulp and Xephyr’s drink is all but gone. He slams the glass on the counter triumphantly. “If you’ll excuse me, I must depart, for I must continue to spread my sacred art.”

“As target practice?”

The zebra laughs, and then sings, “The liiiife of a baaaard is fiiiiiilled with song, for Ingramm and Aramis will never steer me wroooooong! I’m sure somepony out there will pay to hear, and that thought is what gets me past the jeers. Soon I will be wealthy enough to return to Saddle Arabia, so I may leave Equestria... um...”

“...a land so angry-a?”

Xephyr snorts. “That wasn’t bad.” With a bow, Xephyr trots to the door. “If we cross paths again, I will be glad.”

“Tohro,” Caro calls out as the door swings shut behind his new found acquaintance.

The flirty pegasus stops with his flamboyant reenactments of fictional adventures and turns away from the twin mares. “Hey there, mate. I was just talking about you.”

I find that hard to believe, Caro thinks.

“These fine girls are Sugar and Spice, and they’re made of everything nice.”

“I really don’t care. I’ve got to talk to you about something.” He raises an eyebrow at the mares. “In private.”

Tohro looks back and forth between the mares and Caro, groans, and puts up his wing. “You know,” he whispers, “I was thinking that at least one of those girls would be willing to have some fun. Spice seems to like bad colts, and you’re a wanted felon. It’s a dead lock!”

“I have more important matters on my mind than sex.”

“I don’t believe that’s possible, but humor me if you’re such a prude.”

When Xephyr had mentioned returning to Saddle Arabia, he seemed so homesick and longing, and Caro understands. “I know we have a bit on our plate, but I want to return home, to Riverhoof. It feels like ages since I’ve been there, I...” His voice trails off as he reminisces of the place he grew up. They may have not been happy memories, constantly breaking his back in the name of weapon crafting, but they are all he has to remember Riverhoof by.

“Caro? You were saying?”

“Y-Yes, sorry, lost my train of thought. But nonetheless, I’d like to visit my home, just for a short while. Eventually.” Caro keeps his voice firm despite the sentimentality causing tears to well up in his eyes. He blinks them away.

“But why would you want to go there? Riverhoof is just a coastal villa, a rest stop for travelers at best. Come now, we have two perfectly slim and trim mares over here, ripe and ready for the picking...” Tohro said, flashing a grin and motioning to Sugar and Spice.

“Are you deaf? I said I don’t care. I want to go home. I’d like to get away from the drudge of this bar for a little time to relax, as opposed to all this running and hiding from authorities.”

“But why not rest here, fill your belly with mead, and ‘relax’ with Spice here? I’m sure she’d be more than happy to make you feel ‘welcome here’.”

“I told you, I have more on my mind other than sex.”

“Are you afraid of the opposite gender, hmmm?” asks Tohro. “Are you intimidated? Or have you never been with a mare?”

Caro is ready to break a wing if the accursed pegasus refers to Sugar and Spice ever again. Tohro, seeing the expression on his face, drops the subject and puts his hooves up in defense.

“Hey, sorry mate, I was only trying to find you a little bit of joy, however fleeting it is. We need that sort of thing in this crazy bullshit world we live in right now.”

Caro furrows his brow. “Fleeting is an appropriate word.”

“How do you mean?” asks Tohro, peeking over his wing.

Sugar and Spice had trotted to the next table over and were chatting it up with a much more rugged and burly Blackwing earthwalker.

“Ugh, I can’t believe it!” says Tohro in a loud whisper. “Good call, Caro. Those Baltimare whores may look like sweet pickings but trust me, the morning after is paaaainful.”

“Only paid escorts would find you charming.”

“Why, thank you! Come on, I’d say your food is ready by now.”

III - The Academic

“Right then, I think it’s for the best that we hone your warding abilities. Split up into teams of two and take turns blocking non-elemental projectiles. No potentially lethal spells! I cannot stress that enough.”

“Headmaster! You’re not going to believe this!”

CHAPTER III - THE ACADEMIC

“Shae! Hey, Shae! Wake up!”

It takes a moment for her senses to return after a long weekend’s rest. Shae Sparkle pulls the blankets over her head in an attempt to block out Sundance’s shrill voice.

Despite the warmth of her four poster bed, she shivers. No matter how tightly locked the windows are or how much the ponies of Wintercolt Academy bundle up, the frigid climate of Mount Everfree is merciless. She takes solace in the comfort of her dormitory, her eyes treated to purple and magenta tapestry coating the walls, many pillows laying about each corner. Another bed sits across from Shae's, covered in many stuffed animals..

Eventually, her struggle against Sundance and the cold proves meaningless, and Shae sits up. “Up and at ‘em!” shouts Sundance for the twenty-second time. Shae had counted.

“What brings you so... so much excitement?” she asks through a long yawn.

Sundance's wide eyes blink, her youthful face contorted in confusion. “The new term starts today, silly. Don’t you remember?”

“That’s right...” Shae groans and falls back onto her pillows. “No offense to the headmaster, but I think I’ll just play hooky on this one. The first day of class is merely review. It’s all far below my abilities.”

She feels Sundance slither onto the bed and shake her in protest. “Come ooooon. I don’t wanna go alone.”

Brushing Sundance’s green mane out of her face, Shae rolls over to the other side of the bed. “Bugger off.”

“Hmm..." Shae hears Sundance pace around her bed, humming to herself. After a few minutes of relatively quiet bliss pass, the upbeat unicorn returns. "Say, if you’re gonna just lie in bed all day, might I join you?”

Shae is about to answer with a firm negative, but she isn't able to open her mouth before Sundance slides beneath the covers, pressing into her back and she snuggling in close. “Mmm... Ooh, it’s much better like this... We should sleep together for warmth.” Shae, while definitely enjoying the heat generated by adding another body to the equation, cannot shake off the icicle of discomfort, her mind immediately jumping to a foul conclusion at the sound of that invitation.

She can’t take it. Her body is suddenly growing hot. Too hot. “Oookay, no thanks. I'm going to prepare for class now.” She levitates the covers off of her and Sundance. She grabs her spectacles from the nightstand as she gets out of bed, walking to her dresser and mirror.

“You’re no fun,” says Sundance. She looks disappointed, but she quickly comes back to abnormally upbeat smile.

“Your idea of fun and mine are worlds apart, dear,” Shae replies. She looks at her reflection in the tall mirror as she brushes and grooms her silken purple coat, which heavily contrasts with her mussed up black and white streaked mane. She fixes that immediately, and gets a good look at her mark. A collection of red stars, showing her aptitude for all things magical, particularly astronomy.

Another unicorn with a yellow coat and a mark of a smiling filly enters the mirror. “Here’s an idea! We can wear matching outfits.”

“Sundance...”

“Well, I'm finally taking your classes this term. It could be fun.”

Shae tunes her out again. She opens up her dresser and slips on her black underclothes, followed by her red overcoat. She pulls the hood over for extra warmth. She flourishes herself in the mirror, rather impressed with her own appearance, before a grumble passes through her stomach. “Ah. If I am attending today's lesson, then I must have ample sustenance.”

The marble halls of Wintercolt Academy give the place of learning a sense of stillness and stability. Despite every student being well aware of the conflict between the Empire and the Blackwing rebels, the Academy proves to be a safe haven for all of them. Pound after pound of snow builds on the fringes of the ornately decorated windows, as it has been for weeks. It’s impossible to see anything beyond the glass. Shae hardly has time to enjoy the view (Or lack thereof) as she makes a mad dash for the dining hall. Up the marble stairs, a long stretch down the hallway...

“Good morning, Shae.”

“Good morning.”

That brief conversation is repeated many times between Shae and her fellow students. Everypony who knows Shae also knows that she'd rather avoid pausing for anything other than the task at hoof, which, at this time, was breakfast.

Sundance, on the other hoof, is as willing as ever to stop and chat for at a moment's notice. “Heya, Eavesdrop! How’s that new all-chemo-whatsits coming along?”

“You mean my alchemical heat and restoration potion for curing hypothermia?” replies Eavesdrop. She's a quiet one, hiding her cleverness, as well as her face, beneath a large hood.

“Yeah, the timberwolf juice!” Sundance says with a little jump.

Eavesdrop sighs at such terminology. “It’s going pretty well actually, except I can’t seem to find a catalyst for it. Every time one of my test subjects ingested the salve, they turned orange. Mable over there has only just begun to recover,” he says, indicating the still very sickly and miscolored unicorn trotting along the halls. "Some extracurricular project, huh?"

“Oh, I was wondering why she wasn’t looking very pink this week! She’s been looking pretty blue, actually, which is funny seeing as how she was orange, and-" She spotted another friend of hers. "Hey! Hey, Moonwalker! Heeeyy!!! How’s the lute, you galoot?”

In the midst of all this meet and greet, Shae finds a way to lose Sundance by ducking around a corner and taking the downward stairs into the dining hall, where a few of the one hundred and sixteen students of the academy are enjoying warm food and beverages before a day chock full of magical education. Four long tables are lined up side by side with the kitchen in the back. A chandelier embellished with luminous gemstones hangs from the ceiling.

Shae sits down beside a blue colt, Lancer, who is nose deep in celery soup. “I thought I told you to eat slower,” she says. “We’re unicorns, the most eloquent and proper kind of pony, not bears. Set a better example.”

Lancer looks up, ignorant of the bits of celery on his cheeks. “It’s too good to waste. I don’t want it to get cold.”

Shae groans. “We’ve been over this. Eating too fast isn’t good for the digestive system-”

“-which can impede my magical abilities. I get it, Shae.” He levitates a spoon to his side. “And, um, thank you.”

Shae retrieves her book of advanced offensive magic from her pouch and turns to an indiscriminate page. Lancer, peeking over her shoulder, chuckles. “An overachiever as always, aren’t you? You know we haven’t covered any of that yet.”

“Yes, but I have. Quite a few times, in fact! Most of these spells are ones I’ve already learned, so this semester will be as droll as the last one.” Shae sighs. “I need to do something exciting, something new. There haven’t been any new or interesting spells created since Clover the Clever was the headmaster of this Academy.” She groans as she smacks her face into the table lightly. “I.” Thunk. “Am.” Thunk. “Bored!” With a final thunk, she sighs again, and levitates a plate of buttered biscuits her way. “Oh sweet treat of fluffy wheat, you are the only one who understands me, and now you must die.”

"You and your obsession with death..." As Shae chews through her breakfast, Lancer continues to scan through her spellbook. “You know,” he says, “if you’re really so bored, you could do something else. Apply to be a professor, perhaps?”

Shae swallows her bite. “I tried that already, weeks ago. And months before that. I still must wait a few years before I’m eligible.”

“I’m sure Headmaster Frosthelm would be willing to make an exception. Somepony of your talents would make an excellent teacher. I mean, I’d take lessons from you.”

“I really appreciate the thought, dear, but the headmaster isn't the kind to show favoritism. Not even towards me,” Shae says as she takes a bite of her second biscuit. “I mean, everypony knows I’m his star pupil, but to make an exception in age limitations may be a step too far. What if the other students get jealous? What if Clover the Clever doesn't approve? I mean, I don't count on the likelihood that she'll come back here anytime soon, but...”

Lancer closes the book and passes it back to Shae. “You know what you need if you’re so bored?”

She knows exactly what he is going to say when she sees the blush on his face, and she prevents him from saying any more words by levitating a fork in front of him. “Don’t even think about it. Perish the thought.”

“I just-”

“Lancer, you know I love you, but I am a top student with clean hooves and a clean mind, and I intend to keep it that way. The future of the Academy does not rest on me getting-”

“Attention, students...” interrupts the soft voice of Headmaster Frosthelm. His words are magically projected across every room in the Academy and its grounds, not that anypony is outside in the sadistically frigid snow. “Period one will begin in precisely five minutes and thirty seven seconds. Do make an effort to attend your class as punctually as equinely possible. Have a fantastic day.”

Several more books slam shut and the shuffling of hooves echoes from the halls. Shae sets the plate of biscuits aside and sets off on her way. “I’ll see you for lunch, Lancer.”

Headmaster Frosthelm holds his classes on the second floor of the central tower. It’s a circular room bordered with pillars. The center platform has engraved upon it the six pointed star that the Academy had adopted as its symbol. The resemblance to Shae's family crest is not lost on her.

On most days, the wall sized windows present a breathtaking view of Equestria’s open fields, but the snow doesn’t allow for that luxury on this day. As twelve unicorns gather around the center platform, Headmaster Frosthelm closes the curtains and hides the blizzard from sight. The headmaster wears a blue fur-lined cloak and a tiara upon his head (He claims it’s enchanted to drive away malevolent spirits). His coat is a glacial blue, his mane is white like snow, befitting his name, and he has the longest and sharpest horn of anypony in the Academy. “Good morning and welcome, children. Did you have pleasant dreams?” Nopony responds on account of it being an odd question or being too tired to speak at all.

Shae joins the group of twelve and squeezes in next to Eavesdrop. To her dismay, Sundance joins her as well. Her specialties are enhancement magic and making Shae vow to someday abolish randomized roommate selection in the school.

“Well,” continues the headmaster, “it is nice to know you are all so enthusiastic about the new term. To my returning students, do not worry yourselves if you haven’t been practicing over the winter holidays. We will spend the next few days reviewing basic spell practice for our rising stars.”

As I predicted, thinks Shae. She looks over to Sundance, who is wide eyed and curious about what wonders she will learn to perform. Basic offensive and defensive spells. She can handle those well enough.

The headmaster steps off of the center platform and quite literally glides past the students. “Right then, I think it’s for the best that we hone your warding abilities. Split up into teams of two and take turns blocking non-elemental projectiles.”

Shae is only able to manage a single step before Sundance has her by the foreleg. She drags her to the west side of the room, next to one of the pillars.

“No potentially lethal spells! I cannot stress that enough,” says the headmaster. “Now then, for those of you on the receiving end, I want you to imagine a shield of sorts, protecting you against anything mildly harmful. For your safety, do not try to conjure anything much larger than a dinner plate. I do not want any of my students fainting on their first day.”

“As if I have not perfected this already,” Shae mutters to herself. “Okay, Sundance. I want you to cast a tier three non-elemental projectile. That’s one of the more difficult attacks to shield against.”

Sundance beams, bouncing in place as she waits for the headmaster’s signal.

“... and absolutely no fire spells, especially after what happened when Fire Water was here; flooding the academy grounds will not be tolerated.” He speaks with a smile. His students know that while it is not a good idea to do something stupid, the worst you might get is a slap on the leg.

“Okay, magus and mages, prepare your spells...” When everypony’s horn is alit with pulsing magic, the Headmaster strikes a forehoof against the marble floor. “Begin.”

Shae’s shield comes up immediately, barely stopping Sundance’s attack. The shield winks out of existence before coming right back up in a blink of an eye at her flanks, blocking a stray lightning bolt.

"Sorry about that, Shae!" shouts a dark coated colt from across the room.

"No harm done, Atmos." Headmaster Frosthelm nods. “You have good form, Shae. That is a good lesson for you as a class to learn. You must always remember that mages and other unicorns can attack from any direction, and that's not including the dangers pegasi and the sneakier earthwalkers pose. Now, again, and this time-”

“Headmaster! You’re not going to believe this!”

Shae looks up. She recognizes the colt who barges in through the double doors, but can’t quite remember his name.

“Ah, and what will I not believe?” the Headmaster asks with a sense of amusement.

“An earthwalker is braving the mountain’s wrath, sir. My teacher told me to find you; she went with a few of the others to see if he needs help, or if he’s a rebel.”

“The Blackwings have no reason to come here,” says the Headmaster. “On the off chance that this visitor happens to be one, I can... politely ask him to leave.” He chuckles, albeit somewhat menacingly. He approaches the door. “Everypony is to continue practicing until I return, and do not try anything out of the ordinary. If you do, I shall know.”

Right away, most of the students just gather around in small groups and begin talking.

“Do you think it’s a rebel?”

“It’s probably a missionary of Dragos. They keep denying that worshipping her is forbidden.”

“Maybe it’s my mother with my birthday present!”

“Tiny, your mom’s a pegasus.”

“Oh yeah...”

Shae notices that Eavesdrop is the only one who doesn’t want to rely on rumors and speculation. She casts a cloaking spell and disappears from sight, causing Shae to smirk. Looks like our favorite sneak is out to collect more gossip. Casting her own cloaking spell, Shae takes off after Eavesdrop and the headmaster.

The entrance hall is filled with benches and cushions for visitors. Stairs on the northeastern and northwestern corners lead to the rest of school, and between them stands a statue of Fauste, the goddess of magic and alchemy.

Shae follows the sound of Eavesdrop’s hoofsteps down the northeastern flight of stairs, her own movement made silent thanks to her more advanced stealth spells.

The headmaster stands in the western part of the entrance hall, next to a burly black earthwalker in fur and steel armor. He’s in the middle of asking a question as Shae gets within earshot. “...all this way simply to deliver a message?” he asks.

“Yes, sir,” says the earthwalker as he lies down on a red cushion. The floor is made wet by the melting snow upon his coat. “You may call me Wolf River. I am of the Carrier Clan.”

“I thought the Carriers to be merely a group of noble warriors, yet you come here in the service of Queen Platinum?”

“Yes, sir. She's temporarily hired the Carriers as messengers, as she'd rather not risk any interception on the part of the Blackwings."

“Ah, that is understandable."

The one “Such is the way of the twilight age. There is nopony you can wholly trust.”

“I assure you, I can be trusted,” says the headmaster. “So, about this message?”

“Actually, I was the one Carrier who offered to deliver the message here. The others were less than willing to traverse such harsh weather, and I thought it a good way to make up for... previous mistakes. Anyway, I must give it by voice, for letters can be stolen.”

“My ears are prepared. Say what you need to.”

Wolf River stands up, clears his throat and speaks. “The coastal town of Reinoc has been decimated by a lone earthwalker with no affiliation to any known clique or guild. He goes by the name of Caro. He is turquoise with with a long grey mane and he has no mark. His town of origin is unknown. All that is confirmed is that he carries a murder count in the upper forties.”

“Surely he has been brought to justice?” asks the Headmaster as his look of alarm grows stronger.

“He escaped Gallopagos Keep three days after his arrest, due to an ambush by the Blackwings. His current location is unknown and there are no leads as to where he’s going.”

“Why is this relevant to us?”

“He flattened a whole market street and inflicted incalculable damage unto many other buildings. It seems only right that the whole kingdom needs to know how dangerous Caro is. Hell, I'd wager even Shokenda Blackwing deserves to know, if only for the people of Fillydelphia.”

Headmaster Frosthelm strokes his beard, nodding slowly. “I see, I see... I assure you, if we learn anything of this Caro's whereabouts, we will inform the Queen immediately. Come along then, you have traveled far. You deserve a hot meal.”

Wolf River’s grim expression turns to relief. He eagerly follows the Headmaster. “My deepest thanks to you, good... Hey!”

He stumbles as if he's bumped into something. It only takes a second for the Headmaster to deduce what. “Eavesdrop, putting your abilities to practice is encouraged, but there is a time and a place for that. This is not either. Come out.”

Eavesdrop’s invisibility spell drops and she comes into view, still crouching. She wears a look of shame. “I will return to class, sir.” She bows and sadly shuffles up the northeastern stairs, deliberately avoiding Shae, who she winks to.

Shae finds her cunning amusing. Hm, she’s far better than she lets on.

Letting her cloaking and silencing spells dwindle as she gallops through the marble hallways, Shae begins to think about what she heard.

A lone earthwalker brings a whole town to rubble before he’s arrested? I fail to see the logic here! Even if a pony so strong existed, I doubt he would just lie down for a few town guards to put him in chains. There is something missing from all this. She thinks up many possible alternate explanations for all this hysteria as she makes for her dormitory but settles on none.

She closes the door and slides the deadbolt in place to ensure she won’t be interrupted. Her alchemy station lies on the desk nearest to her bed. While examining the bowl, grinders and mixers used to mix herbs and stray objects into useful and amusing potions, she gets an absolutely insane yet brilliant idea.

I wonder...

She lays down several ounces of blisterwort and wheat. She digs around in her alchemy set, looking for... “Aha!” Pulling out a small amount of crushed ruby, she stews it in with the other ingredients until the mix turns red and simmers. It’s enough healing potion for three flasks, which is all she has on hoof. She then packs every spell book she owns into her bag of holding, which has been enchanted to hold many more objects than it conventionally should; roughly three hundred pounds can fit in it before the spell wears off.

Perhaps it’s not a matter of whether or not this idea is crazy, but that the mystery surrounding this earthwalker named Caro fascinates Shae so much that she’s willing to pack the necessary supplies for a journey to Reinoc where she can look further into this. Perhaps there is nothing more to this story than the Carrier claims, but...

There’s a knock at the door. “Shae? Are you in there? The door’s not working!”

“Sorry about that, Sundance.” Shae undoes the deadbolt and lets the door slide open.

“You up and disappeeeeared,” Sundance whines, her lower lip trembling as she dances in place.

Shae continues packing anything she feels could be useful. Potion ingredients, pillows, soap... “I’m aware,” she says. “What are you doing out of class so early?”

“Headmaster Frosthelm waltzed in all grim and serious looking and said," Sundance puts on a faux old man's voice. "‘Class is dismissed for the morning, we will resume after the lunch break,’" She returns to her regular voice. "So I’m standing there wondering, what the hay could be so important that... “

Shae lets Sundance continue speaking, but pays no heed to her words. She is just being herself, once again.

“...and after all that, Eavesdrop and I were talking about that new book, Ultra Naturies! Or something, I don’t remember, I just wanted to know where you were, but she didn’t know-”

Shae places a hoof to Sundance’s muzzle, silencing her. “I’m sorry. I’d love to hear the rest, but I have to go, and no, before you ask, I can’t take you with me.” Shae levitates her saddlebags onto her back and then lifts up a smaller saddlebag; her school pouch. “I’ve finished all the written assignments for the next few months already. It was easy thanks to the break we had, so I’ll be turning these in to the Headmaster before heading out. I’m taking an... extracurricular activity.”

Sundance seems to lose the sparkle in her eye even as Shae pulls her hoof away. "When will you be back?"

Shae seeks for a definite answer, but without knowledge of how far away Reinoc even is, she's unable to give much beyond a shake of her head. "I don't know..." She looks back up at her dear friend. “Sundance...”

“Yes, Shae?”

“You’re my friend, right?”

Sundance rears up, eyes wide as if she’d been slapped. “Of course I’m your friend! I... I love you, you know? I love you like a sister.”

"And I'm happy for that." Shae smiles, nodding as she pulls her hood over her head. “Please, make sure all our other friends are happy as well. I’m leaving the protection of the academy’s happiness in your hooves, and there’s not a pony alive with hooves more capable than yours.”

Sundance puffs up her chest as she swells with pride. She loses her breath in a gasp as Shae’s lips press against her cheek.

“Good luck, Sunny.”

“Y-yeah,” Sundance says with a giggle. “You too.”

“You’re leaving, you say?”

Shae had intended to cross the grounds to the front building to speak to the Headmaster, but they crossed paths by the central fountain. Its normally everflowing sparkling water is frozen solid and coated in snow, along with everything else. The only relief is that the blizzard has ended and the skies above the towers of Wintercolt Academy have begun to clear.

“Yes, Headmaster Frosthelm,” says Shae. “I wish to depart on an extracurricular assignment. All students are supposed to finish one before their stay at school is finished, and I have not started mine yet.”

“I’m well aware,” The Headmaster grunts, nodding as he looks over another page from Shae’s homework. It is perfect, as per usual, and even has suggestions on how to lower the magical cost for the spells studied, and alternative ingredients for alchemical concoctions. “I find it curious that you chose today of all days to go.”

Shae opens her mouth but Frosthelm cuts her off.

“Not only is the pass going to be buried soon for another six months, but today was also the day we had a peculiar visitor... of course, you already know about that.”

Shae winces, expecting harsh words. “How did you know?”

The Headmaster laughs loudly. “My dear, why do you think Headmaster Clover gave me this position?”

“Beeeecause you were her confidant?”

“Yes, and not only that, but because I was one of the finest mages under Starswirl the Bearded's tutelage, second only to her. Why, ever since I took her place, I’ve become powerful enough to rival Starswirl.” Frosthelm’s eyes twinkle as he smiles thinly. “What makes you think I did not see you hiding upon that flight of stairs?”

Shae’s blood turns to ice water as she realizes that she’s been found out. “I... I’m sorry, I’ll report to the suspension hall immediately...”

“Now, now, I’ll have none of that, my dear.”

Instead of giving Shae relief, the statement deflates her even further. It takes her a moment to respond. “... Oh. I... I understand. Don’t worry; n-no need to fill out the paperwork, I’ll just... j-just resign, and-”

“Shae. Look at me.”

She looks up, her eyes wet with tears she is trying her hardest to hold back.

“Shae... I will not banish a student of mine for wanting to better understand something.” He chuckles, though it gives Shae no small measure of relief. “Curiosity is not a sin, after all, nor is it illegal. The only act you are guilty of is listening in on a message not meant for you, but I was planning on telling everypony soon, anyway. I wanted to send a small group, maybe only one or two, to go and investigate this atrocity. I guess I won’t have to now, though." He waves his hoof towards the bridge. "Start on your way then. You have my permission.”

Shae nods enthusiastically, but before she can take more than a few steps, Frosthelm calls for her again.

“Remember, Shae. You cannot prove somepony guilty, without first proving that they are not innocent. And do be careful! Should you encounter any undesirables, you come right back here!”

With those words in mind, a young and ambitious unicorn departs from the only home she has ever known and crosses the zig-zagging stone bridge into a violent and chaotic world. She only pauses to look beyond the bridge to the hillside, where a small graveyard can be seen. She peers at two adjacent gravestones, each adorned with her family crest, the six-pointed star.

"Bye, Mom. Bye, Dad." She swallows, turns away, and resumes trotting. "Time to go."

IV - Forgone Shadow

“Caro...”

CHAPTER IV - FORGONE SHADOW

It takes what feels like eons for Caro’s vision to return, but it means little. There is nothing but white as far as the eye can see. For kilometers in every direction, north and south, east and west, above and below, there is absolutely no sign of any kind of existence. It infuriates Caro to no end that he cannot even see his own shadow. Beneath him there is just more nothing. Nothing after nothing for all of eternity.

“Caro...”

There’s that voice again. It started speaking like a whisper into Caro’s ear since he fell asleep. Wait, he thinks, when did I fall asleep? He racks his brain for any memory of lying down for rest. There is nothing... much like the world around him. “ARRGH!” he shouts. “What the hell is happening?!”

“Caro...”

He erratically looks about for whatever could be whispering to him from so far away before his eyes settle upon a barely visible silhouette of a pony. Whether it is an earthwalker, unicorn or pegasus, it’s impossible to distinguish. Attempting to move toward the silhouette proves pointless. It remains in the distance, despite Caro’s increasing speed. “Who are you?!” he shouts in desperation.

“Caro...”

The figure begins to fade into nothing. “Wait! No! Come back! Don’t leave me here!” Somehow, Caro stumbles over nothing and collapses into nothing, and the only thing that exists in this mad world of nothing is him and his decreasing sanity.

"WHO ARE YOU?!"

“We have already told you! We are of the Imperial Legion and you will surrender!”

“Have you lost your mind?”

The cold wind and shallow snow feel alien to Caro after being pulled out of the white void. He manages to steal a glance at his surroundings. Cloudy sky. High stone walls. Gravel road ascending into the hills. There’s Tohro right next to him, in a battle ready position, as if he’s-

Thwack.

Caro falls forward after feeling the impact only the blunt side of an Imperial sword can deliver.

“Perhaps you will know to use your ears correctly next time. You dare ask, ‘Who are you?’ Only a Blackwing would show such disrespect.”

Somehow, the world continued to move forward in time while Caro was trapped in... whatever that was. The haunting voice of the silhouette - if that even was its voice - still ringed in his ears, or perhaps that was the aftereffects of Imperial steel to the back of his head. It’s funny, he manages to think despite the pain, Imperial soldiers used to make me feel so safe.

He turns to face the one that struck him. He’s a rather burly earthwalker, though he’s hardly threatening compared to the late executioner’s hulking figure. This one is brown with a large jaw and a few battle scars. His bulky armor is scuffed and scratched, and the pauldrons need to be replaced. Common sense says he’s seen more than enough battles in his lifetime.

The other two Imperial soldiers are female pegasi, blue and light red, respectfully. They look proper and organized, with their shining armor and flawless complexions, which means they haven’t been in the Legion for very long.

Tohro looks ready to pounce, though his attention is on Caro, who is still shaking off his splitting headache. “Come on, partner,” whispers Tohro. “Don’t let these hoity toity scoundrels getcha down.”

Caro curses through his teeth and tries to will away the pain. “I’ve got this,” he growls.

“So, rebel scum,” loudly says the soldier as he paces around, “on your merry way to Trottingham, are you? You both know what happens to your kind in these parts.” He grips his steel greatsword between his teeth and advances on Caro.

“You should know what happens to anypony that threatens me.” Caro bites down on the handle of his own sword and makes a blind swing at the soldier.

“Bastard!” A successful hit leaves a cut in the soldier’s left foreleg. Dodging right from a vertical swing, Caro spins around and bucks the other leg. The soldier’s muscles prove too strong to leave much of a lasting effect.

Tohro takes advantage of the mayhem and charges head first at the pegasi, drawing his wingblades and making a sweep. The girls prove to swifter and more tenacious than they appear, leaping into the air in unison and striking Tohro from both sides, causing him to lose balance and spin around. He plants his forehoof into the ground and hops back onto solid ground. “This is easily the second worst threesome I’ve ever been in.” He dodges a swipe from Red’s wingblade, which is followed up by a charge from Blue. He stands his ground and grabs ahold of her, stopping her flight and allowing him to land a haymaker into her chest, and another to the side of her face as she keels over.

Caro manages to keep dodging broad swings from the burly soldier but he’s tiring quickly. His foe is more aware and is keen on making sure there is little remaining of him when the battle ends. “Keep jumping about, rebel scum! Once my sword is drawn it must taste blood, and it will!”

“I find that hard to believe.”

They launch themselves at each other. Their swords lock together in a clash. The soldier is overpowering Caro easily, and to Caro it’s easy to see why. His weapon is pathetic in comparison. It’s barely half the length of the soldier’s greatsword and is much less impressive to look at. It’s beginning to rust at the edges. The greatsword, however, gleams in the sunlight and has multiple ridges along the blade. The soldier pushes Caro back before hefting the greatsword once again in preparation for a swing. Despite the danger, as a Blacksmith’s apprentice, it’s instinct for Caro to notice such things in an instant. His key advantage lies in the relative weightlessness of his sword while the soldier has to make a huge effort to swing his. This gives Caro an idea.

He jumps into the soldier’s range, who makes a horizontal swing. Instead of dodging, Caro ducks. It’s a close call as he feels some of the hair at the top of his mane get sliced clean off. The soldier is left vulnerable as the momentum of his swing keeps his from making another before Caro pounces onto him. Ignoring the soldier’s thrashing and kicking, he hacks away at the steel armor until the plating comes loose, revealing flesh. He grips his sword even tighter and brings the end straight down into the gap.

Schlick.

Caro listens to the sound of blood escaping the wound and the soldier’s ever lessening growling. When the jerking stops, he dismounts. “Now you know what happens.”

He takes a moment to stare at his handiwork before remembering that he isn’t the only one locked in combat. Looking skyward, he sees Tohro and the two pegasi participating in what appears to be a fast and fluid ballet, though he knows better than to think their little spat can be solved by a dance contest. Tohro seems to have the upper hoof in terms of his prowess with his wingblades, but Caro can see that the mares outclass him in agility. Whenever he dives for one, she skillfully flies away, while the other swoops in and lands a blow.

“Gah, I’ll never make any headway like this. I can’t believe I’m being out maneuvered... By mares.” He curses to himself. Dropping his voice to a murmur he says, “If I can get at them one on one, I can take them out fairly easily. But...”

Tohro’s train of thought is cut short as both mares shoot forward to hit him like they had on the ground. He remembers his previous mistakes and moves out of the way at the last instant, causing the mares to sideswipe each other, the larger of the two accidentally disorienting the smaller. Tohro sees his opportunity. Springing into action he sees fit to goad them. "Oi, feather dusters! I know every trick in your book! Your mums told me about them last night!"

The mares’ eyes go wide, to the point of their vessels showing. They’re growing frustrated, unable to maintain the calm composure they require to successfully defeat their foe.

One final insult is all it takes. “If I give you three bits will you go down easy? I’m sure that’s all you’re good for!”

They make another mad dash for Tohro, leaving all reason and organization behind for shrieks of rage. Despite their speed it’s easy for Tohro to drop below and watch them overshoot. He then flies to the small red one and slams his hind leg into her midsection, backing her into her comrade. They both lose their balance entirely and topple to the gravel in unison.

They’re doing their best not to black out from the long fall and impact, but all that awaits them is Caro and his bloodstained blade. The look of horror upon their faces fills him with an unhealthy amount of satisfaction and joy.

“Here’s your three bits.”

“You’re a damn sadist,” Tohro says as he searches the bodies of the two mares, what’s left of them, at least. While most of their possessions are bloodstained from Caro’s brutality or damaged from the impact with the ground, he manages to retrieve thirty bits and an enchanted bag of holding. “Hey, we can use this to carry pretty much anything.” He sticks his head inside the bag out of curiosity. “Wow, it’s like a void in here. I wonder what happens if we turn it inside out?”

Caro yanks the bag from Tohro’s head. “Don’t talk about voids,” he says. He sets the bag down and slides the earthwalker soldier’s greatsword inside.

“Do you plan on selling that?” asks Tohro.

“A blacksmith could find it valuable,” says Caro. He stays quiet as he continues to search the soldier’s pockets. There are more gold pieces, roughly forty in total. He also collects one of the spaulders he dislocated from the soldier’s armor and equips it to his left shoulder. It’s hardly protective but it’s better than nothing, and it still allows him more mobility than a full set.

Caro is able to take a step forward before he winces. While he has gotten over his headache he realizes that blood is beginning to flow from the wound. “I didn’t even... where did that come from?”

Tohro reaches into his pouches and finds a roll of gauze. “Adrenaline is a mean mother, huh? Sit down.”

Caro waves him off and starts trotting again. As he passes Tohro he sways and falls onto his knees. The blood drips down his neck and onto the gravel, and his expression goes from nonchalant to greatly concerned. “I... I don’t feel so well.”

Tohro bites off a strip of the gauze. “Let’s just cover that up, and you’ll be right as rain.”

Applying the bandage over the wound and wrapping it around Caro’s head, Tohro does his best to make the injury look more like a stylish headband. He’s quite the fan of making the best out of a bad situation.

Caro is once again grateful for his companion’s assistance, even though just moments ago he saw fit to abandon him and travel to Riverhoof alone. Any time such a thought crosses his mind, a coincidental encounter or near death experience reminds him that he needs Tohro, whether it be to kill a dormant bear or apply a simple bandage. Hell, I should stop being selfish and admit that we both need each other, he thinks as Tohro returns to the bag of holding.

Something else concerns Caro as he takes a glance at what he reduced the red and blue mares to. It’s quite messy. “Tohro?” he asks as he smooths out the bandage. “Do you think I’m rather mad?”

Tohro, putting away the remainder of the gauze, laughs for the umpteenth time. “You’re always mad. I can barely get a word out of you unless you start getting sentimental-”

“I’m not speaking of anger. I feel as though I may be losing my mind.” He grimaces as he sneaks another peek at the mares’ and soldier’s rotting corpses. “When I draw my blade I cannot control myself. My words and my actions are hardly my own. When I see an opening and go for the kill I relish the feeling of my blade piercing their skin and rearranging their innards. Every drop of blood is like mead. I...” he swallows. “Murdering them was... was like a sexual release.”

The blue sky above is gone. Drops of water from the sky begin to wash away the excess blood from Caro’s head wound. As his mane and tail wetten, he realizes that this rainfall is the closest he’s had to a bath in several days. He doesn’t feel any less filthy.

Tohro is at a loss for words, not having blinked for several seconds. As he ties his mane into a ponytail to keep his wet bangs out of his eyes, he quietly says, “You’re mad.”

The words hurt Caro worse that he thought they would. He shivers and collapses to the gravel, his tears mixing with the raindrops on his face and splashes of dirt.

Tohro flies to his side. “Hey, hey... I didn’t want to offend you,” he says. “Yikes, never thought I’d see somepony like you cry.” The rain is intensifying. Water starts to pool in the dips of the road. “Hey, let’s get you out of this downpour,” says Tohro as he helps his companion to his hooves. He has to drag Caro through the mud and wet gravel as the broken earthwalker refuses to move his hooves.

Eventually they come to a dry spot covered by an overhang in the stone cliff. There’s barely enough room for both colts but they make do. Caro curls up against the wall and continues to sob. “I’ve got a few potions on hoof if you catch cold,” says Tohro.

Again, there is no response.

Tohro rolls his eyes, grunting as he shifts into a more comfortable position. “You know, I hate being given the silent treatment.”

Hours pass. Caro is asleep for most of it, only waking for Tohro to apply a new bandage to his head. Tohro passes the time between Caro’s waking moments by singing to himself and polishing his leather armor. He also makes use of the rain to wash out his boots, vials and anything else that has gone without a proper cleaning.

He looks over his personal map of western Equestria, retracing his and Caro’s steps from Ivarstable. Like the once intact soldier said, they were on their ‘merry’ way to Trottingham. It’s intriguing to him, for he has never been there, yet has heard so much about it. Next to Everfree, supposedly it’s the safest settlement for supporters of the Empire. Of course, if he is to go marching in with his Blackwing attire, he may as well paint his entire self red and shout, “Archers, ready your crossbows!” Perish the thought.

He does have an idea for countering any potential stupidity in entering Trottingham, but he requires Caro’s assistance, and the poor bloke is catatonic. It seems that he needs some good news. “Hey, I think the weather is letting up,” Tohro lies. If anything, the rain has only fallen faster and heavier since they took refuge.

Caro stirs and slowly opens his eyes.

“Listen,” says Tohro, “I understand you’re less than happy about your bloodlust, but... well, some of the greatest warriors in pony history have had that. I mean, look at Pansy. During the settlement wars he was pinned down by fifteen minotaurs and he tore through all of them in an explosion of fury and passion, much like you did with the soldiers.”

Caro whispers, “Did he walk away a hero?”

“Actually, he got on his hooves and knees and cried like a mule, but that’s Pansy we’re talking about. What I mean to say is, regardless of how terrible you feel about your impulses, they could save your life someday. Hell, they already have.”

Caro sits up and removes the his bandages. The bleeding has finally stopped. “What if I’m unable to control it?” he asks, wiping his tired eyes. “My bloodlust, I mean. I don’t want to assault somepony I care about. I’ve already lost my master.”

“Well...”

Tohro thinks back to Caro’s behavior during the swordfight and when he gutted the mares. He seemed so stoic and unwavering, like he became one with his own blade. To think that a sick desire for murder lies beneath such stoic eyes... “I think that fear is unjustified, mate.”

“How do you mean?”

“When you fight, all you have to do is keep track of your morals and identity. I know you have the capacity to tell who’s your friend and who you’ve gotta slaughter. You’ll be okay.”

“It’s hard to control myself when I don’t even know who I am anymore. Who I was before I was locked away is like a completely different pony.”

Tohro brushes Caro’s wet mane and feels his forehead. He’s cold and clammy, whether it be from the rain or his state of mind. Either way, it’s unpleasant.

There’s one item that was stored in the bag of holding before it was ransacked off the soldiers, a single pink blanket with floral patterns. “I don’t pretend to have all the answers, mate,” he says as he lays the blanket on top of Caro. “I know you don’t trust me, but at least take my word for it when I say that you’ll be fine.”

His reasoning goes deeper than meager reassurance, though. He knows that Caro, that sobbing colt burying himself into the blanket, will never harm anypony he cares for, regardless of how much his bloodlust takes over.

Tohro knows this because Caro didn’t attack him.

V - Trotting In White

Caro awakes from a thankfully dreamless sleep to find he’s uncommonly moist and cold. There is no sound of rain, in fact, there’s no sound of anything. In discomfort, he kicks and forces himself out of his grogginess. He looks about at the once dull and gray gravel road and sees it coated in several inches of snow.

“Wow...” he can’t help but mutter.

Just overnight, such a depressingly dreary place turned into a gorgeous piece of art. He wishes that Xephyr were here to sing about it in all its natural beauty, how the scattered trees are now one with the ground, and the grass is indistinguishable from the mud. Everything shares the same white blanket.

Speaking of blankets, Caro’s is now ruined because of how soggy it has become. He tosses it aside. He then breathes into his hooves, hoping his warm breath will expunge his discomfort from the cold, and gets a bearing on his close surroundings. The bag of holding is almost buried. Luckily, the enchantments set upon it seem to keep it from ever getting soaked. There’s something missing from the immediate vicinity, however...

Caro starts digging through the snow around him, hoping Tohro hasn’t been smothered.

CHAPTER V - RUNNING IN WHITE

“Oi! Caro, why’re you scratchin’ around like some chicken for feed?”

Caro searches around, before finally looking up, finding Tohro’s head poking out through a break in the overcast sky.

“Ah, couldn’t you tell the difference between a cloud and the ground?” the cocky pegasus jests. “I’ll give you a hint; one has me on it!” He laughs at his own joke, though he’s the only one who does so, and hovers in circles back down to Caro’s level.

“Enjoy the view?” asks Caro with a smile.

“Yes, it’s certainly an aesthetically pleasing time of year, but I’m more concerned about you. After yesterday, I thought you’d be catatonic all winter.”

The discovery of Caro’s bloodlust was tragic, at best. The earthwalker has taken Tohro’s words to heart, that such instincts will keep him safe from danger. It comes across as more of a blessing in disguise than a curse, though the thought of craving mutilation in the heat of battle is still rather sobering.

“I’ve decided to put my issues aside for the time being,” says Caro. “We have far more important matters to attend to.”

Tohro gives Caro a friendly slap on the shoulder. “That’s how you do it, mate. Spoken like a true Blackwing.”

Caro’s smile disappears. “So, how long until we arrive at Trottingham?” he asks as he equips the bag of holding.

“It’s less than an hour from here, if we walk,” says Tohro. “This time, let us not come across any Imperial posts, shall we?”

The journey is relatively uneventful for its brevity, and thankfully so. The effort it takes to trudge through the snow gradually grows from an inconvenience to an ordeal, at least for Caro. Tohro, completely and blissfully unaware of how much insulting it is, hops along without falter by staying partially airborne. Caro refuses any offer to be carried.

Neither of the two know how long they had slept. The light of the sun comes from the east, so it is currently morning, but that is the extent of their knowledge.

As the path dips into an open field, rock formations give way to bushes and small trees. Farmlands surround a collection of houses and shops bordered by a stone wall.

“There’s Trottingham,” says Tohro. “A whole lot of ponies come here. Most just pass through, or try their hoof at joining that warrior guild, the Carriers, or whatever. I’ve talked to the Jarl before. He’s unbiased toward the Empire and Shokenda, but the population seems more partial to the former. I’m not too fond of this place.” He shakes his head.

“All I care about is whether or not they have a decent marketplace,” says Caro.

“Well then, shall we start a shopping list?”

“Common sense says we should have a tent, and it needs to be one with enchantments to keep us safe from any highwayponies or thieves, as well as weather buffs. We should also acquire towels, blankets, soap...”

“Soap?”

Caro stops and looks at his Tohro with curiosity. “You don’t use soap?” He adds another entry to his mental list of grievances with Tohro. “Let’s see... I’ll have to find a blacksmith for the greatsword...”

Tohro taps him on the shoulder and points ahead. Crossing a stone bridge over a stream are two Imperial unicorn soldiers with another unicorn, a prisoner, in tow.

“I recognize that mare,” Tohro says.

Caro snorts derisively. “What, is she one of the many you’ve slept with, then?”

Tohro takes the jab in stride, to Caro’s annoyance. “Yeah, but I actually had to work for that one, which is why I recognize her. Another reason is that hornlet.”

Caro squints, and can just barely make out a small black ring around the mare’s horn. “What is that?”

“It’s a badge that Blackwing sorcerers wear. It’s got a pair of wings etched into it, and a small, colored band. The badge helps augment a specific element or type of magic. Blue is water and healing, for example. Quick! Take these shackles, lock me up.”

“What,” says Caro. It isn’t a question.

Tohro pulls a set of shackles and a pair of wing clasps from his own pouch.

“I’m getting the feeling that you like being tied up,” says Caro as he raises an eyebrow. “What else do you have with you? A whip?”

“Yes, a brand, a crop, purple stuff and a gag as well, but I’d rather talk for this one. Lock me up.”

Caro reluctantly takes Tohro’s hooves and applies the shackles. He thinks he should be enjoying this more.

“Blimey, is this how it feels?” asks Tohro. He struggles to move in any direction without losing his balance, and the chains are too heavy for him to fly away, not that he intends to. “I now have sympathy for our prisoners of war.”

Caro slaps him in the chest, causing him to keel over.

“Way to commit to the bit!” says Tohro, gritting his teeth from the pain.

“What bit?” asks Caro. “I don’t even know why you requested this.”

“Eh, excuse me?”

Caro turns around and finds himself face to face with one of the unicorn soldiers. This one is dark red with polished purple and gold steel armor. The other soldier is larger, a darker shade of red and wearing the same gear. Both their helmets cover their muzzles.

The unicorn mare is stark naked, aside from the ring. It seems that the soldiers had forgotten to remove it, or simply dismissed it as a pointless accessory. Either way, the grey-coated black-maned mare looks sickly and somewhat horrified. Hell, she’s shaking in her boots, not even blinking.

“It seems you’ve placed a Blackwing under citizen’s arrest,” says the smaller soldier.

“Wha- oh, yes!” Caro understands Tohro’s idea completely. How awkward it would have been to pass by these guards alongside a fully armored Blackwing. He may as well paint himself in vivid colors and yell for the archers to ready their crossbows. He wants to compliment his companion’s quick thinking, but first things first, he makes up a story. “I was just, uh, taking a nap when this thief tried to make off with my... my weapons!”

The large one scoffs and spits at the ground. “That is just cheap. Shows how desperate their kind is.”

“Oh, incredibly cheap.” Caro can hardly believe that this is working so well. “I chased after him but by the time I caught up he had already killed an earthwalker and two pegasi. They were Imperials, too.”

This causes both guards to stand up stiff and alert. “Wait, how?!” says the smaller one. “That better have been a fluke.”

Caro milks the giant cow for all it’s worth. “Oh, it was just terrible!” he says, feigning drama. “I feared for my life but I stood brave and shouted ‘For the Empire!’ I wrestled him to the ground and snapped these shackles right on him.” He looks at Tohro, who is faking despair and helplessness quite well.

“What a story, citizen,” says the big one.

“Wait, where did you get the shackles? You didn’t say you had any on hoof.”

“Oh! Uh...” Caro realizes that he’s backed himself into a corner.

“The bastard took them off the bodies of my fellow soldiers!” says Tohro in a very convincing angry tone. “I would’ve gotten away with it too, if it weren’t for you meddling-”

Caro hits him again, a little harder to keep up the act. “So, I’ll be taking him to Trottingham,” Caro says. “We’ll see if he begs for mercy in his cell.”

The smaller guard halts him from taking a step forward. “Are you sure you can handle him? Me and my friend here can take it from here.”

Caro puts on a large smirk. “I’m more than a match for a flimsy pegasus. Besides, you’ve already got a prisoner.”

“Well,” says the big one, “don’t hesitate to shout if he somehow slips away. These Blackwings are tricky bastards, like this one here.” He shoots a dirty look at the mare, who cowers in fear. “She was camping between some rocks on the hillside just east of here trying to snipe us, but we caught her before she fire a single spell. Ain’t that right, Pyro?”

“Hell yeah,” says the smaller one. He looks to Caro and gives a respectful salute. “For Queen Platinum and the Empire.”

“Yeah, uh, for the Empire.”

“You have a good day, sir.”

Caro waits until the soldiers are out of earshot before he undoes Tohro’s shackles. The pegasus flutters about, thankful for gaining full control of his body again.

“I’m surprised. You’re quite the strategist under pressure,” says Caro. He stores the shackles and chains in the bag of holding. “Still, that seemed awfully elaborate. It would have been just as easy to you to fly over the bridge and regroup with me at the entrance to Trottingham.”

“Well,” says Tohro as he stretches out on the left side of the bridge, “if I were to do that, I wouldn’t have gotten my hooves on this!” He shows off the same hornlet worn by the unicorn mare.

“You’re a sneaky thief,” says Caro, “but what good is her ring to us?”

“Well, I’d be lying if I said we could find any use for it.”

“Perhaps somepony in Trottingham would find value in Blackwing equipment?”

“There’s no way in hell I’m selling this.” Tohro tosses the ring to Caro. “Slip that away somewhere safe. The next time I see one of my brethren, I’ll pass it on to them.”

“So they can do what?”

“Track that mare down, of course. We Blackwings would never leave a comrade to die. Whenever a unicorn wears a ring or magical item like this, they put a little bit of their Fae into it, and-”

Caro interrupts. “Fae?”

“It’s... hard to explain. Ask a unicorn, they can tell you. Anyway, the Blackwing mage corps can use that ring to track down anypony who has ever used it...”

“So you intend on sending it back to headquarters so you can go and rescue that mare like the big damn heroes that you are?”

Tohro points and shouts. “Exactly!”

Caro crosses the bridge with his backside to Tohro. “Leave me out of it.”

Tohro smiles, happily trotting after to catch up. “I wouldn’t want you in it, anyways. You’re not a Blackwing, so we can’t trust you on such a mission.”

“Yet you trust me with your secrets,” Caro points out, much to Tohro’s amusement.

“Yes, yes, that is true, isn’t it? Well, the reason is simple. You’d be axed by the Empire on sight for fraternizing with us rebels, so there’s not much you can do with our information.”

Caro hates to admit it, even to himself, but his partner has a point. He stops trotting. “Fine, then. Find a place to duck out of sight, and remove anything that ties you to the rebels. We don’t need anypony else coming along trying to capture us just because you’re a Blackwing, and I’d rather avoid another improvisation act.”

Tohro shrugs and heads towards a sizable boulder, jumping over it with a small flap of his wings. He’s barely gone a minute before Caro hears him call out. “Oi, mate! Come look at this!”

“I swear to the Divines, if you’re trying to show me your unsheathed blade, I’ll geld you where you stand.”

“No, Caro. This isn’t that at all.”

Caro grunts and starts around the rock, coming to a stop on the other side where Tohro has stripped down to his under-armor. Nothing about him says rebel, except for his grave expression. Instead of fresh snow like everywhere else, the snow closest to the rock has been sullied, mostly from the shuffling of hooves, but also...

“Look, blood. Not much, but since these mare’s clothes are with it, I’ll give you three guesses as what happened here.” Tohro looks up at Caro, his eyes heavy with remorse. “The first two don’t count.”

Caro’s about to ask what he means, when a recent happening flashes through his mind. A mare, looking shocked and scared, devoid of clothing despite the chilling weather. His eyes narrow, his hackles rising in anger. Those... those bastards! he thinks. It isn’t enough that they captured her, they have to degrade her? You don’t take away something like that... He snaps his gaze back to Tohro. “We need to go after them. Now. Her being a Blackwing be damned, she’s still a mare, and those bastards...”

He turns, ready to unsheathe his blade.

“Don’t!” Tohro grabs him around his midsection.

Caro looks upon Tohro with utter rage. “Let go of me! They deserve to-”

“That mare, she’s one of the better mages I’ve seen in my life. If those soldiers could overpower her, what makes you think you could do better?”

“But... I can’t-”

“You're not strong enough. Accept it and let it go.”

There’s a moment of silence for the mare and her innocence.

“Have I mentioned that I really fucking hate the empire?” says Tohro.

Caro looks back in anger and hatred. The soldiers are long gone and he knows that no matter what happens to them, even if the mare is rescued, there is something lost that cannot ever be brought back. Such is the way of the Twilight Age.

“I need a name,” says Caro.

Tohro is confused. “The Blackwing? Her name is Jade, but-”

“No, not her. The soldiers.”

“Oh. I think the big guy called the squirt Pyro. Why do you ask?”

“So I can find them.”

Icy mountain tops, meter high snow, and a vast, uncensored view of the world below. All this and more is what Shae sees. It’s all she has seen since she descended from the village of Wintercolt and took the passageway into the mountain range. It looks a lot different up close than from her dormitory window. It seems less jagged and chaotic, and provides a good view of where the plains of western Equestria end and the wet marshlands of the east begin. Farther up north from the former is where Reinoc lies. Of course, Shae is in no hurry to find a smoldering ruin of a coastal town and return to school so soon. This is the first time in years she’s taken steps outside Wintercolt. She has to contain her enthusiasm lest she burst. All the unique and colorful plant life expands her alchemy inventory, and she is able to put her years of education in magic to work, whether it be lighting up a cloudy night with summoned light, or keeping herself warm with blue enchanted fire. No teachers or prefects to keep her from using her spells freely.

At the moment, she is stargazing. The Academy’s astronomy tower gives a clear view of the stars at all hours of the day but it’s truly wondrous to see them up close and personal with her own eyes. She levitates her quill to her notebook and sketches the star formations to the best of her ability.

Why are you taking notes on this stuff, Shae? You’re not taking astronomy this term, she imagines Sundance saying. “Oh, you silly mare. Just because I’m playing detective for a while doesn’t mean I can’t bring back a little extra credit. Professor Orion would love this.”

Shae talks to herself often when she’s studying, as if her classmates and teachers are looking over her shoulder. They always expect so much of her, and she delivers. She never cracks under pressure. Now that there isn’t any pressure, it’s an interesting feeling. It’s not bad, it’s just... interesting.

Her little encampment consists of a humble tent that protects from the wind and snow flurries, a blanket for any activity relevant to studying and several jars of blue fire for warmth. Just as she is applying the finishing touches to her fifth discovered star formation and thinking about what to name it, she hears muffled hoofsteps in the snow.

“Excuse me, Miss. Are you from Wintercolt Academy?” asks a young pegasus with a rather throaty voice. He’s light yellow and wears bear hide armor.

“I am, actually,” says Shae with a sense of pride. “Salutations. It’s a good night for a stroll, wouldn’t you say? I was just doing a little research.”

“Um, right.” The pegasus doesn’t seem all that interested in academic matters. He takes a cautious walk around the camp. “If ya wouldn’t mind, couldja come with me? Me and my friends found a stash a’ soul gems, we dunno if they’re still workin’. You know, ya bein’ a unicorn and all...”

“I’d love to help out,” says Shae. “Finally, a practical use for my abilities!” Still leaving the blue fire burning and her books open, she follows the pegasus down the descending dirt road.

There’s an overhang coating the path in darkness, so she lights the way with an illumination spell and takes the lead. The pegasus behind her smiles wickedly. His teeth are jagged, his eyes lit with a barely contained manic fervor. He licks his lips before giving Shae closed smile, signalling for her to head down the eastern path.

It doesn’t take Shae long to become suspicious. Something just doesn’t seem quite right, with the pegasus’ disposition and the way he keeps staring at her... and her pockets. She takes a deep breathing, knowing that if there’s any potential danger, she can make a quick getaway. I am not a defenseless damsel, she assures herself.

There’s a fork in the road, with a few large tents set up off to the side of the road. There’s a smell of a recently snuffed campfire. “Here we are,” says the pegasus. He imitates the sound of a crow, causing Shae to jump a little. “Boys, I found a good one!”

The way he refers to Shae as if she’s an object only makes her more nervous. Worse still, many dark, muscular earthwalkers enter the vicinity from bushes, behind rocks and just plain out of nowhere. They’re smiling, but it’s not exactly the welcome kind of smile. It’s just as psychotic as the smile of the pegasus, who is standing uncomfortably close.

“By the way,” he says, “didja come here alone?”

Shae’s mind is racing far too fast for her to lie. “Y-yes? Why do you ask?”

The earthwalkers bite down on the handles on their swords and maces.

The pegasus’ feathers spread, revealing several small blades. “Just curious.”

VI - Under Reach

“Halt! Who goes there?!”

Caro and Tohro pause in their approach, exchanging confused glances. The source of the voice makes itself known from atop the wooden scaffolding that flanks the large double doors. An earthwalker, clad in brown. He descends the stairs to confront them, the steel helmet obscuring his features except for the piercing eyes.

“This town is under strict border control! Anypony entering and exiting must be examined.”

“Uh... sir,” Tohro shuffles his hooves as he stares at the ground, “we’re both essentially naked.”

CHAPTER VI - UNDER REACH

“Oh, really? I apologize. I can’t see anything in this damn helmet.” The guard removes it promptly and tosses it aside, where it lands in a ditch. “Never had much use for it.”

“You definitely look better without it,” Tohro offers with a roguish grin.

The guard smooths out his mane and returns to his rigid stance. His expression carries a hint of boredom from protocol, and his voice enforces it, sounding both formal and deadpan. Caro notices quite easily that he lacks the rigid discipline of an Imperial soldier, although his uncolored armor lets on to that well enough. “Right, it seems you both do not have any pockets as you, for unfathomable reasons, prefer to travel without armor. May I at least search your bags? The request is a formality, by the way. You don’t have a choice.”

Caro shrugs and hoofs over his bag of holding. “Of course, we’ve nothing to hide.”

The guard sifts through the bag, pulling out a small pouch of coins, a few random tidbits, a spare blanket, and... “Soap? Who carries soap with them?” The guard eyes the purple bar that smells of lavender.

Caro rolls his eyes. “Some of us just enjoy being clean, is that so difficult to comprehend?”

Tohro snorts and kicks at the ground.

“Wait, what the...” the guard mutters, pulling the Imperial greatsword from the bag. The size almost topples him over as he grasps the hilt in his teeth, spitting it onto the ground. The other guards from atop the scaffolding gasp at this impossible display. “How does a common adventurer get his hooves on one of these?”

“I found it on the side of the road,” Caro lies. “I was going to return it to the Imperials.”

With all the goods replaced in their impossibly small bag, the guard passes it back, which Tohro slings over his shoulder.

“Alright then, we’re good to enter?”

The guard raises his hoof. “Not so fast. Are either of you Imperial soldiers, missionaries, undercover rebels or changelings in disguise?” His snout hovers inches from Caro’s own, eyes narrowing. “I’ll know if you're lying."

Yet I was able to get away with ‘I found it’? Caro thinks, tapping his hooves in impatience. “No, we’re not any of those things.”

"Yeah, I don't believe you. Shunt off." Turning on his hooves, the guard returns to the scaffolding and his snickering comrades.

Caro leans forward. “That’s a load of arbitrary bullshit! Do you turn everypony away?”

“Look, mates,” says one of the other guards. “We've enough trouble keeping the citizens of Trottingham calm as it is, and two mysterious strangers, one of which going au natural, wouldn't benefit anypony.”

“We already had two zebras coming in asking around for some mare called, uh... I forget,” another guard chimes in. "They make everypony so jittery... We had to push them out before they did something regrettable."

Tohro dashes up the scaffolding to berate the guards, getting in their faces and snarling. “I don’t like zebras either, but you’re all pretty sorry excuses for keepers of the peace! If you were anything like the Blackwings—”

A rather chubby guard advances on Tohro, grunting in annoyance.

“Oh, we’ve heard this ramble too many times. Soldiers from both sides preaching to the Jarl. We’ve had to restrict entry for the citizens’ safety. It’s not just soldiers either. Bandits are all over the roads, and there’s been an assault on Gallopagos Keep. Reinoc’s somehow burned to the ground—”

“Hey!” shouts Caro as an idea enters his mind. It’s a stretch but he feels it could be his and Tohro’s ticket inside. “What if I told you I know exactly what happened at Reinoc?”

The guards become silent, their irritation turning to intrigue as they lean over the scaffolding. “You do?” They ask in unison.

Caro lets a satisfied smirk slide across his face. “Oh, I do.”

“He does.” Tohro nods furiously.

“Well, uh...” says the chubby guard, looking about awkwardly. “We apologize for the inconvenience.” He smacks the skinny guard standing next to him upside the head. Both gallop to opposite sides of the scaffolding, biting down on ropes and pulling the double door open. “If you actually know what happened, you should visit Jarl Drake at Equinesreach. Tell her everything.”

Caro gives the guards a mocking salute. As he and his companion pass by, the chubby one calls down to Tohro. “One more thing, Blackwing. I know of your patriotism. I recommend keeping it to yourself if you value your safety.”

Tohro only spits in response.

Caro whistles in awe at the beauty of Trottingham, with its ever-flowing streams of clean water bordering the streets and tall, lavishly decorated buildings upon lush green hills and smooth stone platforms. i]No wonder they call it a safe haven. Over in Riverhoof, one can’t so much as cross the street without some debate or rumor regarding the revolution popping up. Here, neighbors greet each other with kindness, children frolic without worry or fear, and ponies ho shopping as if it's just another pleasant day that doesn’t encompass fears of death or sickness looming.

The most iconic sight is the tall manor that sits atop the many layers of the town. Above it flies a yellow flag painted with a black, draconic eye.

"I've never met Jarl Drake," Tohro says. "However, I hear she has a rather strict watch over her citizens. How she does it with such unprofessional guards, though..."

Caro tunes him out. Crossing the short bridge over the stream, Caro sees a humble, dirty looking shop. Woodcut letters above the door spell out Glassworks. Hard at work outside the door is an earthwalker mare. Her yellow coat is covered in grime, concealing rippling muscle more defined than an average female. Her fiery red mane is plastered to her forehead with sweat and soot as she toils at the furnace underneath the blacksmith shop veranda.

Immediately, Caro’s mind flashes back at the clang of the anvil. The sizzling sound of hot coals, the steaming pail of water for cooling, the rhythmic thumping of the tanning rack. Each of the senses brings so many memories.

He snaps from his reverie and notices he is now at the entrance. Several rusty and malformed iron swords lay scattered across the workbench. “Terrible, ain’t they?” a voice thick with a northern accent pricks his ears.

Caro’s stare snaps up to see the mare, looking over the swords as she lets out an exhausted sigh. She picks up one in particular that’s broken halfway down the blade and cradles it in her hooves. Caro sits on the ground and holds out his own. “May I?”

The mare nods and passes it to him. He takes it gently in his hooves, eyes tracing the length of the blade. He recognizes it as an iron sword, one of the first swords he learned to craft. For what isn’t broken, it’s well sharpened and the hilt is steady. “It’s not horrendous.” He shrugs and places it back onto the bench. “It’s certainly finer than my first blade.”

“What became of it?” The mare tilts her head slightly, her eyes showing sudden interest in this kindred spirit.

“Well, there were a lot of burned, chopped up bits and pieces... and don’t get me started on the sword.” Caro waves a passive hoof.

The mare laughs heartily, almost music to Caro’s ears. “Aye, a true smith never gets away without first tanning their own hide!”

“One does learn quite a bit through trial and error.” Caro glances down to his own scarred hooves. “I’m sure you’ll make a blade anypony can be proud of.” Eventually.

“Well, that’s enough small talk,” says the mare as she dances over to the furnace. “What can I do you for?”

“Quite a bit, actually,” Caro replies coolly.

“Excellent!” With a sweep of her hooves, she shoves all the botched swords off the workbench. “Looking to protect yourself, or deal some damage?”

“I’m looking to smelt a sword I.... um... came across. Is there a fee for that?”

“Not at all!” The mare hops on the pump that heats the coals. The temperature of the furnace rises. “Just toss it on in there... assumin' you have it with you.”

Caro tilts his head, then does a double take when realizes Tohro still has his bag. “Bugger.”

The mare laughs again. “Can’t bring about your sword? Happens to the best of us.”

“No... just... my partner has it, and he...”

“Well, that explains everythin'!” The mare smiles even wider.

Caro brings his hoof to his face, blushing madly. There’s a brief yet strong gust of wind, or at least that’s what Tohro’s quick fly-by feels like. “Oh, calm down,” the pegasus says as he makes a dramatic landing on the balcony. “Congratulations. You’ve pierced his mussed up hide worse in a minute than I have all week!”

“You’re not helpin' his case, love.” The mare shakes her head, trying to stifle yet another laugh.

Tohro retrieves the greatsword and tosses it blade first into the dirt, right at Caro’s feet. “Happy Hearth’s Warming Eve.”

The mare jolts back at the impact of the sword, her eyes widening when she sees what it is. “Imperial? How did you—”

“Don’t ask, don’t tell...” Tohro mutters.

“You’re still not helping,” Caro groans.

The mare has to resist touching the sword, for fear of the grease upon her hooves ruining it. “Oh, sweet Hephaestus... This is amazin'! Imperial steel is so hard to come by outside of Everfree. I could make a fortune off of...” She snaps to gaze to Caro. “I’ll buy the ore off ya. Four hundred bits, how does that sound?”

Tohro makes a shouting gesture and mouths Do it! Do it! to Caro, who doesn’t have to give it a second thought. “You’ve got yourself a deal, miss.”

Even with that done, Tohro still can't resist cracking a joke. “Aw, I thought you were saving your sword for somepony special?” Tohro wiggles his eyebrows.

“Actually, before you smelt it,” Caro says to the mare, “I might make use of it across a certain somepony’s neck.”

“Too late!” the mare shouts enthusiastically, tossing the sword into the furnace.

“Oh!” Tohro puts a hoof to his forehead, swooning with an overt amount of drama. “Dashing my hopes upon the dreary plains of the east, you are! Now I shall never attain eternal bliss from Caro’s sword piercing my supple pegasus body! Woe is me!”

The mare counts out four hundred bits from her pouch, trying not to laugh. “Don’t worry, love. I’m sure there’s quite a few archers willing to get a bead on your head.”

“I’ve always looked down on facials.” Tohro frowns as he caresses his own face. “Why would I want to mark up something this beautiful?”

“I doubt anypony would find you worth an arrow,” Caro replies, placing the hoof full of bits into his bag.

“One would think you two are onto something,” the mare snickers. “Best keep it under wraps in some lands.”

“Oh, please," Caro groans. "Tohro just likes to think he’s the stallion everypony wants. Typical Blackwings.” Taking the hundreds of bits proudly, Caro swaggers away from the blacksmith’s shop with Tohro, who makes flying jumps between fits of laughter. "Thank you."

The mare shouts their way. “If you’re ever in town again, looking to trade, buy, craft, or whatever, you give Rosemary a holler. That’d be me!”

The circular marketplace in the center of town is where the two main districts of Trottingham conjoin. The duo take in the surroundings, noticing various shops and stalls selling wares. Caro can’t wrap his mind around how to spend his newfound fortune, but Tohro has no such qualms. “I saw a shop back there with bear hide! It’d be a perfect look for you!”

“I do enjoy how you're keen to spend my bits,” Caro replies, rolling his eyes.

A dingy stallion clad in rags approaches them, smelling of clover and cheap wine. “Hey! You outsiders always have gold on ya! Spare a piece?”

“Sorry, we’re new in town,” Tohro responds, nudging Caro. “Got no gold to our names.”

“Stop it.” Caro sighs. “Here, would this help?” He hands four bits to the stallion, who sits and eyes them, biting on one to be sure.

“Finally! Now get lost!” the stallion snorts. “Bring more gold next time!” He turns and stomps off.

"I suppose even this place can’t be perfect." Caro shakes his head and ascends the stairs to the upper district. Tohro intercepts him halfway up, concern overtaking his jubilation.

“I think I figured out what your problem is. You’re too damn nice.” He points an accusing hoof. "You want to help everypony you come across and that always gets you into to trouble."

“In what kingdom—” Caro stops himself, wary of the citizens surrounding him. He drapes a foreleg over Tohro’s shoulders and pulls him in close, whispering conspiratorially. “In what kingdom is chopping a battalion of Imperials to bits too nice?”

“Depends on if you’re on my side,” Tohro whispers back before pulling himself free. “Which you’ve made abundantly clear you are not.”

Snorting at Tohro’s playful ignorance for what feels like the five hundredth time, Caro continues toward the tall tower sitting upon the highest point in the town.

“Just hear me out,” Tohro interrupts his thoughts. “I know what happened at Reinoc too, you know. Shokenda told me everything.”

“She wasn’t there.”

“Not as far as you know.” Tohro crosses his forelegs. “Shokenda is hardly a liar, but even I almost couldn’t believe it. Almost.”

Caro keeps walking, repeatedly intercepted by Tohro.

“What if Jarl Drake thinks you mad?” He taps a hoof on Caro’s head. “She doesn’t answer to any authority but herself. Mind you, she’s neutral in this war. She could lock you up in the nearest madhouse without a second thought. Or she might turn you over to the Empire and reap the reward!”

Caro rolls his eyes and keeps walking, getting a faceful of pegasus once more.

“And that’s if she decides to be nice! She could just axe you on the spot for wasting her precious time. It’s happened to my mates. Simply trying to appeal to her better nature and getting support for the Blackwing army resulted in three beheadings at once!” He tosses his head proudly. “Not including mine, of course.”

Caro’s shallow reservoir of patience has run its course. “Well, good for her then! I've only kept you alive for the sake of debt, even though you keep reminding me that you only saved my blank flank for your foolish cause! Beyond that, what would you honestly care if I were to lose my head?”

That stops Tohro’s chase. “I... well..." The pegasus smiles meekly, crossing his forelegs. "Aren't we friends?”

Caro scoffs and turns away, trotting up the steps. "Not yet." He keeps his eyes to the manor ahead, pushing out any urge to look back at Tohro.

The staircase erratically ascends to the the front porch of the tower, where the words Equinesreach are carved eloquently above the door. Caro climbs alone, leaving Tohro behind with much to think about.

Equinesreach.

It is a place as exotic as its namesake. The warm luminescence of a central fire pit, invoking images of Hearth’s Warming, reflect off the wide wooden floors. Caro takes it all in, noticing Torho admiring his reflection in the floor. Bordering an open ceiling are draconic decorations and patterns that echo an age long past.

All anger within Caro vanishes at the sight of a dragon’s skull above a decorated throne. Despite its snarling visage and testament to power, it fills Caro with an uncanny sort of peace and serenity to see one of the beasts devoid of life.

“Is it not beautiful, earthwalker? It was a gift from an ancient dragon slayer, back when dragons were much a more common ilk.”

Caro’s ears perk at the sound of a noblemare’s voice echoing off of the vaulted ceiling. There she is, sitting upon an ornate throne, decorated with carvings of dragons and symbols lost to time. A velvet white robe and fur lined hood keep her face hidden from sight as Caro approaches.

She removes her hood, revealing a gold unicorn with a mane of cerulean. Eyes of silver gaze into a bowl of similarly colored liquid. The mare raises her hoof to keep Caro from speaking first. “This is the part where you say...” An awkward moment of silence passes.

Caro asks the question on the tip of his tongue in an attempt to break the choking tension. “You are Jarl Drake?”

“This is where I’m supposed to nod.” She does so. “And then you will say...”

“If it’s not too rude, may I ask what you’re doing?”

“Mmm...” she pushes the bowl aside. “Your Blackwing friend was quite right. You are too nice. And yet... blunt.”

“Told you,” Tohro whispers, nudging Caro.

Caro merely snorts, and flashes a cheeky smile. “Well, it’s good to know I’m being spied upon by the neutrality,” he glances to Tohro, “as well as the Blackwings.”

The jarl laughs. “Do not think that you are so special, young one. You are a traveler who has come to my fair city. And I judge all equally here, even those who are not my own. You have passed the test quite well, earthwalker. May I get your name?”

“Do you not have it already?” Caro bows his head slightly.

“Ah, yes, but it is better to hear it straight from the pony’s mouth.”

Caro approaches the throne and kneels, a small smirk on his face. Under normal circumstances I think I would be angrier, but perhaps I should be honored. “Then you shall have it. Caro of Riverhoof is what I am called.”

Jarl Drake stands, examining Caro closely. “What a simple name. I rather like it. It has no higher meaning for you to live up to. You aren’t restricted by fate or tradition. Your lack of a mark is testament to that.”

Caro returns to his hooves. “I need no mark to know my future lies in—”

“Smithing?” The Jarl cocks a brow. “I feel you could be capable of so much more.”

Her constant foreshadowing brings Caro to a sobering theory. “Do you know everything that will ever occur?”

Her silver eyes widen in bewilderment, quickly followed by amusement. “Divines, no! How is that fair? If my scrying and foresight allowed me to see into the future, I could have taken Equestria for my own eons ago.” She steps down from her throne and approaches Caro. “The future is only based on our immediate decisions. It’s... complicated. To put it simply, ah... Never mind. You’ll understand someday.” She walks past Caro and ventures over to a long table decorated from end to end with succulent vegetables and pastries. “Fresh out of the kitchen. Care to have a bite? You look most famished.”

Tohro decides to help himself, allowing his noisy eating to replace the calm air of the temple.

The offer is tempting, and Caro feels he has no reason to distrust the Jarl. He dips a large carrot into one of the many sauces available and takes a bite. After many meals of dry bar food and merchant-bought rations, the flavor is overwhelmingly sweet and spicy.

The Jarl levitates a vanilla frosted cupcake her way. “See, through the liquid glass, I foresaw you eating this instead. In a minor way, you changed your destiny.”

“Mmm mfee,” says Caro through a mouthful of carrot and spice. He swallows and clears his throat. “I see.” He follows the Jarl back to her throne.

"Now that your head is empty of doubt and your stomach sated, I want you to tell me exactly what it is your friend was so concerned would land you in the madhouse, which it won’t, I assure you.”

“It is simple, really. Reinoc was destroyed not by a single earthwalker, but by a being much greater than I.”

“One who sows chaos and disharmony?”

Caro shakes his head. “I have no clue what its intentions were. What I do know is that I laid waste those intentions with a single blade, bringing about a rain of blood and scales. I... I killed a dragon.”

VII - Faas Ru Maar

Caro looks over his body, brushing a few strands of grey hair out of his eyes. "I don’t know exactly what happened. I still can’t believe I’m alive... if you can call this being alive..."

CHAPTER VII

~Caro's Story~

If I had to explain myself, I suppose I should start with Master. He is... well, he was, the closest thing I had to a parental figure in my life. My mother and father were drafted into the Imperial Legion shortly after I was born, leaving me in the care of their old friend. A mighty earthwalker stallion of a blacksmith. Dark black coat and silvery mane. Hammerfell was his name, but to me he will always be Master.

Now, this has nothing to do with the dragon, but to me, well... I’ll get to the point. Every other morning, Master and I would take a long walk, or carriage ride depending on the weather, into Reinoc. As the known world expanded, so did the trading market, and Master had all the right connections. Oftentimes he would let me play among the village while he slipped some bits to the cargo ponies at the docks. The finest leather and rare ores from Saddle Arabia and beyond were in his reach at all times.

That is why I admired him.

He wasn’t bound by the enforced laws. He did what he felt was best for him and everypony else. Breaking the law isn’t wrong if good comes of it, right? I guess you could say his ideals kind of rubbed off on me.

On that particular day, the sun was just barely peeking through the thick haze of morning fog. I remember the smells of mildew, rust and moist gravel. It sounds vile, I know. But it’s one of those unseemly things one learns to appreciate. Like when you catch cold and you feel unusually cozy.

Master left me by the statue of Gammon in the town square, which served as the local marketplace. There, travelers and adventurers were cutting out the middle pony and getting their goods straight from the source. I had bought a red apple for myself while I was waiting on one of the benches.

You probably can’t tell, but I used to be quite the socialite. One didn’t have to travel far to find a friend in Reinoc. Anypony looking to do business, find a shipmate, or even a companion, would approach you first. A dark brown unicorn colt in particular had taken interest in me. He told me I had the right build for traveling, and asked if I would accompany him. I politely declined his offer, but he wasn’t opposed to having a nice conversation.

We sat and talked... well, he did most of the talking. Boasting of the great beasts he’d slain, and I of the swords and shields I’d crafted, which, to be honest, were hardly the stuff of legends. We only boasted about the bad when comparing scars, elsewise we only spoke of our greatest feats, no matter how small or insignificant they may have seemed.

For what time we did talk, I was rather fond of him, but I never dreamed of nor considered becoming an adventurer. My life was devoted to the shop, smithing swords and weapons for the true adventurers. Every contribution to the whole mattered, so my services were important to ponies like him. If anything, I could gain a customer.

Master came around with a cart chock full of enough supplies to last his shop an entire winter. He had struck a true bargain when he ‘accidentally’ intercepted an undercover Blackwing shipment and was compensated to keep quiet about it. Katanas crafted from black onyx, bronze longswords, diamond ore... I couldn’t stop smiling! We made a mint off of the adventurer and his mates. They took one of everything.

Master was normally so stoic, but I could see the excitement in his eyes. With all those precious bits in hoof, we could have bought more land and expanded the shop back in Riverhoof. Perhaps even have opened a branch elsewhere. We were going to make off like bandits!

The adventurers roped me into going to the docks with them and giving their new blades a test run. We waited until the guard patrolling the area was out of sight, and then I held up a mythril broadsword in a defensive position, so they could strike. They worried for my safety but I assured them that it was my master’s sword. It was nigh unbreakable and light as a feather, as they found out when their strongest swings didn’t even make me budge.

“That all you got? I’m not even a regular fighter!” I threw a few taunts, but they laughed it off. They’d gotten what they wanted; their weapons were in pristine condition.

I had just seen them off out the northern gate and was heading to the southern one to meet up with my master when a bone-chilling scream rent the air in two, like a blade of flames through butter.

Not even in the most trauma inducing nightmare could I ever have seen such horrors. The fog turned into a blinding haze, the blue sky was painted with billowing storm clouds that went on forever. That’s not what terrified me, though the mare stumbling past as the flames slowly consumed her, leaving nothing but melted skin and charred bone was... sobering, to say the least. The vile scent her corpse was the least of my worries, as I looked towards where she came from. It was then I heard something not of this world.

I lost meyz fah hiu sil, Dovahkiin!

I think they were words, but they didn’t sound natural. They echoed like a thousand voices in my head, sending pain through my body. As I keeled over, trying to comprehend this ungodly voice, I felt tremors. They grew stronger by the second, and when they finally fell silent, I felt safe enough to look up.

I was face to face with a red eyed monstrosity. A dragon. He took up the entire length of the block. His bladed wings had torn through every shop, inn and fruit stall just to stare me down. I couldn’t hear anything, except for my heartbeat and more unintelligible sounds.

Faal unahzaal gein fent drun hiu dinok.

I collapsed in pain, that incomprehensible tongue splitting my skull. My vision was swimming, blurring the sight of burning ponies and homes. Those who survived the firestorm were caught in the wreckage or choking on clouds of black smoke. It was the smell I’d never forget. Fresh blood and burning flesh assaulted my senses.

The warm trickles of blood from my ears and nose did little to assure me I was still alive. Darkness creeped in the edges of my vision as I watched the remainder of the town collapse in flames. Reinoc was gone.

“Wake up, child! You must live!” The reassuring voice of Master cut through the black. My hooves reached out to grab for those words, to find him. “Never give up, Caro.”

With only a helmet decorated with mammoth tusks, he took his mythril sword in his mouth and leapt onto the dragon’s snout, thrusting the glowing blade into one of its eyes.

The deafening roar of pain the dragon howled did nothing to improve my condition. I staggered to my hooves, watching Master leap onto the creature’s back, and ram the blade into a weak spot between the scales. Blood rained onto the streets, congealing from the heat of the burning town.

Unfortunately, Master was too preoccupied with dodging the dragon’s fire to notice its spiked tail, which blindsided him and sent the sword flying from his teeth. With a single stomp of the dragon’s massive claws, the unbreakable mythril sword shattered.

Master made a dive for what remained, but he was struck by the tail again and he rolled helplessly across the ground. The dragon reached for him, brandishing one of its claws.

I closed my eyes and jerked away from the sight. Despite the ringing in my ears, my heartbeat muddled by the blood still pouring from my ears, I heard everything. The sound of bones snapping, sinew rending... his screams and curses as the beast did its unholy deed. Mustering up the courage to look back, I saw the dragon raise its head and roar in victory, blood dripping from its teeth. Master was nothing more than carrion among the ruins. There was nothing left for me to live for.

Aan nekaa do laas.

That was the last thing I saw before my vision completely darkened. If I had the strength to scream, I would have until it tore me apart. Not even that was possible, another thing taken from me. I doubt anypony would have heard me over the roars of several other dragons rampaging across the smoke drenched sky anyway. I knew my end had come.

Now, I am not a religious pony but I was so desperate for the nightmare to end, I curled up and prayed to Epona for sweet release from this hell.

Then, I felt nothing. I fell past the edge of despair and into a void of emptiness. I rose from my stupor, a new determination coursing through my veins.

A town soldier that had been reduced to nothing but ashes had left his bronze sword behind. While the blade was scarred and slightly warped from the heat, it sufficed. I took it from the pile of torched armor.

Dreh ni krif aan Dovah, mal gein!

The words didn’t hurt anymore, or perhaps it was because I stopped caring what they said. Only one thought remained, and I yelled it out to the dragon as I galloped towards the monster.

“Die...”

I leapt, and by the strength of Epona, or whatever was happening to me at the time, I bucked it in the jaw. It reeled back in pain as I dropped to the ground, noticing its exposed underside. With a mighty thrust I managed to drive the dull, bent blade into its chest, not stopping until it reached the hilt. The metal mixed with the dragon’s innards, sending chunks of entrails flying as I twisted it to be sure. I pulled it out and stabbed again, and again, trying to find its heart. Whether I did, or just caused it to bleed out, the beast uttered what I assumed was a curse before it collapsed onto the ground. "Die! Die! Die, die, diediediedie!!!"

For reasons I couldn’t explain, I felt angry that he died so easily, Angry that I couldn’t let him feel my suffering. Roaring with rage, I stabbed the sword into its body several more times, splashing more blood all over my coat, giving me an odd thrill. I don’t know how long I spent mutilating that beast, but whatever drove me was beginning to wear off, and I collapsed in a heap, sobbing myself into a deep sleep that not even the Imperial Legion carrying me to prison could wake me from.

Caro blinks, noticing the sting of tears in his eyes. Wiping them away, he returns to the jarl’s dinner table and shoves a cupcake viciously into his mouth, like she predicted he would. He then drains it down with a glass of warm apple cider, the faint lingering of alcohol not enough to soothe his nerves.

“I am sorry,” says the jarl. “Had I known you would reminisce with such emotion and passion I wouldn’t have asked this of you. Nopony needs to go through such horrors, let alone twice.”

“It’s better if I talk about it. Epona knows what would happen if I kept all that bottled up,” Caro replies, downing another glass of cider. “You can imagine my surprise waking up in an Imperial cell, covered in dried blood and dirt, having no memory of what happened. The memories slowly resurfaced over time, but by then I was so emotionally drained I couldn’t cry if I wanted to. My true feelings wouldn’t show anymore. Maybe that’s why the Imperials thought I was mad.”

“Are you quite sure it wasn’t the depressants the Empire forces prisoners to ingest?” The Jarl tilts her head questioningly.

“They... didn’t help matters. As easy as it was to get hooked on them, I welcomed the axe long before they took effect. Then... Tohro saved me.”

“And now we're stuck together. Isn't that romantic?” Tohro shoots up from stuffing his face with vegetables. "I have to say, I know you are a legitimate, if untrained warrior, but, Divines... You obliterated that behemoth.”

“That behemoth deserved worse, and I couldn’t do it. I have so much anger, I need to...” Caro tenses up as he cannot put his feelings into legitimate words without yammering nonsense. “That... probably explains where my bloodlust comes from. Drake?”

The jarl is at the throne, speaking to one of her colleagues; a foal who wears a dark robe several sizes too big, with his face humorously hidden by the cowl. They talk in hushed voices. “It is as you predicted,” says the jarl with an edge of anxiety. “Dragons roam these lands once again, and they’ve already taken lives.”

“And a town," says the little one. "This will only be the start of their crusade, but for what reason? If only we could interpret their language. We could understand their intentions better.”

Tohro laughs at the professional matter of which the child speaks.

The jarl gestures to Caro. “The only pony who survived their assault has heard their words, and he nearly deteriorated from the experience.”

“That's most unusual... Perhaps... if I found some form of literature, I could begin a rough translation. We may have further use for Caro.”

“Hey, now.” Tohro shakes his head, approaching the jarl and her friend. “This colt is stubborn as the mountains themselves! If he refuses to work with Shokenda Blackwing herself, then I highly doubt he’d serve the neutrality for such a petty request.”

“Nothing relevant to Jarl Drake is petty!” shouts the foal as he stomps over to Tohro. His high pitched squeal is far from intimidating. Tohro can't help but snicker at the little foal’s attempts to sound mature.

“Control yourself, child.” The jarl sighs and wipes her brow. “So, you’ve now been thoroughly introduced to Court Wizard Boysenberry. His wild imagination led him to believe that Caro wasn’t responsible for Reinoc’s destruction. I think I’ll have to listen to him more often.”

Boysenberry sits on his haunches and crosses his forelegs in smug confidence. “You flatter me, Jarl Drake. Now, I must request something of these two.” He takes Caro and an amused Tohro aside, into a circular room illuminated with several floating spherical orbs of many colors. The only decorations are a painting of Clover the Clever upon the wall and a large alchemy table connected to a red wooden desk. It’s littered with stones and stains of magical concoctions, as well as note cards with detailed scientific procedures.

“I have been doing everything I can to investigate this phenomenon but I have had little success. I could only theorize the involvement of dragons with the blood samples Jarl Drake’s scouts retrieved from the wreckage of Reinoc. Nothing more than that. Then, you show up and confirm that theory. Do you think this is fate?”

“I was just in the wrong place at the right time,” says Caro.

“Good answer. Fate is for foals and the scared billy goats who can’t accept responsibility for their actions.”

Tohro snorts, causing Boysenberry to turn to him. The lad pulls his hood back with his magic, revealing a combed jet black mane and grey coat.

“Do you not share my sentiment, Blackwing?” He trots about the room, making grand and exaggerated gestures. “Let me tell you something: it is not because of fate that I am the court wizard at such a young age, it is because I am a better practitioner in my fields of studies than anypony else that could also fill the position. Now,” he says as he turns his glare into a smile, shifting his gaze to Caro, "we are at an impasse. I am standing before the first pony spoken to by a dragon, but I cannot get those words out of your head without things getting messy. So instead, here's a theory. What if the language you heard was the same language engraved within a certain gemstone rumored to be deep within Beak Falls Barrow?”

“I am assuming you want us to retrieve it for you?” asks Caro.

Boysenberry nods. “You are an adventurer.” He then looks to Tohro begrudgingly, “You are an adventurer.” Finally, he taps his own horn, “I am seven years old. You understand my predicament.”

Tohro snorts. "I wasn't much older than that when I joined the Blackwings."

"Yes, perhaps, but not all of us are born into a life of war."

Caro notices something out of place among the rough and jagged stones scattered across the table, what appears to be an oval shaped one, grey in color and flecked with black spots. "What's that?” he asks.

"Just research." Boysenberry waves a hoof. “So, will you humor me, or must I let my first chance at deducting this mystery slip away?”

Caro pats the little unicorn on the head. “I’ll do it.”

“Huh?” Tohro shakes his head and then his companion’s. “Where did that come from? Who are you and what have you done with Caro?”

“Boysenberry isn’t the only one here who wants to know what the hell is happening. If just one gemstone can tell me why Master had to die, then that’s enough closure for me.”

Tohro cannot find a legitimate counter-argument for that, even though he starts many unfinished sentences. “Okay, okay. Whatever you wish takes priority.”

Jarl Drake looks into her liquid glass again. The contents only shows several armored individuals gripping knives and crossbows. “Do be wary, my brave colts. It seems that you are not the only ones who wish to claim this gemstone. Wherever a shining object lays, the Thieves Guild is sure to be as well.”

VIII - Sleight of Talon

“Shall we check our inventory?” asks Tohro. “If we are to gallop fearlessly into the depths of a cavern nopony has left alive, we must be prepared. Obviously.”

Caro nods and opens up his pouch. “Iron sword for me, wing blades for you, no sign of dulling or rust. A fresh supply of minor health and stamina potions from Boysenberry, bless his little heart...”

“Emphasis on little.”

“Shut it! Don’t be rude to ponies who give you free supplies. Or are you just sulking because you didn’t get to steal it?”

“Ugh, I get the picture,” Tohro snorts. He gives a mock bow and sweeps his hoof. “Do continue.”

“Pauldron... stolen from an Imperial soldier, currently equipped. No other armor to speak of. Spare blankets donated by Jarl Drake, an enchanted weatherproof tent, firewood...”

“Don’t forget the soap!” Tohro pipes up, a cheesy smile across his face.

Caro gives him a withering glare. “I’ve got three bars of soap, thank you very much.”

“And... Jade’s ring.”

CHAPTER VIII - SLEIGHT OF TALON

A branch snaps beneath Caro’s hoof.

“Keep it down, lumbering oaf.” Tohro shouts.

“You’re one to talk.”

The silence of the clear and starry night is muted further by the newly fallen snow, making any noise echo like a minotaur’s snarl. For one attempting to dodge any chance of arrest, it proves troublesome, yet a trip through a silent night is still worlds safer than one in broad daylight.

Caro and Tohro’s destination lies within the western mountain range, where the snowfall never seems to cease. To say the both of them aren’t nervous is a complete and utter lie, though they hide it underneath their well built exteriors like any warriors would.

The silent night allows Caro to reflect on how everything that has happened up to this point has been a double edged sword, especially in light of what he told Jarl Drake. Her kind words and open ears were reassuring, but her scrying upon Caro is a constant source of paranoia for him. Additionally, while it was a relief to let loose the gruesome details of Reinoc’s destruction, the memories are now more real than ever. It seems like every step Caro makes into a healthier state of being only sends him back another.

Tohro takes notice of Caro's sour expression and offers him a much more upbeat one. "Don't act so somber, mate. This is your chance to shine. Don't you wish to be some sort of grand hero after all you have been through?"

Caro nods. "Above all, I just want to find out why Master had to die."

“We're a two-stallion clan of young, fierce warriors out on a prowl to find the answers to a force beyond our understanding. What's there to be miserable about?" Tohro chuckles. "I mean that rhetorically, of course." His pacing slows as the hill grows steeper. "Hm. Beak Falls Barrow. Last I checked, Ezio and the Thieves Guild had their claws on that place. Do you know much of the Thieves Guild, Caro?"

“I know enough," the earthwalker replies. "Master traded with them, on occasion. Despite their infamy, they seem like a decent enough clan, putting their stealth and trickery to good use, evening out the boundaries between the rich and poor.”

“Hmmph, I don’t know what delusions you have, but I’m talking about the Thieves Guild, not the Charity Chums. Trust me, they’re bloody ruthless. Cross their path, or, hell, even their line of sight and you’ll wish you were poorer. They’ll take anything that glitters.” Almost as an afterthought, Tohro adds, “And everything that doesn’t. Still more friendly than the Sisterhood of Shadows, though. I don’t care what we do after this Beak Falls business, so long as we don’t have to set hoof in either of their sights again.”

“Wait, Sisterhood of Shadows?” asks Caro. “I’ve heard nothing of them.”

“You’re lucky.”

Whether the chill in the air comes from the intensifying snowfall or the genuine fear hanging from Tohro’s words, Caro can’t help but shiver. He follows his now silent companion along the gradually steepening path.

Along the way they make encounters with many travelers and merchants alike, but none of them are ever interested in speaking. They merely avoid the the duo and make no initiative to strike conversation. Many look sick, miserable, anxious or just plain deathly. The harshness of winter shows on their stiff bodies and frosted rags of clothing. Caro is tempted to pass at least one of his stamina potions to an elderly mare coughing up a storm but he’s stopped by Tohro’s hoof.

“Don’t make eye contact,” Tohro whispers, grabbing Caro’s hoof. “The Thieves Guild is known to hire decoys.”

Caro sighs, his breath becoming a light fog. “If you say so...”

The snow seems to intensify with every passing minute, making it a heavy effort for the stallions just to look forward.

“Ow!” Caro’s head collides with what feels like a brick wall and he falls to his rear. He rubs his head in confusion as he glances up to see a red cloak floating before him. He studies the snow and sees hoofprints leading around in circles and ending right underneath the phantom garment. A pair of thick rimmed glasses lay between them.

“Wait a minute...” He reaches out his hoof slowly and feels... hair. “Come on out, then. We know you’re there.”

He hears a nervous swallow and before his eyes a lavender unicorn mare materializes. “How did you know?”

“Your cloak.” Caro smiles, pointing to her.

She glances over her shoulder. “Oh no...” she mutters as she retrieves her glasses from the snow. She whimpers and backs away, cowering in sheer terror. “Please, just take my soul gems and leave me alone! I haven’t done anything wrong! I don’t know anything about any golden talons!”

“What in the name of Epona-”

The mare shoves Tohro aside and gallops away with a panicked grunt.

Tohro seems undeterred by his stumble, brushing the powder and dirt off his mail as he smiles. “Golden talons, eh? Whatever those are, they might be worth a detour.”

Caro has a fierce determination in his eyes. “We have to follow her.”

“What?! We’ll get in trouble with whoever she’s running from.” Tohro snorts. “Plus, I told you already, anypony could be a decoy.”

Caro's eyes remind Tohro of lightning, fast and heart stopping as they pierce his defenses. “You know, I'm willing to work with you, but we don’t have to argue about every single thing we do. Would it kill you to just compromise with me for once? If she is a decoy, I’m sure we can make quick work of her before she squeals.”

“Well... uh... If you say so.” Begrudgingly, Tohro kicks off the ground. In just a few wing flaps, he overtakes the mare, landing in front of her and skidding to a halt. He holds out his hooves as she pauses, looking keen to run the opposite way. "Woah, little one! No weapons, no problem! I'm of the Blackwings, I mean you no ill will."

“See? She’s harmless.” Caro gives the mare a friendly bow, hoping she takes it as a sign that he doesn’t intend on hurting her. Her tense shoulders relax slightly, so he holds out his hoof. “Caro of Riverhoof, and my companion is Tohro of... um...”

“Fillydelphia, born and raised.”

“Right. I apologize for his assertive actions but we had to investigate.”

“Had to?”

Caro stares Tohro down. “Yes. Had to. We’re problem solvers.”

The mare, now reassured, lets out a sob. She takes Caro’s hoof and shakes it vigorously. She’s trembling enough to make his whole foreleg shake. “Thank you, thank you so much. You have no idea how terrified I am...”

“I might.”

The mare’s hoof is coated in sweat as she refuses to let go. “I’m... I’m Shae Sparkle, of Wintercolt. Wintercolt Academy, to be specific, and I would have stayed there if I had known about these dreadful bandits. They’ve followed me back and forth across these mountains since yesterday, and they won’t give up. They seem to think I’m in possession of the golden talons, whatever those are.”

“Haven’t you thought of fighting back?” asks Tohro. “I thought that you unicorns knew all sorts of flashy moves.”

“I’ve honestly tried, but my horn falters in the face of fear.”

“A bit for every time that’s happened...” Torho lets a smug grin spread across his face, only to have it knocked away by Caro’s elbow to the ribs.

“Not even a basic flame spell works.” Shae squints. Her horn makes a magenta spark that sputters out instantly. “I barely managed that invisibility spell. All I can do is run.”

Caro beckons to Tohro and resumes trotting. “I suppose magic is a very effective tool until it doesn’t work. Come along, Shae.”

Still sitting on her flank, Shae looks around in bewilderment. “What?”

“Until your horn decides to cooperate, my sword and Tohro’s wits will have to be your means of defense.”

“What?” she asks again.

“It’s his thing,” says Tohro. “He just can’t leave a damsel in distress well enough alone, or anything else that he sees fit to help.”

As the gravel and dirt become further buried by the heavy snowfall, the path begins to twist and turn and grow thinner. Caro walks alongside Shae, who clings to him out of fear of any strange sight.

“You clearly have not traversed these lands before,” says Caro.

“Goodness, no. I knew there would be criminals along the way but I thought my magic would grant me protection. It’s hard to keep focus when every bandit wants my belongings, or worse... my...” she shudders. “They have no remorse.”

“It’s not just the bandits. You can’t trust anypony.”

Shae stares bewilderingly at Caro. “And yet you go out of your way to help them?”

“I relish any moment I can find a speck of good will these days. One just has to look hard enough.”

“What good will have you found?” Shae asks with a tilt of her head.

“Little. I met a zebra bard who offered kind words and mildly amusing songs, but that is the extent of it. Of course, there’s also this lump over here. He saved my life.”

“You’re too kind,” says Tohro, taking a bow in mid flight. “May I add Boysenberry to that list?”

Caro waves his hoof. “He’s a child. He has yet to understand what an ulterior motive is. Everypony else has had one, and I suspect Jarl Drake of the same. What does she have to gain by watching me? I have the strangest feeling she’s scrying upon us right now.” He looks to the sky with a death glare, but he falters. “Well, at least somepony’s watching over us. Better her than Platinum.”

Shae raises an eyebrow. “What in the name of Fauste do you have against the queen? Are you a rebel?”

“Tohro is, but I can have a genuine dislike of the Empire and not be a rebel, can I not? Imperial soldiers nearly took me to my grave, and then they...” Caro doesn’t want to lapse into his bloodlust at the thought of Jade’s lost dignity. “The Empire hasn’t done me any favors. I can do better than them.”

“You already have, sir," Shae says. "But if you don’t mind me asking, where are we going?”

“Beak Falls Barrow, and it may be a long walk. Tell us about yourself, pass the time.”

Shae flushes a bit, her horn glowing softly as she adjusts her glasses. “Well, I don’t like to brag, but I am currently the top student at the academy, in line to become the next headmistress, if all goes as planned. Wintercolt is more or less my entire life. I was born inside the academy, owing to my parents being professors there, and I have never left the village, until recently.”

“Does the academy know you’re away without leave?”

“Who said I was without leave? Before graduation, every student must complete an extracurricular project, and mine in particular happens to be the investigation of the strange happenings in Reinoc.”

Their traveling party is brought to a halt, due to Caro’s sudden whinny.

“Are you quite alright? You look a little green.”

Shaking his head, he says, “I’m... I’m fine,” even if the words aren’t truthful. A simple reminder of the encounter with the dragon swarm is enough to make Caro sick to his stomach, to the point of telling Shae about it being out of the question. Even if I were to explain, would she believe me? “I’m fine,” he repeats. It feels as if he’s trying to convince himself more than her.

They have been climbing for quite a long while. Looking out, the lights of Trottingham are visible several kilometers in the distance despite the heavy snowfall and fog. The wind is growing stronger too, as made evident by a nearby flag marked by two claw marks. Tohro laughs at the sight of it. “If the Thieves Guild is truly as stealthy as they claim to be, why would they mark their territory? This isn’t intimidating, it just reminds us to hold onto our wallets.”

“That’s not intimidating, but this is.” Caro sweeps away a conspicuous lump of snow at the base of the flagpole, and the contents underneath cause Shae to shriek.

“A-a-are th-those real?”

Even Tohro has to grimace at the sight of two rotting unicorn corpses. He approaches the smaller of the two. “I don’t think a fabrication smells like that. Bloody hell, this one couldn’t have been older than ten...”

“I don’t think this is a territorial flag,” says Caro, examining the tears and hasty preparation of the flag. “Somepony else set it up as a warning.”

Tohro nods in agreement. “Perhaps it was our fallen friends here. Do you think we can make use of their sacrifice?” He searches through the tattered remains of the bodies, finding twelve bits, a crumpled piece of parchment and a bobby pin. “Ooh, give me that!” Tohro snatches the bobby pin and hides it in his hair. “I’m dead useful when it comes to lockpicking," he whispers to Caro. "I’m the one who opened the backdoor to Gallopagos Keep.”

“Is this a regular thing with you two?” asks Shae. “Disrespecting the dead by stealing their belongings?”

“It’s not as if they’ll have any use for it,” says Tohro.

“But that makes you no better than this Thieves Guild, doesn’t it?”

Caro tries to give Shae a reassuring pat on the shoulder, but she steps back at his touch. “We are not thieves. We must do whatever it takes to survive so we don’t meet the same fate as these ill-fated travelers. Any adventurer could tell you the same.”

“Okay...” Shae whispers, bowing her head. “This is all so foreign to me.”

“When you live in a school your whole life, that is to be expected.”

“Say,” asks Tohro, “what’s on that paper?”

Caro unrolls the rough parchment and lays it flat on a stone slab and reads it aloud.

"Dearest Florence,

I have retrieved the item you were seeking and intend on destroying it soon. Whatever lies within Beak Falls Barrow is not worth all this trouble, and if little Pastel and I stay here for much longer, the Thieves Guild will find us. I’m sorry, my love. It seems fortune has fallen out of our reach o"

Aside from a few ink blots and dried blood stains, the letter doesn’t continue. “It seems the Thieves Guild got the jump on them before they could send this.”

Shae scans the letter a few times, looking for any anomalies. “What item do they speak of? Do you think it’s the golden talons?”

“Everyone and their mother are after them,” says Tohro, “and if they‘re connected to Beak Falls Barrow...”

Caro finishes his sentence. “We may need them to retrieve Boysenberry’s precious gemstone.”

“That shouldn’t be too difficult,” says Shae. “Odds are, the Thieves Guild stole the talons from this mare and her...” she swallows, still queasy at the sight of the bodies. “If you find them, you’ll find the talons.”

“Well then, today must be our lucky day,” says Tohro.

Jagged steps further down the mountain road lead to what looks to be the remains of an pre-equestrian garden. Stone pillars and archways tower over the rustic remains of statues, damaged to the point of being unrecognizable. Many gruff and muscular ponies are patrolling the area.

“Excellent,” says Caro. “Let’s try to be stealthy about this. We’ll beat them at their own game. Shae, it’s probably for the best if you stay back and remain hidden. I’ll call for you when the coast is clear.”

“Yes, sir. Best of luck to both of you.” She hides behind the stone slab, though her horn is still visible, sparking as she unsuccessfully attempts to cloak herself.

Staying close to the deep snow to mute their hoofsteps, Caro and Tohro ready their weapons and ascend the stairs. Caro signals for them to split up, and they make way to the east and west sides of the garden, respectively.

One of the bandits, a scrawny shaggy yellow pegasus, is napping on the job up against one of the pillars. If his back were exposed, this would be so much easier, Caro thinks. He decides to take a risk. He nudges the lazy bastard and he falls right onto his gut. Caro unsheathes his blade, ready to silently end the bandit’s life, when he hears a sharp "Psst!"

Over by the adjacent pillar, Tohro is making a violent gesture with his hooves that one can assume means Don’t you dare! He then charades pulling an invisible unconscious body to the edge of the garden.

Caro is astounded and yet strangely amazed. Assuming the vertical drop is far enough, there will be no evidence this bandit was killed.

Taking good care to not wake the shaggy one, Caro slowly reaches underneath his shoulders and drags him away from his napping spot. Some of his coins and a dagger drop from his loose saddlebag. When the pegasus atop the archway turns his back, Caro swings around and tosses the bandit over the edge. He only shouts for a split second before he’s silenced by the jagged rocks below.

Unfortunately, that shout is loud enough for the archway bandit to look Caro’s way.

“Hey!” she readies his crossbow and notches an arrow. “To arms, mates! We have a rrch!” Tohro tosses one of his wing blades right into her neck and she’s knocked clean off of her perch from the impact.

While the element of stealth is still on Caro and Tohro’s side, the remaining bandits are aware they have foes in their midst. Peeking around one of the ruined statues, Torho sees two of them investigating the disfigured dead body of the archer.

You blokes make this too easy, he thinks. He signals for Caro to move up, and the earthwalker complies, crouching and equipping a small rusty dagger. Using their own weapons against them, eh? You continue to surprise me.

Not wanting to waste another wingblade, Tohro leaps for one of the bandits, gets him in a headlock and twists. Snap goes the bandit’s neck, and blood drains from his mouth and ears. The other draws a large spiked hammer but he drops it as Caro drives the knife into his back.

“I think that should do it.”

Tohro rolls over one of the bandits’ corpses and pats them down, feeling for anything that could resemble talons, or anything golden for that matter. “One of these blokes has to have the talons,” he says.

“The one I dropped didn’t," says Caro. "I checked.”

Tohro kicks away at a lump of snow. “Well then, it seems we were on a false lead,” he says with a tinge of frustration. “Come to think of it, for a Thieves Guild, they went down a little too easy, and they’re traveling awfully light. They’ve hardly enough gold to buy lettuce.”

“That is because they are not the Thieves Guild.”

Caro whirls around at the sound of an oddly familiar voice, deep like that of a baroness'. A heavily armored earthwalker stands before them, equipped with bladed gauntlets and two broadswords laid across her saddle. She has a very professional disposition about her as she holds one of the gauntlets to the neck of a sobbing unicorn mare-

“Shae!”

Caro gets a running start but he corrects himself, realizing that if he makes any attempt to attack, Shae will lose an unhealthy amount of blood at the hooves of the yellow earthwalker ahead of him. She's still clad in the same armor she was wearing in Reinoc. Caro remembers her giving the command to tie him up just as well as the sound of his own breath.

“Well, isn’t this a nice surprise,” says Tohro. “How have you been, General Tangerine?”

The general's professionalism doesn’t hide her exasperation very well. “I had an a tip from a nice zebra in Ivarstable that the colt who decimated Reinoc was headed in this direction.”

Divines dammit, Xephyr! thinks Caro.

“Now then, I highly recommend you drop your weapons and surrender to the Imperial Legion. I have armed forces stationed all over the mountain ready to kill you on the spot if you make any attempt to escape, and even if you do...” She moves her blade closer to Shae’s neck. “I'm so sorry, but I can’t guarantee her survival.”

“You hag!” shouts Caro. “First you send me to the chopping block and then you threaten a child. I never thought the legion would play dirty like this. What happened to your dignity?”

“Dignity? This is war! I can’t very well have a mass murderer running about. Even then, you have no right to determine what is dignified when you brutalized dozens of innocent ponies. Forty ponies reduced to limbs in minutes! Children died, Caro! And the Legion knows it was you.”

Despite knowing his protests would be met with no sympathy, Caro has the compulsive need to deny Tangerine’s claims. “I’m an innocent colt!”

No good comes of his claim, as predicted. It only angers Tangerine. “You had your chance to appeal. The odds are stacked against you, and I’m sick of playing this game of cat and mouse. I finally have you in my grasp, and even if I have to hold a noblemare hostage, you will come quietly. Your Blackwing friend, too. Now, I will not repeat myself. Drop. Your. Weapons.”

The absolute fear in Shae’s eyes keeps Caro from doing what anypony else would do, that is to say, bolting. He would rather take his chances in the prison cell again any day then let her get injured. She’s young and innocent. Even if the charges for the destruction of Reinoc are greatly exaggerated, it doesn’t change the plain truth that Caro has murdered many a bandit and soldier. Ponies who, regardless of their corruption and depravity, had just as many emotions and memories as he does.

Caro removes his sheath and sets his iron sword on the concrete. He then looks to Tohro.

What are you doing? his expression says.

“I’m going to turn myself in, General,” says Caro, gesturing to Tohro. “However, could you let my friend go? He is merely my accomplice and is mostly innocent.”

It takes a moment for the reality of it to wash over Tohro, but Caro just called him a friend, and not in a sarcastic manner for once. He's utterly humbled. A moody earthwalker is giving up his freedom so two ponies can live, one of which he hates and the other he hardly even knows. He truly is selfless...

"Very well," Tangerine says, much to Tohro's surprise. “Under normal circumstances, I would say you cannot make demands, but I will allow this much. I would rather not take any risks when it comes to capturing you.” She lets out a sigh of what seems to be relief, as does Shae when the blade is taken away from her neck and she is set free. Tangerine mutters to Shae, "I am so sorry that had to happen..." before the young mare rushes to Caro and Tohro, who are standing close together, speaking in hushed voices.

“You don’t have to do this, mate,” Tohro whispers.

“I’ve got to. I’d rather it be me than either of you.” Caro is shaking a little bit, and it’s not because of the frigid weather. “Thank you, though. You at least granted me enough freedom to appreciate what I have left.”

Tohro is speechless. He cannot even make fun of this poetic moment, as much as he wants to. His hooves keep making inconclusive vetoes against this selfless act, until he settles on partial acceptance. “I’ll save you,” says Tohro. “I did it once, I’ll gladly do it again.”

“You’ll always be there to save my hide?”

“Yes.” The two clasp their hooves together. Tohro looks his friend dead in the eye and says, “I promise, I will always be there...”

Everything moves in slow motion. First, Tohro pulls a quick three-sixty degree spin, gaining enough momentum to throw two of his wing blades at Tangerine. She ducks the first and dives out of the way of the second, giving Tohro enough time to dive for the dead archer’s oak crossbow.

With both his hooves holding the weapon, ready to pull the trigger, Tohro has Tangerine at arrow point. “I always keep my promises!”

Tangerine is on her hind legs with her gauntlets crossed, stoic in the face of death. “Well played, Blackwing.”

“Now it’s your turn to drop your weapons!" Tohro yells. "Give us all of them. Rosemary is gonna have one hell of a business day with those swords in her smelter. We're going to make a small fortune!”

Tangerine’s rigid and stoic attitude vanishes. “Wait, who-”

She is interrupted, flung off her feet by a black streak tearing furiously through the snow speckled sky. It lands on the tallest pillar, becoming entirely visible. It's a hooded black gryphon clad in a long leather coat.

"Ezio!" Tohro exclaims.

“You would do well to not take our belongings from us again, pony," the gryphon growls to Tangerine with a voice that reminds Tohro of a dark cave. He shudders at his every word.

Tangerine does a quick check of her bag, eyes widening. “They’re gone!”

All four of the ponies look back up to Ezio, who equips the golden talons to a prosthetic arm. “You’ve come to the wrong neighborhood.”

IX - Bottom of the Barrow

Shae doubts her entire repertoire of bestiary encyclopedias has any instructions on how to cope with a prosthetically enhanced gryphon with an apparent sadistic streak, because that would be very useful against her current intimidating foe and his thief army. Screeches and caws fill the air as many more large and well equipped gryphons take their perches around the ancient garden, each one more angry than the last.

Ezio brandishes his talons and points to the four ponies below him. “You see, we may be thieves and scoundrels, but we still outmatch all of you in talon to hoof combat, as I will now demonstrate. Let them have it, brethren!”

CHAPTER IX - BOTTOM OF THE BARROW

“Shae! On me!” shouts Caro. He barely manages to deflect the hit and charges two closer gryphons, finding the hard way that he can’t land a single swipe of his sword. He’s far too slow.

Shae runs to his side, constantly looking up for fear of being snatched and dropped from the skies. Or worse, carried off to feed some hatchlings. Gryphons are notorious for that sort of thing.

“Now would be a-” Caro ducks to the right to avoid a gryphon’s swooping attack, “-good time to-” another’s talon leaves a deep gash in his flank. “Urgh... bollocks!” He shakes off the pain and lunges with his sword, cursing the weight slowing him down. “Use your magic!”

“B-b-but...” Shae is having difficulty holding her voice and the rest of her body steady from sheer terror. In fact, it’s for that reason that she can’t even spark her horn. She tries lighting up every offensive spell she can think of. Plasma ball. Lightning bolt. Anti-gravity field. Not so much as a flare works. “I’m sorry!”

Her apology is met with a gryphon knocking her upside the head with a mace. Her jaw rattles from the impact as she coughs up blood.

A genuine injury. It isn’t a paper cut or a bruise from tripping over. It hurts. A lot.

The gryphon makes another swing, bringing the mace down on Shae’s back. She swears she hears a snap as she slams to the hard ground. As if to add insult, she’s kicked down the stairs, sending her rolling into the one statue that isn’t demolished, a legendary alicorn with a long, ever flowing mane.

“F-Fauste?”

Tohro is pleasantly surprised at Tangerine’s aptitude in battle. He has to compliment her abilities, even though he’s aware she had a blade to Shae’s neck just minutes ago.

“You know, for a sly bitch of a general, you sure know your way around your weapons!”

“Why, thank you.”

The gryphons keep bombarding Tangerine with axes and crossbows but her armor is incredibly durable, allowing her to take the blows in stride.

One gryphon makes an ear-piercing battle cry and bum-rushes Tangerine, who puts up her gauntlets. The gryphon is unable to come to a stop and ends up impaled on the blades. Tangerine tosses her aside.

The other gryphon, enraged by the death of his partner, makes a landing and draws a ridiculously long katana from his belt. Even from several feet away a quick swing strikes Tangerine across her face, leaving her with a bleeding muzzle. She shakes it off for the moment.

“Blackwing!” she shouts, side stepping to Tohro. Before he can object to anything, he is promptly tossed through the frigid air towards the katana-wielding gryphon. The collision knocks them both in the air and over the ledge. Tohro winds up and gives the sucker a haymaker, sending him careening down the mountain with no hope of recovery. Torho catches himself and flies back to the battleground.

“You’re uncommonly strong, lady,” he says to Tangerine. “Would it kill you to ask next time before you use me as a battering ram?”

“I’m a pragmatist, Blackwing. Besides, odds are you would have said no.”

Tohro laughs. “Clearly you don’t know who you’re dealing with.”

Tohro’s laughter is cut short when he realizes that he’s fighting alongside the divine damned imperial general! This woman is responsible for the deaths of many blackwings more skilled and dangerous than him. It would be better to abandon her to be ripped apart by the gryphons, but abandoning her would mean abandoning Caro...

“Dammit!” he shouts. “Why does life have to be so ironic?!”

“Here, allow me to make things simpler,” says the big black gryphon, as he makes a heavy landing. The ground cracks at his feet. He unsheathes two meat cleavers, which spark as he drags them along the ground. If he’s trying to be imposing, it’s working. “I will kill you, loot your severed corpse, and your friends won’t do a damn thing to stop me.”

Tohro does the one thing he can do when he’s scared out of his wits: talk. “Technically, the earthwalker is my friend. The unicorn is an acquaintance, and OH FUCK!”

He feels the cleavers cut his hair as he ducks. He jumps the next swing and backs away from another. He equips his new crossbow and fires from the hip, not having enough time to aim down the sights. The gryphon is quick enough to sidestep the shot.

Tohro is down to five arrows and firing blind isn’t going to do him any good. He jumps in and whacks the gryphon in his bad eye. He reels back from the pain.

“Dammit! Kenway! Support!” he yells.

Tohro is caught unshod when another gryphon makes him a landing spot and relieves him of his crossbow.

For reasons Tohro cannot fathom, Tangerine sees fit to body slam Kenway, pin him to the ground and, with a single swing of her gauntlets, remove his head.

Backed into a corner with no hope of survival. Is it Tuesday already?

Caro has bruises and cuts all over his neck and forelegs, and the shock is starting to wear off. The sting of his injuries against the blisteringly cold wind is enough to make him cringe and drop his sword.

This doesn’t make sense, he thinks. The gryphons are closing in on him, flourishing their katanas, hammers and maces. I’m better than this! I can cleave an imperial soldier in two without error. I can kill a dragon! What the hell is wrong with me? The answer dawns on him as he barely dodges the hammer swing of a red eyed gryphon. I’m not angry enough.

His bloodlust hasn’t kicked in because he doesn’t desire any blood. He wants to kill the gryphons, or at least knock them out, but what he cares about more than that is surviving. For the moment he curses Jarl Drake and Tohro inadvertently teaching him to calm down and value his life.

Another swing of the hammer soars over his head. It’s so painful to dodge, with his ruined legs and all, that he begins to question whether or not taking the hit would have been a better alternative.

He ducks another swing, only this one lands a hit behind him. On Shae. She shrieks and collapses from the hit, sobbing as more blood leaks from her mouth.

Caro can tell Shae, cowering behind him against the Fauste statue, is suppressing the urge to scream. She’s not the only one. Caro has the injury induced idea that if he yells enough the gryphons will leave him and the others alone. What a childish thought.

Then he realizes something. If he had become so enraged in the past to the point of being an unstoppable force of murder and mayhem, what if the same thing could happen to Shae?

“Hey...” he says to the cowering unicorn between labored breaths. “Get angry...”

“Wha...” she utters weakly.

“Just... do it... and don’t stop...” Thud. An uppercut with a jagged mace makes him lose his lunch and a lot more blood. He tumbles over onto his back and the world goes blurry.

He’s dead. No, wait, he’s alive. He’s alive! He’s hardly alive. He’s dying. He’ll be dead. Shae’s mind is racing at a thousand kilometers a second and she can barely breath. She has been holding back a scream. She wants to, desperately, but what good would it do? She would only show the gryphons how terrified she is.

With one of their primary targets out of commission, the four gryphons advance on her and begin their punishment.

With every blow to her head, body and legs, her vision fades a little bit more and images of everypony she knows and loves flash before her.

Her mother and father, dressed in their emerald robes. The most beloved alchemy and astronomy professors in Wintercolt Academy’s relatively short history.

Headmaster Frosthelm, the elderly stallion who never doubts her, who constantly assures her she will take his place someday far in the future.

Eavesdrop, the girl who taught Shae how to cloak herself. She can almost match Shae in intelligence, but she has the upper hoof in cunning.

Lancer, the colt who looks up to Shae. He was going to ask me out on a date, wasn’t he? Looking back, she would have said yes, had she not been so foolishly preoccupied.

Sundance... the prancing party pony who doesn’t know when to stop smiling. Shae misses her most of all. She wishes so much she had cuddled with Sundance underneath the covers instead of attending class... perhaps she wouldn’t have ended up here, broken and shattered by the vengeful Thieves Guild for no reason other than being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

The thought of leaving her loved ones behind is enough to turn her misery and sadness into anger. Anger turns into fury. Fury turns into rage. She lets out that scream, and it’s so loud the gryphons have to throw their weapons aside and clutch their heads, as if they’re trying to keep their skulls together.

“Dammit! What the hell is that noise?!” shouts Tohro. His ears quiver as the high-pitched whine ravages his senses.

“Hell is that noise, Blackwing,” says Tangerine, who is unfettered by the noise.

Tangerine and Tohro watch as Shae slowly levitates into the air, surrounded by a lavender aura that pulses through the sky and causes the dead flowers and grass to ripple. Her eyes have lost all their features, becoming blank, emotionless and downright eerie.

As her gashes and lesions heal, her screaming finally falls silent, much to the relief of the gryphons surrounding her.

The aura’s intensity lessens, though Shae is still airborne.

Tohro wipes his brow and flaps his ears, trying to get the ringing out of his head. “Divines... Glad that’s over.”

Until this point, he thought of Shae only as a weak unicorn squib that had gotten in way over her head. He wants to apologize to her several times over for ever assuming such a thing.

“Way to go, girl!" Tohro cheers. "Now, get out of there!”

“Move, soldier!” shouts Tangerine

Shae doesn’t hear them. She doesn’t even acknowledge them. She just floats there, ominously.

The gryphons are still cowering from the aftereffects of the screaming. Ezio is the first to stand, though he struggles to keep his balance. “Come on, then!” he shouts. His voice is skewed as well. “She’s exposed! Gut her!” He flies in close and swings both of his swords.

“NO!" Tohro reaches out hopelessly, certain that the young unicorn is going to die. He braces for the sight and sound of spilt innards.

Instead, the swords don’t touch Shae. They clash against an invisible force and are thrown aside, and the gryphon leader is left prone. The other gryphons pound on the force field to no avail. All of them are left without weapons and any idea how to cope with this act of magic.

Shae’s eyes and horn suddenly grow brighter than before, more blinding than the light of the sun. She spreads her legs, raises her head, and mutters in an echoing monotone, “Begone.”

The blast is indiscriminate. Every gryphon and pony in sight is thrown from the garden through the air at breakneck velocity. Many gryphons have their backs shattered when they collide with pillars. One is impaled on Fauste’s marble horn.

For Tohro, the world is spinning so fast, it has become a mismatched streak of white, brown, grey and blue. It takes every muscle in his chest to keep himself from vomiting. He hates being in the air with no control over his speed or direction.

Then, the world slows down again, just like when he was in the stalemate with Tangerine. The moment is too perfect. He’s face to face with Ezio, whose shocked expression is almost comical. Then, a crossbow flies by, just within Tohro’s reach. He snags it, spins around and loads the one bolt that survived the blast. He then aims for the ugly, hot blooded, murderous bonesucker of a bird.

“Jackpot.” He pulls the trigger.

The gryphon is dead the instant the arrow lands between his eyes and tears through his head. Tohro finally allows himself to black out.

Shae is the first to open her eyes and see the motionless face of a dead gryphon. She’s far too exhausted to let out another shriek, or even a gasp. She just rolls away slowly and uses the stone wall for support as she stands up.

The garden is gone. The pillars collapsed and plowed their way into a dark and dank cave entrance. A several hundred year old object torn apart in seconds.

“I did that,” says Shae. She thinks she should be horrified at how much power she let off at once, sending several gryphons to a muddy grave, but she’s too happy at the revelation of being alive and well. She makes a silent cheer.

She does a spot check, looking for Caro and Tohro amongst the bodies of the thieves. They both have landed face up in a puddle of murky water with their legs entangled. The sight is amusing until Shae notices the water is turning a dirty red from the lesions covering Caro’s body, which are leaking streams of fresh blood.

“You took every single one of those injuries to protect me?” Shae asks Caro, despite his being unconscious. She pulls him away from Tohro with difficulty. He’s quite heavy from his muscles alone and his pauldron is getting in the way. She removes it and tosses it aside, leaving him completely naked. Shae has to hold back a blush. She can’t help but find Caro’s rugged turquoise figure rather endearing.

“Alright, let’s see if I can do this...” Healing magic is yet another practice Shae has no difficulties in, provided her horn decides to work. The cave is illuminated with her signature magenta hue. “It works!” she shouts. She then passes her horn over Caro’s wounds. His skin closes up and his welts disappear. His irregular breathing returns to normal.

As his eyes open, he mutters, “You’re a loud one.”

On top of her magical abilities returning to her, Shae’s glee is amplified at knowing Caro’s alive. She shudders at the thought of losing one of two ponies who had offered her unconditional protection. Such kindness is indispensable, and she can only return the favor by giving Caro an ecstatic hug, which he doesn't reciprocate, backing away awkwardly,

Noticing the the bits and pieces of the garden’s decorations obstructing their easy exit, Caro curses under his breath. “Not that I’m unhappy that you saved our lives, but please never do that again.”

Shae thinks, I only did it because you told me to, but, okay. “How did you know about magical overdrive?”

Caro shakes his head. “I didn’t. It’s just... the last time Tohro and I were under stress in a life threatening confrontation, our captors ended up dead, by my blade. I assumed something similar would happen to you, you just had to,” he charades air escaping his mouth, “let it out.”

“Magic overdrive mostly happens to infants, actually," says Shae. "You know how it is, them letting their emotions out all at once. No conservation of magical potential.” Shae shines light on the stalactites leading to a passage further down the cave and nods. “Do you think we should go this way?”

“Let us wake Tohro first, see if he needs any help. Prepare your healing magic, if you can.” Caro leaps to his white pegasus friend and nudges him, causing him to stir.

There are no significant injuries on Tohro’s body other than a few points of blunt impact and some light cuts from talons on his cheek.

Shae looks over him as well, smiling at the sight of minimal damage. “I think he’s just unconscious from my force spell. He’ll be quite alright.”

As Shae mends Tohro’s cuts, her mind brings forth a realization that she hasn’t fully comprehended until now. She remembers that Tangerine had accused Caro of the massacre at Reinoc, the very thing she had been intent on investigating. The academic part of her sinks down, knowing that if what Tangerine said is true, there is nothing magical or unequine about the incident and the subject of her extracurricular project will have to be reconsidered. The emotional part of her, the one at the helm at the moment, goes rigid.

She has been in the presence of, fought alongside, took life saving advice from, and healed a mass murderer. She looks at Caro through her peripheral vision. He doesn’t look the part. Sure, his face and body are chiseled, but a few days in the Equestrian fields will do that to anypony. He seems relatively stable, especially in comparison to the depraved bandits slobbering over her.

Then again, Caro was quick on the draw when it came to killing the bandits, but honestly, had she the abilities at the time, Shae would have done the same. Those were the horses that had threatened to disembowel her or bend her over (Or both) several times.

Caro seems to be only as much a killer as is anypony else who needs to fight in self defense. That is the sort of thing a traveler must have the capacity to do in such bloodthirsty times. Such is the way of the twilight age.

Shae isn’t going to pretend she didn’t hear what Tangerine said. Instead, she decides to go for broke, getting the answer she wants before the questions eat her alive, even if it means risking losing Caro’s protection.

“Did you kill the...?” she asks. Only half the question escapes her mouth before she second guesses it.

Caro looks to her. “Hmm? Kill who?”

He speaks the word ‘kill’ so casually. Maybe he isn’t stable...

Shae decides to ask again, only this time using slightly more vague words. “Were you at Reinoc?”

Caro sighs, moving a hoof to his face. Is it to hide shame, or has been in this sort of conversation before? Shae wonders.

“I didn’t kill them,” he states bluntly.

The cave is already deathly silent, aside from drops of water and slight drafts leaking in from outside, but the moment seems even more mute.

“I don't expect you to believe me.” Caro sits on his haunches near Tohro, waiting for him to wake.

Shae isn’t sure who to believe, either the Imperial soldier who had a blade to her neck not a half hour ago or the earthwalker who saved her life. The comparison is foalish, but the Empire couldn’t, or at least shouldn’t be wrong. Tangerine had just been caught up in the moment. Perhaps. Caro could be a cold blooded killer with a really good poker face, too. There is no knowing for certain, and Shae plays a mental game of catch with her loyalties until she has another overdue epiphany. “Wait, so, if you were in Reinoc, then... what did happen?”

Caro’s eyes, which had been darting back and forth between Shae, unconscious Tohro and his own reflection, go stiff, as if he’s staring all the way to an unseeable horizon. He shudders and bows his head, sighing.

“You don’t want to talk about it?”

He shakes his head again.

“I see.”

Shae bottles up her frustration. She can just imagine the progress report she will have to send to Headmaster Frosthelm, telling him she’s locked in a dead stalemate. Or dead.

I’m in Beak Falls Barrow, which nopony has ever left alive or sane, with ponies from all three sides of this bloody war! A Blackwing, General Tangerine and the colt the Empire wants dead. Sorry, I guess I won’t be able to complete my independent study!

What a cruel joke.

The queasy feeling in Tohro’s stomach accompanies an uncomfortable wetness. As his senses return, he reaches out and feels a clump of rugged, dirty hair...

“Hey. Relax,” says a young yet rugged voice.

He's touching Caro’s hair. Of course Caro would be the one to wake him up. He can see a smudge of turquoise in what little vision his drowsiness allows for. Frankly, he’d rather wake up to Sugar and Spice, and let them heal his body with their nurturing juices... but returning to Ivarstable will have to wait. He has an earthwalker to take care of, and what is he doing, lying down in a mud puddle?

“‘Tis a flesh wound, mate.” Sitting up proves to be a burden on his stomach but that problem can be set aside. “Come on, let’s keep it going, I’m ready.”

“No thanks in small part to Shae," says Caro. "It seems her going berserk brought her magic back.”

“So that’s what all that screaming was about?”

“Must have triggered my banshee spell,” says Shae. “I mean, I really was screaming. I was terrified. My magic just decided to take over for a little bit.”

Tohro reminds himself that he needs to apologize for ever thinking her weak, but he can’t quite form the words. Sentimentality isn’t a puddle he likes to wade in. As such, he removes himself from his wet resting spot and looks about for the one thing he felt rightfully belonged to him. He killed its owner, after all.

A ray of sunlight had found its way through the wreckage, shining its warm glow on the body of the black gryphon leader, his head still sporting a blood soaked arrow. The only part of his corpse that was the least bit inviting were his spilt wallet of possibly dozens of bits and his golden prosthetic arm.

Tohro licks his lips, trotting to his prize with a slight skip. “Come here, my beautiful golden talons.”

The wreckage shifts ever so slightly, revealing more sunlight that reflects off the last yellow coated, orange maned, heavily armored mare Tohro wants to see at this particular moment.

General Tangerine cuts the golden talons from the leader’s false arm and hides them away. “Now then, Blackwing... where were we?”

The fragile string of the temporary alliance Tohro and Tangerine had formed is cut by a swing of her broadsword. Her fighting style is unlike anything Caro has ever seen from a fellow earthwalker. While most of his kind grip their weapons in their mouth or forehooves, his preference being the former, Tangerine holds her gleaming sword in her tail.

What a fool! Caro thinks. She’s completely defenseless on three sides!

Not that he’s complaining. As much as it would further stain his and Tohro’s record with red, her going down in a fight for such an unorthodox stunt would be actually hilarious, in a gruesome sort of way.

Tohro makes the first move, lunging at the general with his wing blades spread wide. He makes several spinning swings and kicks, all of which Tangerine ducks and dodges. She bucks Tohro when his back is turned and swings her blade. He rolls away and only receives a gash on his skintight armor. Any closer and he would have had more than a flesh wound.

Caro realizes that Tangerine is far more competent in this sort of fighting style than he anticipated. Of course. She’s a bloody general. On top of that, she still has her bladed gauntlets, which Tohro has to fly to dodge. He takes a page from Kenway’s book and divebombs the general. She topples over, unable to stand under the weight of a pegasus and her own steel armor. She finds herself relieved of the golden talons.

“And stay down,” says Tohro. He gives the talons a good look over, as if they are a sultry barmaid. "Don't follow us, General. You're not needed here."

The cavern widens gradually, leading to what must have been a camping spot for the Thieves Guild. Stepping around the makeshift fire pits and wool sleeping pouches, Caro notices small tidbits left behind by the gryphons when their leader made the call for duty. He collects spilt coins and scraps of leather, as well as a flask filled with an indescribable orange stew-like substance. It does smell decent enough, though.

Shae’s trust in Caro has lessened. He can tell by the way she keeps her distance, whereas before she didn’t want to be out of his sight for a second. It’s offensive to him, honestly. He wishes she had never asked him about Reinoc. If he could only tell her without being reduced to a sobbing wreck...

“Huh,” says Shae as she looks to an archway decorating the path further into the Barrow. “Wonder what that is?”

The flickering light of Shae’s horn and still burning fire pits grants just enough light for the text on the archway to be readable.

Caro reads it aloud. “It says, ‘The Precursors Welcome Thee.’”

“Um... It most certainly doesn’t.”

Caro scoffs. “Shae, I may have the appearance of a barbarian but I think I know plain equine when I read it.”

“That’s just the thing. That’s not plain equine.”

Caro turns back to the archway to read the text again and put this silly argument to an end and finds... he can’t read it. It had looked like a roughly carved message a moment ago. Now it has the appearance of claw marks and burns. “What in the world...”

Shae nickers and presses on. “The light is just playing tricks on you. Don’t think yourself mad.”

Caro is quite sure he isn’t crazy, or at least he does his best to pretend otherwise, but this hallucination or whatever it was leaves him rather mad indeed.

Tohro flutters to the head of the group, now in possession of several silver and gold necklaces and looking obnoxiously proud of himself. Caro is concerned that this sudden bout of greed is falling out of hoof.

“What do you intend to do with those?”

Tohro whips his mane about, showing off his jewelry. “I’m sure the merchants of Trottingham will cough up a healthy sum of bits for this stuff.”

Caro isn’t impressed in the slightest.

“Hey, this doesn’t make me a thief, not by a long shot,” says Tohro, reading Caro’s disapproving expression. “We’ll be giving back to our brethren and our wallets a will be a decent bit heavier. It’s a win-win situation, yes?”

While that is undeniable, Caro can’t help but feel that the rest of the Thieves Guild won’t have the same opinion when they find one of their largest excavations raided, on top of several of their own killed, all by just a few little ponies.

Descending the cracked circular staircase, Caro hears Shae’s pained scream from below and smells a brief whiff of smoke. He gallops to her as fast as the stairs let him and finds her collapsed on the dirty floor with a bleeding left hind leg. The burnt carcass of a large feral rodent lies next to her.

“Damn skeever got me!” she shouts, her voice strained from holding back tears.

Caro has had the luxury of never encountering a skeever before today, but he remembers the stories from Master well enough. They take refuge in damp, shaded environments. They don’t discriminate between friend and foe, only knowing food. Their teeth are venomous, though not to the point of deadly, just causing their victim to lose sensation wherever bitten. Luckily, the bite wounds are easily treated with natural ingredients, but an unlucky traveler caught unawares dreads when the rest of the skeever’s family comes back to their weakened prey for second helpings.

“This really burns,” Shae says with a pathetic laugh. “I don’t know any remedy spells.”

“What the hell should we do, then?” asks Tohro, his greedy smile fading.

Shae waves away his panic and reaches into her pouch. “I have some healing potions, don’t worry. I’m not completely helpless,” she says as she levitates a red vial to her mouth and takes a swig. She struggles to her hooves, keeping her injured leg off the ground. “Okay, this will numb the pain for a while, but it won’t actually fix anything. I’ll have to prepare a proper cure soon.”

Caro sees her leg is already becoming discolored and inflamed. “Don’t worry,” he says, though he’s trying to reassure himself more than her. She’s carrying herself with a decent amount of confidence for the moment. He’d hate to see her lose it when the burning pain comes back.

“As soon as we find Boysenberry’s gemstone and get the hell out of here, you’ll be right as rain,” says Tohro.

“Can you walk?” asks Caro.

Shae has to do an awkward exercise of moving on three hooves, moving far slower than desirable. "I'll manage."

Caro approaches her, wrapping his foreleg around her back and giving her a reassuring pat. "Don't worry. I'll keep you safe."

Carrying Shae on his back, Tohro makes fluttering jumps between stones on the way down a vertical shaft.

Tohro almost gags when Shae tightens her grip around his neck. “Calm down, love. You’re in capable hooves. I have the balance of a mountain goat that has the finesse of an interpretive dancer.”

“It’s just... a really steep drop.”

Tohro thinks he has Shae figured out. She has a tendency to display confidence in the light of danger, at least until danger shows its ugly face. After that, she seems to go catatonic. At least she handled the Skeever with finesse, minus her bum leg.

“I hope I haven’t been a burden,” she says.

Tohro makes the next leap, landing on another platform without error. “Are you serious?” he says. “Caro and I would be long dead by now if you hadn’t brought your pretty little face to the party. By the way, thank you.”

Shae giggles, burying her face into Tohro’s blonde mane. “No, thank you. I never thought I’d feel so save around a Blackwing and a wanted felon. You’re such kind souls.”

“Not everypony in this land has an ulterior motive, just an ungodly amount of them. If only Equestria had more kindred spirits such as us, huh?”

“Mmmhmm...” Shae braces herself for the final gap. With a single hop, skip and jump, Tohro makes yet another flawless landing and lets the purple unicorn disembark.

“Thank you for choosing Blackwing Carriages,” he jests. He then walks back to the ledge and shouts upward. “Need a lift, mate?”

Caro’s distant voice echoes off the walls. “With a sword and knife upon my back and several pounds on you? I’ll take the safe way down.”

Tohro tenses up as he hears the less than graceful jumps by his earthwalker friend. The stones jutting from the walls aren’t as able to sustain Caro as well as a light bodied pegasus, shifting underneath his weight, until the last platform crumbles and collapses. He makes a leap of faith but comes up short of the ledge.

“No!” shouts Shae.

“Caro!”

Tohro feels something inside him drop, much like his friend cascading into the darkness to a sudden and bloody end...

“Oh, don’t anypony come and help me, for fuck’s sake!”

A turquoise hoof reaches over the ledge. Tohro cheers inside his head and helps his friend onto solid ground, albeit with some difficulty. He is rather heavy. “Don’t you scare me like that,” says Tohro, realizing how fast his heart is pounding.

“Calm yourself, I’m fine.”

Of course, when it comes to fighting for his life, Caro won’t so much as bat his eye. It’s the time between brawls that he may decide to have a mental breakdown or three. Tohro worries that while he may be able to satisfy Caro’s request to visit Riverhoof and get him to Shokenda unscathed, would the poor fellow still have a mind of his own?

The question looms over Tohro falls behind the rest of the group, out of Shae’s magenta light, allowing the darkness of the cave surround him and render the way completely unseeable. His heart is pounding again, this time from a different kind of panic. Anypony in their right mind is scared of darkness to some extent, but Tohro is a full fletched nyctophobic. His legs begin shaking uncontrollably and sweat forms on his brow.

“Oh no... Oh, sweet Epona, no... Caro! Caro! ...Shae? Divines, somepony help!”

He feels the brush of a cold hoof upon his wither, causing him to stand rigid and hold his breath. He then sighs of relief.

“Agh... dammit, you two. Now you’re just being cruel, sneaking up on me like-”

Tohro turns his head, and is thrown to the ground before he can draw his wing blades to strike a decaying, white-eyed skeleton of a pony. It looks like a corpse that refuses to stay dead, and it’s hell bent on making one of its own as it draws an onyx longsword.

If it weren’t for the perpetual darkness, Tohro would close his eyes and scream. He only does the latter.

X - Otar the Mad

Deep within the forgotten catacombs of Beak Falls Barrow lies an untold number of miles of tunnels and shelters. Legends say that this is where the Precursors took refuge from some great threat centuries ago. The smells of mildew and mold permeate the air as the party ventures ever deeper into oblivion. Several hundred years of rust and decay upon a single black coffin shifts and falls away as the lid slowly opens. The sound of grinding stone and metal makes the party jump and scan the darkness.

From within the worn cloth interior of the tomb rises a skeleton, dressed in rags from a time long forgotten. Shambled remains of ancient armor so powerful it could block darkness itself, now nothing more than shards of worthless metal adorning a rotted frame. A mind filled with an unending hatred and an urge to feed resides within its moldy skull, ready to bludgeon all in its way. The undead don’t discriminate.

Along the entirety of the bottom chamber, more of their kind, the draugr ponies, draw their weapons and prey upon the once cocky white pegasus as he crawls away in absolute fear. Not of the draugr themselves, but of the aura of darkness that surrounds them.

One of these reanimated corpses is not among the vengeful, however...

CHAPTER X - OTAR THE MAD

Caro’s iron sword cleaves through the spine of one of the draugr, reducing it to a pile of bones and dust. Shae fires an ice beam from her horn that Caro quickly ducks under, watching as the translucent blue magic freezes another skeleton to the ground. Seizing the opportunity, he bum rushes it, shattering its torso into shimmering shards.

“Where’d you learn a spell like that?”

“It’s called Wendigo’s Frost.” Shae blushes. A tall one with blackened and rotting muscle clinging to its bones in various places swings its axe towards the distracted unicorn. Caro dives forward and shoves her out of the way, the rusted blade clipping his flank.

He leaps back and throws his dagger, watching as the draugr’s left leg is severed, sending it falling to the ground. The unnatural light fades from within its empty sockets. Shae throws a fireball to burn what remains, just to be sure.

“They aren’t what I would call worthy foes.” Caro winces from the pain of Shae healing his wound. Torn flesh and sinew mend themselves together in a gruesome display. “The way they fight is - how do I say this... routine?”

“As if their actions aren’t their own,” Shae whispers, glancing up from her work. Caro lets out a low nicker in agreement. After the brutal brawl with the Thieves Guild, he expected what lay within such a dangerous cave to be a far more fearsome foe. Or at least something deserving of the reputation. It was disappointing, to say the least. Not to mention, skeletons didn’t bleed, robbing Caro of any sense of satisfaction he could’ve gained from this.

Tohro is lying in the fetal position in a corner, trembling and stroking his tail, his eyes darting in all directions. Caro nudges him upright and pulls him to his hooves with some resistance.

“Afraid of a few moving carcasses, are we?”

Tohro shakes his head furiously. “Never! I’ve faced plenty of draugr before!” His wings flare, though clearly trembling. “They’re nothing! Twigs are easier to snap!” The way his voice cracks and waivers with each word makes him flinch in pain and embarrassment.

“Well then, why the long face?”

With shaking hooves, Tohro equips his stolen crossbow and reloads it with old yet sturdy arrows dropped by the draugr ponies. He gives Caro a sideways glance and narrows his eyes. “I’m fine,” he hisses through his teeth.

Despite Caro’s constant reassurance they can stop and rest if he’s so terrified, Tohro stands by his bravado, and even closer to Shae’s illuminated horn.

Shae merely sighs at this invasion of her personal space and leads the group towards their unknown destination through the thick darkness. The silence amplifies the echo of their hoofsteps, which Tohro jumps in terror at each time, eyes darting about and wings flaring to take off at a moment’s notice. All the pegasus can do to calm his thundering heart is imagine the piles of gold filling his pockets after he pawns the copious amounts of jewelry around his neck, returning to the Blackwings a hero for striking the very heart of Thieves Guild. It helps to calm his nerves slightly, but it isn’t enough, not by a long shot.

Draugr continue to crawl from the cracks and crevices of the cave, pouring out of the very darkness that birthed them. Glowing eyes pierce through the black, outshining Shae’s horn and making the party easy prey. The first set that had assaulted Shae and Caro was by surprise and dumb luck. Caro was forced to defend Shae while she had provided firepower that she wished she could improve. Every time she used magic, her limited time before the skeever venom took its toll dwindled slightly faster.

The numbness in her leg begins to fade, replaced by the annoying itch of the skeever’s bite. If things don’t look up soon, the itch will be the least of her worries. She dreads having to use the others for support, wanting to show them how strong she is on her own, that she’s more than just a white mage that screams and cries a lot. Much more than that, however, she wants to prove to Headmaster Frosthelm that all his efforts haven’t been in vain. She’d die before she would let that happen.

She casts a wind gust spell on a nearby draugr, hoping to send it across the room. Instead, the spell merely rattles the skeleton’s ribs like a macabre instrument. She could swear it was enjoying it. Shae steps away, keeping off her injured leg, and charges a fireball at the tip of her horn.

The draugr opens its jaws, and Shae stares in horror at the maggots falling from its eroded teeth. Even with the distance between them she can smell the mucus upon its breath, and her stomach lurches. To the party’s surprise, it speaks with an androgynous voice, having no warmth or life. Just a deathly rasp like the last breath leaving a dying soul.

“FUS...”

One word is enough to send chills up Shae’s spine and make her hair stand on end. Her fire spell dissipates as she braces for whatever this incantation could be.

“...RO DAH!”

The force of a thousand gales rushes forward from the living corpse’s mouth. Cruel irony sweeps Shae off her feet and into a pile of bones shoved into the corner of the room, all of which had been swept up and slammed against the wall. It was like they ran out of coffins for the ponies who—

The realization hits her as suddenly as the impact. Hooves fly to her mouth as she tries not to retch at the sight, shoving off the various bones and rotted flesh. She finds herself pinned to the wall and unable to back up any further, her hind hooves trying to kick away the remains. Her injured leg sends a jolt of pain up her spine and she collapses, coming face to face with a rotted skull.

The scream rending the darkness is enough to get Caro’s attention. He swings his sword around and takes the head off one draugr trying to get the drop.

The decay upon their bones and remaining flesh assures Shae that the draugr have been dead for decades, if not centuries, but what black magic was responsible for forcing them from their places of rest? Her horn glows to search for signs of the magic that caused this obscene display of blasphemy, but she soon realizes closing her eyes only makes the smell worse, and she fights her gag reflex.

The draugr that spoke lumbers her way, gripping a sword in its mouth. Maggots slide down the rusted blade as the skeleton rears its head back for the killing blow.

“I am so, so sorry,” says Shae in a quivering voice. She bites her lip and looks to the ceiling, finding the perfect stalactite looming above them. With a burst of well focused magic, she separates it into many pieces and sends them raining down. The draugr rejoins its fellow deceased in the grody pile of bones.

In the time it took for her to destroy just one, Caro had slaughtered three, leaving their necks separated from their rolling skulls. Even the cowardly Tohro decided to join the fray, albeit with less grace than usual due to his trembling. The fight keeps his mind off things, but even he knows there’s no honor in killing the already dead.

Still, he had impaled his fair share with his wing blades, tossing them around like rag dolls and sending them careening into walls and down pits. One had grappled him from behind, trying to impale him with its horn, and was rewarded with an arrow in the knee.

Caro backs up, bumping flanks with Tohro. Both don’t notice the other slightly blush at the contact, but Tohro is quick to cut the silence.

“Could’ve aimed higher, ya know.”

“You’re welcome,” Caro snorts.

“Follow my lead,” says the pegasus. Catching Caro by complete surprise, he lifts him over his head and tosses him into a bottlenecked line of draugr. Caro spins around in the air, cutting clean through them all and landing a hind hoof on the last one standing. In just a moment, several pairs of glowing eyes were extinguished, bony corpses toppling like demonic dominoes.

Shae is unable to resist leaping into the air and cheering for the acrobatic feat, clopping her hooves together. She hits the ground and immediately regrets it as pain shoots up her leg once again.

The bowels of Beak Falls Barrow are as silent and black as ever, aside from Shae’s glowing horn, which seems to be fading by the minute.

They must have torn through at least fifty draugr by now, and Caro is still not satisfied. Any other pony would be scared out of their coat by moans of dozens of living dead sulking from all directions, but he really can’t take the creatures seriously when they can barely hold weapons in their fragile teeth, let alone stand upright half the time. He’s suspicious that if he gave a draugr a few meters of free reign, its legs would fall off under sheer exertion. The mental image of a limbless pony skeleton rolling towards its prey, only to have its sword stick in the ground and freeze its mobility is hilarious. He tells Shae about it, only to make her green in the face.

“Sorry...” He looks forward and mutters, “I thought it was funny.”

“Did you know they can talk?” Shae finally asks, over her spell of nausea.

Tohro looks at her in bewilderment. “Are you sure you’re not hearing things? Beyond the occasional groan, draugr know only to kill on sight, or anything that’s within the will of their resurrector.”

“Fus ro dah, what could that mean?” Shae whispers to herself.

Caro had barely heard the words amongst the sounds of clashing metal and hoofsteps, but recalling them triggers memories of his cracking skull as he cowered in the burning remains of Reinoc, a black dragon looming over him like a nightmare. He feels his ears to make sure they aren’t bleeding again.

Still clean.

He breathes a sigh of relief. The draugr and dragon’s words sounded similar, yes, but how can they be the from the same language? Another mental image of the dragon, this time a skeleton with eroded flesh fused to its bones, flashes in his mind. It’s not quite as funny.

“Curiouser and curiouser,” says Shae, despite not getting a response to her previous question. “It’s as if they can cast magic from their mouths. That has to be it. Its horn had eroded away, it couldn’t have used a gust spell. I may have to look through my...” She stops trotting as her eyes widen. “I left my damn books at the top of the foothills! They’ll be underneath a foot of snow by now!”

Tohro chuckles, causing Shae to shoot him a dirty look. “Try six. The Weather Guild is pulling out all the stops this winter.”

“Now why in Faust’s name would they go and do that?” Shae whines, stomping a hoof as her horn brightens.

“Our spies told us it was an order from Queen Platinum. She hopes that a dreadful snowfall will quell the conflict between the empire and the Blackwings. Clearly she underestimates our indomitable spirit and devotion to Equestria’s true potential!”

“Boo,” Caro whispers into Tohro’s ear. The pegasus leaps into the air, nearly colliding the ceiling. After hanging there for a moment, he plummets to the ground and lands on his rump. He’s sweating again, and Caro is laughing.

“Indomitable spirit, eh?”

“That... is not funny!”

Shae is chuckling too, much to Tohro’s chagrin. He folds his forelegs and grumbles to himself. “Honestly. With friends like you...”

As far as Caro is concerned, if Tohro isn’t going to admit he’s on the verge of having a panic attack, which is very obvious, then they may as well try to break the tension. It’s far too late to try and play super duper happy go lucky BBBFFs! he thinks.

“He- hello? Is- is anyone there?”

Caro and Tohro leap in front of Shae, brandishing their weapons. If Shae was right about the draugr speaking, they don’t need to take chances.

“Show yourself!”

A small figure steps out of the shadows, barely visible in the light peering from an opening in the ceiling. The party gasps when they see the source of the voice is a small red gryphon in tattered leather armor. He’s completely unarmed aside from a blunt pickaxe that looks like it was scavenged off one of the corpses.

Tohro aims down the sights of his crossbow, causing the gryphon to raise his talons in surrender. “Don’t shoot, Ezio! It’s me, Caimen!”

The name Ezio flies over Caro’s head. He signals for Tohro to lower the crossbow. “Come on over here into the light, uh, fellow thief.”

A better view of the limping gryphon reveals a crooked smile across his beak and red eyes that haven’t blinked for days. He also desperately needs a bath and a good preening by Tohro’s guess. The poor fellow is twitching madly.

“It’s so good to seeeeeee you, Master Ezio. You and the others left me down here yester... last week? I think?” An idle talon taps his chin in thought. “But, but! I never stopped digging! I mined so so so sooooo much ore! There’s even diamonds down here! But watch out for creepers! Oh yes, terrible things!”

Yes, this one has definitely taken a plunge into the pit of lost minds. Caro wants to believe it was possibly from isolation, but he also sees an advantage in this. This gryphon has gone so far off the deep end that he thinks three ponies are a single Ezio character. He assumes that the massive black bird several floors up with an arrow between his eyes and a missing prosthetic talon that now lies in Tohro’s bag was Ezio.

“Uh, yes!” says Caro, trying to emulate Ezio’s voice from what little he heard of it. “Well done, Caimen.” He gives a hesitant pat on the gryphon’s back. “What other, um, objects of interest have you found?”

“Um, um, what was it?” Caimen ruffles the molting feathers on his head trying to recall something. Caro hopes that something is Boysenberry’s gemstone. “Yes yes yes! I found a... ah, a lever!”

“Lever? This is disappointing, to say the least. What good is a lever?”

“Yes! It’s quite a beautiful lever! Please, please, come this way. A most excellent lever! You must pull it! It might even open the Nether or the Enderlands!”

Keeping his distance, just in case the mad fellow’s mind takes a turn for the violent, Caro follows Caimen through a narrow passageway. The place hasn’t been occupied very long. Shovels, pickaxes and hand drills litter the floor among the cobwebs and dust.

They hop out and take a short drop into a long hallway that doesn’t look like it has been touched by the gryphons... much. The decapitated corpse of a gryphon with emerald feathers lies in front a rusty lever set before a large circular gate. Caro hears Shae trying not to retch from the scent. The blood is still fresh.

Caimen looks at the lever as if it were made of solid gold, though in his twisted mind, it probably is.

“Well, go on, Master Ezio. Give it a good pull,” he says, motioning to it. “Pull it reeeeeeal good! The lever demands it!”

Common sense says that the gate will open as soon as the lever is pulled, but the fact that the gate isn’t open and the presence of a fresh corpse clues Caro in. He lets a sadistic grin creep across his face as he realizes how he can rid himself of Caimen as well as relieve the gryphon of his insanity.

“Why don’t you pull the lever, Caimen?”

The gryphon rubs his wrists with his dirt stained talons. “Are you sure, Master Ezio? I, I’d hate to undermine your authority. You are the king of levers, after all.”

“You are undermining my authority by questioning my orders.” Caro has to admit, being in a position of power such as this is oddly pleasing. “Now, go on.”

Caimen nods slowly and awkwardly, then, with still trembling talons, grips the lever and pulls.

It only takes a second. From three different slots in the ceiling come large pendulums. Caro pins Shae and Tohro to the floor, and the blade passes over harmlessly. Caimen isn’t so lucky, and his head is severed, falling from its perch upon his neck in a splatter of blood and gore.

Shae wipes the sick from her mouth and groans. “That was just....” Her mind struggles to find the words. She replaces her frown with an unusual smile. "That was brutal."

Caro shrugs. The sight and smell of two headless gryphons is less than pleasant, despite being oddly amusing to him and Shae both.

“Better him than us,” says Tohro, though he seems disturbed from the act as well. "To be fair, he had lost his head a while ago."

Caro shakes his head, offering the lavender unicorn a helping hoof. “If he went and had just one moment of sanity, he would have realized we are, in fact, not Ezio. Then, odds are one of us would have ended up with tetanus from that little pickaxe of his, or worse.” He gestures to the bloody scene.

Shae refuses his hoof and stands up on her own, grunting from the pressure on her leg. Caro can tell the numbing spell has almost completely worn off. Shae seems more concerned with other matters, though. She trots forward, keeping herself balanced on three legs.

So much for being a miracle worker. Caro sighs, feeling that despite his best efforts to act as a temporary guardian, that she might not let him do so when she most needs him. He can just hope he doesn’t lose her entirely. “Just... rest your leg for a moment. Tohro and I will figure this out. I don’t want to risk our necks twice.”

Shae slumps in a safe corner and rubs her sore leg. "Do what you must."

"I promise I'll protect you."

Tracing the circular door with his hoof, Caro sees that it’s segmented into three disks, each embroidered with three crests that boast different etchings. A pair of wings, a unicorn horn, and a horseshoe. The disks, with enough effort, could be rotated to match in a vertical line.

“So, it requires some sort of combination, else your head is forfeit,” says Caro, tapping his hoof. He slams his foreleg against the cryptic door. “Dammit! Of course it’s not going to be that easy!”

Tohro is laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation. “So, what, we just try the symbols at random until the damn thing opens?”

“Do you trust yourself to be able to dodge the pendulum every time?”

The pegasus thinks about that for a moment, but decides it’s hardly worth the danger to go about this haphazardly. “Wait a minute,” he says with a stomp, “I recognize those symbols.” With a face spelling excitement from revelation, Tohro reaches into his pouch. The golden talons. Like before, he gazes at his stolen prize longingly before examining its palm. He holds the talons to Shae’s light, adjusting until he sees...

“Yes, there it is!”

Caro raises an eyebrow. “There is what?”

Not breaking away from the talons, Tohro points to the door. “Okay, I need you to arrange the crests in this order from top to bottom. Horn, horseshoe, wings.”

“Wait, the combination is on the-”

“Yup!” Tohro triumphantly tosses the talons into the air and catches them in the pouch. “It really is that easy.”

While reluctant to believe this hunch, Caro facehoofs. He then turns the disks until they’re in the supposedly correct order. Horn, horseshoe, wings. And... nothing happens. Of course.

“I... I think we have to pull the lever now,” Shae whimpers from her spot.

Caro groans. No, it’s never that easy. What if the symbols on the talons are supposed to be read in reverse order? What if it’s mere coincidence that they’re the same? What if it’s a code where one means another? Maybe Boysenberry is the absolute king of all jokes of the practical kind, and this whole escapade has been nothing but a snipe hunt. Or to get rid of them...

Caro shakes that thought from his mind when he’s shoved aside by Tohro. “Oh, for the love of-” He punches the door. “Fine! Fine! I’ll do it!”

Caro smiles, finding his companion’s enthusiasm amusing. “I’ll be here, ready to dive in and rescue you from the pendulums of punishment. Or if it turns the lights off.”

“My hero.” Tohro rolls his eyes.

Mentally preparing himself to make a dodging roll should this entire plan go to Tartarus, the pegasus grabs ahold of the lever in his teeth and slowly yanks back. He ducks, fearing the blade has already made halves of his skull and he hasn’t realized it yet, but nothing of the sort comes to be. Instead, the segments make a full rotation before sinking into the floor.

Caro allows himself to breathe, knowing they won’t have to suffer the same fate as Caimen, at least for the time being.

The trio stare into the abyss below, illuminated by Shae’s ever fading horn. Stretched before them is a winding mass of catacombs, even more tangled than the previous set.

Shae whimpers at the distance she’ll have to trek, her leg dully throbbing to remind her of her plight.

Caro sighs in frustration, knowing that more draugr will probably be down there, leaving more hollow victories in his wake.

Tohro swallows hard at how dark it is. “Well, looks like our work is cut out for us.”

After blindly running about in the seemingly endless catacombs, it’s a relief to see a lengthy and linear path with no detours or crossroads to speak of. The walls are polished and smooth obsidian, boasting the same indecipherable language Caro and Shae had seen at the entrance. The runes appear to be etched into the stone itself.

Out of curiosity, Caro makes an attempt to read the words, but his mind draws a large blank. The sheer absurdity of what happened several floors ago still lingers. How had I gotten The Precursors Welcome Thee from a set of claw marks? Maybe I spent far too long in a prison cell with no proper reading material. That, or the darkness is eating my mind like it did to Caimen.

Shae’s horn flashes briefly. “The Fae is strong with this place, but I don’t know what kind of magic it is. It kind of hurts my horn to even sense it. You said you were looking for a gemstone of sorts?”

Caro nods, causing Shae to smile. It is refreshing to see he hadn’t totally lost her trust.

“I think we’re close, then! Some gemstones contain properties of the Fae within them, and I can feel this energy coming from a small source dead ahead.” She points into the darkness beyond the path.

Tohro’s ears perk up at the idea of leaving the accursed dungeon. He spreads his ivory white wings and glides ahead of the pack. “Hurrah! Let’s nab that little sucker and get the hell out of—”

Dirt clods crumble from the walls as a skeletal arm extends forth and clips his wing, sending him into a barrel roll that ends with smashing into the floor. Tohro raises his scratched and bloodied face in time to see the rest of the draugr pull himself from its tomb.

Tohro’s wing blades extend forth from his feathers as he jumps to his hooves. “The walls!” he shouts with disbelief. “They’re coming out of the fucking walls!”

Caro hears a distorted moan directly behind him. He turns and sees more living corpses seeping their way through cracks and crevices that didn’t even exist a moment ago. Apparently trudging on a sacred burial ground is a taboo that even the dead can’t tolerate.

Still limping on her infected leg, Shae casts a lavender lightning bolt that shatters three draugr into shimmering dust. Caro follows up by picking up a dropped mace in his teeth and disarming the one nearest him. Literally.

With no weapon, the draugr swings its one remaining arm at him, leaving a nasty scratch. Caro swings the mace downwards, crushing the skull like a melon.

Tohro tosses two wing blades into the hooves of the draugr that clipped him. As it struggles to get unstuck, he takes one of the blades in hoof and slices through the remains of its tendons. It isn’t enough. For every corpse they send back to Tartarus, two more join in the battle. At this rate, they will be surrounded. Draugr may be weak, but in sheer numbers they will easily overpower any threat.

Caro, Shae and Tohro get back to back, facing an incalculable number of undead. Caro decides to go for broke and do the one thing anypony can do in the face of death. “Run!”

He’s not sure which direction he's going, but he doesn’t care so long as it’s somewhere without sentient skeletons. The unnatural river of corpses just would not stop pouring forth from the walls and ground. How many of them were buried here?

Suddenly, a harsh red barrier materializes at the base of the cryptic symbols. The draugr swing their swords futilely, kicking and moaning, but the barrier renders their attempts useless. More seem to flood behind them, causing a riot as they hammer and groan at the shield.

Caro taps the barrier with a curious hoof and is immediately jolted away with a stinging blast. He shakes his hoof, trying to get feeling back into it.

“I wouldn’t boooother!~” sings a voice that has no right to be so enthusiastic, given how drop dead ancient and gravelly it sounds. “The sacred language is a powerful art that cannot be comprehended by mere mortals, much less countered by one.”

The voice, foreboding as it is, hypnotizes Caro. Despite every bone in his body telling him he shouldn’t approach the source, he can’t help but slowly walk forward towards it. It sounds so foreign, yet so familiar. Torho and Shae exchange glances, shrugging at the sight and follow, wary of any more surprises. An entrance not visible before comes into Shae’s light, which Tohro notices is growing dimmer by the second. Caro doesn’t hesitate walking into this new room, completely unprepared.

A dimly lit room filled with streams and waterfalls greets the trio. Small rivulets of water run cracks in the ceiling and cascade down the walls in almost deliberate patterns. Other cracks offer the faintest of glances to the cloudy sky that awaited them.

Small piles of fresh snow are melting at the bases of recently lit torches. One torch among them is unlit, and is approached by a dark figure wearing ancient faded robes. With the same voice Caro heard before, the figure speaks into the torch, causing the red powder to spark and fill the chamber with a warm light. The faint smell of brimstone lingers in the air as Tohro and Shae welcome its liberation from their fears.

It is then that Caro realizes he has grown to miss such warmth in the short time he and his friends were traversing the Barrow.

The figure looks Caro’s way, and all three recoil at the sight. It’s another undead type creature, but this one seems different, somehow. Its skeletal face appears to show emotion, though the trio pass it off as a trick of the light. Instead of soulless sockets glowing with the toxic taint of dark magic, there are a pair of fully intact gold eyes. Eyes that appear to glow with happiness, if not a hint of worry.

“Come in, come in! You are more than welcome here! In fact, I’ve been expecting you. Don’t worry, your companions can join the party too.”

Shae looks simultaneously fascinated and horrified by this unusual pony, while Tohro seems close to throwing himself to its mercy for the simple fact of providing a light source.

Wait, Shae had mentioned the draugr casting magic from their mouths, Caro realises. “Are you a draugr?” he asks.

The skeletal one rears back slightly, his eyes showing offense despite the lack of lips to frown. “The nidilon? Heavens no! Why in the name of Saviikaan would you compare me to those... things?!”

Caro tilts his head. “Saviikaan? That name doesn’t belong to any of the nine Divines. And since when are draugr called nidal... nidora... what now?”

The skeletal stallion doesn’t seem to hear Caro. “Just think for a moment! If I were a nidilon, would I be able to speak your common language?” he gestures to himself with his bony hooves. “Unlike them, I still have my sil. The nidilon just obey the commands of another.”

Caro draws his sword as well as a conclusion. “Are you the one who sent those things after us?”

“No, you mey! Weren’t you listening?! I said you are welcome here! But if you insist on swinging that pathetic excuse for a zahkrii about, I am willing to change that luxury and leave you in the care of the flesh craving monstrosities you prefer to socialize with.”

Tohro taps Caro on the shoulder. “I’d take a conversation with a zombie hermit over fighting another corpse any day.”

Caro can't help but notice how Tohro’s eyes keep wandering to the torch that gives light. With a heavy sigh, he agrees and puts away his weapon.

“I am no hermit!” says the skeletal stallion. “For your information, my name is Otar, and I demand to be referred to as such.” He takes a polite bow.

Shae relaxes slightly, knowing for the most part that their lives are not in jeopardy. She slowly approaches their strange host and gives a modest curtsy. “It is a pleasure to see a friendly, er, face.” She flinches, waiting to be berated for her insult, but nothing happens. “I hope we aren’t imposing.”

“You are most certainly not, but apparently you still have trouble opening your ears. I have been expecting you, and when I say you, I refer to him.” He points a shivering cloaked hoof at Caro, who looks about, hoping that it was somepony behind him or one that just entered the room. “Do you have a name, colt?”

“Y-Yes, I do.” Caro pauses to take stock of the fact he is talking to a skeleton who has probably endured senility several times over. How borderline preposterous will this adventure get? “I am—”

“Caro of Riverhoof,” Otar answers for him.

“Why did you bother asking if you already knew the answer?” Caro stomps a hoof, which echoes through the chamber. “For that matter, how do you know my name at all?”

“You’re still not listening! How could I expect you if I didn’t know who you were?” Otar points his commanding hoof to a cracked bowl sitting upon a flat stone table. It’s filled to the brim with the same silver liquid Jarl Drake was using to spy on Caro. He scoffs at the sight of his previous escapades repeating endlessly within the bowl. Enraged by the audacity of both Drake and Otar keeping an unwanted eye over him and his friends, he bucks the bowl away, letting the soil absorb the liquid glass.

Otar does a double take with an expression that makes Caro grin, though he only feels frustration.

“Once again, I find myself as a plaything of fate. I want nothing to do with you, or whatever you’re interested in me for. I am only here to—”

“Seek the gemstone, yes?” Otar interrupts. “Ah, the ancient prophetic crystal, my kind’s most prized possession.” He taps three nondescript rocks embedded in the wall. The sound of grinding stone accompanies the wall parting to reveal a small pedestal. A set of dull jagged crystals, small enough to hold in one’s hoof, sits upon it. Otar is able to halt his shaking limbs enough to carefully remove the ‘prized possession’. With a single puff of air from his lungs several hundred years of settled dust cascade to the floor.

Boysenberry had spoken of the gemstone as if it were a hundred thousand bits wrapped in a jewel encrusted harem of sultry mares. What an understatement, Tohro thinks, licking his lips at the radiant beauty. Even Caro has to admit he can understand why the Precursors would lock such a priceless artifact away from the eyes of thieves.

“I can tell by your hornless friend’s euphoria that this is what you desire,” says Otar, taking such a splendid sight for granted.

He holds the gemstone within a leg’s reach. Caro attempts to take it for his own to complete this chaotic and regrettable quest and get the answers he’s been looking for, but Otar snatches it away.

“Ah ah ah.” He clicks his tongue. “Naughty naughty naughty, Caro of Riverhoof! I will allow you to look at and appreciate the prophetic crystal’s existence and majesty but...” His eyes look upon the gem with remorse. “I am reluctant to part with it. Might I ask you, what day is it?”

“Uh, I believe it’s Tuesday?” Shae guesses.

Otar nods with grim clarification. “My suspicions are correct, then,” he sighs. “A thousand years have passed since the infestation.” Not taking his gaze away from the gem, he sets it upon the stone slab beside his emptied bowl.

“Infestation?” asks Caro.

“There was a war. We lost.”

“We... who?”

“The Precursors.”

A grim silence permeates the dank and mildewed air.

“Caro, I cannot stress how important it is that you hear my words. I know you have your own business to go about, but... if you listen... I know I can help you with your little dragon problem.”

Tempting as the offer is, Caro has already been told the same lies by Boysenberry and Jarl Drake. He sighs, unable to bring forth any enthusiasm as he resigns to his fate of another quest. However, if Otar is a Precursor, if that is at all possible, then his word is as good as anypony’s. At least, if he even is a pony anymore. “Otar, I’m all ears.”

The skeletal stallion perks up in an instant, returning to his disturbingly-upbeat-for-a-dead-pony disposition. “Alright, then! You should all know that it was over a millennia ago when the land you call Equestria was dominated by my brothers and sisters. Of course, it was not referred to as Equestria back then. If I were to tell you the name of our old kingdom, you might lose your ability to hear, and I most certainly do not want that. Ponykind was far different in that era, not segmented into race or class, nor did we bear unsightly marks upon our flanks. We were a perfect race, with the strength, cunning and wisdom to lead the nation into a bright future.

"Of course, we were not alone in the advancement of life, magic, and technology. It would have been impossible if it weren’t for our guardian deities, the Dovah. It would be selfish to assume ponykind was the only sentient species, but the Dovah were something else entirely. You, of course, call them dragons. Dragons have a lifespan bordering on immortality, with generations of knowledge and arcane abilities your kind can only dream of. Runic magic more powerful than any spell I invented in my past life. Fortunately, we Precursors were in their good favor. A select few of us were chosen by the Dovah to interpret their language and pass on their wisdom to those below. A gift to better ourselves. Dragon Priests, we were called, bridging the gap between ponykind and the Dovah. The old kingdom entered an age of prosperity. Our towers reached for the heavens. The oceans and rivers were as clear as diamonds, and our fertile grounds spanned to the horizon."

"It sounds beautiful," Shae mutters.

"It was, and it was all made possible by the Dovah and their uncanny connection to the Fae. They could speak directly into the Fae, manipulating and bending it to their will. We Dragon Priests were taught their elegant yet near indecipherable language, and permitted to use it as a weapon. Only we are able to use the Thu’um. Well, us, and those descended from the Dovah themselves. And that brings us to you, Caro. Before the tragic events that forced us underground came to be, the liquid glass granted us a vision. Someday, in an era far on the horizon, the world will be blessed with a pony who carries the Precursor legacy in his veins. It is he who will spread his mighty wings to speak the word and will of the Dovah.”

Caro and Otar recite that prophecy at the exact same time, leaving the others to back away in bewilderment, eyes wide in awe.

“That’s...” Caro’s eyes slowly open as he takes a deep breath, fighting fresh tears. “Master Hammerfell told me about the Precursors before. You said what he said almost word for word."

Otar nods. “I see... this Hammerfell, he’s...”

“Dead.”

Another moment of silence passes over like a thick wave of salt water, broken only by Caro’s heavy breathing.

Otar nods again. “Yes, that’s right. I saw through the glass. He was murdered by Nahkriin. I had the... misfortune of knowing that dragon when I was a Priest. She was named after one of them.”

“Hammerfell wasn’t the only one she killed,” says Caro, trying to restrain the tears that come forth at the mere mention of his master’s name. “Everyone else in Reinoc was at the mercy of the dragons.”

"That is disconcerting..." Otar mutters. “Why would Saviikaan command such genocide? He is a kind and generous Dovah! I sense treachery in these lands, Caro.”

“There is more than enough of that without the dragons. I was blamed for Nah-ka-reen's crime and sentenced to death. My life was saved, but... my sanity wasn’t.”

“That is also true. The liquid glass has shown me everything you endured in that cell. You are worth more to the world than that. You are—”

“Is this all a joke to you?!” Caro stomps his hoof, his voice louder than he intended. His anguished yelling makes dust fall from the ceiling. “If I’m worth so damn much, why did I have to watch so many ponies die?!”

Otar is doing his best to wear a look of sympathy despite his lack of skin. He raises his hoof to silence Caro. "Child, be calm..." It doesn’t work.

“It’s not just me! Everywhere I turn there’s an innocent mare getting raped by keepers of the peace! I take a glance in the other direction and there’s a mother and child murdered for setting foot on a lowlife guild’s territory! What happened to the great and luxurious kingdom of Equestria I heard so much about?!” He holds back a sob, and takes a deep breath. He speaks again, this time so low that Otar must strain his rotting ears to listen. “No matter how hard anypony fights, they're...”

“But, Caro of Riverhoof, what if I told you that the power to change the world around you lies within your blood?” He holds the prophetic gem a hair's width away from Caro’s muzzle. Staring into its reflective interior reveals more cryptic symbols. “I assume by the look upon your face that you have seen this language before.”

“This..." Caro wipes his eyes. "This is the dragon's language, isn’t it?”

“Yes. Look deep. Read the letters you ponies deem so cryptic and tell me this doesn’t mean something to you.”

Caro is about to insist that he cannot so much as hazard a guess as to what these runes mean, if they even are words at all, but some part of him keeps his eyes trained on them. Over the course of what seems like hours, the symbols begin to shift and turn, transforming into plain Equine.

“Mercy me,” he murmurs. “Tohro, are you seeing this?”

The pegasus trots forward and glances over Caro’s shoulder, staring into the gemstone. “It’s all gibberish to me.” He shakes his head. “What am I supposed to be looking at?”

"I can read it! Why can’t you?"

When every last symbol has arranged itself before Caro’s eyes, he reads the passage aloud.

“‘Here lie our fallen lords. Roaring power of the Reclaimer revives. Dragonborn swift as the wind. Holds control over their very lives...’”

It feels as if a blade had just pierced his forehead, Caro keels over in mind numbing pain, moaning and shouting obscenities that prompt Shae to cover her ears.

Tohro’s wings spread, cocking his blades into position. “What are you doing to him?!”

Otar sweeps his hood from his head, revealing a tattered gray mane and a long, jagged horn that glows with a harsh violet aura. A shield forms just as Tohro leaps from the ground, pressing his blades forward as he dives for the undead creature. The attack bounces off harmlessly, sending Tohro falling to the floor.

“Restrain yourself, young one! I have waited too long for this day to have it be interrupted!”

Tohro pulls himself up and dives again. Shae notices what appear to be tears in his eyes as he hammers at the shield, Otar staring in a mix of confusion and anger.

“You leave me no choice!” he rasps. “FUS RO!”

A small gust of wind sends Tohro across the room, his wings struggling to upright himself. Everything blacks out for a brief second. Tohro feels himself collide with another body. He slowly opens his eyes and sees Shae staring in disbelief, making him curious enough to look up at what has her so surprised. It’s the last yellow and orange mare he wants to see at this moment, standing right above him.

Tohro crawls away from Tangerine. “Oh, hey there, General...”

Caro pays no mind to the scene, as he is surrounded by an unusual swirling energy that causes everypony’s mane to stand on end.

“Just what the fuck is going on here?!” Tangerine shouts as she takes in the scene before her. “I can’t leave the three of you alone for five minutes, can I?”

Caro’s screams descend into an exotic and incomprehensible tongue, reverberating across the antechamber and making stones shift and fall. “Tar’okim vas ork’la heka maar aartu detu tenosaara moe’mo glisnok ko’ora ro kaan tre’yark hoaardokes ske paarth yokanok esko beth’roas thaan tu shal’kan forkestal stratos!” he babbles.

“He’s possessed!” shouts Tangerine, having forgotten her previous intentions in an instant.

Tohro pushes her away from the vortex of chaotic light, covering his head from falling debris. “Sure, let’s go with that! And to answer your question, no! I don’t know what the fuck this is!”

Shae forgoes limping to join them. “You’re just as clueless as the rest of us, General!”

Tohro pauses for a moment at how that was phrased and laughs out loud.

“And by the way,” Shae continues, “I’m still not so keen to how you held a blade to my neck! I have half a mind to let Otar eat you alive!”

Tangerine has a look of remorse. Until now, Tohro doubted she could feel such a thing.

“Who are you, earthwalker?” Otar asks Tangerine, shaking his head at the scene as he tries to restrain Caro’s thrashing. “The liquid glass did not foresee your arrival!” His eyes wander over to the bowl, then back to Tangerine with a look of concern. “How did you get past my barrier?”

Tangerine blinks. “What barrier?”

A roar breaks the silence, and sounds of bony hoofsteps begin marching towards the chamber.

“Oh, great...” Tohro mutters.

Otar curses under his breath. “The nidilon serve many purposes. To ensure the prophetic gem stays in its rightful place, to keep outsiders out, and to keep intruders in. But I can't control them in such numbers!”

Tangerine glances to Tohro, making a silent plea for an explanation. The pegasus can only offer a shrug.

Just as things can’t seem to any worse, the torches Otar had spoken into all burn out simultaneously, plunging the room into darkness save for the unnatural glow from Caro’s body.

Tohro falters. '“Great...”

“Blackwing... are you... shivering?” Tangerine asks, her voice sounding more concerned than it has any right to.

“NO!” Tohro snaps, shoving away her sudden touch.

The draugr are closing in on Shae, Tohro and Tangerine fast. Tangerine turns to them, her tail reaching for her sword.

“Nid!” With never before seen grace, Caro leaps in front of the three. He tenses up his body and closes his eyes, his entire body trembling like a coiled spring as he prepares to do the impossible. "Fus..." Merely uttering the first syllable makes his body tingle with anticipation, and fear. Energy crackles off of his rough coat in white arcs. The draugr grow closer now, so close that their putrid odor is almost visible. "...RO DAAAAAH!"

Caro shouts the last two syllables, eyes tearing open to reveal draconic slits, shining with the beauty and majesty of his draconic forefathers. It is the last thing the draugr see before they are obliterated by the gale.

It takes Shae a moment to register that the undead they have been fighting this whole time were the Precursors themselves. With the corpses tossed aside into the neighboring walls of the antechamber, further embedded into the stone by the sheer force of Caro’s Thu'um. They impact upon one another, bone shattering against bone. Tens upon hundreds of cold, unforgiving sockets going out as their final moments of unlife leave their possessed remains.

Bone dust, eroded flesh and mildewed cartilage fall from the ceiling like vile snow, and all is silent. Caro stands perfectly still, his draconic eyes not blinking.

Until Tohro speaks up. "I almost feel like... that was too easy..." he says.

Caro sways and reach out to his pegasus companion to steady himself.

“Are you okay, mate?”

“Geh... I’m fine...”

“Fine?!” shouts Shae, standing so close to Caro he can feel her every breath. “Do you have any idea how worried I was?! You were speaking in tongues! For a moment, I thought your head was going to twist about, then you'd spew fluids and climb the walls!”

“That'd actually be hilarious,” Tohro adds with a smirk.

Otar clears his throat. “As humorous as that may have been, I’m afraid what just happened to your friend is quite natural... for a Dragonborn.”

Shae tilts her head. “How do you mean by—” Her hesitant trot forward is cut off by another jolt of pain up her leg, and she falls to the ground with a scream. Caro leaps to her side and helps her stand.

“Dragonborn?” Tohro tilts his head, finding himself mesmerized by his friend’s very un-pony like eyes. “Are you telling me he’s the fruit of a dragon’s loins?”

“No,” says Caro, his voice clearer and more mature than ever before. “The prophetic gem held the answers... I am a foal of ponies, but the Dovah lie in my ancestry. The power of the Thu’um is mine to command.” He approaches Otar and gives a respectful bow. “Thanks to you, of course. I think I'm going to enjoy this power.”

“You now have nothing to fear, Caro Dragonborn,” Otar says, reciprocating the bow. “With your mighty voice, noble heart and unwavering spirit, you can face any challenge before you, and shape Equestria in your image. I bid thee farewell, though I pray to Saviikaan that our paths cross again.”

With a soft violet glow protruding outward from his jagged horn, Otar the Dragon Priest disappears.

"What... the fuck..." Tangerine gasps, falling onto her haunches.

Caro the Dragonborn grins.

XII - Dragonrein

“DRAGOOON! ‘TIS A DRAGON!”

The town crier is flying about aimlessly while he yells words that make the townsfolk stop and stare.

“DRAGON! ‘TIS A DRAGON TRAVELING THE SKIES! I SEEN IT WITH ME OWN TWO EYES!” he shouts. He lands next to an elderly couple on a riverside bench, both reeling back as he continues to rave. “You must believe me! Do you know what this means?!” He stares down the old colt, who is doing everything he can to resist knocking the lunatic out of his robes. “‘Tis a sign from Dragos, her children reconvene!” The crier falls onto his haunches and beckons to the sky. “‘Tis a sign! A sign of prosperity and that we will be changed! Embrace us with love so we won’t be estranged!”

A black, heavily built stallion clad in steel armor lined with wolf fur trots from the shadow of the central tree and strikes the town crier across the head.

“Or it could be that you’ve lost your bloody mind for the fiftieth time, Preacher,” he says with a shake of his crimson mane.

Ignoring the swelling bruise, the crier protests. “This is our destiny! Don’t you understand?! For far too long we’ve had our heads in the sand!” He turns to the sky once more and shouts “PRAISE DRA—”

The black colt, keeping a proper disposition and a straight face, grabs the crier by the collar. “Keep your zealotism in your hosen, you damned fool!” He shoves the pony to the ground and holds him by his throat. “I cannot guarantee I’ll be willing to speak for you when they toss you in the madhouse. Again.”

With another shove, the crier ends up taking an involuntary bath in the moat. “Waste of my time. This is why worship of Dragos has been outlawed!” The black colt turns to the old couple. “Honestly, who would believe such lies?”

“I would! And I do!” A battle-scarred earthwalker helps the crier to his hooves. “My name is Caro Dragonborn, and Preacher speaks the truth.” Caro’s eyes glance to the sky. “Look above you.”

Everypony, including the black stallion, reluctantly obeys as they hear a rumbling drone and the flap of large wings pierce the air.

The sight of a black and red dragon is too terrifying to warrant a scream. Only silence born of pure fear.

CHAPTER XII - DRAGONREIN

~Caro~

“Last I saw of you, you were a. pitiful wreck, and I do mean that in the kindest way possible,” says Jarl Drake as she trots alongside me, descending the staircase leading to the main gate. “Now you show up with Former General Tangerine and a mare from Wintercolt Academy with a bloody dragon on your tail!” She takes in a deep breath, reclaiming the proper disposition that is expected of a lady in power. “What, exactly, happened in Beak Falls Barrow?”

“We killed an entire army of undead Precursors and found out I’m a descendant of dragons,” I say in a single breath.

The jarl stops in her tracks. “What.”

I smirk, retrieving the prophetic gemstone from my back and tossing it to the jarl, who stumbles to catch it in her aura. “Take that to Boysenberry.” I take a single step before I turn back. Drake looks appalled, and honestly, she should be.

She is right to be confused. I am a different pony from the one who shed tears at her hooves merely days ago. It’s fascinating really. I’ve been reborn twice already, once in an Imperial prison cell, and again at the mercy of an undead Dragon Priest. I have no quarrel with trying for a third, and that will be after I murder that beast in the sky.

“That crystal’s use has run its course, Jarl Drake.”

She’s struggling to get a grasp of the situation. She settles on grasping my tail with her magic instead, causing me to yelp. “Wait, what are you doing?!” She gets her answer when she sees me nod my head towards another roar of the dragon. Her magical grip tightens. “No... You cannot be bloody serious.”

“Serious as a dragon attack,” I reply. “It is as you said. Boysenberry was right to suspect a greater truth to the happenings in Equestria, and I just so happen to be a part of it. I am Dragonborn.”

“Yes, I know! You only told the whole town!”

“So what more do you have to do than watch me? I’ve already killed one dragon. Who’s to say I can’t do it again? This time, I have the thu’um at my side.” I stare down the jarl, and she steps back when she gets a good look at my new draconic eyes. “Mind you, my voice doesn’t discriminate friend from foe. As such, I would advise you to let go of my tail.”

Jarl Drake swallows and disgruntledly releases her magical grip. “You’re mad, you know that?”

It fills me with pride to agree with her. “Oh, incurably so.”

Never letting that pride go, I buck open the gate, ignoring the guards falling onto their rumps in shock.

I veer off the winding trail into the fresh layer of snow that had fallen overnight. It wears on my legs quickly to trudge through, as the powder nearly reaches my knees, but my desire for the heat of battle drives me forward. Mind over matter, that’s what has gotten me this far.

By the time I touch down on a shallow patch, more flakes have begun their descent, prompting me to stop and look up again. The dragon is perched upon a rock spire, grooming its scales, not paying me any mind. I know I have to make the first move.

I make a pathetic attempt at a whistle, sounding more like a shoddily made flute. Then I think, What fearsome ancient beast would ever respond to something so trivial?

I instead try something that will have to get ahold of the dragon’s attention. I inhale deeply and shout. “Hon daar, Dovah! Ri hind wah krif!” The words come as naturally as breathing. It is in my blood, after all.

The echo lasts for almost a minute, and during that time, the dragon hardly moves.

The beast comes all this way and it doesn’t even bother to acknowledge my existence. I shout again, this time with more authority. “Meyz het sivass!”

It finally lowers its bladed wing and looks my way with curiosity. I wonder what’s going through its head right now? Does it fear me for my voice alone? I can only hope so. I want it to fear me.

“Rok Thu’um voth faal zul daar tid?”

How many reverberating voices have I heard thus far? This one sounds familiar, though. Familiar to the point of making me stagger as I remember the cries of several lives silenced in an instant.

As the dragon drops from its perch, it flies to me in a single beat of its wings. As I gaze over its red and black scales, short snout and bloodshot eyes, my heartbeat accelerates to a near fatal speed.

It speaks again, this time in plain Equine. “Must I repeat myself?” echoes the voice of the beast in my head. “I asked if you spoke with the Thu’um.”

It... it can't be! It shouldn't be!

But there it is, in all his terrible, fierce glory. I wasn't the only one reborn, it seems. My body tries to move, but all I can do is stare. My heart hammers in my chest as terror washes over me.

It should be dead. It should have several gaping sword wounds in its stomach leaking blood and entrails...

The smell of rot breaks me from my frozen state, and I find myself staring into the eyes of the monster. The same dragon who destroyed Reinoc... the one who took my master away from me.

It can sense my fear, leaning close to smell it. Feral eyes showing what appears to be a perverse pleasure. But I won't let it have this. It ends now.

"Hello, beasty..." I say, putting my fear aside. I know that if I could take this one when I was merely a pony, I can have him begging for mercy as I am now. Oh, how I’ll enjoy this.

“Dovahkiin. It is a pleasure to see you again.”

Its voice reverberates and echoes in my mind, just as it had before, only this time I can understand every word without fear of my skull splitting open again. That’s not what catches me off guard. What’s incredibly unexpected is how uncannily polite this monstrosity behaves.

“You’re Nahkriin?” I ask.

“Indeed. I wish our first encounter had occurred under more fortunate circumstances. You may have listened to my words instead of tearing into my flesh.”

I can’t believe it’s so apathetic about the atrocities it committed that day. Innocent ponies burned alive, crushed, cut, and in my master’s case, torn to pieces. To this dragon, that was just a stroll to the market! I find myself baring my teeth at its negligence.

“I have no regrets,” I boast out loud, hoping it can comprehend Equine. “You turned the closest thing I had to a father into a slag heap. What I did to you was kindness.” I bite down on the handle of my iron sword. “This is revenge.”

“You enjoy murder, Dovahkiin,” the dragon says, narrowing its eyes. “Know that I made the unfortunate mistake of underestimating you. The Reclaimer has granted me another chance at life and I will not put it to waste, especially now that you have awakened.”

“The Reclaimer again...” I mutter before snapping my gaze back. “Wait, what are you talking about?”

“Are you not aware, Dovahkiin? The Reclaimer has the—” Nahkriin’s words are cut short by a thrown knife landing in its left shoulder. It treats the wound as a mere mosquito bite and brushes it away. “I was not aware you would be bringing accomplices. This was supposed to be a private discussion.”

Many stallions gallop effortlessly through the snow. All seven of them are black coated and heavily fortified with longswords and axes. They’re lead by the same tall, long maned stallion that had the town crier by the neck.

“What are you doing, boy?! Get away from that thing!” he yells as he preps another knife for a toss.

Nahkriin merely gives a small breath, sending a miniscule ball of flame through the air, knocking the knife from the stallion’s hoof and turning it to a slab of metal upon the snow.

“Um, drat,” he says. Nahkriin’s aim was so precise it didn’t leave so much as a scorch.

I advance on the stallion, enraged that he took the answer for one of my many questions away. “You asked me what I’m doing when I should ask much of the same!”

Gesturing to the colts and single mare he leads, the stallion gives a respectful albeit rushed bow. “Wolf River of the Carrier Clan, Sir Caro,” he says. “Jarl Drake suggested my brethren and I lend a helping hoof.” The followers nod in unison.

“Oh, and how’s that going for you?!” I yell with sarcasm, pointing back at Nahkriin.

The dragon’s wings are spread to their maximum length, the razor sharp claws at the ends sharpened and hungry for blood. “I feel this conversation has run its course, Dovahkiin. Shall we begin?”

“Wait! I’m not done! Who is the Reclaimer?!”

The only response I get from Nahkriin is a much larger column of flame. I roll away from the blast but I still feel the heat upon my coat, which has been singed at the ends. The snow melts in an instant, leaving behind only scorched grass.

Out of the corners of my vision I see the Carriers break ranks and encircle Nahkriin, making attacks at her feet and jumping aside before they get crushed by its feet. The dragon doesn’t pay them much mind, ignoring the mere flesh wounds and instead firing more shots of flame my way. I duck and weave but the shots are becoming more accurate and lethal. With every explosion of flame I feel embers licking at my mane and tail. Thankfully, the snow acts as coolant, but if this goes on for much longer, there won’t be any snow left.

I serpentine my way towards Nahkriin, sidestepping fireballs until I’m out of its range of fire, below its yellow stomach. I can see the dragon still carries the sword wounds from our last encounter, scarred over across the entire length of its underside. I had done more damage than I remembered. How could anything survive that many wounds?

Time to reopen them, I think, brandishing my blade. I make a jumping swing, grazing the belly of the beast, followed by another, leaving a cross shaped gash. After a long night of killing living skeletons, I find the sight of fresh, warm, glistening crimson dragon blood incredibly intoxicating.

Unfortunately, a dragon’s flesh is apparently very durable, and the wound seals itself up in an instant.

I hear Nahkriin‘s voice again, and it‘s definitely not pleased with me. “My blood is not yours to take this time!” It seems this dragon has cast aside all proper mannerisms along with the blood I spilled.

A single flap of its wings brings about a gale force wind. I’m knocked to the ground with my mane obscuring my vision and my sword is nowhere to be seen.

“Kid! Come on, to your hooves!”

It’s Wolf River. He grapples my withers and tugs me forward, forcing me to stand up. I‘m having difficulty getting my bearings and must use his large frame for support.

“My-” I choke, catching my breath. “My sword!” Brushing my mane from my eyes, I look for where it could have landed, only to see Nahkriin tossing it into her mouth, swallowing it in a single gulp. While dragons tend to carry the same grisly expression regardless of their emotion, I can tell by the cackles it makes that it enjoys my gaping.

“I daresay we are even,” it gloats.

“This thing obviously doesn’t fight fair, and neither will I,” snarls Wolf River. He draws his onyx greatsword and gallops into the fray. “You’d best flee while you can!"

I’m still stumbling about, unable to tell the earthwalker I’d rather die now than run like a coward, but what other choice do I have? The other Carriers’ weapons are far too heavy for me to handle, despite all my years of smithing. I’m unarmed, naked and completely defenseless, with only a team of earthwalkers throwing knives and firing crossbows for help. It’s not much of a help, I’ll say that much.

Wolf River takes on the full force of a fireball that leaves a nasty burn upon his face and sends him back several feet, but it does nothing to wound his foolish bravery. “Come on, whatcha got?!” At least his actions inspire the other dark clad Carriers to draw their weapons and gallop in for a head on assault.

I bow my head and stomp the dead grass, thinking perhaps it would be better to run and fight another day... Some Dragonborn I am.

“Master, please... slow down!”

“Now why would I ever do that? Perhaps it is you who needs to move quicker.”

That’s right... It was a warm, cloudless summer morning. I was merely a child, then. Master Hammerfell had finally allowed me to travel with him to Reinoc on one of his trade runs, give or take days of begging and doing chores around the shop. He had agreed to take me only after I had cleansed his diamond sword absolutely spotless, and even then, he forced me to carry every last weapon, ingot and pound of ore he could find, while he had walked unencumbered in his work suit. Mind, this was years before enchanted pouches were commonplace. We had to actually keep weight in mind.

“Why do I have to carry this, Master?”

“You hardly leave the shop, child,” he said, patting me on the back. “You require exercise, especially with how much you gorge yourself.”

Yes, I was a heavy eater in my old life. I had forgotten.

Beads of sweat were forming on my muzzle, even though we were merely minutes gone from Riverhoof. I was bearing such a heavy burden, it would have been so easy and pragmatic to just lay it all on the dirt road and call it a day. Apparently, Master thought the same.

“If you don’t think you can handle it, I can take the bags off your hooves and you can go back to the shop.”

It was a challenge under the guise of an invitation. What kind of earthwalker would I be if I let something as superficial as weight do me in? I knew I was stronger than that. I raised my head high, and instead of letting the burden keep me grounded, I embraced it, and trotted forward, eventually breaking into a run, passing Master Hammerfell and leaving him in the dust.

I had collapsed at the stone archway signifying the entrance to Reinoc. By the time I woke, we had already made the return trip. I had slept through my entire first trading run.

Despite that, Master couldn’t have been more proud of me. He made sure my slice of peach pie was extra large that night.

It’s easier to overcome a physical crutch than an emotional one, but I know that if I give up now, not only am I failing myself and my new name, but I’m also insulting the memory of my master. Nahkriin has taken everything else away from me. I won’t let it have my pride.

That’s why I plant my hooves into the slush and stand my ground as it leans its head back. It shouts out loud this time, not just in my head. “YOL TOOR SHUL!”

A furious fireball emitting light as blinding as the sun escapes the dragon’s lips, grazing the grass and leaving embers in its trail.

Don’t you dare look away, I order myself. If you show any sign of fear, how will you make the monster fear you?

Two can play at this game.

“FUS RO DAH!” I shout.

The unrelenting force pierces the fireball and tears it apart, leaving only patches of flame to burn themselves out on the ground.

“My turn.”

Even if I’m without a physical weapon, the Thu’um is still mine to command. I throw caution to the wind and gallop straight for Nahkriin.

I sidestep fireball after fireball. The adrenaline coursing through my veins sedates the burns even though I feel them on my skin. Wait, skin? All this fire has burned away patches of my coat. Worry about it later... It’s cosmetic...

“Oi, Caro!”

I have never been happier to see a certain white pegasus flying overhead. Tohro is carrying a blade in his hooves, a bronze scimitar. He tosses it to me.

“A gift from Rosemary. Take it!”

I leap into the air and catch the handle of the sword with my teeth. The shaft is riveted for a very comfortable grip and the blade is smoother than glass. I never thought Rosemary had it in her.

It’s a good thing I made that leap, too. I had vaulted another fireball and Nahkriin is just about ready to let another one loose. All that comes out of its mouth is a cough and plumes of smoke.

I enjoy a triumphant laugh. “How about that, beasty?! Lost your trump card already? What will you do now?”

Nahkriin gets down on all fours and lets off a roar that fills the air with the garish scent of brimstone and charcoal. I gag slightly, and Tohro takes the roar as cue to take his leave. I’m not complaining. He has done his part.

Thus, here we are once again. A small, simple minded creature against a towering monstrosity. Something is different, though. Even if my entire body is only the size of Nahkriin’s foot, I feel as though I’m the monstrosity, and while some don’t want to be seen as such a thing, I welcome it. I love this feeling of power and dominance.

Nahkriin is scared, and I love it.

“Come on! You have your claws! You have teeth! COME AT ME!”

With another foul roar, the dragon launches its way to me. I duck a swing of its claws as it passes over. I then break into a gallop, make another leap, and latch onto the beast’s foot.

All I can hear is blustering wind. Snowflakes are stinging my eyes and numbing my body, causing me to clench onto Nahkriin’s leg ever tighter. The most I can do is hold on for dear life or face a quick, messy and likely frigid death on the ground.

It’s not so easy when Nahkriin knows I’m there. It kicks furiously, determined to send me falling to my doom, but I’ve come too far to give in to a little momentum. Rough, calloused scales work as hoofholds as I climb the leg. I reach the knee before I’m flung to and fro again. My hind legs lose their grip. I’m left flailing about in the air before I take my scimitar in hoof and shove it into Nahkriin’s thigh. It lets out a scream that makes my blood boil and my heart soar. Its leg gives up the struggle. I sheathe the scimitar and continue my ascent.

“You know not what you do, Dovahkiin!”

Finally, I’m on the beast’s back. The scales here are smoother, and a single rogue wind could cause me to lose my balance, and if Nahkriin has intelligence enough to turn over... I just sealed my own fate, didn’t I?

“Begone, pest!”

I fall on my stomach and wrap my forelegs around one of the many spines along the dragon’s neck. Darkness threatens to consume my vision. Looking up, I can see all of Trottingham beneath me. It serves as a reminder of why this struggle is for more than vengeance. If Nahkriin doesn’t fall, Trottingham most certainly will, and if what happened to Reinoc is anything to go by...

“I won’t let it happen!” I yell, even though I can barely hear myself over the blood pounding in my ears.

When Nahkriin is flying upright again, I kick off and continue my ascent until I pass between the beast’s horns. I’m finally at the top, walking on its head. The scales are much softer here. That’s good. I could pierce this flesh with a kitchen knife, and I have an Epona damned scimitar. I grip it with both my forehooves, and plant my other two between the folds that make up the dragon’s eyelids. A sturdy enough hold to keep me in place as it shakes its head. It should know by now that I’m not going anywhere.

To silence its protests, I make a vertical swing that leaves a nasty gash between its eyes. I’m too heavy for it to open its mouth and cry out in pain, but I can feel it straining to do so.

Then, the last thing I expected occurs. Its eyes go from bloodshot and furious to uncannily content.

I nearly lose my balance when Nahkriin comes to a halt in midair and simply hovers, not so much as twitching. It takes me a moment to comprehend this action but when it comes to me, I grin sadistically.

Nahkriin is admitting defeat.

“You mortals have become stronger...”

I would respond, but I decide to let my blade be the harbinger of my will. I plunge every inch into Nahkriin’s forehead with one fell thrust. A fountain of crimson blood sputters forth, staining the dragon’s black and red scales and my turquoise coat. A few drops land on my tongue. It tastes delicious.

Whoever said that revenge isn’t sweet was a filthy liar.

~Vision End~

The citizens of Trottingham who had taken refuge in their homes, under balconies and behind rocks cower in fear at a bloodcurdling scream much louder and fiercer than the ones before. Only when it dwindles into a whimper do they realize it’s not a roar of threat, but of pain. They all cautiously step out from their shelters to see the black dragon once again, only its wings have stopped cutting the air, slowing to the point of uselessness. The beast begins its descent, losing balance and toppling over into freefall. As blood rains from the gashes along its stomach and forehead, staining the cobblestone streets, Caro holds on to the dragon’s head for dear life.

Wolf River and his brethren of the Carrier Clan stand at the entrance of Glasswork Forge as Shae and Rosemary tend to their burns and scratches. As a shadow passes over them, they look upwards to see the dragon’s landing spot will be-

“MOVE!” shouts Wolf River.

In an instant, the Carriers make an effortless, synchronized jump from the landing zone. Rosemary, who is carrying scalpels and alchemy ingredients for Shae, drops her load and trips in the confusion. Shae leaps onto her, her horn already illuminated, and summons a shield.

A crash as loud as fifty thunderclaps at once accompanies the impact of the dragon upon the shield. The body rolls off lazily, but the shield cracks and shatters shortly after, leaving Shae in a stupor. She collapses on top of Rosemary.

The force of the shield’s collapse shifts the foundation of the forge, causing nearly half the building to fall apart into a pile of rubble. The dragon’s corpse also takes out a chunk of the Drakenosch tavern.

A horrendously bloodied Caro crawls out from underneath the corpse. His coat has been burned all the way from his haunches to his withers, and dragon scales are embedded in his legs. He limps away from his kill without a whimper, only carrying a look of gratification, at least until he falls to the cobblestone in a pool of his own blood. His smile doesn’t fade, though.

“I did it...” he croaks before his body goes limp.

The gathered swarm of confused and astounded townsfolk take this in silence, until Shae’s shrill shriek breaks the mold.

“CARO!”

The magenta mare shoves her way through the crowd, awkwardly galloping to her friend while still dazed from her shield failure. She slides to him, preparing a healing spell well beyond her limits. The light of her horn sputters out with every charge until she’s left on her haunches, sweating a river.

“Dammit... COME ON!” she cries in desperation. She turns Caro’s body over and begins pressing down on his chest. “Wake up...”

She turns to the townsfolk as tears begin to form in her eyes. “Oh, don’t anypony get over here and help!”

Wolf River approaches the sobbing Shae and pats her on the back to console her before looking to the true spoils of this battle.

The dragon’s corpse is suddenly alight with an ungoldy golden glow. It envelops the beast’s entire being, then flies into the sky, leaving nothing but the skeleton behind. The light then coalesces into Caro. The golden light fills his eyes. His discoloured, burnt skin is healed and his wounds close. Aside from old scars that remain, there is no sign he was ever in a duel with a dragon.

Shae squeals and throws her forelegs around the earthwalker, who is just as confused as anypony else.

A small, black and grey unicorn wearing oversized robes and a hood breaks away from the crowd. Court Wizard Boysenberry. His face carries elation and astonishment.

“I ask you to retrieve a crystal, you give me a battle for the history tomes!” he squeaks.

“Just... doing my job.” Caro makes a futile attempt to stand.

Tohro lands beside his friend and gives his mane an affectionate tossle. “Well, right now, this Dragonborn needs to rest. I daresay he’s earned it.”

“I couldn’t agree more. In fact, I’d say he’s earned far better.”

Everpony’s heads turn to what’s left of Glasswork Forge to see a hooded mare wearing an ursa fur cloak and exotic, jewel encrusted armor. The appearance of this mare causes a disturbance, leading the townsfolk to coerce among themselves.

“By the Divines, that’s...”

“What is she doing here?”

“Did she orchestrate all of this?”

“She isn’t welcome here!”

“The rumours were true! She is as magnificent as they say!”

With a flawless bound, the mare lands on the street. Some ponies back away while others fall on their knees and grovel.

Caro sits up, despite the intensifying migraine threatening to split his skull. He knows this mare. Even though he’s only seen her the once, he could never forget the fear her mere presence brings.

“Shokenda Blackwing.”

“Indeed, Dragonborn.” With a flick of her head, her hood vanishes, revealing an unnaturally white coat and mane, several glimmering ear piercings and intense, golden eyes. Her horn is sharpened to the point of Caro feeling impaled just by the sight of it.

Despite the fear and reverence surrounding Shokenda, she is calm and collected as she addresses the citizens of Trottingham. “Good afternoon, my little ponies. Wasn’t that simply a marvelous performance?” She nonchalantly stomps a single hoof. “I’m sure you all are quite relieved the legendary Dragonborn was here to silence the fearsome dragon, and your fears. If it were not for him, you would all have met a burning end. Not even your precious Carrier Clan,” she eyes the black coated warriors, “would have been strong enough to stop such madness.”

Shokenda blinks out of sight and reappears by Caro’s side. The way she sensually strokes his cheek makes him want nothing more than to retrieve his scimitar from the dragon’s head and remove hers. Shae stands to insist she stands aside but a single glare causes her to back away instead. Tohro stands his ground and salutes.

“Surely you have all heard the stories?” Shokenda continues. “The songs sung by those Saddle Arabian bards?”

As the townsfolk talk amongst themselves, they all disagree on hearing of such things. This amuses her.

“Well then, allow me to explain. A thousand years ago, the Precursors and the dragons shared this land, and the sacred Dragon Priests interpreted the will of the dragons by dedicating their lives to learning their language, and eventually, learning how to use it as a weapon. The Dragonborn, a descendent of the winged beasts themselves, can use their language’s arcane powers effortlessly. All it takes is a spark, and they awaken.”

Caro is still unable to keep Shokenda from cradling his head. He bares his teeth at her sadism. She’s enjoying this far too much. Queen of the Blackwings be damned, he wants to carve into her. Make her pay for using him as a mere plaything...

“Imagine, with just a few words, he could drown a pony on dry land. He could encase you in ice. Flatten you. Choke, burn, turn you inside out! It only takes a few syllables.”

The townsfolk have gone from disturbed to genuinely terrified. They’re restless and shuffling about, trying to get away.

“No, no, this is a good thing,” says Shokenda, waving her hoof. “If you remain worthy in the eyes of the Dragonborn, he won’t have to resort to such actions. He can keep you safe from the perils of this world, especially those that your negligent Queen Platinum lets run wild. What does she have? A soulless, depraved army of automatons? We, the Blackwings, have the legendary-”

“No.”

Shokenda stops herself and shoots Caro a glare. “Is this not what you wish for? To control them? Merely days ago you had nothing but hatred for these simpletons. I could see it in your eyes. You and I feel much the same.”

Caro shoves her aside, finally able to stand. Tohro tries to stifle him, pulling him away, but he’s useless against the much stronger pony. “I don’t serve you. I don’t serve the Blackwings, I don’t serve the Imperials, I don’t serve anyone!” he bellows. “I am not your means to an end. I don’t care what happens to your petty cause so long as I walk free.”

He stumbles over to the skeleton of the dragon and dislodges the bronze scimitar from the bones. He can barely clutch it in his hooves and it drags along the ground, creating sparks.

“I promise you, I will be free. Even if I must kill you... and I will.”

Shokenda lets a chuckle pass her lips before regaining her composure. “Is that a threat?”

Caro’s glare rivals hers in the induction of fear. “It’s a promise.” The glare falters as he falls once again. Tohro catches him.

“Stop yourself for a moment, mate,” says the pegasus. “You’re obviously out of your element here.” He turns to Shokenda. “Uh, I apologize for my friend’s sour mood, Ma’am. Perhaps we can discuss this in private?”

Shokenda gives a sigh of disapproval and begrudgingly retreats back into her hood. “Follow.”

~Tohro~

Shokenda keeps ahead of me, never letting me speak to her face to face, or at least as much of her face as her ursa hood lets one see. I had been quite offset when she removed it to praise Caro. She seldom does that, even back at headquarters.

“You have been taking your sweet time,” she says she levitates the main gate shut, walling us off from the still panicked townsfolk. “I expected you and Caro to arrive in Fillydelphia by now.”

We Blackwings may be far more relaxed and unprofessional compared to the Imperials, but we’re still expected to follow some form of protocol. If your superiors are disappointed in you, and boy is Shokenda right now, you’ve seriously fucked up.

Not that I care, really. “We were sidetracked, Ma’am. Caro merely wished to make a stop in Trottingham for supplies, but then we were swept up in Jarl Drake’s nonsense.”

Of course, I don’t actually consider this nonsense, but I can’t let on that I’m interested in anything the jarl does. Shokenda may think my loyalties have shifted, which they haven’t... have they? No, no, of course not.

Regardless, Shokenda keeps her aura of stoic contentment. While it is nice to have somepony who doesn’t lose tend to lose their temper as a leader, it’s unnerving in many ways. “So, you’ve indulged Caro on his desires?”

“If I hadn’t, he would have probably lost sympathy for our cause.” Like he had sympathy to begin with.

“I suppose that makes sense.”

A silent moment with Shokenda is, quite honestly, even more unnerving.

“Ma’am, if I may...”

“You may.”

“Despite my best efforts, Caro still refuses to sign on with the Blackwings. Whatever it is you have planned for him, how can you expect to pull it off if he doesn’t cooperate? With all due respect, it sort of throws your entire plan out the window.”

Shokenda merely clicks her tongue. “Tut-tut, Tohro. I have planned for this,” she says as she pulls her hood back again. Her eyes and horn emit a harsh golden aura as she summons an ornate, velvet lined throne from the grass and sits upon it. She does this often. When she issues commands from up high, it’s far more intimidating. “I’ve known for a while now that Caro cares little for us. I’ve... checked in, every so often.”

Orbs of liquid glass materialize around her, recounting Caro’s entire adventure from the beginning, with me escorting him through the Imperial cellars, all the way up to him slaying the dragon.

“It’s unusual, though. Ever since Caro realized what he is, I haven’t been able to gaze into his immediate future. Perhaps he’s become immune to the confines of fate. Can you imagine?”

“Well, I-”

Shokenda raises her hoof. “‘Twas a rhetorical question.” She rests her chin of her hooves and sighs. “See, this wasn’t exactly what I had in mind. I had intended to keep Caro occupied with our finest alcohol and escorts until the instruments of our ultimate goal revealed themselves.”

She hasn’t mentioned these instruments before, but I know better than to ask what, or why.

“But I suppose even the most foolproof plan has a downfall. There’s no telling how many ways that could have gone awry. No matter. Instead, just keep doing as you have. Give Caro the illusion that he has a choice in this matter. Soon he will come to realize where his loyalties must lie.”

“So, I will keep Caro occupied. Will there be anything else, Ma’am?”

Shokenda looks over to two of her orbs, which carry the faces of Shae and Tangerine. "Well, since you asked me so nicely, I suppose there is something else I need you to do for me. If you think you can handle it, that is. These two mares, the former general and the unicorn. I need you to dispose of them."

"Of co- wait, what?"

I have served the Blackwings loyally since the beginning, and I’ve always followed Shokenda’s orders without a second thought. Until today.

"You heard me, Tohro. Dispose of those two mares you socialize with. They are liabilities to the mission. I'm sure their deaths will set quite the example, especially for the Platinum Empire."

"I can understand that much for Tangerine, what with her being a former general, but Shae's just a child!"

Shokenda’s stoicism fails her. I don’t think she’s used to direct protests. "A child with power. Any power that is not among us is a threat to our reign. I've seen her actions, and she seems the type to refuse to join us. Therefore, nopony can have her."

"So, you're saying that if she's not with us, she's against us."

"Are you saying the same, Tohro?"

"...I'm afraid I don't understand."

"You don't normally question my orders. Is there something you're not telling me?"

There's something I can't quite comprehend here. I'm standing before my mentor. My queen. My everything. Only, I feel nothing for her now. Doubt. That's what's happening. The events that have transpired recently have made me doubt the mare I swore my life to.

"I... I don't think I can follow your command," I confess.

"You've had no qualms with targeted murder in the past." She sits upon her throne, keeping her eyes fixed on me as I squirm. "What makes this one any different?"

I’ve done awful things, yes. I still have flashbacks. Driving a detached wingblade into the throat of a potential traitor, her shrill screams for mercy falling silent over the blood draining from her lips. Snapping the neck of a knight in training who selflessly divulged information on the Imperial Legion’s battle plans. Poisoning a young colt’s first drink of apple cider and watching him gasp for breath... I try to repress the memories, but they always come back.

"Those... You know I have nightmares about those... But I was convinced it was for good reason. Shae is... I've gotten to know her. She's a good mare. She's my friend. And Tangerine, she’s no threat to us without an army backing her up, and besides, she has family. What do we have to gain from taking her from them?”

"Hmm, this is disappointing." Shokenda hops to her hooves and begins dramatically pacing. "Normally such insolence would be punished severely, but you... You're the finest assassin I have. It would be a shame to lose my best asset over the life of a child..." She stops and glares at me. This is the first time I’ve been at the receiving end of those horrid golden eyes. “Perhaps a demotion is in order. Yes, that sounds fair enough. You could work your way back to the top and reclaim your honor.”

That is it. In mere moments, Shokenda had gone from the mare I admired and sometimes fantasized about in my free time to a complete and utter hag.

Suddenly, I see through her methods. She had kept me alienated from genuine sympathy for the ponies the Blackwings have hurt. She clouded my mind with cider and meaningless casual sex with my fellow soldiers. Until I met Caro and Shae, I never had any real friends. Hell, even Baroness von Buzzkill herself, Tangerine, she at least showed me mercy, give or take a trip through a dark and dank cavern.

Two innocent lives are only worth a few measly military ranks to Shokenda Blackwing? No. It doesn’t work like that. This is where I draw the line. I don’t need these rebels. I don't need this bitch to tell me what's right or wrong.

“You know what? Fuck you.”

Well, that sounded braver in my head.

I’m at the mercy of Shokenda’s hollow glare again, and this time, she looks downright murderous. I’m shaking in my boots as she advances on me.

I’m going to die, aren’t I?

In an instant I’m on my back, pinned to the cold dirt by Shokenda’s conjured chains. I can feel my heart pounding against the inside of my chest as she lays her breast against mine, her muzzle hovering merely inches away from my face. Her calm, warm breath embraces my nostrils.

“I see it in your eyes. You doubt my judgment. Distaste for what must be done consumes your entire being. You are a lost cause.”

A bolt of lightning discharges from her horn, striking me in my left eye. The sting causes me to kick and scream. Even if the pain isn’t anything too horrendous, my being scared out of my wits exacerbates it.

“That is your end.”

She teleports back to her summoned throne and levitates an orb towards me. Still clutching my left eye, I use my good one look into the orb and see... myself.

It’s not a vision this time, it’s a reflection. I remove my hoof from my left eye to reveal a scarred, discoloured mess. My pupil has become grey and faded and my eyelids are black and bruised. Something tells me this can’t be fixed with disinfectant.

“I can do worse than kill you, Tohro,” says Shokenda. “See, you sacrificed your mark to join our cause. By abandoning that cause, you sacrifice your life. But it won’t be at my hooves. You wear the brand of a traitor. As such, every Blackwing soldier you knew as a comrade is now your enemy. Wander this land, knowing that a god has deemed you unworthy of living, and suffer at the hooves of your former allies.”

As Shokenda and her throne disappear, the shock of the moment wears off. I make it about five steps before I pass out.

~Vision End~

The mug of juniper berry mead is drained in a manner of seconds. Caro slams it onto the circular table with a loud exhale.

“This drink... I like it.” He waves to the barmaid. “Another! In fact, make it two!”

“Coming right up, Dragonborn,” she says with a wink.

Shae sighs as she looks over a medicinary encyclopedia Boysenberry had loaned her. It’s scrawled over with footnotes from the little wizard himself.

...mix in three four drops of a raspberry’s stem, this will give the healing potion its red tint. Add a single raspberry. It’ll hasten the healing process. Mix for one minute forty-five seconds and let sit for a half hour. Not necessary. Just drink the damn thing.

Shae slams the book shut. Skimming it over for the third time is a test of patience she’s unwilling to endure. “I can’t find anything relevant to what happened to you back there. When the dragon-”

“Nahkriin,” Caro interrupts.

“...Right. When Na-koreen turned into that shiny golden... stuff, somehow it resonated with you. I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”

The barmaid swaggers to the table, drops off two more frothing mugs and collects the others. “For the record,” says Caro to her, “thank you very much for the free drinks. I half expected to be demanded compensation for, well, that.” He waves his hoof to the the half of the tavern that was missing its walls and ceiling. Carpenter ponies were already hard at work clearing the wreckage and repairing what they could.

The barmaid laughs. “Would've been a lot less of the place had you not slayed the beast. The owner figures that’s compensation enough. Uh, will your wife be having anything?” She nods to Shae, who raises an eyebrow.

Caro nearly spits out his mouthful of mead. He swallows and says, “She- She’s hardly my wife.”

“Oh. Marefriend?”

“No.”

“Trophy? Slave? ...Escort?”

Shae slams her hooves on the table. “Whatever she is, she must be invisible and deaf!” She lays a sack of bits in front of the barmaid. “And you know what? I’ll have what he’s having.”

“Uh, coming right up, then.”

As the mare takes her leave, Caro gives a curious glance to Shae.

“What?”

“You’re underage, aren’t you?”

“Oh, you climb upon a dragon’s back-”

“Nahkriin.”

“-and shove a sword through its Faustedamned-”

“Her.”

“-head but oh!” Shae puts on the charade of a panicked child. “Perish the thought of a young mare drinking because she very nearly lost her friend while everypony stood there and watched!”

“Oh.” Caro never did stop and think about what could have gone wrong. All that mattered to him was spilling Nahkriin’s blood. He clasps Shae on the wither, looking into her magenta eyes to see angry tears. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t fair for me to make you worry like that.”

Shae wipes her eyes. “It’s like you said. Comes with the title.”

“Hey, next time a dragon crosses our path, I’ll let you take a shot at it.”

They share a moment of laughter before getting interrupted by the barmaid. She places a mug before Shae, who slams it back, finishing with a contented sigh. "Oh, yeah. Take some coffee beans, grind them up, pour them in this stuff, and you've got the greatest disinhibitor known this side of Everfree!"

“Excellent, could I get some of that?” Tohro stumbles through the door despite there being no wall surrounding it. His hair is laced with grass and mud, and his eyes are wide open. One of those eyes is covered in horrendous scars. Caro and Shae reel back at the sight of it.

“Oh, so it is noticeable.” The pegasus blunders over splints of wood until he makes his way to an empty seat. “This is going to ruin my whole day.”

Caro touches the scarred eye, causing Tohro to wince. “What happened to you? You were only gone an hour.”

“Oh, nothing much. Talked to Shokenda, caught up on what we’ve been up to, she ordered me to kill Shae and Tangerine, told her to fuck off, she took it rather well.”

Shae chokes on her second mug. “The leader of the Blackwings wants me dead?!”

“What the hell is wrong with her? And you actually said that to her face?!” shouts Caro at the same time.

Tohro holds his head. “Ouch, headache.” He takes a deep breath. “To answer Shae’s question, yes, but to be fair, you aren’t the first, and if I have anything to say about it, it won’t happen, because, answering Caro’s question, I did say something along those lines. You gonna drink that?” Without waiting for an answer, Tohro snatches what remains of Caro’s mead and clumsily slurps it down. Several drops fall from his lips.

“So, your eye...”

“Uh-huh.”

A moment of silence passes over before Caro speaks again. “You... spoke of Shokenda to the point of worshipping her. You called her the ‘true high queen.’ What changed your mind?”

“You lot.”

Another quiet minute goes over as the group all take sips of their alcohol.

“I’m a soldier without an army.”

“I think that’s the title of a poem,” says Shae. She’s tackled three mugs of mead and is rapidly draining her fourth. She figures that so long as she’s taking this extended vacation from the academy, she may as well cut loose, although it draws concern from Caro.

“Let’s focus on happier matters, huh?" Tohro says, wishing to change the topic quickly. "You finally gave that monstrosity what it deserved!”

Caro holds up his hoof. “Her name was-”

“Nahkriin,” interrupts Shae.

“...Yes, and I daresay she won’t be coming back this time.”

Tohro tilts his head. “This time?”

Caro proceeds to explain how he had figured out Nahkriin was the same dragon he had brutalized in Reinoc, and that she had somehow survived. “That strange deal with her flesh becoming a gold aura, it didn’t occur back in Reinoc. I’m not sure what triggered it, but now that she’s been reduced to a skeleton, I’m sure she’s out of my life forever.”

Shae’s glasses are askew, a sure sign that the mead is taking its toll on her. She is by no means less analytical. “And that aura became one with you. This is just a loose theory, and we may have to speak to Boysenberry about this, but... I think you absorbed Nahkriin’s soul.”

Souls. They give the body life, emotion, and purpose. Caro had long given up on the possibility that dragons even had souls, being the violent, destructive beings that they are. If that was her soul, he thinks, then it’s better in here than it was in her own body. He touches his bare chest, feeling his heartbeat, but not a soul. Of course I can’t feel it. He has always imagined souls as floating orbs one cannot touch, but only see. How fitting that a dragon’s soul would be a harsh golden aura, like an enchanted fire, instead of something more peaceful. “Perhaps that’s my gift as Dragonborn. I take dragon souls for my own.”

“It certainly shows,” says Tohro as he squeezes Caro’s foreleg, much to his discomfort. “I mean, are you seeing this? Ever since you lit up like the Hearth’s Warming Eve, you’ve become quite the looker.”

Amongst all the excitement and alcohol, Caro had failed to notice his muscles have become much more defined. He playfully flexes them, causing both Shae, Tohro and the barmaid to blush. He laughs and admires what Nahkriin’s soul has given him. “Not exactly the envy of an Imperial soldier, but isn’t that something!”

Tohro sips some more of his mead between laughs. “Yeah, imagine how you’ll look after slaying a few more dragons, eh?”

At that notion, Caro looks down to see his own flanks, still without a mark. “By Epona...” He stands up on his hind legs and slams his hooves on the table. “Tohro! Shae! I think that’s what I’m meant for!”

“Bodybuilding?” asks Tohro.

Shae smacks him upside the cheek. “No, you dunce, killing dragons.”

Caro smiles at her and Tohro. “Exactly. I mean, I am the Dragonborn. It seems a little obvious, but who else could do it? How many ponies do you know that can honestly say they killed a damn dragon? Twice!’" He takes both of his friends’ hooves in his. “But I never would have been able to do it without either of you.

He looks to his pegasus friend with a beaming smile.

“Tohro, you’re a soldier without an army, but that also means you’re free from your duties to anypony. We can keep travelling together without Shokenda getting in the way."

He then turns to the unicorn next to him and places his hoof on her back.

“Shae, you are an immensely powerful unicorn, so skilled that you even got Shokenda’s attention. In an odd sort of way, that is an honor. You’re smart, clever, and you brought a bit of class to us barbarians. That’s no easy feat.

Caro slams his hooves on the table.

“I want both of you at my side as I take this fight to the rest of the dragons, and anypony else that threatens the lives of the innocent. I want both of you in my guild.”

“A guild?” both Tohro and Shae ask as their ears perk up.

Caro rubs his hooves together as he looks to the orange tinted sky. “Exactly. We will be called Dragonrein, and the Dovah will learn to fear us.”

XIII - No Offense

“And what sort of celebration is this, then?” asks the faux royal drawl of Jarl Drake as she takes broad steps into the tavern. “I’d expect the Dragonborn to attend his own party at Equinesreach, yet here you all are in this miserable half-pub, uh, no offense to you, Miss.”

“None taken,” sneers the barmaid.

“I think we’ve all seen enough excitement for one day, Jarl,” says Caro. “What brings you here?”

Drake takes a seat. “If you must know, I was looking into my precious liquid glass, trying to put my hoof on where you could possibly go from here, only to find that the glass cannot trace your future any longer.”

Tohro slams his mug down and signals to keep them coming. “Shokenda said the same.”

“Ugh, that hag!” Drake’s enthusiasm wavers instantly. “She dares set hoof in my town? Were my guards not all bloody cowards I’d see her hanged in a heartbeat.”

“For once, Jarl, we are in agreement.” Tohro points to his eye.

“On top of all of this, she has to ruin your pretty face?”

Everypony, even the barmaid, looks at Jarl Drake with raised eyebrows. She just laughs off the embarrassment. “One too many glasses of grape juice fell within my reach, I’m afraid.” Her grim disposition returns. “Shokenda has a presence one can feel from miles away. She is not happy. Our actions have hurt her reputation, and now the rest of Trottingham and I are black spots upon her map.”

Caro sighs. “Is this the part where you exile us for bringing nothing but misfortune upon your domain?”

“No. This is the part where I have to ask another favor of you, and I am sorry that I must do so. I understand you’re sick of taking orders...”

Caro pats the jarl on back, a bold gesture that causes her to jolt upright. “I’ve claimed my vengeance, and it wouldn’t have been possible without you and Boysenberry. If there is anything you need, I’m your colt.”

Drake blushes and reciprocates Caro’s action. “That’s a relief to hear, because you are not going to like this.” She pauses and takes a deep breath as Caro listens intently. “While I tend my people in the wake of the dragon’s death, I need you to go west of here to Everfree and seek an audience with Queen Platinum. Tell her everything you know and have her send a cavalry unit to Trottingham.”

CHAPTER XIII - DISCORD

Tohro leans forward, waiting for one hell of a show, and Shae - who is up to her sixth mug - is too inebriated to care. Caro moves his hoof to his face and knots his brow.

“Okay, where do I begin... The Empire thinks me a psychopathic arsonist and murderer. They lock me a cell with drugged food that makes me welcome the chopping block. Three soldiers corner me on the road and try to kill me for no reason whatsoever. Two more soldiers rape a Blackwing up against a rock and carry her away in chains! The Empire has shown no kindness for me or anypony else! What makes you think Platinum will take sympathy on you when I can hardly take sympathy on you?! What in the hell makes you think I have anything to gain by following through on your self absorbed political bullshit?!”

Caro brings his hooves down on the table so hard it splinters the wood.

So much for ‘I’m your colt,’ thinks Tohro.

Jarl Drake relaxes in her seat as Caro pants from that long, breathless rant.

"While I don't agree with some of Queen Platinum's methods,” she states as calmly as ever, “the Legion is a necessary evil in this battle. We need their protection, and in return we grin and bare it." She levels her stare at Tohro. "If your former Blackwing friends defeat them, Trottingham will be defenseless against Shokenda's bloodlust, and I think Caro knows how powerful bloodlust can be.”

The earthwalker faces away from the jarl, determined to keep his stance on the matter, though he does consider the ramifications. I would hate for anything awful to happen to this town. It truly is a safe haven, and Shokenda would see it put to ruin... But Platinum could also do that much, or worse!

“Imperial soldiers have knocked on my door before, requesting support, and frankly, I’m beginning to regret not siding with them any sooner. If I had, I wouldn’t have to ask such a thing of you. Trottingham is the last line of defense between the east and west sector of Equestria. Whoever holds my town holds the upper hoof. While my intention was to remain neutral and let this whole conflict burn out, things have changed. Shokenda is through with peaceful treaty. She will stop at nothing to have Equestria in her grasp. Queen Platinum thinks she can negotiate, but I know better. I need her at my side, and she needs me. That is why she has to say yes.”

Caro looks back at Jarl Drake. “What did your liquid glass predict?”

“It... didn’t. As I said before, it simply refuses to predict your future. Wherever you go, fate has no meaning. But one thing's for certain; this war could be won or lost to either side by your hoof.”

Caro hops out of his seat, ready to leave the bar in a quiet rage. “Well then, my hoof will not-

“I’ll do it.”

All eyes turn to Tohro. That is the last thing anypony expected him to say.

“If Caro won’t talk to Queen Platinum, then I will.”

“What are you-”

The white pegasus flies above the table, staring Caro down. “Hey, we’re in a guild now, so anything we do, we do as a group.”

“But-but... Are you listening to yourself? A former Blackwing soldier wants to walk right into Platinum’s territory and say, ‘Hey, please destroy my old comrades!’ Am I the only one who fails to see the logic here? Shae?”

Caro turns to the unicorn slouching in her seat, who adjusts her glasses and sits upright in a hurry. “Well, if I have to be honest... If the Blackwings take Trottingham, then who’s to say they won’t take Wintercolt next?”

All odds are stacked against Caro. His face lands in his hooves again.

“Everything we’ve done up to this point has been your decision, but I say it’s about time somepony else takes the reins.” Tohro chugs the rest of his mead, not paying mind to how much drains off his chin, and aggressively slams the mug down. “Sorry Dragonborn, but Dragonrein is going to Everfree.”

~Tohro~

My scarred eye still stings like nopony’s business.

To say that my life had drastically changed in a hurry is a gross understatement. I am absolutely overwhelmed. Of course, I welcome Jarl Drake’s offer for a free night at the Armored Mare inn if it means I can put all this behind me, for the moment at least. Rejection from the Blackwings, the death of a dragon... I can only take so much. I’m sure that when I wake in the morning, the path will be a lot clearer.

Plus, Shae needs to sleep off all that mead. I’m lost on what came over her, and why she’d be tempted to get this shitfaced. The moment we enter the inn, she stumbles up to our room on the second floor, using the guard rail for support.

The inn is rather seedy, with straw sticking out of the mattresses and some of the doors coming off their hinges, but the company is quite lovely. Caro is getting the respect and reverence he deserves, with applause and cheers from the townsfolk. Some have been waiting hours just to get a glimpse of him. Figures. How many dragon slayers can they they’ve known in their lives?

I really wish Caro would cheer up. Nopony likes having their authority undermined, I get that, and I do understand why he has no desire to meet the queen.

Between waves of appraisal from his fans, I tap him on the wither and try to apologize for being so assertive. “Hey, I-”

“Can we just... not?” he snaps.

Well, so much for that.

“Sorry, mate...” he says after taking a deep breath. “I’m scared, okay? What if Platinum doesn’t listen to us, or anypony else that knows I’m innocent?” He swallows. “I don’t think I can take another three days in a prison cell.”

I pat his wither again, this time a little more tenderly. “Like I said, I’ll always be there to save your blank flank when you get into trouble. Haven’t broken that promise, have I?”

Caro gives a slight smile. “You couldn’t if you tried.”

I can’t help myself. I wrap my forelegs around his neck. His coarse coat reminds me of steel wool, clean and rough at the same time. It’s amusing that such a burly earthwalker is fond of hygiene in a time where there’s little of it to be found.

I’m not sure why I’m hugging him. I guess... I don’t want him to be afraid. This is the most I can do. He’s just so Epona-damned huggable.

“Could you... not do that?” he asks, pushing me away gently.

“Sorry,” I say, even though I’m not.

It’s worth it just to see my tall, strong, muscular dragon slayer of a friend blush. I snicker as we retreat to our room.

Shae is already out cold, leaning against the wall in the corner. She’s down to her black underclothes and she’s using her red coat as a makeshift blanket. She whinnies a little with every breath. It’s quite adorable.

“Uh, Tohro...”

Caro points to the actual bed. Like the others downstairs, it’s nothing too impressive, but after that trek through Beak Falls Barrow, any soft surface looks inviting.

After a moment, I realize what concerns Caro. There’s only the one bed. I find myself laughing out loud while he just stands there, dreading having to share the undersized covers with me.

In the early days of service as a Blackwing, recruits are told to always sleep in their armor, just in case of a sudden battle or assassination attempt. I’m not about to abandon that tactic. My leather padding isn’t too uncomfortable but I’m sure Caro will sleep much easier, wearing nothing at all. He sets his bags and sheathe on the bedside table and lies down upon the bed, wrapping himself up and letting out a sigh of relief. Come to think of it, isn’t this the first time he’s slept on a genuine bed in a long time? I doubt the Empire puts much expense into its prison cells.

I curl up underneath what little blanket remains.

I close my eyes and try to imagine flying across a blue sky on a summer day, far away from the putrid draugr, or Shokenda’s disapproving glare... There’s a happy thought for you. Still, sleep refuses to come to me.

I eventually stop fighting and open my eyes again. I roll over and find myself staring into Caro’s dragon eyes.

“You know,” he says, “you’re the last pony I’d expect to be so enthusiastic about going to Everfree. What are you planning?” He tilts an eyebrow. “Are you going to kill Platinum?”

I jolt upwards and wave my hooves in front of me. “No! Not... No, I’d never do that.” I relax and feather my mane. “It’s not as if I have a reason to.”

“Either way, I don’t really care.”

We share a chuckle before I take a deep breath and continue.

“The actual reason I’m going is...” I take another breath. This is going to be heavy. “I’m going to prove to the whole damn Imperial Legion that you’re innocent.”

“What?" Caro leans forward on his haunches, looking at me quizzically. “Are you insane? They won’t believe you. They won’t even listen.”

“It’s worth a shot in my book.”

“That book is going to burn, Tohro. Platinum will put all of us on the chopping block.” Caro imitates a blade cutting clean through his neck. “Are you going to risk all of us just for my innocence?”

I nod. “Yeah.”

“How?” Caro holds his hooves out as if he’s expecting me to hand him an answer, which I do. I pull out a small vial of liquid glass from my pouch and give it to him.

“I nicked it from Jarl Drake. Don’t worry, I intend on giving it back, just as soon as Platinum sees what really happened in Reinoc.”

Caro turns the phyle over, fascinated by how I found the time to steal the concoction underneath everypony’s noses. “You’re a sneaky thief...” His face grows warmer by the moment, before he glares at me. “I’m not going to hug you.”

I raise my hooves in the air and feign a disappointed groan. “Aw, you tease!”

We both lay back down, with the bed feeling much more comfortable than before.

“Hey... could I see your mark?” he asks.

If it were any other day, I would crack a joke. I’d probably call him a pervert or something of the sort, but I can tell he’s in no such mood.

“Sure,” I say as I sit up.

I undo the straps of my armor and remove the padding, followed by my boots. Now I’m just as stark naked as Caro, who’s blushing again. His eyes dart down to my flanks and widen.

“Wow, that’s... how did that happen?”

I look to the brand upon my rump, and the matching one on my other side. No mark to see, only the burns. “It’s the first thing they do to you when you’re indoctrinated into the Blackwings.”

“They burn your mark?”

I shrug. “I don’t really understand it either, but I suppose it’s to ensure somepony doesn’t join out of desire for a cheap thrill. See the way the burn is shaped? Go on, take a closer look.”

Caro hesitantly leans in and squints his eyes. “That’s a number... One hundred thirty nine?”

“The next bloke who signs on is getting this very same brand.”

~Vision End~

With their bags chock full of new batches of potions, camping supplies, and two and half bars of soap, Dragonrein leaves Trottingham in a somewhat sour mood. Caro still leads the way, though he wears a look of distaste.

I killed a damn dragon and this is my reward. A trot into the city of my other worst enemy. I hope you know what you’re doing, Tohro.

Jarl Drake’s reassurance that she she would contact Platinum ahead of time has done little to lessen his dread. Her intentions, despite everything she put the group through, seem genuine, but Caro has his doubts that Platinum will cooperate. The archers’ crossbows will remain at the ready for him. What an honor.

Two earthwalker stallions, one black and one tan, both standing at least a head taller than him, are hitching themselves up to a wooden wagon beside the stables. Shae gallops ahead and approaches them.

“Good evening, sirs,” she says with a wave.

They both grunt in response. “To you as well,” says the tan one. “Have you need of our services? We can take you most anywhere in a manner of hours.”

Tohro tilts his head. “Huh, usually it’s the pegasi who run the transportation business. Whatever happened to that?”

The black one chuckles. “Every pegasus in this field up and left when they heard of dragons roaming the skies. They didn’t want to risk burning to a crisp for a few coins.”

“Cowards, the lot of them,” blurts the tan one. He glances at Tohro’s disgruntled expression. “Oh, uh, no offense to you, fella.”

Dragons are just as much a threat on the ground as they are in the sky. I should know, I bloody killed one! Caro keeps reminding himself of Nahkriin’s fate, for it at least helps him keep chipper enough to focus on the task at hoof. He also finds himself unusually flustered at the thought of her skeleton, and how Jarl Drake intends to use it as an ornament upon Equinesreach.

“Where will you be headed, then?” asks the black stallion. “Voyages to Ivarstable are half off today.”

Shae politely refuses with a shake of her head. “Actually, we’re expected in Everfree. How much will a trip there cost us?”

“I’d say about... ninety bits, if weather is no object.”

“If you get injured along the way, you get a discount!” the tan one adds.

“Make it eighty and we’re good.” Caro tosses the coins before the stallions and hops into the carriage, taking the leftmost bench, across from Shae and Tohro. “We’re not in the mood to barter. We’re going.”

The black stallion snorts and takes the coins. “You drive a hard bargain, sir. Ugh, fine.”

“Wait! Wait for me! One more passenger!”

Red maned Rosemary, wearing a leather coat and fedora, gallops up the path to the carriage, pausing a moment to breath. She slips the stallions a large sack of bits, much more than necessary. Neither of them complain.

“I’ll go where they’re going. Just hurry, please?”

The tan one gives a happy whinny. “Ma’am, for your generosity we’d run across the ocean. Take a seat, by all means.”

“Thank you,” Rosemary says with a sigh as she looks to Dragonrein. “Good afternoon, laddies. And Shae.” She nods to the unicorn with a warm smile, who returns the favor.

“You want to come with?”

Rosemary adjusts her pouch, which looks like it has been hastily packed with bare essentials. “Of course! If you’ll have me, that is?”

Caro looks to the bronze scimitar upon his back. “After all you’ve done for us? How could we say no?”

“The more mares the mare-ier!” cracks Tohro, warranting groans from the rest of Dragonrein. Rosemary doesn’t seem to get it.

“Where are y’all headed?” she asks.

Shae pipes up. “We’re going to Ever-”

“They are off on an important mission, and you are not going with them.” Tangerine’s imperious call causes Rosemary to grimace. The former general, now out of her Imperial armor and clad in yellow robes, trots to her daughter and snags her by the mane.

“AGH! Mum!”

Tohro stifles a snicker.

“I cannot stress this enough,” commands Tangerine as she forces Rosemary to face her. “These flights of fancy end today.”

“Mum, I’m not a filly anymore- URGH!” The grip around Rosemary’s mane tightens. “This is abuse!”

“No, this is authority, and this isn’t just about you. Now, listen. Wolf River has arranged to have Roches of the Carrier Clan escort you back to the villa.”

“Oh, so you’re not even going to carry out your own punishment, is that it?”

Tangerine waves that comment off and lets go of her daughter’s mane. “Wolf River has requested that I remain in Trottingham. He has need of me.”

“Fantastic. Off to fight another war, are you? Do you even know what the Carrier Clan is?”

“I’m sure I know more than you.”

“I’ve lived here for-”

Tangerine points to Trottingham. “Rosemary, march.”

The tension is thick enough to cut with a spoon. After staring her mother in the eyes, Rosemary bows her head and slowly walks away.

“Roches will be waiting for you at the forge. Pack up only what you need.”

“Yes, Mother Dearest,” she groans.

“And none of the sarcasm.”

Rosemary raises her head for a moment, looks to Dragonrein out of the corner of her eye and winks. Tangerine doesn’t notice. Instead, she turns to Caro, wearing a new, startling face of remorse, which makes him smile. “So... that dragon.”

“Now do you believe me?”

“I’m... Well, not entirely sure what I believe at this point. I’ve always taken the Empire’s word as fact, but the appearance of that beast fills my mind with doubt. I just... I’m absolutely discombobulated.”

“Well, that makes up for everything now, doesn’t it?” says Tohro as he relaxes his forelegs behind his head. “Don’t feel too bad. We’ve both lost faith in our idols.”

“I’ve heard. Nasty business with your eye.”

Tohro shrugs. “I actually like it. It reminds me to never go back.”

She raises her hoof, offering it to Caro. “It seems we’re all a little lost and confused at this point. But, until we can sort this mess out, may we call a truce?”

Caro takes her hoof and shakes proudly. The first bit of kindness he’s received from the Empire in some time. “Perhaps when Wolf River is finished with you, you could sign on with us. We could use your strong heart.”

Tangerine looks aside for a second, then nods. “I’ll consider it.”

As the rickety turn and the wagon moves swiftly across the snow covered plains, the stallions pulling the wagon talk amongst themselves. “When was the last time you visited the capital, Brawn?” asks the black one.

“I was there only the once, as a child. Don’t remember much of it, only that there was a lot of purple. The queen sure loves her glamour.”

“That’s her solution to everything, it is. No matter how terrible things get, you can fix everything by bedazzling the shit out of it. That’s how all them unicorns think.”

“No offense to you, ma’am,” says the tan one to Shae. Some offense was taken, as it didn’t sound so much like an apology. More like an afterthought. Shae furls her brow and buries her muzzle into the pages of An Explorer‘s Guide to the Equestrian Highlands.

“See, this is what I put up with every day,” whispers Caro. “Ponies pissing on the other tribes without even having the courtesy of calling it rain."

Tohro merely lets out a yawn and stretches out on the bench. “Cheer up, mate, it’s not so bad. All that tension from the settlement wars isn’t going to go away in an instant but at least nopony’s at each other’s throat.”

Shae’s eyes leave her book. “Settlement wars?”

“Not a historian, are you?” asks Tohro. “Spent a little too much time on the magic tomes?”

“Yes, but I believe it paid off,” says the unicorn with a smirk.

Tohro claps his hooves together. “Okay, crash course. Commander Hurricane, Princess Platinum, Chancellor Puddinghead. They tried to settle upon this land all at the same time. Same old song and dance; diplomacy failed, all hell broke loose. The minotaurs, the gryphons, et cetera, they joined the fray. Guts splatter everywhere, wham, bam, thank you ma’am.”

Shae nods. “And that ended with the Hearth’s Warming?”

“Eeyup. All it took was a second Great Blizzard and nearly freezing over for the tribes to finally come to an agreement. That’s how the world works, I guess.”

“Yet the racism remains,” says Caro, gesturing to the stallions. “How difficult can it be to accept that we’re all equal? This is counterproductive.”

“It’s not that simple, mate,” says Tohro. “I think it’s fine that we’re able to coexist, but genuine equality will probably take another hundred years, maybe even a thousand.”

The sun touches the horizon as the carriage ascends the western foothills, prompting Caro to lower his eyelids and lay down. It’s been a long day filled with blood and vengeance, but something tells him tomorrow isn’t going to be nearly as pleasant. If he wasn’t so physically exhausted, sleep would be impossible.

“A thousand more years of bigotry? Not if I have anything to say about it,” he mutters as the sounds of creaking wood and hoofsteps fade away.

~Caro~

The white void of nothing again. Just as it had been before, no spot of land or life as far as the eye can see, except for a single indiscernible figure in the distance.

“Caro...”

I groan, knowing that if this is anything like last time, I’ll wake up in a moment with more question than answers. Regardless, I speak to the figure. “Yes, I know my own name. Get on with it.”

“Caro...”

“Is that all you can say?”

“Caro...”

“I’ll take that as a yes, then.”

With nothing better to do, I trot in the direction of the silhouette, hoping against hope that I can at least get a glimpse of him... her? It? Perhaps I can make sense of all this, or just pass it off as a dream I’ve been unfortunate enough to experience twice. I’m already sick of it.

“Caro...”

“Yes, yes, I’m coming.”

To my honest surprise, the figure starts to come into view, becoming less of a faded object and taking the shape of a... filly?

For some reason, I still can’t quite get a grasp of her colors or what tribe she belongs to, but I can tell she’s just a little one. Can’t be far out of infancy. Suddenly my impatience towards this dream seems so petty.

“Caro...”

The voice is no longer unpleasant to me. It must be the filly’s voice. But, why is she calling out to me in particular? And for what reason?

“Caro... please...”

~Vision End~

“Today I woke and looked outside again,
and the skies looked the same to me...
Something had told that this world had changed,
couldn't figure out what could it- Oh, Caro is awake, I see.”

A deep Saddle Arabian accent accompanying compulsive rhyming. Caro knows who this is. “Hello, Xephyr.”

The zebra bard takes a bow and flips his mane. He’s wrapped in a patchy fur cloak and he holds his lute upon his lap. He, Shae, Tohro, and a stranger wearing a hood are gathered around a batch of conjured blue fire burning harmlessly in the center of the carriage, protecting themselves from the freezing rain.

“My finesse with the strings has come far since we conversed with that Ivarstable bar. A fine quantity of bits I make each day though it’s still hardly enough to buy the cheapest hay.”

“Damn inflation, huh?” grunts Tohro. He looks more disgruntled than usual, though Caro figures it’s because there’s a zebra in his presence. Another bout of bigotry, for reasons nopony understands.

Caro shivers, jolting with each raindrop upon his coat. He rolls over and embraces the heat of the blue flames. “Much more homey and nurturing than a dragon’s flame, that much is true."

Xephyr nods and scoots next to Caro. “Tohro has told me the tale of ye, and how your brought a dragon much wrought. What a coincidence it is that I sung the song of the Dragonborn in the presence of the colt of legend sworn.”

“Who is that?” Caro asks, nodding at the hooded stranger.

“Not a clue, for he will not tell me who,” says Xephyr.

“Perhaps he’s a mute?” Shae suggests.

Tohro shrugs. “Or bandits have cut out his tongue.”

Shae’s eyes widen. “That actually happens?”

“It’s so victims won’t go crying to the authorities. Poor sods just sound like blubbering idiots.”

“That’s barbaric!”

“Such is the way of the twilight age,” Tohro says nonchalantly as he takes a swig of mead from his flask. He then offers it to Shae, who takes it and looks at the hooded stranger.

“Are you going to Everfree too?” she asks.

The hooded stranger doesn’t respond, not even with a nod or a shake.

“Um, hello?” she waves her hoof in front of his eyes, or at least where his eyes would be if they were visible. He reaches out to adjust his robes.

“AH!” Shae nearly falls back when she sees the appendage is a lion’s paw. “Look!”

Caro, Tohro and Xephyr’s eyes fall on the hooded stranger and only see a perfectly natural grey foreleg.

“I think all that mead went to your head,” says Caro. “Do yourself a favor and stay away from alcohol for a while, at least until you hit maturity.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice.” Shae forces the flask back onto Tohro and sits back down on the bench, trying to comprehend what the hell she just saw. “Um, sorry about that,” she says to the stranger.

“Do you mind?” he says. “I’m busy doing the fishstick. ‘Tis a very delicate state of mind.”

Dragonrein and Xephyr both do a double take.

“Fishsti- You can talk?” exclaims Tohro.

The stranger chuckles. “Indeed! And there you were ignoring my silence! I was making faces behind this veil, you know.”

“At us?” asks Caro.

“No, at the ants upon the seat. They were giving me the raspberry.”

“Ants? Berries?” Shae checks around her for any insects, wearing the same face of bewilderment as everypony else.

Xephyr grips his lute tightly. “I have a feeling that this traveler’s mind is a-peeling. Um, apart.”

The stranger laughs out loud, prompting Shae to back up against Tohro for protection. “I’ve embraced that fact deep within my heart. A mad being sits before thee, and in my mind, two plus two equals three!”

Xephyr narrows his gaze, peeking underneath the laughing stranger’s hood. He sees two sickly yellow eyes with mismatched pupils. “Mad is the right word. You’re quite insane from what I’ve heard.”

“Quite the bard, aren’t you? What is insanity, my burly friend? If you ask me, it’s more fun in the end! If there were more of me and less of you—”

“...then I’d have left this ride.”

“That much is true!” says Tohro.

The stranger continues, laughing. “I’ve traveled a while, looking for some, who may provide assistance for a certain someone. Would you be willing to?”

“If there will be a reward, that depends...” says Tohro.

The stranger clops his hooves together. “Yes, oh, yes, good friends!”

“Why have we suddenly gone all rhymey?” asks Xephyr.

“You’re one to talk, you striped limey,” says Tohro.

Caro looks about at the absurdity. Shae’s eyes are darting back and forth, failing to make sense of this, and the hooded stranger is madly grinning, showing off yellow teeth with a single long fang. “All this mayhem makes me want to dance,” he says.

Shae’s eyes freeze, pupils shrinking to dots, and she speaks, “I’m not wearing any under—”

“FUS RO!” shouts Caro to the sky. Everypony aside from the stranger covers their ears, stopping their string of compulsive rhyming. “Are we done?” Everypony nods. He faces the stranger. “You’re mad with power.”

“Of course I am. Have you ever tried being mad without power? ‘Tis boring and nopony listens to you. Two things I simply cannot stand.”

“So, what are you? A unicorn with powers over lesser minds?” Caro looks to the rest. “Um, no offense.”

“None taken,” they all say.

The stranger waves his hooves in front of his face, or lack thereof. “If you’re trying to be wrong, then you’re right! I am not a unicorn, nor do I have power over your minds. To put it another way, my power already resides within you. Insanity is like a cliff. All it takes is a little push!”

The carriage begins to decelerate. Shae lets out a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank Fauste! I can’t take this anymore.”

Caro whispers to Tohro, “Let’s make a break for it, before this mad horse thinks about following us.”

Everypony looks ahead to see they’ve gone from the snow covered Mt. Everfree Pass to a completely different location; a dreary forest with dead trees as far as the eye can see, which, given the inordinate amount of fog, isn’t very far. All color seems to have been washed from the land.

“This can’t be Everfree!” proclaims Shae. “Where’s the Veneightian architecture? The Rainbow Palace? The diamond moat?” She hops out of the carriage and approaches the tan and black stallions. “Sirs, I think you may have taken a wrong- WAGH!”

“What is it?” asks Caro as he disembarks.

“They’re gone! The drivers are gone! Without a trace!” Shae scans the grass with her horn, trying to detect anything they may have left behind. Not so much as a hoofstep. “They just up and disappeared.”

Tohro flutters down from the carriage and taps Caro on the back. “Uh, mate? The mad pony’s gone too.”

Xephyr is looking about in every direction, caught in a bout of paranoia. “Stay aware! He may backstab you.”

Tohro groans. “I thought we were done with that.”

“Hey!” yells Shae, her horn letting out a burst of magenta light. “Stop acting like brats!”

The brief moment of quiet is made even more eerie by the uncanny silence of the foreign woods. There is no breeze to rustle the trees, nor are there chirps of birds or insects. Complete silence.

“I don’t think we should stay here long.” Xephyr leaps out of the carriage and makes a less than graceful landing on his haunches, getting a snicker from Tohro. Caro helps him up. “Traveling back shouldn’t steer us wrong.”

“I concur, but what about the carriage?”

Tohro groans. “It’s not laced with gold. Nopony is going to miss it, now why don’t we make like ponies who want to live and get the hell out of here?”

The party had been too preoccupied with their fit of rhyming and the hooded stranger’s cryptic words to pay attention to how far off course they had been taken. All anypony can do is trot forward and hope the snow laden road returns.

Moments turn into minutes, and the minutes turn into an hour before Tohro lets out a frustrated grunt. “We’re going in bloody circles!”

“How can that be?” says Xephyr. “This is the only path, you see?”

“It happens all the time with foolhardy travelers. They think they’re going straight and then, well, they’re dead.” Tohro scratches his head and points upwards. “But what do I know? Why don’t we ask the stars for the answers?”

Xephyr purses his lips. “I’d appreciate it so if you would not insult my religion so low.”

Caro scratches his chin and has a peculiar thought. “We’ve been trotting for Epona knows how long and we haven’t seen a single crossroads or detour. Where in Equestria is there any such path?”

“You have a point there,” says Shae. “Feel free to call me insane, but... I don’t think we’re in Equestria right now.”

Tohro wheels around and stops Shae in her tracks. “So, you’re saying that those stallions took our money and somehow dragged us beyond the border and pulled a disappearing act? We were only on that carriage a couple of hours, how would that be possible?”

Xephyr speaks up, “If I may say, so that in this forest we won’t stay—”

“No one asked you, stripes!” snaps Tohro. “Leave this to the adventurers!”

“Let him speak!” shouts Caro. “Your prejudices can wait.” He turns to Xephyr. “Now, what were you saying?”

Xephyr clears his throat as he falls to his haunches. He equips his lute and gives it a test strum before playing a slow and foreboding melody. “This is a song of an entity zebrakind has come to fear and loathe, for it brings nothing but chaos, and I’m quite sure it is upon us.” He sings in his native zebra tongue as he looks around nervously.

“Kucha bhayānaka pūrē śahara kē mādhyama sē nīcē jā rahā hai.
Tēja thī arājakatā aura yaha lātā hai saba.
Maiṁ nahīṁ, maiṁ bilkula bhī nahīṁ lē jā sakatē haiṁ, ālasya mēṁ nahīṁ baiṭha sakatē haiṁ!
Maiṁ nāma, yaha saba kē pīchē ēka abhiśāpa...”

Mad laughter echoes across the empty forest. “Ah, so my legacy extends beyond the land of Equestria! How this pleases me... This is going to be the most fun I’ve had in eons!”

A flash of lightning causes Shae and Tohro to duck and cover. The fog shifts and merges together at a single point in the middle of the group and forms a gap in the road from which pink and green flames emerge, followed by a laughing grey serpent with an equine face, mismatched with asymmetrical monstrous appendages. Its entire existence defies logic.

“Thank the sweetrolls I can finally stop this silly little game of hide and seek! That mortal form was simply exhausting to keep alive! Well, he’s not alive now but... ah well.”

Caro is too busy trying to wrap his head around how this... thing could even exist. He draws his scimitar. “What the hell are you?!”

The beast appears offended, and then humored. It strikes a dramatic pose like a pony would on a stage, with its griffon hand raised high. “How rude! You should know a god of disharmony and chaos when you see one!” It takes a bow. “The name is Discord! Howl at the moon for me!”

Xephyr does a poor imitation of a wolf’s cry, earning a smack on the back of the head from Tohro. “What are you doing?”

“Better to obey and not die on this day!”

“All you zebras are useless.” Tohro snorts and spreads his wing-blades. “I say we nip this abomination’s ranting in the bud. What do you think, Caro?”

The earthwalker nods, crouching into his battle stance. “I couldn’t agree more, partner." Cooperation on the field of battle, he thinks. At least this is something we can agree on.

They both make a leap at the patchwork monster with their blades hungry for blood. Caro’s adrenaline begins to kick in and...

...his scimitar vanishes in a blinding flash.

“Fuck.”

Both him and Tohro are tossed aside when Discord slaps them both with his lion paw. They both land on their faces.

“Well, that was amusing, but I’m afraid there are no sharp things allowed in this classroom. Nor filthy language!” He turns and points at Shae with his gryphon hand. “That includes unicorn horns, little lady,” he says gleefully, tapping the point of Shae’s horn.

Shae backs away as Discord snaps his fingers. Her horn disappears from her head. She feels for it and shrieks. Her only means of defense is gone from sight. “What have you done?!” she cries.

Discord isn’t listening. “Or would it be called a unihorn?” he asks, following up with a shrug. “Technically it’s called an alicorn, but you ponies ruined that word long ago. Doesn’t really matter, I suppose.” He catches a glimpse of Shae’s terrified and confused expression. He slithers over to her and strokes her mane. She grits her teeth and tries to slink away but Discord doesn’t let go. “Don’t worry yourself, my dear. We all lose our horniness every now and then. Feel lucky that yours will return in due time.”

Caro charges forth and smacks Discord’s hand away from Shae. “Leave her alone!”

“Oooh, this one has spunk! And what about the one who actually knows who I am?” Discord turns to Xephyr, who is still on his haunches, praying to the stars. “Oh, you zebras and your religions. You are the only ones who still have the audacity to fear me and grant me tribute. The others could learn from you.”

Xephyr, trembling from the sight of the beast, grips his lute like a club. He’s too terrified to rhyme. “Tr-tribute?! Y-you steal innocent souls and m-m-make them you slaves!”

“Perhaps the same can be said of all religions.”

“Y-your words are as empty as your heart! Equinekind ill needs a false god such as yourself.” Xephyr gets to his hooves and makes a desperate swing with his lute. Discord’s body moves out of the way without effort and the lute shatters against the ground.

Discord furls his brow and folds his arms. A goblet containing a dark liquid materializes next to him, which he promptly takes and chugs down in an instant. He then tosses the liquid aside. “What is a pony? A miserable little pile of figgy pudding at four in the morning! But enough talk!” He hovers over Xephyr with his mismatched arms raised, ready for the kill.

As the zebra braces himself and Caro and Tohro gallop to the rescue, Discord suddenly returns to standing upright. “I’m outta here,” he says.

Caro stomps the grass and calls out to the serpentine monster as he spreads his dragon and pegasus wings and flies across the fog heavy sky. “Get back here, coward! You don’t just steal our weapons and take off!”

Discord holds his hands up, pleading false innocence. He then covers up where his ears should be, near his goat horn and deer antler. “I’m sorry, I can’t hear you over how awe inspiring I am.” He strokes his goatee. “Something tells me you’re concerned about your weapons. I do apologize for that, but I need insurance, you see. Got to ensure you don’t try to lob my gorgeous head off after agreeing to assist me. And this is the part where he says...”

“We never agreed to anything!”

“Called it! Wow, you are really good at winning!”

Caro’s teeth are grinding together so fiercely his jaw is beginning to ache. “Winning what?!” he shouts.

Discord disappears and materializes right next to Caro’s head. “Isn’t that cute? BUT IT’S WROOOONG!" Caro staggers away, shaking the ringing out of his ears. “While you all were enjoying that pleasant yet preposterous plague of putrid purple prose poetry, you and your predominate pegasus pal said you would partake of my philanthropy and grant me your patronage.” He pops back next to Shae and pokes her bare forehead. “You’ll have your precious blades and horns, as soon as you give me what I want.” Discord glances at the cowering Xephyr as he picks up the splintered remains of his lute. “Oh, and I’ll fix your zebra friend’s instrument, because that is just pathetic.”

Caro looks back at Shae, who is on the verge of tears as she continues to rub where her horn was moments ago. He can tell she’s straining to attempt some form of magic, but nothing comes of it. Turning to Discord, who is tapping his fingers on thin air, Caro gives his answer.

“Fine.”

"Wonderful!" Discord disappears into the dirt and reappears behind Caro, resting his gryphon claws on his shoulder. “See, for some time now, I’ve been enjoying this most wonderful feast with all sorts of fine delicacies. Tofu, tomato bisque, liver, gouda, bananas, the list goes on. I haven’t had much of anything else to do, I mean, I’ve been stuck in this dimension with absolutely-”

“Stop yourself,” says Caro as he tilts his brow. “Did you just say dimension?”

“Dimension, world, plane of reality, circle of hell, take your pick. Either way, hopping about on the spectrum of the universe really got me into a pickle, which is also on the dinner menu, by the way. See, I have no means of leaving this dreadful place. An equine projection of myself is the extent of my powers, but it works beautifully. I digress. I’ve had little company, aside from a few chaotic creatures of my own creation and the occasional Saddle Arabian courier. They only stick around for so long. The only pony I’ve had in my midst for an extended period of time, on the other hand or hoof, cannot leave, because he just so happens to own the place.”

Caro cannot wrap his head around Discord’s body, let alone a word he says. At this point, all he can do is nod and think, You know what? This is happening. I am just going to deal with it.

Tohro, however, is smiling away. Despite the headaches the beast invoked earlier, he can't help but snicker at Discord's nonsense.

Xephyr is trudging along slowly, making constant prayers for mercy, and Shae is close to doing the same. Not having a horn upon her head is all sorts of unnatural and unnerving for her. It just doesn’t feel right.

“Ah, here we are,” says Discord.

It’s not the strangest sight they’ve seen, but a colorful royal dinner table sitting in the middle of a dead forest does raise Caro and Tohro's brows.

A single dark blue pegasus with a greying mane is pacing around the table. He carries a disposition of anger and perpetual sadness. Discord, however, is happy as can be. He slithers to the throne of the table and snatches a banana from the fruitbowl.

“Good morning, afternoon and evening, my friend," says Discord.

The pegasus returns to his seat with a sigh. “You truly are a god of lies, for I am not your friend, nor is today anything pleasant. It has not been for years.”

Discord unwraps the banana. “Ah, Your Majesty certainly still has a way with pessimism,” he says as he eats the peel. “It has been years since we last talked. I wish you would at least indulge in this wonderful brunch. Or is it lunner? Either way, it wasn’t easy to conjure up.”

“I have half a mind that if I tuck in I’ll become half as mad as you.”

“Oh, come now. A little mercury never hurt anypony. You pegasi like fish, right? Try eating the shark stew, at least before it tries to eat you.”

The pegasus sticks his muzzle into the air, ignoring the draconequus to the best of his abilities.

All of the pegasus’ features remind Caro of a certain somepony that he may have caught a glimpse of as a child, but he can’t quite put a name to that image. The gaping expressions of Shae and Tohro tell him they’re having more luck.

“Oh... Divines...” mutters Tohro.

After giving the pegasus another look over, Caro gapes as well. “It can’t be...” He doesn’t recognize his face or mane, but he does recall his ebony armor and bear hide cloak. Master Hammerfell had told Caro that there is only one set of that armor in existence, and it belonged to Equestria’s high king.

Tohro’s wings give an involuntary flutter. “I see it, but I don’t- I don’t believe it!” he says as he chatters from sheer hysteria. He approaches the pegasus and bows. “I-it is an honor, King Hurricane. Tohro Blackwing at your service. May I kiss your greaves? Please?”

Shae and Caro bow as well, the latter having to force Xephyr onto his knees.

“Who is this?” the zebra asks. “Was there something I missed?”

Caro forces his hoof against Xephyr‘s muzzle. “How it’s even possible is beyond me, but we’re in the presence of the late king of Equestria.”

King Hurricane examines all four of them, looks back and forth, and then to Discord. “Another one of your tricks, mad god? ‘Twas not enough to torture me with your insane ramblings and corrupted wizardry, so you conjured up illusions to drive me further into the pit of insanity?”

Tohro stands back up. “Um, Your Majesty?” He takes a step forward. “Are you well? And seriously, let me kiss your greaves.”

“Um...” The king turns around and gets a closer look at Tohro. “Well, yes... This is very convincing. Hm...”

Discord is relaxing upon the throne, tapping his griffon finger in anticipation.

King Hurricane brushes his goatee, then cocks back his hoof. “Away with ye!” He lands a hit on Tohro's cheek, sending him flying into Caro, who catches the hapless pegasus.

Tohro, despite the broken skin on his muzzle, wears a comical grin. “I’ve just been punched by the greatest warrior in pegasus history. This is every colt’s dream!”

“With all due respect, Your Majesty,” says Caro as he helps Tohro up, “what the hell is wrong with you?”

The king is backing away slowly, realizing the blood on his hoof is genuine. “Y-you’re real... You’re actually here? How did you-”

Shae, finally breathing regularly, walks up to the king. “Please, Your Majesty, be calm.” She touches him on the cheek, feeling his wrinkles and battle scars. “We’re here to help you.”

As the revelation of seeing genuine flesh and blood ponies washes over King Hurricane and Tohro’s muzzle stops bleeding, the party takes seats around the dinner table, with Caro sitting next to Tohro, and Shae and Xephyr on the opposite side. King Hurricane takes the end seat, while Discord stretches out on his throne, nibbling on a whole roll of gouda.

“I have no doubt in my mind that you’re wondering how you’re speaking to me,” says the king. “Though that does depend on how much you know about me.”

Tohro, wiping his nostrils with a napkin, pipes up. “The reports say you perished under mysterious circumstances. I remember hundreds of pegasi weeping for the loss. 'The bravest and most fearsome pegasus in Equestrian history has taken flight,’ they said.”

Caro nudges Tohro and whispers to him. “Whatever happened to hating the Empire? You drool if the king so much as glances at you.”

"Ah?" Tohro grunts as he touches his hoof to his mouth. He leans over to Caro and whispers, “Just because I hate the Empire doesn’t mean I hate the good king. He invented the art of war, and brought honor to the pegasus race. We’re all quite proud of him.”

“You shouldn’t be,” says the king. “My death was that of a coward’s. I should have fallen on the battlefield like my brethren before me, but I wasn’t granted that luxury. Look.”

The king turns his stalwart body to present one of his large wings. He strains to spread them but they remain glued to his sides.

“I died of grief, misery,” he takes in a breath, as if speaking of this is physically painful, “and hatred. A true pegasus would have gone down flying.”

“Isn’t that a bit of an oxymoron, Your Depressingness?” asks Discord. He takes flight and gestures to the whole of the desolate forest. “Let’s face it, you’ve been on this rant for, what, more than a decade? I’d say it's about time you gave it a rest, along with the remainder of this empty head of yours! ‘Tis more barren than your wife.”

The king removes himself from the table and slowly walks away. Shae follows in his wake, slowly approaching him as he looks to the foggy sky with his eyes closed. “Ah, mon Platine Peu. How I miss your glistening violet mane, your strikingly natural beauty, exemplified by a sharp wit and a coat that could blind those unworthy to look upon thee...” A tear falls from his cheek. “How I miss you indeed.”

“That was beautiful,” says Shae as she stands beside him. Hurricane jumps a little, turning to look at her. “You truly loved Platinum?” she asks.

The king, still looking into the distance, reached out to touch something invisible. “Marrying her... ‘Twas the only thing I ever accomplished that is worth remembering.”

From the fog embraced grass materializes a ghostly image of two ponies, a white unicorn and a pegasus. It takes a moment for everypony to realize they’re looking at the younger, happier figures of Platinum and Hurricane, before they were known as queen and king of Equestria, before Equestria even existed. Hurricane’s mane carries the colors of the rainbow, and he is clad in a black warrior’s kimono. Platinum wears a flowing white gown that exemplifies her slender figure, making Tohro and Shae's cheeks flush. The king looks upon the scene with melancholy nostalgia.

“Before the Great Blizzard took our hearts, we shared them in a forbidden love like no wordsmith could have ever imagined.”

The past selves of the king and queen are looking into each other’s eyes longingly, never breaking away, not so much as blinking. They share an embrace.

“My love,” says the youthful, oddly childish voice of young Hurricane, “no act of bravery on the battlefield can compare to how much of a risk we are taking. If even a single pony of our tribes were to find out...”

Platinum silences Hurricane’s concerns with a passionate kiss that lasts for a good minute. When their lips separate, all seems well again.

Discord rolls his eyes and pretends to gag himself.

“Our time together will not end in tragedy,” says the image of Platinum. “I feel the day upon which we can announce our courtship to the world grows ever closer. This is not taboo. It is proof that our races can coexist. With my wisdom and your...” her hoof travels down Hurricane’s neck to his chest, “...warrior’s spirit, we will be unstoppable.”

They share another kiss before an elderly colt out of view says in a hushed voice, “We are gathered here in private to join the honorable Commander Hurricane of the pegasi and Her Royal Highness Princess Platinum in forbidden matrimony...”

The Hurricane in the present chuckles. “Grace that minister of Nebula. He took our secret to the grave.”

“That is true love,” says Shae, sighing contently. “I’m a little bit jealous.”

“It is one of the few happy moments I have to share, child.”

“But surely the years following the blizzard were happy. Platinum’s vision came true.”

“As did our dreams.”

The figures shift and melt into a new memory. The image of Hurricane has aged a few years, but his mane is still colorful. He seems to be nervous and euphoric at the same time as he holds Platinum’s hoof and looks out upon an audience of hundreds of ponies from atop a balcony. A pink colt with a magenta mane and beard stands behind them, hopping in place. His bouncing causes his pudding shaped crown to fly off his head, drawing laughter from the audience.

“Is that Chancellor Puddinghead?” asks Tohro as he leans over the table.

“Ah, my favorite of the big three!” says Discord. “He did the one impossible feat I could not back in reality; he made politics fun!”

“I cannot argue with that,” says the king. “Even during the fallout of the Great Blizzard he kept our hopes alive with laughter and song, and he was humble enough to put his title of chancellor aside to become an advisor to me and Platinum.”

Discord teleports, reappearing uncomfortably close to Caro. “If only you had somepony like him. He might have taught you a sense of humor.”

Caro shoves the draconequus away. “Well, he’s dead now, so deal with it.”

“I am just soooooooo happy for you!” chirps the image of Puddinghead as he pulls Hurricane and Platinum into a group hug. “Truly this is the most incredible romance of this millenium!”

Platinum gently pushes Puddinghead away. “Watch the dress, darling. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we must make an announcement to my-” She glances at Hurricane and clears her throat. “Sorry dear, our subjects.”

After sharing a brief kiss, the lovers turn to the audience.

“Citizens of the new nation of Equestria!” shouts Hurricane, “To form the perfect kingdom, the time has come to integrate the three tribes. Unicorns, pegasi and earthwalkers will live side by side, contributing to society and making this kingdom and the world a better place. Such a vision cannot be achieved with war. Our days of conflict are behind us. Today, I declare the Settlement Wars to be over, and announce that Princess Platinum of the unicorns and I, Commander Hurricane of the pegasi...”

The two ponies embrace for everypony to see.

Platinum concludes Hurricane’s words. “...Are deeply, madly in love, and will serve as your married king and queen.”

The audience explodes into cheers of rejoicing and celebration as waves of confetti fall from the windows.

The present Hurricane sighs. “Perhaps it would have been for the best if we had kept our relationship under wraps and ruled as an oligarchy.”

“Why?” asks Caro. “Your subjects seemed okay with your union. Two leaders from separate tribes coming together was a bold step that allowed ponykind to coexist.”

Hurricane’s expression turns grim. “It was a bold step, indeed. Too bold.” The king approaches his younger self, looking upon him with disgust. “You went too far, Hurricane. When you’re in a position of power or not, every action you make has consequences. There will always be somepony that disagrees with you. Even if that pony is your own flesh and-”

The vision is wiped away by a sudden lightning strike. The dinner table, the surrounding forest and the sky warp and bend into maddeningly nonsensical shapes and land masses. Xephyr stops praying and starts outright panicking. Caro has to hold him still.

“Oh dear, Your Majesty!” Discord shouts melodramatically, clutching his cheeks. “It seems all your mewling has become too much of a burden for your mind to bear!”

“What the hell are you talking about?” asks Caro.

“Were you not paying attention, my murderous earthwalker?” Discord taps Caro on the forehead with his knuckles. “It’s only common sense. This place is a visual representation of the late king’s mind...”

Shae interjects, “So it changes to match his mental state?”

“Indeed, and it seems that the king is growing rather peeved.”

King Hurricane is on all fours, clutching his forehead and groaning. “You... damned... fool!”

Tohro and Shae gallop to him but are snatched up by Discord. “I wouldn’t recommend it! The king is very unstable at this time and he could drop a piano on all of your heads, and hilarious as that would be, I’d rather that not happen... yet.”

Caro approaches Discord and gestures to Hurricane. “What will you have us do, then? I thought you told us to help him.”

“You’ve done enough damage for today, I’d wager.”

Discord snaps his griffon fingers, and the chaotic world disappears, replaced with a white void.

Caro, Shae, Tohro and Xephyr stand in silence, still contemplating the strange and unsettling sights they had just witnessed.

“So... that happened,” says Discord.

“The mighty King Hurricane...” Tohro bows his head. “I idolized him, even as a child, and as a Blackwing. To see him reduced to a miserable wreck such as that...”

Caro tousles Tohro’s blonde mane. “We can set him right. No good pony deserves to die unfulfilled.”

“Hypocrisy!” Discord slithers between Caro’s legs. “I’ve peeked into your head while you weren’t looking and what I saw doesn’t exactly match what you said.”

Caro feels Discord’s paw slam down upon his forehead and he sees a disturbing image.

He sees himself, laughing maniacally, bathing in the blood and guts of his enemies. Hundreds upon hundreds of desecrating corpses lay in heaps around him as he falls onto his haunches, eating somepony’s still beating heart...

“GET OUT OF MY HEAD!” Caro bucks at Discord, who shatters into dust and reforms in front of him. Caro snarls and advances on the mad god with reddening eyes. “Give me my sword, then it will be your heart I consume, if you even have one!”

“Temper, temper! You’ve only proven my point!”

“SO WHAT?!” the earthwalker spits. “I only said a good pony deserves fulfillment. The rest of the scum can rot in a flaming heap-”

“Caro!” shrieks Shae. She pounces on him in a half tackle, half hug. The unicorn is too minuscule to budge him but it does stop his rampage. “Please, stop. He’s only trying to get a laugh.”

Tohro and Xephyr are wide eyed and offset by the Dragonborn’s outburst, and even Discord looks mildly stunned.

Caro returns Shae’s embrace as she squeezes him even tighter. “Sorry...”

Discord, rolling his eyes again from the drama of the moment, snaps his fingers and fades away.

Caro releases Shae and gallops to where the draconequus was standing. “Where are you going? We’re not done here! What about Hurricane? What about our weapons?” He points at Shae. “Her horn!”

Discord’s voice echoes from every direction. “Your means of defense will be returned to you in just a moment, my little ponies. As for Hurricane, I have to go and calm the poor fellow down with a sweetroll or eight. You can all go on your merry way.”

“Is that so? Return us to the cart, then!”

“Actually, given how much I’ve inconvenienced you, Dragonborn, I’m feeling rather generous. I’ll drop you smack dab where you need to be at this moment, at the inconvenience of somepony else.”

With the sound of another snap, everypony’s eyelids involuntarily droop, and their bodies drift off to sleep.

A cold marble floor and the scent of potpourri wakes the group. They open their eyes to see they’re in the center of a circular chamber adorned with vines and stained glass windows.

Caro and Tohro feel heavier. As they wipe the tired from their eyes, they turn their heads and notice Discord, despite being a complete nuisance, did keep his word. Caro’s scimitar and bags are back where they belong, and Tohro does a gleeful skip when he sees his crossbow and wingblades intact. Shae claps her hooves together with an adorable grin as her horn shoots sparks. Xephyr plays a triumphant fanfare on his repaired lute.

“Ahem.”

Everypony turns to the sound of a royal voice. It’s not falsified like Jarl Drake’s, it’s a genuine baroness’ call.

Sitting upon a jewel encrusted throne with gold accents and purple velvet cushions is a unicorn wearing a royal robe that trails along the floor. Her coat is a brilliant white and her violet mane is curled to perfection. Shae’s jaw nearly hits the floor. “Qu-Qu-Queen Pla-”

The high queen raises her hoof to silence the lavender unicorn.

“For every question, there is an answer,” she says. She leans forward and rests her chin on her hooves. “The question in this case being,” her glare intensifies and her royal voice falters, “who the hell are you?"

Caro faces away from her as he feels sweat treading his brow. He doesn’t want to be recognized by the mare that ordered his execution. Shae backs away, Xephyr following suit. Only Tohro doesn’t show any sign of cowardice, standing proud.

The queen continues, switching off between proper and enraged. “The throne room of the Rainbow Palace is spellblocked to all but me and Clover the Clever. How in the hell did you manage to teleport in? If you are assassins, you are all petty excuses for some. I demand an explanation, and maybe I’ll reconsider calling the royal guard!”

“If I may, Your Majesty,” says Tohro with a respectful bow, “my companions and I did not intend to intrude upon your privacy.”

“Is that so? Well, what were your intentions? What were you doing that landed you in my presence?”

“Oh, we were just traveling along on a carriage ride before the equine form of a mad god brought us into another dimension that turned out to be the mind of your late husband who can’t ascend to the next life because he’s incredibly miserable and we may have seen a flashback of you two in a tender embrace and another one of you a few years later post Settlement Wars and then were kicked out because the king threw a hissy fit.”

Queen Platinum inhales, taking in the expositional onslaught, and settles back onto her throne. “I believe you.”

XIV - Innocence

A nostalgic smile crosses Queen Platinum’s cheeks as she looks upon the portrait of her late husband. The oils depict him with a mane that flows in the wind, clad in battle armor underneath a long black cloak. He’s perfect here, frozen in time, away from the tragedies that claimed his happiness and his life.

“Isn’t he magnificent?” asks Platinum. She dabs at her teary eyes with her robes. “Hurricane commissioned the finest artists from the Bard College to capture him at the pinnacle of his youth. They couldn’t have done a finer job, if you ask me.” She strokes her silk scarf as her smile fades. “It’s just so awful... I cannot imagine it, being trapped between life and death in one’s own shattered mind.”

She turns to the doors that lead to her bedroom.

“I was there for him in his final hours, but not when he passed. I merely left the room for a moment, and when I returned...” She sniffs and dabs her eyes again.

“‘To soar up ever higher than any mortal flyer,’” recites Tohro, posing like he were on a stage.

Platinum turns to him and nods. “That’s what the pegasi soldiers chanted when they sent my Hurricane’s body off on a cloud. Funny, I never really asked what it means.”

Tohro looks out a stained glass window depicting a setting sun amongst the clouds. “It’s a bit of an old pegasus proverb. Our kind believes in an afterlife where we fly among the clouds for all of eternity. Deep inside, it’s what we desire most. The way I see it, your husband was so burdened with his misery, whatever the cause, that he couldn’t take flight.”

“That’s why we agreed to help him with passing on,” says Shae. “We can’t very well let the king suffer like this.”

“I thank you all,” says Platinum. “After he died, I was left with a gaping void in my life. I’m not ashamed to admit that the rumors are true...” She chuckles a little, looking aside with red cheeks. “I’m quite unable to have children anymore. To know my husband is at peace would make me a much happier mare.”

Tohro points in Caro’s direction. The earthwalker is pacing as far away from Platinum as equinely possible to avoid recognition. “Actually, you should be thanking him,” says Tohro. “He’s the leader of our little troop, and he’s the one hellbent on setting Hurricane right.”

Caro’s ears droop and his eyes widen as Platinum looks his way. He shoots Tohro a look that says, If I get executed because of this, my lingering spirit will haunt you for eternity and beyond! The pegasus just shrugs.

“Hm, is that so?” asks the queen. She beckons to Caro. “Come on then, young colt. Join us. Don’t be shy.”

Oh sweet Epona, this is it, isn’t it? “Um, no, I’m quite comfortable over here, thank you, I’m fine... How are you?” He grimaces.

“Better, now that you’re here.” Platinum puts her hoof to her lips and whistles.

The sounds of clanking Imperial steel and and armored hoofsteps echo through the hallways of the Rainbow Palace. A small battalion of Imperial soldiers lead by a bulky unicorn approach the group. Tohro recognizes him as the captain of the royal guard and Imperial Legion, Captain Gauntlet. Next to Tangerine, his cunning is the bane of the Blackwings.

Caro keeps one hoof on his scimitar, waiting for the captain to make the first move.

I’m not going to prison again, he thinks, clenching his teeth. Not today, not ever...

“Not a bad weapon for a traveler,” says the captain with a friendly smile. “Doubt it could outdo an Imperial greatsword, though.” He merely tousles Caro’s mussy grey mane and approaches the queen. “You called for us, Your Majesty?”

Caro lets a quiet sigh of relief escape his lips, though part of him is disappointed he won’t get to see blood... No, no. Don’t give Discord the satisfaction.

“Yes, Gauntlet. These ponies,” Platinum gestures to Shae, Tohro and Xephyr, “have accidentally found their way into the Rainbow Palace.”

“Ai, do you want us to escort them from the premises gently or forcefully?”

“Try, not at all,” says the queen. “I wish to reward their audacity. Take them to the guest rooms and have the chefs serve them any food they request, within reason.”

“Oh, well...” The captain falters for a moment, then clears his throat and salutes. “Yes, of course.” He points at Xephyr. “What of the zebra, then?”

Platinum walks up to the captain and stares him down. She somehow appears taller and more intimidating than him, despite being nearly half his size. “I said, these ponies. What is my rule, Gauntlet?”

The captain taps his hoof nervously. “Uh, no cuts, no buts, no coconuts?” he says with a hint of sarcasm.

Platinum snags his tail with her magic. He lets out a pained whinny.

“Try again, sweetie.”

“Aye, okay! Zebras count as ponies!”

Tohro cocks an eyebrow. “Seriously, Your Majesty?”

“Oh, no. No, no, no.” Xephyr stands on his hind legs and repeatedly shakes his forelegs and head. “No, oh no, I must go. I’d rather keep my time in Everfree low. You understand, though?” he asks with a brief bow to the queen.

“I know relations between ponies and zebras are... tense, to say the least, but this isn’t the sort of offer I make every day,” says Platinum.

“Your honor is most generous, I know, but I still insist I go. I’d hate to make your guards uncomfortable, so...” Xephyr bows again and awkwardly gallops away, stumbling past the guards and babbling in his native tongue. Before he darts around the corner, he says, “I hope our paths cross again, Caro~!”

Platinum does a double take, then puts on a less pleasant smile. Something tells Dragonrein that the queen is not as happy as she lets on.

Divines dammit, Xephyr! curses Caro.

“Change of plans, Gauntlet,” she says as she rests her hoof on Gauntlet’s shoulder. “Take the pegasus and unicorn to their rooms, with the food and whatnot. You leave Caro of Riverhoof to me...”

CHAPTER XIV - INNOCENCE

~Caro~

Dammit, dammit, DAMMIT, Xephyr!

I know I shouldn’t blame the young zebra. It was a mere slip of the tongue on his part, or at least I hope it was. I would hate to live in a world where Tohro’s prejudice towards Xephyr is deserved.

If anything, this is Discord’s doing. He knows I’m a wanted felon. He knows the sick murderer that lies underneath my coat. He knew it would just make my day to smack me dead center in the middle of Everfree, right in front of Queen Platinum herself. What a qwim.

As for the queen, she’s another matter entirely. It’s much more difficult to despise her when I’m standing in her presence. I almost felt sorry for her when she was pining over the portrait of Hurricane. Almost. Part of me still remembers what she did to me and what her Empire has done to those around me. To Tohro. To Jade.

"I apologize on Gauntlet's behalf," says Platinum, disconcertingly casual despite the circumstances. "He is quite under stress, working as a captain of the guard and as a stand-in for our previous general. Poor dear."

I couldn't care less about any of that. “If you’re going to make another attempt on my neck, I don’t think that’s going to work out for either of us,” I say.

“I’m not going to do anything. All I ask is that you follow,” the queen responds. She gestures to the staircase leading back to her throne room and begins walking. She stops at the first step and looks to me. “Well?”

I look down the hall on both sides, and outside to the courtyard. Hardly a soldier in sight.

I give Platinum my best intimidating glare with a smirk, though she remains unfazed. “Tell me, what’s stopping me from galloping away right now?”

“Nothing in particular, but...” Her horn gives off an elegant cyan glow. “This old mare is a mage in her twilight years. You physically driven warrior types eventually lose your youth, and your finesse in the defensive arts with it. Mages, however, never quite lose their magical prowess. I can name at least twenty spells off the top of my head that would put any escape of yours to an anticlimactic end.”

I recall when Shae engaged her magical overdrive and slaughtered countless gryphon thieves. It’s not in my best interest to be at the receiving end of anything a mare many times her age can pull off.

I tilt my sheathe, making sure the queen gets a good of my scimitar as I make a bluff. “What’s stopping me from cutting you down where you stand?”

She merely shrugs and continues up the stairs. “I’ve survived worse.”

I’m finding her increasingly more difficult to hate.

When we return to the throne room, one of the stained glass windows catches my eye, as well as the midday sunlight. It’s a image of Platinum and Hurricane standing at the balcony, announcing their secret marriage to the populus. After seeing the event for myself in Hurricane’s mind, any attempt to recreate it seems juvenile. Almost as juvenile as Former Chancellor Puddinghead himself...

“I have a few questions for you, Caro of Riverhoof,” says the queen as she sits upon the throne. “Let us not ignore the minotaur in the room. First, I wish to know why you murdered over forty innocent ponies and destroyed the Reinoc marketplace.”

“You know what my answer is.”

“Yes, but I wish to hear it from you personally, and I will not refute it.”

I take a deep breath. Of all the places to lose my patience, it cannot be here. “I didn’t do it.”

I expect her to call me a liar or tell me That’s what a guilty colt would say! but she only nods. “And, if that is true, why didn’t you testify before your execution?”

I give an angry laugh. “Because nopony would have believed me. Most still don’t. And even my words meant a damn to the Legion, it probably wouldn’t have changed anything.”

“I would appreciate it if you’d avoid use of foul language in this palace,” says Platinum, though it sounds more like a formality than a genuine grievance.

“Frankly, I don’t give a shit,” I say, with particular emphasis to rub salt on the wound. “Do you want your answers or not?”

Platinum faces away from me. I know she’s at least a little intimidated, but that doesn’t cut through her stoicism. “If you didn’t do it, than who did?”

This conversation seems very familiar. “A dragon,” I say bluntly.

The queen doesn’t even hold her breath. “Uh-huh.” She clicks her tongue. “Do not take me for a fool, Caro of Riverhoof. Dangerous as dragons can be, they are very docile creatures. They pass overhead every now and again, which is a welcome sight for bird watchers, but they do not attack villages. If you were to place the blame on something with more grounds for belief, I would have recommended the Sisterhood of Shadows. The day they took control of New Pegasopolis, the city was unrecognizable.”

“How could you believe for a moment that I alone decimated Reinoc? I’m just one earthwalker. It could only have been a dragon! Isn’t it obvious?”

“You were the one holding the sword. You were the one drenched in blood-”

“Dragon’s blood.”

“-while speaking in a foreign tongue-”

“Draconic.”

“-and clutching the severed torso of a stallion-”

“Shut up!” I roar. I buck at the stained glassed window, shattering it into pieces. I feel the sting of glass shards in my legs but I ignore them. Common sense has no meaning to me. Platinum has crossed the line. Royalty be damned, I will not have her speak of Master Hammerfell’s death so casually.

She jumps from her throne and cautiously approaches me. “Caro of Riverhoof, please calm down-”

“I said shut up!” I shove her away. She stares in shock as if she hasn’t been touched in years, which she probably hasn’t. “I lost everything I loved in a blink of an eye and the only comfort I got was a jail cell and a death sentence! Whose fault is that, huh?!”

I’m a muzzle’s length away from Platinum’s face. I’m fully prepared to scream at her some more until she begs me to stop, until I notice her lip quivering and her eyes beginning to water. I back away and spare her another earful.

“Well?” I ask quietly.

~Vision End~

Shae gallops to the balcony of the astronomy tower. The marble floors are so smooth she can’t get a grip and slides into the railing, getting an eyeful of the palace gardens hundreds of feet below. Tohro pulls her down, laughing at her misfortune.

“Getting a tad excited, are we?”

Shae clutches her stomach, having gotten the wind knocked out of her a little from the impact. She finds herself laughing too.

“This is just... well, amazing! When Discord dropped us here, I knew in an instant where we were, but it’s only just sinking in...” She merrily hops around Tohro, squealing like a schoolfilly, which, Tohro has to remind himself, she is. “I’m! In! The! Rainbow! Palace!” she chants with every bound. “This is the epicenter of magical enterprise and creation. The court wizards here invent new spells every week, and I can see them firsthoof! I could learn new spells before they even reach the academy! I can learn them before Headmaster Frosthelm himself! Do you have any idea how jealous Lancer, Sundance and Eavesdrop are going to be?!”

At that note, her cheery and childish grin turns into a frown. She looks at her reflection in the marble.

“The pass to Wintercolt will closed by now, won’t it?”

Gauntlet, who had taken it upon himself to chaperone Shae and Tohro on a tour throughout the palace, taps his hoof. “Our scouts were given the order just yesterday. By tomorrow, traveling by hoof will be impossible.” He salutes begrudgingly and takes leave.

Shae stomps. “Damn...”

Tohro brushes Shae with his wing. “Hey,” he says with a wink. “I can always carry you there.”

Her adorable smile returns. “Really? You’re the best!” She nuzzles him, and quickly retracts in embarrassment. “Sorry.”

Tohro shrugs. “I wasn’t complaining.” He relaxes his hooves on the railing and lets the wind blow through his blonde mane.

He stares off into the limestone buildings of Everfree. It clearly is a city made for Platinum. The houses are decorated with violet drapery. Magically charged lanterns float in the streets, though they’re unlit at this time of day, and the streets themselves are literally paved with gold. The river that flows through the entire city is so clean and clear that it may as well be made of gemstones.

“All this adornment is going to give me a headache.”

“Why?” asks Shae.

“It’s too bloody clean!” Tohro waves his hoof out in thin air. “I bet Caro would get a kick out of it, though. Come to think of it, given how little he thinks of the Empire, he’d probably love and hate it at the same time. No need for soap here, mate!”

Shae looks over the balcony to the windows of the throne room, and notices one of them is shattered. “Oh dear.”

“What is it?”

Shae points to the broken window.

Tohro rolls his eyes. “Oh, Caro, Caro, Caro... What have you gotten yourself into?”

“You don’t think he’ll try to kill her?”

“He couldn’t if he tried. I may not respect the queen, but she’s one powerful broad.” Tohro sits back against the railing. “Here’s a touching story. Once upon a time a Blackwing assassin called Featherscythe shot a crossbow bolt right at Queen Platinum’s head.” He motions to his forehead. “Right between the eyes. And you know what she did? She just pulled it out. Didn’t even fall down, hell, she didn’t even flinch!”

Shae’s eyes are so wide Tohro can see the decorative gemstones in her whites. “How is that- what happened to Featherscythe?”

Tohro laughs and imitates the motion of several arrows flying through the air and landing in his chest. “That crazy ass queen used a duplication spell on the arrow and turned Featherscythe into a pincushion!”

Shae remains entirely silent.

“Well, how else should I react to it?” Tohro hops to his hooves. “It’s been years. We’ve moved on. I mean, well, they’ve moved on.” He points to his scarred eye. “I can’t exactly say ‘we’ when I’m not a part of the ‘we’ any longer.”

“You must know I feel, then,” says Shae as she retreats back inside. Tohro follows in flight. “We’re both miles away from home with no clue where to go or what to do. Actually, I think I’ve got the better end of the deal, because I’ve at least got a home to return to. I can’t imagine what it’s like for you. You must miss your friends terribly.”

Tohro nickers and takes a spot on a cushion in the corner of the room. “Who said I had many friends in the Blackwings?”

“Well, I just assumed that-”

“Shae, there’s a difference between friends and comrades that hump each other into oblivion every night.”

The lavender unicorn is left stupefied. All she can mutter is, “What?”

Tohro lies down on the cushion and looks to the ceiling. It has been painted with every known constellation, all of which Shae can name off the top of her head. A perfect recreation of the night sky in a small room. “Every night?” she asks.

“Well, maybe that’s an exaggeration.” Tohro turns over to face Shae. His face carries a hint of regret. “Let’s face it, no matter how glorious we pegasi make it out to be, war is hell. Sometimes, all we need is somepony to cuddle up with risking our necks for the future of Equestria. I guess Shokenda understands that much about us. That’s why she allows casual sex amongst the soldiers.” His cheeks flush as he recalls some of his more passionate encounters. “I enjoyed the privilege with a vengeance.”

Shae seems simultaneously sickened and fascinated. “Did you and Shokenda-”

“Shut up!” Tohro snaps, suddenly boasting beads of sweat. “Just... Beautiful as she is, she’s... Bloody hell, Shae, I’m scared of her. Even before she bucked me out of the Blackwings she terrified me. There’s just...” He wipes the sweat from his brow. “It’s in the past.”

Shae sits on the cushion adjacent to the sweating pegasus, brushing his mane in an attempt to comfort him. “If it’s such a sensitive topic, we don’t have to talk about it.”

Tohro shakes his head. “I’m fine.” He takes a deep breath and continues. “As time went on, the sex became more and more routine. I’d complete a reconnaissance mission, assist in a skirmish, perhaps pull off an assassination, then I’d return to base, get royally hammered, fuck a fellow soldier or three and then go to bed. It quickly turned into a chore. I felt more alone than ever post coitus, no matter how many mares or colts I brought into the bedroom. The only thing that kept me in the Blackwings was their mission. Overthrow the Empire and make Equestria a safer place. Now, well...” He points to his eye again. "I stopped believing."

Shae is at a loss for words. All she can do is continue to comfort Tohro with her gentle touch.

The somber pegasus gazes at Shae. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

“Yes, anything,” she says.

“Are you a virgin?”

Shae’s cheeks are struck red. She covers them up and turns away. “Why would you even ask that?” She peeks back at her friend. “Also, yes...”

Tohro shrugs and takes flight again. “I was just curious. Just, uh, promise me you’ll keep this in mind...”

“Yes?”

Tohro narrows his eyes and folds his forelegs. “Please, if you ever give yourself away to anyone, make sure it’s somepony who genuinely cares about you.”

With that, he takes off into the Everfree marketplace to be in the company of strangers that won’t ask questions, and leaves Shae with more than ever.

~Tohro~

I’m just going to put this in words even a simple one can understand.

There is a rift in Equestria, one that time cannot heal. The Platinum Empire, a beacon of strict order and regimen, versus the Blackwings, a group of freedom fighters who know they can do better. If you’ve picked a side, good for you. If you’re neutral, Divines help you. This civil war has been going on for almost a decade now, and everywhere you look there is somepony who has been struck over the head by its cruelty.

Except here.

Maybe it’s my scarred eye, but I’ve never seen a city so peaceful. Sure, Ivarstable’s a safe haven for Blackwings and Trottingham is a refuge for anypony sick and tired of war, but tensions are still ludicrously high, even within their borders, and there’s always the threat of attack. This place... It’s as if Discord dropped us in a dimension where the war doesn’t even exist. If it weren’t for Queen Platinum’s war propaganda, which is apparently just a bunch of banners saying ‘Keep Calm and Carry On’, then I’d think the mad god actually did do such a thing.

Well, regardless, ‘Keep Calm and Carry On’ seems to be working wonders for these upper class ponies. While most citizens of other towns are content with a few layers of robes and scarves, a single commoner from Everfree wears enough jewelry to give a Diamond Dog an erection.

Such foul thoughts cloud my mind, for I am deeply concerned for Caro. The Blackwing part of me wants to return to the Rainbow Palace, fly through the broken window and drop kick the queen so I can carry my best friend off into the sunset. I have to keep reminding myself that the Blackwing part of me is dead, and I’m just another subject of the queen’s at this point.

It’s not easy to let go of. I want to, from the bottom of my heart, for Caro and Shae. They’ve become more important to me than the Blackwings in just a manner of days. That’s the kind of bond you form after a life threatening struggle or two in the Equestrian highlands. To tell the truth, even if Shokenda hadn’t forced me out, I would have left eventually if it meant their safety. Now I’m endangering them. If a Blackwing ever sees my eye, well, that could be it for us. Journey over.

The Blackwing side of me also has a lot of resentment for this city, despite the beauty radiating from its smooth architecture and dirtless streets. Shokenda brainwashed me into hating these ponies for being so high above the rest of the rubble, but really, why should I? They’re living comfortable lives, away from the war, protected by the Imperial Legion at every corner and intersection. Combine that with a beautiful and fertile forest with enough fruit to satisfy a pony named Glork the Gluttonous, and you have a paradise. Perhaps Shokenda’s theory is that resentment comes from jealousy, and I will admit, I’m guilty of the latter, but if these ponies are lucky enough to live in peace, I shouldn’t just outright hate them. It’s not their fault there are those less fortunate.

Maybe this place is the Empire’s definition of perfect, but there is always a shred of misfortune to be found, such as this young orange earthwalker colt I eye from across the fruit stand in the marketplace. He sticks out like a sore thumb, looking all sorrowful and exhausted while the commoners surrounding his bench are talking enthusiastically in snooty accents I’m sure they’re faking.

I flutter over to the lad to see what’s the matter. “Why the long face, little one?” I ask.

This one can’t be much older than seven. He looks up to me. He doesn’t even jump at the sight of my eye. First time that’s happened. “What do you want?” he asks back, although I’m sure it’s less of a question more telling me to piss off.

I take a seat next to him on the marble bench. “I was just purchasing a basketful of fruit and I see a poor kid looking like he’s not enjoying the festivities of this fine city.”

The kid scoots as far from me as possible and faces away. “You wouldn’t be so happy if your family was being torn apart by the Empire.”

Oh dear. Even within its territory, the Empire isn’t trusted by some. This would please Shokenda. “Well, I’m listening. What happened?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” mutters the boy.

“Alright, then.”

Not a second passes when the boy turns back to me and says, “It’s not fair, you know? Why is it fair for them to just walk in and take big brother away? It’s not fair, is it mister?”

This one asks a lot of questions. “Well, of course it isn’t fair, assuming he didn’t do anything.”

“He didn’t do anything. I asked the guards why they put a bag over big brother’s head and dragged him to jail but they told me to bugger off. Then I asked Mum and Dad and they told me to go back to bed.”

Another random arrest. I recall being on a jailbreak mission to a small compound in the north where a few prisoners were getting transferred. Every single one of them were just good hearted citizens put under arrest for no apparent reason, other than something on their record having to do with the Blackwings. ‘Keep Calm and Carry On’. What a joke. This kid has every reason to shed angry tears.

I tousle his bowl cut mane. “It’s going to be okay, son. You’ll see.” I hope I’m not lying. “What’s your name?”

The boy wipes his muzzle. “I’m Treesap. Uh, I live at the bakery.”

I glance below the boy’s vest to see his mark, a single sweetroll. “Ah. My name is Tohro.” I offer him my hoof but he doesn’t take it. Instead, my dirtied leather armor and stains catch his eye.

“Are you an adventurer?” he asks, closing in on me and examining my equipment. “You are, aren’t you? I can tell. You’ve got a crossbow!”

“Oh, this old thing?” I equip the crossbow and let the kid get a good look. “I nicked it off Ezio, the leader of the Thieves Guild.”

“You fought the Thieves Guild?”

“Yes indeed!”

~Vision End~

~Shae~

“I will have your attention, earthwalkers and pegasi of Everfree! I am but a humble commoner who hath been exposed to a greater truth! The truth being that we must rise against the unicorns! We are sitting ducks for their witchcraft and black magic so long as they hold the throne!”

I haven’t gone so much as half a block past the gates of the Rainbow Palace when I hear the incessant cries of some scrawny old earthwalker in the middle of the intersection. I turn the corner and see her standing atop an empty cider barrel. I guess she has been ranting like this for some time. She’s already gathered an audience, albeit a small one. They all look as ragged as her.

“The unicorns are the ones responsible for every war since the days ponies first rose from the ashes of the Precursors! It was Platinum’s greed and sorcery that brought the Great Blizzard and destroyed the old kingdom, and now she commands us all!”

The preacher pony’s voice escalates with every sentence, drawing just as many followers as hecklers. Any unicorns that pass by simply snort or nicker and walk away.

“You there!” The preacher calls out a squad of pegasus soldiers. They all look her way with annoyance. “You are all possessed! Open your eyes and join us in our battle cry! Rise against the unicorn race’s oppression!”

“Our eyes are open, lady,” says one of the soldiers, “and the view is not pleasant.”

The squad shares unified laughter before instantly returning to their stoic selves at their leader’s command.

The preacher is not amused. “See how they walk and stand in perfect coordination? That is a sure sign they have fallen under the influence of the unicorns! Them and their so-called Fae. Praise Dragos, for she will bring destruction upon this land and the unicorns will be the first to be sacrificed!”

I grit my teeth. Fauste notwithstanding, the Fae is like a deity, and that deity lends me its strength every waking minute for my magical ability. I can’t stand idly by and let this broad insult it, or my race.

“What are you yammering on about?!” I yell as I levitate her and her perch towards me. “The Fae has existed since the beginning of time itself! Unicorn magic is a basic part of life-”

The preacher turns my way and interrupts. “Oh, yes! That red cloak! You must be one of that heathen academy’s most educated witches, huh?!”

Heathen academy?!

“I prefer the term mage! And my home is no home of heathens. You’re... You’re the heathen!”

“You have no right to speak in the realm of Dragos, harlot! You must deeply enjoy the sick pleasures your witchcraft has brought you.” The preacher thinks she has me on the ropes of this argument. She grits her sickly yellow teeth. She reminds me of a draugr, only much less pleasant.

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I am proud! Magic is a sacred art and you’re besmirching it with your... besmirching!” My vocabulary is faulty. I blame Discord for disorienting me.

“Ahah!” The preacher hops off her perch and points an unhealthily skinny foreleg at me. “See?! Seeeee?! The Fae has corrupted your mind. You can’t even put a decent sentence together! Witch!”

The other zealots begin to swarm around the preacher and volley more insulting words my way.

“Hag!”

“Sorceress!”

“Cultist!”

I swear, I am about to scream again, triggering another overdrive, and if what I did to those gryphons is just a sample of what I can- Wait, the gryphons... Oh, Fauste, did I kill them?! Fauste’s horn! It’s only just occurred to me, I killed them. There must have been, what, seven, no, ten... I killed more than ten gryphons with a single overdrive! I spilled blood and never even had a second thought of it!

“Witch! Get out of here!”

I realize that, just maybe, calling me such a thing may not be a stretch too far from the truth. I’m the only student from Wintercolt Academy with red on my hooves... I need to see Caro. I turn tail and gallop as fast as possible from the crazed hag cursing my existence.

So this is what Mother and Father were trying to protect me from...

~Vision End~

~Caro~

"I was only doing what I thought was right... Now that I know what happened I... I guess an apology isn't enough?"

I wince as another shard of stained glass is removed from my leg. If one were to tell my past self I'd eventually be lying on my stomach, receiving medicinal treatment from the same mare that imprisoned me... I don't even know what I'd do.

“You think?” I grunt.

“Regardless, I have to say it...” says Platinum as she fetches a new cloth to clean the blood. “I am so, so sorry.”

At this point, I’m just stunned that she believed my every word when I told her about Nahkriin’s massacre on Reinoc. I did leave out anything having to do with my draconic lineage, lest I be accused of insanity.

I glance at her, in an attempt to confirm what I thought I saw earlier. I know a face of remorse when I see it, and Platinum wears one, plain and simple.

"If you were in my position, Caro, you would understand. The needs of the many always outweigh the needs of the few." She sighed. "Nonetheless, that's no excuse for how my guards treated you."

I find myself sighing too. I thought I'd be more satisfied, throwing Platinum's act of cruelty in her face, but now that I've seen how far gone she's become since the good king's death, and how truly sorry she seems, all of my desires seem petty.

"At any rate, I am perfectly willing to make it up to you. It's the least I can do for you and your friends helping my husband."

My eyes widen. A favor from the queen herself, I think. I can finally have my innocence, my freedom, everything I've fought for achieved in an instant. She’s the bloody queen. She could announce my innocence to the entire kingdom and there's not a damn thing any soldier can do about it!

"I..." I swallow and catch my breath. "Jarl Drake needs your help."

I cringe as I feel the last shard yanked forcefully from my lower leg. I guess I caught Platinum by surprise. Platinum takes a step back, looking pensive. "Her? The one who cost me hundreds of soldiers?"

I didn't fully comprehend that right away. "I guess you were expecting me to ask for something else-" Then it hits me. “Hundreds? What happened?”

Platinum shakes her head. "Oh, I won't bore you with the details, but... suffice to say... she's... not really one I keep in contact with."

"B-But, she..." I stammer over having that ball dropped upon me. "Okay, but she personally asked me and friends to come to you. I didn't like it, but everypony else insisted. Shokenda Blackwing is preparing for an attack on Trottingham. Jarl Drake believes that the Empire can win this war if you send troops and fight back against the rebels." I realize how foolish that request sounds, given the circumstances. "But if she cost you soldiers in the past, then there's no way you'd..."

Platinum raises a hoof to silence me. "At this juncture, I don't think I have anything left to lose. If she doesn't cost me troops, the Blackwings will, so... How many, Caro?”

“Jarl Drake didn’t specify, but I guess anything you can spare would be helpful.” I scratch my head. "Please?" I add hastily.

"We're stretched thin as it is." Platinum sighs, turning to look out the hole where the window once was. "If it were anypony else asking I would refuse, but despite everything Jarl Drake has done, I trust her, and I trust you." She turns to look me in the eye. "Don't make me regret that trust."

One act of kindness towards her husband is enough to make her forgive a crime I didn’t commit? This day has turned out more fortunate than I expected. A feeling of genuine pride in my accomplishment fills my chest. Just one loose end remains, something I feel obligated to say.

"There's something else I should tell you, though. Shokenda Blackwing. There's a reason she wants to assault Trottingham."

Platinum cocks a brow. "If it's to kill the so called jarl... I don't blame her."

"It's not,” I say. “She wants me."

The queen chuckles. "Well, given my initial impression of you... I can see why."

Insulted by Queen Platinum herself. I should be honored. Regardless, she has a right to know what I am. If she believed Tohro about Hurricane, and me about Reinoc, then the fact that I’m Dragonborn won’t be too hard to comprehend.

"It goes deeper than that. Shokenda sees me as a tool to her success, because I'm-"

My voice is drowned out by an ear-splitting roar, followed by a crash.

The wall above the throne crumbles and the surrounding windows are reduced to shambles. I rise and charge into Queen Platinum, slamming her to the ground. I use myself as a shield for the falling debris. Remains of the wall impact upon the marble floor, leaving craters. Aside from a few glass flakes and dust, nothing lands on me or the queen.

“Are you alright?” I ask when the chaos comes to an end.

Platinum doesn’t seem the least bit frazzled. “Of course I am. Right as rain.” She brushes me off and stands without falter, fixing her robes and her hair. She turns to me. “How about I put the kettle on? A cup for me, one for you,” she points to the fractured wall, “and one for your friend over there?”

“No, thank you. I do not care much for pony drink.”

I am overcome with dread in an instant. I can recognize that booming voice anywhere. I slowly turn around and stare in awe at the head of a horned red dragon poking through where the wall used to be. I instinctively stand in front of the queen, ready for anything this beast can dish out.

“I do hope I am not interrupting anything,” says the dragon. “I have traveled here seeking the one who killed my good friend, Nahkriin. One of your kind saw fit to put a sword through her head, and I must tell them how incredibly despicable that is. If you could point me in their general direction, I would be most appreciative.”

I retrieve my scimitar and grip the handle in my teeth. I slip into draconic for a moment. “Gaar loka sol paaz,” I growl. I charge to the remains of the throne, kick off from the cushion and latch on to the dragon’s snout. I have to tighten my grip as he keeps talking.

“Oh my. I never thought I would come across the Dovahkiin so early in my journey. I thank you for making my job all the easier. Would you mind letting go of me so I may painlessly exterminate you?”

I swing myself over the dragon’s mouth and land on top of its snout. It crosses its eyes to glare at me, and I glare back.

“Your politeness is beginning to piss me off,” I say, pointing my sword between his eyes. “GET MAD!” I slash at his horn, cleaving it in two.

I leap from the beast’s snout as he roars in pain, bringing his claws to his forehead to grasp his broken horn.

Whilst in mid-air, I shout, “FUS RO DAH!!” sending the dragon careening back outside. It catches itself and spreads its wings.

Now that I have a full view of the dragon, I can see that its arms, legs and tail are reinforced with razor sharp spikes. If he gets a good swing at me, that’s the end of it. Not that I’ll ever let it happen. I jump out the window, ignoring Platinum’s protests and her demand to know what the hell is going on.

~Vision End~

Shae and Caro brush past each other as they gallop through the royal gardens. They both slide to a stop.

“I’ve been looking for you!” shouts Shae. She’s absent minded, not paying any attention to the soldiers taking up arms and escorting the palace servants to safety. “I have to ask you someth-”

Caro grabs her wither. “Shae, I will listen to anything you have to say, and I’ll answer any question, but for now, there’s a bloody dragon assaulting the castle!” He points his sword at the red beast as it tears through every window of the gardenside passage in a single swing of his arm. It bludgeons a servant across the head and scoops up another, severing her in two with its teeth.

“You can sit this one out,” Caro suggests to Shae, who is blinking rather fast.

The lavender unicorn swallows her fear and shock and puts on a courageous face. “No, no. I can do this. I will do this. No more lazing around while the big ponies do all the dirty work.” Her horn sparks as she crouches into a battle stance. “Let us show that monster the power of Dragonrein!”

“That’s my mare.” Brandishing his sword, Caro gallops to the dragon.

The beast takes perch one of the garden’s stone pillars, gnawing on the lower half of the servant. It licks its claws clean with its forked tongue. “These royal types of ponies are most delectable. Not quite as filthy as the rest of you, not that I mean to assume all of you have dirt upon your coats. I hope you don’t take offense.”

“Been hearing that phrase a lot lately. One only says ‘no offense’ if they know it’ll offend someone, and I have to say, I’m pretty fucking offended!”

“You need not be so foul, Caro Dovahkiin.”

A sudden feeling of weightlessness overcomes Caro. He becomes enveloped in Shae’s magenta aura.

“I’ll send you right to it,” Shae says, eyes closed in concentration. “Can’t do this for too long, though. You’re a heavy one.” Her horn’s glow escalates in strength.

Caro kicks off from the floral ground. The aura pushes him ever higher, giving out just as he lands on the pillar at the dragon’s feet.

“Down here!” he yells. He dodges left as the dragon attempts to flatten him with his calloused foot, followed by the other. Caro jumps onto the foot. The dragon attempts to kick Caro away. Caro holds on, and then uses the thrusting as a trampoline, leaping off the foot, right into the dragon’s chest. He digs his hooves into the scales and hacks away with the scimitar, only to be thrown backwards by the impact. His swings don’t leave so much as a scratch. He falls back into the gardens.

He braces for a rough landing, but he finds his descent slowed by the aura. His back still hits the ground hard enough to warrant a pained grunt.

“Sorry, sorry!” Shae hops to his side, retrieving a vial of healing potion and shoving it into his mouth. He drains it all in two gulps, and the aching begins to fade.

“His chest is armored,” says Caro. “We’ll have to-” He stops himself and grabs Shae, rolling over as a cold blue flame strikes the tree nearest them. The bark is turned to ice and the leaves are glazed over with frost, the surrounding grass lying frozen.

The dragon snorts, traces of ice hanging on its lips and nostrils.

Shae hops to her hooves, shivering from the blast of cold. “I don’t think this is your average fire breathing dragon,” she says as she brushes frost from her overcoat. She pulls her hood over her head for warmth. “On the other hoof...”

Her horn becomes surrounded by flames. She casts a precision fireball that homes in on the dragon, striking it in the shoulder. Its scales flake off in flaming scraps and its skin becomes like burning coals. It bellows, trying to mend the wound with its ice breath.

Shae clenches her teeth in a moment of pride. “Fire works well!”

Caro nickers. “Of course it works well! Since when does it not-”

“WULD NAH KEST!” shouts the dragon. A gold aura surrounds it. Caro and Shae are knocked off their feet, the former getting slammed into the frozen tree. The dragon tears through the entire garden, sending flower petals soaring and glazing it in frost.

Shae is shivering. She shakes off more flakes from her coat. “What was that shout?”

“Don’t know that one,” says Caro. “Also, this is potentially problematic.”

Shae turns around. “What is poten- Oh, Fauste!”

Caro grunts in pain, straining to get loose from a branch he’s become impaled upon. Blood begins draining rapidly from the wound in his lower back.

“Hold on, hold on...” Shae mutters, doing her best not to seep into panic. She levitates Caro’s scimitar to the branch and cuts it clean off from the tree. Caro lands face first on the ground, struggling to stand. He coughs, staining the frost beneath him red.

“Ya- Yank it out...” he gasps, eyes bulging with visible veins. He glares at Shae. “Do it!”

Shae reluctantly nods and moves her aura to the branch. She shuts her eyes and pulls, apologizing profusely under her breath. “Sorry, sorry, I am so sorry, sorry...”

The branch comes cleanly out, but Caro still howls in pain before forcing his mouth shut. “Piss...” he chokes out.

Blood begins flowing in small rivers through the flowers, which are crushed when the dragon’s barbed hand comes down upon them. It lets out a bloodcurdling roar.

“Death by way of a tree. Such an unfortunate way to go. I apologize your death will not be more honorable.”

Caro stares the dragon down with a look of pure loathing. “You can take your honor and sh...” He becomes dizzy and upchucks what little he has in his stomach, as well as more blood.

The dragon doesn’t pay Shae any mind as she cradles Caro in her forelegs, still muttering, “Sorry...”

“Well met then, Caro Dovahkiin. I will be on my way. Do spend your last moments reflecting on your glorious battle with Hevnodiin. That is I.”

The dragon flexes its wings, sending a brief gust of wind through Shae’s black mane, and it takes flight. As it flies out of sight, a triumphant roar can be heard.

“Cocky freak of nature...” Caro sits up, clutching his gash. “It’ll take much more than that to kill...” His eyes go askew for a moment and he falls back into Shae’s embrace.

“Actually, I think you’re done here.”

Shae lays Caro up against the frozen tree. She begins to trace his wound with her horn, a fresh batch of healing magic tending to the torn flesh. Caro groans and thrashes as he feels his body repair itself.

Shae pauses her healing to bring her face to Caro’s. “Try thinking of something else to distract yourself,” she says.

Caro faces away from her as she resumes her work, closing his eyes and losing himself in a mental projection of times long lost.

~Caro~

“Here’s what is going to happen,” says Master Hammerfell, brandishing a wooden training sword, “I am going to attack. You decide what happens next.”

I clumsily handle my own wooden sword, unable to get a grip with my hooves. It clutters to the ground while I’m left looking like a total foal with my hooves swinging in the air like I just don’t care. I shrug, settling for gripping the handle of the sword with my teeth.

Yes, this is familiar. The first time I ever wielded a sword.

I never actually asked for this. My passion lies with the heat of the forge, crafting weapons for the better suited adventurers and soldiers to take into the field. I’ve never been one to actually consider using a sword for myself. Regardless, Master doesn’t teach me anything without a reason. I hold the wooden substitute steady as Master brushes the grass with his hooves.

The silence of the forest is broken only by the adjacent stream as we stare each other down.

“Come at me, Master!” I yell.

My master is large and muscular, and on top of the iron armor he wears whenever he sets foot outside I hardly expect him to gallop so fast. He thrusts his sword into my forelegs, knocking me down in a single blow. I hold back a cry of pain, biting my lip and dropping my weapon.

Master laughs out loud. “See, were this an actual duel, your legs would be long gone by now, if not bleeding profusely.”

“Excellent, Master,” I say through my teeth, “that makes the splinters seem so much less painful by comparison. Thank you.”

Master responds with a click of his tongue. “No sarcasm, little duck.” He lightly swipes my ear with my own sword and hoofs it over. I begrudgingly take it in my mouth. “Again.”

“Wait, Master. I need to ask you something.”

“Oh?”

“I was wondering if- AGH!” I’m struck on my right side. I breath through the sting and continue. “When was the last time you heard from my mother and father?”

Master swings at my legs again. This time I lift them out of danger and push Master away. His hulking figure doesn’t budge too far. I swing at him, and he sidesteps, knocking my sword aside with a kick. It lands in the bushes nearby the stream. As I clumsily go to retrieve it, Master flourishes his false weapon, tossing in the air and catching it on his back.

“Your parents are still fighting the war, faithful and strong to Queen Platinum and the Empire.”

“I know, but beyond that...” I stretch out my hindquarters and return uphill. “I mean, where are they now? What have they been doing?”

Master tousles my mane, giving me a reassuring smile. “If you’re worried about them, you shouldn’t be. They are in the very capable hooves of Jarl Drake.”

“They’re in Trottingham?”

Master’s response is a sudden swipe at my head. I duck it, followed by a roll to the side when he brings the sword down. Overcome with adrenaline, I forgo use of my sword and leap into the air, slamming my hoof into Master’s wrinkled face so hard he faces away. I land on my hind legs, panting through a toothy grin of satisfaction. I slowly lose it as Master glares at me, blood draining from his muzzle.

I put my hooves down and bow. “I’m sorry, Mas-” I’m interrupted by his triumphant laughter and another affectionate gesture to the head.

“That’s how you think outside the box, kiddo.” He wipes himself clean. “I think there’s a warrior within you that’s trying to break out.”

I nod several times in thanks as Master hands me his wooden sword. “I appreciate the thought, Master, but I’d rather work the forge.”

Master raises an eyebrow, as if he doubts that statement. “Is that so?” He tosses me a towel from his satchel. “Clean yourself up. You’re sweating like a Saddle Arabian dancer.”

“That doesn’t make any sense, sir,” I say, running the cloth across my face.

“As for your parents, yes, they are in Trottingham.”

“Fantastic! I’d like to pay them a visit.” I pause with my cleaning as I realize something. “That won’t happen.”

“I’m afraid not, little one.” Master drapes his foreleg around my neck. I lean into it, comforted despite the chill of the iron gauntlets.

I break contact and make way for the Ironwright Forge. Despite the disappointment hanging on my shoulders, I keep a straight face.

“The letter I received told me the Imperial Legion is preparing for a large scale invasion of the Blackwing camps at Ghastly Gorge. It’ll be quite the bloody battle.”

“Isn’t that classified information?"

“Child, everyone is speaking of it. Some are bringing picnics! Also, no, we cannot do that either.”

I don’t even want to. It’s not in my best interest to watch anypony die in battle, glorious or no.

“The Empire will win, of course,” I boast.

“I’m sure they will,” says Master. “Through the grapevine, I’ve learned that Jarl Drake has an ace up her sleeve.”

A secret weapon. I always knew the Empire had it in them. “Is it a heavily armored super soldier that shoots fireballs from his eyes and lightning-”

“-from his ass?” Master interrupts. “No, this secret weapon is something better. Are you familiar with liquid glass?”

~Vision End~

“Celina? Celina! Where are you?!”

Caro rouses himself from his flashback by slapping himself across the face. He refuses to doze off when there’s a dragon flying about, wreaking havoc on such a gorgeous city.

He reaches for his wound. While his insides are still sore, the skin has healed, leaving a discolored scar.

Good enough, he figures, scooting himself away from the tree and tossing aside his blanket. Blanket? Who put that- He notices the lavender color and magenta stars that adorn the cloth. He lets out a smile, warmed by Shae’s gesture. That’s two times a friend has tucked me in. I should return the favor someday.

He takes in his surroundings, a medical ward filled with soldiers and servants, some sprawled out upon the floor due to lack of beds, all severely injured by the dragon. Some of the sheets are covering their faces... they’re not moving. Caro snaps his gaze away from them.

Hevnodiin, Caro reminds himself. That’s the dragon's name.

He kicks Shae’s blanket aside, making a mental note to retrieve it for her later. He leaps off his bed, equips his scabbard and bags, and runs for the door. Bucking it open without losing momentum, he charges through the castle corridors without any real sense of direction, taking random turns in the hopes that if he keeps galloping, he’ll eventually find the exit.

He hears the hysterical cries of Queen Platinum around the corner. “Where is Celina?! Please, tell me you found her!”

Caro turns the corner and sees the queen clinging to Gauntlet, shaking his neck vigorously until his helmet hangs loose upon his head. He readjusts it and respectfully steps away from the queen.

“Princess Celina is still being searched for, Your Majesty,” he says calmly. “However, with respect, your protocol puts the protection of all civilians as priority.”

Platinum takes a deep breath, wiping a single tear from her cheek. She returns to her royal disposition. “That is correct, Gauntlet. Thank you.”

Gauntlet nods. “You are welcome, Your Majesty, but if you would like to change protocol for Mistress Celina-”

“No, I will not let my daughter’s safety come before anypony else’s. I will not be made an enemy here. You may take leave.”

Caro does a double take, not entirely sure if he heard that correctly. Daughter? You‘d think the rest of the kingdom would know if she had a daughter... There was only Prince Squall, but he died of hypothermia... Daughter?!

“Ma’am.” Gauntlet salutes and quickly trots off to lead another squadron of soldiers.

Platinum’s proper guise drops as her tears begin to fall more rapidly. “Oh, where is she...”

“Who is this Celina?” Caro asks, approaching the queen.

She steps back in surprise. “Oh, thank goodness. Shae was-”

Caro cuts her off. “I know, I know. Worried sick about me, as usual? Trust me, the feeling is mutual.”

“She’s assisting the soldiers with evacuating the townsfolk to the barracks."

“Good on her.” Caro is anxious to see to her safety, though he is proud that she’s taking the initiative. “So, about Celina... Your daughter, you said?”

“Oh, yes...” Platinum gives a chuckle of embarrassment, eyes darting from side to side. “Cat’s out of the bag, I suppose.”

Caro shrugs. “I’m not judging. Sometimes we fall into bed with somepony we-”

Platinum shoots me a dirty look, shutting him up. “I’ll have you know that Celina is adopted! And I thought I made it clear that the royal soil is long dried up.”

Now Caro is the one chuckling, cheeks red from hearing such sophisticated crudeness. “My apologies, Your Majesty.”

"It's a long and unusual story, one I'm not in the mood to tell right now. All that matters to me is her safety."

The earthwalker puts his face of determination back on. “If that dragon is still wreaking destruction, then she’s in serious danger, and I don’t follow your moral code of, what was it, equal protection?”

“Meaning?”

“I’m going to see her to safety and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it.” Caro salutes in the same way Gauntlet did. “Your Majesty.”

Scimitar in hoof, Caro breaks for the palace gates.

XV - Celina

“Some say to get out fast, looks like it’s gonna last,
just grab your things and fly...
Some say it’ll be okay, just go ahead and stay,
be sure to drink your iodine...”

How Xephyr finds the time to calmly play his lute despite the threat of a frost dragon tearing him and the rest of Everfree to shreds, Tohro has absolutely no clue.

The soldiers are gathered in perfectly aligned groups, rounding up civilians and ushering them to Everfree Fortress. For the most part, the they keep calm (And carry on) but a fair few attempt to break free of the line, deciding their homes are safer.

“If we’re all gathered in one place, the dragon will wipe us out in a single cut, it will!” says a homely unicorn as he takes his wife and child aside. A pegasus soldier intercepts them, flying in from seemingly out of nowhere.

“Back in line, sir,” the soldier commands.

“Not on your life, I won’t! I ain’t dying in your ruddy guard barracks, I ain’t!” The stallion shoves the soldier aside.

The soldier clears his throat and resumes his position, seizing the unicorn by the collar, still keeping a straight face. “By law of the queen, I am required to subdue you. My apologies.” He strikes the unicorn across the small of his back, knocking him out instantaneously.

His wife shrieks and confronts the guard. “What the hell is wrong with you?!”

“Nothing to report, ma’am.” The guard effortlessly carries the stallion’s sleeping body to one of the many carriages. Ponies too elderly to move quickly, sickly ones who’ve lost the stamina to walk and crippled refugees with broken or lost limbs are being transferred to the fortress on these carriages. Xephyr sits upon one, strumming his lute in a mostly ineffective effort to keep everypony’s spirits alive.

The unruly unicorn’s wife cocks her hoof, ready to give the soldier a taste of his own medicine, but the distant roar of the frost dragon and the haunting groan of crumbling buildings makes her hold back and return to the evacuation line.

Unbeknownst to the soldier, Tohro has taken advantage of the distraction, ducking into the alleyway behind the pegasus soldier, carrying little Treesap upon his back.

Treesap looks back at the controlled chaos and taps Tohro on the shoulder. “Where are you going, Mister Tohro? We’re supposed to go to the fortress.”

Tohro refuses with a shake of his head. “No, we’re not. I’m going to get you outside the city walls where you’ll be safer.” He swerves left into an empty street to avoid another patrolling soldier without slowing down. “But we have to be quiet. If a soldier spots us, we might get in trouble for not making their jobs any easier.”

Tohro leaps a picket fence into the next alleyway, lightly steps over shards of a fallen vase and dodges several puddles of... “Um, ew. I guess even the most luxurious city in Equestria has its filth.”

He takes flight, kicking off the walls to quickly change direction. He feels Treesap squeeze tighter around his leather armor as they soar, increasing speed through the labyrinth of buildings, up until the point when they break free of the claustrophobic, run down alleys, landing at the gold plated gates leading out of the city and into the highlands.

The dragon has already passed over this district, with everything coated in fresh sheets of ice and frost. There are some soldiers and civilians frozen over from an encounter with the dragon, but the beast in question is not in sight. Tohro lets himself relax, sheathing his wings.

The frost dragon cries out again, causing him to reel around.

“I think the beast is close,” says Tohro. “Constant vigilance, kiddo.”

What the hell am I doing? he thinks, checking around corners to ensure the dragon doesn’t get the drop on them. I hardly know this kid. He only told me a little sob story, I cheered him up, and now I feel the need to save his life... This is just like what happened with Shae. Is Caro going to invite Treesap to join Dragonrein too? He smooths out his mane, trying to keep his composure, like an Imperial soldier would. Of course, a selfless act like this is just what Caro would do. That big bugger is rubbing off on me...

“Mum and Dad are probably worried about me,” says the little colt as another roar sounds out. Tohro finds himself beaming at how upbeat the kid is despite the chaos.

I have more charisma than I thought I did. “You’re alive, aren’t you?” Tohro asks. Treesap responds with a nod. “There. They’ve nothing to worry about.”

The dragon’s calling has stopped. The white pegasus relaxes, snickering as he approaches the gates. “Flying beast that breathes icy fire can’t handle me.”

“Oh!” gasps the soft voice of a mare.

“Did you hear that?" Tohro glances to an abandoned shop adjacent to the gates. Tampered bouquets riddle the ground. This was a flower shop. “Whoever works here up and left in a hurry.” Tohro peeks over the counter.

Toppled racks and broken flower vases riddle the shop, all glazed over with ice.

“Somepony back here?” he calls out.

“Don’t worry, we’re not dragons!” shouts Treesap, warranting a laugh from his blonde steed.

“O-o-ver-r h-h-e-e-ere...”

The mare’s voice is faint, coming from the far end of the shop. Tohro vaults the counter and gets a closer look, Treesap dismounting to stretch his legs.

A unicorn is laying beneath a large mound of frost, shaking from the sheer cold. She wears ornate white robes over her white coat, and her pink mane obscures her eyes. Tohro pauses a moment, ears and heart perking up at the sight of this mare. She has an otherworldly beauty to her, untarnished by her condition.

“C-c-can you he-h-help m-m-me?” She looks to her hooves, which are melded to the floor by thick sheets of ice. “P-please... I c-can’t feel my legs...”

Tohro stops admiring the mare’s slender figure long enough to slap himself across the muzzle. “Of course, sweetheart. What’s your name?”

“C-Celina...”

CHAPTER XV - CELINA

Tohro surveys the situation. A unicorn frozen to the ground in the middle of a flower shop. There’s a first time for everything, he thinks. “If Shae were here, this would be so much easier, uh, Treesap!”

The little orange colt stands to attention, saluting like a pint-sized soldier.

“Gather up a few torches. We’re going to melt the ice and get Celina here to safety.”

“Yes, Mister Tohro.” Treesap goes to work, swiping as many wooden beacons as he can. His excitement to assist in this endeavour falters as he notices something. “None of these are lit. How will we melt the ice?”

Celina’s eyes begin to quiver. Tohro brushes her silky mane aside in effort to comfort her, though the ice eating away at her coat renders that impossible.

“I kn-know a l-l-little f-fire magic...” Celina mutters. “I-I c-can try to...” She reaches out for one of the torches. Tohro hoofs one to her, holding it steady as she summons up what little magical potential she has in her shivering body. A light spark snaps at the tip of her horn, just enough to inflame the torch. She draws exhausted breaths. Even a feat that small was too much for her to handle. Tohro catches her head with his free hoof.

“Excellent, sweetheart. Well done." He’s not sure if she can hear him. Her eyes are still open, though barely. He rests her head gently on the floor. “Now, Treesap, I need you to light every torch we have and place them around her hooves. That’ll melt the ice, and she can go free.” He picks up another torch and passes on the flame of the lit one, then passes it onto his little helper.

Treesap nods, never losing his cheer as he repeats Tohro’s demonstration. All the torches are soon alit, spread out evenly along the blanket of ice. Tohro pumps his forehooves back and forth, silently praying to Epona that this works. The retired Blackwing won’t let an innocent mare die on his watch, much less from something like hypothermia. Nopony deserves to go out in such a pathetic way, he thinks.

“Is she going to come with us?” asks Treesap as the ice begins to thaw.

Tohro can tell the kid is concerned for Celina as well, and not just following orders for the sake of following orders. The pegasus finds himself admiring the kid. Already, Treesap’s doing far better than he ever did when it comes to knowing who one should work for. “We’ll take her to safety, yes. As soon as the dragon is taken care of, I’ll return you and her home.”

Treesap begins to frown. He looks to the remaining ice and frost riddling the shop, all of which showing no signs of melting on its own time.

Celina’s eyes flutter back open as what little strength she can muster returns. She sits back up, noticing her legs are much more movable than they were before. The ice is beginning to melt into one large puddle.

Tohro adjusts the torches’ positions so they don’t get soaked by the water. He shoots Celina a confident smirk with an eyebrow raised. She returns the smile as he says, “See? Nothing to worry about.”

“I think I can...” Celina inhales and struggles to pull her hooves free from what little ice remains. Her forelegs break free at the same time. She stands up as much as she can and attempts to do the same with her hindquarters.

“Come on, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” Tohro takes her hooves, causing her to gasp. “You okay?”

She nods quickly. “You’re really warm, and my legs are numb.” She breaths on her hooves in an attempt to warm them, but her breath is frigid too. She only blows steam.

Tohro brushes her shoulder, sliding down to grab hold of her again. “I’ll get you some warm towels as soon as I can. Now, hold on tight.”

Celina wraps her forelegs around his. Tohro slowly yanks on her, the ice showing no sign of letting up its grip on her hindquarters. He meets that resistance with rebellion. He pulls harder. “Come on, come on...” he groans.

He yelps as he feels Treesap clamp down on his blonde mane with his teeth. His shouting escalates as the little colt pulls in unison with the pegasus. The ice begins to crack, letting up its grasp as it continues to melt.

“Come on...” says Tohro through his teeth. He finally feels the ice give. “Yes!”

Tohro’s head collides with the wall, landing on Treesap and getting a face full of pink mane.

“I’m so sorry...” says Celina, bowing repeatedly as she steps away. Every movement she makes with her hind legs causes her to limp, and Tohro can see why. Patches of her skin have been ripped away by the ice. Blood is beginning to swell to the exposed muscle.

“Oh dear.” Tohro quickly shuffles through his bags. “I think I have a potion for that in here somewhere...”

“Huh?” Celina looks about with an innocent expression, catching a glimpse of her patchy legs. She grimaces, pursing her lips as the shock wears off and she becomes aware of the pain. Tohro gets his hooves on a minor healing potion and offers the vial to Celina. She turns it down, gently pushing the pegasus’ hoof away. “I’ve never needed such things. It will pass.”

“How do you mean?”

“Watch.”

Tohro’s mouth slowly falls open as a golden aura envelopes Celina’s damaged legs. “Is that the Fae?” he asks. Celina merely shrugs, wearing a look of innocent pride in this uncanny occurance. It only takes a few seconds for the light to fade, leaving perfectly smooth, unscathed legs in its wake. Tohro has to keep his wings from spreading at the sight of them.

Treesap claps his hooves together as he cheers. “That was amazing! You’re a healer!”

Celina covers the red on her face. “Of sorts. I’ve always been able to do that, I’ve just... never shown anypony.”

I like this one, Tohro thinks. I’m gonna ask Caro if I can keep her. “Come on, Celina. We’re high-tailing it out of this city until help arrives.” The pegasus beckons to the unicorn as he vaults the counter and steps back onto the frozen street. He nearly buckles with Treesap hopping onto his back.

“But, what about all the people? And the dragon?” asks Celina, teleporting to their side. Tohro hops backward in shock.

“Could you not do that? Scare the hell out of me, why don’t you?”

“Sorry...”

Treesap applauds again. “I thought it was cool. What else can you do, miss?”

Tohro holds up his hoof and makes a scrrh sound to silence the kid. “I have a feeling both of those problems will take care of themselves, but I want you and Treesap under my surveillance, because you are both so,” he nods to the foal upon his back, “very,” then back to Celina, “pretty. I just can’t let two gorgeous things such as yourselves get injured under my watch.” He points to the gates. “Now, Treesap, only soldiers are able to unlock those gates, so I’m going to try and force it open. In the meantime, you find me anything that will serve as bobby pins, because this could be tricky.”

“Yes, sir!” Treesap waddles off and begins rummaging through dustbins and fruit stalls. Tohro smiles, finding a child taking orders from him rather adorable.

“Can I do anything to help?” Celina asks.

Tohro politely shakes his head as he kneels down to the gate’s lock. He takes out one of his lockpicks, adjusting it to fit in the large keyhole. “Just stand there and look beautiful.”

Celina giggles and fluffs her mane. “You’re such a charmer.”

As Tohro fiddles with the lock, Treesap comes running back, tripping over his own hooves, brushing it off quickly, and tossing a screwdriver. Tohro catches it, gives it a look over, nods and inserts it in the keyhole. “It’s really simple. You just slowly work it in, feeling every inner working until you find the exact position that makes it squeak...”

“You’re probably wondering what happened to me,” says Celina.

Tohro raises his head, moving his hooves off track just enough to break the pick. He coughs and tosses the broken piece of metal aside. “To be honest, no, but I’d like to hear it. Entertain me.”

Celina chuckles, though it’s through a frown. “It’s anything but entertaining, I’m afraid. It’s my mother’s birthday in a week. I wanted to make her a bouquet, and that place, back there...” She points to the flower shop. “They sell the best flora in the city... well, they used to. The dragon attacked this district while I was shopping. It cast some sort of blue fire that glazed everything in frost. I remember seeing some ponies get completely frozen over, and then the dragon snatched them up...” She shivers, as if the ice has her again.

Tohro takes another pick from Treesap’s inventory and works the lock in conjunction with the screwdriver. Under normal circumstances, this would be a job fit for a unicorn with sufficient levitation magic. Even an earthwalker would have more finesse with their hooves. Tohro, however, had picked up a few pointers while working stealth missions for the Blackwings. There was always an Imperial Legion’s battle plan that needed stealing, or an old Precursor artifact for the unicorn mages locked in a rusty chest, or Jade’s underwear hidden away in her dresser... Oop, there go my cheeks again. Focus, Tohro...

The pegasus slaps himself across the face again, this time making contact with his bad eye. He winces and ends up breaking the pick again. “Dammit!”

“Perhaps I could try?” Celina offers, stepping forward cautiously. She levitates the last two picks from Treesap’s pockets and the screwdriver.

“Good girl like yourself trying your hoof at thievery? That doesn’t seem much like noblemare behavior.”

Celina gives a hearty laugh, much like a baroness, only far less obnoxious. “I assure you, sir, I am no noblemare,” she says proudly. She smoothly inserts the pick and screwdriver. “Could any noblemare do... this?” With a single squeeze of the utensils, the clear and heavenly click of the lock emits a wave of joy that overcomes Tohro and Treesap. It may just be one lock, but it’s an accomplishment nonetheless.

“Well done, miss!” shouts Treesap. His expression then turns curious. “Wait, why couldn’t we have just flown over?”

Tohro sighs. He has been asked such a question many times by rookie rebels who think Queen Platinum is even more of a dullard than she appears to be. “Because there’s a transparent regenerating force field, simple as that. Do you even live here, kid?”

Treesap nods. “Yes, but I guess you learn something new every day!”

Yes, like never expect a child to pull his own weight. Tohro shakes such thoughts away, remembering that said child has been dead useful, despite occasional hiccups. He’s a young one, it’s to be expected.

“Well, come on, then!” shouts Celina with unbeforeseen enthusiasm. She gallops for the exit. “Just a hop skip and a jump across the bridge to safety.”

The Rainbow Cross. Tohro has heard of it, but to walk upon it only makes him understand Shokenda’s hatred for Everfree’s overt beauty further. As he, Treesap and Celina gallop across it, he involuntarily finds himself slowing down to look at his reflection in the crystal clear water below the diamond encrusted bridge. Fillydelphia hardly has anything like this worth bragging about. All they have are a few fountains and a crucifix.

The dragon’s roars are becoming distant. Looking back at Everfree, the group sees small pillars of smoke and debris clouds rising from the buildings.

Celina’s happiness to be away from danger gives way to concern. “I know Mother will be okay, she always is... I just can’t imagine a way to defeat that dragon. Is it even possible?”

Tohro smirks, thinking back to the unbelievable feats Caro performed on his way to giving Nahkriin a face full of sword. “Trust me, my friend is a dragon slayer. He makes the impossible happen on a regular basis.”

Celina lets out a scream, prompting Tohro to jump to her side and help Treesap onto his back. They all see the dragon rise from the city, heading their way. The sky itself seems to bend as it cuts through the wind.

“Tohro, something just occurred to me,” says Treesap, “If there’s a force field around the city, how did the dragon get in?”

Tohro’s mouth droops down the length of his muzzle. He and Celina share a look that simply states, Bollocks. They brace themselves for a lengthy and very lethal battle, the robed unicorn’s horn alighting and the pegasus equipping his crossbow.

Their battle-ready stances falter as they see a sight that makes them tilt their heads. The dragon begins to thrash and twist its body in midair, cursing in Draconic. “Kruus pak! Neeka lopaax tral un! Ka geal!” Its yelling descends into unintelligible roaring as the telltale sound of a sword piercing flesh rings through the air.

Another voice rings out in the distance, coming from behind the dragon. “Siis yuln ahrk dii, sivaas!”

Tohro narrows his gaze. As the dragon does an aileron roll, an earthwalker comes into view, gripping onto the the beast’s back and hacking away whenever he gets the chance.

“Speak of Tartarus! There’s our dragon slayer right now!” Tohro ushers Celina and Treesap off of the cobblestone path into the brush as the dragon makes a crash landing on its back, causing a tremor much like an earthquake. Everypony is swept off their feet, getting facefulls of grass and mud.

The dragon has left a crater and then some, tearing up patches of earth from its impact. It groans, rubbing the many lesions and bruises left by the Dragonborn.

“Ahahaha!” The colt of name leaps onto the dragon’s stomach, whinnying and swinging his forelegs in a triumphant romp. With his bloodstained scimitar clutched between the hairs of his tail, he dismounts and unflinchingly trots Tohro’s way. He points his hoof towards the pegasus, who steps back in mild shock.

“Talk about a rough reception for the beast, eh?” he asks, nodding towards the injured dragon.

Caro shrugs, feeling mildly offended. “My friend’s got sympathy for the devil.”

“Goodness, no! I’m but a bit surprised. That was all sorts of amazing.” Tohro bumps his hoof up against Caro’s.

“Just doing what’s right. Speaking of which...” The turquoise earthwalker swaggers over to the white unicorn, giving her an intense stare. She looks about, discomforted by a stranger looking at her so oddly, especially when the stranger has draconic slits for pupils.

“C-Can I help you?” she asks, brushing her pink mane over her eye.

“Are you Princess Celina?” Caro asks.

Celina nods, expecting a chastising for stepping outside the palace walls beyond permission. Her pale face flushes.

“I was sent by your mother to see to your safety,” Caro says. He glances at Tohro, “Though it seems my job has been done for me. Thanks,” he says sarcastically. Tohro nonchalantly flips his blonde mane, giving his best I have no idea what you’re talking about look.

“Fel Saviikaan praak mey...” The dragon’s moaning ends as it rolls over, standing on its hands and feet. “I would appreciate it if you did not make a mockery of me by not acknowledging my existence.”

Caro sighs, motioning to the dragon. “Everypony, this is Hedovine-”

“Hevnodiin.”

“His interests include hunting elk, long walks on the beach, and sending dozens of innocent ponies to a frozen grave.” Caro tosses his sword into the air and catches it in his teeth, turning back to the dragon. “I’d hate to ask, but, could you keep Celina out of harm’s way for just a little longer? I’m putting this bastard down for good.”

Tohro clasps his hooves together. “Can do, Dragonborn.” His white wings flare outward. He takes Celina under one and Treesap under the other, motioning them off the battlefield.

~Caro~

As I dodge and duck Hevnodiin’s swipes with his razor sharp claws, I reflect on my fight with Nahkriin. In retrospect, it never occurred to me how easy it was to kill her. As soon as I had her scales in my grasp, plunging my new sword into her head was a cinch. A feat of bravery, nevertheless, but after all the hell she put me through, it was a quick felling.

Hevnodiin isn’t quite as simple. His scales are rougher, and weak spots are few and far between. Even his underbelly is layered, as if he wears a skin-tight suit of glass armor. I’ve been able to cut him, and occasionally I’ve pierced flesh, but I can’t puncture him deep enough to make him bleed. He has no idea how much I need his blood right now, but that will make it all the more satisfying when I plunge my sword into that one sensitive area, his muscle squeezing the metal, sweet liquid spraying from his...

I receive a blast of blue flame for such thoughts, sending me through the air and freezing my hind legs to a tree.

Pulling away proves useless, so I improvise. I face the layers of ice and say, “Yol.” A small gust of flames passes my lips and melts the ice, though the unfrozen parts of my hind legs feel the burn. I walk off the sting as much as I can, before having to do a diving roll from another blast of the dragon’s freezing fire.

While my reflexes do allow me to avoid any more direct hits, the frost is beginning to grate on my nerves. My legs sting from burns and the rest of my body is glazed over in residue. I’m going to fry on a sheet of ice at this rate.

Hevnodiin catches me between two blasts of ice, pinning me in one spot while he snaps down with his teeth. The chompers graze my chest and foreleg while I get an eyeful of glistening saliva and a forked tongue. I can see the bones of the ponies of Everfree in there.

As the dragon continues to lunge at me with its mouth, I step back, brandishing my sword. I leap forward and land an uppercut upside his lips, followed by a cut across his teeth. I then buck his face away from me. I’m sick of staring at it.

He shakes off the light cuts and rubs his jaw. How stupid he is. He’s wide open, ready to take a sword to the stomach... That is, if I were able to even puncture his stomach.

Shae insisted fire works well against him, but Yol can hardly pass embers, not enough for this monstrosity.

The draconic word Yol had appeared to me shortly after I awakened, or reawakened... either term works. The word formed in my head, along with a few others, such as the ill-fated soap shout.

Staring down the dragon, surrounded by torn up grassland, I keep having flashbacks to Nahkriin. She used a shout of her own, if I recall correctly. Yes, that’s right... She cast a maelstrom of flame from her mouth, more powerful than a normal fire blast. She used three words, one of them was Yol, what were the other two... Tu? Tul? No, no, that’s not right!

Tohro’s panicked shriek cuts through my train of thought. “Caro, what are you doing?!”

I realize I’ve been staring at the ground, ignorant of the dragon losing interest in me. By the time I look up, Hevnodiin has set his sights on new prey. His forked tongue wets his lips as he hungrily gazes at Tohro and his rescued companions; Celina and... what was the orange earthwalker’s name?

Hevnodiin’s wings spread, flattening the grass that hasn’t been frozen over and catching my mane in a gust. He bounds over me.

“No you don’t!” I hiss, leaping straight upwards and swinging at his belly. I hear a slurping, squishing noise that fills my heart with joy and my cheeks with red. My scimitar has struck gold, or, in this case, muscle.

The dragon doesn’t pay it any mind, causing my ears to droop in disappointment. I wanted to hear him scream. Instead, he glances at me, and then turns to pounce on Tohro... Oh, shit, Tohro!

After obsessing over blood for most of that encounter, my mind snaps back to keeping Celina, as well as everypony else, safe. I jump, wrapping my forelegs around the dragon’s tail. It doesn’t even care, and I can’t leave so much as a dent, no matter how much I escalate the strength I put behind my sword swings. The tail tosses me into the tree. Thankfully, I’m without an impalement this time, though my head suffers most of the impact. I stumble in place, the world around me leaving trails in my vision.

I catch a glimpse of Tohro firing crossbow bolts at the dragon’s face to little avail. He’s urging Celina and the little one to stand back, but they’re running out of room, soon to be pinned against stone with nowhere to run.

Tohro loads his last remaining bolt into the crossbow, aiming carefully down the sights, despite the quake caused by the dragon’s advance. He fires, landing the bolt into Hevnodiin’s left eye. I assume my pegasus friend takes satisfaction in damaging someone else’s face for a change.

Hevnodiin rips the crossbow bolt from his eye, white fluid running down the length of his muzzle and staining the dirt. “You insult me with such treacherous tactics, mey! I shall repay the favor in kind.” He raises his right hand to the sky, letting the sunlight glisten off his claws. He swats Tohro aside like a mosquito. I call out to my friend as he tumbles into the brush, his wings falling over his body haphazardly.

The little earthwalker looks just about ready to buckle from terror, while Celina’s quivering eyes betray her broad stance. She stands between Hevnodiin and the little one, her horn aglow. “Y-you will take no more lives today!” she yells, her voice cracking despite her bravery.

Hevnodiin looks ready to prove her wrong, prepping another swing of his arm, but he pauses, using his good eye to examine and ponder Celina. The unicorn shivers and leans away as the dragon kneels down, inhaling her scent. He then nods. “Ah, so you are the one the Reclaimer spoke of. How it will please Him to have you at His mercy. Perhaps... yes...” He rubs his chin in deep thought, trailing off into incomplete sentences.

“Who is this Reclaimer?!” Celina asks, emulating my state of mind. Nahkriin and now Hevnodiin have spoken of the Reclaimer as if it were some sort of god.

“You will find out for yourself, soon enough.” The dragon brings his hand down, much more gently, grabbing ahold of Celina. He pays no mind to her screams, nor does he respond when she fires projectiles from her horn into his arm. He swipes the earthwalker child with his free hand.

“Treesap!” I hear Tohro call.

“And as for you,” Hevnodiin gloats, stroking Treesap’s short mane with a claw, “You will be food for the Dovah, and nothing more.”

Treesap shakes his head furiously and spits at the dragon’s face. “Kiss my ass!” The little one has spunk, I’ll give him that much. It doesn’t matter to Hevnodiin. In a single wing beat, he’s airborne, flying back to Everfree over the bridge.

Tohro crawls from the brush, covered in splinters and gashes. He pays little mind to it as he follows the dragon’s path. “No! Kid!”

I’m resisting the urge to cry out in rage as well, at the dragon for taking away Celina, and at myself for not being able to defend her. Sure, I scarcely know her, but I hardly want the queen’s daughter to be lost on my time. “Stay low!” I say to Tohro, passing underneath him on hoof. He nods and lessens his altitude. This is one of the few times where his cocky attitude has given way to genuine concern. I’d even call it panic, if I hadn’t seen how he conveys the emotion in the dark.

I need him to remain calm if we’re to take this dragon and live. I strike up a conversation as we gallop across the bridge. Well, I’m galloping, he’s flapping his wings like nopony’s business. “So, you’ve taken a liking to assisting strangers too, have you now?”

“It seems your idealism has rubbed off on me, mate,” he says. “It’s like when we met Shae. I couldn’t very well let Treesap look all miserable without knowing why.”

“For what reason was it, then? Why was he sad?”

“His brother was arrested for no apparent reason, but I won’t be able to help further if we don’t save his little flank!”

“I concur! We both have somepony to rescue in this battle.”

The bridge is far longer than convenient, for every step I take seems to make it extend in length. Celina’s desperate cries for help grow quieter as the dragon puts himself further between me and him.

“Epona damned coward!” I growl. “If the Reclaimer wants me dead, then why do the Dovah insist on playing me for a toy?”

Still flying away, Hevnodiin responds. “We can do far worse than kill you, Dovahkiin. We can hurt you.” Celina’s calling descends into cries of pain. Hevnodiin’s grip is beginning to crush her. “We can also hurt those you care for, nay, feel any emotion for whatsoever. Those you love, admire, or hate, we will take all of them to their graves so you are left with nothing.”

I find such a threat more pathetic than genuinely threatening. If the Dovah truly mean to kill those I hate, they’ll be doing me, and the rest of Equestria, a favor. They’ll be doing more good than harm, a first for their kind. But if such ponies are to die, it will be by my hoof.

I hardly lose momentum as I barrel through the gate, with Tohro starting to fall behind. Only now do I realize how uncannily fast I’m galloping, with shops and houses passing me by in a blur. I bound over frozen corpses of Hevnodiin’s recent victims (I send a silent prayer to Epona for each one), still keeping the dragon in sight, and never tearing my eyes away from him, or the ponies in his grasp.

“Why not make your job easier, then?!” I shout. “I’ll be nothing just the same if you kill me now!” If I can goad him into giving me another duel, Tohro and I may be able to make off with Celina and Treesap. I still want this bastard’s head on a pike, though. Time to get to higher ground.

I strafe into a split-level house completely glazed over with ice. I catch a glimpse of three young frozen colts on my way to the stairs. Looks like they were in the middle of a game of tag. I wonder who was it? Well, they’re never going to pass it on now.

Nothing I can do for them anymore. I shrug it off and ascend the stairs to the second floor, taking care not to slip and break something important. I lose my balance partway up, but I steady myself and continue.

Peeking out the shattered window, I see Tohro is choosing to follow me from the outside. I had expected him to follow Hevnodiin in pursuit of Treesap, but this actually works in my favor. I could use a pair of wings right now, and his are the only ones I trust. “Oi, Tohro!” I crouch down as a signal that I’m about to jump. Tohro spots me and nods, holding out his forelegs. I hope he has strong legs. Earthwalkers like me aren’t known for their light bodies.

I gallop to the window and leap, clipping my hindquarters on small shards of broken glass. I grit my teeth through the sudden sting and focus on landing in Tohro’s embrace.

“Gotcha!”

As I collide with my pegasus friend, he loses altitude and rolls over backwards, trying to secure his grip on me. He wraps his forelegs around my midsection before regaining his balance, leaving me with a eyeful of limestone. I’m so close, I can smell the lemon finish.

“That was close, eh?”

I sneer at Tohro. His leather armor and barding is less than comfortable against my rough coat, but then again, so is any armor on me, unless it’s entirely necessary for my survival. In this case, I think I can ignore the chafing. For now.

“So, what’s the plan?” he asks.

I nod in Hevnodiin’s direction. The frost dragon has halted his flight, hovering above the Everfree Fortress. I think he’s grown curious as to why we’ve given up the chase. A mistake like that makes me grin. “Just get me up that bastard so I can cut him in half.”

“Okay, but...” Tohro pauses in mid-sentence, grunting he tries to pick up speed. “Piss, you’re pretty heavy. Let’s not do this often, okay?”

I snort as a response. The lemon scent is still dormant in my nostrils. I realize that the scent isn’t coming from the limestone, but from... “Tohro, are you wearing cologne?”

“No.” The way his face scrunches up and his eyes dart around betrays his answer. I cock my eyebrow to show my disbelief. He shakes his head and refocuses on the task at hoof. “Right... Time to fly!”

I hear Tohro’s wings flap faster at first as we climb higher above the flat rooftops, slowing into gradual swings as we continue to gain momentum. Hevnodiin is still waiting for us, blowing mist as he does what I think is the draconic equivalent to laughter.

“That is truly a pathetic sight, Dovahkiin. Shouldn’t you, the legendary one, have the power to soar through the air without being groped by another colt?”

“But that’s not nearly as fun!” Tohro jests. I vow to leave hoofprints on his face for that later. Now I’m focused on the cold wind coursing through my mane, my muzzle quickly becoming numb. This is definitely a more pleasant cold than Hevnodiin’s freezing flames. Is this how Tohro feels all the time? I can understand why he takes so much pride in his heritage. If I were him... Well, no, I don’t want to be him. Forget that. I don’t want to be anypony but the Dragonborn.

I don’t want to be anypony but the one who taps Tohro’s hoof, signalling for the throw. I don’t want to be anypony but the one being hoisted above his head. The pony who, just for a moment, is flying free in the wind, experiencing the weightlessness of freefall before latching onto the spikes on Hevnodiin’s chin.

Hell yes, that is who I am.

I’m also in a very vulnerable position. Hevnodiin throws me airborne once again with a flick of his head and snatches me up in the tip of his beak. I feel his forked tongue prodding my legs as he makes a taste test. I kick the slimy muscle away with one hind leg, then use the other to kick at the beak. This throws me back into freefall for a split second. I grab onto the dragon’s clenched hand and try to pull myself up, but the numbness from the high altitude and these naturally frost-gripped scales is spreading to the rest of my body.

A warm hoof dabbled with sweat touches mine. I look up to see little Treesap saluting me. He had managed to get one foreleg loose, the little rebel. He never gives up. “Come on, dragon slayer! Tohro promised me a show and we’ve got front row seats!”

I see Celina is straining to work as much magic as she can, despite her compromised state. “Thanks, both of you,” I say. My body becomes enveloped in golden light, and the numbness begins to fade. I feel less heavy too. Must be a mix of healing and levitation magic.

I let go of Hevodiin’s hand as Celina pushes me upwards, till I’m looking the beast dead in his one working eye.

“Your perseverance knows no bounds, does it?” he asks. He doesn’t sound angry, more pleasantly surprised than anything. “‘Tis not good enough, though. Try as you might, my many hundred years of existence have granted me a near impenetrable hide. You can’t mortally wound me. Just forfeit, and trade suffering for an honorable death.”

Oh, this is just rich. I unbuckle my pouch and shove both my forelegs inside, slipping on Tangerine’s bladed gauntlets. A near perfect fit, albeit a little snug.

“R...Ready...?” I hear Celina gasp beneath me. I nod, savoring the hot spark the blades make when I grind them together.

The aura disappears after throwing me back onto Hevnodiin’s snout. Not to fall victim to his thrashing again, I bring the blades of the gauntlets into his scales. It doesn’t pierce flesh but it still serves as a hold, keeping me grounded as he shakes his head to and fro. I remain firmly in his eyesight.

“I cannot mortally wound you?!” I yell at him in rhetoric. When he stops shaking, blinking from slight dizziness, I see my opening. I charge for his one good eye, scimitar in hoof. “You forget something, Hevnodiin. I can hurt you too.”

“No. No. Stop this immediately! STO-”

I relish the mixture of dragon’s blood and eye mucus drenching from my one true sword swing, as well as his cries of agony. I make sure to dig in again as his head involuntarily lurches from the pain.

“DENN VOS DOVAHKIIN!! SAVIIKAAN FEN LOST HIN KLOV!!”

My fluster at the sensation of sweet crimson upon my skin falters. That name, Saviikaan... Otar mentioned him as a ‘kind and generous dragon’, but it seems he’s just as hellbent on destruction as the rest of the Dovah. “No matter,” I say. I gallop to back of Hevnodiin’s head.

“When you see Nahkriin, tell her she’s still a bitch, and save some space for Saviikaan’s severed corpse. FUS... RO DAH!!”

With that, I am airborne again with Celina and Treesap at my side, with a blinded dragon toppling to the city below.

My sadistic grin fades when I realize something...

~Vision End~

~Tohro~

Here’s another touching story: If you’re the only pegasus in the immediate vicinity, and there’s any sort of danger going on, odds are you’re going to have to catch somepony from the air.

And, if you’re me, odds are you’ll have the honor of picking between three ponies who are simultaneously falling to their deaths while a damn dragon is plummeting into a condemned church of Dragos (Oh, the irony).

It’s never a dull moment with the Dragonborn around.

I’m straining my wings to carry me as fast as they can, but on top of chasing the dragon across the bridge and playing catapult with Caro, my feathers are beginning to grow sore, to the point where I have to grind my teeth with every flap.

Somehow, the adrenaline of the moment pushes me down past Caro, Treesap and Celina. I swing back around, intent on nabbing them all in one go.

I miss.

I manage to graze Celina and Caro’s hooves, and I’m only able to catch Treesap because he lands upon my back, knocking me off balance. I take him into my forelegs as I tumble through the cold air, unable to get my aching wings to obey me. They only slow our descent so we land safely, albeit with my back taking most of the impact.

Treesap worms his way out of my grasp, hopping happily about around the empty street. I can sympathize with him, what with finally being able to move his hooves freely, but I’m unable to enjoy the adorable sight as I struggle to sit up, dreading what has happened, or will happen, to Celina and Caro.

“SU MAH LAAN!”

I jolt upright, suddenly unable to feel the ground. I look around and see chairs, tables, market stalls and even stray rocks slowly levitating into the air, all coated in a purple radiance.

Treesap and I share a look of bewilderment. The little earthwalker tries to kick his way back to solid ground as if he were swimming, but to no avail. I instead look to where that shout came from, somewhere up above.

It’s like I’m taking a bath in relief itself. Caro has Celina in a hero’s embrace as their rapid descent slows to a crawl, until they land without a single lick of damage on their coats. Caro is enveloped in that golden aura again. I assume that’s the dragon’s soul being absorbed into his body. The sight is still incredibly uncanny, and I gape alongside the other two ponies.

“How did you do that?” Treesap asks, still afloat with his legs above his torso.

“I... don’t know, honestly.” Caro seems just as confounded as the rest of us. He blinks the golden aura away from his eyes and rubs them vigorously. “That’s a new one for me. It wasn’t written within the prophetic crystal.”

“The what?” Celina pushes herself away from Caro, backing off as she crouches. “You’re not making any sense. I thank you for everything, but... I want to know what’s going on, please.” After all of her perpetual softness, Celina demanding things is offsetting, on top of the fact that I’m still involuntarily flying.

Caro sighs. I can guess that he’s grown ill of explaining himself to other ponies. He lazily looks over his shoulder and mutters, “Oblaan.”

The purple light fades away and I’m rewarded with a taste of gem encrusted limestone.

~Vision End~

A dramatic fanfare echoes off the magically reinforced walls of Everfree Fortress, just slightly drowned out by the droning voices of the gathered civilians. Palace servants roll out a violet carpet along the length of the courtyard.

“Make way, make way, citizens,” announces Gauntlet. He pushes through the crowd, then waves the servants forward. He then whistles to the soldiers positioned at the entrance. “All show reverence for the high queen of Equestria.”

The steel gates to the fortress gradually swing open, presenting Queen Platinum and Princess Celina. The queen has her muzzle pointed to the sky, like one would expect from royalty, but the princess gives friendly waves to her subjects, at the same time hiding her face behind her mane and white cloak. She blows a kiss to a small child who tosses a dethorned rose in response. Celina mouths, ‘Thank you’ and tucks the rose behind her ear.

Unfortunately, not all of the reception is quite as warm on Platinum’s side.

“You sicked that dragon on us, you wench!”

“You did nothing to save us!”

“My children have hypothermia, damned witch! It’s your fault!”

Celina’s ears twitch with every word, while Platinum keeps her royal stoicism, focused only on the stage ahead. “Mother, why do they insult you so? You had nothing to do with the dragon.”

Platinum snorts. “Just ignore them, Celina. They know not what they do. I hold moral responsibility for them, as such it is common knowledge that I should take the blame for any unfortunate events that transpire here.”

“That’s just foolish, don’t you think?”

The queen looks upon her daughter, wrapping her underneath a foreleg without slowing her walk. “Yes, but allowing them to kick and scream is what separates us from others that would rule this land.”

The queen and her daughter ascend the steps to the stage, where Tohro, Caro and Shae await. While the pegasus is showing off his freshly combed mane and bowing to the finer looking servants, the earthwalker and unicorn are shuffling about awkwardly, avoiding judgmental eyes.

“I don’t do so well in front of an audience,” says Shae to Caro. “That’s one education I do not excel in.” Memories of making introductory speeches in her first year of classes come flashing back to her. “I hope the queen doesn't expect us to talk.”

“If it’s any consolation,” says Caro, “I don’t do well with ponies in general, so how do you think I feel?”

“Honored? Enthralled?” Shae suggests. She snickers as she recalls the blush upon Caro’s face when he looked upon the impaled corpse of Hevnodiin. “Aroused?”

Caro gives a hearty yet nervous laugh, tapping Shae on the horn. The unicorn backs away and returns with a shove that doesn’t budge the earthwalker in the slightest. "Nah, Tohro's got that part covered," Caro replies, nodding to the pegasus trying to flirt with a burly servant stallion.

The two continue their shoving match until the sound of somepony clearing their throat snaps their attention to Queen Platinum. She's smiling at them as she shakes her head. She glances over to Tohro who is busying himself with the stallion by making idle chit chat.

“Ya know, I have a two handed sword that I’m just itching to—”

“Back on stage, Tohro,” Platinum commands with the motherly air of addressing her own children, pointing to the pegasus’ place in line. The pegasus taps the flustered servant on the flank and flutters back to his group.

The queen walks to the edge of the stage, clearing her throat again. Her horn alights as she casts an amplifier spell upon herself.

“You may want to cover your ears,” says Celina as she stands alongside Shae. “She calls it the Royal Voice.”

“Everypony, please!” Platinum yells over the roar of the crowd, silencing them and drawing their attention. Dragonrein buckles at the reverberation of her voice. “Regardless of what you believe, I had nothing to do with the dragon. The only thing I did, was send these ponies...” She turns to Dragonrein and smiles. “These... heroes to stop the threat.”

Platinum turns back to the crowd and points to the group behind her. “It is because of these brave ponies you all are safe. I myself could never hope to accomplish what they have done today! Blame me if you must, but do not deny this guild the respect they deserve!”

“Wait, your highness,” Caro speaks up, raising a hoof. “You recognize us as a guild?”

The queen turns to them and nods. “Yes, yes I do. You are now the Dragonrein Guild, and have my full permission to operate within Equestria's borders.”

Tohro’s eyes widen. He leans over to Caro and whispers into his ear. “We’re sanctioned now! We’d be stupid to turn this down!”

Caro raises his hoof again to silence Tohro. “And what of our travels?”

“Any town or city that is an ally of the Empire, I shall make sure they give you the appropriations you need. I think my citizens will benefit greatly from heroes of your caliber.” She addresses the audience one last time. “Servants from the Rainbow Palace will be sending care packages to those who lost their homes, and I’ll grant a great boon to any carpenters willing to assist in the rebuilding our lost homes and shops.”

“Eat your heart out, taxpayers...” mutters Tohro into Caro’s ear, promptly getting shoved away. Caro holds up a hoof to stop another shoving match from ruining the moment, and the pegasus slumps to his haunches.

“In the meantime, any pony who has no home to return to shall be housed in the palace’s extra rooms. It’s the least I can do to make up this tragedy.”

“She truly is a spirit of generosity,” Celina says to Shae. "It's wonderful to meet you, by the way."

"To you as well, Princess," Shae replies.

Platinum bows before descending the stage and stepping lightly across the carpet. “That will be all. You are dismissed.”

The crowd begins to disperse, and as they were when gathered, they are mixed in feelings.

“Don’t you think she’s being a little liberal with guildship? First the Carrier Clan, and now this?”

“Care packages? Awfully nice of her, but...”

“...what difference will it make if another dragon shows up?”

Tohro smirks as he hears little Treesap’s victorious cheer over the rest of the muddled voices. “Come at us, dragons! Dragonrein will protect us!”

XVI - Ballads and Baths

“HOT SPRIIIIIIIIIIIIIING!!”

Tohro does a loop in the air before closing his wings and letting himself fall into the large tub. The chills of frost left over from Hevnodiin’s attack are washed away in an instant. He undoes the band holding his mane in a tail and lets his golden locks fall across his shoulders.

“You coming in, Caro? The water’s great!”

The Dragonborn waves Tohro off as he wraps another bandage around his legs.

“Oh, come now,” says the pegasus. He wades to the edge of the tub. “I thought a neat freak like yourself would enjoy Platinum’s hospitality. What other palace has an indoor hot spring? The Blackwings certainly don’t.” He looks over the large tiled room. His eyes settle on the magically inflamed coals levitating over the tub, filling the room with steam. “I oughta bring that servant boy up here for a soak.”

Caro bites off a piece of the gauze and stores it in in his pouch. “Leave me out of it. I need to think.”

“What has you down in the slums, mate? You slayed your second dragon. That’s two more than anypony else has ever slain in their lives.”

Caro doesn’t respond, only taking a stone from the pouch and dragging it along the edge of his scimitar. The blade’s bronze finish has dulled into a muddy brown.

“You’ve been sharpening that sword nearly without end ever since we got here. Is something wrong?”

“Overwhelmed,” states the earthwalker.

“Why?”

Caro uses his free hoof to emphasize every word. “We now hold the safety of both Trottingham and Everfree in our hooves, and in both cases the responsibility has fallen on us accidentally.” The stone moves faster across the blade.

Tohro emerges from the tub, paying no mind that he’s exposing himself to Caro once again. He paces back and forth at the tub’s edge. “So? I’d hate to sound like Tangerine, but I think it’s an honor. I have something to fight for again, and you’re effectively cleared off all crimes. Reinoc?” He mimics the motion of sweeping objects off a table. “In the past! You’re free, Dragonborn!”

Caro tenses up, gritting his teeth and slamming the stone against the sword, bending the blade at an awkward and unusable angle. “Agh, fuck,” he says with a hiss, tossing the now useless sword aside and burying his face in his hooves.

Tohro walks to Caro’s side and caresses his shoulders, putting pressure on his thick muscles. “So much stress within you, Dragonborn. Is the burden too much to bear?”

Caro shakes his head and leans it backwards. He doesn’t want to admit it, but his pegasus companion’s hooves are doing wonders on his shoulders. He involuntarily coos as he feels an invisible weight fly away. “Lower,” he whispers.

“I’ve got you.”

As Tohro’s magic hooves make their way down Caro’s back, the turquoise earthwalker explains his aggression.

"Tohro, all I wanted was to get away from the Empire and go home. Reclaim what little chance I had for a normal life."

“Uh-huh.”

“Forming Dragonrein was a spur of the moment idea, the spawn of a quick alcoholic celebration. I never expected us to be recognized by the queen herself.”

"Well, now we are. So I say we take full advantage of it while we still can, huh?" Tohro taps his hoof on Caro’s blank flank, causing him to whinny in shock. "Besides, we don't know if the Empire will still be standing by the time all this is over."

The snickering pegasus grabs a nearby pail of soapy water and turns it upside down over the Dragonborn’s head. “Cheer up, mate. Look!” Tohro throws on a towel and trots over to the table, upon which beverages have been served. He picks up a glass of white wine. “They’ve got little umbrellas!” He proudly takes a swig.

Caro makes his way to the table as he wipes his mane clean of soap. "I suppose you're right... Give me one of those. What was I going to do with my normal life, anyway? I don't know how to run a smithing business, hell, I'm not even that good a smith. I'll leave that to Rosemary."

Tohro relaxes in his seat, lazily circling his drink as he watches Caro down his own in a manner of seconds. “Don’t let it go to waste, mate. This is powerful stuff.”

“It’s good stuff.”

“You know,” says Tohro, looking at what’s left of Rosemary’s scimitar, “we should probably contact Rosemary for another weapon, or three. I could use a new set of wing blades.”

Caro refills his glass, taking Tohro’s advice and savoring it. It’s difficult for him to resist slurping the whole drink down, not because he’s distressed, only because it’s so delicious. "I just hope that villa or whatever Tangerine called it has a forge. Speaking of Tangerine, what do you think she's up to?"

Tohro plants his hoof on his forehead and laughs aloud. "Probably heard the news and became jealous we're now in the favor of the very Empire that sent her to kill us!"

CHAPTER XVI - BALLADS AND BATHS

~Tangerine~

The news of the frost dragon’s assault on Everfree has already reached Trottingham. Jarl Drake had asked Queen Platinum why it concerned her, only to have the queen say that the Dragonborn had cut the behemoth down in a manner of hours. That’s all I heard before I slapped myself across the face and left Equinesreach.

Confound Dragonrein, they drive me to drink.

That’s not to say I’ve entirely refuted Caro’s generous offer to let me join their club of ‘miracle workers’. He presented a very good reason for me to do so; a bit of authority to hold their general insanity back. But, of course, until they return with their army, which I doubt they will, I’ll have to gallop with the Carrier Clan.

I haven’t joined them proper, they merely provide bed and sustenance to me, along with a few other ponies who’ve lost their way in this war. How out of place I feel, being the only one among the refugees with a kill record. They’re quick to assume I’m playing them for fools when I say I was the general of the Imperial Legion before my dishonorable redaction. Those who do believe me haven’t the means to care. Of course. My position has probably been filled already, either falling to Riveter, or, Epona forbid, Gauntlet. That unicorn is less fit to be a general than an inflamed sack of potatoes.

Now the ponies who are responsible for my discharge are an official guild? I’m not jealous. I’m just... disappointed. Disappointed in the Empire, and disappointed in myself for letting this happen.

I’m not known as the former general in the hall of Horsevaskr, which, in many ways, is a good reminder of how fickle ponykind can be, but it doesn’t make me feel any less empty, and no amount of mead can change that.

I'm in the guest chambers with my legs tangled up in a sordid excuse for a blanket. At least the cot is mildly comfortable, but that’s cancelled out by my aching head, which I clutch with my hooves. I take a very deep breath as the throbbing of my hangover begins to make itself apparent. I’ll have to take it slowly, wait some time before it’s gone entirely.

The other refugees are gone, so I’m free to groan without rousing anypony from their sleep. The walls are made of stone, so I can let my voice out as much as I please. At least, until I hear the voices of other ponies.

“...erstand what you see in her,” says a commanding voice outside the door. That’s Aerial the Huntress, the only Carrier who’s a pegasus. And she’s talking to...

“She is a noblemare, and a lady of war. She’s Carrier Clan material in every way, and she brings about an aura of elegance, don’t you think?” Ah, yes. I’d recognize that perpetually happy demeanor from a mile away. Wolf River could make a timberwolf smile with his chipper attitude.

By the way Aerial huffs, I can tell she’s not impressed. “Don’t toy with me, Wolf River, and don’t toy with Scar either. He approached me this morning, looking for you. He’s beginning to feel that Tangerine has overstayed her welcome.”

Surprise. I’m honestly stunned that nopony has brought that up until now.

Aerial continues her quiet rant. “We house those who have nowhere to go. She has a home, she owns an entire villa. Why doesn’t she just go there?”

“She told me that she refused to return to the villa until she’s reclaimed her honor.” Wolf River pauses. “Yes, I don’t get it either.”

I hear Aerial sigh and stomp off. “For the record, you’re the only one of us who has little regard for honor. We’re supposed to represent the best of these lands and you’re not helping.”

“My honor is bigger than yours!” shouts Wolf River.

As much as honor is an integral part of my life and earthwalker tradition, I can’t help but laugh at that comment. I open the chamber door into the cellar hallway, to see Wolf River pouring himself a mug of raspberry mead. Without looking my way, he says, “Hello, General.”

For some odd reason, he seems to be able to detect anypony’s presence without batting an eye. He must have heightened sentences. It’s quite impressive, but no less creepy. I prefer to look my fellow equine dead on.

And there’s the other matter. He sees fit to refer to me as ‘General’, despite news of my discharge having long settled by now. He sees it as a sign of respect, but to me... I’m not entirely sure what it is.

Nonetheless, I respond as I always do when he greets me at the waking hour. “Good morning, Wolf River.”

“I hope you slept well,” he says, turning my way as he sips his beverage.

The scent of the mead brings back a faint memory of Aerial’s hoof about to make contact with my muzzle. We must have ingested one too many drinks to think a sparring match was a good idea. My head tingles again, reminding me to not make that mistake twice.

Wolf River softly pats the painful spot on my brow with a look of empathy upon his face. “Alcohol is a two faced bedfellow. It soothes the mind for a moment and leaves you in pain the morning after, much like an evening in a New Pegasopolis brothel.”

Amusing and heartfelt as he may be, Wolf River’s girth, thick armor and black coat make him inherently intimidating, along with many other members of the Carrier Clan. I assume joining their higher ranks requires dyeing one’s coat the same shade.

“I heard you speaking to Aerial,” I say. “About what use you see in me?”

“Ah, yes. I trust you recall why I took you into my care?”

I think back to the celebration of Caro’s first dragon slaying, and how Wolf River had approached me with a job offer; assisting the Carrier Clan with a difficult mission in exchange for shelter. I couldn’t have refused if I tried.

Not waiting for my answer, he continues. “I’ve completed my investigation, and I intend on setting out for Dustcolt’s Cairn. I wish for you to join me.”

This is familiar, and at the same time, not entirely. Receiving a simple mission from a pony of higher standing than I. Only, Wolf River seems to be inferring that I assist him instead of ordering me to, and that makes me want to accept this quest, even more so than I already do. It’s like a favor rather than an obligation.

I nod as I ask, “What would you have me do?”

I should mention that Wolf River is very much a hugger. He pulls me into one of his friendly embraces. I purse my lips, not entirely comfortable with this, and welcome his pulling away. “Just meet me by the Trottingham gates with armor and weapon in hoof. The entire armory is at your disposal.”

A quest to add spice to this low point in my life, and fresh weapons awaiting my touch. It seems being a freelancer is finally paying off.

So long as Wolf River stops hugging me, I can keep smiling like this.

~Vision End~

~Shae~

Amidst all the mayhem regarding the dragon attack and the ensuing guild coronation, I hadn’t taken the time to appreciate how much the Rainbow Palace reminds me of Wintercolt Academy, but now that I’ve woken in the dead of night with my mind clear of all the excitement, I can finally take it all in.

Much like the academy, this palace has an ethereal elegance to it, disconnected from the harsh kingdom on the exterior. It’s quiet, peaceful and beautiful. This bedroom is much like my dormitory, come to think of it. A four poster bed, large ornate carpet upon the refractive floor, quilts hanging from the walls, and a pleasant view of Mount Everfree, only I’m looking at it from below.

My legs are reluctant to leave such a comfortable bed, but I eventually convince them to move for me. I clumsily levitate my spectacles to my muzzle as I wipe my eyes of sleep, and slowly approach the window. I’m too sleepy to undo the latch with my magic. I just force it open with my hooves, letting the frigid winter air slip into the room. Compared to the weather Wintercolt must be enduring, it’s not too bad.

I have the oddest delusion that if I squint my eyes enough I’ll be able to see Wintercolt and spy into my dormitory. I imagine Sundance is asleep by now, if she’s not having another slumber party with Lancer and Eavesdrop.

I rest my head on the windowsill as I conjure a memory of one of those parties.

They’re conversing over glasses of carrot juice, with Sundance reading aloud from Haunting Tales of the Occult, a famous anthology of horror stories. Lancer is trembling from sheer terror as he hides within his hood. Eavesdrop, as per usual, is a quiet one, not fazed in the slightest.

"I wonder if we could do magic like that?" Sundance exclaims, snapping the book closed and looking at me and the others.

Lancer shakes his head furiously. I’ll bet he wants that story behind him as far as he can. “F-f-fun as that s-s-s-sounds, where are we gah-going to find a fully intact de-dec-capitated horse?” he asks.

Eavesdrop lets her lips curl slightly. She summons a magical blade from thin air. “That’s easy, just lie down.” She jokingly swings it about in the air as we all share a laugh. Even Lancer finds Eavesdrop’s dark sense of humor amusing, despite being the victim.

“I guess you have a point, Lancy,” says Sundance with a shrug. She reopens the book on a random page, scanning quickly down through the words. “Hm, well... What about a cursed rusty horseshoe that summons a decrepit demon?”

"Artifact magic is pretty simple," I mutter, tapping my chin in thought.

“Oh Fauste, not this again...” squeals Lancer.

Halting my thoughts, I reach across his back and pull him into a comforting embrace. “It’s okay, we’re only joking.”

My words do nothing to calm Lancer’s shaking. I find his behavior childish, but at the same time, it’s quite endearing.

I pull his hood down and look him in the eyes. “If it makes you feel any better, you can sleep in my bed with me tonight.”

His trembling stops, and his terrified expression gives way to a reddened one. “R-really?”

“Of course.”

I was younger then, blissfully unaware of the atrocities being committed in the world beneath the mountain sanctum known as Wintercolt Academy. When you actually witness murder, it takes more than a bedtime song to put one's worries to rest.

“'Neath a﻿ faltered sky; cross loamless plains, and watered blight...

Ah! Where gone those days, once glory shone so bright?”

An indescribable song echoing across the palace rouses me from my reminiscing...

~Vision End~

~Tangerine~

When Wolf River said armory, he was actually referring to half of Horsevaskr. Every basic weapon and piece of equipment one can think of lines the walls of the refugee quarters and the upstairs gathering hall. I can only imagine what’s available in the backyard training ground.

In the Imperial Legion, one is issued their armor based on their rank. Being general, Platinum granted me one of the best sets. It was custom made by King Hurricane for his earthwalker elites. Unfortunately, even the best has its limits. I’ve already disposed of it in the Horsevaskr forge, for the sake of coin.

Being granted the right to piece together my own set of armor is a new experience, and it’s somewhat enthralling. No military standard to bind me to a full set. I settle on a mail undergarment, with a snug set of iron plating to reinforce it. Over that I wear a red and black cape, embroidered with a crescent moon.

What strikes me is how comfortable this armor compared to my old set. Apparently King Hurricane favored effectiveness over maneuverability. He should have taken a page from the Carriers’ book.

So many weapons to choose from, though... War axes are contraband in the Legion, same with these double bladed swords. “Oooh, is that a glaive? These ponies fight dirty!”

I hold my tongue, checking if anypony heard me, and recompose myself. I decide to stick to the familiar and grab two greatswords, one made of black onyx and the other made of bronze. Excellent.

~Vision End~

~Shae~

With a hastily worn royal purple robe, I gallop through the moonlit halls of the palace, seeking out the source of this mysterious voice. Why I feel so compelled to do so is a mystery in of itself. The song awakens distant emotions at the back of my mind, filling me with nostalgia. Its meaning is long lost on me. All I care for is how it is sung. A perfect, melancholy melody that flows like water. Only now, it doesn’t make me wish to sleep. I just want to hear it closer.

I come out into the entrance hall before a set of stairs, where two red unicorn soldiers sit and converse.

“...prestigious monk, when I-”

“Oh.” One of the two notices me and stands to attention, equipping his spear. “Good evening, visitor.”

The other follows suit and salutes.

I nervously step back with a guilty look upon my face. “It’s... against the rules to walk about at night, is it?”

The guards both wave their hooves defensively. “Oh, no. No.”

“Not at all, Miss Shae. You’re a guest in this palace. You can come and go as you please.”

“Within reason, of course.”

“If you don’t mind us asking, though, why are you up so late? All other guests have long fallen asleep.”

The song finds its way into my ears again, causing my heart to flutter and my thoughts to wander. “I... well...” I must have the dopiest eyes right now.

One of the soldiers smirks and nods, understanding what my predicament is. “Ah, enjoying the sweet lullaby, are you?”

"Oh! Thank Fauste I'm not the only one who hears it!" At least that’s one thing off my mind. "Do you know who that is?"

The guards both point up the stairs. "That voice? That's Princess Celina's voice, that is. She steps out onto her balcony most nights to let herself be heard by all of Everfree."

"Puts our minds at ease, knowing she's in good health, and her singing gives us a reason to survive another day of this war."

Celina's voice alone is filling my heart and mind with so many emotions, I can't even describe them all. There's definitely happiness within me, but there's something else... Grief? Yes, that sounds right. I'm remembering this song how Mother always sang it. I... I feel a deep need to speak to Celina.

"You alright there, sweetheart?" asks one of the soldiers.

I pull myself out of my trance. "Where are Princess Celina's chambers? I wish to see her."

The soldiers glance at each other. "Uh, normally that's... ill advised."

"'S not against the rules or anything, love, but...” They both share another glance, pausing for a moment, while giving me a look over, seeing how emotionally distraught I am. “You know what? It's fine. It's just up these stairs, take a left, keep going up the spiral staircase 'till you reach a pink room."

I wonder what could be so ill advised about speaking to Celina, but the thought passes quickly as my ears indulge in her beautiful voice again. I need to hear more.

"Thank you, sirs." I bow slightly, then take off up the stairs.

~Vision End~

~Tangerine~

“General.”

“Wolf River. Do you find this outfit... acceptable?” I twirl in a complete circle as I approach the large stallion at the gate. He’s equipped with a large axe on his back and a longsword in sheath at his side.

He chuckles, admiring my new set of armor. “Please, General. You’d be a formidable opponent were you wearing nothing but rags. Your years of training truly show.”

“Well... thank you.” Goodness, I’m blushing. I’ve never been complimented on my stalwart physique before. In fact, most find it unattractive. But... what am I doing, focusing on that sort of thing? Wolf River said it himself; I’m a lady of war. I wipe the blush away. “Where are we off to?” I ask with profession.

“Dustcolt’s Cairn is just a trek across the fields, not too far from here. I expect we’ll be back by sunrise.” Wolf River takes a step past the gate, before retracting it and looking at me with concern. “You are sure you’re up for this, M’lady?”

I cock my brow. “What sort of a question is that? You asked me to come along. Look at me, I’m fully equipped, my sword hooves are aching for battle, let us set off!”

Wolf River wears a look of surprise and awe as I brush past him.

He retakes the lead shortly after we leave the main road and begin our journey across the open fields. It’s dead silent, not even a frog or cricket can be heard. Rather unsettling, setting the mood for whatever it is we may face in Dustcolt’s Cairn. Granted, I wasn’t informed of any foe, but I can assume there will be one, else I wouldn’t have been asked to bring a weapon.

In a most peculiar act, Wolf River begins sniffing the air.

“It’s going to rain soon. Might get some snow in a few days. The Weather Guild is merciless this winter.”

“You can tell all that just by scent?” I ask.

He nods. “Indeed, and it’s a good thing to have. You can’t rely on the Weather Guild for consistency these days.”

I’m tempted to ask how he attained such heightened senses but I remain focused on keeping pace. One foot in front of the other, no distractions. All that matters is the mission, and... Is he humming? Normally I‘d request him to stop, but I‘m intrigued. “What song is that?”

Wolf River stops humming and turns my way. “It’s a personal favorite of mine, passed down from the ancient beginnings of the Carrier Clan. It encompasses who we are, and what we fight for." Given the dead silence of this night, I welcome his singing, even though his gruff voice is hardly fit for it.

“No sign of life did flicker, in cloves of tears she cried,

‘All hope’s lost, it can’t be undone...

We’re wasted and gone...’”

“Pleasant story,” I mutter sarcastically.

“I told you, it’s from another era. The Carrier Clan was forged hundreds of years before the ponies of the old kingdoms settled here,” he points at me accusingly, “and took the land for yourselves.”

I back away in a defensive stance. “The Carrier Clan sided with Hurricane in the Settlement Wars, didn’t they? I thought-”

Wolf River begins laughing aloud, no doubt disturbing some wildlife in the process, as well as me. “The look on your face, General... Don’t worry yourself, I hold no resentment for immigrants. Trust me, you think Equestria is in a pickle now? Should have seen it when it was a lawless wilderness.” He shows off the several scars on his face, each one more severe than the last. “This one, across my muzzle? Ezio, the thief king, gave me that for my wallet. Before you all showed up, that winged bastard had an ego to match his territory. I took him down a peg.”

I think back to the battle outside Beak Falls Barrow, and the impressive stunt Tohro performed that landed a crossbow bolt between the black gryphon‘s eyes. “Your muzzle has been avenged,” I say. “I watched Ezio die.”

“Oh, is that so?” Wolf River chuckles again, passing off the thief king’s death as if he had just found a coin on the street. “I wonder how New Pegasopolis is taking the news.”

“I’m just disappointed it wasn’t by my hoof that he- WOAH!” I step into thin air, nearly falling into a large pit with my forelegs dangling over the ledge. My scalp burns as Wolf River bites down on my tail, keeping me on solid ground.

“Yrr mmky?” he asks through a mouthful of orange hair. I groan in discomfort as he yanks his head backwards, pulling me back onto the grass. I allow myself a moment to breath as I fall back against his chest. “Should have warned you about that, sorry.”

“Th-Thank you.” I’m too relieved to be mad at his negligence at the moment. I take a closer look at this pit. It’s bordered by a spiral staircase leading to a double door at the bottom. “This is Dustcolt’s Cairn?”

Wolf River helps me to my hooves. He begins his descent down the steps, beckoning for me to come along. “Indeed it is. I hope your skills with a blade haven’t gone to waste.”

I follow while keeping my tail near the hilt of my bronze sword. “What will we find in there?”

I miss Wolf River’s perpetual smile the instant it leaves his face. “I have a hunch, and I really hope I’m wrong.” He looks my way with an expression of dread. “Have you ever caught wind of the Silver Horseshoe?”

~Vision End~

~Shae~

“...leaned upon a broken blade, looks to skyward.

'Prithee above, almighty one, be this thy word?'

Cried out, begged for truth but no answer's sound be heard...”

As I follow the exact directions given to me by the soldiers, Celina's voice becomes clearer, the echo beginning to damper. As the words become clearer to me, my legs become heavier, as if I’m beneath a blanket again, and the realm of sleep want to claim me before I fully awaken. That’s how soothing this song is. But my desire to hear it from Celina’s lips drives me forward. Sleep can wait.

I’m at the base of the spiral staircase. It can’t be much farther now. Her voice is so clear, so... heavenly. I’m caught in a trance again. My legs carry themselves up the stairs while I strain my ears to focus on this riveting melody. I curse at myself every time my steps make the tiniest sound, keeping me from hearing every millisecond of the song. I then purge away thinking entirely.

There’s a door imprinted with Celina’s name. My heart leaps into my throat. I’m so close.

Oh, thank Fauste. It’s unlocked.

I slow my breaths as I enter the the princess’ room. Stepping onto the carpet, I look to the open balcony window.

There she is, enveloped by the moonlight, no longer cloaked in her white robe, her pink mane flowing freely in the wind.

The song is more gorgeous still. She’s already finished it and returned to the first verse.

"'Neath a faltered sky; cross loamless plains, and watered blight..."

I find myself singing along with her. "Ah, where gone those days, once glory shone so bright?"

Celina's ears perk up in surprise and she jerks around to look at me. The first thing I notice is her uncommonly long horn. But she also has wings.

Celina is an alicorn.

~Vision End~

~Tangerine~

Dustcolt’s Cairn is true to its namesake. I haven’t taken two steps inside and I already have to cover my muzzle with my cape to keep the airborne scum out of my mouth.

“There’s a stench something awful within here,” says Wolf River, sniffing at the air again. Out of curiosity, I do the same, but I cannot smell anything out of the ordinary, beyond the smoke of wallbound torches. “A few years in the Carrier Clan will give you one hell of a nose. My hearing is top notch as well.” His ears flick as he slides around the corner. I follow suit, checking behind the bars of the locked gate for any enemy down below. Wolf River relaxes. “Think I just heard a rat. We’re clear.”

“How does one hone their senses like that?” I ask.

Wolf River responds by equipping his axe and swinging it into the gate. It falls off its hinges. “It’s complicated. If I were to tell you, you wouldn’t believe me.”

That, in itself, is hard to believe. “Ha! I’ve fought alongside a descendant of dragons who can fell beasts with his voice. If you told me anything, I’d take it as fact.”

A gruff stallion‘s voice sounds out from further down the alcove. “Did anyone else hear that?!” I see a shadow forming on the walls as he rounds the corner.

“Friend or foe?” I ask Wolf River.

He hasn’t put away his axe. He glances at me with grit teeth. “What do you think?”

I tense up as the enemy stallion shows himself. He wears a wolf pelt over his head, with rusty iron armor coating his body. His eyes widen when he sees Wolf River. “Oh, shit! IT’S A MONGR-”

Wolf River doesn’t let him finish. He rushes forward and lands an uppercut with his axe, splattering the walls with blood and skin. He finishes him off with the flat of the blade, bringing it down on his head.

“All subtlety in this mission has been thoroughly tossed out the window,” I say, admiring how much damage Wolf River did in two swings. I lift a torch off the wall and search down the cavern. No more enemies to speak of, though I don’t need Wolf River’s superb hearing to notice the clanging of metal off in the distance.

“Hey.” The black stallion tosses me a sack full of coins, which I barely manage to catch, dropping my torch. I do a double take when I notice there’s well over forty bits in this sack. “Consider that a part of your boon for this quest.”

Every fiber of my noble being wants to call him out for looting the dead, but I hold my tongue in the face of genuine coin. It’s been a while since I’ve had any in my hooves. This alone could buy me a week’s worth of food.

Another growling voice says, “Never should have come here.” I turn around and see three more colts brandishing swords, all of which wearing patchy armor.

“There’s the rest of your payment, General,” says Wolf River.

Imperial Legion code says that one may only attack when threatened. That’s one guideline I can still respect, and frankly, some depraved cave dweller swinging his katana in my face is pretty damn threatening.

Ducking his swing, I equip my bronze sword with my tail and turn around, cutting across his chest. His armor breaks instantly, enraging him. He swings at my hind legs, clipping my hoof before I roll out of the way. I buck him in the face with my good leg, savoring the sound of bones cracking as I plant his snout. I follow up with a slash across his neck, spraying blood onto the floor. I push his dying body down the descending path.

Wolf River jumps ahead of me, taking on one of the other two. Moving my weapon to my hooves, I dive for the free one, locking swords with him. He’s stronger than he looks, pushing me back against the stone wall with his blade dangerously close to my face. I grab my bronze sword and attack his weapon, using both of my blades in unison to knock him unarmed. I break his breastplate with one swing and pierce his chest with another.

When the cave dweller’s corpse falls, I look up to see Wolf River pinning the remaining foe facedown to the ground. “Please d-don’t break my back...” squeals the colt, looking absolutely miniscule next to the towering black stallion.

Wolf River looks to his axe, and then to the squirming cave dweller beneath him. He shrugs and says, “No.” He slams the blunt end of the axe down on the colt’s midsection, no doubt severing his spine from his legs. He then brings his hoof down on his head, silencing his agonizing screams.

It takes me a moment to realize my mouth is hanging wide open. Wolf River drops his war face and laughs.

I shut my lips and try to express my shock. “You fight like a-”

“Wolf?” he suggests, searching the three new dead bodies.

“I was going to say, a bear with a basic understanding of heavy weaponry.”

“Impressed, are you?” he asks, passing me a few more hefty sacks of coins. There’s a good month’s worth of gourmet dinner in my hooves now. A few weeks ago, I would have found taking money from the dead a sickening act, but when one considers it, there’s no practical reason to let coin go to waste.

“I have to say, I really am,” I answer. “Nopony I’ve ever met fights with such brutality.”

Wolf River wipes the blood off his axe on a torch pillar. “Pragmatism pays off in times of war, dear General.” He puts away his weapon and passes by me. “And I’m not like most ponies.”

As he takes off further into the cave, he resumes his singing.

"Save me your speeches, I know they blinded us all,

what you want, you will take it away from me...”

~Vision End~

~Shae~

Celina turns away from me, saying nothing as she bows her head. I suddenly feel even more distraught, half from what I'm seeing before me, but also because her heavenly voice has faltered.

I slowly walk to Celina’s side as she snaps her wings to her body, facing me head on so I’m unable to see them. It’s made clear to me by her whimpering that she’s ashamed to have wings as well as a horn, though why is a mystery to me.

My priorities are skewed at the moment. I care not for her wings. I only wish to hear the song again. I bow to the princess. "Please... I'd... I'd like to hear more... if you don't mind, M'lady..."

Celina, probably not expecting me to say that, nods and returns to her perch, raising her head to the stars and closing her eyes.

"Fallen 'neath baleful wings dark as night...

Ah, a moment give to me...

Hark, shall none hear this soul's tale,

of a land, benight?"

Her voice is a little weaker now, and I know why.

Hearing her up close must be what the guards warned me about... There's not only happiness and grief in my mind, but so many other emotions filling my every vein, threatening to burst outwards until I'm nothing but ethereal dust... That's how overwhelming her voice is. It makes feel so full and deathly empty at the same time.

It takes me nearly a minute to realize I'm crying, far more than I ever have. "Sorry...” I choke out. “I mean no offense..." I wipe my eyes. "I'm just... overcome..."

"Are you... sure you're quite alright?" Celina asks. She approaches me cautiously and brushes the tears away.

"Yes... I'm fine..." I shake my head. "You just... That was my favorite lullaby." I have to keep bringing my hoof to my eyes to stop the flow.

Seeing Celina in the light for the first time, I realize she can't be much younger than me, yet she speaks and walks with an elegance I could never hope to obtain. She truly is princess material, gracefully stepping into her room. I eagerly follow.

"It's a lullaby most ponies know. I wouldn't be surprised if you've heard it from somepony very close to you," she says, shutting the glass doors to the balcony.

“My... my mother,” I say. She’s been gone for several years now. I had no idea I had tears to shed for her. I spare Celina the sad tale. "She didn’t sing it quite like you. Your voice is beyond words, if I may be so kind."

Celina lets out a sad chuckle. "Please, do not humble me. We are but equals here..." she pauses, flapping her wings and sighing. "Well, I should say you're above me."

Amidst the music, I nearly forgot about the impossible sight. Only Epona and Fauste are known to have such a gift, but they are metaphysical beings. To see a legendary alicorn with my own eyes... I'm not sure how to respond.

"What do you mean, I’m above you?" I tilt my head. The way she frowns when she looks at her wings breaks my heart. "You're something more than I could ever hope to be."

"No, I'm not. I'm hideous," Celina murmurs, approaching her circular bed and burying her face in her many pillows. She hides her wings underneath the blankets.

“Who ever told you that?” I ask.

She raises her head, glimmering streams of tears fresh on her cheeks. "I can tell. It's the way Mother looks at me when my back is turned. She looks at me as if I'm not even equine.” She snaps her wings to her frame again when they unfurl. “It's a birth defect and nothing more.”

I manage to work up the courage to join her on the bed, stroking her mane with a hoof. I wonder for a moment if this breaks any royal customs, but if so, it doesn’t matter. "I'm sure you realize that other ponies have been blessed with your gifts, and they're treated as gods."

Nothing I say seems to dry her tears. "Because Epona and Fauste are gods. Look at me..." She huddles her wings even closer against her lanky figure. "I'm a walking blaspheme."

I use my magic to pull her wings away from her and spread them out, admiring their beautiful span. "I hardly think so. I think you're something special."

Celina's whimpering stops. She rises slowly onto her haunches and faces me, showing me her sky blue eyes. "I'm... I'm not sure if I can believe it myself, but..."

I reach my forelegs out, offering her my embrace. She looks at me quizzically, as if nopony’s ever done this for her before. "I can be your friend, if you want, M’lady."

Her mouth parts, hanging slightly open as she comprehends such an idea. She takes me up on my offer, throwing herself around me. Her embrace feels as warm as the sunlight on a spring morning. The silkiness of her wings adds reach to her crushing hug.

She mutters into my shoulder. "You don't have to call me anything special... Just call me Celina." She pulls away, brushing stray hairs of her pink mane from her face. "You're... Miss Shae, aren't you?"

“We never really were formally introduced. It’s an honor. Heh... I guess my reputation precedes me. That's what I get for traveling with Dragonrein."

"Mother says you, Tohro and the Dragonborn give her hope..." Celina touches my cheek again, moving her hoof down to my chin. "I can see why." She pulls her hoof away, noticing how much grime I've left upon it. "Oh dear...” She points to a tall mirror in the corner of the room.

“Huh?” I turn to the mirror, and see a messy, unkempt mare with a disfigured mane, dirty cheeks and mud stained hooves... Dear Fauste, this is what a few misadventures with Dragonrein have turned me into? “Bloody hell, I’m a mess.”

Celina chuckles at my reaction, and I find myself reacting much of the same. “Perhaps I should draw a bath?” she offers.

I blush at the thought. Memories of friendly baths back at Wintercolt with Sundance and Eavesdrop begin to play in my mind. Part of me wants to take up her offer, knowing how filthy I am. The other feels that it would be wrong somehow, bathing with royalty. Alicorn royalty, no less. Perish the thought, the very sight of her bathing might just cause me to disintegrate.

“I don’t wish to impose...”

Celina puts on a jesting smile, shrugging her withers and taking my hooves in hers. "It's only an imposition if I say it is. Come along, you desperately need one."

Well, whatever makes her happy... Now I can’t stop smiling.

~Vision End~

~Tangerine~

I’m airborne, alongside this wrinkled old robed bastard flailing a mace back and forth.

Catching my foe in a headlock between my hind legs, I slam him into a wooden guard railing, shattering his ribs and turning him into a sobbing heap. Never one to let a wounded foe suffer, I finish the job with a clean cut of my bronze sword across his neck.

“Get out of here, Carrier scum!” shouts a mare from the upper floor as she dives for Wolf River.

One would think that after cleaving through several of these bastards, they would learn to leave well enough alone. Apparently, Wolf River and the Carrier Clan have driven these fools to the deep end.

“Grrrraaagh!!” With one fell uppercut, Wolf River cleaves through the diving mare, leaving her two halves to splatter against the stone floor and drench his black coat in a fresh layer of blood.

I find my mouth involuntarily falling open again. “Merciless,” is all I can say. Wolf River’s brutal technique is both terrifying and mesmerizing. In foregoing any elegance or proper stance, his artless way of fighting becomes art in itself.

He waves his hoof in front of my eyes, breaking my trance. “Are you just going to stand there, General?” I shake my head and salute like I would my fellow soldier, before remembering we’re not soldiers of any sort.

Wolf River points to a narrow pathway bordered by several cages. “I believe we’re close, but all this gore is messing with my sense of smell.” He scrunches up his snout and wipes the blood clean from it. “Heightened senses... ‘Tis a blessing with a curse, if you ask me.”

I help him wipe away the spots of blood he missed. “What I wouldn’t give for senses of that caliber. It would be worth a few downfalls. Perhaps with such a passive ability I could have kept my job.”

Wolf River stays my hoof, his expression grim. “You do not know what I had to go through. When one achieves my abilities, they make a lot of enemies.” He trots to the carcasses of our attackers and collects small trinkets from their necks. They all have the same design.

I describe the trinkets aloud. ”Silver horseshoe.”

The red maned stallion before me nods. “The Silver Horseshoe.”

He tosses the trinkets into a puddle of murky water as I ask, “What is their quarrel with the Carrier Clan?”

“It’s not just the Carrier Clan.” Wolf River spits on the discarded trinkets. “The Silver Horseshoe are zealot worshippers of Epona. They believe anything but ponykind to be impure and that everyone else should just up and die. I can sympathize with them when it comes to changelings, but what they fail to understand is that ponykind coexisted with the other races before the denizens of the pony kingdoms emigrated here.”

He points to the cages. They’re filled with the pelts of zebras, horns of changeling drones, minotaur hooves and griffon wings. “Oh my...” I have to force back the urge to vomit. No foe I’ve faced before has ever resorted to such debauchery.

“Religion does awful stuff to your head, General.”

This is awfully profound for a stallion of such girth. I always thought Wolf River to be one of few words until today, but then again, I thought a lot of other things before today. “My worship of the Divines doesn’t go beyond a prayer for assistance in battle,” I say. “If the Silver Horseshoe are foolish enough to even consider such atrocities, they’ll meet Epona soon enough.”

My calm enthusiasm puts a smile on Wolf River’s face. “There’s the rub, General. Now, let’s pay the leader of this band of zealots a visit.”

~Vision End~

~Shae~

The royal bathroom is covered in what appears to be the finest marble and oak, with more than enough pink to fill my vision for days. "I would be lying if I said I wasn't a bit jealous of such lavish surroundings," I say as I rise from the bubble laced water. My black mane’s natural fluff disappears as it falls in front of my eyes.

Celina hums the rest of her lullaby as she relaxes on the tile floor, levitating a washcloth across her body. She drags it from the nape of her neck, along the length of her slender frame, stopping at her water drenched haunches...

“Oh, you don’t have a mark,” I say. In the sheer emotional weight of hearing her sing on the balcony, I hadn’t noticed Celina’s blank flank. She nods, draining the rest of the cloth over her head. She wipes her eyes of the remaining suds. “I got my mark the day I graduated from my first year at Wintercolt Academy,” I say. “My parents and I knew it would be something having to do with magic.”

“May I see it?” Celina asks.

I shudder, partially from the cold water, and also at the thought of the princess looking upon my behind. But, then again, it’s only a mark. I think she deserves to take a gander. I step out of the bathwater, pushing my mane out of my vision, and let my side face the princess. She smiles as she notices my magenta star cluster.

I blush. The gravity of the moment is still settling in. I’m bathing with a legendary alicorn... “A-Astronomy was my strongest subject,” I stammer.

Celina approaches me with a brush floating at her side. I tense up as she brings it to my mane, catching snags as she tugs down. I feel her levitate something out between clumps of strands. "Goodness, I've found pebbles in your hair. What have you been through?"

"Caves, cliffs, dragons, undead ponies... the usual..." She catches another snag, causing me to grunt.

“Sorry... You seem relatively happy, despite all that."

“I was essentially foalnapped by Caro and Tohro after I left the academy for an extracurricular project.” I think back to how brutish they seemed at the time, but now, compared to what I’ve seen, they’re tame by comparison. “I'll admit, at first I didn't want to go with them. But, the more I see and do, I find I'm learning more than I ever would at Wintercolt."

“I should be so lucky,” says Celina. “I only get to leave this palace a few times a month. Mother fears ill will happen to me.” She removes a few more pieces of dirt from my mane. "You say you're from Wintercolt Academy? I've heard so much about the place."

"Oh, yes. It's wonderful there. The staff is nice, the food is warm, and I’ve learned all sorts of neat magic. But, to be honest, this adventure taught me things the academy never could. I’ve seen dragons, I’ve spoken to a Precursor, and I met you.” I look back and smile at Celina, and she reciprocates.

"I'm jealous, Miss Shae. I asked Mother several times as a child if I could go to Wintercolt Academy, but she refused. Sometimes the urge to run off gets the better of me, but I know better than to go against Mother’s wishes. She only wants the best for me.”

I inch a bit closer to the princess. "Beyond the academy, you're hardly missing anything out there. Between fantastical encounters, it’s just ponies and other beasts trying to kill each other or get by with what they have. And, of course, there are the dragons."

"One would think Wintercolt would be safer than Everfree, given its solitude in the mountains and Clover the Clever's protection. Have you ever met my Auntie Clover?"

I sigh dreamily. Clover the Clever has been my idol since the day I first picked up a spell tome. Her seals are imprinted on every standardized magical book; an indentation of the Pure Heart, or the six pointed star of the academy, which also happens to be my family crest. Ever since she, Pansy, and Smart Cookie reconciled their differences and created the first Hearth's Warming, she’s become a symbol to unicorns across Equestria, but nopony admires her quite like I do.

“I hope to meet her. I strive to be her equal, some day.”

Celina’s mood turns glum. “It’s a shame the Six have become so severed since Equestria was established. With Papa Hurricane and Pansy gone, and Puddinghead’s disappearance, Mother and Aunt Clover are the only ones left.”

She left somepony out of that roster. I tap my chin. “Whatever happened to Smart Cookie?”

“Mother has dedicated some of her time searching for him, but it’s believed he left Equestria as soon as matters... how do you peasants put it, ‘Went South’?”

"You saying I'm a peasant?" I give a mock pout and splash my hooves together.

"Oh, no. You're a noblemare, better than I." Celina levitates her brush back into its container and lays down, foregoing the modesty of a towel.

"I believe you have the potential to be something great." I lie down as well. It feels comforting to be around Celina. I don’t feel the need for a towel either.

Celina's hoof touches my cheek. "Do you mean that, Miss Shae?"

“A legendary alicorn princess with a voice that transcends mortal words. How could there not be something special within you? Of course I mean it."

I find myself wrapped in another embrace, this one more sweet and sincere than the melancholy one from before. I’m laughing inside my mind. I’m hugging an alicorn... This should be every mage’s dream. It takes me a moment to remember I’m naked too, but I don’t care. This feels nice. The smell of Celina's mane makes me feel lightheaded, and her perfectly groomed white coat brushing up against mine... Her presence is overwhelming. The stings of tears begin to make themselves known.

I push away gently from Celina with more red on my cheeks than a ripe apple. "I'm sorry..."

“I’m not,” says the princess.

I hold back a gasp as I notice Celina's mane and tail begin to glow with an ethereal light, flowing as if they are caught in a draft. She tilts her head. "Is something the matter, Miss Shae?"

A simultaneous explosion of happiness and clarity overwhelms me, just from looking upon the princess’ radiant glamour. "I... I... you're beautiful..." is all I can mutter before I collapse. Black consumes my vision as my compulsive tears distort the image of gorgeous, heavenly Celina...

XVII - Adrenaline

~Tangerine~

“YOU SON OF A BITCH!”

Wolf River passes into a bloodcurdling rage the instant we set hoof through the door, into the chamber he claimed to be our final destination for this mission. I can hear his breath seeping through his teeth, and as I stand beside him, looking out into the room, I can see why.

A cream colored colt, a mere adolescent by the look of it, hangs from a cross with his hoofs nailed to each side. Three javelins protrude from his chest. The blood still drains from the punctures, but the stench tells me he’s been this way for some time now. Whoever did this to him has merely neglected to take the body away.

“I knew you’d come, mongrels, and I must say, I find your profanity quite undeserved.” Amidst the darkness of the cavern, I hadn’t noticed the robed figure standing before the crucified colt. It’s an elderly stallion, equipped with another javelin. “Last I recall, you and your Carrier brethren are the children of a bitch.”

Wolf River‘s rage breaks forth. “GrrrrraaaaaaAAAAAGH!!” He brandishes his axe, swinging blindly before he even grows close to the elderly one, who pulls back his hood to reveal a long, white mane and greying fur, and a long horn. It glows a harsh blue as he erects a magical shield. Wolf River slams his axe against it.

“What did you have to gain from murdering Hilt?! He wasn’t even part of the circle!” His screaming escalates with every swing he makes against the shield. The elderly one begins to sweat as fractures appear in his spell.

“YOU! DIVINE! DAMNED! COWARD!” Wolf River shouts, punctuated with every impact of his axe. He steps back, and with a final horizontal swing, the shield shatters, leaving the elderly one to stumble over. The black stallion, grinding his teeth, drops his axe, pins the zealot down and slams his hooves against his neck, strangling him.

The elderly one‘s gasps for air sound out in desperation as he tries to force Wolf River off of him. “Go... ahead...” he chokes, laughing despite the muscular stallion crushing his windpipe. “Do it...”

Simultaneously mesmerized and horrified by the sheer anger emanating from Wolf River, I approach, drawing my onyx sword just in case something goes awry. I pace around him as he squeezes the life out of the zealot.

Wolf River‘s enraged grit turns into a disturbingly wide grin. “Foul enough that you steal our sacred weapon, now you go and murder an innocent child... I won’t let you escape this time...” He picks up his axe, still keeping a grip on the old one’s neck. He throws him to the ground and makes a decisive swing. I brace myself for the sight of blood and muscle flying from the point of impact...

And then the zealot disappears in a flash of blue light, blinding me and causing me to drop my sword. I feel the cold impact of stone upon my cheek. When the light clears and I blink my sight back into my eyes, Wolf River and I are on the ground, our hooves bound by enchanted shackles.

“FUCK!” screams the stallion beside me. “It was only a projection! I should have known better than to think Silver Tongue would reveal himself so willingly.”

“What do we do now?” I struggle against the chains, to no avail, so I strain myself even harder to break them to the point of my muscles screaming for me to stop. Never surrender, that’s the Imperial Legion’s code...

Oh, what’s the point? The Imperial Legion cares not if I live or die. I’m nothing to them. Just like Oregano was when I took his position... How fickle. Their code is worthless here, and so am I.

I look up to Hilt’s bleeding corpse, still nailed to the cross. I have a sinking feeling that Wolf River and I will suffer the same fate, very soon.

“I’m so sorry, Lady Tangerine...”

~Vision End~

CHAPTER XVII - ADRENALINE

~Tohro~

I let out a triumphant yawn, stretching my forelegs over my head as I toss the blankets aside. My boots and armor lie discarded on the floor. I shrug, bending over to pick them up. As I do so, I look back at Servant Boy, who has just awoken from his cat nap. He looks my way and locks his gaze on the sacred buns. “Enjoying the view?” I ask with a smirk.

A flash of red strikes his cheeks. “Um, yes, Master Tohro.”

I make a long and dramatic show of sliding on my boots, allowing him to get a good look at my nethers. I always get a kick out this sort of attention, and it may be a long while before he gets another glance at this treasury.

I equip my leather armor and tie my mane back into a tail, looking at myself in the mirror. As per usual, I look gorgeous, despite my disfigured left eye. Despite the nasty taboo it represents, it’s grown on me. It makes me look like more than just another pretty colt.

Servant Boy is the prettier one in this room, still stark naked as he cloaks his boyhood with the blankets. I swagger over to his side of the bed and plant a sultry kiss on his cheek. “Thanks for entertaining me. We should do this again sometime.”

“I’d... I’d like that,” he mutters.

What is it about the shy ones I find so arousing?

“Master Tohro, that earthwalker you travel with, the Dragonborn... Next time we, well...” The timid colt taps his hooves together. “Do you think he’d like to join us?”

Recalling any time Caro showed genuine attraction for another pony, or anything living being for that matter, proves difficult. I’ve been with him since I rescued him from Gallopagos Keep, and not once have I seen him grow stiff at the sight of any handsome mare or colt. He turned down bloody Sugar and Spice, despite everything about them being quite nice. Him and Shae... They have a guardian to child relationship and nothing more. At least, I hope that’s the case. He could crush her flat.

No, perhaps Caro is merely asexual, and frankly, I feel that’s a waste of a good seed. Who wouldn’t like a litter of little Dragon-newborns fus ro dahing all over the place?

“Sorry, love,” I say, nuzzling Servant Boy's cheek. He giggles. “I think Caro flies alone, but we shouldn’t let that keep us from having fun every now and then, eh?” I tap my hoof to my chin. “Though I wouldn’t say no if you brought along another servant boy. Oh, and, uh, I hope you don’t mind if I keep calling you that.” I couldn’t be bothered to learn his full name.

Servant Boy nervously plants a peck on my lips. “That all you got?” I boast, pulling him back in for a full-on snog. When our lips part, he puts on the silliest grin. “By the way, I wouldn’t mind playing servant next time.”

I shut the door behind me on the way out. I do a twirl on a single hind leg before looping through the air. “Ah, what fun. We get to stay in the Rainbow Palace, Caro fells a second dragon, I get some steamy love from Servant Boy... I feel like celebrating in a culinary manner. A trip to the bakery is in order.” I reach into my pouch before realizing I left all the bits with Caro before taking off with Servant Boy.

Another servant, an older mare, passes by. “Excuse me, Ma’am?” I ask, wrapping my foreleg around her neck, to her disdain. I pay it no mind. “Have you seen a turquoise earthwalker with dragon eyes around here?”

“The Dragonborn? Oh, yes.” She points down the hallway. “I believe he was just at the armory, buying some ore.”

I suppose he’s probably fixing up a personal replacement for Rosemary’s scimitar, Divines rest its soul, until that blacksmith mare can send us a suitable successor. “My thanks to you, Ma’am.”

The faster I find Caro, the sooner I can fill my belly with a metric ton of sweetrolls.

~Vision End~

~Tangerine~

As a lady of war, I thrive in battle, or planning for battle, or training for battle. When victory is achieved, I relish the satisfaction that I made the right choices that contributed to that success.

As such, the sheer embarrassment, ever an understatement, that I’m enduring right now is further amplified by the implications. I hardly took bruise nor cut in the skirmishes on the way here, yet somehow I still failed, ending up with my hooves in chains against a dusty cavern floor, surrounded by a lake of murky water.

I’ve been nothing but a failure as of late. A failure as a general, a failure as a mother, a failure to Wolf River... I’m a failure as an earthwalker.

“M’lady...” mutters Wolf River, finally come down from his bloodrage, “I must tell you how sorry I am.”

I glance over my shoulder to see the black stallion, his eyes full of regret. Unfortunately for him, I can‘t sympathize. “I’m not much in any mood to be pitied,” I say, curling up under my cape. “It’s not your fault I’m lost in the eyes of the queen.”

“Where’s your pride, General?” Wolf River, despite the chains, manages to sidle along the ground, growing closer to me. “The Silver Horseshoe haven’t stolen it too, have they?”

“I lost my pride along with my title. I only kept my armor and my brave face to force my way through a hapless search for revenge.” I scrunch up my muzzle, trying to not shed tears on reflection of my mistakes. “Either way, I’m a lost cause. My only option was to see if I could reclaim my honor through you and the Carrier Clan.” I deliberately face away from Wolf River in the hopes he can’t see me losing what little dignity I have left.

“You must have heard Aerial talking,” he says. “I’m the least honorable of the Carrier Clan. I have more blood to my name than the rest of them combined, and for all the wrong reasons.” I hear Wolf River’s chains rattle. He must have thrashed his hooves in frustration. “The life of a mercenary leaves scars on a pony. Figuratively and literally. I joined the Carrier Clan so I could leave all that behind me.”

I don’t respond, but I will admit that Wolf River once being a mercenary makes sense. His brutal fighting style and callousness in the act of murder... He must have been fantastic at his job.

“You inspired me to do it.”

My ears perk up. “Mercenary work?” I ask.

Wolf River lets out a snort of laughter. “Goodness, no. I joined the Carrier Clan because of you, the day after I met you.”

“We only met recently. You’ve been part of the Clan for several years, right?”

“Don’t you remember the second battle of Trottingham? Blackwing soldiers attempted a seizure of the town. I was there that night, on a contract. When the cannons started firing, I hid in an alleyway. Just when it seemed victory was within the Blackwings’ reach, I saw you. You led a small battalion of soldiers on an entire Blackwing army, and you won. I never saw a more beautiful sight.”

I hope he can’t see my blush. I may just die of further embarrassment. “By beautiful, you mean... my victory?”

“No.”

My cheeks cannot get any redder. No colt has ever humbled me like this, not even Oregano.

“I kept my eye on you, even when I couldn’t see you. Word of mouth, town criers, songs of your greatest battles, I followed it all. Your words and actions stuck with me, to the point where I wanted some of that honor you spoke of so fondly, but I’d never be allowed in the Imperial Legion. So, I ended my foolish life of murder for coin, and signed on with the Carrier Clan. Because of you, M’lady.”

All this flattery lifts my spirits, but I still feel it’s undeserved. “That was when I was a general. Now, I am nothing.”

“No, you’re everything. I want to help you, M’lady, because this land needs your warrior’s spirit more than ever. But...” Wolf River lets out a long sigh. “I have my own reasons. Most nights, I dreamt of fighting alongside you, seeing your grace and serenity on the battlefield up close and personal, and today, that dream came true.”

I’m... everything?

I can imagine that if Wolf River’s hooves weren’t bound, they would be touching my face at this moment, and I’d welcome it.

“I fell in love, Lady Tangerine.”

An involuntary gasp passes my lips. I turn my body over to find myself face to face with him, the black stallion I unintentionally inspired. He wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for me, and the vice versa applies to me.

“Wolf River...” I whisper, realizing I can feel his warm breath on my muzzle. “Do you think we were fated to meet?”

He answers by continuing his song.

“Like sorrowful seagulls they sang, lost in the deep shades the misty cloud brought...
Monstrous it covered the shore, fearful into the unknown...”

Despite the meaning of that song making little to no sense to me, it’s starting to draw my affection. I can’t help but find it fascinating, endearing, if not a little tragic and mysterious...

The clangs of metal sound out from beyond the door, and the cackles of those such sounds belong to are far too menacing to be the merry voices of an Carrier. It’s the Silver Horseshoe, no doubt come to finish us both.

The ajar door is shoved open by five figures. Two mares, three stallions, one of which wearing a zebra pelt as a hood. That one carries a war axe, like Wolf River, and the others have maces.

“Aha! The mongrel and his bitch,” says the one with the pelt. “Bad dogs deserved to be skinned, you know. Silver Tongue’s orders.” He gives his axe a playful swing, his grin becoming more sadistic. I don’t give him the satisfaction of appearing scared, because I’m not. He points his axe just inches from my face. “So, which one gets skinned first? I’ll let you decide, because I’m a nice colt.”

One of the mares is trotting in place with her mace in her mouth. “Come ooon, Butcher, just split their heads in half and get it overwith!” she says.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” says Butcher, nudging the blade against my cheek, just barely taking skin. “See, these dogs have sold their souls for power. They cannot feel pain. Isn’t that right, bitch?”

I spit in his eye. He wipes it away and backs off. “Okay, you were right. Let’s just kill these dogs.”

Thank the Divines. They’ve only said a few words and I’m already sick of their religious bullshit. Just kill me now so I don’t have to hear it. They surround us in formation with their weapons raised. Butcher closes his eyes and points the blade to the sky, or ceiling in this case.

“Dearest Epona, who art the mother and creator of ponykind, with our weapons in hoof we bring your will upon this accursed and impure world. May these mongrels forever suffer in Tartarus for their sins against you...”

I tune out his zealotus ranting long enough to gaze at Wolf River. He clears his throat and moves his muzzle against my ear. “Lady Tangerine, I need you to look into my eyes.” He then brings me face to face again.

I’m tempted to ask, ‘What? Why?’ and other one worded questions but given the dire circumstances, I’m forced to oblige.

Wolf River’s eyes are a brilliant shade of orange, something you might see at the beach on a summer’s eve. It’s an unusual color, and it’s uncannily vivid compared to the rest of his black body and crimson mane.

“You see?” he asks. I nod quickly as a response. “There’s something I have to show you.”

My eyes widen. “I don’t think now’s the best time-” His fierce glare shuts me up.

“I had hoped to avoid showing you so soon...” He closes his radiant orange eyes and clenches his teeth together, his breath hastening. When his eyelids open again, his whites are stained with red, veins showing and all.

The weapons over our heads don’t scare me, but seeing this sudden wave of... whatever this is... overcoming him causes me great panic. I shuffle away from his twitching body as much as I can. “Wolf River?”

“This is how far I went to claim my honor. This is how far you drove me to... to...” His fractured words turn into snarls. “This is the Carrier Clan’s greatest weapon...”

“Butcher?” One of the Silver Horseshoe mares breaks out of the formation to tug on the ringleader’s shoulder. “Look upon the black one.”

Butcher’s chanting comes to an end as he glances at Wolf River with suspicion, eyebrows askew. “What in the name of...” He jumps back as the thrashing stallion glares at him with his bloodshot eyes. “Oh, by Epona’s mane! Get back, you lot! Step away!”

One of the colts pipes up. “What are you doing?! Just kill him before-”

“No, it’s too dangerous!”

“Tangerine...”

My gaze keeps snapping back and forth from the panicking Silver Horseshoe pelters and Wolf River, who has his face in the dirt. That can’t be pleasant...

“Whatever you do... don’t look away... Promise me that...”

Despite the weight of the shackles, I manage to reach over and touch Wolf River’s hooves, nodding again. “I promise.” He smiles for a brief moment before he lets out a growl that makes my skin crawl.

His growls become less like a furious stallion’s and more like a beast’s by the moment. His muscles begin to flare as a black smoke protrudes forth from his mouth, enveloping his entire being. He begins to grow, the shackles shattering into pieces at his hooves... no, wait, they aren’t hooves anymore... claws?!

Wolf River’s muzzle extends and his teeth grow sharper. His lips curl before he shuts them and points his head to the ceiling, letting out a howl. The howl of a... wolf.

Claws gleaming in the torchlight, drool dripping from its teeth, with a coarse coat of fur black as night. I look upon the bipedal wolf that’s replaced the black stallion. My mouth hangs open as I try to scream, but my voice won’t come to me.

Butcher’s lip twitches before it curls into a smile. “I knew it.” He points his axe at the snarling wolf. “Silver Tongue will have the most valuable pelt of all. The pelt of a lycan.”

Lycan.

“KILL HIM!”

The enthusiastic mare is the first to pounce on the wolf’s back, wailing on it with her mace. The wolf shakes his back, knocking her off balance before he grabs ahold of her. With a single snarl, it slams her to the floor and swipes its claws across her chest, silencing her mad giggling.

Blood falls from the wolf’s claws and it laps it up greedily. It then turns to the two mook stallions and the remaining mare, its fangs flaring. It pounces on one of the colts, who strikes the wolf across the head with the mace. The wolf reels back from the impact and snaps right back, cracking its neck. The mace comes around for another blow. The wolf catches it with one hand and snaps it in half with one squeeze. It then sinks its teeth into the colt’s neck and tears it away.

As it chews the moist flesh, the last two pelters standing begin to show faces of sheer terror, for good reason. It doesn’t stop them from swinging blindly at the wolf. It grabs ahold of the mare by the leg and swings her around in the air before throwing her to the ceiling. Her face is frozen in horror as she is impaled on a stalactite.

The last pelter is knocked prone when the wolf slashes at him, taking a non-lethal amount of flesh away. It then snatches the colt, who screams in agony as the claws grip his head. His looks so tiny compared to the beast. So fragile. His head is squeezed like a cherry, his screams escalating until they’re cut short with the morbid sound of muscle and grey matter splattering over the wolf’s arms.

Butcher is trembling as he grips his axe, backing to the edge of the lake. His dripping sweat mixes with the murky water. “Monster...”

For a second, I swear I see the wolf smirk, before it leaps to Butcher in a single bound. Butcher cries out with his voice cracking, making one swing with his axe that only takes a layer of fur from the wolf. It grabs Butcher by the forelegs and slams his flailing form into the ground, then again from behind, and again, and again. It then looks at what remains of Butcher, a blubbering mess of dislocated limbs, bloated eyes and a broken jaw. With one last roar into Butcher’s torn ear, the wolf bites down on his face, tearing it off before chowing down on the rest of his broken form.

When silence finally reigns over the cave, I allow myself to let out the breath I’d been holding throughout that entire bloody display. The wolf hears my breath and approaches me. I avert my eyes, certain that this is the end for me. A bloody, unexplained, nonsensical end.

The wolf brings its claws down on my chains. The magical seal is broken and the shackles fall away in a useless heap. I don’t take the time to relish my freedom, only crawling away from the wolf as I struggle to my hooves, my swords laying useless off to the side.

I cringe in terror at the beast stalking towards me, blood dripping from its bared fangs, claws scraping the dirt. I can smell the copper on its breath as it leans over me, sniffing the air for the scent of my fear...

I dare to open my eyes when nothing happens. No claws or fangs or the silence of death. Instead, it’s... flinching? I look into its eyes, immediately overcome by an odd sense of trust.

“Wolf River, you’re...”

The beast nods as he raises his claws to his lips, wiping away the fresh blood. With that task finished, he hides his fangs. His brow uncurls and lips fall flat upon his muzzle. He slowly approaches, claws tucked away to reassure me that I have nothing to fear. Not that I am anymore, mind. Just... amazed and horrified at the same time.

Only his eyes, still colored the same warm orange, affirm that this is the same stallion that had stood next to me moments ago. I carefully reach out to him, hesitating for only a moment before he presses his cheek against my hoof. His fur is rough, much like how a wild animal’s hide should be.

He growls something that I have to strain my ears to hear properly. “Ly... caaaan...”

Lycan. I have read the stories. Ponies of black hue with the innate power to unleash an inner beast and sate their appetite for blood. If ponies in the Carrier Clan have that same coat...

I withdraw my hoof and back away at the revelation.

The Carrier Clan is a home to lycans.

Relieved that I’m no longer helpless in the face of death, I wrap my forelegs around Wolf River’s beastly muzzle and press my own against it.

This is how far he went for honor. Everything I ever did seems petty by comparison. He sacrificed his own body to such a grotesque enchantment just to prove his worth to the world... To me...

For lack of better judgment, I plant a kiss on his wet nose before letting go.

“So, was the whole point of this to kill Silver Tongue?” I ask.

Wolf River shakes his head. I look back at poor Hilt, his bloodied body still held in an undignified position on the cross.

“Was it to rescue him?”

Wolf River nods, prompting me to lower my head.

“Mission failed.” I look back at the stallion-wolf. “There’s nothing we can do for him now, I guess. We’ll give him his last rites when we return to-”

The door slams open again as another Silver Horseshoe leaps out with his eyes bulging and a tomahawk in hoof. Before Wolf River or I can react, he screams, “DIE, BITCH!” swinging downward with his tomahawk.

I roll to the headless corpse of one of Wolf River’s victims and find a belt of throwing knives on his armor. I grab one of the knives and toss it at the tomahawk colt. It lands dead center in his throat. Choking for air, he stumbles about before losing his balance and falling into the water, staining the murk red with his blood. “What a fool,” I boast.

Wolf River gasps, pointing behind me. “What? What is it?” I turn around, going in a full circle before I realize I’m quite dizzy, everything leaving afterimages as my vision sways. I look back again and realize the problem isn’t behind me. It’s embedded in my back.

“Oh, that’s... inconvenient.” I touch the handle of the tomahawk, moving it slightly. I feel no pain, only the lurch of my flesh shifting as the metallic taste of blood falls on my tongue. I collapse.

~Vision End~

~Tohro~

The palace blacksmith is a very disagreeable fellow. He keeps giving me glares of a deathly kind every time I open my mouth, and frankly, I think he could snap me in two if I were to cross him.

“So, he didn’t buy any swords?” I ask.

“For the third time, no,” says the smith as he sets a pair of bracers on the workbench and levitates a hammer to pound them. “He just purchased a mound of steel ore and took off without another word. Didn’t even try to barter.”

“Right, right... Did you see where he went?”

Another glare. “No. Now are you buying, or are you leaving?”

I take the latter.

Searching for a Dragonborn can only stay fun for so long. How hard can it be to find one ripped turquoise earthwalker? When you have conflicting directions from the servants, soldiers and other palace dwellers, the answer is very.

“I believe I saw him traversing the nuns’ quarters.”
“He was loitering by the cafeteria.”
“I caught a glimpse of him at the royal gardens.”

I follow through on every direction I’m pointed in and I’m met with disappointment every time. Eventually, I begin to forget why I’m even trying to find the big bugger. Something having to do with sweetrolls?

The best advice I get comes in the form of the hooded princess, who catches my eye when I see she’s carrying a robe clad Shae over her back.

“A piggyback ride from the gorgeous Princess Celina? Color me green with envy.”

She giggles, nodding to the lavender unicorn. “Shae was just overcome with a light head. She’ll be fine.” Shae stirs, mumbling something about corn under her breath. Celina pets her mane affectionately and she goes quiet. “I guess... you could say I found an unlikely friend in her.”

Unfortunately, my concerns don’t lie with the little mare at the moment. I drop my smile. “Your highness, have you seen Caro anywhere? He seems to have dropped off the face of the world.”

“Yes, actually. I just saw him going towards the lake with Pyro and Ember, uh, two unicorn soldiers.” One of those names is familiar to me. “Why? Is something wrong?”

I don’t answer, instead I rack my brain for where I heard one of those names... Brings back memories of bloodied clothes, an enraged earthwalker and... Jade.

Oh, shit.

Without any courtesy, I spread my wings and leap past the princess, galloping through the palace halls. I ascend a flight of stairs, kicking up the dresses of several nuns in the process, and take the nearest exit into the palace gardens. I send flower petals flying in my wake as I travel into the woods.

I know Caro better than most at this point. He has a blatant disregard for authority and he doesn’t listen to conventional reasoning. Combine that with a sick desire for blood he can only keep under wraps at the best of times, and you’ve got one brutal warrior. If this is the same Pyro that I’m thinking of, this won’t end well for him and his friend, nor Caro, me and Shae.

I channel my inner spider monkey and leap from tree to tree, keeping my steps light just in case my stallion is below. Eventually I make it to the lake.

There’s Caro, with satchel in hoof, washing his face (Finally putting that soap to use). There are no blood stains on the grass or red in the water, so I know he hasn’t done anything nasty... yet. Pyro and... Ember, was it? Yes. They’re both nowhere to be seen. Perhaps Caro didn’t recognize them and just engaged in casual conversation? No, it’s never that simple. I perk up my ears and snap my body closer to the branch, listening in on his words.

“...and then I said, ‘Oatmeal, are you crazy?’”

His orphaned punchline is met with laughter. Pyro and Ember, the same ones from outside Trottingham, emerge from out of view, fully clad in Imperial armor with broadswords over their shoulder. “I agree, mate,” says Ember. “Those prison guards are a riot, ain’t they?”

Caro drapes a wet rag across his neck. “Truly, truly outrageous. But, then again, you can’t expect them to be entirely sane, having to deal with rambunctious criminal scum all day.”

“Speaking of which,” says Pyro, giving Caro a friendly punch to the wither, “congratulations on tackling that Blackwing pegasus. I looked through our records, and it turns out that one in particular has been on our list for a while. He’s quite the skilled assassin.”

“Is that so?”

Give Caro some credit, he’s quite good at feigning stupidity when the situation calls for it, or maybe Pyro and Ember are just incredibly gullible. Like I could be captured that easily...

“So, they’re calling you Dragonborn? What exactly does that mean?” asks Ember.

Caro sighs, laughing as he has to explain this again. He’s been telling his tale ever since we got here. “Okay, okay. I’m a descendant of dragons, and I can understand their language and use their vocal powers without years of training. I also, apparently, have the ability to absorb their souls.”

“Bloody hell,” mutters Pyro. “You don’t learn that in Wintercolt Academy.” He approaches Caro and places his hoof on his wither. “Still, I guess this means Everfree is safe from the beasties. Watch out, scale skins! You have freezing fire? We have the bloody Dragonborn, slayer of monsters!” Caro joins Pyro in a victorious bout of laughter.

Relief begins to wash over me, especially in light of what I expected this to come to. When Caro looked upon those two after what they did to Jade, he looked as though he could grab ahold of Pyro, disarm him of his broadsword, punch him in the jugular so he couldn’t scream, and snap his neck.

Oh, bloody hell, he just did that.

Ember can only stand still with his jaw on the ground. “What the fu-”

Despite being of greater stature, Ember is effortlessly thrown against a nearby tree. Caro pins him to the tree, holding him completely still. He must be under a serious bout of adrenaline. He drags the broadsword across Ember’s neck slowly, cutting only just enough to not strike anything vital.Ember, being a battle hardened soldier, only lets out a few grunts. Knowing Caro, he’ll want to hear him scream... I tense up, dreading what he’ll do next.

Ember moves his free hoof to strike Caro across the chest, knocking him prone as he draws his sword. Caro then does the oddest thing. He stands on his hind legs, spreading his forelegs out and beckoning for Ember to come at him. The soldier obliges, casting a fireball from his horn. Caro sidesteps, falling for the bait as Ember swings his sword into his path. Caro backs away with a gash in his chest. As he begins to bleed, he puts on his sadist face, dabbling his hoof his blood and lapping it up with his forked tongue... forked tongue?! When did that happen?

Ember looks understandably disturbed. He snaps out of his trance and readies his sword again, making a diagonal swing. Caro reaches out, grabbing the flat of the blade, moving down to the hilt and slamming his hooves into Ember’s, forcing him to drop the sword. Caro snatches it from the air.

Now he’s standing on two legs with a broadsword in each hoof, with Ember in a defensive stance before him. Caro leaps into the air, bucking him upside the head. He then raises the swords and slams them into Ember’s forelegs. Now he’s screaming.

Caro‘s sadistic smirk grows wider and more nightmarish. “What’s the matter? I thought you’d find this hilarious!”

“This... isn’t... funny...”

The nightmare face becomes blank and emotionless. That’s even more disturbing. “Lots of things aren’t funny.” Caro rips the swords out of Ember’s forelegs and suplexes the soldier onto his back. With two well placed swings, he weakens his armor. He places his hooves under the seams and rips off Ember’s chestplate. He then proceeds to wail on him, landing precise blows into his chest and stomach until the soldier is blue with bruises.

I have a sinking feeling this can only get worse.

“Lying on the ground, a stallion tearing you apart, unable to do anything to defend yourself, the fear of death looming over your head!” The turquoise earthwalker stops his punching to put on the guise of a damsel in distress. “Oh, Epona! When will this all end?” He grabs Ember by the scruff of his neck. “Sound familiar?!”

Ember‘s eyes, already wide from the pain, open further. “Is... Is this about that Blackwing whore?”

“You finally get it!” Caro yells with pride, sending chills up my spine. From his pouch, he brings out a hunk of steel ore. “Here’s your prize, you depraved bastard!” He raises it over Ember’s head and drops it. A sickening crunch rings out as it shatters Ember’s horn into pieces. Faint espers of magic escape the broken mound on his head as he screams at the sky.

Caro then positions himself over Ember’s body, taking a deep breath. “YOL TOOR SHUL!”

That’s all I can take. I avert my eyes as Ember’s cries of pain escalate and the smell of burning flesh fills the air. Eventually, the screaming dwindles into choking, and finally stops entirely, granting my ears solace.

I then hear metal scraping along the grass, followed by the splash of water. Then another one. Caro must be dumping the soldiers' bodies in the lake. Their armor will drag them down to the bottom. Provided the lake is deep, I doubt their corpses will be found for a long time.

I finally gather the courage to look again and see Caro with a dissonant look of contentment. He hums merrily to himself as he cleans the blood off the broadswords, sheathing them and putting the ore away.

As he walks away from the scene of murder, he licks his lips maliciously with his forked tongue.

I don't know this side of Caro. All I see in him at this moment is a fearsome beast determined to consume all who oppose him.

Like a dragon.

XVIII - Heart of a Wolf (NSFW)

CHAPTER XVIII - HEART OF A WOLF

~Tangerine~

“Niiiiiightfaaaaaall, quietly crept in and changed us all...
Niiiiiightfaaaaaall, immortal land lies down in agony.”

Despite the ever present disturbance of the hatchet buried in my back, I manage to laugh at that last one. “I suppose Butcher was the ‘immortal land’ in that case, eh?”

Wolf River chuckles, though I have the feeling he’s just doing it to humor me. It really wasn’t that funny. I sigh and lose myself in my pillow. I’ve been laying still on this bed for a full day with this accursed weapon inside of me. Had I only been a little bit faster...

Come to think of it, though, what would have happened had I not taken this hatchet? Wolf River was standing right next to me. Would he have taken it in a much more vital area and ended up in a worse state than I? Or perhaps... No, I must not think such things

A few days ago, Wolf River was merely a caretaker for me, convincing the other Carriers to put up with my bullshit long enough for me to stick around another dull, alcohol drenched day. Aside from the occasional sporting brawl, nothing ever happens in Horsevaskr. It’s my definition of hell.

Well, at least it used to be.

Now I find its crude and ancient wooden age design charmingly rustic. All these bedridden hours have given me significant time to appreciate the trophies, pelts, stone art and weaponry upon the walls. These are all relics of another age. Wolf River has told me such an age was filled with mayhem and chaos, but the prizes, in my mind, make it worthwhile.

So, now Horsevaskr actually means something to me. Doubly so for Wolf River. I’ve had long enough to reflect on his words to know that, underneath that battle hardened exterior, he loves me. It’s uncanny to think so, especially since I don’t know him half as well as I wish, but I’m, well, honored. I’ve never felt quite like this before.

I can’t say I feel the same way for him. I don’t know him well enough. But, I’d like to. That’s why I can’t control my blush as he sees fit to lay on the bed with me.

I turn to Wolf River and ask something that’s been on my mind for a while. “How did you become a lycan, anyway?”

He touches his hoof to his lips for a moment. “It’s an old blood ritual. I drank a powerful concoction that only the finest alchemists in Equestria dare attempt. Its ingredients, poison joke, wolf blood, liquid pride, are incredibly difficult to obtain, but we carry plenty of them. Most of the time.”

Examining the scars upon his face brings another question about. “Did you get any of those scars as a wolf?”

“To tell the honest truth, most of the smaller ones, here,” he gestures to his neck, “are self inflicted. The first transformation is always the hardest, especially considering I was only a child when I did it, but in the end, I’d say it was worth it. I’d never have survived the highlands without the blood of the wolf.”

He keeps delving into a time I had the (apparent) fortune of never witnessing, but that makes me all the more curious. “Tell me about Equestria before the immigration.”

He nods. “If you listened to the song, you’d understand what it was like; absolute disarray. Ponykind was torn apart, segmented into different tribes. The Carrier Clan was one of those tribes, obviously. They occupied this segment of the old land since their creation. The gryphons ruled the northern lands and mountains. In fact, Ezio’s death aside, they still do, albeit shattered these days. They enslaved most of the smaller tribes, forcing them into prostitution and petty thievery. Then there were the minotaurs, oh my... They have a fierce temper.”

“And pride that rivals my own?” I ask.

Wolf River spreads his forelegs wide. “Out to here and beyond the border! The gryphons at least allowed for free travel. One step into the minotaur’s land and...” He imitates the motion of a hammer swinging into a small foe and flattening them. “Yes. But they kept to themselves. The worst of the lot, however, was the changeling hive. They’re subdued these days, in fact, I daresay they’ve disappeared entirely. All they ever did,” he slams his hooves together for punctuation, “feed, infect, enslave! Didn’t matter how many you killed, they’d just hatch ten more for each.”

This expositional onslaught leaves the black stallion panting, albeit with a smile on his face. It’s like he looks upon those hellish times with nostalgia.

“It sounds absolutely brutal. Do you... miss those days?”

Another one of his hearty laughs shakes the bed. “Part of my heart does yearn for the old days of fighting for survival, but I’ve given peace a chance. You foreigners brought order into this land. It’s like, I just woke one morning and all of the chaos just,” he casts hoof out into the distance, “went away.”

“What peace? What order? We’re in a bloody civil war.”

“Well, it’s the thought that-”

The door slides open, and a face I had never wished to see again enters with her snooty nose pointed towards the ceiling. “Good evening, Wolf River. Sorry I took all day, Equinesreach has been a madhouse- Oh.”

Had I the Thu‘um, I would be breathing fire by now. “Drake,” I hiss through my teeth. The good jarl’s eyes are darting about. I bet she’s panicking on the inside. She should be.

“Tangerine." She turns to Wolf River and speaks in a hushed voice, though I can hear every word. “Just when I think the liquid glass has all of you figured out, fate changes direction. Wolf River, you know I love you and the rest of the Carriers, but... Well, I think this is a little beyond me.”

“‘Tis but a hatchet, My Jarl. You’ve removed far worse. I recall, you put Roches right as rain when he took an arrow in-”

“-the shoulder. Yes, I remember.” She sighs and faces the ground, letting out a pathetic chuckle. “Damn you. This is what Boysenberry and I get for being the only unicorns in this accursed town.”

I hate her and her pretentious manner. She pretends as though she‘s never at fault for anything. And there was that controversial incident with the child, lifting him from a bandit‘s hive without returning him to his parents. I wonder how many more children she’s put under ‘surprise adoption’?

“ACK!”

I drag my hooves across the bed as she examines the hatchet with her levitation magic. “Okay, this should be an easy removal.” She frowns. “It’s what will happen afterward that concerns me.”

I push words out between bouts of pain. “You... didn’t think the same... at Ghastly Gorge...”

I want to give Drake an earful of how much her liquid glass affinity royally screwed over the Imperial Legion, but her green aura stroking my mane silences me. “Calm yourself, Tangerine. Neither of us serve the Empire anymore, so let’s not have any old wounds fester. I don’t want to have this bad blood between us, and besides...” She fans the air in front of her nose. “You can’t really afford to lose much more.”

It’s tempting to argue with her, but she has a point. I am still awfully dizzy. A few more drops lost and I may not wake up again. I hold my tongue for now, and just nod my head.

Drake reciprocates and steps closer to me. “Okay, the best way to do this is to remove it slowly so you don’t go into shock. Once it’s out, I’ll freeze the wound to prevent bleeding. Boysenberry gave me,” she counts under her breath as she shuffles through her pouch, “ten healing potions to heal the gash, that should be more than enough.”

She left an item out of that roster. My ears perk up. “What about anesthesia?

“Do you have any idea how expensive that is?” Drake nickers. “Not in this economy, and the spell is very difficult to learn. No, let us spare the coin for a little bit of pain, shall we?”

I can’t argue with that either. Even the Imperial Legion’s had to recycle armor and weapons with this inflation. As such, I relax and brace myself for the inevitable agony of Drake performing the operation on me. The hatchet? Not so awful by comparison. I brace myself as her horn begins to glow a forest green.

“Okay, commencing hatchet removal in three... two...”

She doesn’t say one.

“AARAAGH! WANDERER RAPING ARAMIS WITH HIS HORN!” Yes, it’s somewhat painful.

I look up at Drake through squinted eyes and see her resisting the urge to burst out laughing. Wolf River backs away and retracts his ears.

The door is shoved open as Aerial and Roches gallop inside. “Is Lady Tangerine well?” asks the former, surveying the awkward scene Drake and I must be making.

The hatchet moves upwards again, grinding against my muscle and flesh. I let out a scream before I descend into profanity again. “YES! I’M ABSOLUTELY FAN-FUCKING-TASTIC!”

The pain begins to dwindle for a moment as Drake’s horn lets off a second layer of green. “If you would kindly falter with the blaspheme, I need to take this out entirely.”

I grimace, tears threatening to burst forth from my squinting eyelids. “Mother... fucking...” None of my Imperial training ever braced me for pain of this sort. I hate this... But, when I feel Wolf River’s warm touch and see his perfect smile brightening up the room, I can’t help but feel a little bit braver. To my surprise, he presses his muzzle to my cheek. When Drake grunts, finally yanking the hatchet out of my body, I don’t feel a thing.

However, I do find myself shivering as she freezes the blood draining from the gash. The icy grip holding the skin of my back together feels unnatural and taxing, not to mention goosebump inducing. Despite that, with the hatchet set away in the corner and Wolf River embracing me, I feel much more fortunate now than I did a few minutes ago. I let out an elongated sigh of relief. “Oh, thank Luna...”

The mutterings of the other Clan members and Jarl Drake’s chuckling go silent, all of them staring my way.

“What?” I ask, holding my hooves out in confusion.

After a very uncomfortable few moments pass, Aerial speaks. “Who is Luna?”

“Nobody. I don’t...” Why did I say that? “I don’t know any Luna...” Why did I bloody say that? “Slip of the tongue.”

Hearing the clink of a vial, I notice Drake dangling a couple red healing potions next to my head. I take one and drain it in a few gulps. Already I can feel the wound closing. I chug down a few more glasses of the red concoction just to be certain. As a little bit of it dribbles from my lips, Wolf River wipes it away. I smile. “That’s quality alchemy, right there.”

Drake summons an orb of water and washes her hooves clean, even though they hardly did any of the work. “Shame. I was looking forward to torturing you a tad longer.” She looks to Wolf River. “Will that be all?”

He doesn’t take his eyes off me. “Thank you, My Jarl.”

She bows to him. “Safety and peace, Wolf River.”

“And also with you.”

“And you... and you...” Drake bows to Aerial and Roches, receiving their bows before leaving the room.

As Roches’ gaze moves from Drake to me, he asks, “It’s good to see you made it out of the Cairn alive. Nopony has dared set hoof in there for some time, for fear of being pelted.”

There’s a grimace from Aerial. “The Silver Horseshoe are sick fucks, if you’ll pardon my mouth. Clearly you’ll need a true huntress at your side next time.”

“And another warrior, one who isn’t prone to revealing his secrets so easily,” says Roches, knocking Wolf River with his elbow.

I raise my head in surprise. “They know?”

Wolf River’s laugh rings out once again. “General, the whole Clan knows. Jarl Drake knows, Boysenberry knows, everypony in Trottingham knows! We couldn’t very well keep our wolf blood under wraps for very long. We couldn’t afford to. Secrets need to be made known if there is to be any trust amongst ponykind.” He sighs and relaxes his head against the pillow. “Such is the way of the twilight age.”

“The deed is done, Wolf River, you don’t need to justify it.” Aerial shows off her wings. “Hey, Tangerine, you think the lycan transformation is nasty enough? These babies have to retract every time I turn. You have any idea how painful that is?”

I snort. “About as painful as removing a hatchet from your back?”

“I was going to say giving birth to a full grown minotaur, but that works too.” Her expression turns alarmed. “Tangerine, you’re bleeding again.”

My heart jumps as I feel traces of foul smelling red running down my body. Wolf River, eyes bulging, picks up another potion and passes it to me. He keeps hold of it as I drink greedily, then takes a damp cloth to clean the blood from the bed.

I can feel my skin reconnecting. “No doubt I’ll have a nasty scar after it’s finished. Then again, I suppose it’s high time I get one.” My track record for grave injuries in battle is pleasantly small, especially considering my old line of work. A nick or bruise never stuck with me for long. “This will be a good story to tell Nutmeg and Cinnamon.” A sudden sinking feeling strikes me. I look to Roches, recalling that he had escorted Rosemary to the villa, and given the lack of bite wound, I can assume it went well. “You.. didn’t let it slip to my young ones I’ve been sacked from the Legion, right?”

Roches nods. “Not a mention of it passed my lips, and Rosemary said she’d keep her mouth shut about it just the same.”

“Good. They’d lose all faith in me if they knew... Some secrets need to be kept.”

“They admire you, I see,” says Wolf River.

“True heroes are hard to come across these days, and I wish to keep the guise of one long enough so Nutmeg and Cinnamon can pursue their dreams of being Imperial soldiers. Like me and their father, Oregano.”

Aerial cocks her brow. “Oregano Von Spice is your husband? I thought he died in the battle of Ghastly...” She looks to where Drake had left the room, her face frozen. “Oh...”

Wolf River starts brushing my unkempt mane out of my eyes. I assume he thinks I’m going to cry for my late husband, but no. Beyond being the father to my children and the brief pit of loss I felt when he perished, his memory means little to me.

“I’ve lost a lot, you know. I lost my husband, Rosemary’s respect, my job, my honor... The last thing I need is to lose Nutmeg and Cinnamon.”

Roches chuckles, obviously trying to lighten the mood. “You’ve lost a lot of blood too. Could have sworn you were bleeding honor.”

I turn my head and see that the potions have done their job, and my back has been healed over, with a scar as I predicted. Albeit sore, I can easily move to face upwards. After many hours, such a change of view is glorious. “I... I don’t talk about honor that much, do I?”

Roches and Aerial exchange nervous glances.

“Well, I think everything’s in order-”
“I need to put the kettle on-”
“Polish the sheep-”
“Sheer my blade-”
“Sharpen my fetlocks-”
“Is it raining again?”

They ramble on long after they awkwardly leave the room, bumping into each other as they pass the door. Wolf River closes it shut and scratches his head quite adorably.

“You, uh, do, a little bit.”

“I see.” If anypony but Wolf River were to tell me that, I’d take offense to it. “So, Aerial and Roches are lycans too?”

Wolf River nods. “They have wolf blood, yes. Scar too. Anypony that carries that blood has a coat black as night. It’s how we identify our fellow lycan. We have a... spiritual connection, you see. There has never been a struggle between lycans. We are all brethren in arms and blood.” He holds his hoof over my chest, looking at me for permission. I nod, and he places his hoof over my heart. “If you join us, you are welcome to become one with our inner circle, and become a lycan like the rest of us.”

“Oh my...” My memory brings forth every brutal kill that Wolf River made in Dustcolt’s Cairn. I’d never seen such brutality, such beauty, and I could have that power in my hooves if I desired it. I would be unstoppable. No foe would dare face me if they valued their continued existence...“I can’t.”

Wolf River’s ears drop, his eyes filled with disappointment. He closes his eyes and removes his hoof. “I understand.”

I hate seeing him with such a sad face. I grab hold of his hoof and place it back on my chest, looking straight at him. “I never said I wouldn’t join the Clan.” I lift one hoof and press it to Wolf River’s cheek, then moving downward to stroke the nape of his neck. His left hind leg gives an involuntary kick as he purrs.

The euphoria I see his smile and wide eyes reminds me of how he feels for me, and how long he‘s probably waited for this, doubting it could ever happen. “Wolf River...” I whisper. “Do you love me?”

“Yes,” he says sternly, without pause.

"I see...”

There’s a silent moment where I, with a face of pleasant surprise, and Wolf River, still keeping one of happiness, just gaze at each other. It’s then that I realize the curtains to the one window are pulled shut, and the candlelight is beginning to dim. As such, there’s nopony to hold this against me. I move my muzzle forward and kiss Wolf River. His lips are rough, like the rest of his body. They’re sandpaper against mine, but in a pleasant way, like a rough massage.

When we part, Wolf River presses his forehead against mine affectionately and wraps me in another one of his signature embraces. His armor is cold against my bare coat, but I show no discomfort. “You have no idea...”

“How much this means to you?” I mutter into his ear.

Oh, Epona... He’s trembling. I must have dropped an emotional chandelier on his head with that gesture. He moves his muzzle to press up against my own, tickling me with his breath.“I wouldn’t be here, in Horsevaskr, surrounded by my spiritual family, if it weren’t for you.”

I grace his cheeks with my hooves. “And I couldn’t be happier right now.” I kiss him again, slower this time.

I won’t go on an extended rant about how I truly feel, because I lot of emotions are flying through my head at this moment that I can’t fully describe in sane tongue, but two things are clear to me:

I care for Wolf River very much...

...and I want to make love to him.

I push further into the kiss, slipping my tongue between his lips. I feel a twinge of disappointment when he pulls away. His breaths are intensifying in speed, something I can’t help but find arousing. “Ah... Are we really doing this?” His nervous tone merged with his deep voice is dissonantly adorable.

I say yes with a peck on the tip of his muzzle, giving him a sultry gaze.

That’s all the provocation he needs. “Okay.” He turns around, and I press my cheek up against him from behind. His hooves clumsily fiddle with the buckles of his armor. In the heat of the moment, they must be like enchanted locks to him.

Being so sure of my decision, I’m calm enough to reach around and guide his trembling hooves to undo the buckles. As soon as the last click sounds out, his armor easily slides off his body, mail and all. An audible gasp leaves my mouth as I run my hooves over his toned figure.

“Do these muscles come with the wolf’s blood?” I playfully jape, tracing circles into his chest before I begin to move them lower.

“Decades of service to the Clan made this body, M’lady.”

Even with my hooves groping his flanks and his breath nearing hyperventilation, Wolf River remains calm in spirit, and polite as ever. I can’t imagine him trying a play at dirty talk, which is just fine with me. Him calling me ‘M’lady’ is raunchy enough.

I finally have a view of his mark, a wolf’s paw. That makes sense enough. “Did you get that after your first transformation?” He nods, reaching his forelegs back to slide underneath my undergarment and touch my shield mark. His fierce grip causes me to shudder.

For a while, we continue to grope each other. Wolf River’s breath has finally steadied. I had started to fear I’d give him a heart attack. I may just do so now, when I raise my hooves to his chest one last time before forcing them lower than before.

I feel a new warmth underneath his cloth. He lets out a hushed moan and nuzzles deeper against my cheek, forcing a childish giggle out of me.

Brushing along him, I feel Wolf River’s excitement growing and stiffening. Given his stalwart figure, it only makes sense he’d be of respectable size underneath. I massage his length, caressing it at the peak and moving downward, then back.

An elongated gasp breaks the romantic silence, making my own nethers begin to tingle. It makes me realize how much time has passed since I last coupled with another pony... I’ve only ever had Oregano. What we defined as making love was a single act of direct coitus, a cup of tea and a good night’s sleep. We performed that routine as many times as I’ve given birth: just the three.

That was an act of duty. What I’m doing to Wolf River right now, feeling every inch of his sacred blade, this is passion.

I ask in brief, “That's nice?”

His expression is contorted into one of joy, ecstasy and ‘I can’t believe this is happening’. He lightly kisses me before saying, “Your touch is as gentle and compassionate as I imagined.” I give him an extra strong stroke and laugh on the inside as he purses his lips. “I’m... I’m getting a little close.”

I reluctantly remove my hooves from his warmth and put pressure into his shoulders while whispering sensually into his ear. “You’re not, what’s the peasant phrase, ‘one and done’, are you?”

“No, no...” He turns his torso back towards me, giving me a better view of his toned chest and very nearly making me swallow my tongue. I don’t relent on my massage, though. “I just... I want to remember this.”

I hear him well, but my eyes remain glued to his muscles. I can’t help myself. I press my face up against them and absorb the scent of Wolf River’s natural musk. It brings a smile to my cheeks and another twinge to my nethers. “You’ll...” I gasp as my legs involuntarily shift. “You’ll remember. I promise.”

As he slowly descends onto his back with my coaxing push, I grace my muzzle along his body. I tenderly kiss his muscles, then I find myself kissing the inside of his leg as I remove his undergarments. His pride is revealed to me.

I send a silent prayer to Nebula, thanking him for Wolf River’s bountiful feast, and begin to consume. My tongue prods the end, then envelopes the rest of the head, followed by my mouth. Steadily, I work my way down, first indulging on how much I can take. When the length grazes my throat, threatening to slip below, I slowly release my mouth’s grip, though my saliva, as well as my tongue, remain on the sacred blade.

The dim candlelight emphasizes the embarrassingly large smile on Wolf River’s face. Part of me finds it hilarious, and the other finds it oddly attractive, and proud I’ve brought such pleasure to him with a single dive. I return my focus to his length and wrap my lips around it again. I glaze his shaft with eager puckering and tracings of my tongue before diving again and pulling back up.

Wolf River exhales with a slight hum every time I dive. “L-Lady Tangerine...” I draw my sultry gaze to him every so often, pausing the movement of my head to let him relax. His awkward disposition has faded, now much more dignified as he relaxes his head on the crest of the bed, wearing shut eyes and and a perfectly content smile, though his nostrils flare with each breath I make on his blade.

My tongue reaches out for him again but his hoof stops me. “Please, I...” His words are mere gasps between his heated breaths. “I... I don’t want to finish just yet.”

“V-Very well...” I’m gasping too. Why is that? Only now am I aware of the rotating motions of my own right hoof, involuntarily traveling across the lips of my nethers. It seems I’ve become more aroused than I previously thought, as I can already feel my moisture slipping from the slit. The idea of Wolf River seeing me committing masturbation, something I’ve been unable to do for several years, is unbearably humiliating, yet at the same time I don’t wish to stop. If he loves me so, then... then this must be a treat for him to witness. Why shouldn’t I show my need to him?

Depraved as it may look, I relish leaning back on the bed with my hoof further pushing onto my sweet, breaching the lips and gracing the sensitive flesh on the inside. Having not felt this in ages, the lightheaded feeling that comes over me feels unfamiliar. My vision goes sideways for an instant before I lean forward again, into Wolf River’s embrace. His touch alone is driving me mad.

“Beautiful,” he says when my hyperventilating ends. His grip is firm yet gentle. I’ve mentioned before that Wolf River reminds me more of a bear than a canine, given his massive size. Given how vulnerable I feel at the moment, that truth is exemplified. This is wonderful. Against Wolf River I feel warm, safe, and, pardon my language, hornier than the combined populous of every unicorn in Equestria and Gran Magus combined.

Another desperate moan escapes me as I feel Wolf River’s length brush up against my moist and trembling nethers. They yearn for him, and so do I. I speak to him with my eyes, telling him in silence, I want this.

He obliges by gently easing me onto my back with his forelegs supporting my entire body. I’m at his mercy, completely helpless, and I love it. While his sacred blade teases my need, his stalwart frame shields my body from the candlelight. He lays tender kisses along my cheek before landing one on my lips, then slides his head down my neck.

“What are you- AH!” Equal parts pain and pleasure erupt from the point on which he bites down. His teeth are hardly as sharp as one would expect from a lycan, but I expect a tender bruise to come of this, not that I mind. I want a reminder of this moment.

When the pain comes to an unbearable peak, I snap. I grab Wolf River’s head and coax it into facing mine. “Wolf...” I force my muzzle against his, sending my tongue to touch his. I feel his saliva and mine merge together into a wonderful, delicious mess that hangs by a thread when our lips part. Fully synchronized, we kiss again before I give him possibly my most sultry gaze of the night. All dignity is lost for me. I need to be ravaged. He’s the hunter, and I’m his prey. For once, I don’t mind playing the victim.

He pauses, probably not having expected to see such a profane show from a noblemare, but I’ve lost the ability to care. I’m no noblemare. I’m Wolf River’s. He can do whatever he wishes to me, and I will gladly enjoy it.

With a single true thrust of his hips, his length passes between my lips and courses through my insides, sending an echoing wave of warmth and pleasure through my body and forcing me to purr. Finding how far he can go, Wolf River slowly removes himself from me, leaving the tip kissing my entrance before he moves forward again. “Oooah...” I moan. My hind legs drag across the blankets and my chest presses itself closer against his.

His slow yet gradual thrusts coax more purring from my mouth. Every time his body presses up against my nethers with his pride fully embedded within me, I can’t help but call out with a gasp, coo or a soft “Yes...” I say that as if this a triumph. A huge success. In a way, it is, finally letting go for the first time in many years and experiencing this sort of pleasure. Sweaty, desperate, profane pleasure, sure, but pleasure nonetheless. It’s more of a triumph for Wolf River, finally taking the one he’s felt unrequited love for. He’s probably dreamed of this, ravaging me, making me call out his name. I can’t even hold onto him any longer. I let my forelegs rest on the bed above my head.

I’ve decided to surrender my entire body to him. Despite being so disoriented from his passionate netherhumping, I manage to choke out, “H-here... l-like this...” Still with his throbbing pride held deep within me, I raise a single leg and turn over, giving Wolf River a healthy view of my toned back and bum. He takes the hint with a flustered “Ooh,” wraps his forelegs underneath mine and crosses them over my breast.

I peek back at his red face and nod. “I... I’m ready...” His broad thrusts resume, coating me in more waves of intimate pleasure as my nethers coat him in warm arousal, further intensified by feeling his hot breath on my neck.

I feel so right in so many ways. My innards pulsate every time they feel Wolf River force his way inside. My own moisture coats my legs, playing to my arousal at the sense of touch. My neck still burns from the bite, and that sweet pain is exemplified when I bite down on my lower lip hard enough to tear skin. This all compiles together into a mounting tower of climatic fury that swells throughout my nethers and my head, quickly enveloping the rest of my body.

Finally, like a pebble striking water’s surface, that fury releases. I come, sending more scalding moisture forth from my lips onto Wolf River’s shaft as my moaning reaches operatic heights. It then settles into gradually slowing gasps for air.

“What... what a... gentlecolt... letting me finish first...” I turn back over slightly, reaching out to grasp Wolf River. He guides my hoof and places it to his cheek, letting me feel how warm it is. He then presses my hoof to his heart. It refuses to beat slowly in my presence.

My mind wanders back to the fully aroused length throbbing at my entrance. I return to my submissive position with my rear hiked. “Don’t let that stop you... Please...” I glance back at Wolf River as he positions his hooves on my flanks. “For me...”

All it takes is two thrusts for his sacred blade to twitch and cast forth its large, unforgivingly powerful spell within me. Wolf River’s load tugs at my nerves and forces another climax out of me. I’m caught by surprise and can only purse my lips, preserving my depraved moaning until all that remains is a gasp.

Whilst all that happens, Wolf River, who has been mostly silent for this whole encounter, lets out a howl that quickly turns animalistic and fierce midway through. His body and his length grow in size as he undergoes transformation into a wolf once again. I hiss as my insides adjust for his sudden growth in thickness. “Oh, poor dear... Did you lose control?”

“Stuck...” he speaks in growls. I laugh aloud at the sheer absurdity of all this, but all things considered, despite having an Epona-damned wolf inside of me, this was a triumph indeed. It matters little if he’s stuck. Any excuse to get closer to him until his transformation reverts is fine by me, and even then, who says we have to stop?

It’s the dead of night now. The candlelight has entirely dimmed, leaving only those with keen knowledge of this room able to move about it. It’s fine, though. I don’t intend on leaving. I hardly plan on even setting hoof off this bed.

After Wolf River had calmed himself down and reverted to a more manageable size, we had taken a brief pause to share a glass of peach flavored mead. It was quite tart, but in a good way. After that, we locked lips, made love again, rested for a moment, then made love another time.. It continued along those lines for a while. Each screaming climax was just as satisfying and rewarding as the last. It was the fourth time we had a simultaneous release that Wolf River finally fell asleep, and the last thing he muttered was his official declaration of love for me.

That declaration is why I’m awake now, finishing the last of the peach mead. The last drop falls onto my tongue and I set the glass on the bedside table.

I ask myself more than once if I love him. As I look back at the sleeping stallion, his appearance coming across as more beastly than before, I search my heart for the answer, and come to a conclusion that’s sensical, if not disappointing.

No. I don’t.

That’s not to say I feel nothing for him, otherwise I wouldn’t have let him ravish me. I’m a mare with taste, dammit.

The definite emotion here is respect. Yes, that's it. More than anything, I respect Wolf River. He has power, but no ulterior motive for which to use it, and he's unafraid to admit he has faults. Me, however... I'm quite the braggart at the best of times, aren't I? I talk of honor and authority when all I am is a mare that's too thick headed for need of a helmet. Yet, when the cards fall in the enemy’s favor, I’m quick to accept defeat, whereas Wolf River stands tall and refuses to die.

Despite our differences, we both fight for the same thing: the well-being of our families. Wolf River is everything I wish I could be and at the same time, the exact opposite. But, that's why I think this could work. I rest my head on Wolf River's chest. His beastly heartbeat serves as a lullaby for me.

If I've survived this long with the Carrier Clan, then I can keep at it. I’ve only been with them for a short while, but they've all become a bit like a second family. My home away from home. If they'll continue to put up with my pettiness, hopefully they'll accept me as part of their family too. And, eventually, I guess I could come to love Wolf River.

I truly, truly want to.

XIX - Floral Samba

The sky is filled with thick storm clouds broken by the sunlight, bringing chaotic fits of rain and sun in varying amounts. It’s a perfect representation of the mental state of Dragonrein. This morning is one of highs for them as they stand at the city gates, with a small crowd gathered around to wish them well, along with the high queen herself.

“I’ve already sent my finest soldiers to Jarl Drake’s aid,” says Queen Platinum. “They’ll be there by the time you arrive, and more shall come in the following day.”

Gauntlet stands at attention with a squadron of unicorn soldiers at his side. “The battle ahead will be trying, but if it will gain the Legion the upper hand in this war, we’ll take our chances,” he says, saluting the queen. “With your permission, My Queen, I’ll take my leave with my troops.”

“Permission granted,” says Platinum, planting a friendly kiss on each of Gauntlet’s cheeks. She then pats him on the back. “Pray, do be safe on your journey.”

As Gauntlet and his comrades trot beyond the gates in unison, Platinum approaches Dragonrein, eyes filled with respect. “I’ve never seen such a band of misfits in my life do something as daring as attacking a dragon and living to tell the tale, and apparently, that’s just one of many adventures you’ve shared, according that zebra fellow.”

“Divines damn you, Xephyr...” mutters Caro, for once not ashamed to be acquainted with the zebra bard.

Platinum gazes over Caro, taking notice of how his muscles have intensified in definition, and his grey hair is more finely groomed than before.

“So, I have the honor of having the legendary Dragonborn fight for my Empire.” She examines his chest, barrel and legs, touching them far more than Caro finds comfortable. He hikes his leg in defense, prompting the queen to back off, saying apologies under her breath. “Are you quite sure you don’t want any armor? We have reserves.”

Caro waves away the offer. “Armor is restrictive, ma’am. Unless it’s absolutely necessary, I prefer to avoid it.”

The queen nods as Caro slightly bows, though she can tell it’s something he prefers not to do. She then walks to Tohro, who is basking in the attention of the send off, waving to the crowd and blowing kisses to a castle servant.

“Tohro Blackwing,” Platinum says to the now fluttering pegasus, his smile turning into a frown.

“You know?”

“The Imperial Legion is well aware of Shokenda’s practices, particularly the mark of a traitor.” The queen gestures to the scars on Tohro’s left eye. She shows him a reassuring smile, putting him at ease and making his frown fade. “You’re not the first defector to set hoof inside Everfree.” She nods to a passing soldier on patrol, who has similar scars over the same murky eye. “Rest assured, you’ve been cleared of all offenses against us.”

“I’ll be damned,” says Tohro. He returns Platinum’s smile and bows in mid-flight. “I’m sorry I ever doubted you, My Queen.”

Platinum beckons for him to land, then wraps her foreleg around his neck. “We all make mistakes, sweetie. We have enough to worry about without hunting soldiers without armies.”

The queen looks to Shae, who is currently wrapped in an embrace with white clad Princess Celina.

“You’ll come back soon, won’t you, Miss Shae?” asks Celina.

“As soon as I have the chance.” Shae lets go of her royal friend, waving her hoof about playfully. “How about one more, for the hay of it?”

Celina rolls her eyes and chortles. “Oh, very well.” She kneels down in unison with Shae. They dance their hooves back and forth, cover and reveal their eyes, clop their hooves together three times and (To Platinum’s mild surprise) wiggle their rumps at each other, all the while singing, “Sunshine, sunshine, ladybugs awake! Clap your hooves and do a little shake!”

Platinum sighs happily, knowing that despite her condition and fragile demeanor, Celina has found friendship. She adds another mark to her mental list of times Dragonrein has given her hope. She’s never seen Celina so happy before.

Heartwarming moments must wait, however. “Dragonrein,” she says to the guild as a whole, “I understand you’ve decided to participate in what will be known as the third battle of Trottingham?”

“That is correct, ma’am,” says Caro as Shae and Tohro hop to his side.

“Excellent. No doubt the legendary Dragonborn can turn the tide of battle and...” Platinum trails off as a doubt crosses her mind. She speaks to Caro personally. “I... understand this is not so much for the Empire as it is your own well being.”

Caro tilts his head in a half nod. “She wants to make a tool out of me. My voice is not a sword.”

“And what makes your serving me any different from serving Shokenda?”

The Dragonborn smirks. “You asked.”

“Hmm, I did, didn’t I?”

CHAPTER XIX - FLORAL SAMBA

“No! I did not!” shouts Tohro into the carriage mare’s ear. “I did not anticipate a Divine damned bandit to blow our carriage to smithereens! That’s your job!”

“You’re the ones carrying swords and magic...” she mutters, still trembling from the explosion. “I’m sorry, okay?!” She downs the rest of Shae’s healing potion, struggling to stand up.

Tohro takes a deep breath, holding his head to steady himself. He places his hooves on the mare’s withers. “It's okay, love. You just get your lovely green flank back to Everfree. We’ll walk from here.”

The carriage mare nods and gallops off, her limping becoming less severe as she travels uphill.

Caro emerges from the remains of the carriage, covered in soot with splints of wood in his hair and fur. He carries a sack of salvaged bits. “Well, that was an adventure in of itself.” he asks, cleaning the soot off his swords. He examines the wreckage. “How did they do this, anyway?”

“Let me take a look,” says Shae. She runs her hoof around the scorched ground and wood. She then sniffs what she picked up. “I think that’s sulfur...”

“Ah, here.” Tohro picks up a curved slab that doesn’t belong to the carriage. “Who knew bandits were smart enough to craft bombs?”

Caro takes the piece from Tohro’s hooves, slipping it into the pouch. “Maybe Jarl Drake’s crew will be able to replicate the design. It could gain us the upper hand in the battle.”

“Smart thinking, now...” Tohro surveys their surroundings. To their left is a stone cliffside, and over that lays the path to Everfree, so there’s no reason to take that route. On the right of the trail is a wooded area.

“Hold on.” Shae holds up a hoof, closing her eyes and igniting her horn. A magenta orb shoots forth from it, traveling into the woods and weaving between trees. She smirks at Caro and Tohro’s confused expressions. “Clairvoyance spell. Celina taught it to me.” She squints at the position of the orb, which has halted movement farther into the woods. “That should be the fastest way to Trottingham.”

“An alicorn?!” Caro and Tohro shout at once.

“Shush!”

Shae had just dropped the chandelier about Celina’s unique condition, per request from the princess herself. She had asked Shae to tell the rest of Dragonrein but nopony else. She only waited until now to say so due to the presence of the carriage mare.

“How is that even possible?” Caro scratches his head. “Epona and Fauste be damned, we share this land with a physical goddess...”

Shae shakes her head and her hooves. “No, no! She’s no goddess, not by any stretch of the imagination. She’s just another pony, albeit a rarity, but still, we shouldn’t give her any special treatment.” The shocked stares of her comrades make her shuffle in place. “I mean, uh...” She looks to the trees. “Just, who’s to say it’s anything but a birth defect, like she said?”

Tohro coughs and laughs. “No, no, no. Shae, sweetie...” He points to his eye. “A birth defect would look more like this. Let’s face facts, we should all just burn down the churches and convert to Celinaism. Eh?” Both Caro and Shae get a laugh out of that one. Tohro pulls Shae into a half embrace. “Don’t worry yourself. God or no, Celina is our friend, and we’ll treat her as such.”

The magenta orb jumps about in place ahead of the group.

“I think our little apparition is getting impatient.” Caro trots towards it.

A snap rings through the air as Caro is lifted off his hooves, caught upside down in a glowing rope. “Oh, for the love of-” He’s not sure which Divine to curse to.

“Are you well?” asks Tohro. “Just hanging about?”

"How's it hanging?" Shae asks, trying not to laugh.

The earthwalker, strained by the change in orientation, struggles to grab ahold of his broadsword with his teeth. He bites down on the handle and unsheathes it. He swings at the rope, only to get deflected and drop his sword. “Dammit! Why am I not surprised?”

As galloping sounds out in the distance, Caro urges his comrades away. Tohro takes Shae under a wing and takes her behind a nearby tree.

He winks to Caro as he ducks out of view. “Hang tight!”

“Fuck you.”

The gravelly voices of several bandits rings out as they come into sight. Their manes and coats are entirely covered in filth, obscuring any color they may have had. “Did we get ‘im?!” asks one of them.

Another, a unicorn without one eye, looks up at Caro and curses under his breath. “Nawp, ain’t the zebra.”

“Agh, dammit!”

“It ain’t mah fault! This lil’ creep jus’ came in at the wron’ place and the wron’ time.”

“We’re still gonna gut him, right?”

“Hey!”

“Well, a’ course we ah!”

“HEY!” Caro yells, his draconic eyes filled with rage and his face red from hanging upside down. He shoots several furious glares at the bandits “What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

Tohro strikes himself across the face. That’s the one thing you never ask a bandit...

One of the cretins steps forward, yellow teeth clenched in a depraved smile. “Ah should ask you the same thing, laddie, settin’ hoof in our territory...”

Caro spits on the bandit’s face. “You own nothing!” He struggles to get loose from the robe by force, only to have the bandit’s horn light and snare the rope tighter around his legs.

“Ah don’t ‘preciate a pompous earthwalka’ tellin’ me what Ah can n’ can’t do! We ah above all a’ you!” The bandit paces back and forth with his grungy ilk cheering for him upon every word. “Yer not worth the dirt on ya’ hooves. We own dis land, cuz nopon else come and claimed it! Ah don’t see a sign dat says it ain’t ours! We can do whateva’ we want, cuz we know betta’, fight betta’ and kill betta’ than you!”

Caro just groans from the bandit’s rambling.

“Dat lil’ queeny a’ yers ain’t got nuttin on us! Wut she got? A purty palace? Nice hair? Ah tell you wut ah think a’ her; ah oughta storm dat purty palace and bend her ova’ her purty throne, and shove her up full a’ my-”

“YOL TOOR SHUL!”

A fireball shoots forth from Caro’s mouth as his eyes widen with rage. The fire engulfs a large portion of the grass, turning it dry and desolate, and the unicorn bandit is caught in the blaze. He cries out as his flesh burns away, galloping off into the woods. Caro looks to where he disappeared to with a sadistic grin on his face. He turns back to the offset crowd of bandits. “What? He talked too much.”

“Kill him!” shouts one of mares. Her horn alights as she draws a bow and arrow, along with several other archers. They fire in unison at the prone earthwalker.

As the arrows travel his way, Caro shouts, “FUS!” knocking them out of the air.

Meanwhile, Shae and Tohro watch from afar. Tohro is smirking, already having laughed from seeing Caro burn the talkative bandit. Shae, however, is crouched over, constantly flinching as Caro dodges and deflects arrows and sword swings with varying success. She cringes as he takes a nasty cut to the neck. She then puts on her best war face. “I’m going in,” she boasts, pulling her hood over.

Tohro’s hoof grabs her by the shoulder. “And just how do you intend on going about this?”

Shae mimics Tohro’s prior smirk. “Huh, I wasn’t aware I was traveling with the legendary Dragonborn and a turkey.” She leaps out of their hiding place, her horn lighting up and enveloping her body. She disappears. “Thank you, Eavesdrop...” she murmurs.

Shae’s hoofsteps in the grass are the only way for Tohro to keep track of her movements, but she steps lightly enough to not disturb the ground.

The helpless Caro is growing tired. Though arrows have done little but graze him, his Thu’um is becoming less effective with each use. Dammit, Otar! You didn’t tell me the Thu’um had limitations! he thinks. He’s a sitting duck for attacks from the bandits’ weapons, striking him across the head, neck and shoulders. He takes a swing from a mace to his forehead, knocking him dizzier than before. The world begins to sway before him.

“Ha ha!” cackles a unicorn bandit as she nocks an arrow and aims for Caro’s eyes. “Dance, pinata, dance!”

Shae reappears behind the bandit with an ethereal blade extending from her right hoof. She stands on two legs, uses her left hoof to cover the mare’s mouth and shoves the sword through her back, letting her go when her muffled cries damper.

In the midst of all the shouting, nopony except Caro and Tohro have noticed Shae’s stealth act. The earthwalker keeps his eyes away from the silent mare to not give her away, and Tohro readies his wing blades for a toss if anything goes awry.

The silent unicorn does the same impalement on two other bandits, but the last one manages to let out a very audible gasp of pain that most of the others notice. All eyes fall on Shae, who now feels like she’s up on stage in Master Frosthelm’s classroom, giving a semester presentation. Only now there’s more than a decent grade on the line. She awkwardly waves to the red eyed mooks. “Uh, hi?”

A burly pegasus draws a horrendously large buster blade and flies towards Shae. “It’s the earthwalker’s bitch! Get ‘er!” He swings his sword at her. She ducks and teleports above him, bucking him in the back of the head. She teleports back underneath him and bucks upward, sending him airborne. She strikes him down with a lighting bolt, frying his skin and stopping his heart.

She raises a shield, deflecting three arrows, then picks up the arrows with her magic and flings them into another charging bandit’s legs, causing her to stumble over.

The lavender mare is breathing heavily after using so many spells in conjunction. “See, clearly you have me wrong...”

Two colts with bladed gauntlets double team her, cutting her cheeks and forelegs with a diving attack. She jumps and casts simultaneous flame and water spells, spraying boiling liquid on them. They thrash a little before continuing their attacks.

Ducking and weaving the blades with varying success, Shae continues to protest. “I’m not his bitch, I swear!” She touches her hooves to her horn, wrapping them in lightning, and strikes both colts down in two punches, leaving them twitching on the ground.

As she faces the remaining bandits, noticing some have dropped dead with wing blades in their backs, she says, “I’m just saying, he and I are friends and nothing more.”

“Silence, bitch!” Another sword swing grazes Shae’s horn, evicting a brief scream. The unicorn clenches her teeth and summons a magical rapier, then casts it into the swordsmare’s broken armor. The plates break, allowing for Shae to impale her.

There’s a lurch in the back of her head, followed by dizziness. The world moves slowly, leaving echoes in her vision, and begins to fade. She strains her eyes to realign and her body to steady before she’s thrown out of balance again, her back crying out for relief.

Tohro leaps into the fray, seeing Shae getting utterly broken by a hefty unicorn levitating a battering ram. It takes him back to when he was the victim of the executioner in Gallopagos Keep. “Good times,” he says, flying ahead to land on the large one’s back. He locks his hind legs around his neck and drags him onto his side. Tohro then takes his wing blades in each hoof and shoves them both into the batterer’s neck.

The white pegasus looks to Shae with newfound admiration. “Who are you and what have you done with the cowardly filly we found in the mountains?”

“I just decided. I’m nopony’s damsel in distress.” Shae turns on one hoof and fires an explosive blast at a bandit trying to get the jump on her. The bandit is broken on a tree. “I’m a child of Wintercolt!” Shae boasts with a flip of her mane.

“Glad you’re on our side, love.” Tohro stands and stares down the remaining stragglers, all of which are scrawny young ones shaking in their boots. He waves them off. “Just get the hell out.” They all drop their weapons and bags and take off in a hurry, tripping over the bodies of their fellow bandits.

As Shae dispenses of her magic rapier, Tohro snatches what little gold the bandits dropped. The weapons of the survivors are chipped, rusty, and many other kinds of useless.

“Um, hello! Friend still trapped up here, remember?” Caro is still trying to untie himself from the conjured rope, to minimal success. “Agh, dammit...”

Still recovering from the ghastly bruise upon her head, Shae awkwardly stumbles to Caro’s vicinity. Steadying herself, she says, “It’s okay. That type of rope has a limited casting time. It only lasts for four minutes.”

Caro eases himself and stops his thrashing. “Fantastic. How long has do you wager it’s been?”

“How are we supposed to know that?” asks Tohro.

Shae counts by tapping her hoof and looking up to the sky. “I’d say it’s been.... three minutes and fifty eight-”

The rope disappears. “WaaaAA-!” Caro’s surprised shout is cut short when he impacts with the ground, then continues when he turns over, clutching his right hind leg. “Krii faal Epona fah waan nust lost duun wah mi!”

“Pretty mouth you’ve got on you.” Tohro leaps to Caro’s aid and brings him to three hooves, the injured one left hovering. “Come on, easy...” He glances at his friend’s leg. “Doesn’t look too bad. It’s not broken, but you definitely damaged something important.”

“Ah, dammit...”

Shae’s mind cycles through every possible remedy for a general limb injury before she stamps her hoof and lets out a chipper “Aha!” She disappears behind the brush, chammering to herself. “Silly Lancer, you told me delving into volume three of Magical Mystery Cures of Mysterious Magic was a waste of time, but now, here I am, recovering the very flower that, when combined with a regular healing potion, can mend any severe injury in a manner of minutes! I showed you, didn’t I?” When she emerges again, she holds two rocks and a lime green flower in her levitated grip. She slams the rocks together, grinding the flower into a paste. She then uncorks a vial of healing potion and mixes in the paste. “There you are.” She passes the mixture to Caro, who accepts it with a gracious nod.

“Much appreciated on your part.” He tilts the vial back.

“Be forewarned, it’s going to taste horrendous.”

The Dragonborn has to hold his mouth shut to resist regurgitating the foul concoction. He swallows with a grimace. “Urgh, tastes like minotaur bogies and death.”

“I tasted death once. It was called Saddle Arabian bread,” Tohro says, taking the vial from Caro and sniffing it out of curiosity. He then coughs tosses it back to Shae. He looks back to the earthwalker, who is wiping excess potion from his mouth and tongue. “Can you walk?”

Caro stands without effort, shaking his previously injured leg. Nickering, he boasts, “Fine as fine can be. Shall we go?”

Tohro holds up his hoof and points ahead. A dissonantly serene voice can be heard further into the woods, humming gleefully to itself. Dragonrein cautiously approaches the sound. “Do you think it’s a siren?” asks Caro as he retrieves his dropped sword.

Shae shakes her head. “It can’t be. We’re still sane. If it were a siren, we’d drop everything and gallop to their voice, regardless of hazard.”

Tohro leaps ahead and peaks over a line of bushes with his wing blades brandished. He groans and puts them away, waving Caro and Shae forward. “I’d rather it be a seapony or an octopony than an infuriatingly annoying zebra bard!”

Dragonrein leaps over the bushes to find the musical zebra out cold on the ground next to a stream. He’s still humming, as well as spouting off nonsense. “Mmmm... got shackles on my words are tied...”

“Oh, thank Aramis. Your arrival brings fortune, if you can help us.” A clothless, puce colored earthwalker with a striped green mane approaches from across the stream with a pail of water in her teeth. She slowly empties the pail into Xephyr’s mouth, spilling most of it. She shakily puts it aside and gestures to another naked mare, this one with a spiked magenta mane and black coat. “I’ll tell you my name. I am one called Symphony. Now she will tell hers.”

The dark unicorn clears her throat. “Rhapsody. Of bard college and entertainment we thrive!” As she speaks, she stamps her hoof upon every other syllable.

Caro’s ears involuntarily twitch. “Pray, why do you speak in such an odd manner?”

“Rhapsody said why,” says Symphony with annoyed twitch of her mouth. “We come from the bard college. It’s in Everfree.”

“Speaking in poet...” Rhapsody pauses, holding her hoof up to her forehead. She casts it forward. “Speaking in poet’s speak! Immersed in art’s voice, we are!”

Both Caro and Tohro share an identical glance that tells each other they’ll become annoyed with these two mares very quickly. They focus on the more important matter. “What’s happened to Xephyr?” asks Caro.

Symphony says, “He and us, we were...” She hides the blush on her cheeks. “Looking for flowers, that’s all. He became quiet.”

“Smell of the local flora. Took his conscious mind into the realm of dreams,” says Rhapsody. “Waking him. It is unknown how!”

Xephyr’s sleeping form lets out a joyous laugh that causes Caro and Tohro to jump, before he curls up, chewing on his jagged mane. “Raise up to your ability...” he mutters.

“Clearly the flower he smelled intoxicated him,” says Shae. She traces over Xephyr’s body with her horn, examining for any unusual bodily activity. “His breaths and heartbeat are slow, but it’s nothing to throw a fit about. He’ll be along in due time, depending on the type of flower and amount he inhaled. What did it look like?”

Tohro groans loudly. “Never ask a poet to describe things...”

“The flower was green, bright with a yellow center. That is all we know,” says Symphony.

Dragonrein all turn to each other and exchange worried glances. They all think the same thing; if it’s the same green flower they had used to mend Caro’s leg, and they had all come in contact with it, then what will happen?

Shae’s hooves shuffle back and forth as her eyes widen. “Oh no oh no oh no, no, no!” Slapping herself, she falls onto her haunches. “Fauste damn me! That flower wasn’t a maylarsin, it was a descendant of maylarsin called blossomforth. It has the same healing properties but it’s also an incredibly powerful hallucinogen! Damn me! Damn... Huh, would you look at that?”

Caro and Tohro turn their attention to the sky, which has dimmed from its mixed clouds and blue sky to a bright purple. “I truly hope I’m not the only one seeing this,” says a smiling Caro as his legs begin to sway. He collapses in a mad fit of laughter, clutching his sides as he tries to stand back up. His laughing stops as he notices a strange sight; small, luminescent tendrils snake through the blades of grass, enveloping Symphony and Rhapsody’s legs.

“Wrong. Is there something of it?” asks the latter before she and her fellow mare disappear into sparkles.

Stars cascade from the shaking trees. They turn into pools of pure light as they collide with the ground. The stream becomes bathed in the radiance as more tendrils spread out from the center. As they crawl up Caro’s legs, he laughs at the ticklish sensation. “This... This is amazing. Tohro! You must try this.”

“Ju-Just a moment, mate...” Tohro approaches an ethereal projection of another pony, which takes a bow and begins dancing around him. He takes the it by the hoof and leads it in a slow ballad, taking synchronized steps and leaps. The projection fades as Tohro spins it around by its hoof, leading him to wear a face of disappointment. “Drat, where’d you go?” He takes a few steps forward before bumping heads with Shae, who is holding herself steady and straining her eyes to face ahead.

“Calm down, the both of you... The only way to keep the hallucinations under control is to stay calm!” she shouts. She gasps as a cold appendage touches her cheek, and she turns her head to see an old green maned friend, eyes wide and tongue dangling from her mouth. “Sundance!”

“Hiya, Shae! Shiny Shae, shimmering Shae, all the livelong day!” Sundance pelts Shae with more licks than a slobbering house dog. Shae laughs loudly with every lick.

“Wh-What are you doing, Sundance?”

“Oh, Shae, I just love you so much I could eat you up.” Sundance’s face, for only a second, turns hollow, with her teeth becoming razor sharp and her eye sockets empty, before snapping back to her perpetual smile. A brief shriek escapes Shae, who falls over in a panic. “I’m just saying, honey, you taste so good.”

Sundance quickly removes her academy robes, prompting Shae to tilt her head. “You make no sense, Sunny... Aaahh...” She moans uncontrollably as Sundance throws herself onto her vulnerable body and runs her salivating tongue over her neck, chest, and... “No! Not there!” Shae raises her hind legs and shoves Sundance away, tossing her into the river.

Tohro is having a sensual experience of his own, leaning up against the base of a tree with two more equine projections playfully kissing his cheeks and fondling his body. Their laughter is simultaneously innocent, but also sinister, something he doesn’t pay any mind to. Instead, he merely relaxes his head against his forelegs and enjoys the show as one of the projections spreads itself over his lower regions.

The projection leans closely to Tohro’s muzzle. He expects it to give him a kiss, or at least a lick as he puckers up, but instead it curls its mouth and cackles, breaking Tohro out of his arousal. He reaches for his crossbow only to have his hoof stayed by an armored hoof. The rest of the projection takes physical form, cloaked by an ursa fur cape. Gold eyes belonging to an albino unicorn stare Tohro down, drawing sweat from his brow.

“Why are you afraid of me, my sweet Tohro?” asks Shokenda Blackwing as she pushes her muzzle up against his. “Am I not the object of your affinity? The one that looms in your mind whenever you take a mare or stallion? You lust for power. I am power. You lust for me, and you belong to me. Everything you ever do will always be in the name of me.”

Tohro grits his teeth, shaking his head back and forth hysterically. “No...”

Shokenda’s eyes fill with a harsh golden glow as her hoof drags along the edge of his wing. “Oh, yes... You know it’s true...”

“NO! SHUT UP!” The crossbow is in his grasp. He points the tip between Shokenda’s illuminated eyes and fires. Her scream causes the whole of the forest to tremble, dropping leaves and stirring the water. The once warm glowing tendrils in the grass turn a harsh crimson, coating the forest in a hellish new luminance.

Tohro looks over the remains of his kill as he draws labored breaths, and sees the bloodied corpse of an orange earthwalker child. “Treesap...”

The panicked screaming goes unheard by Caro, eyes shut in ignorant bliss as the tendrils continue to wrap around his body. They fill his nostrils with scents of nostalgia. Wheat, leather, iron, the burning coals of the forge. He feels like a child smelling a bakery. “Ah, Ironwright Forge...” he dreamily mumbles. “Master, will I call this place my own someday?”

Caro opens his eyes slowly to gaze upon the faces of a mare and a stallion, blue and green, respectively, both earthwalkers, very stalwart and clad in Imperial armor. Their names are Goldheart and Earthquake, but he knows them as...

“Mother. Father. You’re...” He rises, breaking the tendrils from his head and back. They reform and reach for him once again. He doesn’t notice, instead focusing on his parents. “You look no different from the day you said goodbye. But,” his mind brings forth a painful memory of loss. “Why are you here? How are you alive?”

The answer comes from Goldheart, whose head hangs low. “We are not.” She leans against Earthquake, her expression somberly. “Why couldn’t you save us, son?”

“Save you...” Caro looks to his father. He isn’t solemn like his mother, but instead he looks grim with disappointment. Caro grimaces. “You have no idea how often I ask myself that question. But what could I do? I was merely a child. My hair was bronze back then. Now look at me." He gestures to his masculine figure. Even he still carries surprise at how much he’s changed in so little time. “This is the body of a hero. A Dragonborn!” His pride falters. “If only I had awakened sooner. Maybe then I could have helped.”

"You've become one of them. I'm surprised you can still feel regret at all,” says Earthquake.

Caro does a double take. "One of whom? The dragons?”

"If you have to ask..." Goldheart shakes her head.

Caro was sure that his parents would look upon him with admiration, or at least pride that they had given birth to such a legendary being, but they only look ashamed.

They accuse me of becoming the very thing I’m meant to kill? Where is the logic in this?!

"I'm... No, you speak nonsense! I'm still me! I'm your child! I'm the... I'm the bloody Dragonborn..."

Both of the figures before him speak at once. "Yes, but we are not dragons, are we?"

Caro backs away, his eyelids refusing to close. He nearly falls into the illuminated stream in his stupor. "Don't say that..."

“It’s your fault, little Caro. We are dead because of you.”

Caro neglects to look his at his parents, lest they look on him with discontent. “No. It wasn’t me! I didn’t- It wasn’t me! I’m not a senseless murderer!” He clutches his head to keep himself steady. “I’m not a dragon!”

He finally dares to look as the two ponies before him twist into a grotesque merged form, then grow and shift into a ghostly image of Nahkriin. “Oh, but you are!”

Her roars turn into sickly cackles, mixed in with the distorted screaming of Mother, Father... and Master. Caro forces his forming tears back into his eyes as he charges at Nahkriin unarmed. "I'M NOT LIKE YOU!!" He cocks his hoof and buries it into the dragon's snout. "I'M NOT!" He reels back and lands another punch, followed by another. "I'M NOT! I'M NOT! I'm not..." His pounding turns into weak flailing as the dragon's head turns into a bloodied skeleton.

Caro wraps his forelegs around himself and lets out a screaming sob. "Motheeeer... Ahaaaagh...”

~Caro~

“My parents are dead. Their bodies burned at Ghastly Gorge. I was only a child then. There was nothing I could do. I was small, scrawny and several miles away. Then again, nopony can do much to prevent a bomb cart from exploding. One bad apple spoils the bunch, as they say, only in that case it was a premature fuse, sparked by a stray flaming arrow. Nopony knows to this day which side cast the arrow, only that it killed twelve soldiers and five Blackwings. That prompted Platinum to outlaw use of bombs in the Imperial Legion. That’s what my parents died for; a Divine damned weapons ban. That’s when I lost all faith in the Empire."

I place my hooves on the table, exhaling after delivering such a long-winded speech.

"I’ve never told anypony that.”

King Hurricane nods slowly, his hoof to his chin as he considers his plate of gelato. “Some say war is glorious. Others say it’s hell. I happen to see it as glorious hell. Yes, there are horrors beyond recognition. Death, despair, paranoia... But, then there are those smaller moments of victory I used to savor, the looming hope that I had made a difference by the deaths of my enemies.”

“I relish that feeling,” I say, the screams of Pyro and Ember echoing in my ears. Indeed, I still recall every gory detail of bringing justice. Justice tastes good. Or is that blood? My mind fails me again. I instead focus on my own gelato. I’ve never had this sort of treat before. This is a taste I can actually describe. Sweet, tart and easy on my throat.

Discord, sitting at the head of the table like before, is sipping a cup of tea, only I swear he’s drinking the glass instead of the liquid. He even has his pinkie claw out. The expression on his face shows boredom.

He shakes his head. “I can’t believe it,” he says to Tohro. “So high off your minds you actually managed to wander into my dimension! You mortals, forgetting what’s impossible and what isn’t. Then again,” he turns the tea into a poppyseed muffin and eats it whole, “I thrive on impossible!”

“For the record, I am not comfortable with this.” Shae hasn’t touched a bite of her honey yogurt. The remark Discord made about lead poisoning must still linger in her mind. She gladly passes it over to Tohro, who’s already on a second helping of tofu salad.

King Hurricane taps my hoof, grabbing my attention. “What say you of my wife? Is she well? I assume she misses me so.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m sure she’s in good company. I should know, I visit her every night!” Discord winks suggestively at Tohro.

“Platinum was uncommonly fast to believe us about Discord and this alternate plane of reality,” I say, “but that’s only because she’s still heartbroken, and wishes only for your happiness.”

Shae glances up from the table to see Discord making gagging and choking motions.

“Her thoughts are still of me. This is good news.” Hurricane looks pleased for a moment, but then his misery returns. The clouds overhead begin to build. “No, no it isn’t. I left too much of an imprint upon her. Her longing for me is a distraction.” He shoves his gelato aside, slamming his hooves on the table. “Damn it! The kingdom could fall to the Blackwings, only because I left her alone to her troubles!”

Discord snickers. “Her troubles are troubling indeed. They say to never trouble trouble until trouble troubles you. It troubles me so that she is troubled, but; are her troubles really worth the trouble?”

“I will pretend I did not hear that.”

At this point, what with having met the queen, talked with the last living Precursor and learning there’s an alicorn in existence, trotting into Discord’s realm for the second time is of minimal shock to us. Though waking up to his mismatched eyes after that horrid experience... Needless to say, he had to do away with our weapons once again.

Xephyr is here too, having wandered in as well during his intoxication. Much like before, he’s dead scared of Discord to the point of silence. He keeps his attention to his Saddle Arabian alfalfa dumpling.

So, here we are, eating food that I’m sure will drive us to insanity, but I’m hungry beyond all reasoning, so... “Mmm. Tohro, try this grape juice.”

“Ah, you’re a stallion of good tastes, Dragonborn. It’s kosher too!” Discord equips a monocle. “I’ve had that particular brew stashed underneath the table for at least three hundred years. It can only get tastier with time. Quite lovely.”

Hurricane sighs and lets his fading rainbow mane fall in front of his eyes. “Yes... Yes, she was...”

A flickering, ghostly image of Platinum, sans her grey hair and several years worth of wrinkles, emerges from the center of the table. She flaunts her rather revealing pink dress that emphasizes her curves beyond moral standards, especially from a queen. Her sultry wink at a younger Hurricane gives me a hint as to what the late king is reminiscing about.

The images of the youthful, madly in love ponies passionately kiss, only breaking apart for seconds at a time. The images fade as Hurricane’s hoof begins to slip under Platinum’s garment.

“That was our first time together. We were lovers for the night, yet by the time we woke we were mortal enemies once again. The ongoing conflicts of the three tribes forced us to remain in that twisted romance.”

“We’ve heard of this already,” I say. All this romantic schlock is beginning to grate on my nerves, and based on Discord’s constant yawning, I can assume he feels much of the same.

I hear Tohro pipe up with a mouthful of juice and leaves. “With respect, Your Majesty, I doubt constantly droning over your wife will put you at ease. Is there something else you want to get off your finely toned chest?”

The king considers this with a tilt of his head. “Well... Perhaps I could speak of what came before.”

“Half the pegasus military, I presume,” says Discord with a snort. He slithers underneath the table, coming up behind Hurricane and grabbing his withers, much to his discomfort. “See, this old colt used to be quite the heartthrob back in his prime. Love ‘em and leave ‘em type. His number of heads taken almost matches the number of heads he received!”

“Within good reason!” Hurricane shoves the mad god away and removes himself from his seat. As he trots along the length of the table, more ghostly images appear over our food, this time being tall and handsome soldiers dressed in ebony armor, equipped with wing blades. “When the Great Blizzard began, the first kingdom to fall under famine was Olympus, the pegasus homeland. Trade with the earthwalkers proved problematic. We had to conserve food and resources, and as such, Commander Zeus ordered a reproduction limitation.”

“Ah, I heard about that,” says Tohro. “Only one child allowed per household, was it?”

“You can guess what happened whenever somepony broke that law!” Discord drags a talon across his neck, severing his head and placing it on the table centerfold. Shae very nearly falls out of her chair in shock. I have to resist bursting out in laughter. “Very pragmatic of them, really. Get rid of the chaff in the wheat. Wonder how many of your own bastard foals suffered that fate?”

Hurricane does his best to ignore all that. He faces away from us. “Yes, and although it was necessary, it was taxing on our bodies, being unable to mate for fear of overpopulation. We in the militia, being surrounded by other stallions of physical perfection, well...” The soldiers above us begin to stand awfully close to one another. Bloody hell, they’re nuzzling! ...Oh.

If I could see Hurricane’s face, I’d assume he’s cherry red at this point. The memory of his younger self is giving affectionate kisses to a rather meek and feminine soldier. “I had a few affairs-”

“Understatement of the millenium! Believe me when I say it’s not as fun to watch as you’d think.” Discord sifts through the memories, summoning several more soldiers that look upon young Hurricane with lust and admiration. If all pegasi eventually fell under this sort of rampant sexuality, then Tohro’s behavior makes way too much sense.

I was wrong. Hurricane isn’t blushing, if anything, this is just standard fare for him. “It gave us something worth fighting for, especially when the war began. Like or not, a pony needs to find love. There was little love to be had in the Great Blizzard.”

“So your bodies weren’t the only things that were blue?” Discord cocks his head.

While Shae, Tohro and even Xephyr are beginning to relax, gazing at the tender acts of affection before us, they sit right back up when the memories change to a bloody battle on an epic scale. Right when things were about to get explicit, too! ...Ahem.

Through the snow drenched fields of what I assume are the Great Plains, earthwalkers, pegasi and unicorns alike are locked in brutal combat. Shae grimaces as a pegasus soldier impales a unicorn with a full set of wing blades.

While the brutality of hundreds of starving and freezing soldiers wages on, young Hurricane watches from afar on a cliffside, standing amongst his fellow pegasi. He then turns to see an absolutely enormous and heavily scarred white stallion, covered from head to hoof in glass armor and carrying a glare that could make a minotaur cry.

“I’m going to assume that’s Commander Zeus,” I say.

“Our legion desires blood,” says the projection of the mighty one, his voice overwhelmingly deep. “The dirt mongers and the filthy witches have come to satiate our appetite. Let no horse think they stand a chance. Let nopony look to the sky with hope, because we will be there, our blades bathed in the light of the holy sun, ready to strike them in the heart. Such is how we wage war. Faster than the wind itself, deadlier than the reaper!”

“HOORAAAH!!”

I must give the pegasus military credit for their war cries. The whole lot of them spread their wings and join the battle in unison. All except for one, that pink haired mare-like colt from earlier. He’s on the ground, shaking like a rattle. “Private Pansy, huh?”

Hurricane returns to the table. “He had a noble heart. Unfortunately, not one of a noble warrior. Still, he was my favorite.”

“Wasn’t Zeus’ favorite, that’s for certain,” says Discord as the old commander gives the cowardly private his stare.

“PRIVATE!”

Pansy leaps nearly a mile in the air. “Y-y-yes, sir?”

“I oughta have you COURT MARTIALED for even THINKING you could dodge this fight! I didn’t even hear a WAR CRY! WHAT are the elements of a WAR CRY, Private!?”

Pansy looks like he’s about to faint on the spot, too scared to even run from Zeus. “Uh, uh... Screaming and hollering... Uh, loss of control...”

“AND!?”

“P-passion.”

“PRECISELY! NOW! Since you clearly know what makes a good war cry, GIVE ME ALL YOU HAVE!”

Pansy inhales and lets loose a soft “...Hoorah...”

That only makes Zeus all the more enraged, veins showing in his neck as he shoves his face closer to Pansy’s. “HORSEAPPLES! YOU DIDN’T CONVINCE ME! TRY AGAIN!”

“Hoorah...”

Tohro and Hurricane simultaneously bury their faces in their hooves.

“Louder!”

“Hoorah.”

“LOUDER!”

“Hoorah.”

Spit flying from his mouth, Zeus goes all out. “LOOOOOOUDEEEEEEEER!!” I swear Pansy’s mane is sent flying backwards from the force of the shouting. I wonder if Zeus was Dragonborn too. Whatever the case, it’s too much for Pansy to take. His eyes go askew and he falls over backwards. Zeus nickers and trots away. “Clearly it’s too much to expect the mule of the military to have some sort of reverence for the art of war.”

Pansy nods, eyes squinted in shame. Poor thing. If it weren’t only a memory, I’d help him up and buy him a barrel of mead to help him forget this. What a trooper, trying to stand up despite the fear and loathing.

“How was he in the sack?” Discord asks, glancing up from his bored sitting position.

Oh, how I wish Zeus were in physical form right now. I’d like to see how much vigor he’d carry with two swords dragging along the sides of his neck...

“Oh, don’t even bother,” snorts Zeus, giving Pansy a kick. The colt’s whimpering only makes me more furious. “Just lay there and wait for your fellow soldiers to pin you down and fuck you like the mare that you are-”

“Silence!” There’s young Hurricane. He leaps into the fray, sliding to a stop between Pansy and Zeus. He comforts Pansy with a touch of his hoof. “That’s enough, Zeus. You’re needed elsewhere.”

Zeus reluctantly backs off, cracking his neck and standing at ease. “Soldiers need discipline, Lieutenant. Clearly you’ve forgotten that, talking so rudely to me.”

“As if you have the right!” Hurricane advances on Zeus with his wings spread. “My superior be damned, I won’t have you-”

“Wait, I seem to have stopped caring.” With a flip of his mane, the old commander gallops off the cliffside and takes flight, leaving Hurricane to spit at where he stood.

“Epona damned brute!” he curses, assisting Pansy onto his hooves and embracing him. The private is squinting, holding back tears as he seizes Hurricane in a tight embrace.

Discord’s head comes up behind the two of them, causing the memory to snap in half. “Hurricane and Pansy sitting in a tree..."

“Very... mature.” The Hurricane of the present dismisses the memory, aside from a still image of Pansy that drifts closer to him. The young butter yellow colt is smiling meekly. I have to admit, seeing such a scrawny fellow in that heavy duty armor is adorable.

Hurricane’s eyes begin to water. “Oh, sweet Pansy. You didn’t belong on the battlefield, yet you never gave up. Perseverance, that was your finest quality.” The image cracks like glass and shatters. “Perhaps if I hadn’t wasted your time comforting you with love and affection, you could have become the great warrior you were destined to be.” The king buries his face in his empty bowl. “Maybe... maybe I could have saved him... I never even said goodbye...”

Discord seems to have taken the cue, summoning somber violin music from nowhere, acting as if he’s playing along. The face on the other side of his head (Where did that come from?) looks annoyed and begins making faces.

Shae clears her throat, quietly teleports to Hurricane’s side and lays a comforting hoof on his back, pulling him away from the bowl. “Isn’t it enough for him to have known you cared? Clearly you loved him.”

“Loved him?” Hurricane’s rainbow mane has fallen flat and mussy. Shae uses her levitation magic to pull it back into place. “I... I forgot.”

“Oh, Your Majesty,” Shae says with a chuckle. “I may be young, but I know love when I see it. You may have married Platinum, but you loved Pansy with all of your warrior heart, and that was enough in the end.” The unicorn passes Hurricane a bowl of pea soup, which he uses to examine his reflection. It fills me with relief to see his confident smile. There’s a face I would follow into battle, and I despise following anypony.

“You’re right.” The king looks to the sky, which is beginning to clear. The fog in the surrounding dead woods lessens as well, and I begin to relax with the warmer air gracing my coat. The king seems to be enjoying the sight as well. He hops onto the table, prompting me to save the plate of biscuits from his childish stomping. “You’re right! The affection I shared with Pansy and the true love I found in Platinum weren’t worthless. They both shaped me into a finer stallion.”

“Yet the old battleaxe would never go for a threesome, huh?” Discord interrupts again. “Clearly all of you have forgotten why I summoned you here to begin with. You’re supposed to help me escape, not listen to him drone on about who he stuck his sword in!”

Tohro rolls his eyes. “You’ll get your escape, we assure you. Our best option is to keep listening to His Majesty until all the putrid thoughts are out of his head.” He nibbles on another biscuit. “You do have a point, though. Why doesn’t anypony give polygamy a chance?”

Discord nods. “There will be plenty of time to answer such profound questions later. Let us keep this party moving. Oh, Your Majesty!” In the middle of Hurricane’s adorable trot, two hands apparate from the tablecloth and grab ahold of him, setting him back down in his seat. Discord slithers over and wraps his lion arm around him. “So, we’ve all heard of your bedroom experiences and frankly,” the mad god’s face turns green for a moment, “most of us, and by that I mean me, are sick of it. Why don’t you just skip to the end so I may take absence?”

Hurricane ponders that, dragging his sight across the much more beauteous world inside his mind. “I can’t think of anything else,” he says after a while.

“And yet, here we are!” Discord howls. His perpetual grin disappears. “You disappoint me, Your Majesty. Don’t you remember at all what drove you to insanity? What you spent countless waking hours brooding about and losing your lovely mane over? Your perfect failure?”

Hurricane looks ignorant at first, but I see something change for him. I spot beads of sweat as he pulls at his hood.

“Ah, yes, there it is!” Discord warps onto the table, suddenly clad in a cruel replica of the king’s battle armor. “The mighty King Hurricane! Hero of the pegasus military! Ruler over the newborn land of Equestria! Owner of a royal sword that makes stallions and mares alike shiver with arousal! Is there anything he can’t do?” A tilt of an eyebrow and a psychotic smirk are enough to make Hurricane lean back in his seat.

“I... I know not what you imply.”

“Reaaaally?” Discord says with deadpan. He holds out his hoof and summons another image, this one of a young pegasus. I have to lean over to get a full view but I spot a light blue body with a slick violet mane. “You’re quite sure this means nothing to you?”

The king goes through many expressions, first surprise, then sadness, then a squint of remorse, and finally... loathing. I’ve never seen somepony so tragically enraged before, his reddened eyes following the projection as it hops onto the table. “Squall...” growls Hurricane. He brings up his hoof. “Squall!” He brings it down on the table, just barely missing the pegasus. “SQUALL!”

“Prince Squall?” mutters Tohro as he backs away. Shae, Xephyr and I follow suit as the king keeps making desperate attacks on the projection, tears and sweat dropping in his wake.

It’s happening again. Hurricane’s mental world begins to collapse, cracks forming at my feet as the sky clouds over. Red bolts of lightning rain down, striking the trees and snapping them apart. One begins to topple over, with Tohro in harm's way. I leap from the crumbling ground and throw myself onto him, dragging us both to safety.

I look to the king. He has his bastard sword drawn, swinging it about madly at flickering projections of Squall. Discord is trying to calm him down, to no avail. “Okay, Your Majesty! I only wanted to make you somewhat angry, not hell bent on destruction! Now stop destroying things!”

Hurricane is unaware of all but the projections before him. No matter how many he cuts clean through, another appears behind him. “GET OUT! GET OUT OF MY LIFE! YOU’RE DEAD! YOU ARE DEAD TO US! SQUAAAALLL!!”

The haunting sight of King Hurricane screaming at the stormy sky is the last thing I see before Discord envelops us all in his reptilian body, taking us away from the king’s mind once again.

Discord feigning innocence truly irks me. “You crossed a line,” I say, taking steps over nothing. I’ll never get used to the space between planes of reality, or dimensions, whatever it is they’re called. Another contributing factor to my frustration towards this draconequus.

“How do you know? Ever think about asking the line how it feels?” Discord asks.

“Discord!” Tohro approaches him. “I don’t understand Hurricane’s grievance with Prince Squall either, but surely you must, I mean, you’ve been with him for how long?”

“Long enough to know he refuses to bring any of his grievances to the forefront unless he speaks to his fellow equine. Poor fellow just doesn’t trust me! I’d have jumped ship long ago if it were possible.”

Shae lets out a groan of concern as she keeps Xephyr steady. The cowardly bard still trembles just from being in Discord’s presence. Shae says, “Perhaps the zebras are right to fear you. Clearly you have no remorse for driving innocent ponies mad.”

“Mad? My dearest unicorn, I am mad!” Discord summons a wine glass filled with more of that brown substance he had drank before. He takes a swig. “In fact, the only reason I even began dimension hopping was because the others had already given into my sweet reign of chaos. True story.”

It’s clear enough to me we’re dealing with a living contradiction, but I think I know how to appeal to his inner demon. It shouldn’t be too hard; he wears it on his shoulders. “True as it may be,” I say, “your reign of chaos won’t spread any further if you insist on making our task difficult.” I point accusingly at the mad god. “If you insist on driving Hurricane into his grave with your tomfoolery,” I cross my forelegs, “then I can’t guarantee we’ll provide service for you.” There it is. An offer even he cannot refuse.

Discord’s head, for some odd reason, turns into that of a smiling owl’s. “Oh, really?”

“Yes, really.”

Head reverting to normal, Discord sighs and drains his glass. “Very well, Caro. I suppose good things come to those who wait.” He turns his head to look into the nothing in the distance. “I’d best tend to the king. In the meantime, you all skedaddle.”

The spilled liquid turns pitch black and begins to engorge, consuming the nothing around us and sending Discord off. I expect that when the darkness fades, we’ll be back in the forest with massive headaches from the blossomforth.

How wrong I am.

This is new, yet strangely familiar. I’m not in the realm of nothing anymore, though this place still feels like a void, like if I were to step beyond its borders, I’d still find nothing.

Still, there’s something here. I’m standing on stone shore overlooking a vast ocean, and overlooking that ocean is the moon, several times larger than it should be.

“What are you doing so close to us?” I ask.

“Close... more than... was...”

That voice. It belongs to that ambiguous child that keeps appearing to me in my dreams. It seems that I fell asleep upon my return to Equestria, or something along those lines. Either way, this is different. Beforehoof, the child had only spoken two words; my name, and ‘please’, leaving me with a burden of confusion. Now she speaks in fragmented sentences.

“You... here... see you... happy...”

I assume that means it’s a pleasure to see me, and honestly, after growing somewhat attached to this odd child, I’m happy to see her too. Her voice is distant, seemingly audible from the night sky itself. I wish I had a body to associate with the voice this time. Sure, she was featureless before, but she was actually there.

My wish is granted.

There she is, taking partial form amongst the stars, her head and neck resting against the moon. This is the most I’ve seen of her beyond an empty body. For once, she’s actually looking at me. For a long moment, that’s all she does. She just... looks. I see the faint outline of her lips curl into a smile, and for some reason I feel inclined to do the same.

“Are you okay?” I ask for some odd reason.

“Wake... I... will not... yet...”

“Wake from what? Are you asleep?”

She doesn’t respond, prompting me to speak again.

“Do you need somepony to wake you up?”

“I... do... not...”

Her broken speech reminds me of Rhapsody, only not nearly as annoying. “So, you’ll wake on your own time?”

“When... ready... I am... I will...”

All the pieces of this puzzle fit together, at least with what little pieces I’ve been given. I raise my head. “I think I understand. You’re incomplete, and you need somepony to know you exist, so they’ll be able to, uh, find you?”

It takes a while, but eventually I see her nod. I’m uncannily excited at this point. Perhaps after all I’ve been through, this innocent little pony, or whatever she is, can provide me with a dose of innocence. I would love to meet her.

“You’ll send me a sign when you’re ready, of course.”

Her smile broadens, and so does mine.

It’ll probably be some time before I wake up from this dream, though it hardly feels like a dream anymore. This little mare is very real, I just know it.

XX - Mjolnir

~Caro~

Here I stand beneath the warm and soothing rain... and it’s a real nuisance. It’s been quite some time since I’ve been caught in a rainstorm such as this. Winter usually brings this sort of weather to Equestria, but it’s hardly acceptable when the raindrops are like pebbles. Even Shae’s protective shield is beginning to falter. I have to resort to wrapping my head in a blanket to keep the water out of my eyes, and for the record, I find any article of clothing incredibly uncomfortable. Better than the rain, though.

Little black Boysenberry taking steps out of Equinesreach gives me hope that we can finally get out of this torrent, but the only good news I receive is, "Jarl Drake will be with you in a moment.” The colt bows to a passing Imperial soldier and lets him inside Equinesreach before continuing. “To say this has been an eventful few days would be an understatement larger than, uh...” Another soldier walks past, much to Boysenberry’s annoyance. He bows, lets him inside once again, and then gestures to the town square. “Perhaps we can discuss this elsewhere?” he says with exasperation.

Shae, Tohro and I follow the pint-sized wizard down the stone steps. I stretch my limbs out on a wooden bench while Tohro and Shae kick back against the tree. Boysenberry trots in circles. “This is unnerving. My mind is overloaded with all this noise and clattering of soldiers trotting about in their gleaming armor that I’ve been unable to put any more research into the dragons. So many voices...”

I lean forward with my hooves under my chin. “Is research truly necessary?” Reliving the sight of Hevnodiin spiraling to his death brings about a grin. “I’ve already slain a second dragon without error.” I hesitate, remembering the family glazed over with ice, frozen in a state of horror. “Error on my part, I mean. Many ponies did perish to his destruction before I took his soul. Still, all’s well that ends well, right?”

That’s a foolish thing to even think. I can tell through Boysenberry’s grimness. “A dragon soul doesn’t make up for dozens of innocent lives,” he says, following up with a sigh. “Though the act itself was very impressive, and keeping more lives from being taken is more than most ponies can do.”

Then comes along a certain yellow earthwalker, one who I'm sure still harbors some sort of infernal demon that wants my head. "I'm actually quite ashamed I missed it," says Tangerine.

Immediately I leap to my hooves. Despite the good former general's reassurance of a truce, I still can't feel entirely safe around her. Plus, her new fur lined armor is far more intimidating than dress robes. I’m not entirely sure what to expect from her. Compliments aside, she’s sure to tear my exploits apart, calling me irresponsible and naive, list the ways I’ve gone wrong in life...

...or just approach, smile and give me a hug.

CHAPTER XX - MJOLNIR

While waiting for our appointment with the jarl, Dragonrein takes refuge from the rain in Horsevaskr, gathered around the firepit. Wolf River, having not been introduced to me in the most pleasant manner, apologizes profusely for intervening in the struggle against Nahkriin several times. I eventually manage to fit a word in. “She fell in the end, so what does it matter?” Nice fellow, though.

Wolf River nearly loses his mead, but he restrains his tongue and swallows. “That thing was female? How in the name of Dragos-”

“Shhh!” Several of the Carriers shoot dirty looks at Wolf River and hiss.

"We're in the presence of Imperials!" the pegasus named Aerial hisses.

“I repent!” he says with his hoof in the air. He takes another drink, though clearly he’s tispy enough to forget that worship of Dragos is forbidden. “How do you know the dragon was female?”

“Trust me, she is, er, was,” I say. While I had first heard about Nahkriin’s identity from Otar, it was truly revealed to me upon her death, when I took her soul.

I tilt my head to the maid of the house, a sweet elderly earthwalker. “Excuse me, Ma’am. Me and my companions have traveled a long way, may we each have a round of mead?”

“I’m sorry, deary,” says the maid, “We serve those sworn in with the Carriers as well as our refugees, but I’m afraid you don’t qualify.”

“They do in my book,” says Tangerine, trotting by with a tray of mugs upon her back. “I may not be a full-fletched shield sibling but I am in line to be one, so I can do whatever the hell I want with my mead.”

The maid just shrugs and tends to other concerns.

With me, Shae, Tohro, Wolf River and Tangerine all together, we all raise our mugs for an unspoken toast and greedily drink, except for Shae, who only pretends to avoid another migraine filled evening.

I’d be able to enjoy the alcohol more if it weren’t for Tangerine’s uncharacteristically happy demeanor. None of the vengeful rage she carried before is to be found, along with any of her regal proper. “So tell me, Tangerine,” says Tohro, “have the Carriers put out a search for your missing stiff upper lip?”

The once noblemare chortles. “The Carrier Clan has little place for upper lips of stiff kind. I’ve left most of that behind to fight for what’s right instead of what is ordered of me.” She pauses mid-drink, looking aside and setting her mead down. “Yet ironically, soon I’ll be fighting alongside the Legion against the Blackwings once again.”

“So the Carriers will be fighting the oncoming invasion as well,” I say with a grin. “Good. The more pressure we can put on Shokenda, the better. I want to see her break.”

Tangerine moves from her seat next to Wolf River and approaches me. “I even more, but I doubt we will be able to kill her in this defensive battle. The most we can do is keep Trottingham safe.”

Once again, my desire to protect overthrows my hatred for Shokenda. I shake my head and take another swig. “Very well, but...” I draw one of my greatswords and show off its blade in the gleam of the firepit. “If that hag shows her face to me, I’ll skin it clean off.”

Tohro shudders and takes Shae aside. Though I give them a wave bye, Shae is the only one who reciprocates.

Wolf River nods with approval, beaming at my enthusiasm. Tangerine reclaims her seat with him and he rests his foreleg around her back. “Our odds of survival are relatively high, but it would be for the best to set them beyond.” He uses his other foreleg to point at me. “Dragonborn.” He nods to Tangerine. “M’lady.” She responds with a sultry gaze. “I must meet with Scar in the lower quarters. We have important matters to discuss.” Wolf River undoes his grasp on Tangerine and stands up, retreating to the basement stairs.

Perhaps it’s the alcohol, but the tender embrace between those two didn’t make me realize what they are for all of a minute. Then it hits me. I point back and forth between Wolf River, who is descending the steps, and Tangerine, who is flustered as can be. “You and him?”

“Indeed,” she says, nonchalant and proud as can be. She takes a victory drink, following up with a dissonant belch that would rival a minotaur’s. “He was my admirer whilst I served the Legion, and he saved my life. We have many reasons for our companionship.”

“Ah, then it’s no wonder you’re so happy. He finally removed whatever the Legion stuck down your throat.”

She may be more humble, but Tangerine still laughs like a baroness. “The happiest I’ve been in years, Dragonborn.” She adjusts her position on her seat, partially laying back while tracing the edge of her mug. “So, how fared Dragonrein’s journey to the city of golden bread and diamond toilets?”

“Everfree was,” I say through a snort, “actually somewhat pleasant. Platinum listened to my story and declared me innocent, and if that wasn’t enough to clear my name, Tohro and I slayed a frost dragon right out of the sky. The proof is a skeleton embedded in a church. Well, was. I was paid quite handsomely by the Legion for the bones.”

It only now occurs to me that when Tohro said he’d prove my innocence to the Imperial Legion, he really did follow through on his word by assisting in my slaying of Hevnodiin.

“Then your little club of dragon slayers became an official guild, did it?” asks Tangerine.

I do a double take. “Y-Yes. How did you know?”

The former general merely resumes her drinking and waves her free hoof past her shoulder, where something I should have been aware of makes itself known. Amidst all the conversation and hilarity, I had neglected to notice my favorite zebra bard and his musical mares singing of Dragonrein’s recent successes in synchronization to my words. “Divines dammit, Xephyr...”

“So the stallion in turquoise took a second beastly soul
defied laws of nature, surviving the fall.
The princess, the princess claim the guild as her savior,
and the queen granted title for their courageous en-day-vour!”

“They’ve been playing this song all day,” Tangerine says.

“Brilliant zebra.” I could just hug that spike-maned compulsive rhymer, but I won’t. This sort of music should not be interrupted. In addition to the soothing strumming of his lute, Symphony’s pipes add a layer of smooth, creamy atmosphere. Rhapsody’s slow and heavy drumming gives the song an epic pace, something truly befitting how I think of Dragonrein. We may not have been a guild that long but I know that we’ll be as strong as the Carrier Clan someday. Cudos to Xephyr; he finally has that audience he wanted, and it’s because of me and my guild.

A reminder of an old question comes to light. I lean in close to Tangerine. “Do you want to join Dragonrein?”

Her mug is almost empty. She swirls what remains before downing it happily. “You asked me that before you left for Everfree, didn’t you?” She sees me nod and drains the rest of the mead down. “If I were to join, what would we do? Tell me what I can expect from a guild helmed by the legendary Dragonborn.”

“Well, uh... We travel Equestria, slaying dragons...”

“Surprise.”

“We help those in need.”

“Good job so far.” She doesn't sound sincere.

I shoot a sneer at her. "What does that mean?”

She’s playing innocent, with a childlike expression and her hind legs crossed, relaxed on the table. “You don’t look to me like the hero type, that’s all.”

This breed of logic brings about ants in my mind. “Wha- How am I not a hero? How is Dragonrein not a guild of heroes?”

“Let us do a head count.” Tangerine taps her hooves together to punctuate her list. “A former Blackwing, a timid academic, and a sociopathic barbarian. Sounds like heroes to me.”

So her animosity towards me is gone, but she still sees fit to enrage me? I’m not about to pull my blade on her but I hope for her sake she doesn’t have this mouth around Shokenda. That hag would eat Tangerine alive. I narrow my gaze, gesturing to myself. “We have the Dragonborn.”

Tangerine folds her forelegs. “We have lycans.”

The music hasn’t fallen dead, but it truly feels that way. The whole of Horsevaskr takes a turn for the silent and slow as Tangerine’s green eyes widen. She looks over her shoulder to see a straight faced Wolf River. To his side is an elderly earthwalker with a black coat and greying blonde mane. His most interesting feature is the patch over his right eye. To say he’s disgruntled would be underselling it.

I raise my hoof. “Hi, Scar.”

Dammit, I forgot my mead.

Stone walls, smells of stallion musk and the unnerving feeling I’m to be groped at any moment. It feels as though I’m back in that Imperial cell again. Much like then, I’m being spoken to by a colt in heavy armor, asking me questions I’d rather not answer. The only difference? I actually like this colt.

Wolf River had told me Scar is a veteran of the settlement wars, and he went through more in his time than most. He saw the most battle, experienced the most death, and was lucky to have survived with with only, well, scars.

He comes across to me as a pacifist with a warrior’s face. Much like the rest of the Carriers, he’s intimidating until he starts talking.

“So, you are the one who hatched from a dragon’s egg?” he asks. His voice is as ancient as his body, but still clear and proud.

Wait, dragon’s egg? I never came from an egg, I know that much. “Uh, no,” I respond.

Scar looks disappointed. He relaxes into his chair with an amused sigh. “Of course not. Wolf River was just pulling my leg as per usual.” He tilts his head. “You are a descendant of the Precursors, though. So, what can I expect from you, should I allow Wolf River to take you on his quest?”

My eyes dart side to side, towards the handles of my blades. “I have swords.”

“We all have swords.” Scar nods to twin katanas crossed upon above his bed. I flinch, feeling cut merely by looking at those beasts. I mean, wow, there’s razor sharp, and then there’s that. What I wouldn’t give to get my teeth around those beauties. “Doesn’t mean I like using them. Ever tried spreading butter on toast with those things? Hardly worth the effort. Oh, and as for that-” the old colt imitates me doing a shout, “-voice of yours? It’s hardly refined.”

“How would you know? I’m the only pony who can do it.” Aside from Otar, of course, but he’s a Precursor, so he hardly counts as equine.

Scar rests his hoof on the bridge of his muzzle, giving another sigh. “Oh, you naive child. Do you think you’re the first Dragonborn? There have been several throughout the ages, many more valiant than you claim to be.”

I feel wounded, like Scar had taken both his katanas to my pride. Suddenly my burden feels all the heavier. I slouch in my seat, my swords hanging awkwardly at my side.

“Don’t get me wrong, boy, the title of Dragonborn is a rare one, and there’s never more than one in the world at a time. You should feel no less honored to have this gift. However, I am not honored to have you in this town.”

“Why?” I ask grimly, my brow furled.

“Ponies tend to die around you. Thankfully, that is also not a trait specific to you. When the title of Dragonborn is given to a pony with delusions of grandeur, they begin to think the laws of nature and society mean nothing. Take the previous Dragonborn, for instance. His name was Argent, a pegasus. I had the misfortune of meeting him as he gifted Jarl Drake the bones of his latest slay. I was one of the few left unimpressed by his efforts. I voiced my distaste for his pillaging of a small settlement, and he tried to kill me. Took my eye when he summoned a flurry of blades with his voice.”

It’s like those blades are stabbing my pride, leaving it to bleed out. “I... I-I've never heard of Argent.”

Scar stands up. “Because most ponies forgot. He was not worthy of history, and was stricken from our caring minds. We wanted to forget, and we did. Well, except for me. I chose to remember, in case the day came that another Dragonborn happened along with similar delusions.” He stares me down. “So, Caro Dragonborn, do you fancy yourself a hero?”

A few minutes ago, my answer would have been obvious, but now that I know I have Argent to my name, and that I could easily be forgotten by history... I let out a trembling gasp. “I don’t know, Scar.”

“Here, have a whiff of this.” I look up to some sort of hollow branch, lit at the end. Scar is presenting it to me. I graciously take it in my hoofs and, feeling incredibly awkward about it, put my lips around it and inhale.

Instantly my mind feels cleansed and relaxed. My confusion is still there but now I feel as though I can comprehend this revelation.

Scar pats me on the shoulder. “You are a dishonorable one, Dragonborn, but you don’t have to make Argent’s mistakes, and while I wish war would not follow in your wake, it is inevitable. That is why I ask this of you; go with Wolf River and Lady Tangerine as they reclaim the Carrier Clan’s sacred weapon, and perhaps you will learn some humility.”

I inhale from the hollow branch once again. “You... know a lot more than you let on, don’t you, Scar?”

All he does is hold out his forelegs to his sides, shrugging innocently.

~Vision End~

“Pardon me, pardon me…” Jarl Drake sidles between ranks of Imperial soldiers as she levitates a list of names over her head. “I must remember to accommodate for the arrival of an entire military’s worth of soldiers next time I request aid. I’m grateful to Dragonrein, of course, but this is ridiculous.” She manages to reach her throne, grabs her inked quill and checks off the last name on the list. An entire set of names and ranks for the army she’s given and only now does she complete it, if only because there’s too damn many soldiers. Oh, why am I complaining? she thinks. This is wonderful!

Finally able to set the list aside, Drake stretches out her hindquarters before retreating to the one silent room in Equinesreach, Boysenberry’s study. She doesn’t expect the room’s occupant to actually be there, alongside Shae and Tohro, all leaning over a table, examining a dragon’s egg.

The court wizard is bouncing about excitedly, for once actually acting like a child. “I collected this beauty on a nightly trek through the Mount Everfree pass. I don’t know where it came from, but how could I resist? This could allow us to uncover critical weaknesses in a dragon’s body, allowing for swifter defeat.”

Jarl Drake points accusingly to Shae and Tohro, who look at her bewildered. “What are you both doing here?”

Tohro shrugs and tosses a bent lockpick onto the table. “We came in through the back door. You were taking too long.”

“Let me see that.” Boysenberry’s purple aura envelops the lockpick and brings it to the egg. He scrapes the shell carefully, only to have the pick snap in half, leaving the shell completely undamaged.

"Excuse me!" Tohro shouts.

“Didn’t think that would work, but it was worth a try.”

Shae passes her horn over the egg. “I’m sensing some passive magical seals on the shell. They must be what keeps it indestructible.”

“Dragon moms can cast magic from their cooch?” Tohro snickers, receiving a magic smack across the face from both Shae and Boysenberry.

“If we’re going to break into this egg, we’ll have to dispel those seals,” says Shae.

Jarl Drake silently counts heads. She’s rather under the influence of grape juice, and as such it takes a moment for her to realize there’s a turquoise earthwalker missing from the roster. “Wait a moment, where is Caro?”

“Off with Tangerine and Wolf River,” says Tohro. “They mentioned something about a weapon called... mew-mew, or otherwise.”

“Mew-mew?”

All four of them pass confused looks amongst each other before resuming their examining of the egg. Boysenberry beckons for Tohro to pass him a wing blade (“How many of those things do you have?” Shae asks). He draws the blade across the shell like the lockpick, only leaving it dull and useless. Tohro begrudgingly inserts the blade back into his wings.

“Do inform me of when Caro returns, yes?” Jarl Drake turns on her hoof and exits the chamber, only to come face to face with a young colt with a letter bag. “Oh, hello.”

The colt salutes and clumsily retrieves a scrap of parchment from the bag. He scans it quickly and says, “I have a note for Shae Sparkle. I was told I could find her here?”

Drake nods her head in Shae’s direction and continues on her merry way.

The courier quickly trots up to the unicorn and slams the parchment into her hooves before she has time to react. He clumsily bows and waddles away.

The note is torn at the edges, obviously written by somepony with little to no knowledge of basic diction, something Shae prides herself upon. If Sundance were to so much as leave out a comma in her research papers, Shae would snatch the quill away and shame her. Who is responsible for this madness? she asks herself. She then catches sight of a barely legible signature that sends her face into a mad fit of red.

Tohro peeks over her shoulder and snatches the paper. He ignores Shae’s protests as he reads the scribbled excuses for words.

deer shay go to the blaksmif shop i hav somthen for yo

“Who wrote this? And what the hell is a blaksmif?” As Shae makes a dive for the letter, Tohro leaps away and flies to the ceiling, laughing triumphantly. He looks over the horrendously misspelled words again and reads the signature.

frum rosemary

His laughter stops. “Rosemary? Well, I suppose we don’t all have the luxury of a first rate education at a pristine academy.” He descends to the floor and graciously passes the paper back to Shae. “Sounds like you have a friend in high places.”

The blushing unicorn hides her cheeks from view as she levitates the scrap into her pockets. With an adjustment of her glasses, she begins to depart.

Tohro flies to her side, flexing one of his forelegs. “Need a guardian?”

“I’m sure I can handle myself, Tohro. Thank you, though.”

~Shae~

I’ve already decided I’m nopony’s damsel in distress. As much as I appreciate the gestures of protection from Caro and Tohro, I’ll hardly need their assistance forever. I’ve already killed a battalion of gryphons, several draugr, survived two dragon attacks and scrapped with depraved bandits, and those were all on my own merits. I can handle a nightly stroll through Trottingham to meet up with Rosemary.

Last I saw of her, she was on her way back to Tangerine’s villa, though not by will of her own. No doubt Tangerine would be furious that her daughter had escaped captivity... Bloody hell, I make it sound like a prison.

With a trot past the inn and a few residential cottages, I’m at the Glasswork Forge, what’s left of it anyway, given that part of the wall and ceiling are missing. I remember that fondly. When the dragon fell from the sky, my shield was barely enough to protect both me and Rosemary. For a moment, I actually thought I was going to die. But still, here I am, having dealt with several more moments like that.

“Is Tangerine with you?” A deep, tomboyish voice sounds out from the shadows. I see Rosemary’s silhouette against the edge of the forge.

"Um..." I glance around. "No, why?"

"Good. Now she won't rail me for doing this." Rosemary leaps out of the shadows. There's a thud, a rush of air and I land on my side in a hay bale before I realize she’s just rammed me. It didn’t hurt, it just caught me by surprise, making me join Rosemary in loud laughter. I’m finally able to get a good look at her. She wears a long duster coat and fedora, like before, making her seem even bulkier than she already is.

“That's how we do it back at the plantation!" My mane cries out in agony as her yellow hoof runs through it rapidly.

I jerk away from the sudden pain and try to lay my mane flat again as I rise up. "Rosemary? What’s going on?"

"Nothin'! I'm just happy to see ya!" Before I can have one moment to myself, I'm pulled into a bone crunching hug.

“Feeling’s... mutual... can’t... breathe...."

“Oh, sorry.” I let out a hefty gasp for air as Rosemary relinquishes her grip. She still keeps her hooves on my withers, though, continuing her tradition of ignoring personal space. Still, she’s a welcome sight, bringing about a lot of positivity and energy despite the aura of war in this town. “I can hardly breathe too, Shae,” she says. “I galloped here all the way from the villa.”

"What for? What happened? Why are we whispering?" So many more questions flood my mind, particularly ones involving the fact that her mussed up red mane and black heavy eyes make it look as though she needs some sleep. “Are you okay?”

“Better than okay,” Rosemary says with a grin. She taps me on the cheek. “I’m here because I needed to get a good look at’cha before I head off to...” She looks glum for just a moment. “It doesn’t matter.”

“You came all this way just to see me? I’m flattered.” I sheepishly twiddle the curls of my mane.

Rosemary trots past me to the gaping entrance of the forge, resting her hooves on the remains of the wall. “I’m sorry to say, that’s not all I’m here for. I need a weapon somethin' awful and I was wonderin’ if you could lend me a helping hoof.”

“You’re going to steal from Glasswork?” Oh dear, and I’m an accessory.

She glares at me with a smirk. “Hephaestus, no. Who do you think I am?” She pulls a small pouch of bits from her coat and jingles it next to her ear. “I plan on rebursin’ her.”

“Reimbursing,” I correct her.

“Gesundheit.” She hops into the gaping hole of the weapon shop. I hear the telltale sounds of metal clashing and many obviously sharp objects falling to the floor. "Aha! Ebony! Glasswork, you are a miracle worker."

What have I gotten myself into?

~Vision End~

Trottingham is still visible in the distance, despite the altitude and heavy rainfall. It serves as a beacon of sorts as Caro, Tangerine and Wolf River trek into the mountainside woods.

“I know Scar is difficult to work with,” says Wolf River to Caro as he pulls him up over a ledge. “His soliloquy tends to dominate all conversations, doesn’t it?”

“He thinks he knows me a monster. I am anything but,” says the Dragonborn, trying to convince himself more than any other.

Tangerine is in the lead, waving her torch down the trail. “Yes, we know...” She looks back at Caro, who trudges along as the slowest of the group. None of the reckless abandon she expects from him is to be found. She turns to him and nudges his wither. “Scar is always the type to make you think about your actions, and while that is a noble trait, perhaps it’s for the best you save it for another time.”

“No moral questions to be had here,” says Wolf River. “The Silver Horseshoe don’t deserve a withholding of your blade.”

Caro groans and draws his broadsword, giving it a practice swing and cutting some grass in the process. “Ugh, different viewpoints pulling at my legs. I’m finding it harder to care by the moment. All that matters to me is finding this mew-face weapon.”

He’s stopped by Wolf River, who gruffly says, “Mjolnir. Mee-yol-ner. It’s a weapon forged by Hephaestus himself. It alone can tame armies and move mountains.”

And the Silver Horseshoe just waltzed into Horsevasker and took it? Caro thinks. He stops his trotting and sheaths his weapon as a peculiar sight comes into view. “Who commissioned an entire statue of Epona?”

A stone visage of the widely worshipped mother of ponykind stands tall among the trees, though its brilliance is mitigated by unfortunate design. What should be a brilliant crimson coat accompanied with a mane of white is a filthy, mossy grey, riddled with cracks. Her horn and wings are crumbling at the edges.

“Damn zealots can’t even be bothered to capture Epona’s majesty.” Caro bows out of regret for the insulting sight. “Somepony should put this abomination out of its misery.”

“How dare you!”

Standing at the base of the statue is a heavily robed old colt. Caro and Wolf River both narrow their gaze at him, as they’re both struck with a sense of familiarity. They both recall where they’ve seen him before at the same time.

Caro points at the hooded colt. “You’re the zealot who spoke well of the dragons’ arrival."

"Preacher? What brings you to Silver Horseshoe territory?” Wolf River asks.

The preacher is just as wide eyed and obnoxiously dramatic as he was before. “I have seen the light, my friends! I bring good tidings to these worshippers of Epona. We share a common ideal, you see. The children of Dragos come to purify Equestria of ne'er-do-wells and non-believers, you see. The Silver Horseshoe also have a hefty belief in purity. If I were to perhaps convert them, or at least merge our worship, we could go to Dragos together and be forever embraced against her nurturing bosom!”

“Like a sheepdog chasing a carriage,” says Caro as he spits at the preacher’s hooves. “What will happen when you find that bosom?”

The preacher has a suggestive smirk on his face, one that wouldn’t belong to any sane religious figure. “We’ll return to this world as dragons, so we may bring about the divine will of Dragos.”

Caro shares a glance with Wolf River and Tangerine, who are both beckoning for him to leave the preacher be, but Caro grits his teeth and licks his lips with his forked tongue. He reaches for his sword.

"You're in the way, Preacher."

~Shae~

I must remember to never stick my muzzle in the steam of a forge ever again. It’s far less comfortable than a sauna.

Nevertheless, it’s worth it to see Rosemary’s efforts come to fruition in the form of a curved ebony falchion, ribbed at the tip for a very dangerous appearance. I don’t even want to get near it for fear of losing something important.

“Fantastic,” says Rosemary, taking the words right from my mouth. She passes me a file, which I levitate to scratch off any anomalies that interfere with the smoothness of the blade. Thankfully, it’s so well made that I hardly have to make any corrections. I hoof it back to her.

Rosemary takes a warrior’s pose, as if she’s about to land a decisive blow on an invisible enemy. "I should model for the painters of Warriors of the Dynasty Annual,” she says. “Does your academy get those books?"

"Not officially, but when one of your friends is a master of invisibility and the other a history buff, certain items tend to fall into your lap.” I feel for my pouch, regretting that I didn’t bring along the latest print of Warriors. Then again, what I expected from my trek didn’t warrant a reason to have it.

Rosemary’s tough exterior gives way to the smile only a devoted follower could have. "You read it too! Did you see the portrait of Dewheart the Daring?”

“Only pegasus in this year's volume, how could I forget? She wielded bladed greaves like no other.” I also recall her having the legs of a champion. They went on forever...

“Yes, she’s wonderful, but no matter the volume, I'm more fond of the mages. Those are the true artists."

Magic, to a mage like me, has become a somewhat mundane tool in my life, so I often forget how amazing it seems to more sheltered individuals, like Rosemary.

“See, Shae, for somepony who’s been sheltered in a villa founded, owned and occupied purely by earthwalkers since the early days of Equestria, meetin’ you has been the highlight of, well...” She ponders that thought for a moment. “...Yeah, my entire life. I’ve only been friends with one other unicorn, but he didn’t have the same spirit of adventure and magic like you do. That relationship didn’t last long, let me tell ya. I’d rather spend time with adventurous types like you.”

I’m so humbled by her, I can only play with my mane and hide my blush behind my glasses. “You flatter me. I’m hardly an adventurer...”

“Shae.” Rosemary’s hoof graces my cheek and I find myself face to face with her. She looks serious, then she smiles again. “Take the damn compliment.”

I chuckle nervously. “Uh, okay.”

We both relax on the same seat I occupied during my illness, a kind reminder of how we first met. As we examine our new blade, Rosemary’s expression turns from euphoric to somewhat grim.

“Is something the matter?” I ask.

She whispers something only just audible. “Missin'...”

I nudge her. “Huh? Didn’t quite catch that.”

She suddenly holds the blade outward, causing me to lean back in caution. “It’s missin' something. It needs...” She stands up and takes a practice swing, nearly taking out one of the few intact pillars holding the shop together. “Fire! Yeah, that’s it!”

“Fire?”

Rosemary takes another swing, this one vertically, taking a chunk out of the wooden floor. “Ironhaunch, he was on the front page of last year’s Warriors of the Dynasty. He was a unicorn that specialized in incendiary magic, and he had a sword that caught on fire whenever he unsheathed it!” Now I’m staring at the tip of the blade as Rosemary hoofs it over to me. “Don’tcha have some sort of enchantment that can light this thing up like a Hearth’s Warming festival?”

I twiddle my hooves together, then reluctantly take the sword. It’s a lot heavier than it looks, and my frail body struggles under the weight. “Well, ah...” I carefully set it on the workbench. “I have experimented with augmentation in the past, but never on something this large.”

“I’m sure whatever you come up with will be fine, love.”

“Love...” It’s like everything she says casts my face ablaze. Why does she even need me to enchant her sword? All she needs is to sweet talk it.

Regardless, her palsy-walsy behavior warms my heart, and I can feel my magical reserves bolstering from my emotional peak. What would normally cause me a fit of exhaustion becomes as easy as levitating a quill as my horn ignites with white flames, which I cast upon the falchion. I don’t even break a sweat.

Rosemary leaps for joy and takes her blade back, sheathing it as she takes another dramatic pose. “Absolutely wonderful, as per usual!”

Rosemary had looked like quite the hero beforehoof with that falchion. Now, with the blade bathed in fire, she looks like a bloody warlord, ready to tear through an entire army and be home in time for supper… Well, that would be the case if she actually wanted to go home.

She drops her battle-ready stance as I nudge her with my aura. “I don’t mean to prod, but why is it that you needed a new weapon?”

Her gaze goes blank, as if she’s looking a hundred miles away. She doesn’t answer me.

I nudge her again, this time with my hoof. That gets her attention. “You’re one of us, Rosemary. Whatever it is you’re facing, I’m sure Caro and Tohro would be willing to help.”

“I…” Rosemary stretches out her foreleg and pulls me into another embrace, this one much less painful than before. “I can’t ask you to do that.”

“Why?”

“This is just somethin' I have to do by myself. I really, really appreciate the thought, though.” She breaks the hug before I’m ready, leaving me on my hind legs.

“Please, Rosemary. You can tell me anything.”

She shakes her head furiously before stomping away, facing the stone wall. “I can’t.”

“Why?”

Now she has the face of somepony deranged, completely dissonant to what I’ve come to know her as. “Mum will punish me if I tell anypony!”

The silence of the night is broken by the echo of her yelling. This is the first time she’s come across as anything less than sprightly to me, dragon’s falling notwithstanding, and I don’t think I like it at all. For the longest time, we just stare at eachother, me with a look of concern, and her with one of pale fear. What is she so afraid of?

Eventually though, she melds back into her chipper old self, trotting about happily as she takes a small pouch of bits from her pouch and sets it on the shop’s workbench. She then approaches me and resumes the embrace. “Listen, I’ve taken enough of your time as it is. Just let me take care of this myself.”

I want to protest. The little time I spent alone in these lands was harsh, lonely and terrifying, but then again, I am just a schoolmare. Rosemary seems more the type to weather these lands. As such, I swallow my concerns and say, “Okay, I trust you to know what you’re doing.”

"I trust ya too, and that's why I know you'll make good use of these." She slips a large package under my chin, which I levitate to my eyes to read the garbled inscription.

for shay toro and cero frum rosemary

“Wow, your...” I lower the package and look straight at Rosemary, “...diction. It’s atrocious.” We have a mutual chortle as I unbind the package and remove the wrapping.

Contained within is a gauntlet of sorts, with a strange contraption on the underside (“That’s a hidden blade for Tohro. He’ll be able to take a foe out without anypony noticing.”), a notched dagger (“That’s Caro’s. Sometimes the situation calls for a lighter weapon, right?”), and an illuminated ring with a ruby encrusted in the center. It’s a hornlet.

“This is for me?”

Rosemary nods and takes the ring from my hooves. She gently slips it onto my horn, my face flushing once again as she graces the tip. “This will increase your offensive magic’s potential by a fifth, I think.”

I’m gaping at such a generous gift. I feel the need to touch my new hornlet just to ensure it’s real before looking to Caro and Tohro’s new weapons. “You made all of this yourself?”

“I made the blades at the villa’s forge, along with the ring.” Rosemary presses her hoof against mine on the ring. “The gemstone, however, wasn’t easy to nab, especially under the supervision of the villa’s guards, but I managed to sneak out and buy it from a caravan of zebras. Hefty price, but it’s worth it to see you smile.”

It’s my turn to throw my forelegs around Rosemary, catching her by surprise and sending her off balance. We fall to the ground together, laughing all the while. Thats when I notice that she’s awfully close. I can feel her warm breath on my snout. I shake my head, clearing any stray thoughts trying to creep into my tired mind.

That’s when I have an idea. It’s unorthodox, but it’s the only way I know to repay her for her generosity. “Rosemary, when I go back to Wintercolt to give my presentation, would you like to come with me?”

Rosemary’s eyes widen and her open-mouthed smile nearly consumes her entire muzzle. “You’d really do that for me?!” she shrieks, tightening her grip on me.

“Of course... can’t breathe... again...”

“Oh, sorry...”

We both jump to our hooves and leave the remains of the shop, back out onto the empty street. All the lamps have gone out by this time, and the sun is beginning to creep over the horizon.

“I’d best skedaddle,” says Rosemary as she throws the rest of her pack over her back and secures her new sword. “But I’ll see you real soon, yes?”

“I sure hope s-”

My words are cut short by a blinding flash of light that leaves me stumbling about sightless, if only for a moment. There’s a throbbing pain through my face as I accidentally ram into a wall. I keep blinking out the white and the pain as fast as I can. By the time I’m able to see again, I’m met with a very unwelcome sight.

Shokenda Blackwing, with her ursa fur cloak trailing in the wind, stands tall atop the Trottingham gates. Corpses of guards lay bleeding beneath her.

More than anything, I want to gallop as fast as equinely possible back to Equinesreach, screaming and hollering for Jarl Drake, but Shokenda’s perpetual emotionless gaze cements my hooves to the ground. I want to be brave and not play the role of the distressed damsel, but I just...

I’m scared.

“I will only ask this of you the once,” says Shokenda, her proud voice betraying her blank visage. “Where is the Dragonborn?”

~Vision End~

With his swords cast aside, one embedded in a tree and the other clattering to the ground far away, Caro is caught flat-hooved against a unicorn with electrified knifes floating at her side.

Teeth clenched and growling, Caro rips one of the knives from his wither and charges forth, sidestepping a lightning strike and throwing the knife at the mage. The mage erects a ward, deflecting the knife. This brings a smirk to Caro’s face. Got you.

He leaps into the air and shouts “WULD NAH KEST!” A rush of air ruffles his coat and mane as he covers several feet in an instant, putting him a breath’s width from the mage. He plants one hoof on the ground, swings his entire body around and slams his hind legs into the barrier, causing it to crack. The mage flinches at the same time.

“Damn it!”

Caro hears a snarl coming from behind. He wheels around to see Wolf River, still in his beast form. He has one of Caro’s greatswords in claw.

“Give it here!” Caro beckons. Wolf River gives another snarl and tosses it. Caro catches it by the hilt, makes a diagonal swing and cuts the ward clean in two, knocking the mage prone. Caro swings the sword once over his head and brings it forward. He pierces the mage’s robes and shoves the blade through her chest. She chokes out what sounds like a distorted prayer to Epona before her eyes roll into the back of her head.

Caro uses his free hoof to remove the corpse from his sword. He doesn’t even bother cleaning the blood off, indifferently sheathing his weapon and turning to the beast behind him.

“So... Lycans, huh? And here I thought Tangerine was being facetious.”

Wolf River tilts his head, conveying confusion in the best way a wolf can.

“I’m amazed Trottingham is so saccharine, given that they’ve got a couple of beasties looming over their heads.” He pauses, noticing the remains of several Silver Horseshoe behind him, their blood and entrails staining the trees and the statue of Epona. Caro nods. “Ah, or is it that you act as guardians to them and your kind’s existence is an open secret? In that case, they have every reason to stay calm, at least until an entire rebellion comes a-knocking at their doorstep.”

The wolf shrugs before returning the nod. He then looks to Tangerine with an aura of disappointment. The yellow earthwalker sighs and gives Wolf River’s mane an affectionate stroke, softly pressing her muzzle against his.

“I’m not going to beat around the bush, love,” she says, “I’m sorry my lips were loose. If I’m to be a Carrier, I promise to keep the secret closer to my heart.” She plants a light kiss on the wolf’s wet rose. “And you as well.” Tangerine then approaches Caro, wearing her signature sternness, though it’s less vicious than before. “As for you...”

Caro draws his hoof across his mouth. “I’ll smith a key for the chest in which I’ll lock the Carriers’ secret away.” To him, it’s not overtly personal or threatening, so keeping such a thing under wraps can’t be difficult. “Although, I think the rest of my guild has the right to know.”

Tangerine cocks her brow before glancing at Wolf River. He strains his mouth to growl out a sound that resembles the word “Fine.”

“Fine,” says Tangerine. “We both agree to be more conservative with our secrets.”

Caro is still having difficulty comprehending how agreeable Tangerine has become in his absence, keeping her calm and leaving her talk of honor to a minimum. It’s disconcerting, but by no means unwelcome.

As for Wolf River, well, considering the fantastical things Caro has witnessed, a pony transforming into a beast seems tame by comparison. To him, Discord is far more concerning than an overgrown wolf.

That wolf takes the lead, ascending a moss coated staircase that twists around a formation of rocks. Caro and Tangerine follow side by side, with the latter keeping her swords at the ready for any Silver Horseshoe keen on sneaking in for an attack.

Wolf River turns the corner with his claws sharpened and ready for the kill, only to find an unexpected sight. Silver Tongue, clad in steel armor over his ornate robes, sits cross legged over a stone slab, sipping a cup of tea.

Upon that slab lies what appears to be an exotically crafted sledgehammer of large size. Upon closer inspection, one can see sparks of lightning emanating from the head.

“So that’s Mjolnir,” says Caro with awe, feigning ignorance to the stallion guarding it. “Color me impressed, that thing looks like it could take somepony’s jaw out.”

“You have good taste in weapons.” Silver Tongue takes one last large sip of tea before casting the cup aside on the slab. He runs his hoof carefully over the hammer’s shaft. “The legends say it was crafted by Hephaestus himself, wielded by an ancient hero with command over lightning. Granted, any unicorn can cast lightning from their horn, given practice, but this would grant that power to anyone.”

The hooded unicorn clutches Mjolnir in both hooves, hops upright onto his hind legs and points the head at the trio. A fizzle of electric light flashes from it. “So, which of you wishes to endure Epona’s divinity first? Or shall I pick for you?”

Caro advances forth. Tangerine reaches out in protest, but the Dragonborn doesn’t pay her any mind. He needs blood, and he needs it fierce. “I fen krif pal,” he boasts, standing on his hind legs with his swords drawn in each forehoof.

Silver Tongue clicks sarcastically. “Oh, you poor soul.”

Caro can barely move a muscle before Silver Tongue disappears from his perch and reappears behind the stone slab. He strikes Mjolnir upon the ground, leaving an enormous crater in the rock formation and sending the slab through the air. Caro holds up his swords to block it but he’s easily overpowered, tumbling into Tangerine. They’re halted by Wolf River with his large frame. The lycan leaps forward, crushing the slab and running on all fours to Silver Tongue.

The Silver Horseshoe’s leader is levitating, still keeping a firm grip on Mjolnir. He swings at Wolf River, who ducks, then sidesteps another round. Wolf River thrusts his claws at Silver Tongue, only to be blocked and forced away by the hammer’s shaft. Silver Tongue casts a bolt of lightning from the head, striking Wolf River in the chest and leaving a garish burn. This only serves to enrage the lycan further as he bellows, making rapid lashes. After making several effortless floating dodges, Silver Tongue slips up and loses shreds of his robes. Wolf River seizes him and gnaws on his left pauldron, tearing it off and leaving his shoulder bloodied.

Silver Tongue disappears again. “You cocky mongrel!” He comes from behind and roundhouse bucks Wolf River in the head, followed by a nasty blow to the jaw by Mjolnir. Wolf River howls in pain, stumbling forward and colliding his snout into stone. He reels his head around and roars before yelping and clutching his mouth. His jaw is dislocated.

“Epona’s will brings you pain. Now bow to me like the dog that you are.” A constant stream of lightning travels forth from the hammer and envelops Wolf River, binding his arms to his sides and bringing him to his hindquarters. He continues to pine, though his face is one of fierce defiance. Silver Horseshoe intensifies the spell. “Bow to your master!”

“NEVER!” Wolf River snarls.

Tangerine mentally berates herself for standing aside while her coltfriend suffers. What the fuck am I doing?! she thinks as she draws her bronze and onyx blades. She runs in front of Caro and turns her head to him. “Work your magic, Dragonborn!”

Were the circumstances less dire, Caro would insult her for only just now relying on the Thu’um, but he keeps it to himself and clears his throat. “FUS RO!”

Tangerine flies, orienting herself with her swords pointed forward. She steers herself into Silver Tongue, piercing his armor with the tips of her blades and tearing a crack in his defenses, as well as breaking his levitation field.

Caro follows up with a buck to Silver Tongue’s front, impaling him further on Tangerine’s blades, but he continues to strain against them. His horn comes alight as he teleports away, though he drops Mjolnir in the process. It falls into Caro’s hooves.

Along with that, several drops of warm blood splash onto Caro’s muzzle. The fresh metallic scent flows deep into his nostrils. His draconic pupils shrink, and every thought in his mind turns to violence. Just as before, when he took the preacher’s life, he drags his forked tongue across his lips.

“Mine.”

Clutching Mjolnir tight, he leaps from the rock formation and gallops to the injured Silver Tongue, who draws labored breaths as he hobbles along. His trail of blood is long and plentiful. Caro runs through it, allowing the crimson liquid to stain his coat. It brings a cathartic smile to his face.

“YUL TOOR!” A stream of fire travels past Silver Tongue, singing his cloak in black. The path before him erupts in flames, blocking his escape and prompting him to curse aloud.

He turns to the charging earthwalker and shrieks “You incompetent whore!”

Caro responds with a roar as he brings Mjolnir down and shatters the dirt, sending a pillar of lighting into Silver Tongue’s path. The old colt rolls out of the way and casts a non-elemental spray of magic. It hinders Caro’s running, but only just. He swings at Silver Tongue with an uppercut.

Silver Tongue rolls again, this time in a curve around Caro, and seizes the Dragonborn in a foreleg lock. He casts a rope from his horn that ensnares Caro by the neck. Mjolnir is dropped once again.

As the robe’s grip tightens around him, with Tangerine and Wolf River charging as fast as possible to his aid, Caro shakes and kicks vigorously, only to get struck on the small of his back, sending a numbing throb throughout his barrel. “I know what you are,” says Silver Tongue. “You, the dog and that mare have all sold your flesh to the dark arts for power! You are no longer worthy of calling yourselves children of Epona. What makes you think you even deserve to exist?”

Caro struggles to turn his head, just to hiss at the cackling colt like a snake, revealing sharp fangs.

Silver Tongue’s grip lessens as he notices the fangs, gasping in surprise. “What in the-”

Caro bites down on the rope and tears it apart, then slams his head into Silver Tongue’s muzzle. He then leaps away, still clutching the rope in his mouth. He pulls, dragging Silver Tongue by the horn as he grabs ahold of Mjolnir in one hoof and brings the head into the flailing old colt’s chest. A grotesque and satisfying crack echoes through the trees.

Silver Tongue is airborne for a moment before his broken body collides with the ground. Caro slowly approaches him and points the hammerhead against his neck. Silver Tongue only laughs, punctuated by painful coughs.

“You’ve only served to prove my point, Dragonborn.”

“That so?” Caro says with sarcasm.

Silver Tongue draws a shaking hoof to point behind Caro. “Take a look over there.”

Still keeping Mjolnir firmly against the broken colt, Caro turns to see the corpse of the preacher, still bleeding after receiving a nasty impalement on two broadswords.

Caro nickers and turns back to Silver Tongue. “He was in the way. He would have alerted you to our presence had I allowed him to continue. Besides, he was a zealot like you. The world is better off without him.”

Silver Tongue continues to spit out punctured cackles. “I pelted the impure for Epona’s love. That is what I believed in. I had a genuine reason for slaughter.” He glares at the Dragonborn with red eyes. “What do you believe in? Look upon that preacher’s corpse, and tell me he died for a reason other than for the sake of your own convenience.”

That’s enough to stop Caro’s train of thought. He was very near to bringing Mjolnir down on Silver Tongue and finishing him in a bloody heap, but now his mind is filled with doubt.

Did I need to kill him? I could have knocked him out. I could have told him to leave. Would he have listened? Would he have tried to kill me later for that? What could I have done differently? What if-

Caro is brought back to the present as he gets a face full of disapproving Tangerine, something he had hoped never to see again. She seizes Mjolnir from Caro, and with one fell swing, brings it down on Silver Tongue’s head.

~Caro~

The rain is as disorderly and scattered as my thoughts. It may be able to wash away the blood of Preacher’s corpse but it certainly won’t wipe my confusion. Silver Tongue is little more than a bludgeoned head attached to a pile of robes and armor at this point, yet his words still echo in my mind. Why did I kill the preacher? Would it have made any difference if I had let him live?

“Ahem.” Wolf River nudges me, having reverted back into a pony. How he’s able to keep his armor after his transformation, I have no idea, and before I can even ask, the large fellow pulls me into a deathly hug.

I hear Tangerine trying to stifle a snicker. “Sorry. He does that,” she says.

By the time Wolf River lets me be, I’ve run out of breath, and I’ve been distracted from my stray thoughts. Even then, it seems to be for the best that I let Silver Horseshoe’s words go to waste. Based on Wolf River’s past experiences with him, he was nothing more than a pretentious elderly fellow far beyond the line of senility. Who was he to question my morality?

Wolf River gives a few broad swings of his hammer, each one letting off a spark of lightning. He then holsters it, alongside his war axe. “The prize has been claimed. Mjolnir is back with the Carrier Clan where it belongs- Ah.” He feels for his jaw. Despite his taking a fair few healing potions, his jaw has yet to heal.

“Hephaestus be praised,” I say with my hooves in the air. “Are you sure that hammer will be so valuable in the oncoming battle?”

“You saw what it’s capable of,” says Wolf River, “and even Silver Tongue knew its power. A Hephaestus crafted weapon is always the trump card.”

Tangerine is stretching out her limbs, not all that worse for wear beyond a few bruises and scrapes. She approaches Wolf River and embraces him tenderly, while also getting a good look at Mjolnir. “We can only hope.”

I would be celebrating this victory, but my damn ears keep twitching. I attack them with my hooves to keep them steady, but they protest. I walk past the statue of Epona, facing the trail leading down into the fields before Trottingham. I expect everything to be as quiet and saccharine as it was when I left.

Since when is anything as I expect it?

The sound of cannon fire makes my ears twitch again. I can hear the distant shouting of soldiers locked in conflict, blades colliding, blood being spilt, magic igniting.

The invasion of Trottingham has begun.

“Divines dammit!” I yell, bucking the closest tree and leaving a deep gash in its bark. I turn back to Wolf River and Tangerine. I hold out my hoof in emphasis. “Some trump card! The Blackwings are already here and we’ve just been wasting time slaughtering cultists for a single magical weapon! It wouldn’t even make a difference at this point!”

“The battle is only in its infancy,” says Wolf River, coolly passing me by. “Shokenda has yet to gain any upper hoof. Let us regroup with the other Carriers.”

“I second that.” Tangerine follows closely behind Wolf River, leaving me breathing in a fit of rage.

I warned you so, says my mental voice of Scar. That’s probably what he would tell me if he were here. You claim to be a hero, yet all you’ve done is slaughter for a weapon. How redundant a task, and what if it all amounts to nothing in the end?

I will myself back into reality with my hoof across my face. “Shut up.”

Time to go to war, casting myself into danger for the second time today in the hopes of keeping Trottingham safe. Despite not having occupied the town for very long, it’s still been more welcoming and humble than any place along this journey. I’ll die before I see Shokenda take it for her own. No, wait, scratch that last. She’ll die.

Unfortunately, that resolve is challenged when I take a few steps forward, only to be thrown backwards from the impact of a lanky green dragon touching down before me.

I’ve gone from confused to determined in a manner of seconds, and now...

“Il meyz ko faal naam do auk drog Saviikaan. Fen yor krif mil, Dovahkiin?”

Of course he wants to fight me. What do dragons contribute to this world other than death and destruction? Master Hammerfell can vouch for that. After facing two of these beasts beforehoof, a third of such scrawny stature is hardly intimidating. He’s not a monster, only a nuisance.

Why do I need to question my role in this world? I know who I am. I’m the damn Dragonborn. I know what I live for.

“You’ve caught me in a truly foul mood, Dovah! I care not for Saviikaan’s desires! He means nothing to me! He’s little more than another corpse who has lived beyond his day of reckoning! I know he’s your master. I know he sends your kind to me for my death, but he fails to understand; you are nothing but insects in the face of my power!”

I lean back onto my hind legs. I have no weapon in my teeth nor hooves, and honestly, I don’t care. I’ve stopped caring for a while now. I hold my forelegs out, fully welcoming the dragon’s attack. It will be his last.

“COME ON, DOVAH! MAKE THE FIRST MOVE! DIG IN! IT WON’T MAKE A DIFFERENCE!!”

XXI - Wings of Despair

“Hello, traitor.”

Tohro hears Shokenda’s threatening drawl quite well, but he does not respond with words. Instead, he turns away from the wallway cannons and the soldiers loading ammunition to equip his crossbow. He loads three bolts and fires them all at once the instant he catches Shokenda in his sights. The bolts pass right through her before she fades away.

“Will you ever not fall for that?”

An otherworldly musk makes itself known to Tohro’s snout. Shokenda has reappeared behind him with her muzzle uncomfortably close to his ear. “You’ve truly become enveloped in the role I sent you to play. What’s the phrase? ‘Becoming the mask’?”

Tohro loads another bolt and presses the stirrup to Shokenda’s chin. “It’s not a mask. It never was.”

He fires, and once again Shokenda fades. She lands on one of the cannons in mid-reload.

“Get off of that, hag!” shouts a soldier as he draws his mace. He makes a desperate swing at Shokenda, who bounds over of the soldier. With a single swish of her colorless glowing horn, the soldier’s neck furiously gushes blood, and the lights leave his eyes in an instant.

Tohro gapes and hesitates to pull the trigger. “How did you-”

“Did you witness that?” Shokenda nudges the soldier’s corpse with her hoof and cautiously steps over the widening pool of blood. “That’s the power the Divines have blessed me with.”

Tohro spits at her hooves, though she steps aside. “So just cut me down and get it overwith,” he says with a scowl. “A far better fate than speaking to you. And I reiterate, there is no mask! I live for Caro, hag!” He decides to make use of his newest weapon. With a flick of his foreleg, his hidden blade shows itself.

Shokenda gives a dissonant giggle. "You live for pleasures of the flesh."

Tohro grits his teeth and charges at Shokenda, scraping her ebony armor. “FUCK YOU!”

She strikes him across the face as if he were a mouthy child, sending him to the ground. "What's wrong? Angry I'm not jealous you’ve found new partners? Did you think we had something?"

“They’re my friends! And I refuse to believe we ever had anything! You used me like a towel!”

"And like a towel all you did was lie in the corner and mold."

Tohro thrusts at her neck repeatedly with his hidden blade, though she only laughs maniacally as the blade reflects off her neck, like it were striking diamond.

"Just like your first time. Thrusting blindy and getting nowhere."

Surrounded on all sides by largest battle he has ever seen, with blades clashes echoing through the night and the stench of cannon powder latched onto the wind, and all he can do is cower in fear at the albino demon before him as she advances.

“As for your request to cut you down, I’m afraid I must refuse your generous proposition. You seem to have forgotten what that,” Shokenda points intensely at Tohro’s scarred eye, “means to the Blackwings.”

“A slow and painful death upon me and all my relatives. Well, everypony I know and love is dead or a Blackwing, so go on! Take it all out on me! Do it.” Tohro spreads his forelegs out. “Fucking do it.”

Shokenda, still carrying no emotion whatsoever in her face but utter glee in her body, raises her hooves, about to bring them down on every vulnerable spot in Tohro’s frame...

Until a green dragon crashes into the ramparts, tearing brick from brick and separating the warmare from the thief. While Tohro calls out in momentary surprise, Shokenda still laughs quietly. “That was unexpected.”

“SHOKENDAAAAA!!”

In front of the unflustered warmare lands the Dragonborn, having leapt from the head of the dragon. His eyes are coated red, his body much of the same with the dragon’s blood. His anger radiates from his body, filling the air with pure rage.

Shokenda dismisses the fury on Caro’s face and merely gives a small bow. “Shall we dance?”

Caro draws one of his greatswords in his teeth. “Let’s.” He gallops forward, swings around and bucks Shokenda in the muzzle. She doesn’t even budge, not even when he returns and gives her a haymaker.

“She’ll never falter if you strike her head on!” Tohro yells, flying overhead and flinging three wing blades at her. She phases backwards from the first but the other two cut through her mane, dropping white strands of hair from her head. “See? Her shield is inconsis-”

Shokenda reels around and strikes Tohro with a bolt of lightning. He veers off course, fidgeting his limbs and coming to a rough collision with the ground.

“You’ll regret that!” Caro swings at Shokenda’s flanks while she’s turned away, landing a scratch in her armor. It’s an incredibly tough build. Figures that the strongest set of ebony armor would go to her.

Regardless, she’s still vulnerable. Caro slams into her with both hind legs and staggers her. He swings his sword across her face, barely crossing her cheek as she fades away again.

Caro receives a scorching blast of lightning to his back, followed by several harsh bucks and throttles to his side. Shokenda moves unfathomably fast for somepony of her stature.

Ignoring the bruises in his barrel from landing against the wall, Caro retaliates with a shout. “WULD NA-” He’s cut off by another buck from Shokenda.

“Your proficiency with the Thu’um is unrefined.”

Caro hisses and drags himself back into his battle stance.

“YUL...”

Shokenda taps her chin. “Well, that’s a tad better...”

“What?” Caro tilts his head, looks to his sides, and then behind him, where the forgotten dragon lays with his open mouth full of embers.

“...TOOR SHUL!!”

It happens in the blink of an eye. The entire rampart, for a moment, is engulfed in flames. Caro’s adrenaline kicks in, allowing him to gallop past a sidetracked Shokenda, dive for Tohro, scoop the pegasus from the ground and leap to the streets below.

His legs scream from the impact, leaving him stiff and sore, on top of the burning sensation on his flanks. Baring his teeth, he continues to neglect those injuries, checking on Tohro’s well being. He waves Caro off as he catches his breath.

“I’m not going to lie, mate,” says Tohro, “that was beyond amazing, what you did there. Name another that’s done something like that, I dare you.”

Caro mutters, “One can assume Argent did...”

“What was that?”

“Nothing, I just... Divines, what the hell?!” In his peripheral vision, an unwelcome and entirely unforeseen sight becomes clear. He turns to it with his mouth agape and his eyes bulging.

Unharmed by the flames, Shokenda Blackwing flies from the ramparts into the battle raging outside Trottingham.

Shokenda Blackwing flies.

CHAPTER XXI - WINGS OF DESPAIR

“Alicorn?!”

While Caro’s legs move him hastily forward to the battlefield, his mind remains elsewhere, replaying the impossible sight over and over, never wholly believing what he saw. He has to keep blinking to ensure he’s still in the realm of the living. Meanwhile, Tohro flies closely behind with his focus on the road ahead and his hooves ready to take up another wing blade if necessary.

“An alicorn?!” Caro repeats. “Do you know what this means? Platinum and her entire Imperial Legion are at war with a... no.” I will never refer to her as a deity, he thinks.

“It’s a shame, I know,” Tohro says tranquilly.

That note strikes Caro the wrong way. He begins to slow just past the crossroads, where the battle lies just yards away. “You seem rather non-opinionated about it.”

Tohro nickers and touches down. “Caro, I care not for what Shokenda is. I merely wish to live in the now.”

Caro spins Tohro around and grabs him by the face. “This is the now! And up until now, I merely saw Shokenda as a disturbingly powerful unicorn. Alicorn, Tohro! You know how powerful they are in legend! What if Shokenda is on Epona or Fauste’s level?”

“Hell if I... know...”

The telltale signs of a liar can be seen on Tohro. Irregular breathing, neglect to look Caro in the eye, a twitch of his mouth. Caro takes notice of these things easily and narrows his gaze, forcing Tohro to look at him. “You knew all along, didn’t you?”

"All the Blackwings know." The pegasus’ white face begins turning red, but not of affectionate fluster. “...I’m one of the few to see her clothless, so... imagine how I felt.”

Caro would be prompted to feel more enraged but he can feel the fear of Shokenda on Tohro’s body.

Tohro shoves Caro aside. “Behind you!” he shouts whilst drawing his crossbow and firing. A charging Blackwing soldier falls dead between them with the bolt in his head. “Bloody hell, I think I knew this one...”

“No time for nostalgia.” The Dragonborn readies his weapon, steps over the body of the Blackwing and resume his galloping. He receives a pat on the back from Tohro.

“I’ll be fine, Caro. You’re here.”

Having spent most of her existence on a mountain, isolated from the wartime acts of the world below, Shae would be one to cower in fear as Blackwings surround her, Rosemary and two Imperial pegasi with longswords in hoof. However, Shae doesn't like to consider herself an average pony, and she is far from afraid.

“Stay close, ladies.”

While she and Rosemary nod to acknowledge the soldiers’ act of valor, with them charging in and taking on their surrounding foes, the mares don’t wait for rescue. Shae is merely a step away from two Blackwing unicorn mares that tower over her, though Rosemary can look them dead on. The young mage ignites her horn. “So, we fight magic with magic. Come on.”

Rosemary gives a confident smirk to her enflamed falchion, admiring the scalding trail it leaves behind as she brandishes it.

Giving a somewhat restrained war cry, Shae charges at one of the Blackwings as she summons an ethereal scimitar to her side. She casts it forth, landing it on the Blackwing’s barrier. She follows up with a kick that dispels the barrier. The Blackwing casts a spray of purple sludge, some of it planting on Shae’s neck. She hesitates, trying to recall what the substance is, but her question is answered when it begins to corrode and burn at her skin. Blood trickles from underneath the sludge. She tenses up and tries to tear it off, only to get pinned by the Blackwing, who slugs her in the chest and the face. She points her horn towards Shae’s forehead and charges what Shae recognizes as a non-elemental spark.

Shae denies the Blackwing the finishing blow by bringing her hind legs into her stomach, knocking her plating askew. She recalls her scimitar underneath and plunges it into the Blackwing, then does her best to ignore the stink of blood dripping from the mouth. She somersaults backwards onto her hooves.

A shriek from Rosemary brings Shae around. She’s caught in a headlock, pinned by a pegasus with the other mage’s aura keeping her down. She growls as she resists the aura, struggling to move her hoof to her falchion.

“Get off her!” Shae takes a page out of her most recent kill’s book and casts forth the corrosive slag onto the mage’s face. Her magical grip falters as she does, before she cries out in pain and desperately grabs to relieve her face.

Rosemary can finally grab her sword. She thrusts at the pegasus, who leaps backward and crouches, followed by a flying charge. Rosemary digs her hooves into the dirt and meets the pegasus’ charge with her head. She doesn’t budge an inch, and the pegasus is thrown onto his back. “I am so sorry about this...” Sword aflame, she vaults onto the pegasus and pierces his chest. “But, to be fair, I may have a concussion, thanks to you. So, now we’re even.”

Shae, meanwhile, stands over a pile of disposed slag and the Blackwing mage, whose face has become burned and scarred beyond all recognition. She draws labored breaths as Shae lightly brushes her wither. “I think you should find a white mage. I would cure it myself but I’m not that proficient with healing magic.”

The mage chokes out a weak cough and whispers “Th-thank you...” as she enters a shock induced sleep.

“What happened to those Imperials?” Rosemary asks Shae.

“They got snatched up and bound by some other Blackwing pegasi. I lost sight of them after.”

“Poor sods.”

Shae trots to the edge of the hill, overlooking the furious battle below. Whereas the Imperial Legion has formed organized ranks along the main pathways into Trottingham and fight with poise and order, the Blackwings are disorganized, storming over the ranks in chaotic fluence. Unfortunately, that seems to be working in their favor. “I don’t pretend to be a battle strategist,” says Shae, “but I feel the ratio of pegasi in the Blackwings is what’s granting them the upper hoof.”

Rosemary is awkwardly brushing the back of her mane. “Uh, yeah, I was just thinkin’ that...”

“Come to think of it, why are there so many more pegasi on their side, anyway?”

Shae performs a spooked leap when a cold armored hoof brushes her side. Tangerine stands beside her, wearing a red cape over steel barding, sharpening a new set of bladed gauntlets on a rock. “It’s to do with their origins. When the Blackwings first came together, Shokenda aside, they were all pegasi enraged at the abandonment of the old ways back in Olympus. It’s in the name. Of course, their ranks expanded to earthwalker soldiers and unicorn mages eventually, but pegasi will always dominate their numbers.”

Shae nods, then notices out of her peripheral vision that she’s one friend short. Rosemary hasn’t even left a trace.

Tangerine cocks her brow. “Is something wrong, Miss Shae?”

“Uh, no,” Shae lies, feeling deprived of a farewell embrace. She shakes it off and focuses on the greater task. “If they claim Equinesreach, they’ll have Jarl Drake, and this’ll be all for nothing. What should we do?”

Tangerine smiles and gestures to Trottingham. The Imperial Legion has every potential entrance covered by spiked roadblocks, but that doesn’t prevent pegasi from diving in from above. The cannons take care of that, for the most part.

A Blackwing pegasus is struck by an inflamed cannonball in mid-flight. He becomes a tumbling smolder as he descends right into Tangerine’s path. She swings her hind legs around and plants them into his stomach, and he falls with his muzzle coated in sick.

Tangerine gives a triumphant flip of her mane. “Cathartic! Been so long since I’ve been able to cut loose on these bastards.”

“Hey!” Shae shouts.

“Oh, yes,” Tangerine turns in place, lending Shae her hoof. “If you want my advice, you’d best join Jarl Drake and Boysenberry at Equinesreach. We need more talented mages there.”

Shae doesn’t bother hiding her fluster. “You flatter me.”

“Nothing but the truth. In the meantime, my friends will address this.”

“Friends?”

A shadow is cast over Shae for only a moment. She looks up to see nothing but the night sky then turns back to see a menacing figure crossing the moon. She lets out a brief shriek before Tangerine’s comforting hoof finds her again.

“Calm yourself, dear. Surely you recognize Wolf River??”

The fierce lycan wears a steel gauntlet down the length of his right arm, which clutches an ornately decorated hammer. “Mjolnir...” he growls.

Shae winces at more sounds of snarls surrounding her whilst Tangerine looks as content as can be. Several more lycans, each of varying size but still black as night, emerge from the darkness, heavily armored with their fangs sharpened for the kill. Shae does want to run away in panic, but a lingering feeling of safety thrusts forward from the back of her mind. The lycans are standing guard, rather than assaulting her or anypony innocent. She relaxes her body as the warmth of protection comes over her.

“You are the Carrier Clan,” says Tangerine. She faces Wolf River but she speaks to all the lycans. “You are named so because you carry the honor, courage and dignity of this land on your backs, even if nopony else will. Do what you’ve sworn and protect our home.”

Aside from Wolf River, the lycans seem reluctant to take orders from fresh meat, tilting their heads at Tangerine.

The former general sighs and mutters, “If it pleases you.”

With that, Wolf River turns with Mjolnir in claw, saliva coming off his lips as he roars at an oncoming Blackwing caravan, guarded by several armed earthwalkers and a single mage. He charges forward in unison with the rest of the Carriers.

All it takes is a just impact with Mjolnir to send the caravan toppling over, coated in electric sparks. The stored gunpowder kegs begin to fizzle. The single unicorn summons a barrier, trying to contain the inevitable explosion, but as the keg bursts, he’s overwhelmed. A brief yet intense blaze sends the many Blackwings flying prone. Wolf River catches a husky colt in his claws. He gives him a close view of his fangs before he silences his screams.

Tohro breaks the muzzle of an enemy pegasus with a mid-air kick, followed by grabbing ahold of her appendages, making a revolution and tossing her body into an oncoming group of more rebels. All three land in a broken heap on a patch of grass.

The broken pegasus coughs up a small pool of red and calls out for Tohro. He turns around and kneels to her, doing his best to avoid looking sympathetic to his old group.

“S-S-S-Shokend-da s-said you’d... be here... s-she said you-” She hacks up another batch, a few droplets speckling Tohro’s face. “You b-betrayed us...”

Tohro gives a single noted laugh before he tosses the mare a spare potion. As she scrambles for it, he says, “I’m no traitor. Shokenda’s methods have simply lost her my interest.”

The mare speaks between sips of potion. “W-we used to be com-mm... comrades.”

“Yes, and I’m not about to forget that. I just have a greater cause to answer for. You’d best-”

“YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!” Caro comes galloping past Tohro with his eyes full of murderous intent, aiming his sword straight for the vulnerable mare. The pegasus leaps to him, grabbing ahold of his neck and pinning him.

“NO! No, Caro, she doesn’t have to die, she’s out of commission already!”

Caro keeps thrashing against Tohro's grip, like a feral dog being held against his will.

His bloodlust is getting worse, I’d warrant, Tohro thinks. First time I saw it, I was sure he wouldn’t attack anypony important, but now I worry for the day when I won’t be able to stop his bouts of rage. I mean, what if...

After a moment passes, Tohro receives a tap on the haunches by Caro, who wears a meek smile. “Okay, I’m well. Could you...”

Tohro stands and helps Caro to his hooves, taking them in his. “Sorry about that.” He looks to Caro with morbid severity. “You should probably take a nap.”

Caro brushes him off and picks up his sword in his teeth. “Why would I do that? I still have a grudge to settle.”

Tohro assumed he would respond in such a way. He looks to stretch of land ahead, where a radiant golden glow telegraphs Shokenda’s location. She flies about, surveying the conflict and striking with lightning from above. What Tohro used to look upon with awe, he now sees as terrifying. He welcomes the idea of anypony being strong enough to make her bleed, even if it’s not him. “Nopony wants Shokenda dead more than I do, but it’s hardly worth it if you get killed heading straight for her. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”

Caro nods and puts on a warm smirk. “So, are you coming with?”

Tohro gestures for Caro to take the lead. “Didn’t even have to ask. I have to be there to sit on you again if your rage gets the best of y- Agh, what the hell?!”

Tohro flails about and collapses, shouting through pursed lips. He feels for his back, upon which four electrified wing blades have been embedded.

“This is... gonna ruin my whole day...” He shudders and shuts his eyes.

Caro is at his side in an instant, sweeping the wing blades out of him. Ignoring the jolt of lightning sent through his hoof, he throws his forelegs around Tohro’s barrel. “Stay with me! Stay with me.”

Tohro reaches around Caro and fishes through his pouch. “Gyah... dammit... Here I am, greatest assassin of the Blackwings, put down by a stealth attack. What a life, huh?” His hoof stops as he puts on a grim smile. “We’re out of healing potions.” He notices Caro is looking away absentmindedly, focused on something else skyward. “Mate?”

“Hag...” Caro snarls.

Tohro cranes his neck to look up. There’s Shokenda, hovering in place just above them, several more electrified wing blades floating at her side. With a nod of her head, the blades cascade down.

Caro positions himself over Tohro’s entire frame and takes in a deep breath. “FUS... RO DAH!”

Every wing blade is blown away, broken and useless, while Shokenda is left without defense. Caro leaps into the air. “WULD NAH!” With a vertical dash, he’s at eye level with the warmare, staring her down with nothing but fury in his draconic eyes.

Tohro protests from below. “Caro, don't! You can't win! You-”

That’s all the Dragonborn hears before he swings his blade at Shokenda, his rage making him forget his exponential disadvantage.

Shae can take on most foes, albeit batting an eye whenever her young body is struck, but it’s another matter entirely when an ablaze residential building erupts beside her, knocking her off her hooves onto her side. Splinters of wood speckle her exposed forelegs and face, but she shakes it off. Next to the skeever bite, it’s only superficial damage.

She resumes her galloping, steering away from Imperials and Blackwings locked in conflict. Equinesreach is visible across the grove in the town square.

Jarl Drake stands at the top step, issuing commands to her personal guards. “The Imperials control both the West and North districts, and the Blackwings are quickly taking the East and South, moving towards the center.”

The guards stand to attention with their weapons at the ready. “What will you have us do, My Jarl?” asks one of them.

“Whatever you please, but,” the jarl traces circles around her map of Trottingham, “I suggest forming a perimeter about the grove. Inevitably, they’ll all end up falling into our blades and-”

“What of the pegasi?”

That stops Jarl Drake short. “Well... bollocks.” She hunches over the makeshift table and lets out an exasperated breath. “I’ll have to see to the liquid glass.”

The doors to Equinesreach open, and little black Boysenberry comes sauntering out with his hood up. “Jarl Drake? Perhaps it would be for the best to not use the glass this time?”

Drake shoots a glare at Boysenberry and points to the upper floors of Equinesreach. “What is th- What are you doing out of bed? I’m quite occupied, if you’d take notice.” She looks to her nearest guard. “You, fetch me my bowl, and an extra blanket for the child.”

Boysenberry levitates himself onto the table. “I don’t need a bloody blanket, Jarl!” He then forces the doors shut, glancing at the leaving guard. “And you stay right there.” He turns back to Jarl Drake. “My Jarl, no doubt you recall why it is you’re not fit to helm a battle. You should have spoken to Platinum about this.”

“What does she know?”

“She was married to King Hurricane. There's little room for doubt that she learned something about an effective battle strategy.” Boysenberry rests his hooves on Drake’s shoulders. “I respect you as my caretaker and surrogate parent but I must keep you from making a critical mistake!”

Jarl Drake’s eyes go from wide to narrow as she grows furious. “Child, I’m warning you-”

“Your narcissism is your fatal flaw, and your wretched concept of strategy and reliance on the liquid glass will doom us all! Perhaps if you had listened to outside input at the battle of Ghastly Gorge it wouldn’t have been a stalemate!”

Aside from the sounds of cannon fire and clashing metal, no sounds are made between Jarl Drake and Boysenberry. The former backs away very slowly, her eyes quivering. Boysenberry stands his ground. His eyes are much more sinister, emanating a sickly green glow.

“Boysenberry, please, calm yourself, lest you-”

Boysenberry bashes his hoof on the table, splitting it down the center. “NO! I’ve had enough of your insolence!” He tears his hood clean off his head, his unkempt black mane flowing in the wind. His gaze falls on the town square, in which Shae is defending herself with a conjured staff nearby the less experienced Imperial soldiers.

With a vocally dissonant roar, Boysenberry leaps from the steps and glides into the fray. His collision with the ground sends cracks through the streets.

Eyes green and aura black as night, he passes over Shae and the Imperials to the nearest Blackwing, a female earthwalker. She snickers at the miniscule size of her foe and slices her sword towards his head. Boysenberry raises a single aura enveloped hoof as black crystals materialize across his entire foreleg. The sword doesn’t leave a dent, and is instead swiped away.

With the mare in a hooflock, Boysenberry pushes against her as she grits her teeth in pain.

“Bow to me,” hisses Boysenberry.

The mare doesn’t budge, but she’s struggling to hold her own.

“Bow to me, slave.”

Boysenberry wraps his other foreleg in crystal and seizes the mare by her head. He forces her onto her haunches. She remains defiant, spitting at Boysenberry’s face. He slowly wipes the mess away. “Do not defy me.”

The crystals in his hooves form into blades. He casts them both between the mare’s eyes, and her look of terror is frozen on her face as she crumbles into a bloodied heap.

The other Blackwings ignore the incredible feat and continue their mad charge to Equinesreach. Boysenberry takes notice of this and, in an instant, disappears into shadow in the ground, more crystals growing in his wake as his silhouette travels along. He leaps out of shadow, intervening in their path.

A much larger cluster of crystal arises at the base of the stairs, blocking access to all. Boysenberry then thrusts his hooves forward at the approaching rebels. One of the earthwalkers nickers. “What is this kid, a bloody crystoma-” His sentence goes unfinished as a spire impales him from underneath by the stomach, followed by several more spires upon the surrounding rebels. One fixes to dodge and gallop away but Boysenberry shadow travels to him, jumps in the way and swings his crystalline blade through the rebel’s neck. As he falls, Boysenberry gets a close look at an awed Shae.

He looks up at the sound of flapping wings to see the incoming Blackwing pegasi. Their aim is locked onto Equinesreach.

Jarl Drake’s guards grab their spears and hold them steady outwards. “What the hell, are they going to suicide bomb us?!”

The jarl is too distraught to give an answer. She’s hammering her hooves on the wall of crystal, shouting for Boysenberry. “You have to stop this now! Please, child!”

Boysenberry doesn’t acknowledge her. Aside from the wall, every bit of crystal he’s summoned collapses, recollecting at his hooves. It creates an ascending platform, sending him skyward into the pegasi’s path. With another dramatic flaring of his hooves, more spires erupt from the platform and skewer all but two of the pegasi. Those remaining two change course for the young magus, who growls something unintelligible. He leaps over their swoop and, with a clean slash of both hooves, cuts a wing clean off both of them. They become bloody spirals, dead the instant they slam into the cobblestone.

Boysenberry does away with his platform and lands gracefully onto the bloodbathed grass.

Shae is still in awe, aglow with admiration. “That was amazing... I’ve never seen conjuration magic done to such a-”

Boysenberry’s eyes grow to an even harsher tint of green. “Silence!” His shouting reverberates, sounding far more demonic than a child’s voice should. He begins to advance on Shae, a sick, feverish grin radiant on his face. “This power is something incomprehensible, something you could only dream of!” More crystals, these ones erratic and chaotic, rise with every step he makes. The Imperial soldiers begin to back away as they’re surrounded.

“Boysenberry, you know it's me!” Shae gestures to herself. “I am not your enemy! Snap out of it!”

The magus hisses. “Boysenberry is a spineless, impotent foal. He fears his true self; I, the living shadow!"

"...What?" is all Shae can mutter.

"In time, weak Boysenberry will be no more. He will accept me as his all. The one known as Som-"

"No!" Jarl Drake appears behind him, fresh out of a teleportation. Eyes snapped shut, she reaches out and pulls little Boysenberry into reverse embrace. The instant she wraps her forelegs around him, his shouting and snarling comes to an end. The green glow in his eyes fades, and his head hangs, his expression slack and droopy.

"Jarl...?" Boysenberry is barely able to speak.

"Yes, yes, it's me... Do not worry, little one. It's over now." Drake brushes the back of his mane, whispering hushed words of comfort. “You’re just having a nightmare.” As Boysenberry drifts off to sleep, every black crystal fades, including the barrier to Equinesreach.

Shae has to resist gagging on the stench of fresh corpses as the guards come to her aid, tending to her splinters. As she holds a cloth to her cheek, she approaches Jarl Drake. “What was that all about?” she asks frantically.

"Boysenberry never mentioned his parents, did he?" the jarl asks.

Shae tries to think back to any time when Boysenberry might have brought that up, but she can't remember. "No?"

"I think you can figure out what happened to them." The jarl levitates Boysenberry onto her back. “This boy is the most powerful unicorn I’ve ever met, but I don't think that power is his own..." She sighs grimly. “I fear that if Boysenberry can't restrain himself, he'll be forever lost to something horrible.”

"Fauste's horn..." Shae's mouth hangs agape.

The guards are standing by, restless from what they’ve just witnessed. Jarl Drake stares them down accusingly. “Well, just stand there and let the Blackwings tear my town apart, why don’t you!?”

They all snap to attention and clumsily get to work on repairing Equinesreach’s defenses.

~Caro~

That voice at the back of my mind tells me that this is the most foolish thing I’ve ever done, but it’s only a small voice, a whisper up against a raging beast. A raging beast that is me.

I’ve never sweated this much in my entire life, yet I don’t feel exhausted or sore. Shokenda is working me to the bone, just so I can land a rare strike upon her, but even when that happens, she fades away, just out of my sword’s reach.

“Over here.”

How is it that she can telegraph utter euphoria without showing it on her face? I scrape at the dirt and give a loud snort. “WULDNAHKEST!” I shout quickly. Once again, a rush of air overcomes me as I glide at breakneck speed. My blade lands on Shokenda’s weapon, a summoned zweihander. Her magical strength outdoes my mouth’s by far. I lose my grip on my greatsword and it clatters to the ground. Shokenda jumps back and gives it a quick jolt of lightning, shattering it into pieces.

So now I’m down to one sword. I can still make do. I break into a gallop, circling around Shokenda as she casts several streams of lightning that rotate about her like a clock. I leap over one of the streams and hit the ground in a running slide, ducking another. A crackle of electricity sweeps through my mane and coat, but I shrug it off.

I turn, running directly at Shokenda with my hoof on my sword. I know a direct assault is beyond ineffective, but I’ve planned ahead. She sweeps at me with her claymore, which I anticipated. I leap over her and slash at her back, cleaving a massive dent into her plating. I follow up with a piercing impact. Her armor comes loose.

Yes.

She responds with a slash of her claymore, grazing my cheek. I’m so angry at this moment I can’t feel a thing. I instead cut at her again, prompting her to fade.

Yes!

She begins to reappear behind me, just as I had intended. Just as the last of her re-materializes, I spin around and throw my sword point first towards her exposed back.

“YES!”

The pounding in my ears is so loud. I’ve never been this aroused in my life. Seeing the haggard bitch who wanted me to serve her like a sheepdog bleeding profusely as my blade lodges itself into her internal organs. Her skin dying around the wound, her sinew torn, her muscle collapsing, her screams for release from such a living hell... Bloody Epona, it’s beautiful.

But that’s only how I imagine it, and none of that has occurred. Shokenda’s gaze is just as emotionless as ever, and her body doesn’t shift nor shudder at the impact of the blade. She is bleeding, though. She bleeds gold.

So my victory is denied, and all I can do is roar in frustration as Shokenda shakes her head.

The battle for Trottingham is eons away for me, far off in the distance while my own private war comes to a screeching halt like a faulty carriage.

She’s laughing now, still without showing the slightest bit of happiness on her face, but she laughs as though she’s the giddiest mare in Equestria, gradually turning into laughter of the maniacal sort. It’s possibly the most disturbing thing I’ve ever heard, short of the sounds of my master’s gruesome death.

All she does is stand there and laugh for what feels like an hour, while I’m left to wonder what the hell is so hilarious.

Her jubilee comes to an end when the lanky green dragon, whom I spared my blade for this fight with Shokenda, soars to a halt at her side. While I must shield my eyes and engrave my hooves into the dirt to stay upright, Shokenda doesn’t even flinch. She turns to stare the dragon down directly at the snout. “And what brings you here?” she asks, as if she were speaking to an impudent child.

“I’ve come to see the end of the Dovahkiin, per Saviikaan’s command.”

Of course he’s here for me. Why would it be for any other reason? I reach for my sword, then stopping, cursing myself for forgetting my only weapon lay embedded in Shokenda’s back. She seems more concerned with the dragon’s interruption than that.

She sighs.“Is that so?” She looks back at me and my dumbfounded expression, then back at the dragon.

An uncomfortable and downright abnormal moment of silence passes.

Shokenda lifts her hoof to rest it on the dragon’s snout. She closes her eyes. When they open again, they radiate gold. She opens her mouth, slowly inhaling.

“Krii lun aus.”

My heart nearly stops.

From Shokenda’s mouth flies a blast of pink mist, striking the ground and rising upward, enveloping the dragon. She then casually backs away before fluttering to my side. She doesn’t seem keen to continue our duel, only gazing upon the dragon. I have nothing to do but watch as well.

The dragon shudders, flexing his arm and looking at it quizzically. He reaches for his arm and scratches at it, as if it were itching, only to tear off an entire patch of flesh. His eyes widen and he bellows in pain. His roars are cut short by a ghastly choking noise. He bends over, coughing and hacking until he coughs up a lake’s worth of glistening blood, along with a flesh colored appendage... By Epona, that’s his tongue!

Unable to form any coherent words, the dragon continues to howl, thrashing his entire body and trying to break free of the pink cloud, but it travels with him, seeping between his scales, which have begun to melt, drenching his body in his own flesh.

He finally collapses, as his leg has caught on the ground in a melted cesspool of scales and claws. He tries to crawl away. Like a twig, the leg snaps in two. The grass is thoroughly soaked in blood and... dragon.

At this point, all the dragon can do is lay on his side, whimpering in agony as his body melds with the earth in a bloodied and melted heap.

Krii lun aus... I don’t know that shout, but I think I know what the words mean. “Marked for death,” I whisper, too awestruck to bring my voice any higher.

I’ve never seen such a display of grotesque sadism. As much as I would gladly see the dragons of Equestria wiped clean from the world, I would never wish such a death on them, or anypony. No, this isn’t death. This is something far worse.

I can see something new in the dragon’s eyes, the one thing about him untouched by the pink cloud. It’s a look that demands mercy. He wishes for death, anything to escape this agony.

I’ve seen enough. I turn to Shokenda. “Give me my sword.”

She merely glances at me before looking back at the pathetic sight. “No.”

She truly is a hag. Filled with a new sort of rage untapped, one born of sympathy rather than anger, I draw back my hoof. Before I can land an impact with her face, she deflects with one of her wings. She spreads her feathers to show me her golden glare.

“Nu praan.”

Before I can open my mouth to protest, I’m overcome with more exhaustion than I’ve ever felt. It’s like I haven’t slept for years. I collapse, getting one last involuntary look at the dragon. His muscle and skeleton have been exposed, and yet he still breathes. I shut my eyes before I’m forced to witness more.

Cold. It’s starting to snow... wait, no, more than that. I’m on snow. Where did all this snow come from?

The answer comes when I reach out with my hoof despite my eyes refusing to open. One would understand my shock when my entire foreleg ends up hanging over the edge. The edge of what is revealed to me when I snap myself awake, fully aware that I’ve somehow ended up on high, far beyond the battlefield. I quickly rise to my hindquarters and back away until I’m firmly pressed against the cliff face. “What... the hell...” I gasp.

The numerous scratches and scrapes I endured in the struggle against the dragon and Shokenda are all but gone, with nary a scar to be found.

I reach for my pouch for reasons I’m not entirely sure of. Another bout of confusion whelms me when I find that’s gone too.

I look over the cliff’s edge into the distance, where the battle should be raging on. It’s quieter now. I can still see the fires burning, but I hear no metal on metal, nor do I hear cries of battle or pain. Instead, if I strain my ears just enough, I can hear celebratory cheers within the walls of Trottingham.

I let out a deep sigh of relief. A burden has just been lifted off my shoulders. “We won… Huh… Well done, Drake.” In my haste to kill Shokenda, I had neglected to think about what was at stake. The war, the town, so many innocent lives…

“Indeed. This battle falls in the favor of the Empire, and as such, so does the war.”

The last pony I want to see shows herself, but I avert my eyes after a single glance of her naked body. “Damn you, Shokenda! I do not want to see your divine nethers!”

“Forgive this… intimate encounter, Caro Dragonborn. You need not be so prudish. After all, I take no quarrel with your exposed self.”

As much as I despise her, she makes a valid point. I return my gaze with a disgruntled nicker, getting an eyeful of her blank face. The fact that I have no weapon to cut that face wide open just frustrates me further.

I intensify my glare. “I’m completely vulnerable, you know. It would be easiest for you to just do away with me.”

Shokenda makes her way towards the edge with a flap of her wings. “And what makes you think that is at all in my best interest?”

The revelation is still new to me, and seeing her entire body like this hammers in the nail further. “So, you’re a-”

“God?” She glances back at me for a moment. “Yes, I know. Shaped in Epona and Fauste’s image, with the elegance and power of both.”

“All that power can go to one’s head.”

Shokenda sighs and walks back towards me. My hair nearly stands on end just by her close presence. “No doubt you have many questions. I’m all ears for you. Ask whatever you wish, you are safe here. Go on.”

Well, she offered. I’ll gladly take her up on it. “What do you want, why don’t you want to kill me, how the hell do you know the Thu’um?”

Shokenda nods and proceeds to lay down next to me. “Those first two are in conjunction. It's rather simple, actually. I believe that I’m more capable of ruling this land than Platinum."

I ask the obvious question. "Why?"

"I expected more of her. You've traversed these lands long enough to know how violent the roads can be, how corrupt those with power can be. The innocent suffer for nothing, and those who deserve punishment escape the ramifications of their actions. I'm determined to change all of that. Of course, the fair queen took offense to my request to take the throne, and retaliated against me. I had no choice but to raise an army.” I tense up as she taps me on the chest. “That is where you come in. We have similar goals, you and I, and before you go on an elongated speech about how we are nothing alike, mind that we both want what is best for Equestria. We merely have different ways to go about it.”

“Very different,” I mutter.

“Thus, that is why I’m willing to meet you halfway. I will give you the power you need to destroy the dragons and keep Equestria safe, and I will leave you be from this day forth.”

“I already have that power, and you insult me by using it yourse-”

I suppose I can say I have the honor of being smacked upside the head by a god. “No amount of dragon souls could ever account for how utterly dreadful you are with the Thu’um, nor could they account for your lack of understanding of how the Thu’um even works. It is not exclusive to you or the dragons, Caro.”

“What the- How?!” As if I haven’t been taken down enough pegs on this day...

"Those words of power are the dragon’s language, yes, but they have been used by mortals since the days of the Precursors. Granted, after they disappeared, the art of the Thu’um fell into obscurity. Only the Dragonborn has the innate power to use it, given they are awakened. Others must go through years of education and training for the power to become theirs. This brings me to your third question.”

“Huh.” I’m so stricken with shock I’m unable to do anything but sit on my haunches and gape. “Suddenly, my status as Dragonborn seems all the less significant.” Yet, I’m not all that upset. Perhaps I’m so enraged I’ve gone numb. “So, you received this training, I presume?”

Shokenda points to the mountain peak opposite us. “Neigh Hrothgar.” I have to squint to see it proper, but I can just barely see lights. “It is a colony isolated from the rest of ponykind. There live the wise and powerful Greybeards, a small communion of ponies who dedicate their lives to preserving the memory, and words, of the Precursors.”

“I know who they are. Master Hammerfell has done business with them in the past.”

Shokenda’s blank stare falters slightly as she cocks a single brow. “How do you mean?”

Why she takes interest in my personal affairs, I have no clue, but I know better than to refuse her an answer, especially without means to defend myself. I shrug and say, “They asked for weapons, armor, tools... Most of it was just for decoration, I’ve heard. Master would deliver goods to their doorstep every few months.”

“Did you ever join this Hammerfell on his journeys to Neigh Hrothgar?”

“Uh, no. He never let me.”

She’s humming innocently, which makes me clench my teeth. "Fascinating,” she says with a hint of deliberate innocence. She stands and begins to walk away.

“You’re not going to leave me here?” I ask.

Suddenly Shokenda’s face is disturbingly close to mine again. “And you would like to, what, ride upon my back as I fly you into the welcoming embrace of my mortal foes? Perish the thought.”

“Uh...” The answer is definitely no. I hate being touched by anypony, let alone this hag.

“I wasn’t offering,” she says, returning to her leave. “Meet me at the pass in Mount Everfree whenever you wish. I will take you to Neigh Hrothgar, and you will learn the true power of your voice.”

Another flood of questions enter my mind. I decide to take these one at a time. “Why can’t you teach me?”

She scoffs. “I’m not a patient mare, and besides, this war stops for nopony. Not even you, Dragonborn.”

I’ll give Shokenda credit for knowing how to put me in my place, but she’ll feel my vengeance tenfold for each wound to my pride. “Fair enough. But what strikes me above all is why? I am your enemy, after all. It would be easier to just cast me off this cliff and put an end to it.”

Shokenda looks over the edge of the cliff. I can't read her face for the life of me, but I can assume she's thinking it over. “That would be the most pragmatic approach, now wouldn’t it? However, I am a mare who believes a victory unearned is a victory undeserved. You will not die so long as I can easily take your life. I wish for the words of future stories to say I fought valiantly, clinging to life to claim what is rightfully mine. History belongs to the glorious, not the pragmatic.”

“So you’re a whore in more ways than one.” I should have held my tongue. I tense up in fear for what Shokenda will do to me for that one, but she only chuckles.

“You amuse me, Dragonborn,” she says.

With a stomp of her hoof and a flash of her horn, I feel the constriction of a teleportation field enveloping me. I have a sinking feeling this ride will not be a pleasant one.

I give my stomach a few moments to unknot before I check upon my surroundings. It’s as if I hadn’t moved an inch from where I fell asleep. Well, was forced to fall asleep.

“Damn you, Shokenda.” More than anything throughout this entire affair, I’ve wanted to cut her heart out, assuming she even has one, but now I must work with her. The thought is painful, yes, but if I can become something more powerful than this, then I’ll have to put my hatred aside. Perhaps these Greybeards will give me some means to effectively wound her. She can’t be immortal. She may have bled gold, but more importantly, she bled.

An unholy stench interrupts my train of thought. I turn to see the cracked and mutilated skeleton of the dragon. A viscous mass of scales, organs and muscle lay in a pool around it. Despite such mutilation, its soul burns bright. It separates into streams and reforms around me. There’s my third dragon soul, but I hardly feel as though I’ve earned it.

"I can't comprehend how much pain filled your last moments. You didn't deserve this. You were supposed to die with pride in your heart." I get one last look at the disgusting remains, disappointed I never had the chance to learn this dragon’s name. “I promise,” I say for an brief, improvised eulogy, “your brethren will be joining you soon, but no matter how strong I become, they’ll never suffer as you did. Goodbye, Dovah.”

It’s time to go back to Trottingham, I suppose.

Despite my gift of the Thu’um meaning less now, the thought of becoming something more than this drives me forward, especially the thought of outdoing Shokenda. I’m already worth ten of her, I’m sure.

At least some ponies believe that much.

“Caro! Over here!” shouts an ecstatic Shae, sitting upon a bench.

In my internal monologue I hadn’t even been paying attention. I’m already at the town square, and... “Wow. Who tore this place to shit?”

Shae puckers her lips and exhales. “It’s a long story. Come, sit.”

After that long walk, I welcome it. I take the bench adjacent to hers and stretch my hindquarters out. “How many dead?” I ask, surveying the broken buildings and stray fires.

“Of course that’s the first thing you ask. Everyone in Equestria is obsessed with death...” Shae taps her chin. “Jarl Drake estimated about nine-tenths of the Legion's forces survived. We punctured roughly half the rebel forces before they retreated.”

A satisfying result. I let out a sigh of relief. “And how was your first landmark battle in this war?”

“I hate to sound like a barbarian, but it was actually a little fun.”

“You do sound like a barbarian.”

“Well, I suppose it’s easy to pass off a battle as fun when your injuries are minimal.” Only now do I notice the numerous patches on her cheeks and snout. She points to them. “Wood shavings. Should be healed in an hour. Frankly, I’m a little disappointed I didn’t get a scar out of this one.”

I turn to lay on my back, getting a pleasant view of the snow drenched sky. “Scars are only impressive when they stop bleeding. When you actually take such an injury, you’re not thinking of how impressive the wound is going to look after the matter.”

I’m the barbarian here. I never thought I’d be educating Shae on the brutality of open conflict. I fear that she might be turning into... oh dear, me.

“Oh, that reminds me!” Shae sets her pouch on her lap, levitating a bronze dagger and a sheath from the inside. “A gift from Rosemary.”

I snatch them both from the air with haste. The knife is a very fine design, sharp enough to cut through most common armors but versatile enough for use in my hooves and my mouth. It’s also light as a blade of grass. “She’s a fine smith indeed.”

“She said a smaller weapon may fit certain situations better. What do you suppose she meant?”

When it comes to weapon trivia, I am an unstoppable force. I hope Shae’s prepared for a breathless rant. “Master Hammerfell always told me that the most powerful and talented warrior in the world is no match for a lowly student with a dagger.” I spin the dagger between my hooves repeatedly. “While swords, maces and axes shred through enemies well enough, only something as small and precise as this can find an enemy’s weak spot. A single seam in their armor, and...” I make a stabbing motion, making Shae flinch with a smile on her face. “It’s a thinker’s weapon, to say the least. I prefer the simplicity of a sword, but when I see the opportunity, and I will, as I have an eye for such things, I’ll put this to good use.” I fit the dagger into its sheath and equip it to my flank, tying the belt around my waist.

Shae nods, then taps her horn. “Material weapons are all well and good, but I’ll stick to magic, thanks. Why would I bother finding my foe’s weakness when I can just cast a concentrated bolt of flame through their chest?”

“That’s... oddly specific.”

“Well, it happened. Bloke thought he could get the jump on me but I showed him otherwise.”

She lacks any sort of grim or ecstatic expression about that. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she’s completely apathetic about death. “How does a schoolmare become so hardened and callous?” I ask.

Shae holds out her hooves defensively. “I don’t relish the deaths of my enemies.” She looks over her shoulder at the sound of turning wheels. Earthwalker soldiers pass by with a cart of dead Blackwings, all piled up haphazardly.

“See, like that,” I say, looking back at Shae. She’s still straight faced.

“What?” Shae tilts her head.

“Somepony always reacts to the deaths of others. Tohro jests to cope, I get a sick rush from it, but then there’s you. You’re completely indifferent.” I lean forward to read her better. “Did something happen to you?”

“Everything dies, Caro. You can’t dwell on it...” She looks keen to trot off.

“Something had to happen to forge your indifference towards death. Did you lose somepony close to you?”

Shae’s eyes begin to mist up, making me feel like trash again.

“Sorry. I don’t mean to pry. Like I said, I have an eye for these small things.”

She shakes her head and folds her forelegs closer to her body. "Yes... I did lose something... somepony. But you don’t have to worry, I’m not trying for your record." She forces a smile, though her eyes are still quivering. "Some say it was fated to be. I don’t believe in fate, Caro. Not after what I’ve been through."

"If there was such a thing as fate, I wouldn't be in this situation." My thoughts slip back into Shokenda's ultimatum. I can feel my blood thinning. All I can do is tremble at what our temporary truce might mean for me and Dragonrein. “I don’t feel well.”

“What’s wrong?” Shae asks.

I have to come clean. There are no secrets in Dragonrein, which has become one of our few rules, and even then, it's a translucent one. "I spoke to-"

The clatter of falling armor and limbs interrupts me. Both Shae and I look to the cart of corpses, only to see it’s toppled over, with a single unicorn in bloodied Blackwing attire standing nearby. His eyes are red with madness. "SHOKENDA FOREVER!!" He dashes, heading straight towards us.

Shae leaps to action, horn glowing. But he's too fast. He pounces on Shae, prompting my adrenaline to come full force.

I leap forth with my new dagger drawn, grabbing ahold of the rebel, pinning him back first to a tree and slashing his throat open. He goes down with a manic grin.

“Divines...” I sigh as my adrenaline wears off just as quickly as it came. I sheathe my dagger with one hoof and wipe my brow with the other. I turn back to Shae. “Are you well?”

“C-Caro...”

My mouth falls open.

Shae stands there, eyes wide and nostrils flaring. She clutches her stomach, where a broken knife lays embedded. She opens her mouth, lets out a single cough, and collapses.

“SHAE!”

I rush to her side and pick her up, with my hooves on her chest and the back of her head. “Shae.” She continues to cough, her breaths becoming weak and chaotic. I grit my teeth in panic. “Say something, dammit!”

Her eyes fall on me, and she chuckles softly. “I... I told you...”

“What?”

“Everything... d....” Her eyelids draw themselves shut.

"Shae. Shae! Keep your damn eyes open! Shae... You... I can't do this without you! You can't do this to me! You... You can’t...”

XXII - Warmth

~Shae~

Mommy... Why does it hurt so much, Mommy...

Make it stop hurting, Mommy...

Mommy, why are you asleep?

Please wake up, Mommy...

Please don’t die, Mommy...

~Vision End~

CHAPTER XXII - WARMTH

Silence is sovereign in the jarl’s private quarters, though Jarl Drake is absent from the premises. Tangerine was requested by the jarl to survey the area, and Wolf River had quietly insisted he stay nearby with red in his face. A bandaged Tohro sits at the guest table, sipping mead from a fluted glass. He keeps a close watch on Caro, who sits across from him, sulking with his gaze on his reflection in the wood floor. Tear stains are fresh on his cheeks.

Wolf River coughs, drawing accusing glares from Tangerine and Tohro, expecting him to say something. He shrugs and folds his forelegs awkwardly.

Tohro, with his stomach calling for sustenance, reaches for a slice of banana bread. Tangerine slaps his hoof away. “Jarl Drake said that was specifically for Caro.” She gestures to the other assortments of pastries.

“I need comfort food too,” Tohro pouts. “Do you think Caro’s the only one who feels like shit right now?” He gestures to the Dragonborn, who hasn’t even acknowledged the presence of the others.

Tangerine grabs ahold of Tohro’s neck and whispers furiously into his ear. “Given where you were when it occurred, you couldn’t have made a difference in the matter. Caro saw it happen, and he was too slow. It’s called guilt, clearly something you’ve never felt.”

As soon as Tangerine sits Tohro back down, silence returns to the room, albeit with heightened tension.

Wolf River coughs again, this time speaking after. “It’s not as if you’re actually going to eat, are you, Caro?”

After a pause, Caro shakes his head and points to a small pile of sick nearby his chair; the result of attempted consumption. He peeks up at Tohro. “Go ahead,” he murmurs.

Tohro nods and quietly nibbles on the banana bread. “You know,” he says midway through a mouthful, “I hate to say this, but I can’t help but feel you’re a little selfish right now.”

Caro’s sad frown turns to one of anger. “Excuse me? Who was the one who watched one his best friends take a blade to the stomach? Held her as her breath was reduced to a whisper? What’s selfish about that?”

Tohro drops the banana bread and leans forward, mere inches from Caro’s face. "So when you murder two soldiers in cold blood, you're the hero, but when somepony you genuinely care about gets hurt suddenly the whole world is against you?"

Caro's draconic eyes glint with gold as he shoots Tohro a face of pure hatred. He stands up and places his hooves on the table. "Put them up," he says softly, contrasting his furious disposition. He steps away from the table. Tangerine raises her hoof to protest but Wolf River urges her off.

The Dragonborn beckons to Tohro. "Well, what are you waiting for?"

"You seriously wanna do this mate?" Tohro falls back into his chair with a concerned expression.

Caro eyes the bloodied bandages wrapped around Tohro’s chest. "I don't think Shokenda hurt you enough. You want to know what this is like for me? I'll show you." Tohro still doesn't budge, prompting Caro to cock his hoof back with his fangs bared. "GET UP!" He throws the punch.

Tohro surprisingly ducks the punch, his conditioning and training kicking in as he grabs the hoof and pulls Caro forward, slamming him into the table. "The hell is your problem, mate? What’s this going to solve?"

Caro answers by sweeping Tohro with his hind leg and socking him in the chest as he trips. Tohro regains his balance and flutters away.

He lands across from Caro, spreading his wings which unsheathes his blades. "Ah, you’re serious then? Alright. But I’m not going to be the one to explain your scars to Shae."

"If she's even alive." Caro slams both his hooves together and scrapes at the ground. He charges and meets Tohro halfway in a headbutt.

Pushing against Caro’s face, the pegasus cocks an eyebrow as he realizes what this is all about. “This isn’t about her, then?”

Caro grabs Tohro by the temples, bringing him to his haunches. "You don't get it." He slams his friend’s face into the wood.

Tohro spits out the blood from his split lip. "Then enlighten me." He lunges forward and nicks Caro's cheek with one of his wing blades.

Caro backs off and feigns left from another slash. "You've told me your stories. Your tales of glory in the Blackwings that you want to forget so badly." He swipes at Tohro's face, but misses. "I don't once remember you telling one of how you were too slow to save somepony so precious to you."

"Oh, so saving your blank flank doesn’t count?" Tohro manages to whack Caro upside the head. "Remember why this is still attached? What makes you so special?"

“Well, I... Mmm...” Caro stammers as he drops his prepared punch.

Tohro folds his wings and puts on a face of sympathy. "Just tell me what happened, mate."

Caro grinds his teeth together so tightly a screeching noise rings out. He chokes out a sob and yells, "I FAILED!"

Caro's shout comes out in force, knocking Tohro backwards and into the table. As he moves back to his hooves he asks, "How do you mean?”

Caro staggers forward, only to retract his steps and falls, struggling to stand. "If she's dead, then... then... I hold her blood to my fault..." The tears stain the floor. "If she lives, then she'll despise me, so much to the point she'll leave us..." He stares at Tohro with glistening eyes. “I don’t want her to go.”

Tohro slowly approaches his blubbering wreck of a friend, and with total disregard for anypony watching, embraces him in a hug and runs a hoof through his unkempt mane. "Its not your fault, mate."

With a sobbing moan into Tohro’s shoulder, Caro mutters, "Y-you think I don't know tha-at? B-but if it had g-gone the sligh-hitest bit different- I could have b-been quicker- I could have- I-"

Caro’s words descend into blubbering nonsense as Tohro holds him at foreleg’s length. "That’s all in the past now. Shae is a grown mare and knew the risks. She’ll never hate you, she wouldn’t."

"If she even...” Unable to even say it, Caro falls out of the embrace. With nothing to punch, he resorts to using the floor.

"She will live, Caro,” says Tohro. “She has to."

~Shae~

I see a younger version of myself, fresh out of my first year at Wintercolt Academy. The snow lightly dabbles the windows of my bedroom. The candlelight has begun to dwindle, and my tired eyes are ready for a long rest. But, of course, I must be tucked in by Starbright, the most wonderful astronomy professor of the academy, and the most wonderful mother a pony could ask for.

Lancer and Eavesdrop often mock me for being tucked in every night, despite my being in my adolescent years, but I laugh them off at every occasion. This is the highlight of my day.

“I should be back tomorrow, in the afternoon,” my mother says. “I’m leaving to gather ingredients for the new term.”

“The apothecary doesn’t have what you need in stock?” I ask.

“I have a special lesson planned. I believe, if all goes well, I’ll have a curative that will allow anypony to see the Fae. I’ll share it with all of my students.”

I nearly leap from my bed. “Truly? That’s actually possible?”

Mother chuckles and taps me on the nose. “Shae, what is it I always say?”

We’ve been over this several times. “Everything is possible,” we both recite at once. I chuckle along with Mother as she tousles my perfect bowl-cut mane. She’s a wicked seamstress with my hair.

“Now, because you’re such a good girl, I will save a vial of the potion for you and you alone.”

“Me?” I actually fall back a little in shock. “I’d have an unfair advantage over the other students.”

“Nothing but what you deserve. Consider it a belated cutecinera present.” As I have another bout of giggling, she kisses me on the forehead and right cheek. It’s always the same process every night; a touch on the the nose, a kiss on the forehead, then the cheek.

Tonight’s to be another night of pleasant dreams.

Mother begins to take her leave, emerald green cloak flowing behind her. "I love you, my little mage," she says in a hushed tone.

I levitate my pillow to my side and fluff it to satisfaction. I lay my head down upon it. “Love you too.”

Only now do I realize I’m viewing this memory from an external perspective; I can move about the room at my leisure. I also realize what’s so significant about this memory and mentally scold myself for forgetting, if only for a second.

This was the last time I ever saw my mother. The moment she sets hoof outside that door, she’ll be on a direct course to the frigid outside. She’ll shrug it off as this weather is hardly beyond anything we’ve experienced before, at least until a blizzard comes in, stranding her on the mountainside without a sense of direction. By the time she conjures a clairvoyance spell, it will be too late. She’ll collapse just as Wintercolt Academy comes into view, and then...

“Mother!” While my younger self has probably drifted off to sleep, I'm galloping to the door to intercept Mother. “Wait! Please, don’t leave. I want you to stay.”

She doesn’t even acknowledge me. She opens the door.

“No, Mother. Don’t! I need you here. Please stay!”

I hold out my hooves in protest but she passes through me as if I’m not even there. I turn and follow her out into the hallway, where the world has begun to fade into white. This is the extent of my memory, and my mother is trotting into that abyss.

“Mother, Come back! MOTHER!”

No matter how loud I scream, she doesn’t even bother to listen, and yet I persist.

“If you leave, you’ll die! Don’t do this! Don’t leave me!”

My younger self has passed into the world of dreams. The memory fades, collapsing around me as my mother disappears.

“DON’T LEAVE ME! MOTHER! MOM! MOMMY!!”

“SHAE! Snap out of it!”

The sting of a slap across my cheek exemplifies the pain in my stomach. The infirmary of Equinesreach slowly comes into my field of vision as I’m lifted upwards. It’s as if I’m being pulled from an ocean of black murk back into reality. On top of the stings and cramps, my jaw is sore, as if I’ve been screaming for hours.

Jarl Drake waves her hoof in front of my face. My response is a moan as I clutch my stomach. There’s a definite pit inside me.

“Welcome back to the land of the living," says the jarl.

That black murk still harbors the edges of my vision. The rest of my senses are numb too. I can barely recognize the jarl’s voice and everything feels the same, aside from the pain.

I turn to look out the window. Snow has utterly buried Trottingham, and with it the ruins of the battle. “How long was I-” I break into a fit of wheezing and coughing into my blankets.

“It’s been about half a day, and then some. The white mages had to keep you under until you healed up.” Jarl Drake points to my stomach, prompting me to look down. I’m completely disrobed, beyond a set of bandages. Several more riddle the floor around my bed, all soaked in red. “You’ve lost more blood than anypony should. You are incredibly lucky to be alive.” The jarl looks upwards. “The Divines must like you a lot.”

"I doubt that...” My voice is weak and inconsistent. It takes the breath out of me just to say one sentence. “If they truly liked me, they would have spared me that awful dream...”

“I think I can infer as to what that was all about. You can spare me the details. Instead, focus your attention on this.” Jarl Drake forces a bowl into my grasp. It’s filled with something that reminds me of an infected moat. I give her a defiant look. “Just pretend it’s tea.”

“If it were made in Saddle Arab-”

Her hoof presses against my muzzle. “None of your snark, young lady. Cooking is Boysenberry’s forte, but seeing as how he’s recovering from his, uh, tantrum, you’ll have to make do.”

Even if it were decent ‘tea’, I doubt I’d be able to stomach it anyway. I continue to stare into my reflection.

“Shae, if you don’t want to drink it, I’d be willing to show you how to manipulate a pony’s esophagus.”

And just like that, I’m swallowing the ‘tea’ like a depraved bar devil. I’m trying to ignore that it tastes like charcoal rolled in brimstone, but I can only accomplish so much in my weakened state. I still have half a bowl to consume when I remove my lips.

“Healing magic can only do so much, you know,” says Jarl Drake. “This will accelerate the healing process and repair anything important you might have torn. Make sure you drink all of it before the hour’s up.”

“Do I have to pretend to enjoy it?”

The jarl and a few of the other white mages tending to the wounded break into laughter, and despite the pain, I do the same. I begrudgingly take another sip of the ‘tea’ and set the bowl aside.

“Now, onto other matters. I don’t know why or even how you became acquainted with Princess Celina-”

“She’s here?!” I nearly throw the sheets off of me as I lean forward. The jarl’s purple aura forces me back into laying down. She then refocuses her aura around a bedside mirror and levitates it to me.

“In a manner of speaking.”

I take ahold of the mirror, expecting to see my reflection and nothing more, but instead I see Celina’s spotless bedroom, and the princess herself looking at me with her innately comforting gaze. I can hardly contain my smile. “Celina, how are you?”

She looks genuinely shocked. “My friend nearly perishes in the third battle for Trottingham and she asks me how I am? I think you should sort out your priorities.”

“It's only blood. My question still stands.”

Celina sighs in defeat, smiling nonetheless. "Ever since the soldiers left for Trottingham, things have been rather quiet here, so my mother and I have spent a bit more time together. I ate at a malt parlor for the first time ever yesterday! Granted, Mother wasn’t too warm on the thought of Dragonrein knowing my little secret, at least at first, but she does trust you all with keeping it close.”

I peek over the mirror to see Jarl Drake trotting over to the other wounded, the ones unfortunate enough to be without a bed. I look back to Celina. “Our lips remain sealed.”

Celina flaps her wings excitedly and gestures to them with her hooves. “That’s good, because I hope to reveal my wings to the rest of Everfree someday soon.”

“Oh, that’s-” I’m tempted to say it’s wonderful, but then the mad rantings of a ragged earthwalker play in my mind.

“We are sitting ducks for their witchcraft and black magic so long as they hold the throne!”

That lady clearly has followers. If she harbors such violent resentment for all unicorns, then what would she think of Celina? Fauste, what if she tried to hurt her? Or worse...

I sigh and say, “You may have to hold off on that, if only for a little while.”

“Why, Miss Shae?”

I explain to Celina the slander I endured from the decrepit old lady, and my utmost concern for her. She listens intently and nods when I’m finished.

“Ah, you must have encountered Sacred Rite. Mother told me she has a large vocabulary of hatred but lacks the weapons or courage to act on it. You shouldn’t be concerned about her.”

“That’s all fine, but what about the Blackwings? Knowing there’s a-” I look around to ensure nopony’s listening in. I lean in close to the mirror. “Knowing there’s a legendary alicorn within their grasp, you’d have to sleep with one eye open.”

That dampens Celina’s spirits. She drops her smile. “That I can agree on. Very will, Miss Shae, you’ve convinced me otherwise.” She folds her wings and levitates her white robe over them. “The wings go unrevealed until this war’s end.”

Her radiance is fading, and her mane seems to be falling flat across her face. I hold the mirror closer. “D-don’t... cover them up. I like to see them.”

Her smile comes back as she removes the garment. “Anything for you.” She looks about her room and groans. “The palace has been so dull since you and the rest of Dragonrein left. Will you come back soon?”

“Y—” Again, I stop myself. If she had asked me that same question yesterday, I would have said yes as loud as I could without hurting myself. Of course, circumstances regarding my stomach have given rise to another thought, one that’s rapidly consumed the rest of my mind.

I can’t bring myself to lie to Celina, but I can’t break her heart either, lest her sorrow ends up breaking mine.

“I’ll...” I inhale as deeply as I can so I don’t tear up. “I’ll do what I can.”

A gasp breaks the little world between me and Celina. I lower the mirror to see Wolf River. His rustic face is beaming. “Well, I’ll be. This little mare has more meat to her than she lets on.”

I should probably take that as a compliment, but I don’t speak lycan. I peek back at the princess. “Um, Celina, I should probably go.”

“So soon?” she pouts. She then chuckles aloud before I have to explain myself. “Very well. I’ll speak to you later, Miss Shae.”

“Goodbye.” As the mirror begins to show my reflection, I set it aside and face Wolf River. “Yes, I’m alive. I’ve noticed- URGH!”

I’m going to need a brace if I keep getting these bone crunching hugs. Regardless, I return the favor to Wolf River. Having so many awaiting my awakening truly warms my heart.

“Tangerine, Tohro and I, we dreaded the worst. It’s been hell,” says Wolf River as he releases me.

He left a name from that roster. “And what of Caro? Is he okay?”

He folds his forelegs and hums. “Physically, yes, but-”

I hear a boom of thunder- my bad, that’s somepony shouting maniacally. Then there’s the sound of hooves wrecking the staircase into the infirmary. “WHERE IS SHE?!”

“Caro?!” I call out, though I squeak from an edge of fear. I look back to Wolf River. “Is he mad at me?”

“Quite the opposite,” says Wolf River. “He hasn’t stopped crying since he showed up here with your bleeding body across his back.”

“Oh my...”

There he is, galloping down the steps with a flare in his eyes I’ve never seen before. Wolf River’s right, it looks like he’s been crying for, bloody hell, hours. He stops at the base of the stairs and looks about the room manically.

“Damn you! Slow down!” Tangerine follows from behind, trying to grab ahold of him. She must be trying to calm him down. “You nearly trampled the help!”

I wave my forelegs to get his attention. “Caro, I’m right here!”

The moment his eyes catch me, he bolts forward. I prepare for the most intense embrace in the history of Equestria… and nothing happens.

Two soldiers intervene, crossing their spears in front of Caro before he can step into the infirmary. That doesn’t stop him from raising his hooves to try and knock them aside, but Jarl Drake’s levitation forces him back down. She steps forward, wiping her brow with a cloth. “No, no, no! Who let him in h- What are you doing out of your- I told you to stay in your room for exactly this reason!”

Caro doesn’t listen, instead leaning between the spears just to look at me. “Shae!” The soldiers shove him away.

Wolf River approaches Drake with a slight tint of red on his face. “My apologies, My Jarl. I may have left the door to his quarters ajar.”

“He escaped the moment he heard Shae’s voice,” says Tangerine, glaring at the jarl disapprovingly. “You should have known better than to think you could have kept him under control.”

Caro scuffs at the ground. “You’re damn right, now let me in!”

I throw the blankets off, intent on galloping to Caro, but my weak body fails me and I stumble over my own movements. I too fall victim to Jarl Drake’s levitation spell and am forced back into bed. The bowl of horrid liquid lands in my hooves.

The jarl’s patience has run out, apparently. “Everypony, just shut up and drink your damn tea!”

It’s ill advised to confront an emotional unicorn, especially one as... insisting as Drake. It’s down the hatch with the ‘tea’, even if my taste buds scream in agony. Meanwhile, Caro is escorted back to his room by Tangerine and Jarl Drake, who issues out commands. “Ensure the door is actually locked, this time. An enraged Dragonborn is hardly fitting for a quiet place of recovery and relaxation.”

Caro looks back at me with desperation in his eyes. I mouth to him ‘I’m fine’ with a cheeky grin, and it seems to relieve him enough for him to comply with his escorts.

Jarl Drake returns to me and ensures that I’ve finished my drink. I have, begrudgingly. She conjures a kerchief and attempts to dabble a stray dollop of the liquid from my chin, but I take the cloth and do it myself.

“Okay, okay, I drank your sewage substitute," I say. "Now, may I go talk to Caro?”

“No.” The bowl is taken out of my grasp, leaving me to fold my forelegs and pout.

“Why not? It’s obvious he needs me right now.”

“Your healing process can’t afford any more distractions. Come along.” The jarl tosses me a pink robe. “But put that on first, we don’t need anypony here having heart attacks.”

I try not to acknowledge the injured stallions of the room giving me naughty gazes. That moment I left my bed completely exposed has clearly left an impression on them. Under normal circumstances, I’d take it as a compliment. They avert their gaze as I cover myself with the robe and leave my bed. “Come along,” says the jarl. “The white mages have prepared an herbal bath.”

The wooden room is little more than mist by the time I’ve settled in.

I’ve had more than my fair share of these baths. My mother always knew the exact herbs to put to use, how hot the water needed to be, and of course, she was always there to sing to me. Even if I remained ill upon leaving the water, for those moments alone I felt so alive and loved.

It’s almost an insult to say this is the best herbal bath I’ve ever had, because it’s just not the same without Mother by my side. I have to make my own song to emulate her presence.

“‘Neath a faltered sky, cross loamless plains and watered blight...
Ah, where gone those days once glory shone so bright...
Fallen ‘neath baleful wings dark as night...
Ah, a moment give to me...
Hark, shall none hear this soul’s-”

A rather obtrusive knock sounds out from the door. “Shae? Are you in there?”

My ears perk as my heart soars. “Caro?”

I hear him sighing. “Oh, thank Epona. I’ve knocked on the wrong door twice now. Third time's the charm, right?”

“How did you get out of your room?”

“Tohro picked the lock.”

"Ah, bless him and his naughty hooves," I say. The water ripples as I laugh aloud. After that, there’s a moment of silence. “You can come in, you know.”

More silence follows. I can imagine him nervously brushing his hooves together at the thought of me and him in the same room. Naked. I think it’s about time he cut loose.

“Come on, you prude, we’re friends. I think you seeing me disrobed is the least of your worries.”

~Vision End~

~Caro~

“If you say so...”

I take slow steps into the sauna as the door creaks open. There’s Shae, humorously blinded with her black mane laying over her eyes. She seems completely content at a glance, a broad contrast to her condition hours ago, barely gasping for life with steel embedded in her gut. I can’t recall how many times I had whispered “You can’t do this...” to her dying body before I was ripped away from her by the jarl. Let the white mages do their job, sure... I nearly lost a friend, but to them it's all the daily grind.

Shae's bandages are tossed aside in the corner. “Um, shouldn’t you be wearing those?” I ask.

She’s tracing circles in the water. “Wet bandages are hardly useful, silly. Besides, I was told it was safe to remove them.”

I can only see the top half of her body, but I imagine a nasty scar has found a home upon her. I say something incredibly smart: “Can I see your stomach?”

The look Shae gives me makes me feel like the worst pony alive, which makes it all the more humiliating when she starts giggling like a little schoolfilly. She keeps doing that as she climbs out of the pool and relaxes on the edge by her rump.

She leans back, resting her hoof on where the scar must be. “Come, take a look.”

I’m dead nervous. Even though I have her approval, I can’t help but feel uncomfortable about gazing at her bare lavender fur. She doesn’t seem to mind, though, so I can relax enough to walk up to her, kneel down and look at the damage.

It’s not as horrendous as I thought. The scar goes across her entire stomach as a light patch of fur and skin. It’s completely dissonant from the rest of her flawlessly groomed coat, yet it accompanies her quite nicely. Still, this is a permanent reminder that I could have acted faster. Touching the wound and grimacing is all I do for one painfully silent minute, before I remove my hoof at Shae’s voice. “I should probably explain some things, about myself.”

“I’m all ears," I reply.

“You remember how apathetic I was when you and Tohro inadvertently killed that gryphon in Beak Falls Barrow?"

“I expected you to throw a fit.”

“Yes, and further down the road in Everfree, the realization of what I did to the gryphons outside the barrow, what with my magical overdrive and all, came to light. That’s when I figured it out. While every part of me told me to be disturbed by those things, it became apparent to me that… I feel nothing.” She gives a rather pathetic chuckle. “Someone either relishes murder or regrets it, but I feel nothing for it, and I think I know why.” Her eyes are misty, just like before. I simultaneously anticipate and dread the explanation. “I killed my parents.”

As I come to a sudden stand and back away, Shae grabs ahold of me, repeatedly saying “No, no no no!" She fastens her hooves around my forelegs. "That was... poorly worded. I didn't take their lives directly. I wouldn’t even dream of it!”

“Okay, but,” I set her down, “how do you mean, you killed them?”

Shae sighs, keeping her head low as she paces about the edge of the pool. “I told you before, I don’t believe in fate. I stopped believing when my mother died. She was alone, caught in a blizzard, unable to call for help. By the time Headmaster Frosthelm found her, she was a black mess of frostbite and frozen limbs, face permanently locked in an agonized scream.” Shae stops with her mouth wide open as she shudders. “And I could have stopped her. It wasn’t fate that took her away. If I just asked, or said 'please', she would have come running back to embrace me, probably slept in my bed with me that night…” She’s made a full rotation of the pool at this point. She comes back to me.

“Curse hindsight, huh?” I slap myself for even thinking that was the right thing to say, and smile sheepishly when she weakly chuckles again.

“Not a month passed before my father perished from heart failure, and I’ve always felt as though if Mother had lived, he would have too.”

Suddenly I feel selfish. I’ve brooded over the violent loss of my master, but he wasn’t even my real parent, and he was just the one. Shae was obviously very close to her mother and father, more so than most. More so than I, at least.

“I was never alone, though. Sundance, Lancer, Eavesdrop... they became like a second family to me. They tolerated my angst, and it wasn’t before long that I was back to my old self. Fauste bless them...”

The mist in her eyes is gone now, replaced with nostalgia and want. All this time I’ve been worried she’d harbor resentment, curse me out and leave, but now another worry has entered the fray.

“How did I repay them? I just up and left to pursue some extracurricular assignment... Go to find a dragon without any regard for my own safety. I never even said goodbye to some of them...”

Shae is a member of Dragonrein, and my friend most of all.

“Caro, I...”

I tense up, honestly hoping that she doesn't say the words I'm expecting.

"I want to see them again... I want you to take me home."

Divines damn it...

I reach for her with a comforting hoof. Being gentle isn’t easy for me, but for her I’ll do my best. "I'll take you back to the academy whenever you're ready. That's our first priority. No dragons, no war, no political bullshit. You come first."

What little defenses she has left fail and her tears drain like waterfalls. She falls into my embrace, her sobbing moistening my shoulder as I brush her mane.

"I promised... I would protect you. I failed, but I won't let this happen again. Remember that."

"You're the greatest, Caro..." She sniffles, looks at me with her glistening eyes, closes them, faces the floor and whispers, "I love you..."

There it is. The three words I've only heard the once, from Master on the night of my parents' deaths. Death came close once again today, and he nearly took Shae from me. How much closer will he get before I’m forced to tear his forelegs off? But, if it ever comes to that, I'll gladly do it to protect those close to me.

These words seal this bond. Shae is my friend, and I am her guardian. So I pull her closer, shielding her from, well, everything. "I love you."

~Vision End~

With her garments and red overcoat retrieved, her spectacles upon her muzzle and her satchel resting at her side, Shae is well prepared for the long walk home.

The remnants of the battle can still be seen on the open fields, though the snow is doing its finest to bury the ruins of carriages, scattered weapons and unclaimed bodies. Far off in the distance, Caro can see the skeleton of the dragon, gripped by frost as it resonates with the ground. He grimaces and averts his eyes, focusing his efforts on remaining close to Shae. Ever since leaving the sauna he’s refused to step any farther than a meter from her, for fear she’ll be assaulted again.

“Almost wish you cared this much when my leg was infected,” Shae mutters with a grin.

As the path inclines and the vegetation gives way to rocks and spires, Tohro relinquishes his lead. “Okay, Shae, you’ll have to take the helm, since I honestly have no idea where Wintercolt even is.”

“Oh, you.” Shae flicks Tohro’s barrel with her tail as they pass each other.

The rest of the trip mostly dwells in the realm of silence, muted further by the dense snowfall. The trek through the Mount Everfree pass is entirely uneventful, as is the hike up the mountain’s border, all up until the tall stone borders of the path fall, and Dragonrein comes out into a snowy field overlooking a large lake at least half a mile down. The wind carries powder from the ground and scatters it about, sweeping at the hooves of the ponies. It’s utterly frigid for somepony as unarmored as Caro. For the first time since the start of this adventure, he’s genuinely cold.

“Come now, let’s keep moving,” he says, pushing forward despite his trembling legs. Shae and Tohro have fallen behind, which he takes notice of. “Well?”

Tohro groans. “You are so stubborn.” He shuffles through his pouch. “Now where is that... Ah, there we are.” He reveals a long blue hooded coat with a fur trim and padded interior.

With a nicker, Caro turns away and keeps walking. “Not in this lifetime.” His steps are halted by a magenta aura. Shae tugs him back towards Tohro and the coat with levitation, laughing as he tries to resist. “It’s futile, Caro.”

“I’ve already told you, I hate armor!” The aura forces him to turn around into Tohro’s grip. The white pegasus vigorously runs his hoof through Caro’s unkempt mane.

“But it’s not armor, it’s fashionable,” he says. “You have to dress properly for your presentation.”

“Presentation?” Caro bewilderedly looks at Shae.

“Don’t you recall? The whole reason I left Wintercolt in the first place was to investigate the events of Reinoc as an extracurricular assignment. Students are required to research or create magical milestones before they graduate, you know.”

Caro stops his struggling, though Tohro doesn’t let go of him. “You may have mentioned it...”

“Well, you and Reinoc’s events go hoof in hoof, and your connection to the dragons is something unheard of. Do you have any idea how groundbreaking this could be to the academy?”

Caro eyes the coat again, and shivers when a gust of wind courses over him. “I suppose I could swallow my pride.” Tohro finally relinquishes his grip, passing the coat to Caro. “It is rather nice.”

“The academy is a rather prestigious place. One must look their finest.”

As Caro fits the sleeves around his forelegs, Tohro ties the sash around his waist. “I want it on record that I’m doing this for you, not the academy.”

“Noted,” Shae says with a giggle.

Tohro pats Caro on the flank and shoulder. “Don’t be so sore, mate. It looks good on you. I believe that somepony as legendary as the Dragonborn deserves clothing that flaps in the wind!”

And flap in the wind it does, giving him an aura of heroism as he raises a single hoof and faces the wind, with his mane and tail trailing behind him. A cocky grin spreads across his muzzle.

Tohro applauds with a few stamps of his hooves. “See, it’s not so... Oh no.”

Caro drops his dramatic pose. “What?”

A canid snarl answers his question. He swings around and unsheathes his dagger at the sight of a white wolf.

Tohro brings out his wing blades and takes one in hoof. “It’s only the one, we can take him.”

“Wolves hunt in packs, you moron...” Caro growls.

The wolf makes the first move, charging at Caro and leaving spots of drool in its wake. It leaps in for the attack. Caro sidesteps to the right and slashes at the wolf’s side with the dagger. It’s still up and moving just fine.

Tohro steps forward to finish the job but reels around when he hears another snarl. “Okay, you were right.” Two more wolves begins circling about him and Shae, who lights her horn in preemption. Caro quickly steps to her side.

Shae casts a direct beam of fire before either of the wolves pounce, piercing one through the chest. Its instantly cauterized wound doesn’t leave any blood.

The other wolf makes an attempt on Tohro, who bucks it back, flies forward and cuts its throat with his equipped wing blade. Its whimpering proves a burden on his ears before it finally dies.

Caro, meanwhile, is flanked between two of the wolves, with them serpentining towards him and dodging his attempted fire shouts. He makes a blind swing with the dagger but comes up short, ending up pinned by them both. Shae levitates one off and tosses it away, while Caro shouts “FUS!” sending the wolf airborne. He pushes himself up with his forelegs and bucks it in the chest before slashing it down. He lands on all fours, then brushes the wet blood from his new clothes. “I think the suit will be well ruined by the time we’re done here.”

Shae gasps and points behind Caro. “And torn to shreds, just like us!”

“Something tells me that I do not want to know what’s behind me, but knowing I’ll eventually have to...” Caro tilts his head into his swing around, stepping backwards in surprise as score of wolves emerges from the snow. “Yes, so... I hope Wintercolt sells these outfits.”

“Aside from the academy, the whole place is essentially a slum,” Shae says with a groan. “Sorry.”

Caro grimaces at how much he’s muddled the outfit in such a short time. “No, I’m sorry, because it’s clear that this was an expensive buy. You and Tohro both must have chipped in?”

The pegasus and the unicorn both nod.

Caro returns the gesture, then turns back to the wolves, flipping his dagger and catching it in his other hoof. “The next one’s on me, then. And I’m buying you both jewelry, because you mean that much to me.”

With a visible snort, Caro shouts “WULD NAH!” and soars into the fray, just above the large pack. Every wolf turns their hungry stare at him. “YOL... TOOR SHUL!”

Those beneath the Dragonborn are burned to cinders in a manner of seconds, while the surrounding wolves squeal and run about in a flaming panic. Caro smirks as he makes his triumphant landing, only to widen his eyes when he takes notice of the surviving wolves. They’re much less pleased than he is.

“Well, shit.”

As the wolves convene on him, all at once going straight for neck and face, he braces for a grievous wound and shuts his eyes.

Shae uses her magic to shove as many wolves as she can aside, but it’s not enough. She strains her neck as she calls out for Caro, with Tohro soaring forward as fast as possible. It’s not fast enough.

No effort seems to allow the Dragonborn escape, as he holds a wolf back mere inches from his neck, kicking the others away with his hind legs.

“HIYAAAAGH!”

A loud and sharp war cry pierces through the howling wind as a torrent of flames cuts through the pack, severing many of the wolves from their limbs and reducing many more to mere flaming pelts. When the flames stop, what appears from their wake draws shocked and astonishment from Dragonrein.

“Rosemary!” Shae shouts with glee.

The yellow earthwalker salutes to Shae as she drifts to a stop, her enflamed black falchion clutched in her teeth. Only three wolves remain after her wild attack, all of which having left Caro to deal with the greater threat.

Rosemary bucks the first wolf in mid-leap, sending it careening into the second. She runs to them, pins both of them with her hind legs, with one wolf on top of the other, and shoves her sword through both their bodies in a single thrust.

The last wolf, left alone among the corpses of the rest of the pack, ferociously roars at Rosemary, who merely wipes her bangs out of her eyes and beckons the wolf to make its move. “Come on, furball.”

The wolf breaks into its charge. Just before it makes contact, Rosemary somersaults out of harm’s way and bucks the wolf hard enough to send it over the edge of the cliff, whimpering as it falls to a rough death.

Dragonrein and Rosemary take a moment of pause, with their heavy breaths visible in the frigid air, before they all break out laughing.

“Ah, it’s good to see all of you,” says Rosemary as she puts away her falchion.

“What are you doing here?” Tohro asks, wrapping his foreleg around Rosemary’s back to her shoulder. “This is definitely no place for a pretty face.”

Shae snorts. “Oh, thanks!”

Tohro waves her off. “You get special privileges, honey. This is your quest, after all.” He turns back to Rosemary. “And speaking of quests, what, may I ask, is yours?”

Rosemary worms her way out of Tohro’s grip and trots about between the members of Dragonrein as they all come together. She keeps her gaze on Shae. “After my mum showed up to the battle with her lycan army, I had a bout of panic and decided to take my leave. As far as she’s concerned, I’m still at the villa with my little brother and sister.” Just as Shae opens her mouth, she interrupts. “Don’t worry, they’re bein’ taken care of. I just couldn’t leave my friends all by their lonesome, especially when they seem to keep losin’ their weapons.” Rosemary gives Caro a mocking grin, and he looks away meekly. “For a Dragonborn, you sure are clumsy. I mean that in the best way possible, of course.”

Caro shakes off his embarrassment and signals to keep the group moving. “Walk and talk.”

Rosemary follows, keeping close to Shae. “So how am I supposed to tolerate the fact that as soon as I leave, this beauty here,” she gives Shae’s mane an affectionate tousle, warranting a giggle, “gets assaulted by some lunatic and nearly... I don’t even wanna say it.” She drops her smile and looks at Shae with grim sincerity. “The thought of you dyin’... It hurts, it really does.”

Shae lends her a comforting hoof and pulls her into a partial embrace. “Not as much as the blade did, but thank you.”

Rosemary’s chipper demeanor returns instantly. “But, here we all are, alive and well! Seems I chose the right time to follow your tracks.”

“Why were you following us?” asks Caro.

“Well, isn’t it obvious?” Rosemary gives a shrug. “My quest is your quest. I want to join Dragonrein.”

“There it is.”

Overlooking the coast, fastened to the cliffside of Mount Everfree, stands the many towers and walls that create the ornate and mighty Wintercolt Academy.

“My home, and my future. It’s all right in front of me. Almost like I can reach out and touch it.” Shae longingly reaches out for the academy, despite it being well off in the distance, separated from Dragonrein by another hike around the mountain and a walk through the pass.

“It’s incredible,” says Rosemary as she gapes. “Seeing it for myself is far better than any portrait.”

“Every new student has to hear of the academy’s history. I remember the speech fondly.” Shae clears her throat, and with her hoof on her heart, she recites.

“It was decades ago that the unicorns of Gran Magus, the pegasi of Olympus, and the earthwalkers of the Great Plains relocated to the land we know as Equestria. They sought to escape the blizzard that consumed the entire continent. Among them was Clover the Clever, beloved servant of the royal family and an incredibly talented mage beyond her years. She, Smart Cookie and Private Pansy all shared a moment of friendship, and from that spark she created the Pure Heart, saving what would be Equestria from the blizzard. From that day, she dedicated her life to ensuring the unicorns of the new kingdom would have her talents. One may never know when the proper spell is needed. Thus, Wintercolt Academy was created.”

“That’s a mouthful,” Rosemary comments. She gives Shae a hefty nudge. “Go ahead, say something else.”

Shae mutters, “Oh,” and levitates her bag forth, lifting the flap and taking a glance inside. “Actually, I think I should get dinner started.”

Caro and Tohro are pitching the tents, with Tohro laying out the skeleton and Caro throwing the covers on top, then they both roll out the mattresses and sleeping pouches. Tohro takes a breath and says, “Three minutes. I think we can do better.”

While Shae lays out packages of raw hay bacon, she looks to the center of their encampment. From her horn comes a small burst of blue embers, which settle into a gentle flame.

Rosemary’s eyes are filled with awe, as they usually are when Shae performs any spell, no matter how miniscule. “See, just like that. Name an earthwalker that can do that sort of thing.”

Caro clears his throat rather loudly.

“Sorry, legendary Dragonborn notwithstanding.”

Shae puts her magic to work further. She levitates a flat stone over the fire and splays the hay bacon across it. As the stone heats, the strips begin to sizzle, prompting Rosemary to lick her lips in anticipation. “Bein’ on my own hasn’t made for much in culinary matters. My daddy always said I could eat like a full grown stallion since I was a babe. Had to keep me off the garden.”

“I figured we could all use a little treat,” says Shae as she flips the strips, “since we’ve all been surviving on grass and Jarl Drake’s medicine for the past day.”

“Who was your father, Rosemary?” asks Tohro. “If your mother is the dreaded Former General Tangerine, then your papa must have been something fierce.”

“He was the general before her, actually.”

Tohro’s grin broadens as he nods. “Oregano Von Spice? I should have known. It’s a shame he went down at Ghastly Gorge. He was a respectable soldier, even to the Blackwings. I mean, not that I ever met him... Are you well, Caro?”

Caro stares intently into the fire, his pupils shaking in the whites. He looks like he’s on the brink of tears again. He suddenly breaks that face and turns. “What? Huh?”

Rosemary shuffles over to where Caro and Tohro sit, eyeing the former with obtrusive curiosity. “What’s with him?”

“My parents died in that same battle,” Caro says quickly.

“Oh, well…” Rosemary is unable to respond to that. She moves back to Shae, tapping one hoof with the other awkwardly.

Caro turns to Tohro, whose eyebrow is cocked accusingly. “If she’s going to be a member of Dragonrein, she has the right to know. I’m not going to turn into a blubbering idiot just because she asked an honest question. Who do you think I am?”

“Still,” says Tohro, “we have to ensure she’s Dragonrein material. We already have our warrior,” he gestures to Caro, then Shae, “our mage, versatile in both black and white magic,” Shae smiles humbly, “and of course, me, our handsome rogue.” Tohro glares at Rosemary, resting his hoofs on his knees. “What do you have to offer us, Spice?”

Rosemary’s eyes dart to each member of Dragonrein, then turns her head to look off to the shore. She turns back as a grin crosses her muzzle. “You’re already wearing it.”

Caro nods approvingly as he pulls his dagger from its sheath and gives it a flourishing toss back inside. Tohro flaunts the hidden blade fastened to his gauntlet, and Shae taps the ring fit on her horn. “An official smith for this guild?” she asks rhetorically. “I like the idea.” Her eyes inevitably fall on Wintercolt Academy. “I mean, I’ll need somepony to fill my position.”

As it has each time the thought of Shae leaving has come to the forefront, a depressing silence cuts the friendly atmosphere like a knife through soft butter.

Though the suspicion that Rosemary would interrupt that silence is confirmed. It’s a welcome act. “Do I look like a mage to you?” she asks. “I can’t replace your techniques.”

“Well, there’s more to magic than just unicorns casting spells. The Fae affects everypony, even earthwalkers and pegasi.”

Rosemary snorts, defiantly lying on her side. “That’s a laugh. If I truly had any sort of connection to the Fae, I would have been able to run off from the villa long ago, and my mum wouldn’t have known a damn thing.” She wraps her forelegs around her midsection and shudders, teeth clenched from the frigid cold and the snowflakes soaking her red mane. “And I would have found some way to stop this Hephaestus damned snow!”

Amidst all the friendly banter, nopony had taken notice of how much the snowfall had intensified, turning the open afternoon sky into a grey colossus and rendering Wintercolt Academy as little more than a weak silhouette in the distance. The blue fire is beginning to dwindle as it endures attacks from the falling flakes.

“Aw, no!” Shae trots to the flames and does her best to reignite them, but they continue to sputter and die. Even if they could be saved, the hay bacon can’t. It’s already soaked onto the stone. “Damn. Dinner is a lost cause. Sorry...”

“I think it’s for the best that we call it a night,” says Caro, pulling the hood of his new coat over his head. He pauses as he realizes how dead useful such a thing is. Shae does the same with her hood as Rosemary throws her fedora on.

As Caro and Tohro hop to their hooves, Rosemary approaches them. “Wait, fellas, where should I sleep?”

The two look at each other. “Well, obviously you aren’t sleeping outside,” snarks Tohro.

Caro looks past Rosemary to see Shae retrieving the group’s bags. He goes to her side and grabs his pouch, then offers to take hers, but she shakes her head in refusal. “I can handle myself, Caro.”

Caro rubs one of his forelegs with the other, facing away from Shae with an adorably awkward winge. “Uh... So, you don’t need me to sleep with you in your tent tonight?”

Shae pauses, pondering the notion, but it doesn’t take her long to shake her head again. She slings her bag over her back and trots to her tent. She opens the flap. “Caro, I really do love and appreciate your efforts, but I’m not helpless.” With a blush, she looks to him. “Thank you, though,” she says quietly. She walks into a quick embrace with Caro, who accepts it warmly.

Tohro watches intently, lying on his stomach halfway inside his tent. He sidles inside and begins to draw the flap shut. “Sleep wherever you like, Rosemary. We’re not picky.” He beckons for Caro to come inside.

As the Dragonborn leaves Shae by her lonesome, he nods to Rosemary and follows Tohro into the tent.

“Good night, ” Rosemary says with a tip of her hat.

As she turns around, she notices the last traces of a black and white tail disappearing into the other tent. In a manner of moments, Shae will probably be asleep, and Rosemary will have missed the opportunity she’s been waiting for. She’s flubbed at her chance before, but with her cheeks full of red and her heart pounding, she resolves to not make that mistake twice.

~Shae~

It’s only after I step into the tent that I realize just how frigid the outside is, and how utterly soaked to the bone I am. My cloak is going to need a fierce washing when we arrive at the academy.

The thought alone makes my insides flutter. It’s the same feeling I get whenever I talk to Celina, or receive full marks on an extensive project. It’s like absolutely nothing can be wrong with the world.

Granted, such is not the case. As I remove my cloak and begin to do the same for my undergarments, I get a full look at my scar, reminding me that there is plenty wrong with this world, and now it’s a part of me. I used to find ponies with scars incredibly attractive, if not downright arousing. From now on, when I look at a painting of some legendary warrior and see their scars, I’ll know that they suffered to attain them.

Still, this could be a good reminder to keep myself safe, even when I’m wrapped in Wintercolt’s perpetual safety.

Fauste, my fur is wet. I bring my forelegs to my horn and cast a minor heating spell to remove the moisture. It’s a slow but effective process.

And then I’m cold again as more snowflakes fall on the floor of the tent. The tent flap must have been forced open by the wind...

“Uh, hello.”

Or Rosemary. That is a much more welcome sight. My depressing thoughts of the horrors of this world all disappear in an instant, replaced by ones of warmth and serenity. I slowly trot to her and take her hat; not with levitation, with my hooves. It’s utterly drenched, to the point of being wet parchment. My horn is still alight with heat, so I pass the spell onto the hat and dry its fabric. It’ll still take some time before it’s entirely dry, though, so I set it down in the corner.

“I never really had a chance to thank you,” I say. “Coming all this way just for us.” I reach my hooves under the collar of her coat before pulling away in embarrassment. Rosemary just chuckles and removes it herself, along with her sword, which she sets next to the hat.

She watches me with complete admiration as I dry her coat. “Expressin’ my interest in joining Dragonrein was a spur-of-the-moment thing. I came for another reason.”

“Oh, and what’s that?” I ask honestly. I can’t imagine what else it would be, but it must be something special, since the answer seems to have gotten stuck in Rosemary’s throat on the way out.

The edges of her lips quiver as she tries to say something, but all that comes out is a click of her tongue. “I wanted to know more about the Fae.”

“Oh?” Some part of me finds that hard to believe, but this is Rosemary we’re talking about. She probably would have slayed the entirety of the Sisterhood of Shadows to ask me a simple question.

“You know, about that passive magic you said earthwalkers and pegasi have.”

“I have a book for such an occasion!” I chirp, levitating my must-have-at-all-times encyclopedia on such things to my side. The Fundamentals of Magic (Or: What’s this tingling sensation on the tip of my horn?) is given to all students wishing to attend the academy and we’re encouraged to keep ahold of it. I still haven’t covered everything in this beast.

“Having difficulties there?” Rosemary asks, dabbing some sweat from my cheek.

I lay the book down before me and get down low, with her following suit. “Levitation may make things easier to carry but weight still applies. It’s the same reason I can’t lift myself; I’m too heavy.” I continue to make use of the levitation magic to spin through the pages of the book. I land my hoof exactly where I want to go. “Here it is.”

Illustrated on the pages before us are silhouettes of male and female earthwalkers and pegasi, respectfully. In the earthwalker bodies are small patches of aura, specifically in their legs and hindquarters, intensifying at their hooves.

“You see? While the Fae allows us unicorns to borrow its power and transform it into magic spells,” I tap my horn, “it resides within you as a passive ability. It’s what makes you earthwalkers so strong and fluent with your hoofwork. That’s why earthwalkers make such great warriors and blacksmiths.”

With that being said, I’m able to take notice of Rosemary’s more muscular frame, more visible since she’s out of her coat and down to a black tunic and long socks... I face her dead on. She’s smiling. I must have humbled her. “I feel magical already. So, what about pegasi?”

I point to that diagram, in which the aura is visible in the pegasi’s wings. “I believe that speaks for itself. In addition to their hollow yet sturdy bones, pegasi are naturally born with the Fae in their feathers, which they make good use of to stay afloat.”

“They need the Fae for that?”

“Well, even if I were to give you wings, which I can’t,” I pause, thinking to my more advanced studies, “yet, you wouldn’t be able to use them. You’re too hefty, and you wouldn’t have the Fae necessary.”

“What if I were to flap my hooves real hard?” She does just that, warranting laughter from me, which passes on to her.

When we’re done, she rests her hoof on my shoulder, giving me one of the most sincere smiles I have ever seen. It almost hurts to look away as I turn to the next page. “Want to see what an alicorn’s Fae might look like?” I’ve been dying to look at this page. I wonder if Celina has this sort of aura. It’s at its absolute peak throughout the alicorn’s entire body, even their mane and tail.

I go for a while staring at the picture, not receiving an answer. I turn to Rosemary to ask her again, but before I open my mouth, she plants a soft and gentle kiss on the tip of my muzzle.

My heart throbs to the point where one could probably see my chest vibrating. “Oh...” is all that escapes my mouth. I begin to fumble with my hooves, unable to get a grip. Everything feels uncomfortable, hazy, confusing and... and...

Rosemary seems entirely unfazed. She emanates a warm and serene glow that must be resonating with me, because the confusion and awkwardness of the moment is fading rapidly.

"Struck you mute, did I?" she whispers in an unbelievably sultry tone, amplified further by her northern accent. I only knew her as loud and boisterous a moment ago. "Sorry if it felt so sudden... Was actin' on instinct there." She nods towards the tent flap. "I, uh, I can leave if I crossed a line."

All I can do is shake my head. I've pursed my lips, for anxiety that I'll have to put them to use.

"Again?" she asks.

"Yes... Please..." I whisper, greatly anticipating that same warm feeling on my face.

Rosemary gives me a tender nudge on the same spot she kissed me with her hoof, before holding me by both shoulders and planting her lips on my forehead, then the right cheek. She takes extra time for that last one.

Everything I felt before is gone, all replaced by sheer wonder. There’s no other word for it; I feel wonderful. So wonderful I can’t help but throw myself around Rosemary and snuggle my face into her neck.

“You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to do that,” she says, holding me close. “Ever since you came into the forge...”

I give a light snort. “Sans the vomiting?”

She chuckles. “Yeah...”

I move my head to face hers, looking into her field green eyes. Our muzzles touch. “I... guess I should apologize for the trouble-”

She kisses my snout again before I can finish. “You are worth the trouble. And take all the time you need to let this sink in, okay?”

It could have been an hour, or it could have just a few seconds, but after getting lost in her gaze, I somehow manage to speak. “So, what do we do now?”

"I'm plum tired, I have to be honest." Rosemary stretches out her forelegs and yawns. "After all of this, finally being able to...” She blushes madly with a childish giggle. “Bein' relieved and all..." She eyes the sleeping bag. The one sleeping bag.

"Yes... of course..." And we’re right back to awkward. "I don't want to be rude." I gesture to the bag. "You can have it."

Rosemary smirks. "Ah, ah, I'm not selfish. I'm not gonna leave you sleepin' in the cold.” She takes my hooves in hers and pulls me with her to the bed. “Come on. There's room for two."

"Oh... OH!" A goofy smile begins spreading across my face. First she kisses me, then we’re... "Um... I... I don't want to impose..."

Another kiss to the forehead silences my blubbering. Rosemary settles in underneath the covers easily, leaving a spot for me. How generous. “I want the imposition, hon. Shut up and cuddle with me.”

I nod helplessly and crawl into the sleeping bag. I fidget in an attempt to get comfortable, poking Rosemary in the cheek with my horn each time, following up with an apology and more panic.

Rosemary just chuckles with each awkward outburst and wraps her forelegs around my barrel. Eventually I’m snug beneath the many blankets, only a hair width away from her.

"I... I..." I can't form the rest of the sentence. I take a breath and rethink the situation. This doesn’t have to be awkward. I’m simply resting in a bed with a mare who is obviously in love... I can tell. It’s the sugary sweet edge on her words. I have to be honest, she’s probably not the only one in this tent with such feelings. That thought alone makes me relax. "Mmm, this feels nice..."

But it’s also familiar in many ways...

"Mother, the storm is really loud..."

"Are you afraid, little one?"

"Mmhmm..."

"Come up, my little mage. You’ll be safe with me and Daddy tonight. That storm won’t touch you."

"Thank you, Mother..."

My eyes involuntarily squint as they begin to fill with the faintest of tears.

"Hey..." Rosemary takes notice of my inner turmoil and wipes the tears away. "What's the matter, Shae? Tell me honest."

“Just... sad memories is all... It's not your fault."

She makes another sigh of relief, which I can feel on my face. "Let it all out. I'm right here."

She’s been through enough. I’ll save her the tragic tale and keep it simple. I care more about this moment, me and her, wrapped together in the closest embrace I’ve ever felt in my life. I’m really, truly happy, but I can’t stop crying. "You're so lucky... to still have your mother..."

~Vision End~

Morning comes without a fanfare, with no rooster’s crow or chirping birds to announce its arrival. The overcast doesn’t allow for a brilliant sunrise or a blue sky.

Yet, as far as mornings for Dragonrein go, this one is a relatively happy, if not bittersweet one. Caro wakes for the first time in a while feeling nothing but comfort, having been spared another otherworldly visit from that ethereal filly. “Whoever she is...” He’s not prone to hating that filly for entering his dreams but her haunting presence can’t make him anything but uneasy, no matter how happy her tidings seem to be. The dreams have gone from pleasant yet unorthodox to just plain disconcerting.

“Ah, good morning, mate.” Tohro is well awake, stretching his legs and flapping his wings to their absolute limits. With a crick of his neck he says, “Did you have that dream again?”

“No.”

“Hmmph.” Tohro resumes his stretching. “That’s a shame. I’ve been waiting to find out what the hell she’s been trying to tell us. What do you make of that child anyway? You said she wants us to ‘find’ her?”

Caro removes himself from his sleeping pouch and throws on his new coat before the cold gets to him. He welcomes its warmth, but not the sensation of fabric on his coat. “She’ll send us a sign when she’s, ah, ready. Until then, I’d rather not talk about it.”

This talk of the filly reminds Caro of the song she sang, the one part of the dreams he’s kept to himself. He recalls hearing the exact same song from Shae. It can’t be anything more than a coincidence, in his mind, but it is an uncanny one.

A crack sounds out from Tohro’s neck. “Ah, that was a good one!”

“What are you doing?” Caro asks as he wipes the sleep from his eyes.

“Well, I recall offering Shae a flight to the academy back in Everfree, seeing as the pass is closed and all...” The pegasus gets low and starts doing push-ups. “I always keep my promises, yeah? Only thing is, I hadn’t really taken into account you coming along.” He switches to doing his exercise on a single forehoof.

“Why would you care if you and Shae were alone?” Caro asks.

Tohro gives him an expression that says, Isn’t it obvious?

Caro grimaces and makes his way to the tent flap. “You sick fuck.”

Standing back up, Tohro spreads his wings and flutters to Caro’s side. “Why is it you always assume I’m talking about vaginas?”

As they step outside, they take notice of a peculiar sight. Shae is on her back next to the blue fire, her hind legs crossed. “Because you always inevitably find one to talk about? I’m humbled, by the way.”

What catches their eye isn’t that, but the fact that Shae’s head is resting upon Rosemary’s lap. Rosemary is affectionately brushing Shae’s straightened mane. The two have an incredible contrast to them, what with the prim and proper, yet relatively small schoolmare leaning on an unkempt and rusky earthwalker, who waves awkwardly.

Caro and Tohro briefly look to each other, and in perfect synchronization they each raise a hoof and say, “Approved.”

Shae chuckles as she’s helped onto her haunches, and rests her head on Rosemary’s shoulder. “Good morning, you two.”

“A very good morning,” says Rosemary, wrapping her free foreleg around Shae.

Perhaps it’s because it’s such a precious moment, or there’s nothing to say that hasn’t been said before, but Caro and Tohro remain quiet. They begin deconstructing the tents and stuffing them into their bags of holding, somewhat painstakingly. “I swear, these things are getting heavier,” says Caro.

Shae taps him on the wither, presenting her bag. “Oh, then this might be a bit of an inconvenience.” She levitates a set of potions from the vial pouches, mostly green and blue concoctions that she hasn’t put to use. “I won’t need these anymore.” They all fall into Caro’s bag.

It’s more of an emotional weight than a physical one; a reminder that Shae is going away for a while, possibly... Caro and Tohro both grimace at the thought and keep a certain word from their minds.

The crunch of snow alerts Dragonrein’s presence to a hooded figure in the distance, approaching rather quickly with their quick hoofsteps. They are accompanied by two others, following behind in unison.

“Who do you reckon that is?” asks Tohro.

Rosemary steps forward. “Probably a merchant. Get your bits ready. Never know when a good deal might cross your path.” She narrows her gaze at the hooded figures. “I wonder if they’re a zebra caravan? I could use some skooma.”

“Skooma?” Shae cocks her brow.

“It’s a zebra concoction brewed with special crystals and sugars beneath the full moon. It feels like an orgy with the Divines.” Rosemary gets flustered just thinking about it, licking her lips eagerly. “I oughta share a bit with you.”

Curiosity strikes Shae, but she quickly rethinks it. “Wait, isn’t that incredibly illegal here since its level of contraband content is through the roof? And, uh, I’m not of age.”

Rosemary pats Shae on the head with gusto, chuckling all the while. “I won't force it on ya, lassie. Still, I wouldn't mind a little huff...”

A stern voice interjects into the conversation. “And what makes you think I sell skooma? For that matter, what makes you think I’m a zebra?” The hooded figure got the jump on them, standing over by about half a head, and the purple robe makes them all the more menacing. By their voice, they sound like a mare.

“Um, hello,” Shae says with a meek wave.

The hooded mare only looks at Rosemary, Caro and Tohro for a second. She takes more interest in Shae, examining her robes and trotting around her, humming all the while. Shae can only look about in mild confusion.

The hooded mare returns to her followers. “So you’re of the academy. I recognize the robes. That is a well chosen path, child.”

Shae looks to Rosemary, who beckons her to step forward. She does so, bowing politely. “Um, thank you. I’ve lived in Wintercolt almost my whole life. I’m actually on my way back there now.”

“Is that so? But isn’t the pass closed at this time of year?”

“We, uh, have a pegasus.” Shae gestures to Tohro, who gives the hooded mare a sultry wink. He is promptly slapped by Caro. “He’s going to fly us over.”

The hooded mare rubs her obscured chin. “Hmmph. Unacceptable.” She trots past Shae and Rosemary, with her followers in her wake. “Unacceptable. I will take the helm and clear the pass myself. A little buildup of snow is hardly beyond my means.”

“Oh, that’s very kind of you, but,” Shae gallops to catch up with her, “you don’t have to.”

The hooded mare faces Shae and chuckles. “Now what sort of noblemare would I be if I let a student of my academy face the elements alone?”

It takes a moment for that to register in Shae’s mind, but the moment the realization clicks, her mouth falls so far open that her spectacles go askew. She mouths a name, unable to summon her voice.

The hood comes down, and from underneath its shadow emerges the head of an indigo unicorn with long blue and cyan locks for a mane. “Clover the Clever, at your service.”

XXIII - Home Sweet Home

“Suffice to say, I don’t believe any pegasus would be able to cope with this.”

Clover the Clever approaches the blockage of the pass. Dragonrein is struck dumb by how colossal the damage is, all caused by an inordinately harsh winter. Rockslides and avalanches have made it completely impassable. Tohro had flown overhead and taken notice of how the wreckage is several times as lengthy as it is tall. He shakes his head in defeat, but Clover shoots him a reassuring smile.

“This is child’s play, my little ponies. Stand back and enjoy the show.”

Her horn radiates a deep blue, much more vivid than any aura Dragonrein has seen before. She doesn’t even bat an eye as the rocks begin to slide out of the way and the snow evaporates into harmless mist. Clover flawlessly strides through with the wreckage just fixing itself before her, as if it’s all a lowly subject obeying its master.

“Fauste’s horn, you’re magnificent!”

Clover swings around and bows, graciously accepting Shae’s applause. “You flatter me, Miss Shae. This is simple compared to what I’ve learned in my absence.”

Shae’s admiration becomes curiosity. “Oooh, so that’s why you left the academy, to learn more advanced magic! A pilgrimage of sorts?”

“That’s not a bad word for it, actually,” Clover says with a nod. She beckons for Dragonrein to follow, with Shae trotting right by her side the entire time, never falling behind in the slightest. “So, what is your strong suit at the academy?”

“Astronomy and alchemy, Ma’am. But, then again, I had the finest teachers in the academy to help me with those.”

Clover shakes her head. “Oh no no, my dear. I meant in terms of magical ability. What spells do you excel in?”

Shae’s horn comes alive with a bout of flames, followed by glowing ice, sparks of lightning and radiant light. She blushes and giggles like a small child as that fades.

Clover shows intrigue, nodding approvingly. “Ah, black magic, is it? A fair pursuit, given the time we live in. And much more dignified than steel, if you ask me. No offense meant to your companions.” She looks back to Caro, Tohro, and Rosemary, giving a meek wave. She falters, giving a grunt of pain as she retracts her hoof.

“Madam Clover?” Shae asks with concern.

Clover reaches underneath her purple robes, revealing her white-clad armored foreleg. The upper portion is exposed, however, with a nasty gash across its entire length. She grimaces as she catches sight of the wound. “Mmm, it must be getting worse...”

Shae immediately takes ahold of Clover’s leg. “Allow me, Ma’am.” She sets her horn near to the wound as her horn shines. The skin of Clover’s leg reconnects and the dried blood disappears.

“My thanks to you,” she says, gently putting her hoof back on the ground with no fuss. She sighs of relief. “It’s been a long journey and I’ve yet to come across a white mage. Well, until now. Your skills are far beyond your age, presuming you are not of maturity?” Clover cocks her eyebrow.

“That is correct, Ma’am.”

The majority of the trip through the now cleared pass proceeds in a repetitive fashion, with Clover making idle questions about Wintercolt Academy and Shae’s education, and receiving very chipper responses. The rest of Dragonrein is unsure whether to laugh or tell Shae to calm herself.

Finally, the stone walls lessen, descending back into snow drenched patches. As if on cue, the snowfall takes its leave as well, clearing the view. Within a few steps sits a town; the very loosest definition of one, at least.

There’s a residential area, which consists of a few houses stacked atop and near each other. Across the street is an alchemy shop, a general goods store, and... aside from a few other insignificant buildings, that’s about the extent of it. The only thing significant about this town whatsoever is the castle-bound academy in the distance, which towers over the town like a god over peasants.

Rosemary still gapes at the mere sight of the academy, but she appears very underwhelmed by the rest of the sights. “You weren’t kidding...” she mutters. She shrugs and approaches Shae, lending her a comforting hoof.

“The academy is all the glamour this town can spare, is it?” says Tohro. He flinches as everypony, aside from Clover the Clever, gives him a hard glare.

“I’d put it in less harsh terms, but that is quite correct.” Clover takes a few steps forward, taking in what little there is to see. “The harsh conditions make settling down here near to impossible, but some will go to any lengths to get their families into the academy’s good favor.” As she speaks, a young colt in patchy green school robes leaves his home, struggling against the winds to trot for the academy. “Their ambition is admirable.”

Shae nods, filled with regret that she made Wintercolt out to be something more than this. “I know you expected more.”

“It’s just fine, lasse.” Rosemary’s lips grace Shae’s forehead.

Caro and Tohro can’t help but feel touched by the display of affection. Out of the corner of Caro’s eye, however, he notices Clover begin to tense up. He dismisses it as her reacting to remaining pain from her former wound.

With a dramatic sigh, Shae steps forward and half heartedly flourishes her hoof. “Welcome to Wintercolt Academy; my little paradise.”

CHAPTER XXIII - HOME SWEET HOME

~Shae~

Regardless of the anticlimactic revealing of a town my pride let on to be something more glorious than Everfree, Rosemary doesn’t drop her demeanor for an instant. “It’s a paradise to me, lasse.”

Nothing gets this mare down, does it? I guess I made the right decision. I wonder what she sees in me beyond my magical ability.

But how can I focus on such a thing? My mind is close to bursting at the seams. I have an ongoing conflict of emotions. A part of me is still warm and fluttering from falling into Rosemary’s heart, to the point where I still can’t comprehend it. She’s in love with me. I’ve also yet to comprehend that Clover the Clever is standing right behind me! Clover. The. Clever. I’ve admired this mare from the day I could pick up a book. I’m quite certain her name was one of the first I learned. And yet, I draw a blank when it comes to asking her a question, if only because there’s so much I could ask that it would fill an entire day, and I’m sure that would be a waste of her valuable time.

And, of course, there’s the impending presentation with Caro. I saw him at the guild initiation back in Everfree; he’s dead nervous in front of crowds. I’ll have to trust him to come through for me, because he always does his best, but without time for a rehearsal, this could either go incredibly wrong, or it could be the single greatest thing I’ve done in my education, and if Clover is there to witness it... I might faint. And Rosemary will be there to catch me with her strong embrace... My cheeks are so heated the snow melts at their touch.

I’ve also been so distracted by my own thoughts that the journey over the zig-zagging bridge has already come to an end, and we’re at the gates of the academy proper. This is it. My home awaits.

“Are you ready for your performance, Caro?” I ask. “You’re the star of this assignment, after all.”

The Dragonborn snorts and wipes his snout. “Not in a million years, but let’s go.”

I place my hoof on the bars and push. They open without a struggle, revealing the frosty and deathly empty courtyard.

“Oh yes!” Rosemary doesn’t have any capacity for her glee. She runs to the frozen fountain, frolicking about it in a circle and nearly trampling the flowers. She stops at them and takes a big whiff. “Wow, flowers that bloom in winter! Are these enchanted to survive the cold?”

Clover clears her throat and speaks. “Actually, florists come along every equinox to deliver specific flowers for the upcoming season. These types bloom in this particular season, that’s all.” She takes in the scent as well. “Hm, this batch seems a little weak. I’ll have to speak with Frosthelm about this...”

“And I would be honored to attend to your needs, Professor Clover.” There’s Headmaster Frosthelm, as poised and proper as ever, entering the vicinity. He nods to me, giving me one of the proudest smiles I’ve ever seen on him, or any of my teachers. There’s just no end to the humblings I’m receiving today. The headmaster speaks to Clover. “I’m simply putting together a lesson plan for the upcoming semester when who should I sense but two incredibly radiant auras approaching the school? I knew one had to be our top student, but you... It’s wonderful to see you again.”

Clover trots to Headmaster Frosthelm, sharing a quick embrace with him. “Ah, the two remaining students of Starswirl the Bearded together again,” she says. “You’ve been shirking your responsibilities, old friend. If the flowers are merely adequate I would dread to see the condition of my students.”

Frosthelm raises his hoof as if he were swearing on Fauste. “They are as devoted as they ever were, I assure you.”

With a nod, Clover briskly approaches the double doors leading inside. “Well, I’ll have to be the judge of that. Let us meet in the headmaster’s study for a spot of tea later, yes?”

She’s leaving. Now I realize that of all the questions I should have asked, the most important one needs to come out now. “Madam Clover!” I call out, galloping to her as she opens the door.

“Yes, Miss Shae?”

I might be hyperventilating. I can’t really tell. “Would you- I mean, I have this- Um, my extr- extracurricular assignment- I- I, um…”

Her blue aura comforts me with its touch, resting on my forehead. “Stop yourself, child. I would love to witness my academy’s best. Assure yourself, I’ll be there.”

I would hug her, but I don’t think I’m worthy of such a thing. All I can do is bow, and remain bowing until she’s long gone. It takes Rosemary helping me up by my hooves to snap me out of it. With that, I shake my head until I break out of the haze. Rosemary keeps one foreleg wrapped around me as we approach Headmaster Winter, who is absolutely beaming. It’s been some time since I’ve seen him this proud, as my peak condition in academics has become standard fare to him.

“It’s just an assumption, but the way I see it, you have come far in such a short time,” he says. “The Fae has you something grand. Have you been honing your skills since you departed?”

“Yes sir!” I say.

He takes notice of Rosemary as she hastens her grip on me, and also glances to Caro and Tohro. “And I see you’ve made some new friends. They’re certainly...” he pauses, probably searching for a fair word, “...of a unique creed to this school. Under normal circumstances I would shoo them away.” He makes a brushing motion with his hoof.

“But you wouldn’t, of course?” Rosemary asks. “With respect, sir, I’m an avid follower of unicorn magic and to see this academy firsthoof is all I’ve ever dreamed!”

Caro steps forth. “And I just so happen to be Shae’s guardian, as well as a critical part of her presentation.”

The headmaster seems to be drawing a blank, stroking his beard in thought.

“Sir, it’s the whole reason Shae left the academy in the first place-”

That gets the gears in his head going. “Ah, yes, of course! Forgive this old soul, his mind sometimes wavers. Any friend of a student is a friend of the academy’s, and of course, I’m not about to impede on my finest student’s education. By all means, you’re welcome to enter the academy at your leisure, however, I must impose that you do not intrude upon any classes or make enemies of the children.”

Caro, Tohro and Rosemary stand in line and nod in unison.

“Excellent!” Headmaster Frosthelm gives a stomp of approval. “Then I welcome you all.”

My heart pounds with anticipation.

The cold marble halls with the slightest hint of reflection, the perpetual drafts that chill the bones, and a dissonant prestige to the rest of the town outside. This is Wintercolt Academy, for sure. After all this time, with the dragon attacks, the brawls with the undead, hanging on the edge of death and all of the other fun stuff, this seems so unimpressive and, well, dull.

So why am I frolicking alongside Rosemary?

“I’m hooooome!”

I hadn’t expected anyone to come running to me, I just felt the innate need to say it. All I hear is my own voice echoing back. “I’m home,” I repeat. While Rosemary tries to take in every last inch of the place, I approach Headmaster Frosthelm. “I promise, I’ll make up for every assignment I missed.”

He seems bewildered. “But you hardly missed anything. Your advanced studies covered everything until the next semester.”

“Oh... Oh!” I should be proud, but flaunting my vast intelligence in front of Rosemary and her, um, less pronounced academic ability is just embarrassing. “I suppose I have a lot of free time, then.”

“If I were you, I’d spend it with your closest friends. Here’s my proposal; you and your guild retreat to the library and talk amongst yourselves while I gather the other students for your presentation.”

And now my heart is in my throat. “Wait, Headmaster!” I gallop in front of him before he can take his first step. “Caro and I haven’t had time to rehearse!”

“We don’t need to,” says Caro. “We’ll talk it over in the library. I have an idea.”

“You do?” I look to him with concern, but his reassuring nod sends that away. “We do.”

Headmaster Frosthelm gives a bow, and with a swish of his fur cloak, begins to take his leave. “Quarrel resolved, Shae. I will retrieve you when you are needed. I wish you nothing but success.”

“Thank you, sir.”

I don’t move until he’s entirely out of sight. When I finally find the time to relax, I notice that we’re short one earthwalker. “Caro, where’s Rosemary?”

A euphoric squeal answers my question. "Wintercolt Academyyyyy!~" Here she comes, bounding around the corner like some sort of muscular rabbit. She twirls about, catching herself on her boots and collapsing onto the hard floor. That does nothing to stop her near-orgasmic romp.

She wiggles her hind legs, face flushed and eyes sparkling. I reach to help her up. “Feel free to keep acting cute and all, but could you please quiet down?”

She sighs. “Okay. For you.” She continues to breathe rapidly, though. Still, at least I’ve found somepony to share my happiness with.

The academy is already deathly silent, so the library is hardly a far cry from the exterior hallway. The two story high bookshelves make for a welcome sight, as I’ve had nothing to read but what I brought with me in my rush to leave. My first order of business is returning all but my essential tomes to their respective spots, and I take plenty of time to ensure they’re in exact alphabetical order.

Once that’s done, I trot through the sitting lounge. I take notice of a few other students with their muzzles stuck in books of their own. Flanklin is reading Summoning: How to make the Fae work for you! and trying to create an ethereal weapon. The best he can manage is a faint stick that falls into dust at his touch.

Caro and Tohro are sitting across from each other, and judging by their grave expressions, they’re talking about something serious. I step in while Caro is in mid-sentence.

“...only way for me to get stronger is to visit Neigh Hrothgar.”

Tohro’s eyes widen. “Are you kidding me? You and those Greybeard monks? I can’t picture it.”

“What do you know of them?”

“Only that they’re old bags of bones who’ve spent their whole lives stuck in another era,” Tohro remarks. He steps out of his seat and plays the part of an elderly colt, walking with knobbly knees and his back arched. “'Oh, you young whippersnappers with your newfangled magic and, and, uh, swords! Why can’tcha be more like the Precursors! They had it all right before they went and stabbed themselves in the tuckus!'” Caro lets out a single noted laugh as Tohro returns to his seat. “Perish the thought, mate. You’ll learn nothing from them.”

I know the Greybeards are far more than bags of bones. Precursor magic is still an enigma to most of ponykind, and they are the only group dedicated enough to research it. If Precursor magic includes the Thu’um, then Caro has nothing to lose by speaking to them.

“I’m going,” Caro states. “The only other pony we know who has the dragon voice is Shokenda, and she’s not about to stop this war to give me a lesson.”

“That’s obvious.”

“Besides, what if these Greybeards hold other secrets that could gain me the upper hoof against the dragons? Whatever they hold could be the difference between Saviikaan’s death and mine.”

Tohro rests his head in his hooves. “We haven’t even met this Saviikaan, and already he’s nearly killed you three times.”

Caro wears a sadistic smirk. “There’s the other reason I want to see the Greybeards. Provided I learn the right shouts,” he leans over the table like an excited child, “I’ll be able to make the Dovah scream so loud Saviikaan will have to come running! That’s when I’ll-” He stops himself and looks around, noticing that Flanklin and the other studying unicorns are giving him harsh glares. He holds his hoof up apologetically and lays his head on the table.

If it were any other day I’d interject, but Caro’s decisions won’t make a difference when I’m no longer part of Dragonrein. Besides, I’m quietly agreeing with his decision. If he can get stronger, already being one of the mightiest stallions I’ve met, then I know he’ll be able to protect those he loves. I’d hate for him to go through another bout of guilt. On top of that, I need to leave Rosemary in good hooves.

“Aw, you’re concerned about me, love?” Rosemary asks, poking her head through a gap in a bookshelf.

Urgh, did my thoughts spill into my mouth again?

“Did you find anything of interest?” I ask her

“Not in particular. The diagrams of mages are nice, but the words don’t make any sense.” Rosemary presents a tome on alteration magic, a novice one at that, and flips through nearly half of it before slamming it shut.

I give a shrug. “That’s to be expected, given magic is foreign to your kind.”

“That’s for true. What the hell does alteration mean, anyway?”

If anyone else had asked me that, another student for instance, I would have stomped away in rage. Why is it I find Rosemary’s vocabularic handicap so endearing? “Perhaps I should explain about the different types of unicorn magic. Alter-.”

“Shae.” Tohro taps me on the wither in mid-flight before I can finish. The crash course will have to wait, I suppose.

“What is it?”

He beckons for me to come with him. I follow his quiet trail of flight down the length of the bookshelves, then around the corner, with Rosemary following from the other side. When he stops, he signals for me to look ahead, and that’s when I catch sight of something very welcome to my eyes.

A green mane and yellow coat. Hello, Sundance. She’s occupying a seat with blue coated Lancer and dark purple Eavesdrop, and they’re all leaning over a scrap of parchment. It has a sort of etching upon it, a rough drawing of three ponies... no, wait, there’s a fourth, and I’d recognize that long mane anywhere. That’s Celina.

Oddly enough, it’s not the sight of my old friends that draws me in, but rather the picture. I trot about behind the three and examine the picture closer. Celina is standing next to me, Caro and Tohro. It’s the guild coronation. Beneath the image is a caption.

While the grim confirmation that dragons have beset the kingdom looms in the minds of our citizens, they take comfort in knowing a new guild has come to be. Calling themselves Dragonrein, the group is composed of a unicorn from Wintercolt Academy, a former Blackwing assassin and a self-taught warrior who claims to be something called a Dragonborn. They seem to have no code of conduct beyond their told quest: to kill every dragon that threatens the innocent. Whether or not this group becomes an equal to the Carrier Clan, or as dangerous as the Sisterhood of Shadows, remains to be seen. This etching was made by Xephyr of the Bard College.

Sundance lets out a squeal. “See, I told you it was her! Isn’t it amazing? She’s only been gone a few months and she’s already gone and joined a guild!”

“I dunno...” mutters Lancer. “Does this mean she won’t be coming back anytime soon? She’ll be too busy slaying dragons to complete her project.”

Eavesdrop removes her hood and brushes her magenta mane out of her eyes. “She always was too experienced for this place...”

This is the part where I intervene. I lift the picture up with my magic, drawing stunned gazes from the three of them. I give a playful sneer as I examine my sketched self. “Curse you, Xephyr. Is that really what my mane looks like?”

The parchment is thrown out of my magic’s grip as Sundance leaps onto me, pinning me down in a hug that could rival Rosemary’s. I contest against her, trying to sit up but the smack of Lancer and Eavedrop leaping from their seats and following her example renders me blissfully helpless. “Ahahaha! I knew you wouldn’t forget about us!” Sundance shouts.

The sharp “Shhhh!” of the other students stops the group embrace dead, much to my relief, and, I must confess, displeasure. I actually enjoyed the abrasive act.

While I rest my head against the bookshelf, Sundance, Lancer and Eavesdrop stand back up. “Maybe we ought to to take a step outside,” I say, levitating the parchment to me and tucking it into my robes.

I’m about to ask Rosemary to come along, but she’s occupied, flipping through about three tomes at a time, just examining the pictures. One that’s taking her interest in particular is one about enchantment (Setting Hearts and Swords Ablaze). I can’t blame her for getting interested in such things following my hasty inflaming of her falchion. Only now do I notice that the sword is no longer ablaze. Of course. It was only a spell. Proper enchantments last much longer...

“I’m aware of that now,” the yellow earthwalker says with a grin, leaving the books scattered as she gets up to follow me.

I really need to keep ahold of my thoughts.

“That you do.”

My attention goes back to Sundance as we step out of the library into the circular hallway. She’s prancing like a deer just at the sight of me. “You’re here! You’re here!” I can tell she’s trying her best not to glomp me again. “You have to tell us eeeeverything! What didja do in the land down under? Didja make some new friends? Didja learn new magic? Didja didja didja?!”

“Did I ever!” I chirp. “But I want to keep it a surprise. I’ll tell you everything during my presentation.”

Sundance gasps and covers her mouth, then presses her hooves to her cheeks. “I’ll be counting the minutes!”

Rosemary has been eyeing my old friends with amusement. “So, these are the playmates you mentioned, huh, love? They’re a lovely bunch.”

Lancer turns to Rosemary and leans back, eyes filled with shock and darting between me and her. “By Fauste’s horn...”

My heart sinks. This is the climax to one passive fear I harbored while Rosemary was enticing me. Lancer has always held a deep crush on me, with only fear and a feeling of insignificance holding him back from acting on it, and I never failed to push him away. My studies were my only love at the time. Had Rosemary not interceded, I probably would have set aside time for him in the future.

I expect some sort of verbal berating for stabbing him in back, or heart, but I certainly don’t expect him to say to Rosemary, “You’re an earthwalker!”

“Firm grip on reality you’ve got there,” she says in deadpan. “Shae, aren’t you going to introduce us?”

My mind snaps back from dread. Lancer might not have seen anything between me and her. “Ah, yes. Everypony, this is a new member of my guild. Her name is Rosemary Von Spice. She’s my-” I look at Lancer again. Another slip of my tongue, curse me. “She’s a friend.”

Rosemary seizes me by my barrel and pulls me into a quick and unexpected kiss, not giving me time to reciprocate, or even close my eyes to appreciate the moment. Keeping her forelegs around me, she winks to my fellow students. “I’m her marefriend.”

Well, now she’s done it, and Lancer couldn’t have not seen it. While Sundance and Eavesdrop keep smiling away without a care, all the euphoria from reuniting with me is gone in an instant for him, replaced with blank astonishment. As much as the kiss was appreciated on my part, I need to get this off my chest.

“Rose.”

She tilts her head as if she were preparing for another one. “Yes, hon?”

I nod to the poor blue colt. “Lancer might not take this too well... He’s wanted to be with me for some time but nothing came of it.”

“Oh...” Rosemary’s abrasive confidence wavers as she lets me go and backs off. “I’m sorry. I... I don’t want to come between you and your friends.”

“It’s fine.”

I was about to say it’s not fine, or something along those lines, but Lancer answered for me. I hadn’t expected this, above all.

“It’s fine,” he repeats, approaching me. “All these years, Shae.” He snickers and breaks into laughter. I laugh along, albeit nervously. “You could have just told me you weren’t fond of colts.”

“Oh, Lancer, sweetie, it’s not like that...” And here I thought he’d be the odd one out. I spin about at random and cover my fluster, still laughing.

“Say, Rosemary,” Lancer says, “did you know that this school has an annual gala?”

“Why no, I did not.” Rosemary shoots a glance at me. “You didn’t mention one, silly.”

“I forgot.” I really did. Amidst all the adventure, I hadn’t thought for a second about being back in time to celebrate the gala. Every year, the whole school becomes less of a place of learning, with every student and teacher engaging in an elegant party. It’s our way of welcoming in another year of magical education. The realization as to why Lancer would bring it up at all comes to me. “Wait, isn’t the gala coming along soon?”

Lancer nods. “Tonight, actually.”

I plant my hoof on my forehead. “Of all the days I had to arrive!” My hooves dance in place. “This is going to be fantastic!”

“Why are you enthusiastic about it so suddenly?” Eavesdrop asks.

Sundance trots in circles around me, Rosemary and the others. “Yeah! You never come to the school galas. You always put a muting spell on our dorm room to silence the music, then you stick your nose in a book.”

“I never had...” I want to say I never had somepony to dance with, but I could have gone with any of my friends. Not that it mattered to me at the time, as my studying took precedence over my personal relationships, but in the light of recent events (My stomach twinges a bit), a lust for a new experience in my old home has come out. “I've never had a reason to care.”

Eavesdrop scoffs. “Neither have I, but I still show up.”

Sundance begins one of her dances of happiness, twirling in place and jumping about on her hind legs. “I, for one, dance with everypony at the gala! The colts love it when I take them on a wild ride.” She stops in mid-step, all her weight on one of her forelegs. “The mares get a little nervous but that doesn’t stop me!” She resumes her hustle.

“Well, while we’re all on about this...” Rosemary steps forward, pausing as Sundance passes in front of her with a cartwheel, then continues. She faces me, a broad smile on her muzzle, then kneels slightly so we’re at the same level. “You want to go with me?”

It’s a given that I would have danced with her regardless, probably behind a pillar to avoid embarrassment in front of my peers. I’m not the best dancer, another reason I never saw fit to attend, but just being there with Rosemary will make it worthwhile. An official invitation certainly doesn’t hurt either.

I’m blushing so hard I can’t even speak. I just let the glow in my cheeks answer for me. When Rosemary grabs ahold of me again and spins me around, I feel like I’m on top of the world. Given that we’re on Mount Everfree, I may as well be.

And now I’m back at the bottom. The door before me leads into Headmaster Frosthelm’s classroom, where at least a few dozen students have gathered to witness my presentation. Peeping through the ajar doorway, I can see that estimation is dead wrong. There’s a hundred in there, probably more out of eyeshot.

“Ah, damn...” I didn’t sign on for this. My academia lies in quiet independence, not in making speeches. I can scarcely imagine the humiliation I’ll have to endure. I’m going to flub it, I just know. I’ll be made a laughing stock. Some top student, choking on her own tongue on the most important assignment of her life! Oh, bloody hell. What if I get sent back a grade for this? What if I’m sent back to first year, oh Fauste... All of this right in front of Clover the Clever! She and her associates have front row seats!

“You’re shaking worse than a rattlesnake on the winter solstice,” says Rosemary. “Are you okay?”

No! I’m not okay! Knock me out! Poison me so I can take a sick day! Break my leg! “Yes, I think I’ll be fine.” AAAAAAAAAAAGH! “Are you ready, Caro?”

The Dragonborn is wearing his fear on his face much worse than I am. I have to levitate a cloth (Somewhat shakily) to his brow to wipe the sweat off. He exhales slowly. “Crowds.”

Suddenly my role in this doesn’t seem so terrible. I just have to say a few words in front of my peers. “You didn’t have stage fright when you impaled Nahkara-”

“Nahkriin.”

“-in front of the entire population of Trottingham.”

Caro snorts and steps closer to me. “That was unrehearsed. It’s easier to put on a show when you can feel every motion of blood in your veins.”

I touch the upper part of my foreleg. I can’t feel anything beyond my coat and skin. “Is that how you feel when you fight dragons?”

“Hell, when I fight anypony.”

Then the door comes open, with the chattering of the students growing louder. Headmaster Frosthelm stands on the central platform, beckoning me to come forth. I shoot Caro a forced reassuring smile and take his hoof. We step forward into the abyss, I mean, the classroom.

The students go silent as I take slow steps onto the platform. I bow to the headmaster, but, as expected, Caro doesn’t do the same. His lips are pursed as he scans over our audience. “So, uh, what comes first?” he whispers.

Headmaster Frosthelm takes his leave from the stage. “You may begin when ready, Shae. Simply tell your fellow students about your discovery, and how it will benefit the academy’s continued study of all things magical.”

I nod, trying to avoid eye contact with anypony. “Um, right.”

As I draw slow breaths, I resolve to remove my focus from Clover the Clever. Instead, I try to channel Sundance’s energy, Lancer’s calm demeanor and Eavesdrop’s cunning. They all sit in the front row, lending me support through their proud expressions alone. And then there’s Rosemary, leaning against one of the stone pillars. She blows me a kiss, and for once, it gives me confidence instead of making me blush.

Best not keep my fellow students waiting. I clear my throat.

“G-Good afternoon, everypony. I’m Shae Sparkle, as most of you know, and, uh, you may have noticed in the past weeks, that I’ve been absent. This is because I took notice of the many rumors surrounding the attack on Reinoc. The Empire believed the unfortunate death and destruction of the town to fall on the hooves of a single earthwalker. That earthwalker now stands before you.”

Whoops.

I just now realize that the parchment depicting Dragonrein’s coronation never mentioned Caro’s name. Who’s to say everypony here knows his name has been cleared of all charges? And here I am, gesturing to a once wanted felon with pride. The audience begins to shuffle, with the students breaking out in panicked voices.

Caro’s eyes keep darting to the door. He could probably shout his way out in an instant, and I can’t blame him for thinking so would be a good idea, but he remains resolute and steps closer to me.

A sharp whistle from the far side of the room shuts everypony up instantly, albeit at the cost of pained ears. Tohro has come to the rescue. “I should probably mention that Caro’s been declared innocent by the queen,” he says, matter-of-factly. He waves to the students. “Hi. Tohro of Fillydelphia. I’m with Dragonrein.”

That seems to be enough to remedy the situation. While the students still look to Caro with ticks of anxiety, they settle down enough for me to continue.

“Caro’s innocence ties into the very reason I left this academy in the first place. My initial pursuit was to see if there was more to the initial belief that Caro was responsible for Reinoc’s destruction. After all, how could just the one earthwalker decimate an entire market? Well, the answer came to me sooner than I thought. I happened across Caro and Tohro while on the run from bandits. Our travels led us into Beak Falls Barrow, where, after brutal encounters with the Thieves Guild and several draugr, we encountered, of all things, a Precursor.”

That draws plenty of murmurs from the students. Precursor study is part of our regiment, even though we don’t know much about them. I feel as though I may have missed an opportunity to ask Otar more about the ancient kingdom, but I was too awestruck and sick at the time. Also, who says he would have answered? That was Caro’s moment.

“That is a very fantastical claim, Shae,” says Clover the Clever. I had almost forgotten she was here in her silence. Maybe I was better off. My body has gone rigid. “How do you prove you witnessed such a thing?”

...Damn.

“If I may,” Tohro says, silencing the hushed voices. He retrieves a small vial from his pouch.

Clover the Clever jumps a little and leans in for a closer look. “Fauste’s horn, that’s liquid glass!”

The leather clad pegasus twirls the vial in his hooves before tossing it my way. I fumble over catching it and have to resort to magic. “Indeed it is. I would explain its properties, but since this is Shae’s time to shine...” He gestures to me, mimicking words coming out of his mouth. I put my stupor to rest and begin again. Hopefully I can avoid any more interruptions.

I understand that liquid glass is easy enough to use even if it’s a complex magical substance. For me, it’s just a simple matter of removing the cork from the vial and levitating the liquid out, spreading it overhead like a window. It’s harder to levitate liquids, what with having to keep the individual droplets together, but this is still child’s play. With the glass floating before me, I will it to show the events that transpired in Beak Falls Barrow. Of all the times liquid glass is unsuccessful, I pray this isn’t one of those times.

The audience leans back and gasps as Otar’s skeletal and otherworldly face shows in the glass, before the vision pans out to show Caro looking into the prophetic crystal. Tohro, Tangerine and I are standing back (Bloody hell, did I really look that ill?) and watching the unorthodox show of lights and aura emanating from the gem and Caro, as his eyes go from a normal lime green to sickly draconic slits. That is all I can manage to hold before I have to return the liquid glass to its container.

As I seal the vial and pass it back to Tohro, I wipe my sweat away. “What you saw there was Caro learning of the dragon's prophecy from a priest named Otar. Although the prophecy’s meaning is still unclear to us, the dragon’s language awakened the draconic power that lay dormant within Caro. He is a Dragonborn.”

I hear an “Ooooooh,” and more murmurs from the students, particularly from those who must have read the article; they’ve heard the word Dragonborn before, but what it exactly means was left ambiguous by that article. Frankly, I’m not entirely sure what it means either, aside from the ability to scream ponies to death. I gesture to Caro, hoping he’ll find the strength to talk. If he’s slain dragons, he can do this.

Caro almost looks relieved to not have to play a statue anymore. He sighs and steps forward, then slowly walks back and forth along the length of the crowd. “It’s like... My blood is constantly boiling. My senses are so awake. I notice things, things that would go unseen by anypony else’s eyes. It serves me well in battle. But I can also read the draconic text, and when a dragon speaks its native tongue, I can understand every word.” He chuckles menacingly. “But that’s not what you’re here for, is it?” The students look amongst themselves. “I don’t pretend to know much about the Fae, but I do know that the dragons have some control over it. They don’t use horns, though. They use their voices. As I am a descendant of dragons, that power... is mine.”

I’m beginning to lose count of how many times the audience has gaped. This is actually going better than I expected.

“Would you mind giving us a demonstration?” Clover asks.

Caro flashes a fanged grin. He swings around and trots to the back of the classroom, facing the wide windows that give a generous view of the fields below. He looks back at me and says, “It’s going to get a lot colder in here.”

I understand his intentions instantly. If I were in his place I wouldn’t resort to something quite as bold, but then again, I’m not him. I brace myself for an amazing show.

“Fus... RO DAH!”

The unrelenting force shatters the entire window and its frame in a single go, filling the room with a dreadful draft, but everypony is too captivated to care about that. Every shard of glass is tossed to the wind, out into the abyss. I dread the unfortunate soul caught underneath that maelstrom of blades. Apparently Caro thought of that in advance, though. He casts his hoof out. “SU MAH!”

A purple radiance surrounds the shards and renders them immune to gravity. Caro beckons them back inside the classroom with his hooves. It’s like an alternative form of levitation.

Caro tilts his head, cracking his neck. He turns around to face the audience as the shards hover over him. “This is a fairly new one. Bear with me.” Everypony, even me, leans forward in anticipation. Caro looks upwards. “KINZON REIN!”

I slam my hooves to my head. The reverberation from the shout pierces my ears like a banshee... So this is what it was like for the gryphons. The world goes silent for a moment, save for a distinct ringing, and when I can finally focus, I see that the entirety of the glass shards have been reduced to dust at Caro’s hooves. He surveys the damage, carefully stepping away from the mess. “Uh, somepony’s going to have to clean this up,” he mutters humbly.

As the rest of the audience recovers from the uncomfortably loud shriek, they break out into euphoric applause, slamming their hooves into the ground repeatedly to celebrate the performance.

“You draw a lot of supporters for a former convict,” I say to Caro.

He brushes his snout in a moment of humility. He points to my friends, who are cheering the loudest of all. “Hey, they’re not here for me. This is your moment.”

I can’t help but throw my forelegs around Caro and give him a squeeze to rival Rosemary’s. “I love you!” I shout.

Of course, that gets Rosemary’s attention. Not one to let somepony else steal me away (Not that I intend such a thing) she gallops to me and takes my hooves in hers. She twirls me about like I’m some sort of Bard College dancer. I grow so dizzy I end up falling into her embrace.

“Hey, save it for later,” I say with a snicker. “The gala hasn’t even started yet.”

“Speaking of which!” Suddenly a magical barrier ascends between me and Rosemary, separating us. I squirm as something grabs onto me from behind. I turn my head and see it’s Sundance and Eavesdrop both, levitating me by my legs. Rosemary is being pulled away by Lancer, who has an unusually wide smirk on his mug.

“What are you- Sunda- Let me go!” I squirm and drag my free hooves along the ground but I can’t resist their magical grip. I reach out desperately. “Rose!”

“You can’t wear those dirty robes to the gala, that’s just rude!” says Sundance as she hops in place.

Eavesdrop laughs rather loudly for her normally quiet self. “We need to put you in a fancy gown. Something that’ll make Lancer anemic.”

“And I-” Lancer gets cut off as Rosemary elbows him. “I will find this mare a truly Shae worthy outfit.” He falters at her glare. “If you don’t mind, that is...”

Rosemary shrugs her shoulders and pulls at her own coat and mail. “Whatever you folks wear here, it has to be nicer than these.” She follows as Lancer departs from the exit opposite me, before turning my way and winking.

That’s enough to make me relax. I stop my struggling, and Sundance and Eavesdrop let me go.

With all the humorous antics, I hadn’t noticed Headmaster Frosthelm retake his platform. He’s levitating the glass dust and piecing it back together, quickly reforming the window. That’s a sort of act I could never accomplish. There’s just too many tiny pieces.

The headmaster returns the window to its rightful place, then turns to the scattered students. “Right then. I’d say Shae has earned a passing grade for the discovery and demonstration of an ancient magic. I suppose the dragon attacks have served a greater purpose than mindless destruction.” That draws a few chuckles, particularly from me. Headmaster Frosthelm then looks directly at me, wearing a face of pride. “Congratulations, Shae. I assure you that we will be discussing your further accolades soon.”

Accolades? My heart starts to race and keeps pounding faster from there. This could be everything I’ve ever wanted. Will I become a professor? Imagine that. I’d be the youngest in this academy’s history. Or perhaps... Oh, my. I could become part of the line of succession for headmaster! Headmistress Shae! I... I could faint.

I look about desperately for Clover the Clever, only to hear her voice behind me. “I haven’t seen a display quite like that in some time. The only thing would compare would be...” She taps her chin. “I’d say, when I summoned the Pure Heart. But never mind my bragging. Your friend has a very special gift, something that could change the course of history in the right hooves.”

“Who’s to say he doesn’t have the right hooves?” Tohro asks, striding by. He doesn’t wait for an answer and leaves the room.

Clover ushers me closer in. “Shae, a sage bit of advice...”

I listen intently. “Yes, Madam Clover?”

“I must congratulate you on bypassing any bias to befriend pegasi and earthwalkers alike.” She gestures to Caro, then nods to where Tohro and Rosemary departed. “Most ponies don’t have that sort of luxury.”

I keep shaking my head up and down. “I followed your example. You’ve always advocated tolerance between the three races.”

“I’m well aware of that. Walk with me.”

Before I know it, Sundance has removed my spectacles and levitated a blindfold over my eyes. “Agh, what the hell?”

I remember the structure of our dormitory by memory alone, so I know she’s dragging me to my mirror. I shiver in embarrassment, or maybe that’s the cold, I don’t know, and it certainly doesn’t help that Sundance and Eavesdrop are stripping me out of my school robes.

“Ah... should I come back later?” asks Clover. I can’t see her but I imagine her with a disturbingly straight face and wide eyes.

“No, no,” says Eavesdrop. “Please, don’t mind us.”

There goes the last of my undergarments. I’m completely exposed to the mare I idolize and strive to equate. This is like a sickly fever dream I’d prefer to forget. “So, you were saying, Madam Clover?” I ask as casually as possible.

She resumes, acting much of the same. I assume she’s facing away. “I’ve traveled far, to reaches unexplored by most of ponykind. Most species in general. I had a lot of time to think during those long journeys, as I was only accompanied by my silent companions.”

Silent? Come to think of it, I don’t recall ever hearing those hooded figures speak. “Have they taken a vow?” I ask as Eavesdrop fits me into long silk socks. She fits on some comfortable slippers too (I can tell it’s her because of her gentle touch).

“You can say that,” Clover answers. “See, over time, me, Smart Cookie, Pansy, Hurricane, Puddinghead and...” She pauses for a moment. I hear her swallow. “...Platinum... We all grew apart after forming Equestria’s government. It occurred to me that our precious bond was only so strong, and it fell apart so easily.”

“That is rather sad, but I don’t see it as fallen apart.” As I speak, Sundance’s less refined hooves button a tight blouse around my waist and begin to fasten on the skirt. “I prefer to say, lost, but not forgotten.”

“That is an ideal way of seeing it,” says Clover. “All I ask is that you don’t grow so attached to things, to the point you’ll never be able to live without them.”

I’m struck with a sense of confusion as Sundance wraps a light scarf around my neck. I’ve never been advised such a thing, and it’s the last piece of advice I’d expect from Clover the Clever. “What things do you speak of?”

“Anything. Or anyone.” Her voice cracks when the words leave her mouth. I’m about to ask what the matter is, but I stay quiet when I hear her regain her composure. “I have important matters to attend to. I wish you and Rosemary the best night possible.”

“Uh, yes.... Madam...” I can’t piece together a sentence after that. What came over her? It’s also rather difficult to think when both of my friends are running combs through my mane. “What do you- Ah!” Sundance catches a snag. “What do suppose that was about?”

“The world probably hasn’t been easy on her,” says Eavesdrop. “I mean, living one half of her life as a servant in a dying kingdom and the other as a lone wolf in a developing one? Her morale must have faltered a while ago.”

Just the thought of Clover being alone in a snow drenched field breaks my heart. “I do want to be her equal someday, but I won’t share her cynicism.”

“Because you have kindred spirits like us to keep you company, right?” asks Sundance. I nod sincerely, and then I hear her bouncing about the room like the childish filly she is. A while ago I would have asked her to grow up. Now I don’t want her to ever change.

With one last brush of the comb, Eavedrop finally removes the blindfold, setting my glasses in place, and before me I see a beautiful unicorn in a bright blue (and rather revealing) dress, with her perfectly straight mane pulled into a tail. Her beauty is so radiant I have to remind myself, that’s me.

“Wow, ah...” Rosemary is probably going to have a heart attack. Hay, my heart is pounding from the sight of me.

Sundance playfully jabs at Eavesdrop. “Silly you! You forgot the most important thing about this outfit!”

“Oh, right!” Eavesdrop hops to the dresser and levitates a wrapped object out of the top drawer. I’m unable to see the object until it’s wrapped around my neck. It’s a brooch, made in the shape of my family crest; a six-pointed star. “That was going to be your homecoming present.”

I touch the crest, just to ensure it’s real. “I don’t know what to say.”

Sundance giggles. “Say thank you!”

I don’t think that would do how I feel justice. I settle for pulling Sundance and Eavesdrop in with my magic for a group hug.

I’ve only been in my room for, what, ten minutes? Even with magic, it’s very impressive how the students were able to decorate the entire school to commemorate this gala. It makes sense that they’d go to such lengths to make this a memorable night, with the emerald, sapphire and scarlet drapes dressing the hallways and many a spectral gemstone hanging from the ceiling. It’s like a sort of lucid dream, with all the light reflections speckling the ground and walls.

As I step into the grand hall, which is bathed in the evening light, I take notice of the students shuffling down the steps to the floor below, where I assume the dancing will ensue. I blush and step back a little when I notice I’m, without a doubt, the most extravagantly dressed pony at this gathering. For any beauty queen, that would be an honor, but for little egghead me? Not so much. Still, the turning of heads and gapes from those who thought me nothing more than a teacher’s pet grant me enough confidence to take this step by step.

Of course, Rosemary is waiting for me nearest a corner bound pillar. She’s wearing a fur-lined vest and a scarf. That’s... not exactly conventional dancing attire, but to me she looks like a million gold pieces. Encrusted in diamonds. With a cherry on top.

“Your schoolboy over there,” she nods to Lancer, who’s wearing more traditional fancy robes, “wanted to put me in a dress from Gran Magus high society.”

I honestly can’t picture her in one. Far too frilly. But she doesn’t seem to object dresses entirely, as she’s giving me a good long stare. I can see her gaze trail from my chest all the way to my flanks and legs, which the dress allows little imagination for. “Is it too much?” Oh Fauste, this is where I start rambling. Please stop me now. “I mean, I couldn’t object, there was a blindfold, and Clover was there, I got so distracted, oh my, I mean, I could try something less extreme but I don’t think I have anything el-”

Rosemary shuts me up with a hoof to my snout, warranting a thankful sigh from me. “Shae.” She takes my hooves in her strong grip, staring me down with a mix of awe and determination. “You look beautiful.”

That’s my cue to relax. Even though there’s no music to be heard, I rest my neck against hers. We begin to move our hooves in unison, dancing slowly to the silence.

When Rosemary leads us in a half spin, it only forces me closer to her. Evidently she’s never heard of a little thing called perfume... Come to think of it, I never applied any.

I see Caro and Tohro out of my peripheral vision, and they’re doing something rather curious... More earthwalkers and even a few pegasi, I’d say about twelve in total, follow behind them, carrying violins, lutes, pipes and drums. Those must be the volunteers from the Bard College in Everfree. Of course, Xephyr, Rhapsody and Symphony are among their ranks too.

“We thank you much for escorting us here. The interior of this school I find most queer,” says the zebra bard.

Caro bows, nudging for Tohro to follow suit. “It’s no trouble at all. Why don’t you set up on the second flight, out of the way of the students? Play whatever suits your fancy.”

Rosemary notices my distraction and looks as well, chuckling at the sight of Xephyr. “Mmhmm, zebracean ballads are usually very erotic. We’re in for a treat, Shae.”

It doesn’t take long for the bards to prepare their ensemble and start tuning their instruments in a quiet cacophony. While this does look rather haphazard, I trust at least half of those ponies know what they’re doing. Xephyr takes the front seat, crossing his hind legs and resting his lute on his lap. With a tapping of his hoof on the base, the fraternizing students turn to listen. Some of them double take at the sight of a zebra, possibly having never seen one until now.

“Good evening to you, students of the Fae. We come to you on this merry day, for songs of Equestria we wish to play. Dance along, and I think you’ll find you’ll be trapped in a blissful state of mind.”

“Already there...” I whisper to myself as Rosemary takes the lead again.

The song begins. A unicorn strums the harp with her aura, creating a beatless melody that reminds me of falling rain on a cobblestone street. It’s very melancholy, but it also entails hope for a better future. That’s the way I’m feeling, anyway. I close my eyes and let the music direct my movements from here.

That’s when Rhapsody builds up a slow drumbeat, with Symphony quickly coming in with the pipes. The song’s scope expands across an open field, one where Rosemary and I stand together. She wraps her forelegs around my neck. I nod to her, giving her every ounce of trust I can spare. She drops me down low, and just as quickly lifts me back up into her cradle. Touching our hooves together for a moment, we each make revolutions and rejoin at the end of each one.

The lute players have entered the fray. I’m caught in a constant spin by Rosemary’s direction, just like before in the classroom. I nearly topple over, but I don’t fear the fall, because I know she’ll be there to catch me. Such is the case, with one of her hooves on my back and the other on my rapidly pulsating chest. I reach up to hug her just as the song concludes, and she receives graciously. The open field fades, along with the instruments.

I hear applause and assume it’s for the ensemble. Had I the chance I would applaud too, but I’m too wrapped up in Rosemary at the moment. It’s only when she taps my barrel, prompting me to open my eyes, that I see the applause isn’t for Xephyr.

I feel Rosemary nip playfully at my ear. Her breath tickles my hair. “The brightest student in Wintercolt is also the best dancer.”

Be still, my heart...

Being the center of attention again is actually quite the thrill, since I don’t have any critical grade on the line. So what if I trip and fall, or end up dancing like a child on a sugar rush? The worst that would come of that would be laughter and cheers of support. I know better than to think my fellow students would subject me to ridicule just because I let loose and have a little fun. I eagerly await the next song.

Symphony is the one to speak this time. “Caro Dragonborn, he is among us now. We celebrate that.”

Caro blushes madly and tries to hide behind Tohro, only for the pegasus to bring him back around.

“Yes, indeed!” chirps Xephyr. “For he will conquer the dragon legion’s greed. He will make them bleed, they will recede, and we will succeed! As a thanks for how many souls he has devoured, let us remind you of his legendary power.”

This one starts with a duet of lutes. This one is even slower than the last one, so Rosemary and I keep it to a simple waltz. I don’t want to do anything more than hold her right now.

“Our hero, our hero, claims a warrior's heart...
I tell you, I tell you, the Dragonborn comes...
With a voice wielding power of an ancient art...
Believe, believe, the Dragonborn comes...”

I believe. That Dragonborn is the one who brought me here alive and well. It’s because of him that I can enjoy this moment. Every time I see Rosemary, or any of my friends, every time I wake in the morning, I’ll know it’s because of him that I have such luxuries. The pounding drums and soothing violins remind me of that.

“It's an end to the evil of all this land's foes...
Beware, beware, the Dragonborn comes...
For the darkness has passed and the legend yet grows...
You'll know, you'll know, the Dragonborn's come...”

As the last strums of the lute dwindle, the dancers applaud once again, only this time it’s for Caro, who gives quite possibly the most adorable bow I’ve ever seen, nearly tripping over himself in the process.

Even though the song has ended, I’m still waltzing. Rosemary giggles at the display and breaks our long embrace. I can’t let her go for long. I nuzzle up against her.

“It’s getting a little warm in here...” she whispers.

It really is, but I think that’s just me. I glance to a wooden door in the distant corner of the room. It leads to the outdoor balcony. I take one of her hooves in mine. “Follow me.”

For once I welcome the frigid air and falling snow, as it quells the heat on my cheeks and the rest of my body, but the warmth in my chest keeps me from shivering. It’s like my heart has gone from an inferno to a comforting fire on a cold winter’s eve.

Rosemary leads me around the corner of the balcony to a wider area. While the rest of Equestria lies dormant in the distance, behind us is the frost gripped window to the grand hall, where everypony is dancing to what seems to be a much more upbeat song than before. I prefer to face the natural beauty below.

For years I gazed upon Equestria, wondering what the world below was like for the earthwalkers and pegasi. It’s surreal, now having had more of a taste than most who dwell down there. And, of course, there’s the bit I brought back home. While I lean on the balcony, I look over to Rosemary. Her mind is elsewhere. I wrap my foreleg around hers and flash her the best grin I can muster. She returns the favor. “Couldja tell me somethin’?” she asks.

I nod. “I’ll tell you anything.”

“Okay, here it goes...” She pauses, catches her breath, and stares me down, not blinking at all. “I finally have you right where I want you. I broke through so many walls and barriers just to see ya smile. So... You know why I’m here.”

“Because you’re in...” I can’t bring myself to say that last word. It still feels too strong.

“Yes. I just feel like I moved too quickly, me and my stupid assertive self. I need to know if you’re... okay with this.” She gestures between me and her.

I close the gap. “Of course I am. Why else do you think I trusted you with my body?” Okay, that came out wrong. I shake my head and try again. "Everypony sees me as the loveless wonder, the one who's too intelligent for her own well-being. She's in over her head, she’s too powerful to possibly be sane, they say. Magic is just mundane in this school. You, Rose... You were the first to look inside me and see my magic as something otherworldly, and that reminded me of who I am. Nopony has ever made me feel so strong."

As I speak, it’s like I’m channeling my found confidence back into Rosemary. She snickers as the last parts leave my lips. She pulls me in for what must be our hundredth cuddle of the day. I can feel her cold breath on my muzzle. "Don't need to hear a novel, sug,” she says. “Never was much of a reader to begin with. Just tell me plain and simple."

I guess I don’t need to say anything else, other than this. “I really like you, Rose...”

This time, it’s my turn to make the first move. Albeit with a bit of a tremble, I move my muzzle forward and plant my lips against hers.

How can I describe this... It’s like my body is melting, but not in a painful or morbid way, more like I’m a slow, gentle current of a lake on a perfect summer day, not a cloud in the sky to be found, except for just one, which I’m laying on, tossing and turning and snuggling the fluffy mass because it just feels so good on my coat, except I’m not snuggling the cloud, I’m snuggling Rosemary, whose strong grip acts a shield against all the bandits and draugr and wolves and dragons, even when the dragons breath fire which doesn’t hurt me, only serving to heat my already burning heart, which pounds and echoes like Rhapsody on the drums, thump, thump, thump, going ever faster until it’s like the wind is in my face because I’m flying higher and higher until I break and fall, back down into the blanket of love and affection where Rosemary is waiting for me, and I seize ahold of her because she needs me so... That’s what a single, mutual kiss with her is like for me.

That must be why it feels like I’m about to, bloody hell... It’s like I’m about to burst. I could spontaneously combust. Every single trace of emotion I’ve felt throughout the day, the love, the anticipation, the anxiety, the confidence, the passion... It wells up into a single concentration of pure energy and just... escapes.

My legs turn to noodles. I fall against Rosemary, gasping and moaning as the pressure builds in my horn. A gradually brightening light nearly blinds me. A sudden burst of magenta aura escapes me, shining outward and enveloping me and Rosemary both before fading into nothing.

As the darkness consumes me, I see Sundance, Eavesdrop and Lancer spying on me through the window. They’re cheering for me, Lancer most of all... And now I know no more.

~Vision End~

Caro and Tohro have hardly budged from their spot. They've seen students shuffle awkwardly with their dance partners, waltzing to the slow numbers and stomping to the fast ones. Caro in particular gets a kick out of watching Sundance leap from student to student, often twirling about with them and galloping off before any questions can be asked.

A true spectacle occurs when Symphony summons an ethereal piano, of all things. Translucent keys lay before her, yet they sound out like the real thing at her touch.

“Oi, fellas.”

Caro looks down and gasps when he sees Rosemary at the flight of steps below him, with Shae draped across her back. “Is she okay?” he asks immediately. Her blissful smile answers his question, so he relaxes. “I suppose it is getting rather late for her.”

“It’s a shame our dance had to end so soon, but it was somethin’ special while it lasted.” Rosemary runs her hoof through Shae’s mane. “I’m going to take this sweetheart to bed, then I’ll meet you both back out here?”

Caro and Tohro are both about to nod but Shae interrupts. She tugs on Rosemary and gives a barely audible whimper. “Stay with me....”

Rosemary responds with a gentle touch. “Okay...” She turns back to Caro and Tohro. “Forget that last, fellas. I guess my visit is extending to tomorrow morning.” She briefly glances at the supervising Headmaster Frosthelm on the other end of the room. “Much as I love this academy, I’d hate to abuse my welcome.”

“Just say your goodbyes in the early morning before any of the other students wake up,” Tohro suggests. “As for Caro, he’ll be leaving...”

Caro’s gaze is outside the window, where Neigh Hrothgar is close enough for a pegasus to reach in just a few minutes. “Fairly soon,” he says.

“Right. And I have my own business to attend to,” says Tohro. “Just a personal grudge I have to settle.”

This brings a bout of silence to Dragonrein, made even more awkward by the chattering of other ponies surrounding them. They all catch themselves feeling incredibly solemn, except for Shae, who is too inebriated to feel much of anything.

Caro finally breaks the pause. “I’ll just come out and say it. What with Tohro’s personal matters, me going to Neigh Hrothgar and Shae staying at this academy, this is going to be a time of separation for this guild. It feels a tad shameful for us to go our separate ways after, eventful as it was, a rather short time.” He looks to Rosemary. “And so soon after you signed on.”

“I’d wait a hundred years if that’s how long it takes for us to come together again,” says Rosemary, thumping her chest. “This guild encompasses all the good Equestria needs.”

“Which is why, no matter how far we stray apart, we will,” Caro stops and shakes his head, “we must find each other again. Got it?”

Tohro and Rosemary salute at the same time.

“Here’s my proposal,” says Tohro. “Once we all have the time, we should reunite in The Broken Saddle in Baltimare. It’s a delightful little bar. The mead is fine and the barmaids are finer!”

Rosemary laughs at that. “Then it’s settled. I’ll go there once every day waiting for you both. Well,” she seductively eyes the unicorn on her back, “at least when I’m not paying this beauty a visit.” She starts on her way to the corridors, leaving Caro and Tohro to themselves again. There’s not much more to do but wait for the students to dance themselves into comas while Xephyr and his fellow bards play and sing their hearts out.

Caro eyes Tohro, whose presence seems to be elsewhere. “So, what personal grudge are we talking about here?” He tilts his head. “You’re not dabbling in assassination again, are you?”

Tohro shrugs him off and faces away. “It’s my fight.”

That brings about more silence between the only two present members of Dragonrein. They can’t bring themselves to speak of the touchy subjects plaguing their consciences, with Caro having to cooperate with Shokenda in order to grow stronger, and Tohro doing the one thing he would have been court martialed for even considering when he was part of the Blackwings. That threat in his mind keeps him from coming out and saying it.

It’s when Symphony stretches out her forelegs and starts moving her hooves gracefully across the summoned keys that Caro is suddenly struck with an idea that only such an inspirational sound could give him. He turns to Tohro. “Ugh, this is the part where you ask me to dance with you, isn’t it?”

Tohro does a double take. “Wha- No, I wasn’t going t-”

“Well okay, if you insist, friend.” Caro seizes Tohro by the barrel and drags him down the stairs.

“No, I don’t want to d-”

“You are truly persuasive!” Tohro’s thrashing is useless against Caro’s strength, and the two inevitably end up in the center of the dance floor. “No, no, don’t worry. It’s no big deal, really. I don’t mind. I should warn you though, I can’t dance to save my life.”

Tohro leers at Caro, his eyes narrow and his face red. “You’re incorrigible!”

“And you’re an ass, yet here we are.” Caro laughs loud and proud, and Tohro finds himself doing the same.

The piano solo comes to a sudden and jarring end, followed by Rhapsody slamming her drums and several lutes joining in at once. The song goes from quiet and peaceful to loud and climatic, prompting Caro and Tohro to bob their heads and shuffle their hooves in unison, losing themselves in a disorderly hustle.

“Today I woke and looked outside again,
but the sky looked the same to me.
Something told me that this world had changed!
Couldn't figure out, what could it mean?

Some say to get out fast, looks like it's gonna last,
get all your things and fly, don’t leave nothing behind...
Some said it'll be okay, just go ahead and stay!
Be sure to drink your iodine!

The wind is pushing me into the clouds again,
I feel the blood in my veins!
Time is running free! I feel like letting go,
just like the Dangan!”

~Shae~

There are many different ways magic can tax on the body, and I’ve encountered two of the major three thus far. The first, what I experienced outside Beak Falls Barrow, was an overdrive. In times of stress or mortal peril, a unicorn might release a lot of their magic at once. Oftentimes, it causes catastrophe. The second tax, which I like to call an emotional onslaught, is a bit rarer and much more mild. It’s a simple matter of one’s emotions boiling to the surface and bursting out, like a volcano of feelings. Unlike overdrives, however, onslaughts end in complete exhaustion. That’s what I just went through.

So I can only lay here in my four poster bed, unable to move an inch, or even open my eyes. But the covers are so warm and the mattress is unbelievably fluffy... I’m okay with this. I’m also very much okay with Rosemary’s chest pressed up against my back, her hooves resting across my heart. I don’t think she was even that sleepy when she fell in with me. I told her to stay, and she stayed.

Rose being with me doesn’t change as I fade in and out of sleep. I think Lancer comes by once, so does Sundance... Eavesdrop doesn’t come, but the poor dear is a little antisocial, so I don’t hold it against her. Not entirely sure why the other two were here, though. I think they just wanted to ensure I’m here to stay. I am, I truly am... Thankfully, I didn’t have to do anything to assure them otherwise.

It’s when Tohro and Caro pass through that I actually have to put my mouth to use. I prefer to avoid that if I can, but for them, I can make an exception. The conversation is very broken for me, since my senses refuse to work at their best, but as far as I’m aware, Caro reassures me that I’m strong enough to survive anything that life will throw at me, and all he wants is for me to be safe... Tohro promises he will be checking in over the next few months, that’s sweet of him... I mutter, “...I love you...” to both of them, and I believe they say the same, albeit not word for word... There’s a lot of embracing. I’ve had enough of hugs for tonight...

Just like so, they’re gone. I’m alone again, back at my home on the mountain that kisses the sky. Little Shae, the finest student. Well... I’m not entirely alone. I nestle up closer to Rosemary, appreciating every moment of this. Just this...

And I awake. It’s still the early hours of dawn, with the sun’s light barely peeking over the mountain range. This is a good excuse as any to remove myself from the covers. It’s time for me to attack the day... It almost pains me to leave Rosemary alone in the bed, but she’ll have to let go eventually. I’d rather it be now than later, when we’re both conscious. I’m not fond of tearful goodbyes.

It’s time for the morning routine. I slip on my red robes and overcoat, shielding me from the cold. I levitate my glasses onto my muzzle. My sight is crisp. I run a brush through my mane. It lays straight as ever. I retrieve my bag... Oh. My hornlet is still in here. I look back between it and the sleeping mare who gifted it to me. Just for her, I slip it on my horn. I’m going to need effective black magic spells if I’m going to... study. There’s no one to fight here, Shae...

There’s an unusual grumbling in my stomach. An early breakfast will do me well, and if I can still avoid a tearful goodbye, I’ll gladly bring something back for Rose. The idea of roasted vegetable dumplings is overwhelming compared to traveler rations...

Even for the early morning, even for Wintercolt, it’s unseasonably quiet. I’d expect to at least hear some early birds talking amongst themselves. Then again, the gala must have lasted well into the night, so I’d understand if the students are less than eager to wake at this hour, even if it’s a day off. That just means I’ll have the study hall to myself. Provided it’s not infested by draugr... wait, there aren’t any draugr at this school. Where’s my head?

I sort through my bag, ensuring I have all the potions... books I need for an effective session. Today I’ll be researching the history of conjuration magic and Starswirl the Bearded’s many contributions to the art. That should be enlightening. I would like to learn how to summon an ethereal sword so I may... show my friends.

I gasp when I notice the particular book I need is nowhere to be found. I must have misplaced it. But there’s no need for me to worry. Headmaster Frosthelm is bound to have a spare copy sitting about. It may be early in the morning but I’m sure he won’t mind in the slightest.

I ascend the spiral staircase to the headmaster’s quarters. It’s an awfully long climb, but it makes sense that the master of this academy would live in the tallest tower. After that ordeal, all that lies between me and that book, and possibly some encouraging words, is a short trot through the hallway.

I pause when I see a flash of blue emanating from the cracks in the doorway. My first instinct is to assume Frosthelm is refining his skills, but that shade of blue doesn’t quite match his aura... No, that’s not his. It’s Clover the Clever’s! She must be in there. Why would she, though? Perhaps she took up his offer on the tea, or maybe...

When I hear a panicked, gravelly scream, I bolt to the door. It would be unwise to open it this instant, but luckily for me, it’s slightly ajar. I take a page out of Eavesdrop’s book and peek on inside.

I have to be dreaming. This is a bloody nightmare. It can’t be anything else. There is no reality would Clover the Clever have Headmaster Frosthelm pinned to the wall by clusters of ice. Veins show in her eyes as she watches him bellow. Every muscle in my body tells me to sprint for the hills but I just can’t look away. What the fuck is going on?!

Clover spits at the ground beneath Frosthelm. “Why?! I’ll tell you why! For a decade and beyond I watched innocent ponies starve and freeze to death in an apocalyptic blizzard. Their lives could have been saved, but you and the rest of Gran Magus were reclining in your castles and palaces! I was the only unicorn who saw the pain and the suffering! If it weren’t for like-minded ponies like Smart Cookie and Pansy, you and everypony else would be dead! Fauste! Fucking! Dead! And what could I have done about it? I was suckling at the teats of her royal whoreness for her own sick sexual pleasure while she lusted for her kingdom’s worst enemy!”

Frosthelm remains defiant, even in the face of that expositional assault. Still, I know he’s just as terrified and confused as I am. “And why must I suffer for this?” he asks quietly.

“I told you! You were one of the ignorants!” Clover strikes Frosthelm in the chest with a non-elemental burst. “Well, no more. Tonight, everything is going to change.”

“How?”

Clover’s smile turns sick and twisted, something I’d never imagine on her. It looks... wrong. “When Starswirl the Bearded crowned you his star pupil, I watched as he gifted you with his most powerful ornament, the Amulet of Fauste!”

“It was a trinket and nothing more, you know that!” Frosthelm’s eyes betray his words, darting to his lockbox on the counter.

“Now why would you leave an object of such magical potential laying about in the open?” Clover wheels around and sends a magic spark to the box. With a controlled burst, the lock shatters. Clover reaches in and retrieves a black necklace. It’s shaped like the head and wings of an alicorn, with a single red gem in the center. “You’ve fallen from grace, old friend. You’re not as brilliant as our master held you to be.”

“You’re insane...” Frosthelm growls.

“No. For the first time my eyes have been opened.” Clover faces the ground. She smiles serenely, as if she were just coddled by someone she loves. “Shokenda... Your vision grants me purpose...”

That brings Frosthelm to his breaking point. “Shokenda?!” His hooves break free of the ice. He lands with finesse, as per usual. I’m silently cheering for him, even though my entire world is collapsing around me. “Shokenda is nothing more than a mad child with a god complex! You know not what she truly wants!”

Clover snaps out of her meditating. “And you do?”

“She-”

“She’s brilliant, that’s what she is! She dreams of a world without barriers, without fear or oppression! No racism, no bigotry! That is her perfect world, and mine! If you won’t let it be...” Clover’s aura has gone from blue to a harsh, blinding red. She casts a blade that shreds through the marble floor. Frosthelm leaps over and charges what I recognize as a beam spell. Clover just smirks and teleports out of harm’s way. She reappears overhead. “THEN STAND ASIDE!” With a single burst of red light from her horn, Frosthelm cries out in agony and collapses into dust.

My teacher. The one who believed I could become the most powerful mage in Equestria. Reduced to ashes in an instant. What the fuck. What the fuck.

I rely on my mind to tell me what to do: Run.

Evidently that’s not enough. Clover the Clever’s hooded companions block my path. I charge the best teleportation spell I can manage, but they intercept, snatching me in mid-leap. I manage to sneak a glance under both their hoods, expecting equine faces. Instead, I see one of their bodies is made entirely of icy mist, and the other made of electric sparks. Elementals...

“You are correct, Shae, they are elementals,” I hear Clover say. “Here’s another bit of advice to you: if you’re trying your hoof at stealth, don’t think out loud.”

All that is left for me is the descension of my mind, heart and world as I’m cast into the pit.

What. The. FUCK?!

XXIV - Mortal

~Shae~

“Mother! Mother, come look at this!” I gallop down the steps, tripping over my robes. Father has told me they’re several sizes too big, but I insist upon wearing them... This is what I get. Still, my scratched muzzle does nothing to dampen my spirits.

Mother takes a break from her cup of tea and looks my way. “My little mage. What brings you here at such an early hour?”

I haven’t quite mastered levitation magic at this age. I have to use my hooves like some commoner... Oh, forget it. I’m too elated to care. I set an oversized tome onto the dining table and open to the twelfth... no, thirteenth page. I’m not normally one to squeal in glee, but here I go.

“Ahahaha! I finally found her!”

Mother looks over the page, but she can’t seem to figure out what I’m talking about. “Her being who, little mage? Do you speak of this mare?” She taps her hoof on the illustration.

I leap onto the empty seat nearest her and adjust the book so she can see it clearer. “Yes, it’s her. Clover the Clever.”

There she is, captured beautifully by the graphite and stains. She wears white and purple robes of Equestrian royalty, posed on her hind legs with aura emanating from her horn and hooves.

I read the caption aloud. “'Clover the Clever is known by her peers as a true prodigy in the arcane arts. As a former student of Starswirl the Bearded, she has invented forty-two spells, primarily in the black magic and conjuration fields of study. Her most recent accomplishment is the discovery of a difficult yet immensely versatile means of spellcasting, in which a unicorn uses their entire body rather than just their horn.

“Outside the field of magic, Clover is famous for her creation of the Pure Heart, which destroyed the karmic windigos and ensured a future for Equestria. However, she did not stay a part of the six who created this kingdom. She currently wanders the world in search of new magical findings.'”

I read all that without pausing, and when I finish I have to take several breaths.

“You seem to admire this one,” says Mother. “I can see why. She’s obviously achieved much in her lifetime.”

“I should say so.” I can’t take my eyes off of Clover. I rest my cheeks on my hooves, sighing at the sight of her in all of her majesty. “I’ve known about Clover since I was a baby. Now I finally know what she looks like.” I slam a single hoof down. “That’s it, Mother.”

“What is what, love?” Mother takes a nonchalant sip of her tea.

I rub my hooves together and smirk. “Someday I’m going to meet Clover the Clever, and she’s going to teach me everything she knows.”

Mother merely chuckles at that notion and drains the rest of her drink. “Shall I get you a cup too, dear?”

“Yes, please.” My euphoria turns into disappointment, even though the tea is really quite good. Mother must have put in an extra spoonful of honey. “You... don’t think that’s going to happen, do you?”

Mother’s aura tousles my hair. It tickles a bit. “I always encourage optimism, little mage,” she says. “I just don’t want disappointment to come to you, should that vision not come true.”

She does have a point, and I’m not foolish. I understand that even if the incredibly slim odds of me actually meeting Clover the Clever are in my favor, what reason would she have to take me in as a protege? But that only serves to spur me on. I close the tome of mages, gallop to the bookshelf and pick out a basic spell book, sticking my muzzle in that one instead. “In that case, I’ll become the greatest mage in Equestrian history, then Clover will have to notice me.”

That brings a gleam to Mother’s eye. “Now that is something I can foresee.” She stands by my side with a foreleg around my back and other on the first page. “Shall we begin with simple levitation?”

“It’s only because of levitation that I was able to save her.”

It’s time for me to do a recollection on how much my world has become like a twisted nightmare. First of all, I just witnessed my headmaster fall into ashes before he could find any opportunity to defend himself. The one who murdered him is the one I’ve admired and devoted my entire existence to. And yet, Clover the Clever has come down from her broken pedestal, suddenly feeling she has the right to be concerned about me.

I’m lying on a makeshift bed of cushions in the grand hall, where the other students have gathered... or were forced to be gathered. Yes, that’s it. The exits are guarded by Clover’s elementals. I make the unfortunate assumption that, based on the tearful and terrified expressions of my fellow students, they’re all aware of what transpired in the headmaster’s office.

Apparently I was knocked unconscious when Clover caught me during what would have been a fall to my death... After I witnessed her murder Frosthelm in cold blood. The biggest question on my mind is, “Why?”

“Why what, Shae?” Clover asks. She seems completely ignorant of what she’s done to me inside, hell, what she’s done in general.

I’m not sad. I’m not depressed. I’m not mad. I’m not angry. I am livid. “Why? For everything.” I float off the cushions and advance on Clover. “Why are you here? Why have you done this to me? Why did you do this to the entire academy?! Why did you have to kill him?!” I press my hoof up against her chest forcefully. “You tell me that, Clover the Clever!”

Clover’s response to that is a binding spell. Ropes wrap around my legs and force me to the hard ground. It doesn’t hurt too much, but the desperation of the moment makes me cry out anyway. I regain my composure quickly, though. I have to stay strong. It’s what Caro would do. It’s what Frosthlem would want me to do. It’s what Mother knew I could do.

“You could never understand.” I figured Clover would say something like that.

“You’re pathetic!” I scream. “You’re selfish and pathetic! You’re acting on your own desires!”

The other students are silently urging me to stop with my protesting but I couldn’t care less. Clover shakes her head and sighs. “I know you were listening. I told Frosthelm, I’m doing this because it’s for the best. Equestria needs Shokenda Blackwing’s guidance. She knows ponykind can be better than this. You’ve seen the state of the kingdom. I’ve seen it! Out there,” she points to the frosted window, “is nothing but murder, thievery, sickness, war, famine and rape. This academy is the last dose of innocence in Equestria! I will end this war in Shokenda’s favor before any harm can come to it.”

Clover’s logic has enough craters within it to span the length of the moon. Only the tiniest sliver of respect for her remains, and even that’s dwindling fast. “You’ve already done harm! You know what you are?! A hypocritical quim! A concubine to Shokenda's wrath!”

Clover’s new red aura envelops her horn and eyes. "Concubine?!" She teleports to my side and bucks me upside the head with her hind legs. I only grin as the blood drips from my snout.

“Thank you, ma’am. May I have another?”

She steps away, wearing a face of shock and remorse. “Oh, Divines, I... I’m so sorry.” She kneels down. “Shae, listen, please. I’m not proud of what I’ve done, but in order to set things right, I have to take drastic measures.” She presents her black amulet to me. “There was no other way. Frosthelm wouldn’t have been keen on me simply borrowing this if he knew its purpose.”

“No other way...” I spit in Clover’s face, making her drop the sympathetic act. “You could have just left well enough alone. Shokenda is already dead. As soon as Caro returns from Neigh Hrothgar, he’s going to tear her apart.” I give her a deathly glare. “And you along with her.”

I could play the part of the disturbed damsel whose beliefs have been crushed in a matter of moments, but I just can’t. Clover is a malevolent witch, my fellow students are at her mercy, and worst of all...

“How do you think the entire Imperial Legion will take to your attempt on Platinum’s life?”

Everypony in the grand hall lets out gasps and shrieks simultaneously. Apparently Clover left that part of her plan out of the record, and I can guess why. Now all the students have turned on her, screaming words of slander and hatred.

“We trusted you!”

“You should have stayed out of Equestria!”

“Insolent bitch!”

“Get out of our home!”

“Whoops,” I say, giving the most syrupy-sweet grin I can manage, “did I say something I shouldn’t have?”

I receive another buck, this time to my chest. Then to my stomach. I’m laughing all the while, at least until the third buck, which lands squarely in my- “AAAAGH!!” I have to bite my tongue to distract myself from the throbbing pain. Tears begin to form in my eyes.

“Impudence,” is all Clover can say. She walks away, eyes set on the center of the room. It’s only now that I notice the gathering plumes of multi-colored aura swirling together into the early stages of what can only be...

“Is that- RRGH!” The pain between my legs makes it difficult to talk, or focus on anything, for that matter. “That’s a nexus...”

Clover nods and looks back at me. “I’m not surprised you know this spell. It’s fairly complex, but then again, exceeding expectations is your bread and butter, isn’t it?”

At least she’s still somewhat sane to recognize that. “I assume that you’ll be using it to jump to the Rainbow Palace and kill Platinum?”

She nods again. “Only the amulet has granted me enough power to complete this nexus, along with the help of your fellow students.”

When I look about, I can see why many of the students look so sickly. I can see faint traces of their individual auras rising from their bodies and funneling into the nexus. “You’re foul...” I can’t even come up with enough words to describe my disgust.

Clover’s still admiring the amulet. “This will serve well in the battle that is to come. I will not pretend my magic on its own is refined enough to take on a hardened mistress such as Platinum, but this will resolve that problem.”

Given my bindings and the soreness of my entire body, I’m not fit to charge into battle and stop her from doing this. The grim reality of the situation makes itself known. The moment that nexus is formed, and Clover steps through, she’ll be halfway across Equestria, well on her way to clearing the throne for Shokenda’s rule. I, a member of the clan Dragonrein, will be unable to stop her...

Then I notice something incredibly welcome amongst the miserable students. It’s the telltale shimmer of an invisibility spell. There’s only one I know who has that much finesse with stealth magic. Eavesdrop makes absolutely silent hoofsteps towards Clover, who is watching the nexus so intently she can’t be bothered to notice, not that she could. Eavesdrop is too good for her.

The invisibility spell drops as Eavesdrop unsheathes an ebony dagger and makes a thrust at Clover’s back. This is it...

Clover instantly wheels around, her red aura ablaze as she throws a burst of pure energy at Eavesdrop. She’s flung into the air, separated from her dagger. I curse under my breath, clenching my teeth as I watch Clover reach out. She summons a demonic claw that clutches Eavesdrop and slams her into the wall, leaving a crater of bricks. Eavesdrop coughs and falls to the ground in a broken heap.

I can’t help calling out to her. “No!” She was so close, and yet...

Clover merely shrugs that close encounter off and trots past the hacking Eavesdrop. “Frosthelm would have been proud of you.” I can tell Eavesdrop is trying to say something in response but all she can do is wheeze and fall unconscious.

That’s it. I begin my struggle against the ropes. I don’t care if their grip is enchanted. If there’s even the slightest possibility that I can get out of these damn things, I’ll gladly try my luck. I try tilting my head and firing a dispel at the ropes but evidently it’s not powerful enough to cut through. “Ugh... Somepony... Anypony, come on...”

My prayers are answered. Galloping in unison, Sundance and Lancer emerge from the crowd of raging students. Clover stands at the ready for them.

First, Lancer teleports behind Clover and elbows her in the rear, causing her to stumble. Then Sundance fires off a force spell that sends Clover tumbling through the air. She steadies herself with levitation, then in two quick movements lands on solid ground and leaps back into the fray. She calls the claw forth again, this time swiping Lancer away. Lancer stays his ground and fires off blue flames that puncture the claw. He casts another bout of flames at Clover. She sidesteps right into a buck to the head from Sundance. Sundance then scoops up Eavesdrop’s dagger and turns the other way, galloping straight for me.

Clover takes notice of this, but she has other matters to deal with. When Lancer telegraphs his next spell, she seizes the opportunity and catches him with her aura. She shakes him about in the air and slams him face first into the marble. He’s out cold in an instant. “Shit! Lancer!” I cry out.

Sundance is only a few feet away from me with the dagger. No doubt it will be sharp enough to destroy the ropes. That’s the way, you resourceful mare, you...

A blast of lightning from one of the elementals blindsides Sundance and makes her drop instantly. She slides across the ground, twitching when she comes to a stop. “Sunny...” I whisper in remorse. I look back to the unconscious bodies of Lancer and Eavesdrop. They were all so quick to risk their lives, and when I take notice of the dagger right in front of me, I realize it was all to save me. I let a few tears fall.

“It... has to be you...” mutters Sundance. She’s in obvious pain from the shock, still quivering and gasping between words. “You c... You can d-do it, s-sister....”

The dagger is just within my mouth’s reach. I look to it, then back to Sundance. “I know, Sunny.”

Before Clover catches on to what I’m doing, I manage to take the dagger’s handle in my mouth, angle it between the ropes and my belly, and cut upwards. The dagger must have been enchanted to be spell resistant. Whatever the case, I’m finally free.

I wrap myself in my aura and glide to the center of the grand hall, facing down Clover. Her eyes are entirely red at this point, but I’m not scared. If anything, I’m more calm than I’ve ever been in my entire life, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’m easily the angriest mare on the face of the entire world at this point. That last sliver of respect is gone forever.

I stand on my hind legs, reaching my front hooves to the sky. I concentrate with every fiber of my being into summoning a weapon that will bring divine punishment to Clover for the crimes she has committed against me, my friends, the academy and everything a mage should believe in.

"You reap what you sow, the grain that you grow. The lives that you keep, and the deaths that you weep. The reaper cuts through, drags the soul to the Fae. The soul travels freely, born another day."

An ethereal, magenta scythe lands in my hooves. I look to it with awe and a hint of wicked amusement. I spin it around over my head, around my back and then ready myself for battle, with both hooves on the handle and the curved blade pointing upwards.

“Clover the Clever. My name is Shae Sparkle, and I am going to kill you.”

CHAPTER XXIV - MORTAL

Just watch me, Fauste.

I’ve always preferred scythes above all other bladed weapons because of their unpredictability. Say, for instance, if I make a vertical slash at Clover and she steps away. I can always double back for another slash, but instead I use the momentum to spin the blade around my head and cut at Clover’s neck. The blade of the scythe moves so quickly she barely has time to duck.

Clover isn’t a defenseless idiot, obviously. Just as I suspect, she erects a barrier, and I have to fire off a counter spell to bring it down. The scythe shimmers in my grip. I can’t afford to use too many spells, lest it fade away and I’m left defenseless with no magic to ward Clover off. I envy Rosemary. When it comes to the heat of battle, she only has to worry about not dying. I have to keep my resources in mind whilst staying alive.

I tuck and roll from Clover’s quick beam spell, but that just leads me into a followup. I hiss as my hind leg burns. Clover’s advancing on me fast. I pierce the ground with the tip of the scythe, sending out a shockwave that knocks her away from me. She ricochets off the wall. In mid-leap, she casts a column of white flames on the ground. I have to avert my eyes at their intensity, but Clover sprints through them like they’re tall grass. Her hooves become enveloped in the flames.

I raise my scythe and block her attempted buck to my face. I don’t even want to think about how that white fire could defile my body. Clover presses her legs harder on the blade, causing me to buckle. I take notice of her belly right in front of me. Her armor doesn’t cover her there. I break the clash, spin around and strike her in the gut with the shaft. That sends her back, with the flames dwindling from her hooves.

Now Clover decides to play the trickery card. She teleports to the left, then the right, the left again, right, left. She grows a little closer with each jump and I can’t keep track of her. If only I had Caro’s eyes... Then I realize, I don’t need them. Instead, I charge up my horn and release a pure magic burst. It doesn’t matter where Clover is, it knocks her asunder anyway. But that’s not enough. She teleports again, this time so close I’m practically kissing her. She grabs me by the temples, spins me around and swings her forelegs into my back. I topple over onto my head, then cry out as I receive more blasts of flame to my chest. The fire punctures my robes and singes the hairs of my coat. I press my hoof to my horn, grabbing a dose of ice magic and waving it over the burns. It still stings, though. I swing that hoof at Clover’s face as I leap back onto my hooves. I graze her cheek, leaving her face contorted oddly as frost grips her. She swipes it off.

“Tell me, Shae, do you fancy yourself a killer?” she asks.

My response is to swing the scythe across her face. I leave a gash on her cheek. She merely huffs and leaps into the air. She levitates herself up higher to sit on one of the stone pillars.

“I doubt you have the will to actually do away with me.”

“I’ll take my chances,” I snap. I don’t need to hear this. I’ve made up my mind. I swing the scythe at the pillar and it cuts clean through. Clover just smirks and enjoys the ride down, landing gracefully while the pillar crumbles around her.

She dusts herself off, then examines her hoof cockily, like she’s afraid she chipped something. “So, say you do have the slightest chance of murdering me. What makes you think you wouldn’t regret it later?”

I know this game. “Don’t give me any of that morality bullshit!” I yell. “I know who I am! You killed the headmaster and hurt my friends, and I have to stop you before you hurt anypony else. It’s as simple as that!” My onlooking fellow students rise and cheer for me.

The lighthearted laugh Clover gives makes me want to vomit. "I've met Imperial veterans less hardened than you. I have to be honest, for a young mare, you're quite frightening."

I feel my eyes flash white for a moment. My magical reserves must have just peaked, if only because I’m so unfathomably angry. “You have no idea...” I put everything I can spare into my scythe, making its glow all the more radiant and the blade even larger. My swing misses Clover, but it cuts through the trail of her robes. I’m getting better.

She tenses up at losing some of her cover. What remains of the cloak loses some of its radiance. “Damn,” Clover hisses.

“Enchanted, was it?” I say rather casually while making more swings at Clover. While she does dodge every single one, and blocks my brute charge with a fast ward, she’s growing more exasperated. “What was it, a stamina enhancement? Something that bolsters your magical reserves? Let’s hear it!”

Clover just grunts and teleports away from me. My eyes follow the trail of red to the top of the steps, where she reappears behind her elementals. “I’ve been playing you, Shae. You’re not strong. You’re hardened, yes, but you’re not strong.” She sighs and faces the floor, resting her hoof on her forehead. “Curse this amulet...” She shakes it off like a light hangover. “I had hoped to merely tranquilize you like your rather talented friends. Credit where credit is due, but if you continue your struggle, I can’t guarantee your survival. Don’t make me do this, Shae.”

My grip intensifies on the scythe. I swing it over my shoulder and gallop on three legs. “I welcome it. Destroy what remains of your dignity so I can strike you down without a hint of hesitation.” I kick off the first step and make a grand leap. The lightning elemental raises a shield made of pure electricity. I raise a ward and protect myself from damage upon impact but I’m still thrown away. The ward’s shattering leaves my horn sore, but my scythe still remains. “What’s the point of summoning your drudges if they aren’t even going to fight me?”

As if Clover and I are sharing states of mind, she waves the elementals forward. I’ll call them Ice and Lightning, for the sake of strategy. Ice is ahead of Lightning, summoning a trail of ice shards. Apparently it isn't cold enough in here already. I slide over to dodge the crystals then jump a frozen projectile. Just it grazing my face makes me shiver. While Ice charges the next burst, I get a running start and slide on my back. Ice is large enough for my slide to swing underneath its legs. I cut in a rotation, slicing clean through its hind legs. When I stand and look back, Ice merely crawls on its remaining limbs. If it were a living pony, this would be horrendous, but for an elemental, this is just pathetic.

I make a casual trot around the remains of Ice, but I underestimate it, and it still has its own spells available. Damn you, hubris, now you’ve gotten my legs grafted to the floor. I have to bite my tongue. The ice burns worse than any flames I’ve endured. It’s like my skin itself is disappearing from my senses, hell, my entire body. I can’t move, but I won’t scream. I can’t scream. I’m better than this, but... The pain reaches my mind. Every thought tells me to fall asleep and let nature take care of the pain, but I curse those thoughts out. No, I won’t go black. I won’t end up like... “Mother!”

I finally get a grip and summon a blast of enchanted flames. It melts the ice, but doesn’t burn me in the process. I slam my free hoof into the ground. It hurts, but that’s the whole point. My senses are back. I can feel my leg. I can also feel the tears in my eyes as I stare down Ice. He’s charging up another bout. I won’t give it the chance. I raise my scythe high and bring the shaft down on Ice’s head. Then again. And again. By the time I’m done, Ice is nothing more than shavings.

Now all that’s left before I can obliterate Clover is Lightning, but there’s a complication. Ice was a physical, woundable foe. This thing is made of pure electricity, and if I step too close, I’ll have much more to worry about than my hair standing on end. Luckily, enchanted and summoned weapons should do a decent amount of damage... I curse silently. My scythe up and disappeared while I wasn’t paying attention. Well, if nopony else minds, I’ll wait here to die again!

But of course, I should expect the best from my fellow students. At least ten of them, all in different classes and robes, shakily stand and rush to join me. They’re silent, probably because they’re all scared beyond comprehension, but what amazes me is their audacity to stand despite that fear. I love this school so much.

I raise another ward, this one much larger than before, to defend them all from a scatter shot of electricity. All the bolts fizzle on contact, then I drop the ward. I cast my hoof forward. “Everypony, ready your best water spells.” I check back and forth as their horns come alight. It’s like a rainbow of auras. “And... NOW!” I swing my hoof down.

A lake’s worth of water falls from the ceiling in a disorganized cascade. If Lightning could emote, I’d wager he’d have the most hilarious expression of shock... Heh. Just as the water envelops him, I fire a concentrated blast of ice into the center of the liquid mass. The whole thing becomes a spherical ice sculpture, with Lightning helplessly and motionlessly caught inside.

I feel a little nudge on my leg and look down to notice a little colt. A first year. “He can still get out, though?”

There is that issue. Perhaps if I were to summon another weapon, but that could drain my reserves. Luckily, that problem starts to take care of itself when I hear the sort of battering on the doors that only a mighty earthwalker can deliver. Either Caro has come to the rescue, and I’m going to hug him until he’s gasping for air, or...

The doors fall from their fastening as a vortex of flames comes flying into the grand hall and slices clean through the ice sculpture, rending it in two along with Lightning. The vortex dwindles, revealing another wonderful earthwalker in my life, with her flaming sword slung over her back. So I won’t get to hug Caro, but I will get to kiss Rosemary. Even better. It’s a short kiss, far shorter than I’d like, but I savor every fraction of a second while I can.

While I nestle my head underneath Rosemary’s chin, she waves to the students. That definitely brings them around to braver faces. “You could have told me there’d be another dance, cherry blossoms!” She swings around, still keeping her foreleg wrapped around me. She’s like a new set of barding. “Step back, everypony. Your future headmistress and I will handle the rest.”

Clover has gone from cocky to infuriated in a manner of minutes, and Rosemary’s flurry left a nasty charred gash through her side. She clutches it tenderly, as if she’s trying to hold something in. Her horn and eyes are aglow with red. “She’s trying to heal!” I shout.

I can still teleport, and I exercise that privilege. I reappear just before her and take a page out of her book. In her prime, Clover was able to master a simple yet simultaneously complicated art, using the trace amounts of Fae in her entire body rather than just her horn. I’ve dabbled in doing that more than once but I’ve never stressed my time in mastering it. Now’s as good a time as ever. I concentrate pure magical energy into my forehooves and bring them both down on Clover’s head, forcing her chin down. I follow up with a levitated backflip and a buck to her face. This sends her tumbling against the wall on her back.

“Forcing the elementals to attack made you weak, huh?” I ask, even though I’m sure that’s the answer. Clover responds by engulfing herself in her aura and throwing herself at me. I’m easily able to roll away. Her momentum sends her flying into a bracing Rosemary.

“You know, all these children looked up to you.” Rosemary takes advantage of Clover’s moment of weakness. She punches her clean across the face, splattering the wall with drops of blood. She pins her up against that same wall. “Hay, I didn’t know you for long, but I respected you almost as much as Shae did. You somehow managed to throw that all away in an instant. You should feel proud of yourself.”

I have to admit, Rosemary’s way of punishment is quite brutal. I watch, seizing up ever so slightly as she draws her flaming sword agonizingly slowly across Clover’s neck. It cauterizes as it cuts, but it’s no less painful for Clover. I can see faint tears welling in her ducts.

“Rosemary, I think that’s good enough,” I say. “She’s done.”

Rosemary shoots tragically confused a glare at me. “Are you sure? I heard it myself, she hurt your friends. Worse for me, she nearly killed you. If I hadn’t enchanted my sword and gotten back here in time, you’d probably...”

I touch her shoulder with a comforting hoof. She’s so tense from holding Clover. “She’ll die. Just don’t be cruel. We’re better than her.”

Rosemary glances back and forth, before falling back on me and nodding. “Do you want to do it?”

We’re talking about taking a life as if we’re deciding who should prepare what meal for a lovely dinner. My mind tells me to feel remorse, but I just can’t bring myself to feel anything about this. We have Clover at sword point. It’s a simple answer. “Does it really matter?”

“As you wish, love.” Rosemary grips the handle of her sword tighter. With a single swing, Clover will be left with only part of her neck, choking for breath until her eyes turn into the back of her head. It’s just another part of life, something she had coming to her when she betrayed me and those she inspired.

But she won’t have it. Her amulet shines such a hellish red that Rosemary and I have to avert our eyes and brace from the sheer force of all that power. Through my barely open eyes, I see Clover rushing to me.

I raise my hooves to do... I don’t know, something, but I’m too slow. She locks my forelegs behind me, spins me around, pins me with her entire body and slams both of her hooves into the small of my back. I feel something die inside of me. It’s like my entire frame is begging for a long nap.

With that, Clover silently leaps away from me, bounding down the stairs. A few students try to pounce her but she teleports out of the way. A few even try to intercept her with what little magic they can manage. Clover merely throws them aside.

In all of the chaos, I never noticed that the nexus has fully formed. I have to squint, but I can see the marble buildings of Everfree inside the vortex of auras. Clover gives a quick glance to the students, to Rosemary, and to me. “Feel regret, Shae. When Shokenda takes the throne, you will be known to history as the saboteur of her reign.” With that final insult, she leaps into the nexus and disappears.

“No!” I try to teleport, but not even the slightest wisp of aura comes. My stomach lurches when I realize I can’t feel my Fae. “She bound me! I can’t use any spells!”

Rosemary shoves me forward as she sprints for the nexus. “Best use your legs, then! Go, GO!”

I steal whatever looks I can at the weak and helpless students, especially Sundance, Eavesdrop and Lancer. I’m regretting something alright, and it’s that I won’t be able to help them. Even though part of me is telling me to stop and tend to them, I have a greater task at hoof. Damn you, Clover!

Rosemary’s mighty forelegs reach under my barrel. I’m airborne, if only for a moment, before the aura of the nexus wraps around me. It’s like being in a maelstrom of colors and rays, as if an artist colored a hurricane. I feel like I’m falling, but I can still see Wintercolt Academy right in front of me, with Rosemary lunging through to take my hoof. I reach out to grab her. I want to hold her close as we take the plunge through this chaos into Everfree. We can put an end to this. Bring Clover to her end in the middle of the streets, clean up the mess, then she, Celina and I can get malts together.

The nexus doesn’t allow it. The passage to Wintercolt closes, taking Rosemary from my sight and leaving me alone for the first time in so long. I can’t hear myself scream her name against the vacuum.

I hit the ground running and drift to a stop, or at least I try to. I end up with my face in a marble wall. Compared to what I’ve been through, though, it’s easy to shake off. It’s hard for me to stand, on account of leaping at least a hundred miles in an instant. When my vision falls into place, I can see I’m only on the outskirts of Everfree, nearest a general goods parlor and the diamond moat. If I follow the moat upstream, it should lead me to the Rainbow Palace.

The husky earthwalker at the counter of the parlor looks over to see me. “Bloody hell, you took a nasty spill there. Need a solvent for that?” He points out what must be a new bruise on my muzzle. I shake my head furiously and break into a gallop. “Oi, kid! Where’s the fire?!”

I can’t possibly care about him right now. As the peak of the Rainbow Palace comes into view, I assess the situation.

First of all, I’m alone. No Rosemary to hold me close, no Dragonborn to guard me, and no dashing rogue pegasus to make light of the situation. They’re all far away, and probably far apart from each other at this point.

Second, I’m completely useless without my magic, to the point where I wonder if I should even bother anymore. I’m no good with material weapons. How can I expect to stop Clover the Clever when she has that amulet at her disposal?

Third, there are other ponies at risk here besides Clover. The royal guard is at risk, and presuming Gauntlet has returned from Trottingham, he’ll be willing to throw himself into death’s path to protect Queen Platinum.

However, the one whose life I value more than anything is Celina, for obvious reasons. There are only two known alicorns in existence and one of them is a pure, innocent, beautiful maiden who happens to be my close friend. The few days I spent with her in the palace, helping with her garden, reading royal scripture, or just talking about our lives, it was more than enough time for me to come to love her. If Clover so much as touches Celina... I’ll make her beg for death.

The early morning commute brings my sprint to a simple trot. Unacceptable. I can’t possibly convince everypony that Platinum’s life is in danger, so I settle for stepping through the alleys. They’re definitely a few pegs lower from the radiant glamour of the rest of the city, but I’ll gladly take stepping through trash and trough for a faster journey.

It’s after I leap out of the alley that I accidentally ram into somepony, an old hooded lady at a glance. “I-I- Oh, Fauste, I am so sorry, I-I just ah...” I’m about to get going again, only for the lady to intercept and pull down her hood. I recognize her instantly. Decrepit, mien of senility, with a greying coat and mane. It’s Sacred Rite. “You.”

She’s more or less foaming. “Witch! You nearly killed me! Everypony!” She waves to a group of teenagers further down the path. They’re the only ones here. “I’m being assaulted by an accursed unicorn hag! They’re revolting, I tell ya! I told you all, we should have exterminated them when we had the chance!” The teenagers just shrug her off. Clearly her rants are nothing new here. “You’re all sympathizers with the witches, the lot of ya! I hope the dragons swallow you alive!”

I’m about to leave this one to her nonsense, but she actually grabs ahold of me by the neck and back. “Crone, get off!” I protest. “I can’t deal with you right now!”

She’s grinning. I can see every inch of her mossy teeth. “Oh, no you don’t. I’m going to put a stop to you before you can hurt anypony else with your craft.” How is she going to do that? She’s nothing but bones and skin at this point, how- Oh, shit. She’s pulling a knife out of her cloak. The scar upon my stomach starts tingling again.

I levitate the blade back into- I don’t have any magic. Damn! I settle for the power of words. “You listen to me right now. If you don’t let me go this instant, I won’t be able to reach the queen, and the entire regime falls.”

Sacred Rite settles for smiling with her crooked lips and spinning the knife on her hoof. “Let her die. She’s a witch as well. She doesn’t deserve the throne in the first place.” She examines the blade like it were a gem. “And when she dies, well, I’ll be there to take what’s left. Perhaps the princess and her horn will be worth something special.”

She did not just say that. She did not just threaten Celina. My Celina. “You sick... insolent... repulsive min-”

“Stop in the name of the Queen!” shouts a gruff voice.

It happens in less than an instant. Imperial unicorns appear from nowhere, via teleportation of course, surrounding me and Sacred Rite. They are lead by Gauntlet, who apparently forgot his helmet. He looks far more young and relaxed without it, though. It’s a definite improvement on his white coat and red mane. “Two things are going to happen," he commands. "One. For contempt of the crown and its kin, worship of Dragos, as well as attempted murder of a member of a recognized guild, Sacred Rite, you are under immediate arrest.”

“What-” Rite is instantly bound by enchanted ropes, the same ones that held me, and she’s apprehended by two of the unicorns. “You cannot do this! I am not compliant! I have rights!”

“No, you don’t.” Gauntlet approaches her and gives her a haymaker in the gut. That shuts her up right away. “You tossed what little rights you had in the dustbin the moment you started practicing worship of the forbidden one and threatened my... our beloved princess." He gestures to the apprehenders. "Take her away. No need to be gentle.”

With that, the two soldiers, along with my would-be-murderer, disappear. Three more soldiers remain, alongside Gauntlet. One would think I’d be more terrified and in need of a fierce dose of comfort, but that was hardly a close brush with death after what I’ve been through in the past hour alone.

Gauntlet turns to me with a much less harsh expression. “Now, the second thing. Miss Shae, honored member of Dragonrein, friend to the royal family... What the hell are you doing here?”

Instantly my encounter with Sacred Rite leaves my immediate memory and instead I focus on every instant of my feud with Clover. I spit it out like a bad clump of hay. “Sir Gauntlet, I have reason to believe the queen’s life is in danger!” This is how it always goes in stories. The child tries to warn the authorities of danger and nothing comes of it. I brace myself for the obvious answer.

Gauntlet levitates his gold plated sword to his side. “To arms. We will escort Miss Shae to the castle, she’ll inform Her Majesty of this in presence, and then we shall fortify our defenses should her claim prove reasonable. Come along.” He tilts his head and swings around, and I follow, absolutely appalled.

“Huh? Just like that? No room for doubt?”

“We are at war, Miss Shae. If there is even the slightest possibility that the queen is in danger, she must be informed right away, and your lips are as good as mine. You’re the one with knowledge here, unless you’re pulling our leg.”

“Not in the slightest. I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.” As I say this, I sneak a glance at the newest weapon in my pocket. If matters grow dire, I can at least thank Sacred Rite for being so careless with her knife.

I break into a gallop the moment I see Celina sitting in her garden, though I take a bit of precaution not to step on the flowers. As per usual, she’s wearing the white robe that conceals her wings. I see her pull it tighter over her back as the soldiers approach her, though she’s turned to me with surprised happiness across her face. I embrace her running.

She opens her mouth, possibly to ask why I’m here, but I stop her short. “Celina, it would mean nothing less than the world to me if we could talk, but for now, we just can’t.”

“Why?”

I’m about to answer, but Gauntlet presses his hoof to my withers. Odds are he can put it in calmer words than me, though it’s a bit of a surprise when he takes Celina’s hoof and tenderly kisses it like a gentlecolt. What’s more, she seems to have expected it. Gauntlet returns to his professional state. “If Miss Shae is to be believed, Her Majesty Queen Platinum is in danger, and so are you, Your Highness.”

“What’s going on, Shae?” Celina asks. She’s puzzled, I can tell, but it’s hard for me to answer. I remember a time when she called the potential murderess of the queen ‘Auntie Clover.’ I hate to play this card, the sort of card a mother would play on a child who can’t comprehend grown-up issues, but my hoof is forced.

“Celina, I know you can handle yourself. I mean, you're amazing and beautiful and probably have more power over the Fae than I could ever imagine, but that's exactly why you need to get out of here. Wait for me at the malt shop, or anywhere, and I'll find you. I’ll tell you why later, just please, please,” I push her away from her resting place, “get as far away from here as you can.” She reluctantly starts moving with Gauntlet, who holds her intimately. I call out to them both, “And no matter what happens, do not come back here until I say so!”

Although it’s hushed, I can hear Gauntlet saying, “She plays the part of your mother more than the queen.” That gets a laugh out of Celina that makes me feel brighter despite all this misfortune. Gauntlet turns his head to me. “I'll be back. Go to Her Majesty, Miss Shae. Tell her what you know, and make it quick. We can’t afford to waste time.”

I break into another gallop. I’m surprised I’ve yet to run out of breath. “I’m not the one wasting my time, it’s the rest of the world!”

I move back into the shadow of the castle corridors, letting my instincts carry me to the throne room. I’ve only been there the once but I can remember its location well enough, and I know my instincts aren’t failing me when I pass the portrait of the Late King Hurricane. My destination should be just around the corner, up the stairs and... Yes! I try to force open the double doors with the magic I don’t have, then stomp in frustration. Then I just open the damn things with my hooves.

“Your Majesty!”

She’s sitting on the throne, her entire body slack and her curly mane rather messy, as unqueenly as she’s ever looked. What strikes me above all is that her eyes are shut, and they don’t open at my call. I approach her as cautiously as I can manage, trying not to assume the worst, but this is hard to look at any other way. Was I too late? Did Clover make it silent and painless? I expected some sort of spectacle, something with aura flying about, rubble cascading from the ceiling, but this...

My dread is cast away when the queen snorts and her eyes flutter open. I take a relieved breath as she adjusts herself to sit like royalty should. She wipes her snout. “Goodness me, Shae. Was I asleep for long?”

“I haven’t the foggiest, Your Majesty.” I realize how disrespectful my tone is and bow. “I didn't mean to interfere with the royal nap."

Platinum stretches her hindquarters and removes herself from the throne. "It's quite well, child, you may rise. It happens with age, and the palace is so dreadfully quiet as of late, e'er since the bards left for Wintercolt Academy..." She ponders that thought for a moment. I'm just about to interrupt, but my better judgment keeps me tight lipped. "Something tells me you should be somewhere that isn't here. Am I right?"

"Actually... I come with a warning."

"I see.” She trots to look out the window, at the peaceful city of Everfree. It’s so dissonant from what I’m sure is about to ensue. “Your word is as good as anypony's. Let us hear it."

If I were to explain every last detail of what I experienced at the academy, it would likely be too late by the time I finished. I remember how Tohro stated the truth to her about Discord and Hurricane, plain and simple. “Clover the Clever wants to kill you.”

Platinum snickers and walks towards me. She pats me on the wither, looking jollily off into the distance. It's like her mind is elsewhere. She yawns, still recovering from her catnap, and walks amongst herself some more. I just stand there, incredibly anxious and awkward, until Platinum says, "Tell me something I don't know."

I should probably pick my jaw up from the floor. "You... know? So why are you still here?! No offense, Your Majesty, but if I were you, I’d get out of town! Run for the bloody hills!"

"And, what, leave you to defend yourself with no magic whatsoever?” She laughs aloud, as if this is some sick joke. I can’t exactly get ahold of what she’s thinking, especially when she taps me on the horn. “I can't sense much of the Fae within you. No doubt Clover took advantage of your pressure points in a moment of weakness. She's one of the few who can perform such a feat. I taught her how, actually."

“So, that’s how you know she’s out for blood?” I ask. “Because I have her trace?”

“That’s the start. Most of the rest was assumption, but a correct assumption.” Platinum turns to face her throne. “Clover is a very bright mage, a very powerful one, but she wears her emotions on her sleeves. In recent years, her increasing distance and passive loathing brought about the worst fears in me, to the point where I anticipated the possibility she would try to kill me. I’m not looking forward to countering my old concubine’s attempted assassination.”

"Concubine?"

“Yes, concubine.” Platinum stresses the word. It’s something I’ve never heard to describe Clover before. The queen doesn’t look my way, though. “Surely you heard the rumors? Poor, lonely Princess Platinum, all alone in her luxurious castle as a child. But did you hear? Supposedly she was gifted a beautiful mare, I repeat, concubine, to do with as she pleased, and pleased she was for many years, at least until she met her true soulmate.”

“Gifted?” I ask, looking quizzically at the staring contest between the queen and her throne.

"Yes, before Clover the Clever became a wonderful, mighty artist in the school of magic, she was a gift. A castle servant, a mistress, meant to serve her superiors in exchange for food and bed. She was mine. I owned her. She was nothing more than a tack, a slave, my own personal mare to make love to... No, to fuck whenever I wanted!”

“You pretended to love me!”

The shimmer of an invisibility spell appears near to the throne. Clover the Clever’s red aura make her presence known. She leaps out of her camouflage, eyes boiling with rage. I back away in horror at such anger, but Platinum chuckles, as if she were looking at a puppy rummaging through a dustbin. “What can I say? We unicorns are a perverse lot.”

My eyes keep darting back and forth between Platinum and Clover. The former is incredibly sanguine, despite the latter’s fury staring her down. I beseech the queen. “Please, tell me... Is it true? This matter about love?”

“What love?!” Clover growls, with a voice beyond recognition from her once prim and proper drawl. “She said it herself, I was nothing more than a whore to her!”

“I taught you magic, we read books together, and sometimes we had a little rut on the bed,” Platinum says, raising an eyebrow. “Or the couch, the floor, the bath... Ooh! There was that one time on the dining room table, Father was so mad!"

A single blast from Clover’s horn is all it takes to rend a crater in the wall. That’s merely a warning shot. Clover readies another one. I’m just about to step aside when Platinum forces me onto the ground with levitation.

“Stay here, child.”

Before I can protest, wanting to help however I may, Platinum stands proud and advances on Clover. I, however, am lost and confused. “I don’t understand any of this!” I yell. “What does your relationship have to do with anything?!”

Clover answers as if Platinum were the one asking. “It doesn’t. You just know how deeply you wounded me. You use my instabilities as a weapon.”

Platinum brushes her chin. “If that is true, then why are you here?”

Clover summons an ethereal sword, single edged and black as darkness itself. It has a demonic flare to it, and it’s pressing up against Platinum’s neck, though she still acts as though she hasn’t a care in the world. Clover hisses like a snake. “I do this for Shokenda Blackwing. Her way is just. We share a vision of the future, one where all of ponykind is equal and banded together in might and harmony, the very values we preached beneath the Pure Heart. You tell me, where is that kingdom we were promised, Platinum? I see a lot of bigotry amongst the populous.”

Platinum forces the sword away with a single magically charged hoof. “And what makes you think Shokenda’s rule would be any different? Ponykind is flawed, yes, but in time, they’ll learn to accept others as equals. We’ve already made so much progress. This kingdom wouldn’t be half of what it is-” The sword moves against her neck, shutting her up.

“It’s not good enough!” Clover walks forward, the sword moving with her. The blade presses into Platinum’s skin, drawing the slightest hints of blood. “Shokenda united an entire army for the cause in a mere few months, while it took us decades to get this far. Whatever wisdom she carries, it’s far superior to yours. She’s a greater unicorn that you or I combined!”

Unicorn? It takes me a moment of wracking my brain but I know Shokenda is no unicorn. I thought she was at a time, at least until Caro and Tohro told me of her revealing during the battle of Trottingham. Apparently it’s common knowledge amongst her confidants and soldiers that she is an alicorn. But Caro and I didn’t know until recently. Clover doesn’t seem to be aware in the slightest. If that’s the case, either she doesn’t know Shokenda as well as she claims, or...

“You’ve never even met Shokenda, have you?!” I accuse.

Clover hesitates for only a moment, just long enough for Platinum to pour her aura into a hoof and give her a haymaker, sending her clear across the throne room. She catches herself with levitation and lands safely on her hooves.

“So, that’s it, then,” says Platinum. "My suspicions are confirmed... This is all about us. You weren't there for my wedding. You disappeared for many years, just to bide your time. The reason why is so clear to me. Jealousy, darling. It consumes your very soul. You are jealous that I found somepony to love, and it wasn’t y-”

Clover's horn glows an angry red and Platinum is jerked violently into the air. "Jealousy?!" Clover snaps. "I could only feel jealousy if there were feelings between us!" She places a hoof on Platinum's neck. "But you never really felt anything for me, did you? I had no use for you once you got married." She presses harder. "Tell me, did you use him the same way?" I watch in horror as Clover tosses Platinum across the room and into the opposite wall, forming another crater.

Platinum, despite her obvious pain, acts like little more a flustered schoolfilly. "Hurricane did more than save my life. He was different from the other pegasi, a light in a time of darkness. The night he slipped into my room and embraced me, took me like a wild animal but with the passion of a true lover... I could never have used him. And it tears me apart to know you and I never had what he and I had. Such is the tragic fate of a concubine."

“That’s not the way I see it.” Clover seizes Platinum in her magical grip and brings her in close. "You settled for that spectral maned simpleton only because he was right out of your childish fantasies. I could have recovered from losing you to him, but then you went and used me as a stopgap when your 'true love' hit rock bottom! Then, just when the skies looked brightest, when Equestria rose from the ashes, you ran off and announced your love for him to the entire population, leaving me to wallow! We were supposed to be together. You were supposed to marry me!"

Platinum faces the ground. She seems beyond remorseful, downright pitiable. "Oh, Clover... My dearest, naive Clover...” She faces her old friend, and manages to reach out and touch her cheek. Clover nearly buckles under the sensation, despite its weakness. Platinum’s expression then turns grim. “I am sorry you ever believed that could have happened."

Can somepony truly be that cruel? Toying with a pony’s heart and emotions for decades? That is truly disgusting. But... Clover is the enemy here, right? Her mad rampage cannot be justified by such an excuse.

“Very well, then,” Clover whispers. “This is how it ends. This is where I kill the ghosts of my past...” Her eyes become pure red. “Now, you stoop for me!" With a single swish of her horn, Platinum slams into a stained glass window, the one that depicts Platinum and Hurricane’s royal wedding. With another push, the window shatters and Platinum falls, as does my heart.

Clover’s sick grin makes my stomach churn. I may lose my lunch. Before that, though, I hit the floor so hard I bruise my own legs. I want to scream, but... What good would it do?

Regardless of my weak body telling me to give up, putting aside all cares that I don’t have the Fae with me, I stand to face off against Clover. She turns to me. We stare into each other, each passing moment thickening the air with anger and hatred, emanating from us both in equal quantities.

I open my mouth, ready to make some sort of grave threat on her life for a second time, but when my gaze goes behind Clover and outside the window, my mouth refuses to close. Surrounded by a blindingly bright pink aura, flying on ethereal wings, is Queen Platinum.

Clover faces the radiant threat with awe and rage. Platinum laughs at the look on her face. “I’ve never been one to bow to others. On the other hoof, I wouldn’t mind watching you stoop down.” She flies back into the throne room as Clover erects a ward. She raises her hooves up high, gathering a large quantity of energy, and brings it down on the ground just as her translucent wings give way. The ground before her splits into a fault. This completely shatters Clover’s ward, Platinum’s aura sending her airborne. The queen follows up by leaping and using her still charged hoof, landing it in Clover’s back and sending her flying fast through the double doors, throwing them off their hinges.

“Fauste’s horn!” I shout for what feels like the hundredth time, but I truly mean it. I look to the near godlike queen as her wings return and she rises once again. “Where did you find such power?”

"Hurricane never truly left me." She doesn’t look at me, but she responds. “This is love, Shae. My love for my loyal subjects, my love for Celina, and my love for my husband. This is something Clover will never understand.” That’s her last word before she flies through the entrance. I have to will myself to follow, so amazed I can hardly move my limbs.

I shuffle into the halls, following the trail of pink left behind by Platinum. All the while I’m left to wonder, if she can fly like that, maybe I can too. I’m sure of it. I have love just the same as hers. I have my friends at the academy. I have Caro and Tohro. I have Celina too. And, of course, I now have Rosemary. Someday I’ll be able to fly, I’m sure of it.

Bloody hell, why am I thinking such things? There’s a mortal battle ensuing right before my eyes!

Clover had fallen so far and fast that she tore the floor away as she drifted to a stop, and now she stands in a cloud of dust, looking more like a deranged animal than a pony. Platinum’s wings fade and she hits the ground running, stopping only for a moment to anticipate Clover’s next spell. It’s a rapid spray of plasma. Platinum serpentines the downpour until she’s right next to Clover. They both bow their heads and lock horns, sparks literally flying. Clover recalls her black sword above Platinum and prepares to bring it down on her neck, but the queen notices and steps away, just barely getting nicked on the tip of her horn. She grimaces but quickly snaps back into it, summoning a weapon of her own. This one is a large golden mace, and it’s so large it’s hard to comprehend somepony of Platinum’s age wielding it so lightly. She parries Clover’s next swing, knocking her sword away and bringing the mace into her face. Clover only manages to spit blood before another thrust of the mace falls into her barrel. Sending her toppling through the window. Platinum floats out after her, and I follow suit. I just have to be there if something goes awry.

We’ve landed in Celina’s garden, and Clover’s rough fall has already flattened the petunias. Damn her. Why must she wreck everything precious to me?

Platinum and Clover’s weapons clash furiously, with each impact louder and larger than the last, until the sword and mace are grinding against each other. Rosemary would compare it to a blade on the wheel. Oh, they’re trampling the rosemary flowers too... Wonderful.

The weapon clash ends in both weapons shattering and dissipating, leaving Platinum with pitiful magic reserves. Clover’s amulet grants her the upper hoof in this matter. She uppercuts the weakened queen, then punches her in the chest twice, grabs her by her cloak, swings her around and brings her down, sending petals flying into the air.

Platinum is prone on her stomach, giving Clover an opportune moment. She summons a smaller blade onto her hoof and readies it for the plunge into Platinum’s back.

“Get up!” I scream.

Platinum’s glowing eyes shoot open. She levitates herself out of Clover’s range, and the blade just misses her. She lets out a very unqueenly battle cry and stomps the ground. The whole area starts to tremble, shaking more leaves and petals from the flowers. Then the ground erupts. Jagged, multi-colored crystals form instantaneously around Clover, slashing at her face and body. She has to roll out of the way before she’s nearly impaled, but even then she’s left coated in red with her robes in tatters and her armor cracked. She dizzly regains her composure.

“D-dammit...” She turns and sees Platinum, who also struggles on her hooves before collapsing into a pile of dethorned roses.

“Hurricane...” is all the queen can mutter.

Clover grinds her teeth together and lifts the queen in her magical grip once again. “You played your trump card too early, Your Harlotness.” She recalls that ethereal blade, readying for the kill. This time I doubt Platinum will be able to remove herself from danger’s path. But that’s why I chose to remain instead of running for the malt shop.

Platinum wheezes and closes her eyes. "All I ever wanted was to be with those I loved...” She chokes out a weak cough. “Though I may have followed my lust more than my heart. You suffered for that, and now, look where we are. Look where I am. An old hag with nothing to do but fight this tiresome civil war, hardly able to care for a mare she calls her daughter. I'm wallowing too, Clover. Can you forgive this selfish old pony for her misdeeds?"

Clover pauses, her blade dwindling, but that only lasts for a moment. She shakes her head. “Never.”

I’m about to charge in with one of my new knives in hoof and stop Clover, but then a white hoof stops me, forcing me to put the knife down. I look up and see...

“Celina?! I told you to get out of here!”

“I heard you, Miss Shae, but I refused to listen. I'm truly sorry.” The princess gives a cocky flip of her mane and saunters forward. “I’ve been watching the whole time. I heard many, many disturbing things, some things I’d probably be better off not knowing.” She then points out to Clover. “You’re not the Auntie Clover my mother told me you were.”

Clover shoots Celina an annoyed glare. “Maybe at a time.” She brings Platinum around to her front, holding the ethereal blade to her neck. Platinum is drawing labored breaths. Her elderly body is betraying her. Clover continues. “The me you were told of was nothing more than a naive fool. She’s long gone now. And if I may ask, who the hell are you?!”

“Princess Celina, daughter of Queen Platinum!” Celina’s horn glows a royal gold, and she effortlessly forces Clover away from Platinum, catching them both in her aura. She levitates the queen to our side. Clover, however, is left with her head in the soil.

“How difficult must it be...” She rises from the dirt, which stains the blood on her body. She’s not even bothering to clean herself up.

Celina gives another flip of her mane and reaches for the buckle of her white robe. She looks to me, as if asking my permission. I shake my head, urging her not to do it, but she merely shrugs and undoes the buckle anyway. She wasn’t asking permission, then. She throws her cloak off, spreading her large, beautiful wings for us to see. The petals flying around her only serve to make her even more gorgeous, a significant contrast to the bloodied mess in front of us.

Backing away for a moment, Clover goes from surprised to amused. “Ah, so they do exist. A pony made in Epona and Fauste’s image... But you couldn’t possibly hold a candle to them. This can’t be anything more than a birth defect.” She summons more aura into horn. “Burn for your sins!”

Celina manages to block it with an instantaneous ward. “I haven’t sinned,” she says with gusto. “For years I convinced myself my body was sacrilege, but then a wonderful unicorn came my way, telling me the exact words I needed to hear.”

“Stop talking!” Clover fires a much more furious blast but Celina blocks that too, no worse for wear.

“I know that someday the entire world will see my wings, and they will celebrate when they know they have a mighty alicorn watching over them!”

Clover raises her forelegs and summons her strongest glow yet. “You’re a blasphemous abortion!” Pillars of flame erupt from the earth, torching many flowers in its wake, but Celina still manages to dispel it with no fuss.

Celina just tilts her head and smiles. "That's not very nice, Auntie."

Clover is absolutely seething. I can see her breath between her teeth. She shakes her head, as if in denial this could even be happening. “To hell with this,” she hisses. She disappears in a flash of red.

I look all around us for some trace of her. “Where in the-”

She reappears between me, Celina and Platinum, and lets loose a blast of pure energy that casts me and Platinum away. Celina is the only one who manages to stand her ground, looking to Clover defiantly. She readies another spell but that brief moment of telegraphy is enough for Clover to lock her in a levitational grip, then look to the struggling Platinum.

I watch in frozen horror as Celina squirms against the red aura surrounding her. Her legs go stiff, as if being pulled out against her will, and before long, Celina is stretched between two magical tendrils.

"Stop it!" I shout, trying to light my horn. Still, nothing comes. “STOP IT NOW!”

"Platinum, let this be retribution for what you did to my heart." Clover sneers, her horn glowing a violent red. Celina's body stiffens between the tendrils and her screams begin to echo through the entire garden and into the sky.

I gaze at the horrendous display helplessly. Celina's body begins to strain and split down the middle, her screams escalating with the sickening cracks and rips. Blood spills out in floods, covering the floor. Soon, it is followed by organs. Celina's scream cuts off and her head hangs limp.

I cry out, lunging at Clover. I plow into her side, cutting off her spell. Celina's lifeless halves hits the floor with a sickening thump, but I pay it no further heed as I begin to blindly pummel my hooves into Clover's face. “MURDERER! MONSTER! YOU! HORRENDOUS! BLOODSUCKING! APATHETIC! TRAITOROUS! MONSTER!!”

I draw Sacred Rite’s knife. I raise it high. I bring it to Clover’s stomach.

The blade shatters on impact.

Clover chuckles like a little girl, her hooves crossing over her amulet. “It protects me, Shae Sparkle. You can’t break it. You certainly can’t break me.”

The only who’s broken is me.

She shoves me off. My will has dwindled into nothing. I can’t move. I can’t breathe. I can only feel Clover taking the broken knife and piercing my flesh, tearing my leg wide open. And yet, I don't scream.

I stare at Celina’s halves. They lie in a bed of lilies. I look into her eyes. They’re not moving. They never will again.

Platinum does everything she can to stand as Clover grabs ahold of her, dragging her to the wall. Clover slams the queen’s head against the bricks, then holds the blade to her neck again, this time breaking the skin. She mutters something, and Platinum mutters something back.

Then Clover’s eyes widen. She looks around, then feels for the back of her head. She notices something odd. There’s another knife there. The same knife I used to cut myself free back at the academy. It’s lodged in the back of her skull. She’s bleeding out of her mouth. She falls. She stops moving.

I notice just now that my hoof is out. Because I threw that knife.

Just as I promised, I killed Clover the Clever.

It takes every ounce of strength I can muster to force myself back up, and it takes me quite a long time to do so. I have to lean on the queen for support. She’s holding her neck with her free hoof. No doubt trying to pressurize her cut.

“Well then...” says the queen as she surveys the damage. Many beds of flowers are torn, some all but destroyed. There’s pillars of crystal that need to be cut down. Many walls need new bricks. Clover the Clever is dead in the corner. Celina’s severed halves are bleeding over the lilies. “We... did all we could. We stopped Clover before the damage grew worse.”

I nod, and keep nodding for a while. “Yes, yes we did.”

My gaze keeps going back to Clover’s corpse. I should be happy. I killed her before she could kill anypony else important. I saved the queen from her. I avenged Frosthelm and Celina. Equestria is safe from her madness.

“Good morning, Headmaster. I’m sorry I slept in, I was up all night studying how to conjure familiars. The most I could manage was an ant, but I’m learning.”

I fulfilled my promise. I did the right thing. Clover’s dead because of me. I’m a hero to the crown.

“Whatever is the matter, Headmaster? Is something wrong?”

I said it myself. She reaped what she sowed. She crossed the horizon of morality and I brought her to justice.

“Who is that? Why is everypony gathered here? Let me through, I need to see.”

Rosemary, Sundance, Lancer, Eavesdrop, all the students, they supported my efforts. I did this for them too. They’ll be proud of me.

“Oh Fauste... Who is... No, no, it can’t... Don’t...”

There will be a ceremony. A celebration that the queen lives another day because of my actions. We will mourn Celina, but the pain will ebb, knowing she’s been avenged and the queen is alive.

“Mother... Mother! Please, wake up! You can’t do this! How is this even... You can’t do this to me! What happened?! Don’t leave me, Mother!!”

Death is a natural part of life, Shae. Sometimes it’s best for somepony to die before they can do harm. Our lives are made by the deaths of others, after all. You did the right thing.

“MOTHER!! No... please... Mommy... don’t leave me...”

You did the right thing. You did the right thing. You did the right thing. You... You...

I collapse.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGH!!!!”

Platinum seizes ahold of me and I bury my face into the fur of her robe, with my tears cascading like waterfalls.

“I KILLED CLOVER THE CLEVER! I KILLED CLOVER THE CLEVER! I KILLED-” Platinum presses me even tighter against her. It’s less of an embrace and more of a vice than anything else.

“I know, Shae. I saw. That was brave of you. It couldn’t have been easy.”

I can speak again. “I WORSHIPED HER! I IDOLIZED HER! SHE WAS EVERYTHING TO ME AND I KI-” I’m caught in the stranglehold again.

I’ve already moistened Platinum’s royal garb to the point of ruining it forever, but she doesn’t seem to care in the slightest. When I run out of sobs and all I can do is hyperventilate and shiver, Platinum removes that robe and wraps it around me. She graces my cheeks and gives me a kiss on the forehead. She retrieves a cloth from the robe and dries my tears. “You are strong, Shae Sparkle. Stay warm, and keep your head up. If not for me, for Celina. She is going to need a friend more than ever from now on.”

“From...” I must have thrown my voice out. I can’t do much more than whisper. “From now on..? But... She’s dead... I watched her die...”

Platinum taps me on the withers and silently gestures for me to turn my head. When I do, I see something that very well may make me faint. I can’t afford to lose any more breath. But the entering Imperial soldiers and palace guards are emulating my reaction quite well, looking at the spectacle with awe.

Celina’s two halves are coming together, joined in her signature golden aura. It reminds me of a dragon’s aura, but not nearly as harsh. Her skin merges, her organs repair themselves, and her paling body becomes flush as her blood returns.

The soldiers move in on her, lead by Gauntlet, who kneels down to Celina. “M’lady...” he gasps.

Platinum moves into the fray, casting her hoof out and defending her daughter from accusive eyes. "Nopony touch her. Leave. Now."

Gauntlet looks fit to protest. “Your Majesty-”

Platinum’s eyes flash pink. “Go!”

Gauntlet salutes hastily, waving the soldiers and guards away and following them fast out of the vicinity.

Just as they leave, Celina’s eyes start moving again. She’s alive. Fauste, I don’t know how, I don’t know why, but I can’t possibly care about any of that. She’s alive! I could sing. I could bloody dance if it weren’t for the gash in my leg. But to hell with that. Celina is alive! We can rebuild her garden. We can take a bath together. We can finally go get those malts. Just me and her, and... and...

Celina stares in horror at her closing wounds, making her pain all the more apparent. "What am I...?"

It’s night now.

I don’t know how they managed it, but by some miracle the royal guard managed to remove the crystals from the garden and dispose of them rather efficiently. I can see the remains of the structure getting shipped off in carts from the remains of Celina’s garden. It’s strange. No matter how garish and shattered the garden is, I doubt it compares to the scars in her heart.

Platinum had insisted I come up to Celina’s room to be with her. For what, I haven’t the slightest clue. I’m still euphoric over the idea that she is still alive, that by some means she cheated death. She’s less than happy about it, though. She’s in Platinum’s embrace at the edge of her bed, constantly sobbing. All Platinum can do is brush her flattened pink mane until oblivion. Or at least until Celina’s tears stop. I assume she’s simply run out of tears to shed.

“Celina, I kept the truth from you for too long,” says Platinum.

Celina pulls away from her mother. “The...”

“Yes, the truth. I... think it’s for the best that I let you hear this slowly. I can’t imagine how much pain this will cause you, but you must, absolutely must hear. No matter how you interpret what I am about to tell you, know that I love you, and I will always be your friend and caretaker."

“But... Mother...” Platinum quickly takes Celina’s hooves and stares intently at her, though not in an intimidating way. Celina takes it as a sign of importance and nods weakly.

Platinum inhales slowly before letting it all out. I brace myself for something horrendous. “Celina, I am not your mother. And you are not mortal.”

I’m trying to remain silent but the tiniest hint of a gasp passes my lips. I expect to be ousted from the room for my impudence but Celina and Platinum carry on as if I did nothing. They’re looking at each other in silence.

It’s at least a minute before Celina whispers, “Wh... What?”

Platinum lets a sigh escape before continuing. “How do you remember your last birthday?”

Celina has a faint look of nostalgia. I wish she could keep it. “It was... six, no... seven months ago. Gauntlet gave me a bouquet and you had the royal cooks bake me a large chocolate cake. That’s the day I started my garden.” She then looks as though someone ripped her heart out. I look outside the window at the damage once again.

“Good, good...” Platinum mutters. “Now go back another birthday. Do you remember that one as well?”

Celina nods enthusiastically. “Of course I do! There was-” She cuts herself off. “I remember a...” She draws her hoof to her forehead. “Where is it? Where’s the rest? I can’t remember it. Or anything before that. Mother, what...”

Platinum grimaces at hearing that title. She looks away and says, “You cannot remember because you are less than two years old.”

“Less than two... How could that even...” Celina stands and slowly moves past me to her mirror. She doesn’t pay me any mind, making my heart sink. What sinks it ever more is the utter despair on her face as she looks into her reflection. “It can’t be... I feel like... I know I’ve been here longer. I can’t just be a year old! I remember you! I remember so many years of my life! I remember Gauntlet visiting me here, keeping me safe, I remember so many birthdays! You can’t tell me I-”

“Yes, you think you remember, but actually try to trace any memory from those early years.”

Celina brings her hooves up again. I think it’s actually hurting her to try and remember. “There’s nothing there... It’s just... nothing.”

Platinum nods grimly as Celina takes a seat, with her face as blank and pale as the moon. The queen inhales again and speaks. "You were born on the summer solstice, only a year and some ago, but not from flesh. My... Well, my heart was heavy with grief that morning, for I missed Hurricane more than usual. It came time for the sun to breach the horizon, and the sages were having difficulty raising it, so I lent a helping horn. I prayed to the Divines for a perfect, happy day. Just one bit of kindness for this old mare. That kindness was you. When the sun reached its peak, a single drop of its essence fell upon the central chamber of this very palace. That piece of the sun..." She chokes, likely on tears of sentiment. "It was you. A filly with no name. A legendary alicorn."

Celina doesn’t move, she doesn’t even blink. She looks more deathly now than when she was actually dead.

"An alicorn is often seen as a religious symbol, a deity. Fauste and Epona, for instance. But a living, breathing one had never been seen... and I intended to keep it that way. Alicorns are supposed to be exceptionally powerful, possessing the strength of earthwalkers, the flight of pegasi, and the magic of unicorns. I couldn't very well let that power fall into the hooves of my enemies, but I also couldn't let you go. You were too beautiful. I loved you from the first moment I saw you, and in my grief over losing so many loved ones, I thought I had found happiness once again."

Now Platinum is the one crying. She rests her eyes on a single hoof.

"I'm a selfish old mare. I've hurt you far worse than any of my enemies could, because I neglected to tell you the truth. You are a gift from the Divines, meant to lead this kingdom into an era of prosperity. When the times comes, you will ascend the throne and rule Equestria.”

All Celina can respond with is, "For... forever...?"

"It is a blessing and a curse, child. You are eternal. You can be defeated, but you cannot die."

"Not..." Celina blinks, letting it all sink in. "Then maybe it was for the best that I had no friends..." The broken look she gives me rots me to the core. "I know I’m meant to rule someday, that’s what being a princess means, but... but since... since I'm not real... what does it matter..."

I gallop to her and throw my forelegs around her. She doesn’t return the favor. "Listen to me, Celina. You are as real as anypony else. And the qualities of a great ruler lie within you, I just know it! You don't have to be afraid."

"I am afraid!" Her golden aura shoves me away. "What kind of ruler will I be to watch my subjects die?! To know that I have the unfair advantage of immortality?! No matter what I do... it won't be enough to save them..."

I cannot respond to that. Only Platinum can, through her tears. "Everypony has their time, child. It will be up to you to make their short lives worthwhile. I regret that I won't be alive to see you realize your destiny."

"But... it's not fair..." Celina passes me by again to approach the mare she just found out is not her mother. That revelation alone must make it difficult for her to look at Platinum in the same light. "What if I make a mistake? Put them in danger... I will survive my actions but they..." She hugs Platinum tight, regardless. "I'll be alone... I don't want to be alone..."

Platinum embraces her false daughter, while she and I share an equally solemn gaze. We know that no matter how tragic our lives are, this confession of great sorrow will only be the first of many miserable memories to come for Celina.

“I don’t want to be alone...” she repeats.

XXV - Master

“Well, would you look at that...”

Caro stops his constant trot to look in the same direction as Tohro, only to realize that he just needs to look up. He takes in the wondrous yet silent spectacle of lights stretching across the night sky. This is something he’s never had the luxury of seeing so up close. Anypony who’s ever wanted to touch an aurora borealis is now jealous of the Dragonborn.

Tohro chuckles, prompting Caro to ask, “What?”

“Even natures itself dreads your upcoming absence, hero.”

Caro quietly concurs with that. As he takes a few small paces further across the long trail of stone slabs, he reflects on how the rest of the world seems to keep finding excuses for him to not go to Neigh Hrothgar. He dreads what could happen to Trottingham or Everfree, or any other town for that matter. His stomach cramps just at the thought of harm coming to Rosemary. She’s a headstrong mare, but what if that gets her into trouble one of these days? As for Shae... No. She’s safe now, he thinks. She has an entire academy over her head. No harm can come to her. Despite that, Caro thinks it an insult to the frail unicorn that many of his concerns lie with Tohro. His tenacity will grant him survival, but I fear the possibility of the Blackwings getting the jump on him. He isn’t going to lose that scar anytime soon.

But as he gazes through the falling snow to the faint glowing lights of Neigh Hrothgar in the distance, he entertains himself with another thought. What if there’s the off chance that everything is going to be fine? Is it possible that, just for once, the world doesn’t conspire to break while I turn my head? Even so, what I return to, I can no doubt handle. I’m the bloody Dragonborn. This is why I’m here...

He speaks aloud. “Tohro.”

“Need something?”

Caro returns to his friend and stands close, sharing eye contact. “Before I go, I should at least get some things off my chest.”

“Well, let’s hear it, then. We’ve got time.”

“I can understand why you’d be worried about me conspiring with Shokenda.” Caro touches the skin around Tohro’s left eye. Tohro flinches, not because it hurts, not in the slightest, but because the act is surprisingly intimate.

“Y-yes. She’s utterly insane, and she’s hell bent on making all of us suffer. She’s far worse than a killer, she’s a damn sadist. I have you and Shae to thank for making me realize that.”

“You’re welcome. I just want to reassure you, she and I are not friends, nor will we ever be. I’m just taking advantage of her generous proposal, and that’s where the collaboration ends.”

Tohro rests his hoof on Caro’s. “No reassurance needed, mate,” he says softly. “I may not know what it is to be Dragonborn, but I know you. You’d never bow to Shokenda, even if my life was on the line.”

“Perish the thought.” Caro mimics shoving an indiscriminate object out of sight. “That there is the one exception. I’d do anything for you.” He doesn’t take kindly to the naughty grin Tohro gives him, but he holds back the urge to slap the pegasus, if only because he has enough facial blemishes as is. “You know what I mean. I care about you and Shae so much, and I’d gladly throw myself into the fire if it meant you both could live.”

Tohro raises his brow. “Heartfelt speech, mate, but what about Rosemary?”

“Well, she’ll earn that right eventually,” Caro says with a snort. “She hasn’t been with Dragonrein long enough.”

Dark comedy aside, Caro and Tohro find a way to laugh at that notion. They’re sure that if Rosemary ever heard such a thing, they’d both carry hoofprints on their faces for a long time. Some of those wounds probably would have been inflicted by Shae if she were present.

“In that case, fearless leader of Dragonrein, you promise one thing to your best friend, and promise it well.” Tohro slowly approaches the Dragonborn and pulls him in for a surprisingly tender embrace, definitely one more personal and intimate than any they’ve had before. “You don’t forget about us regular ponies while you’re with the Greybeards. Some of us are expecting the legendary Dragonborn to come back.” While still holding Caro close, Tohro moves his head away to face him directly. “And if you don’t, I’ll storm the place and kidnap you back myself.”

“I love you too.”

“Exactly. And I’ll have probably have a few new friends to help me out.” Tohro lets go of Caro, leaving the Dragonborn a little disappointed, but his smile comes back when he sees Tohro striking a dramatic pose. “Well? Aren’t you going to ask who they’ll be?”

“I was waiting for you to say so yourself.”

“Ah, well... in that case...” Tohro turns around slowly, then after a pause, goes off on a cheery two legged bard trot. “I’m not telliiiing~! Ahaha!”

With a sneer, Caro trots up to Tohro and says, “Fus.” It’s a small burst of wind, but it’s enough to send the hapless pegasus toppling onto his back into a large pile of snow. “You’re not as poised as you claim to be, assassin.”

Tohro holds his forelegs out and gives a mock pout. “Well, hardee-har.” He graciously accepts Caro’s hoof, and is pulled out of his embarrassed state. “You know what I am going to miss more than anything when you’re gone?”

“Enlighten me.”

Tohro gestures back and forth between himself and Caro. “Just this. These little talks give me something to look forward to whenever we travel together. It’s what makes being by your side worthwhile. Sure, you put on the mien of a big scary demon with a deathly voice, and the berserker beneath your skin is nothing to scoff at, but I’ve seen you for what you truly are.” He leans in close, to the point of Caro feeling his breath on his muzzle. “A mighty softy.”

Caro nickers and gives a snort, pushing Tohro’s face away. “Okay, I’ll give you that one. By the way, given that we won’t have to be looking after Shae’s well-being, not that I ever complained, we’ll be able to spend a lot more time together.”

“Looking forward to it.”

For the longest period of time, there’s little to do but stand and watch the aurora borealis’ silent spectral dance. Both stallions think back, realizing that despite the uncertain future that lay before them, this is the first time in a while that they’ve had a moment to just enjoy themselves. No tasks grating on their conscious, no lives in immediate peril, and high hopes in their minds. It’s a significant contrast to the beginning of their adventure. Caro tragically chuckles at the many rude things he said to Tohro back at Gallopagos Keep, and how circumstances forced them to bond. If it weren’t for the many events that pushed them closer together, Caro wouldn’t be comfortable with Tohro resting his foreleg across his back, watching the serenity of nature above.

With that, the Dragonborn sighs. All of the nostalgia makes it almost painful to say, “There’s no point in delaying the inevitable. I’d best be off.” He removes himself from Tohro’s touch and moves towards the lights of the mountain bound Neigh Hrothgar. “Goodbye.”

Tohro only nods, because the veil of the night is the only thing hiding the tears in his eyes. As Caro ascends the steps, Tohro’s will to not make a sound fails him. He sniffles, then lets out a genuine sob, the first he’s made in some time. “Epona damn you! You’re making a complete fool out of me!” He squints, then shouts to his trotting friend. “You come back, you son of a bitch! You come back to Dragonrein, and I’ll take you to Riverhoof like I promised! I’m going to get you drunk under the table! I’ll... I’ll find the raunchiest barmaid to take you home! But that’s not going to happen unless you return! You swear you’ll come back to me, Caro Dragonborn!”

Tohro Blackwing waits anxiously, but he hears nothing on the evening wind. He tries to cover up his sobbing with his hoof, then wipes his eyes clean of tears, blinking out the rest. When he looks back up, he’s greeted by a certain turquoise earthwalker’s smug grin..

Tohro’s heart flies when Caro brings his snout to his cheek, nuzzling it with gentle affection. “I swear it.”

CHAPTER XXV - MASTER

~Caro~

As immature and depressing as it may sound, and I’d hate to regress to my younger self, there was a time when I thought I’d never feel happiness again. Contrast to what common sense may say, I am not referring to those three days I spent in Gallopagos Keep. That, along with the dragon attack, was just the second time I felt despair. The third was nearly losing Shae.

I refer to the first time, on a rain drenched weekend morning. That was years ago, yet I remember every last detail. I’m good at that sort of thing. It’s a blessing in the heat of battle but a curse when it comes to my picture perfect memory.

It’s just another morning for the forge. I can still barely call myself an apprentice, but the smell of burning coals calls me from my dreams of swordplay and knights in shining armor. I eagerly throw on the one apron that doesn’t make my skin crawl and trot downstairs. Master usually starts our weekends with honey baked crumpets before work hours, and I eagerly wait for the wafting scent of sweet baking bread over the fire.

I know something is amiss when I don’t catch so much as a hint of such a thing, and there’s a nasty draft in the living quarters. Master is nowhere to be found, but his coat is hanging from the rack, meaning he must be nearby. I can confirm that when I hear Master’s voice just outside the open door, along with somepony else’s, somepony much more formal than him.

The rain is worse than I initially thought. I can barely see to the end of the street. Not one to ruin my manecut, I keep to under the awning, though it’s leaking like nopony’s business. I turn the corner and ascend the wooden steps to the actual forge of the weapon shop. When I raise my head, the first thing I see is an Imperial pegasus soldier, and she’s talking to Master. The coals of the pit are still hot. Perhaps the soldier got separated from her group and needs a replacement for her weapons or armor. I only now catch the conversation.

“...unfortunate, I know. One would prefer it to be glorious, or at least dignified, but this...” The pegasus grimaces, then stands up straight. “My apologies, sir. I’m supposed to keep an aura of professionalism, but this is my first time.”

Master lends her a comforting hoof. “Hold on to that grief, soldier, it’s what keeps you sentient.”

She shakes her head. “The Legion encourages us to remain hardened under even the worst circumstances.”

I have nary an idea what they’re speaking of. The creak of the wooden brace I’m leaning on alerts them both to my presence. I see something on Master’s chiseled face that I’ve never seen before. I’ve hardly seen him do anything but smile or grin, but to see genuine sadness, with a hint of fear... “Child,” is all he says, acknowledging me.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

The soldier clears her throat and turns back to Master. “Hammerfell, you and your, uh, protege will be receiving compensation over the next few months. I speak on the behalf of the Imperial Legion when I say I apologize profusely. Earthquake and Goldheart will be dearly missed.”

The soldier begins her departure, though she pauses. Apparently I’m standing in her way. She looks at me like she expects me to move. But first, I have a question. Well, more like a statement. “My parents are dead.”

She nods.

I step away from the brace, then I take a few deep breaths. Then I open my mouth.

When my vision comes back I’m quivering underneath the covers of my bed. My dresser, candles and toy chest are thrown across the room, buried underneath my torn curtains. The only part of my body that isn’t blanketed is my right hoof, which Master is bandaging and cleaning of glass shards.

That was years ago. I wasn’t as close to my parents as I should have been. I suppose that was another part of my building resentment for the Imperial Legion, with them being taken away from me for many years, and then the Divines taking them from me forever. All before I could ever get to know them as ponies beyond parents. That’s why I was angry more than anything else.

But it still hurts, and I only have the time to reflect on this because, for the first time since Tohro saved me from the chopping block, I am alone. Throughout this journey I’ve been secretly hoping for at least a minute by my lonesome. It’s discombobulating to think I actually miss Tohro. What am I saying? Of course I miss Tohro. Who wouldn’t?

So, even if I did lose my entire known family, I managed to fill the void with some new friends. I really should have been more grateful from the start. My head would be rotting in an antisocial grave if it weren’t for Tohro.

After all of that, my thoughts come to a standstill, as do I, when I step on the last stone slab that represents the climb to Neigh Hrothgar. Granted, Tohro and I took the short way around by taking the slanted edge around the mountain. If I were to follow these steps back down, I’d be all the way back at Ivarstable. Ahead of me is what’s important, though. What used to be the bridge to Neigh Hrothgar has crumbled into nothing, leaving me to wonder how I’m supposed to even get there. I can’t make use of my sprinting shout, the distance is too great. The same goes for my antigravitational shout.

Then, of course, just as I recall the warmare who convinced me to come here in the first place, she appears to me, flying out of the chasm and landing on the remains of the bridge.

“The Greybeards isolated themselves from the majority of ponykind quite a while ago,” says Shokenda Blackwing. “This broken bridge keeps anypony unwanted from coming to their doorstep. The broken means of transportation would discourage even a pegasus from going across, and even then, the Greybeards only answer their door for so few.”

“That few included Master Hammerfell...” I mutter. I look to the lights of the settlement before me. From a closer perspective, Neigh Hrothgar looks to be a large temple that leads to a surrounding residential area, but it would be completely inaccessible to any walking traveler. I’m sure they have a transparent barrier or two for protection from their foes.

Shokenda flutters to the edge of the bridge and sits upon it, appearing unusually casual for, well, being her. “Thousands of years of Precursor knowledge lay dormant within, but your conquest requires the assistance of the Greybeard monks. They are the ones who have devoted themselves to the Thu’um and all things draconic. They’ll welcome you warmly. As for me, they won’t take too kindly to what they consider a false god. It's ironic. I may be a god but I firmly value Dragos just the same as them.”

“There are different ways of worshipping the same god,” I say. “You follow Dragos as a god of war, while I can guess these Greybeards worship her as the mother of dragons. Without her, there’d be nothing for them to devote their lives to. I hear the dragons and Precursors were very much intertwined.”

Shokenda returns to standing. “That they were, Caro Dragonborn, but you’ll hear it clearer from the mouths of the monks. Now, come along.”

I’ve been a victim of levitation magic before, but I’ll never get used to the feeling of weightlessness, and it’s difficult for me to hold my composure as Shokenda hovers me over the chasm, flying after me to the other side. Still, this is a better alternative than riding her. I shudder at the thought. If it were Tohro flying me, I wouldn’t complain. I have to sit down for a moment after Shokenda’s golden aura leaves me.

So, here I am. All that remains of this quiet trip to Neigh Hrothgar is, oh, of course, more stairs. Still, part of me is filled with anticipation for what lies ahead, the good sort of anticipation.

“Our destiny awaits, Caro Dragonborn,” says Shokenda. She’s not even fazed; I’m sure Shae would be halfway asleep by now if she lifted my entire body. “First, you will learn the true virtues of your ancestry, the Dragonborn that have come before. Then your true powers will reveal themselves.”

“True powers?” I ask.

Shokenda tosses her mane. “There’s much more to being a Dragonborn than shouting your way to success and eating souls, are you aware?” She begins to ascend the stairs.

Wait, did she just say there’s more? If that’s the case, then Otar clearly left some details out of his monologue. “Like what?”

“You’ll know in due time.”

As per usual, that question goes unanswered. I should expect nothing less from this false god. If she were a Divine, she’d sit upon a throne of lies and deceit. She must be japing about these ‘true powers’, but more so, her tendency for scheming is exactly why this alliance rubs me the wrong way. I have to stage an ultimatum. “So, your intention is to let my power grow, so you can have your legendary duel with me, and if-”

“When.”

“-you kill me, you’ll be hailed as one of history’s greatest heroes, because history is written by the victors.” I would never count that possibility out. Shokenda would be considered a hero for the same reason Argent has been forgotten to ponykind; what ponies want to remember is very subjective, it seems. Odds are, if Shokenda becomes high queen (Over my dead body), she’ll manipulate the stories in her favor. Lies and deceit. “I benefit because I will have a fighting chance against you.”

We’ve arrived at the entrance. It’s a double door engraved with two faces, one that’s vaguely equine but strikes me as reptilian as well. That must be a Precursor, yet it looks vastly different from Otar. His body was more of an exoskeleton, though he probably had a thousand years of sleep to thank for that. The other face of the door is that of a dragon, but it looks ancient compared to the ones I’ve faced, and it has a beard. Something tells me I wouldn’t want to face this one.

Finally, Shokenda answers me. “That is correct.”

“That leads to another issue. When I pass through this door,” I point to the entrance, “there’s no guarantee for how long I’ll be gone. I’ll be leaving Equestria to... you!” I bring my hoof to her, staring her down accusingly. “And that is unacceptable.”

Shokenda shrugs and puts on what I think is a haughty face. She’s still incredibly difficult to read. “Well, I cannot put my army on suspension simply because you’re off meditating with a group of elderly monks.”

“I never expected you to. I’m not a fool.” I shake my head while I lean against the door. While I speak calmly, there’s a hint of fury in my throat that threatens to escape at any moment. Shokenda inflicts fear through presence alone. Two can play at that game. “But there is something else you must do if you’re to fight the Dragonborn you were promised. Despite what I used to believe, there are good ponies here. Tohro Blackwing, Shae Sparkle and Rosemary Von Spice. They are my friends, my allies, and my family. I love them all so much, and if you harm them—” I pause and rethink that one. “No, if you so much as look at them, I will find you, tie you to a stone slab, and,” I draw my dagger, “I will cut your wings feather by feather, break every single bone within them one after the other, then tear them off slowly.” I notice that my hooves are far dirtier than they should be. I start whittling at my unarmed forehoof, still giving Shokenda the stare. “Then I will shave your horn off layer by layer, forcing you to watch as the Fae leaves you forever, and when you beg for death, I will not grant your request.”

Even the blustery wind seems to go quiet as my words trail into the night sky.

Shokenda turns around and begins her descent. “You would make for a fearsome dragon.” In a single beat of her wings, she’s gone.

Despite the images in my head serving to arouse me, that statement alone makes it feel like my heart has deflated.

“I’m not like you! I’m not! I’m not!”

And so that truth remains. Lies and deceit, that’s all she is. Yet why do her words pierce my skin so? She’s a powerful mistress with her words, I’ll give her that much. Perhaps that’s a requirement for somepony other than the Dragonborn to wield the Voice.

“Mey... Who the hell does she think she is?” When I wheel around, my anger ebbs when I see a small pegasus child. He’s pale as can be, with only a hint of yellow in his body and mane. His layered cloak and heavier coat of fur shows that he’s been living on these mountains his entire life, and by the way he’s beaming, I can tell he’s either lead an unusually happy life or I’m just a welcome sight. By the way he’s staring into my eyes, it’s probably the latter. His wings buzz like an insect’s as he beckons for me to follow. He quickly darts through the open door, and I follow.

I’m greeted by a dimly lit entrance hall. There’s a very reflective floor patterned with hexagons and a dizzyingly high ceiling, with stairs leading every which way. There are more robed ponies moving about, some carrying what must be Precursor scriptures and artifacts. These ponies are pale too. None are as unnaturally coated as Shokenda, but they’re still worthy of a head tilt, and apparently so am I. Yet, none of them say a word. My presence alone serves to light up their day.

Now that the cold of the outside has left me, I do away with my fur jacket. The child takes ahold of it and lays it over a bench in the corner. “Uh, are you a doorboy of sorts?” I ask. He nods. “In that case, uh, make sure nopony takes that... Not that I’d think they’d have a reason.” He nods again, like protecting the clothes of the Dragonborn is an honor. Then again, if he's associated with the Greybeards, it must be.

Looking about at the many entrances, I realize I have no idea as to where I’m going. I beseech the child again. “Could you take me to whoever is in charge here? Your jarl, or otherwise?” Another nod. He steps forward with a spring and leads me straight across the room, through the central exit.

This leads us back outside, but it’s not nearly as chilly as before. As I suspected, there’s the shimmer of a forcefield sealing in whatever heat this place can spare. I can see the townsfolk, there being so few, moving about between huts, though pausing with their relatively mundane activities when they get a look at me.

That’s when the boy stops, right in the center of this snow packed village beside a statue of Dragos. Unlike most depictions of Dragos, which show her as a ferocious reptilion demon out of Tartarus, this statue gives her a distinct motherly look despite her scaled form, as she gazes down upon the villagers of Neigh Hrothgar. The text engraved upon the base of the statue gives me a clearer explanation why, as I read the draconic letters aloud.

“'Dragos is treated as a god of war, but she only carries the title because none of the other Divines were willing to accept the responsibility. We, the ponies of Neigh Hrothgar, believe strongly that Dragos accepted the title so that one day war would no longer be needed. She is first, and foremost, the mother of the dragons and the many wonders that come with them. May she watch over us and protect our home from the nefarious winged beasts and guide the saccharine ones to us, for her greatest dream is equality among ponies and dragons.’"

I’ll remember this statue. This is how gods should be remembered; not as fearsome demons, but as guardians and role models. It’s a shame worship of Dragos was banned by Platinum for her burdened title alone.

“If you’re a mother to the dragons, then am I your descendant too?” I ask, reaching for Dragos’ clawed hand. To somepony else it would be a folly gesture, but I feel my words will reach her easier if I do this. Her hand almost feels real, despite its cold and rough texture. “I wouldn’t mind that, I guess. Your children have done some terrible things, but that doesn’t mean you’re evil and corrupt. Discord, now there’s a mad god. Just know that I never believed any of the hateful words against you. I’d have carried that burden too, if I had the chance.” I look back into Dragos’ eyes. It’s like she’s staring directly at me. I take that as a sign that my words have been heard. I remove my hoof. “Uh, amen.”

I return to the child, who has been waiting patiently for me. I expect him to lead me onward, but instead, the first thing he does is... sing. In draconic.

“Dovahkiin, Dovahkiin, naal ok zin los vahriin,
wah dein vokul mahfaeraak ahst vaal.”

The dragon’s language is many things to me, a weapon more than anything, but never did I ever think I’d ever hear somepony use the words in song. The language has struck me as too harsh and loud for any song to be possible. Yet, the child sings, and a few more villagers start to join in. I seem to be caught in the center of a sudden musical performance. Wouldn’t be the first time.

“Ahrk fin norok paal graan fod nust hon zindro zaan,
Dovahkiin, fah hin kogaan mu draal.”

They all pause, looking to me expectantly, as if I’m supposed to complete this ensemble, or at least continue it. I dart about haphazardly, with my mind doing backflips as it tries to make heads or tails of this. I look to the child. “Uh, what should I say?”

He speaks, this time not in song. “Tahk far ehn hind,” he says. It’s become abundantly clear that none of these villagers speak the common language. It makes me wonder how many of them know how to use the Thu’um.

When I spoke to Nahkriin, all I had to do is focus the words I wished to say into the draconic language, but it’s a tad more difficult to do so in reverse. It takes me a moment, even longer than I’d like due to all the expecting eyes upon me, but when I manage to figure out the lyrics to their song, I realize they weren’t just singing for me, they were singing about me.

I mutter the translated lyrics. “Dragonborn, Dragonborn, by his honor is sworn to keep evil forever at bay...” I can’t help but feel humbled. “And the fiercest foes rout when they hear triumph’s shout...”

“Dragonborn, Dragonborn, for your blessing we pray.” Another voice, this one of an elderly fellow, makes itself known behind me. I turn and see a bearded colt in even more extravagant robes, and he’s being followed by many others in the same uniform.

Before I can respond, they resume the song where the villagers left off, sounding far more organized and mighty.

“Ahrk fin Kel lost prodah, do ved viing ko fin krah,
tol fod zeymah win kein meyz fundein!
Saviikaan, Feyn do Jun, kruziik vokun staadnau,
ahrk ok leyz fen diivon faal lein!”

I heard Saviikaan’s name in there, but before that, there was a mention of... scrolls? I’m... I’m lost. But that doesn’t change what this song clearly means. It’s a legend that’s held to my name, as well as the other Dragonborn throughout history. It seems I have a reputation to live up to.

“Dovahkiin, Dovahkiin, naal ok zin los vahriin,
wah dein vokul mahfaeraak ahst vaal.
Ahrk fin norok paal graan fod nust hon zindro zaan,
Dovahkiin, fah hin kogaan mu draal.”

Bowing to authority is usually out of the question, except under certain circumstances, but I’m willing to kneel for these old colts. After all, they will be the ones training me in the way of the Voice.

“You are the Greybeards?” I ask.

The leader of the pack nods, then urges me to stand. “Yes. Yes we are. We have awaited the arrival of the next Dovahkiin for nearly a lifetime. The one before you did not seek our assistance, merely our hospitality. Nevertheless, his name is known to us, and to you?”

He speaks of this previous one with dread. I know who it is. “Argent.” Just the mention of his name makes the following Greybeards seem ashamed. “But I assure you, I am not like him,” I say in reassurance. “I desire power, but not for selfish reasons, only to help those who need a hero. Equestria is in pain, and I have reason to believe my influence can set things right.”

“That is all we can ask for and more, Caro Dragonborn,” says the leader. “My associates have no names, but you may call me Coax. We are eager to see your finesse in Thu’um, but before we begin, I must ask that you follow.”

Well, I’ve done nothing but follow as of late, so why amend routine? I’m eager too, so as the Greybeards turn back to the the tall temple ahead, I trot to meet Coax up front. I’m quiet and focused at first, but then something he said tweaks my mind in the wrong way. “How is it you know my name? Do you have access to liquid glass?”

“Yes, actually, but we do not abuse its properties. It is simply a means for us to see the world below. It cannot tell us of the past what we don’t already know, and its visions of the future are constantly subject to change. Our master has been using it to keep a watchful eye on you until you saw fit to come to us.”

Ah, so Coax is not the leader of this communion. I wonder if this master is even more ancient than him. It’s hard to imagine somepony with even more wrinkles. “I didn’t come out of my own volition,” I say. “I had assistance from a... a friend.” It’s physically painful to say that. “She’s proficient in the Thu’um as well.” I decide to leave out that Shokenda is an albino alicorn. That would complicate matters.

Coax looks puzzled. “We figured as much. We haven’t been able to see this friend of yours. She causes complications with the liquid glass.” He approaches the door to the temple and opens it, beckoning for me to take the first steps inside. “But we will address those matters later. Caro Dragonborn, the Greybeards and the mountainside dwellers among us welcome you to Neigh Hrothgar.”

I trot inside, though I don’t take the time to investigate the interior surroundings, instead looking back to my admirers. They swarm like bees, but unlike bees, I actually rather enjoy the appraisal. It’s comforting, the thought of having an entire village devoted to my legacy. I’ll try my best to not let it go to my head. No doubt that is what happened to Argent.

The Greybeards all follow suit, entering the temple and dispersing across the chamber. It’s very much like the entrance hall, being dim and wide, but it’s still far better than a draugr infested cavern at any rate.

When I look past the staircases, I notice that the temple is much, much larger than it appears at first glance. There’s enough room in here for the entire Imperial Legion and then some, I’d warrant. I can assume the same magic that’s used in bags of holding is in effect here, making the temple seem less gargantuan from the outside.

“So, where to?” I ask. “Where is this master of yours?”

Coax shakes his head. “The master does not heed anypony’s call but his own. He comes and goes where and whence he pleases.”

Contained within glass cabinets are many inordinately shaped weapons and objects, made of materials I’ve never seen before. This is clearly Precursor design. As I examine a curved sword with two blades to the hilt, I say, “To command those who devote themselves to the study of the Precursors, he probably should have that privilege.” I step away from the artifacts and walk about the chamber. “So, shall I just wait for him here, then?”

“That would be for the best,” says Coax. “Now, as for me and my associates, we must prepare the ancient training grounds for your education. We will be just outside if you need anything. It is good to see you at last, Dovahkiin.”

“Just call me Caro,” I say. “I’m not one for titles.”

Coax nods, then he departs with the silent ones. He shuts the door behind him, leaving me to myself. I have time to explore this temple further; I may as well, since I’m going to be staying here for a while.

Lining the walls are more statues, and unlike the one of Dragos outside, which has been damaged by possibly hundreds of years of weather (It’s unfortunate, truly. I’d have had it repaired some time ago), these ones are smooth and polished. They don’t seem to be anything beyond regular ponies, oh, and a zebra, how about that. However, it’s when I look in their eyes that I figure it out. Their pupils are slits, much like mine. That’s when I notice the letters above the statues. I read aloud, even though there’s nopony to hear me.

“'These are the mighty Dragonborn, come to end Saviikaan’s silent reign of terror o’er mountain, land and sea. Many the descendant has been put to rest, for the end of the Reclaimer has yet to be. Dragos, we pray now for the victory of the pony children of thee.'”

So these statues are of the Dragonborn of old. There are only six, but each one boasts their own unique majesty. I make sure to take in the sight of each one,

Doré Westnaire, the first Dragonborn statue, lacks any visible face due to a slanted mask beneath his hood. He wears skintight black armor with a trailing cape under his wings, and bears twin crossbows on his back.

After Doré is a burly earthwalker mare named Lilypad. She makes me look miniscule by comparison, and her sword is larger still, engraved with draconic lettering. Her armor and ornaments looks like they’re from a kingdom of another age. This stalwart mistress must have lead an entire army.

What the— Okay, who in their right mind let a young colt become a Dragonborn? This one can’t even be a teenager. Whatever the case, apparently he went by Starbright. I wonder if Starswirl the Bearded was descended from this one, assuming Starbright lived long enough to father a child. His robes are far too large for him, but his mid-spellcasting pose gives him an aura of style and maturity that defies his age.

Ah, a zebra. Evidently, my powers aren’t exclusive to ponykind. This one reminds me of Xephyr, with her cheerful disposition and lute. Evidently she carried no weapons whatsoever in her time, using music rather than violence to solve her problems. That is an admirable trait, though it isn’t something I could ever do. Her name was Xiaolin.

This next one... He seems unimpressive compared to the others, wearing simple commoner robes and a circlet. He has spiked hair straightened over one eye. His glare is quite the opposite of Dragos’, being intimidating and coarse, with no sympathy whatsoever. At least the others had a hint of compassion. I look for his name. Of course. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Argent.” I decide to have a staring contest with a statue. “Scar told me you utterly failed to be a successful Dragonborn, being an unsympathetic tosser of a pony, abusing your power for your own gain. I hope you felt proud of yourself as Saviikaan skinned you alive.”

I win.

I triumphantly hop to the next and last statue, giggling like a foolish child who heard an immature joke. I have no idea why, but seeing the previous wielders of my inheritance is entertaining as hell. I’m excited to see who the next wielder is.

This stallion is a muscular one, though he isn’t quite on Lilypad’s level. He’s posed on his hind legs, with a sword cusped in his mouth. His coat is heavy and unkempt, and the same goes for his mane and tail. His face lacks compassion at first glance, but when I get a closer look at him, I can tell his eyes carry grief. He must have seen awful things before he was awakened. Yet, beyond those eyes, I see an innate desire for a brighter future, so nopony will endure... what he... went... through...

My excitement disappears. I lower my gaze to the name of this stallion.

“'Caro of Riverhoof...'”

There’s an additional caption beneath the name, my name.

“'...apprentice to the master.'”

...What?

“Your mane used to be bronze.”

The ground tremors, as do I. Instantly snapping to attention and leaving the statues out of my mind, I equip my dagger and hold it at the ready. I step forward with caution.

This can’t be right. One would think the Greybeards would know if they had a massive dragon dwelling in the depths of their sacred temple, let alone the most enormous, monstrous, intimidating dragon I’ve encountered yet, and all I have is a dagger to go up against... him, his voice is definitely male... deep and weathered, like hot coals scraping across the pit of a forge... Dammit, I can’t get distracted!

“Come into the light, little one,” says the dragon. Curse his voice... Something about it makes my ears twitch. It’s drawing me closer into his long shadow. “I apologize for speaking so suddenly. I fear I may have startled you. Pleasant surprises are always a welcome event, but being startled can be, well, startling, for lack of a better word.”

I have to strain my neck to look at his face. The lackluster light of the chamber makes the golden glow of the dragon’s eyes nearly blindingly bright. I can only barely see him stroking his lengthy beard with a single claw. How am I supposed to face this behemoth with only a dagger?

“You’ve become brave. The first time you looked upon a sword you hid under the covers.”

I open my mouth and hiss, presenting my forked tongue and fangs. “Who the hell are you?! Tell me your name!”

“Challenging the enemy, yet giving them a chance to identify themselves and their motives. You even do this for the Dovah. This is admirable.”

“Tell me your name!” I shout again. I recall some of the dragons I’ve faced before being incredibly affable, even downright pleasant up until I made my first move, but this dragon is another level of polite. It’s like he knows me. Or he truly does know me... But I put such thoughts aside. This is another one of their tricks.

The dragon chuckles, and even that is enough to shake the ground. I still stand guard. "First, I want you to tell me something. What is your purpose here?” he asks. He steps forward, leaning down to reveal himself in better light. His scales are black as soot, with orange highlighting the seams in his natural armor. It reminds me of fire over an ebony blade...

"My..." I drop my stance for an instant, but I snap back into it. "My purpose is to rid Equestria of all dragons, and it is a job I do with pride.” Under normal circumstances, I would believe that, but the way this dragon speaks to me makes my will dwindle. Every word it says fills me with grief. Is that an innate power? No, it can’t be. No power like that would bring me back to the days of fire and steam, and the fresh scent of a furnished axe...

"In such short time you've become quite the stallion. Last I saw you, your mane was as bronze as the longsword hanging above my bed. You would know, of course. You made it."

It’s only a trick, Caro. You do not know him, and he does not know you. …That was my first successful craft, though... I shake my head. “Shut up!”

“Before I do, I wish for you to tell me something. Why do you desire the blood of the dragons so, Caro? Beyond your being the Dragonborn, of course.”

My eyes are stinging. Dammit, no! Why are you crying? “Because, somepony... Somepony I admired was slain by a dragon right before my eyes!” My tears stain the marble floor. Stop crying... For Epona’s sake, stop! I point my dagger at the dragon, now that his eyes are at my level. "You now defy the memory of him by using his voice!"

The dragon makes an unusual sound. I think he just tsked at me. "What would I have to gain by defiling my own name?"

His own name? But it can’t be... “I dare not imagine, what you’d...” I begin quietly, before shaking myself violently. “Stay out of my head, monster!”

The dragon reaches out, razor sharp claws illuminated by the candlelight. I make a desperate cut with for his hand but the beast swipes it aside, landing it far across the chamber, and rendering me defenseless. He then extends his other hand. I brace myself for the searing burn of torn flesh, the very same fate that befell my master... But all I feel is an affectionate, if not somewhat rough caress of the dragon's hand across my chin.

“My son...”

The warmth of that familiar voice makes my knees weak. I collapse onto my haunches, with tears falling freely. I struggle to look the beast in the eyes and see only the eyes of Master looking back. "How is this... Who... are you?"

The dragon moves his beak closer to me, to the point where I can nearly reach out and touch it. I do so carefully, and he doesn’t protest. I just need to be absolutely certain that this is real. It has to be fake. An illusion. A conjuration. Some vision from lack of sustenance... Everything about this just screams impossible.

"This is the honest truth, Caro... I am not a pony, nor was I ever. The stallion you knew me as was a temporary body. A physical extension of my conscience, if you prefer. But that was not my true form."

His palm pushes me closer to him, so I may rest my hoof on his beak. It feels stronger than diamonds. This is real. This is him. But... I refuse to... I can’t...

"I am Hammerfell. I am the eldest dragon, and the leader of the Greybeards."

“No...” The tears cascade like waterfalls. I shove myself away from his beak. “NO! Do you have any idea what I've been through?! I thought you were dead! I watched you die! I watched as Nahkriin took you away from me! When that happened, I broke. Everything I ever knew collapsed around me. I became...” I touch my hooves to my muscles, my mouth, my teeth, my eyes. “I became this!”

The dragon... Master, he strokes his beard as if this all means nothing. "Nahkriin's interception was... unintentional, to say the least, but regardless, you took the reins of your life and awakened on your own."

I back away, shaking my head, refusing to believe any of this. "This has nothing to do with that! I fought in your name... avenging the death of a pony who wasn't even real, let alone dead! Everything... everything was a lie..."

"I assure you, I am real. And I am aware of my transgressions. I could have saved you so much pain... No amount of apologies will fix this matter, will it?" He tries to touch me again but I shove his claw away. It’s more of a useless push, but he gets the hint and stops with his meaningless gesture.

"WHY?!" I scream. "Why didn't you tell me?! After everything I've seen... everything I've done... surely I could’ve handled such a simple reveal that you were ALIVE! WHY, MASTER?!”

My voice echoes through the chamber, far more than his ever did.

After a long silence, I bow my head, descending into little more than pathetic, childish sobs. I bury my face in my forelegs and just let the tears fall.

That’s when I feel the nudge of his palm again. I look up, and through the kaleidoscope of tears in my eyes, I see Master beckon to me with a flick of his claws. He’s inviting me to step onto his hand. While slow and reluctant to accept, I have nothing else on my mind that I can reasonably do. I muster up all the will I have left inside me and step aboard the softer sales of Master’s palm. I have to kneel down for a good grip as he slowly moves his hand, and me, closer to the side of his face.

I reach out and nudge the side of his face with both hooves. Despite all of this, the scales, the claws, the gargantuan wings upon his back, I still feel Master Hammerfell within this dragon. This is real. He’s here...

I wrap both of my forelegs around Master Hammerfell’s beak and squeeze as hard as I can.

I’m home.

~Vision End~

Coax levitates his flask to his lips and takes a sip. At least, the best definition of a sip. After waiting another generation for the Dragonborn to arrive, he had grown eager to indulge in a glass of this mead. When one saves such a savory, fruit filled beverage for a rare occasion, one isn’t able to enjoy it very often, or for very long. In just two gulps, the flask is rendered empty for another few decades.

“And unless I achieve Starswirl the Bearded’s level of expertise, by some miracle mastering his infamous anti-aging spell, I won’t live to see another drink of this mead. What a waste.”

One of his fellow Greybeards steps forth to take the mead and lock it away for another waiting period. Coax almost feels guilty for being the only one with the honor of drinking the ceremonial beverage, but then again, that’s the honor he gained by being the only Greybeard to learn the language of the world below. He actually prefers the common speak. It’s less harsh on his throat.

“The villagers will be celebrating for days, I’d warrant,” Coax says to his monks. He turns and begins his departure from the supper hall. “You are all excused to the training grounds. I shall go retrieve the Dragonborn and the master.”

“Haan pogaan sil hak rok gahrot?” asks a younger Greybeard.

“I sensed three within him,” Coax replies on his way out. “Two were quite strong, but the third was frail and weak. Saviikaan must have erred on that one. Either way, he’s made quite a bit of progress without our assistance. This may be easier than we thought. If not, it should at least be a simpler task to train Caro than it was for our ancestors to train Xiaolin. She insisted on shouting in rhyme...” He chuckles and grimaces simultaneously. “I have high hopes for this one.”

Coax descends the steps into the master’s chamber, passing the statues of the previous Dragonborn. He took some time to oversee the one of the current Dragonborn. It was only completed yesterday. When it was made known that Caro would arrive in Neigh Hrothgar, the master insisted they make the statue immediately, unlike the others, whose relics were commissioned after their deaths.

Coax trots further into the darkness of the chamber. He has no doubts that the master will be speaking to Caro, explaining the unfortunate circumstances that lead to this complication. Just as expected, there he is. But he isn’t standing tall as per usual.

The master is on his back, belly up, asleep in by far the most comical pose a dragon could ever manage. His majesty is ill found in this sort of position. Panning up, Coax sees Caro, laying down across the master’s gut. He too is asleep, murmuring gibberish under his breath as the rise and fall of the master’s stomach rocks him up and down. After decades of studying ancient Precursor customs and rituals, this is easily the strangest sight Coax has ever witnessed.

He backs up half a step when Hammerfell opens a single eye. “Leave us, Coax,” he says. “The little one has come far for an unfortunate confession and he is emotionally fragile. He needs to rest.”

“But, sir, if I may,” Coax says, “the sanctity the world below is constantly at risk, and with its fate interwoven into the hooves of the Dragonborn... I think waiting is beyond unreasonable.”

“Coax.”

With a second thought, Coax realizes that despite the act before him being somewhat sacrilegious, seeing such a sacred bond between a pony and dragon is something Dragos would advocate. And the word of the master is absolute. Coax bows. “My apologies, sir.”

“There is no need. Now, do keep yourself quiet on your way out. I’d prefer it if my child’s slumber were not interrupted. I have much to tell him, and I dread how he may respond.”

XXVII - Stains of Time

“Staring out to the hourglass inside, my mind is racing and wild...
Blinded by eyes that cover up the facts, uncertainty with all the cracks in a smile...
I'm breathing life or death, are we making progress?
Not really sure this time, the choice is yours and mine...
Not sure what to do next, no real test reflex, can't touch or see with my own eyes.”

Tohro pauses with a single hoof over the grass. He groans aloud, then takes flight, jumping to the largest tree within eyeshot. He sidles around until he is quite sure he is out of view of anypony he does not wish to see, but he can still hear the deep braying of the zebra. Xephyr’s voice is completely unmistakable.

Tohro tucks in his wings. May as well take the time to ensure everything’s in order, he figures. Priding himself on his ample preparations, he searches through his pouches to check on the supplies generously donated to him by the good townsfolk of Baltimare. Although, he is loose with the word ‘donate’, as donation usually requires the donor willingly giving their possessions away.

It’s for a good cause and nothing more. Besides, if one small, unnoticeable act of theft contributes to the masses, then who wouldn’t be begging for the magic hooves to slip into their pockets? Needs of the many and all that. Altair believes in a good enough cause to justify breaking the law. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

First, Tohro checks the pockets lining his barrel. Okay, I have ten replacement wing blades and sixteen lockpicks in my supply pouch...

He feels for his back. My crossbows are ready, and my quiver is full of enough steel bolts to last me a long battle.

He then moves his hooves to his flank for the pouch around his belt. Enough healing potions to mend a shot in the ass, and a well brewed set of stamina potions if I get exhausted... His blush would be visible if it weren’t for his cowl.

That would have come in handy with Twitch and Silence. The thought of his fellow thieves and their well spent free time serves as a fine motivator for the white pegasus. But those mares quickly leave his mind when he hears the impeccably timed snapping of a twig around the corner.

With a flick of his foreleg, a single short blade erects from his gauntlet, glinting in the concentrated light of the woods. One hidden blade... He stands and swings around the tree, ready for the kill.

Xephyr casts out his hoof and backs away. “Tohro! Away! Put down your blade! Lest you commit an act the divines forbade."

Tohro gives a disappointed huff, then flicks his foreleg again. The blade slides back into its sheath and out of sight. “First Treesap spots me, and now Stripes... I suppose I’m not as stealthy as I think I am.”

Xephyr shakes his head, but he keeps up a constant smile that makes Tohro sick. He conducts his words with his hoof as he walks about in a circle.

"You take me a fool, but I don't have the disease. It's common knowledge your kind nest in trees. By surprise, each other, that we have caught." He smiles playfuly. "But I would've lost had we have fought."

“Stealthy you were, my flying chum. I simply knew I’d meet you here, no need for the ho-hum. You caught me by surprise and caused me a scare. I tolerate such things every which-where.”

“Well, uh...” Tohro brushes at the grass awkwardly. It takes him a little longer to decipher the rhyme than he would prefer. “Thank you for the compliment.” He watches as Xephyr goes about his business. The zebra bard kneels down to a cowering brown rabbit and gives it a friendly pat, warranting a rapid tapping of its paw. The little thing then scurries off into the brush.

“The wildlife here is so very precious,” he says. “You might scare them away, with you being so vicious.”

Tohro shrugs and turns around. “I’m sorry. I’ll leave you to enjoy their company, then.” He looks up in a moment of clarity. “Also, I do not believe precious and vicious rhyme.”

Xephyr huffs quietly with a frustrated kick. “True poetry from the soul does not need rhyme. For life is too short to waste such time.”

Just as Tohro is about to go on his merry way to his destination, he thinks back to the zebra’s words. He turns back to him and says, “You mentioned that you were expecting me?” He smiles mischievously. “Have I a surprise party to look forward to?”

Xephyr searches under his tunic for something or other. He conjures up a scrap of parchment, with the wax broken off. “Perhaps it could be a surprise par-ty, if you are willing to cooperate with me.”

Ignoring the forced rhyme, Tohro takes the parchment and gives it a quick look over. While he doesn’t pick up on every word, the general idea of the letter is made clear enough; and it isn’t something he’s fond of having read. It would have been better to hear it from word of mouth, in his mind.

Dammit, Altair. He passes the parchment back to Xephyr. “So, the boss wishes for us to cooperate for this quest.”

“I have an arrangement with the Thieves Guild, you see,” says Xephyr, tucking the parchment away. “They hold a contract of protection over me. In exchange, I play an indirect part, in ensuring their missions do not end with a broken heart.”

Tohro internalizes his disapproval of cooperating with a zebra. Though despite the ire he takes with such an idea, he is able to conjure a few plans of how to put the zebra to good use. He gives Xephyr a brush of the snout, like a teacher would do to a pupil.

“Very well, then. I understand Altair is only looking out for our best interest, so I’ll have to thank him later.”

This brings Xephyr’s smile to an even wider state. He hops with glee. “I will put myself to use, strong and true! Just tell me what it is I may do for you.”

Tohro snickers at some illicit thoughts.

I miss servant boy.

While he would never be cruel enough to send the zebra bard into a deathly situation, taking the stealthy approach is far beyond him. But there are two undisputable talents that Xephyr has never failed to put to use whenever he’s come across a member of Dragonrein; playing beautiful music, and generally being a pest.

Tohro asks, “How do you say ‘live bait’ in Saddle Arabian?”

“Kuishi chakula...” Xephyr’s smile drops. “Oh, hii ni mbaya.”

CHAPTER XXVII - STAINS OF TIME

“The wave is pushing me into the current again, I feel the blood in my veins!
Time is running free, I feel like letting go, nothing to slow me down!
Dragon inside of me, I feel it letting go, I can't hear, not a sound!
Flying into free, I hit the motherlode! I am the Dangan!”

Tohro turns his attention away from the dirt road and gives Xephyr an intense stare. “Is that entirely necessary?”

The bard doesn’t seem discouraged in the slightest, and it takes an awful lot of willpower for Tohro to not admit that the song has grown on him.

It certainly made for a memorable dance with Caro. He feels a twinge of nostalgia. If that was the last dance I’ll ever have with him... He expunges any thought of never seeing his friend again. He can’t bear such an idea. Which it wasn’t, I’m certain. Still, Xephyr certainly made it memorable. He peeks at the zebra again, then sighs, ruffling the grass he lays in. “So...” he begins. “What does it mean? That word, 'Dangan.'”

Xephyr laughs heartily and stands. As a bard, such a story must be told with dramatic flairs and jumps. Tohro rolls onto his side, preparing himself for a show.

“It was the name of a Saddle Arabian pony of times of old. He was kind, yet cunning. Humble, yet bold. He slayed the chimerae of the desert sands, allowing the natives sanctuary across the land. Giving his fortunes to the unfortunate ones, yet never wanted for shelter, or...” The zebra snickers. “Fun.”

Tohro can’t help but feel a tad jealous of this Dangan, assuming that fellow’s definition of fun was in tangent with his. No doubt a warrior like him had a few saucy admirers...

“He sounds like the best of Dragonrein all rolled into one. A tad difficult to believe such a perfect hero existed.”

“He did exist, until his peaceful passing. His legacy in Saddle Arabia is everlasting. His name became more than his own, a title to those with great heroics shown.”

Tohro nods. “And that’s how Dangan’s name falls into the song. Anyone can be deemed worthy of that title if they fit the role well enough?”

“Mmhmm.”

“I see.” The pegasus weighs his thoughts on that. Dangan didn’t want for comfort, and this zebra certainly doesn’t want for interesting stories. I should listen to him more often. He nearly slaps himself for thinking that, but he prefers to keep his presence to a minimum. He only lets Xephyr sing and talk loudly because that one can afford to be caught unawares. A new thought crosses his mind.

“Do you consider Caro and me to be Dangan?”

“You, dear Tohro, possess inner demons and much desire. A soldier without an army, a soldier for hire. You should not want for pay or servitude, for Dangan did what he pleased for the greater good.”

Tohro nearly stands, forgetting his immediate objective for a moment.“Soldier without an army? But I—”

“And Caro, you see, he lives for the fight,” Xephyr interrupts. “But he sees justice in shades of black and white. Dangan did what he felt was for everypony’s best, while Caro believes all evil should be put to rest. In killing the evil, he believes problems will halt. But sometimes you wind up with a wound full of salt.”

Tohro’s previous sentence goes unfinished.

“This... isn’t... funny...”

“Lots of things aren’t funny.”

He remembers the absolute torture subjected to Pyro and Ember. His concern has only been opened further ever since his discovery of a dead preacher in the outskirts of Trottingham.

Caro had no reason to kill the preacher other than him being a nuisance. I dread the day he axes a pony simply for sneezing in his presence.

"Okay, I'll give you that one. But what of you claiming me to be a soldier without an army? I’m of the Imperial Legion now." He gestures to his eye.

Xephyr seems amused at that more than anything. “A soldier is a soldier, no matter the cause they fight. A name for yourself is lost in the plight.”

That’s enough to strike Tohro where it hurts. Every thought of being associated with the Blackwings brings pain to his eye and his heart. He doesn’t hesitate to act on that pain. He grabs Xephyr by the foreleg and brings him down with force.

Despite that, the zebra still seems somewhat amused, if not a little scared and surprised. “Please, friend, there’s no need to harm me! I try to enlighten to what one cannot see!"

“You’re calling me a drone, Stripes?” Tohro has no intention of murdering Xephyr. That would make matters far more complicated than they need to be. “Shokenda took my dream and crushed it like an ant! But, you know something? I can still fly. So long as that hag dies, I’ll be satisfied.”

Xephyr is very content for having a pegasus of superior size pinning him to the dirt. “If I may be so bold as to say, your ambition might bring you only dismay. You should also be aware, as they say, a caravan is now coming our way.”

Tohro presses an ear to the ground. He can hear the sounds of cart wheels upon dirt and stone growing louder by the moment. Xephyr goes free from his intimidating grasp, and while he recovers, the pegasus begins to reflect on exactly why he’s so passionate about putting Shokenda to her grave, and what exactly his prerogative should be.

I’m turning into some sort of deranged sociopath on a vengeance streak... Sweet Divines! Caro has rubbed off on me! Yet, I have no quarrel with the Blackwings anymore, just Shokenda. The only reason I participated in the battle of Trottingham was to keep my friends alive. I’m not fretting over a few former allies bleeding out. I’m far better off free of their ranks of violence and debauchery and sex... and... alcohol... He pauses and blinks. Though the fact that he still gets some on the side on his own means is motivation enough. He returns to his stealthy crouch and begins his crawl through the tall grass.

“You know what to do, Xephyr.” He then pauses to shoot another angry glare. “And, just for future reference, we are not friends.”

And yet, that does nothing to damper the spirits of the perpetually happy zebra bard, who is smiling like he knows Tohro to be a liar. He swings his lute around his shoulder, gives a triumphant nicker, and leaps forward. He slides down the slope and drifts to a stop as the caravan rounds the corner.

He mutters to himself, “Know what to do, I know that well. I will give them a show, and he will give them hell.” He looks about for a good enough place to work his magic. A large stone left on the side of the road catches his fancy. With difficulty, he makes use of his scrawny muscles in his one free foreleg and barrel, shoving the stone into the center of the road. He takes a seat, crosses his hind legs, puts on a look that boasts he claims ownership of the entire road, and begins to strum his lute, though he waits on performing an actual song.

The caravan’s single cart isn’t anything extraordinary, being of simple wooden design with a fur tarp. But Tohro has identified it as the one he’s been seeking, based on the appearance of the earthwalker stallions pulling the wagon. Altair had given him a simple description of bright grey coats and violet manes.

I suppose those two are related in some way, he thinks, before returning to his previous internal monologue.

I know I have killed in the past for stupid reasons. Potential conspirators against the Blackwings always got their ‘just dues’ in the end. I’m not going to pretend getting the boot has absolved me of those murders, but it’s not healthy for me to dwell on them. At least I know what I’ve done wrong, and I had a genuine reason at the time. Caro has no reason. He murders for too little because of too little, and he’ll only end up making matters worse if he keeps that up. Divines damn it.

Aside from the cart, there are surrounding ponies, most of them unicorns, and two pegasi resting on top. But Tohro’s key to success lies in that they’re all looking forward, and there’s a certain zebra there strumming his lute to distract them.

“And what, pray tell, is this?” asks one of the pulling earthwalkers. He sounds irritated beyond reasoning, but clearly Xephyr’s smile can’t tell. “I daresay we’ve had quite enough of you striped mongrels today. If you would step aside, maybe we’ll only rough you up a little on our way out. No promises, though.”

One of the pegasi agrees. “Aye! Bugger off!”

Xephyr simply switches which hind leg is crossing which, giving another strum of the strings. “Cheer up, cheer up, you pony folk! I was simply wondering if you wanted to hear a joke?”

“We’re lookin’ at one!” says a unicorn mare, garnering laughter from her peers. The cackles are just insulting. Even Tohro feels hurt by that one. But he only hears so little. He begins to retreat back into his mind around the time they start throwing petty insults towards the zebra’s way.

I have a legitimate reason for wishing Shokenda dead! She ruined my dream of a better Equestria through the Blackwings. That was all I had, at least until I met Caro. I suppose I have Shokenda to thank for him and I meeting, but the fact still remains; she killed my dream! What did she do to Caro? She wanted to use him as an asset. I can understand his ire with that, but is that any decent reason to want her dead? Then again, he has seen her do some awful things. Bloody hell, he could want her dead for what she did to me. That’s romantic!

The caravan’s escorts are all well and distracted with Xephyr, especially when he begins to play a delightfully enraging number, which is slow, yet humorously sung.

“Roses are red, a grand crimson hue, and when you looked at me, you were too!
Your brain must be extremely small, it rarely gets much use at all.
Thinking’s not your cup of tea and you’d rather stroke your vanity!”

“That hardly rhymes!” A unicorn colt abandons his position from behind the cart, leaving a critical opening. Like a hole in a soldier’s armor, Tohro immediately seizes the opportunity, and with large steps and silent flaps, flies right under the escorts’ detection. He lands just behind another unicorn.

This one could be a nuisance.

He reaches a hoof into his pouch and pulls out a small cloth. While not very impressive at first glance, the cloth has been coated in a sleeping draught. Simple, yet powerful. It could cause a full grown minotaur hours of dreamless sleep. Tohro sneaks around the side of the unicorn and forces the cloth over his muzzle. His short, muffled shout is unheard amongst Xephyr’s badgering.

“The intellect of you folk goes beyond moronic infinity!
If there is one valuable thing you possess, I like to call it virginity.”

“That’s it!” Both of the earthwalker stallions throw off their harnesses, leaving them free to charge Xephyr. “Insulting honest traders? You’re going to bleed!”

“You’re bold,” says the zebra. He takes advantage of one of the earthwalkers’ momentum by sticking his hind leg out. The poor fool ends up tripping and faulting his muzzle into the dirt. “But threats of death have grown most old.”

Good work, Stripes, keep talking. Tohro pauses, surprised he actually thought that.

Now the other earthwalker is on his side with splinters of wood riddling his face, and the bard responsible simply lays his damaged lute aside. He takes into account the furious, violent scowls of the escorts left standing. All of them see fit to tear him limb from limb, an idea he’s not too fond of. He gives them all a friendly wave and runs for dear life, away from Tohro, who opens the flaps to the interior of the cart.

The contents stored within aren’t exactly standard fare for independent traders. The weapon rack is decorated with exotic weapons; axes with two handles, curved blades imprinted with tribal marks, and one of them is hard to comprehend, being shaped like a large ring. How a non-unicorn would wield it without seriously cutting themselves is beyond him.

Entire bags dedicated to uncanny potions, grains and herbs are stacked to the roof. All imprinted with zanzebrian symbols.

“Just as Altair thought,” Tohro said to himself. “Somepony’s been abducting zebra caravans.”

“You are thief, but not caravan thief?” A throaty, heavily accented voice calls out to Tohro.

He turns around to see a homely, scrawny looking zebra, bound by enchanted ropes and a collar. He seems unusually calm about it. Tohro begins to wonder if indifference is a common zebra trait.

“Uh, hello,” he says, approaching the captive. “I believe I can pick the lock on the collar and unbolt you from the cart, but you’ll be bound by the ropes until the spell wears off.” He turns his eyes to his primary objective, the Zanzebra loot. “But first, I need to recapture this freight.”

“Zebra will wait,” says the captive. He looks off into the distance to occupy himself. Tohro finds himself admiring such patience.

Tohro pulls his bag of holding wide open to fit in the many swords, gems, and pouches of miscellaneous goods inside the magic portal. By the time he slides in the last weapon, a notched scimitar, the bag has become quite the burden. Flying will prove difficult until he returns to Baltimare, but he figures he can catch a ride with a caravan that is not stolen property.

Though he should be uneasy about the sheer flawlessness of this quest, he allows himself time to dwell on something that’s loomed in the farthest reaches of his mind, which comes forth when he looks upon the content captive zebra again. It reminds him of a certain Blackwing he used to work with, and what a sorry state she must be in.

Poor Jade, he remorsefully thinks. He’s known for a long time, that regardless of his rejection from the Blackwings, he will save her from Imperial imprisonment, just out of sentiment alone. He curses not being able to ask Tangerine for a favor anymore.

I'll save her somehow. Jade’s too important to me to let factions keep us apart.

With that sentiment, he glances over to the captive zebra. “How did you end up in this predicament?”

“Zebra caravan captured by petty ponies,” he says, damn near emotionless. Or at least stoic, like a hardened veteran. “Zebra clan killed and left in ditch. Zebra only one who survive.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Tohro retrieves a single lockpick between his teeth, fully intent on setting the poor fellow free, but then something stops him. A part of himself he hoped to keep buried for the better part of this mission. His internal distrust of zebrakind comes to a head when he takes a glance at the recaptured stock.

“Your clan didn’t steal these items, right?”

“Zebra’s hooves are clean,” says the captive sternly. There’s an edge to his voice that cuts like one of those curved blades, causing Tohro to strike his own muzzle out of embarrassment.

Tohro holds out a forehoof and waves it apologetically. “That was unwarranted, I’m sorry.” He mutters more apologies under his breath as he moves behind the captive and begins working the lock on the collar. The lock is of a finer design than most, but still relatively easy work, only breaking two of Tohro’s picks.

“Hate for zebra is common,” says the captive. “Do not feel ashamed.”

“Yes, but if there’s to be progress in this kingdom, I can’t afford to let my bias get in the way. I shouldn’t feel like this.” Tohro reaches around the zebra’s barrel somewhat hesitantly, and helps the poor soul to his hooves. “Come along.”

The combined weight of the retaken stock and the bound zebra makes even a simple flutter a sweat worthy ordeal. Tohro has to bow his head and catch his breath after hopping off the cart, garnering a concerned look from his charge.

“Zebra will take burden off pony’s hooves,” says the former captive.

While rubbing his shoulder, which has been made sore from the heavy bags, Tohro weighs his options. Altair’s orders make him refuse.

“I can’t ask you to do that. You’ve been through enough as is, and besides, I’m supposed to bring this to...” He pauses.

Fool! The whole point of thievery is stealth! Don’t go and reveal their location!

He corrects his words. “I’m supposed to bring this back.”

“Zebra’s caravan is victim.” The zebra gestures to the goods. “Zebra’s merchandise. Pony takes, pony steals. Zebra chases with a rusty knife.”

Go figure, threatening me with such petty... Tohro shakes his head in shame for himself. The solution is right in front of his face, and he smiles pathetically at not realizing such a thing. Of course, the zebra’s brutal honesty forces his hoof. He slides the bag over to his acquaintance, who hoists it onto his back with little difficulty.

“I’m sure my superiors will approve of this. Cutting out the long process of returning this to your people is a much more efficient option.”

The zebra nods in response. “Pony makes smart decision. Zebra leaves.”

Thus, Tohro is left alone with a much lighter load and an empty, abandoned cart. He steals a glance at the sleeping pony. That draught was more powerful than I thought. He wonders if he should finish the job. He shakes his head. He figures it would be better to see the look on his face when wakes up.

Another quest for Altair and the Thieves Guild completed. Tohro’s mind is on other matters, though.

“See?” he says to himself, now that anyone who may take offense is out of earshot. “Zebras aren’t all bad. Why the hell do you jump to conclusions like a corrupt guard? You are better than that, Tohro Blackwing!” He hopes nopony is around to see him slap himself in the face again. “I’m going to lose my looks at this rate...”

He feels a tap on his wither, and turns to see that somepony, or rather, some zebra, did see him abusing his face.

“Hello, Stripes,” he says with anguish.

Xephyr seems beyond amused, despite the blood on his face and a few cuts across his ears. He seems to have lost some skin, along with a few earrings, during his daring run from the caravan robbers.

Tohro waves him off and starts walking along the trail. He’s not sure if it leads to Baltimare, but he’s in no rush to care.

“Our mission is well and over. You can get out of here.”

Please do, before I say something I regret.

“And where will you go? If I may know.”

Wander about, probably take a nap, wait for orders from the Imperial Legion,. No doubt they’ll simply want me to pull a patrol shift. Once that’s all well and done, I’ll drink myself into a stupor at the Broken Saddle waiting for a certain somepony to walk through those doors...

“Dammit, where the hell are you?!” Tohro shouts to the mountains.

“I’m right here, very near,” says Xephyr, massaging his violated ears. “And your behavior is certainly most queer.”

“I... haven’t been myself.”

“That much indeed is very clear. I’d expect you to be cracking jokes without any fear.”

Tohro lets out a hollow chuckle. I’m not, because the one pony I want to crack jokes with isn’t here right now.

He silently continues his melancholic trot. Xephyr just keeps following, much to the confuddled pegasus’ disbelief. Thankfully the bard respects his desire for the sounds of rustling leaves and grass, along with the occasional chirp of birds, and nothing more. Despite Xephyr's happiness, Tohro can't help but notice how unnatural it is to not have his rhyming dialogue or jaunty tunes accompanying that smile.

Figuring the silence unbearable without Xephyr, Tohro clears his throat. "It is much too quiet and I can't uh..." He trails off. "Deny it! Yeah! And uh... you're starting to worry me, so please um... Yeah, I’m horrendous at this."

It only serves to make Xephyr’s lips curl even more. “You attempt to amuse is welcome yet you have much to learn, but for your all you efforts, my thanks you have earned. Aramis and Ingramm, the Divines of entertainment and song, shall never steer the musical ones wrong.” He smiles. "Though you do have a divine voice."

Tohro scoffs at such a sentiment. “I doubt they’d any reason to help me. I don’t have any Divines on my side. Not Epona, not Gammon, hell, I’d even take Wanderer. A god of literature is better than nothing, right?”

Maybe I could pray to Princess Celina? he ponders.

“Wanderer, I can’t say I worship him,” says Xephyr. “Knowledge of pony text isn’t a lake in which I swim.”

“Figures...” Tohro nickers.

The zebra bard casts him a slightly less amused glare.

Tohro’s eyes widen at realizing he just delved back into racism, and he curses under his breath for that. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t think like such a shallow minded fool, but I can’t escape what... I mean, my... It’s...”

He expects Xephyr to depart right away and never speak to him again. In fact, he hopes for such a thing, so he may be taught a lesson.

I don’t deserve such a chipper bard.

Yet, he remains, and Tohro is all the more distraught for it, letting long untapped emotions come to the surface. He stomps towards Xephyr and shouts, “Thirty-seven bits, Stripes!”

Xephyr puts on a face of confusion. He probably can’t put it into rhyme fast enough.

Tohro is forced to elaborate. He trots back and forth in indiscriminate directions, heavily breathing as he tries to bring about the right words.

“It was... damn, I don’t know how many years ago. I was a child, living in Fillydelphia. My parents and I, we had a pretty comfortable life, for peasants. Sure, it was cold as hell, and half the city was a slum at the time, but it was my slum! I loved it there. I loved my parents, I loved my crummy old shack, I loved my collection of wing blades...”

Seething, he points to somepony that isn’t there. “And then there’s these assholes! One day I’m just minding my own in the pub while my parents have themselves a shared drink to commemorate fifteen years of matrimony,” he imitates the act of drinking a shot, then tossing the nonexistent glass aside. “I could have said, ‘Hey, fellas, don’t drink that, because there’s these two zebra assholes who spiked the stuff with enough skeever venom to lock you both into comas for two weeks!’”

He slams his hoof into the ground. “And for what?! Their wallets! Those zebra thugs poisoned my ma and pa for thirty-seven bits! Sure, there was justice done. Those bastards were given the gallows, but what difference did it make? Just as Pa woke up from his coma, he started to choke and writhe in agony. That coma was the only thing keeping him alive, and I was the last pony he ever saw. I couldn’t hear his dying words. But the absolute worst part? Knowing I’d have to see Ma endure the same agony before death claimed her, and I couldn’t do anything. My parents’ lives were worth thirty-seven bits, Xephyr! How am I supposed to cope with that?!”

Tohro is purple with sadness and rage at two zebras he knows are long gone. He stares Xephyr down again.

“But I stayed with Ma! I never looked away. I was strong! I was a soldier! And even when I was alone, I stayed strong! And when Shokenda rose to power, I didn’t approach her to beg for guidance! She chose me! Because I’m strong! I’m... I’m...”

Much like the twig beneath his hooves, Tohro snaps. He grimaces and tries his hardest to block out tears of the past. He fails.

“I’m not strong.”

Xephyr’s touch upon his hooves makes him flinch at first, but he accepts as the bard sooths the still sore wounds with his voice. "I am glad to say you are not wrong. I’ve known you to be strong and for quite long. But perhaps, in the saying that I prefer, you’re just not as strong as you thought you were.”

Tohro doesn’t resist as Xephyr removes one of his gauntlets, then moves his eye incredibly close to the hoof he cradles in his own.

“What are you...”

“I plead, let me read.”

Tohro’s seen this before, from a distance. “Hoof reading? So, you’re a gypsy and a bard?”

“It’s a hobby, more than a job, but I can well identify if you’re a warrior or a slob.” The zebra’s eyes continue to travel along the hoof. “I see you are willing to accept love, and you have a jesting personality, that fits you like a glove. There’s depth within you beyond your coltwhorish way—”

“Excuse me?”

Xephyr gestures for Tohro to shut up. “—and I can see your dedication to a cause will never sway.”

Tohro always knew that about himself well enough since he joined the Blackwings, but to hear it so intimately known, just from reading his hoof, makes it seem new.

“No matter the cause, I follow through?”

Xephyr nods. “Whatever you wish to be true to.” He lets Tohro’s hoof go and slips the gauntlet back on.

Tohro attempts to fasten the buckles, but the leather keeps snagging on the metal. “Maybe I’m true to too many causes at the moment. Or maybe things are too good to be true.” He grimaces and stops trying with the buckles. “Damn. I’m in over my head...”

But it’s the sound of falling rain that brings his confused rant to an end. He can recognize the calls of Captain Gauntlet in the distance, giving orders to Imperial soldiers.

It’s just like old times. The commanding of a superior officer clears all other thoughts from Tohro’s mind. He removes his cowl to reveal a spiked blonde mane, adorned with an Imperial circlet.

“I may as well follow through on one of those causes.”

He looks to Xephyr, who seems keen to leave amongst the wet weather and hastening wind. “But not because of that gypsy fortune nonsense! I don’t cooperate with destiny.”

“I don’t criticize, in fact, I implore! Times are too chaotic to rely on such things anymore.” With a farewell salute, Xephyr turns and gallops down the trail with great speed.

“I should know,” says Tohro, more to himself than his departing friend. “Just a few months ago I thought I would be eternally loyal to Shokenda.” He looks to the mountains again, grits his teeth though his lips are curled in a smile, and he yells. “Damn you, Caro!”

~Tohro~

I could come up with at least a hundred reasons why I joined the Imperial Legion, and every day a different reason seems to be the best, or the worst. Today, of all days, the best reason seems to be so Dragonrein can gain an advantage through collateral spoils alone. I’m not afraid to admit that I’ve taken a few of the Legion’s rewards, and there seems to be no complaints from my fellow soldiers. Already I’ve procured a frigate’s worth of gold, and the armor isn’t too shabby, either. I prefer the Thieves Guild’s attire for its comfort, though.

Either way, I’m making a mint. When Dragonrein reunites, we won’t want for supplies. So why do I feel so empty?

Maybe I can ease my sorrow with Caro. He and I have that effect on each other, especially over a few dozen pints of mead.

Not one to walk in formation, I make my way between soldiers. A fair few scoff at me, simply for me being one of the new ‘children’ among their ranks. I suppose my lanky figure doesn’t allow for an intimidating soldier. Honestly, it’s the results that matter. In the end, I’m the superior. Soon, I may become Captain Tohro! Ha! I’ll have Gauntlet’s job by the end of the month!

Speak of Tartarus...

“Reporting for duty, Captain!” I say with enthusiasm. Gauntlet doesn’t look incredibly happy to see me but, at the same time, I sense he’ll be grateful for my assistance.

We, that is, me and my fellow soldiers, stand along the path on the outskirts of the woods, facing some decrepit stone steps that lead into a mossy cave. The stench of mildew is apparent even at a distance, only intensified further by the rain. What a stench! But it’s nothing compared to a summer weekend in Ivarstable, so I can stomach it.

“I’ve already relayed the information regarding this mission to the other soldiers,” Gauntlet tells me. “So I may as well keep this plain and simple.” He points to the cave. “Our unicorn scouts located a Hephaestus crafted weapon buried in an old shrine. While we are unsure on the details of said weapon, we have reason to believe the Blackwings are hunting it down as we speak. Our goal is to retrieve that weapon before anypony else does.”

“Yes, sir!” I say with a salute. The soldiers begin to move, and I make sure to take the lead.

Hephaestus weapons. Aside from Mjolnir, I’ve never had the luck to lay my eyes on any of the sort. If I could procure one for Dragonrein, well, that would be all kinds of fantastic. Of course, who will wield that weapon depends on what weapon it is. If it’s a knife or a crossbow, I’ll definitely take it for myself. However, a sword would definitely go to Caro, assuming the Greybeards haven’t given him one yet. If that’s the case, Rosemary could stand to try something other than that flamed falchion of hers. Last I saw her, it was beginning to wear out.

I’m the first to make it to the top of the stairs, even outrunning Gauntlet. He’s none too pleased about that.

“Need I remind you of your role here, Tohro Blackwing?” he says, putting particular emphasis on my surname.

“Why do you even keep that name, anyway?” asks a passing mare. “I would have dropped it upon gaining...” She’s looking at my left eye. “Uh, that.”

“This,” I say, pointing to the same eye, “is a reminder to me of what I left behind, and so is my title. I keep them to remind myself never to go back. We’ve been over this.” I grab ahold of my crossbow and sling it over my shoulder. “Now, come along. We have a weapon to yank.”

“Don’t exert authority you do not have,” advises Gauntlet as he approaches the entrance.

The other soldiers gather around, readying their swords. Their inventory is much less varied than the Blackwings. I feel like the odd one out, standing so informally, out of order, and, aside from the circlet, not wearing anything Imperial. No wonder they’re all staring at me.

Gauntlet clears his throat. “I would recommend you take point, Tohro. Scout inside and report any untoward activity you may encounter.”

“Yes, sir!” Never let it be said I am outright disrespectful. I’ll gladly follow such an order... stepping into a tight space... in the dark...

Yes sir.

Given my aforementioned mareish figure, this would be the most reliable option. So, without question, I tuck my wings in tight, crouch down and crawl inside.

Of course, this brings a fatal flaw to light... or lack thereof. It’s dark in here! Darker than I expected. Too dark!

“This... might have been a questionable idea,” I say to myself. I squat down onto my barrel and settle for small, gradual treads across the dirt and rock. The thickets of wallbound branches nick at my leather.

“What was a good idea was not changing into my Imperial gear... That would have been a little too clunky. I would have wound up stuck.” I only talk to keep calm despite the walls closing around me... and the constrictive branches... and the idea that the whole thing-by some odd unlucky roll of the dice of chaos-could collapse and threaten to end my life while the dark squeezes every last light of hope out of...

“Are you well down there?” asks one of the male soldiers.

“Y-yes. Absolutely peachy,” I lie.

It’s when the tight cave finally decides to yawn and allow me to stand that I take several breaths and wipe my brow clean of sweat. I’m going to have to bathe for hours to feel clean again, mentally and physically. I ruffle my feathers, noticing how muddled up they all are at this point. I suppose, upon his return, I could ask Caro for a preening. I smile at that goal. Cleaning wings is easier with a friend. Much more entertaining too.

Getting a bearing on my surroundings, I see that the cave makes much like an anthill, tunneling off into multiple directions. At least one of these paths will lead to the weapon.

I shout back up the narrow shaft. “Come on down, single file! This area is unoccupied!”

I wait for a minute or so, then the soldiers pour in one by one. I realize that the entrance wasn’t nearly as I tight as my mind made it out to be. Claustrophobia, much like Shokenda, is a foe that looms over me and neglects to ever relinquish its presence.

I can still feel a few beads of sweat forming, and I know why. To amend that, I pick up two rocks and strike them together beside a rusty old lamp, which lays abandoned in the dirt. It still has a decent supply of oil. It takes a few strikes, but I manage to light it and put the darkness at bay. The cave seems much more manageable now.

“Cena. Holon,” says Gauntlet as he examines the many branching pathways. He gives a commanding stare to the two unicorns of the group, both female. “Trace the openings of these paths and try to detect the weapon. I’d rather we not waddle about in this place for too long.”

“Yes sir,” says Cena. She steps forward somewhat slowly.

“Right away.” Holon leaps right to it, being much more enthusiastic. She lights up her horn and gives it a swish over the largest gap, then shakes her head. “Nothing here, Cap.”

Cena’s horn shines a bit brighter as she examines the smaller entrances. “I’ve got something, but it’s faint.”

“Keep searching, we’re on strict time,” says Gauntlet.

The two unicorns eventually come to the last two holes, which are on opposite sides of the room, and their horns shine with equal intensity. “Okay,” says Holon, “one of these two tunnels will lead us to the weapon.” She shrugs. “Or both will, if we’re lucky.”

“We’ll have to take precautions, then.” Gauntlet walks towards the leftmost entrance, while his eyes fall to me. He has a slight smirk. “Well, Tohro, if you wish to play leader, now could be your opportunity to impress me.” His expression then turns somewhat apologetic. “But, uh, I have no doubts you’ll do well. I mean that.”

He clears his throat and stomps his hoof, then resumes his orders. “Right. Holon, Cena, you follow Tohro down the other pathway.” The captain then separates the remaining twelve troops evenly with his hoof. “Seven of you come with me. The other five, follow them. If you encounter any Blackwings, well, you know what to do. Simply retrieve the weapon and leave as soon as possible. We’ll regroup outside.”

I climb onto the wooden bridge, getting a better glimpse at my surroundings. Three Blackwing pegasi stand at the ready up on a high ledge, all equipped with crossbows. If they detect us, they’ll shoot us down on sight. We also have a single earthwalker and unicorn rotating the central pillar that holds this bridge up.

I whisper commands to my soldiers as I equip my crossbow. Heh... my soldiers. This is just like way back when. I rather like being in a position of power once again, and the Legion doesn’t have as much attitude as the Blackwings when they’re on the job.

“On my mark, shoot the three archers. I’ll take the center.”

“Got it,” says the soldier on my right. He takes out his crossbow, which is of a much more royal design than my own, but I doubt it’s as modifiable. Accursed standard issue equipment. I’ll keep with my old favorite.

The left soldier is soon equipped, and the others are ready to go as well. The only ones without crossbows are Cena and Holon, on account of they can shoot fireballs. Why would they even bother with ranged weapons? There’s also another pegasus. He’ll be decent enough for dive bombing if matters get dicey. In the meantime, I can rely on the unicorns as backup rangers, just in case these five bolts miss.

I look down the sights and line up the head of the central archer just below the wooden reticle. I inhale. “Okay...” I purse my lips. “Shoot in three... two... one...” My hoof squeezes the trigger. “Now.”

Well, we’re partially successful. My bolt slips right by the ear of the center pegasus, clanking off the wall and landing broken beside him. The other two Blackwings aren’t quite as fortunate. The one on the left takes two bolts to the chest, between plates of armor. He falls off of his perch onto his face. Whether or not he’s dead, he’s definitely out of commission for a while. As for the one of the right, he reminds me very much of Ezio at this moment, with one bolt between his eyes. He falls back dead on the spot.

The one in the center jumps to action the instant blood is spilt. “Is someone there?!” he shouts.

A slight bit of panic overcomes me as I attempt to reload a bolt and fire upon him before he can raise any more of a ruckus, but the instant I pull the trigger again, the string snaps.

“Oh, son of a...” I hiss under my breath. I toss the piece of junk aside. It’s not even worth getting fixed at this point. I turn to the pegasus soldier behind me. “Magic is too conspicuous. Snatch him up and bring him here before we’re called out.”

“Right away.” He leaps over me and my line of archers to sweep the ground, wheel around back and grapple the survivor. He holds one foreleg around his chest and the other over his mouth to muffle the shouting. The Imperial pegasus touches down, drops the Blackwing, and, still covering his mouth, gestures to me. I flick my foreleg and reveal the hidden blade, with which I jump forward and shove into the Blackwing’s throat. He squirms for a moment, then he bleeds out.

“That might just be the highlight of my day,” I say. This is getting easier.

The other two below us, the earthwalker and unicorn, have been alerted to our presence. They raise their voices. “The Imperial bastards are here! Arm yourself!” says the unicorn. He grabs his sword, which is wreathed in electric sparks. The earthwalker also comes into view, and her buster blade is absolutely enormous. Not to mention double edged, meaning we’re in for a world of hurt no matter how she swings. I make a note to take it for myself when we finish, but then I realize that it won’t even fit in my bag.

The unicorn floats up to us in a single bound, then rains down a torrent of plasma. I grunt as the burning drops singe my cheeks and neck. I wipe them off, then ready my hidden blade again. But this one has tenacity. She blinks out of sight in mid-air, then reappears behind me. My wings go numb as she strikes me in the small of my back with her horn, and I definitely do not enjoy the moment of airborne helplessness. The numbness only lasts long enough for me to feel sore across my entire body when I collide with the stone floor. A test flap of my wings confirms I’m back in the game... albeit with a lot more throbbing pain.

That’s when I see a soldier drop next to me, a gash going right through his chest. His blood drenches the floor, and he gives one last breath before his head hangs limp.

“Ah, damn...” I look up at the ensuing mayhem on the bridge. The buster wielder has just knocked another soldier off the bridge, sending him into the wall. It’s almost comical, aside from the sound of bones snapping. This mare, she must practice a ludicrous training regiment to have such power.

I fly back up, landing between my fellow soldiers and the buster mare. “Hey...” I whisper to her, keeping track of her hooves as she steps forward. “Mine’s bigger.”

She lets out a scream and lunges. I shoot forward and slide underneath, and she ends up bringing her sword down on the bridge. The whole thing shakes from the impact, and only the pegasus kid and I aren’t affected, since we take flight. This gives me an idea.

“In tangent!” I yell.

The kid salutes. “Sir!”

While the mare recovers from her misfired swing, the kid dives so he’s just underneath her head. He brings his steel cuffed hoof into her jaw with an uppercut, then follows up with a buck to her exposed stomach. She drops her sword.

I draw two wing blades. The moment she hits the ground, I land right on top of her before she can stand. She bucks at me, scraping at my leather, but I never lose my perch. I cross my hind legs and take on a condescending tone.

“Got any plans this evening?”

She growls at me like some sort of feral beast. “Get bent!”

“I was hoping to. But you’re clearly not my type.” I bring the wing blades to her throat and slash in opposite directions. She’s not going to last much longer. I just try to ignore the gurgling.

That just leaves the warrior-mage. I leap off of my dying foe and about face, standing on my hind legs and holding my wing blades at the ready. I twirl them around for the hell of it.

The warrior-mage has already knocked out one of my soldiers. She captures another in a headlock and puts him out cold with a strike to his neck. She’s wicked fast, damn near a blur.

“That’s enough!” I shout. I throw one of the wing blades, aiming for her legs, but she sidesteps it like she saw it coming a mile away.

All that remains is one more earthwalker soldier, Holon and Cena, and that pegasus kid. Versus this lone mare, I think we can manage. My two unicorns line up side by side and shoot rapid fire bolts at the warrior-mage, who actually manages to deflect them by levitating her blade in circles.

“What is she, psychic?!” shouts the kid.

Well, she is a unicorn. Who's to say she isn't?

The kid's shuffling his hooves, trying to catch an opening. He’s certainly zealous.

Without warning, the mare teleports forward and brings both of her hooves down on Holon and Cena’s heads. They’re not unconscious, but they’re can't fight back on their stomachs. Now is the kid’s time to shine. He draws his sword between his teeth, flapping his wings.

“In regards to your question...” The warrior-mage hits the ground running. The kid raises his sword... no, he holds it out to his side like a dumbass. I’m about to scream, ‘You’re wide open, mate!’ but my voice is only so fast.

The mare sidesteps with her blade brandished, cutting clean through both of the kid’s wings. They fall limp at his sides. He only hesitates a moment before he screams. She grapples his head with one hoof, forces him around and pierces his chest.

She’s not even facing him when she says, “...I’m not psychic. I’m just better than you.” The kid isn’t screaming anymore.

I feel numb again. “You...!” I still have one wing blade on hoof, and that bitch has just turned my way. I’ve got her now. I make this throw count. It lands right through her foreleg, rendering her tense and motionless, two things one can’t afford to be on the battlefield. Not when two angry mares are standing there with their horns alight.

Both of Holon and Cena’s auras wrap around the bitch and thrash her around like a spice shaker. Their combined strength allows them to toss her high into the air. Cena shoots a beam of cold light from her horn, instantly encasing the bitch in ice. Holon then fires off small sparks that stop around the ice cluster. The cluster then explodes, shattering into large and small chunks alike. In the process, so does the bitch, and thus the kid is avenged.

It’s an unusual concept, vengeance. To me, it’s a passive act. If you take out a threat that did in a fellow soldier, then you’ve done a service. That earns you a pat on the back, in my book. However, vengeance should not be something pursued or obsessed over. It’s not healthy. I never found the zebras who killed my parents, and I'm content with that.

That is what separates me from Caro, in this case. He actively sought out and murdered those Imperials for vengeance over the innocence of a mare he never knew. I was mad for Jade too. Hell, I’m still mad. But Caro became so obsessed with the act of killing her attackers, what happened to Jade became unimportant.

When I look at Holon and Cena doing everything they can to save the kid, I know what’s truly important when these things happen; something is lost, and there’s no means of getting it back.

“Any last words, kid? Regrets? Confessions?” I say. I’ve been in this situation too often to cry, but that doesn’t change that I feel like shit right now. This could have been avoided.

“Nah...” He says. He spits a little bit of blood and wipes it off. “To be honest... rather die than live without wings... That ain’t livin’...” He sighs, followed by more coughing. “Hey... you did good, sir... you deserve to be a captain...” There’s a pause. “Nah. General. Yeah... you’re a general...”

“That’s... quite possibly the nicest thing anypony’s ever said to me.” I’m at a loss for any more words.

“Happy... dying to serve you...” He gives a shaky yet confident salute before he loses that last light in his eyes. I’ll never forget that sight, I promise myself that much.

Holon and Cena touch their hooves together and simultaneously close the kid’s eyes. They both plant a kiss on his forehead before leaving his corpse be.

“What was his name?” I ask.

“Sawl,” says Holon. She wraps a comforting foreleg around the sniffling Cena and nuzzles her. “It’s okay... it’s going to be fine...”

“Hate to feel like I’m prying, but... Were you close?”

“H-he was our coltfriend,” mutters Cena. Her horn sparks as she slams her hoof down. “Damn those Blackwings! What do they have to gain? What...” She descents into intelligible blubbering.

“I, uh... I used to think they wanted a better Equestria,” I say. “But now I don’t truly know for sure. They’re not the Blackwings I once served.”

“I’m glad you joined the right side, sir,” says Holon. She gives me a supportive pat on the shoulder. “Cena and I, we nearly joined them, but Sawl convinced us otherwise. That’s how we became close. I’d say we owe a lot to him.”

Seeing Cena in tears, dwelling over Sawl’s corpse, I can tell she has no more drive within her to fight. Suddenly I’m seeing a far more personal side to the Imperials that I couldn’t see as a Blackwing. Maybe the Imperial Legion has changed.

Perhaps I’ve changed.

The knocked out soldiers are waking up now, and they’ll have injuries to tend to as well. The only one who seems to be in any sort of fighting shape is me. This does not bode well.

Cena doubles over as her horn comes alight, almost blindingly. I have to avert my eyes for a moment.

“Woah! What’s wrong?”

She looks away from Sawl for the first time in several minutes to show me her glazed eyes. “Sir, I can feel the weapon! It’s not far from here. We can grab it before the Blackwings and get out of here!”

Nothing in the world would make me happier. Except maybe Caro and the others. I’m about to order all present and accounted for ahead, but a certain shiver up my spine stays my hoof.

“You’re such a child, my dearest Tohro, but you’re a stallion in my eyes... Can you feel me? Do not worry, I will never leave you. You’re mine, Tohro...”

“Cena? Do you sense anything else? Inconsistencies? Other sources of magic?”

Cena looks puzzled. She touches her hoof to her horn. “No, I—” Her eyes widen even more. “Wait, there’s something. Bloody hell, it’s... terrifying.” She looks fit to retch. “It’s her."

Every soldier in the room takes a step backwards, and once again, I’m the odd one out, not feeling any more dread than I did before.

I shake my head. “Let’s face it, troops. Nopony here wants to fight Shokenda Bla—”

Cena clasps her hooves to her ears. “DON’T SAY THAT NAME! DON’T SAY THA—”

“I WILL SAY HER NAME BECAUSE I AM NOT AFRAID OF HER!” That snaps her out of her tears. She’s utterly speechless. I must be more of a general than I thought I was. I look to all of the other soldiers, who seem just as scared of me as the idea of fighting Shokenda. But I’m not scared.

“In just a few moments, I went from a mere soldier to a respected position of authority over all of you. That means what I say goes, right?”

They all nod, dreading what they think I’m going to say.

“That is why I order you all to stay here. I will not send you into the field of danger. I’m not a fool. I know Shokenda, and I know none of you could even touch her. She’ll just kill you on sight. But even if you were to come with me, she’d leave me alive, because she wants me that way.”

“W-why?” asks Cena.

“Because for just a moment, I didn’t acknowledge her as a god. And she won’t kill me until I break. But I’m not going to.” A certain turquoise earthwalker enters my thoughts. I feel a bit more relaxed, but no less driven. “I... Yeah, I have something better worth fighting for.”

I put my soldier face back on. “Nopony else dies on my watch today. Do what you will and get the hell out. Tell Gauntlet two things; I got separated from the rest of you,” I put on a smirk, “and I’m gonna have his job!”

“Thank y-you... sir...” mutters Cena. She stands tall and salutes me, blinking out the rest of her tears. The other soldiers follow suit. It’s as if I’m channeling their strength and will. This is something I’ve felt before, but it’s been a long time. Hell, it feels even better now, because these soldiers are more united than any set of Blackwings.

“Any other words of wisdom, sir?” asks Holon.

I turn around and begin my trek through the last stretch of the cave. “Anypony who follows me gets court martialed!”

I have no doubt in my mind that this will not be Shokenda’s final battle. I know I’m not strong enough to kill her. I have a looming dread that I won’t even wound her. Which is a shame. Caro told me she bleeds gold. I wonder if he wasn’t just seeing things in his fit of rage? Either way, I can only hope I’ll be able to see whether or not it’s true for myself.

The cavern is opening up even further now. The stone path is diminishing, becoming nothing but dirt. My echoing hoofsteps turn into muffled crunches against the moist soil. I also hear running water in the distance. Water always makes any battle worth watching. And I’ll be the center of attention for tonight’s duel.

I’m composed, calm, a tad concerned, but by no means afraid. I’m not afraid of pain, especially when I know Shokenda is not going to kill me. I’d rather make a statement to her; that I will not lay down for her just because she’s high and mighty.

“You may call yourself a god, but in my eyes you’re nothing more than an immature child swinging about her father’s sword!”

I yell that as I come out into the clearing. Yes, this is truly a beautiful place for a duel. There’s a large pond of luminescent water surrounding a vegetation heavy island. There, I see Shokenda and seven heavily fortified pegasi. Pegasi were the first to form the Blackwings, so it figures she favors them as personal bodyguards. Though it’s not as if she needs them. They all hover about Shokenda, indifferent to the rain falling from the large opening in the ceiling.

“Your opinion has been noted, Tohro.” She steps forward from her guards, signaling for them to stay there. “Tell me, why is it you’re here?”

“A lot of reasons.” I’m not about to fall into her mind games by dealing in absolutes. Sure, I want to fight her, but there’s more to life than vengeance for a broken dream. I take sight of the weapon upon the stone slab, which is embedded into the island. It’s a sword. I’m not the most proficient in such types, but if it’s a Hephaestus weapon, I’m sure it would serve me well. If only I were able to retrieve it...

“How much will you suffer before you admit I cannot be killed?” Shokenda says, taking a few steps into the water. It turns gold around her hooves, drawing my gaze, but I regain my focus quickly.

I try to quote Hevnodiin. He made a rather intimidating boast to Caro that I like. “Perhaps I can do more than kill you. I can hurt you.” It sounded far more terrifying coming out of a dragon’s mouth.

Shokenda seems to agree, chuckling where she stands despite having an expressionless face.“You’ve definitely lost that spark that made me take you to bed. You’re not as refined, or, well, noble

I step into the water as well, advancing towards her. “Nobility is in the eye of the beholder.”

“Like a true Imperial. You lose all passion for the fires of war in a mad struggle of obedience. How low have you sunk? Serving false gods like that queen and her sordid excuse for a throne... Who else is there? Oh, yes. That lowly bird-thief who weakly justifies petty crimes... Or, better yet, your ragged group of dragon chasers, all lead by one naked, bloodshot excuse of a stallion...”

I black out for only an instant, and when I come back, I’m holding my hidden blade to Shokenda’s throat. Her guards have all drawn their weapons, but she waves them off, merely brushing my other hoof from her ursa fur cloak. My bladed hoof still remains on her.

“You do not talk about him like that,” I say, utterly seething.

“Have I struck a nerve?”

“Yes, Caro can be an idiot. He’s done some stupid, sometimes downright awful things. But I’m not willing to give up on him. He’s my best friend, and I can’t very well let him be slandered by somepony like you! You might be an alicorn, and you may know a Thu’um or two, and you may be indestructible, but you do not, I repeat! You do not! Hurt! My! Friends!”

In conjunction with my last word, I thrust the hidden blade into her throat. I expect to be thrown off of her by a diamond strength coat, but imagine my shock when I manage to pierce her skin.

Gold blood. I flick it off the blade as Shokenda leaps away from me, with the water splashing at her coat. She’s touchable. By liquid, and by me. It makes me laugh. “All this time I questioned Caro's love for bloody justice, and I would do what he’s done, but I think I know him more than ever... I have so much hate for you, and to feel it all come out into one raging burst of adrenaline and passion... It's beautiful. It's like fucking. Only better.”

Shokenda merely laughs, but I have a feeling if she could convey emotions normally, she’d appear afraid. "Clearly. I've only seen that face you wear now once before. We were bedfellows then. Oh, you were so tiny. Breakable. It's impressive to see you like this. It's a shame you lost all loyalty to me."

She casts her hoof out, and in a flash, her pegasus guards all swarm around me and lock me in place, holding spears to every possible fatal region on my body.

That’s it. Fuck it all. I don’t care if I can’t kill her. I’m going to make her suffer. "You've had this coming a long time, ever since you told me to kill Shae and Tangerine. No one hurts my friends. It's a worse sin to ask me to kill them myself. I know I'll be doing Equestria a favor if I end this all. Now.

My wings flare, kicking up enough dust to cause the guards to stumble blindly. I quickly take flight, spears slicing blindly at my leather and skin as the warm rain washes away any fresh blood. My rage makes me blind to pain. All that matters is right in front of me. I need that weapon.

If it was truly crafted by Hephestus, this should be a cinch. I see other pegasi in hot pursuit, and they quickly show they're faster. One takes a swing with his spear, slicing through my fetlock. I bite back the pain and hit the ground rolling.

Caro isn't the only one who enjoys an adrenaline rush. I've been in bed with that mistress far more often. Everything is in slow motion as I notice the stone slab. Inscribed upon it with more recent writing is the word ‘Muramasa.’ The weapon itself, a katana, is sunk into the slab, just like out of an old pony tale. Its scabbard lies next to the stone.

I don't hesitate to grab the hilt in my teeth, the diamond pattern rough against my tongue as I wrench it free from the stone. The blade is black as night and the hilt glitters with encrusted fire rubies. Truly a work of art. I look over it, it comes alight with a hellish red glow, and I swear I can hear it... growling. In my ears.

"What can I do for you?" I ask it.

The growling continues. I feel a creeping sense of fear rising along my spine as I grip the hilt... I like it. My gaze snaps to the sky as the Blackwing comes closer.

Muramasa feels lighter than air as I swing it blindly at the charging pegasus. Unlike Mjolnir, there is no resistance. Just a stunted warcry and a shower of blood. I open my eyes and see the twitching headless corpse before me, laying beside a wing also taken like a knife through butter.

I know now that this is a weapon of destruction.

"How was that for you?" I ask my growling katana. Its growling seems to have subsided. The blood of its latest kill is... soaking into the blade. That explains a lot. "I think you can handle a little more."

With renewed vigor I kick off the ground and charge the other six soldiers. A swing apiece should do it.

The header of the remaining pegasi has her spear out, aiming right for my head. I draw Muramasa and point it straight at her in the same way. It’s like makeshift jousting. I alter my course ever so slightly so her spear only just touches my mane. With a swing of Muramasa, I take out her stomach and paint my new katana in blood. There’s two I’ve ended.

I flap my wings and regain my lost speed. The next two are lined up side by side, but their spears are tucked away. Muramasa is plenty long, but I can’t risk taking both of them out at once. Instead, I hold it out horizontally, instinctively trying to block them both off. That’s when I’m taught an important lesson; katanas can’t block worth shit.

The pegasi seize me, knocking my wind clean out and separating me from Muramasa. I’m flying in the complete opposite direction as they steer me into the lake. I’m breathless in the air, and soon I’ll be breathless in the water.

The pegasi let go of me right before I hit the surface. I hear the piercing slap, and I feel the sting on my back all the worse. I won’t be able to recover from this one so easily. I hear something pass by my ears and just barely see that it’s an arrow. Looking up and squinting my eyes, I can see the pegasi above the water slinging their crossbows.

I orientate myself and start a panicked paddle through the water, but it’s difficult when I keep getting stabbed and clipped by arrows. I flap my wings in a desperate struggle to get anywhere but here. My priorities are rapidly dwindling from trying to kill the unholy abomination of a warmare herself to just trying to stay in the field of battle. The fear of death is beginning to loom around me even though my mind tells me Shokenda won’t let that happen.

Will she?

With one more thrust of my wings, I breach the water and make a clean landing back on the island. Muramasa is nowhere to be seen, but evidently I’ve gone unnoticed by the pegasi, who are still shooting at the water. At least until Shokenda decides to fuck this up for me.

“Cut him down, you fools! He’s only mortal!” she shouts.

Two more pegasi land nearby me. I’ll have three more to take on after this, assuming I even last that long. These two take a more conventional route, with each drawing a knife from their belts. I’m in no mood to make witty banter anymore, so I won’t even try. Instead, I let them make the first move.

I step back as one takes swings and jabs at my neck and chest. She makes an vertical slash down and ends up slicing just underneath my cursed eye. I wince, but in the long run that’s not going to be too big a loss.

The other colt is coming around the side with his knife flailing. I leap into the air just before he can land a hit, but he recovers quickly, coming to a stop and grabbing his already loaded crossbow. He fires up at me. I backflip to miss the bolt by an inch, and he’s already reloaded when I land.

I lean out of the way of the next hit just as the mare comes up behind me. She thrusts her knife outwards. I sidestep it, then grab ahold of her foreleg, disarming her of her knife. The look on her face is just priceless. I strike her upside the head, then pull an advanced maneuver Altair taught me for when stealth missions go awry; using her back as a hold, I flip over her and, with my greedy sleight of hoof, nick a crossbow and pack of bolts right off of her. I wrap my forelegs around the mare's neck and jerk her in front of me. When the colt fires his crossbow, it goes right into her chest. She’s out of the picture now.

That’s three.

I toss her body away, then take her donated cross bow and shoot the colt. The first bolt lands in his hoof, making him holler, and with a fast reload and another pull of the trigger, I fire the next right through his throat.

That’s four. Caro would be so jealous.

Now where is Muramasa? I soar upward to survey the area and see the glimmer of the blade floating on the water. Evidently Hephaestus crafted it so light it can float! But I also see the remaining pegasi skimming the surface. I can’t blame the three of them for wanting that weapon like it’s a drunk nurse. But it’s mine.

I dip and pull up just before I breach the water, then flap my wings like mad. I suppose I can thank Altair that this armor is so light compared to those pegasi and their heavy steel. I’m on the tail of the the slowest in no time. I fly over him and reach around his neck, seizing him and steering him off course towards the stone fall. I hear him grunt as his head collides with the stone, leaving a crack. A thick head. Go figure. While he cries out, clutching his bruises, I grab his head and slam it into the wall again. And again. That crack is much larger now. I know he’s dead when I hear a snap from his insides. No doubt I’ve broken at least half of his skull.

Five. This is growing unpleasant.

All that time wasted, and the remaining two have acquainted themselves with Muramasa, with out of them actually having the audacity to try and take my katana. I give my wings a charging buzz, then take off. I can only hear the rushing air in my ears. I flip around and drop kick the thief in her back. I grab Muramasa off the ground, then spin around and shove it through her. I remove the blade, with the scent of warm blood accompanying the sight of the mare sinking.

Six.

That just leaves this colt. His hoof goes for his crossbow, but he stops when he realizes he’s well out of bolts. He settles for crouching and spreading his wings.

I nearly lose my flight when I feel the sting of a wing blade in my shoulder. I rip it out with my teeth and toss it as quickly as it comes, then hold Muramasa close as the colt readies another throw. He tosses the first, which I dodge, then comes the second. I deflect it. I knock the third aside with a flourishing swing. “Not good enough!”

I’m tired of this game. I soar right up to the colt with Muramasa tucked away, then swing it diagonally across his chest as I pass by. I come to a stop on my hooves in the shallow end of the pond. I turn around, treated to the pleasant sight of his two halves falling apart.

Seven.

I blink only once, then I see Shokenda standing right before me. She wears a smile that doesn’t belong on the face of a pony. It just seems... wrong. And disproportionately happy.

“You saw that?” I ask, resuming my battle stance and pointing Muramasa at the point between her eyes. “Now that was a battle.”

She just keeps wearing that awful smile.

“Well?!”

“Thank you,” she says.

Of all the things she could say, that was the one I was expecting the least. My stance falters, and I let Muramasa rest at my side. “What?”

Shokenda clicks her tongue and takes a slow canter around the island. "Those soldiers were becoming a bother; I questioned their loyalty and sought a perfect test for them, and when I sensed my favorite former assassin in my midst, I figured he'd be willing to spill some blood to get to me."

The satisfaction of victory in my chest is waning. “What?!”

"They weren't loyal enough to the cause, it seems. I truly should thank you.” Shokenda spreads her large wings, beating them once for emphasis. “But, I won't."

She ascends opposite the rain, facing the hole in the ceiling. She’s about to take off, robbing me of a chance to truly hurt her. I’m not done yet. She can’t do this to me! She can’t use me as a tool and just run away! I take Muramasa’s hilt in my mouth, surely scratching the finish as I grind my teeth against it, then take off after that bitch.

“RRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAGH!!!”

I stretch out my hoof and plant it right against Shokenda’s chest. I feel her armor dent ever so slightly, but as expected, she doesn’t show any sign of pain. I don’t care. I follow up by punching that same spot with my right hoof, then my left, then my right, until my hooves are nothing by blurs tearing into her ebony plating.

Still in a screaming rage, I grab Muramasa, fly higher and slash at Shokenda’s face in an uppercut. I watch her bleed a dribble of gold before the wound fades. Then she just stares at me. I bring the sword down, right to her horn. I’m hell bent on cutting that thing off. But since when does anything go as I want when she’s involved? The sword glances harmlessly off her horn, and I’m left floating there as the stupidest pegasus in Equestria.

All four of my legs are forced outwards. I look around and see my entire body, save for my head, is wrapped in her harsh gold aura. Shokenda hovers towards me until I can feel her breath. It doesn’t smell or feel of this world.

“I see a thousand reasons why you threw yourself into the Legion and the Thieves Guild, and none of them are the absolute answer for you. You can make up excuses all you wish, but in the end, you only joined their ranks to fill the void left in your heart.” She passes her armored hoof over my left eye. “But even then, you still haven’t suffered enough.”

I feel her aura invading my feathers. She removes every last wing blade I have tucked away, and lets them all drop. Then it’s my turn. The aura disappears, and I fall.

“Caro is the only one who can kill me, but regardless, he will not. Equestria is mine. It’s only a matter of time before he dies, and I can truly reign absolute. As for you, stop seeking me out. You are useless to stop me, and any desire you have to hurt me will only provide you a finite satisfaction. When I deem you have fallen beyond the edge of despair, that is when I will kill you.”

Here I lay near motionless, floating on the water, under the rain, with only my slow breaths and blinking eyes acting as proof that I'm still alive.

A hopeless battle ending in my defeat. For a moment, back there, I expected something otherwise, but that was merely rage induced stupidity.

There's not a thing in this world quite like coming close to death that makes you evaluate yourself. So I may as well take this time to ask; who exactly am I? What the hell am I doing?

Shokenda killed my dream of a better Equestria, and without Caro I had nothing to fight for, so I threw myself into the Thieves Guild and Imperial Legion. I thought I could find some purpose through them but my mind is constantly muddled with confusion, torn in different directions. The end of this road is a thriving kingdom, but where is the in-between? What can I possibly do to get me there?

There's too many questions and not enough answers.

But, in a way, Shokenda was right. For months I’ve been left without a cause to fight for. Sex and alcohol’s boons only lasted me so long, and eventually I grew tired of such things. Then, I fell into bed with Altair, and in the process, the entire Thieves Guild. I will admit that the offer was taken on a whim, but when I asked myself why, the response was, ‘Why the hell not?’ That was followed by weeks of training in the ways of stealth and skill, several means of sneaking about that I thought I knew but never truly appreciated in the way Altair and his band of birds did. I also obtained some wonderful armor out of the experience. So it hasn’t been a complete waste of my time.

But still, the question remains; why?

All of that hiding and sneaking in silence gave me time to think about Queen Platinum and the Imperial Legion. For the longest time, the idea that you’re always on one side of the war or the other has been engraved in my mind, and evidently, it hasn’t left. I thought that I owed Platinum my service after all the hell I put the Legion through. I remember the spiteful glares of death they all berated me with when I first stepped into the armory. They know who I am. My legacy as a Blackwing is a stain of time that will never wash away, and Shokenda only insists on dirtying it further.

So I’m part of the Legion now. Again; why?

There is no bloody reason.

I feel the water ripple over my muzzle. Thankfully, its not as dark in here as most caverns. I hear a few distant rumbles accompany the ripples, and clumps of rocks break loose.

If there is no reason, then why am I here? Leading soldiers to their death against an enemy they can't hope to defeat. I don't even have the bloody sword to show for it!

Another rumble, this one louder and closer, breaks me away from my thoughts. More debris falls from above, pelting me with dust and pebbles. No way they are using explosives or megaspells on the surface, are they? For that matter, who’s they?

Then I hear cacophonic rumbles from beyond, the echoing around the walls and the surface envelope me. It’s like the cave is yawning, yearning to split apart.

I lean forward and watch the spectacle; an entire segment of the ceiling is torn apart, cascading down and rupturing the lake. An entire wave comes over me, soaking my coat and mane and landing me back at the entrance.

When the dust settles and I’ve wiped the water clean from my eyes, I’m given a view of the downpour. The outside has been enduring this unforgiving rainfall for hours, I can tell.

But that doesn’t exactly answer how the hell an entire portion of the cavern decided to fall apart. I question the possibility of some fearsome beast tearing the place down. At least, until such a thing is confirmed and I see its horrific body come into view. As well as a second one of them.

The two dragons, one boasting dark blue scales and the other fiery red, let out reverberating roars that sends a stinging sensation throughout my ears. I slam my hooves to them. I can’t hold myself steady from the painful sound, and I let out a very long sigh of relief when it finally ends.

The red dragon cranes its head back and laughs, as if it were part of some great triumph. “We are reborn!” it shouts. “Our savior, the mighty Saviikaan, has come to us!”

The blue one joins in with the cackling, as if it and its red companion are birds of a feather... or lizards of a scale. “The reclaiming of the sacred land has begun! All will burn, and from the ashes the Precursors shall rise again!”

Sure, fine, just don’t bother me while you’re... Wait, that’s their plan? Saviikaan wishes to bring the Precursors back? How can he raise an entire race from the dead? But... if Otar is still alive, even after a thousand years, what could that mean for the rest of the Precursors?

“Patience, brother,” says the red dragon to his blue friend, lending him a supportive pat to his arm. “We must regroup with our kin, and take our place amongst those who will deliver this land to us. Do not make the same mistakes as we did in Saviikaan’s last crusade.”

The blue one blows smoke out of his nostrils. He folds his arms and holds his head proud. “Never again, brother. We stay together as one Dovah, and the Dovahkiin of this cycle cannot best us.”

“Let the crushing defeat at the hooves of Lilypad fill our hearts with rage and drive us to victory.” The red one snorts more sinisterly, visibly grimacing.

I’m completely lost as to what they’re speaking of. Crusade? Reclaiming? Cycle? Lilypad? Who the hell is Lilypad?!

Red flaps his wings, which are ribbed with blades across its entire span. Looking over to blue, I can tell he has much of the same on his wings. Red gestures off into the distance and says, “Come, brother. We must away. Saviikaan requires every last shred of our assistance.”

And what can I do to put an end to such madness? I can’t even conquer my own insecurities. How am I supposed to cope with one dragon, let alone a pair of them?

There’s one pony that can. He can conquer such trials and never even flinch. He doesn’t let trivial things such as authority or fear diminish his belief in doing the right thing, and while he may be stupid and naive, he means beyond well for those he loves. In this dull and dreary world, in this twilight age, he can be a beacon of hope where he’s needed most. And I truly, truly need him, now more than ever.

Why? Because he is who I fight for. Why? Because he is my friend. Why? Because I fucking believe in him!

I let out my first audible noise for the first time in what feels like an hour. Not because of the harsh, menacing monstrosities before me, but because of what appears above them. In the stormy, rain drenched skies, a dazzling golden light radiates through, breaking the dark clouds apart. It’s a different sort of gold from the dragons’ aura, not nearly as harsh. Nor is it gentle like Celina’s. It’s heroic and radiant. It’s warm, filling my entire body with newfound vigor.

By Epona, Gammon, Wanderer, Aramis, Ingramm, Hephaestus, Nebula, Fauste... Dragos! It’s him!

The golden light streaks through the tear in the clouds and strikes the peak of the rubble that used to be the cavern ceiling. The dragons turn simultaneously, watching the light take form. I’m guilty of wearing their same confounded expression, but while they’re appalled by confusion, I honestly couldn’t be happier.

“What is this before us, brother?” asks the blue one.

The red one moves his snout closer to the light. “I am unsure, brother. It is a most peculiar sight.” He raises his hand. Albeit reluctant to make contact it, his glare intensifies as he moves to touch it with a single claw.

“I suggest we approach this with caution, brother.”

The light disperses into wisps, showering the whole cave in a downright whimsical glimmer. Even the water around me is sparkling. So is my heart.

I look back to what I’m sure is the one pony I need to see more than anything else. And my prayers are answered.

Caro, still wreathed in gold, rises from a crouch, and equips his double edged sword in his hoof. He smirks as his eyes flash. He makes eye contact with the dragons. Both of them. “Alright. Who’s first?”

Caro lands in the water just as the head of the red dragon slumps onto the rubble. It croaks out a weak whine, then blows smoke onto Caro as he passes by. The Dragonborn only coughs once, shaking the cloud away with a hoof. He faces the red and hisses. “The reclaiming is over. Leave this life quietly.”

“The Reclaimer has already made his mark upon this land. You cannot stop what he has put in motion. Your struggle is useless.”

The blue dragon lends his support with a weak bellow that barely passes his lips. He lays on his side, with his blood turning the pond a deep red. “Well said, brother... You were always the finer speaker.”

“And you were always a superior combatant. It’s almost insulting to have lasted longer than you in our struggle against this little insect.”

Caro brandishes his sword and presses its blade against the red one’s skin. “Listen well. We ponies may have been insects at a time but this is no longer true. We rose from the ashes, stronger than ever, and thousands more have come from afar in the name of a safer, fertile land. Equestria belongs to them. It belongs to us.”

The two dragons both blow smoke onto Caro. He has to cover his eyes and wipe them clean of irritation. “Because you deem it so? The Dovah have ruled this land for millennia,” says the blue one.

“You ponies fought a war amongst yourselves within days of arrival to this sacred land,” says the red one. “And even now brothers wage war. You are unworthy, and thus the dark wings of Saviikaan come unfurled.”

“We’re not perfect, but we mature. We evolve. You are locked into stagnation.” Caro turns away from the dragons, and stomps away. He furls his brow in defiance. “Yes, those who desire decimation of all of ponykind before we’ve barely begun? Truly they are the worthy ones,” he boasts sarcastically.

The two dragons close their eyes simultaneously, and their bodies emanate their harsher gold aura, which pours into Caro. That’s two more souls for the Dragonborn. He gives his sword a dramatic swing, then sheaths it on his back.

He gives a flip of his mane. It’s grown much longer. “Discuss your superiority with your brethren. I’ll speak to you again soon enough.”

Caro trots in a half circle, sighing dramatically. He wades into the water until it reaches his barrel, then sits on his hindquarters, stretching them out. He takes the sheath of his new weapon and sets it aside. He then dunks his head into the water and pulls it out. He uses his reflection as a mirrors as he fixes his mane. He pauses, examining something beneath the water. He reaches beneath the surface and pulls up a certain black katana. He holds it up to his muzzle and sniffs across the blade. He then turns around. Finally, he has the decency to look at me. I couldn’t call out his name during the entire length of the battle for sheer awe. The memory of his grace and brutality will forever stay with me.

Caro trots through the water to me, with Muramasa casually slung over his shoulder. I’m still lazy in the water, making the Dragonborn look massive compared to me. This is definitely him, but there are so many little different things about him. His long sabbatical in the mountains has granted him a heavier coat with patches of grey fluff around his hooves, and in addition to that, he’s grown even bulkier. Despite that, he’s also cleaner, much more refined in posture, and generally, he just seems happier. He’s not the only one.

He smiles. "What are the odds.” He reaches out to me. “How is it that we always find each other?"

I don’t say anything, instead simply taking his offer. I can feel much more power behind his grasp as he helps me stand, but I also feel a greater amount of control in him. He doesn’t seem as... unstable.

He shifts his stance, smacking his lips as he waits for my response. When a few moments pass, he brings Muramasa forward. “Is this yours?”

I take ahold of the hilt and bring it around my back. It’s good to know this mission hasn’t completely fallen to waste. Truthfully, I’ve long forgotten about the mission. My thoughts are only with the Dragonborn in front of me.

“Long time,” says Caro.

He has no idea.

This isn't quite the groundbreaking homecoming conversation I expected upon my best friend's return. But, then again, there were times when I thought he would never come back. So I can't help but tackle him, pin him in the shallow water, and circle my forelegs around his neck.

I bring my snout to Caro’s cheek and nuzzle him.

XXVIII - The Beast Remains

~Caro~

I awake to the unfamiliar tingle of a fur blanket. A different fur blanket, I mean. The one I always slept under in Neigh Hrothgar had shorter furs and a rougher texture. Either way, this lack of familiarity makes me want to bugger out as quickly as I can. It’s far too warm as is. After a long two months in a land permanently cloaked in several feet of snow, everything feels like a flame is touching my skin.

My lips curl into a smile as I pull the covers back over my chest. It’s good to be back. It’s not home, but at least this land is familiar.

Something else is touching my skin. My ear, specifically. It's smooth, somewhat moist...

"Tohro. Stop that."

I roll over and open my eyes. I see the other familiarity in my life remove his lips from my ear. He’s blushing enough to make a ripe tomato jealous. It contrasts with his gold Imperial gauntlets and cuirass, and that purple overcoat doesn’t match his white fur in the slightest.

"I can’t help it," he says. “You just look so peaceful.”

I remove the blanket and stretch out my forelegs, followed by my hindquarters. It feels like forever since I’ve had a genuine, equine speaking pony greet me in my waking hours. For the past two months, it has only been the deep growl of Master rousing me from a long rest. Master’s growl was not the most pleasant wake up call. This is far more welcome.

“Shall I make breakfast?” Tohro asks.

I sit up. As I lean forward, my mane falls across my face. I must have been thrashing in my sleep. “That depends on what you Imperial types serve...” If the rumors are true on what Imperials eat, I’d rather not let my taste buds touch it. Cram. That slag hardly qualifies as food. It’s not that it tastes bad; it merely doesn’t make me want to vomit. Completely unremarkable.

“You’re in for a treat. I assure you, it’s far better than the slop of the Blackwings."

While I leave the comfort of my bed, Tohro canters across the tent to a water filled cauldron, boiling over a small fire. "Huh. What is that, your laundry?" I ask, weakly gesturing towards it.

Tohro shakes his head. "I don’t think boiled yams would make for attractive clothing."

“Ooh, please!” I lick my lips and hop over to the cauldron, but Tohro ushers me away.

“Give them a moment, mate.” He says that like a mother coaxing a child. “They’re nearly done.”

Damn Tohro and his always looking out for my well-being, then turning his back on me for the sake of inconvenience. What would I ever do without him? I turn around and go to the banister in the opposite corner of the tent. On top, there’s numerous odds and ends such as lockpicks, bowls and linen wraps. No help there. I assume those belong to him anyway.

"I always figured you a yam..."

I turn my head, wearing a snarky smirk. "What was that?"

“Oh, nothing.”

There's a small, circular mirror beside his bed, something I am exceedingly grateful to see.. The Greybeards may have millenia old artifacts, yet they can’t spare something as trivial as reflective glass. How did the Precursors ever groom? Unable to help myself, I take a good look at how the months have been to me.

“Bloody hell, how did that happen?!” My mane, if one could even call it such a thing, falls across nearly half my back and down to my shoulders. In fact, with a tilt of my head, it falls across one of my eyes.

Tohro comes into the mirror, clutching a boiled yam under each wing. "I rather like it."

I run a hoof through this mop. I may as well be venturing a forest. "That may be so, but I can't very well run into battle with this. It's a liability. Hm..." An enticing thought enters my mind. "You wouldn't mind cutting it, would you?"

Tohro snickers in response, like he always does when he’s thinking of some jape. I’m not looking forward to this. "What was that? Braid it? Sure! It’ll go with your perfume!"

My stomach churns as I bring my hoof to my cheek. “Is it that noticab—” I see his smirk widen. “Er, I have no idea...”

"Don’t play coy with me, Dragonborn. It was the first thing I smelled when you landed!” He leans so close to my cheek that I have to pull away. He presses himself in further and sniffs. “Bloody hell, is that what I think it is? Peaches? Yeah, that has to be...”

“It’s not Shae’s!” Dammit, I am a horrid liar.

“Oh, sure. Then it must belong to Rosemary,” Tohro says, rolling his eyes.

I sigh. “...Okay, it’s Shae’s.”

Tohro coughs, snickering between a toothy grin, then bursts out laughing. He tries walking away, only to collapse in a mad cackle. I fear for a moment that he’ll never stop.

So, Tohro has joined the Imperial Legion. That is definitely a thing. Truthfully, I never believed him to have the mettle for such a commitment, particularly after his expulsion from the Blackwings. And, surprisingly, I’m not angry. I would have expected myself to be even mildly enraged at him for thinking this a good idea, but I’m not, because, in a way, it is a good idea. The support of the Imperial Legion’s weapons will gain Dragonrein a hoofhold in the battle against the dragons, and this will only put Shokenda in her place all the faster.

Tohro confessed to me that he was in a state of confusion the whole time he’s served the Legion. But seeing me again seems to have resolved that. He’s already promised that he’ll dedicate himself to Dragonrein over the Legion any day. I just dread how he’ll break the news to Gauntlet.

I hear an armored stomp just outside the tent.“Tohro Blackwing, Captain Gauntlet requests entry!”

Speak of Shokenda.

Tohro immediately stops the immature laughter, putting on a straight face of obedience and standing up. He dusts off his armor, clears his throat and opens the tent flap. Two elite soldiers, covered from head to hoof in scaled armor, tower above Tohro. They stomp their opposite hooves again in unison, then turn, standing aside for Gauntlet to enter. He’s fully armed, aside from a lack of a helmet. I’ve never seen his red mane before now. One would think it would make him a prime target on the battlefield.

“I negotiated that Caro Dragonborn would be able to stay upon Imperial property until sunrise, and it is...” Gauntlet peeks outside, squinting his eyes as he looks to the sun. “...Well past that, obviously. I would have earlier informed you that his departure is past due, but I’ve been so occupied by incoming letters from the other camps. Evidently, the return of the Dragonborn has been made known halfway across Equestria at this point.”

I am gloating inside my head. “Wonderful,” I say.

“Yes, and while Tohro’s tale of your two-for-one dragon slaying was, ah, impressive, to say the least—” Gauntlet looks as if he wants to say another word to describe the beautiful and bloody experience, but has to keep his professional demeanor. “—we cannot extend our welcome any further.” He points out into no direction in particular, giving me a foul glare. “Need I have my elites escort you out or do you know the way?”

My expression is all but deadpan. I take a large, slow chomp of the yam, chew it with great emphasis, then swallow. “No, because I’m a dunce.”

Tohro snickers, then regains composure upon seeing the elites just about to draw their longswords.. "I'll show him out, sir." He winks at me.

Gauntlet relaxes, stepping aside and sighing. He looks exhausted, now that I look closer. “Good boy. And tell him to watch his tongue next time.”

“I apologize on his behalf.” Tohro drapes a wing across my back and not so gently forces me forward. He throws his voice to me. “Truthful, I think they just can’t stand the smell of the perfume.”

I avert my eyes from the sun. It feels as if it’s been an eternity since I’ve caught a single glimpse of sunlight. The closest I’ve had since I arrived in Neigh Hrothgar was a portrait of a blue dragon overlooking a cliffside. It was gorgeous, but not quite as gorgeous as this. After the downpour from last night, the grasslands are caught in a glistening layer of water that shines in the sunlight. As for the rest of the sky, there’s nothing but blue as far as the eye can see.

Tohro takes notice of my sightseeing. “Beautiful, isn’t it, mate?”

I look to him with my fangs on display. “Yeah...”

It almost makes up for standing in an Imperial camp. There are many more tents set up along the hillside, all the way up to the base of the cliff. I can see banners of purple and gold waving above the spiked log barricades. While the mien of this encampment strikes me as orderly and safe, it lacks the same aspect of fun I recall from Ivarstable. But I’m not about to desire anything relevant to the other side of this civil war.

I hear commands being given out, orders for pushups and situps, a drill sergeant yelling for a squad of pegasi to flap their wings until their bones snap and keep flying... I hear one order over all the rest.

“Be careful with that, rookie. It’s not exactly a rusty knife; you’ll have a lot more than tetanus to worry about if you drop it.”

“Understood, sir.”

Beside the central firepit trots a commanding officer, I’m not entirely sure what rank he is, leading a lesser soldier, who carries a long cloth in his mouth. It’s what’s wrapped in the cloth that warrants my attention, particularly when the rookie trips over a stray stone, falling on his side and dropping the cloth. Its contents roll out onto the leaf speckled dirt.

I see a black katana that doesn’t belong to them.

The officer curses and begrudgingly assists the rookie. “I cannot stress it enough! Keep the damn Hephaestus weapon aloft. Do you think we can afford it getting damaged?”

“Not for a moment, sir.”

I stomp towards those two and pick up Muramasa, letting it rest upon my back. "I think a chip in the blade is the least you have to worry about,” I say.

The officer tilts his head. “What are you—” He pauses, taking notice of my eyes. Now he realizes exactly who I am. “Ah, Dragonborn.” He nods a few times. “I expected trouble when you arrived on the premises. Now, if you would be so kindly as to return the Hephaestus weapon to us...” He holds out his hoof and tilts towards himself. “With haste?”

I laugh out loud, then immediately put a grim frown back on. “Ah, no.”

I notice the rookie about to unsheathe his blade.

That’s when I reach for the hilt of Muramasa. "You want to keep that hoof, soldier?" While I hardly planned on fighting Imperials today, I can’t very well let property of Dragonrein get stolen.

"Stop! Stop it! This is a prime example of unnecessary conflict!" Tohro flutters in, with his wing beats staggering both me and the rookie.

The officer grunts, holding up his hoof to protect from dust. “Why is it you bring nothing but trouble to us?”

Tohro is smiling as he wipes the dust on my forehead and cheeks, but I can see concern in there too. "Caro, let them have the damn thing," he says. He’s obviously not too happy with me. Now I feel like the enemy here, and I can only expect to be chewed up and spat out for threatening my superiors. But still...

“Tohro found this weapon.” I present Muramasa to the officer, then force it into Tohro’s possession. “It belongs to him.”

Tohro juggles the weapon in his hooves before he gets a good grip on it, getting a laugh out of the officer. “Somepony needs to explain the doctrine of the Imperial Legion to this welp.”

I slam a hoof to the dirt. “Welp?! You—” A white hoof covers my mouth and bottles my words.

“The Dragonborn knows not what he does, sir,” Tohro says. “It’s my fault for not explaining matters to him. I’ll ensure he understands.”

I don’t feel any regrets for making the Imperials scowl at me, but I do feel awful for garnering such a disappointed glare from Tohro. It’s enough to make anypony sick. I can tell exactly what he’s trying to convey; I should set a better example, I should not risk him his position, and it’s best to not make an enemy of the Legion again. That would make us friends at war, and that’s something I could never cope with.

“Let me guess,” I say, looking as ashamed as I can be. “Muramasa was specifically—”

Tohro goes and says my assumption in unison with me. “—retrieved for the Imperial Legion so it wouldn’t fall into the hooves of the Blackwings.” He nods and takes me aside with his wing. “I’m happy to have you back, mate, but you could at least make the effort to encapsulate your temper.”

We start away from the camp, and all the disapproving faces of the Imperials. They start to go about their business while I keep to my shame.

But, as we step onto the dirt road, Tohro’s touch brings me back into good spirits, or at least semi-well ones. He’s very good at that sort of thing. “At least take solace in knowing you’re a better colt to the Imperial Legion now than you were when we first met. For a while, long ago, they all wanted your head. Now they just act mildly disgruntled.”

I can’t argue with that.

“Keep calm and carry on, correct?” I ask.

“Of course.”

It’s odd, really. Every revelation unveiled to me by Master Hammerfell and the Greybeards, no matter how ground shattering or mind rending they may be, they all seem so manageable when I have Tohro by my side. Even after revealing Saviikaan's goal to him after our arrival to the camp the night before, he faced such horror with a smile and that daring do attitude I’ve come to expect from him. I almost regret not bringing him with me to Neigh Hrothgar. When the time comes to return, I’ll bring him along with me. Anypony that can remain happy despite being caught in a vicious cycle of dragon onslaughts is somepony I'll want with me.

In return for all of his positivity, I give Tohro a nuzzle, a gesture he reciprocates with even more force.

I missed this.

“By the way,” he whispers, “I believe we promised each other drinks.” He steps away from me and points into the distance.

At the base of the inclining hill rests a town, one that isn’t nearly as diagonally structured as Trottingham, built around a ravine. Owing to being built on marshland, the buildings are painted in moss. I fear for the alcohol.

“Welcome to Baltimare, our new base in the civil war.”

CHAPTER XXVIII - THE BEAST REMAINS

Baltimare’s rustic streets are decorated with banners of two swords clashing together, a mark befitting such a town. Unlike Everfree, whose luxurious streets paved with gold and gems integrate perfectly with its militarist origins, owing to being the home of the Imperial Legion, Baltimare’s current state is a complete contradiction. While on one side of the street I can see a squadron of organized soldiers walking in perfect unison (Tohro may wear their armor but he really does clash in nature), the opposite end of the cobblestone boasts two friendly stallions drunkenly sauntering along, singing two different drinking songs at once. Oh, and now they’re snogging. I can tell this is a town of prestige.

Further, I can see ramparts set up along the borders of the town, and given that they’re not covered in moss, I can assume those were only set up recently. When Tohro said recent, he could have meant only a few days, a week at the most.

“Three weeks,” he tells me. “Those ramparts are the newest addition. When the orders went out that we’d be staying a while, we decided an elevated patrol would be an effective way to spot any incoming threats. That was my idea, actually. The Blackwings use that regularly.”

“It seems the benefits of being a former rebel are making themselves known,” I say. “I’m surprised you haven’t summed up more respect.” I chuckle. “Why, if I were a soldier…” That’s a thought I’d rather not dwell on. “Actually, scratch that. If I’m ever a part of any army, kill me.”

“I’d think you a changeling if you ever signed on with the Legion. Their regiment is far too restrictive for a stallion of your tastes. You’d never slay a dragon unless one was to lie down in front of your squadron.”

That makes my stomach knot. “So, this will impact your position with Dragonrein? That could mean we won’t see each other until this war is over.” I don’t think I could cope with that.

“Relax, mate,” says Tohro. “I want to give Saviikaan’s possessive ass the boot just as much as you do, and I’ve got everything amended with the queen. Come, sit with me.”

“Gladly.”

There are a few bridges leading into the center of the town, which is where the majority of the population appears to be gathered. In addition to the usual rabble of earthwalkers, unicorns and pegasi, I’m treated to the sight of a few gryphons, one of which is clad in the same leather as Tohro was last night. On sight, I can recognize him as one of the Thieves Guild, and if the armor didn’t give it away, the gleam in Tohro’s expression sure does. Yet, nopony pays that bird any mind.

I find a bench, which is very inviting as the grogginess of the morning still hasn’t left me. I greedily sit upon it and stretch out, taking up nearly the whole thing. I have been getting larger, I notice. Tohro seems much shrimpier than I remember in comparison. He smiles and settles for the small bit of bench left for him. He then reaches into one of his many pockets (No doubt filled with stolen goods) and brings out a letter. I can see the remains of a purple wax seal on the back. “That’s from the queen herself?”

He pats the parchment for emphasis. “The one and only! She had to jump through a few hoops to get this to me without any of her royal advisors muddling her intentions. She doesn’t have as much absolute power as she’d care to admit. See, Platinum acknowledges that we of Dragonrein have our responsibilities, and there’s no point in me fighting this war if I can’t assist in the effort against an entire draconic invasion. Thus, she sings her sympathetic song.”

Holding it the letter for me to see, Tohro begins to read.

“’I, Queen Platinum, wife to the Late King Hurricane, sovereign leader of Equestria, issue a personal decree, which will apply only to Tohro Blackwing of the Imperial Legion as follows; until the threat of the dragons has passed, he has permission to excuse himself from his duties to the Imperial Legion to pursue tasks with the guild Dragonrein as he sees fit. In compromise, he must report for duty regularly and respond to critical missions.’ Awful generous of her, wouldn’t you agree?”

My stomach untwists itself with every word. I sit up, my legs jittery with excitement. “So we can still hunt dragons!” I pound my hooves together. “Wonderful… I can’t imagine sharing their blood with anypony else.” I’d expect Tohro to look elated, but I can’t truly tell whether or not he is because of this accursed mane in front of my eyes. I wipe it aside. “But before we go slaying anything, I think it best that we cut my mane.”

“Fine, I’ll do it,” he says, wearing that sinister face again. “On one condition…”

~Vision End~

~Rosemary~

Swift like the bloody wind, this mare is, and she has the agility of a bird. She’s like a pegasus without wings. She manages to drift through a gathered group of soldiers and hardly disturb their formation, leaving them to look about in confusion. The mare ducks into an alley and out of sight.

“Make way, laddies!” I shout, getting the soldiers’ attention. They quickly take notice of me and break their ranks for me to charge through. I clip one of them and stumble over, getting a hoofful of a mud puddle. “Sorry there.”

He grunts and rejoins the ranks as I take off into the alley.

I can only hear the running mare via her loud and clumsy hoofsteps; she may be quick but she’s hardly subtle. Luckily, I know this alley. It’s a straight way through, and turning left at the crossroads yields a dead end. I can see splashing water coming from that very direction too. I have this mare by the teats. Grinning, I tap the hilt of my flame sword for luck.

I turn the corner, expecting to find the mare waiting for me in defiance but no weapon to defend her thieving self with. It’s like catching fish in a barrel, if the fish had rockjoint. Too easy.

But there’s a shocker. I purse my lips when I see she’s not there.

“Evidently, she’s a bloody phantom,” I say aloud. I know I saw her gallop down here, but how…

The clatter of a falling roof shingle answers my question; I’ve come across a mare who knows how to climb buildings like she’s forgotten she’s not a gryphon. She’s just slipped off the rooftop, and she’s clambering to get back up.

“Gotcha now!” I make a single noted laugh. It’s time to improvise a bit of my own climbing. I kick off the cobblestone and make a few gallops up the wall. I grapple onto a windowsill, then push myself upward, getting ahold of the next one up. I hook onto the wooden brace with one hoof, and then bring the other onto the roof. I pull myself up with all my strength. Once I’m standing again, I find myself panting. I may be a built mare, but I’m no miracle worker.

The mare is just across the roof. She doesn’t see me; rather, she’s trying to work up another jump to a lower building. I can see the satchel of goods resting on her back. If I can at least get ahold of that, I’ll be satisfied.

It’s time to take the approach of brute strength. While the mare contemplates the distance, I gain speed, slide down the slope of the roof and make a swipe at her with my hooves. I miss her by a hair as she leaps, gaining more than enough distance to make a landing. She tumbles to a stop while I’m left teetering on the ledge. Now I’m an idiot. I fumble my forelegs madly, but I’m unable to grab on. I brace myself for the rough landing.

The thundering pain in my side is already ebbing as I stand up. At least, I think it is. I gasp and crouch, touching my barrel. I can feel it throbbing. I’ll have to tolerate this for the time being, but I’m a strong mare... I can tolerate it... I’m strong. Yeah...

The mare thinks she’s lost me, leaping off the rooftop and landing like a cat, dead in the middle of the central marketplace. With that hood over her head, she looks like a moving shadow, but that disguise doesn’t work in her favor when she’s the only one wearing that sort of garb.

I’m tempted to bring out Caladbolg (That’s the name I’ve given my sword) but that would be playing dirty. I’m not that sort of mare, lest somepony gives me a reason. I have to keep this clean. I grunt through the pain and start moving again.

Slowly, with very minute movements of my legs, I step through the crowd and approach the mare. She’s looking about for any sign of my presence. When she looks my way, I quickly dart behind a passing burly fellow, a mercenary by the look of it.

“‘Ello,” I say nonchalantly, getting a grunt from him but nothing more. I return to stalking amongst the civilians. I worm my way into a group of passing monks, possibly partisans of Platinum’s sages by the purple on their robes, and walk with them. They don’t pay me any mind whatsoever, at least until I bump one of them on the way out. I’m so close to the mare, I can smell the food in her pouch. In a daring move, I dash for her, splay out my forelegs, and wrap them around her neck. “Now you’re mine!”

She thrashes against me, managing to turn around in my grasp and buck at my armor, but it’s a wasted effort. I bring my hoof to her head and remove the cowl. This mare is an adolescent, I’d say, with a peach colored body and mane. I have to admit, it’s impressive that a younger girl like this one was able to pull off such maneuvers on the roofs. Still, I win in the end, forcing her head against the ground to end her struggle.

Now that the chase is over, I put on a more soothing voice, but I’m still stern about this. “Calm down, young lady. Just hoof over your stolen goods and you’re free to go.”

The mare’s breaths begin to steady as she realizes she’s not going to jail. Not that I have any say in that. Besides, who am I to lock a younger one away? But she’s not calm by any means. Her teeth are grinding together and I can see tears welling up in her eyes.

“Why so frustrated, lassie?” I ask. “You’re not in any serious trouble.”

She shakes her head as I remove the pouch from her back. She immediately attempts to seize it. “No... but I will be! I need this grub!”

“Oh...” Now we both have our hooves on the stuff. Her reason for petty theft happens entirely too often, and it tugs at my heartstrings. “A street urchin, are ya? I can’t say I don’t understand why you’d go and take this stuff.” I have to be stern about this, though, no matter how justifiable this crime is. I get off her, taking the bag with me. “But you just can’t do that, sweetheart.”

This mare could make Tohro jealous with her sleight of hoof. She nicked several sandwiches, at least a dozen apples and bananas, though those are all squashed from her freerunning feats, and a flask of soft cider. “Now, I will be walking with you as we return this to the nice vendors. You can get yourself an oddjob if you want to buy it back.”

She makes a frustrated grumble, saying something I can’t quite make out. I only catch a few words. “...won’t let us...”

“Won’t let what...?” I begin to ask before I’m cut off.

My mane gets tossed when a sudden gust of wind overcomes me. It’s when I turn my head that I realize it isn’t the wind. Rather, it’s a blue gryphon, and I know this one personally. He’s one of the lead members of the Thieves Guild.

“Hullo, Avion,” I say.

The leather clad bird simply says “Hm,” to acknowledge me. I know he’s a nice fellow, but I seem to have crossed him unintentionally. He reaches out, gesturing to the stolen food, then beckons for me to hand it over.

My eyes travel around the marketplace, and I’ve noticed we’re drawing a murmuring crowd. No doubt seeing me, a petty theft and a disgruntled thief is cause for attention, but that problem should take care of itself. When the Imperial soldiers come through, they usher everyone away, telling them to move along. “No lollygaggin’!” one of the soldiers says. With that, a potentially awkward situation disperses. Although, given the state of things, it’s still fairly uncomfortable.

I turn back to Avion, taking my fedora off and folding the brim. I do that when I’m embarassed. “So...”

The gryphon isn’t looking at me, rather the apprehended mare. He snags the bag of food from me, with little resistance on my part (Come now, this fella has muscles to spare). He then gently passes it back to the mare. “Are you well, Dew?”

“Yeah...” She sniffles, clutching tight to the bag. “Am now... Thank you.”

Ah, it’s just as I thought. That’s one bit of confusion put to rest, and a hat put back on my head. “This another one that’s under the guild’s protection? You understand, I thought she was just being greedy...”

“She has good reasons for why she takes food,” says Avion. “She rarely takes more than what she has now, and the guild pays the shopkeepers to look the other way when she does. I guess she’s more stealthy than we thought, if she passed under your radar for the past few months.”

The mare, Dew, starts to take her leave, heading off on the bridge to the Baltimare outskirts.

“But, wait,” I say, tilting my head, “I don’t get how she is so special. She seems perfectly capable of getting a job.”

Avion gives a sorrowful smirk. “You’d think that, wouldn’t you?” He turns his head. “Dew, wait a moment.”

She comes back around. “Yes?”

“Show vigilante Rosemary here precisely what happened the last time you tried to make an honest living.”

Dew’s lip quivers. She takes a moment to breathe, then nods. “Okay...” she says meekly. Slowly, she removes her cloak entirely, getting down to just her tweed garments. This reveals more of her neck and face. Now I feel like a complete fool and a half for not taking notice earlier of how miserable she truly looks.

"Another one..." I say, sighing in empathy.

Dew’s neck is covered in blemishes, bruises and scrapes, and her legs are stick-like and knobbly. As she pulls back her mane, I can also see numerous cuts along her cheeks and forehead. More or less everywhere except the most visible parts of her face are completely wrecked, especially with how malnourished she is.

She sees my look of concern and immediately hides her injuries away again. “You can’t do anything to help me,” she says. “All I need is the food for my friends and I’ll be fine.”

“For the time being,” says Avion. “Altair’s offer is still open, and I urge you to take it before you collapse from exhaustion.”

Dew, clearly exhausted as is, resumes her solemn trek back to her life of hell, and I’m useless to stop her. She stops to waves Avion off. “I’ll never be that desperate.”

It would feel rude to say anything until she’s out of earshot. When she’s blended in to all of the other commoners and taken her horrid bodily damage with her, I face Avion. “I’m in the same boat as you, laddie. I don’t see why she’d not join your guild if it got her out of that hellhole any faster. I’d do it in a heartbeat.”

“It’s easy for you to make a decision like that when you are not living her life.”

The gryphon turns to walk away, but I’m not quite done here. I start to follow. “B-but, if she’s under the Thieves Guild’s protection, why can’t you save her?”

He brings his talons to his face and rubs his eyes, sighing. “I’ve told you twice before, vigilante, it doesn’t work that way. You truly are inept.”

That just steams my bun. As we cross the bridge, I gallop around to intercept this jackal. “I am not inept, laddie! I’m just confused!”

Avion rolls his eyes. He uses one of his claws, wagging it at me for emphasis. “Protection of the Thieves Guild only grants immunity to local law enforcement. It does not protect from Imperial law...” He eyes some Imperial soldiers giving him glares. “Keep moving.” They do so begrudgingly. "So, our claws are tied."

“Okay, but what about just going in there and—” I draw my hoof across my neck. Avion grabs my hoof and forces it down.

“Do we look like the Sisterhood of Shadows to you?!” he snaps in a hushed yell. His eyes then widen as he slaps his own mouth shut. He panickedly checks behind himself, and looks to the sky. “You’re going to get us all killed. Speak of the Sisterhood—” he checks himself again, “—and they shall appear.”

I smirk. I can’t help it. Him breaking his stoicism to throw a fit like that is just priceless. “Oh, stop being paranoid.”

“My point still stands,” he says, taking a few deep breaths between words. “The Thieves Guild does not commit murders for any reason but to protect our own. We are not assassins.”

That’s an irrefutable point he makes. And it’s the last thing he says before he flares out his wings and makes a fluttering leap onto the unoccupied fruit stall by the tavern.

That’s when another thought enters my mind. “Wait one more moment, laddie!”

Avion stops his ascension, laying down on the tarp of the stall. “Ah, yes?”

“What if, say...” I can’t believe I’d ever consider this, but seeing Dew in such a sorry state, and after hearing so much about the unfortunate tales of abuse hidden beneath the rustic bustle of Baltimare, I’d resort to anything at this point. “...I were to resolve the matter?”

Avion smiles, but I don’t think it’s a smile of confidence. He stands back up, then climbs to the roof of the tavern. Before he leaps out of sight, he simply says, “Have you the audacity?”

Now there’s a question that has kept me up at night.

~Vision End~

~Caro~

“Just break it all off, mate. ‘S no good anymore.”

“You’re sure?”

“Absolutely.”

I nod, then give Tohro a comforting nudge on his leg. “This might sting a little.”

His sarcastic laugh is music to my ears. “I’ve had far worse, you know that.” Still, he braces for my mercy.

I clench my teeth around a clump of broken feathers and yank, snapping them free from Tohro’s wing in one fell motion. “Ah!” He lets out a surprised gasp and tenses up.

I blow the feathers away and leave them to the mercy of the wind. “I told you it would sting.” I say, watching the feathers fly past the marketplace and end up in the canals below the bridges. It’s a simple yet lovely sight, a true piece of art. I’d like to see that sort of painting hung in a Jarl’s chamber.

“Damn you, Caro,” Tohro says, smiling like a jester on tea. He fluffs up his wings, showing off a still unkempt lower half of his rightmost appendage, then points to it expectantly. “Well, keep at it, then. You want that mane tended to or not?”

I give the pegasus a deadpan stare before I lean my head back into the feathers, taking one in my lips at a time and putting them back into place. It’s a slow and arduous process. Why Tohro asked me to do it is beyond me. He seems capable enough. “I’m beginning to think you deliberately neglected to preen yourself until I returned.”

“Oh, you can read me like a book,” he says. “By the way, I can’t help but notice you have really clean teeth.”

“Well, ah... thank you?” What a peculiar thing to say. But it does answer my question; my predisposition for hygiene clearly makes me a viable assistant for a cleaning habit like this. I’m already down to the last row of feathers, in fact. “I hope this doesn’t become a recurring occasion,” I lie. While it’s not exactly my idea of a good time to service a pegasus like this, it’s one way of spending time with a dear friend, and if it keeps us together, I may as well become Tohro’s regular preener. I won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing I’m secretly enjoying this.

I rip out one last broken stem (“Agh, dammit! Warn me next time!”), leaving Tohro’s wing a shining paragon of perfectly smooth feathers. I pull away from him and survey my work, which glistens in the high noon sun. Tohro is doing the same, and I can see he’s well satisfied.

“I’ll be damned, Caro Dragonborn. You truly are a saint of sanitary circumstance.”

“You flatter me,” I say, fanning my face sarcastically.

Given that Tohro’s promise to tend to my mane will have to wait until we’re in a more acceptable place to do so, there’s not to do from here on but sit and enjoy the day. Talk for a little longer, perhaps. The world has changed so little in two months and yet so much at the same time. I suppose it’s only the things you pay attention to that change when your eyes wander.

Ah, of course. Drinks. I knew something was slipping my mind. As Neigh Hrothgar is a mostly dry region (In terms of alcohol; definitely not in weather), I’ve been spared the zip of some sweet mead, making those two months feel all the longer.

“So, The Broken Saddle. It seems like a pleasant sort of watering hole,” I say, breaking a long period of quiet in the process. I mean what I say in jest, of course. I wouldn’t touch a place with that name if I had a ten foot sword. Or, well, Muramasa.

Tohro shakes his head and steps down from the bench, circling around and motioning for me to follow him. Of course, I oblige. “Actually, that bar is the very reason this town exists in the first place.” We begin to move out of the marketplace, trekking back the long path leading to the entrance. I can see quite a few patrons moving out of the bar in question, which is labeled with peeling letters. Accompanying a few stained windows as a boastful sign.

Over five-thousand served! All races welcome!

“What sort of world do we live in where they have to brag about that?” I say, hunching over in a moment of frustration.

Tohro steps forward and holds the door open for me, relinquishing some very chipper bar dwellers swaying their way in the general direction of their homes. Or ditches. I smirk at the sight.

I continue speaking. “Respect goes to them for being able to enjoy themselves, despite the possibility of a dragon landing on their heads. Do you suppose they’re in denial, or are they just ignorant?”

“Don’t grow all pretentious on me, mate,” says Tohro. He waves me in. “It’s a simple matter of them focusing on the brighter side of life. Or getting drunk. Either way, the dragon’s onslaught is no excuse to turn into a grim monger, like, uh, yourself.” He looks a little pained to have said that.

“You have a point there.” I take my first steps into The Broken Saddle. As far as bars go, it doesn’t want for size or publicity... or rowdiness. From one end to another, the patrons disorderly stand over their tables, chugging their alcohol with no cause for decency. While I am somewhat disgusted by the perpetual mess this place must be, it’s also refreshing to see a more honest side of ponykind for once. I feel as if I were to ask a question, I’d get a genuine response, rather than the questioned burying their answer in their skewed morality. For all of its broken appearance, I’m liking Baltimare more by the minute.

Tohro flies above all of the nonsensical babbling of the drunk bar demons and lands right at the helm of the place, an elevated platform that boasts the main counter. An ragged unicorn mare serves drinks by the dozens with her levitation magic. That takes talent.

“Good day to you, Whiskey,” says Tohro to the bartender, earning him a grunt from her.

This Whiskey is apparently beyond her years of sympathy. But I suppose if you’re lucky to live that long, you earn some leeway for being blunt. She cocks an eyebrow at Tohro. “Ah, the one Imperial who doesn’t have a metal pole up his ass. What can I do for you, hon?”

The pegasus leans over the counter enthusiastically, like some child at a sweetery. “Ah, aren’t you ever a sight for sore eyes.”

“You’re not bartering with me, hon. Buy your shit or get out.”

I too lean on the counter, mirroring Tohro’s actions. “She’s a jolly good mistress.” I get a snort from her in response. Snickering, I retrieve a few bits from my pouch and lay them on the counter. “I’ll take the richest mead this will buy.”

“Comin’ up,” says Whiskey. Just as she goes to the racks to find a suitable brew, she turns back to me. “Uh, couldja come a little closer, hon?”

That’s an odd request, but I see no reason not to. She’s not armed or intimidating. “Sure...?” I move my head closer to her as she does the same. She purses her lips as she sizes me up, taking an especially close look at my eyes.

“Yep, you’re the one, alright...”

“The one?” Oh dear, my return to Equestria must be known here. I’m not quite prepared for a session of admiration from these bar devils, especially if they’re well and drunk. They might do something they regret, and I’ll have to respond accordingly...

“Don’t worry, kid. It’s not what you think. See, there’s a vigilante running about town who comes in here every other day, looking for you. She described you as, ah...” Whiskey clears her throat and puts on a thick northern brogue. “‘A raggy ol’ laddie with lizard eyes and a permanent scowl. Kinda scary, y’know?’ That’s what she told me the first day she strolled in here like she owned the damn place.”

“Who is this vigilante, anyway?” Tohro asks. “I’ve heard talk about her amongst the Legion. Evidently her mission statement is to uphold the law where the local authority can’t.”

Whiskey passes me a mug of the mead I asked for, but I’ve lost my thirst. “What? But why can’t the Legion do anything about the crime here?”

Tohro brings his hoof between his eyes. “I’m not happy about it either, mate, but the agreement Queen Platinum made with the jarl of this town was that if the Legion is to stay, they can only deal with civil war matters.” Whiskey hoofs him a mug as well, which he takes sip of. “Good stuff. Anyway, I can see why. I mean, the last thing anypony wants is martial law, and the more time we devote to the war effort, the better.”

That is a grim truth I won’t deny. At least we have good natured fellows like this vigilante to assist where guards fail. “So, might I meet this mare?” I ask Whiskey.

“She sleeps and takes her meals in the stockroom.” The barmaid gestures behind herself, looking past the racks of alcoholic beverages to a small nook in the wall. It looks completely unremarkable; nopony would go back there unless they were required to. “Some ponies aren’t fond of her stirring up the legal order of things but she’s not doing anything wrong. I like a little spice in this rut of a town, so as long as Rosemary keeps up the vigilante work, she’ll always have a place to stay here.”

I slam the my drink to the table before I can take another sip, and Tohro does much of the same. Whereas I carry a face of awe and respect for Rosemary, he looks downright sinister. “From the bastard child of General Tangerine to a known vigilante. That mare is full of surprises.”

I roll my eyes. “You want her so much right now, I can tell.”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

I can think of worse places to sleep. None of them come to mind at the moment, though. Rosemary must be well and used to napping in enclosed spaces like this. Assuming the Von Spice villa has a barn, I'll put down a sack of coins that she's slept there on more than one occasion.

I begin to close the door to the stockroom, but Tohro stays my hoof. "Too dark." I can see a bit of sweat forming on his forehead. I nod and leave the door open.

I tap the cold floor. "Rosemary? Are you here?"

"Ah, hullo!"

I hear her deep voice but I don't see her. I look up, past several barrels of mead, to see the yellow earthwalker lazily splayed out on top. She's clad in her duster coat and mail, in addition to a few pieces of custom leg armor, which are hanging over her perch, dangling like a broken branch.

"You're doing well?" she asks with a slur. Somepony has been enduring an alcoholic assault on herself. "I hope this dream'll last longer than my other 'uns..." She glares at me and Tohro in equal amounts, dropping her drunken smile as she notices a missing mare. "Aw, come now, you couldn't have even brought Shae along? It's only been the longest bloody two months of my life..."

"You’re not dreaming, Rosie. And you know Shae is taking care of Celina," says Tohro.

He informed me of that misfortune the night before, what with Celina's revelation and Shae's ongoing struggle to bring her back to her senses. My distress came from finding out about leaving Shae in danger again, but knowing she was able to defend herself absolved that potential torment. It's horrid enough that Celina has fallen into despair, so I'm also relieved that her immortality is kept a close secret, restricted to the Imperial Legion, the denizens of Everfree and a fair trusted few. If news of such a thing were to reach the Blackwings, I'd truly fear for Shae and Celina.

"Ah, bless that mare's large heart for allowing room for both me and Celina. I don't know what I would do without her." Rosemary blushes as she slides along a ladder to our level. "I honestly don't know how I've lasted this long without any of you." She stumbles into giving me a hug, which Tohro sees fit to enforce by wrapping his forelegs around both of us. While I am struck as uncomfortable for what is obviously an inebriated act, I warm up to it quickly. I'm strong enough to lift them both up as I tighten the embrace.

Rosemary squeals and worms her way out of my grip, snorting like a jester. "You know, you look like you’re all muscle and rage, but you’re quite the cuddlebug."

“I’m just happy to see my family again… Most of it, anyway.”

Tohro is still holding on for dear life, as if I'm the only thing keeping him from falling off an invisible cliff. He sneers at me. "You're tearing up, mate."

Not having realized the waterworks had started up, I quickly tighten my grip for a moment and make Tohro let out a desperate gasp for air. "Who's tearing up?" I ask as I watch him let forth a few more heaves.

"You win!" he squeaks. "I surrender!"

"Do you now?"

"I'm from Prance! I'm a coward! You are my superior overlord!"

"That's what I thought." I chuckle triumphantly, letting up on my grasp enough for him to have a bit of leeway. I turn to the drunkenly snickering Rosemary. "Now, what are we to do about you?"

"Well, ah..." The ginger mare raises her hoof, then retracts it. "Hold on." Somepony seems to have lost their train of thought. Then she plops onto her haunches and holds her head. "Argh, there it is..." She looks up at me and smiles meekly. "Have you ever heard of coffee?"

I look over at Tohro and see he looks just as perplexed as myself. Looking back to Rosemary, I answer, "I can't say we have, no," and wait to see her reaction.

She doesn’t appear all that surprised. "That’s not much of a shock. It’s a beverage hardly known outside of Equestria. I've kept in contact with a few zebra traders. They're independents, nice folks." She trots to her pouch, which lays abandoned over a bench of swords and spare pieces of armor. From it, she retrieves a small purse and brings it to us. The contents are a bunch of black beans. "These grow in Saddle Arabian tropics, and they make for one hell of a drug when ground up and mixed with water."

Tohro stares into the purse with a twinge of doubt in his expression. “Are you sure it’s not addictive?”

"How does it taste raw?" I ask, taking a single bean from the pouch and popping it into my mouth. The sudden explosion of bitterness let loose on the first chew makes me spit it out instantly. I understand Saddle Arabian customs to be a stark contrast from ours, but even zebracean tongues cannot find this decent. "Horrid! How could that ever be considered quality food?"

Rosemary laughs out loud. “Simple; it isn’t.”

“Blagh!” Tohro spits out a few beans too and shoves the purse back into Rosemary’s possession. I should have warned him. “So it tastes like fermented buffalo shit even with water?”

“Eeyup,” Rosemary says earnestly. “And frankly, I can’t live without it. It may not have the same kick as skooma, but it lets you keep your teeth.” She trots over to the rest of her stock, picks up her bags, fastens them to her barrel and throws on her fedora. “Shall we?”

“Shall we where? We’ve literally nowhere to go,” Tohro says.

We’ve stepped out of the stockroom and ascended the stairs back into the bar, passing by Whiskey as we left The Broken Saddle. As we trot through the rugged residential quarters, we see many commoners simply resting in the sun, no doubt trying to get away from the noise of the Imperials clanking about. The noise has irritated me too.

We settle down in a moist, sunken area ripe with moss, weeds and disorganized flower growth. I take a seat resting against the well, which Rosemary puts to use. She dips the bucket in and comes up with a healthy amount of water, which she scoops into a wooden cup and mixes in with the beans. She then holds the cup to me. “Uh, could you…”

“Of course.” I inhale. “Yul.” I breath a small, controlled steam of flames from my lips, warming the cup and bringing the brown mixture within to a simmer. Rosemary raises the cup in salute to me and takes a careful sip.

“Well,” she says, smacking her lips, “we’re a guild with no tasks, are we?”

Tohro flutters down onto the brick rim of the well and lays down, giving Rosemary a smirk.“You’re our newest member and you act like you’ve been running it since its birth.”

“I’m just tryin’ to contribute! Beyond bein' your blacksmith, I at least want to spark a few idea in your barbarian fairy minds.”

Tohro scoffs. “Nothing you say makes sense,” he says derisively.

“Don’t berate her,” I say. I angle my head to look up at Rosemary, who is still sipping her drink. “So, how did you fall into this vigilante lifestyle?”

She makes a single-noted laugh before draining the rest of the cup. “Well, not everypony can be the legendary Dragonborn or some sort of war hero, but we can all do our part. I decided to gather up what was left of Glasswork’s forge back in Trottingham and leave before Mum noticed I was even there. She’s part of the Carrier Clan now, by the way. I heard Jarl Drake discussing it with Wolf River.” She frowns. “You blokes will keep me away from my mum for now, right?”

“Only to rub salt on the wounds I gave her in the Barrow,” Tohro snorts.

Rosemary looks to me, probably desiring a more sincere answer. I smile at her, which she reciprocates. “You’re both wonderful,” she says sweetly. “I don’t think we’ll have to worry about her too much. As far as she’s concerned, I’m still back at the villa… And if the rumors are true, she’s goin' to marry Wolf River.”

Tohro and I share a glance before I make an effort to comfort Rosemary. “Are you well with that?”

“Huh?” She doesn’t look upset, upon closer inspection. “Why wouldn’t I? Mum can do whatever the hell she wants. And Wolf River, he’s a little rambunctious but he may as well be the nicest stallion in Trottingham. I don’t see any reason to complain.” She says that, but I can hear a twinge of despite on her words. She glares at her reflection in a puddle beneath her. “It’s fine for her to choose who she marries…”

Tohro tilts his head. “But, uh, you’re with Shae now, so…”

“You think my mum will care?” Rosemary interrupts. “She’ll wed me off to some rich dunce in a second before she cares about my happiness. You think we northerners are idiots? You’ve seen nothin’ until you’ve seen this jackass. I can’t even be bothered to remember his name.” She spits into the puddle. “I look at Shae and I see freedom. Life, vibrancy, a raw magical aura that had me drunk the second I laid eyes on her.” She now has a whimsical look in her eyes as she faces the sky. Thinking of Shae must be an immediate cure-all for any negativity on her conscience. “But you don’t want to hear about that. I came across Baltimare while travelin’ with that zebra caravan I mentioned, waitin' for the both of you. I wasn’t pleased with what I saw, to say the least. Petty thieves, violence and sour moods were all I could see everywhere I looked. And the local soldiers here get paid hourly regardless of their effort so they don’t do diddly squat!”

“So along comes Rosemary, daughter of Oregano to give this town a spice of justice,” Tohro japes.

“I had to keep my full name under wraps, just in case, but that’s more or less how it went. I roughed up criminals whenever they saw fit to do harm. That’s when I got the Thieves Guild’s attention. And that’s also how I found out that you,” she looks to Tohro, “saw fit to join their ranks.”

“The extra income is nice,” he responds.

“And he’s not hurting anypony innocent,” I say. “I have no quarrel with the guild if they don’t want our heads. So, did they take ire with your actions?”

Rosemary shakes her head. “No, they’re all fine and dandy with vigilantism, in fact, they thanked me. But they advised me to know who is under their protection. See, Altair, out of the kindness of his heart, defends anypony who needs help, allowing them to steal scraps without fear of arrest.” She gestures to an aged fellow laying down on cloth scraps in an alley. Yet, he doesn’t lack for food, eating his way through a bundle of carrots.

“It’s because he’s not too keen on ponies getting too rich for their own good,” says Tohro, “so he helps the poor. He’s going back to the guild’s original mission, in helping even out the odds. And the Imperial Legion can’t do a damn thing about it, not that I would anyway.”

“Heroes outside of the law, I like it,” I say. But my feelings towards the state of Baltimare is still a double-edged sword. “But isn’t it a little dishonest on Altair’s part? Encouraging thievery amongst the common folk?”

“Some ponies need that sort of protection,” says Tohro. “It’s just like how quite a few look up to you because they can’t do anything to save themselves even at the best of times. And besides, aren’t you the type who would do anything necessary to make Equestria safer? Altair just has other means of going about it.”

If anypony else had told me that, it wouldn’t resonate with me nearly as much. Regardless, it’s a valid argument. That street urchin does seem to be happy enough. So, maybe Altair has the right idea. “Very well. You were saying, Rosemary?”

The mare stands up and cracks her neck. “Well, that’s the extent of it. In truth, I haven’t had much to do these past few days. The rapscallions of this town have learned enough about not disobeyin’ the law in my presence, and I’m sure that lesson will remain in my absence.” She frolics about, kicking up a few puddles in her excited dance. “We’re a guild again, laddies! Come along!” She takes ahold of my hooves and urges me to stand up and dance with her, though it’s more of a boisterous forced jig than anything else. “We have maidens to rescue from evil overlords! Criminals to capture! Mead to drink! Dragons to slay! Mead to drink!” She spins around on a single hind leg. "Beware, beware, Guild Dragonrein’s come!"

Laughing at her jubilee, I clutch my ears. “Don’t butcher the song!” I moan.

“Hey, here’s an idea!” Tohro chirps, causing Rosemary to halt her romp. “We have free reign, at least for the time being. Why don’t we go off and visit Shae? There’s little to no chance she’ll be able to join us, but we can at least keep her in high spirits. It’s been too long since we’ve seen such a pretty face.”

Rosemary’s ears twitch and her nostrils flare. She dashes right up to Tohro. “Oi, that pretty face belongs to me.” She then relaxes a little. “But I agree. Like I said, these months without her have been paaaainful. I need to see her somethin’ awful.” She pats her bags. “I have everything I need, so, to Everfree?”

“To Everfree!” Tohro raises his forelegs high and cheers. “Lead the way, Dragonborn!”

“Very well!” I shout with gusto. I’ve longed for the thrill of travel for some time and to have it within my grasp is a welcome notion. I wish the breathe in the chill, dewey air of the highlands, I wish to hear the bustle of the largest cities! I want to bask in the simple pleasures even the most broken kingdom has to offer. Bloody hell, I could eat! I wonder if they serve chips in Everfree?

But my desire for all things culinary gets tossed away when I collide with something below me. I look down and see a little tyke. He’s a yellow pegasus child, smiling up at me. He wears a rough tunic and has the most adorable little scars across his nose and neck— Wait…

“You said you’re the Dragonborn?” he says. “Me and my buddies have been looking all over town for you!” He looks away from me to Rosemary and Tohro, who have just caught up to me. “Hello,” he adds quickly.

“Hello to you too,” says Tohro, giving a small, playful bow.

Two fillies, one purple and another light green, come by, literally rolling over each other and toppling down the dirt road. Their little heads slam into the wall of a nearby hut, but it does little to dampen their spirits. They just break into smiles and laugh it out.

“You couldn’t have seen that before I got here,” says Rosemary to Tohro.

The yellow colt waves the roly-poly children over to him. “Hey, girls! I found ‘im!”

“Found who?” asks the purple one. She squirms away from the green one and gallop to the yellow one’s side.

“Excalibur,” the yellow one says, rolling his eyes. “You idiot, it’s the Dragonborn! And his guild! We’ve hit the motherlode.”

Fame and recognition is one thing, but a sudden approach like this leaves me without anything I feel is worth saying, which only serves to embarrass me further with these three looking at me, wide-eyed and awestruck, expecting something amazing. “I see I have a reputation here?” I ask, making an effort to be gentle as I pat the yellow one on the head. He grunts as I do so.

“You’re a hero, you know,” he says. “My friend works in the Imperial Legion and she talks about your feats all the time! She saw you slay that frost dragon in Everfree like it was a mudcrab!”

“Nasty things,” says the green one quietly.

“And then she saw you kill two more just a few miles from here, and then she told me you were camping out with the Legion and you’d be nearby! Wow!” He holds his head, clearly exasperated. “I’ve met the Dragonborn! I’ll have the center of attention in the orphanage!”

“We will, Lemon. Don’t be selfish,” says the purple one. She reaches out her hoof to me. “So, Dragonborn. I’m Salad Elegance, you can call attention addict here Lemon, and the shy one in the back,” she gestures to the meek green filly, who sees fit to back away, “is Tealeaves. And, yes, cat’s out of the bag, we’re orphans. Do you feel sorry for us yet?” She looks at me expectantly again.

Part of me is distracted by the bandage around this Salad Elegance’s forehead. I start to say, “Well, I—”

She interrupts. “Well, don’t. We’re not here to talk about that. We’re here to ask a question, and the answer is yes or no.”

Okay, that simplifies matters, even if I’m not entirely sure what those matters are. “Ask away,” I say.

“Will you play tag with us?” asks Tealeaves.

Of all the questions in the world… I’m left to scratch my head in confusion and a lack of response. I’ve never even played tag before. My entire childhood was spent with swords, knives, axes and the forge. This is a question I don’t think I can answer without sounding like an eternal dunce. I turn to Tohro and Rosemary, somewhat internally praying for them to answer for me.

They both smile and nod. "I think Shae can wait a few minutes longer," says Tohro.

"You need to let loose a little, trust us," Rosemary adds.

That's all the encouragement I need. I look back to Salad Elegance and smile. "Alright, you want to have fun? Let's have fun.” I point over the heads of her, Lemon and Tealeaves. “We'll give all three of you a thirty second head start."

Lemon hops around, whooping at the top of his lungs, then nudges me in the chest. "You've got it, Dragonborn! Go, girls, go!" He nearly trips over as he breaks into a clumsy gallop.

Tohro starts flapping his wings as the three children round the corner and go out of sight. I still his wings. “Calm down, it’s just tag.”

He immediately retracts his wings and hops away. "Now now, you'll ruin my fine preening," he whines.

"So? You can just get Caro to do it again,” Rosemary says, giving a sly grin.

“Now there’s an enticing thought,” Tohro says. He stares at me, wiggling an eyebrow. “Then I’ll show you how to use the oil.”

I give a snarky laugh. “Oh, hardy har har.”

Tohro splays out his groomed feathers. “What? It really brings out the sheen.”

“Uh, laddies,” Rosemary says, dropping her snide expression and pointing ahead of us. “I think it’s been thirty seconds. Are we going to chase those tykes or not?”

“Oh, right.” Tohro also starts to look serious, albeit a tad too serious for a child’s game. This must be how he looks when alongside his fellow Imperial soldiers. “I think we should all search a different sector of this district—”

I silence him with a tap on his barrel. “That won’t be necessary. Allow me.” I take a deep breath.

“Allow you what?” Rosemary asks, pupils darting about.

Tohro seems to understand well enough, backing away and clearing a space for me to focus. “I do believe he’s doing something Dragonborn related.”

Indeed I am. This is a shout that Master taught me personally. It’s simple, but tactically powerful, and I foresee much use of it in the future. I close my eyes and say the draconic word, “Lass!”

I recall the words of Master. “This is an essential ability that every Dragonborn of the past, particularly Doré Westnaire, took great advantage of. Friends and foes alike will appear to you, regardless of distance or obstacle. You will see their auras, and they will not be able to hide.”

The world goes black for a fraction of a second before returning as a slightly blurred, monochromatic haze. I look around, taking a few steps to get a bearing on this new sensation. It’s as if I’ve come down with tunnel vision. But nevertheless, I can see the white auras of the commoners of Baltimare, most of it merged together from the bustle of the marketplace. I move my attention to the buildings around us, and see three small bumbling figures waddling about, obscured by two cottages ahead of me.

Keeping the aura sight up, I wave Tohro and Rosemary forward. “I found them.” I point to the left side of the cottages. “You two go around, and I’ll take the opposite side. We’ll pin them down.”

“Right,” says Rosemary. “I’ll chase them into a trap. Just don’t shout them into a stone wall or anything if they give us the slip.” She starts out galloping, with Tohro flying hot on her trail.

“Nonsense,” he says. “Caro may be a violent one, but children are one thing he harbors no resentment for.”

As they disappear out of regular sight, I notice that their auras are a light blue. I remember what else Hammerfell told me about the shout. He said, “Those you keep close to your heart will be marked accordingly, just to ensure you don’t do anything you may regret.” Whomever invented this shout certainly thought of everything.

Right. Tag. I gallop to the cottage ahead. Conveniently, a unicorn colt is laying out boxes, which I leap onto as steps. “Oi!” he calls out, but he doesn’t sound too upset. I then turn, jump and grab ahold of the cottage’s wooden sign, pulling myself over and stepping onto the rooftop. The shingles bend underneath my weight. Oh dear. This is what happens when you build a home in the marshlands.

I step lightly across the roof, breaking into a gallop and leaping onto the next rooftop over. After I recover from a landing roll, I notice the children are moving quickly down the block. They’re out in the open, straight in front of me. I see Tohro flying overhead. “I’ll cut them off,” he says.

Never having played this game before, I wonder if all games are this intense. I should have gone outside more often in my youth.

I smile. The hunt is on.

Rosemary is galloping at the ground level. I look down to her and say, “Close them off at the end of the block. I’ll pick them off one by one.”

“Say what?” she asks, hunching her head.

"That's the rules of tag, isn't it?" Not waiting for her answer, I crouch and shout, “WULD NAH KEST!”

The sting of cold air upon my face, brought on by an aerial dash, lasts for only a moment before I fall to the grass and drift to a stop. I look about at the many auras of the townsfolk stepping back and gasping at my abilities. I ignore their mumbled words of awe and wonder, though I still catch mutterings of my name and title.

The aura of the one of the children has changed course into a nearby alleyway. I gallop inside, trudging through soppy grass and mud. I see Tealeaves standing midway between me and the other end of the alley. She spots me, shrieking and laughing simultaneously, then makes a break for it. That’s when Tohro flies in and blocks the path, leaving Tealeaves with nowhere to run. I gallop to her and tap her chest.

“Tag.”

She stomps and huffs. “Aw, come on! That’s cheap!” She laughs again. “Have you caught Lemon or Salad yet?”

“No,” I say, “but that shouldn’t be too much of a problem.”

“That’s a handy trick you have there, mate,” says Tohro.

I turn around and search through the auras again, finding nothing of significance. At least, until…

“Get your little rump back here! I ain’t playin’ around no more!” Rosemary gallops by, chasing after the madly giggling Lemon and Salad Elegance. And as she does so, I realize that I’m rather hungry. It’s these children and their accursed names of food. Perhaps families are wanting enough that they name their children after what they want most at their times of birth, that way they could… What the hell am I thinking?

In my tract, I’ve chased after Rosemary, who has backed the children up to the edge of the canal running through the central marketplace. She smilingly serenely, evidently lost to the stupid fun of this game. I have to say I’m suffering the same fate. Heh, ‘suffering’.

“We can make this easy,” she says. “I’ve already let a few of you varmints get away, I ain’t lettin’ another one out of my sight.”

A few? Last I checked, she only let Tealeaves slip away. What is she—

“Come here!” She lunges at the both of them, but Lemon is a slippery kid. He spreads his wings and quickly dodges her attack, but Salad Elegance isn’t as quick to the jump. Rosemary seizes her and ends up bringing her over the edge and into the canal. The mare and the filly’s sputtering as they bob on the surface of the water is most amusing. At least they’re laughing all the while. “Tag!” chirps Rosemary.

I lean stand over the edge and ask, “Can you swim?”

“Of course!” says Salad Elegance.

Rosemary nods her head as she lays on her back, doing a backstroke. “Yes! What sort of bloody idiot can’t swim?”

“Just checking.” I hear more laughter. Turning my head, I see Lemon doing a fancy yet mocking waltz, which is only made possible by his wings. “I’ll get the pegasus,” I say to Rosemary as she makes a swim for the wooden dock, Salad Elegance following suit.

However, as I turn to chase Lemon, I see he’s either older than he appears to be, or he’s an early bloomer in terms of flight. He soars over a whole line of houses. Luckily, my aura sight is still working well. I see his aura squat down close to the opposite end of the house line. He must think he has a chance of outsmarting me. That’s a shame for him.

I take the long way around the house, stepping onto the cobblestone street. I decide to toy with Lemon for a little while, feigning looking up into the trees and around the vegetation that has forced its way into the rural area (Again, settling in a marshland is a forced compromise between civilization and nature). I take a peek at the child as he huddles down behind a row of cropped bushes. My heightened hearing detects him giggling. Oh, he thinks he’s so clever. But he’s the fool. My prey cannot hide.

I act as if I’m about to waltz away without another glance, but then I spin around. “Su!”

Lemon floats out of the bushes, wrapped in a purple glow. His kicking and struggling is a complete waste of effort. I will him towards me, though I have to strain myself due to his resistance. “Don’t thrash,” I say. “Nothing more you can do.”

He obeys, but only because something else has caught his attention. “Uh, Dragonborn...” He gestures to his left and right. Evidently, magically suspending a child in the air against his will gathers the attention of many a skeptical folk.

So I’m standing here, surrounded by leering commoners. I can hear them muttering accusations under their breath, but I can tell they’re afraid to come forth and say anything. I sympathize with them for their confusion; I have to admit, this is a fairly awkward situation.

“We were just playing tag!” says Lemon, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. The shout’s use has worn out at this point anyway. The child falls to the ground unharmed.

“I became overzealous, I apologize.” I try to look well-meaning to the onlookers, but I know I’ve failed in that regard. They all begin to walk away.

Lemon places his hoof on my knee. “Don’t overcompensate, you’ll just end up looking like an ass.”

I smile at him. “That’s ill language for your age.” I tap him on his wither. “Tag.”

He smiles back for a moment, but it doesn’t last long as he looks off at nothing in particular. “There’s a fair lot ill about me, Dragonborn.”

I can safely say this has been one of the odder days of my life, waking up in an Imperial camp and exploring this mossy town, then preparing to leave only to be interrupted by a game of tag. A rather intense game of tag, at that, and a very fun one. It feels like it’s been an eternity since I even stopped to have fun. There’s just so little of such a thing to find myself in.

But by Lemon’s statement there, I can assume there’s more grimness beneath all this fun. Such is the way of the twilight age.

“You can tell me what ails you. I’m here to help.”

The child nods, though he still looks defeated. “I know that, alright. Some ponies are dead scared of you, thinking you’re some sort of cursed pony, but I still believe in heroes.” He lets out a meek chuckle. “They say I’m naive for that, though.”

“They being who?” I ask.

“The other children in the orphanage. See, when Rosemary came along, she took a shine to us, almost immediately. She told us about everything you’ve done since you escaped from Gallopagos Keep. That’s when I knew heroes, like the ones in my books, still exist out there. Not everypony has to be a mercenary or a thug to make it in this land, right?”

I dwell on that for a moment as Lemon starts walking back towards the canal. He’s awfully philosophical for a child. He rivals Shokenda in thought provoking, I’d even warrant. “It can be tough to be noble when nopony gives you the chance, especially with all of the beastly ponies hiding amongst the decent ones," I say, thinking back to what I’ve done to those beastly ones, and the sight of their corpses as I left them behind. “I must confess, sometimes, I find myself giving in to the easiest option, rather than the right option. And there doesn’t seem to ever be an in-between. Maybe the reason there aren’t as many heroes as there should be is because it’s just not easy.”

“It’s easy for you! You lifted me up through sheer willpower. That’s insanely amazing.”

He has no idea. All that’s easy for me is to kill. I’ve never been able to understand my fellow ponies, even as a child. Especially as a child. It was the reason I was an introvert, a friend only to the forge. It’s the reason I only confided in Master, and why I consider Tohro my best friend; he’s my first friend.

So, yes, I’m a stranger in my own homeland. How can I be a storybook hero if I can’t connect with those I want to save? Or those who appeal to the beast inside of me, making me draw my sword upon them? I refuse to try and answer that now, because I might just break the wide-eyed idealist before me.

But I do agree with one thing Lemon says. “It is pretty amazing.” As I say that, I notice we’ve arrived back at the canal, with Tohro and Rosemary waiting for us alongside Tealeaves and Salad Elegance.

“Hey, you!” says Tohro. “I was wondering where you were. I didn’t want you to be caught in the storm.”

I cock my brow, then look up to the sky. How I haven’t taken notice of the dark clouds building overhead, I can’t imagine. “Goodness, where did that come from?” I ask rhetorically. “But how do you know it’s a—” A piece of parchment falls across my vision. I lift it off my face and take a look, seeing its a very professionally written letter.

-An urgent message to all Imperial colonies from the Weather Guild-

In an attempt to scatter traveling Blackwing troops, Her Majesty Queen Platinum is issuing a heavy snowstorm. It is advised that all villagers retreat inside with aught enough for three days.

As a reminder to all, know that winter will have an extended stay until it is issued otherwise by Her Majesty. We understand how this may be of inconvenience to many, but be assured that these drastic measures will gain the Imperial Legion the upper hoof in this war.

-Keep Calm and Carry On-

I discard the letter. “Oh, well then. Good show, Platinum.”

Salad Elegance’s expression holds nothing but dread as the snow begins its descent around us. “Not an enthusiast of the cold?” I ask.

She wipes a few fallen flakes off her head bandage. “No, snow is fine. I like snow. I’m just… not overly fond of going inside, to say the least.”

Tealeaves and Lemon carry the exact same expression as her. Something awaits them, something very dreadful, and very soon. I can believe it’s something that’s tormented them for a long time, if they can revert to such a sorrowful state on a moment’s notice. It’s just as how thoughts of Master used to force me into a pothole of sorrow and rage, no matter how I was before.

“Why would you…” Before I can finish my question, I see Rosemary gritting her teeth, wide-eyed and crossing her throat with a hoof. I can assume she doesn’t want me to ask about the obvious. But I can see curiosity coming from Tohro as well. If someone is going to find out what’s going on, it’s me. There’s something strange about these children. I reaffirm my question with a heavier voice. “What’s waiting for you back at the orphanage?”

Tealeaves cackles weakly. “Ah, uh… Nopony said anything about the orphanage.”

I approach her and say, “I can draw the connection. I’m no fool.” I look back to Salad Elegance and Lemon. “You dread going inside. Lemon implied that the children of the orphanage have lost hope. Also, Salad Elegance,” I point to the purple filly, “what on Epona’s land is underneath that bandage?”

“Nothing!” she squeaks, almost too quick to answer.

“Caro, don’t overstep your boundaries,” advises Rosemary. She’s cross with me, but I don’t care. I’m chipping away at this mystery.

Lemon steps close to Salad Elegance. He’s stern, yet sympathetic as he speaks to her. “I think it’s about time things changed.” He reaches for her forehead, and while the filly is cowering, she doesn’t resist as Lemon’s hoof slips under her bandage and begins to tear it off.

Just underneath the white cloth is a stump. The stump of a unicorn horn.

“What the…” I hear Tohro mutter.

“Imbeciles!” snaps a ragged, scratchy voice.

In less than a second, Lemon and Tealeaves stiffen up and stand at attention, Salad Elegance doing the same as she reapplies the bandage.

My mind is racing. What sort of monster would cut off the one thing that makes a unicorn who they are? As it turns out, the unicorn I’m sure is responsible has revealed herself, stepping up to the three children as they stand in a horizontal line.

She has a grim mien to her, despite a mostly saccharine appearance; her white mane is tied into a bun and she wears a peasant’s gown over a pink coat, but it’s her face that strikes me as suspicious. It’s as if her wrinkles keep her in a perpetual angered frown.

“Imbeciles, all of you!” she repeats. “You were to be back a half-hour ago, and where have you been?”

“Just playing tag, Madam Sunflower…” Tealeaves whispers, meek and cowering.

The old mare zeroes in on Tealeaves with a birds-eye glare, making the filly squeal like she were just stabbed in the heart. “Don’t snip at me!” yells this Sunflower mare. “You’re all ungrateful rats. I how many times have I told you to appreciate the kindness of my heart?”

It’s beyond me what sort of child would take this sort of trash, even if it’s trash from an adult. I recall when a drunken customer of Master’s was berating me for a dent in his blade. I kicked him out and he never came around again, and Master was grateful for that. I didn’t have to take such idiocy, and neither do these children.

“Two things are going to happen, lady,” I say, stepping between her and the children. “You are going to step away from these kids. Then you will kindly jump off a cliff and save me the trouble.”

I hear Tohro hissing behind me, and I elect to ignore it.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” she asks.

She asked, so I’ll answer. “Well, I—”

She grunts at me and interrupts. “It’s my job to look after this sniveling rats. I don’t spend my valuable time cooking and cleaning for them just to get chewed out by a ragged weed like you.”

“...You never cook for us…” whispers Lemon.

“What was that?!” Sunflower snaps, turning away from me. Lemon shuts up right away, quickly bringing his own hoof to his neck and wincing. Sunflower looks back at me. “I’ve owned my orphanage for twenty years.”

Just as she says that, I take a look in the direction from which she arrived. I can see, amongst the mossy cottages and shops, a much more downtrodden two-story house. Vegetation has nearly consumed its front side. “Tell me, is that it over there?” I ask, nodding to the wretched place.

“Yes, indeed.”

Truly pathetic. This hag is sinking by the minute, and I have a feeling if she sinks any deeper, she won’t be climbing out. “And you’re doing a bang-up job,” I say, taking a violent grin. “Do all the children sleep in one room?

Lemon taps me on the leg again. I look down and see he’s between scared and angry. I know that face. “There’s not even enough beds for us. The girls and I take turns sleeping on the floor.”

Sunflower points accusingly at the colt. “Get back in line.”

“Don’t talk to him like that.” I step in front of Lemon. I’m larger than her, so she can do nothing to him. “Horrid living conditions and an abusive caretaker? And here I was, thinking this town was alright. Oh, well. I suppose there’s always one blemish that needs cleaning.”

“Preach, Dragonborn!” pipes Lemon.

That makes Sunflower’s eye twitch. “This scoundrel is none of your concern, rat! I said get back in line.”

He begins to turn around, much to Salad Elegance and Tealeaves’ relief, but I feel a new sort of respect for this child when he faces Sunflower again, not carrying any fear this time. He stares her down. “No.”

Sunflower’s breath becomes irregular. “Excuse me?”

“I said no,” says Lemon. My respect for him climbs as he takes on the pose of a soldier at war. “I am sick and tired of this. You hurt everypony in the orphanage. You threaten any friends I make outside, hell, you only allow us outside once a week!”

“That is a blessing!” Sunflower yells, doing nothing to make Lemon falter.

“Once a week, for five minutes! This is not living, Sunflower!”

The hag stomps. “You will call me Madam Sunflower the Kind!”

Lemon bares his teeth, then, in the boldest move I’ve ever seen from a child, spits. It lands dead between Sunflower’s eyes. “How about Madam Invective Minge?!”

All of Baltimare may as well have heard that, for everything goes quiet. The passing civilians, the rolling carts... even the soft laps of the canal against the moldy stone architecture have gone silent. All that’s left to me are me, six other ponies, and five wide open mouths belonging to Tohro, Rosemary, Salad Elegance, Tealeaves and Sunflower. Lemon is grinning. So am I.

However, we both stop grinning when Sunflower ignites her horn. Lemon cries out and squints as he’s lifted up by the tail, carried alongside the old mare. She glares at Salad Elegance and Tealeaves. “Orphanage. Now.” She departs with the two children trudging along after her.

Tealeaves lingers behind, stepping up to me. She clears her throat, reaches up to her collar and pulls it down ever so slightly. Her entire neck is purple with nicks and bruises. Compared to the missing horn upon Salad Elegance, this is minimal, but it certainly helps solidify my decision.

She quickly hides it away. “Save us,” she says. She gallops to catch up to Salad Elegance, but why she would ever hurry is beyond me.

And just like that, the world’s sound comes back. I feel sick to my stomach, just from considering the idea that such misfortune exists. I grimace, bringing a hoof to my eyes. I may be inducing my own headache from thinking about those children, stuck in misery and torture until somepony finds the kindness in their heart to take them away from such a life… But what kindness is there amongst these peasants if they such hags as Sunflower are allowed to even exist?!

“What the hell was that all about?” Tohro asks.

Rosemary groans and begins to remove herself from the vicinity. “That was innocence lost, laddies.”

Tohro goes after her. “How do you mean?”

I follow him and her down the steps leading to the surface of the canal. Rosemary lays down at the water’s edge and wets her hoof, tracing indiscriminate shapes. “I could end crime in every district but I’ve never found a way to cope with Sunflower’s sadism.”

Tohro growls. “That bitch has a problem. She needs to be sent away.” His eyes widen. “Wait, why can’t you just, well, do that?”

“Huh?” Rosemary tilts her head.

“Why the hell can’t you just walk up to her and arrest her?”

“I’m no soldier, honey. I’m a vigilante. I have no say in who gets arrested.” Rosemary stands up and kicks out a hind leg. “I just give those who break the law a little kiss from Sir Kicks McGee. The soldiers are lazy asses, as I told you.”

There was proof to that just a few moments ago. Three guards must have passed by us with nary a qualm with what was going on. I fear for what this place was like before Rosemary came along.

Tohro’s angered tick breaks any attempt at staying calm. “Even a lazy soldier must take ire with what Sunflower has done! If these children don’t get adopted, then—”

“Ha!” Rosemary puts on a false smile. “You honestly think the bitch would ever let any of those kids out of her grip? She never lets anypony adopt them.”

“How do you kn—”

She interrupts Tohro. “I tried.”

So there goes part of one plan I was cooking; I’ve gathered a decent amount of bits, so I warrant I could adopt a child or two and extract them from Sunflower’s grasp. That’s fallen through. But there’s one last solution to this matter that I feel I’m meant for. It’s amazing how often I am in the right place at the right time for such things.

“You didn’t try hard enough,” I state bluntly, ascending the steps back onto the streets.

"Caro, what are you..." Tohro trails off.

Rosemary has exhausted all of her options, but she’s not me. I can do so much more than she could ever manage.

There’s something else I took notice of back there, which only serves to fuel the fires of persecution; Sunflower’s aura is red.

I will not tell a lie or beat around any sort of bush. I know I killed Pyro and Ember, and I killed them brutally, intimately and unforgivably. But that is only the fate they chose when they raped Jade. Blackwing or no, Jade is a pony who did nothing to deserve that. Those mongrels did something so sick and depraved that they deserved an unforgivable death; because they did something unforgivable. They needed to die.

Then I killed Preacher. I did him a favor. He was old, senile and long detached from any rhyme or reason. Besides, he was a potential disruption to an operation that meant the difference between victory and defeat for Trottingham. Mjolnir tipped the scales in the Empire’s favor.

Didn’t it?

Yes, it did. And Preacher put our reclaiming of Mjolnir at risk. Nopony misses him. He’s better off dead.

That’s why I’m here, after all. If I can protect the innocent by taking away the evil, then what reason do I have to stop? I’m not stopping. I’m never stopping until Equestria is the kingdom it was meant to be, free of corruption and strife.

I follow Sunflower’s red aura with my eyes as it trots back and forth within the decrepit orphanage. Out of the corner of my eye, I see peeling letters above the door spell Sunflower Fields Orphanage – For those who need kindness. That’s amusing enough to quell my beating heart, and it’s beating fast.

I’m listening for a time to strike, but one has yet to arise. All I really hear are isolated, inaudible conversations amongst the children inside. By the way their colorless auras are arranged, I’d warrant their one room is on the first floor, with Sunflower’s room just up a flight of stairs. Of course she wants to be above them all.

The most I can hear from the orphans is the mention of Lemon and his bold stance against Sunflower, but the details are lost to me. Either way, his act hasn’t gone unnoticed. I smirk for his success.

But the consequences of his success are made apparent when I hear Lemon screaming. The walls do nothing to hide that. But the lack of windows hides whatever is the cause of such a scream.

That’s when I hear Sunflower yelling over Lemon’s cries. “Screaming only makes it worse, child! It does nothing; just stifle yourself and let it happen.”

Lemon stops screaming, but he certainly doesn’t shut up. “The Dragonborn will be here any second! You’ll see! Then he’ll—”

His voice becomes muffled, presumably by Sunflower’s hoof. “I said silence! Step into my room. Now.”

Her room. Away from the other children? What is she planning? I can’t wait any longer not knowing. I must halt this before anything more can befall these orphans, particularly Lemon.

But a harsh click when I push on the door puts a damper on things. Of course Sunflower thought to lock the door. And due to the children’s squabbling, they can’t hear me. I’m tempted to make use of Unrelenting Force to destroy this door. But that would be excessive. I settle for bracing my shoulder and broadsiding it. The lock breaks and the door quietly swings open.

The interior is mostly wooden and mossy, like the outside. There’s nothing child friendly about this orphanage. I look left, just past the one dinner table, to see the cramped child quarters. Bunk beds line the walls, laden with rough and torn blankets. My attention is brought to the children, who, proof to Lemon’s words, outnumber the beds. Sunflower doesn’t even seem to have the dignity to even try.

One of the kids stands up from the top bunk, flapping his wings excitedly as he shows me a grin of many missing teeth. “Are you the—”

“Dragonborn!” Salad Elegance gallops right up to me. “You shouldn’t be here! You’ll just make her madder!”

Another ear-piercing scream from Lemon makes her urging a moot point. Looking at her forehead, no longer covered by a bandage, I see her broken horn. “Did you scream when she took that away?”

She squeaks and covers the stump with a single hoof. “Y-yes…”

“She screamed for hours,” says another orphan, a boy. “She only stopped because—“

I complete his sentence. “The hag threatened to do worse if she didn’t?”

All of the children nod.

That’s it. I have neither patience nor mercy left in reserve. I wave to the children. “Stay in your room, young ones. And cover your ears. This will be your last day in hell.”

They all seem oblivious to what I mean, except for Tealeaves, who lets a small smile cross her muzzle. I’m sure the rest of the children will be smiling along with her in due time.

I watch Salad Elegance close the door to the cramped bedroom, and then ascend the steps upstairs quietly. I’m no connoisseur of stealth, but at the very least I can keep Sunflower unaware of my presence. It’s better that way; I don’t wish for Lemon to be hurt any worse than he could be. Whatever wounds he endures, I will be to blame, but at least I can repent through avenging those wounds.

There is only one door at the top of the stairs and it’s just the one I need. I can hear the intense argument inside as I prepare to break down the door.

I hear Lemon growling like a wolf protecting its property. “I’m not taking it back—“

“You’d better,” says Sunflower, but she doesn’t shut him up.

“—because I am right! You’re the scum of Equestria, bitch! You’ve made my life a living hell to please your fucked up sadism!” I then hear him grunt. Sunflower is forcing him to do something. There’s a thud of metal. Screaming and metal don’t tend to make for a happy situation. “Yeah, go ahead, do it. Fucking do it, bitch, I dare you!”

This child is worth ten of most soldiers I’ve seen. Despite his occasional screams before, he’s strong under pressure. A diamond, literally in the rough.

I slam my entire side against the door but this lock is sturdy. It figures; Sunflower cares more for her own safety than the children’s.

I hear Sunflower again. “Say you’re sorry, and I only break one.”

…Oh, shit.

To hell with subtlety. I crouch, take a deep breath and shout, “FUS RO DAH!”

The door is torn from its hinges, leaving nothing but splinters and a shattered deadbolt. The door splits in half upon collision with the wall and ends up breaking several, hopefully valuable, conveniently placed pots and cups littered along the dresser.

I step into the room and immediately lock my sight on Sunflower and Lemon, and if I weren’t in a state of rage and adrenaline, I’d gape at the setup I see here. Lemon’s hind legs are tethered by a rough rope to an anvil, the sort I’d see in a forge. His left wing is laid across the anvil, forced flat by Sunflower’s hoof, and in her magical grip is a hammer.

I cast out my hoof. “I advise you to drop that now.”

She looks up at me, then to the remains of her door, then at Lemon’s wing, then back to me. I see her smile for the first time, and it’s not a smile I want to see. “No.”

She brings the hammer down hard, and I hear an unmistakable crack. Lemon screams, louder than ever before, making me cringe even more than I already am. I was too late. I stood there like a bloody moron, like the soldiers that run this town, and let that hag break his wing.

But I’m still here, and at the very least I can still do something to save the other wing. As Sunflower keeps that gross smile on her face, I begin to approach her. “I advise that you stay where you are,” she says. “Unless you wish to be responsible for the other wing.”

Lemon, shivering from the pain with his shattered wing drenched in blood, remains defiant as ever, grinding his teeth together and snarling at the hag despite the tears drenching his face. He looks at me, longingly and desperately.

“You should have minded your own business, mongrel,” says Sunflower.

My hoof is on my new sword. I’m ready to put it to use, but swinging it about like a maniac would only put poor Lemon in even more misery. But obviously, that’s not my only option.

“SU MAH!”

Lemon, as well as the hammer used to break him, elevate out of Sunflower’s reach, but the rope still holds his leg fast to the anvil. I reach for my sword, remove it from its sheath and give it a spinning toss. It slices clean through the rope and clatters to the floor. I can retrieve it later.

I will Lemon and the hammer to me. A few droplets of blood also follow in the elevation. Despite the horror show I just witnessed, and of which he was part of, the child smiles, knowing he has a rescuer in me.

“Oblaan.” The levitation ends, and the hammer falls out of Sunflower’s reach. I reach out to Lemon and pull him in for a guardian’s embrace, paying no mind to the blood staining my coat. Of course, I take care not to touch the wing. “It’s going to be okay now.”

“I know…” he whispers, voice tingling with pain. "I'd rather be free with a broken wing than here with both..."

“I recommend you go downstairs for a moment.” I release him, stepping around him as he hobbles out of the room through the splintered entrance.

Sunflower, well in shock over what just happened, has only just snapped out of her entrancement. She’s the one gritting her teeth now. She scuffs at the floor. “Asinine… What sort of sorcery was that?!”

I shrug, giving her a devil-may-care smirk.

“You’ll regret this!” She charges at me.

Let us recount who is asinine here; I have the powers of a race of beasts that are second to gods. I’m able to manipulate the world in ways even most unicorns cannot. I can make objects fly with my voice. I can cast fire from my lips. I can shatter objects with three words. But, most importantly of all at this moment, I’m the one who holds the hammer.

I lift it off the floor and bring the head up into Sunflower’s jaw just as she makes a dive for me. With a grunt, she goes airborne. Well, it seems I don’t need my voice to make my enemies fly. But she ends up with a headache either way. She slowly removes her head from the side of the anvil, holding her jaw. I can hear her breathing becoming jagged and irregular. I think I broke it.

Not good enough.

After dropping the hammer, I slowly walk up to the now weak and cowering old crone and strike her in the face again, making her whinge and caress her face more. Like any coward, she leans over and tries to hide her face from me. With her back exposed, I see another window of opportunity. Oh, with her not even bothering to put up a fight, the possibilities for justice are just endless. I lick my lips.

I seize hold of Sunflower by her collar, making her gag, then toss her against the wall. I catch a glimpse of her face. Where the hammer hit her, I see a large blotch of blue, and as she heaves, I see red draining from her mouth. There’s another bruise on her cheek, where she collided with the wall.

My hoof, tense and itching for a good punch, rises into the air.

I throw the first punch, right between her eyes. She squints and squeals, then looks back up at me with wide, watering, bloodshot whites. I click my tongue at such a sordid plea for mercy. After all, how often did those children plea for mercy, only to be met with more abuse from this sadistic gorgon?

I give her another punch, this one upside her head, only making more blood spurt from her mouth. She gargles, trying to say something, but her broken jaw and mouthful of her own fluids keeps her silent.

A third punch, which goes straight into her muzzle. It’s safe to say I’ve broken at least half of her face at this point. So long as she can’t talk, I’m satisfied. Ooh, my. She’s draining blood from her nostrils now. Where else might she bleed from?

It’s time for a change of position. I grab her busted head and throw her to the ground, and the rest of her body goes with her. She must be in absolutely horrible pain to not make any attempt to escape. I deliberately step on her chest, making her gasp under my weight, as I walk over her.

Standing on my hind legs, I bring both of my forelegs over my head. I cast them down on her. The sensation with they both collide with the entirety of her face can only be described as an explosion of bone and and blood. I blush with satisfaction as I alternate between hooves, sending them into her moist, bleeding, spongy head in an alternating pattern. It’s like making beautiful music.

I don’t know how long I keep that rhythm up, but by the time my legs tire out, Sunflower is little more than a body attached to a veiny pulp.

I hear a gasp, but it’s definitely not from the corpse that lays before me. I look up and see, standing in the remains of the doorway, is a mare I haven’t met yet. She’s older than most of the children, but the blemishes visible beneath her loose cowl make it known that she lives in this orphanage. And she may have just witnessed me murder the caretaker.

So it’s sensical, albeit disturbing, that she looks so content.

“Um, hello.” I politely wave to her as I approach. I offer my hoof, but then retract it quickly when I notice it’s covered in blood, amongst other nasty things. “I’m Caro.”

The mare bows, in an odd gesture I’d expect to be saved for higher-ups. “Pleasure. I’m Dew. I’m the eldest child at this orphanage.”

Beyond introductions, I’ve got nothing to say to this mare. Shuffling my hooves like a socially awkward child in a schoolhouse, I look back to Sunflower’s carcass, then back to the dissonantly calm Dew. “So, um…” I run my hoof along the back of my head. “What just happened?”

Dew smiles, then casually trots across the room to what I assume is… was, Sunflower’s four-poster bed. She bites the sheet and pulls it off, then brings it to the corpse. She lays the blanket over what’s left of Sunflower and goes to work wrapping her up. “Well, as far as I’m aware, and as far as anypony else is concerned, Sunflower has departed the orphanage for an extended vacation in Saddle Arabia. Before she took her leave, she approached me, uh, hold on…”

She steps over to the dresser and opens a few drawers until she finds what she’s looking for; quills, an ink pot, and paper. She sets them down, takes the quill in her hoof and begins writing as she continues her alibi. “And she gave me this formally written deed that gives me full responsibility over the orphanage and its occupants until she returns.”

“Which… she doesn’t?” I ask.

Dew pauses her writing, nods to the blankets, then puts on a forced frown, swooning dramatically. “Oh, dearest me! What misfortune has fallen upon on this day it was made known that Mistress Sunflower the Kind perished of pox in Saddle Arabia?” She smirks. “I daresay I have a few months to perfect that performance for anypony who starts asking questions.” She resumes writing, taking care to make the ‘deed’ look as official as possible. “As for you, I recommend leaving as quietly as possible as to not stir up a ruckus. Or frackas. Take your pick.”

I’m at a loss for words again. I don’t know why I even bother searching for something to say. I simply return that earlier bow. This mare has made such filthy matters so much cleaner. It is known to many how much I appreciate cleanliness.

As I turn to leave this orphanage far behind, Dew speaks up once again. “Wait.” I turn around to hear what for, only to have my eyes widen as she approaches, leans in and kisses my cheek. She quickly relinquishes, red in the face as she says, “Thank you.”

I hastily, yet quietly, descend the stairs, determined to find some means of washing my face.

~Vision End~

~Tohro~

The most beautiful sounds in the world, in my honest opinion, are the wind, birds chirping, gentle laps of the ocean against rock, a lover’s cry of pleasure, and the sweet, sweet jingle of gold coins in a tightly bound pouch. That last one brings an incredibly immature smile to my face, especially as Altair drops said pouch into my bag. This is my recompense for the caravan job with Xephyr. I wish Altair could afford to meet elsewhere, though; the sewers’ gritty scent, mixed with the moist air from the canals, does not bode well for my nostrils.

“Five hundred and fifty five bits as promised, Tohro Blackwing,” he says. What I appreciate about Altair is that he’s never aloof about whether or not he shows pride in his lesser thieves. With a wink of his tattooed eye, he continues. “I must also congratulate you on your ingenuity on retaking the stock, as well as your kindness towards the owner. Not many are so eager to put their prejudices aside.”

“Don’t worry yourself, sir. I always put my past behind me when necessary. If I weren’t good at that, I wouldn’t be wearing the royal colors.” I flaunt the purple and gold accents of my overcoat. When Altair raises a brow at my lack of subtlety, I stop and say, “Uh, I had to report to camp last night and they insisted I change out of the guild’s, uh…” How do I put this without insulting him? “...less formal attire?”

Thankfully, he nods in agreement. “Fair enough.” He tilts his head as if a stray thought has come to light. “So, there haven’t been any qualms in the Legion about your working for me? I suspected that there’d be at least some sign of trouble by now.”

“I suspected the very same thing,” I say. I chuckle at the thought of Queen Platinum calming a few panicky soldiers. “I suspect Her Majesty is doing her finest to hush up anypony who takes ire with my many jobs. She finds me that valuable, evidently.”

Altair nods again, looking fit to take his leave. “Do leave politics out of this, disciple. The rest of this crew has long since abandoned the law. Nevertheless, well done. If you’re fit for another job, do come visit.” He throws on his white hood and sprints into the sewers on all fours. Credit to him, he’s very fast, even without wings.

I retrieve the pouch of gold and give it a triumphant toss. I start on back to where I left Rosemary, right outside The Broken Saddle. We had agreed to wait for Caro there after he went and slipped away from us.

I frown at the last thing he said to be. Those words do not allow for many happy conclusions. What concerns me more is that, as far as everypony else is concerned, the actions I suspect him of are entirely justified.

Nevertheless, someone here has to keep a smile up, and if I can’t be the one to do it, then Rosemary most certainly has to. That girl could smile in the face of a dragon, I swear.

...And yet, approaching the entrance of the bar, it concerns me beyond reasoning that she’s not there. Instead, I see Whiskey, who is less than pleased to see me.

“What’s the matter, doll?” I ask her.

She gestures to the inside of the bar with her head. “Rosemary’s room. And it’s not a pretty picture."

My day seems cloudier than how it began. Caro has killed something other than my smile.

There are two faces in this room. One is above us, elevated on a line of barrels, determined to avoid confrontation. I can respect her for that, as this isn’t her area to get involved.

The other face is the one I’ve dreaded seeing for some time. This is the moment he’s probably been expecting, ever since he committed that first unforgivable act. However, it is regrettably possible that he wasn’t expecting this either, that he honestly believes he has the moral high ground here. Morality may be subjective, but it is still possible to be just plain drop dead wrong. Wrong is all Caro is right now.

“Caro…” I say his name calmly; I don’t call him ‘mate’ because he doesn’t deserve that. Not at the moment, at least. I pause, take a deep breath and look at him with grim resolve, trying to keep eye contact while his blood speckled coat. I’m amazed he was able to get back here inconspicuously with all that red on his turquoise fur.

Right, eyes. He deliberately tries to avoid me looking into them, as I’d expect, but I hold my gaze well enough.

“Did you kill Sunflower?” I ask.

It’s an obvious question with a doubly obvious answer, but what else am I supposed to ask? If I’m to get through to my friend, I can’t just outright accuse him. I know him. This is exactly why Rosemary is standing aside; she doesn’t know enough to get involved. Grace her for understanding.

But Caro, well, he just doesn’t understand at all, smiling smugly and saying, “So what if I did?”

I wipe that smile off his face with a calm yet harsh belt to his jaw. Caught unawares, he falls to the ground clumsily, bewildered. He clutches his snout as he attempts to get back up, but I cast my hoof out. “Stay.”

I get the feeling that if anypony else were to tell him that, they’d be broken in a corner by now. But Caro listens to me.

“I held my tongue to the best of my ability. I thought for a moment that maybe the problem would fix itself. I have enough to worry about, after all. I figured, perhaps my best friend would turn his head towards the possibility that maybe there are alternatives to walking up to somepony and murdering them on the spot.”

“You weren’t there,” Caro growls. His hooves are shaking. “She destroyed Lemon’s wing. That child will likely never fly again because of her. But she did it so calmly, so… routinely. It’s obvious that she had no remorse for putting those kids through years of torture, knowing very well that they had nowhere else to go.” His eyes narrow as he fumes at me. “I couldn’t just sit there and do nothing! I had to kill her!”

“No, you didn’t.” I trot back and forth, but I stay close to him, just in case he gets the idea to bolt on me. “You had to do something. I get it, Caro. You want to be a hero, somepony who just wants to do good by Equestria, helping the innocent, protecting the weak. We all know that song and dance. I bet at one point in everypony’s lives, there’s a want to be a knight in shining armor. You don’t look so much like one right now, though. You stink of blood, and I don’t hear anypony praising your name.”

“The children praised me…” he mutters.

“Because they are children. I doubt most of them even have a sense of morality. They are the few who believe in knights in shining armor these days, and you set an awful example of one. What if those children become inspired by your antics, thinking that the only option out of a conflict is to kill?”

Caro is about to say something to defend himself, but I cut him off before he has a chance.

“You treat every problem like a dragon, like you can just slay it and it’ll fade away. You think yourself a hero for that, but I’ll tell you this much…”

Caro’s eyes flash with gold for an instant. “Don’t.”

“I will.” I’m willing to push this confrontation to its limits if I have to. I need to get through to Caro, even if it means pushing boundaries. “You keep killing those you deem unworthy without batting an eye.”

“Tohro, there is a line—”

“You’re no better than a dragon.”

I know I’m going to regret saying that, but there are words in this world that need to be said, even if nopony wants to hear them.

Caro exhales. “You crossed it.”

I close my eyes, awaiting the oncoming storm. My hooves leave the ground as I feel Caro slam his forelegs into my chest, holding them against me as he throttles me against a barrel. All I can see in my vision when I open my eyes is a face of pure rage, eyes filled with gold aura and red veins.

“You do not put me in the same league as those monsters.” His voice is unusually serene, despite his livid look. “They took my life away from me. Because of them, I will never be the colt I used to be. All they ever do is kill.”

Thankfully, he’s merciful enough to let me talk. “And what have you done?”

“I—”

“Since when have you ever seen a dragon show mercy? Since when have you ever shown your enemies any mercy? Perhaps the name of Dragonborn comes at a pri—” The pressure on my chest intensifies, leaving me gasping.

“You know nothing of it!” I can see the faintest bit of tears forming in Caro’s ducts. Perhaps I’ve struck a nerve far worse that I realized. “I don’t care what you say. What I did was necessary!”

Those birthing tears give me an idea. If he won’t listen to logic, then maybe he’ll listen to his heart. “And… and you can keep doing what is… what you think is necessary, but I will have no part in it!”

I feel his hold weaken. “What?”

“Caro, I swear this to you.” I manage to bring my forelegs forward and rest my hooves on Caro’s cheeks. But this is not a gesture of affection. “I swear, the next time you strike somepony down in cold blood, I will not be there when you turn around. I’ll be gone. I’ll fly to the other end of Equestria if I have to. We will never be friends again.”

Caro drops me.

He steps away, then falls onto his haunches. He wipes his eyes clean of any moisture, then relaxes. “I’m listening…” he mutters.

“Let me paint the picture from an outside perspective, okay?” I trace my hoof on the ground to mimic my words. “Stallion walks into the Orphanage of Tartarus.” My hoof elevates. “He goes upstairs and brutally murders somepony.” I punch my other hoof. “Stallion leaves. Does that sound like a hero to you?”

Caro remains silent. That is a better alternative to defending a shabby excuse for murder.

“If you ask me, you pick the most immature solutions over more valiant options. What about Jade? She’s still in an Imperial prison somewhere.” I put on a sarcastic tone. “I’m sure she’s ecstatic about her avenged innocence. I’m quite certain that you made that rape un-happen simply because you killed her attackers.”

“You held me back from helping her...”

He has me there, but at least I have reasoning to back it up. “You weren’t strong enough. If we ever had the opportunity to save her after you awakened as Dragonborn, you bet I would have taken it! And if we do have the chance I’m sure we can do it in a second. But you just decided to take the coward’s path and snuff out any loose ends. Nothing was gained by you killing Pyro and Ember, and you know it.”

Caro grimaces. He still carries defensive determination in his scowl, but I can also tell he’s letting regret shine through. Just a little bit. “I don’t think I understand, but… I know what you mean. I suppose… I could have spoken to the queen about it… She could have had those bastards court martialed. Jade might have gotten off.”

This is progress. Progress is good. I nod with a smile on my face. “There you go.” I drop the smile, choosing to focus on another matter. “And what of Preacher? Did he have to die?”

Caro leans his head against the wall. “No. That’s an obvious one. It would have been better, if not a bit more annoying, if I had just told him off...”

“See, Caro. It’s not so hard. There is always an alternative. I know it may not satisfy that part of you that desires violence, but you just can’t make Equestria a better place if all you contribute is more violence and murder.”

“There will be times when we will have to fight and kill,” he says.

I nod. “I’m well aware of that,” I say, approaching Caro cautiously. “And I know that this case was a far more complicated matter than just somepony doing wrong. There were little other options. But if I were in your place, I would have probably just knocked Sunflower out. Then I’d have stolen all of the children away to where she’d never be able to find them. That does count as kidnapping, but it’s a far better law to break if it means nopony gets hurt in the process.”

Caro actually smiles, and this is a warmer one, not at all sinister like before. I prefer him like this. I offer him my hoof, but he doesn’t take it. He tilts his head down. “I just don’t understand...”

In all of the drama of the moment, watching Caro fall from his pedestal of what he considers righteous, I’d nearly forgotten Rosemary is watching. I’m only reminded of her presence when she sees fit to hop down from her vantage point. Her chipper demeanor is a far cry from mine, and doubly so for Caro. “Right, are we all butterflies and rainbows?” she asks.

Leave it to her to break the tension. I point to the closed door of the stockroom, which she takes as a sign to leave us. She does so in silence.

We are more or less done. I don’t think I could drag Caro any lower if I wanted to. I’ve seen him sad and distraught before, but never before have I seen him look just pathetic. His back is hunched over and his unkempt mop of a mane is hanging down, nearly touching the ground. “I’m sorry…” he mutters. He brushes his mane aside, leaving specks of blood behind. “I don’t know how to tame this… Whenever I see the worst of ponykind before me, all I can think about is…”

He used to be afraid of this inner beast, back when our adventure first began. It seems he’s come to relish it. And now he fears it once again. Or perhaps he had temporarily forgotten to fear it.

“If I can’t destroy the evil in this world, what can I do?” he asks, voice quivering with desperation.

With Rosemary gone, I feel a bit more comfortable doing this; I kneel down to Caro’s level, reach my forelegs around him and hold him close.

I’m not entirely sure how long I hold him before he finally raises a quivering leg to return the embrace. Even after that, time stands still for us only.

Night has fallen on Baltimare, yet that doesn’t make any sort of excuse for all noise to cease in the city. As expected, the on duty soldiers are still making their rounds, calling out orders. I can’t quite hear them through the architecture of the inn. It’s all just shouting, as far as I’m concerned.

And I shouldn’t be concerned. As of the Dragonborn’s return, the Legion takes second priority. I’ll be prepared to answer the call to action should there be a battle to fight. In the meantime, Caro’s internal battle rages. I don’t know if my words will resonate. I doubt he’ll be so keen to turn over a new leaf. But at least he knows. And I know my ultimatum will be the strongest restraint on his inner sadist.

Rosemary, having bought the next room over, is able to stretch her legs, free of all this drama. That is just as much for her as it is for me and Caro. I don’t want him to be around anypony else for the time being. And, of course, he needs to rest easy. Just one day and he’s already been emotionally exhausted.

Yawning loudly, I figure I’ve had enough thinking for today. Tomorrow lays ahead, and there is a much simpler task at hoof. We’re just going to visit Shae. Nothing matters other than that. Perhaps, if she’s had any luck in bringing Celina back to happiness, that will help ease my mind on this matter.

As I nestle beneath the unusually comfortable covers, I look over to Caro, who lays on his side, away from me. Of course, he didn’t want to look at me and face my disapproval. He’s fast asleep, as he has been for at least an hour. But something’s changed. He’s tense, breathing rapidly. He moans, but not in a pleasant way. He sounds anguished. He must be having a nightmare. I reach over to him and touch his shoulder, rocking him gently.

“Mate? Are you okay?”

He sits up, tossing the covers off of him. I can see his breath. He quickly regains his composure, swallowing whatever it was that bothered him in his sleep. “I was…” He turns around and beats his pillow back into shape. “Urgh… It was that dream again.”

“The filly in the moon?” I ask. “Does she want to see us yet?”

“Very soon…” he mutters. “I can tell…” He brings his eyes closed again.

That’s good. I do wish to meet this dream child he keeps bringing up. Things are coming up roses at this rate. First Shae, then the dream child… I hope she visits me tonight. I could use the dose of innocence.

I hear a light knocking on the door. Caro stirs, but I gesture for him to rest. I’m far from restful, anyway. I get up, trot to the door and open it.

I can’t even take in the mare who knocked before she falls to me and holds tight to my undergarments. Despite the darkness, I can see her fiery red mane. “Rosey?”

She’s shaking. Sobbing, I’d even warrant. I’m too caught off guard by this sudden shift of emotional atmosphere to comfort her. She doesn’t even give me the chance, anyway, pulling away and revealing what may have her so distraught. Of all things, it’s an envelope, already torn open (Might I add, very haphazardly), and a letter pinned to it by Rosemary’s grip.

I’m about to ask what’s gone wrong, but the contents of the envelope answer for me, and how I wish it weren’t so. Rosemary presents a bent pair of glasses. The lenses are scratched and smudged.

I hear a deep gasp from behind me. I turn around to see Caro, his eyes large as the moon outside, drag his hoof to his heart. “What happened?” he asks quietly. Never have I heard so much grief and anger at such a low volume. He stands, still on the bed, glaring at me and Rosemary with an intensity to rival the most fearsome beast. “What happened to her?!"

~Vision End~

~Rosemary~

Dearest Dragonrein,

It is I, Queen Platinum’s solemn duty to inform you that Shae Sparkle has not been seen nor heard of for two weeks, and it is not out of the question to assume she may have been abducted...

The rest are garbled words and tear stains to me.

XXIX - The Scent

~Tangerine, present day~

This is the second day of my pilgrimage to the Von Spice Villa, the one place I can call home beyond the battlefield.

It’s a tragic thought, but as of late it’s occurred to me that, beyond losing my inherited position as a general, getting expunged from the Imperial Legion, by analysis, might just be the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me. Aside from my children, of course.

There were many times during my long career as General Tangerine that I was conflicted between what mattered more to me; serving my military or being a mother. I only accepted my late husband’s armor and rank because I felt I could do more to protect my remaining family than just wait for another pony to take up arms. And while I was by all accounts successful, with the second battle of Trottingham being my shining moment, one for the history books, I’d warrant, slowly I began to realize I wasn’t happy.

I just wanted to be there when Nutmeg and Cinnamon needed me. Rosemary, well… she never needs me. That’s one of many reasons I was upset at her for running away and becoming a smith; aside from having responsibilities, she was striving for independence. That’s an innate fear any parent has for their child. She’s a good girl, nonetheless. I have no doubt she’ll bring my family happiness in the future. To say I never had a rebellious streak as an adolescent would be a dirty, dirty lie.

Of course, I’ve told Wolf River all of this already, and he’s hung onto every word, just like everything else I say. It figures that somepony with the blood of a dog would be eternally loyal to me, but never do I feel as if he’s condescending. After all, he does genuinely love me, not just for what I was but who I am.

In truth, for everything he’s done for me, I’m just on the cusp of saying the same thing.

“I…”

“M’lady? Are you feeling feverish?”

My conscience is carried back to the present by the sound of Wolf River’s strong yet gentle voice. As I recall, we were… dancing. Of all things we could be doing at this possible moment, we are dancing without music. I suppose we might have some tune playing in our heads.

“I… No, Wolf. I’m…” I swallow my memories, at least for the time being. I opt to focus on the present and snuggle into the nape of Wolf River’s neck.

It’s the late hours of the day, and the villa is only a few hours off. This downpour of rain demands that we wait a little longer in this cave, only serving to make my blood race with anticipation. After more than a decade of just being General Tangerine to my children, I can finally be what they deserve: their mother.

But then again, I suppose that means I can afford to wait another night, and if that night is spent with Wolf River, then it is more than bearable.

I put on another mental song and leave my thoughts behind. All I need is this dance.

CHAPTER XXIX - THE SCENT

Northern Equestria is a land less explored than most, making it a very quiet and serene home for beautiful landscapes unhindered by population. No matter how the civil war ends, this region will most likely remain untouched. I’ll be content with that.

Of course, it’s home to more than just wilderness; where ponies do not stay, wild animals tend to stray, and as such it’s no surprise to me when the howls of wild wolves pierce the silence of the woodside trail.

One steps out onto the trail in front of me and and Wolf River, another two entering the fray behind us. Grey and burly, they’re drooling and determined for the kill. Any other newborn adventurer would fear a moment like this, but I could tame twelve of these beasts while making dinner.

I draw my bronze greatsword and slam it to the ground for intimidation, but the gesture is unnecessary. Wolf River’s hoof urges me to step back, though I leave the sword out. I trust him beyond needing to ask why this is necessary.

He steps forward and snarls at the wolf ahead of us, making it whinge and stop its growling. Then, by all that is canine, he barks. It’s something that shouldn’t come out of a pony’s mouth, but then again, he’s not entirely a pony. There is another reason why I keep falling for him; he’s full of surprises.

The wolf has lost all desire to attack. Knowing very well who the true alpha is in these woods, it squeals and runs for its life, taking its fellow beasts with it.

“Huh. I think I’ve met that one,” Wolf River says, watching as they disappear into the trees. He notices my look of bewilderment and chuckles. “I have some degree for respect for my blood brethren.”

“Blood brethren?”

“I wouldn’t be what I am if it weren’t for the blood of wolves.”

I suppose I should have seen that coming. “It seems you’re more familiar with wolves than you are with ponykind.”

“In some ways. Wolves are simpler, and they all keep the same form of government; power dictates leadership, and leadership means having to fight the toughest battles.” He puts on a determined, hard grin. “Not at all like ponykind. Our leaders sit upon riches and order their underlings to fight for them. Try putting Platinum and Shokenda in the same room and let that decide who takes Equestria.”

This garners a cock-eyed stare from me. “It just doesn’t work like that these days, love.”

He sighs. “I know. I’m not one to want to change the way things are. But I do like to respect nature. For me, wolves in a pack are easier to understand than a squadron of ponies because, well, they’re just dogs. We’ve evolved past that. It’s just nature taking its course.”

“If it’s any consolation,” I say, gracing Wolf River’s chin and nuzzling the very tip of his snout, “you have the best of both.”

“You flatter…” Wolf River doesn’t finish his sentence as his expression changes from pleasantly mild to downright gaping. “Bloody hell, would you look at that!”

We’ve come to a break in the woods to a hillside, giving us a beautiful view of what the north has to offer. Beyond the grass and trees are clashing glacial formations. Ice has always been a part of the north. It’s perfectly normal for me to see ice cutting through the green, but there is a particular reason why so many artists seek this place.

I knew my stallion would love it. “Enchanting, isn’t it?”

He’s blinking and wiping his eyes, as if to ensure what he’s seeing is actually possible. “It’s like two paintings fused at the center!”

I step closer to him. While this is nothing new to me, it is a treat to enjoy such a sight with him by my side. With a sigh, I relax against him. “You’re wonderful,” I whisper. “Such heart in a strong body.”

For a short yet wondrous moment, we stand and admire the beauty of my homeland. I feel like a child again, looking only to the future instead of focusing on surviving another battle. I remember a similar time, shortly before I had Rosemary. My head was so chock full of visions...

“I understand it might be a sensitive topic, but I wish to ask you of Oregano,” says Wolf River. He says this quietly, just as he says everything else.

In all honesty, if he were to ask me to jump off a cliff with that voice, I’d probably think it a good idea. But I’m not afraid to speak of my late husband. There’s no weight on my heart as I say, “It’s been some time. Ask me whatever you wish.”

“I know your relationship was arranged, but you must have felt something for him.”

I recall many bruises and scrapes from contests of swords and skills. “Well,” I begin, chuckling with nostalgia, “he was the one to teach me the art of swordplay. In truth, I owe my continued survival to him. He taught me the basics, and then I developed my scorpion technique. After that…” I chuckle, “…victory was always in my favor in the ring. Oregano could never figure out how to dodge the stinger.” I wrap my tail around the hilt of my other greatsword, the ebony one, and give it a playful swing. Wolf River steps back. That might just be the first time I’ve surprised him.

“It’s like you’re channeling the insect’s spirit,” he says in awe.

“As you channel the wolf’s. But it is high time I do away with these swords and return to the peaceful life I deserve.” I sigh. “The one I should have chosen to begin with.”

“Do you wish to vent your sorrows, M’lady?” Wolf River asks.

“I wouldn’t mind…” I sigh, walking out to the edge of the grassy knoll. I don’t wish for Wolf River to see me upset. “Oregano died a warrior’s death, fighting for what he believed in, defiant to his enemies even as he gave his last breath. Nopony weeped for him; they were proud of what he did for the Legion.” I pause, catching my breath. “So was I. I was happy for his accomplishments, even if the battle of Ghastly Gorge ended in a stalemate.” I mimic the action of holding a paper in a single hoof. “I was called to Everfree upon hearing of his death. The queen herself asked me if I would be willing to take up his mantle, and become a general in his place.”

“And the rest is history,” says Wolf River. I feel him starting to wrap his foreleg around my neck, but I lightly push him away in frustration.

“Is it?” I mumble. “I had just given birth to Nutmeg and Cinnamon at the time, and yet I was so determined to live up to the stallion I married, it was far easier than it should have been to make my decision. In a heartbeat, I was leaving care of my new children to Rosemary and the help.” My skin crawls as I realize just how selfish that sounds. “...It’s no wonder she hates me so.” Shaking that notion off, I continue. “So I stepped up onto that podium and announced with nothing but bravery in my heart that I’d lead the Imperial Legion to victory, they all just stared at me. Do you know what they said behind my back?”

Wolf River shrugs, smiling warmly. “They said they’d follow you to the ends of the earth?”

“Naive.” Still, I can’t help but return the expression. “But… no. They just said I wasn’t Oregano. I was the general they needed, but not the one they wanted. And that is how it remained. I was just an ill shadow of Oregano to them, never minding my accomplishments.”

“I understand.”

I turn to Wolf River, scowling. “I don’t think you do.”

“No, sincerely.” He takes my hoof in his, almost forcefully. “You know I wasn’t half what I am now at a time. I was foolish, more a rabid animal than a horse before I found the Carrier Clan. And the mistakes I made on the way to becoming what I am—”

“Wolf...”

“—followed me more than the good I brought to those around me.”

I shake my head, but I still hold his hoof. “But it’s not my mistakes that remained, Wolf… To them, I was just Oregano’s shadow. His legacy overshadowed my own.” My muzzle crinkles as I feel the beginnings of tears in my eyes. With my former, dignified self at a loss, I’m not afraid to let a few fall. “So I poured more days into my training, becoming the general I thought I could be, at the cost of wasting what precious little time I may have had with my own children.” I release my hoof from Wolf River’s and hold it to my forehead. “Good Epona, it’s not wonder Rosemary hates me!”

Wolf makes an attempt to embrace me but I back away. “M’lady,” he says desperately.

I give him the most piercing stare I can, despite my misty eyes. “Don’t tell me it’s okay, Wolf. I’m the worst mother of the twilight age!” That is all I can say before my words become blubbering nonsense obscured by a foreleg.

“Clearly… many emotions are coming to a head for you.”

I nod as I wipe my cheeks.

“Maybe it would be best just to seek out the welcome of your children. Perhaps Rosemary won’t warm up to you immediately, but if your children have heard of your bravery, at the very least they’ll hold as much admiration as I do. These are your offspring we’re talking about.” He pauses, waiting for me to calm myself. It was a short burst of tears, and I quickly feel myself returning. As I do, he says, “We can only hope.”

“I’m sorry, love…” I wipe my face clean of tears. The thought of Wolf River seeing his heroine in such a state is unbearable. “I don’t know why I can’t keep control of myself lately…”

The rest of the trip, in light of my outburst, is kept in the embrace of silence, something welcome to us both. It befits this cavern, which is illuminated by pockets of sunlight. It creates the most beautiful reflections off the water. I watch the light dance across the ceiling. It’s a mesmerizing sight, one that holds me captivated as I prance across the path. Granted, the weight of my equipment makes prancing a difficult task, but I’m okay with that. I’ve worked for many years to earn this prancing. Dammit if I’m not going to prance! Prance right out of this cave and into the sunlight, I will!

And that I do, out onto the cliffside. While there is a stone wall to the left, the right presents a closer view of the green below. And ahead, among the trees, past where the path meets the grass…

“That’s it…” Wolf River mutters, drawing a fresh smile.

The villa. From a distance, one could mistake for a town, but it’s hardly. From this height, I can see the smithery, cafe, stacked living quarters for the help, and of course, my very own plantation house. By all accounts, it belonged to Oregano, but it was decided that all he owned fell to me after he died. So, yes, it’s my plantation house. The plantation itself is what takes up most of the ground within the walls of the villa. I don’t care much for tending to it; I leave that to Rosemary and the help.

Wolf River seems to be fixated on one attraction only, which is atop the tallest hill. Plumes of steam rising from a humble collection of houses confirm his suspicion. I can predict what he’s going to say.

“You never mentioned a hot spring,” he says wistfully.

I thought so. “I thought I’d let it be a surprise.” As humorous as I find his entranced glare, I too find myself enamoured with the idea of soaking in perpetually warm, refreshing water. And it’s even more enticing knowing that Wolf River will be with me. “But don’t get too excited, love. We’ll visit the springhouse, but after…”

He completes my sentence for me. “After you’ve tended to your personal matters. This is obvious.”

“But that gives us all the more reason to get right to it, then. Come, it’s not far.”

“By your lead, M’lady,” he says as I descend the cliffside.

Ah, what a gentlecolt. So soft and huggable, and yet so mighty... I’m quite sure Nutmeg and Cinnamon will find an excellent fa… friend in him. Rosemary, probably not so much. I have my doubts that she will approve of any partner of mine that isn’t Oregano. I daresay she knew him better than I did. It was he who taught her swordplay, filled her head with visions of high adventure, rescuing damsels in distress and filling her pockets with treasure… I shouldn’t blame him for her running off, but I enforce the idea that a young child should remain where they are told, for their own safety, lest they all turn out as horny and mischievous as Tohro or as rage-prone as Caro. Great Epona’s mane, I remember the red in the whites of his eyes as he impaled Preacher… It’s hard to believe I even considered taking him up on the offer to join Dragonrein.

Shae is anything but indecent, though. She’s a good child. In a word, innocent. I can only hope whatever time she spent with Rosemary proved to be a positive influence. She could learn a thing or two about decency.

But I’m sure even my eldest daughter will find it in her heart to not hate me. Either way, I’ll be giving her a warm embrace. The past doesn’t matter anymore. I’m home.

The dirt road gives way to stone paving as the hill ascends, leading us to the outer wall. It’s not as large or boastful as Trottingham’s, merely a way to keep disagreeables from entering what should be private property. It seems that it’s been well tended to; there’s no vegetation seeping into the bricks. That is promising enough. What has my attention is the gate. “Huh. Normally, it’s kept open. We’ve never had a reason to keep it closed before.”

I notice a wooden watchtower right above the gate. That wasn’t there before. Neither was there ever a watcher.

“Excuse me?” I ask the mare atop the watchtower. “Lady Tangerine, owner of the villa speaking to you!”

The mare, turning and taking notice of me and Wolf River, retreats from her lax position rather quickly. “Oh! Mistress! You’ve… you’ve come back.”

“I’ve come home,” I clarify. “And I intend to stay a while, so it would be advisable for you to get somepony to raise the gate. I don’t rightly know why it’s closed to begin with.”

“Y-yes, Mistress! And, uh, it’s just an extra precaution. You know how we can’t afford to be careless in this day and age.” With that, she disappears over the wall. I can hear her shouting in her uncultured brogue. “Grotto! You wanka! Didja eva think to open the door for the mistress? You shoulda known she was coming!”

Another one of my servants speaks up from beyond the wall. I can make him out just barely. I can assume Wolf River can hear all of it with his canid ears. “’Ow could I ‘ave? I only jus’ got here.”

I hear the unmistakable sound of a slap. “Doesn’t matta! Jus’ bloody open it!” I somewhat feel bad for smiling. I shrug, silently asking ‘What?’ to Wolf River, who looks at me in bewilderment.

“It’s what I have to put up with regularly,” I remark. “It’s no issue. They’re good to me.” Although, silently, I have been wondering if they are only good to me because they have to be, rather than because they want to be. If so, I swear to be a better mistress.

After a few moments, the gate finally opens. I offer Wolf River my hoof, which he takes without hesitation, and we step through together.

How am I supposed to put such a feeling into words? Well, damn me, I’m going to try my best.

They say that you only know what you have once it’s gone, and I’m beginning to see the truth of that, only extended further; I only know what I have because I have it once more. The villa is a paradise away from the struggles of war and conflict. It is simple, it is contained, and it is all mine.

This stone road leads to a single marketplace where the smithery, apothecary, food stalls and clothing shops stand in a row. Some question the need for shops, but that was Oregano’s idea; there are others who live within the villa who can make a mint selling to the other tenants, and inversely, given how far we are from the rest of Equestria’s holds, where else would they obtain their necessities? Their only alternative is to brave the wilderness.

Any building that isn’t a shop is a home to the tenants. Those homes surround the marketplace. While they are not much of my concern, and they come and go as they please, they at least are aware that my family holds charge over this place. But I’m not about to be a dictator to them, not now or ever.

My eyes are, for the most part, fixated on my home. It is a monolith compared to the humble houses about the villa. Two floors of elegant architecture overseeing all that lies below, and an entire plantation accompanying it.

“Your home is lovely,” says Wolf River. “You must have a bedroom for every child.”

I point to the top floor. “Nutmeg and Cinnamon share a room. Rosemary has her own.”

“And you?”

“The master suite goes to the mistress, obviously. But, um,” I brush my hoof along the ground, “do not be surprised if you find separate beds.”

Being a stallion of few words, Wolf River merely tilts his eyebrow. I think he’s perfectly aware of how my marriage to Oregano worked.

“I can push them together.”

He smiles.

I’ve tried to keep it contained, or at the very least try to put a damper upon it, but I can resist no longer. It’s been years. I’ve waited for this for too long. There were times when I tried to pretend I had nothing to return to, hoping it would keep me focused. And yet that did nothing to do away with my desire to open the doors and greet my children, watch them gallop to me, and I’d meet them halfway to embrace them…

“I’m going to run,” I say to Wolf River, my voice high with anticipation. “Don’t stop me.”

I break into a sprint. Half the time my hooves don’t even touch the ground. I may trip, but that wouldn’t stop me for long. I vault up the exterior staircase, taking it four steps at a time and reaching the top in a second. I cross the red brick yard, leap over the rose bushes, then only slow down for fear of colliding with the front door. I reach for the handle, slip my hoof under, and open it.

“Nutmeg, Cinnamon! Rosemary! Mother has come home!”

The wall-bound mirror just across from the door shows my face, which is adorned with the largest grin I’ve ever worn. And it begins to descend into a frown as I take notice of the mirror itself. It’s ajar, hanging diagonally, and a wide crack cuts across my reflection. I step forward to the mirror and tilt it, ensuring it hangs properly.

“What in Equestria…” I mutter.

I look to my left, where the family room is. There’s nothing of significance there, for everything seems normal. There is a couch surrounded by padded chairs, all set over an oriental rug. The glass case by the wall is filled with Oregano’s many swords and trophies of war. Literally, they made trophies for him, and he kept them behind glass. Only, the case seems starker than I remember. And also more broken.

I walk to the case and notice that the end has been utterly shattered, littering the floor with shards. It’s a good thing I’m still clad in my armor. But one of Oregano’s swords is gone.

There is one mare in this house who has an affinity for swords, but given Rosemary idolizes her father, I wouldn’t imagine she’d steal one of his treasured weapons. Even she isn’t that stupid. Even so…

Then a sharp tingle rides up my neck. I turn around, expecting to see some sort of foe, but instead I see something much less dangerous yet indefinitely more annoying. My precious vase, one that has been passed down my family line since before Equestria was formed, lays nearly a full inch off of where it is supposed to be. Nutmeg and Cinnamon are smart enough to not dare touch it, but...

“Rosemary! You have a mess to clean up!”

There is no reply.

“Rosemary Von Spice! Your presence is demanded!”

Again, silence is the only response. But that does allow me to hear the sound of whistling wind in the next room over. The library.

Several books from the high and low shelves alike litter the floor. Most of these are Oregano’s journals, but there are other fictional and historical tomes there as well. Nopony would willingly leave such a mess, nor would anypony even read this many books in a row. This was an accident.

Hearing the whistle again, accompanying a draft that sends chills across my body, I turn to the window. Or a lack of a window. That too is shattered, but it’s a much more concerning sight when I see something on the sill.

Blood.

My eyes widen and my legs begin to quiver, but I still them quickly. I can’t afford to lose myself in a time that demands calm. I take a moment to still my breath, and then deliberate all of my thoughts to locating my children. Clearly something has gone wrong, and they’ll be terrified. Well, Rosemary might not be, but I know Nutmeg and Cinnamon will.

The stairs leading to the second floor are my priority. They’ll likely be hiding under their beds. I’m tempted to vault up these ones as well, but I’d rather not. There might be something unnatural waiting around the corner, or at the top of these steps. I thank Epona when I reach the top and look down the hall. I can see that I was dead wrong to think there’d be anything lying in wait, but at the same time, a part of me wishes there was.

My room is ahead, with Nutmeg and Cinnamon’s beside it. Rosemary’s is across from theirs. I’m against stepping into them, but I can get a glance as all three doors are open.

Nutmeg and Cinnamon’s room is completely and totally ransacked. The bed is without covers, which are thrown in the corner, and Cinnamon’s dresser is on the floor. I sigh of slight relief when I see no blood. But that doesn’t alleviate a much more grim realization.

There is nothing to imply that my children are even here.

Rosemary’s room is in an even worse condition. There’s blood here, staining the walls and floor. The bed is torn up as well, mixing in feathers with the blood. It’s like a slaughter in a chicken coop. My stomach churns at the thought of slaughter, especially at the sight of her window being broken as well.

The greatest amount of dread comes to me when I see that my room has been left completely untouched. Not an abnormality to be found. Regardless, I step inside and have a look. The two beds face two oil paintings, one for each. There is mine, in which I am younger, smiling like the child I was at the time. And the painting beside it, a perfect image of my late husband. His red mane and orange body are nothing new to me, but I’ve always looked at this painting as a reminder, always telling me I was never good enough to be Oregano. But now… I don’t even know what to think of it.

“What do you suppose happened?”

I jump back a little. “Oregano?”

“No, it’s me.”

My heartbeat slows when I turn and see Wolf River standing in the doorway. He looks distraught, and curiously, his muzzle is scrunched up.

“They’re gone,” I say.

Despite his concerned expression, his voice remains quiet as ever. “I know.” He approaches me. “Are you well?”

"Yes," I answer disconcertingly. My lip quivers as I bow my head. "No."

“I’ll say…” he responds. On the edge of his words, I hear a hint of a quiver. “This is… unfortunate.”

My mind is amiss despite my best efforts to keep it in check. It’s as if my heart is a vase, falling from the peak of a cabinet, only it hasn’t quite hit the ground just yet. I’ll do everything in my power to ensure that vase does not shatter. If it does… I… I don’t know what will happen to me.

Wolf River coughs and speaks up again. “I… spoke to the help. Only one has an inkling towards what happened.” He gestures his head behind him and steps aside, making room for a lanky mare to step in. I recognize this one well. Her name is Duster.

“H-Hello, Mistress…” she says in a hushed tone. She’s so nervous she nearly forgets to take a bow. It wouldn’t matter either way.

She has the nerve to wait there, looking around in a subdued panic. So she has a hint of understanding as to what I’m going through. But she doesn’t speak beyond greeting me. So I ask her, quietly, “Where... are... they?”

She must be a dullard. She can’t even answer such a simple question. All she does is bloody stand, teeth snapped together, pulling on her collar, sweat running down her cheek…

The vase hasn’t broken, but it sure as hell has cracked. I fire off into a gallop and reach for Duster, lifting her up by the collar and pinning her to the interior of the doorway. “WHERE ARE MY BABIES?!”

She shakes her head so fast she creates a blur. “I-I-I d-d-don’t know, M-M-M-Mistress!”

“THEN WHAT GOOD ARE YOU?!” I shove her against the lacquer and let her fall. She holds her head with both of her forelegs. I must have bruised her.

“M-M-M-Mistress… I-I saw s-s-something… I d-d-don’t know where N-Nutm-meg and C-C-Cinnamon a-are… B-but… I s-s-s-saw... R-Rosemary…”

My hoof hits the wood floor with enough force to create a split. “WHERE?!”

Duster cowers behind her forelegs and whimpers. “S-she t-t-took s-some sup-p-pplies from the b-blacksmith s-shop and ran…”

I bite my lip with so much anger that I taste blood. “FUCK!” I bring my hoof into the door hinge, splintering the wood.

This is exactly as I feared… Rosemary constantly threatens to abandon this villa and her heritage, not because she hates her father, hell, she bloody worships him… It’s because she worships him, and all things adventurous, that she tries so hard to leave… But it was only a matter of time before doing such a thing would bring disaster to this household. If anything happens to Nutmeg and Cinnamon, I will hold her responsible. “She will have bruises.”

Duster’s cowering lessens, just a little bit, as she stands. She waves Wolf River off as he offers her a hoof, though she still holds her head. “S-Sh-She didn’t ab-b-ba-bandon them. S-She went a-a-after them…”

The rage that kept me from doing anything but lash out has disappeared, for I’ve regressed back into the creeping dread I felt earlier. It’s like tendrils are wrapped around my heart, ready to squeeze the life out of it when the worst possible thing happens. “Then… what…”

“They were taken! Nutmeg and Cinnamon were kidnapped!” Duster screams.

I want to scream too.

My steps are slow and minimal. The creaking wood is muted, as are Wolf Rivers pleas for me. He’s asking if I’m well again, but it’s in desperation. He knows I am not well. Not that I have any desire to respond. I can’t. Whatever will I have to speak cannot be found, my ears will not allow me to hear, but my eyes remain open, unable to blink. All I can smell and taste is the blood on my lips.

I’ve ended up across the room, looking at my bedside table. There isn’t much overly significant there; a few necklaces, which I always kept around in case of sudden company. But there is one thing. I’ve found my family portrait.

To the day, I don’t recall how Oregano and I managed to have Rosemary, Nutmeg and Cinnamon sit still long enough for a painting, but there we are. This is the most recent portrait of us… and the last. I hired a mage to make copies after Oregano died. I suppose he did hold a spot in my heart at the time. I shouldn’t act like he meant nothing to me. After all, he was a critical part of my life. He may not have been the stallion of my dreams, the one I loved more than life itself, but he was still my husband, dammit. And when he died, that was a part of my whole life severed. Rosemary began to despise me, she ran off… multiple times... and now, the last part of my family tree is gone.

I hear Duster speaking up, but I have to tap myself on the side of my head to come back into focus. “...What was it you said?”

She sounds choked up. “W-we did everything we could… We looked for weeks…”

I snap in her direction. “Weeks?”

She nods quickly. “We s-sent letters to the Imp-p-p-perial Legion… You didn’t receive them?”

Of course… As far as everypony in the villa is concerned, I’m still known as General Tangerine. The name is so far gone that it sounds foreign to me. “No. My position in the Legion is compromised.”

“Compro—”

“I was fired for losing a colt wanted for a crime he didn’t commit. It’s a long story, and who the fuck cares?! My children are gone!” My hoof lands on Duster’s chest, forcing her back against the wall. Seeing her fear in her eyes, I restrain myself. “I’m not going to hurt you again. That was out of line.” My hoof goes to her shoulder. I try to be as gentle as equinely possible. The last thing on my mind is making my own servants fear me. I’d be no better than Shokenda. “Can you…” I pause to calm myself further. “Can you at least tell me who took them?”

“N-no.”

I refused to hurt her again, so I won’t. But I can settle for stepping away and bucking the wall. But as my adrenaline has left me, I can only weakly grunt. I don’t leave so much as a dent. My mouth drops open as I begin to pant. I can’t let myself cry here. Not in front of Wolf River. I’m not weak.

His gentle touch assures me of that much, bringing a trace of my strength back. “M’lady,” he says. I notice again that his nose is scrunched up. I can hear him sniffing. He points his head upwards, then wafts the air towards him with a hoof. “Hmm…” He nods. “I think I have a trace.”

My eyes widen even further. “You can smell them out?!”

Wolf River moves his muzzle in the direction of the door. “If it’s been weeks…”

“T-two months, at least,” Duster adds.

He grunts in response. “Then I won’t be able to locate Nutmeg or Cinnamon, but I may be able to sniff out what happened here, and that will bring us one step closer to knowing where they are.”

I follow Wolf River out into the hallway, well aware of what he’ll need. I motion for Duster to stay put, and she obeys, but not without a bout of confusion. “W-what are you…”

As I leave my room, I see Wolf River has already stepped out of Rosemary’s, clutching one of her many brimmed hats. He holds it up to his snout and inhales. “This would seem unconventional in any other situation, but…” He inhales again. “Hm, her scent is certainly definable.” He tosses the hat back into the room. There are better times to be tidy. “Now, if I could have anything of Nutmeg or Cinnamon’s…”

“Oh, I get it,” I say, quickly ducking into their mess of a room. I approach the toppled dresser, which thankfully has landed on its back, allowing me access to the drawers. I find Nutmeg’s favorite dress and one of Cinnamon’s sleeves. That’ll have to do. With all haste I return to Wolf River and hoof the items over to him.

“Okay…” He takes in the scent of both articles of clothing. His pupils shrink rapidly as he drops them both. “I have them.”

We are one league closer to finding them than we were a few moments ago. As such, I give a cautious jump for joy. “You do?!”

“I smell something strong in the dining area,” he says.

I replicate his action, smelling the air, but I pick up nothing except the chilled, draftiness of my house. There is nothing out of the ordinary. “I… don’t.”

Wolf River has already set out on his way, beginning down the stairs. “Well, you don’t quite have the nose of a wolf.”

I hear Duster behind me. “Wolf?”

I hold out my hoof and she shuts right up. “Don’t.”

“But wh—”

“Just don’t. There are many things happening in my life that you wouldn’t understand.” I follow Wolf River’s path, but I pause at the first step of the stairs. “Hmm. Come to think of it, I don’t rightly understand some of it myself.” I laugh, but it’s a jaded and nervous laugh. My faux smile fades the instant my trip down the stairs ends.

I step into the entrance hall with the broken mirror, then turn away from the family room to enter the kitchen. There, I see Wolf River opening up indiscriminate cupboards and drawers, inhaling their scent as expected.

“They were all here at one point…” he says, looking over the cutting table. He traces his hoof over a set aside knife, then the dents it must have left in the wood. “That was a while ago, though. I smell bread and vegetables… Their scent is weakest here.” He trots out of the kitchen and past me. “Wait…”

“Try there.” I point to the dining table. “I can’t think of a time we didn’t take our meals there.”

The big lug is unforgivably adorable when he’s embarrassed. He moves over to the table quickly, as if to make up for lost time. “Huh. Should have considered that.”

I usher him over. “Quickly now. We haven’t a second to lose.”

He traces along the edge of the dining table, then smells the individual chairs. “Hm… Uh…” He steps back, surveys over the area, then turns to me. “Sorry, M’lady. There’s nothing here regarding what could have happened to Nutmeg and Cinnamon.”

I sigh, though I haven’t lost all hope just yet. “Okay, we’ll search elsewhere, then.”

“Okay. The most I can take away from this is the last meal they ate before…” He sees my face of distraught, and cleverly retracts whatever it is he was going to say. He clears his throat and points ahead. “Onward?”

“What were they eating?” A silly question to ask, but at the very least it may help. Any knowledge is useful knowledge.

“Best I can tell, they were enjoying a meal of—”

~Vision End~

~Two and a half months ago~

“—sandwiches! That’s what they’re called. I’m not sure what sort of skooma that zebra was on, but he is a bloody genius for inventin' this. Our days of gnawin' on bread are over, my darlin's!”

Rosemary takes the grip of the knife in her mouth, then brings down the blade on the loaf of bread. A portion of it comes off in a slice, which Rosemary scoops up. She drops the knife on the cutting table and lays the slice of bread over another, which is adorned with lettuce, tomatoes, provolone and cheddar jack cheese. She sets the completed sandwich onto a plate, then scoops the plate onto her muzzle.

The plate proves difficult to balance as she calls out to Nutmeg and Cinnamon. “Oi, dinner is served! Get yer rumps in yer seats.”

“Not until this codger Blackwing admits defeat in the name of the Empire!” Rosemary hears Cinnamon yell. The mare sighs, sets the plate down carefully, then sternly trots out of the kitchen towards the family room.

She’s greeted with more yelling as her young siblings leap from couch to couch, swinging their wooden weapons at each other.

Cinnamon, a red maned pinto foal and an earthwalker like everypony else in the Spice clan, crouches at the height of a couch with a wooden sword between his teeth. He leaps and makes a diving vertical slash at his sister.

Nutmeg, who boasts a dark crimson mane and a cream colored coat, rolls sideways, dodging the attack. She bucks at Cinnamon, making him stumble back against the couch. He returns with a swing, tripping the filly and making her drop her stick.

Cinnamon laughs like a triumphant, conquering hero, as if he had actually decimated an entire army. “Shouldn’t have brought a stick to a swordfight, Blackwing! Surrender now!”

“Sod off!” shouts Nutmeg in defiance.

“Oi!” Rosemary stomps the floor with both of her forelegs. “That’s enough, there! Put away the weapons and getcha’ arses to dinner.”

“I don’t have to listen to you, Blackwing scum!” Cinnamon turns around and takes his sword in his hoof. “For the Empire!” He throws it at Rosemary, but she doesn’t even have to dodge. It flies past her and lands harmlessly on the ground.

Rosemary sighs with indifference. “Are you going to come eat quietly?”

“Never!” Cinnamon has the largest devil-may-care smirk on his muzzle. Unfortunately for him, which he quickly takes notice of, so does Rosemary. He watches as his big sister swaggers over to the windowsill and picks up a vase. It’s imprinted with archaic symbols and abstract patterns.

“Mum has told you many times of how priceless this ancient artifact is, as it is one of the few remnants the Great Plains before the onslaught of the windigos.” She smirks and raises it above her head. “She may have also mentioned it is very fragile.”

Cinnamon takes notice of this quickly and immediately lets his sword “Rosey!”

Nutmeg looks just as shocked as Cinnamon. “Why do you have to gain?”

Rosemary puts of a faux surprised expression. “You don’t want to be responsible for this, do you?”

“But I—”

The yellow mare sets the vase down carefully, then points the kitchen and says in complete deadpan, “Who’ll Mum believe? Move along.”

“You always do that…”

With their roughhousing brought to a screeching halt, the siblings leave their weapons and somberly follow Rosemary’s orders. She doesn’t ignore their disappointment, however. “Sorry, there.” She looks at the broken mirror, wondering how she can keep them in high spirits. She smiles when an idea clicks in her mind. “Of course, it’s not as if strong soldiers like yourselves can go on fightin' without a good meal, eh?”

Appealing to their inner fantasy cheers the children right up. They make their way to the kitchen with haste. Rosemary chuckles at their antics. When she arrives back in the kitchen, they’ve already taken their seats next to each other. Rosemary moves to the head of the table and hoofs them both their sandwiches, which they look upon with bewilderment.

Nutmeg turns the sandwich over in her hooves, trying for the life of her to comprehend it. “Of course zebras would come up with something this ridiculous. How are you supposed to eat it?” She looks over to Cinnamon, who is already chowing down greedily, leaving many a crumb on the table. “Oh.”

“Don’t mock those zebra folk, kid. We could learn much from them… And we have.” Rosemary takes a much cleaner bite, albeit a bigger one.

“Hrr, Rrmnm,” Cinnamon says, mouthful of food. He swallows and continues again, “Hey, Rosey. You never finished your story the other day. What happened after you left the zebra caravan?”

Rosemary sets her sandwich down, smiling broadly as she recalls her first taste of adventure. It was so sweet for her, she recalls it nearly brought her to tears. “The town they dropped me off at was the main tradin’ hub of Equestria, Trottingham. It’s a nice village; humble, a little cold, but still welcomin’ enough. The guards are bumblin’ idiots, though. Shouldn’t expect anything more from a place that’s neutral. Well, it used to be neutral. Word is, they want the Empire on their side.”

“Boooring!” Nutmeg whines. She leans over the table in anticipation. “Get to the part with the dragon!”

“I’m workin’ up to it.” Waving her off, Rosemary thinks back to where her arrival at Trottingham took her. “Well, I mostly slept at the inn, but that ate away at what little money I took with me, so I got a job. Evidently, makin’ weapons and armor is my forte, so a kind ol' smith named Glasswork took me under as an apprentice and let me sleep at the smithery. And Mum says the world is full of cruelty… Heh. I got along just fine. Until a certain stallion and his mate came along.”

This captures Cinnamon’s interest. “Cato and Todo?”

“Caro and Tohro, dear. And they are certainly a vitriolic pair a’ stallions. Nice fellas, though. And they made me much richer. Then, a day or so later, who should they be bringin’ back from Beak Falls Barrow but the worst and best possible things?”

“Oooh, that’s when Mum found you?” Nutmeg asks.

“Yes, but before she forced that Carrier Clan bloke to drag me all the way back here…” Rosemary’s cheeks grow nearly as red as her mane. She rests her head on her hooves, having lost all anger at the thought of somepony special. “That’s when I met her.”

At the exact same time, the younger siblings raise their hooves and wave them. “Big sister is in looo-oooove!” they chant in sing-songy voices.

“Oi, you speak to Shae for longer than a minute and tell me she isn’t a mare worth knowing!” She won’t let anypony speak ill of the young unicorn and let them get away with it. She promised herself that much when she first ranted about Shae Sparkle for two hours, much to Nutmeg and Cinnamon’s simultaneous amusement and chagrin.

“Here she goes…” says the latter.

“I’ll never lie, I am enamoured with her. She’s smart, resourceful, kind…”

Nutmeg snorts. “Everything you’re not?”

Much to her expectations, Rosemary hasn’t stopped to listen. “...and she saved both our skins with this beautiful shield spell. We were nearly crushed by a dragon’s corpse but she pulled through. That’s when I knew…” She trails off, lost in her own starstruck memories.

A beat of silence passes over the dinner table, with Rosemary tracing hearts in the wood and Nutmeg and Cinnamon finishing their sandwiches. Their smiles grow larger, partially because Rosemary’s absentminded behavior is most amusing to them, but also because they find that the meal was quite good.

“If it’s any consolation, sister,” says Cinnamon to the lovesick mare, “Shae sounds like she’d make a fine mate over Baron.”

That snaps her out of her stupor. “I’m sorry, who?”

“That rich dullard from further up north? The one you’ll be marrying?”

Rosemary groans, slowly rising from her seat and pushing her plate aside. Just the thought of her betrothal makes her lose her appetite. “Uphold the family honor… Keep the bloodline within the earthwalker tribe…” She keeps her head low as she steps past Cinnamon. “I wish Shae were here right now. She might know of the right thing to say.”

When she raises her head, she finds herself staring into the wide eyes and freckles of her sister. “I think I know what she’d say.”

She decides to humor the little one, forcing herself to put away her glum expression. “What’s that, Nutmeg?”

Rosemary tilts her head in curiosity when Nutmeg turns and shows off a large tome laid across her back. “I think she’d tell you to read us a story.” She wears an innocent grin. “It’s been a long time since Cinnamon and I have heard one of your epic tales.” She takes the book in her forelegs. She struggles underneath its weight, prompting Rosemary to take it from her just as she stumbles over.

“Hm. Very well, why not?” Making her way out of the kitchen and into the family room, Rosemary flips through the pages, the nostalgia gradually filling within her. There’s at least a hundred stories across a thousand pages in this collection, which is so cleverly titled Tales of Equestria and Beyond. “Heh, I used to read to you two every night. You know, I could blame my desire for adventure on this accursed book.”

She sees Cinnamon prance around her, laughing as he approaches the largest couch. He leaps up to take a seat beside Nutmeg. “Then you’d think Mum would have gotten rid of it by now.”

Rosemary joins her younger siblings on the couch and opens the book to an indiscriminate page; even after years of reading these tomes aloud, she still hasn’t covered every single story. By her luck, the page she lands on is the opening chapter of an epic she has been long looking forward to experiencing.

She clears her throat and speaks in the most dramatic voice she can muster. “Let us begin, young ones. This is the epic adventure of Stormbringer the Valiant and his beloved Prince Notch.”

~Tangerine, present day~

There is an open book on the family room couch that I didn’t notice upon my first glance. Tales of Equestria and Beyond. Of course. I put blame on it for filling Rosemary’s head with delusions of adventure and grandeur. In truth, I don’t know where it came from. It was just always there. I don’t know if Oregano bought it or it just came with the house. Either way...

“I should have gotten rid of this book long ago. I might have saved myself so much trouble…”

Wolf River is still sticking his muzzle in every nook and cranny for some hint of what may have transpired here. In truth, while we are further along now than we were recently, I can’t quite see the use in tracing every single room and surface.

As he steps over to the chaotic pile of books, I sigh in frustration and call out to him. “Wolf, if your sense of smell is so adept, why don’t we just follow the scent outside?”

He’s grown more driven. His goal to pick up the scent has become more than an idea; it’s become a mission to him. So he is understandably a little short with my question. He turns to me, orange eyes fierce with ambition. “We cannot afford to miss anything. If there is any scrap, any small sliver, any near invisible particle of evidence here that contributes to finding them and the kidnappers, I will not pass it up.”

He acts as though Nutmeg and Cinnamon are his own children. Frightening and endearing in equal measure. But it is also disconcerting, and I fear that he might push himself too far. “Wolf… They are the fruit of my garden. They are not your responsibility, they are mine. Your help is beyond praisable but don’t become obsessed.”

Wolf River looks out the broken window and rests his hooves where there aren’t any shards of glass. “Do you remember who I am, Lady Tangerine?”

Of course I know the question to that. “A stallion who is larger than life?” I walk towards him, forcing a smile despite the grim and fear surrounding us. “Honorable despite recklessness? Kind despite a ferocious form?”

“More than that, I’m…” He growls and slams his hoof on the windowsill. He bares his teeth, which shine in what little light there is in this darkened house. “I’m an Epona-damned Carrier! Do you not get it?” His hoof rams into the sill in tandem with his words. “Your problems are my problems! I have nothing else!”

So he can lose his temper elsewhere than the battlefield. But by his face of remorse, I can tell he isn’t fond of such an action. He immediately regains his composure, visually at least. I have my doubts that he’ll remain calm on the inside.

He looks down, likely out of shame, but his regretful expression becomes one of curiousity. He purses his lips and lowers his head to the windowsill. He sniffs at a splotch of blood.

“Of course…” He steps away from the window. “I need to see their rooms again.”

I nod and move towards the stairs, albeit reluctantly. “Uh, very well, but why?”

He’s already taking the stairs two steps at a time. “I don’t know where they are, but I think I know who took them.”

“It couldn’t possibly be the Silver Horseshoe?” I ask as Wolf River turns the corner.

“That’d be a blessing, if my hunch is correct.”

I dread knowing what fiend has taken Nutmeg and Cinnamon away, but no matter how horrid, it is something I must know.

I take one more glance at that book. In an odd moment of thought, I wonder what story Rosemary was on before all this. It feels strange when I say this, but in all sincerity, I do hope she finished the story...

~Vision End~

~Two and a half months ago~

“Prince Notch held out his hoof to the ash stricken air and shouted for his beloved, only to hear no reply. Within his heart, he expected nothing more, for his knight in shining armor, Stormbringer, was well and trapped beneath the corpse of the dragon. Notch bowed his head, accepting the loss of the one he loved.”

Rosemary pauses her reading for effect as Nutmeg and Cinnamon cower against her. They hold tight to her forelegs, which in turn hold the pages of the book. “Oh no, that’s awful,” Nutmeg moans. “He can’t die there! He still has to collect the fire salts!”

Cinnamon presses Rosemary’s shoulder, causing her discomfort as he pouted. “And return the minotaur’s bow!” He grunts. “Talk about an anticlimax.”

Rosemary smirks and licks her lips as she slowly turns the page. Nutmeg and Cinnamon’s eyes flutter to the book as they see a whole new chapter before them.

“Oh, you tease!” Cinnamon yells. “Go on, read, read, read!”

The eldest sister obliges, much to his and Nutmeg’s happiness. They nestle in closer, eagerly anticipating what is to come.

“A single hoof emerged from underneath the dragon’s carcass. Notch, who had begun to turn away, looked back in awe and disbelief. He galloped forth and took the hoof of Stormbringer. 'I do wish this was the first time this has happened,' said the pegasus. With only a hint of a struggle, he emerged from the crushing weight of the dragon and stood.”

Cinnamon sighs. “Oh, thank Epona.”

“Notch looked into the eyes of his beloved. 'Oh, Stormbringer, I was ever so worried for your safety. I had feared the worst.'

"'It was nothing, old friend,' said Stormbringer. 'I did not mean to bring you fright.'

"Notch had so much he wished to say, but with the peasants all freed from the rampaging dragon, a crowd was beginning to draw, making his time to speak short. 'Storm, I—' His words were cut short when several civilians took Stormbringer up in their grip and threw him up in the air, praising his heroics in song.”

Nutmeg punches a pillow. “Curses. Notch was so close to saying he loved him. Will those two ever become a couple? I’ve been waiting twenty chapters for them to kiss already!”

You think that’s bad? Rosemary thinks, too distracted by her own thoughts to quell her upset sister. Notch has it easy. I’ve been waitin’ weeks. She decides that, after that revelation, it’s high time to do away with the book. Her thoughts continue as she tosses it aside haphazardly, where it lands next to Cinnamon on the couch. At least Notch doesn’t have to worry about ever seein' Stormbringer again. They live in the same bloody castle. She eases herself off her back and onto her hooves. “Story time’s over, kittens.”

“Aaaw,” both the young siblings cry.

Cinnamon follows closely behind her like a shadow. He’s frowning, but in a playful way. “Rosey, you are a cruel mistress.”

“Yes, but I’m your cruel mistress.” She approaches the window. Internally, she chastises herself for showing an action so meaningless in the long run, yet her heart keeps moving her legs forward.

The outside world is visible behind the glass. At least, some of it. Most of what Rosemary sees are the rooftops within the walls of the villa. Her mother has always told her it’s a peaceful utopia from a fierce world. Bloody liar. It’s a prison and nothing more! It’s my personal hell!

By all that is possible, there is nothing stopping her from stepping out the door and walking for the exit, then galloping as fast as equinely possible to Trottingham, or Everfree, or wherever in the almighty name of Hephaestus the beautiful young mage Shae might be and pouring her heart out, but even she knows such a fantasy is childish. You only knew her two days, Rosey… Don’t be selfish. She looks to her little siblings. Mum be damned, I do want to be here for them…

And yet she can’t help but look to her father’s glass case of weapons. She longingly looks at her three favorite swords of the lot; a steel broadsword with a leather wrapped hilt, with the blade inscribed with an etching of a chimera. A gryphonic katana, decorated with a ceremonial talon at the end of the grip and a hilt shaped like a beak. And her personal favorite, as it was also her father’s, an ebony falchion. Nothing remarkable about it whatsoever, except that it was the sword he had clutched in his mouth when he died at the hooves of the Blackwings.

“You’re doing it again,” says Cinnamon, breaking Rosemary out of her trance.

She looks down at him and forces a smile. "Doin' what, ya grub?"

"I'm not a dunce, Rosey. Every time we read, you become this wide-eyed silent wanderer. And then you proceed to droll over Papa's swords."

Rosemary has little response beyond a quiet grunt as she focuses on the swords once again, making Cinnamon's notion all the more credible for Nutmeg. "I'm not drooling, Cinnamon. I'm... remembering. Thinking." Dreaming, she thinks wistfully. When will I get to see you again, my love? She mentally winces. Wow. Perhaps that’s a little strong.

“Oh, let her fantasize,” Nutmeg scoffs, now sitting at the highest point of the couch. “Or, well, in this case, reminisce. Either way, the longer she thinks of adventure and swords,” she pauses and looks to the ceiling, “and Shae,” she pauses again, smiling at Rosemary’s sighing, “the longer we don’t have to go to bed.”

Rosemary shakes herself and then growls playfully. "Alright, I'll chase ya to bed if I have ta!"

“Oh, bugger!” Nutmeg reels back and falls off the couch onto her side. She gallops around the back to dodge her older sister’s pounce, only to accidentally broadside the unsuspecting Cinnamon. They end up a messy ball of childish innocence up against the wall.

“That’s bloody right, little ducks. Do not tread on…” Rosemary trails off from her triumphant disposition as she notices a certain vase leaning over the edge of the windowsill. She immediately leaps over her siblings and pushes the vase right where she is sure it’s supposed to be. She lets out another sigh, this one of relief. She puts on a weak smile and turns to the shocked expressions of Nutmeg and Cinnamon. “Bed? Now?”

The two meekly lower their heads. "Okay..." In unison, they proceed towards the stairs.

Rosemary shouts up after them as they go out of sight. “I’ll be up to tuck you both in. Just need to…” She turns and ensures the vase is right where it belongs, then considers whether or not she actually has anything to complete her words. “Need to…” She stares the vase down, almost convinced she can see the disapproving eyes of her mother. “Damn you, it’s always about what you want.” She follows the path of her siblings. As she takes the first step, she curses the vase under her breath. “What about what I want?”

She takes her steps upstairs in silence, only then realizing how tired she is by how she drags her hooves, and how heavy her eyelids have become. She’s beginning to lose her grip on the world of the waken. “What… happened…” she asks nopony in particular. She drags a hoof across her face, tapping herself to try and keep awake, but it serves no good.

It’s beyond tiredness; she feels defeated. She thinks to the disappointed stares of her mother; not one in particular, rather, all of them. “My whole life has been a war against you… I’m wrong and… and… you’re always right… That’s just how it works, isn’t it?” She tries to support herself against the wall, but it proves to be a wasted effort. Her hoof scrapes the plaster as she hits the ground barrel first, and rests her head against the carpet.

Time passes, but it’s only a few minutes before Nutmeg and Cinnamon poke their heads out of their room. They see their older sister well on her way to sleep right on the floor, clad in her vest and all. Rosemary tilts her head towards them and says, “I guess you two wore me out…” She lets out a pathetic breath. “Or I’m just not as strong as I thought I was. Hardly Stormbringer...”

Rosemary is nudged by the muzzle of Nutmeg, and brushed by the hoof of Cinnamon. The two younger siblings, in tangent, take ahold of each of Rosemary’s forelegs and lift her.

“I suppose we’ll tuck you in for once,” says Nutmeg derisively, albeit without any loss of affection.

“Up you get,” Cinnamon commands. “On your hooves, soldier.”

“S-soldier?”

Cinnamon chuckles at Rosemary’s cluelessness, shown in her exhausted expression. Her mouth hangs slightly open, with her eyes unfocused. “Like it or not, Rosey, you’re a soldier. Don’t you remember? Mom used to call you that all the time.”

She stares at him in disbelief. “Mum said that?”

“Wow. You’re so wrapped up in despising her, you don’t remember she used to call you her good little soldier.”

Rosemary’s eyes flutter, both from her debility and her surprise that she’d forget such an honorable title. “Her good little soldier...”

“But even soldiers need to rest,” says Nutmeg. “Come along, off to bed.”

Slowly, by barely a step at a time, the three siblings make their way through the doorway into Rosemary’s bedroom. The bed stands comfortably near to the open window, where the pleasantly cold yet comforting evening wind comes lightly.

“One more story for yeh, kittens…” Rosemary mutters, just loudly enough to be heard by her siblings. “Once upon a time there was a little soldier who had everything she ever wanted… And she foolishly threw it all away in the name of independence...”

She tries once to touch her bed, but fails. She pushes forward with both of her forelegs out, relinquished by her siblings, and finally makes contact. She slowly and gradually eases her way up, finally splaying out on her back. She looks up at nothing in particular, welcoming the warm and comforting sensation of sinking into the feather stuffed mattress.

The words of Cinnamon only sooth her further. “We never hated you for pursuing your dream, Rosey. Well, Nutmeg did, but I sure didn’t.”

“I admitted I was jealous!” Nutmeg stomps her hoof. “Besides, I didn’t even get a goodbye hug.”

Rosemary reaches out to her. “I suppose I can make up for lost time. Not as if I’m goin’ anywhere for a while.” She eagerly beckons to Cinnamon as well, watching as he and Nutmeg leap onto the bed (Nutmeg has some difficulty, dangling by her front and having to pull herself up). The two siblings hop down next to Rosemary and embrace her like family would, and she wraps her forelegs around each of them to return the favor. “Then again… That doesn’t have to be such a bad thing.”

“When we can fix our own suppers, you have our permission to run off again,” says Nutmeg. She turns and sees Cinnamon break the embrace, grab the covers and throw them over Rosemary, covering her in the process. She squirms out of their grip and stands next to Cinnamon. “We won’t tell Mom, of course.”

Silently, Rosemary gives her brother and sister one more smile before she pulls the covers over her head and closes her eyes. She falls into a deep sleep within seconds, though the only conscious part of her hopes she will at least be able to witness Shae’s young beauty within the world of dreams.

~Tangerine, present day~

“Duster.”

The twitching mare quickly steps away from Rosemary’s dresser, one of the many things stained red with the blood of somepony unknown. Duster seems more frightened of me than anything that has transpired within this place. Truly, I can’t blame her. A slight loosening of my mental restraints would send me into a fury worse than the wrath of any lycan. I assume she can hear that tension in my voice.

“M-M-Ma’am. I me-mean, Lady T-T-T—”

I raise my hoof, and she shuts up immediately. “For once in my life, I am quite thankful that the idea to cleanse this house slipped your mind."

"It w-wasn't... Everypony w-was t-t-too sc-scared to..." As if she couldn’t possibly become any more pathetic, she hides her face and begins to whimper.

What sort of mistress am I to let her cower? There is enough to fear in this world without dreading the presence of one's own superior. I lend her a comforting hoof, which quickly turns into a quiver silencing embrace.

“None of this had anything to do with you and there was nothing you could have done to prevent it.” I’ve never hugged anypony of the help before. If the way Duster falls completely still for the first time in the whole time I’ve known her is any indication, I should have done so more often. But I’m in just as much need of this as her. “I should have been kinder to you and the other tenants. Whatever I endure shouldn’t fall on your shoulders. We’re all suffering.”

Well, except for Wolf River. Now having calmed himself entirely from his little spat, he has regained complete and entire focus on the situation at hoof, and I have decided to stay entirely out of his way. He sniffs long and meticulously at any available bloodstained object.

Of course, concern still has the best of me. I let go of Duster and leave her to her own. She deserves to have a moment of relaxation while I look into this further. “Have you found aught?” I ask Wolf River.

His search comes to an end at Rosemary’s bed as he runs his muzzle over the last remaining puddle of blood. “I've found enough to confirm my worst suspicions.” He gestures to the carved remains of Rosemary’s bed. “Pray, take a closer look at that.”

I do as he requests. I hadn’t thought to look beyond the flood of feathers and blood before, but it is plain as day, as seen by the holes and gashes laden across the mattress, that there was a struggle in here. “A struggle of swords. But mind, this is Rosemary we’re speaking of. I should have assumed.”

“Assumption is all we can do. But with these many scents, I’ve formed a conclusion on what transpired here.” He stands and faces me, the whites of his eyes the most visible thing against the fast darkening room.

“Tell me honestly, Wolf. I don’t want to be spared any pain.” I tap my chest as if I were clad in my old armored uniform; it’s nothing but ore at this point, but I can imagine. “What happened?”

He has that deep and blunt expression that tells me there is no good side to this, but then again, I never expected a good side to begin with. “Blackwings were here.”

...I had expected bandits. They’d be hard to find, but easy to slay. Slavers would be more unpleasant, but they’re easily traceable, with some choice words and coin purses… But the Blackwings. “That’s…” Wolf River found a weakness in my armor. “They are servants of a warmare. What possible interest could they ever have with my children?” My vision is blurring at the edges. “What do they have to gain?!” I scream at my beloved, puncturing his stoic disposition and making him step back. But I’m ignorant of that. I am far from done. “I have no part in this war anymore! I have done nothing to deservethis!”

“I know,” he whispers grimly. “It’s not your fault.”

I’m about to continue with my verbal onslaught but the way he said that has struck me dumb. He can’t possibly mean… “Wolf…” If what he implies is true, I can’t let him believe that. But the proper way to convince him otherwise does not surface from my lips.

Without a word, Wolf River steps around the bed and past me. He enters the hallway, and I hear the sound of his armored hoofsteps on the stairs. Then I hear the door slam shut.

What I wanted to say comes too late. “You shouldn’t blame yourself.”

How naive of me. It was my assumption that stepping away from my life in the Imperial Legion would grant me peace; that everypony I had made an enemy of would lay down their arms for me and me alone. But how could I expect that? Me and my family… We’re all enemies of the Blackwings, like it or not. And they haven’t forgotten.

But upon greater thinking, it doesn’t matter who intruded upon my property and my life. As I gaze upon the remains of the struggle yet again, I realize Rosemary was easily able to slaughter those cretins easily. Being the daughter of Oregano and me, two earthwalkers to wear the rank of General, she couldn’t have been stopped here. Duster has already assured me of that.

Rosemary fought with all her heart to stop the Blackwings. I just know it. And despite my watering eyes and being caught off guard, I’m sure that I can finish her work and save Nutmeg and Cinnamon. I just need a certain somepony’s help.

Wolf… I was dead wrong to assume he isn’t suffering.

~Vision End~

~Two and a half months ago~

Rosemary turns over, resting her head onto one side of the bed, then turns again to lay it down on the other, like she has for most of her night’s sleep. Her consistent thrashing has caused the covers to become a mess of cloth wrapped around her figure, defiant to the shape of the bed. With all of her chaotic movement, she ends up involuntarily running her skull into the wooden head. She grunts as she’s pulled out of her less than peaceful rest.

With all sight of the room around her left unseen, as she forgoes removing the covers from her head, she curls up close to her own hind legs in an attempt to get warm again. “Damn Weather Guild…” she mutters, pulling the sheets back over her. She rests her head, though not on her pillow. “Damn everything…” Knowing that any attempt to sleep will prove fruitless, she does her best to reminisce on the dreams she most recently had.

Unsurprisingly to her, she dreamed of exploring an open world of infinite plains and an eternal blue sky. It was a sight well familiar to her. It was everything she desired beyond a comfortable life with her little siblings, and yet… “Argh, I know what I want! If only because I can’t have it for my own…”

She raises her brow as her inhibitions fall away from her thoughts. Instead, a rather cryptic conclusion to her recent series of dreams comes to mind. “Night sky… A full moon… Some mountainside covered with snow… That’d be bloody romantic. But…” She racks her deepest memories for anything that would provide an answer to her question. “Who was that filly? Never met a blue filly that’d I’d…” She trails off into murmurs that even she can’t entirely understand, dwelling only on the mystery child.

Coming to a loose conclusion that the dream was of a magical sort, she begins to wonder how Shae would interpret it. But that is short lived. She hears creaking, and she can tell it’s just outside her door. She sighs. One of the tykes must need a midnight snack… Very well.

She raises her hoof to remove the sheets and the covers in one swoop. She smacks her lips, turns around…

Her eyes widen and she rolls over to dodge the thrusting of a levitated knife.

It plunges into the bed, ripping out feathers as it makes another lunge at her. She hops up onto her hooves for another dodge. It nicks her leg, making her grunt. She continues to sidestep it and leap away, avoiding and taking hits in equal measure, until the floating knife turns around and strikes her between the eyes, obscuring her vision and knocking her off the bed. The world is a blur for only a moment as she shakes herself back into the act. The knife comes at her again.

By her own shock, she manages to clasp the knife by the blade between her hooves. But it struggles to free itself, aimed directly at her face. She tightens her grip for dear life.

Rosemary, now more aware of her surroundings, takes notice of a dark figure in the corner of her room, garbed in a magus cloak and leather armor. His horn is alight with the same blue aura that coats the knife. “You…” Rosemary growls. “What do you want?!”

He remains silent, leaning his head forward and intensifying the knife’s struggle.

Having run out of options, Rosemary decides to take a risk. She releases the knife as she rolls over, and sans a cry of pain as she feels a deep gash inflicted across her cheek, she stands successful. The knife is implanted in the wall, unresponsive to the unicorn’s spell.

Rosemary smirks. “Fine. Let’s play.”

She leaps onto her now torn and feather littered bed, using it as a spring as she launches herself at her foe. The unicorn summons an ethereal blade, though it’s a thin and frail seeming one. Rosemary ducks its swing, then effortlessly bucks at its hilt, shattering it into wisps and making the unicorn’s aura blink out of sight.

The mare channels her father’s expertise in unarmed combat and runs one hoof into the unicorn’s jaw, then the other into his muzzle. She grins at the echoing crack. “Oops. Did I break somethin’?”

The unicorn falls onto his haunches, holding his face as he groans. “Yrr ffrrkin’ whrrr…” he chokes out.

“I didn’t catch that, love. Perhaps you should have thought better than to take on the daugher of a former general.”

Her weak foe seems keen to respond, but whatever he means to say is lost to a bout of bloody vomit.

“My mum ain’t gonna be happy ‘bout that,” Rosemary says, stepping away from the mess.

The unicorn wipes the remaining blood from his mouth, staring defensively at her. “Are you going to kill me, daughter of Oregano?” he asks. “I doubt a commoner like yourself could bring yourself to—”

“I’ve killed before,” Rosemary interrupts. “I was travelin’ with a zebra caravan and a group of violent sods decided to jump us. Three of ‘em ran, and another tried to stay and fight. I ran him through with a zebracean longsword.” She smiles, proud of herself. “I’m not deranged. I am simply my father’s daughter. I did what I had to. I helped my friends.”

“Your father’s daughter indeed, thinking yourself so noble and heroic,” says the unicorn. “But this battle is not won for you. There are more of us.”

Having not anticipated that, Rosemary’s glee for victory fades away in an instant, as does her smile. Almost as if on queue, two shadows make themselves known in the hallway. She turns to look at whomever casts the shadows, crouching down at the ready for another battle. But she freezes when she sees the other robed, leather clad figures pass by.

Clutched in their combined magical grip are Nutmeg and Cinnamon, who hang limp in midair, barely breathing, their eyes tightly shut.

“NO!” Rosemary makes a break for them, but she feels herself slow to a crawl when the wounded unicorn’s blue aura wraps around the collar of her vest and holds her back. Despite her best efforts to claw away from his grasp, she cannot get away. Tears in her eyes, she calls out to her siblings, “NUTMEG! CINNA—” The aura travels up to her mouth and holds it shut.

The cold hiss of the unicorn’s voice against her ear makes her blood freeze. “You will hold your tongue, lest we cut it from your mouth. Besides, they can’t hear you. Simple sleeping spell. Shame it didn’t work on you.”

Rosemary strains her mouth until it’s sore, but she manages to break the aura’s hold. “FUCK OFF! LET ME GO!”

The unicorn’s armored hoof wraps around her neck. “Hm, so that’s how it is. Very well. We had hoped to save the trouble and kill you outright, but it would be crueler to silence you and force you into service of the Blackwings, with no means to protest. That should more than make up for the hell your father put us through.”

“Blackwings…” It’s only now that Rosemary notices the signature blue hue of her captor’s robes and armor.

Her blood goes from frozen to boiling in a manner of seconds. In any other situation, she’d be terrified, certain that this would be the end. But as she looks ahead at the wall-embedded knife, which has become once again wreathed in the unicorn’s aura, she figures out an escape.

The knife comes out of the wall and points towards Rosemary, hovering her way. She waits until it is mere inches from her face.

The unicorn’s voice passes her ear again. “Open your mouth or I will force you to do so.”

“I said, FUCK OFF!” Gritting her teeth, Rosemary slams the back of her head against the unicorn’s face. She hears him scream as he clutches his already wounded jaw and muzzle. Before the knife hits the ground she grabs ahold of it, then turns around and thrusts it into the unicorn’s neck. He sputters incoherent words before he chokes, motionless with even more blood dripping from his mouth.

Rosemary gazes upon her latest kill for only a split second before she stands back up and hits the ground sprinting. She kicks off the door frame out into the hallway, then leaps off the top of the stairs.

Blind to everything but the task at hoof, she reaches for the door.

In the blink of an eye, she loses her sense of sight as a throbbing pain in the back of her head makes itself known. She stumbles back and forth, trying with all her willpower to make it for the door. All commands for her hoof to open it go unheard. She groans, and with a distorted call for her siblings, she drunkenly stumbles over, crashing her head into the mirror. She hits the ground, shards sprinkling her mane.

The last thing she sees before her vision fades in its entirety is a Blackwing earthwalker towering over her, a large mace slung over his shoulder. Two more rebels approach from the kitchen. Rosemary loses grip of all senses just as she feels her limbs being seized…

~Tangerine, present day~

Anger, sorrow, and hatred for the Blackwings. Never before have I let such emotions do more than graze my surface. Even after my expulsion from the Imperial Legion, and in a moment of complicated morality sided with Tohro Blackwing for our mutual benefit, I made my hatred for his kind known without it taking control of me.

I have taken my anger out on Duster and hurt her in the process. My apologies are out, but I doubt I will regain her willingness to relax around me any time soon. I deserve that much. I should have dedicated my anger to the wall a tad more.

And my sorrow… It’s odd. After falling from the edge of a cliff, eventually one acclimatizes to the velocity, and manages to make do within the confines of gravity. The same can be said with my grief over losing my children. Yes, it is a grim tragedy, no doubt the cruelest to occur within mine or Oregano’s bloodline. There is no denying that I am absolutely rank with distress. But it’s despite the distress that I keep smiling, because I know I have to be strong through this tragedy. For my sake, for my children, and for Wolf River.

My slow trot to the peak of this hill leads me to an arranged circular rock formation. Within, I’ll find the villa’s renowned hot spring.

I’m not entirely sure if Wolf River will be there; I’ve already asked the tenants and the rest of the help where he might be (“Come now. He towers over two average stallions and he smells of a canid. How could you not notice him?”). My only reason for assuming he’s at the hot spring is because of his expressed interest earlier.

And by Epona’s mane, my suspicions are true. I see his armor set aside, tucked in a corner, along with his war axe. So he must be bathing. I’m sure he’ll see no offense if I step in on him. He always listens to what I have to say.

I step past the wooden half-wall, entering a haze of warm and refreshing steam. The hot spring is illuminated by lanterns bound to the surrounding stones, meaning I can see Wolf River standing - not sitting, standing within the water. His head is bowed and his normally long and spiked mane is laid across his muzzle.

It’s not a surprise when he takes notice of me before I have a chance to speak. “Come to scold me, m’lady?” He laughs, meekly and pathetically. “I daresay I welcome it. Come, let it all out.”

“Huh? Let what out? You know I’m not angry anymore.”

He taps his ear, which flicks a few times. “You’re trembling. I can tell.”

“Oh?” I touch one of my forelegs with the other, realizing that I can’t hold still. It’s slight, but very apparent. “Your heightened sense is incredible.”

He remains silent.

“I mean that.” As I speak, I remove my cape. “Without you, we wouldn’t know who Nutmeg and Cinnamon were taken by, nor would we have any inkling that they are still alive. For that, I couldn’t be any more grateful to you.”

I would expect anypony to regain at least some of their composure upon hearing those words, but Wolf River’s grief seems to go much deeper. He still wears the same tormented frown. “You thank me for a minor solution to a problem I induced.”

“Induced? You had absolutely nothing to do with this,” I reassure him, removing the straps of a gauntlet. There’s a clink of metal as it falls to the earth. I pause before I finish undoing the other one. “There is something you see that I don’t, that much is certain.”

He nods.

“In that case, by all means, I wish to hear it. I don’t wish for there to be any unspoken truths between us.” My remaining gauntlet falls free. I then slip my hind legs out of their boots.

I can't imagine Wolf River crying, but if I can't sway his disposition, this may very well be the first time I witness it. "You can say it's not anypony's fault as much as you wish but that is merely wishful thinking, m'lady. There is somepony at fault for what transpired here, and it is me." He wades through the water, deliberately avoiding looking me in the eye. "Who was the one who occupied you with confessions of love and childhood fantasies? Who forced you into quests and nearly watched you die many a time? Who begged you to stay and join the Carrier Clan, a group you never even expressed desire in joining until that certain somepony dragged you into its affairs?" He grits his fanged teeth. He mumbles something incoherent, lost to blubbering. "You... You could have been there for Nutmeg and Cinnamon, but I stole you away from them. And thus they were stolen from you. It's my fault, no matter what you say."

In the whole time he’s poured his soul out to me, I’ve managed to remove my breastplate. I’m now down to my basic tunic. That’ll have to do. I quietly wade into the hot spring, too fixated on the sobbing Wolf River to enjoy the warmth and comfort it presents, even as it soaks my tunic.

“You have to hate me…”

“No, Wolf…” I reach out, lending him the gentle touch of my unarmored hoof. I bring it around his neck, then bring my other foreleg out of the water to wrap myself around him in a full embrace. I feel his heart beating far slower than it should. “Wolf, you don’t understand, I love you.”

I’ve finally let it out, the one thing my heart was begging me to say throughout the whole pilgrimage. And I couldn’t have picked a worse moment. Wolf River’s sunset eyes widen and he lightly yet crudely pushes me away. “You can’t say that. Not here.”

“I mean that.” His gestures aren’t enough to stop me. I resume my embrace of him, ignorant of how tense he grows. I hold him, our breaths the only thing to be heard against the quiet night, and wait. A minute passes, then another, before he finally lets his foreleg breach the water and pull me in tighter. “That’s it…” I say. “I will never blame you for what happened. You came here with me, and you helped me solve this tragedy. Without you, odds are I would either be drunk, ignorant of a life outside of military code and honor, or dead in the brush. You and the Carriers saved me. I will never throw you away.”

He nods slowly.

I break the embrace, keeping my hooves on Wolf River’s chest and looking him dead-on. He’s grown less remorseful, now sharing the same expression as me; sad, rank of loss, yet hopeful.

“Now, we know what’s transpired,” I say. “All that is left is to make the Blackwings reap what they’ve sown. All of their hostages always end up in their base of operation.”

“Fillydelphia.”

“Yes. It’s quite simple, really. No military tactics, no army to preserve, no code of honor to follow. We will go to Fillydelphia and save Nutmeg and Cinnamon. That’s it.”

“M-M’lady, that’s…” Wolf River stammers, obviously surprised by such a bold statement. I expected as much from him. “That is insane. The other Carriers will want nothing of it.”

I smile wryly. “I don’t recall suggesting that we even bring them along.”

“Just you and me, Lady Tangerine? Against an entire Blackwing stronghold? You’ve grown desperate.” He wears concern in his voice, clear as day. “Even with a lycan by your side, that is a task barely fit for the Dragonborn, let alone a plain earthwalker...”

Knowing that he’d say such a thing, I had prepared a response in advance. This idea has appeared to me within dreams as well as errant thoughts brought on by hours of silence and walks through open fields. Every day, it seems more appealing, but only now does the idea prove necessary.

My smile intensifies, becoming almost wolflike in appearance. “How about two lycans?”

~Vision End~

~Rosemary, two and a half months ago~

My senses remain dampered. All sights, smells, sounds, and even the taste of blood upon my lips all seem muted. It is as if I’m not of the world, yet I’m witnessing it through the eyes of another. It’s hard to comprehend if it’s even real. But I know it is. And how I wish it weren’t, as I lay against the wall, slathered in blood, sweat and other fluids.

Despite the muteness, I can still make out what the three figures before me are saying amongst themselves. They speak ill of me, my mother and my father, and the rest of my bloodline. Worst of all, they call me and my siblings utter trash. They say that if we truly were children of Oregano and Tangerine, then we’d have been able to fight back, not that it would have made a difference in the long run…

One of them expresses concern that I may overhear them, but the other two care little, saying that there is nothing I can do to stop what has already begun. They say that my siblings will be… improved. I don’t wish to know what that may mean.

But I know I have to stop it.

My hoof trembles, not wanting to obey me, but I summon what little willpower I have left to raise it. I may as well be lifting the world. But I’ve already lost the world, my world, and I will get it back. My hoof listens to me now.

I reach to the glass container beside me. The Blackwings before me are too occupied with themselves to notice my actions. I raise my hoof up higher and force it against the glass. No good. I try again, with much of the same results. And again.

The noise finally gets their attention. The smallest of the Blackwings turns to leave. He tells the two others to dispose of me, as there’s nothing more they can do with me.

I won’t let them have the chance.

As they approach me, one with a giant mace and the other levitating a spear, I bring my hoof against the glass again. By all miracles, it breaks. I care little for the cuts the shards leave in my foreleg. All that matters to me is getting ahold of my dad’s falchion.

I murmur something towards the approaching Blackwings. The spear wielding one holds the point to my neck.

“What did you say there, bitch?” he snaps at me.

I stare back at him with the ferocity of a thousand infernos, utter hatred burning in my skin. I growl at him in an inequine voice that shouldn’t belong to any mortal. “I’m going to kill you.”

As I draw the falchion from the case I shove the spear aside. It nicks at my neck but I can’t feel any hint of pain. What do I care if I take a small cut? These bastards have already crushed my heart. And now I will obliterate theirs.

In his moment of confusion, I manage to land a solid swipe against the spear wielding one’s armor, leaving a dent and knocking him back. This makes him drop his spear. I land two more strikes before he rolls out of the way and picks up his spear in his mouth. Evidently, this one isn’t too magically adept. Shae would be disappointed.

He turns his head and swipes at me, cutting my cheek. He then scoops it up with his magic and thrusts quickly. I leap over the attack and land on the length of the spear, wedging its blade into the floor.

The stallion with the giant mace has been waiting for an opportune moment to strike. He brings his gargantuan weapon around, aiming for my head. I duck and leap back from the spear wielder. Humorously, he’s making attempts at yanking his spear out of the floor.

The mace wielder is much more agile than he looks, leaping over his cohort and swinging at me again. The confines of the family room make for little options in which to dodge, but I make do, turning around and galloping up the wall, leaping off to dodge another swing and planting my hoof into the brute’s head. I then take my sword and go for his shoulder. I leave a nasty gash and give my sword a new wash of red paint. Sorry, Daddy.

“Insolent whore…” curses the mace wielder as he grimaces. My response is a kick to his barrel, which stumbles him. I go in for another slice but he defends with his mace, and then bucks at my sword hoof. I’m left disarmed with my weapon next to the now recovered spear wielder.

It is a shame for them both that I know how to fight just as well without metal.

With a manic grin, the brute brings the mace down. I sidestep that, then turn my head to see the spear wielder coming at me wild. And they call themselves soldiers… They have no coordination.

I duck the spear, which sails right over my head, then buck at the wielder’s exposed face. He loses the spear, and I catch it with both of my forelegs. Before the dumb bastard before me recovers from my hit, I swing the spear upwards and slice through his neck and chin, spilling blood and flesh. I spin around and cut across the mace wielder’s face in the same swing, then bring the spear back around to slice through his eyes. His screams and bellows are music to my ears. I see why Caro enjoys hearing it from the mouths of dragons.

The one who isn’t bleeding from his eyelids makes a desperate grab for me, punching and wailing on my neck and shoulders. Those don’t even warrant a grunt from me. I shove him off and wheel around to get a good look at him.

He’s sputtering blood from his mouth and his neck. He can’t last much longer. Yet he still insists on this pointless struggle. He lunges at me, and I counter with a buck to his chest. He soars into the bookshelves and knocks several tomes onto the floor. Even as he lays weak and dying, I feel my work still isn’t done.

I approach him with his spear slung over my back. I say nothing, but he still sees fit to speak to me. “You dense… fucking…” he chokes out. “You’re too late any…way… They’re long gone to you…”

I take the spear and point it between his eyes, making his obnoxious grin fade.

“Okay… I get it… Not that it’ll do you any good… If you have a…. death wish… go… to Fillydelphia…” He cackles, despite being on his last leg. “Not that… it’ll do ya… any good… Eheh… eheheheh…”

I press the spear further into his fur, just barely breaking the skin.

“Oh, come off it, daughter of Oregano… Can you truly kill m—“

I shove the spear through the back of his neck. Then, with difficulty, I lift him up by my forelegs and toss him, shattering the window and staining the sill with his blood. Now I know for sure he’s gone.

Now I step over shards of glass back into the family room, and I’m immediately drawn to the growling, bleeding mess of a stallion that once held a mace. His weapon lays abandoned next to my sword.

The stallion is so pathetic it’s hard to believe he was a threat to me mere seconds ago. Blinded by my hoof, he cowers in the corner, letting his eyes and face bleed all over the floor. I may as well put him out of what miserable wreck he could call his life; I’ll be doing us both a favor.

He doesn’t even get a last sight as I take my sword in my teeth, approach him, and slash his throat. He dies unsung and quietly. Much a contrast to what he used to be.

As much as I would like to put an end to the one who ran off with my father’s favorite weapon, it seems time has been ill to it. Only a few cuts and it’s already bent and distorted. It won’t survive another kill. Regardless, I must keep it for the sake of my father; had he not died in war, he would have wanted me to have it.

I undo the buckles of the dead stallion's belt and equip it on myself, then slide the old sword into the bag of holding. Much less a burden now, but I’m still without a proper weapon. At least until I take notice of the mace again. It proves difficult to lift but my anger and grief gives me strength. The effort it takes to carry it upon my back means nothing to me, and even with it, I keep walking, breaking into a sprint as I gallop for the door.

The door flies open from a single kick, and I keep on galloping through the rain of the night. I ignore the stairs leading away from the plantation house, opting to jump it instead. The mace wears greatly on my back as I land, yet I still ignore it and look ahead. The one who left is briskly yet quietly walking along the street. His head is wrapped in a scarf but I recognize his armor.

I don’t speak, rather, I scream with the same demonic darkness as before, the world violently shaking around me as I charge at him. He turns around, first with curiosity on his face, which is quickly replaced with trepidity. He has no time to prepare for my onslaught as I leap for him, take the mace in my forelegs and use my whole body to pitch the mace across him. He flies like a pegasus until he hits the masonry wall of the apothecary, splattered blood and teeth in his wake. His face is little more than a dented, flat, mess.

With all of my strength exhausted, I finally pay heed to the pouring rain and fall along with it, dropping the mace and myself to the cobblestone. I hear voices that don’t belong to the Blackwings. It’s merely the help, come too late to do anything useful.

Duster, my favorite maid and the one who takes care… took care of my siblings when I could not, approaches me, lip quivering worse than average. She lends me a supporting hoof, but I do not rise from my collapsed state. “L-L-Lad-dy R-Rosem-m-mary? A-Are you qu-quite well?” She doesn’t receive a response from me, rather, she turns and notice the bloodied corpse before me. “O-Oh, m-my… D-Did you… Did… D-Di-Did…”

Her stuttering is lost on me. Instead, I rise, slowly, and without anypony’s help. My mane, coated in rain and glass, falls across my vision. I ignore Duster’s pleas as I turn back to the Plantation house. “Nutmeg… Nutmeg… Ci… Cinnamon… Cin… Nut… Nu…”

“Rosem-mary?” Duster keeps calling for me with great concern and terror in her voice. “T-Tell me, wh-what hap-p-pened?”

“Cinnamon… Cinna… ...meg… Nutmeg…”

“Rosemary!”

The rest of my senses all amount to haze accompanied by the sound of my own blood thundering through my body. I only move by instinct as I trudge back to the plantation house, muttering incoherence even I cannot hear.

I lift the bodies of my latest kills onto my back. One by one, I take them away, down to the river. I take their armor, along with whatever metal I can find, and throw the corpses into the water, staining the river red until it passes on. There is no reason for them to bloody my home with their filth anymore.

“...This is easy, Rosemary…”

Now I go to my room, open my closet, and take from the top shelf my coat, vest and scarf, though I do not put them on. Rather, still in a nearly blind haze, having not blinked once in what should be hours, I make my way to the smithery. Whether or not it’s even open for business doesn’t make a difference.

“You can fix this… This is fixable…”

I rest the gauntlets and boots I looted over the forge and take a hammer to them. I form a perfect fit for me. These will offer protection enough. Then I search through the cabinets until I find a whole box of chain links. How I manage it is a mystery to me, but a few hours and hooves full of blisters later, I have myself a respectable chain mail shirt.

“Just go and rescue them… Then be back home in time for supper…”

All that’s left is to form a sword that will last me longer than my father’s relics, but the owner of the smithery finds me. He doesn’t yell, rather expresses confusion as to why I’m here in the dead of night with my eyes glazed over. I pay no heed to him and run away, with my new set of protection in tow.

“Mommy doesn’t have to know… She doesn’t have to know a thing…”

I equip my new gauntlets and boots, then throw my coat on over my vest and mail.

“You can fix this… You can save them... because you’re a soldier…”

I wrap my scarf around my neck and put on my hat, then take a good look at myself in the shattered mirror. I look in desperate need of sleep, but I can’t. Sleep is for the weak. Instead, I put on a smile. It’s a broken smile, one that a manic pony just short of losing their wits would wear, but I’m smiling, so that’s all that matters, right?

“That’s right… I’m a soldier. I'm a good soldier.” I make a high-pitched chuckle. “I’m Mommy’s good little soldier…”

“Rosey.”

I think I hear someone calling for me.

“Rosey.”

Leave me alone... I can't...

"Rosey!"

"Tohro?"

The present hits me like a blast of frigid wind, bringing along with it a flurry of snow. I wipe my face clean of the white, then take off my hat to flap the powder off. I pull my scarf tighter, not to the point of strangling myself but enough to keep warm. I only wish I had something to cover my face, like Tohro does.

“Are you well, love?” he asks. He wears a cowl over his head and a mask over his muzzle, making his eyes the only part of his face visible.

A few moments pass before I answer. “Yes, I’m well.”

“Are you quite sure?” he asks, gracing my shoulder. He shows as much concern as he can with only his eyes. “You locked up for a little while there.”

“Did I?”

He keeps his eyes on me as I keep trekking ahead. If I must be honest, his advances to check on me are more annoying than helpful. I hold no hesitation to continue this quest, even if there’s a very high probability that I’m going to die. But, as my father always said, everything good in this world is worth risking life and limb for, and what I seek is something very good. Somepony, in this case.

And yet, Tohro sees fit ensure my safety, following me close. “Are you sure you don’t want to sit this one out? I won’t hold it against you if you do.”

“Stop that now, lad.” I lightly push him aside by his chest. “I ain’t comin’ this far just to turn around like a coward. Who do you think I am?”

“Okay, okay. Mind, I’m just as worried as you are for Shae’s safety… I don’t want any senseless sacrifices. If we die…”

I can’t bear the thought of what might happen to her. But that only drives me forward. “That’s not going to happen, Tohro. I’m not about to let myself freeze in the eye of the storm, especially when the young lass is on the line.” I affectionately gaze upon my black falchion, knowing it wouldn’t be half as well-crafted if it weren’t for Shae’s grace. How fitting that a weapon that carries a bit of her with it will also be the one to save her from the clutches of this Sacred Rite bitch.

“I should’ve known from the start that Sacred Rite had somethin’ to do with this,” I say. “Shae told me about her threats towards unicorns… Evidently she has the force to back up her voice.”

“When did Shae tell you about her?” Tohro asks.

“I visited her a few months ago. She was takin’ care of Celina. Unfortunately, I couldn’t stay long…” I recall how painful it was to leave her alone, seeing her sorrowful expression as I left the Rainbow Palace. “I didn’t want to get in the way of her mission. She’s closer to the princess than I could ever be, and I wasn’t about to jeopardize her bringing the sun back to Everfree.”

Caro enters the fray, clad in his fur cloak. It’s almost hilarious to see him wear clothes. “The place is a grey, clouded mess of what it used to be,” he says.

We all share a moment of silence for the city and the loss of its radiance, and in doing so, we also have a silent prayer for Celina. I’m sure none of us wish to imagine what she looks like now, being without any tie to happiness.

“This is as much for Shae as it is for the princess,” I say. That’s a drive for me to keep moving, much to Caro and Tohro’s mild surprise. “Get a bloody move on! We’re burning precious minutes!”

“You are compelled beyond belief, Rosey,” says Tohro, following from the air. He looks off into the distance, to Caro, and then back to me. “You love her, don’t you?”

He says that as if it isn’t obvious.

As we come over the hill, our destination shows its ugly face. A large spire, sticking out of the ground like a bodily blemish. It’s tall enough to mutate the clouds surrounding it into a circle formation. I’d dread climbing it if it weren’t for the reason why we’re even going there. “Awfully steep, isn’t it?” I remark.

“Well, it is a mountain… of sorts,” says Caro. “Every merchant, traveler and adventurer we’ve passed has made it clear that this is where Sacred Rite’s followers convene, and they also made note of a lavender unicorn coming this way.” He pauses. “Come to think of it, they never mentioned her being brought here against her will.”

“That means she was kidnapped after she arrived. But what reason would she have for coming here?” Tohro asks. He then shrugs it off. “Eh. We could spend all day with rhetoric. Shall we?”

As we approach the base of this spire, I keep my thoughts turned to rescuing Shae, and that alone. Nothing else matters for the time being. I will save her. I won’t lose another one.

I’m a good soldier.

XXX - The Spire

~Shae~

“B-but, no… You can’t do this! I just…”

She’s a unicorn of mild age. She’s older than me, but not by much. Still, she’s a victim of happenstance, just as I am. The only difference is, I’m the one stuck in a cage. She’s been let out, but by no circumstances is she being set free. Despite knowing what’s going to happen, I don’t look away. This mare deserves to know that somepony still cares for her in this hellhole.

“Get going!” yells a robed earthwalker. Compared to an Imperial soldier or a Blackwing, he’s by no means intimidating, though he is the one with the spear. The cowering mare obeys him and crawls away from the corner, following the directions of the cultist’s spear jabbing her.

“I just want to go home…” she whimpers.

That earns her a much undeserved stab from the cultist, drawing blood from her barrel. “Your wants are not important, witch.”

She clutches her latest in many wounds. “But I’ve never used magic in my life… I haven’t an ounce of—”

“You bear the horn, therefore you are a witch and an abomination. Just find solace in knowing a child of Dragos will purify you of your wickedness.”

Reduced to nothing but sobs and shrieks of pain accompanying every impact of the spear, the mare is forced to move from the cavern into a small tunnel. Where it leads, I know of but haven’t had the misfortune to see. With any luck, it will stay that way…

“To what end goes such cruelty?” I ask myself. It feels like the eighth time in the week I’ve been here that I’ve said that. “So they kill every last unicorn in Equestria. What good will that do them?”

“People do insane things in times of crisis,” says my cellmate. She, like me, has grown numb to the horrors of this prison.

One begins to get used to being stuck in a small cage thrown haphazardly into the corner of some hollowed out dungeon. I doubt these cultists have been here long. Or perhaps they keep finding new places for which to conduct their rituals, avoiding being caught by the authorities. Either way, I’m sick of this, and I’m willing to risk skin off my back to let that be known.

I lean on the crossed bars of the cage and shout to the cultist guarding us. “Hello, foul one,” I sneer at him.

“Yes?” he says, not even turning to look at me.

“It’s in my doubts that I’ll be relinquished from this prison any time soon,” I say to him. His disgruntled glare does little to sway my bravery. Besides, I’m a little more focused on a certain amulet sitting on a rock behind the cultist. “So, if I am to be purified by Dragos, I’d like to look my finest. If I could have my necklace back…” I wear the eyes of a puppy to try and convince him.

But since when can you convince a cultist to be reasonable? He spits at my hooves. “Why would I do that? Besides, it’s a magical artifact. We’d have had it destroyed it a while ago, had we the means.” He grumbles to himself, “You witches and your enchantments…”

“You cultists and your insane ramblings,” I grumble in counter.

As the stallion turns his head to survey the other cages set against the walls and corners of the cavern. A castle dungeon would be ideal compared to this mildew infested hellhole, but it matters not in the long run, knowing where we’re all going.

All the ponies within those cages are unicorns, and that seems to be the only reason why they’re here. Mare, colt, peasant, noble, child, elderly... As far as Sacred Rite is concerned, they all deserve to die. What a hag.

“Nice try,” says my cellmate again. I look at her and smile, though whether she smiles back is unknown, due to a veil of her own hiding her face, formed out of a simple blanket. What she has to hide is beyond me. She seems entirely normal. “But I must ask… What good would that necklace do?”

“It was a gift from Starswirl the Bearded to…” I pause, having an involuntary memory of Headmaster Frosthelm crumbling to dust before me, at the hooves of Clover the Clever. I remember the mad look in her eyes as she wore the necklace. “Uh, it’s very important.” My hooves come to the brace around my neck. “I don’t know what good it would do with this holding me back, but it’s my best option.” If my amulet can counter, or at least dull the effects of this dampener, then I’ll at least have a fighting chance.

Quietly, I do something a little drastic, yet necessary. I quietly stand as much as the confines of the cage allow, and move towards the amulet. I reach out as far as I can, even until my shoulder is sore, but I’m still short of touching my saving grace.

And even if I could reach it, it wouldn’t matter. The one guarding the cage notices and strikes my foreleg, making me retract. He may have struck a nerve; I feel numb…

“Just for that digression, you’ll be sent to the dragon next,” he says. He steps away, presumably to alert Sacred Rite of this change of schedule.

Oddly, this doesn’t fill me with fear, only more spite. As he leaves this makeshift dungeon, I shout after him, “Good! Bring me to the beast! I’ll kill it!”

That moment fades, though, and I fall to my haunches. It’s insulting, knowing my means of survival lays just next to me but it’s still out of reach. Further, even though an encounter with a dragon is hardly new to me, I can’t fight against it this time. I’ll be brought right to it when it’s all done with the other mare.

It seems my cellmate also has some light to shed on the issue. “Again, nice try. Your enthusiasm makes the wait for my demise all that more entertaining.”

“You’re welcome,” I say with great sarcasm. “But it seems I won’t be around much longer to amuse you.” I sigh. “Sorry, Jade.”

The only reason I don’t cry or scream, pour my heart out, beg for mercy or do anything one would do with the knowledge that death was knocking upon their door is because I’ve taken a note from Caro’s book; I keep fighting, if not externally, internally, against the idea that my fate is sealed. I still hold fast to the sliver of hope that I will survive this. How could I not? I say this is hardly the worst thing that’s happened to me on this journey.

“Well, since that is the case,” Jade says, “I would like to know how a clever mare such as yourself ended up here. You seem smart enough to avoid anything having to do with Sacred Rite.”

“Running into these cultists was a mere coincidence,” I say. “I had my reasons for coming here. I was on my way to the peak of this spire, at least until these robed goons jumped me and dragged me here. Come to think of it… I don’t even know how long ago that was.” I’m about to elaborate further, but I’m overcome by a fit of coughs. “Agh…”

“Here.” Jade passes me a roll, which I take without hesitation. “They forgot to take my rations.”

“Wonderful.” While the roll is a tad stale, something I expected, it’s still moist enough to make my throat feel better.

“Why did you come here, Shae? Nopony has any reason to climb this barren rock other than to please their ego. Look at these bastards, for instance,” she gestures to a small passing group of cultists, no doubt new members convinced that all this murder is for a good cause. “They think they rule the world up here.”

“They’re here for selfish reasons. I’m here to help somepony I love.” I wolf down the remainder of the roll before any of the cultists see me with it.

“Who would that be?” Jade asks. “Friend? Family?”

“Both, and that’s why I have to get out of this cage.” I approach Jade, showing as much desperation as I can to her. “I need to find Luna.”

~Vision End~

CHAPTER XXX - THE SPIRE

Keeping her hat low and very nearly covering her eyes, Rosemary looks over the stones separating her, Caro and Tohro from a several foot drop onto the winding path up Dragon’s Tooth Spire. She clutches her falchion tight to her person while surveying the path below. Thus far, there hasn’t been sign of life, but it’s a shared thought between all present members of Dragonrein that stealth is the best option.

“If nopony passes by in five minutes, we’re proceedin’,” Rosemary whispers. “I don’t wanna keep Shae waitin’.”

“That’s fair,” says Caro. He stands over his sword, running a rock down its sides. He wishes for it to follow the same path as Scar’s katanas and the legendary Muramasa; it should be so sharp that it cuts just to look at it. Satisfied with his work, he picks up the sword and rests the flat of it on his shoulder as he approaches Rosemary. “Just be forewarned, if we are spotted by the cultists, their heads are going to roll." He turns to Tohro. “Assuming you’re okay with that?”

Tohro raises his head. “More likely than not, it’ll come to that. Just show some restraint, at least.” He returns to equipping his new set of wing blades to his feathers. “Mind, mate, this is a rescue, not a slaughter.”

“I know.”

“Good… Anypony down there, Rosey?”

Rosemary begins to shake her head, but then she catches something out of the corner of her eye, walking the rising path. “Cultists,” Rosemary says, quietly yet urgently. “Two of ‘em…” She frowns at the sight of what they bring in tow. “And they’ve got baggage.”

The cultist in the lead shouts at the victims, a mare and what appears to be her son, going by their shared blue coat. He sounds far more intimidating than he should behind his hood and veil. “Keep moving. It’s either purification or the cliff.” He gestures to the likely fatal fall just off the side of the path. “I don’t think you want us to choose for you.”

The mare and child, both unicorns, appear to be resisting panic and tears, trembling against the terror of capture by the cultists as well as the snow and cold wind lapping at their bodies.

“Those zebra merchants were kidding. These are sick fucks,” Tohro says, joining Rosemary in surveillance. “Bad enough they abduct anypony with a horn, they can’t be bothered to give them any dignity.”

“Dignity and zealotry don’t exactly go hoof in hoof,” says Rosemary. “You were a Blackwing. Don’t they worship Shokenda like she’s a god?”

“Usually. It depends on the pony serving her.” Tohro shudders, tightening the cowl of his thief uniform. “To be wholly honest, I can’t truly tell if they worship her out of fear or genuine loyalty. If I recall correctly, I… might have worshipped her for both.”

“Her, or her vagina?” Caro asks, half smiling, but showing genuine concern.

To his comfort, Tohro chuckles at the jape. “Now that’s something to be scared of, mate. But that is a cave never to be traveled again.” He readies his crossbow, loading it with a poisoned bolt. “Once again, Rose, I cannot thank you enough for your craft,” he says, stepping over to Rosemary and taking point, aiming his crossbow at the cultists. “This is tricky… Do you have yours?”

Rosemary ducks down and reaches into her pouch, procuring a second crossbow. “Right here.” She takes a few poisoned bolts of her own and loads one in. “We might have to compensate for the wind a wee bit.”

“Who’s the assassin here?” Tohro playfully snips. “Alright, I have the one in the lead, and you take the one traveling behind.” He feels for the wind direction. “Aim slightly above and left of their heads…”

Caro taps quietly at the ground in anticipation. He grows more anxious for every second that Shae goes unrescued. He doesn’t doubt her ability to hold on for dear life, and if it comes to the best case scenario, she might have escaped on her own time. But until he knows for certain, his heart will continue to pound, both for Shae, and in anticipation of Dragon Tooth Spire’s namesake. He looks to the peak, wondering if the presence of a dragon is possible.

Both crossbows fire. Yet all three of the determined rescuers grimace when they see only one of the cultists has fallen, with the bolt cleanly piercing his hood and head. He hits the ground without a word. However, the other is still well and alive. Quickly overcoming his shock, he looks around. “Who’s there?!”

Rosemary is hurting the hardest, pursing her lips in remorse at a bad shot. “My bad, fellas… Shouldn’t have trusted me with this.” She leaves the crossbow on its perch, keeping to her falchion.

“You’re like me, Rosemary,” says Caro. “Our fix is with clashing metal. And there’s little point in being stealthy with this one anymore.” He gestures to the cautious cultist below, who is quickly becoming infused with anger.

He directs his anger to the mother and child. “Is this some sort of ruse? Because I swear, I will not let it transpire. I’m sure Sacred Rite would understand if at least one of you didn’t make it to the cleansing ritual alive.” As he says that, he directs a glare towards the child.

The mother’s eyes widen with rage. “If you dare…”

The cultist knocks her upside the head with a hoof. “I dare.” He then casually yanks on the chains of her shackles, bringing her to her knees. “But if you take ire, then…” He turns around at the sound of loud hoofsteps on stone.

Caro and Rosemary have already made their move, hopping over the rocks hiding them from view and making simultaneous careful leaps down the cliffside. The snow causes for some slippery landings but they progress with speed nonetheless.

“What in the—” The cultist reaches under his cloak for some sort of weapon, but it goes unused as Caro rams into his chest head first. The cultist careens through the air, defenseless when Rosemary leaps into the fray, grabs him and brings him to the ground. The cultist rises as much as he can with the burly mare weighing him down.

“Give up, darlin’. It’ll be easier,” Rosemary says with honeyed aggression. She reaches under the robe and obtains the cultist’s weapon; a small dagger. “Shouldn’t expect a zealot to think ahead,” she mutters.

And yet, the cultist sees fit to continue his struggle. “Dragos guides me to victory! I cannot lose to infidels like you!”

“These infidels are going to tear down your entire organization.” Caro shows the cultist his blade, which appears even more threatening against the white of the snow. He rests the point of the blade on the ground, right in front of his eyesight. “So I wouldn’t recommend making us angry.”

Tohro flutters down to join Caro and Rosemary in surrounding the cultist. “Cooperate with us, and you’re free to go. Just tell us where Sacred Rite is keeping her unicorn prisoners.”

The downed zealot grumbles something under his breath, then looks up at the trio. “Fine. Dragos may forgive me but Sacred Rite won’t. As far as she’s concerned, I never said what I’m about to say.”

Tohro nods. “Very well.” He looks to the mother and child, who are both stunned by what they’ve just witnessed. Tohro asks them, “We’re here to help. Relax.” They do as he says, though still keeping cautious expressions. The son huddles closer to his mother.

The cultist takes in a breath before he speaks. “Her hideout is at the peak. Hardly anypony bothers to climb this spire. It’s called Dragontooth for a reason. Imagine my surprise when I saw an actual dragon lives here. If what Sacred Rite says is true, it has lived here since long before the dragon attacks.”

Caro smirks. “I bloody called it.” He licks his lips, which Tohro sighs at seeing.

“I only signed on because I thought this was merely a protest group. I, like many, am rather unamused at Queen Platinum’s determination to ban worship of Dragos. But I’ve been seeking a means to leave without Sacred Rite’s knowing ever since I found out they’ve been feeding unicorns to the dragon here. She takes her worship far too seriously.”

Rosemary visibly snaps, grinding her teeth together. “Shae…” She grabs the cultist’s mane and turns him her way, much to his discomfort.

“Agh, what the hell?!”

She’s livid, showing a mien that Caro and Tohro have never seen before. “Tell me there’s a lavender unicorn up there! Black and white mane. The most beautiful mare you’ll ever set eyes on!”

“Yes! There is! Calm yourself!”

“I’ll calm myself when she’s safe!” She releases the cultist, draws her falchion in her teeth and breaks into a gallop, braving the path up the spire before Caro and Tohro can ready themselves in the slightest. They watch, stunned at her sudden bout of rage.

“Stealth is entirely out the window at this point,” Tohro says dejectedly. He pays the cultist little heed as he steps away, left slow and sluggish from his bruises.

Caro, doing everything he can to monitor his heartbeat, harbors concern in almost as much quantity as Rosemary, just in a much quieter way. His eye twitches as he readies his sword for battle. “So long as we can save Shae, I’ll gladly stain the snow red.”

“Hold that thought.” Tohro raises a hoof and flicks it, revealing his hidden blade. He approaches the mother and child unicorns, who are still trembling. Tohro steps with caution, keeping his blade low. “I know you’re reluctant to trust a shady figure armed to the teeth, but I wish for nothing but to help those Sacred Rite has abducted. I’ll set you free.”

He kneels down and brings the hidden blade to the mother’s shackles. He fiddles the blade around in the key slot before the lock clicks, making the shackles fall. She nods to her child as Tohro does the same for him. When he’s released from his shackles, he doesn’t hesitate to embrace his mother tightly. “Thank you,” he says to Caro and Tohro.

Caro gestures to the way down the spire before setting his sights on the peak once again. “Get as far away from here as you can. There’s going to be a lot of blood.”

“Mate, do be reasonable,” advises Tohro.

Caro nickers at Tohro in response. “Mate, I am holding in every last f…” He eyes the kid, then chooses to restrain his language. “I am doing everything I can to hold myself back from that cultist. I can’t promise I can do the same for the others. Or Sacred Rite.”

He follows Rosemary’s hoofprints in the snow, and Tohro follows suit. They watch out of the corner of their eye as the mother and child quickly abscond from the mountain.

Part of Tohro wishes they could escort them both to their homes safely, despite the greater priorities at hoof. “They’ll be fine, right?”

“Shae’s life comes first,” says Caro. “But when I get my hooves on the hag who captured her—”

“Caro.”

“WHAT, TOHRO?!” The Dragonborn shows Tohro his fangs in a nightmarish stare, advancing on him with every step. “I know what you said! I am not to kill without your consent. Fine! But we’ve heard the stories. We’ve listened to the witnesses. The merchants, the residents of Everfree and Trottingham, they’ve lost family to Sacred Rite and know she won’t stop until every unicorn she so much as looks at is dead. She’s not going to change her mind, ever. This can not be solved through peace! What do we have to gain from letting her walk free? What am I supposed to do?!”

Caro looks to the ground, shaking and heaving from his anger. His heart only calms itself from Tohro’s touch. The pegasus, with utmost resolve, says to his friend, “Make sure she knows why she has to die.”

Four cultists stand guard outside the gaping entrance to the inner lair, doing everything they can to shrug off the cold. The two closest to the entrance shudder, one of them, a mare, looking at the other. She says, “This is asinine. We could have at least been provided with a fur lining for these robes.”

“Sacred Rite insisted that we will remain warm so long as our faith in Dragos is strong,” says the one opposite her. “So… pray some more. Perhaps that will solve the matter.”

“Very well…” The mare takes a moment to herself, bowing her head and muttering a generic prayer. Unfortunately, yet expectantly for her, it does not bring her any sort of warmth. “Asinine,” she repeats. “It’s because of this cold that I volunteered for warden duty this evening. I’d rather be in there with whining and moping witchcraft enthusiasts than stand out here for another second.”

“Well, if it will get you to hold your tongue,” says her associate.

“Rude...”

She shuts her mouth and looks away, only to turn around again at the sound of panicked heaving. She sees another cultist galloping from the trail. His downed hood shows his exhausted expression, accompanied with fear.

“What happened?” asks the far right guard.

“W-we have intruders!”

“Who? The Legion?”

The panicked cultist shakes his head. “No. No affiliation… At least, I don’t know. One of them’s in a rage. She’s already killed everyone in her path, and she’s coming this w—”

In the blink of an eye, he’s bull rushed by Rosemary, sending him toppling over the edge of the cliff. The yellow mare shoots a ghastly scowl at the four guards, made even more frightening by the blood on her face and her sword. She lets out a bloodcurdling shout and gallops to the entrance.

“To arms!” calls one of the stallion guards. The one mare, however, backs off towards the entrance and stays beside it, preparing for a bloodbath.

Rosemary swings her sword, slashing the robes of the first cultist to charge her. He rolls around her, reaches into his pouch and presents a bladed gauntlet. He stands on three legs as he assaults her with multiple stabs and cuts. He lands a gash across her muzzle and her forehead, yet she doesn’t flinch, still glowering as she returns the favor with a vertical slash.

The second cultist sees his opportunity and leaps at Rosemary. In a bout of pragmatism, he broadsides her and sends her to the ground, then leaps on her to hold her still. He calls to the other two, the third having drawn a sword of his own. “Now! Finish her!”

The first raises his gauntlet and prepares for a deadly blow. Rosemary, however, smirks, making him pause. That moment of hesitation earns him a pair of leather clad hooves to the face as Tohro enters the fray. He picks up the downed cultist by his forelegs, takes to the air, swings around and throws him into the stone wall.

Tohro, gives the same bucking treatment to the cultist holding Rosemary down, then frowns at the young mare as he helps her up. “You’re stupid to run ahead like that. You’re much like Caro after he and I first met. Calm yourself.”

Rosemary retrieves her sword, then lets out an exasperated sigh as she nods. “Okay… You know this better than I do.”

“That I do, love. Now...” He raises his forelegs and takes two blades from his wings, attaching them to hooks in his hind legs. He launches towards the confused and unarmed cultist, running his hoof into his chest, then cutting across his chest with both blades. The cultist’s robes start to stain red. He cries out in anger and pain alike.

“Sympathizers of witchcraft…” he growls.

“At least we have a conscience.” Tohro digs his bladed hooves into the cultist’s stomach. The bleeding zealot chokes on his own inaudible words as he drops dead in the snow. He then takes one of the wing blades from its hooks, turns around and tosses it. The unsuspecting wounded cultist by the wall only looks up for a moment before the blade shreds through his stomach, leaving him to collapse and bleed out.

Tohro and Rosemary look to the last cultist, who has his sword between his lips but shows clear fear and shock at such violent feats. He crouches into an only somewhat intimidating battle stance.

“Wuld nah kest!”

Caro’s shout fills Tohro’s heart with joy. He watches as the Dragonborn dashes in, coated in a blue aura, kicking up plumes of white in his wake. He makes an airborne slash at the cultist, but to both of their surprises, the cultist manages to block it. Their swords clash again, and once more, Caro staying in the air all the while. When the cultist raises his sword for another block, Caro kicks off of the flat and flips around.

“Qo ruzaak!” A burst of lightning flies from his mouth, striking the cultist. His screams shake with his body as he drops his sword, helplessly twitching and writhing on the ground. Small volts rise from his singed coat, which gives off the scent of burning flesh.

Tohro gapes at Caro, who pushes his mane out of his eyes as he sheathes his weapon. “I suppose I overdid it…”

“It’s... effective, I’ll say that much.” Despite the surprise of such a brutal attack, and the ghastly scent, he accepts the victory and does away with the other wing blade attached to his leg.

“Fellas,” says Rosemary, concern in her voice, “I believe there were four of ‘em.” She looks around the area, then to the entrance, where she sees the one mare hiding under the cover of the cave entrance. The mare partially emerges and waves at the trio, showing no weapons whatsoever.

Caro and Rosemary simultaneously step forward, only for the mare to throw her forelegs up in the air and deliberately fall onto her haunches. “I’m compliant! I swear by Epona, Fauste, Gammon, whatever Divine you may worship, and by the deepest reaches of Tartarus, I am carrying no weapons!”

“She could be lying…” Caro mutters. “But then again, a true zealot probably wouldn’t even speak about other gods…”

“See? Somepony is learning to give the benefit of the doubt,” says Tohro, stepping to the forefront. He turns to Rosemary. “Let’s hear what she has to say. Any objections?”

Rosemary nods, but she doesn’t smile. “If she hinders us from getting to Shae…”

“I’ll see to it she doesn’t.” The pegasus walks to the mare with friendly caution. “Come now, sweetheart, show us a pretty face. I’ll do the same.” He uncovers his mane and muzzle, letting his spiked blonde mane flap in the wind.

The cultist does a double take. “By the Divines! Tohro!” She quickly relinquishes her hood to reveal she’s a surprisingly small, baby-faced mare with a grey coat and silvery mane. “Of all places, of all times! And here I was told you were long gone from the Blackwings.” She blushes as she gallops to him. “That was hell to believe.”

Tohro puts on an expression that he hasn’t worn in a while, his eyes lowered and his mouth in a smirk. “Ah, Half Pint! As young looking and radiant as the day I felt your fur against my own.” He touches the area below his scarred and discolored eye. “You’re lucky. I lost my luster a while ago.”

“Oh shut up, you old codger,” japes Half Pint. “You know I’d still ride you like a zebrecean prostitute.”

Tohro chuckles. “Aren’t you sharp? I’ll hold you to that, but until then, we have other matters to address.” He waves Caro and Rosemary over. “Come on over, both of you! Half Pint is an old friend of mine.”

“One of your Blackwing paramours, huh?” asks Caro, caught rather offset by Tohro, who is nothing less than beaming.

The pegasus wraps a foreleg around Half Pint. He’s nothing less than beaming. "Half Pint was our finest stealth operative. A true mistress of levitation, invisibility and disguise. In fact, more often than not, she is quite capable of sneaking behind enemy lines and snatching information from casual conversation. Hell, we owe discovering your capture by the Imperial Legion to her.”

Levitation and invisibility… Caro thinks, before realizing those words don’t quite fit Half Pint’s profile. “Wait, how can she do those things if she’s not a…”

Half Pint pushes her mane aside to reveal what’s little more than a nub of a horn. “Unicorn? Surprisingly, having such a small horn is dead useful for disguise.”

“Ah…” Caro ponders that, as well as what Tohro said, for a moment. “So, indirectly, this one saved my life.”

Half Pint prances out of Tohro’s grip proudly. “Liquid glass is unreliable for gathering information, so that’s where I come into play.” She offers her hoof to Caro. “It’s wonderful to meet you at last, Caro.” She starts to mutter under her breath. “Hometown Riverhoof. Dragonborn. Naturally bronze mane. Parents Earthquake and Goldheart. No mark. Master deceased…”

Caro sees fit to silence her, patting her on the head. She takes the hint as he speaks to Tohro. “You’d best watch out for this one next time you’re at camp with the Legion.”

Tohro grinds his teeth together as he tenses up.

“I don’t think she was supposed to know that, lad,” says Rosemary.

Half Pint looks as if something broke a little inside her, like a crack in a vase. “Oh…” She steps over to Tohro. “So you betrayed us? Is that why you left?”

But the pegasus’ response is a simple shake of his head and a reassuring smile. “The only one I betrayed was Shokenda. She ordered me to cut down some ponies that didn’t deserve it and I told her to stick that order elsewhere. She took exception to that.”

“Oh, your eye. I should have figured as much.”

“I only joined the Legion because I feel I owe a debt to Her Majesty, and I want to do some good in Equestria on my own time.” Tohro approaches Caro and prods him on the barrel, making him raise a hind leg in discomfort. “Following this lump taught me a few things about where my allegiances should lie.” He immediately goes back to Half Pint when he sees her disappointment. “But that doesn’t change that you’re still my friend. The same goes for Jade.”

“I understand…” Then Half Pint’s pupils shrink. “Oh! You can help me, then!”

“Why would we do that?” Rosemary asks, looking unusually stern to Caro. He nudges her as an urging to calm down, and she abides, taking a deep breath.

“Well, I assume you’re here to rescue her too, right?” Half Pint points to the cave entrance. “Jade was abducted from her jail cell and brought here. I managed to track these cultists down and forge a disguise. I plan on sneaking in there during the next rotation of guards and snatch myself a pair of keys, then set Jade free. But with all of you and Tohro’s magic hooves…” She blushes a little. “Heh. Maybe we can free every last unicorn inside." She points enthusiastically at Caro and Rosemary. "And, with your crazy skill in armed combat, we can also deal with Sacred Rite!”

“That was the idea to begin with,” says Tohro. He has silently been agreeing with every single word Half Pint has been saying, except for just the one. “Except, me and my mates are here for somepony else…” He nickers. “Ah, it matters not.” He turns to the other members of Dragonrein. “Okay, is there anypony who objects to assisting Half Pint?”

Caro looks to have a new wind to him, running his hind legs through the snow in preparation for battle. With a fanged grin, he says, “None whatsoever. Blackwing or no, I want to help Jade for true this time.”

Rosemary simply says, “I’m here for Shae. As Caro said, her being a Blackwing doesn’t matter.” Despite those words, she sounds reluctant, something that doesn’t go unnoticed by Caro or Tohro.

Half Pint has a light pink aura surrounding her as she hovers in the air, joyful as can be. “Hoorah! Today, we rescue my little sister!”

~Rosemary~

While it isn’t exactly my idea of fun, wearing the bloodstained robes of a recently dead zealot, I must commend Half Pint on coming up with a rather ingenious method of getting us all inside. Caro and Tohro are wearing the same robes, though I bet the thick fabric bothers the former more than anything else. The stallions walk alongside Half Pint.

I can’t thank her enough for her assistance, but I dare not approach her. She and Jade are Blackwings, after all. That does bring about a new opportunity, though, because if Jade goes free, I’ll be able to ask her and Half Pint a few questions that have been in desperate need of answers these past few months.

The cavern is wide and open, as would be expected for an occupied lair, but it still reeks of death and disease. To think a child and his mother could have been rotting in this hellhole… Perish it. Hell, perish those responsible for such atrocities.

“I’m amazed these bassas could even lay a hoof on Shae,” I say. “I can imagine she put up a hell of a fight.”

Tohro looks to the ceiling and laughs. “Ha! You’d expect anything less of her?”

“Hephaestus, none of it! My Shae is a fighter. Hell, even without a weapon, I assume she’s knocking ‘em off with a few poetic words.”

For zealots, these cultists were mighty smart to use these magic braces. I see a few littering the floor, discarded in puddles to rot. Either these belonged to escaped captives, or…

The walls tremble, dropping bits of stone onto our heads. I can hear the roaring of a fierce beastie from deeper within. “That was the dragon,” I assume.

“Yes…” Caro looks keen to run off and fetch himself a bloodbath, but Tohro stroking his back makes him lose whatever nasty desires he had a moment ago. I’m honestly jealous of the bond those two have. Spending nearly this whole journey together must forge the ultimate friendship. I can only hope I have that much time with Shae in the future. Circumstances permitting…

“Stop.” Half Pint halts us as we turn the corner, and we’re all exposed to a smell of sick.

There’s an opening to a wide area. Most of the floor is rough and worn cobblestone, riddled with debris from the ceiling and walls. Sacred Rite can’t even be bothered to let this place look lived in. I don’t see any dragon, but I do see at least ten more cultists making rounds, if one can even call their disjointed walks about the room such a thing.

As for what they’re guarding, those incredibly cramped cages… They’re filled with unicorns. Some cages have just one or two, others up to four. In the latter, there’s hardly any room for sitting. I see one in the center of the room where a young male has to rest his forelegs outside the bars, bearing the pressure of three others sharing one small, suffocating prison.

“Unicorns are nothing but livestock to Sacred Rite…” I say quietly.

“Livestock for the dragon,” Half Pint adds. She sees me frown with dread, and offers me a smile. “Don’t worry, we’ll be able to amend this. So long as you wear those robes, we can come and go as we please.”

“I prefer going,” says Tohro. “Which one of them carries the keys?”

Half Pint points to the cultist nearest the cages lining the rightmost wall. “That one. And I’ve already organized a way to remove everypony from the room so you may open the cages unnoticed.”

Caro nods. “Good. Enlighten us.”

“Well, there are a few corpses outside this very lair that they may want to investigate. All it takes is a trusted member to break the bad news.”

“Lass, that closes off the unicorns’ escape route,” I advise.

“We’re standing at the top of a mountain, and as Tohro said, I’m a mistress of levitation. I do believe I can remedy that issue. Any other stragglers, I can trust you to handle, yes?”

Oh my, another chance to show these cultists my hind legs? “Yes,” I say, quickly backed up in the same words by the stallions.

“Good. Just to be safe, steal the keys first.” Half Pint nods to Tohro, and he nods back. It’s clear that, in his experience as a Blackwing, he’s performed many stealth operations such as this. I mean, he’s bragged about it many a time as well, and I’ve grown to trust even in his most egotistic moments, Tohro is nothing but honest.

I can only wonder how Caro will handle himself under the pressure of staying incognito. But he always pulls through when he knows what is on the line. He’ll be fine, I’m sure. “Let’s go, then…” he says.

Half Pint waves us into the chamber. “I’ll call them out once Tohro obtains the keys.”

I see for myself exactly how horrid Sacred Rite’s vision is. As if the overly cramped cages aren’t enough, I see to the right a unicorn colt stuck in a cage with two corpses. No doubt they starved to death, if how famished the other prisoners appear tells anything. This colt, he’s disturbingly still for somepony who has been through so much misery.

I approach his cage, the deathly scent almost overwhelming in my nostrils. I tap the cage, searching over my shoulder for any suspicious cultists. They’re all making their rounds slowly, blissfully unaware that they are under siege. “Oi, lad,” I whisper. “Look alive, if ya can.”

The only thing that moves are his pupils. Good enough.

“My mates and I are gonna get you and every last prisoner out of her, so get ready to run. Blink if you understand?”

He understands well enough, blinking his eyelids rapidly.

I move away from the cage, acting as though I’ve done absolutely nothing that the cultists wouldn’t do. All I have to do is chant some nonsense and act like I have some special connection with Dragos and I look an official part of their outfit. Aha, what a sin. I’d slit my own throat…

There’s another entrance, a double door, which I assume leads further into this lair, and above that is a walkway leading into two obviously fabricated holes. No doubt Sacred Rite uses that walkway as a means to boast.

Between the entrance and the walkway is a mounted relief of a fierce dragon. Its face is almost hilariously disfigured into something that I’m sure is meant to be intimidating, but just comes across as cross-eyed and baheid.

“What an insult,” Caro whispers to me. “I hear the whispers of the cultists, and they say that’s Dragos. I prefer the Greybeards’ interpretation. They see her as kind and nurturing, and say she wants nothing more than coexistence between ponies and dragons.”

“I think I prefer that too,” I whisper back. "Coexistence will kinda hard to accomplish when the beasties are waging war on Equestria, though." Unfortunately, discussing theocratic matters will have to wait. “Has Tohro gotten the keys yet?”

Caro shakes his head. “Half Pint will call all the other cultists out when Tohro has them. Then we’ll set everypony free. Just keep looking like you’re supposed to be here.”

An urgent matter crosses my mind as I scan over the room once again. “Have you seen Shae yet?”

“I can’t see a damn thing in this hood…” Caro fuddles with the robes. “Keep searching for her, but don’t expose yourself.”

I’d never do that. Exposure would likely mean risking her life as much as my own, and that’d be unforgivable. I part ways with Caro, and put all my efforts into looking for a distinct lavender hue.

I slowly and innocuously trot towards the left wall. There are less cages here. I wish I could reassure these unicorns in the same way as the one before, but for the sake of the operation I keep my consolation to a simple hopeful look. For however long these unicorns have been here, they’ve seen nothing but hatred, so my sympathy goes a long way. They all stand a little taller as I pass by.

And then I notice a chain fastened to the wall. It catches my eye particularly because its cleanliness is dissonant from anything else in this blight of a cave. I follow it along the ground. It connects to, oh, another bolted chain. Why would Sacred Rite be so desperate to chain one particular cage to the wall? Unless…

It contains someone I love.

I have to swallow my urge to scream her name as I gallop to the cage and kneel down. I tap the cage hectically, yet quietly. It’s not easy to contain myself.

Shae is resting against the bars, her head down and her mane a mess over her eyes. Her red robes and overcoat are stained with the dirt of a nasty struggle. It matters little to me, though. All I see is that beauty I’ve gone too long without.

I tap the cage again, and that rouses her from her nap. It’s exceedingly lucky I found her now; another few days, and I doubt she’d be able to even stir. She still barely moves, her eyelids sluggish and her movements labored. It’s suffering in itself to hear her wonderful voice so broken and distorted. “D-don’t… Lu…na…” She shakes her head, screwing up her face, and finally opens her eyes entirely. “Gah…” She looks up to the source of tapping. It takes longer than it should for her to realize who she’s looking at. “R…”

“Shh.” I hover my hoof over my mouth, and that keeps her from saying my name. The most I can do is motion that same hoof past the bars. I can’t quite reach her, but then again, I’m not entirely sure what I could do even if I could. But leave it to Shae to find something. She touches my hoof with hers, moving with what little strength she has to get closer to me. She lifts my hoof to touch her cheek, perhaps just to make sure this is real. And when she realizes that I’m really standing before her, she begins to sob.

I stroke her cheek as my hoof is coated in her tears.

To both of our discontent, our sorry excuse for an embrace has to be cut short. Half Pint screams, but looking at her running into the chamber, I can tell she’s faking it. Tohro must have found the keys. Now we set our plan into its next phase.

The cultists look to Half Pint, so blissfully unaware of this operation that they all fall for her false panic. “What happened?” one of them, a stallion, asks.

“We have an assailant in our midst! Several of our brethren are dead outside!” She waves to the exit, putting on quite the act of a genuinely terrified zealot. “Oh, Dragos protect me…”

And these dumb clods are just eating this whole thing up, but then again, if they think feeding unicorns to a dragon is a good idea, how bright could they possibly be? But I have no complaints if this imitation has them convinced.

Tohro then speaks up. “You go and investigate, friends,” he says to the cultist right next to him. I presume that’s the one who’s absent a set of keys. He points to me and Caro. “You two, stay behind with me to keep watch. These…” I presume he’s grimacing from behind his hood. “These filthy witches must have sympathizers.”

The unaware cultists move as commanded, readying their swords, knives and bladed gauntlets as they make their way out of the chamber. One of them stops next to me. She says, “Watch out for that lavender one. She has a tendency to bite.”

I have no issues with that.

Half Pint pulls her hood down just slightly as the cultists go out of sight, smiling at us and winking. She mouths, ‘We’re safe’ to us, then ducks out to follow what we can all assume will be her next victims. It’s a shame I won’t be able to see such a little powerhouse take some names.

But if it’s between that and being with Shae, I think it’s fairly obvious which one I’d pick.

Tohro has the ring of the keys dangling around his foreleg, and he’s spinning it around like some sort of performing bard. “Don’t we all just love it when a plan comes together…” he says with his signature illustrious face. “Caro, do keep watch over the closed entrance while I set these poor prisoners free?”

The Dragonborn obeys as the young pegasus tosses his new set of keys in the air with a flourish, then catches them in his other hoof. He’s about to toss them again, but I put a halt to that by hissing. “Get on with it!” I half yell.

Shae and I have a mutual smile as Tohro fumbles with the keys, approaching the overcrowded cage as he does so. The occupants grow restless, reaching for keys in anguish, but the act is unnecessary. Tohro already has the key inserted into the lock. With a turn, a scrape of rusty metal and a click, the lock comes open.

The way the prisoners move as the cage door opens for them, it reminds me of something I’d see in one of my old storybooks. Undead ponies, barely clinging to existence, hardly able to even stand. But these ones hardly hunger for flesh; they need some more nourishing food. Luckily, Tohro has them covered there. He takes two potatoes out of his pouch and begins slicing them up with his hidden blade. “Wish we had some water, I’d be able to boil these…”

“Or stick them in a stew,” one of the male prisoners says. Even with such a parched and raspy voice, he can still joke. The whole of the chamber becomes filled with laughter. Already this place feels a little brighter, now that hope has come to these prisoners.

“Rose?”

My heart leaps at the sound of Shae’s voice. I immediately jump to attention. “Yes?”

She turns around, resting her back against the bars, and drags her black mane out of the way of her neck. She’s wearing one of those inhibiting braces. Looking to me with longing eyes, she asks, “Could you help me take this off?”

“Of course,” I say without hesitation, raising my hooves to the brace through the bars. I jiggle it a little, much to Shae’s discomfort as she keeps grunting. “You’re okay?”

She waves me off. “Ignore me. Just get it off, if you can.”

I notice a small slot in the brace, and that tells me that I won’t be able to fulfill Shae’s request. “I… can’t. I think this cursed thing needs a key.” Turning around, I see that Tohro has already set loose the prisoners from the right wall, and he’s doing his best to shrug off any weak embraces they attempt to force upon him. “Oi, Tohro! Is there a smaller key on that ring? Something that can fit a magic brace?”

Tohro cycles through the keys on the ring until he finds a dainty little one. “Ah, there we are.” He’s about to make a move towards Shae’s cage, but she pipes up to protest.

“Get to the others first!” she insists. “Don’t worry about me.” When she sees my confusion, she explains, “I’m in good health compared to them. It’s only been a few weeks for me, but for them it’s been months. They take priority.”

“You truly are a saint,” I say, running my hoof along her cheek again. “But I must ask something…” I put a frown on as I remember how much turmoil my heart and mind went through when I learned she had disappeared to the grip of Sacred Rite. For all too long I bore the thought of never seeing her again, and I never even asked, “Why the hell are you here, Shae?”

“I—”

“You can’t comprehend what you put me through. Running away from Everfree for some secret mission, putting yourself through hell for something you never even mentioned to me or anypony. I can only hope whatever insane thought that brought you to this place merits something.”

She sighs, rubbing her temples. I can tell she understands my grief, but I know she’ll find the right words. She always does. “Rose, it wasn’t a thought. It was a dream.”

Well… I expected something a little more rational. “Dream,” I repeat. “A dream told you to come to this hellhole.”

“The dream told me to go to the summit of this spire. If I had known I would encounter Sacred Rite’s insane cult, I…” She pauses. “Hm. I still would have come. I would have simply taken another path up.”

“Okay, okay. But what is so important that you must risk everything, including Celina, to reach the summit? No doubt she is terrified for your life too, no matter how miserable she is...”

Shae’s hoof comes up near my cheek, barely missing. I strain closer to feel her caress when she lets out a soft whimper. “Celina is the reason I’m here to begin with. I believe I’ve finally found the answer to her happiness. All I have to do is get out of here.”

A leather clad hoof taps me on the wither. I turn my head, seeing Tohro tilt his gaze to the side. He’s silently asking me to move. “Getting you out of here fits just fine into our schedule, Shae.” He presents the key to the cage. “And we’re quite lucky Sacred Rite is such an imbecile. The same key works for every lock.”

Instead of moving, I hold out my hoof to Tohro. “May I?”

“Oh, right.” Tohro sighs and tosses the keys my way. I catch them around my hoof with ease. “Don’t let me have all of the fun.” His eyesight is drawn away from Shae to somewhere else in the cage. “Huh, looks like Sacred Rite didn’t bogart you on blankets, that’s for true.”

Shae’s eyes fly wide open. That’s the look she has whenever she forgets something. She crawls over to the messed up pile of black blankets. “Had to keep her warm, she has a spot of a cold…” She lifts one of the blankets. “Jade, wake up. We’re going free.”

“Jade?!” Tohro exclaims.

The blankets all fall asunder and the grey coated, black maned unicorn rises from their cover. “Ah, Tohro. Waking up to your pretty face… That truly brings back memories.” Her horn comes to life with an ebony aura, a smile that seems out of place gracing her grime-covered muzzle.

Paff! Tohro staggers backwards. “The f... What was that for? We’re here to save ya, you ninny!” He rubs his cheek as he says that.

“And here is where your ‘saving’ has landed me,” Jade replies with a snort.

I hear Caro grunting across the room, and for me, that’s the last straw. “Stop clawin’ at issues that don’t need clawin’ at!” I yell as I present the keys. “I’m here for the lavender beauty, but you’re welcome to stay in there if you ain’t appreciatin’ the efforts of your saviors.”

Jade waves her hooves about. “I’m, uh, appreciatin’!”

“Good, then get outta my way, ‘cause I got a mare I wanna snuggle.”

Shae’s expression says it all. Through all the dirt, bruises, sludge and rust staining her entire being, she still carries a smile that fills my heart with all good things in the world. This land has gone far too long without her, and I’m going to set that right.

I insert the key into the lock, giving it a slight jiggle to ensure it’s well in there. I turn the key. Any moment now, I’ll hear the ever so harmonious click and feel the embrace of my Shae…

And the entire keyring falls into glowing dust.

“Rosey…” Tohro mutters.

I should have known. Everything I’ve ever taken responsibility for has done nothing less than crumble to pieces, so why should that see fit to change in a hurry? This is just so damn expected of me, I can’t see any reason to cry over it. Instead, I move away from the cage, hiding my face from Shae, and don’t stop until my head has collided with the wall.

“You couldn’t have known,” says Shae, gesturing to her brace. “I couldn’t have known Sacred Rite hexed the lock.”

Jade groans, understandably so. Her one chance at freedom and I failed her. “I should have checked for…” She pauses. I can almost hear her pondering something. “Wait. Just think about that… Sacred Rite, an insane bigot hellbent on the destruction of all things magical, hexing a lock?”

A cold, bitter feeling crawls up my spine, and based on the gasps of everypony else, including the other prisoners, I can assume they all share the same harsh sensation. All eyes are drawn to the walkway above the double doors.

Caro stands below, his cultist robe removed and his sword between his teeth. “You divine damned hypocrite!” he yells to the old hag trotting along the walkway.

“You say hypocrite,” Sacred Rite boasts, wearing a sickly grin full of mossy teeth, “and I say opportunist. Creating a trapped lock without the assistance of a filthy witch wasn’t the easiest feat in the world. I say I deserve commendations.”

Tohro has his crossbow out in an instant, aimed in her direction. “Well, a hefty fucking congratulations to you and your magical genocide!” He pulls the trigger.

Sacred Rite, however, is more agile than her frail form would suggest. She leaps and tumbles out of the way, then picks up the bolt. “Oh, tut tut, young flyer, be glad my cohorts even allowed you horn-lovers to see these pitiful witches in their final moments. My reinforcements be along shortly, but not before you’re treated to a delicious sight.” She tosses the bolt down to Caro.

“Nopony relishes the stench of blood more than me,” he says, eyes coming aglow with gold. “So I have a suggestion. Sacrifice yourself to the dragon if you’re so fucking holy.”

She only finds that hilarious. Her laughter is like needles in my ears. “In due time. Comfort in the care of Dragos awaits me yet, but only after the perfect world she promised me, one free of witchcraft, has been realized. And if ponies like you stand in my way, well…” She steps over to some sort of mechanism. “I’m afraid you’ll have to be spectators.” With another ear killing cackle, she pulls the lever.

The ground shifts, but unlike the powerful yet gradual roar of the dragon, this one feels synthetic, rattling the whole chamber and making every cage, stone and pebble shake.

“ROSE!” Shae screams for me.

I nearly shriek too when I see the ground beneath her cage, or an increasing lack thereof. The cobblestone is separating. I dread to wonder what lies in the drop below. Though I have a feeling…

Without any means of setting Shae free, all I can do is hold the bars and reach for her hoof. Shae, however, is too distraught to notice, but she’s doing her damnedest to remain at least still and focused.

Sacred Rite’s eyes are glimmering with pride in herself as she watches Shae panicking within the confines of her bars. Her helplessness makes me sweat with fear, while it makes Sacred Rite sweat with glee. Mossy, decrepit, wrinkled glee. “I know how dangerous this witch is. Her actions at that heathen academy only proved that much. What makes you think I would ever let her out of there, even to take her to Dragos’ child? No. The child’s meal will be served on a platter. You will hear your friend be eaten alive, purged of her wickedness, and then you will go and tell the world of my vision. Tell them that a new day is dawning!”

Every word she speaks makes my hooves red with desire to pound her into a red mess. Or perhaps that’s because of how hard I’m holding them against the bars.

“We’d rather die than leave her without Shae, or those you've harmed!” shouts Caro.

“Hear hear!” Tohro adds.

One of the male prisoners joins in as well. “You’re damn right! We refuse to listen to another word of your aimless rantings!” Even in a state of weakness, some of the prisoners manage to stand at the call of the stallion. “Come down here and fight us, coward!” he yells at Sacred Rite. The others quickly join him in shouting jeers.

The hag is a little offset. “Silence, all of you!”

“GO TO HELL!” shouts a limping mare.

I’d be more willing to join them in their uprising, but I’m still in fear over what may happen to Shae. My teeth are grinding together like rock against rock, much in the way of the separating ground. Only the cage’s edges remain on solid ground, and it won’t remain that way for long.

It the lock won’t take a key, then… It’s time for me to do something desperate. Fire in my eyes and in my heart, I lift my forelegs up high, and with a barbarian’s roar, bring them down onto the lock. It shatters into pieces on contact.

Caro, Tohro, Shae, Jade, Sacred Rite and the prisoners freeze in place, stunned at my efforts.

But the silence only lasts as long as it takes for the trap to finish opening. The cage starts to fall.

With the lock off and the door free, I yank it open and reach for Shae. She immediately leaps and takes my hooves in hers. The door frame falls around her, barely scraping her shoulder. However, it’s a bittersweet success as I watch Jade and the cage disappear into the black abyss. The last I see of her, I swear she’s smiling…

“NO!” Tohro gallops to the pit, drifting to a stop right at the edge. He haplessly reaches for Jade before his foreleg goes slack. I think I see something snap inside of him.

Shae looks down, her eyes filling with strained tears. She’s barely holding on, and her expression grows more dire and panicked by the second. “Tohro, please!”

Despite the obvious grief in Tohro’s expression, he composes himself well enough to grab Shae as well. With our combined strength, we begin to pull her up onto safe ground.

I try to find the right words to console Tohro. “I’m sorry… I couldn’t—”

He waves me off furiously, keeping his focus to Shae. “Let’s try and save at least one life.”

“Caro?” I turn to see our mighty turquoise powerhouse, and he’s just standing there. He’s unusually calm, at least on the surface. His nostrils are flaring and he’s not blinking. “Caro, we need your—”

In silence he steps between me and Tohro, takes ahold of Shae’s foreleg with a single hoof and lifts her up without effort. Shae falls onto her stomach upon contact with the cobblestone, breathing heavily. She peers up at Caro and lets a weak smile crawl onto her face. “Hel—”

That’s all she can say before Caro scoops her up, throwing his forelegs around her. Shae’s limbs are like jelly. Completely unable to return the embrace, all she can do is surrender to Caro. “I failed again…” he whispers to her.

Her muzzle presses into his deep fur. “You came. That’s all that matters.” I know by the way she looks at me and Tohro that those words are as much for him as they are for the rest of Dragonrein.

But there is still work to be done here. A certain zealotus hag’s rabid screaming for order reminds me of that much.

XXXI - Full Moon

~Shae~

Keeping my eyes shut, I take in all of Caro’s affection. In fact, aside from my eyes, I’m unable to move in the slightest. I slowly draw them open as reality begins to take its toll on my senses. I can hear the constant shouting of the former prisoners of Sacred Rite, sans me of course, escalating in volume. A warm reunion, no matter how much it means to me, will have to wait.

Caro understands that much as well, letting me go gently. My hooves hit the cobblestone. Finally, for the first time in weeks, I can move freely, but as before, my legs only somewhat cooperate with my requests. I turn what little energy I can spare to my horn instead, but a cruel reminder of the futility of such an act is the brace’s grip on my neck. “I can’t…” Not even the slightest bit of light comes to my horn.

My ears still work, however. I can hear Sacred Rite’s voice growing panicked as control of the situation is taken away from her.

“Damn you all!” The line between her content and livid selves is a thin one, but I can see by the red on her face that she’s becoming the latter. Spit flies from her lips as she yells at her former prisoners. “I will not have a mockery made of me! Least of all by a demented herd of ankle biting, inbred, nature destroying heathens! I’ve had enough!”

“Then we understand each other,” I say, drawing her manic gaze. “How am I supposed to tolerate what you’ve done to me? What you’ve done to all of these innocents?” My hoof travels along the crowd of physically weak but emotionally strong unicorns. I then point to the pit that would have been my undoing. “What you’ve done to Jade?” I step away from Caro’s concerned grip, much to his reluctance. I know he, Rosemary and Tohro are watching me stand up for all of this injustice. “In the time I’ve been here, however long it may be, I remember every silenced scream of a unicorn like me put to death at the teeth of that dragon.”

Almost as if it can hear me, the dragon’s subdued roar makes the room vibrate, though not to the degree of the trap door.

Sacred Rite appears to take my comments in stride, smiling her mossy teeth despite her obvious fury. “Beautiful, wasn’t it?” She says that with laughter, making me cringe. “They weren’t the first and they definitely won’t be the last. After all, I’m gathering followers by the day; ponies young and old who know salvation lies in the destruction of all things witchcraft.”

“Except for fucking enchanted locks!” Tohro yells.

“A means to an end!”

Those words seem physically painful to Tohro. He lowers his head and mutters fiercely to the rest of Dragonrein, “If there’s anything I can’t stand, it’s hypocrisy… I’ll let her rant, but the moment she steps out of line again…” He looks to Caro. “I’ll shoot her. After that, don’t hold back.”

Caro licks his lips.

Rosemary steps to my side, looking intent to shield me from any harm with her foreleg over my chest. “You can’t purge magic from this world. If you knew anythin’ about magic then you’d know it ain’t restricted to unicorns. It’s in all of us.” She taps her hind legs to the cobblestone. “I’m an earthwalker. My magic is in my hooves. And this fella over here,” she nods to Tohro, who is loading another bolt into his crossbow, “he’s a pegasus, which means he’s got magic wings! If you’re going to destroy all the magic in the world, then you’ll just have to destroy the whole world!”

So she was listening! As I nuzzle Rosemary, she smiles, thinking she’s torn a gash in Sacred Rite’s genocidal plot. But the hag’s unusually content expression tells me that is simply not the case.

“So be it!”

The unicorns’ uproar resumes with escalation as they curse the very ground Sacred Rite walks on. The limping mare is the only one I can hear clearly amongst all the other voices. “You’ll decimate everything for your selfish vision?!” It’s as if she speaks my mind. “I thought you a lunatic but this is beyond that much! You have no sense of reality! You’re beyond insane!”

“Beyond mortal!”

Her schpiel is one I’ve heard too many times already. Is her insanity brought on by insanity itself, or is it born of a senile mind? Either way, she’s finally crossed my line. I remind myself of that by looking into the shadows of the pit, remembering the last I saw of Jade. She was either crafty enough to find a way out of an imminent demise or the worst happened. Either way, I fear for her.

But I won’t let her disappearance be for naught. I move quickly, now more reacquainted with solid, organic ground, to the stone where my necklace, the Amulet of Fauste, awaits my touch.

“Hello, my sweet,” I say, wearing an admittedly sinister grin. Even with this pendant’s near limitless power, it still can’t break through the brace’s halt on my magic. I curse that fact under my breath and store the necklace in my coat pocket.

Sacred Rite’s rant is still ongoing, accompanying her hooves slamming into the ground. As if that’ll prove a point to the swarming unicorns. They’re all reaching for her like draugr towards mortal flesh, and all the while, Tohro is taking aim at her. “Stand back, you worms! Worthless creatures of filth! You cannot harm me! Not a thing can touch me! Do you know who I am?! I am a messenger of Dragos! She has entrusted me with this task, and I will not let that task be sabotaged by you pitiful, putrid, disgusting—”

“Fah pah tol los ko pruzah for do Saviikaan…” That voice is muffled, yet it makes the floor tremble with every syllable. The dragon has finally spoken, and it doesn’t take a translation from Caro for me to know he is beyond angry. “KOS NAHLOOOON!!”

“Even the dragon wants you to shut up!” the Dragonborn shouts gleefully at Sacred Rite.

Tohro’s shot is lined up perfectly, and the hag cannot see that through all of the mayhem ensuing around her. She’s finally lost all control of everything she’s worked to achieve, and it is beautiful.

But even that moment of beauty falls apart, in a literal sense. The dragon makes an ear-splitting roar that ends the rioting of the unicorns. They, along with me, Tohro and Rosemary, collapse to the ground in unison, covering their ears from the explosive force of the sound. The dragon… It’s not just roaring, it’s screaming.

The chamber has had its last straw with the dragon’s voice taking toll. Stalactites break free from the ceiling and cascade down to split the cobblestone. There’s a rain of dust and pebbles to accent the turmoil. The unicorns are splitting up, gathering in the corners of the room.

I’d expect another rant from Sacred Rite but even she cowers at the dragon’s merciless bellow. She doesn’t seem so immortal now. The assaults of Nahkriin and Hevnodiin were times I felt nothing but fear for my life. I can see that fear on her face now. I never before comprehended the idea of satisfaction at the sound of a dragon’s call.

Nor can I comprehend why Rosemary has gone from brave to terrified in an instant as she turns to me. “Shae!”

I follow her gaze as she looks to the cobblestone. The stress of the dragon’s scream is worse than I thought; fissures are forming along the ground. I scream briefly at the sight of a fissure forming below me.

Rosemary gallops my way, throwing off her robe disguise. But as the fissure expands, I can see that she’s making a bad call. I cast out my hoof. “No! Stay back!”

She doesn’t listen.

The ground breaks, and once again I feel the initial panic of being sent to the mercy of gravity. I reach for something to grapple on to, and I end up throwing all of my weight onto Rosemary’s reaching foreleg. Only this time, Caro and Tohro aren’t quick enough to pull us back up. Rosemary loses her footing, and we fall into the darkness together.

A blessing before death, I suppose...

CHAPTER XXXI - FULL MOON

But... No… I refuse. I can’t die now… I’m here for a reason, and I won’t soon forget it. She needs me...

It happens within seconds, like a vision seen between the realms of wake and sleep. I’m resting on a cloud, bathed in moonlight, watching the still, serene night sky. I’ve gone long enough without seeing it for real, so I’ll take this for all it’s worth.

However, a young face in the moon captures my attention.

“Luna.”

I sit up, reaching out for the moon, but it’s a meaningless gesture. She’s just out of reach.

And yet, she doesn’t look disappointed in me. I’d expect her to be; I should have found her days, no, weeks ago. I remember. She said she needed somepony, and that somepony has to be me. I’m sure of it. Caro was gone, Tohro was serving the Legion, and Rosemary was Fauste knows where… I couldn’t wait for them.

I don’t know how or why, but more and more, as Luna spoke to me, a hunch grew in my mind that she’d be able to help Celina in some way. If there’s even the slightest, miniscule chance of that being true, I’ll take every risk to make it happen. I’ll endure everything short of death for Celina.

“I’m on my way, Luna… You won’t be alone for long.” I smile up at her, and she returns the favor. The stars begin to shine a little brighter.

Wait, those aren’t stars… Those are jewels. And the night sky is just the ceiling of a cave.

A groan escapes my lips, followed by several coughs. I attempt to speak but it all comes out as gibberish. Something like, “Whaateraghahar…” I shake my head and attempt to get off my back. I’m greeted by a mare I thought possibly dead moments ago.

“You’re welcome,” says Jade.

That brilliant girl… She’s enough motivation for my legs to let me stand. I see she’s airborne, floating on her own pink aura, relaxing as if it were a warm summer day. “You saved me, huh?” I ask.

“I may not be a top student at that fancy academy of yours, but I have plenty of prowess in magic.”

“I do remember you mentioning your skill in levitation, but that wouldn’t have been enough to warrant an escape…” I look up to the gem encrusted ceiling from which I fell. There’s no way I could have lived through an uninterrupted fall from that high up. “You slowed me down?”

“You and her.” Jade lazily points off to a small puddle of water, where Rosemary is washing her face and hat. “She was heavier.”

Rosemary puts her hat firmly on her head, looking at herself in the puddle. “Hello, beautiful.” Then she turns and looks at me. The jewels of the cavern make it look like her eyes are twinkling. “And you…”

What words can I possibly summon to justify my feelings? Should I begin with how wonderful it is to finally see her, along with the rest of Dragonrein? Cry about my many moments of despair where I never thought I’d look upon her again? Or express my eternal gratitude of how she threw aside all caution to come and rescue me? There’s too many things to say and not nearly enough time. All I can do is smile and chuckle like the schoolmare I once was.

Rosemary decides the best way to make this moment complete is to throw herself onto me. I grunt as I fall onto my back again before my laughter comes out louder, mixing with hers. It’s only so brief, though, before she kisses me.

“Oh, I figured as much,” Jade says with a wistful sigh. “A true rescuer’s romance. But with an added twist; we’re all in trouble if we don’t get a move on.”

Her irritation doesn’t make Rosemary’s act of passion any less precious, but it does remind us both of what’s at stake. We’ll have plenty of time to hold each other close when we’ve left this hellhole. Rosemary and I part from our premature kiss and stand up. That doesn’t stop her from sneaking in a little nip of my ear, though.

“Stop it, you…” I giggle.

Jade closes her eyes and focuses. “Clairvoyance!” Her horn flashes pink and releases a soft orb of light. It travels up into the air, floating back and forth across, as if indecisive. Jade grunts. “Come now, don’t leave us stranded…” Despite her desire, though, the orb fades away. “Damn!”

Rosemary chuckles. “Sweetheart, you should know I love magic in all of its forms, but perhaps the best means to find a way out is to think like an earthwalker.” She steps to the wall and taps, pressing her ear against it. She purses her lips.

This seems like a senseless act, but then I think back to our night in the tent. I explained to her exactly what makes earthwalkers so special. I can’t help but beam at her. “You were listening!”

“Well, nothing you say ever goes to waste. I can likely tell where we need to go if…” She trails off. Her eyes travel around the room, eventually falling on a green gem right before her. With a tugging motion, she manages to remove it from the wall and put it in her pouch. “What purpose do you suppose these gems hold?”

Jade is mimicking Rosemary’s actions, but it’s clear that she lacks confidence in earthly abilities. She looks to Rosemary, tilting her head. “Equestria is rich in gems. You of all ponies should know that.”

“I know, but…” Rosemary is adding another gem, a red one, to her collection. It’s my assumption that she’s merely gathering them for trading purposes. “Well, what little we know of dragons, it is common knowledge that they eat gems, yes? And Sacred Rite has had one of the beasties right beneath your hooves this entire time.” As she speaks, her eyes slowly widen. She gathers one more gem, a yellow one, and starts moving quickly as she packs it away. “We’d best go where there are fewer gems. That way, we’re less likely to meet the beastie.” She has that familiar protective look in her eyes as she looks at me. “I ain’t comin’ this far just to get either of you killed.”

“Tol fen ni kroson.”

The dragon’s voice stops Rosemary’s steps, and I start to cower. The dragon likely has the blood of hundreds of unicorns on its teeth. Even with Clover's amulet, even if I can remove my brace, what keeps me from becoming its next dinner?

Unless...

“Dein vahzah wah hin zen ahrk hi fen grind zey pah rinis.”

“Huh…” I pause. Hearing a dragon’s words used to be a fleeting experience for me. I'd usually pass it off as a language only Caro and his Greybeard friends can ever understand. However, having spent many days in a cell, one's mind tends to wander. I began making connections between what I’ve heard from the Dragonborn, and what his arch nemeses say. “I don't think need to be afraid of him.”

“What?” Rosemary and Jade ask simultaneously.

“The dragon, I think it’s docile. Maybe we can appeal to its better nature.”

Of course, I should only receive silence in return. Rosemary purses her lips and looks elsewhere, and Jade looks at me like I've gone insane. “Hit your head on the wrong side there, Shae? Maybe you should lie down," she suggests.

“I’ll carry you,” Rosemary offers, raising her hoof.

“No, it has to be docile.” I tap my hoof for emphasis. “It’s here, isn’t it? It has to be simply gargantuan, if it’s able to tear apart this lair with its voice alone. And now, I hear its words, and all of its malice seems to be reserved for Sacred Rite alone.”

I feel Jade’s aura surrounding my head. “Shae, I mean it, lie down before you hurt yourself further,” she urges, the worry clear as day in her voice.

“Jade, please.”

“Zuk rotkrif. Oo, naal pah seik, bahzim.”

Jade’s aura disappears as she cowers, allowing me more time to speak.

This time, I play to urgency. “I work with the bloody Dragonborn! I can’t pretend I know every detail regarding the dragon’s language, but… I can hazard a guess as to what it’s saying. And I'm guessing it doesn’t wish to kill us at the moment.”

“I don’t know what ends can come of speakin’ to the beastie…” mutters Rosemary. She looks to her falchion and sighs, then approaches me. “Lass. If it does anythin' even slightly offensive towards ya, consider it slain.”

Jade is agape at such an idea, but she begrudgingly goes along with it, lighting her horn in advance. “I’m only following because I know you well enough to trust your judgment. If anypony else had suggested we speak to that monstrosity, I’d have knocked them clean out.”

“This is our best option.” I nod, then turn to where I believe the dragon’s voice is coming from.

Contrary to Rosemary’s expectation, the sound was loudest from a tunnel stark of any gems. The path ahead is dark and cramped. Tohro wouldn’t be able to stand it here, if his behavior in Beak Falls Barrow speaks for anything. Wait a moment…

The gears in my head turn, as if I were simply resting in my dormitory, doing schoolwork. The facts are coming together. “Even before I saw them with my own eyes, I’ve always figured that dragons are just like any other intelligent animal at the core. They can think and plan, and it’s clear to me now that they also have ideals, fears and desires. This dragon has been down here for a very long time, being fed one unicorn after another.”

“What’s this leadin' to?” Rosemary asks.

“Dragons aren’t dogs.” I smile at that notion, despite the growling of the dragon growing louder by the second. I stumble over a slippery set of rocks, but as per usual, Rosemary leaps to my side to steady me.

“Careful.”

“Thanks… My point is, I don’t think this dragon is here willingly.”

Jade repeats those words under her breath. She seems to be dismissing them as ridiculous, or just plain asinine, and I cannot blame her in the slightest. However she intends to curse my logic is left unsaid as she stops walking and looks up, eyes wide and mouth agape. “Divines…”

“Hephaestus...” Rosemary whispers, with much of the same expression.

There it is. The dragon beneath my hooves that has tormented my every waking hour with the threat of devouring me limb from limb at the behest of a mad mare. In my nightmares, I saw it as a black demon with a fierce and jagged body; an epitome of death with a bottomless stomach, showing teeth like freshly sharpened steel blades.

I’m far less afraid of the malnourished, wrinkled, dirty and blood coated grey dragon before me, illuminated only by the daylight pouring through the ceiling.

If it truly were a dog, it would be whimpering. I’ve never heard a dragon whimper before. Its arms and legs are bound by rusted shackles, which connect to large chains bound to the stone wall. In its neutral, sitting position, the dragon’s limbs can hardly budge. The chains and shackles tighten around patches of eroded scales as it makes an attempt at moving towards me.

“Dii…” It chokes on its own words as it takes in the pain of its restraints. “Dii for los Sahvot. Zu'u los ni hin hokoron.”

Jade looks to me expectantly. “Do you know any of that?”

“I think that was its name... Sahvot, is it?” I ask it.

“Geh.”

“That means yes.” I clear my throat and speak a little louder to it… Sahvot. “May I approach?”

“Hi aal. Zu'u fen ni arx hi,”it says. I can’t piece those words together, but at the very least, they don’t sound malicious. If Sahvot had any intent to hurt me, it… No, he would have spoken with greater threat.

“Careful, love…” Rosemary says as I take a few steps forward.

I move slowly. Startling Sahvot is not in my best interest, nor is it to step in any errant unicorn remains. I step over a severed horn and several splotches of blood, then speak again. “I am prepared to trust you, Sahvot. Is there any way in which we can help you?”

“We?” Jade whispers. I hear Rosemary hiss at her, and that makes her quiet.

“Hi nis jahr krunaar dii tinvok, ful Zu'u fen ni nev hin tiid voth rot.” I think he said something about his language… “Hel zey stin...”

Those words are just nonsense to me, which makes me shake my head in frustration. “I don’t follow…”

Sahvot bows his head, pursing his lips. He groans, a shudder coursing through his body, and strains his mouth to open in a wide and awkward fashion, like he’s trying to say something unpronounceable. “Sssset… me… free…” He sighs and drops his head to the ground.

It still brings me to tremble a little, but I approach the dragon’s hand and brush my hoof over it without hesitation. I’m lending my full support to Sahvot and I want him to know that even if I’m afraid of him, I’m willing to trust him. “Okay.”

I don’t need to look back to Jade and Rosemary to know they’re both shocked I’d be so quick to make that sort of decision. I can sympathize with them. I never imagined something like this happening. It's something only a child would dream of. But I’ve been dreaming a lot lately, and I’m willing to believe in the impossible. Luna has already taught me that much, and she isn’t even here yet.

“Somepony important is waiting for me. I’m willing to do anything to—” I fall silent as Sahvot pulls back his hand for an instant. I gag when he forces his claw up against my throat.

“SHAE!” Rosemary and Jade scream simultaneously.

Sahvot’s eyes, much like the eyes of other dragons, are like a concentrated inferno, making the skin beneath my coat crawl. “Ruz mu los nu koriid.”

I would translate if I could speak, but I’m too petrified to do so. One single flex of his claw and my neck will be severed from my body.

I flinch when I hear a single slash rend the air, but all I feel is the tension around my neck disappear. I open my eyes to see that all he cut through was my inhibiting brace. The metal falls from my neck and clatters on the floor in a broken heap.

“Huh.” I feel my eyes come alight with my magenta aura, breaking through the darkness of the cavern. The rest of my body is filled with a gentle yet very apparent flow of what can only be the Fae. After weeks of grey, depressing sterility, my magic has finally returned.

I feel warm. Perhaps it’s the Fae within me, or it’s Rosemary’s determination to squeeze it all out of my body with her deathly strong embrace. I crane my neck to see her face; she’s both amazed and terrified at the same time. She spins me around in a circle, rendering me a little dizzy when my hooves touch solid ground again. With that done, I feel that I have a debt I need to repay.

I step up to the dragon and bow, another action I never dreamed of doing for his kind. What’s more, he bows as much as his shackles allow in return. “Nox hi,” he says.

I raise my head, channeling the Fae through my now functioning horn. As my magenta aura surrounds my body, I bring it to bear on the shackles wrapped around the arm that only just recently severed the brace that prevented my own freedom. With a churning of rusted metal, the shackles shatter under the strain of my magic.

Sahvot unleashes a triumphant roar, one that I’m not afraid of for once. I look back to Rosemary and Jade with a smile, which they both return. Jade has finally let her doubts go. “We’re going to make it…” she whispers, as if in disbelief.

“Geh,” says Sahvot.

Jade looks at me quizzically. “Does that mean yes?”

“Yes.”

~Vision End~

“TOHRO!” Caro shouts. He grabs the cultist by her hind leg, dragging her away while she reaches helplessly for her dagger, then turns to face the pegasus. Tohro is airborne when he and Caro make eye contact.

Caro lifts the cultist over his head and throws her to Tohro. With no hesitation, he sweeps a blade along her neck. She tumbles into the wall, leaving behind a trail of blood. He then leaps to stand flank to flank with Caro, readying his crossbow. “I have two bolts left.”

“Ah, knowing you, that should be enough for at least six of these bastards.” Caro grins maliciously as he pans his gaze along the crowd of cultists. They’ve taken up battle positions along the entire length of the chamber. The dust polluting the air makes it seem as though there’s an entire army’s worth of them, even though Caro counts twenty at the most. He accidentally inhales a bit of dust and ends up coughing.

Tohro brings his hooves to Caro’s head and forces him down, a cultist’s sword just barely missing him. Tohro leaps onto the sneak attacker and plunges his hidden blade into his throat. Two other attackers rush him. Anticipating that, he flares out his wings and sends waves of dust into their faces, stumbling them enough to allow him to plant his hooves onto their heads, knocking them out cold.

He helps Caro to his hooves. “Sorry about that, mate.”

Caro himself is shocked at not feeling offended in the slightest at Tohro grabbing ahold of him so suddenly, but his attention is immediately brought to the surrounding cultists.

Although Sacred Rite is long out of eyeshot, her voice is still annoyingly audible to Caro and Tohro. “It’s amazing, isn’t it?” she gloats, obviously amused by the battle. “Amazing how some ponies will go so far to pursue their cause, even if it means staring death in the face. You know it as well as I do, heathens. You came this far; you expected a chance of dying, but you came this far anyway. We all have causes, you see, and no cause is more just than any other.”

If Tohro had Sacred Rite in his sights, he’d use both of his bolts at once upon her. He yells at the ceiling. “My friends have suffered for your ‘cause’, you sick fuck! You’re just a narcissistic psychopath who pleasures herself to the blood of innocent unicorns!”

Another mare throws herself around Tohro’s back, blindly thrusting twin knives at his underside. “Insolence! You insult the mistress!” When she draws blood from Tohro’s chest, he growls and grapples her forelegs, leaning forward and landing her on her back. Caro plunges his sword into her chest and twists it for good measure.

“Then what is your cause, my violent pegasus and earthwalker?” Sacred Rite asks, completely unfettered.

Caro removes the sword from the mare and throws it at the nearest cultist. It lands by the tip in the cultist’s hood, unleashing a spray of blood and screaming. Caro gallops up to the cultist and coldly removes his sword, letting his victim fall dead. He deems it for the best nopony sees what’s beneath the hood.

He turns to the voice of Sacred Rite. “To stop ponies like you!”

Tohro speaks at the same time. “To protect each other!”

The two face each other with blank expressions before nodding simultaneously. “Both?” Caro asks.

Tohro nods again. “Both.”

“Both is good.”

Sacred Rite laughs once again. Her voice is clearer than before, getting Caro’s attention. He looks to her walkway and sees that she has returned from hiding. Having expected her to be furious beyond all reasoning, Caro and Tohro both blink at her smile, which is unusually calm. It’s more disarming than her mossy grin and dissonant from her torn and filthy robes. “It seems we are at odds, then! But we both knew that to begin with.”

“Why are you so content?” Caro growls. “Get angry.”

Tohro doesn’t hesitate this time, immediately lining up the sights of his crossbow with Sacred Rite’s head.

“I won’t give you the satisfaction," she gloats. "In fact, I do believe I am so unbelievably upset that I’m past any sort of rage.” She gives her followers a commanding wave of her hoof. “Which is why you fools should be bringing me their bodiiiies!~” she orders with a tune and a childish dance.

Caro leaps away from an earthwalker's thrusting halberd, feeling Tohro land beside him after dodging an expertly thrown dagger. For cultists, these ones put on the guise of fairly well-trained assaultists. The two look at the surrounding throng warily, a multitude of mismatched weaponry cutting into their breathing room.

Tohro purses his lips. "Well, shit."

"Fly," Caro calmly murmurs.

"Yes." Tohro leaps into the air, slamming his hooves into a few spears and javelins thrust beneath him, while Caro swings his sword about, leaving the attacking weaponry bladeless. "Now!"

Caro jumps up as Tohro snaps his wings down, wrapping his forelegs around Caro's midriff and tumbling into an improvised roll.

The now-weaponless ponies are scattered by Caro's blade. Blood splatters his and Tohro’s bodies as they spin about. After ripping through five of the cultists, Caro drops to the ground and hefts his hind legs.

"Tear ‘em apart for Jade," he mutters as he kicks backwards with all his might, propelling Tohro into the two cultists behind them. Tohro's wing blades shred through them as he streaks past, and they drop dead a few seconds later. Tohro swaggers past their bodies with unparalleled presumption.

With most of the group now on the floor, either dead or getting there, and the remaining ones faltering in their place, Caro grins fiendishly at the still smiling Sacred Rite. "Alright, you grungy, idol licking fanatic!" he yells with a guttural snarl. "Who's next?!"

Tohro and Sacred Rite slam their hooves over their ears as a sizeable chunk of the wall is brought to pieces, dust and stone coming down like a waterfall and coating the floor of the chamber. A cultist screams as his hoof is crushed from a falling chunk of rubble.

From the dust comes the blistered claws of a famished grey dragon. Caro immediately turns all of his adrenaline and rage towards it. “Pruzah...” he whispers sinisterly, looking over his bloodied blade. He approaches the dragon, meeting it in the middle of the chamber.

“What is this?!” screams Sacred Rite. Her hoof collides with the ground in unison with her words. “What in the hell is this?!”

Her question goes unanswered as Caro strafes around the dragon. It stares down at him, and he stares back with nothing but malice. “Meyz. Sate my appetite.” He eyes the dragon’s tail and takes his sword in his teeth, preparing to make the cut. He takes his first step, but he stops moving as his hoof is held back by a magenta aura.

“Caro! Wait!”

Tohro looks up, his mouth widening as he witnesses an implausible sight. “Divines…”

Shae straddles the back of the dragon, held tight at her haunches by Rosemary, who is in turn being held by Jade. Caro doesn’t drop his guard, but he does remove his sword from his mouth. “Shae! You… mounted a dragon?!”

“Waan nunon dahik Zu'u gelaad nii,” says the beast.

“Allowed it?” Caro asks, completely dismayed. “What are you talking about?!”

Shae leaps from the dragon’s back, magically slowing her descent until she smoothly touches ground. She gallops to Caro, foregoing the use of levitation to relinquish him of his sword. It’s only because of her gentle nature that he lets her take it away. “Caro, Sahvot does not wish to fight you.”

Caro immediately snorts at the idea, watching as Rosemary and Jade disembark the dragon. “Listen, I’m more than relieved that you are all well, truly I am. But you can’t honestly—”

“He can barely speak our language!” Shae interrupts. “He doesn’t serve Saviikaan. I… I wasn’t able to understand everything he said, but I know for sure he hates Sacred Rite as much as I’m sure you do.”

Caro is about to protest further, but Sacred Rite’s screaming cuts into his thoughts. “ORDER! I! DEMAND! ORDER!”

The surviving cultists are scattered. Deserters ignore Sacred Rite’s pleas, leaving their arms behind to gallop through the double doors, or to the exit. The ones with the courage to stay and fight direct all of their attention towards Sahvot, taking up position around him. He reacts with complete indifference to the small number of threats.

“Daar los fos hi vis lahvraan mindin pah hi raal zey zeim?” He sweeps away two cultists with a single swing of his tail.

Sacred Rite casts her hoof out at Sahvot, clearly believing herself to be on his level. “I knew I should have muzzled you! You’d best lie down now and make this easier for yourself!”

“Au daar sul, Zu'u shur stin.” Sahvot’s eyes flash with gold when he sets his sight on the raving zealot. “Ahrk hi fen kos kii.” He extends his arm.

“You disrespectful—” Sacred Rite recoils as the dragon’s claws dig into the wall, shredding solid rock with one swipe. She quickly reaches into her robe and recovers a tattered scroll, laying it at her hooves. Under her breath, she reads off the parchment. A white light emits from the scroll, forming an ethereal shield around her perch.

Tohro is absolutely seething. “Fucking hypocrite...”

Sahvot roars at the cowardly act and swipes once again, this time piercing the shield with his claws. The shield forces his hand away, leaving it scratched and burned. “Dur hi!”

Shae sets down Caro’s sword and faces Sacred Rite, her horn aglow. She levitates her black and red amulet out of her coat. As she wraps it around her neck and locks it, her aura becomes a harsh, demonic red.

Caro’s eyes widen as he watches her step forward. “Shae...”

Shae's new aura travels from her horn to her forelegs. “She was wise to take away my magic.” Standing on her hind legs, Shae raises her hooves and flourishes them at Sacred Rite. A ray of red light flies from her hooves, colliding with the shield.

Shae chuckles triumphantly as she returns to all fours, watching as the shield begins to fade. The white light dwindles into nothing, leaving Sacred Rite entirely exposed. She only realizes what has happened when her scroll erodes away right before her. “No…” Sacred Rite cries out for only an instant before the razor sharp claws wrap around her and drag her away from her perch.

The dragon opens his hand to get a good look at Sacred Rite. As she realizes she’s still alive, she kneels upon Sahvot’s scales, looking into his eyes. His lips part to reveal grinding teeth. He appears intent to eat the weak, decrepit pony in his grasp.

However, his gaze falls aside. He looks at Shae, then to Jade, and finally at the Dragonborn, who stands fiercely protective of both unicorns.

Sacred Rite is still begging, having lost all of her ego as golden eyes stare her down. Sahvot opens his mouth. “I…” He closes his claws around Sacred Rite once again. “...am… n…not…” He brings his hand down. “...your… tool...” His claws tighten around Sacred Rite, sounding out a sickening crunch throughout the chamber. He cocks his arm back, then thrusts it forward, throwing the hag away.

Sacred Rite is now a broken heap. She lies on her back, unable to move from her many bruises, bleeding profusely from claw induced gashes all across her body.

“Dreh fos hi hind,” says Sahvot. He turns his attention to the remaining cultists. They have been too aghast by the events occurring before them to even move. Only now do they reluctantly take their battle stances. Sahvot lunges at them, smashing into the wall and bringing on another cascade of rocks and dust. The dragon swipes his claws and tail at any cultist to come his way.

“What was it he said?” Tohro asks Caro.

“He said, ‘Do as you wish.’”

Caro looks upon Sacred Rite. Her breaths are long and labored, and she’s muttering incomprehensible words. She reaches out to Shae, letting out a loud, angry moan. From her robes, she procures a dagger. She turns over onto her stomach and starts crawling, leaving a trail of blood behind her.

“This is pathetic.” Tohro sighs, waving his hoof dismissively at Caro. “I gave you permission. Get it over with.”

Reaching for his sword once again, Caro starts to approach what’s left of Sacred Rite, but he stops as Shae crosses his path.

~Shae~

This is it… I can end all of the suffering she put me and my fellow unicorns through. I can avenge those she’s fed to Sahvot. I can prevent her from ever hurting anyone I love. This will be in the name of everypony at Wintercolt Academy.

I reach out with my levitation and yank the knife from her weak grip, tossing it away from her. I extend my own foreleg and coat it in ethereal light, which I mold into a blade. It’s not as extravagant as any scythe, but it’s all I need for this.

I grab Sacred Rite by the hood of her robe and pull her over so I can look her dead in the eye. She has the same look of loathing I saw every day as she looked into my cage. She could have saved herself so much trouble if she had simply killed me in Everfree. A shame she never had any liquid glass at her disposal, otherwise she could have foreseen this possibility.

I bring my ethereal blade to her neck. Just one fell thrust. That’s all it will take to end her.

“It’s so simple, isn’t it, Shae Sparkle?” asks Clover the Clever, who looks up at me with disappointment.

~Vision End~

“What are you waiting for?!” Caro yells at Shae. “Finish her!”

Shae is still leaning over the what is left of Sacred Rite with her ethereal blade inches away from her neck. Over several seconds of immobility, her furious expression fades and her blade disappears. She sits up and looks at Caro, revealing a face stained with tears. She shakes her head slowly as she removes herself from Sacred Rite.

“Let’s…” She solemnly trots up to Caro, Rosemary, Tohro and Jade. “Let’s just go…” She looks back at Sacred Rite. “She’s already gone.”

The hag hasn’t let staring into the face of death stop her. She still crawls, even without a knife on her. Blood falls from her lips as she sputters out more unintelligible words.

“Come to think of it, I don’t think she was much of anything to begin with,” says Tohro.

Shae takes the lead, with Rosemary, Jade and Tohro following behind.

Caro, however, lingers in the chamber. He approaches Sacred Rite and raises his hoof over her head. Shae can’t do it, but I sure as hell can… he thinks. I have no reservations… Tohro gave me permission…

He drops his hoof at the sound of Sahvot’s mighty roar. The dragon has already torn through every cultist to stand up to him, leaving countless corpses and limbs in his wake. Now he carves into the wall, taking clumps of gems and eating them by the handful. Surrounding carnage aside, he seems completely harmless.

Still, what makes him different from any other dragon? There is no stopping him from hurting other ponies when he leaves… Even if he isn’t allied with Saviikaan, it has to be in his nature! I should draw my sword and end him now…

And yet, Caro’s desire for blood doesn’t allow him to step forward. Instead, he feels something he can’t quite comprehend holding him back. Perhaps it’s the scathing words Tohro gave him in Baltimare still echoing in his mind. Perhaps it’s the scent of Malyol’s melting flesh in his nostrils.

Sacred Rite wraps her hoof around Caro’s leg. He gasps and steps away from her. She spits out more puddles of blood. All of the anger in her moaning is gone. It sounds pathetic and desperate.

“Kill… me…”

Caro’s heart races at the sound of such a request. A fresh kill laid before him, fully willing to accept his blade. He reaches for his sword.

“Does that sound like a hero to you?”

The Dragonborn growls as, once again, he’s denied the ability to take a life. Instead, his greater conscience forces him to leave Sacred Rite. “No,” he says.

The remains of Sacred Rite, her cult and the lair are left to the mercy of the dragon.

Caro’s welcome to the outside is a strong gust and a faceful of snow. He wipes his muzzle clean of powder as he steps out of the darkness of the cavern. He looks up, noticing that the sky has a very unusual look to it. For the most of it, dark clouds blanket the land with snow, but a large patch of the sky is like a passage to the full moon and its surrounding stars. In fact, it’s as if the moon itself is deliberately keeping the clouds away.

Jade shivers from the cold, something Tohro is quick to notice. He smiles, amused at how he’s still clad in cultist robes. He removes them and drapes them around Jade. “I know it’s somewhat of an insult to have you wear these, but it’s frigid out here.”

Jade pulls the hood over. “It’s the cloth of a dead cult. So long as it keeps me warm, I care little.” She lowers her head, letting a few tears fall.

“Thankful to be out of there, are you?” Tohro asks.

“I had given up… I actually thought I was going to die…” The grey unicorn wipes her eyes, to no avail. “Part of me is reluctant to believe this is even real. How do I know I’m not dreaming?”

Tohro’s response is a kiss on the cheek, which makes Jade step away. “I think that’s proof enough.”

“Well, I do owe you thanks… Honestly, Tohro. You assume too much.”

Caro taps Jade on her wither, making her turn his way. “Um…” He wishes to speak to her of how her abuse at the hooves of Pyro and Ember have been avenged, but the proper words to say don’t come to him.

Jade, still drying her eyes, sizes Caro up, taking in his impressive size and muscle. She wears a grin as she steps toward him. “Ah, yes. The legendary Dragonborn. I heard many a tale about you from passing guards within my cell.”

“Oh, well…” Caro takes a few steps away, taken aback by Jade’s close proximity. “I pray you haven’t heard all of them.” He looks past her, seeing Tohro’s grim expression. Despite his frown, he nods approvingly.

“I only care about the ones that matter," says Jade. "I hope that assisting a mage of the Blackwings such as myself doesn’t become a stain on your good fortune with the queen.”

“I’m sure she’ll understand.”

Tohro clears his throat and waves his hoof between him and Jade. “I don’t anticipate that Shokenda would be as willing to invest any lenience between you and me. I think it’d be for the best that your cooperation with a soldier of the Imperial Legion is kept in the dark.”

“Oh…” Jade brings her hoof to Tohro’s cursed eye, just as Half Pint did. “I see how it is…” She looks genuinely disappointed. “Tell me about this.”

“Walk and talk, ya dunders!” Rosemary announces. “We’re gettin’ clear of this place! I don’t want anypony near it, especially if it comes crashin’ down!” She waves to Jade and the rest of Dragonrein, pointing to a slant leading further up the spire.

“Why are we moving to higher ground?” Tohro asks. “We have Shae. We have Jade. Let’s move our flanks to Everfree.”

Rosemary shrugs and starts moving. “I’m just followin’ Shae’s orders, lad.” She gestures to the lavender unicorn, who does little but stand there, staring at the moon.

“Odd…” Jade says. “I think I’ll stick with you lot a little longer, at least until…” She looks around the area. “Wait, Half Pint was with you. Where did she head off to?”

As if on queue, the petite unicorn appears from a small flash of green, immediately swooping in to give Jade a mighty embrace. “Sister! You’re alive!”

Jade stumbles from the force of Half Pint’s hug. She holds her sister close and brushes her short mane with a hoof. “I’m well aware of that, Pint. You’re a clever one, aren’t you?”

“Honestly, I barely had anything to do with this. I couldn’t have done anything worth a damn to help you if this group hadn’t happened along…” She looks to Caro, then to Tohro. Her mouth curls into the widest smile either of the stallions have ever seen. “Whee!” She leaps from Jade onto Tohro. She crawls onto his back. “Onward, mighty hero!”

Jade rolls her eyes. "My older sister, everypony.” She starts walking after Rosemary and Shae, with white pegasus and Dragonborn in tow. “Now, Tohro, I want you to tell me exactly what events lead you into the company of such colorful adventurers."

As Dragonrein, Jade and Half Pint step onto the slant, Tohro chuckles and dashes to Caro's side. "Well, as you may or may not know, this lovely ball of sunshine was that bloke Shokenda wanted to rescue. If he isn't the spitting image of a knight in shining armor, I don't know what is."

Caro hip-checks Tohro, who flaps his wings to keep his balance.

"As I was saying... After the two of us escaped from the fair General Tangerine and had ourselves a talk with Jarl Drake, we ran into your new unicorn friend as she was being harassed by bandits. Many battles transpired, Caro discovered his lineage, a few dragons died, Rosemary came along in a mad chase for Shae’s heart, and now here we are, two months after our period of separation."

“Huh.” Jade looks ahead, watching as Rosemary steals a kiss from Shae, who turns away and blushes. "Well, aren't you all just a ducky little family. Traded your old for a new, have you Tohro?" she quips. "I kid, of course. I've never seen you so happy. When we had our time together as Blackwings, I sensed a mien of... I think I'd call it self-loathing. It seems you've found a new reason to fight the challenges of the twilight age."

"Dawn approaches those who see hope in the night, yeah? I have decided that everything I do is to ensure Equestria is a better place to live. Not in the name of a higher power, but simply because that’s what I and many others want.”

Half Pint nudges Tohro’s barrel. “Um…” she says, a worried frown on her muzzle. “Not to rain on your parade, but how does your joining the Imperial Legion come into that plan?”

Jade stops in mid-step. “Yes, that too...”

“Look alive, you lot!” Rosemary shouts, once again bringing the reunion to a screeching halt. The traveling group has arrived at the highest possible point of Dragon Tooth Spire. At first glance, it’s nothing more than another collection of rocks and snow, but it’s the view that makes it significant. All of the adventurers are taken aback by how small Equestria seems from such a height. “Mercy me…” Rosemary is on her haunches with her hooves in the air, her red mane and coat flying in the breeze. “See, this is exactly why I left the villa! This is incredible!”

Shae steps to the crest of the rock formation, where a broken statue of a female equine stands. Only a single wing remains, her right foreleg is missing, and her horn is broken. Despite this, she has a perpetual radiance to her. “Fauste…” Shae murmurs. She looks past the statue to the bipolar sky. “It’s as if you can touch the moon.”

“Bloody romantic, it is.” Rosemary drops her bags. “Lassie, help me set up some tents, huh? I think three should account for all of us.”

“Huh?” Shae blinks several times as she looks away from the moon. “Oh. Certainly, Rose.”

Rosemary proceeds to nail down a tent cloth with her hooves alone. Shae levitates the braces into their proper positions, pulls the cloth over, and tosses the fur comforter on top.

“Thirty seconds,” says Rose. She snickers as she lays out another cloth and prepares the nails. “Oh, darlin’. That just reminds me of how lost we were without you.”

Shae performs the same levitation act without so much as blinking an eye. She doesn’t even watch her actions as she speaks. “Lost without me, or my magic?”

“Well, ah… I’d be filthy lyin’ if I said Dragonrein could do without your magic… But that doesn’t change facts. You can’t imagine how much we feared for your life. I had nightmares of Sacred Rite doin’ the worst to you. I even gave up sleepin’ entirely for a while just to focus on findin’ you.”

“What?” Shae approaches Rosemary and looks at her field green eyes. At least, what lies beneath them. The earthwalker’s face has begun to wrinkle. “How long have you been awake?”

“Two… Three days?”

“Bloody hell, Rose!” Shae levitates Rosemary by her forelegs and lifts her into the tent. “You just can’t do that!”

“Lassie, at least let me set up the third—”

“We’ll make do with two tents! You get to bed!”

“Okay, you win.” Rosemary doesn’t protest any further, but she does poke her head out of the tent flaps, smiling weakly. “Hold on, though. I forgot to give something back to you.” She presents a small envelope and reveals its contents.

“My glasses.” Shae takes them from Rosemary’s hooves and levitates them onto her muzzle. She has to fiddle with the slightly bent bridge to make them fit. “Much appreciated, Rose.”

“Have you been able to see fine without them?”

“These are mostly for reading,” Shae says. She opens her mouth, but an involuntary memory catches her by surprise.

She remembers being clad in black funerary robes, curled up on her bed. The sheets were drenched in tears. She didn’t look up at the sound of her door opening, but she knew who it was anyway. Sundance crawled onto the bed with her, presenting a small envelope of bequeathal.

She still remembers the words written upon the letter. She had read them through her new set of glasses.

For you, my little mage.
May the path ahead be clear.
I will always be with you.

Shae turns to Rosemary. “They were my mother’s…”

Rosemary, noticing the sadness in Shae’s eyes behind the glasses, touches her foreleg and gives her an assuring brush. “Lassie, I hope you know that your life means more to me than a few lost hours of sleep. I can rest easy now that you’re safe.”

Shae snaps out of her wistful trance. “You’d best, if you value your abilities,” she advises. “My mother had a fit if I stayed up past sundown. She said it wasn’t healthy for a developing mind. I can count only a few times she let me stay up past…” Her eyes widen as she turns back around. “Midnight.” She trots back to the broken statue of Fauste and resumes watching the moon.

Rosemary doesn’t see any reason to question Shae’s behavior, so she settles for following her sage advice and tucking in. It’s only after she lies down that she realizes how tired she truly is. “Lookin’ forward to some nice dreams from now on…”

While Shae is occupied with her moongazing, Caro watches in silence from beside his tent. He fears that if he looks away for even a second, something else, perhaps an oversized bird, will swoop in from above and take her away once again.

Jade comes into his line of sight, blocking Shae from view. “Dragonborn.”

“Yes?” Caro replies, trying to look around her.

“I remember seeing your desire to save me from the Imperials upon my capture… I thank you for that, as well as your coming to my aid today, even if I wasn’t your intended rescue.”

Caro shrugs. “A lot of ponies went free today. I’m thankful you were one of them. In truth, I wish I could have saved you from a cell in some Imperial keep…” A sudden thought occurs to him in mid-sentence. “Wait a moment. If you were imprisoned by the Imperials, how did you end up at the mercy of Sacred Rite?”

“Ugh. Those fucking cultists purchased me from a corrupt guard," Jade curses. "The bastard is selling prisoners off to anypony who waves a large enough coinpurse to his filthy mug. One morning he opened my cell, coin purse in hoof, and let the robed codgers inside. They put a knife against my back. I couldn’t fight back or call for help.”

Caro’s eye twitches. “And Queen Platinum isn’t aware of this?” he asks, his voice bitter with quiet anger.

“No.” Jade looks just as angry as him. “Interestingly, I do recall the guard selling off a few captives to some undercover Blackwings I recognized. I assume they were either seeking recruits in odd places or buying back lost comrades… I can't be certain. The guard’s name is Fade.”

“He will be dealt with. I’ll have Tohro speak to Queen Platinum for an investigation. Corruption in the Imperial Legion cannot be tolerated.”

“Which is why, if you really are Tohro’s best friend, you might know a good reason why he joined the Imperial Legion,” Jade says. Her voice sounds a little strained, as if she’s trying to hold back some sort of strong emotion. Caro detects something that’s either anger or sadness behind her words.

“He joined the Thieves Guild, too…”

“I don’t give a shit about that,” Jade snips. “Tell me why he signed on with my enemy.”

Caro remembers every word of Tohro’s confession. On their way to the Imperial camp in Baltimare, they spoke for some time about the pegasus’ long and difficult internal conflict over joining the Legion. Caro was a little off-put by such a decision, both for his own personal feelings towards the Legion and Tohro’s history with the Blackwings. He has a feeling that Jade is experiencing the same thoughts he had at the time.

“During our time together, circumstances put us in Everfree. It wasn’t Tohro’s intention to sympathize with the people he once fought against, but he, Shae and I fell into Her Majesty’s good favor.”

Jade makes a very deliberate snort. “The good favor of an old bag of bones who can’t allow for the downtrodden to have what they're owed?”

Caro holds his hoof up to Jade’s muzzle. “No. The good favor of a heartbroken mare who has become disillusioned to the harmony she once saw in Equestria. That so-called 'bag of bones' is a person, Jade, and she's as confused and hurt as any given Blackwing. Tohro feels he owes her a debt, since he was just another cause of grief for her, having slain so many Imperial soldiers.”

“You’re telling me the honest truth?” Jade asks. She shakes her head. “No. That can’t be the only reason. Tohro may be quick to jump into bed but he’s never one to make a decision like that on a whim. You don't fulfill a debt by signing on with your sworn enemy. There has to be something else.”

“You mentioned you sensed his self-loathing when you worked together. You sensed right. He told me that he had also become disillusioned. When he had signed on with the Blackwings, he was intent on bettering Equestria so that nopony would have go through what he did, growing up without parents in a harsh land and all… I get it. This is an unfair world we live in, and we haven't been given the harmony the founders promised us. Tohro fought to change that, but under Shokenda's influence, his free will began to dwindle. It's hard to think when you're leg-deep in blood, sex and alcohol.”

Jade tilts her head. “This is all news to me…”

Caro looks around Jade. Shae is still watching the moon with fervor. “He realized who he was serving at just the right time. When Tohro was told to kill Shae, along with somepony else he had grown to know, he realized that he had forgotten his reasons for fighting. He lashed out at Shokenda and was marked for death. For some time after, he walked without any army, until he determined that the only way to wash away the stains of his past was to start walking his own path. The Thieves Guild and Imperial Legion are part of that path.”

“He stood up to a direct order from Shokenda? He's even braver than I thought... Why would she want Shae dead?”

"Because she's a threat." Caro, still unafraid of Shokenda, finds Jade’s stunned expression more humorous than anything else. “You have to understand. Tohro found himself. Serving Queen Platinum to make Equestria a better place is his choice to make. No one can sway him. I can't, and you can't either.” His eyes emit their signature golden glow, making Jade lean back in fright. “And if you try to take him away from me—”

“I won’t!” Jade looks away from Caro. “I… I never planned on it. It doesn't matter whose colors he bears, Tohro is precious to me. Even though his new faction rivals mine, I’m not about to do away with him.”

“Good” Caro’s eyes return to their regular state.

There’s a sound of two hooves clopping together behind Caro. He turns his head to see Tohro, who applauds while hovering above a giggling Half Pint. “Truly a speech from the bard college, mate. That was beautiful.”

“Jade, I am disappointed in you.” Half Pint clicks her tongue. “What does it matter in the long run if Tohro is part of the Legion? He’s still the lovely stallion we know. Hell, I think he’s more of a stallion now than when he was before. I’d say going rogue is the best thing that’s ever happened to him.”

Jade looks away, obviously feeling guilty for having any doubts about Tohro. “You’re right, sister.” She peeks up at Caro from behind her overly long bangs. “And so are you.”

Tohro flies up to Jade. He touches her cheeks and shows her a confident smile. “If you’re going to apologize, don’t.”

“I wasn’t.” She accepts his touch, holding one of his hooves closer against her. “Even if I can’t entirely understand your choice, I will support it.”

Half Pint leaps into the air with glee. “Hear hear! Whether the war ends for the Blackwings or the Empire, our companionship will forever remain.” She dashes up to Tohro and Jade, joining the embrace.

Tohro chuckles. “I’m feeling rather nostalgic… How about a shag?”

Jade and Half Pint share the same malicious grin. Their horns come alight, with their auras wrapping around Tohro’s forelegs. They lift him into the air and start trotting, happily dragging him into the unoccupied tent.

~Shae~

I see myself holding a small filly to my breast…

My eyes draw open in tandem with my gasp. My fur is crawling with small bits of frost. I wipe them off and pull my coat tighter over my body. If only I had taken on more layers before I left the Rainbow Palace, then this would be a more comfortable effort.

I look up. The full moon is still on high, with Fauste’s broken yet unmistakable likeness watching over me. “Did I doze off?” I ask aloud.

“For a little bit,” Caro replies. He’s pacing the rim of the campsite, as stoic to the cold as ever. With his efforts to rescue me still fresh in my mind, along with the wind causing his mane, fur and overcoat to trail in the wind, he looks even more like a hero than he ever has. For that notion, it bears little surprise that he sees no issue in removing his overcoat and draping it over me.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I know.” He ensures that the exposed parts of my body are covered entirely before resting against the base of the statue. “Rosemary is still resting.”

That’s good to know. I can’t stand to see her suffer for my sake. “Is Tohro done entertaining his paramours?” I ask, looking over to the tent he was pulled into. “...I guess not. You think they’d have finished by now. What has it been, an hour?”

“Well, Tohro is a cuddler.” As Caro says that, his cheeks are unusually red. He notices my smirk and turns away. “I-It’s... cold.”

“I know.”

Under any other circumstance, I’d desire a solitary, peaceful nap after all I have endured. Even more, I’d enjoy one with with Rosemary. I just can’t. Sleep is the last thing on my mind at this moment. I can, at the least, let my guard down. I rest my head against Caro’s wither. He doesn’t resist in the slightest, bringing a foreleg across my back and holding me closer. His forest of fur makes for a wonderful pillow.

“I promised I would protect you…” Caro murmurs.

“Oh, stop. You keep obsessing over that promise as if your life is tied to it.”

He shakes his head. “It’s not. But your life is. Shae, when we met, I had no faith left in ponykind. From the day I was thrown in prison, I felt nothing but distrust for all I encountered, even for Tohro. The reason I promised I would protect you is because you were unlike the rest. You were young and innocent, reaching out for help that I was willing to give.”

That is more hilarious to me than it should be, and I show that with a triumphant laugh. “Goodness, was I truly helpless at a time? I changed quickly. I’m hardly a student anymore.”

“You're so full of love, don’t you know?”

“Hm, am I?”

"Of course you are. Why else do you think Rosemary fell for you?"

"Pity?" I say with a mock pout.

Caro doesn’t seem to understand my sarcasm. "Stop deprecating yourself. You know you're so much more than anypony can hope to be. Having so much love to give is a blessing in the twilight age. That's why I feel so awful when I can't keep you safe."

"You've done your part enough. I can protect myself when I have to. But I'm not about to take your support for granted. Even if you can be a bit naive." I hold the sides of Caro’s head. He closes his eyes and accepts my kiss on his forehead. A familiar smell enters my nostrils. “Uh, is that my perfume?”

“No… Yes.” Caro sighs and rests his head on base of Fauste’s statue. “This is a joke. I came to save you from the clutches of an insane genocidist and I’m the one thanking you..." He looks confused. “Another thing has been eating away at me. I’m sure you have a good reason, but why did you come here to begin with? Everfree is under a perpetual dark cloud and its citizens are miserable. Celina, even if she may not show it, needs you more than ever.”

My gaze falls on the moon again as I try to conjure up the words that will make my reasoning not sound insane. Before I can, Jade steps out of the tent, with Half Pint straddling Tohro. The Blackwing mares are clad in light leather armor, with blue scarves around their barrels. Tohro is in his Imperial armor.

“It’s not the quality of Blackwing apparel, but your donation is much appreciated. Among other things…” Jade's afterglow is practically lighting up the night, and it’s made all the brighter by Tohro continuing to smother her with kisses and nuzzles.

“Don’t go yeeet…” he whines. “Come now. As far as Shokenda is concerned, you’re still in a cage wasting away.”

“We don’t know that for certain,” says Half Pint. “We’d rather not risk her becoming more upset with us than she might be. I’m sorry, but our next destination is Fillydelphia.” She floats down from Tohro’s back and rejoins her younger sister. “I suppose the next place we meet will be the battlefield,” she says, looking a little less chipper.

“If that does happen,” Jade begins, “you can just fly away, right?”

Tohro nods. “As far as Shokenda is concerned, we are never seeing each other again.” He beckons to the two mares, and they both wrap their forelegs around him a loving embrace, the kind only true comrades can give. “I love you both.”

“The feeling’s mutual, Tohro,” says Jade. “I wish you and your new family nothing but success.”

The Imperial pegasus watches as his two Blackwing friends trot down the mountain. He doesn’t stop waving until they disappear from sight.

In watching such a heartfelt display, I still haven’t been able to think of how to properly convey my reasons for being here. Jade didn’t fully understand; out of fear of revealing what Celina is to the Blackwings, and Shokenda in the process, I had to keep the details obscure.

But I do remember that Caro and I have something in common. As I stand, looking at the moon once again, I speak to him. “Caro, I recall you mentioning some odd dreams you’ve been having?”

He looks up at me, the confusion clear on his face. “Yes.”

“What appears in the dream changes often, yet at the same time remains very consistent. A night sky, stars and the moon. But most important of all, there is a child, a filly, calling out to you. And you cannot shake the suspicion, the belief, that this is much more than some dream. It’s real, Caro. This dream child is real.”

“I know…” Caro says, aghast. “You’ve had the dream too?”

“Yes. Every single night since Celina realized her immortality and fell into sadness, this dream child has appeared to me.” I trot to the highest point of the peak, where only clouds and the sky itself separate me from the moon. I continue to speak as I reach out to the moon with a hoof. “She’s more than a mysterious vision. She gave me hope.”

“Well, then I must be the mad one. I haven’t any recollection of a dream like that.” Tohro approaches us. He appears distinctly sad and happy at the same time. “Caro kept talking about this dream filly. I assumed the visions to be born of trauma, but they kept occurring. I began to believe the child was real.”

“She is real, Tohro,” I state.

The moon sparkles. It glows even brighter against the black sky than before, as if it were its own star.

I'm well-conscious of what is about to happen. I saw it in my dreams. I speak loudly, hoping that the even the Divines are able to hear me. “I watched as the black claws of despair took Celina away from me. She is constantly plagued with fear of living forever. I wept for her, wishing with all my heart that something would help her. Something to make her happy. Something to make her so much as smile. I wished, and a child appeared to me. She showed me a vision of this spire, and thus I came. I know this child is the key to Celina’s happiness. A legendary alicorn, just like her, who can be with her through eternity when nopony else can.”

Caro and Tohro’s eyes are equally wide and their mouths are held open. A touch of of fiery red mane catches my attention; Rosemary has emerged from her tent. She watches my theatrics, smiling broadly.

“And now the time has come at last.” I raise my forelegs up high, facing the moon as its light shimmers through the entire sky. All clouds wane and disappear in the shimmer’s wake. “Come to us, child,” I gently whisper to the moon. “It’s okay.”

I see a twinkle on the moon’s surface. After a few seconds pass, a streak of light comes into view, falling fast from the sky. It’s coming towards the peak. To me.

The light dwindles as it comes closer. As it fades, I see what it contains. A sleeping alicorn filly. Her long fall slows into a gentle drift, as if she's descending through water.

My hooves touch her back. I slowly lower my forelegs and let her roll into my embrace as I fall onto my haunches. I support her by her legs while my other hoof gently strokes her back.

I get a good look at this alicorn filly. She has a long, wavy mane of turquoise, and her coat is the blue of the most peaceful night, blemished only by black spots on her flanks. She slowly opens her eyelids, revealing irises colored the same as her mane. She utters weak, wordless sounds as she looks around, wondering for the life of her where she is. As she peers up at me, her little lips curl into a smile.

I smile back at her, running my hoof through her silky mane. “Hello, Luna.”

XXXII - Eclipse

~Shae~

In truth, I’m not sure why I expected anything more than this. I had a small sliver of an expectation, born of her omniscient appearance in the world of dreams, that she would be a paragon of knowledge and kindness. As odd as it may sound, I prefer the little alicorn child before me.

Luna is as much a foal as one would imagine her to be. She waddles about the tent, looking at everything there is to take in, her wide eyes constantly darting about with curiosity. It only makes sense; this is her first time witnessing the world beyond her ethereal form in the dream world. She hasn’t even used her eyes until just a few minutes ago.

How does one speak to an alicorn child? I suppose I may as well go about this like I would with any other little one. “Luna,” I say to her softly.

She doesn’t respond. She waddles to Rosemary’s bag and opens one of the flaps. Many of the gems Rosemary recovered in the lair spill out. Luna squeaks and tries to gallop away, only to fall flat on her stomach. She sniffles, and her muzzle scrunches up.

I step over to her the moment she starts sobbing. She doesn’t burst into tears, at least. I lend her my gentle touch, and that’s enough to calm her. She shakes off her minor flub and makes an attempt at standing back up. I’m tempted to use my magic to help her. In any case, she manages to get back on her hooves on her third attempt.

“There you are, dear,” I say.

Come to think of it, she’s also never used her hooves until just a few minutes ago.

She’s not quite a baby, nor is she a grown child, despite how I may have referred to her before. Her being an immortal alicorn only complicates the issue of age further. Celina… She came from the sun a year and a half ago. Will Luna appear as an adolescent in that time? Or will she age naturally until— Aw, she fell over again.

This time, she stands up on her own without so much as a fuss, making a little noise that sounds somewhat like a laugh. I recall her speaking once or twice in the dreams, but her words were broken and unfocused. Here, it’s become obvious that she cannot speak. Not yet, at any rate.

“Luna,” I say again. This time, she stops prancing about and looks at me. She tilts her head, making a humming noise as she wonders what it is I could possibly want from her. I can tell what she’s thinking, even if she can’t say it. That will have to do until she can speak. I lie down on my makeshift bed and gesture to the pillow. “Could you come here, please?”

With another hum, she waddles over to me, finding a comfortable spot on the bed next to me before plopping down on the spot. She looks up at me expectantly.

“Luna, my name is Shae Sparkle. Please nod if you understand me.”

She nods.

“Did you know that already?”

She nods again. Amazing. I didn’t even need to tell her the difference between yes and no. I’ve already formed a bridge. This is much easier than I thought it would be.

“Good…” I tap my chin and think of what else there is to say. I don’t wish to unleash a barrage of questions on a baby… toddler… erm… newborn. I’ll keep this concise. “Does the name Celina mean anything to you?”

She nods. Her wings start to buzz with excitement.

I feel as though I could sing. Any errant concerns that this isn’t going to work are fast dwindling. “Tomorrow, we're leaving to see her together. I’m sure she will be very happy to meet you.”

Luna lets out a squeak similar to the one she made earlier, only this time it’s one of glee. She hops in place, her wings still flapping erratically. As expected, they don’t take her into the air at all, but it is very adorable.

I let out a yawn. Now the pillow seems even more inviting than before. My eyelids are starting to droop. With all of my questions out of the way, the excitement of this day finally leaves me, and I’m left with a sudden desire to sleep. But I don’t want to leave Luna…I blink a few times, and in those few moments, Luna has stepped away. I look around the tent for her.

“Where did you…”

I feel a small hoof prodding at my stomach. Well, not quite my stomach. Luna is touching somewhere a little lower. The realization dawns on me; how insensitive was I to not bring any food for her? Then again, it would have been for naught in the cold, and Sacred Rite’s intervention wouldn’t have helped matters anyway…

It’s not too awful, I suppose. I am a willing and able mare, and I can’t let Luna starve until I can procure a substitute for milk.

“Just a moment, dear.” I begin to disrobe.

~Vision End~

CHAPTER XXXII - ECLIPSE

“I expected I would be the one to take Luna’s hoof as she emerged from the world of dreams into this world, but evidently, that is something that must be taken away from me as well.”

Caro paces about the campsite, foregoing the use of Rosemary’s newly kindled fire to breathe heavily. His frown slowly breaks into a smirk. After a moment of silence passes, he laughs at his own shallowness.

“I suppose I shouldn’t have expected anything else,” he says. “After all, I was the one so preoccupied with my own training. I suppose Luna grew impatient and sought out a new pony to welcome her.”

Rosemary removes another log from her bag of holding and tosses it onto the fire with a grunt. “Yep, I definitely be sensin’ a twinge of jealousy there.” She lies down on a dry patch of ground with a small flask in hoof.

Tohro fans the fire with his wings, though he isn’t so focused that he can’t make a jape. “Caro Dragonborn. Bloodthirsty. Fearless. Stoic. Jealous of a schoolmare.” He receives a light tap on the head from said Dragonborn.

“Schoolmare?” Rosemary says incredulously. “Ya numpty, I don’t think ya were lookin’ at the same lassie I was.”

“How do you mean?” Caro stops his pacing. “Shae is—”

“The mare that caught the wee bairn that fell from the sky? That ain’t the same Shae y’all dragged into the forge several months ago.” Rosemary pauses to take a long drink from her flask. “That Shae was kind, thoughtful, innocent. Yet, she was also scared. Reluctant. She didn’t quite have an adventurer’s spirit, but I saw the potential in her wide eyes. Now, she’s all of those things sans the scared and reluctant bits. She’s found that spirit. But she’s also found something else.”

“Like what?” Caro asks.

Rosemary smiles as she stands up and approaches Caro. “Tell me honestly, Dragonborn. You didn’t see it? The look upon her pretty wee mug as she held Luna? She ain’t no schoolmare, laddie. She’s become somethin’ more.”

The yellow earthwalker trots to the tent Shae disappeared into, looking keen to open the flap and reveal what could possibly be occurring inside. She waves Caro and Tohro over. As they go up to her, she holds her hoof to her mouth. “Be quiet for the little one…” She opens the tent flap.

Caro and Tohro look inside. The sight they see causes the former to back up a step, and the latter simply tilts his head in bewildered curiosity.

Shae has her eyes closed as she lies on her side. She is entirely disrobed, her clothes discarded behind her. Below her torso sits Luna, who eagerly nurses from Shae’s teats.

Rosemary looks inside, still smiling as she looks upon the unusual sight. “Huh. Perhaps I underestimated my suspicions…”

The lavender unicorn tenses up in discomfort as Luna bites down harder than necessary. “Not so rough, love…” She opens her eyes, and she’s greeted by the mixed expressions of her companions. “Hello.”

“Shae…” Tohro begins, slowly letting out his words. “Why… are you… nursing… the black alicorn?”

Shae glares at Tohro. Her lowered eyelids and straight mouth don’t imply amusement. “She’s more of a midnight blue.”

Tohro flinches, as if that response could actually be felt on his face. “That… uh....”

“She was hungry.” Shae strokes Luna’s mane. Due to her resting position, that’s all she can do, even though she would prefer to hold her. “What was I supposed to do? Let her go wanting? That’d be quite the welcome into our world.”

Tohro shrugs, unable to find any legitimate argument against such reasoning, except for one. “One would think you’d come to us for some sort of substitute. But, you have a point. Who would we be to welcome the long awaited dream child with anything but legitimate milk?” The pegasus gives pause to his words as he steps into the tent. “Come to think of it, how are you able to nurse her?”

“It’s a spell… Urgh.” Shae grunts again. Luna is a nippy one, far more eager than anticipated. “Easy there, dear… Alteration magic, tier five. I stimulated my body to produce milk without any reproduction cycle.” At that note, Luna has finished with her meal. She sits down, and Shae scoots over by her haunches to hold the little one. “According to my mother, nuns in Gran Magus did so all the time to nurse orphaned children.”

Rosemary and Tohro both are left with unusually large blushes on their faces. Only Caro seems to take such information in stride. “Wonderful,” says Rosemary. "Got spells to stimulate anythin' else, lassie?" she asks with a sly smirk.

“Decency, Rose.” Shae has her hooves against Luna’s ears. This does nothing to damper the wide smile on the alicorn filly’s little face.

Rosemary chortles as she kneels down to Luna’s level. “Cut me some slack. I’m a northerner.” She reaches out to Luna, who accepts her touch. Rosemary gives the child’s long mane an affectionate tousle. “You know, I dreamed of you a few times. Passed it off as a fever dream when it happened. Honestly, I can’t imagine why I’d need you. I’m perfectly happy.”

As she says that, her eye twitches, which doesn’t go unseen by Luna or Shae. The little one tilts her head as her smile disappears.

“Aw, don’t let that smile go. Let’s have it back. Come on.” Rosemary imitates the largest, silliest, unforgivably toothy grin she can manage. After keeping it on for a moment, Luna imitates the look.

The earthwalker just keeps grinning.

“Uh, Rose? Sweetie?” Shae waves her hoof in front of her face, causing Rosemary’s uncomfortable expression to fade. “You’re awfully pale.”

“Oh. Am I?”

Shae nods as she pats the pillow next to hers. “I think you should lie down.”

“Right, right…”

As Rosemary does as she’s advised, disposing of her hat and coat, Tohro and Caro both approach Luna. She mostly seems occupied with Caro, looking up at him with a twinkle of familiarity in her large eyes. “Ah, she recognizes me,” the Dragonborn says. He offers Luna a soft smile, the best his rugged face can muster. “I’ve dreamed of you since the beginning of my journey. You’ve offered me much comfort. I can only hope you’ll do the same for Celina.”

Shae looks at Rosemary. "We've become quite the family, haven't we?"

"Yeah... I guess..."

"Is something the matter?" Shae leans in closer.

"No, no... just... nothin..." Rosemary grins. Her eyes reflect the opposite as she keeps a concentrated gaze on Luna. "We just have to make sure we keep this lil' one safe this time."

"This time?" Shae cocks a brow. "What do you mean?"

"I don't mean nothin'!" Rosemary picks herself up, still wearing her dissonant expression, and nearly tears the tent flap off as she storms out.

"What's gotten into her?" Shae frowns, holding Luna close. The child is humming again, this time with worry in her tone. “Doesn’t she know she can tell us anything? We can help her.”

"Anypony have any idea what's bothering her? Do you suppose she’s harboring a secret?" Caro nods in the direction of the mare, who has taken up rest next to the dwindling fire. As both stallions watch her, she slowly looks up to the sky.

"I’ll look into it later," Tohro mutters as he unbuckles his gauntlets. The last thing he wishes for is to scare a newborn with a hidden blade. He offers Luna his hoof, only to have her whinge. Tohro frowns, much to Caro’s amusement. “Aw, don’t be cruel. I’m sorry I got your color wrong.”

“You never dreamed about her; she doesn’t know you,” Caro says bluntly. “Plus, I think she’s a little offput from…” He looks back at Rosemary again. She’s still looking skyward. “Yeah.”

“Shame…” Tohro retracts his hoof, though even he still falls victim to Luna’s infectious pleasantry. He settles for sitting across from her. “Perhaps she’ll warm up in a bit. Can I hold her then, Shae?”

The unicorn tightens her grip on Luna, who giggles with excitement from the sudden lurch. “No. She’s mine.”

Caro and Tohro share the same amused, yet not surprised in the slightest expression. They share a look at each other and chuckle softly. “Rosemary was right,” Caro notes.

Shae tilts her head, utterly perplexed. “What?”

Luna mimics her action. “Ouh?”

~Shae~

It was my assumption that Everfree would appear the same as it always has since Clover’s attack. The same polished buildings, the same gem encrusted streets, the same posh citizens with their fancy robes and golden trimmings. Yet, none of the radiant sunlight or constant presence of tranquility that once held this glorious city remains, hidden beyond a perpetual veil of sorrowful black clouds. Not a single street or building shines, nor does the diamond moat beneath this arched bridge.

While Caro and Tohro discuss the best plan of approach for what we’re about to do, I can’t help but look at a nearby malt parlor. “Celina…” I murmur.

Rosemary’s muzzle brushes against my cheek, causing my heart to flutter. A smidge of my worry fades at her smile. All traces of her unusual behavior atop the spire have disappeared, for the time being. She reaches behind me to give Luna a brush through her mane and a scratch behind the ears. Luna hums at her touch, though I can’t help but feel that’s how you would treat a cat rather than a foal.

“This is where I leave you,” Rosemary says.

I nod, having expected this. Never before has Rosemary set hoof in the Rainbow Palace, only coming to the gates to beckon for me during the long while I spent taking care of Celina. I don’t think she wishes to break any new ground, especially in a dire time like this.

“I’d just be in the way. I don’t know the princess like you do, and she only needs those close to her right now.”

I return her earlier nuzzle. “Thank you. For everything.”

“Only for you, lassie,” she says, giving me a very welcome kiss on the lips. It doesn’t last nearly as long as I’d like it to. “I’ll be in the market district if you be needin’ me.” She turns on a single hoof and trots off, eventually becoming lost to my sight in the crowd of sullen townsfolk.

Luna waves as I do, albeit with a bit more energy. I can imagine all this darkness means little to her when she’s so thrilled to meet Celina. I can only hope Celina feels the same.

I approach Caro and Tohro. By the way they stand at attention, they seem to have been waiting for me. “Shae, after much consideration, we’ve decided that you should do what you think is best for this mission,” says Tohro.

“You know Celina better than anypony in Equestria, I’d warrant,” Caro adds. “We’ll follow, and if you wish anything of us, it will be done.”

So, I’m the helm of the quest. I suppose stranger things have happened as of late. “Are you ready to meet Celina, darling?” I ask the filly on my back.

Luna’s wings continue to buzz as I take steps towards the Rainbow Palace with Caro and Tohro following closely behind.

How I wish I could teleport over long distances. Looking upon the townsfolk suffering beneath such memetic depression is a horror that I fear will never truly leave me. I see a vegetable salespony with a near barren, rancid stock, selling off a small collection of celery for a measly two bits. The lack of sun to grace the farmlands has taken its toll on trade.

Beggars. Under any other circumstances, beggars wouldn’t be out of the ordinary, but Everfree should be the city of luxury and comfort… I can’t imagine how these poor fellows found themselves in such a sordid state. In silence, Tohro and I give a hungry looking couple a few coins, and Caro passes them a few slices of garlic bread.

The ponies of Everfree aren’t dying, nor are they injured in a physical sense. More than all else, they are simply miserable, unable to see the sun or the sky, enduring a constant internal struggle. All for reasons beyond their understanding. This is Celina’s pain given form.

“Are you scared, love?” I ask Luna.

She nods.

I reach to her and squeeze her hoof. “So am I.”

The gates of the Rainbow Palace are guarded, as expected. After two months of living in the palace, I am not a stranger here, and I’ve always been let in on sight. I doubt the soldiers will make any effort to change that, even if they do look exhausted and weak.

They smile halfheartedly as I trot by, the gate swinging open silently.

The infinitely black sky only makes the interior of the palace darker. It no longer has the mien of a place of royalty. Deathly sadness fills the air and causes the heart to sink. The darkness has already taken its toll on Tohro, who huddles close to Caro.

We trot up the main stairs, following the path to Celina’s room. She can only be there. She wouldn’t have reason to be anywhere else.

The winding staircase is the darkest place of all. Tohro takes the steps one hoof at a time, and Caro stays with him through it. I grow impatient, but not irritated. Luna, however, only seems to grow more excited as Celina’s room grows closer. In fact, she seems more happy in darkness than anywhere else.

Finally, the entrance to the room is before us. I straighten out my coat and robes, take a deep breath and reach for the handle.

My hind leg touches something.

“Aurgh.” Something sentient. I look down and see a bundle of blankets, a wrapped present, and a red mane.

Tohro taps the blankets a few times. “Captain?”

Gauntlet’s head rises from the blankets, his face dark with exhaustion. He lets out a tired groan. “Good evening, Tohro… Dragonborn.” He turns to me. “Ah, Miss Shae… Wonderful to see you again… When did you get back?”

I decide to save him the trouble of hearing what I had to go through at the spire. “A few minutes ago, actually…”

“Asleep on the job, are we?” Tohro asks with a chuckle.

Gauntlet nickers. “You laugh, soldier… I happen to be off duty for the moment.” He slowly rises up, revealing he is clad in only local robes and sleeves. He takes notice of Tohro’s naughty expression; the pegasus looks keen to not let Gauntlet live this one down. “I’ll have you know, this is a matter of personal importance…” He levitates the package off the ground.

“Or one of affinity?” Tohro asks.

“I am neither confirming it, nor…” Gauntlet brings his hoof to his forehead, wrinkling his brow with a long grunt. “I’m not denying it. I’m here for my princess.” He smiles pathetically as he looks at me. “Miss Shae, ever since you disappeared, Everfree has only become bleaker. I felt Celina needed somepony willing to reach out to her, so once I was returned here from my patrol outside Baltimare and saw how horrid matters have become, I decided to—”

I interrupt him. “Sleep out here until Celina leaves her room?”

“That is correct.” Gauntlet touches the door. “Of course, it’s locked, but she can only stay in there for so long. Eventually, she’ll have to leave… She has to eat sometime.”

I sigh, shaking my head. “No, Gauntlet.” I honestly cannot believe he doesn’t have a grasp on Celina’s situation. “She wouldn’t speak to you while I was here. That’s not about to change.”

“But I can—”

I, a plain unicorn with scrawny legs and no muscle to speak of, manage to make Gauntlet back down with a single powerful stare. “Gauntlet, you can try, and I would appreciate it, but two months of my care and Celina never once smiled. She is in her own definition of hell. Do you think you can pull her out of hell?”

“...Maybe.”

“Maybe.” I can see Gauntlet’s will faltering. I don’t intend to demoralize him. “Well, I tried, and I can’t fault you for trying either. It just wasn’t good enough.”

“Then… what am I supposed to do?”

I would likely be detained for doing such a thing in any other circumstance, but I touch Gauntlet’s cheek reassuringly. “You can’t. Not at the moment, anyway. You’ll need to be there for Celina when I can’t.”

Gauntlet stays still, likely pondering my words. After a moment that lasts longer than it should, he exhales and removes my hoof from his cheek. “Okay… But, do tell me, what makes you think you can help her now?”

“We can’t possibly understand what she’s going through. As such, I thought it best to find somepony who does.” I turn my head. “Say hello, little one.”

Luna pokes her head out from behind me. Even the surrounding darkness cannot hide her wide smile. She makes a particularly loud hum as she waves to Gauntlet.

Gauntlet is agape as he approaches Luna. I can tell he’s having difficulty comprehending what he’s seeing. “Another one… Miss Shae, the Divines bless us.”

“Perhaps they do.”

With his shock, and Luna’s reluctance to let him touch her, it’s apparent that Gauntlet hasn’t been having the dreams. Perhaps he’s too occupied to even remember if he has dreamed about her.

“It’s okay, Luna. He’s a friend.”

My reassurance is all she needs to let him to pet her. “Amazing… Another immortal alicorn to share Celina’s troubles… I don’t see why you bother speaking to me.” He gestures to the door and stands aside. “Go on, then.”

“We can’t do that right away,” I say. “It’d be for the best that I ease Celina into this. It wouldn’t be wise of me to give her more reason to be upset.”

I levitate Luna off of my back and let her putter around the floor for a little bit. The little one touches everything; the carpet, the walls, the drapery… She has a naturally curious spirit. Something that has become so mundane to me is so fascinating to her.

“Luna.”

She looks up at me.

“I need you to stay here with Gauntlet for a moment while I speak to Celina.”

Luna’s eyes widen. She stumbles over to me and grabs onto my foreleg, squeezing tight without any intention of letting go.

I kneel down and try to comfort her with my touch, but she keeps squirming and resisting me. I gently grab her in my aura and lift her up. I give her a soft kiss on the forehead which seems to quell her a little bit.

“I won’t be long, I promise. You’ll be able to meet Celina very soon.”

Luna smiles at that notion, even though she still looks keen to squirm some more.

“You’re a very good filly,” I tell her to keep her spirits up. By the way she plops down and stays still, it seems to work, at least for the moment. It’s far more difficult for me to set her down than it should be.

“We have one more problem,” Tohro says. “How are we supposed to talk to Celina when she locked the door?” He chuckles as he reaches into his pouch. “I bring that up rhetorically, of course. I’ll take care of this. Altair gave me some enchanted picks, so—”

Celina’s door becomes enveloped in a familiar gold aura. It’s faint and inconsistent, but it’s strong enough to slowly open the door. The even greater darkness of what lies beyond does not bode well.

“Come in…” says a weak, broken voice.

So she does want to see me. Or she knows that I won’t leave without seeing her. Either way, I start walking.

Celina’s room is…

Ever since I left Wintercolt for the first time, I have endured horrors that I’m surprised haven’t destroyed me. I have been assaulted and nearly violated by bandits. I have been infected by a skeever. I had to face skeletal remains of Precursors. I have nearly been crushed by a dragon’s corpse. I have encountered a god of chaos. I have watched innocent bystanders get cut apart. I went through a hallucinogenic nightmare. I survived getting stabbed in the gut. I watched my headmaster die. I was betrayed by my idol. I suffered for days at the hooves of an insane zealot, starving and filthy, waiting for death at the teeth of an unwilling beast…

Nothing I have endured or ever will endure compares to how destroyed I feel as I look at the remains of Celina’s room.

Her mirror is shattered, its glass littering the floor. Pillows are torn and mangled, thrown about in heaps of feathers at the corners. Shredded remains of pink and magenta blankets are strung up on the wallbound lamps. Pieces of cups and plates are scattered everywhere, and whatever food they held is rotted and shriveled.

The worst of it, the part that makes me sick to my stomach, is the blood. Every jagged shard of the mirror is stained with blood. The walls, the carpet, even the ceiling, it’s all soaked in more blood than anypony could ever stand to lose. The stench is just short of unbearable, but the way it crushes my heart is incomprehensible.

“So… You’ve returned…”

The hollow remains of what was once the most beautiful voice in the world. Celina’s words are a stark and barren wasteland now. She rises from her bed, with only bloody sheets to hide her wings. She looks at me with faded, bloodshot eyes which look painted on her skeletal face. I nearly step back and shriek at how like a draugr she has become, but I have to stay strong for her. I know that beyond that hellish face, my Celina is in there. “I returned for you.”

“To watch me suffer, I’m sure…” she replies. There is no life to her words, only dry monotone. “Say your farewells before you inevitably face the cold, bitter claws of death… Leave me alone to waste away while others join you in the beyond… A beyond I will never see…”

I look back at Caro and Tohro. They may not be much assistance to me here, but they’re here nonetheless. That’s more than enough.

I gather my thoughts and speak again. “I will not watch you suffer.”

“Then go.”

I smile. “No.”

Celina bares her teeth. “Why?”

“You’re too important to me. I cannot let you tear yourself apart. Your people need you. I need you.”

She snaps her gaze to the broken window. A draft pours in, making the tattered drapes wave and causing the room to feel cold and harsh beyond how it already is. “What does it matter? At least they have death to look forward to at the end. They can find their own happiness.” She looks back at me. “And as for you… You never needed me. You’re so strong. So high and mighty. Gifted with power beyond any other mortal. You don’t know what suffering is. No matter what you’ve been through, you have always found a way out! Even life itself has its escape for you!”

Celina stands, causing the sheet to fall off of her and reveal her eviscerated, twiglike body, blemished with mottled fur and decayed wings. She is little more than a skeleton with skin.

“Never for me!”

She leaps from her bed and lands right in front of me. Her horn is aglow and her horrifying skull of a face stares right at me. The whole room becomes a maelstrom of chaos right out of my worst nightmares, with her drawers, tables and furniture rising from the floor and flying about aimlessly.

This does not phase me. I’ve come too far to be scared off. “Why do you torture yourself?” I ask. “Let yourself starve, make yourself bleed… Why do you do such horrible things?”

“Isn’t it obvious to you?!” Celina screams. “If there is even the slightest possibility that I do not have to face eternity, I will gladly tear myself apart and let time end my suffering. Even a life as ashes or wisps in the air is better than the fate that has been bestowed upon me.”

That serves as a morbid explanation for the blood and rotten sustenance...

“You don’t have to live such a life. What you have is a gift.”

“It’s a curse! Do you know nothing?!”

She is seething, bent on breaking at any moment. But I’m calm. I can bring her to calm with words. Before, I had cried. I even shouted in desperation for her to come back to her senses. But now, all I need are words.

“You’re a princess, Celina. If you ascend the throne, you can be the greatest ruler ponykind has ever known. You can be kind to your subjects and they will be kind in return. You can show them a world of happiness they’ve only dreamed of. And with your power, you can protect them from those that would do harm to them. What is so awful about that?”

The objects flying about the room fall as Celina’s aura fades from her horn. It all comes down in a loud clatter. Caro and Tohro stumble, but Celina and I remain still.

Celina’s lip quivers. “They’ll die anyway…”

I recall when she first discovered her gift, and what the queen said to her. “Platinum said you have the power to make their lives worthwhile. That is something I realized a long time ago, after my mother and father passed away… I learned that death is just a natural part of life.”

“Then…” Celina’s lip quivers. “What… does that make… me?”

That is something I do not have an answer to. I could remind her that she’s a legendary alicorn, or a princess, but at the worst, that would only set her back to how she was before… I can’t bring in Luna just yet. The moment just isn’t right…

“Celina,” Caro says, taking a step forward. “I can’t say I know what it’s like to be infinite. None of us can understand what you’re going through, and we won’t pretend that we ever will. But I do know what it’s like to suffer.”

“How?” Celina asks, her voice less than a whisper.

“I had to lose my master and go through days of pain and suffering to become what I am now. Despite all of that misery, I am now free to shape my own destiny.”

“Yes, yes, that’s right!” Tohro nods and points to himself. “I used to serve a monster, but I broke free of those shackles and became my own master. Even now, as I serve the Legion, I am at nopony’s beck and call, not even the Divines. I choose my path.”

Those wonderful stallions couldn’t have found a finer thing to say if they tried.

I look back at Celina, watching as she falters and lays down. I step a bit closer to her. She doesn’t resist, even as I continue speaking. “We are what we choose to be. With your gift, you have more freedom than anypony else. You can be as you wish. You don’t even have to be a princess. You can have anything you ever wanted.”

I touch her chin and gently urge her to look at me. She does so, allowing me to see that same glimmer I saw when I first met her. Skin and bones be damned, it’s still there.

“What is it you want, Celina?”

I now see what that sparkle is. Fresh tears fall from her eyes like waterfalls, drenching the carpet. She breaks, collapsing entirely, burying her face in her forelegs and sobbing uncontrollably. “I want to die…”

Aside from her faint crying and the stray wind, silence is all to be known.

Even though I’ve held on without letting the pain of watching Celina suffer get to me, hearing her say that is physically painful. I have to turn my head and let a few errant tears fall. I don’t speak until I’ve wiped them clean off my face.

There is nothing left for me to say. Any word uttered now would just be wasted prose. There is only one thing left for me to do.

I turn to the open door, where my frightened little Luna stands, waiting patiently for my beckon. I raise my hoof and wave her over. She trots slowly, taking care to avoid the bloodstains on the floor. Even though she can comprehend her immortality, I wonder if she even knows what blood is. She does know Celina on sight, though. She looks at her as if she’s known her all her life, like a sister.

Luna glances up at me. She’s wondering if I’m going to do anything else, but my work is finished here. I nod my head towards Celina, telling Luna it’s all up to her now. I trust her to know what Celina needs. After all, I know now that she came to this world for her.

Luna approaches Celina, who is still hiding her face away, crying beneath the cover of her forelegs. Even a few hums don’t get her attention.

Luna opens her mouth. “Tia?”

I have to hold back my gasp. Tohro has his hoof over his mouth and Caro’s eyes have widened.

Celina comes out of hiding. She looks upon Luna, and the moment she realizes she’s looking at an alicorn, she stands up and backs away in surprise. “A-another…?” She lets Luna get closer, still gaping as the little one nuzzles up against her leg, humming happily all the while. Celina, however, doesn’t seem to share that happiness. She doesn’t appear angry either. She looks at me. “What...?”

“I found her… Or she found me.”

“She…” Celina carefully graces Luna’s mane, as if to make sure she’s even real. “She isn’t… some sort of projection?”

“What do you think?”

Celina kneels down to Luna and holds her still. She takes an extended look at her, gently brushing her fur and attempting to touch her wings, which buzz whenever Celina’s hoof gets close. She even taps Luna’s horn, which flashes turquoise and makes Luna giggle. “Tia!” she calls out.

“No, m-my name is Celina.”

Luna shakes her head. “Tia.”

“Celina.”

“Tia!”

It takes a long time for it to happen, but Celina’s lips eventually curl into a smile. “Okay, you can call me Tia… What’s your name, little one?”

Luna hums especially loud, struggling to say yet another word. The very idea that she’s even talking to begin with has me plastered with shock and pride. “W… W…. Woona.”

“Woona?” Celina tilts her head.

“Her name is Luna,” I say. I will admit, my hooves are itching to hold the little one. I can’t stand not having her right next to me. Regardless, I hold still. “She really wanted to meet you. She may not look the part, but she’s a smart filly.”

“So she knows? About everything?”

I nod. "Everything. And more, I'm sure. She's only ever spoken to me in my dreams, but I'm sure she knows more than I do, and she definitely knows you, Celina. She came because she wishes to share the burden of immortality with you. She can take in your pain when it becomes too much to bear, and stand strong for you when you can’t. You’ll never be alone.”

“I…” Celina keeps opening her mouth, but she makes no words. I would recognize that face from a mile away. She’s happy. She’s so happy she can’t comprehend it. All she can do is look at me, agape, and ask, “Why?”

“Why what?” I reply with a chuckle.

“Everything.” Celina sets Luna down and stands, gradually approaching me. “You stayed with me even when I acted out in rage. I hurt you. I said absolutely horrible things to you. And yet you stayed, doing everything within your power to make me happy…” She looks down, watching as Luna wraps herself around her leg. “When that didn’t work, you went so far as to find me a little sister. Why did you go so far for me?”

She asks that as if it isn’t obvious. "Because I love you. All I ever want is for you to be happy. Even when I'm gone, I want you to remember that.” I step up to her and wrap my forelegs around her neck. “I love you, Celina."

As I press my cheek up against hers, I feel a fresh stream of tears. These are different. They aren’t born of anguish. These are tears of newfound elation.

“I love you too…” Celina says.

Her returning of my embrace is accompanied by her mane becoming wreathed with light. It rises, flowing like an ethereal curtain. Her body feels less skeletal by the moment, returning to a strong and healthy state, and her coat regains its alabaster shimmer.

When I finally release my grip on the ever-so-beautiful alicorn, it takes me a moment to realize I’m still standing in her room. The blood and mold are gone. The decimated pillows are back on the bed, which appears newly made. Shards of glass no longer litter the floor, as they have all returned to the mirror.

Celina embraces Luna and nuzzles her like a sister would. “Tia!” Luna squeaks.

“Thank you…” Celina says. I’m not entirely sure if she means that for Luna or me. In all likelihood, it’s for both of us.

The quiet and serenity of the moment is all thrown to the wind when I hear Gauntlet shouting. “Your Majesty, do calm down!”

“Oh, I do believe we have company…” Tohro says with a mischievous giggle.

Queen Platinum comes galloping into the room, stumbling over her own gold bedrobes. Her mane is all a mess. I suppose that, once again, I am responsible for interrupting the royal nap.

“Shae?! I thought you were...” She pauses, hanging her head as she catches her breath. “Not that I am unhappy to see you, but... You could have awoken me with something other than that ruckus…”

Her Majesty looks about, seeing how glowingly clean everything is. She then looks at Luna, who huddles closer to Celina. Platinum’s mouth opens in appall at that, but she gapes even more when she sees the white alicorn she once called her daughter is no longer a living skeleton. “Celina, you… What in the name of Epona happened here?”

Celina looks to the open window. The breeze feels calmer than before; less harsh and menacing. It’s like a breeze on a perfect summer day, or at least the greatest equivalent in the middle of an extended winter.

Celina sighs with contentment. “The sun is coming out.”

I refuse to be anywhere else than right beside her. Celina stares out into the city as a hopeful smile graces her lips. The harsh winds and the blackness of the sky are lessening by the second.

The townsponies of Everfree, perhaps sensing that their shining beacon of warmth and love is returning to them, have started opening their doors and pouring out into the streets, all making their way calmly and orderly towards the palace gates. It seems Celina’s memetic influence extends to more than just the sky above.

Celina smiles down upon all of them as a murmur in the gathering crowd becomes a staccato rumble of hooves striking cobble.

“I’m not afraid anymore,” my princess says.

I feel magic gathering in the air and realize what she is about to do, and I can't help it when tears come to my eyes for the second time today. The thrumming beat coalesces until the entire town is marching in a dance-step. They have formed neat rows below their princess' bedroom. Pegasi bearing the cloud insignia of the Weather Guild are collecting the remaining storm clouds, adding their voices to the music. The rumbles and crackles coming from the clouds sound almost like drums and cymbals.

Celina drops her robe and spreads her wings.

The crowd falls silent, at least for a moment.

Luna, wrapped in Celina's warm yellow aura, begins dancing through the sky above the crowd. The citizens of Everfree add their voices in a grand cheer along with the beat of their hooves. I will admit, I’d be more enamoured with their celebration if I weren’t so concerned for Luna. I trust Celina to keep her safe, but the fear is still there. I’m able to relax when she returns to her sister’s embrace.

Among the cheers is the voice of a familiar zebra. I look out beyond the crowd and see none other than Xephyr himself, sitting upon a rooftop and strumming his lute. By some means of passive enchantment or otherwise, his voice is audible over the fraptious glee of the citizens.

"Oh princess, our princess, it's lovely to see, that you're shining brightly above Everfree!
Your music and loving was tenderly missed, with you in our hearts, we've known that greatest of bliss!"

Celina laughs aloud, keeping her wings spread as she steps forward. With a simple wave of her hoof, the crowd falls silent. “Children of Everfree, the torment you must have felt in the time of my absence must have been a living horror. I speak with a heart burdened by regret when I say I am to blame for your sorrows. I know now, more than ever, that this great city needs its princess as much as it needs heroes.”

She gestures to Caro and Tohro, who humbly stand behind her. Caro had requested they not be given a second ceremony. This day belongs to Celina.

She beckons to me, looking down at the package in my hoof. I open it, revealing a diamond encrusted tiara with a magenta jewel in its center. Normally, I would levitate the tiara onto Celina’s head, but I decide to take it in my hoof and give it to her personally.

“How do I look?” she asks, pursing her lips in a moment of sheepishness.

I grace her cheek and urge her to hold her head up high. “I think you know the answer.”

Celina adjusts her tiara, puts her smile back on, and resumes her speech. “I cannot wallow in the shadows of my immortality any longer. From now on, I take responsibility. I take responsibility for this gift. Whether I be a blessing upon this land from the divines or an anomaly in this ever-evolving kingdom, I will forever be your ruler from the day of Queen Platinum’s passing, Epona save her.”

Celina releases Luna, who stands before her with her chest puffed out and a face of confidence. It’s an adorably exaggerated stance of propriety that makes me laugh.

“I take responsibility for my sister, Luna, who will rule by my side. Her mere existence has saved me from the depths of despair, and I can only hope she does the same for the rest of Equestria when the time comes. This is as much my return to the land of the living as it is her coronation.”

This is something I wasn’t informed of. In fact, the way the guards at the edge of the balcony share confused expressions with Queen Platinum, it seems Celina has just made this up on the spot.

“She is my sister. It only seems fair that she should be as much a princess as I am.” Celina levitates her tiara off her head and onto Luna’s. It’s far too big for the little one, but she leaps around, humming merrily regardless.

“Above all,” Celina continues, “I take responsibility for the future. What lies ahead will not be easy. There will be pain, and there will be burden. There may be times when we cannot see any light on the horizon.” She looks to the sky. “But there is always light.”

A streak of sun pierces the clouds, creating a shaft of blinding radiance the likes of which I’ve never witnessed in all my life.

“No matter how far we’ve fallen, there is always light. Even when our hearts are swallowed by darkness, our minds clouded and our judgment poor, there is, and always will be, light.”

Celina glances at me.

“Somepony very close to me taught me that.”

If it weren’t for the eyes of Everfree looking upon me, I would collapse with tears of pride and happiness for her. For now, I can only express how I feel through a warm smile and a little wave.

Celina scoops up Luna in her forelegs, flaps her wings and takes to the sky, hovering beyond the balcony for all to see. “I am your princess of light.” She holds Luna up high. “This is Luna, my dear sister.” Her horn comes alight. Every last cloud in the sky begins to fade until nothing but blue sky and wisps of white. “We will be your eternal rulers. Long live Equestria!”

Caro and Tohro raise their hooves and chant. “Long live Equestria!”

How could I do anything less than cheer along with them? I raise my hoof as well. So does Platinum, along with the guards. “Long live Equestria!” we all shout.

“Long live Equestria!” chants Xephyr.

“Long live Equestria!” chants little Treesap, who sits atop a fruit stand to wave at Tohro.

“Long live Equestria!” chants Rosemary as she blows me a kiss.

“Long live Equestria!” chants Gauntlet. He can’t keep his eyes off of Celina.

“Long live Equestria!” chants all of Everfree.

The chanting continues long after Celina stops, and I don’t think there’s any chance it’ll stop any time soon. I cannot blame the ponies of Everfree. They have waited too long for something worth cheering for.

Celina returns to the balcony, clutching Luna tightly to her chest. Luna is squirming, making needy hums. “What do you need, sister?” Celina asks her quietly. I can barely hear her among the ongoing shouting.

Luna is reaching for me, trying to break free from the forelegs holding her. Celina realizes this and lets her go, setting her down gently with her magic.

I kneel down and reach for Luna in turn. She leaps into my embrace, then looks up at me with her wide eyes, which are even more precious and adorable in the sunlight.

“Mommy!” she shouts.

The chanting goes silent. At least, for me.

I don’t know why I’m running. It’s not as if I have anything to run from anymore. For the moment, Equestria, or at least a part of it, has been made a better place. Celina is happy, Luna is happy… So, why can’t I stop running? I’m sure somepony is calling for me. I can hear my name through the pounding of blood in my ears, which only escalates in volume as I keep running.

I’ve galloped down the spiral stairs and have reached the main staircase. This is where I slow down, heaving with every breath. My heart won’t stop pounding. I can feel my chest thumping with every beat. I try to stay focused on descending these stairs, but with a hiccup, I lose my hoofing and slip. I tumble down the last few steps, landing at the bottom on my side.

“Agh…” I choke out.

Queen Platinum is at the height of the stairs, her eyes wide with worry. While she is dressed in her ornate, fur-trimmed robes, her mane is still a mess; she hardly had time to compose herself before Celina gave her impromptu speech to the masses. She only looks more haggard with the panic on her face. “Shae! Oh, Divines…” She takes the steps two and a time, landing right next to me. She reaches out with both forelegs. “Are you hurt?”

With my crash landing, the pounding in my ears has halted, but my chest still won’t be quelled. I try to steady myself with several slow, deep breaths. “I… I don’t… I don’t… don’t know. I think… I… I’m going to just lie here for a while.”

Platinum sighs. My legs are pulled by her pink aura until I’m forcibly made to stand up again. “You put Luna down and made off like the wind. Now, as your queen and benefactor, I advise that you tell me what happened.”

The memory keeps replaying in my head beyond my desire. Luna looking up at me expectantly. The two syllables coming from her tiny mouth. The way they were spoken with such innocence, without a doubt in her mind.

“I’m… She… She called me...”

“Mommy!” That’s Luna’s voice. It’s not in my head this time. It echoes through the palace corridors. My legs become further glued to the carpet every time she calls out to me. “Mommy!”

“So, that’s the way of it…” Platinum says, nodding her head affirmingly.

“Why… Why does she say that?” I find it difficult to put my words together, on account of how much I’m trembling. “Why does she call me that? I’m not her m… m...” I can’t bring myself to even say the word. It sticks in my throat like lumpy oatmeal.

“Hmm…” Platinum taps her chin, then she starts pacing. “Are you against the idea of motherhood, child?”

“What sort of question is that?” I say, shooting the queen a glare that would likely end in anypony else’s arrest. I immediately retract it. “I’m sorry… No. I hoped to become one, sometime in the future… But this isn’t—”

“Ideal?”

I can’t think of any word I could have used to justify my feelings. “That’s not it…”

“I see the way you look at Luna and Celina. It is the same look I wore once in my life, when my dear Squall was born.” Platinum pauses, making a long and weary sigh. “That... isn’t the best example. But I wore the same look when Celina came to me. I knew in my heart that I would have to call myself her mother. Yet, she doesn’t seem to return the sentiment anymore… Why should she? By all accounts, I was a horrible mother. I had the palace servants tend to her needs rather than care for her myself. I never lent her any emotional armor when she felt weak. My worst sin was never being able to see past her lineage.”

“We all make mistakes, Your Majesty…” I say softly. However, what she is saying does make me search my feelings and my prior actions.

I remember as Luna fell from the moon, I caught her, holding her close without any intent of letting her go. My immediate goal was to keep her safe and warm from the elements, along with anything else that could have harmed her.

I remember watching her waddle around the tent with her innate curiosity every night on the way here. Even though she had only existed for mere days, I still felt so proud of her whenever she found something new.

I remember how empty and scared I felt whenever she somehow fell out of my line of sight, and how relieved I felt when she inevitably returned to me. She never left me. She let Caro, Tohro and Rosemary pet her as much as they wished, but when it came to holding her, I was the only one she wanted.

I remember bathing her in only the freshest water I could find. She deserved nothing better. If I couldn’t find the perfect bath for her, I simply conjured up my own water and used that instead. I did so if even the slightest amount of dirt got on her hooves.

I remember forgoing the use of any substitute other than my own milk to nurse her. At first, the nursing was a simple obligation; she needed her strength, and I had the means to provide. However, it gradually became something I eagerly awaited, eventually becoming something I needed as much as she did.

The realization is like a warm, refreshing splash of spring water, washing away the involuntary panic. The filly I held, watched, bathed, nursed… I’m her mother.

“Mommy?”

Luna is at the top of the stairs, illuminated by the stained glass window above.

Now that my heart is slowing, I’m questioning why I even ran from her to begin with. Being a mother isn’t something I can escape, nor do I ever want to escape it. Perhaps my heart knew what I had become before my mind did, and the realization became too much for me to bear, at least for a moment… It doesn’t matter anymore. I’m not afraid.

I ascend the stairs to Luna.

My daughter.

The sun was up when I took a spot by the fireplace with Luna. The events of the day have finally caught up with me, rendering me exhausted to the point of near immobility. Even if I haven’t done much in the way of muscle, the galloping my heart and soul have done today has been more than enough to equal a battle with a thousand draugr. In the last few hours alone, I have withstood sadness, euphoria and panic, amongst other things that would overwhelm anypony else.

A humorous thought occurs to me as I wake from the umpteenth doze I’ve taken tonight. I wonder how Sundance, Eavesdrop, and Lancer will feel about me being the only student of Wintercolt Academy who has a child. I’ve long outgrown the idea that I’ll ever continue my studies there, but there is no doubt in my mind that I’ll return there a fine mage, with Luna in tow.

She’s still snuggled up against me, shielded by my forelegs. Her muzzle nestles into the folds of my robe.

Another thought… If I am to keep this up, my adventuring with Dragonrein will likely be put on hold for quite a while. I’m in no hurry to be captured by another cult, and I certainly don’t wish to witness any more death than I have to, but I’ll be saying goodbye to an opportunity to make a difference in the world, stopping dragons and corruption throughout Equestria.

Would... that be so bad?

I hear a knock at the door. It opens, letting the light of the bustling palace corridors pour into my room. Celina comes trotting in, sighing quietly. “An endless parade of townsfolk bidding me a good return to the public eye.” She chuckles. “I shouldn’t have expected anything less when I allowed the gates open.”

“You should be thankful for their appreciation,” I say.

“I am, believe me. But even a princess must escape from so much talk. It grows tiresome after a while.” She trots across the room to one of the cushions, testing it with her hoof. “Do you mind if I rest here for a while? In all likelihood, they’d be less able to find me.”

I smile at her. “I don’t mind at all, Princess. Please, take my bed.”

“You’re certain?” she asks.

“Of course.” I look down at Luna. “I don’t plan on moving anywhere for the rest of tonight.”

“As you wish.” Celina steps over to the four poster bed and lies down, stretching out her legs. “So… how is my new little sister?”

“Sleeping soundly as ever,” I say. “Huh. I wonder if she’s able to take control of her own dreams? Such power within such a small pony…” I glance at Celina, who has gotten under the covers. “Did she ever appear to you?”

“No. Mostly because, well… I never slept.” She shudders. “I’ve never truly needed to, but I have missed the sensation of letting myself drift away for a while. This will be the first time I’ve gone to bed in ages.” She lays her head on the pillow, quickly melting into its embrace. “Aaaah… I’m sure Luna and I will be able to make up for lost time within my dreams.”

“You can sleep here every night if you want Luna close by.”

“I’d like that…”

I expect Celina to close her eyes and fall asleep in a heartbeat, but she keeps her eyes open. I can see a bit of conflict within her. It’s not as prevalent as it was during her time of darkness, but I’ve grown to recognize it over time. I can’t let her sleep on something unresolved, whatever it may be. “Is something wrong?” I ask her.

“Miss Shae…” She rises from the pillow, seemingly avoiding looking me in the eye. “If Luna is my sister, and you’re her mother… what does that make me?”

I find myself looking away from Celina, pondering such a question while I watch the gentle flow of the fire before me.

To say the thought hasn’t made passes through my conscience since my earlier revelation would be a complete and utter lie. I had a feeling Celina would ask this eventually.

“You did take good care of me for a while, and even if I never showed it, I did appreciate it… Even before that, you did help me overcome my self hatred for being… well, who I am. I know I’m immortal, and I know you will be…” She stammers over the word, understandably. “You’ll be gone, someday…”

I’ve long since come to terms with that. “That doesn’t mean I can’t be here for you and Luna while I’m still alive.”

“And I will forever be grateful for that.”

Aside from our breaths, along with a few nonsensical mutterings from Luna, a long moment of silence occupies the room.

Several minutes pass before Celina finally speaks again. “Platinum and I both had the idea I could, somehow, show how much you mean to me, but… It’s a foolish idea.”

That couldn’t be further from the truth. However, Caro and Tohro both emphasized before that Celina has a right to choose her path, and I will adhere to their words. “You can call me whatever you wish. I’ll never ask you to do anything that makes you uncomfortable.”

Celina smiles wanly, her eyes shimmering. She removes herself from the covers of my bed, levitating the pillow and comforter as she trots over to me and Luna. “May I sleep next to you?”

“If you wish, Princess.”

I close my eyes as the blanket falls over me. I welcome its comfort, but it could never be as warm as my heart. I cannot imagine how I could ever be as happy as I am now.

Celina rests her head on my back.

“Thank you, Mother,” she whispers.

Author's Note

XXXIII - Abridged Intervention

~Tohro~

One small inch off course, and the lockpick snaps in half. The now useless metal bits fall from the lock. For a moment, I internally panic, fearing how cacophonic the sound of the bits could be if they hit the stone floor. Luckily, my wings reflexively stick out and catch the bits. The hallway of the soldier barracks remains silent, save for my sigh of relief, which I let out into that same wing before tucking the bits away in one of the many pockets on my leather barding.

I retrieve another lockpick. This one is a bit longer and sturdier than the seven I’ve broken thus far. It figures that the lock of an Imperial soldier’s room is the first time I have to rely on Altair’s picks. I truly have chosen the right side in this war.

Well, for the most part. I’ve seen both the good and the bad of the Imperial Legion. I’m usually the type to focus on the good, but I cannot deny that there are true scumbags to be found in the queen’s service. Pyro and Ember, for one. I do not wish their fate upon anypony, but there is no denying that what they did deserved punishment. And then we have assholes like Fade…

I am content with the large coin purses that come with working in the Legion, but if Jade is to be believed, Fade’s greed has yet to be sated. And I would trust Jade with my life. According to her letters, Fade is a few stones short of obsessive, keeping a constant record on every prisoner to enter the Imperial Legion’s grasp. If there is little to no chance for them to be claimed, he has them sold off. The reason for the purchase doesn’t seem to matter, so long as Fade receives a hefty sack of bits in the end. The selfish bastard must be swimming in it…

“You would have me believe we have a wolf among us sheep?” Queen Platinum had asked me when I presented Jade’s suspicions to her. Of course, I didn’t mention Jade’s name or allegiance. I didn’t want things to get awkward, to say the least.

“To be fair, Your Majesty, I’d rather consider this fellow a black, rabid wolf amongst us white, elegant wolves,” I had said. “With your permission, I would like to investigate Fade’s quarters and belongings.”

Needless to say, the queen was a little apprehensive towards the notion. “You would know why I would refuse such a request.”

I had expected such a response, and I replied in turn, “I understand completely, but this is a matter of security. If Fade is involved in a trafficking chain, then what is stopping him from selling off prisoners with valuable information that could win us this war? Perhaps we could step into a moral grey area for a while for the sake of the Empire’s well being?”

Her Majesty took a moment. She had paced around the room a few times before I had her figured out. It was a constant flip flop of moral consciousness that could be manipulated by an outside source.

“Perhaps you don’t have to sanction an investigation,” I suggested.

Platinum paused for a moment, then she turned to me with a wry smile on her muzzle. For a moment, I could comprehend Platinum’s thoughts, and it was wonderful. The knowledge that I’m under the employment of such a reasonable authority figure, and royalty besides, just makes my quest for peace in Equestria all the more within reach.

“Very well. You may not…” she paused, then put emphasis on the words, “have the key,” then resumed speaking normally, “to Fade’s quarters. By the way, did you know that his patrol shift occurs every other day from dusk to midnight? Isn’t that interesting? I mean, I can’t quite see how that helps anything, but for some reason I felt like relaying that completely irrelevant information to you.”

Thus, I left the throne room without the key to Fade’s room… and chuckled at the thought of the hundreds of lockpicks within my bag of holding, eagerly awaiting the day they’d be of use. Thus, here I am.

CHAPTER XXXIII - ABRIDGED INTERVENTION

I have gratitude for Altair’s skill set. He taught me the more subtle aspects of lockpicking. That brilliant gryphon could pick the gates of Tartarus if he did so wish… if he found them. But he and I, we’re thieves, so finding the unfindable is just one of our many abilities.

The lock clicks.

I let out a silent victory cheer, then open the door.

Fade’s barracks are certainly more organized than mine. His spare set of armor has been polished to a sheen that’s nearly painful to look at in the sunlight. The armor in my quarters is still stained with blood from my last encounter with Shokenda, if I recall correctly. His swords line the wall in perfect order, and his books, parchment and whatnot, it’s all sorted and stacked on his worktable. Fade must spend a lot of time in here to keep the place in shape. Perhaps he’s also had the time to ensure somepony like me doesn’t find something they shouldn’t.

I elect to look into the least likely places to find proof of his crimes. I approach the manikin and carefully remove the helmet. Fade might notice if I get dirt all over it, but if I can incriminate him, it won’t matter. However, looking into the crooks of the armor proves fruitless.

“Of course he wouldn’t hide any evidence on himself… Come now, Tohro. You’re better than this.” I survey the rest of the room. When my eyes fall on Fade’s writing desk, I decide to seek my objective in someplace a bit more obvious.

There are three drawers. The first two open without a fuss, one of them containing stray coins (Yoink), bowls and plates. The other is full of linen wraps and a couple clumps of iron ore. I can assume Fade plans on paying the blacksmith a visit later. The third drawers, however, is the one that won’t open.

I decide to remedy that issue with another few picks. The first pick breaks almost instantly the moment I turn the lock, but with a few careful adjustments, the second one opens the lock just fine. I open the drawer to reveal a variety of documents. I have no means of telling which one may involve illegal trafficking, so I simply grab the first one I see, a clean looking one embroidered with Imperial golden accents, and give it a read.

-Letter of Commendation-

Greetings, Fade of Ivarstable.

I, General Oregano of the Imperial Legion, offer my praise for your vigilantism during the Imperial Legion’s attempts to drive the Blackwings out of Trottingham. While our efforts were unsuccessful, it was a well fought battle, especially on your part. While most civilians took their belongings and ran, you took up arms to defend yourself and your fellow equine. You fought with bravery and honor, two qualities that are very much valued by our Queen Platinum, along with the rest of the Legion.

My rank bestows upon me the power of inducting new soldiers. I wish to have you join me and the true sons and daughters of Equestria in the fight to keep this land whole. Contained in this letter is a map to Everfree and a badge bearing the royal colors. Present this to the soldiers outside the barracks and they will allow you entry into my quarters.

If you wish to accept this offer, respond to me within a month.

Sincerely, General Oregano Von Spice of the Imperial Legion.

Goodness, Tangerine. Your husband was a stallion among stallions, but it seems he made a critical mistake… Unless Fade started this black market after he became a soldier. That too is a valid possibility.

The rest of the parchments include letters that don’t reveal anything of significance from a skimming. There’s little more than a few maps and some hastily scrawled reminders about patrol duty. There is absolutely nothing incriminating to be found.

“Not good enough… What would Altair do?”

I recall my mentor’s words of wisdom, which accompanied many days of training in the dimly lit corridors of Baltimare’s sewer system. Oftentimes, Altair would present me with a cabinet, or a desk, and tell me to steal an object of value from it. After a usually successful lockpicking, I would take the ring, necklace, or tiara, and pocket it silently. I was fairly good at that. Altair mixed things up a little in later days. There were times when I was only allowed one object out of many, such as an unseemingly expensive bottle of mead in a pile of fake gemstones.

Sometimes, however, there would be no treasure to be found. That is, until I discovered a removable panel hidden inside the cabinet or desk. I was one of the few to complete that test within an hour. Altair told me often, “The world would have no need for thieves if secrets were obtainable by all.”

I look beneath the desk and tap my hoof along the underside. I can’t feel anything that would lead to a secret compartment; it all just seems like regular wood. I can’t see any sort of switch or levy along the braces either. I look at the drawers again. The idea I have is a stretch, but it is worth a try. I pull out the third drawer entirely, being cautious to keep the documents organized. I hold it up to the underside the desk. Just as I thought; the drawer’s length doesn’t coincide with the desk’s length. I set the drawer down and remove the others, then look closely into the back.

“I knew it.” That isn’t the back of the desk, it’s a imposed board. It falls with a simple push of my hoof, revealing a black, unmarked book and a set of quills and ink. I grab the book and lay it out on the top of the desk. “It’s either erotic fiction or something I can use to prove you guilty… Possibly both, if luck serves. Now, Fade, what are your secrets?”

The first few pages appear blank, so I flip through the book rapidly until I come across a page with writing. I was expecting journal entries, or perhaps a checklist of actions taken to ensure security in his trafficking, but this is outright meticulous. What sort of criminal creates such a detailed list of transactions like this?

Client: Segment 3,000 bits 1 pegasus, 2 earthwalkers
Hard labor for construction of unofficial tollgate.

Client: Et Voila 1,500 bits 1 unicorn
Sideshow for traveling performer. Expect return with damage.

Client: Temerity Blackwing 13,000 bits 6 unicorns, 10 pegasi, 5 earthwalkers
All purchases were children. Paid extra to not disclose purpose of purchase.

Clients: Lock and Key 2,000 bits 2 earthwalkers
Prostitution. I recommended earthwalkers as they would be less likely to escape.

Many of these records make me want to vomit. By Fade’s writing, it seems that he holds complete apathy for the lives he ruins. I thank the Divines that I’m able to find the cult’s purchase on the third page, just before I lose my lunch.

Clients: Unknown females 7,000 bits 4 unicorns
Clients wore heavy robes. Paid extra to not disclose purpose of purchase.

Jade was telling the truth, not that there was any doubt in my mind. The situation is worse than I thought. This journal is enormous, and hundreds of these pages are filled from end to end. With this, I have enough evidence to put Fade away in a cell for fifty lifetimes… Or, just end his one right now.

“You see, Caro? That is what you do. You let the authorities handle these matters and let the act of justice be known to the ponies of—”

“What in the name of...?!” shouts a gravelly voice.

I turn around on a single hoof and crouch in a defensive stance. “Fade?” I ask accusingly. The unicorn stallion standing in the doorway has a dark blue body and a heavily trimmed mane. He’s clad in light Imperial armor, but he’s still about a head taller than me. “Yeah, thought it’d be you…”

“Thief!” He points at me, advancing forward. His horn comes alight, levitating two wakizashi from his sheaths. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Aw, I’m offended!” I pout, coming out of my stance, dropping my hood and giving a flip of one of my golden locks. I deliberately stand in the way of the open book, keeping it out of Fade’s line of sight. “I’ve been a part of this outfit for half a year now, and you don’t even recognize me?”

“Oh, Tohro…” The stallion relaxes a little, putting away his blades and chuckling to himself. “My apologies. I heard the rumors that you were part of the Thieves Guild, but I took that with a grain of…”

“The salt and whatnot. Yes, yes, I know. It’s all very confusing, but the Thieves Guild are actually quite an honorable flock of feathered faces. Think of my joining them as a way of bringing justice beneath the muzzles of authority.” And never has such a phrase been so appropriate for my quest. “Plus, the skills I’ve learned from them can serve the Legion.”

“That’s all fine and good with me.” Fade tilts his head, his eyes looking to the ceiling, as if he’s trying to comprehend something beyond his grasp. “Hm, I wouldn’t have let Lightning Brand take my shift if I’d known Platinum had issued room inspection.”

He cannot tell I’m here to swipe his personals, and yet he’s managed to put together a discreet trafficking service… Okay.

“Yes, it’s just another slag job for a freshly grown leaf like me,” I say, playing along with the lie Fade created. “But it is only fair that I ensure my fellow soldiers are as cleanly as they are mighty.” As I speak, I reach behind me nonchalantly, and silently move the book my way. “After all, if the Dragonborn can be so obsessed with his hygiene, we should all follow his example.”

“Do what you must, then.” Fade walks about the room for a little bit. He hasn’t asked me to leave, so I won’t. I watch him with my eyes, avoiding turning my head his way. He paces about the room absentmindedly, looking calm enough. At least, it seems that way. Upon closer glance, I can see that his eyes betray his actions as well as mine, looking towards the desk. The moment before he turns his head, I quickly slide the book off the desk and into my bag.

“Well, everything seems to be in order!” I say, casting my hoof into the air and letting out a false yawn. I clutch my bag tight to me as I walk past Fade. “Keep up the good work, soldier.” I pat him on the barrel, specifically on the belt of his armor. “Perhaps we’ll have a round at Blink’s pub later.”

Fade smiles down at me. “Of course.” He watches me as I trot to the door. “Oh, Tohro…”

“Yes?”

My hoof halts before it touches the stone floor. It’s forced into the air, yanking the rest of my body with it. I grit my teeth. My eyelids are squinting furiously as I try to ignore the pain. My shoulder burns as my foreleg is twisted like dough.

My body is turned around. Through the slits of my vision, I can see Fade approaching me, looking simultaneously cocky and angry, his horn alight. “I’ll have my book back now.”

I don’t think Fade has any intention of breaking my leg, but he is keeping me on the brink. My muscles feel like they’re tearing apart. “I… argh... have no… idea—”

“Did I say you could talk? I said I want my book, not lies.”

I’m sent airborne into solid brick. As I slide to the ground, I clutch the back of my head and let out a silent growl of anguish. “Grrrraaaagh…” I will away the pain with a sickly smirk aimed right at Fade’s gruff mug. “Heh. I’ve had worse.”

One of Fade’s wakizashi embeds itself in the wall, close enough for me to see my wide-eyed reflection. My white coat does look quite good with this dark outfit. It brings out the natural sparkle in my eyes.

Fade holds out his hoof, his other wakizashi flourishing out of its sheathe. “Book.”

I look into my reflection again; if I’m going to die at the hooves of this money grubber, I may as well die looking at something beautiful.

However, it seems that I have a good way out of this. I can see the alarm bell on the opposite end of the hallway. That gives me the best idea I’ve had all day. If an emergency calls for all available soldiers, all one must do is ring that bell. I suppose a private under assault by a traitor would qualify.

I snatch the wakizashi and yank it out of the wall, slashing at Fade. He’s a nimble one, able to leap back and turn in an instant. Whether or not I wounded him doesn’t matter. I now have enough time to flare my wings out and give them a strong thrash, forcing Fade back a little. With some extra space between me and him, I leap to my hooves and charge at the bell, tugging on the rope.

My shouting accompanies the echo of the bell’s ringing. “Wake up, everypony! Soldier needs assistance! Any moment now!”

Fade has finally gained his balance, stepping my way with both of his wakizashis in tow. “Damn y—”

To the sound of dozens of shouting voices and the stomping of armored hooves, every door in the hall opens at once. Imperial soldiers gallop out into the hallway, all in full arms and armor. I smile, proud to be part of such a fierce army. I can’t recall any time the Blackwings were this organized.

One of the soldiers, a mare in exotic, extravagantly customized armor and robes, turns my way. “Intruder, Private Tohro?” Her attention is quickly accompanied by the other soldiers.

I point at Fade, who is turning back and forth, his mouth agape in confusion. “There!” I pause as the soldiers look at him. Understandably, not all of them are reaching for their weapons. “Fade! We must take him to Queen Platinum! He’s illegally trafficking prisoners!”

“Bullshit, I am!” Fade shouts. “I’ve served the Empire for longer than most of you lot!"

“You are sure of this?” the mare-soldier asks me. “False accusations are not humor to us, Private.”

“I have evidence to present to the queen herself!” It would be a regrettable idea to let it slip that the dear queen gave me ‘orders’ to search Fade’s quarters, so I keep that unsaid.

Fade is unable to keep calm, clenching his teeth and fuming at the nostrils as he eyes the exit. That mistake will likely be his undoing. “He’s lying! He was—”

The mare approaches Fade, gently touching the blade of his wakizashi and pushing it down. “Stay calm, soldier. We’ll go to Her Majesty about this. If Tohro is lying, then you have nothing to fear.”

“This doesn’t have to get messy,” I say, my brow furrowed. I keep my wings spread, parting my feathers to show off my wing blades. The other soldiers have their weapons drawn as well, all of them focused cautiously on Fade.

"Why are you all looking to me with your blades?!” He’s spitting with anger, thrusting his hoof at me. “He’s the one who gallops alongside thieves and vigilantes! He even keeps the name of his true allegiance! Blackwi—"

The mare brings her hoof down. On his head. "Shut your trap, soldier.”

“What the hell, lady?!”

“You should know by now. Tohro keeps the name Blackwing to remind himself of the sins he's repenting for, just as he keeps that scar. Not to mention that he and his friends have better protected the interests of Queen Platinum over you, I, or any Imperial since their little guild was sanctioned. Now, move."

Fade almost wilts at the intensity of her glare, and I can't help the fact that my wings spread a bit further, straying from my battle-ready position, and more towards respect for this mare.

“Yes, well…” Fade says, his head tucked to his neck. “See… I have no intention of rotting in a cell, so…” His horn flashes, and he stomps the ground.

White fills my vision as I the soldiers all grunt and yell. I expect that when my vision returns, Fade won’t be standing there anymore. The first thing I see is the big mare’s pretty muzzle; the rest of her face is covered by her gold mask and a white hood. “Are you well, sir?”

“Better now,” I reply. I look over her shoulder. Everypony else has their hooves to their eyes, their heads bowed and their hooves shuffling. Fade has essentially turned this disciplined group of hardened soldiers into a bunch of confused children.

“Someone put out the light! I can’t see shit!” one of the younger soldiers shouts.

I fly over the soldiers as they try to gather themselves back to order, looking around the corner at the exit. The door is still closing, and I can see an armored hoof just slipping out of sight.

“There!” I kick off the ground and flap my wings, sending me right up to the door. I shove it open, rolling into the barracks’ training grounds. Archers are usually refining their uses of crossbows and longbows on the painted targets laying about the place, with others duking it out in the sandpit. However, there isn’t anypony present, much to my frustration. They must all be on duty.

“Tohro!” The mare-soldier is approaching me, flapping a rather large set of lilac wings. “It seems that you and I are the only ones who can catch him.”

I exhale furiously. “Damn you, Fade!” I tap my head, trying to formulate a plan. “Well, uh… How fast can you fly?” I ask my companion.

“Fast enough,” she says.

“We’ll fly over and call all soldiers, sellswords, anypony with a weapon to arms and tell them to sweep the streets. Make sure all exits are blocked. Cover cracks in the wall if you have to.”

She nods to every word. “Yes, sir. I will follow you.”

The mare-soldier and I take flight, soaring above the barracks’ entrance and sweeping over the white buildings of Everfree. While my eyes trace the streets frantically for a galloping blue unicorn, I hear the mare-soldier speak. “If Fade should be found, what will become of him?”

I keep my head down as I speak. “We turn him over to Queen Platinum.”

“No shit, sir. But will he go to the block?”

I don’t truly know if he will, but I don’t wish to answer. I don’t want to sound as if I want Fade to die. I don’t care what heinous things he has done, I do not wish death upon him. I’m not that sort of pony…

~Vision End~

~Shae~

The whole world is like an old painting I'd see hung in the lower, less refined floors of Wintercolt Academy. The colors of Everfree are muted and grey. The edges of my vision are all but black, threatening to consume the rest. It's as if I bear the weight of a hundred chains on my head. It takes all of my strength to keep my chin from falling onto the wood table... Let sleep overtake me...

"Mommy!"

I shake my head, throwing aside all of my desire to let my head fall. I turn in my seat and look down, seeing my little blue filly staring up at me with nothing but reverence and love in her turquoise eyes... as well as a look that I've come to memorize as a desire for nourishment.

"Just a moment, Luna." One of my hooves sorts through my bag, the other stroking my daughter's mane. Beneath my now well dwindled selection of potions and alchemical ingredients, I find many bottles of my milk. I levitate Luna onto my lap and hoof over the bottle, taking off the cap for her. Her thirst, as per usual, is almost inequine, more like that of a minotaur at a Hearth's Warming feast.

"The bairn has a warrior's belly, that's for true," says Rosemary as she takes a bite of an alfalfa and bean bun. While her chewing starts off loud and boisterous as per the norm, she quickly slows down to look me over, her smile waning. "I know I repeat myself, but you're absolutely sure you're well, lassie? You were dozin' off there."

“Was I?” I ask, though I mostly say it in denial. I’m well aware of many things at this moment, though the last time I had more than an hour of sleep is not one of those things. Though I may have had two hours yesterday… I can’t remember.

Luna snuggles into my lap, humming a rhythmless tune as she usually does. Being me, I had anticipated the worst when I brought her out in public for the first time, but whatever fear I had wasn’t held by the little one. She had alternated between standing close to me, hugging my legs to reassure me that she was still well and around, and running about to stare intently at every single thing that could possibly be seen. It was a constant flux of cuteness and terror for me.

“I can’t let this filly leave my sight for a second lest I lose my sanity,” I say to Rose. “That’s why I’ve been so reluctant to have a day with you. This filly…” As I pet Luna, her ear twitches. “She’s my life now.”

“Luna!” I hear Celina call. “Come here! I want to show you something!” Immediately, Luna leaps out of my grasp and hits the ground running, stumbling a little as she runs to Celina outside the pub.

I turn to Celina. “Don’t you go too far away with her!”

“I know, Mother,” says Celina. She says that with slight exasperation, as I’m sure she’s used to hearing that by now. “We’re only going to the spectral fountain. It changes color every time you toss a coin in, it’s amazing.” She levitates Luna onto her back and trots away. “We’ll be back soon.”

“Be safe…” I slowly turn back to Rose, who is wearing that sinister smirk once again. “What?”

"Don't make me take ya right here n' now, love. You're bein' too damn cute for your own good."

I grab my mug and churn down a very large gulp of grape juice to cover my embarrassingly large blush. “Could you not?” I ask, slamming the mug down. I’ve nearly emptied the whole thing.

Rose shrugs and continues to nibble on her meal. “Only statin’ the honest truth… You know, you’re bein’ somepony completely different when you’re around your little ones. Well, Celina ain’t so little, but dodgin’ my point.”

“Trust me, Celina isn’t much easier than Luna.”

“How so?”

As I search my memory, I recall a particularly long night filled with trembling and cold sweat. Celina’s pink mane, for a moment, had taken on a deathly grey color. “You were gone… You were all gone…”

“It’s okay, it’s over now. I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

“Night terrors, I presume?” I hear Rose ask, pulling me back into the present.

"Yes, night terrors... I should have expected as much. One does not simply face eternity with a smile on their face. Celina was right to say I have no idea what she's going through."

"Would you want to?"

I look into what remains of my grape juice, trying to come to an answer. On the one hoof, knowing how Celina reacted to the concept of immortality, I don't think I'd like to know it myself. But then again, if it could help her cope with eternity all the better by the time I'm gone... "Yes. Without question."

"You're a bloody saint, Shae..." Rose says with a mock sneer. She sighs, resting both of her hooves over each other on the table. "I love you."

"Huh?" I ask, looking up from my mug to see Rose, her head tilted and her lips curled into a rather sheepish smile. I blink a few times, realizing that this is the first time I've heard those three words come out of her mouth. I’ve always known, so her actually saying it comes as a bit of a shock, but it’s a shock of the wonderful sort. I smile back at her. "...I love you too."

Rosemary lets out a heavy breath she must have been holding. After a few moments of comfortable silence pass, we both know that those words haven’t changed a thing between us, and that’s just fine.

“So, you were talking about buying yourself a forge?” I ask.

~Vision End~

~Tohro~

“Tally-ho!” The mare-soldier leaps out of the alley, throwing her forelegs around Fade’s hindquarters. She slams him to the ground, rendering him helpless with a haymaker to his back.

It’s far more satisfying than it should be to hear him yell, but after an hour of seeking this bastard out, seeing him hurt a little just makes me smile. However, I shake that gratification off as I approach him. “I told you, this didn’t have to get messy, but you just can’t seem to take honest advice from an honest colt. But, then again…” I wave Fade’s book of sins in front of his face in a taunting gesture. “Honesty isn’t part of your ideals, isn’t it?”

Fade reaches for the book, but I’m easily able to snatch it back and put it away. He growls at me and spits at my hooves. “Spare me your moral speeches, Tohro. You know neither of us is above the other.”

I may as well humor him. “Meaning?”

“You lied and cheated, breaking the law to incriminate me. Even now, you wear Altair’s leather. You’ve only proven my point. If you’re to continue your lawbreaking in the name of catching lawbreakers, who is to say that the liberties of the good ponies of Everfree won’t be compromised? Odds are, some authorities might want to follow in your footsteps.” Fade smiles. “I’m sure you’re familiar with why Baltimare disconnected from the Empire at this war’s beginning?”

I remember well enough, so I nod reticently.

The mare-soldier asks, “What is he talking about?”

I sigh. While explaining the Empire’s greatest mistake won’t exactly help my case, I speak anyway. “When the commanding officers of the Legion wanted to snuff out any signs of Blackwing resistance, they ransacked the houses of many civilians. It was a foolish gesture, not to mention an unsanctioned one. It only strengthened Shokenda’s arguments against the Empire, and drove Baltimare to breaking ties.”

Despite that, I still have my resolve. I show one of my hidden blades and present it to Fade. “Woah!” he shouts.

“But it’s a thing of the past. I am above you, Fade. Don’t feed me any of your morality bullshit; you sold ponies against their will. Prisoners or no, you’ve ruined countless lives in the name of profit. Your opinion is meaningless.”

Fade’s nostrils flare as he goes unusually still. “Well, so much for diplomacy, then…” His horn flashes, and he disappears, leaving the mare-soldier to fall onto her stomach. He reappears next to me with his both of his wakizashi cocked back.

I get on my hind legs and lean back to dodge Fade’s swings. He made the mistake of using both swords at once, leaving himself wide open. I buck at his chin with one leg, following up with his stomach. I twist my hoof as it lands in the soft cloth of his light armor, adding a bit of spin to his knockback. However, he catches himself with levitation and lands on his hooves like a feline.

He charges directly at me, swinging his blade. I dodge to the side and strike his leg, in the hopes that he drops his weapon, but just as my hoof collides with him, he disappears.

I hear him galloping away from behind me. I about face, looking down the surrounding streets and alleyways for where he could have run off to.

“Sir, there!” The mare-soldier casts out her hoof at the nearby market stands. The shopping townsfolk are disrupted from their errands by a certain unicorn shoving aside anypony in his way.

“Good eye.” I kick off the ground and start flying, following the trail of fallen over ponies. Fade must have taken at least some damage, as he’s not galloping as fast as before. My greatest concern is that he’ll teleport away like a coward. I overtake him and retract my wings, landing and drifting to a stop in front of a small pub.

“You irritate me, Fade!” I present my loaded crossbow to the bastard. “I’m warning you!”

He’s looking around again, and I just know he’s gonna dart off in a hurry. The crowd makes things difficult for him, and the way behind him is out of the question, as my companion is standing there, her hoof reaching for her sword. “Put your weapons down. You don’t have to make this difficult.”

Fade growls at the both of us. “You chose to make this difficult.” His head turns towards the pub. I look there as well, noticing how its doors are wide open, and there’s an exit on the other side of the interior…

I dive for Fade as he kicks off. I slam into his barrel, and we roll into the pub together, my forelegs wrapping around his neck, his hind legs bucking haplessly at the air. I touch his horn, immediately putting out his light and any attempt to teleport away again.

“Tohro?!”

I look up to see a familiar lavender unicorn amongst the standing patrons.

“Hello, Shae! How’ve you been?” I ask, pressing Fade’s head into the gravel.

Rosemary is there too, visibly chuckling at the unusual sight. As for Shae, she looks confused as anypony would. I’m about to explain the situation when Fade brings his head back quickly, slamming it into my muzzle. I flinch long enough for Fade to buck me off of him and rise to his hooves. He starts running.

I catch myself in the air. “You son of a—” I stop myself as I see Shae reach out to Fade and swing her hoof to the right. Fade trips and falls, barreling into the wall next to the exit. Shae looks at her hoof and smirks. It seems my favorite unicorn has more power than she thought she did.

Shae rises onto her hind legs and brings her hooves up slowly. The apple cider in Rosemary’s mug floats into the air, followed by the many other drinks throughout the pub. They all coalesce above her into a single liquid mass. With another flex of her foreleg, shots of the liquid fly at Fade, turning into solid ice on contact. He starts to gallop away until one shot freezes his hoof to the ground. Another crystallizes around his horn, rendering him unable to disappear.

Shae has the widest smile on her face as she returns to standing on four hooves. “It seems I haven’t lost my touch.” She makes a step towards Fade before stumbling over. As per the norm, Rosemary is there to keep her from falling. “Okay, I lied.”

Fade must be seeing red, with how wide his scowl is. With a particularly shrill yell, he breaks his hoof free from the ice, though not without leaving a few pieces of himself behind. Combined with the other daggers of ice piercing his armor, he leaves quite a trail of blood as he runs out of the pub.

I aim my crossbow, ready to give him another bad leg, but he quickly downs a bronze vial and disappears from sight. I drop my aim and shout, “What the hell?!”

“Invisibility potion…” Shae mutters. “Third tier alchemy.”

“That might explain why it took so long to find him,” says the mare-soldier.

“Well, you needn’t get into a rush, then,” comments Rosemary as she ushers Shae back to her seat. “You have a trail right to him.”

The mare-soldier trots towards the exit, tracing the blood trail while speaking to Rosey. “I wouldn’t be so laid back. Either he’s off to have himself a prayer at the church of Epona, or he’s making a break for the ships.”

I purse my lips. I can think of at least a few more insults towards Fade I’m reluctant to say in polite company. I swallow them all at once and take flight. “Thank you, Shae.”

The poor doll is resting her head on the table, but she waves at me with as much love as ever.

With that, the mare-soldier and I continue forth, galloping down the road with Fade’s blood serving as our navigator. We’re passing by other food stalls and restaurants, where standers by are backing away in confusion at the blood trail.

“He’s bloody fast for a fellow with a damaged hoof,” the mare-soldier remarks.

“Damn nuisance, that’s what he is.” I glance at her and her grin, which is all I can see of her face beneath that helmet. “And you sound upbeat about that.”

“What can I say, sir? I love action.”

I smile as she and I turn the corner, following the blood trail past the aforementioned church. “So do I.”

The smell of moisture on the air tells me we’re nearing the water. The finely polished streets have given way to stone roads and wooden platforms, with tunnels lining the waterfront. A pair of pegasus soldiers stand at the top of stairs that lead down to the docks proper. They’re standing around a rather large drop of blood.

“Oi,” I call to them, forgoing my manners.

“Ah, Private Tohro,” says one of them, paying my lack of propriety no mind. He looks to the mare-soldier. “And…?”

She quickly bows in response. “Private Mistral. I’m new blood. And speaking of which...”

I had paused for a moment, realizing how rude it was of me to never ask this fine fighter’s name. Given the circumstances, I hadn’t given it a thought. In any case, I turn my attention to the trail, which has come to an end.

“Yeah, we were meaning to ask about that," says one of the soldiers. "We were just passing by on our standard rounds, and imagine our shock when we saw splatters of red everywhere. You know anything about this?”

“Lying, traitorous bastard’s bleeding lying traitor bastard blood, and he’s gone invisible on us,” I say. I’m wearing my irritation with Fade on my withers. “Unless you want an illegal trafficker leaving this city without facing justice, you’ll fly off to every captain in this harbor and tell them they’re not going anywhere until the criminal is caught!”

"A-ah, right, yessir! Right away!" One of the guards rears back a bit, turning around, before swiftly fleeing towards the dock's small tavern, where a large collection of guards are taking a rest.

I turn towards the other one, almost feeling guilty at the way I scared his friend, but his smile eases that thought, letting me get back to the matter at hoof. "Right. The traitor's a trader. Prisoner trader, to be exact. Sells other ponies for personal gain, and has, by his own records, been doing so for a sizable time now. If your friend can handle warning the guards, could you give us a hoof, show us known hiding spots 'round the docks?"

This is a formality at best, really; after my time in the Thieves' Guild, and even with my experience from before then, I can find a certain rat in the sewers after seeing him once... if I have time, which is something that is being scattered to the winds with every passing second.

"Well, 'course I can," he says. "Follow me a ways, and I'll point out a few spots along the dock most ponies would think to hide."

As we start galloping down the stairs, the guard looking almost smugly calm as he casually takes in a breath of air. "What kind is he, anyways? Pegasus, he might've flown to a high-up nook or cranny to hide, or gone under the piers. Groundpounders like me usually stick to hiding in empty stalls, or taking a dip in the drink below. Unicorns can hide in nearly all those places, plus a few others besides, 'specially if they've got teleportation."

Gah, Divines dammit, Fade! I snap my wings out, the tips almost brushing the walls on either side. "He's is a unicorn, but he can’t use magic. Horn encased in ice. Drank himself an invisibility potion. Not sure if he'd really be hiding; more likely he'll be trying to find a quick way out of town."

I look around and see the soldiers pouring out of their tavern, speaking to whatever seafaring ponies they can find, presumingly informing them to stand anchored. That's of no use to me. I keep my ears alert as I look across the harbor.

“...and it doesn’t matter how much it costs. Money is no issue to anypony here. Get me out of here and I'll have your whole crew set for the next decade!"

My ear twitches as a voice echoes down a side tunnel. Enraged, whiny, and desperate. That's him. Twisting myself to the right, I slam my hooves into the wall and jump down the tunnel towards the third docking bay, practically running along the ceiling as I push myself faster.

I see the light ahead, the voice getting higher, louder, more desperate, until I burst out onto a dock, barely missing Fade as he ducks below my outstretched hoof. I change direction in midair and make a sweep at him. He dodges that as well, though he nearly stumbles into his gruff looking associate. Looking at Fade, I can see his body is still slightly translucent from the potion.

"This ends here, Fade," I say as I land in a crouch, ready to attack or gain altitude if the need arises. "You've disrespected the law, and you've disrespected me. Time to find out which one hits harder."

"You're a determined one, aren't you?" he asks, drawing a wakizashi with his mouth.

"You hurt my friend, Fade."

He bites the hilt. "I don't care!"

Mistral is charging out of the tunnel, the other guard hot on her hooves. Fade almost makes the mistake of looking back at her, but keeps his glare on me. Good. He's afraid of me.

For a second, he's standing in front of me, but the moment he makes a move at me, he disappears in a gust of wind, his blade clattering to the wood. I look to the sky and see Mistral soaring up high with Fade dangling in her grasp. There’s no escape for him up there. He can’t disappear, and he can’t hit back.

Mistral wraps all four of her legs around Fade’s barrel and folds her wings. She enters a freefall, spinning as she steers towards a schooner anchored at the docks. At the last possible second, before she hits the ship, she pulls up, dropping Fade and looping back around.

I leap off the dock and fly for the schooner, skimming the water of the harbor as I do so. I land at the helm of the ship, where the crew is gathering to watch what I’m sure is an interesting sight to them. Fade has drawn his other wakizashi, using his hooves to swing it uncoordinatedly at Mistral. She doesn’t even seem to be fazed by his attempts on her. She reaches for her blade and makes a blindingly fast swing at Fade, who only dodges by a hair’s width, stumbling towards me.

I hit him in the chest with one hoof, the other landing squarely in his jaw. I go airborne, gaining momentum with a few spins, and slam my hind leg into Fade’s barrel, relieving him of his weapon and sending him rolling towards the wheel of the ship, where Mistral awaits.

She pins Fade to the deck, then places her hooves on the handles of the wheel. “Port or starboard?”

Fade spits at her. “Go to hell!”

Mistral smiles. “I figured as much.”

She spins the wheel, bringing a handle down on Fade’s leg. An audible snap silences the crew.

Fade, for all his big talk and apparent ‘bravery,’ lets out a strangled whine before slumping forward, unconscious. Mistral is huffing and snorting, eyes flicking wildly as her nostrils flare. The adrenaline is strong in this one.

"Private Mistral!" I bark, snapping the mare to attention.

She immediately stands at attention. "Sir!"

I force myself relax a little, and so does she. "You were fantastic, but don't forget that we're better than him. Soldier brutality isn't something we should strive for. Consider what happened today as a last resort."

"Yes, sir." She has the good grace to appear chastened, despite the armor covering most of her. "Sorry, sir. I got... carried away."

"This was probably your first chase, then, I presume. And perhaps even your first real fight. You did well, but only use your emotions as a strength in battle; let them control your choices, and they're naught but a weakness. Otherwise..." For a moment, I think of Caro, and a certain horrifying moment in Baltimare... Shaking myself out of my lecture, I point towards Fade, who is rousing himself from his unconsciousness. "Now, then. Let's heal this traitor’s leg and bring him to the queen."

Night has fallen.

The many soldiers from the docks may not have been able to serve much use in capturing Fade, not that they ever had the chance, but I am able to appreciate their willingness to escort his weak body to the Rainbow Palace. Unicorn soldiers carry Fade on a makeshift bed, with one of them healing his leg to prevent any permanent damage. She promised to not fully heal him so he wouldn’t gallop off again.

“This went too far, Fade,” I say to him.

His face is bruised and bled, yet that doesn’t stop him from scowling at me.

“You hurt people. It didn’t matter if they were criminals in cells, you hurt them. You ruined whatever chance they had at a normal life. You sold life, and your dignity, for coins. There is nothing but evil to such an act, and any attempts to justify it will be ignored. You’re not a good stallion, Fade.”

He has a look of pure loathing towards me. This is nothing new.

I look away from him and continue speaking. “I have your book, Fade. I must commend you on your organization; not many criminals would have such a detailed list of committed acts, but given your trade, I suppose keeping records was a necessity. But the book can serve another purpose, you know. It could save you from the axe.”

“...How?” he asks, begrudgingly.

“It’s quite simple. You tell the queen that you’re willing to turn over the book as evidence of your crimes, which can allow the Imperial Legion, along with anypony else looking to do good deeds, to seek out the prisoners you’ve sold, as well as apprehend those who purchased them. For making amends, you may be out of prison in less than a year.” I place my hoof on the makeshift bed. “But that will only happen if you allow it to happen.”

Fade doesn’t respond. He rolls his head over, deliberately looking away from me.

“It’s just something to think about,” I say, allowing Fade to sort out his thoughts. My greatest concern is that he’ll refuse out of stubbornness, or even worse, disbelief that anypony could show him such kindness. I turn to Mistral, who has been listening intently the whole time. “I’ve seen too many ponies sent to their deaths without a second chance. Unfortunately, many times I was the one gifting them their end.”

“The Blackwing assassin isn’t an advocate for murder,” she quips. “Now I truly have seen everything.”

“Oh, if only…” She can’t imagine the sights I’ve seen, but those are tales for another time. We’ve already made our way to the palace gates, where I hold out my hoof commandingly. I’m about to say something, but much to my surprise, the other soldiers stop on a dime from my gesture alone. “Huh.” I shrug and speak. “Set him down. Criminal or no, I won’t have him bedridden in the good queen’s presence.”

Fade’s healer steps away as the makeshift bed slowly descends.

“Get up,” I order the traitor.

He does so. While he doesn’t show any sign of pain, he is obviously limping and unable to go much faster than a trod. That’s good enough for me.

“Soldiers, take him to the queen, obviously. I’ll catch up with you.”

The gatekeepers allow the soldiers, and the limping Fade, to pass into the palace. The guards form a circular formation around Fade, keeping him from performing any acts that resemble shenanigans. I’ve had enough of shenanigans for one day. I think it’s time I focus on another objective.

An objective called Mistral.

I intercept her as she goes to join the other soldiers. It’s been quite some time, and I’m quite out of practice with a seductive look, but I think I pull it off well enough; she chuckles in return. “So, I can’t help but notice you keep that hood up," I comment.

“How about you amend that?” she replies. Her words sound rather saucy. I think we’re on the same page of this tome. I reach for her hood and pull it off, letting it fall around her spaulders, to reveal a heavily braided white mane. As she pulls off her gold helm, I’m treated to a greyed lilac face. Her eyes are rather wide and childlike, though her right one looks faded. It must be a glass eye.

“You and I quite the kindred spirits, Mistral,” I whisper. “We both love a good brawl, we’re rather playful with our foes, yet we value life above all else. Am I right so far?”

“Very much so.” She nods, reaching out to me and brushing a few stray locks out of my eyes. “I’m sensing something here.”

“I knew I wasn’t the only one...” I press my hoof against her chest and gently push her up against a nearby house. With her unable to gallop off anywhere, not that she seems to have any desire to, I lean in and kiss her. I pull away, eager to see her reaction, only to have her return the favor. Her lips are young and spry, not at all like the hardened sticks I have to put up with on a daily basis. When she pulls away, I nuzzle her and whisper in her ear, “What are you doing later?”

“I was considering disrobing and taking a bath… Of course, you’re welcome to join me, sir.”

"I think I'd like that, Private."

Her breath his hot on my muzzle. "I was thinking public, sir." Ohoho, she's cheeky, too!

I’m tempted to slip my hooves into the joints of her armor and undo her straps, but before I’m able to make any such move, the cacophony of shouting soldiers violates my ears.

The soldier part of me forces my body to move away from Mistral, returning to a professional disposition as I gallop towards the shouting. It’s concerning enough as is, but my heart starts pounding when I realize the shouts are coming from the Rainbow Palace.

“What is it now?” I ask nopony in particular.

I gallop to the palace entrance and open the doors, not waiting for them to close behind me as I run into the entrance hall. The shouting is coming from the corridor next to me. I make a few steps before I cross paths with Fade’s healer, who has removed his helmet to show panicked eyes and an open mouth; he’s hyperventilating.

“S-sir, it’s Fade, he—”

My hoof hits the floor so hard, it leaves a scuff in the carpet. I may have to compensate the caretakers of the palace for that, but how could I care? As my vision passes over one of the palace’s many windows, I’m tempted to break it. That wouldn’t accomplish much, though. Instead, I turn my anger into a long breath, and turn to the unicorn soldier. “He ran away again?” I ask.

The response is much less what I expect; he shakes his head. “I… don’t think that will be much of an issue, sir…”

“How do you mean?” I ask, unable to theorize what could have possibly happened.

The unicorn soldier beckons to me and trots into the corridor. I follow closely. “We were doing as you commanded, escorting Fade to the queen’s chambers under absolute watch. Nothing could have gone wrong, but, somehow…”

We turn the corner, where the other soldiers lay disheveled and spent. Some rest up against the walls, others sit, furrowing their brows.

“Sir…” one of them says, looking my way. “There was nothing we could do. Everything just went black, and when we opened our eyes, well…” She nods towards the opposite wall, where nopony is resting. I look up, and see exactly what has everypony so distraught.

Fade is impaled to the wall, displaying an unmoving expression of horrid surprise. His blood has already stained the drapery and the carpet.

I blink a few times, just to ensure what I’m seeing is real. When I’m absolutely sure it’s not a hallucination, I mutter, “Fuck.”

Queen Platinum has well taken in the scene, her muzzle crinkled in disgust. "My, my. And the carpet was freshly put in... Shame." She turns toward me, a questioning gleam in her eyes. "Well, Tohro, what do you make of this?"

"I… I don’t really know," I manage to murmur as I look around the corridor. The shock of first seeing Fade like this is still crawling along my spine. "I wasn’t here, so the culprit must have been waiting for my absence. The only two ways in or out would be through the door to the Throne Room, or the window..." I reach out and place my hoof against the glass, pressing firmly. "This is stuck fast; most likely never meant to be useable in the first place."

Her Majesty survey’s Fade’s corpse again, particularly what has been used to impale him. "Do you know whose sword that is?"

Of course I know whose sword it is. It's Mistral's. She'd flashed it around enough during her battle with Fade for me to recognize its unique appearance; a pearly white blade that perfectly segues into an elegant black hilt. I daresay it looks familiar...

"Yes, it's Mistral's,” I tell the queen. “She is the mare who had helped me bring Fade in. But she's not likely to have done this..." On account of my nearly successful attempt at having her alone.

“Private Tohro is correct, Your Majesty,” says Mistral. She too seems to be in mild shock, gangling stiffly towards us. “I was with him when Fade was killed. Whoever stole my sword must be a superior thief to even Altair himself.”

She said that with a bit of reverence to her voice. Either way, I nod in agreement. “She speaks nothing but the truth, My Queen.”

“And I believe her wholeheartedly, as I do you, Tohro.” Queen Platinum lends both me and Mistral comforting touches of her hoof on our withers. “Now, Private Mistral, I must suggest you go lick your wounds and give yourself a thorough bathing. You look absolutely flustered from what has transpired today.”

Mistral bows to Queen Platinum before taking her leave. She gives me a lick of her lips and a sultry wink as she turns the corner.

“As for you, Tohro…” The queen checks around her before she gets rather close with me. She whispers, “Was your investigation successful?”

“Oh!” With all of the excitement of recent moments, I had nearly forgotten about presenting my discovery to the queen. Better now than never, I suppose. I reach into my pouch and conjure up Fade’s book of sin. “Every single sale Fade has ever made can be found in this.”

Platinum takes the book with aura and flips through it. Her frown intensifies with every turn of a page. “Hmmm, this is most concerning… We would know more about these sales if it weren’t for, well…” She nods to the corpse bound to the wall. “But not for naught!” she says, suddenly rather chipper. “We can still make use of the names he has left in here. There is a lot of power in knowing just one pony’s name, Tohro, never forget that. Now, I’ll have a few scribes write up wanted lists for the purchasers in this book. I’ll also inform the Legion about this, along with every local guard.”

“I do hope any assistance in the effort to right Fade’s wrongs will be well rewarded?” I ask.

“Of course, deary.” The queen looks absolutely giddy. I can imagine after all the misfortunate she’s been through, she takes solace in any good news. As she turns to me, I can see nothing but warmth emanating from her otherwise tired, wrinkled face. “Tohro Blackwing, you’ve done Equestria a great service on this day, and I don’t often use the words ‘Blackwing’ and ‘great service’ in the same sentence.”

I take the compliment to heart, as I know she wouldn’t say such a thing unless she meant it. However, in searching my feelings, I don’t feel as if I’ve performed any great service, even though I succeeded in my mission. There’s just something hollow about this victory, and Fade’s corpse serves as a reminder of why. “I could have saved a life today.”

“Huh?” The queen’s ears twitch.

“I was fully prepared to be an advocate for Fade. I wanted to keep him away from the block by allowing him to help us find his customers and reclaim the ponies he sold away. Even with his book, there’s no guarantee we’ll be able to undo much of what he’s done. He would have made for an invaluable asset.” I peer up at his corpse again. He looks afraid. “If only I were able to give him a second chance…”

“Valuing life, as per usual. This is very wise, child.” Platinum nods, humming affirmingly. “Still, my point stands. You have done more today than most soldiers can accomplish in years. As such, I ask if you would accept the privilege of being referred to as Corporal Tohro from this day forth?”

In an instant, my remorse seems a little thinner. My heart skips a beat, and my wings begin flapping involuntarily. “I would gladly accept that title, Your Majesty!” My voice echoes across the corridor.

“Calm yourself, Corporal. Deep breaths.” The queen waves her hoof, waiting until I do as she commands. After I take a few breaths, she continues. “Now, I recommend that you take a bath as well. Have yourself a well-deserved rest. I, however…” She sighs and looks to Fade once again. “I must have this whole place spotless and sanitized before the summit.”

I pause my walking and turn back to Her Majesty, tilting my head. “Summit?”

“Come to think of it, it may be useful to mention this book to the other jarls…”

I speak up. “Summit, Your Majesty?”

By her expression, I may as well have asked her to stand on her head and do a Saddle Arabian fertility dance. “Didn’t I mention? I plan on summoning every Jarl loyal to the Empire to discuss current political matters.”

I nod. “Ah. With respect, that sounds absolutely dull.”

“It is, but I still feel a summit is warranted. I intend on formulating a new battle strategy with the loyal jarls. If all goes right, we will take the battle straight to Shokenda Blackwing’s doorstep, and end this war forever.” She ends that sentence with a flourish of her hoof, which I commend with a hoof stomp. “Speaking of, that brings me to your next mission…”

“Such a task must be quite the honor, sir. I must confess my jealousy.” Mistral looks up at me in reverence as she rests her hooves on the edge of the hot spring.

A reposed sigh escapes my lips as I empty a bucket of water over my head, letting the warm water cleanse my body of today’s madness. I can feel the individual bits of dirt and grime leaving my wings, the stress physically leaking from my head. I relax my muscles and smile, turning my head towards Mistral. “I wouldn’t be too giddy about it. It’s nothing more than a pet task disguising a much greater responsibility.”

“How could informing the Jarl of Dragon Bridge about the summit be considered a pet task?”

I remove myself from my seat and step towards Mistral. “Think of it this way. Any underpaid courier could perform such a task, so why would I, a corporal of the Imperial Legion, be asked to do such a thing? I ask that rhetorically, of course. See, I’d have raised a brow at the queen if it weren’t for what else awaits me in Dragon Bridge.” My smile grows larger. “My best friend is there.”

Mistral nods, listening intently as she sits at the edge of the water. “Right, the Dragonborn…” She eyes her blade in the corner of the room, which has been cleaned entirely of blood. She’s been doing that often, probably fearful that it could be taken from her again.

I continue. “Caro has been off for some time, hunting dragons wherever he may find them. Her Majesty has clearly ordered me to join him in his endeavors.” I chuckle, my breath visible against the steam. “So, I’ll be away for a while, fighting something other than Blackwings or lawbreakers.”

Mistral claps her hooves together. That look of reverence is even broader than before. “Amazing, sir! Oh…” Her ears droop a little. “But, that means we won’t see each other for a while.”

“Aye.” I nod, keeping a straight face, though I’m disappointed by that fact as well. Nothing excites me more than being able to see Caro again, but it will be a shame to leave behind such a potent companion.

“And here I was, hoping for a bright future in jolly cooperation,” Mistral mutters.

As I wrap my forelegs around Mistral, aiming to grant her comfort, I consider her brave actions, how raw her emotions are, and how well coordinated we are in the field of battle. I would be lying if I said I would miss the opportunity for more missions together. Even so…

“Well, I am a corporal now. If Her Majesty’s goal is realized, and I have no reason to doubt it will be, this war is about to enter its climax. I’ll likely be needed by the Legion more than ever in coming days.” I press my hoof up against Mistral’s chest. “We’ll have our jolly cooperation then. No Blackwing will stand in our way.” Sans a few, but Mistral doesn’t need to know about them.

“I’ll look forward to it, sir.” She puts her smile back on, tilting her head upward to kiss me.

I chuckle rather sinisterly. It seems I had forgotten something in all of the excitement. “Ooh, speaking of climaxes…”

Mistral wraps her hooves around my head and pulls, bringing me to the tile floor with her. Her coat is still mussed up and wrinkled from wearing her armor, and yet it’s also quite moist and smooth from her bath. She truly is a beauty of the battlefield, not to mention, now that I’ve seen her out of her intimidating garb, she is outright adorable.

My mind is full of happy thoughts. Justice has been attained for Jade and all others that have been harmed by a traitor’s greed. I now hold a new, well-deserved title for all of my hard work. An end to this war lies on the horizon. It’s a distant horizon, but it is visible nonetheless. And, of course, I’ll be reunited with my best friend in due time. Nothing, not even what happened to Fade, can damper my high spirits.

Nor can anything damper Mistral’s moaning. Yeah, I still have it.

~Vision End~

Caro digs his hooves into the dirt, bringing his backwards slide to a halt. His teeth bite deeper into the hilt of his longsword as he wipes the sweat from his brow.

His ear twitches. He turns his head at the sound of a child’s voice. No, multiple children. They’re inside a small house, one that hasn’t been ravaged, tapping their hooves on the window, yelling as loud as they can. Caro expects them to be yelling out of panic, for fear of their lives, but that’s not the case. They’re smiling for him. Their yells are words of encouragement.

He can’t make out much of what they’re saying, but he gets the message well enough; they’re not afraid of any dragon, so long as he’s around.

Said dragon, a slender one with many fins coating its white scales, lands on the same dirt road as Caro stands, using the two buildings beside it as support for its arms. It blows a plume of electrified smoke from its nostrils. “Must we do this all day?” it speaks in an oddly feminine tone. “You make matters far more complicated than need be. It’d be easier for the both of us if you’d just lie down and die.”

Needless to say, Caro doesn’t take kindly to the dragon’s condescension. He removes his blade from his mouth and slings it over his shoulder. “That bridge doesn’t belong to your kind, Rasahrel. It matters little if it was built with the remains of your ancestors.”

Caro gestures to the town of Dragon Bridge’s namesake which crosses a large chasm. Constructed of many large bones and adorned with the skull of a single small dragon, its violent and yet oddly beautiful visage is only amplified by the presence of a large, sparkling waterfall.

And yet the dragon doesn’t seem to see beauty in it. Rasahrel’s eyes narrow, thick with golden aura. “Little to you and the Dovahkiin that came before. But, then again, why should it matter? After all, it isn’t the bones of equines that stain this land’s beauty. Not that I can promise it will remain that way when the Reclaimer arrives.”

Caro marches towards Rasahrel, flashing a reassuring grin at the hiding children. As he approaches her, the crackle of electricity causes strands of his mane to stand on end. He ignores the odd sensation, keeping an eye of the bridge. He knows how important the bridge is, allowing safe travel for adventurers and caravans over a treacherous pit of beasts and deadly rocks. And this dragon, like many before it, would see it destroyed…

“I suppose reasoning with you, like the others who have attacked this town, would be completely pointless?”

“So you finally realize.”

“That’s all I needed to hear…” Caro breaks into a gallop, kicking up stones in his wake. “You won’t have what is theirs!”

Rasahrel makes the first move, swiping at Caro with her long claws. Caro effortlessly ducks out of harm’s way, but the blades of her arm catch him unawares, shaving some skin from his barrel. He ignores the brief sting and leaps over her arm, swinging his blade and tearing through a chunk of her flesh. The moment before he hits the ground is a blissful one, as he relishes the scent of freshly spilt blood mixing with his.

“Wuld nah.” With a surge, Caro flies across the packed dirt, a streak of white stretching out behind him as he jumps up towards the dragoness’ face, sword flashing in a downwards arc as his momentum brings him right back down to earth. “Yul toor!” A torrent of flames erupts from his mouth, blasting at the dragoness’ exposed belly as she roars in pain and anger. Though the sword wound becomes cauterized, it doesn’t spare Rasahrel any pain.

Caro lands on all four hooves, glaring up at the beast’s furious eyes. They flash gold for an instant. “Qo ruzaak,” she speaks, turning her head and letting loose a torrent of lightning across the street.

With nowhere to run, Caro stands his ground and yells, “Lahspaan luh!” A cyan shield erects itself around him, buckling as the lightning washes over. Even with his ward’s protection, it does little to keep his body from shaking involuntarily from stray bolts. Once the torrent passes, he examines the several cuts and burns inflicted by the lightning. “Damn…” he mutters. “You’re fucking merciless…”

“You’re a fool, Dovahkiin. Just like all those before you. This is mercy...” The dragon’s head turns, her eyes alight with anger and malice. “Mind that I can always harm them instead...” The dragon starts to breathe in and turn her body. “Qo...” Caro’s hackles raise in alarm.

“Don’t even think about it, bitch!” He roars as he sheathes his blade, sprinting towards the only nearby house left untouched.

“Ra...”

Reaching the building, he watches as the children inside lose the hope in their eyes, the light replaced with terror. His own vision begins to darken as he sprints up the wall, pushing off, and then calls forth his most recently discovered shout. “RIM GAHROT SULEYK!”

“...zaak!”

Rasahrel’s lightning breath comes in a concentrated burst, with Caro intercepting its course. With a burst of light, Caro is completely enveloped in the bolts of radiant lightning, their blue aura turning to gold and the bolts quelling into a gentle glow.

Caro’s form shines as the lightning is absorbed into his body, the air thruming with the Thu’um’s magic as a smile crosses his face. “You shouldn’t have done that.” He takes his sword in his hoof, flourishing it for Rasahrel to look upon. Her eyes widen as the blade radiates the very same lightning she wielded. “Now you’ll know their pain.”

He leaps at the dragon, his temporary surge of power allowing him to knock her sweeping arm aside without so much as a grunt. He grabs onto her beak and lifts himself up, landing between her eyes.

“You may not know fear, but I can recognize it.”

Rasahrel shakes her head wildly, trying to send Caro flying. “No... Trickster! Skoboviik! You cannot kill me! I must reclaim what is ours!”

Caro shakes his head, his body not budging as he’s flailed around. “I’m sorry. I usually get a bit more fight out of your kind. You never had a chance.” He hefts his blade, the light from it blindingly brilliant, and slashes it across her muzzle. Just as his blade leaves her scales, a brilliant flash of electric light bursts from the wound, throwing Caro to the house’s rooftop.

He gets up quickly to see a sight that makes him blush. Rasahrel is thrashing about, moaning and screaming as electricity runs through her veins, leaving her a twitching, convulsing heap on the ground. Her white scales have turned sickly and brown. Blood leaks from whatever wounds aren’t cauterized. What makes Caro grin in particular is her eye… or lack thereof. It’s nothing more than white and red liquid flowing down her beak.

Just as Caro prepares to receive another soul for his efforts, the dragon opens her remaining eye and rises, her movements labored and strained. She speaks eloquently as ever, despite her grievous wounds. “Th-this… This does not cause pain… Do not think me defeated... Dovahkiin... ” With a spastic flap of her wings, the dragon takes to the sky. “I abide to alleviate these mere scratches...”

“I won’t allow it...” Caro mutters under his breath. He curses at being denied a soul. Then again… If she were anything but a lightning breather, that would have killed her, he considers. He dismisses the thought and readies his blade once again. Throwing himself off the roof, he hisses under his breath, “Golt su ru!” Instead of falling to the ground below, the air shimmers beneath his hooves, as if it's becoming solid for him. “Wuld nah kest!” He takes grand leaps after the dragon, sending himself high into the air. For just a moment, he deeply enjoys the feeling of flight, wondering how it would feel if he had wings, or something to that effect... Then, his shout gives out. With his body still falling forward, he’s bound to collide with the dragon.

With a sudden jerk, the dragon falls off course, her wings still riddled with tremors of the electric discharge. Caro looks to the ground far below, dreading the inevitable fall. He’s prepared to shout and allow himself to land safely, but that will leave him unable to claim this dragon’s life, or her soul.

One step forward, two steps back, he thinks, watching the dragon fly away and letting himself fall. He enjoys the moment for what it is. The sunset in the distance, the rush of wind in his ears, the weightlessness of his body… He smiles. I wonder if Tohro feels this way all the time.

“Hellooo!”

A cheery voice invades the silence of Caro’s freefall before he’s snatched out of the air by a streak of white and yellow. Grunting with the force of impact, he turns to glare at the pegasus holding him aloft by his hind legs. “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he mutters, folding his forelegs. “I just can’t get away from you.”

“Oh, you know you love it, mate!” Tohro laughs as he swoops down towards the town. He makes a curious hum as he notices the smoke rising from a few of the homes. “Looks like you got a bit playful with your friend. Where is it, anyway?”

“She’s escaping because you got in my way, mate,” Caro says, unable to keep the smile off of his face despite being disgruntled.

“Nothing gets away from us. We’ll catch your lizard-friend soon enough.” Tohro grunts, lifting Caro up and wrapping both sets of legs around his barrel. “Epona’s nethers, Caro. Have enough sweets lately?”

“Focus, feathers,” Caro says. He points at the silhouette of the dragon crossing the light of the sun. “There, go!”

Tohro casts himself forward with a strong flap of his wings, diving and catching the wind to make up for the weight. “I’ll get you alongside, uh, her… I know you’ll take care of the rest.”

“You’ll be there to catch me if I fall?” Caro asks.

Tohro smirks down at Caro, unable to help himself. “Always.” He dives once more, steering towards the dragon.

She’s slow, her grievous wounds leaving unable to fly beyond a slow glide. Even a flap of her wings causes her to snarl in pain. Tohro passes over her tail and loops around, flying along her underside.

“A little further…” Caro commands, his eyes focused on Rasahrel’s chest. “I’ll cut her heart out and have her dead before she hits the ground. I won’t let her get away with what she’s done.”

Tohro takes one more glance at Dragon Bridge, his ears dropping at the sight of the carnage left in the dragon’s path. “Is that what happened to Reinoc?”

“It’s what happened to me.” Caro’s eye twitches, ever so slightly. “That’s what Saviikaan wants.”

“As if he stands a chance against you, Dragonborn.” Tohro steals a nuzzle on Caro. He tries to ignore the scent of burnt fur and blood. As he pulls away, he tilts his wings and spins until he’s soaring upside-down, looking straight up at the dragon’s frame. “Do it!”

Caro releases his grip on Tohro, returning to the air. But only for a moment. He memorizes the confident, cocky smirk on his best friend’s face before he speaks. “Fus… ro dah!” A burst of pure force flies from his lips, sending him upwards. He turns his whole body, takes his sword in his hoof, and cuts at the dragon’s stomach.

XXXIV - Loyalty

“Su mah.”

Caro’s descent slows to a halt just before his hooves touch the cobblestone street, or what’s left of it. He listens for the sound of fluttering wings, which grow closer to him by the second. He anticipates the tightness of Tohro’s forelegs around his neck, which he reciprocates once he regains his balance. Their horseplay becomes a full-on embrace, a display of affection between reuniting friends.

The moment is only spoiled by Caro’s rapidly fading adrenaline. Tohro’s touch brings out the sting in his burns and gashes, so he pulls away quickly. “Agh… Watch it...” Caro quickly opens his pouch and obtains a healing potion.

“Sorry there, mate.” Tohro, showing disappointment for not being able to hold his friend, settles for a simple flip of the Dragonborn’s mane. He laughs aloud at how long and unkempt it has become during their time apart. “Oh, my. You truly are helpless without me, aren’t you?”

“Well, you’re the only one I trust around my hair…”

Their casual conversation comes to a premature end as a loud, labored growl rends the atmosphere of a recently attained victory. Caro recognizes the shrill voice of Rasahrel before she even speaks.

“Do...vah...kiin… You will... come to me...”

Caro obeys, though he vows internally that it’s only because he wishes to gloat over the dying body of his latest kill. Keeping one eye on his sword and the other on the gathering townsfolk, he trots to Dragon Bridge’s namesake, where Rasahrel lies. The sharp, decorative bones of the bridge have pierced her flesh, passing all the way through her body. The tips are covered in fresh, glistening blood. “Taken by the bones of your ancestors, Dovah. Take solace in that you’ve died an ironic death rather than an unsung one.”

It takes several seconds for the dragon to even open her mouth. When she does, more red drains from her lips, pouring into the crevices of the street. “Nahlot. I will not... be insulted… in my dying moments...”

She coughs, spraying drops of blood across Caro’s face. He remains still, not even blinking as she does so. “You… turog… have taken… what is rightfully ours… What is rightfully… his…”

“Him being Saviikaan?” Caro asks dismissively.

“Geh...”

Caro, having heard this speech about Saviikaan’s selfish desires many a time, simply gives a snort of indifference. He turns his head away from Rasahrel, speaking as he surveys the overseeing eyes of Dragon Bridge’s population. Many of the ponies’ faces are held in simultaneous awe and fear. He looks over the many cottages, or what’s left of them, the scent of burnt wood passing his nostrils. A hint of scorched metal is there as well, causing a quick flash of a foregone time to cross his vision.

“My life, and the lives of so many others, at the mercy of an all-powerful dragon that would have us put to cinders. Everything we ponies have built since we arrived here, all the progress we’ve made…” He tries to think of something else. It comes to him when he sees a trio of young mares, adolescents by the look of them, smiling and waving to him. “...All the children we’ve raised! Saviikaan would destroy all of the progress ponykind has made, just to appease his self-centered wish fulfillment! Surely you see the fallacy in his crusade!”

Electrified smoke bursts from Rasahrel’s bleeding nostrils. “Surely you don’t… think… you are… the first to… to… say such words?”

“Those who came before me must have said as much. But, I ask you, have those words held weight?”

Gold aura begins to rise from Rasahrel’s wounds. Caro’s eyes widen. He realizes that he’s about to take in her soul, but he doesn’t want this debate to end so prematurely.

“Rasahrel! Answer me! Have you ever considered that what Saviikaan wants isn’t what’s—”

For the first time since her impalement, the dragon moves her head, leaning in towards Caro. He sees something upon her face, something he’s never seen on a dragon before. Doubt? he wonders. Epona’s hooves, is she really…

All reticence and weakness in Rasahrel’s voice is gone. “What choice did I have, Dovahkiin?! Saviikaan is Dovah, I am Dovah! Where else would my loyalties lie?!”

Caro opens his mouth, only to close it and let his head slowly hang. He keeps his gaze on the dragon as her flesh gradually fades away, and she never looks away from him in turn. “You always had a choice,” he says.

Rasahrel sighs. It’s plain as day; she has resigned to her end. She speaks one last time, her voice barely audible. “Perhaps...”

All traces of a happy victory fall into shambles as the dragon’s body disappears, becoming a harsh yet brilliant light. Caro reaches out and accepts the light. He closes his eyes as he feels Rasahrel’s soul resonate with his body. When reopens them, he sees that Rasahrel’s bones have joined her ancestors’ on the bridge.

Caro walks away from his latest kill, finding himself in an oddly solemn and empty state of mind. Even the rapidly swarming townsfolk, with their appraisal coming in droves of loving touches, shrill whistles and cheers to pierce the sky, can’t do anything to pull him out of his stupor. He simply makes his way through the sea of ponies, savoring the moments when he finally has some breathing room, only to be surrounded by his loving admirers once again. Eventually, he manages to tune them out and ignore their touches.

A voice he hasn’t heard in some time speaks to him. “We never had a choice, Dovahkiin.” The voice is audible enough, though it has a faint echo to it. Caro recognizes the deep, guttural snarl as that of Hevnodiin’s. His body feels cold just at the sound of him. “You like to speak of choice, but think, if you will, about what options are laid before our kind in this cycle of violence. What Dovah would side with the tiny equine? Who of equinekind would allow us among them?”

“You could always choose not to fight,” Caro suggests. He’s about to say more, but he’s interrupted when he takes in a particularly strong whiff of burning flesh. He turns to the scent, and proceeds to grimace, covering his eyes with his foreleg.

Many ponies, unidentifiable in gender or race, lie in the rubble of a decimated home, their bodies colorless and dark, turned to scarred husks. The less fortunate ones Caro couldn’t save.

“You know what Saviikaan would do to us if we chose that path.”

Caro can’t bear to look at a failure among his victory. He shakes his head and tears himself away, coming face to face with Tohro. “Uh, hi,” he says upon seeing his pegasus friend’s assuring smile. “I…”

Tohro tilts his head. “Yes?”

“I, uh…” Caro peers around Tohro, where the many admirers of the Dragonborn stand, still in awe. Behind them, a humble, nameless pub can be seen. “I… I need a drink.”

CHAPTER XXXIV - LOYALTY

“Come now, mate,” Tohro says, giving Caro a friendly jab in the shoulder. “Show me a happy face. Show me some fluster, at least. You deserve to be happy after all you’ve accomplished. How many dragons have you taken down?”

Caro is reluctant to respond. While he is able to smile internally over yet another reunion with his best friend, he can’t bring himself to present any sign of a positive emotion, as much as he wishes he could. He settles for accepting another mug of juniper berry mead (free of charge, of course) from the barmaid, who offers Caro a bow before stepping over to another table.

The pub is unusually popular; Caro has come here before during his stay in Dragon Bridge, and there’s hardly more than a dozen or so patrons at a time. Not to his surprise, as the town is much smaller when compared to most. As such, it’s odd for him to see almost the entirety of Dragon Bridge’s populace squeezed into such a small and cozy watering hole.

While many joyous voices are the dominant sound, music can also be heard from a nearby stage. If there is one other thing that can diminish a sour mood, it’s the sound of the heavenly chords of Xephyr’s lute, accompanied by the elegant singing of the ever-beautiful bard mares Symphony and Rhapsody.

“Here's a health to the king and lasting peace, to faction end, to wealth increase!
Come let us drink while we have breath, for there's no drinking after death!
And he that will this health deny...
Down among the dead ones, down among the dead ones, down, down, down, down...
Down among the dead ones let him lie!”

They’ve been improving, Tohro thinks, watching Xephyr give his instrument a little twirl as the song comes to a climax. Tohro notices that the little tick in the back of his mind, which once had a tendency to act up at the sight of a zebra, has grown quieter. He tunes out what little of it remains, opting to enjoying the music instead, while keeping a secondary focus on Caro. The Dragonborn’s quiet state has him concerned, especially in the wake of another kill.

Caro turns to Tohro, figuring that he may as well explain his state of mind. “To answer your earlier question, I’ve killed… Epona’s hooves, I think I’ve slain at least eleven of them.”

“Goodness, you have been keeping busy.”

“And yet… The thrill, the moment of catharsis I strove for when I first began fighting their kind, it’s fleeting. I don’t know why, but I’m beginning to feel sympathy for these beasts. I try to explain why what they’re doing is wrong, but they never sway in their loyalty to Saviikaan, no matter what I do. Are they truly such zealots?”

Tohro taps Caro on the wither again. “Loyalty is a powerful thing.”

Caro pauses in the middle of a sip of mead. He swallows and puts his mug down. "And what, is it the Dragon's Code of Honor to be loyal or dead?"

“How would I know that?”

“What? You brought it up.”

“Ask the Greybeards, they might be able to tell you something...”

A moment passes by, made a little more uneasy due to Xephyr’s pause between songs. Caro and Tohro both take abnormally long drinks out of their mugs, stopping at the same time. “Oh, Tohro!” Caro shouts, his eyes suddenly wide, a rather manic looking grin on his face as he stands up and jumps in place. “We can go see Master Hammerfell!”

Tohro seems to have slightly fallen back in his seat. “Wow, don’t go shouting this place apart…”

“You said it yourself! We can go ask the Greybeards!” Caro’s sudden bout of excitement shows no sign of receding, but when he sees Tohro’s stunned expression, he takes a deep breath and sits back down. He clears his throat and continues. “I’m long overdue for a visit to Master, anyway. I would love for you to meet him. He truly is an amazing pony… er, dragon.”

“Ah, still adapting, are you?” Tohro asks, shrugging as Caro nods. “I don’t blame you. The difference between fur and scales would make anypony’s head turn.” He takes a sip of mead. “At least thirty times. How does a dragon become a pony, anyway?”

“Perhaps dragon souls are more malleable than one would think. After all…” Caro touches his chest. “The dragons I’ve killed, their souls are with me now. Who’s to say dragons can’t willingly bind their souls to somepony else’s body? Imagine that, huh?” he asks with a small chuckle. “We can ask Master when we get to Neigh Hrothgar.”

An errant thought enters Tohro’s head, though it doesn’t remain for long, and he’s gotten used to involuntarily thinking it whenever he’s reminded of what happens to the souls of the dragons killed by the Dragonborn. He turns away from Caro as he processes the thought. If only he took in the souls of the ponies he’s killed…

Caro has fully drained his mug. He pushes it away and stands up. “Don’t make yourself comfortable. A short trip to the apothecary, a brief sharpening of my other best friend here,” Caro tilts his sword’s hilt his way and gives it a quick kiss, “and we’re well on our way to Neigh Hrothgar. And the adventure doesn’t stop there! We have more dragons to face, towns to visit, ponies to help, sights to see—”

“Hate to cut you off, mate,” Tohro interrupts, “but there is one more thing I have to do before the good queen’s shackles are off. After that, I’m all yours.”

“Oh, right.” Caro drops a small coin purse on table, hops out of his seat, and starts trotting. Tohro is following in his wake, his wings fluttering between steps. “It won’t take long?”

Tohro shakes his head. “Not long at all. I just need to speak to the jarl.”

Compared to the grand, epic interior of Jarl Drake’s hall of Equinesreach, with its warm colors, ornate carpets and the visual spectacle of an overlooking dragon skull, the sight before Caro and Tohro comes across as underwhelming, at best. They both know that it’s due to the simple matter of the difference of population between Trottingham and Dragon Bridge that this jarl’s quarters aren’t nearly as appealing. Aside from a single tapestry above the throne, which depicts the town’s bridge midway through its construction, there is hardly anything of significance to be seen within.

Caro and Tohro step past the stone pillars along the cold reflective floor. They both turn their heads to the side, catching a glimpse of a young earthwalker colt lying on a bench, his head laid to the side with a vacant expression.

“Somepony must be grieving…” Tohro assumes.

“Without much in the way of armed forces, little could be done to defend the town from the dragon attacks before I arrived,” Caro says. “He’s one of many.”

Tohro notices the child raising his head before he turns his attention towards the throne. He’s about to look back again when he hears somepony clearing their throat. A puce-coated pegasus stallion with a long vermillion mane enters the throne room. The hood of his fur-lined ropes is up. “Oh, hello…” he says, his voice recitant. “Might I help you...?”

With Caro stepping aside, Tohro moves towards the stallion and speaks. “I’m Corporal Tohro. I carry a message from the Imperial Legion. Might I speak to Jarl Stonewall?”

The stallion's dull expression breaks as he looks up. "Huh?"

Caro turns Tohro his way and shakes his head. "That's not Stonewall. His name is Ironclad."

Tohro racks his brain. He knows for certain who the Jarls of each town are, or at least the majority of them. The name of Ironclad doesn’t ring familiar. "Oh, I must have made a mistake. I thought that Stonewall—”

“He’s dead,” the stallion says tersely.

The silence is as cold as the air of the chamber. Tohro counts himself fortunate that he doesn’t have to be the one to break it.

“Jarl Stonewall was my father…” the stallion continues. “He died during the first dragon attack on this, our… lovely town. His will made it explicitly clear that the throne would fall either to me or my little brother, Onslaught.” He gestures to the depressed looking child. “I think it’s obvious who took up such a task.”

Onslaught? Caro purses his lips to hide a smile at an ill-fitting name. He’ll have to work for that title. But, then again, what’s stopping him? His amusement quickly fades as he realizes that the reason as to why the child looks so solemn has been made known.

“My sincerest apologies, Jarl Ironclad,” Tohro offers with a bow. “In my time as a soldier, I’ve heard much about Stonewall’s contributions to the Legion. He did much, despite a lack of one of his forelegs.” He looks up at the tapestry. “And, of course, issuing the construction of that beautiful bridge in his younger years. What a majestic stallion he was then!”

Ironclad nods. “I’m aware of such accomplishments, yes.” His words seem genuine, but he seems to lack the capacity for excitement.

“I know what it is to lose a father,” Caro says, understanding the young jarl’s dull demeanor. He offers a comforting brush of his hoof, simultaneously realizing that he himself doesn’t know if he’s speaking of his actual father or Master Hammerfell. “I hope you feel comforted, knowing he’s been avenged.”

Tohro narrows his gaze at Caro, displaying a slight frown.

Ironclad doesn’t respond immediately, instead going to his throne and taking a seat. “I honestly don’t care about that. He’s gone, and nothing can bring him back.” He does manage to show a smile, however broken it may be. “But you do have my thanks for ensuring the same fate didn’t befall the rest of my family, or everypony else in Dragon Bridge.”

“I couldn’t very well let a whole town collapse under your watch,” Caro jests. “That wouldn’t be a very good start to your tenure, would it?”

The young jarl nods slowly. “Yes, well… Then it seems you’ve saved me in two regards. I assure you, Dragonborn, I will reward you in the days to come. Name anything that you desire.”

“That won’t be necessary. You should spend your town’s resources on recovery.”

Ironclad leans forward, holding his forelegs out as if offering something invisible. “No, no, I insist. As soon as this town recovers, I can provide. I’ll give you whatever you want. Money. Weapons. Armor. Mares.” He cocks a brow at Caro’s indifference. “Stallions?”

“I, ah, I a-assure you, the blood and souls of the dragons I’ve slain are enough for me,” Caro says with a mad blush on his face. He turns to Tohro. “You... had a message to deliver?”

“I was just about to ask about that, actually,” says Ironclad. His previous bout of enthusiasm has disappeared almost entirely, replaced by what looks like disdain. “I honestly can’t remember the last time the Imperial Legion was around, even when my father held this throne. When the war started, Platinum had to make some tough calls. It was either the defense of Everfree, thus keeping Her Majesty and her most important subjects safe in their golden utopia, or the defense of Dragon Bridge, a small town lying about a critical trade route. Well… you saw how many soldiers were stationed about when you arrived. The most we can hope for is an envoy to come around once a month, or so.” Caro and Tohro both receive a cynical glare from the jarl. “Usually, they settle for ‘or so.’”

“I express concern for Dragon Bridge on Platinum’s behalf,” says Tohro as he steps forward. “I presume you are still loyal to the Empire?”

“In a way. Better their well-meaning, if misguided inclination towards peacekeeping than the Blackwings’ depraved warmongering. I’d take a ban on worshipping Dragos over an army of unstable nonconformists any day. So, yes, I’d say I’m still loyal.”

Tohro wears a broad, approving smile. He somehow manages to hold a perfect balance between enthusiasm and professionalism. “So, would it be of any inconvenience if you could attend the upcoming summit? I feel it would be wise to personally inform the queen of Dragon Bridge’s new jarl, as well as your discontent with the town’s security.”

It doesn’t take very long for Ironclad to ponder Tohro’s words. He nods after only a few seconds. “My father was always too stubborn to accept any help. I suppose I can set things right.” He dismounts his throne. “Very well. I’ll gather myself a traveling party.”

“We could escort you to Everfree,” Caro suggests.

Ironclad waves Caro off. “There will be no need. It’s not too far. At the very most, the trip would take half a day on a well-traveled road. I’ll only need to commission some battle-competent townsfolk. Your efforts are best exerted elsewhere. Now...” The jarl examines his robes. “As I thought. These old things would never do among Everfree’s gem encrusted streets. Onslaught!”

The child leaps from his bench, immediately doing away with his sordid mien. “I’m here for you, brother,” he says as he approaches Ironclad. “Need anything for your trip?”

“You, of course.” Ironclad gives Onslaught a gentle nudge on the muzzle. “But I also require one of Father’s finest robes. Also, do fetch some sustenance from the dining room, along with, huh… What sort of fine wine would befit an occasion such as a royal summit?”

“I think Her Majesty would be impressed with a white wine from the day of our late king’s coronation,” Tohro suggests. “Do you have anything of the sort?”

Ironclad has an uncharacteristically wide smile. Caro is mildly offset at actually seeing his teeth for the first time. “Ah, a cultured soldier! I’ll tell Her Majesty that I like you.” He turns back to his brother. “Go to the cellar and procure us some of that, then?”

“Yes, brother!” Onslaught starts trotting towards the cellar entrance right away. As he passes Caro and Tohro, he looks up with an innocent, pleading expression and asks, “Sirs, could you come along? The wine may be too high up for me to reach.”

The two stallions speak at the same time. “Of course.” They share a smile as they follow the young colt down the stairs. A dark descent through a cramped corridor leads into a dusty, rather cold cellar. Rows of identical steel swords line the wall in crosses. Next to them stands an overly large cabinet of assorted bottles.

“Alcohol, swords, a bridge made of bones…” Tohro says as he observes the scenery. “I hope you don’t mind me saying, but you come from quite the family of barbarians!”

Onslaught goes over to the cabinet and begins sorting through the bottles. “No offense taken. In fact, that’s a compliment… Well, the bone bridge wasn’t entirely our family’s doing. We may be mighty, but we can’t slay dragons.”

Caro tilts his head. For all of the time he has spent among the ponies of Dragon Bridge, he hadn’t considered the bridge itself. When I took my blade to Nahkriin in Reinoc, she didn’t die… I hadn’t awakened yet. I didn’t take her soul. Regular ponies can’t truly kill dragons. So that would mean...

“Onslaught, who gave your family the bones to construct the bridge?” he asks.

“A young stallion named Argent.” Onslaught answers, reaching towards a higher shelf. “He killed two dragons at once and sold their bones away. We took most of the spoils, though Jarl Drake named a high price for one of the skulls. It’s all good for her, though. It was because of that skull that Trottingham became the trading hub it is today.”

Caro finds it difficult to take in anything beyond the name of the Dragonborn before him. He tries to appear straight-faced, but Tohro is able to see his darting eyes. “That’s…” Caro mutters. “Very fascinating.”

“Isn’t it?” Onslaught is tilting his head way back, peering up at a particular bottle on the high shelves. “I won’t be able to reach that.”

“Here, allow me.” Tohro flies to the bottle and removes it from the shelf.

“Thank you, kindly.” Onslaught points to a nearby desk. “Just set it there.”

As Tohro does so, Caro takes notice of the contents of the desk. He sees several strips of leather and linen, scattered metal bits, and a few steel ingots. His long abandoned inner blacksmith gets the better of him as he arranges the materials into orderly rows at the desk’s head. “Master Hammerfell never would have allowed such a mess…”

“A bit neat for a dragon slayer, are you?” Onslaught asks, giving Caro pause. “Keep at it, I don’t mind. I only use that desk for special occasions. Speaking of, that brings me to a gift I had prepared for you. Would you care to see?”

“By all means,” Caro replies. He stops with his rearranging (Aside from ensuring one of the ingots is perfectly aligned with its brethren), and faces Onslaught, who goes to a nearby dresser and opens the top drawer.

“Do keep this between us? If my brother knows about this, he’ll bar me from anything metallic until I’m of age. Anyway, here you are.” Onslaught presents the contents of the dresser to Caro.

Attached to a fine leather belt are seven large knives, each with their own unique shape and design. Some are dark, asymmetrical and exotic, others slick and reflective. Each one looks as deadly as the last.

As Caro takes the belt, Onslaught speaks again. “Some of the other children my age, they wished to show you appreciation in more ways than just cheers and stomps. So we all gathered as many materials as we could and worked with the blacksmith to put this together. That is, except for my knife. That toothed steel one of the end, there? I made it myself. And the belt.”

Caro secures the straps of the belt around his barrel. Much to his pleasure, he can barely feel the belt on his fur. “This is spectacular. You have a bright future in smithing ahead of you.” His eyes widen as an idea snaps to him. “In fact, I know a certain earthwalker in Everfree who could use an apprentice. When you go off to Everfree with your brother, ask around for a mare named Rosemary.”

“Thank you, sir! I could use the bits!” Onslaught leaps for joy, trotting in circles as he chuckles. “Excellent, excellent…”

Caro examines the knife belt once again. “I do love knives. Would you like to know why?”

A disembodied voice shakes the wood of the cellar. “Because soup tastes better when it’s difficult.”

Tohro looks around for any source of the voice. His eyes widen as they fixate on the ceiling. “Caro, I think we should be concerned.” He points at a large, fluctuating shadow that seems to be growing eyes and a mouth… and horns.

“Oh, there you are!” says Onslaught. He approaches the shadow, waving to it as though it were a good friend. “See? I told you I’d bring them around! Sorry it took so long.”

“You’ve done your part, little one,” says the shadow. “You’ll be rewarded in time. I’m many things, including, but not limited to, generous.”

“Onslaught…” Caro speaks, his voice low with suppressed anger. “Are you aware that you’re acting the cohort to a god of chaos?”

The child shrugs. “Yeah. He gave me a sweet roll, though.”

~Shae~

I've spoken to Queen Platinum, Captain Gauntlet, and many other ponies about Luna's powers. I've known ever since I knew of her existence that she has an uncanny, passive power over dreams. The extent of her power is still unknown to me. Could she have control over many dreams at once? Can she enter daydreams, or is she restricted to unconscious individuals?

All of these questions always lead me to the same conclusion, which is also a question: Is it unorthodox of me to not entirely want to know the answers? After all, if I were to find some means to explain this magic, it wouldn't be as... magical.

For however long I can be with Luna, I'll never grow tired of these moments. It's just me and her, alone in an empty realm, as it has been every night since she first deemed me her mother.

She sits upon my lap, so I can’t see her face, but I assume her eyes are as wide as ever, glowing despite the emptiness surrounding us. Empty... I start to look around, wondering about that. Where does my control of the dream end and Luna’s control begin? Since I know I’m dreaming, can I will myself awake? I'm almost unsure if I should even question this, but the scholar in me is tapping impatiently.

"Luna," I say softly as I look down at her. "Would you like to play a game?"

"Of course, Mother," she replies with a soft smile. It's odd seeing how calm and serene she is in the dreamscape compared to her exuberance when she's awake. I suppose this is the side of her she’s unable to show in the real world. "What would you like to play?"

"I was thinking we could do something simple, like build a snow castle."

"Snow castle?"

"Yes, it was something Sundance did one year. Since we lived at Wintercolt Academy, and it was almost always snowy, she decided to have some fun with levitation magic." I smile at the warm memory of a chilly day. "By the time we were done, we had a scale version of the college, just barely big enough for my three friends and I."

Luna smiles, a bit of that youthful excitement playing across her features. "I think I'd enjoy that," she says, her eyes shimmering as she looks up.

My breath catches in my throat as I see snow falling all around us, the black, invisible world around us suffused in a soft white glow. I don’t know how Luna has done it, but this snow almost exactly resembles the kind I’d watch fall atop Mount Everfree, safely within the toasty confines of the academy. As the fond memories continue to cycle through me, they begin to take form, coalescing into a distant, ethereal vision. I can see the academy in the distance, its form distorted yet unmistakable. I’m sure that if I tried to approach it, I wouldn’t be able to reach it, but it certainly compliments the snowfall. It’s as close to my memory as it could ever be.

Luna picks up a lump of snow with her horn. This is something I’m used to seeing her perform in dreams of her own creation, even if she’s not mature enough to perform such an act in reality. She shapes the snow into a perfect recreation of young, lanky Lancer. Within another few seconds, she’s made another snowy creation. That feathered mane… it must be Sundance. And the one with the hood has to be Eavesdrop.

“That’s amazing…” I say, equally in observation and surprise. “You must see a lot more of my mind than I anticipated.”

Luna nods. “Of course. Among many things, I can see that you greatly miss your friends.” She levitates onto Snow Sundance’s back. “I have caught glimpses of their dreams… They miss you too.”

I allow myself a moment to take in the sight of these lifelike recreations, only stepping away when nostalgic tears start to take form in my eyes. I’d rather not cry in front of Luna. “Th… Thank you, my love… This is...”

I hear Luna speak, though her voice is further away now. “So, this snow castle you speak of…” I look around, unable to locate her. It’s only when I turn around entirely that I see where she’s moved to. She sits at the tallest tower of an extravagant white fortress. “Is this a fair start?”

“Luna, you…” My mouth remains open, but I can’t find the words to describe my awe. I trot to the castle through the snow, which rises beneath my hooves to form stairs. I join Luna at the highest point, looking in all directions to see what she’s created. “This is several floors beyond what Sundance and I ever made. Why, you’ve made a courtyard! And… is that Celina’s garden?”

“I’ve been helping her to rebuild it,” Luna says. “She is very picky about which flowers she wants.”

While I continue to gape at all of this, I can’t help but feel that something is missing. Looking upon the snow statues of my friends once again, I figure out exactly what. I kneel down to Luna and nuzzle her. “This is an amazing creation, loved one, but mind that it's not the destination that's important; it's the journey you take to get there, and the ponies you share it with.” I smile at her. “Do you understand?”

Luna surveys her castle, her expression thoughtful. “I believe I do. I’m sorry, Mother.”

“It’s all okay,” I say, levitating my own clumps of snow towards me and Luna. I meld and shift the snow into a smooth, swirling ramp. As I beckon to Luna, she immediately has me figured out. She leaps into my lap the instant I lower onto my haunches, leaning forward in excitement. With one push, we descend down my makeshift slide, tumbling into the enchanted white world below.

The passage of time doesn’t seem to exist within dreams, and the same notion goes for Luna’s dreamscape. As such, it could be hours or mere minutes that pass while my daughter and I collect snowballs, forming a castle of more humble proportions.

Luna keeps a curious eye turned to the distance projection of Wintercolt Academy. As we set to work on one of the snow castle’s rafters, she asks, “You’ve mentioned this pony called Fauste in the past, Mother. Might I ask who she is?”

I pause my building, dropping a lump of snow back where I picked it up. “Well, Fauste isn’t quite a pony.” I reclaim that snow, shaping it into the image of a tall alicorn with a humble flat mane, not quite unlike mine. “That is to say, she may have been at a time, but it matters little if she was; ponykind knows her now as the embodiment of all things magical.”

Luna seems genuinely confused. “A magical one more powerful than you, Mother?”

“Oh, Luna, I’m far from the most powerful mage alive.”

The figure of Fauste begins to glow, removing itself from my levitation spell. I watch it with great interest as it rises, becoming pure light and soaring into the black sky. A burst of multiple colors turns the abyss above into a spectral marvel, filled with stars and nebulae unlike anything I’ve seen before. The stars move and shift about until they’ve formed the outlines of two alicorns. One is definitely Fauste, but the other is different; her mane is flowing and swept back.

“Do you know who that is?” I ask Luna as she waddles to my side.

“No.”

I take Luna into my lap once again, one of my forelegs holding her close while I point at the stars. “Her name is Epona. She is the creator of all ponykind, having granted us flesh and bone. Suffice to say, she was very protective of us at a time; a mother too keen to keep her children on a leash. She feared what could happen to us if we were not obedient.”

The stars shift once again. Smaller, dimmer stars appear beneath Epona, who is speaking to Fauste.

“Fauste, Epona’s sister, came to her, desiring that all ponies be given the will to do as they pleased. She feared a future of subservience would be wasted on us, believing that if we could do amazing things if we were set free. Unfortunately, Epona disagreed...”

The stars that form Fauste break apart, scattering across the sky.

Luna gasps. “But… surely they came to a compromise?”

“You and I have free will, do we not?” I ask rhetorically, showing Luna a grin. “Fauste anticipated such an outcome. When she was defeated by Epona, her essence scattered across heavens, land and sea alike. It resonated most, however, with Epona’s creations; us.”

The stars beneath Epona become almost overwhelmingly bright.

“Followers of Fauste call her essence the Fae, and it is worshiped just as much as the alicorn whose sacrifice gave ponykind’s existence meaning.” I brush a strand of hair out of Luna’s face as she looks up at me. “So, you see? Magic is life.”

Luna nods quickly. “Epona forgave Fauste, right?”

“Of course she did,” I say, watching the stars move once again. Epona is now looking over the bright lights beneath her, her wings spread and her expression content. “Once she bore witness to how much we could accomplish without her doctrine, she understood Fauste’s desire and came to forgive her.”

With that all said, the stars return to their normal, scattered positions. Even without the images of the Divines, the spectacle above is beyond words. The moon has now risen into the sky, settling among the stars and completing the impossible image. I doubt I’d ever be able to see something so gorgeous in the waking world.

“Would it be okay if we just watched the sky for the rest of the night, Mother?” Luna quietly asks.

“Of course, my love.”

“Would you… sing to me?”

I would have done so even if she hadn’t requested. I clear my throat and recite my old lullaby. It feels like an eternity since I last sang it.

"'Neath a faltered sky; cross loamless plains, and watered blight...
Ah, where gone those days, once glory shone so bright?
Fallen ‘neath baleful wings dark as night…
Ah, a moment give to me…
Hark, shall none hear this souls tale, of a land benight?”

Luna beams at the sound of my singing voice, a feat I thought impossible; I’m not exactly the best singer. I can’t even carry a note. Even so, she seems entranced. For a moment, I see a little of myself in her. A little filly, innocent as could be, captivated by the song of her mother, who makes up for her lack of singing ability with pure love and passion.

I open my mouth to continue the song, but I pause when somepony else starts singing. It’s not Luna, but how could it be? She doesn’t know this song. I turn my head to see… myself.

“Pitiful stallion whom death has undone, leaned upon a broken blade, looks to skyward...”

This dream has taken a turn for the surreal, especially when two more of myself appear, emerging from the snow.

“Prithee above, be this thy word? Cried out, begged for truth but no answer's sound be heard!”

Following them are another three of me, these ones having come from the entrance of Luna’s first snow castle. As they, along the others, slowly approach me and Luna, I hop to my hooves, taking on a guarded stance. I don’t know what’s going on, but from Luna’s surprised expression, I can infer that this isn’t something she conjured up.

“Yet, now he sees the dragon's dogma, unbound by time; all-binding, grand design...
Land and skies and seas yearn, finish the cycle of eternal return!”

I turn my head, then reel back as I’m face with the eyes of myself. I light my horn, ready to blast this imposter apart if it makes a move on me or my daughter.

“Riveting melody, isn’t it?” asks the me, tilting her head and giving a cock-eyed smirk. “Your mother certainly was a poet, though not quite as fun as a singing sword.”

My horn shines brighter, but it’s quickly snuffed out when the me touches it with her hoof.

“None of that, Miss Shae. I thought I told you twice before, no violence when you step into my domain.”

“Your…?” A realization creeps up my spine. I try to hold on to the small hope that this couldn’t be what I think it is, but that becomes an impossibility as the me’s eyes shift from magenta to garish yellow, with mismatched pupils. My image makes a grotesque shift into the serpentine figure of Discord.

Luna, for some reason, seems relatively unfazed. “Mother, who is the goat face?”

I turn my head her way. “Don’t be rude, Luna. That’s an insult to goats.”

Discord seems pleasantly unaware of my jab. “Quite a temper, that King Hurricane has!” he says. “It took me far too long to calm him down and set his mind in the right place. Had to replant trees and flowers and the like to keep the place pretty, but they all wilted within a day! What’s worse than that, I went through the trouble of fixing a wonderful feast and he just had to throw it in my face. Honestly. Don’t mock pig stomach until you try it.”

“You won’t have to worry about me mocking it…” I mutter. “This isn’t the best time, Discord. Come for me in the morning if you insist, but for the moment, I’m enjoying my time with my daughter.”

After a brief second, Discord’s jaw falls to the snow. I pick it up and hoof it back to him. After he reattaches it, he proceeds to gawk. “Great nation of gestation! How long was I absent?”

“Not nearly long enough.” I let out a sigh, gesturing to Luna. “It’s a long story. Luna chose me to be her mother—”

“—because she is my mother!” The child advances on Discord. She doesn’t allow me to hold her back, and escapes from my grip. “And I don’t recall letting you into her dream, you abnormal, insolent… stupidhead!”

I’m partially ashamed to share a moment of unanimous laughter with Discord, but it only lasts for so long. “Manners, little one. Manners,” says the draconequus. “Don’t you worry. Even though my reach extends into your dreams, I assure you that I won’t abuse the… Huh.” He raises an eyebrow as he surveys the snowy world around him. “You call this a dream? Mine are usually filled to the brim with Saddle Arabian concubines and gouda.”

I point into the distance, my expression stern and commanding. “It’s our dream. And you’re not allowed here. Leave.”

“Oh, very well, dear Shae. I’ll be going…” Discord performs a pirouette spin on a single claw and begins his trek away, much to my relief. My skin has finally stopped crawling. Once he’s an appropriate distance away, I turn back to Luna. I hope I can salvage something good out of the remaining time we have in this dream…

I gag when something snags my hood and lifts me into the air. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Discord, and thus come to an unfortunate conclusion. “This is happening, isn’t it?”

Discord lets out a brief cackle. “I said was leaving. You’re coming with me, that’s all. I’m not disobeying your wishes! Not in the slightest!”

“But what about Luna?” I ask, a state of alarm creeping into my mind.

“Don’t you worry about her. She’ll still have her playtime with mommy dearest… Seriously, how did you manage it?”

I’m unable to answer Discord’s question on account of my stunned surprise at the sight lain before me. Luna has apparently accepted the company of the many different replicas of me that had intruded upon the dreamscape. She’s laughing gleefully as she’s tossed between the many mes as if she were a child’s ball. “Put her down!” I shout. “Luna!”

“Oh, don’t be a spoilsport, Miss Shae,” Discord replies. “How could she possibly be harmed? It’s just a dream.”

But knowing that Discord can intrude upon these dreams makes that rhetorical question hold much more weight. I doubt I’ll be able to enjoy these nights with my daughter nearly as much from now on.

~Vision End~

“This is not ideal… I wish I could save you the burden of my grief. My self-loathing is just a puddle in your sea of tasks,” says King Hurricane.

“I assure you, Your Majesty, it’s no issue. Even so, my tasks have dwindled in recent times.” Shae says. She stares out into the distance, where the sky and sea have switched places, while King Hurricane looks away from the surreal display in sheer apathy.

Discord appears disinterested, as per usual, relaxing at the head of the dining table and suckling on the dry stick of a kabob. “Her hobbies now include cooking and cleaning for a little blue ball of jolly fun, as well as being very rude to her elders,” he says to Shae and King Hurricane. “Now, what example does that set for her spawn?” He tosses the stick upwards, watching with glee as a fish leaps out of the water and catches it.

“Spawn?” King Hurricane looks away from the horizon. “You have a child, Miss Shae?”

Shae shows a smile for the first time since her abduction. “It’s a tad complicated, but… Yes, I have two daughters.”

Hurricane frowns and looks at the grass, which is grey and discolored. “I won’t assume my experience will apply to you. My mistakes are not yours to make. Still… it seems only fitting, especially after my last transgression, that I tell you what happened to my child.”

“You mean Squall?” Shae asks. She immediately covers her mouth as the name passes her lips. “Oh, I’m sorry—”

Hurricane shakes his head. “No, no, it’s perfectly fine, I… I have to face this.” Something else catches his eye. He squints his eyes, looking past the dining table to the collection of trees in the distance. “Hm, it seems the rest of our usual company has arrived.”

A broad smile grows on Shae’s face. “Excuse me, Your Majesty.” She turns on her hoof and gallops around the table, stopping when she comes face to face with Caro and Tohro. Without a word, she leaps towards them and wraps a foreleg around each of their necks.

“Awfully affectionate, aren’t we?” Caro asks, grinning as he returns the gesture. “It’s only been a few weeks.”

“The longest weeks of my life,” Shae says with a loud sigh.

Tohro snickers. “Aw, does parenthood have you down?”

“I’m prepared to care for Celina and Luna for as long as I have to, but I’m no miracle worker… Not to mention, now I have to put up with the antics of a god of chaos. How am I going to explain this to the little ones?”

Shae’s fur crawls as an all too familiar set of scales brushes against her legs. Discord slithers around her, wearing an intrigued look. “Well, you certainly have a way with stallions, Miss Shae, if you were able to produce such wonderful little girls.”

Shae scoffs at him. “I would have given birth to them without a second thought, but I’m afraid that’s not exactly how they came into my care. They are my daughters all the same, though.”

“Simply because you deem it so, my dear?” Discord asks, his hands resting on his upside-down head.

“I like to think that—” Shae’s mouth clamps shut as Discord snaps his talons.

“I ask that because, well, imagine if I were a Divine.” Discord stands properly, chest thrust out in regal imitation. An extravagant crown blinks into existence upon his head. “If my child, a legendary alicorn, were, let’s call it kidnapped, by a mere mortal—”

“Kidnapped?!” Shae exclaims, an edge to her voice.

Discord continues as if she hadn’t spoken at all. He reaches up to the sea, summoning three drops of water. “—I wouldn’t take too kindly to that. In fact…” The figures morph into three ponies, two of them alicorns, and one of them a unicorn. “I’d be keen to smite them on the spot. Suh-mite!” With a snap of his fingers, the unicorn figure disappears into mist. The alicorn figures look around, confused. “I’d watch your step, Shae Sparkle,” Discord says, his voice unusually grim, but his sick smile unwavering.

“Let her be!” Hurricane commands, taking a seat at the table. His seat opposes Discord’s. “I’m sure she’s a fine parent, superior to any Divine.” His compliments bring warmth to Shae’s face, though it’s short lived, as his somber expression returns. “Far superior to me in every way.”

Tohro is the first to reach the table, choosing a seat close to Hurricane’s end. Caro and Shae follow suit, opting to sit as far away from Discord as possible. He returns to his throne and begins nibbling on a stem of grapes.

King Hurricane, despite his usual solemnness, appears focused and determined, his brow furrowed. “I caused quite a stir last time. So, it seems only fair that I face my deepest regret rather than running away from it. After that, well… perhaps I can finally allow myself to die with a clear conscience.” He closes his eyes, exhaling slowly. “I think it’s time that you knew about Squall,” he said.

Caro notices the king’s twitching eyelid. He opens his mouth, prepared to point it out, but quickly retracts his tongue as he sees water droplets descending from the sky-sea. They change into the forms of equines, like before, only this time losing nearly all semblance of liquid. When they take the shapes of a younger King Hurricane and Queen Platinum, they’re just short of lifelike. Tohro leans forward, intrigued as the two lovers lay on a bed, entwined in a naked embrace, save for leggings and sheets.

“Platinum and I had found our renaissance. The war was over, Equestria was born, and we were its rulers. Our coming together after so long lead to many, many enchanting nights.”

“Oh, I could make so many jokes right now,” Discord whispers to himself, showing the same naughty face as Tohro. “But I’ll save those for another time. So, no doubt all of your time appraising your precious gemstone of a wife caused a pearl to form within the royal oyster?”

The younger king and queen’s faces grow slight wrinkles in mere seconds. Platinum is lying down, bedridden, yet she looks as happy as she could ever appear. She holds a small bundle in her hooves. Hurricane nearly topples a healer as he runs to her side. They both look upon the contents of the bundle; a baby pegasus with a slick purple mane and a light blue body.

“I won’t deny it… Although Squall would become so much less than a pearl, dare I say less than a grain of sand, for the moment I was happy to know I had a successor, and simultaneously terrified of what could come of it. I half feared we’d end up with an alicorn child. Obviously, that wasn’t the case. Squall was as much a pegasus as I was.” As the water drops pull apart and shift once again, King Hurricane clenches his teeth. “And that was precisely the problem.”

Squall appears as a rather strapping young colt. His mane and coat well-tended and he wears a royal tunic. However, Caro gives pause at the sight of his determined expression. It’s not an inspiring look; it’s a fearful one, as if Squall were driven to do something horrid at this point in Hurricane’s memory.

The frightening expression goes away as the image of Squall turns to his father. Hurricane’s mane has begun to grey at this point, though he hasn’t lost any of his muscle. He happily directs Squall to many statues of different pegasi, which stand in a large, dome shaped chamber.

“The chamber of the sages...” Shae whispers in awe. “This must have been before they used the room to control the sun and moon.”

“These are the past commanders of Olympus,” the past Hurricane says.

“Commanders… Not kings?” Squall asks, seeming unimpressed.

The past Hurricane seems ignorant of Squall’s dissonant mien. “See, son, in the old pegasus ways, war and politics were two halves of the same whole. As such, laws were set by the strongest, and the weak had no influence. It was believed that if you were a glorious leader in battle, you were stallion enough to be a leader in all other things. Commanders were the highest rank. Ergo, they were like kings.”

Squall smiles, but it appears more malicious than pleasant. “Why was such a government abandoned?”

“The greater question is why it wasn’t expunged sooner. As I said, there was no voice for the weak; they were mere grunts, sent into battle as lambs for the slaughter.”

“All the better to test the enemy’s skill, yes?”

Hurricane, for a brief moment, appears horrified. He recomposes himself as he asks, “How… Why would you think that?”

“Just a jape, Father,” Squall says with an innocent chuckle. “So, I can’t help but take notice of this commander.” The young one bypasses all of the other statues to gaze upon a stone visage of Commander Zeus. “Hm, why does he stand at the center?”

Hurricane looks at the statue with a smirk. It’s obvious that his contempt for his old authority is still fresh. “Zeus was the last commander, until I took his place. I commissioned that the statue stand in the center of this room, as I like to remember him as he was.”

“A mighty warrior?” Squall asks.

“Perish the thought.” Hurricane’s smirk turns into a frown. He seems to age a few years in an instant. “Zeus was a monster shaped like an equine. He never held anything but hatred for those beneath him, and twice the hatred went for his enemies. He was never satisfied unless he took their limbs. Further, unless those under his command fought half as fierce as he did, he had a tendency to beat them within an inch of their life… Pansy was one of his many victims.”

“Pansy?”

“Oh, I’ve told you about him. He was my lover before I met my beloved Platinum. Given that he was less a soldier and more of a peacekeeper, Zeus harbored no restraint. You can understand why I wasn’t fond of the old commander’s doctrine. The world is better off without him.”

Hurricane turns on his hoof and trots to leave the chamber. Squall, however, lingers behind to gaze at Zeus. “How do you mean by that?”

“There are some in this world that are unforgivably horrid and hold no regard for their actions. Some of them are just better off dead.”

Tohro furrows his brow as he stares intently at Caro, who nods and bows his head. “I know.”

The Hurricane of the present clenches his teeth, peeling his eyes away from his past image. “How foolish I was… I could have said a thousand things to Squall, and every single word I chose set him a step further down a path of darkness.”

“Do you truly think there was anything you could have done to stop him?” Shae asks. “Some ponies, they’re…” She swallows, taking an unusually long pause. “They can be unsalvageable.”

“I like to hold on to the idea that I could have done otherwise. It helps.”

“No. No, it doesn’t.” Shae shakes her head and taps her hoof on her plate. “The past is in the past, Your Majesty. What good is it to harbor such regret?”

King Hurricane glares at Shae, causing her to lean back in her seat. It’s the first time he has shown any malice towards a member of Dragonrein, making his old, tired, angry eyes all the more intense. “What do you know of it?! What else am I supposed to do? Just accept that I drove my own son to turn against me? You want me to put aside my greatest mistake, just like that?”

“YES!” Shae screams, standing up and slamming her forelegs down, causing the entire table to rattle. All that can be heard for a while is the gradually dwindling clatter of plates and silverware, along with heavy breaths. Shae gazes around the whole table, taking in Caro and Tohro’s concerned shock and Discord’s apathy before sitting back down. She shakes her head, blinking tears out of her eyes. "N-No. This isn't about me or my regrets. Please, continue."

“Are you well?” Caro asks. “If you want to talk—”

Shae opens her mouth to speak, but she’s preemptively interrupted by Discord. “Tut tut! This is our gracious king’s social gathering. Please refrain from caring about other things.”

Despite the mad god’s calming words, the shared glances between Dragonrein and the king are far less warm than before. All the king can do to remedy the issue is speak a simple, “My apologies, Miss Shae,” his voice shaking as he speaks. “Perhaps it’d be for the best if I continued?”

“It’s advisable,” Shae mutters.

Hurricane keeps his eyes turned to the water, rather than the disturbed looks of Caro and Tohro. He motions for the water droplets to move. As if on command, they do so, once again forming a younger visage of the king and his son. Squall is older here, and far more intimidating. In a way, his intense leer makes him appear older than Hurricane, who sits upon his throne. He looks disgruntled and weary, indifferent to Squall’s anguish.

“I have told you time and time again, Squall…”

The prince interrupts the king with a flourish of his hoof. “It’s important to me! To hell with that, it’s important to all pegasi!”

The king leans forward in his seat. “What pegasi? To what single pegasus are those statues of any significance?”

“All pegasi!” Squall’s wings flare out. “Those aren’t just statues, Father. They are testaments to our legacy!”

“Our le—” Hurricane shakes his head in disbelief. “No. No, Squall. It doesn’t work like that. You speak of the pegasus race as if it’s a collective consciousness. We… We’re just ponies. No different from earthwalkers, or pegasi. I’d even include zebras, but you know how it is…”

Squall steps back, acting as if Hurricane had just thrown a knife at him. “How could you say such a thing...” he half-yells, half-whispers. “You were there. You know the might of the pegasi. Why would you throw that all away?”

“Have my stories taught you nothing?” Hurricane removes himself from the throne, marching forward against Squall. “Those times were nothing but turmoil, justified only by the rantings of bloodthirsty maniacs who thought themselves gods of war. Do you not remember the stories?” When he stops speaking, his eyes slowly widen. “Unless… Squall, did you actually think the Olympian pegasi to be heroes?”

“Weren’t the other tribes your enemies?” Squall asks innocently. “That made you, along with the pegasi that fought beside you, the heroes. You stood tall to protect your way of life, in which power was rewarded.” He ignores his father’s disturbed expression as he points behind him. “And you would have every last tribute to that—”

“Tribute is a fleeting thing, especially when removing those statues will serve a greater cause.”

“What greater—”

Hurricane interrupts Squall once again. “Your mother and the unicorn sages wish to use that room as a gathering place for the rise and fall of the sun and moon.”

Squall will have none of it. He screams at his father, “Why would you allow such an atrocity to happen?! What decent pegasus would stoop down to an inferior being?!”

Hurricane becomes still. Caro expects him to lash out, or wear a look of grim disappointment, but he looks unusually calm, as if something he had expected was just confirmed. What happens just after that is a mystery.

The Hurricane of the present speaks. “Squall was always… different. I raised him as best as I could, educating him in history, politics, morality, and so on. And yet, he forged his own view of a perfect world. Unfortunately for him, nopony else wanted that perfect world. Unfortunately for me, and many others… Well, as I said, Squall was different.”

“Oh, just get to the good part already!” Discord squeals. He slithers beneath the table and rises on the other side, his grin manic as ever as he holds King Hurricane’s shoulders. “I caught a few glimpses of one particularly stormy night while I was repairing your fragile little snowglobe of a noggin.”

The king tries to remain stoic, but a single twitch of his lip shows he can’t keep it up for long. “If you silence yourself, I will tell.” He takes a few deep breaths as Discord returns to his seat, twiddling his paws and talons. “To put it in the least horrible way, Squall’s determination outgrew any opposition to his blind worship of the old ways. I had suspected that he’d eventually see the way of the world, but I was too naive to consider how far he would go…”

Once again, the past Hurricane takes form, clad in his old armor. He hits the ground running, his rainbow mane and tail trailing behind him. He stops only for an instant to turn around and buck a door, breaking the flimsy lock. The door opens to reveal the chamber of the sages once again. Squall stands in the center of the room. All innocence, as little as there was before, has gone from the stallion. His mane is disheveled, and his face holds nothing but malice. Yet, he looks happy. “I wanted you to be here, Father. This night couldn’t be more perfect.” He loses none of that malice as he looks up.

Tohro reels back in his seat, his eyes widening rapidly. “What the fuck is that?!”

Earthwalkers and unicorns alike hang from the ceiling, their limbs held by mismatched jumbles of shackles. All of them are unclothed. The ones who are strong enough to move raise their heads and call out to Hurricane, but their voices are muted by gags.

“Squall, what have you done?!” the king roars.

“There’s no need to look so angry,” says Squall, taking Hurricane’s quiet rage in humor. “Look at what I am about to accomplish for all of us children of Olympus! You said it yourself, we pegasi are the strongest of all equines!"

"But we were slaves to our egos!” Hurricane shouts. “Did you not understand my meaning?!"

"All I heard from your lips were tales of times of glory and victory. Now I know what I must do..."

Hurricane runs at Squall, but he is quickly shoved away by a summoned shield. He skirts to a stop, leaving skid marks in the marble floor. He immediately shakes off the blow and flies to the bound ponies. Another shield forces him to the ground. He can only struggle to stand before collapsing. Smoke rises out of the cracks in his armor.

Squall mocks Hurricane with ecstatic laughter. “Foolishness, Father. Foolishness. Unicorns may be inferior to us, but their products do come in useful…” He reveals the contents of his worn pouch; several scrolls, which he spills out onto the floor. “See, I’ve always known my superiority as a pegasus is true, no matter how often you’ve denied it. We don’t need to rely on cheap parlor tricks to get our way. We are one with sky and storm. And I’m going to prove that to these neophytes.” He gestures to the suffering ponies above him. “Be easy. You need not fear me,” he says to them. “I will share my gift with you. Then, you will truly understand.”

“And they say I’m mad!” Discord cackles. “That boy of yours, Hurricane. Ah, they grow up so fast, don’t they? One day they’re puttering about, secretly holding you in disdain, and before you know it, they’re of age, drinking mead, staying out late, and torturing underlings!” He wipes a tear from his eye, which he transforms into a kerchief. He continues to watch Squall’s flamboyant ranting as he dabs at his cheeks. “Oooh, I love this part. I do love a pony who is willing to defy the rules of nature to get what he wants.”

Squall shuffles through his pile of scrolls. He grins with sadistic glee as he claims an unusual one. Rather than just a simple roll of paper, this scroll is bound by a bronze, gem encrusted tube.

Shae’s mouth falls open, as she tries and utterly fails to comprehend the sight before her. “That’s impossible.” She wipes her spectacles on her robe and puts them back on. “How could he ever claim one of those?!”

“I… do not know what that is,” Tohro remarks. “Caro?”

“Master made a passing reference to it…” The Dragonborn turns to Tohro. “I think that’s an Elder Scroll,” he says cautiously.

Tohro’s eyes light up with clarity, then become sour with dread. “Oh, shit…”

Squall moves his lips, but his words go unheard. His eyes follow the text of the Elder Scroll with great speed. His concentration is great enough for him to remain ignorant of his father slamming his hooves against the force field. “Stop this immediately, Squall! Don’t make me hurt you!” His threats fall empty when he is barely able to stand.

“And how I’d like to see you try,” Squall gloats, looking up from the Elder Scroll. He gestures to the ceiling again. “How could you harm me? You’ve thrown in your lot with them. You’re no true pegasus.”

“You’re playing with power beyond comprehension!"

Squall seems little more than annoyed at Hurricane’s protests. “Your precious sages and your flea-bitten wife seem to have little difficulty with this scroll. I figured, if it gave them the power to raise and lower the sun and moon, then surely it can grant me the power to change ponykind for the better.” He goes quiet again as he resumes reading.

As time agonizingly drags on, Squall’s lips continue to move and Hurricane is left motionless, unable to do anything to stop the events transpiring before him.

The instant Squall stops reading, the Elder Scroll becomes wreathed in an unnatural black light. “Finally,” is all Squall says as he watches the light expand, spreading throughout the chamber. It looks like numerous tears through reality itself.

A sudden scream causes Shae and Tohro to shake. Squall keels over, clutching his face. The past Hurricane looks up, horror held in his gaze...

"That's enough!" The Hurricane of the present has thrown himself out of his chair. Beads of sweat glisten on his face as he casts his hoof out towards the memory. The visages of himself, his son, the screaming ponies, and the chamber all collapse into drops of water.

Tohro shakes his head, trying to break out of a trance. He can't bring himself to blame the king for sweating at such a grotesque sight. Even so, he tilts his head in confusion. "I thought you wanted to get this off of your chest, Your Majesty."

"Call it selfish, if you must..." The king returns to his seat, his hooves trembling as he reaches for his glass. He takes a long drink before he resumes talking. "That was not the most horrifying thing that happened that evening. At least, from this old codger's point of view..."

Two orbs of water emerge from the ocean above. They slowly rotate around each other, like two soldiers staring each other down on a battlefield. The motions become quicker and more chaotic until one of the orbs collides into the other, shoving it away. The offended orb turns, its mass shifting until it takes the form of a pony once again. Squall, obviously mad and deranged, charges at the Hurricane of the past, his wings beating furiously.

A well-placed punch sends Hurricane into the wall of a shabby building. He growls as he falls to the cobblestone, with several bricks and shingles clattering down around him. He removes himself from the wreckage, defiant to any injury.

“There’s our king…” Tohro says with a respectful smile.

Hurricane crouches. He watches his son closely as he grows closer. He raises his foreleg, cocks it back, and swings, landing his hoof into Squall’s barrel. Squall is thrown off-course into a window, shattering the glass. He rolls over on the ground, revealing a back full of shards. Blood mixes with the puddles of pooling rain.

Squall lets out a bloodcurdling scream. Despite his wounds, the hellish sound does not sound agonized, only filled with rage. He raises his head, revealing a nightmarish face. One of his eyes is white and clouded.

“The Elder Scroll must have blinded him…” Shae murmurs.

As per usual, Hurricane is unfettered by his son’s tantrum. “I once killed a stallion who thought himself a god. On the off chance he was right, I’d advise that you stand down,” he says to his son with equal parts anger and concern.

“I WILL NOT!” Squall yells. “I CANNOT! FOR THE SAKE OF ALL PEGASI, I… I…”

Hurricane paces around his incoherently moaning son. “...will what, child? Fight and die for a cause no one believes in?”

“I AM STRONGER THAN YOU!” Squall struggles to his hooves. “I… I am…”

“You’re an omega who thinks himself the alpha. Face reality, Squall. You will never get what you want. Give up this meaningless dream. Live a peaceful life among your equals.”

“I will not… How could I live among a zealot and a filthy witch?” Squall looks up at his father with absolute disdain. “YOU HAVE NOT SEEN WHAT I HAVE! THE ELDER SCROLL SHOWED ME EVERYTHING! IT WAS TRUTH! I SAW OLYMPUS RISE AGAIN! PEGASI DOMINATING ALL THOSE BENEATH THEM! AND I, THE NEW COMMANDER! THE TRUE ALPHA! THE APEX PREDATOR!”

“You honestly believe what that thing told you? That would explain much...” Hurricane shakes his head, snorting derisively. He steps towards the crying pegasus before him, only to step back from a pool of blood. “No one wants that future, Squall. You’re alone.”

Squall spits red onto Hurricane’s hooves. “Weak… You’re weak, Father. You have no pride…”

Hurricane has none of Squall’s ranting, shoving his prone body aside. “This is the face of pride? A bleeding, broken, insolent, blasphemous child who ravaged the bodies of several innocents in the name of reclaiming an age he never even knew? I’ll take compassion for my equals over your definition of pride.”

Squall doesn’t reply. He seems too weak for words at the moment.

“Squall...” Hurricane continues. “Having a vision doesn’t excuse you from the things you’ve done. You insulted your mother. You’ve shamed your lineage. You’ve ruined lives. You see this as some sort of conquest to make Olympus rise again, but all I see in you is a monster, and a traitor.”

Squall coughs up more blood before speaking. “You're the traitor, Father... What did we pegasi have beyond perfection in times past?"

"Hatred and xenophobia of the highest caliber. It was chaos; dystopia in its truest form.” Hurricane bows his head. It looks as though a grim realization has overcome him. “And you would have it all back to the way it was, destroying everything I have fought for…”

Squall’s eyes widen as he’s presented with his father’s hoof. He takes it, slowly rising to his hooves. He offers his father a smile, but it is not reciprocated.

King Hurricane stares into Squall’s one working eye and says, “Banished.”

Squall’s smile disappears instantly. He clenches his teeth, as if he’s about to put up another doomed struggle, but he relaxes, opting instead to slowly step around his father. As he trots into the streets, his figure faint in the pouring rain, he asks, “Where would you have me go?”

Hurricane doesn’t look back. "So long as I don't have to be reminded that you exist, I don’t care."

The scene transitions once again, with Hurricane falling into a large white bed. His armor is gone, replaced with a simple robe. Nearly all color in his mane has disappeared. Aside from the occasional breath, and the presence of Queen Platinum stroking his neck, there’s little evidence to suggest the king is even alive.

Present King Hurricane’s expression is blank, staring off into nothing. "I had conquered both tradition and fate. I had laid waste to hatred and corruption. I had taken the throne of my own kingdom. And I had lost everything."

The visions above faded from sight, the only sound heard that of the collective group’s breathing. The king slouches in his seat, brow furrowed in a frown, while Caro, Tohro, and Shae all try to think of something to say between shared glances. Even Discord seems to be taking his time to interrupt the silence, as if his surroundings are unable to dampen his mood.

“Mmm,” Discord hums finally, Shae almost breathing a sigh in relief. “What you say, good King Stormfront, is that you only meant well?”

“Of course I did,” Hurricane growls back. “I wanted Equestria to be everything Olympus wasn't.”

“Yes, yes, of course. All for the best... Well, of course you did, Handy Cane.” Discord slithers out of his seat, writhing in the air above. “Because you felt such love in your heart, such devotion and happiness to this new country you were ushering in, such loyalty—”

"Loyalty is a lie!” the king snaps, rising out his seat. “Everypony can be lost. The tighter you try to hold on, the quicker they slip out of your grasp. It’s inevitability in and of itself."

Tohro thinks of his betrayal of the Blackwings, and how in a single moment, he lost all respect for a mare he once believed to be a worthy queen. "Loss is inevitable, Your Majesty, there's no denying it,” he says. “You can't chalk it up to loyalty..."

"It's still a lie! In the end, no matter how loyal you are, you'll always betray something. In being loyal to my mission as the protector of Equestria and all that would harm her, I betrayed my son."

Tohro interjects, leaning over the table. "Yes, much like another betrayal of yours decades earlier! In choosing to defy tradition, breaking boundaries and marrying your darling Platinum, you dishonored your entire tribe and everything they stood for."

"Exactly," Hurricane agrees.

Tohro clicks his tongue and folds his forelegs. "Well. Clearly you are such a despicable equine for choosing your own path instead of being loyal to something you didn't truly believe in."

“What would you know of it?!I was disloyal to my own flesh and blood!” The king points at Tohro, his face a pained scowl. “I could have done something for him; I should have known what he would become! I could have saved him and those innocents!” His chest heaves in fierce, labored breaths. “There is no loyalty.”

“Then the definition of the word must have changed in recent times, sirrah.” Tohro’s eyes are closed and his muzzle is pointed upwards. He looks the part of a pompous philosopher.

“But,” Shae reluctantly interrupts, “isn’t that like saying there’s no such thing as love?”

Tohro clicks his tongue again. "Why would I say that? Love is an emotion. Loyalty is a concept; it isn’t objective. There isn't an unwritten law of the universe that says what's right and what's wrong. That is up to you. The way I see it, King Hurricane is the most loyal pony I have ever had the honor of meeting." Tohro alights on the table, cantering slowly towards the king. The two stare each other down as Tohro reaches the end. “You lived and died for an honorable cause, Your Majesty. I myself have taken heart of your deeds, and esteem myself of a fraction of your loyalty—”

"You're speaking nonsense—"

The king is sent flying from his chair, a bruise already apparent on his cheek as he stares up at Tohro in shock. “I’m not sorry, Your Majesty,” Tohro says in an even voice as he steps off the table. “My ma and pa were advocates for equality among all equines. They looked up to and respected you, using you as an example. They told me the stories.” He helps the king stand. pointing above them with a hoof as the projections come back. “You know the day. Libra Minora, a small town on the outskirts of Calfheim. Zeus’ final conquest was nearing its end. Call it fate, luck, or what have you, but something changed that day, and it all started with you…”

A young Lieutenant Hurricane walks unblinking through heavy snowfall. Pegasus soldiers of many ranks contrast his calm demeanor, shouting commands at each other as they fly along a rubble filled street. They’re filled with unmistakable warrior spirit, while the stallion that would become Equestria’s king is calm and focused.

He stops in his path as he spots the bleeding body of a unicorn mage, slumped over against a ruined shop, abandoned. He steps over to the corpse and turns her over, laying her down on the ground. He crosses her forelegs and closes her eyes. It’s a far more dignified place of rest.

“Go in peace,” Hurricane whispers.

He looks over his shoulder at the sound of a gasp. Another unicorn, a middle-aged mare with a bundle tucked under her cloak, quickly darts into an alley. Hurricane, with a look of bemusement, trots after the mare.

The mare waits for him around the corner. “Away with you, demon!” she shouts, brandishing a knife as she backs away.

Hurricane eyes the bundle. When he sees it move, he chuckles. “You should find somewhere to hide, friend. The battlefield is an ill-fitting place for a mother and her child.”

The mare appears offended at Hurricane’s casual demeanor. “You speak of ill-fitting… You shouldn’t be here to begin with!” She swings her knife at him, only leaving a barely noticeable scratch on his dark armor. “You should have stayed in the clouds where you belong!”

“Ah, a kindred spirit, then!” Hurricane chuckles again, advancing on the mare. When she takes another swing at him, he blocks her foreleg, sending the knife out of her grip. “What if I told you I share the exact same sentiment?”

The mare’s answer comes in the form of spit.

“Why is it that everypony wants their saliva on you?” Discord asks with a cocked brow. “Ah!” He points to an incoming pink-maned pegasus. “Perhaps I’ll slip into that fellow’s mind and ask him.”

Pansy lands in the alley and speaks to Hurricane in exasperation. “Sir! The battle has resumed! We’re marching on the higher districts! And, uh, there’s one other thing—”

Hurricane holds up a hoof, silencing Pansy immediately. “Just a moment.” He keeps his focus on the mare, who keeps her forelegs tightly wrapped around her child. “I can get you to a safe place. There’s a church of Fauste not far from here. So long as you call sanctuary—”

Pansy interrupts, panickedly nudging Hurricane. “Sir, that’s not an option!”

“What? Why?”

“It’s Princess Platinum, sir… She’s been a field medic to the unicorns this whole time, and she’s taken refuge in the church.”

Hurricane raises his brow, appearing taken back by such a notion. “Oh, my… Well, that’s all good for her, then? Conventions dictate that she can’t be harmed so long as—”

Both Hurricane and the viewers of the memory are treated to an unusual sight as Pansy grows furious. “Do you think Zeus cares about conventions?! He’s on his way to the church as we speak! And when he finds the princess, well…” His yellow face grows a little green. “You know Zeus loves his spoils of war…”

Hurricane looks just as furious, and doubly terrifying thanks to his stalwart figure. He turns back to the mare. He leans over her and says, “This will have to do, then.”

The mare is about to voice her confusion, but a single push sends her falling back into a small abandoned house. Before Hurricane closes the door on her, she flashes him one last look of confusion, her baby looking unusually happy.

“I’m going after Zeus,” Hurricane says. “Fetch me a sword. There’s another convention among us pegasi I’m going to exploit.”

“What does he mean by that?” Caro asks Tohro, who has reclaimed his seat. He comes to the conclusion himself. “Oh, Divines… Pegasi were allowed to do such a thing, weren’t they?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Tohro replies, gesturing to the memory. Hurricane is fighting his way through many unicorns, though he never delivers the finishing blow to a single one, preferring to leave them disarmed and weakened instead. “They built their government around strength. Some soldiers earned their ranks through recognition. Others took those ranks by brute force.”

The present Hurricane hasn’t sat down, but he is watching himself in all of his youthful glory. He has some semblance of pride back in him now. “And I was biding my time in Zeus’ shadow. Planning. Until that day, I didn’t imagine anything could push me to do the unthinkable.”

The young Hurricane flies at a blistering pace through rubble, broken windows and battling soldiers, until the church comes into view. It is the only building that hasn’t been touched by cannon fire. Hurricane nears the locked entrance, only for his tail to be snagged by a unicorn’s aura. He is thrown down the front steps, where he is greeted with two unicorns and their levitated spears. They look utterly exhausted, but no less determined.

Hurricane doesn’t resist the spears, nor does he raise his sword in defense. He only speaks, raising his forelegs. “I’ve come for Princess Platinum!” Hurricane shouts with urgency. He scowls when he realizes how poorly he chose his words. “Please understand...”

Both spears press against the exposed parts of Hurricane’s neck, piercing the skin. “You would have Her Highness slain? Haven’t you wounded us enough?!” accuses one of the unicorns.

“I wouldn’t harm her, not ever! I want to save her!”

“...What?” The other soldier pulls back her spear in surprise.

A tense moment lasts between Hurricane’s would-be captors, as they remain motionless despite the battle raging around them. The lull is brought to an end by a shrill, terrified scream emitting from the church.

“Forgive me.” Hurricane closes his eyes and turns around onto his stomach. He kicks out his hind legs and spins. It’s almost like a dance. A visible gust of wind circles around him, knocking the unicorn soldiers off balance and onto their backs.

Hurricane leaps off the ground and lands on his hooves. He wastes no time in flaring out his wings and soaring to the church entrance once again. He braces himself, bursting through the door on impact. He drops to the carpet and rolls to a stop, just in front of a fire pit. “Princess!” he shouts, his voice unusually thin.

At the base of a limestone statue of Fauste lies Platinum. She is as elegant and beautiful as she ever was as a younger mare, but her state couldn’t be described as anything less than miserable. She’s on her back, prone, her dress torn and her hair in disarray. Numerous bruises litter her body, and her eyes appear cleansed of all emotion.

Hurricane looks on in horror as Zeus removes himself from Platinum’s body. His whole body is covered in ebony armor from front to back, his face veiled by his helm.

“Did she cry sanctuary?” Hurricane asks, his rage obviously fit to break.

Zeus chuckles. “She cried, all right…”

The thin thread that has held Hurricane’s patience with Zeus’ brutality snaps. He gallops, scuffing the carpet beneath him and kicking up the lines of flowers in his wake. He leaves a trail of white petals behind him as he charges straight for the armored behemoth of a stallion.

Even with Zeus’ massive stature, he still stumbles at the impact of Hurricane’s punch. His side collides with a pillar. Hurricane flips in the air, losing little momentum as he delivers another blow. Forgoing the use of his sword, Hurricane exerts his rage with several more airborne punches. His hits are unforgivably quick, too fast for anypony to keep sight of. He doesn’t let up until Zeus stumbles back again, bringing the pillar down with him.

Even after all of that, Zeus’ fearsome armor displays little more than a dent, and he is still chuckling. “Ah, so this is where you initiate your inevitable betrayal… I suspected you’d find some opportune moment to try and face me.” The fierce commander tramples a patch of flowers in his approach. “I think you picked a perfect place to mark your grave.” He spreads his wings, presenting several black blades inserted between his feathers. With a single flap, the blades fly at Hurricane, who makes a dodging flight upwards, only to be thrown off course as his forelegs and chest are pierced. He still makes a smooth landing.

“It is only by your impudence that it has come to this!” Hurricane shouts, ripping the blades out of his body with his teeth, then grabbing his sword. “I should have done this long ago, in front of all of my companions and lovers.”

Zeus mimics Hurricane’s action, presenting his own sword. Befitting its owner, it is large and terrifying, with multiple edges decorating its razor sharp blade. “Do you hate me so, knave?”

Hurricane, in a simultaneously respectful and disdainful act, lifts his sword and taps it against Zeus’ much more intimidating weapon. “Oh, if only hate were enough.” He dashes around Zeus and strikes at his barrel. The armor proves too thick; the sword clinks off like it were a pebble. Hurricane doesn’t slow his assault, though, taking several swings at every possible point in Zeus’ armor, dodging every slash that comes his way. The dance of their blades is an awe-inspiring sight to behold.

Zeus keeps his blade in perpetual motion to match Hurricane’s tactics, which are much of the same. The gigantic blade only stops its movement when it comes crashing into the marble floor, tearing out chunks of solid stone. Hurricane lands on one of these chunks and kicks off, flying at breakneck speed. He circles around Zeus until he is nothing more than a rainbow blur. Even with the summoned gust, however, Zeus remains still, laughing maniacally.

“You can’t kill a god, child! Honestly. Your efforts to stand against me in the past were laughable, but this…” Zeus swings his sword once again. The flat of the blade slams into Hurricane and sends him throttling into the ceiling. “It’s just pathetic.”

Hurricane growls in pain as he removes himself from the painted ceiling. If he has suffered any injury, he doesn’t let any sign of it show. “Same as everypony else beneath you! They’re all pathetic in your eyes!” He drops to the ground and breaks into flight. He ducks underneath another attack from Zeus, then uses his back to push up, throwing the large stallion off balance. With a single solid buck, Zeus falls over, leaving a small crater where he lands.

Hurricane wraps both his forelegs and hind legs around Zeus' thick neck. He presses in on his armor. Both the sounds of compacting metal and gagging can be heard. “I put up with everything!” Hurricane shouts. “I watched as you emotionally and physically butchered those I held dear! All in the name of power! You just can’t stand the presence of weakness!”

Zeus slams his head into the ground, leaving Hurricane flattened. He removes himself from his crater. “Without weakness, we can thrive. Without strength, we fall at the slightest resistance.” He presses his hoof into Hurricane’s chest. “And here I stand as an unfellable paragon of strength. All of those beneath me were lucky to earn some semblance of my greatness.” He presses harder, eliciting a labored cry from Hurricane. “And then you came along, climbing the ranks, finding your own way, being the passive, nonlethal simpleton that all the weaklings looked up to. Oh, how it filled me with DISGUST!” He raises his hoof and slams it into Hurricane. “You think you’re superior to me, Hurricane? You’re wrong. You’re not a soldier. You’re not a hero. You’re an ungrateful, weak, smug, insignificant, blasphemous CUNT!” Another hit leaves Hurricane spitting blood.

“For the first time in my life,” the present Hurricane says quietly, “I felt the claws of death gripping at my body. I actually thought I was going to die.”

Zeus is still ranting as he draws more blood from the stallion under his hoof. “I’m going to kill you, and I am going to relish every moment.”

The young Hurricane doesn’t look Zeus in the eye. His head is turned, his mouth open, gasping for air. His hoof is reaching out to nothing.

“No comrades. No strength. No hope. You’re alone, Hurricane.”

A white, robed hoof touches Hurricane’s.

Princess Platinum stares Zeus down. “He’s not alone.”

Zeus’ eyes widen within the confines of his helm. “WHAT’S THIS?!”

Platinum raises her aura-wreathed hoof and motions it towards the armored stallion. A purple mass of pure energy sends him careening across the room, reducing several pews to scraps of wood.

The princess immediately goes to Hurricane and ignites her horn once again. She passes her horn over him. In a matter of seconds, the bruises and cuts upon his body fade into nothing. Hurricane’s mouth is still agape, but in awe, rather than pain. “Why?” he asks the mare above him.

“I think you know the answer to that.” Platinum’s aura wraps around Hurricane’s legs, lifting him off the shattered ground. “Now, on your hooves, soldier!”

Hurricane wobbles for a moment before his legs lock. His wings serve to steady himself. Platinum's aura fades as he gains control once more, taking careful steps towards the fallen body of Zeus, his stride gaining in purpose and confidence as he goes forth. "Do you..." he breathes, a wary smile forming on his lips. “Do you think that did it?”

His smile drops as Zeus rises from the pile of wood splinters. His armor has become even further dented, rent with scratches. He stands hunched, his legs trembling. What would look like a sign of weakness in any other pony is even more terrifying on his part, especially when it’s accompanied by noises that sound less equine and more monstrous. Zeus scuffs his hoof against the ground and charges blindly at Platinum.

“Princess!” Hurricane reaches out for her, but she shoves him away with a ward, then holds out her forelegs. Zeus is lifted into the air just as he comes within a breath’s distance of Platinum, rising above her and being thrown like a toy. He collides with the stained glass window, raining shards onto the church’s floor. Hurricane and Platinum are left unharmed by another ward.

“Damn you…” Zeus tears out a chunk of wall with a single slam of his hoof. His words are barely distinguishable from his roars. “DAMN YOOOU!! I WILL KILL YOU! I WIIILL KILL YOOOU!” His wings create a gust of wind as they spread, knocking Platinum over, nearly sending her toppling into the fire pit. Hurricane catches her and sets her behind him as he braces for Zeus’ attack.

Zeus throws blade after blade after Hurricane, who knocks each one aside with precision strikes of his sword. He readies it up high as Zeus approaches, closer and closer, the ground shaking every time his hooves hit the ground. Zeus reaches for his blade, swings it around above him, pounces at Hurricane, brings the sword down—

It stops.

Zeus’ grip is fastened to his unmoving sword, which is held in place by Platinum’s aura. No matter how much he struggles, his sword remains still.

Hurricane seizes the opportunity. He rises to Zeus’ head and clasps it between his forelegs. As he pulls Zeus away from his sword, he shouts, “How dare you treat my princess so shamefully?!”

Zeus desperately attempts to flap his wings, but more of Platinum’s aura has taken hold, binding his joints. He can’t stop himself from falling into the fire pit.

Zeus roars in pain and fury as Hurricane holds him in place, writhing as the flames lick through the slits in the helm for his eyes and nose. "You can't kill me! I am a God! A GOD!!! I CANNOT DIE!!!"

Hurricane looks around the ruined church, a profound fury forming in his chest. "You tarnished a fair maiden's purity. You wreaked havoc on a house of Fauste. You crush, kill, destroy with nary a thought to the consequences or to those whose lives you've ruined. I cannot let you live." Hurricane starts shoving Zeus' face into the fire even harder, the armored pegasus' screams turning to feral howls as he thrashes even harder against his captors.

Hurricane is thrown off by a rather violent twist. Zeus staggers to his hooves. The front of his helmet is cherry red and glowing like the reaper herself. "I... cannot die," the massive pegasus groans, his voice smokey and metallic against the soft hiss of still-burning flesh. "You've drawn... your last breath... Both of you..." Zeus starts forward, still fast for as hurt as he is, but not nearly as much as Hurricane.

“Maybe one can’t kill a god, Zeus.” Hurricane is calmly backing away. “But I’ve killed demons.”

Zeus reaches for his sword.

Hurricane stops moving. “I am commander now.”

Zeus’ red hot blade lands in Hurricane’s hooves, Platinum’s aura surrounding it. Hurricane lifts the blade, and with one fluid motion and a hissing, meaty slice, Zeus’ head falls, rolling into the fire pit to burn. The rest of his body twitches, then collapses.

Silence reigns over the church as the echoing screams of Zeus’ final moments dwindle into nothing. Hurricane stands over the body of his enemy, his eyes wide and his mouth straight. The kill is still fresh, as is the reality of the moment.

Platinum appears drained, but to the relief of Hurricane, she is no longer dull in the eyes. Despite her swaying and drunken steps, she at least looks alive, if a bit delirious. She falls against Hurricane, who catches her in a close embrace. Their necks brush together.

“I remember…” says the Hurricane of the present. An smile begins to grow on his wrinkled muzzle.

The past Hurricane touches Platinum's chest, offering her a loving grin. “A pleasure to meet you at last, Your Highness.” His expression betrays his calmness; he’s blushing.

“That was it. I felt something new that day. Not only was I triumphant in body, mind, and soul, I was also, inconceivable as it was, in love.”

Hurricane and Platinum leave the church, leaning on each other for support.

“I threw all doubts to the wind. What others of my race would think, what my ancestors would say, the fact that we were of warring nations… I cared not for any of those things. I held Platinum, and held her dearly. I…”

It’s almost as if the world outside the church has changed. The cries of war, the cacophony of destruction, the grotesque sound of blood being spilt, it’s vanished. Hurricane chuckles at all of this. “So much for a dramatic entrance,” he comments. Summoning what little strength he can, he helps Platinum down the steps. Once they reach the bottom, he relinquishes Platinum and lays her down on a stray blanket. “This is where we part ways.”

“At first, I thought it was just a fleeting emotion, but then…”

Platinum sits up and grabs the cloth of Hurricane’s armor. “Don’t leave me…” She’s too weak to maintain her grip for long.

“That’s when I knew it to be something real.”

Hurricane kneels down and forces Platinum to lay flat. Almost as if on command, her eyes close. "When your soldiers come, tell them that Zeus has fallen, and his successor has ordered a full retreat. Your kingdom will be safe."

Platinum speaks, her voice slipping into barely audible whispers as she drifts away. “...Come to me… I'll be in Calfheim, waiting for you…"

Hurricane brushes Platinum’s mane, presses his lips to her forehead, then moves his muzzle to her ear. "You won't wait long."

The memory disperses into droplets of water.

Caro, Tohro and Shae all turn to King Hurricane. It is unknown whether or not the liquid on his face is from the remnants of the dispersed memory or tears of joy. Either way, he looks beyond elated, wearing a broad grin that nopony in Dragonrein has seen before.

“I remember,” he repeats. “I remember everything!” He laughs aloud, pacing around in no particular pattern. The grass seems to be growing greener with every step he takes. “Yes! That’s it! As I walked away from that battle, I thanked the Divines for every single mistake I ever made, as all of them led me along the path to Platinum! I remember! And everything that happened after that, the good, the bad, the unpleasant, the miserable, it all served to make me what I was, up until the day I died. Yes!”

Caro and Shae share a bewildered glance as King Hurricane voluntarily falls and rolls around in the grass, ending up on his back, still laughing like an easily amused child. Caro desperately tries to summon some sort of dignified reaction to this. “Uh… This is the pony who killed the ruler of an entire tribe, right?” he asks.

The king sits up, revealing that several of his wrinkles have disappeared, and his mane has reclaimed some of its color. “What I succeeded in doing that day was taking the first of many steps towards an equal nation built on love and tolerance, not power or domination. If I hadn’t thrown tradition to the wayside, if I hadn’t saved Platinum, I never would have come to marry the most beautiful pony in the world.” He stands up and trots to his seat. As he sits down, it takes on the form of a velvet throne more extravagant and decorated than Discord’s.

“Even more than that,” says Tohro, “you wouldn’t have become the high king of Equestria.”

Hurricane enthusiastically points at Tohro. “Exactly! And even if I didn’t exactly come into Equestria, or leave it, without a few skeletons in the closet, who would I be to say it was all for nothing? Platinum and I, we were the spark for the flame that set ponykind free from its frozen prison of hatred and bigotry.” He sighs and draws his foreleg in, resting his hooves on his lap. “I can’t thank you all enough for reminding me of that. I was so focused on what I lost or how I had failed, I had forgotten what I had done right.”

Hurricane stands again and walks to the cliffside. On the horizon, the sea and sky shift into their rightful places. He turns around, just at the edge. As his fur cape flaps in an oncoming breeze, he puts on a triumphant smirk. Over his shoulder, the sun begins to shine bright, perfectly capturing him in a heroic shot worthy of a frame on the Rainbow Palace’s walls.

As if that weren’t enough to show him in all of his glory, he is joined by the ghostly images of a young, flaunty Platinum, the jolly and bouncy Puddinghead, the cheerfully quiet Pansy, the calm and collected Smart Cookie, and a tranquil, happier Clover the Clever.

“Your Majesty.” Tohro flies out of his chair and salutes the king. “It has been an honor.”

“Indeed.” Shae does the same, as does Caro, without a moment of reluctance.

“Ponies of Dragonrein. You all have my eternal gratitude,” says King Hurricane. He turns to the horizon and begins to spread his wings.

“You have got to be kidding me!” The obnoxious drawl of Discord echoes across the sky. Everypony, including the ghosts, turn their attention to his seat, which has entirely disappeared. The draconequus slithers along the ground in shadow, slipping underneath Hurricane and retaking form in front of him. “That is it?! I put up with your misery for decades and all it takes is a few mindless inspirational speeches from the mouths of them?!” He casts out his talons at Dragonrein. “They’re mere infants compared to me! And you know that nothing infuriates me more than somepony changing somepony else’s mind. That is my job!” The shadows reach up to Hurricane’s wings and snap them shut. All of the ghosts begin to fade. Platinum is the last to go, her image being smashed into dust by Discord’s cloven hoof. He points to Hurricane’s throne, which is slowly turning into a sordid wooden chair. “Now, you will sit down and be quiet. You have a juicy mind chock full of delicious, chaotic memories that I intend to torment you with for a long time! Why, I imagine, with enough time, I could make you into one mean draugr!”

“What?!” Caro leaps onto the grass, his chair collapsing behind him. He gallops up to Discord. He reaches for his sword by instinct, even though it’s not there. “You told us that you couldn’t leave until we set his mind right and did away with all of the… chaos…” His eyes widen, which Discord takes notice of.

“Dear boy, I am chaos!” Discord cackles, raising his arms to the sky. Storm clouds begin to coalesce together, rotating around where he stands. Multicolored lightning strikes at a snap of his talons. “What made you think I was here against my will? I loved watching your beloved king fall apart, his mind visibly shattering before my eyes. The best part, however, was putting his mind back together and acting the sympathizer, just so I could watch it happen all over again! Oohoho, it’s going to be some time until I find a rush quite like that!” The mad god slithers around King Hurricane. He sensually strokes the stallion’s cheek with his paw. “What makes you think I’d be willing to let you go?”

Caro’s heavy breaths are audible, and they’re filled with rage. “You… insolent… depraved… fucking… monster...” he gasps. He is well beyond the point of shouting, but it all means nothing without a sword in his grip. He can only scuff the ground until he has worn away the grass.

King Hurricane, in a bizarre act, turns to Caro, much to the young stallion’s confusion. He is momentarily broken out of his seething anger when the king holds out his hoof. “All will be well, son. You need not fight on my part.”

Caro starts to regain his composure, all the while looking on with wary surprise.

“Discord, mad god of realms unknown…” Hurricane begins as he turns to the serpentine beast in question. “You have shown me, many times over, that you have a most peculiar way of entertaining yourself.”

“Well, I’d be lying if I said rending the minds of innocent ponies is anything less than chocolate dipped strawberries to me; absolutely delicious!” Discord clenches his talons and paws together to form tight, gloating fists. “And I could never replicate the perpetual orgasm of discomfort and pain your mind holds!”

Hurricane looks to his left and right. He takes a step back at the sight of a decrepit, bleeding projection of Pansy, and another at the sight of an enraged Squall. However, he reclaims those steps and shoves the projections away, causing them to fade. “You’ll have to forgive me, friend. See, for the longest time I’ve dealt with many an individual who forced their ways of life onto others, blind to the misery they were wreaking upon the world. A simpleminded fool such as yourself whose purpose amounts to nothing more than personal amusement would be an enemy beneath me, if I weren’t the high king of Equestria.”

King Hurricane closes his eyes. When he opens them, a spiked crown, embellished with a rainbow stone, appears upon his head.

“Unfortunately, I am the high king of Equestria. And you are in my realm.”

The king flourishes his hoof as he takes a two-legged battle stance. A long beam of light appears in his grip. As it fades, its true form is revealed; a platinum coated blade with a black hilt, embroidered with a countless amount of radiant gems.

“Hello, Excalibur…” Tohro whispers, his lips curling in excitement.

King Hurricane takes notice of Discord’s rising brow. He gives the sword a few slow swings, showing its perpetual glow. It’s as if it reflects the sun itself, despite the storm clouds overhead. “This was my wedding present. A legendary weapon, forged by Hephaestus himself. I never had a chance to make use of it, for fear of the blade growing dull. Now I realize how foolish I was to think Hephaestus would ever let that happen to a weapon of his creation.”

Caro licks his lips as he steps aside, watching intently. The thought of a duel between a king and a god has him visibly flustered, leaving him unable to blink.

Discord simply holds out his arms and beckons to King Hurricane with his paw and talons.

The king makes the first move. With every gallop, the light of Excalibur grows larger until it appears to have solidified. A mighty slash towards Discord reveals that the light is an extension of the blade. It cuts clean through Discord’s serpentine body. However, it draws no blood. Discord simply merges his severed body back together.

“Come now! Surely the mighty king has more than that within him!”

Without a sound, King Hurricane follows up with another slice. And another. He shows absolutely no restraint or fatigue even as he attacks Discord at speeds that make his limbs blur. The light of Excalibur thickens with every cut through Discord’s constantly repairing body.

“That’s it!” the mad god yells. “Come at me with everything you have! Take your hatred out! Rip me apart! Tear me into shreds! GIVE ME A HUG!!”

The king leaps into the air and spins his now blindingly bright sword around him. A vertical slash relinquishes the light from the blade, sending out a gust of wind more powerful than any storm. Caro, Tohro and Shae end up toppling over, thrown away, along with the dining table, the chairs, and all of the food.

As their eyes correct themselves, Dragonrein pulls themselves onto their hooves. The storm clouds are gone, replaced with peaceful, fluffy ones beneath a perfect blue sky and a pleasantly warm sun. This comes as a nasty surprise for Discord, who sounds out a groan of disgust. “Oh, biscuits and gravel! You ruined everything, Your Royal Menstrationess! I hope you’re pleased as punch! I guess you really did have a lot of anger to exert!”

“None of this is anger, friend,” says Hurricane. Excalibur is casually slung over his shoulder. “It’s simply a desire to do right by Equestria. It’s my sworn duty to protect the innocent, and keep demons like you away from my subjects.” He holds the sword up high, as if he intends on piercing the sun itself. He grabs the hilt of the sword and brings it down.

Excalibur breaks the surface and embeds itself deep in the ground. A glowing seal of archaic lettering (Including the draconic language, as Caro recognizes) emerges from the blade.

Discord isn’t intimidated. He’s outright dismissive. “Fancy light show, but I’ve seen better. Maretonian orgies are quite elaborate.”

“Turn around,” says the king. “Perhaps you’ll have a change of heart.”

“Hm?” Discord casually turns his head. His passive disposition quickly turns into absolute panic when he sees the red letters behind him. They’ve formed into a perfect circle, within which purple flames are beginning to ignite. “Hellgate? Oh no… No, no, no! Not now! What are you doing?! That’s not fair!”

“Excalibur’s primary purpose is to send scum like you back where you belong,” says Hurricane. He sounds calm and content while he turns Excalibur like a key in a lock. “If this is to be my last action as the high king, that will be more than enough.”

Inflamed claws emerge from the flames of the hellgate. They reach out to Discord and wrap around his limbs, squeezing to the point of nearly breaking him. “No!” he shouts once again. With great strain, he raises one of his arms and talks to the claws that have caught hold. “I behaved myself this time, I swear!” He cries out to Hurricane, “Call them off, Your Majesty! Come ooon! We had some fun times, didn’t we?! You wouldn’t send me to Tartarus! You’re a good king!”

Hurricane smiles and nods. “I know.”

~Caro~

Discord is still resisting, dragging his feet along the grass, yelling incoherently and flailing his arms as the claws intensify their stranglehold on his body. It’s a damn spectacle. I’m so enraveled in seeing this bastard brought to such a stare, I almost don’t notice a glint of metal in the corner of my eye. My sword has returned.

A realization has come to me. Discord stands defenseless, locked in a stalemate with the forces of Tartarus. Tohro isn’t looking. Neither is Shae.

It’d be easy. It’d be sensible. Hurricane killed Zeus as punishment for his many years of torment. This would be no different.

“You think logically,” says the distant voice of Hevnodiin. He sounds faint… The dragons within me are supposed to sound louder than this. Even so, I listen well. “Were I unfortunate enough to stand in your place, I too would take the most pragmatic approach. I know what it is to watch something tread where it does not belong.”

My hoof starts to rise.

I understand. It’s frustrating. He’s not supposed to be here. He’s tortured Hurricane for decades. He holds no remorse for his actions. Clearly…

I touch the hilt of my sword and begin to remove it from its sheathe.

Yes. This is the best course of action. Tohro will understand…

I hear Rasahrel exhale. “Of course he will. It’s your choice, after all.”

I stop.

~Vision End~

Discord falls. With his feet, tail, torso and lion’s paw held back by the hellish claws, he only has his gryphon talons for resistance. He snaps his talons until they’re red, but nothing happens to aid in his escape. His frown intensifies. He actually looks like he’s on the verge of tears.

As the claws pulls one last time, dragging Discord through the gate and into Tartarus, the last thing Dragonrein and King Hurricane see of him is his middle talon. After that, he disappears into the flames, and the gate disappears, along with all of Excalibur’s light.

“Goodbye.” King Hurricane removes his sword from the ground. Not a single speck of dirt has blemished its brilliance. “Ah, blessed blade of mine. I missed you almost as much as I miss my beloved Platinum.” He smiles as Excalibur disappears into the light. “But our time has passed. I’m sure you’ll find a worthy successor. In fact…” He looks to Caro with a gleam in his eye.

Caro reads the king’s implication well enough, but he’s quick to back away and lower his head. “If you had offered me such a thing a few months ago, I would have taken you up on it without a second thought.”

“Pardon these old ears,” says Hurricane, with a hint of jest in his voice, “but I do believe you just said you don’t want one of Hephaestus’ finest weapons.”

Caro shakes his head slowly. “I’m not worthy. I’m…” He turns away and looks out at the sea. “No.” In the corner of his vision, he sees Tohro looking at him, surprised, but also pleasantly smiling.

“I see. Then, I suppose…” Hurricane looks at his hooves. “Oh!” Flowers have begun to grow and bloom where he stands. He takes a few steps forward, causing more floral life to spring forth. “Well, that’s certainly pleasant!”

Shae lightly treads on the flowers, taking care to not step on them. She kneels down near King Hurricane and begins collecting a few of the flowers. “Lavender, periwinkle, lucerne, and…” Smiling broadly, she picks up one more. “Rosemary.” She tucks all four of those flowers into Hurricane’s rainbow mane. It serves to make him even more colorful, and yet all the more magnificent. For the first time since Caro, Tohro and Shae have looked upon him, he genuinely looks the part of a king.

“Thank you, Miss Shae,” compliments Hurricane. “You seem quite well-versed in the language of flowers.”

“Celina taught me their names and meanings,” Shae replies. “I’m very lucky to have her in my life.”

King Hurricane chortles as he adjusts the flowers for comfort. “Any daughter of yours is the lucky one.”

“Celina and Luna aren’t just my daughters, Your Majesty. Some day, they will also be the rulers of Equestria.”

“Then I take comfort in knowing they have a good mare to show them the way.” The king gives Shae a confident wink as he continues stepping forward, heading towards the edge of the cliff. As he does so, he speaks to Tohro. “As for you, Tohro Blackwing, you carry yourself like a true soldier, with half the respect for your authorities and twice the bravery. In that regard, you remind me much of myself.” He salutes. “The Empire is in safe hooves.”

Caro tries to keep his distance, but he can’t avoid the king. He reluctantly turns and accepts his addressal. “Hello…”

“Caro…” Hurricane takes a long moment to let the Dragonborn breathe. He lends the young stallion a touch on the wither. “You come from a past bathed in shadows and misfortune. But that does not mean you have to carry such things with you. I know you’ll figure out what to make of yourself, so you can consider yourself worthy of Excalibur.”

Caro nods somberly. “Right now, it’s hard for me to imagine myself being worthy of anything.” He looks past the king to steal a glance at Tohro. “Especially…”

“Child.” Hurricane’s hoof turns Caro’s attention back to him. “Everything will be fine.” He raises his foreleg high. “That’s my promise to you.”

Caro forces his lips to form some semblance of a smile. It’s small, but it’s there. He keeps it on as he watches the king walk away. “Thank you… sir.”

The sky is now clear of all clouds, with nothing but blue sky to be seen. King Hurricane spreads his wings without any resistance, and kneels down, preparing to take flight. “This is good, huh, Platinum?” He closes his eyes, whispering to himself. “I’ll see you in the endless sky.” He flaps his wings, lifting himself off the ground, and begins to fly.

As the high king of Equestria soars into the horizon, the world begins to fade. Shae looks around, mildly alarmed for a brief moment. “Oh.” She realizes what’s going on, and quickly calms down. “Of course. His mind is at peace.”

“He’s dying,” Caro says, his voice oddly stale. “For good.”

The ponies of Dragonrein start to fade as well, joining the world around them as it gradually becomes nothing but a white abyss. Shae quickly gallops to Caro and Tohro and assaults them with an enthusiastic hug. “I’ll see you soon!”

Tohro quickly hugs her back, followed with a slightly delayed reciprocation by Caro. “Of course,” he says. “Give Celina and Luna our best regards.”

“And relay the good news to Platinum!” Tohro adds.

Shae opens her mouth, about to say goodbye, but she is interrupted by the white void taking her, Caro and Tohro away.

~Tohro~

I have many things to say about the events I’ve just witnessed. The first of those things being, “Fuck! My back!”

I let out a loud and undignified groan as I roll off of a particularly painful rock onto a collection of pebbles. Looking ahead of me, I can see that I’ve been dropped at a small pond. Dragon Bridge is off in the distance. That’s good. Now I can give Onslaught a good smack upside the head for turning us over to Discord. Although, inadvertently, he did lead us to fixing His Majesty’s broken little mind, so I suppose it all works out.

Doesn’t change the fact that my back is now royally screwed. I roll onto my front and stand up, albeit with great effort. Stretching out eases the pain a little bit. Still, I wouldn’t mind getting some magic hooves to fix me up. I see that Caro is drinking from the pond. He looks like he’s been awake for a while. “Oi! Mate! Could you help me with something?”

Caro doesn’t reply. He seems to be occupied with some invisible task, besides his rehydrating.

“I don’t regret letting him go,” he says to nobody. “The bastard’s as good as dead anyway, so what does it matter?”

I consider asking him who the hell he’s talking to this time, but I’ll just leave it be. He does this often enough for me to just let it happen. He’ll be back to his old self in time.

“No…” he says, sounding a bit uneasy. “No.” He paces around in a circle. “There was something different. He didn’t kill Zeus because he was corrupt… Zeus was corrupt. But… No, it was definitely something else. I could see it in his eyes. He had a far greater purpose on his conscience than blood or vengeance.”

Under normal circumstances, I’d be a little odd for a pony to be discussing morality with the voices in his head, but I know Caro. In fact, I’m quite glad that I’m around to hear this.

He looks my way. That distracted look has disappeared, so I can assume he’s back with me in body and mind right now. I approach him and ask, “Having a little chat with Other Caro?”

“Something of the sort,” he replies.

I’d normally be in a hurry to get to where we should go next, but because that place is Neigh Hrothgar, I’ll have to follow Caro, and he’s not going anywhere. As such, we both just stay where we are, listening to the sounds of chirping birds and rustling leaves.

“Tohro?” Caro finally speaks. He sounds a little choked up.

“What is it, mate?” I ask.

“I don’t want to kill anymore,” he says, looking to the ground.

Those are words I never thought I’d ever hear him say, and as such, I haven’t the faintest idea of how to respond. However, I do know that when Caro is down, a good hug from his best friend usually cheers him up. As such, I embrace him, letting him lean against me.

“I mean… I have to stop Shokenda and the dragons… And there will be times when you and I will have to fight, but…” Caro nuzzles up to my neck. I feel him sob, ever so slightly. “I’m tired of all the anger and bloodlust. All it’s done is make things worse. Pyro, Ember, Preacher, Sunflower… I’ll have to live with their deaths until I join them in—”

“You are not going wherever they are,” I say. “You belong in the best possible afterlife for…” I pause and pull away from Caro. I rack my brain as I think out loud, “Hm. What afterlife do earthwalkers believe in?”

“None, really…” Caro admits. “Heh. We just get buried so we may fertilize the soil. A fitting end for a race of farmers.” He tilts his head. “So, what did Hurricane mean by an eternal sky?”

Oh, I’ve been looking forward to telling him about this, but I haven’t had the opportunity in the past. I grin as spread my wings. “It’s a pegasus’ greatest fantasy. It’s a neverending, cloudless sky in which we and our loved ones fly forever.”

I expected Caro to be happy to hear about it, but it seems I’ve succeeded in only making him more miserable. “That’s far more exciting…” Fantastic work, Tohro, you ass.

“Hey.” I pat him on the back. “In my mind, you’re welcome to join me when I go to the eternal sky.”

That makes him look a little happier. So happy, he decides to wraps his forelegs around me once again. He’s a little intense with this hug, but I let him have the moment. He deserves it.

I stroke Caro's complete mess of a mane and whisper in his ear. “I’m proud of you, mate.”

XXXV - A Good Death

~Caro~

In the wake of what happened yesterday, what with Rasahrel’s final words bearing down on me, and witnessing King Hurricane’s ascension to an afterlife I hope to see someday, I am in no condition to be a hero.

I think today is a good day to be alone.

CHAPTER XXXV - A GOOD DEATH

I quickly throw on my satchel, belts and sword, and depart the tent before Tohro can notice. When he wakes up, I’m sure he’ll see the note I left on my pillow.

I need to be alone with my thoughts. Please do not follow. I’ll be back before dark.

I believe it says something along those lines… I might have made a spelling error. I had heard Tohro begin to stir, and had panicked a little.

I don’t know how long I’ve been walking. I suppose it’s been a few hours, since it was sunrise when I stepped out of the tent. Though the heavy woodlands of central Equestria make it difficult to pinpoint what time it is. It doesn’t matter much to me. I’d rather not focus on time. I have too much to dwell on.

Caro Dragonborn… It’s been a long time since I’ve thought of myself with that name. It’s been hard to think of myself as Dragonborn at all. Master always told me, when I was a child, that the title belonged to paragons of strength, leadership, and dignity. I’m strong, without a doubt, but how can I call myself a leader when I keep making the wrong decisions? As for dignity, well… I clean myself regularly, but I still can’t wash all of this spilt blood out of my coat.

As of late, I’ve just been Caro of Riverhoof, a naive adventurer looking for a new purpose. I’m sure I’ll find it, so long as I have Tohro by my side and a sword in my sheath. But if I’m supposed to find some other way to help Equestria without turning my sword on the corrupt, how can I help myself?

Beware, beware, the Dragonborn comes...

There’s still a beast inside of me. If I’m not able to control it, I’ll have to kill again, and then Tohro will leave me… I can’t let that happen. I’ll break without him.

So, what am I supposed to do? Just never kill again? I can’t do that. I can’t change Equestria without ending a few lives. I told Tohro that, and he agreed with me. But the lines between murder and defense are ones I’ve crossed too many times. I have to figure out how to make this kingdom a better place without stepping over the line again… and keeping the beast silent.

"Why would you want to silence it?" asks the faint voice of Nahkriin. She sounds especially quiet today, but no less malevolent. "The blood you've spilled, child... it means so little in the lifespan of dragons... Why choose to have friends when all they do is hold you down? Don't let that pegasus put his leash on you... Our power is still strong, and we can show you how to shape this nation as you see fit."

"You only want to use me to help Saviikaan," I growl at the whisper. "You want nothing to do with what’s right. All you do, and all Saviikaan will ever do, is to sate your natural draconic greed. He had this land first, and now he wants it back, like a child who lost their toy."

"Greed is what makes us strong, young one. Your desire for blood is just your own sort of greed, which you used against us. We can show you how to use it against those you despise, and change the world!"

If Nahkriin stood before me, I’d spit at her. "Right… And now I’m faced with an odd dilemma. Do I choose the guidance of my best friend, or the monster who brutally murdered my master’s mortal body right in front of me?"

"...Well, if you say it like that, you could make anyone seem like the villain."

I hear a terse growl in the back of my skull. It’s Malyol. I can almost smell his rotted flesh in my nostrils just at the thought of what Shokenda did to him. "Leave him be, sister."

"Are you opposing me, brother?" Nahkriin snaps at him. My head feels a bit sore in the midst of their argument.

"I believe so, yes," replies Malyol. "Dovahkiin or no, this one showed me a moment of kindness none of you deserved. Within him, there is a desire to be more than a dragon."

"And you sympathize with this desire?" asks Nahkriin.

I hear a snort of affirmation. "At this stage of my existence, I have come to accept that, perhaps, the Dovahkiin has been right to oppose us. And I sincerely hope that he kills every single one of us, if that is what it takes to end the Reclaimer’s selfish crusade."

"Thank you, Malyol…" I mutter. As Nahkriin’s irritated growls calm down, I realize an obvious question I haven’t found the time to ask. "You… wouldn’t happen to know anything of where Saviikaan would be hiding, would you?"

He replies after a short, yet tense silence. "Unfortunately…" he says with a grim sigh. "I do not. This cycle has repeated many times. We do not receive orders, like your armies; we merely fly across Equestria and attack as we see fit, all the while searching for, well..."

I finish his sentence for him. "Me."

"Yes… Of course, that hardly ever ends well for any given dovah. Nahkriin’s words do hold merit, methinks… When we fought, you were more ferocious than any Dovahkiin that I had seen before. Further, Nahkriin tells me you nearly had her killed before you awakened… You do have many qualities of a fine dragon."

Something like an electric shock flies up my spine. "I’m not like you."

"Merely an observation. But I know you can be so much more than that. I’ve seen it before, in the way you look at your friends, how you speak to children, and what you said to me as my soul flowed into your body… Even we dovah know that compassion is not weakness. In time, you could easily turn it into your greatest strength."

"Right. How?" I ask, only to receive no response.

I hear the howling of wolves close by. Well, if their timing isn’t impeccable… I face the closest howl and take out my sword. However, instead of relying on my usual methods of seeking out the enemy, I elect to take a blocking stance. I know for every wolf I see, there will be at least two more behind me.

"Stop wasting my time…." I say, tapping my hoof on my blade. "If you’re going to fight me, then fight me!"

A loudening snarl clues me in. I swing my body around and tighten my stance just in time for one of the wolves to pounce on me. I deliberately fall onto my back, taking the mutt with me. I ignore the gleam of its blood soaked teeth and push my sword forward. The wolf lands on its side. While it recovers, I take a quick breath and shout, "FUS RO DAH!"

I know better than to try and strike this one while it’s down. One of its accomplices would have me pinned in a heartbeat. I’d wager they’d be sneaking up on me right about now… The fur of my hind legs twitch, and I buck in response. My hooves land in the neck of another wolf. I swing around to face another one, letting it lunge at me. I step out of the way and knock it out with a bash on the head from my sword’s hilt.

And I haven’t killed a single one of them.

"Is that it?! Huh?!" I yell to any others that could be nearby. "Come on, the fun’s barely begun!"

I hear multiple growls nearby, so I ready my weapon once again. Three wolves stand at the top of a slant, each of them at least twice as large as the previous ones. So, the alpha dogs have arrived.

I ready my sword. I can go a few more rounds. I don’t care what happens. I just want to hurt something…

Another howl makes me stop, not because this one is intimidating, but because it sounds different, and it makes the large wolves halt prematurely. The howl is definitely canid, but it seems fabricated. Like an imitation.

A broad stallion with a coat black as night gallops past me. It’s Wolf River.

He isn’t slowed down by his heavy armor or war axe in the slightest. While I don’t question what he’s doing here to begin with, I am curious as to why he doesn’t draw his weapon as he charges towards the large wolves.

My answer comes when he stops in front of the wolves. It seems he doesn’t want to fight them, but he doesn’t appear to be in a peaceful mood, judging by his curled lips and clenched… fangs? Oh, right, he’s a lycan…

As such, it makes sense that he would make a distinctively animalistic growl at the wolves, causing them to cower. With a mighty bark, they whimper and run for dear life. Even the smaller ones struggle to their paws to limp away.

"Mongrels," scoffs Wolf River. "You should have killed them when you had the chance. All they care about is their next meal. A real dog has far more intelligence." He says that in a snobbish tone, which contrasts with his fierce demeanor and deep voice.

I don’t know Wolf River as well as I’d like to. I won’t bother explaining my internal crisis to him. Instead, I feign a laugh. "Well, your tactics seem much cleaner."

"They’ll forget my mug in an hour, then they’ll be back… You picked a hell of a place to take a walk, Dragonborn."

"You say that like you’ve been expecting me," I comment. "You’re the last pony I thought I’d encounter today, not that it’s unwelcome…"

He sniffs the air and scrunches up his muzzle. "I could smell that perfume from a mile away, and I’ll bet it’s how our furry friends tracked you down. You’d best put on something a bit more subtle in the future."

I’ll take that to heart, and decide to immediately change the conversation. I can’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t suggest getting Wolf River involved in something he shouldn’t care about. I know he’s too nice to ignore a problem, that’s for certain. Though I do know of something that he could talk about for hours. "Is Tangerine doing well?" I ask.

He looks like he’s lost a few years of age just at the sound of her name. "She’s wonderful, as ever. You may not have heard, since you’ve been away from Trottingham for so long, but… I’m going to marry her."

"Oh, I heard!" I say. I truly am happy for them, especially when I think of how bitter some of my meetings with Tangerine have been in the past. My enthusiasm is only slightly exaggerated.

"Well, word does travel fast, doesn’t it?" Wolf River says with a fanged grin. However, the moment is quickly soured when he sniffs the air again. "Huh, is that…" He leans in towards me. It’s uncomfortable enough as is, but I’m very bothered by the sensation of his inhaling on my fur. I know he’s just curious, but…

"Could you not?" I ask, raising a foreleg and backing away. "I haven’t properly bathed in days, I get it."

"No, it’s not that. I, uh…" Wolf River seems to be pondering the smell. "Never mind. I apologize." He turns around and starts trotting. "Follow, if you wish. I wouldn’t mind some company."

And who would I be to deny him that? Besides, talking with physical beings keeps the dragons out of my mind, and the longer I can go without having to hear Nahkriin, the better.

"So, what brings you to these woods?" I ask him. "I doubt it’s to spend time with your fellow wolves. They seem like disagreeable fellows."

The brick of a stallion has a hearty chuckle to himself. "I don’t cooperate with their kind. My pack is the Carrier Clan, and we are infinitely superior to any pack of wild dogs. I know that sounds a bit narcissistic to say, but I like to think it’s objectively true."

I think back to when Tohro and I were fighting side by side during the battle of Trottingham. I had only caught fleeting glances of Wolf River, Roches and Aerial tearing their way through their foes. I recall feeling somewhat aroused at the sight of a mighty wolf wielding Mjolnir. It was beautiful.

"Ah, because you’re an unstoppable force in the face of your enemies, right?" I assume.

Wolf River smiles and shakes his head. "So much more than that. We’re as much a pack as we are a family. Like any family… Uh, decent family, we look after our own and care for each other unconditionally. That, of all things, I’m sure you’d understand. Dragonrein is your family." The big fellow stops and turns my way. He glares at me, though not menacingly. "Is there anything you wouldn’t do for them?"

I don’t need to think about my answer for even a second. "They mean everything to me."

"I expect as much." Wolf River resumes trotting. "And, much like the Carrier Clan, you just can’t leave well enough alone. Your problem is everypony else’s problem, and vice versa. You can’t stand the sight of anyone being harmed. You have to act, or else you feel incomplete."

"Are you a bloody psychic?" I jape, even though his words are starting to crawl beneath my skin.

He is eerily correct. Whenever I see a child in pain, for instance, I immediately focus on making sure that child stops hurting. How I do so, that’s the difficult part… It may end in the brutal death of their one and only caretaker, and the child forever grounded by a broken wing.

Wolf River continues. "It’s just a song and dance I’m well familiar with. See, before the settlement wars and the subsequent founding of the Empire, Equestria was lawless, filled with packs like mine. Some terrorized the weak. Others were too willing to kill at the first sign of corruption. And then you had me. A protector of the weak who did so through attacking those who would do harm. Of course, that didn’t work so well."

"Town criers everywhere learned to fear your shoving hooves, Sir Pusharound."

I come to regret saying that within a few seconds. I look at a particularly large aspen tree, just taking notice of the sun’s rays peeking through its branches, but I’m drawn to a sight that makes my fur rise.

I see Preacher’s body impaled onto a tree by the same sword that spilt his blood. My sword. His mouth is wide open, his chin soaked with dripping blood. It’s as if he’s stuck in mid-sentence. I think he’s asking me, "Why?"

He was just in the way.

I look away quickly and face the opposite direction, only to see the same sight on another tree. And the one next to it.

"Caro?"

Wolf River is a few trees away, offering me a friendly smile. Knowing him, he can probably hear my pounding heart from over there. He beckons to me.

"Yes?" I ask, trying to force myself to stop sweating.

"I’ve found what I’ve been looking for. I was wondering if you could help me claim it."

"Of course."

I approach Wolf River and turn the corner. There’s nothing much odd about it, but I still find myself raising my brow at the sight of a large bed of flowers. What’s unorthodox is that of them are the same intense blue color, and they have an illogical scent. It’s like I’m smelling blood and honey at the same time, and yet, not at all.

"Oh, that’s, uh…" I tap my hoof against the grass. "It’s poison joke, isn’t it?"

"Keen eye," Wolf River compliments.

I notice one of the flowers next to my hooves. I quickly step away. "Master told me about this sort of flower. It’s more or less a jester in floral form, isn’t it?"

"That’s a fitting description. Poison joke has a keen sense of irony, loving to turn a pony’s annoyances into a constant bother, or their greatest strength into their greatest weakness." Wolf River kneels down at the flowers and inhales. Oddly enough, he smiles. "I smell… strawberries, leather and sea salt. Not a fan of strawberries… I do love leather, and the sea."

"I thought dogs didn’t like swimming… Are you sure it’s okay to be this close?"

Wolf River gives me a snide smirk. "Not to worry. This bugger of a plant only takes effect through prolonged exposure, and without the stem, it can't work on its own. Think of the stem as a catalyst."

"So, the transformative magic lies within the petals?"

Wolf River nods. "Correct. The petals just so happen to be what I require. Could you help me cut the stems and collect some petals? I’ll need about fifty."

"Of course." I reach for Onslaught’s gifted knife belt and take hold of the slimmest one I can find. This should be sufficient enough.

Wolf River equips a large sickle from his belt. He kneels down and starts slicing a few stems. "I have a canteen of water, just in case your body gets a little too covered in the bugger’s residue. I don’t want something hilarious happening to the Dragonborn. Can you imagine what history would make of you?"

Hearing him say that makes me pause in the middle of a cut. "I can imagine…" I’d wager it’s time for a change of topic. "Why do you want such a vile plant, anyway?"

"It’s for Lady Tangerine, and I’d rather not say more than that."

He doesn’t need to. I can connect the threads. After all, Tangerine has probably made history several times over in the Carrier Clan. And, if the rumors Rosemary heard were true, Wolf River does plan on marrying Tangerine… What’s stopping them from going one step further, especially with ingredients with such potential for transformation?

"You're going to turn her into a lycan," I state bluntly.

"Consensually," Wolf River says with a guarded expression.

"Huh." I slouch to the side, thinking about what the mighty Tangerine would look like a wolf. Oddly, I can’t picture much of a difference, beyond a bit more fur. She’s already so wolflike.

Wolf River looks at me, smirking slightly. "Don't hurt yourself, boy."

I return to cutting off stems and collecting petals. I already have sixteen in a pile next to me. "Why do you need poison joke? I figured lycans bit their new recruits, or gave them their blood to drink."

"What do you think we are, son? Thestrals? This is a voluntary process, involving rather complex alchemy. Only Scar knows the recipe. At least, until he decides to pass it on to another." Wolf River points to himself. "I’m hoping it’s me, of course."

"No offense, but he’ll likely choose a more responsible inheritor," I say with a shrug. "A powerful gift in the wrong hooves can have disastrous results."

"Oh…" Wolf River pauses his collecting and nods slowly. "I think I understand."

"Again, no offense meant..."

"No offense taken. I've always been a bit of a wild wolf, even amongst the Carrier Clan."

We continue slicing stems and gathering poison joke petals in silence. Well, for the most part. Wolf River is humming some sort of tune under his breath. I’ve gathered well over thirty petals, and Wolf River has at least forty. He and I have the same mutual thought, and decide that’s enough.

"Some petals are more potent than others," Wolf River says as he bags all of the petals. "Scar will be able to determine which ones are best for the potion."

I get onto my hooves and help him up. As expected, he’s quite heavy. "Are there any other ingredients? I’d be willing to help you find them."

Wolf River smiles and shakes his foreleg. "That won’t be necessary. Roches, Aerial and, of course, Lady Tangerine are already gathering the rest as we speak. We just need some fire salts to stabilize the poison joke, a dash of equiroot—"

"Equiroot?"

"It’s an annoying little bugger of a plant that only blooms at night and makes the most obnoxious sound. And, uh, of course, the mixture will need my blood."

"Oh," I say, caught off guard by Wolf River’s casual demeanor while saying that. The only one I know who has spoken of blood in such a way is… me. "So, then, you and Tangerine will truly be family."

Wolf River blushes madly. He acts like a child, the way he tries to hide it. "I’m going to marry her, Caro. I wish I could give her more than my blood, but this will have to do." He gives me a friendly salute and begins his departure. "Thank you, Dragonborn. You’ve done me and Lady Tangerine a great service."

"You’re welcome…" I mutter. I’m not as enthusiastic about this as I should be, happy for Wolf River and his future bride as I am. Something seems odd about this. I know Tangerine has a desire to protect, but to go so far as to become a wolf… There has to be more to this than meets the eye.

"Oh, and Caro?"

"Yes?" I ask, snapping to attention.

"The next time you see Rosemary, tell her that her mother will want to see her."

Damn him and his uncanny scent. Rosemary will have my head on a pike for this… I swallow and speak. "You know she’d rather eat her own leg off than spend a second with her mother. Not that I support such an act. Still, I promised her I’d keep her away from Tangerine, and I like to keep my promises… At least, I try."

Wolf River gives an understanding nod. "Well, that is her decision, but a lot has happened lately, and my beloved is on borrowed time."

My lips curl into a smirk. "What, is she pregnant?"

"Wh—" Wolf River bursts out laughing. "Divines, no! No! No." He snatches back his serious demeanor. "No. It's just a bit of a family matter."

I step forward eagerly. "I can help!"

"I would ask, but Tangerine won’t have you involved. She says it’s not your business."

As much as it pains me to do so, I’d rather not go against such a stubborn mare’s wishes; I know better than to attempt such a feat, lest my body end up halfway into the dirt. She’d do it. I’ve heard the war stories. "Very well, then," I say. "Until next time."

Of all the things to wonder as Wolf River gallops away, I cannot fathom why I would think about what a baby lycan would look like.

My travels take me onto a snow-speckled dirt road, which travels alongside a quiet stream. The sound of flowing water is obviously more welcoming than howling wolves. I have a choice between two paths, either going up the hill or following the stream. I’d rather take the easier road.

I pass by a triad of loitering pegasi in leather armor, decorated with black and blue tunics. I can tell from the filth on their faces alone that they’re Blackwings. I try to appear inconspicuous by looking away, but it does little good. They all notice me.

"You picked a bad time to get lost, Dragonborn," one of them says to me with a sneer. His tone is beyond disrespectful. "Marekarth lies ahead, and it belongs to Shokenda. Watch your actions."

"What makes you think I want to hear you talk?" I snap at them. That buys me silence for a few seconds, but they pass by quickly before the pegasi's sinister looks return. I decide to just trot away.

"How’s Tohro been?" another one asks sarcastically.

I focus on the sky instead of their leering gazes. Focus on the sound of the stream instead of their grumbling. They are not worth my time...

"Tell the traitor he’s in our sights. He’d best sleep with his bum eye open."

I shoot a glare back at them. Unlike with Wolf River, I want them to hear my heartbeat, so they can know how angry I am right now. I am not to be trifled with, not by them, or anypony else.

"Just let it go, mate," I imagine Tohro saying. "They’re no threat. You know you’re better than them, so prove it." Knowing him, he’d probably look at me with a stern expression that’d make me freeze in place.

"Hey! Show respect for your future rulers!" The Blackwing mare flies over and hovers in front of me. She tries to look imposing, but she’s too lanky to be any threat. "You threatened us. We deserve an apology."

I bare my teeth at her. "I’m sorry I ever laid eyes on you sick fucks."

"Filthy half-breed!" she screams. "Boys!"

I’m about to shout so I can wash my hooves of this mess, but my voice is cut off by the flats of two blades pressing against my neck. That’s fantastic. What good is the thu’um if I’m unable to speak?

The mare makes a dramatic landing in front of me, allowing me to see her face closely. She is rugged, but without any of the boisterous charm that Rosemary or any adventurous mare might have. All I see is dirt and grime. "So, being belligerent, are we?" she asks.

I would have a retort if my voice could get out of my throat.

"Okay, then. How about this? You will take us to Tohro yourself. And don’t try to pretend you don’t know where he is. You and him, you’re hardly ever apart." She steps forward, bringing her muzzle all too close to mine. She reeks of every foul bodily scent I can imagine. "And if you try to weasel your way out of this, I’ll have no choice but to pin the traitorous cockal to the ground and… well, I’m sure you’re smart enough to figure out the rest."

I stretch out my neck, freeing my voice. "As if I’d let you," I hiss at the mare.

"Ooh, feisty!" The mare dances about in a circle, humming a brief tune. "Okay, perhaps I’ll break your legs and make you watch! Does that sound fair for your impudence?"

I am not amused in the slightest, but I put on a manic grin anyway, showing my fangs. And then, I laugh. "Aahahaha… fuck you."

She leers at me, her eyes training over my body in lewd fashion. "Hmm... you look strong, but I fear you'd die before you reached my bed." She looks at the two holding their swords to my throat. "Boys..."

The blades lower for barely a second and I lunge backwards, so all three of them are in my sights. "Fus..." I said I was tired of killing, and I meant it. But these three irk me beyond reason, and I’m willing to make them hurt for threatening Tohro. "...RO DAH!"

The three of them get blasted into the air, the Shout forcing their wings open as they slam into nearby trees, feathers coming loose as they flail about. And then it's done, and they drop to the ground, groaning in pain.

"Sorry," I say. "Looks like I missed a few feathers. I'm sure you can pluck the rest out yourself." Still in a foul mood, I turn away before I do anything I'd regret, and storm back upstream. "Fools," I curse at them in a last farewell.

A few minutes later, my ear twitches as I hear something skittering through the brush nearby. I ignore it and keep moving at a partial run. I’ve come back to the crossroads when I hear the brush rustle again, this time a bit more louder than before.

"Do I have a shadow?" I ask myself aloud, turning towards the sound. I approach the brush, taking long steps. My hoof approaches the hilt of my sword, but I quickly retract it. I’m sure that if whatever this is wants to kill me, I can handle it without striking it down on sight. "Come out, then… None of this playing around."

I notice a distinct set of angled eyes between leaves. Around the eyes, I can see stripes. I know for certain that my follower is a zebra.

The fellow rises from the foliage and dusts off the dirt and branches left on his exotic body armor. It hugs him close, to the point where if it weren’t for the dark color and texture, he’d very well be naked, aside from the scarf that covers most of his head.

"You Dragonborn?" he asks, his thick accent made even more hard to decipher beneath the scarf. He shakes his head and waves his hoof. "Zebra start over. Zebra am not being of threat. Zebra am want Dragonborn help."

I want to be considerate towards his broken way of speaking, so instead of making some sort of speech, I decide to keep my responses simple. I motion my foreleg for him to continue. Thankfully, he understands. He gestures forward and begins to trot. I follow from a slight distance as he speaks.

"Many ship, long journey of take from homeland, Kāṭhī Araba…"

"You mean Saddle Arabia?" I ask the zebra slowly.

He shrugs. "You calling homeland that. Zebra continue. Zebra take long journey with ship for escaping to life of better. Stow away with zebra friend and many child, three daughter and one son. Equestria is better. But perfect no."

"I understand," I say.

"Pony of greed, handsome, charisma, he greeting zebra and zebra friend on arrive. He take both zebra to aside. Speak of local custom. Teach us how behave. Sell us many fruit. Very nice pony. But zebra and zebra friend return to ship, see that many zebra child, all gone. Except one escape. Tell us greed pony slave trader, take many child."

Despicable. I can infer that this ‘greed pony’ has accomplices, since he was able to snatch those poor children just underneath somepony’s nose. I’ll never consider slavery as legitimate trade, no matter how much the scum of Equestria loves to justify it with as many fancy words as they can muster. It ruins lives, plain and simple.

"Okay. You want me to hunt down a slaver?" I confirm.

The zebra snorts and shakes his head, a bit angrily. "No. Zebra hunt for food, hunt for safety. Zebra just want all child back, but zebra and zebra friend weak from many travel day. Need pony help for pony problem." He points at me. "Dragonborn help?"

I don’t have to think about my answer for even a second. I take his hoof and shake it eagerly. "Dragonborn will help. Kidnapping children is awful enough, but stealing away the promise of a better life? That’s horrific. I’ll do whatever I can to end this. All you have to do is point me in the right direction. Do you know where this ‘greed pony’ is?"

The zebra nods and motions for me to come closer. He leans in and whispers in my ear. "Greed pony is be found. Is in camp no far from now. Zebra and zebra friend plan rescuing many zebra child, but can do not alone. Greed pony have many help. Eye and ear in all place."

"Oh. Understood." I take a cautionary glance through the trees and the shadows. "Are we going to meet with, uh, zebra friend?"

"We are. Keep follow. Be close."

The peace of the woods seems to have been overtaken by a rather sinister aura. I assume this is just me being paranoid, though. As the desire to take my blade to my enemies has begun to fade, the adrenaline I usually feel in the heat of battle is replaced with something I haven’t felt for a long time. It’s far easier to fear a threat when you know by the end of the day that it won’t die.

So, how am I supposed to ensure this greed pony is put out of business forever?

I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. I can’t afford to hesitate while innocent children are in danger. I focus on keeping situational awareness, as well as following my new zebra acquaintance.

"I’d like to know your name," I say to him with a smile.

He doesn’t replicate it, instead turning away from the road and making a quick gallop to a nearby tree, surveying an open field below a cliff.

"Friend? What are you called?" I ask again, suspecting he didn’t hear me.

He turns my way. "Zebra name Ohrmaz. Dragonborn name?"

"Caro of Riverhoof," I reply.

The open field is sectioned by many hillsides and ponds. Next to one of these ponds, a campsite can be seen. It’s fairly large, and crowded by many travelers. Even so, I can easily identify a set of carriages, where the children are no doubt being held. I can’t see any cages, though. What makes this difficult is that there’s only one entrance; the rest of the campsite is guarded by wooden stakes.

"This would be easier with your friend. Where are they?"

Ohrmaz points to a collection of bushes next to a smaller pond. "Zebra friend is injure. Zebra friend hide." As he says that, I take notice of another zebra. She too is clad in tight armor and wrappings, though she’s a bit bulkier than Ohrmaz.

I tuck my forelegs in and slide down the slope of the cliff, then stand up and approach the other zebra. "Hail, friend," I say to her with a smile.

She looks up at me in confusion, allowing me time to see the injury Ohrmaz mentioned. Her left hind leg is in a splint.

"Oh. Is it broken?" I ask her.

"No break. Temporary," she replies. She is able to stand, though her leg shudders with every step she takes. "But no fight. Can’t."

"Did someone injure you?"

She smirks sheepishly as she lies back down. "Zebra have too much skooma. Zebra feel dizzy. Zebra fall off cliff."

I’m suddenly reminded of a very bizarre afternoon several years ago, in which a zebra commissioned Master Hammerfell to create a curved sword. At the time, I found the design hilarious and illogical. The daughter of the customer took me aside and offered me a bottle of sugary liquid. I woke up in a pigpen three hours later.

I nod sagely. "I know the feeling."

"Zebra know limit now," the zebra mare says. "Zebra only drink five, not seven. Six, starts seeing stars."

Ohrmaz approaches his friend and checks her leg. As he does so, he says, "Zebra friend, Armaz. She say before seven skooma, ‘Whoever say skooma bad for zebra, not zebra on skooma.’"

"Unfortunate choice of words," I say, brushing the back of my mane. "And an unfortunate accident, to boot. Armaz’s help would have made this operation a bit easier. Nevertheless…" I look towards the camp. Two of the guards are standing at the entrance, laughing aloud at a joke one of them cracked. "I think we’ll manage."

An errant thought reminds me of a trick Tohro performed shortly after we first met, involving a convincing lie and a questionable set of chains. While I don’t have any of the latter on me, I think I can manage with the former. "Ohrmaz. Are you a decent actor?"

Ohrmaz smiles.

"Excuse me, sirs! Soldiers! Whatever it is you like to call yourselves, hello!" I holler.

The guards at the entrance stop laughing and turn my way. They have spears slung over their shoulders. For all of their unprofessional demeanor and rugged armor, they’re far more dignified than any Blackwing. It’s their gaze. It’s not as sickly or depraved as a Blackwing’s stare. They look as if they could actually wound me if I don’t play my cards right.

"What is it, traveler?" one of them grunts. "Does this have something to do with… that?" He tilts his spear in Ohrmaz’ direction.

Ohrmaz was very clever about this, having wrapped one of his forelegs in bandages. To make it more convincing, Armaz had obtained some wild raspberries and doused the bandages in their juice. It looks very much like blood, albeit on the radiant side, but these mooks shouldn’t know that… unless a lycan is among them, but what are the odds?

"Yes," I reply. "I don’t know your employer, but I’ve heard of him, and I want to see if I can support his business. I captured this zebra just as he was making off with a farmer’s crops. He put up a bit of a struggle, but a broken leg put an end to that."

"Apanī laṅgōṭī para ēka plēga, tuma jaṅgalī!" Ohrmaz shouts in his native tongue.

I lightly smack him upside the head, but he exaggerates how much it hurt, and quickly goes silent. "He only makes idle threats."

One of the guards smiles. It’s not an evil look, just a pleasant one, as if this is just standard fare for him. "Very well." He and his friend step away from the entrance. "You may speak to Chain Link. Present your cargo and he’ll present you with a reasonable price. Don’t expect a fortune, though."

"It’ll be chicken feed compared to a good future of labor," I say, flashing a wide grin as I step into the campsite. Ugh, I feel sick.

If I weren’t aware this camp is currently housing a slaver, I’d mistake it for any other gathering place for travelers. None of these fellows seem to be anything other than traveling peddlers, traders, vigilantes, and so on. I’ll have to watch out for the vigilantes when the action comes to pass. I just hope they’ll be at least partially drunk, what with their friendly chatter around the fire.

My fur threatens to stand on end with every second I keep up this lie, but putting on the guise of somepony horrid enough to condone slavery will be momentary pain for a lifetime of freedom for these children… I just need to keep up this facade.

Tohro taught me the best way to sneak into enemy territory is to act as though you’re supposed to be there, so I do. I keep a tall, confident demeanor, I politely wave to passersby, and I don’t exaggerate my presence. As far as everypony in this pack of scum is concerned, I’m just here to sell, uh, cargo.

The most extravagant tent boasts a velvet carpet and a chain insignia on its entrance. I can guess who it belongs to. I step inside without hesitation.

I expected lavish decorations, but I didn’t expect the helmed face of a stalwart brown minotaur staring me down. He snorts at me, like many a dragon before has, but the shock of this large fellow is what makes me step backward. "Oh, I…" I giggle like a nervous child. Tohro would mock me for hours if he had heard me in such a state. "You must be Chain Link?"

I hear somepony clearing their throat. "Brick Wall, stand down. We don’t have any reason to distrust this one."

The minotaur, with his fitting name now known to me, backs away and takes a seat by a fireplace. He picks up a rather nasty looking steel axe and takes a stone to it. As if it isn’t sharp enough… I decide to turn my attention towards the one who put him at ease.

The first thing I see on this lanky unicorn, who lies on many cushions, is his chain shaped mark, followed by a formal vest and a fair, well-groomed mane. What gets my attention is his pair of polished spectacles. "I am Chain Link. Good day to you."

"And to you as well," I say, reclaiming my calmness.

"I’ll be with you in a moment…"

I watch with tightly held disgust as Chain Link stands up and goes over to a zebra mare, who is clad in a far too revealing dress. I doubt she’s wearing it willingly. She tenses up as Chain Link whispers something into her ear.

"...I’ll be waiting in your room, then, sir…" she mutters before slowly trotting behind a curtain.

Okay, I was wrong. Now is when I feel ill. I pass a horrified glance back at Ohrmaz, who remains mostly stoic, though I see his eyes tremble, very slightly.

"Right. What was it you wanted, friend?" Chain Link asks. He doesn’t even wait for an answer before he looks at Ohrmaz. "Oh, huzzah! You’ve brought me another fine addition to the workload!"

I watch as the skinny slaver trots over to Ohrmaz and starts examining him like an object to be appraised. He presses his hooves to Ohrmaz’ jaw and plays with his lips. Beyond being disturbing, it’s simply bizarre. "Hm. A big mouth on him. He could be a complainer, but we can fix that with a needle and thread…" Chain proceeds to survey Ohrmaz’ body. "Impressive muscles. If we keep him well-fed, he could carry the workload of three individuals. Or, better yet… Ah." Ohrmaz’ eyes widen as Chain reaches a foreleg between his hind legs. "Ooh! He’ll make for fine breeding stock."

I can sense Ohrmaz’ desire to yell for help. He’s silently begging for me to put an end to this. And oh, how I want to. My hoof reaches for my sword— No. My focus is on helping Ohrmaz free those children. That’s it. He’ll be okay… He just has to endure the embarrassment for just a little longer.

"Are you well, friend?" Chain Link asks, looking a little offput by my actions.

I cover my attempt at grabbing my sword by scratching the back of my head. "Noseeums. They’re everywhere in this region." I flick my ears a few times for insurance.

"Tell me about it…" Chain Link grumbles. He goes back to his cushions. "Now, then. On to business. I have three collections of caged zebras. This may not be the most dignified line of work, but that is no excuse to be disorganized. The first collection makes up my working stock, and they’re in the back." He gestures to the curtain.

"Right…" I say, clenching my teeth behind my lips.

"My second stock are the little tykes in the carriages. Don’t pay their crying any mind. They’ll be quiet once I’ve hoofed them over to Temerity Blackwing."

I stay silent at that notion, but I make a mental note of it. Why would a slaver be collaborating with a Blackwing? Tohro doesn’t condone slavery now, and he certainly didn’t when he was with the Blackwings, prejudiced against zebras as he was… There’s something off here. I’ll ask him about it later. Perhaps this Temerity fellow will have something to answer for.

"Where would I take this one, then?" I ask, nodding at Ohrmaz. "He’ll go with the other hard workers, I assume?"

"Sharp one, aren’t you? I’m grateful for the few of your kind that come around. There’s nothing I hate more than a sale spoiled by cluelessness. Follow me." Chain Link hops to his hooves. I’m ashamed to say he’s beaming at me, and he sees fit to pat me on the barrel. I’ll have to take a bath after I leave this place.

This is good. As soon as we’re in an isolated area, Ohrmaz can stop faking his injury, and we’ll have this bastard out in a—

Chain Link gestures to his minotaur friend. "Brick Wall, follow."

Divines damn him! While I can take a skinny stallion, a minotaur of such stature is another story. A dragon’s attacks, powerful and lethal as they may be, are slow and easy to predict. I, however, doubt there’s any way to take down this beast of a biped without killing him. Unfortunately, that’s a risk I’ll have to take. It’s now or never. I can’t take Ohrmaz away to rethink this plan, nor can I keep my guise up for much longer.

Chain Link leads me and Ohrmaz past the gathered adventurers, who are joined together in some drunken song of celebration. I can’t get a grip on the lyrics, sans a few words. As we go past the fire, the camp seems a little less lively.

"I keep all the strong ones back here, to be sold off as laborers," Chain Link says. "If Equestria is to thrive, we need ponies to do the dirty work. As such, it only seems fair to give such a task to these lesser equines. It’s a kindness, truly. They’re given food and shelter in exchange for a day’s work, and they needn’t trifle with anything more. Honestly, I sometimes envy them."

Shut your fucking mouth.

Inside another tent, a torn one at that, I can see several cages, each one holding two adult zebras. The most I can commend Chain Link on is that he keeps his prisoners in better holding conditions than Sacred Rite ever did. His cages are relatively large and clean. If his earlier words bear any relevance, he’s probably keeping these zebras well fed. Still, their lives are forfeit to his profit. As such, each one looks as solemn as the last.

I can see a younger zebra stallion choking back tears in his lone cell. He looks up as Chain Link taps his hoof on the roof of the cage. "Look alive, sunshine! You’ve got a new cellmate! Enjoy each other’s company for now, but you know the rules. No talking, no motioning towards each other, and no… inappropriate behavior." The bastard turns away and rubs his brow. "Your kind can be so desperate…" He approaches Brick Wall and holds out his hoof. Brick Wall reaches into his hosen pocket and gives Chain Link a ring of keys.

That makes sense. Keep the keys with the individual nopony would dare approach.

Seeing this, Ohrmaz grunts to get my attention. He nods at me, then at Chain Link, who is using levitation to sort through the keys. Ohrmaz also points at Brick Wall, who is casually leaning against a wooden post, his axe set laying on the grass next to him. Clearly, nopony has ever dared to attack him. He may be intimidating, but he isn’t prepared.

Now? I mouth at Ohrmaz.

He nods at me again and bares his teeth.

I take a deep breath and step forward. Here goes nothing.

"Excuse me, sir?"

Chain Link stops his sorting and turns my way. "Yes, what is it?" he asks with a smile.

"I’ve changed my mind," I say. I gesture to every cage within the tent. "I no longer wish to sell. I wish to purchase your entire stock." Reaching into my bag, I feel for the largest coin purse I have. When I present it to Chain Link, his pupils, for a moment, seem to change into coins themselves.

"Oh my… By Gammon, Divine of Labor! I have never before received an offer quite like this." He beholds the bag in my hoofs, reaching out to touch it, but just barely holding himself back, as if it’s too sacred for him to feel. "That is most generous of you…"

I smirk at his comedic actions. They will be his last for some time. "Yes, and it’ll all be yours, if you could do just one thing for me." I beckon for him to turn his gaze away from the bits. "Look into my eyes."

"Oh, uh…" Caught off guard by such a strange request, Chain Link looks around in confusion before doing as I ask. He seems bewildered for a sweet few seconds, but then he realizes that he’s looking into draconic slits. It seems he knows who I am. "Dragonborn," he whispers.

I smirk at him. "Sharp one, aren’t you?" I take the coin purse in my hooves and bring it around, slamming it into the side of Chain Link’s head, shattering his glasses and sending him to the ground. A few stray bits land on his unconscious body.

I immediately turn around to face Brick Wall, who is reaching to pick up his axe. What disconcerts me is his stoicism. He just saw the one he was supposed to protect go down right in front of him… Huh. I suppose that does make me a better guardian than him. For all the times I let Shae down, I at least bothered to care. I did it out of the goodness of my heart. I can assume Brick Wall is on a payroll.

I can only think about all this because time seems to have slowed around me, but not in the way of adrenaline. Brick Wall is charging at me, axe drawn, gleaming in the afternoon sun. I’m near motionless, paralyzed by… right, fear. If I’m not allowed to draw my sword on this behemoth, how can I fight him at all? With my hooves? That’ll bruise him, at best… As far as I’m concerned, I’m dead right now.

A gust in the color of black and white speeds past me. It’s Ohrmaz, who leaps through the air and bucks Brick Wall’s axe, knocking him off balance. That feat alone makes my mouth open involuntarily. Ohrmaz then seizes the shaft of the axe and pulls, bringing the minotaur onto his knees. Ohrmaz leaps off of the axe, somersaults through the air and brings his hind leg down on Brick Wall’s meaty neck, followed by two decisive punches to his legs. Before Brick Wall can cry out in pain, Ohrmaz brings his hooves down on his head, knocking him clean out.

The trapped zebras begin to cheer, but they’re silenced prematurely as Ohrmaz waves his forelegs about and says, "Cuppī! Bāda mēṁ, bhā'iyōṁ!"

I, however, am still in awe for what Ohrmaz just did to Brick Wall. The battle lasted for only ten seconds, if I remember it correctly. "What the hell was that?!" I exclaim.

Ohrmaz forces his hoof onto my muzzle, silencing me. "Bijalī. Battle technique. Train for many year, in homeland," he whispers. He tears a scrap of cloth from his scarf, goes to Chain Link’s body, inserts the scrap into his mouth and drags him to the tent, shoving him into an empty cage. I pick up the keys Chain Link dropped and toss them over. Ohrmaz catches them and puts them to use, locking Chain Link inside the cage.

"Well, it seems like a very effective fighting style," I comment. "I would have been likely died without you."

"Why no sword?" Ohrmaz asks as he goes to unlock the other zebras’ cages.

I’m about to ask what he means, as I clearly have a sword available to me, but I figure his broken speech out. He wonders why I didn’t use my sword when I needed it most. "If it were the day before yesterday, I would have cut him down in a second, but…" I present my sword to Ohrmaz and give it a slow swing before putting it away. "That’s not who I want to be anymore. A murderer, I mean. I’ve taken so many lives. Everything they could have been, good or bad, is gone forever, and it’s my fault. Their blood is on my coat."

Ohrmaz shrugs. "Move on. You do what must be done."

I shake my head, letting out an exasperated groan. "No, that’s… That’s not the hero Equestria needs. There has to be a difference between what must be done and what should be done, and I want to find it. I’m tired of death. I’m tired of this belief that the only way to change the world is to kill the corrupt. It’s not justice, it’s just murder. That’s all it’s ever been."

"Then do not kill," says Ohrmaz, as if he knows how to simplify the matter. I appreciate the motion. It’s not his fault that he doesn’t entirely understand.

I can feel tears of stress forming in my eyes. I squint and hold my hoof to them, trying to keep myself calm. "I… I want to find some way to help Equestria without taking lives. But I don’t know how! All I know is violence. I can’t protect anypony. I’m in too deep to pursue a life of peace. I’m tasked with killing dragons, and that’s all I know how to do…"

Ohrmaz takes ahold of my withers. I open my eyes to see his intense stare. It’s a nurturing one, but it’s also urgent. "Zebra child," he commands.

Right… Now’s not the time to contemplate the grass. I’m on a mission. I stifle a sob and clear my throat. "I’ll go inform Chain Link’s, uh, ‘personal stock,’ that their captor is indisposed. I’ll take them and the zebra children out of here without anypony so much as raising an eyelid." I point to Brick Wall’s twitching body. "You might want to put him elsewhere. After that, set the zebras free. Sneak them out in any way you can. Climb the walls, if you have to."

Ohrmaz nods and jingles the keys in his hoof. For a rugged fellow, he has a handsome smile.

I open the flap leading to Chain Link’s ‘personal stock.’ The cramped room’s many cushions reek of sweat and shame, and so do the occupants. The zebra mare from earlier is on the bed, naked, and disturbingly apathetic to my presence. The other zebras, comprised of two more mares and a single stallion, again, naked, have a similar mien to them.

"Well? Get it overwith," says the mare on the bed. For a captive zebra, she barely has an accent. She must be native to Equestria.

"Why would I do that?" I ask her with faux ignorance. "You’re not supposed to be here to begin with. Now," I flourish my hooves towards the exit, "if you would please come with me to the cart so I can ship you fair maidens, and, uh," I tilt my head towards the one stallion, "out of this hell and into freedom—"

The bedded mare’s eyes widen. She hops my way and gives me an overly tight hug, cutting me off. "Dragonborn!" she says, her voice suddenly upbeat. "I am sorry I did not recognize you."

"Have we met?" I ask, my voice strained by her tight squeeze. Thankfully, she lets go of me before I grow too uncomfortable.

She shakes her head and smiles at me. "Not personally, but word travels fast among us zebras. Your name and face are known to us all, thanks to a hailed zebra bard."

"Divines dammit, Xephyr…" I mutter with a grin. "Relay me your tales of yours truly when we’re not under scrutiny. Please come with me to the cart."

As the remaining zebras stand and stretch out their legs, I take out a bronze knife from my belt and take it to the tent, tearing a flap for any pony to fit through. By the time the travelers take notice, we’ll be long gone.

"Stay close," I advise.

The zebras and I keep low to the ground as we trot around Chain Link’s tent. There aren’t any camp occupants between us and the cart. So long as these four can get inside without raising any alarm, all will be well.

I approach the cart and pull the sheet aside, revealing more stacks of cages. Each one contains a single zebra child. Unlike the workers, however, these ones appear malnourished and dirty. With how glazed over their eyes are, I can imagine they haven’t seen sunlight in days.

I give them a friendly wave, followed by a motion for them to be silent. They smile and nod as they wave back at me.

"My son is in there," the zebra mare whispers to me. "I could have left this place long ago, but I refused to abandon him. It was worth the humiliation."

"Very noble of you," I reply.

"Maybe," she says with a sad smile. "Noble, but stupid. And perhaps cowardice." Her smile drops as she looks aside, then back at me. She puts on a frown. "I said I would get in the damn cart, so leave me alone!" she suddenly yells as she stomps her hooves. "I swear to the stars, I will choke you in your sleep!" She steps into the cart, winks at me, and sits with one of the smaller children. The other zebras follow suit, shooting foul gazes at me.

For a brief moment, I’m left to wonder what I did to warrant such a reaction, but I figure it out when I see one of the campers nearby. This one is a female gryphon. "Need any help there?" she asks in a sickeningly friendly tone. "Merchandise giving you a mouthful?"

"It’s nothing," I say to her. "They’re just so acquainted with sitting on their asses all day that they’re reluctant to go with the little ones to Sir Temerity Blackwing." I never thought I’d say this, but lying for a good cause is a bit thrilling.

However, a small problem presents itself when the gryphon cocks her brow. "Temerity wants the whores? I thought he only wanted children."

My mind races. Without a counter to this one’s question, all I can do is laugh. Then I say, "That’s what Chain Link said to him, but Temerity told him to mind his own damn business. Not in those exact words, but…"

The gryphon holds out her talons as she has herself a chuckle. "That’s Temerity for you. He has grand plans, so shut up and do what he asks… So typical. Well, that’ll all change once Chain Link’s conquered zebra trafficking in this Divine forsaken spit of land."

I don’t think the bastard will be able to conquer anything for a few hours. "I’ll be on my way, then," I say.

The gryphon snorts. "You can’t move that cart by yourself, lad. I’ll lend you a claw."

This one seeks to throw a small hitch in the plan, does she? No matter. I can amend this. I’ll just have to keep a silver tongue until I’m far enough away from this pathetic camp. Dozens of slaves stolen right from under their noses… I suppose irony is the ultimate force of nature, huh, Chain Link?

As such, I keep a casual disposition about me as the gryphon and I hitch ourselves up to the cart. We slowly pull it to the exit. Much to my luck, the guards from before have long since been replaced, so my pulling the cart doesn’t draw any suspicion.

"Evenin’, Beaker," one of the new guards says. "Impromptu delivery, I presume?"

"Temerity," she replies simply. "They were going to be taken tomorrow morning, but a day early means a day less having to deal with him."

"And that's always a good thing," one of the guards replies with a chuckle. It seems that even amongst slavers, there are those no one likes.

Thus, the cart leaves the campsite, and the former prisoners go free. Not a single life was taken today, by my hooves or anypony else’s. I used to smile whenever I stood over the corpse of my prey, coated in blood. Now I smile because my coat is clean.

I don’t want to risk this operation, so I keep to myself as Beaker and I continue trotting along the open fields, the light of the campsite dwindling into the distance. The sun is rapidly setting, cloaking the fields in darkness. That’ll be helpful.

A crossroads lies ahead. Involuntarily, I follow the trail to where Armaz ought to be.

"Wait," Beaker speaks up. "Fillydelphia is that way." She points in the opposite direction.

We’re far enough away from the camp. I decide to put this facade to an end. "Oh, we’re not going to Fillydelphia," I state bluntly.

"Why?" she asks. "Did Temerity say he’d be someplace else? What’s going on, h— WAHRK!" Beaker lets out a very unladylike squelch as Ohrmaz catches her in a chokehold, covering her beak and laying her down on the ground. He drags her into a tall patch of grass and leaves her there.

"A ruse, idiot," I reply to her, even though I know she can’t hear me.

Ohrmaz embraces me, an action I’m happy to replicate. "Mission is success?"

"Mission is success," I repeat, proudly trotting around to the other end of the cart. "I mean, yes. We were successful. Do you still have those keys on you?"

Ohrmaz presents them to me. "Dragonborn set zebra child free. Dragonborn hero to zebra child, and to Ohrmaz."

I take the keys and slip under the sheet. I greet the four adult zebras, who are now clad in worn tunics. As dirty as the clothes are, at least these four have managed to reclaim their modesty.

All of the zebra children turn my way at the same time. It’s a little disarming. Nevertheless, I go to work unlocking all of their cages. I make sure to set the zebra mare’s child free first. Seeing them reunite with a long lasting hug warms me to the core. Even as I continue turning locks and listening to the children’s elated cries, I keep watch of the mother and the child.

"Dragonborn!" one of the children shouts, their voice unapologetically shrill. She leaps onto my back. "Bahuta dhan'yavāda!"

"Maiṁ lagabhaga um'mīda chōṛa dī thī!" another one says. She climbs on top of me as well.

"Easy, easy! Uh, āsāna!" I say, using what little of the zebra language I know. That doesn’t stop the children from attacking me with their enthusiastic hugs. When another three of them hop onto me at once, I lose my balance and fall over, becoming a victim to the cuteness of these tykes.

"This one has a way with children," the zebra mare japes.

"I need you to do two things for me," I tell her. I grunt at the sensation of little hooves pressing into me. "First, please help me."

She snorts at me. "Fine." She claps her hooves together. "Yaha kāphī hai!" In an instant, the zebra children calm down and stop crawling all over me. I won’t be surprised if I wake up covered in welts tomorrow morning.

"Thank you," I say to the mare. "Second, you could tell me your name."

"I have no zebra name," she says with a sad smile. "I am native to Equestria, thus, I have a pony name. I am called Victory."

I hear a knock on the side of the cart. "Dragonborn!" I hear Armaz shout. "Come!"

I get up, go to the end of the cart and pull the sheet aside. Armaz is leaning on the cart, looking up at me with a smile of great expectation. "We did it," I tell her. "Everypony made it out."

"Ohrmaz many child?" she asks, as the zebra in question comes around the corner, with the strong adult zebras following closely behind. Like the children, they’re all looking at me. I’ve been looked upon before, but not with such harmonious reverence. I’m tempted to shy away.

"Pitā!" I hear several zebra children yell. Three fillies and one tiny colt all gallop out of the cart and pounce onto Ohrmaz, giving him much of the same treatment as I just received. He falls to the grass as he wraps his forelegs around his children. His laughter is joyous, a far cry from his normally stoic demeanor.

I step out of the cart, motioning for Victory, the children, and the other adult zebras to follow. "We’re in the clear. I think we all deserve to rest for a while."

Much to my relief, the adult zebras are less enthusiastic than the children, though no less thankful. Many of them offer me friendly hugs. A few bow to me. One of the mares, in a bold act, actually kisses me on the cheek, which causes me to freeze up for a moment.

Victory laughs at what I assume is the most hilarious expression I’ve ever made. "The only thing this celebration seems to be lacking is a little music." As she says that, she presents a lute.

Armaz does a double take. "Where find?" she asks.

Victory gestures to the cart. "It was in the back, along with some plates. I am tempted to say that Chain Link stole this cart from traders and forgot to completely empty it." She takes a seat on the edge of the cart, testing out the lute. "Hm, this works quite well. How about a song?"

Ohrmaz’s son raises his hoof as he stands on his father’s back. "Maiṁ dangan gānā cāhatā hūm̐!"

Whatever it was he just said, many of the children are offering cheers of agreement. A few of them come my way, hopping around me and repeating the same words over and over. "Hamārē li'ē gānā! Hamārē li'ē gānā!"

I look back at Victory and ask, "What are they saying?"

"They want you to sing for them," she nonchalantly says as she continues strumming the lute.

I purse my lips as a mad blush comes to my cheeks. "That… wouldn’t be advisable. Honestly, I’m like a cricket in a windstorm. I can’t—"

"Gā'ō! Gā'ō! Gā'ō!" the children continue to cheer.

I give a sigh of surrender. I suppose some things are inevitable, such as the infectious cuteness of many children demanding such a daunting task from the Dragonborn. Why me?

I clear my throat and begin singing the song Xephyr and his friends played at Wintercolt Academy.

"Today I woke and looked outside again, and the sky looked the same to me.
Something told me that this world had changed, couldn’t figure out what it could mean.
Some say to get out fast, looks like it’s going to last. Just spread your wings and fly.
Don’t leave a thing behind…
Say say it’ll be okay. Just go ahead and stay. Be sure to drink your iodine…"

The children gather around me and take seats in the grass. They gentle bob their heads to the music and hum along. This song must be well known in Saddle Arabia.

"The wind is pushing me into the clouds again, I feel the blood in my veins.
Time is running free, I feel like letting go, just like the Dangan..."

Huh. I suppose I’m better than I give myself credit for.

I continue sing the song it its entirety. Much like any good story, it escalates into a powerful, almost overwhelming climax, and then falls into a gentle, quiet finish. As Victory’s strums on the lute slow, I sing the last lyrics.

"Flying into free…"

The children don’t stomp their hooves. They don’t do much of anything besides smile at me, and I can tell why. Their eyes are sunken and dark. After all they’ve been through, they finally have an opportunity to sleep in peace. I back away from them as they all lay down and drift off.

I join Victory back on the cart. She is still holding her child, who has also closed his eyes.

"Not so tone deaf now, are we?" Victory japes as she brushes the kid’s dirty mane. "Kyne very much enjoyed it, even though he fell asleep about halfway through." She nudges his shoulder, jossing him awake. "Precious, don’t you have something to give to the Dragonborn?"

"Huh?" Kyne blinks the sleep away as he looks up at me. "Oh, yaha sahī hai…" He reaches into the collar of his tunic and hoofs over a scrap of paper. "Yaha kā acchā upayōga karēṁ."

"He says to make good use of it," Victory translates.

I look at the paper. Kyne must have caught a glimpse of some draconic lettering while he was in captivity. I can discern two words from what he wrote. "Drem. Ov," I say in draconic. "It’s a thu’um." I smile at Kyne. "Thank you, little one."

Kyne returns the smile and closes his eyes again, returning to sleep.

Victory softly chortles to herself as she watches the other sleeping children. The adult zebras have formed a circle around them, watching intently for anypony that would harm them. "These children were taken from all over Equestria to serve some sort of nefarious purpose," says Victory. "I’m sure their families will be grateful for your efforts. You’ll be a hero to them."

"I just did what I had to," I state simply.

"Twenty children and thirty one mares and stallions, Caro. Fifty one of our kind could have disappeared from the face of the world and nopony would have had the bravery nor the desire to save them, and many more wouldn’t have even cared. Fifty one lives almost ruined forever. You stopped that from happening."

I can’t bring myself to respond to that. She speaks of my actions with such worship, yet I can’t imagine having done anything differently. Even if I were without Ohrmaz, I would have dropped everything to save these zebras.

"You've given us our lives back,” Victory continues. “You've reunited me with my son. I don't know if you will be rewarded for this in the future, but…” She leans in, her muzzle disturbingly close to me, and whispers into my ear, “I could reward you now, if you would have me."

"No," I say immediately, scooting away. "Thank you, but... no."

“Understood,” she says without so much as a pause. She takes notice of the distance formed between me and her and offers me a grin. “Don’t be embarrassed, friend. I only wished to show my appreciation. Then again, prudence is a virtue far too often unsung.”

“Prudence?” I mutter rhetorically. “No, I… Make no mistake, you’re very beautiful, all things considered, but I think there are more sophisticated ways to—”

Whatever I intended on saying will forever go unheard. A distant roar travels over the fields, causing the ponds to ripple and the grass to bend. I look to the night sky. After a tense few seconds, my heart begins to pound as I see a winged beast pass beneath the stars and clouds.

I lick my lips. “It seems today won’t be free of death after all…” I say. My conscience about this is clear, as I know that it would be a disservice to all of Equestria to let a dragon live. If the Dragonborn before me were unable to sway any dragon's servitude to their destructive cause, and they still see fit to attack me and all other equines on sight, then there’s no need for me to hold back. I adjust my sheath for comfort and get up on my hooves. “Duty calls, I’m afraid,” I say to Victory. “Do you suppose you’ll all be safe without me?”

“We’ll manage. We’re but a few equines. A dragon is a more pressing matter.” Oddly enough, she doesn’t seem afraid in the slightest, but I know why. She’s had absolute faith in me ever since she realized who I am. Why should that change now?

Nevertheless, I can’t leave without offering some sage advice. “Keep moving away from the campsite and steer clear of the main roads until you’re in Imperial territory. After that, consult soldiers for protection. They’ll keep you safe.” I begin to trot away.

“Caro Dragonborn!” Victory shouts after me, making me stop. “I won’t rest until this day becomes a historical event to pony and zebra alike. We all know the stories, and even if you don’t truly believe it yourself, you are a hero. Equestria is already a better place so long as you are here, and I will make that known to everypony.” She lays Kyne down to rest, hops to the grass, and bows to me. “I swear by the stars.”

I hear the shuffling of hooves. While the children still sleep, the adult zebras have all turned to me, and they’re bowing as well. “Hama sitārōṁ kī kasama khātā hūm̐.”

I, Caro Dragonborn, bow in return, then gallop off to face the dragon.

The chase lasts for a solid hour, by my estimate, but this surge of good feeling has yet to end, so I continue moving across the fields. My gallop leads me into another wooded area, though one thankfully free of wolves. I descend down a stone pathway, leading past a glistening waterfall that reflects the rising moon.

I pass a few ponies on the way. A squadron of wary Blackwing soldiers stand with their weapons drawn as they watch the skies. “I’m not hearing things, am I?” one of the stallions asks, clutching his wing blades tightly. He turns my way. “Dragonborn? You saw one of the beasts?”

I keep moving past him, keeping my distance. “Yes. I’ll take care of it,” I say, keeping a guarded tone.

“Thank you,” he says. “Be assured that at least some of us support your cause, but I’ll have nothing to do with that beast!”

As I move away from them, I hear one of the mares shout, “Cut its damn head off!”

The others I pass include a few drunken dwellers who offer me a flask of juniper berry mead, whom I ignore. They go right back to their slurred fraternizing. I also pass by a band of minotaurs, who are roasting a reindeer over a fire. They grunt and nod at me as I pass right on by.

Recognition is nice, even when brief.

Eventually, the trees dwindle, and the dirt becomes sand. I’ve followed this dragon to one of Equestria’s great lakes. Master used to take to a beach much like this one. On bright summer days, after the usual business trip to Reinoc, we’d stop the carriage and take in the sun for an hour or two. I was always told that my bronze mane looked so radiant in the sunlight. Now it’s the dead of night, and my grey mane is as dull and lifeless. Of course, that’s merely a visual difference. At the moment, I feel so alive.

A gravelly and distorted voice echoes across the water and sand. “Taking time to reminisce, Dovahkiin?”

I calmly turn. Atop a spire of rocks sits, what else, a dragon. But its appearance gives me pause, for I can’t even determine its gender. Its black scales are few, scattered across visible layers of peeling flesh and bone. I can see right through some areas of its body. Despite this dead appearance, though, it moves, breathes and speaks all the same, as if it were a corpse pretending to live. It may not bleed, but perhaps I can still kill it… I reach for my sword.

“Helt,”it commands. “Do not attack, but listen. Fighting is not in either of our best interests.”

“He speaks the truth, Dovahkiin,” I hear Rasahrel say. “He is an enemy of Saviikaan and all dovah. If you choose your words well, he may be an ally to you.”

Even though she was once a ferocious dragon, Rasahrel hasn’t given me any reason to distrust her, nor has any dragon before her. They are many things, but they are not liars.

I take my sheath off and lay it down on the sand, keeping my eyes on the skeletal dragon all the while. “By all means, speak,” I say to him. “You sound like you’ve been expecting me.”

“In a way. I did not predict the precise time and place in which you would appear to me, but I did anticipate that I would end up meeting the Dovahkiin of this era.” The beast pauses for a second. “My apologies. You know of the repeating cycle that Saviikaan has bestowed upon these lands, do you not?”

“I’m aware of it,” I say. Just in case this one intends on deceiving me, I’ll keep Master Hammerfell out of this. “I’m the sixth Dragonborn to fight Saviikaan’s crusade.”

“Right you are, Dovahkiin,” The skeletal dragon affirms. He removes himself from the stone and comes down to the sand. Water pools around his claws as he slowly comes my way. “As for me, I am a former servant of Saviikaan. You may call me Durnehviir.” He takes a bow, an action I’ve never seen from a dragon. “For half of the time since the cycle began, I was at the beck and call of Saviikaan, taking orders with nary a second thought. Be assured that I revoked my fealty to him many centuries ago, and now I dedicate my existence to freeing ponykind from his greed.”

“A former servant… Well, that would explain a few things,” I say with a dark chuckle.

Durnehviir touches his chest, or lack thereof, and lets out a humored snort. “Yes, well… As you can plainly see, I am not the virile beast I once was, but at least I stand out from the rabble, do I not?”

“You could say that,” I jest.

“Indeed.” Durnehviir clears his throat and kneels down so I can look him in the empty eye socket. “I imagine it’s not very often that you are able to ask anything of a dragon. As such, I am willing to answer whatever it is you would ask of me. Do not fear a refusal of reply.”

It’s as if I’ve been given the world’s riches and haven’t a clue what to spend it on besides anything I already own. Here I am, in the right place at the right time, able to receive any answer to any question I present… And I’m at a loss for words. All I can say is, “Um…” as I anxiously brush my mane. “Goodness…”

“Perhaps it would be for the best if I explained a bit more about my role in the grand scheme of things, seeing as you already know yours,” the dragon says.

“I wouldn’t mind.”

“Very well. See, if your record for killing so many dragons holds true, than I would have simply been prey to your sword. Three ages I fought against the Dovahkiin. After the third, I had a change of heart. Now I exist half in life, half in death, seeking to assist you in any way I can, so long as we have a mutual goal in putting an end to Saviikaan’s plans.”

“It couldn’t be any more mutual,” I assure Durnehviir. In his speech, I’ve managed to find a question. “So, I know that Saviikaan wants to bring back the Precursors. How does he intend to do this? And why hasn’t he done so in any era past?”

“You know the fate of the ones you key call Precursors, yes? They meddled in the balance of the universe, manipulating magic to perform feats no mortal should ever attempt. Creating life from air, for instance, or trying to find means to attain limitless power. It was all in vain, of course. The universe itself rebelled against the Precursors. The artificial life forms they had created rose up and consumed entire cities. The constructs they had built crumbled, ravaging the land. In the end, the survivors were forced underground.”

“Yes, I’m aware of this,” I say. “Though I appreciate the clarification. So, how does Saviikaan intend to revive them?”

“I do not know a specific answer. However, I do know what Saviikaan would need to perform such a task. He would require an inordinate amount of power to in order to resurrect thousands of long dead beings, and he would have to perform the resurrection over one of the many tombs in which the Precursors rest.”

“I’ve been to one of those tombs, up near Mount Everfree. It’s called Beak Falls Barrow.”

"That is what they call it in this age?!" Durnehviir exclaims, rather humorously.

"There is a Thieves Guild in this land, and it is largely composed of gryphons. They had claimed it for excavation. Either way, the name seemed appropriate."

The skeletal dragon snorts. "What folly. In Saviikaan’s time, it was called Undaar Staad Do Praan."

"The Final Place of Rest?"

"Geh. Otar, one of the Dragon Priests, was assigned to oversee that tomb.”

“I’ve met him. He seems to have a rather grey outlook on this conflict between ponies and dragons. He made use of the Precursors buried there to test my strength, turning them into draugr.”

Durnehviir nods. “Otar always did hop back and forth across the tables of alignment. He was the only one willing to sacrifice lives to attain his goals. But I do owe him one thing…”

“He was the one who resurrected you, wasn’t he?” I ask prematurely.

“Very astute of you. That is correct. It is why my beautiful body has been reduced to… well.” Durnehviir gestures to himself. “If it were Saviikaan who had resurrected my soul, I would be a gleaming majestic beast of crimson and gold. Instead, I walk this land without such colors, or a living soul. But, I suppose beggars cannot be choosers. See, Saviikaan can resurrect a dovah with a single shout that only he is able to perform, so long as said dovah still keeps his soul. You might consider it his gift for being Monah's favorite son.”

"Monah? That means mother, right?"

"Geh. I speak of the one you little key call Dragos. What an insulting name."

I pace around in the sand as I ponder these revelations. "So, resurrection... That's how the dragons have lived long enough to know of the Dragonborn that have come before me. Saviikaan, you are a skeevy bastard..."

"Know that my desire to see his corpse bests yours several times over. He has felled many of my fellow dovah simply because they sympathized with the Dovahkiin, or simply chose not to participate in his foolish crusade. I told him time and time again, the kingdom he once ruled is gone. But he'll have this land turned to glass before he'll accept that. He tore my heart out for saying such words to him. It hurt. A lot."

"Oh. Well, welcome back to the land of the living, then."

"I shan't be here long,” Durnehviir states bluntly. “Once Saviikaan is dead, I'll return to the earth so I can get some more sleep. Until then, I want you to promise me that you’ll focus your efforts on killing him and taking his soul. He has lived out this childish fantasy long enough. He wholeheartedly believes that unless he is a king to his subjects, the rest of the world need not bother living.”

“He’s like an infant who wants his toy back, when you put it that way,” I say, taking cautious steps towards this undead dragon. “I want the same thing as you. Equestria has suffered enough without having to cope with a former ruler so married to his own cause that he can’t hold out for a better future.” I reach out and touch the tip of Durnehviir’s beak. “You have my trust.”

Durnehviir moves into my touch. Even though his rotted flesh feels rough under my hoof, and his putrid scent fills my nostrils, I feel an odd amount of warmth coming from him; not from his skeletal body, but from his oddly compassionate mien. "This foal speaks eloquently. Whether Saviikaan genuinely believes this land was better off under his rule, or he simply relishes the idea of being a god in one's eyes once again... that is unknown. In either case, you are the only one who can stop him, and I sincerely hope you succeed. I do not wish to see another race of equines burned to ash. It stops being entertaining after a while."

Very compassionate.

I remove my hoof from Durnehviir’s beak and offer him a bow. “Thank you. Truly. Such information will be invaluable to me. By the time I’ve grown strong enough to defeat my adversary, Saviikaan won’t stand a chance.”

“What you lack in size compared to him, you have heart. And such fortitude! Truly, you are the Dovahkiin your race has been waiting for. Better you face Saviikaan, than…” Durnehviir trails off, lowering his head. If he eyelids, I assume he would have closed them. He turns his head and looks behind him. “Perhaps I should explain why I came to this spot in particular. This way.”

I have to gallop to keep up with the dragon as he walks along the beach, kicking up piles of sand and soil. I can easily say I’ve been in less bizarre situations. I never thought I’d be chasing after a dragon without the intention of slaying it.

Durnehviir halts when we reach a small cave. It doesn’t seem to be anything significant, but evidently, it’s what Durnehviir wants me to see, going by the nod of his head.

I take a look inside the cave. It doesn’t seem to run very deep, nor is it very wide. I trust Durnehviir enough to not expect him to set me ablaze the instant I step inside. As such, I go forth.

The cave’s interior becomes bathed in moonlight, revealing to me a macabre sight. Lying against the wall is a small pony skeleton in rotted oriental robes. A satchel of ruined tomes lies at its side, and before it is a wide collection of vials, each containing red, blue and green liquids. The most disconcerting thing about all this is the skeleton’s lack of hind legs.

I hear Durnehviir speak from the hole in the ceiling. “Dovahkiin, meet your ancestor. His name was Starbright.”

My heart skips a beat. I kneel down, staring at the skull of the former Dragonborn. “Epona’s mane, ” I gasp. I look around the cave once again, seeing no other remains. There is just this one skeleton. “And this is how he died? Alone, with half his legs, unable to do anything?”

“Precisely. And who do you think bears the burden of guilt for that?”

I look up Durnehviir. His breaths are heavy, and somehow, sad. It takes me an uncomfortable amount of time to speak. “You’re the one who—”

“He had the misfortune of standing in my path. We met by happenstance, on this beach. What had made Starbright so difficult to fight as a Dovahkiin was his tactical cleverness and his family of warriors, who were always at his aid, keeping him out of even the slightest danger. He could not be touched, until I met him. He was alone. Unprepared. Unprotected. He couldn’t even prepare a single spell before I tore his legs off in one fell swoop.” Durnehviir’s voice shakes as he speaks. “But he did not die. Not right away. I watched with great curiosity as he held on, letting himself suffer what horrible pain he must have been enduring as he crawled to this cave. With every small amount of distance he covered, my pride quickly sank into guilt. I realized that you equines are not weak. You are not lambs for our slaughter.”

“It seems you realized this too late,” I comment, before realizing how incredibly rude that was to say. “I’m sorry.”

“Do not apologize,” Durnehviir snaps. “This was my doing, and I’ve regretted it every day since. I come here often to visit Starbright, in the hopes that in the life beyond, he can hear me, and offer me vindication for what I did to him...”

The thoughts I had about dragons being all one and the same now seems like the notion of a simpleton. The only exception seemed to be Master, whom I had no reservation towards trusting once I got past the truth of his natural form. Of course, if Master were not a dragon, I likely wouldn’t be as willing to believe everything Durnehviir has said.

As for you, Starbright… I hope these sentiments reach you, since you are likely with the Fae at this point, but I hope you understand that even though your time came too soon, your death still lead to a greater victory. You made a dragon feel regret. That is something I will likely never accomplish, and you’re a greater Dragonborn than me for that alone.

Durnehviir reaches into the cave and pokes at the collection of vials. “As he lay dying, I tried to help him with these… I gathered as much as I could, but…” He’s trying to keep his deep, threatening voice as stable as he can, but I can hear him cracking. He’s like a thin sheet of ice about to break.

"Hey, it's alright. You tried your best..." I say, partially in disbelief that I’m offering comfort to such a terrifying behemoth. I move away from Starbright’s skeleton and approach Durnehviir’s hand. Reluctantly, I reach out to it and wrap my forelegs around it. “It’s okay.”

“Uh, mate, what are you doing?”

I immediately let go and spin around. At the entrance to the cavern stands my favorite pegasus. Tohro stands there, mouth agape as he holds my sword and sheath.

“Well, at least it’s not the most compromising position to find me in,” I say, stepping towards him and giving him a hug. “How are you?”

“Well, I’m fine now, but nice going, giving me a heart attack and all!” he yells, worming his way out of my grip and forcing my sword and sheath on me. “I follow the sound of a roaring dragon to the beach and find my best friend’s sword lying abandoned?! For the love of Epona, mate, could you be any more stupid?!”

“Not as stupid as I was when I woke up this morning.” I show a happy grin, which only makes Tohro’s frown intensify.

“Really…” he says with a scathing voice.

“I’m sorry I scared you. I had to lay down a weapon to gain the trust of this fellow.” I raise my foreleg and point up above. “Meet Durnehviir. He’s a friend of Otar’s, and an enemy of Saviikaan’s.”

Durnehviir gives an affirming snort. “This must be your companion. A threat to Saviikaan almost as much as yourself, Dovahkiin. I have heard the rumors of how well you two fight in tandem.”

“Like two peas in a pod,” I boast. “Isn’t that right?”

Tohro seems removed, looking up at Durnehviir with nothing but disbelief. “Yes it is, Sir Corpse Whisperer…” He turns to me with a bewildered look. “What in the sacred name of fuck have you been doing all of today?”

“Oh, wouldn’t you like to know. When we get back to the tent, I’ll tell you everything.”

“We’re not going back to the tent,” Tohro states. “We’re going to Everfree.”

I step back, as if Tohro had physically attacked me. “But what about Neigh Hrothgar? I want to visit Master.”

Tohro nods and offers me a reassuring touch on the wither. “And I want to meet him, but that will have to wait for another day. Queen Platinum’s orders.” He reaches into his bag and presents an envelope to me. The wax is already broken. “A royal courier came to me shortly after I woke up.”

I take the letter in hoof and give it a read.

Caro and Tohro of Dragonrein,

By the time you receive this letter, I assume the jarl of Dragon Bridge will have arrived in Everfree. The other jarls of the loyal cities and towns will be soon to follow, after which time we will begin our gathering and discuss recent events.

Of course, I’d be a fool to think I’m going to keep the good ponies of Dragonrein out of this historical event. Let it not be understated that you all have a stake in the fate of Equestria. As such, I expect you two to be alongside Shae Sparkle and Rosemary Von Spice when the summit begins. Please do not pass up this offer.

The other attendees of the gathering will be Princess Celina, Princess Luna, Captain Gauntlet, the palace sages, and any friends or family of the attending jarls.

Best wishes,
Platinum.

She’s grown humble. She didn’t even sign her rank. Merely her name, and nothing more.

I give the letter back to Tohro as I ponder what I just read. An invitation to a political summit? Even though I can’t expect it to be too diverting, no doubt the jarls will be discussing plans to put an end to Shokenda’s uprising, and that will lead me ever closer to ending Shokenda herself. What an honor. Even though wisps of my disappointment for a canceled trip to Neigh Hrothgar still remain, I’m fairly happy all the same.

“We can visit your master when royal affairs aren’t our top priority,” Tohro assures me with a smile. “I’m sorry. I know you’ve been looking forward to seeing him again. You must have had a lot of questions.”

“Not as many as I used to.” I turn around and look up at Durnehviir, who has been watching and listening in silence. “I have him to thank for that.”

Durnehviir snorts at me. “Do not thank me until you make use of these curatives,” he says, gesturing to the vials.

That’s a generous offer of his. Assuming those potions will all fit in our bags of holding, Tohro and I should be able to weather any tight situation.

Durnehviir then points to Starbright’s skeleton. Or, rather, what lies next to him. “As well as the contents of your predecessor’s satchel.”

“What’s in it?” I ask, approaching the satchel and lifting the flaps. Most of the contents are expired alchemical ingredients, with foul stenches to match their filthy remains. However, it’s within the largest pocket that I find something that makes my mouth fall open, unable to close. I see a bronze, gem encrusted scroll. Just by looking at it, I feel raw magical power in the air around me. It’s as if I’m looking at something not of this world.

I claim the Elder Scroll and carefully remove it from Starbright’s bag. As I hold it up for Tohro to see, his eyes widen.

“Oh, Divines…” he whispers. “How did the poor fellow get ahold of that?”

“Elder Scrolls cannot merely be obtained,” says Durnehviir with an ominous growl in his voice. “They are not tools. They are not made, and they are not to be used like a sword or a pickaxe. Elder Scrolls come to this world precisely where and when they intend to. They are not bound by laws of time or magic or any other rule of nature. They have been, are, and will, all at the same time. When you hold one in your hooves, you are holding the power of the Divines.”

“Amazing…” I’m tempted to open it right here and now, just to see what secrets it may hold, but Tohro’s hoof stops me.

“Not in this lifetime! You remember what happened to Squall, don’t you? The poor bastard got his eye torn up.” Tohro gestures to his cursed eye. “Imagine this, but a lot more bloody.”

“Oh, that’s right…” I say, immediately retracting my hooves and letting Tohro take the Elder Scroll. “And he probably knew much more about the scrolls than I do.”

Tohro continues speaking with grave sincerity. “The sages in the Rainbow Palace have to spend years, if not decades, gathering the mental, spiritual and physical capacity to comprehend what’s written upon these scrolls, and even then, their lifespans are at least a third less than the average pony.”

Suddenly the bronze relic in Tohro’s hooves seems less like an amazing discovery and more like a volatile curse given physical form. “So, if we ever make use of this,” I clarify, “it will be as a last resort.”

“I’m tempted to chuck this into the ocean. Are you sure you want to keep it?”

“Yes,” I say immediately. “I’ll gladly risk my eyes if it means it could potentially help Equestria. We must be prepared for every contingency, especially if this war is going to escalate.”

“Once again, Dovahkiin, I commend you on your bravery. Not too many, even among your kind, would be willing to risk themselves for a better future.” Durnehviir spreads his flaky, eroded wings and flaps them, beginning to take flight. “I will speak with you again in time. Farewell.”

Durnehviir takes to the sky, soaring upwards until he disappears into a cloud. After that, I lose sight of him.

“I see you’ve made another unusual friend,” Tohro comments. He waves to the exit of the cave. “Come along. Tell me everything.”

Just as I open my mouth, a slip of parchment falls from Tohro’s satchel, right out of the envelope he handed me before. He takes notice of this and goes to pick it up, unfolding it and giving it a read. He simply gives a disinterested shrug.

“Hm. Curious. This wasn’t in the envelope when I got the letter.” He gives me the parchment. “Does this mean anything to you, mate?”

It doesn’t, so why does it send a horrid chill down my spine?

XXXVI - Tension

“Let it be known that my actions are nothing beyond what has been done in eras past. For a new way to come to be, the old way must wither and die, whether it be through the passing of time, or at the end of a bloodied blade. I will not wait for the former.”

CHAPTER XXXVI - TENSION

“How the hell am I supposed to attract the finest warriors of Equestria when my most impressive weapons aren’t within plain view?” Rosemary asks in a demanding tone. She gestures towards the double bladed sword and toothed zweihander on the front desk, which Shae levitates towards the upper racks upon the wall.

Shae speaks to Rosemary firmly, but not angrily. “If you place so much value in your work, which you obviously do, as these blades are fantastic, then you won’t have to worry about them not getting anypony’s attention. Unless, of course, you want thieves stealing these from the bottom racks?”

“Who’s going to steal from a weapon shop?! In bloody Everfree?!” Rosemary exclaims. “The owner could cut them down on sight!”

“Or a child could cut themselves, if these fine weapons were within their reach,” Shae says.

Rosemary waves the comment off as if it were a bug. “A child ain’t that stupid.”

Shae’s eye twitches. Her voice immediately goes from stern to anguished as she advances on Rosemary. “But they’re not cautious! And do you think a child stops at an adult’s warning? They don’t! I’ve had to rescue Luna from the diamond moat twice!”

“Woah, darlin’...” Rosemary immediately drops her brash attitude and gives Shae a comforting embrace. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to touch a nerve.” She turns around and looks at the exotic weapons on the upper wall. “Huh. You know, they actually do look quite good up there.”

“Of course they do,” Shae mutters with a disgruntled groan.

Shae takes a walk outside of the weapon shop. The cold air helps wash away any remaining aggression as she sits down on the porch. She looks up at the wooden sign just above the front steps, which boasts painstakingly articulate red letters.

Lovely Rose
Arms and Armor

“Forge, smithery, weapon’s shop, it’s all the same to me. I finally did it!” Rosemary flashes a grin at Shae before she glances up at the sign as well. “And, of course, I owe it all to you, my dear.”

Shae holds up her hoof, commanding Rosemary to stop talking. The mare stops immediately as she takes a rest at Shae’s side. “Rose, I don’t need compliments right now,” Shae grumbles.

“Well, what do you need?” Rosemary asks eagerly.

“I don’t know… I haven’t had a moment to myself in a week. I’ve barely had an opportunity to pick up a book, let alone practice my routine spells…” Shae shakes her head as if she’s trying to dislodge something. “Never mind. It’s none of your concern.” She looks back at the wall-bound swords. “And don’t worry about a thing. Warriors from all over will love your creations, no matter where they’re placed."

Rosemary gives her a smile, before looking at the wall with a frown. "So... if someone wants to buy one, how'm I supposed to get it down?"

Shae answers by nudging Rosemary’s muzzle with her hoof. “Get a ladder, silly. And an assistant, perhaps.”

“Ah, right you are! Think I’ll be payin’ a visit to a carpenter, he ought to have an assistant lyin’ about— I mean, a ladder.” Rosemary chuckles at her little joke. “So, where are your lovely daughters on this fine day?” she asks Shae, gesturing to the clear blue sky, which is reflected in the many puddles of water on the street; remnants of a recent rainstorm. “Off on their own, are they?”

“For the moment. Celina may need me for emotional support, but she is very mature for her age. It’s funny how often I have to remind myself she’s only about two years old. She carries herself like a mare of… I’m tempted to say, twenty? Anyway, she at least shoulders some of my burden. Luna, however, requires constant attention.”

“The wee bairn’s adorable face has worn out its novelty, has it?”

Shae shakes her head. “No, she’s a doll, same as ever. But if I leave her alone for an instant, my heart more or less freezes, and she becomes distraught. I worry that being a newborn in the form of a child might not bode so well for her. What if she remains this way forever?”

“Come now, lassie. If Celina’s form is malleable, then so is Luna’s.” Rosemary nudges Shae with both hooves. “Errant concerns ain’t gettin’ you nowhere. You have to give those worries a smack on the bum and show ‘em the door. Kiss ‘em goodbye. Ooh, speakin’ of…”

Shae understands Rosemary’s implication instantly. She turns to her and meets her lips halfway.

“Feelin’ better?” Rosemary whispers.

“A little, but…” Shae presses her hoof to Rosemary’s cheek. “Huh, you’re shivering,” she comments, feeling a slight tremble in the skin of her paramour. She also takes notice of Rosemary’s smile, which seems unusually forced.

“That’s odd.” Rosemary shrugs it off and hops to her hooves, stepping into the street. She appears to be deliberately looking away from Shae, even though she speaks normally. “Oh, and another thing, lassie. Word on the tongue of Everfree claims the jarls are arrivin’ today.”

Shae stands up quickly. “Already?”

“Yep. If those rumors are of the true sort, we should be gettin’ ourselves cleaned up.” Rosemary shows off the dirt and grime on her hooves and face, prompting Shae to do the same. “Do you think Her Majesty would mind if I made use of the royal baths along with ya, seein’ as I’m gonna be attendin’ and all?”

Shae is about to answer with a blush on her face when a distant roar interrupts her. A short yet tense moment passes over her and Rosemary in the wake of the roar, the both of them waiting until the appropriate time to relax, and pass off the booming noise as some sort of wind gust, or perhaps a beast in transport.

Rosemary is the first to break the silence. “Perhaps that was—”

The terse period of rest is brought to an end by the sound of a stallion and mare screaming (Their pitches being not all that different from one another’s). Multiple ponies come around the corner, running at breakneck speeds, obviously straining themselves to get away from something awful.

The source of the roar makes itself known. What looks like a lion turns the corner, followed by the head of a goat, and a tail in the form of a snake.

“Divines, that’s a chimera…” Shae mutters, stricken with both surprise and fascination, despite the panic.

One of the stallions stumbles on a dip in the road, falling onto his side. He rolls over and looks up at the lion’s head, captivated by fear. He lets out a yell before he’s tossed away by the back of the lion’s paw.

“Oh, fuck, that’s a chimera!” Rosemary yells.

The beast lets out another roar that causes the rain puddles to ripple and shift. It’s like a solid object impacting on Shae and Rosemary, who both lose their balance, left disarmed as the chimera comes sprinting their way.

Shae manages to get her bearings quicker than Rosemary. She dives, grabbing Rosemary and pinning her to the ground just as the chimera comes barreling past. As it does so, Shae takes notice of a chainless shackle bound to its right hind leg.

“Thanks, lassie,” Rosemary gasps as she gets back up, alongside Shae. “What the hell is that thing doing here, of all the bloody places?!” She doesn’t wait for an answer as she turns towards her weapons shop. “Time to armor up.”

“What do you need?” Shae asks as she heads up the steps.

Rosemary considers her options for a second. She stomps her hoof as she makes her decision. “Any blade with an ice enchantment, some daggers, and my rope. You’ll know where they are, you put them on the middle shelf!”

Shae runs into the shop. Just above the entrance to the storage room is a steel cinquedea. Shae levitates it off of its hooks. She then goes over to the desk and looks through the cupboards until she locates Rosemary’s lasso behind a collection of iron ingots. She takes that as well.

Before she leaves the store, Shae opens her pouch and takes out Clover the Clever’s amulet, quickly putting it on. She takes a deep breath as she feels immense power coursing through her entire being, an assured smile crossing her muzzle.

“Time to go.”

~Platinum~

“My apologies for my earlier surprise. I had expected to see Stonewall. He was quite a gem when he was the jarl of Dragon Bridge…” I clear my throat and rethink my words to young Ironclad, who has a professional look in all but his dull expression, which is that of a pony who only partially wishes to be here. “Nevertheless, as a son of Stonewall, I’m sure you’ll fill his role just fine.”

“Just as you’ve been filling in the role of a ruler just fine for the past several years,” says Ironclad. It’s difficult for me to tell whether or not he’s being truthful or passive aggressive. He seems removed, choosing to look out beyond the balcony instead of facing me. His little brother, Onslaught, is humming to himself as he rests in the waiting area.

“In any case, I commend you on being the first to arrive,” I tell him. “Punctuality is admirable, especially to this old mare. This war could have gone in many different directions if I had acted sooner. My lack of punctuality and preparation on the issue was responsible for many jarls severing ties with the Empire.”

“Be grateful that some of us decided to come back.”

I turn around to see a familiar mare of gold fur and a cerulean mane, who wears overly extravagant yellow robes and a feathered cowl. She’s entering the waiting hall alongside some steel armored, rather unprofessional seeming guards, who don’t even bother to walk in unison. Very impressive. The pitch black child who walks aside her in oversized robes is far more imposing.

I mask my sigh with a cough. “Drake. Thank you for showing yourself in rather than seeking my permission to enter; it saves me so much trouble. Might I lie to you and say this is an honor?” I ask, approaching her slowly.

She shows me a garish smile in turn. “And it nearly makes me vomit to say it’s wonderful to see you again.” She gestures to the child. “Say hello, Boysenberry.”

The child is a much more respectable individual for actually bothering to take a bow. “Your Majesty.”

“You raised him well. Or does he act in defiance of your parentage?” I jape at Drake.

“Boysenberry is whatever he wishes to be. As am I, and I wish to see myself to the dining hall. Might I receive directions?”

I’m tempted to call out the flask of liquid glass bound to her sash, but that would be beneath me. “Downstairs and to the right. The chefs are serving baked potatoes.”

“Fantastic,” Jarl Drake says with enough false enthusiasm to offend a toddler. She begins to take her leave, motioning for Boysenberry to follow.

Ironclad has kept a neutral expression all the while. Looking at me, he says, “I could cut the hatred in here with a knife. What in Tartarus happened to cause such a rift between you and her?”

“Not up to date on this war, are you?” I ask him.

“The most Dragon Bridge has seen of the war has been passersby soldiers, My Queen.”

“Understood. Then allow me to explain. Follow me.”

I lead Ironclad into the room across from the waiting area. This is the war room. On the wall above several rows of seats, another portrait of my beloved Hurricane in his armor can be seen, next to several decorative swords and shields, each bearing gold and purple accents. In the center of the room is a map of Equestria, riddled with gold, white, and black flags.

I point to a long stretch of black inking on the center on the map. “Ghastly Gorge. It separates the majority of Imperial and Blackwing occupied territories. As you can see, aside from our recent allegiances with Trottingham and Baltimare, little progress has been made for both the Legion and the Blackwings in years past. No matter what move one side makes, the other side finds some means of countering it. It’s just minor scuffles across the land at this point.”

“I assume Trottingham was neutral until recently?” Ironclad asks.

I make a long, dramatic sigh. “That’s where the problem with Jarl Drake arises. See, Trottingham was loyal to the Legion in the early days of the war, until we decided to march on the Blackwings at Ghastly Gorge. They intended to cross the gorge and scatter across Equestria. The Legion made an attempt to stop them.”

“Did you lose?”

My laugh is hollow and humorless. “I wish we had lost, then we would have had something to come back from. No, this was a worthless stalemate. Our bomb supplies were prematurely detonated, resulting in the deaths of several soldiers from both sides. Several bad calls were made, causing even more deaths and unnecessary injuries. In the end, each side’s resources were exhausted to the point where victory was meaningless. Both Imperials and Blackwings alike retreated, broken and weary.”

“And the one who made those bad calls?”

“You know who,” I mutter glumly. “Jarl Drake relied on the liquid glass to predict the outcome of the battle, and she made her choices to attain that end. But the future changed. In the end, the deaths of those soldiers fell on her. To avoid potential inhouse struggles, Jarl Drake retreated to her home of Trottingham and claimed neutrality.”

Ironclad doesn’t ask any further questions, instead simply tilting his head slightly. “Huh.”

To this day, I don’t know whether or not my distaste towards Jarl Drake is due to her actions in the battle of Ghastly Gorge, her continued use of the liquid glass despite its failures, or her sudden desire for my Legion’s assistance the moment this war actually meant a damn to her. She performed executions on wandering Blackwings, for Fauste’s horn! She honestly didn’t expect Shokenda to react?

I think the true question is whether or not these feelings are even warranted. Should I let my anger go so Jarl Drake and I can work together, like in days past? That wouldn’t be so awful.

My contemplating comes to an end when Captain Gauntlet comes into the room. Seeing a soldier so well-composed is a welcome sight. “Your Majesty.” He salutes me and bows. “Two more jarls have arrived in the city. Jarl Golden Sieve of Baltimare and Jarl Moonshine of Tempest seek permission to approach the Rainbow Palace. Also—”

I point to Gauntlet as I show Ironclad an intense stare, because sometimes it’s difficult to let go of one’s longheld anger. “You see? That is etiquete! I never thought I’d see the day that one could learn class from Golden Sieve!”

“Ma’am!” Gauntlet yells over my obsessing. “Princess Celina and Princess Luna also came by, claiming there’s a chimera running about the commercial district. And judging by their panicked expressions—”

“Gauntlet.” I lay my hoof on the captain’s pauldron. “After this matter is settled, I personally want to hear why the hell you didn’t tell me that first!”

“Protocol?” is all he has to say.

I chuckle as I give Gauntlet a sympathetic hug. “You are a damn fool. Divines bless you.” I let go of him and immediately change into a commanding mien. “Now deal with the matter!”

"Y-yes ma'am! At once!" The wonderful idiot almost bludgeons himself with how fast he salutes before sprinting away.

“Ah, what a trooper. Taking on the responsibilities of a general whilst overseeing Everfree’s local law enforcement can’t be easy, but has he ever complained? The answer is no.”

Ironclad raises a brow at me. “Why haven’t you made anypony else a general?”

“Because I can’t seem to find anypony to suit the rank. Don’t get me wrong, Gauntlet does fine work, but I’m still waiting for the perfect soldier to take up the mantle and lead Equestria’s armies into battle.”

~Vision End~

“This... is easily the highlight of my day.”

Tohro’s hind legs dangle over the edge of the pub balcony. He has a half-full mug of mead in one hoof and a wing blade in the other as he watches the street below. Several townsfolk have all gathered to see a peculiar sight, yet are also backing away from it at the same time.

Despite being well aware of how dangerous a chimera can be, Tohro can’t help but find the sight of the beast pawing at an overturned cabbage cart absolutely hilarious. He’s more amused by the townsfolk, however. “They’re like fish to gilimmering ore, ain’t they? Mate?”

Caro comes out onto the balcony, looking rather flustered. “Must I set hoof in a bar without being hounded? Wolves to a sheep, these ones… Honestly, I appreciated recognition once upon a time, but these ponies need to stop…” He takes a brief swig of his mead as he joins Tohro at the balcony’s edge. He points his mug in the direction of the chimera, whose goat head is wolfing down cabbages two at a time. “Some of them are asking me to deal with that thing. You reckon we should?”

Tohro gives Caro a happy sneer. “Is that reluctance I hear?”

“Yes,” Caro bluntly states. “I mean, isn’t this something to be handled by the proper authority, over some maniac with a sword?”

“Mate, in case you haven’t realized, we’re both maniacs. But, luckily for you and everypony else down there, I just so happen to be a maniac of the proper authority.” Tohro taps the chestplate of his Imperial armor. “Back in a tick.”

Tohro leaps off of the balcony and flies over the crowd, landing in front of the chimera. It doesn’t pay him any mind as it continues its feast. Tohro points at the three bystanding earthwalker guards and motions to them.

“Fellas, we need to clear these ponies out of here before we take care of this thing,” he advises. “And let’s avoid having it killed. We don’t need any red staining our lovely streets, do we? Only attack it as a last resort. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” all three of the guards say at once.

“Of course you do!” Tohro exclaims. “Now, do your job!”

“Understood,” says one of the guards. He and the other two disperse and approach the crowd, waving them away. “Please stand clear of the chimera, everypony. Stay away from this street until we have the beast apprehended.”

“Could any mages come forth and assist us in tranquilizing this terror?” another guard asks.

A certain mare of lavender cuts through the dithering crowd with her foreleg held high and her horn aglow with a harsh red aura. “At your service!” She steps into the fray without hesitation. Rosemary follows closely behind with a rope gripped in her mouth.

“Ah, the lovely ladies of Dragonrein have arrived,” Tohro says. He spins around and points at the lion’s head. “You know how to properly dispose of this thing, yes?”

“Of course. Bestiary classes were another strong subject for this unicorn. We only need to tranquilize the lion head for the whole thing to come crashing down.” Shae lights up her horn. Her red aura wraps around Rosemary’s rope and takes it from her mouth. “Mind if I take this one?” she asks Rosemary.

The broad mare backs away. “Be my guest.”

Shae advances on the chimera slowly. She is elaborate in her approach, avoiding anything that could possibly serve as a means to interrupt its eating and possibly send it on a rampage. She even steps around puddles and small rocks.

“Easy. Easy, girl…” Rosemary keeps whispering. Her voice isn’t audible to anypony but herself and Shae. “You can do this…”

Tohro has one of his forelegs slipped into his feathers. His hoof is touching a wing blade, which he intends on drawing should anything go awry. His eyes travel routinely between Shae and the chimera’s three heads.

“Here… we… go.” Shae casts the rope out.

Caro tenses up. He leans over the pub balcony, watching closely. His tongue curls as he prepares to use his voice, just in case. He trusts Shae’s abilities implicitly, but he knows the chimera might not go along so easily.

The rope ensnares the lion head’s muzzle, causing the beast to rise from the wreckage of carts and cabbages in surprise. The lion head thrashes to shove off the rope, but Shae’s magical grip is stronger.

“Go down!” Shae shouts. An intense stream of blue light travels along the rope, passing onto the chimera in waves. The beast stops struggling and begins to stumble, the lion head’s eyelids starting to flutter and droop.

Rosemary is crouching, teeth clenched in anticipation. “That’s it, that’s it…”

“Come on…” Tohro hisses.

The goat head leans towards the lion head’s ear and lets out a grindingly loud bleat, then grabs the rope in its mouth and tears it away, ripping it in two. The lion head immediately shakes off its sleepiness. The whole of the chimera starts stomping about in a rage.

Shae backs away with a strained look upon her face. “I’m sorry! There was nothing I could’ve—”

“Don’t fret!” Tohro chirps. “We’ll just have to get a little rougher. Wouldn’t be the first— Agh!” His reassurance is cut off by the snake smashing into him. He goes soaring, landing on his back and rolling into the outer wall of the pub.

Caro closes his mouth, interrupting his pending shout. He leaps from the balcony, lands on his hooves and goes to Tohro, lifting him up in his forelegs. “Are you well?”

Tohro’s head is limp and he speaks with a slur, as if he had just ingested an unhealthy quantity of mead. “He who knows what I know but knows not what I know, knows many things.”

“Tohro!” Caro desperately yells.

“I’m kidding, mate.” The smirking pegasus immediately snaps back into his fighting stance as he pulls away from Caro’s embrace. “Come on.” He spreads his wings and flies back to the chimera.

“I suppose diplomacy can’t succeed all the time,” Caro says, drawing his sword in his mouth. He pauses in his first step when he realizes how long it has been since he’s unsheathed it.

“It’s only an animal, mate,” Tohro says. “It’s better for us to do away with it before anypony gets hurt.”

“Very well...”

The snake tail is lashing out at Shae and Rosemary, alternating between each of the mares. Shae blinks away from each attack, and Rosemary is nimble enough to step out of the way, or counter the snake’s bite with a well-timed swing of her ice-enchanted sword. She slashes at its mouth as it opens wide, causing it to reel and spit out chunks of ice.

Meanwhile, the goat head raises itself up high and lets out another bleat. A purple aura emanates from its mouth, quickly growing in size.

“The hell…?” Tohro asks, utterly bewildered. “Shae! Can chimeri use magic?”

“Not normally, but—” Shae lifts her hooves, raising a segment of the street. The snake head slams into it, then falls to ground in a daze. “Somepony must have tampered with it!”

Rosemary hops onto the street shield. “Somepony with a cruel sense of humor, that’s for true. Let’s amend that!” She makes another leap, throwing out her forelegs and seizing the snake just as it regains consciousness.

“Rose, wait!”

The goat head’s magic spell bursts, briefly washing over the ponies of Dragonrein and coating the area in an overwhelming wave of darkness. When it passes over, no harm seems to have been done.

Tohro is about to draw his crossbow when he stiffens up and collapses. “Agh!”

Rose grunts as she is yanked away from the snake and thrown straight down to the ground by some invisible force.

“Divine damned gravity magic! Shae!” Caro yells as his sword falls out of his mouth. He’s strong enough to resist the sudden bout of weight, though it still feels as if he’s carrying several bags of gold ore. Even a few steps makes him sweat. “Shae! Can you do something?!”

It’s taken Shae until now to realize she’s perfectly fine, even though she couldn’t summon a ward in time. She quickly figures out what saved her when she notices the glow of Clover’s amulet on her chest. “Thank you,” she whispers to her late idol.

“Shae!” Caro yells again. He’s trying to drag Tohro out of harm’s way; the chimera is fast approaching and the lion head’s fangs are bared. Small flames erupt from its gaping maw of a mouth.

Tohro wears a false smile. “Whenever’s convenient for you, love!”

Shae takes a page out of Rosemary’s book and makes a leap off of her constructed shield, levitating herself over the beast. She concentrates drops of water into her hooves, forming a large sphere, then casts a small fireball into it, causing it to boil. The instant she lands in front of the chimera, she throws the orb of scalding hot water into its open mouth.

The chimera thrashes and rolls as all of its heads cry out in pain. The lion head stains the street with water, steam, and blood from its mouth.

Shae casts three beams of dispelling magic from her horn, one for each of her friends. Caro, Tohro, and Rosemary all rise, now free of their artificial burden.

Tohro flaps his wings and does a flip in the air, laughing joyously. “Ah, you don’t appreciate the little things until they’re taken away from you.” He holds out his foreleg and flicks it, revealing his hidden blade. “Now, if you’ll excuse me…” The hidden blade catches onto the chimera’s body as it comes sprinting past. “Whee!”

The chimera keeps shaking and thrashing. Tohro is flailing about, but the blade has stuck in deep enough to keep him from being thrown off. Even when the chimera rolls over, Tohro remains bound to its fur, albeit with a few bruises and pebbles in his mane when he comes back up.

“You’re not throwing me off, beastie!” Tohro pulls a blade from his wings with his free hoof. “Sorry about this.” He hacks away at the chimera, drawing blood.

Shae gallops alongside the rampaging chimera. She effortlessly levitates out of the way of the snake’s attempted bites, casting non-elemental bursts at its legs. This impairs the monster’s movement long enough for Tohro to keep a steady grip as he attacks.

Shae stops her spellcasting when she takes notice of the townsfolk ahead. Many have turned around. Those who don’t run away are frozen in fear at the sight of the chimera speeding towards them. “Oh, damn!” Shae fears she doesn’t have a protective spell large or strong enough to resist the strength of the beast. Nevertheless, she casts her hooves out and tries...

“Wuld nah!” Caro flies in from a streak of blue light, scraping to a stop right in front of the chimera’s path. He faces the bystanders and shouts, “Jaaril lahspaan helt!” As the last word leaves his mouth, a luminescent shield spreads across the width of the street. The chimera hits the shield running, getting pushed backwards in a flash of light. The lion head’s muzzle is bent out of shape, clearly broken.

“Fantastic!” Shae cheers.

The snake is erect, hissing at the lion head. When Caro sees this, he turns to Shae and smiles. “Follow my lead.”

Shae follows as Caro gallops at his shield. He leaps towards it, then is thrown away, arching through the air, right towards the chimera. He lets out a happy battle cry as he raises his sword.

Shae kicks off the wall as well. For a moment, she’s dazed and disoriented from the force, but she shakes it off and aims for the exposed snake. She watches as Caro gives it a mighty slash, cutting through a significant portion of the snake. It screeches like a banshee, flailing about erratically.

A familiar ethereal weapon falls into Shae’s hooves as her horn comes alight. She spins her scythe above her head and, with an aerial twirl, slashes at the snake. Before she hits the ground, she’s able to catch a glimpse out of the corner of her eye. The snake is soaked in its own blood, but it’s still alive, wailing and screaming.

“Lassie!” Rosemary jumps into Shae’s path and holds out her hoof. Shae grabs it, and is spun around by Rosemary before being thrown back towards the snake.

Shae raises her scythe once again as she closes her eyes. She feels the Fae in her body. She concentrates as much of it as she can into her forelegs, to her hooves, and into her scythe.

She opens her eyes. The scythe now glows to an almost blinding brilliance, the blade larger than the length of her own body. She swings at the snake, silencing its cries. She expects it to be cut in two, but instead, it complete disintegrates into light, all the way down to the chimera’s lower body.

The scythe fades away. Shae loses consciousness before she hits the grass and rolls onto her back.

Rosemary only pauses for a second, sighing with relief as she sees Shae drawing breath. She then picks up speed and leaps at the chimera. She kicks off of its back and reaches for the goat head. As she seizes its neck by her hind legs, she reaches into her coat and presents two daggers, which become engulfed in flame the instant she shoves them both into the goat head.

She looks over to Tohro, who has left several large gashes in the barrel of the chimera. He disposes of his weakened, bloodsoaked wing blade and reaches for another.

“Tohro!” Rosemary shouts. “I need ya!”

“Of course, love!” he shouts back, yanking his hidden blade out of the beast’s side and bounding up its side with a flap of his wings. He plunges the blade into the goat’s neck as the chimera rears, trying to knock them off.

A mighty bellow rends the air. Rosemary and Tohro both assume it to be the lion, but then they realize that it’s Caro, who has once again gone airborne with the help of his shield. “GET OUT OF THE WAY!” he roars.

Tohro and Rosemary both leap off the chimera, leaving their blades lodged into the goat head.

Caro turns his head skyward and shouts, “ZAHKRII BEL KINZ!” Three golden swords materialize over his head, then fly downward, straight towards the goat. One goes through its left eye. Another pierces its muzzle, going clean through to the mouth and out the bottom, and the last one lands a decisive blow right through the forehead. The goat head falls limp with a labored bleat.

Caro lands on three hooves behind the chimera, his remaining hoof taking his sword from his sheath once again as the monster turns around. He scuffs at the ground, meeting the intense leer of the lion’s head. “COME ON!” he yells.

With a feral snarl, the goat’s head hanging limply at its side, the chimera rushes at Caro, mouth yawning like the entrance to a cavern of fire. Caro sets his hooves and rears back, throwing his sword as hard as he can at the raging beast.

“FEIM. ZII. GRON.”

With a roar, the chimera barrels into him.

The chimera stumbles as it continues past where Caro had been, a wispy-looking stallion standing calmly in his place. The beast makes one last attempt to turn around once more, wailing through the sword lodged in its mouth, before falling to its side, blood pooling from its lips. It dies in silence.

The wisp of a stallion begins to shed the ethereal glow, his form solidifying, until it reverts into the visage of the Dragonborn.

Tohro flaps his wings and thrusts his hoof into the air. “Haha! Knew you’d make it!”

Caro grimaces, eyeing his recently fallen foe. “Honestly, I wasn’t sure he’d actually go through me. Never had the opportunity to try that one before.” He looks at the ground beneath his hooves, his grimace becoming a frown. “Makes you wonder how I haven’t fallen through the earth.” He shrugs, putting such worries out of mind. “At least it works on both myself and ally alike; I just wonder how the magic can tell.”

Rosemary sneaks up behind Caro and gives him a friendly jab to the barrel and cheek. “Don’t hurt yourself thinkin’ about it. Just focus on that!” She points to the townsfolk beyond the shield. They’ve grown in numbers since the last time Caro saw them, and none of the fear from before remains. He can’t help but wear a humbled smile.

“That was just a spectator sport to them,” he says.

“Of course it was!” Rosemary chirps. “And you want to know why? Because they knew, without a doubt, that you and the rest of us had this situation under control. They had nothing to fear—”

“—so they gather and cheer!” Tohro interrupts. He hovers in front of the crowd as the shield disappears. He waves his hooves up and down, with the crowd’s ecstatic yells rising and falling in sync. “That’s right, everypony! The Dragonborn does it once again! Praise him, if you wish!”

“Take some of the credit!” Caro yells to Tohro. Beneath all of the noise, his advisement goes unheard, and Tohro continues to lead the crowd in praise of the Dragonborn. Caro is left only to sigh and appreciate the moment. “...You’re such a fool.”

~Shae~

“Mommy?”

“Mother, please wake up.”

I grunt and squint as I start to come to. Sadly, this is one of many instances where I’ve awoken from over-exertion, but it still hurts as much as the first time, and I doubt I’ll be waking up in the healing quarters of the academy. “Mmmrng...” I thought not. I’m lying on grass. Although that is preferable to the street.

I can hear Luna humming anxiously. Her wings are buzzing. “Be still, sister. She’s coming to,” Celina tells her.

It still takes me a moment to finally open my eyes. When I do, the first thing I see are my two wonderful daughters. Luna is looking down on me, biting her lip in worry, and Celina is smiling warmly, but obviously just as worried. “It’s alright,” I start to say. “Mommy’s just a little tired. Put too much... magic... into...” I trail off as terror grips my heart.

I see her. Clover is standing behind Celina, staring at me with disapproval. Before I can blink, I’m already on my hooves, a fire spell building in my horn... but she’s gone. She was never there, the rational part of my mind tells me, but I can barely hear it over the pounding of my heart.

“Mother? Are you sure you’re alright?” Celina nuzzles me, snapping me out of my trance.

“Sorry,” I say, my voice drawn and hoarse. “Just a nightmare… It’s nothing to worry about.” My words don’t seem to reassure Celina, but she nods slowly and lets it drop. I fear that it won’t be for long.

All I know right now is I need to get some rest, but I can’t do that so long as Celina and Luna need me…All I can do is reach for my neck and remove Clover’s amulet. I feel a considerable amount of looming dread leave my body, along with much of my power. Now I truly feel like I need to sleep.

~Vision End~

A middle-aged black gryphon in gold and black robes, a diamond bespeckled tiara, and several gold piercings crosses his legs as he leans back in his throne, which is being carried by four large earthwalkers.

“Well, he certainly knows how to make an entrance, as per the norm,” Tohro comments as he turns away from the crowd, whose cheers have long since dwindled.

“Who is that?” Caro asks.

“The jarl of Baltimare. Golden Sieve.”

The jarl in question makes a sound of curiosity as he takes notice of the corpse of the chimera, and proceeds to raise his talons.

“Halt!” he commands. “Let me off, I simply must have a look at this.” The earthwalkers stop trotting and kneel, allowing the gryphon to take his leave and approach the corpse. “Mercy me, what a sight! I’m not quite sure whether to be disgusted or in awe! Perhaps I’ll settle for both. Oh, couriers!”

“Yes, sir?” all of the throne holders ask at once.

“Do store my throne somewhere safe. In the meantime, I intend on finding the one responsible for this and paying them a hefty price for this beast’s pelt. I daresay they’ve earned it, if they’re still alive.”

Tohro, spotting an opportunity, smiles and approaches Golden Sieve. “You’ll want to speak to me and the rest of my guild, then. Particularly this large fellow.” He flies over to Caro and leads him towards the jarl, who doesn’t take more that a moment to recognize the earthwalker before him.

“Ah, the Dragonborn!” Golden Sieve chimes. “Of course, I’d expect no less from you. I’m sure slaying a wild chimera is like swatting a fly compared to the dragons you bring down on regular basis.”

Caro is preoccupied, looking between the townsfolk, the chimera’s corpse, and Shae, who is trudging along in the direction of the Rainbow Palace. “Ah, thank you…” He turns away from the jarl. “Not that I don’t appreciate the accolades, but I have matters to attend to.” He departs, going to Shae.

“Skittish one, isn’t he? Golden Sieve asks, obviously taken aback by such a dismissive greeting.

“You have no idea,” Tohro mutters. “But he’s family, and a damn fine hero, given a chance. Now, you were saying something about payment for my guild?”

“Yes, of course. I’m willing to pay eight thousand gold to Dragonrein if you would let me take the pelt.”

Tohro holds out his hoof. “Add five hundred to that purse and it shall be done.”

Before Golden Sieve can take the bargain, both his and Tohro’s hooves are frozen in place by a pink aura. Both of them turn their heads to see Queen Platinum strolling down the street with her head held high. Captain Gauntlet and several Imperial soldiers follow in her path, along with an unfamiliar unicorn.

This pony has a puce mane and a light blue body. His coat is long and groomed to perfection, though his scarlet robes are humble and undecorated.

Queen Platinum speaks. “If it were any other day I would allow Dragonrein to profit off of this victory, but circumstances have changed.” She waves the soldiers forward. “All of you, take the chimera’s corpse. It is to be pelted, and given in segments to the finest blacksmiths in Everfree.”

Rosemary, who has also been walking alongside Shae, suddenly gets on the ground, clasping her hooves together in prayer. Caro and Shae both have themselves a laugh.

Captain Gauntlet raises an eyebrow. “Its parts would make for fine additives to our weapons and armor. Still, why the urgency, My Queen?”

“Give it more than a second’s thought, dear, and you’d know exactly why.” Platinum summons a flat, glowing screen, on which the soldiers proceed to place the chimera’s remains. As the soldiers move the screen and the chimera, Platinum replies to Gauntlet. “By the end of the summit, if I play my cards right, I’ll have every Imperial soldier from here to the coast preparing for a legendary battle.”

Celina passes a small teacup to Shae. Its contents are a soothing green beverage, with a single sunflower petal lying on top. Shae takes a drink as quickly and greedily as possible without appearing brazen to the white robe clad sages sitting behind her.

As she swirls the sugary tea in her mouth, she feels as if she just had a good night’s sleep in just a few seconds. She swallows and says, “Thank you, dearest.”

“You’re welcome,” says Celina. “It’s a recipe I developed myself. I’ve been using to wake up early to work on a…” She shies away. “Well, you’ll see.”

Shae pauses in the middle of a sip. “What is it? Something for your garden?”

“No, it’s different. Just… different. I’ll show it to you soon.”

“Whatever it is, I’m sure it will be fantastic,” Shae reassures Celina. “With you behind it, why would it be anything else?”

“Thank you, Mother. I do my best.”

Both Shae and Celina wave at Caro, Tohro, and Rosemary, who sit at the opposite side of the room. All except Caro return the gesture, as he happens to dozing off.

“Why aren’t you sitting with Auntie, Mother?” Celina asks.

“Platinum insisted I sit here, and I didn’t want to refute the offer. Apparently, this side of the room is reserved for royals…” Shae’s eyes widen as she takes another sip. Divines, now I am a noblemare! she thinks.

The humble blue pony from earlier passes by, turning his attention to both Shae and Celina. He quickly trots up to them and leans over the wooden half-wall that separates the audience from the rest of the war room. “Excuse me, Miss Shae? That is your name, is it not?” he asks in a soft voice.

“The one and only. Possibly,” Shae says, chuckling to herself. “Who might you be?”

“Jarl Moonshine of Tempest, at your service.” The pony takes a graceful bow, only to ruin it with a comedic hiccup. “Ahem. My apologies. These summits always make me nervous, and I certainly don’t have a shortage of mead at my side. ‘Tis a perk of living in Tempest, what with the brewery and all…”

“Queen Platinum told me about Tempest,” Celina says. “It’s one of the most peaceful towns in Equestria, isn’t it?”

“One of the most well-protected, that’s for true, and we don’t go wanting for profit, thanks to open trade. Zebras from Saddle Arabia come sailing by in droves, looking to trade their wares. More often than not, those wares are moon sugar plants, which they don’t ask much for. Some even decide to stay and work on the moon sugar plantations for cheap. Any amount of bits to them is like a treasure trove. Such treats, they are…” Moonshine clears his throat and waves his hoof. “My apologies. I ramble when I’m, uh, high-spirited. So, Miss Shae…”

“Yes?”

“That beautiful display with the chimera was certainly something to behold. Surely you intend on contributing to the war effort with such unparalleled talent in the magical arts?”

Shae opens her mouth, only to stay quiet. She slowly slumps back in her seat, turning her head towards Celina, then back to Jarl Moonshine. “I… have responsibilities.”

Moonshine nods after an uncomfortable pause. “Well, don’t be distant. I would love to speak to the mother of the beloved princesses, following this summit, of course. Speaking of, please don’t think less of me if I follow the Dragonborn's example and nod off.” He takes his leave, moving towards the center table of the room. “Miss Shae. Princess Celina.”

All present soldiers, sages, and visitors stand at attention just as Queen Platinum strolls into the war room, with a stack of parchment held in her magic grip. Jarl Drake, Jarl Golden Sieve and Jarl Ironclad follow, along with a few other jarls who all wear the royal colors of purple and gold. It’s a grand sight for Shae and the princesses, seeing a gathering of ponies of such power firsthoof.

For a fleeting moment.

The false smiles on Jarl Drake and Jarl Golden Sieve’s faces, along with Jarl Ironclad’s usual vacant expression, lend to a less impressive sight, as if the majesty of the moment has been physically removed and replaced with pure tension.

Tohro shifts his hind legs as he slacks in his seat. Captain Gauntlet, who stands next to him, looks to him with disapproval. “Must you be so lax in all times of crisis?”

“Must you not remove the metal phallus from your well-toned rump in all times of crisis?” Tohro snarks back. “In fact, if these blokes were to follow such an example, the Legion’s armory would have a surplus of blunt weapons.”

Captain Gauntlet, much to Tohro’s wide-eyed shock, cracks a smile. “Fair enough. I suppose I can differentiate myself from the malcontent in the room. If only I had his audacity…” The captain gestures to the sleeping Caro. “How is he so relaxed?”

Tohro starts to laugh aloud, but he interrupts himself and ensures that Caro is still sleeping. “Adorable, isn’t he? He’s been through hell and back in recent days. Of all times, this is an opportune one to take a nap. I’ll relay the gist of this gathering of misfits to him once it’s all done.”

“Better a warrior than a politician, that one.”

“Well, he tries.” Tohro playfully brushes Caro’s bangs aside.

Queen Platinum levitates a gavel from the central table and taps it twice. “Order, everypony in the war room,” she says, laying what little noise there is to rest. Without the murmurs of the audience, the room is deathly quiet, making the hostility between the jarls all the more apparent. “Thank you. Queen Platinum, current holder of the throne and sovereign leader of Equestria presiding. I will act as a mediator and the final decider of any movements, amendments, or acts presented by our attending jarls. Now, please introduce yourselves in counter-clockwise order from my position.”

The jarls have gathered around the table. The first to introduce himself is, “Jarl Moonshine of Tempest. It’s an honor to finally take part in this civil war in ways beyond economics.”

The next jarl speaks. “Jarl Partrich of Veilshire.”

And the next. “Jarl Golden Sieve of Baltimare, and might I say, this palace is almost half as grand as my residence. Bravo, Your Majesty.”

“Jarl Honeydew of Marekarth.”

“Jarl Drake of Trottingham.”

“Wait,” Golden Sieve interrupts. “You insisted on bringing the little one with you?” He points at Boysenberry, who has to sit on a stool for his head to breach the height of the table.

Jarl Drake snorts. “This ‘little one’ is a brilliant tactician, and I’ll have you know, he has been a major boon to my recent years as a jarl.”

“So it was he who suggested the executions of twelve wandering Blackwings?”

Queen Platinum taps the gavel again, clearing her throat and sending both Drake and Golden Sieve equally harsh glares. “Must you do this now, especially in front of Ironclad? Divines’ sake, it’s his first summit. He must be nervous enough already.”

Jarl Ironclad hasn’t lost any of his stoicism. “Actually, this is much more calm than I imagined it to be. Might I add,” he says, waving to the other jarls, “hello. I am the son of Stonewall. I apologize for the inconvenience of his passing.”

“Your loss is equal to ours, newly becrowned,” says Golden Sieve with a flourish of his talons. “Stonewall was a good friend.”

Platinum shuffles her parchment and clears her throat once again. “Well, it’s good to see at least some of us are getting along… Now, if we are all seated and content, I shall proceed with opening statements. Firstly…”

50 uneventful minutes pass...

“...it’s settled, then. A small percentage of troops currently stationed in Trottingham and Everfree will be dispatched to Dragon Bridge to ensure safe travel of resources, as well as repel any dragon activity.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” says Ironclad. “I look forward to not having any Blackwings threatening my town, but without the Dragonborn, I doubt it’ll do much good against—”

“My apologies, but may I speak?” Boysenberry interrupts, raising his hoof.

“Go ahead,” says the queen.

“I have recently developed a short-term defense against dragons. By making use of a musical saw, or any other high-pitched noises, you can throw dragons off their flight paths and disrupt their attacks. It’s not a fool-proof tactic, but it could be the difference between life and death.”

“That’s…” Ironclad breaks into a very slight smile. “Thank you.”

Tohro is leaning over the barrier, also smiling at Boysenberry’s discovery, before he realizes who would specifically love to hear about this. He turns to Caro and gives him a firm nudge on the foreleg, causing him to stir.

“...s’it over?” the Dragonborn murmurs.

“Not quite, but listen…” Tohro whispers about Boysenberry’s new tactic into Caro’s ear, causing Caro’s expression to grow more lively by the second.

Boysenberry looks quite humbled by the praise of Ironclad, as well as the warm, approving beam of Jarl Drake. He leans over the table, towards Queen Platinum. “If it would please Her Majesty, I would like to submit more tactics against the dragons following this gathering.”

“By all means!” the queen says with youthful gusto, before she reclaims her professional demeanor. “Yes. Come to my chambers this evening.” She turns her head to Jarl Drake. “It seems some of us were wrong to judge in this particular issue.”

“Put your apology in writing, it’ll be more precious than any of my trophies and Golden Sieve’s treasury combined.” Jarl Drake swirls a chalice of mead and takes a gloatful drink before glancing at Boysenberry. “I’m proud of you,” she says, but the child is too occupied with taking down notes.

“Keep trying my patience, old friend…” Queen Platinum takes a deep breath. She scans over her papers and levitates one from the pile. “Right. Before we have ourselves a short pause for a little tea and fresh air, I think it’s time we discussed my movement for universal taxation—”

“And just what are you indicating?” Jarl Golden Sieve interrupts, snatching the paper from the queen’s magic grip.

Queen Platinum looks at the bedazzled gryphon as if he’s wearing even more offensively luxurious clothing. “Equal taxes across all Imperial holds, of course,” she states. “It would allow for a steadier flow of income for the Empire, ergo allowing the Imperial Legion more consistent intake of weapons and armor, ergo allowing us a larger quantity of soldiers, ergo allowing us to win this war, which, might I remind you, we are in the middle of?!”

Golden Sieve is leaning back in his seat. The queen may as well have physically wounded him. He adjusts his tiara and folds his arms across the table. “Might I be exempt?”

“Excuse me?” Queen Platinum asks, her mild voice teeming with all the anger in the world.

“I’m simply asking that Baltimare keep its current taxation policy. I have a stable system—”

“Truly stable! What a marvel!” Jarl Moonshine chirps, a friendly smile on his face despite his rude statement. “Guards paid on commission. Cutting taxation on the wealthy. Allowing thieves to run your streets and balance the wealth! Taking half of your funding for your own personal gain! Stable as a bridge! Sorry, a bridge made of clay.”

Golden Sieve slams his talons down. “Oh, I exploit the poor ones? How wealthy those zebracean farmers of yours must be! I’m sure they roll about in the mere bits they earn for a hard day’s work while you get drunk off your—” The avian jarl stops himself, taking notice of the queen’s steely gaze, as well as the visibly disturbed Princess Celina. “You know…” he continues, quietly. “I can’t help but notice that our newest attendant has yet to comment on any of this.” He gestures to Ironclad, who only acknowledges Golden Sieve with a brief glance.

“I’ll gladly go along with whatever the queen thinks is best,” says Ironclad. “And I think you need to accept her proposal.”

“Why?”

“Because if you don’t, you’ll keep your wealth, and you can move ahead with your hedonistic life, but Shokenda Blackwing certainly won’t care how much gold you can fit on your robe without collapsing. No. The instant she decides she wants Baltimare, you’ll be the first to die, possibly made an example of in front of every pony you ever indirectly wounded by your greed. So, unless you want the last thing you see to be your black heart in the hooves of the Empire’s sworn enemy, you will shut your mouth and let the queen take your damn money.” He raises his hoof. “Who agrees with me?”

All at the table except for Golden Sieve raise their limbs immediately. The gryphon looks over his shoulder nervously, noticing that Tohro is also in visible agreement. “You traitor!”

Tohro simply shrugs and puts on a gleaming smirk. “I’m a soldier first and a thief second,” he whispers to Caro.

Golden Sieve turns back around, his beak clenched as he twiddles his talons. “...Equal taxation it is.”

“Your Majesty! I like this boy!” Moonshine cheers, flourishing his hooves at Ironclad. “Truly he has skin of steel.”

Queen Platinum seems preoccupied with her own thoughts. She is looking at her papers once again, but she isn’t reading them. After several seconds of silence on her part, she levitates all of her papers at once and flips them over.

“Your Majesty?” Moonshine repeats.

“I… I know it’s difficult. For all of you. Equestria is not well-sustained, it’s not well-kept, it’s not well-unified, it’s not… well. And it certainly isn’t the Equestria my husband wanted it to be. And now comes the part where one of you will tell me I should have let go of my husband’s ideals by now.”

The jarls share equally lost glances. Jarl Drake clears her throat and says, “...You should have let go of King Hurricane’s ideals by now…?”

“Yes. Just as he should have let go of Prince Squall. Just as how Prince Squall should have let go of his childish fantasies. Just as how Commander Zeus should have let go of his crusade. Just as how Clover the Clever should have let go of me. Just as how Jarl Drake should let go of her reliance on the liquid glass. Just as how Jarl Golden Sieve should let go of his wealth. Just as how we all should have let go of each other’s mistakes. It’s so easy to give up something you’ve held onto for years, isn’t it?”

Silence as pungent as death holds the war room.

“And yet, somehow, there have been those who have found the strength, hidden within their minds, souls, and blood, going beyond the idea that they should press on towards their glorious ends or proceed with their oh-so-necessary means. Like how Jarl Ironclad has already let go of his father. Just as King Hurricane and I let go of our past misgivings and fell in love.”

Between her passionate words, Queen Platinum finds a moment to sniffle. Her fresh tears are stained with eyeliner. Despite this, her expression remains stoic.

“Just as how I have been trying to let go of my mistakes, and forgive myself for everything I have ever done wrong. Scrutinizing Equestria’s excess population. Forbidding love within the confines of the Imperial Legion. So brilliantly banning worship of a war god in the hopes of preventing war. Taking in an alicorn and claiming her to be my daughter to fill the emptiness in my life.”

Princess Celina lowers her head, then looks at Queen Platinum. “I already forgave you,” she says, drawing the eyes of the jarls, sages, and Dragonrein alike.

The queen smiles, briefly bringing a little youth back to her face. “I doubt the rest of Equestria is so willing to follow, but it’s a start.” She returns to her grim expression. “But there is one thing I will never let go of, and it’s this.”

Queen Platinum raises her hooves to the air. Nothing happens, aside from a few curious murmurs from the jarls.

“Isn’t it a miracle that, despite our opposition being seemingly undefeatable, despite the unforgiving assault of the dragons, despite all of the pain and misery and torment that ravages Equestria, we’re still here, fighting for something better? Wouldn’t it be better just to give up and let death take us? Just… let go?”

Caro, who is still slouching in his seat, looks up at Tohro and smiles.

Queen Platinum shakes her head. “I won’t have it. My husband’s dream… King Hurricane’s dream, I won’t let go of it. Because I think, deep down, it’s something we all believe in. A free Equestria, one where an innocent will no longer fear death around the corner. Where there is no need for war. Where one can find peace in a simple life. Where blood need not be spilt.”

“That’s an awfully simple dream,” Jarl Ironclad comments.

“I think that’s why it’s worth striving for,” says Jarl Drake.

“No ulterior motives, no complex means…” Jarl Golden Sieve adds.

“Never saw you as such an idealist, Queen Platinum,” says Jarl Moonshine. “It’s rather disorienting, but I’m no stranger to that feeling. I’m with you all the way.”

“Thank you.” The queen sighs, taking a small cloth from the inside of her robes and dabbing her eyes. “I’m not asking you all to make it happen right away. But we can at least try. The first step is coming together and ending this war.”

“Might I interrupt?”

A chilling, brooding voice echoes through the war room. Even in its wake, it leaves an icy chill in the ears of all who hear it. Caro, Tohro, and Rosemary all get out of their seats, getting into battle stances.

The only one who doesn’t seem worried is Jarl Moonshine. He’s still smiling. “What was that? I swear, I haven’t had that much…”

Wisps of gold rise from the floor and travel to the center table in a spiral, forming a single harsh light that takes the form of an equine. As the figure becomes more defined, growing wings and a horn, it doesn’t take the occupants of the war room too long to figure out the identity of their surprise guest.

“Shokenda…” Caro hisses.

As the albino alicorn surveys the room with her vacant expression, she is oblivious to Jarl Golden Sieve slowly reaching into his robe, wrapping his talons around an extravagant dagger. He rises up and swings the dagger, only to have it pass right through Shokenda’s body.

Shokenda gives Golden Sieve a passing gaze and hums to herself. “Even if I had not chosen to appear as a projection, that wouldn’t have worked.” She steps forward at Queen Platinum, looking down upon her. “Hello.”

“I’m familiar with what you’re doing,” says the queen in a calm, restrained tone. “The same thing happened long ago, when you made known your desire to claim this land for yourself. Projecting your form across the land, spreading your message, calling for supporters...”

Shokenda nods. “That is true. I felt that this would be the best way to get your attention. With how long you’ve ignored me, my patience has worn thin.”

“Ignored?”

“You know what I speak of, Platinum. Ever since you humiliated me and my subjects in Trottingham, you’ve neglected to allow me a proper battle. You’ve relied on coward’s tactics. Taking away my assets. Arresting my informants. Sending dogs to do a horse’s work. The one thing I’ve had in recent times that held even the slightest resemblance to a proper battle was my duel with dearest Tohro.”

Shokenda nods to the pegasus, who returns her glare with one of his own. “You bled. I made you bleed.”

Shokenda smiles. Tohro may as well have sung a humorous song. “And that is the extent of what you can do to me.” She sweeps her foreleg, gesturing to the jarls, who have all backed away from the table. “You all know of this. And yet you persist. Still, you should know by now that the Dragonborn is the only one who can truly kill me.”

Caro is staring furiously at the projection of his enemy.

“He looks different,” Shokenda comments. “That little spark, that twitch in his eye, the little tremble of his hoof at the thought of taking me apart… It was there when I bade him farewell at the gates of Neigh Hrothgar, but now... How curious…”

“Lots of things have changed,” says Caro. “But my intentions towards you remain the same.”

“Why are you talking?” Shokenda turns around with a swish of her mane.

Caro growls, stepping forward, but stops and takes a breath, letting the anger flow through him and seep out of his body.

“Platinum, you should keep your mutt on a leash, lest he step out of line. If I had done so, this war would have progressed far differently. In fact, had he become my thrall, and all went according to plan, the feathers in your robe would be stained with red by now, as would be the wall and the floor. And your so-called princess would be fearing for her life, but as things are…”

Shokenda’s eyes fall upon Celina, prompting Shae to leap out of her seat and shield Celina's wings from view, but the action only seems to amuse Shokenda, as she's wearing a disturbing smile. She looks at Shae with pity.

"Don't concern yourself, young mage. I know of Celina's lineage. I knew she was an alicorn long before she did, long before she even existed. As for you, one who calls yourself Princess..."

Celina taps Shae on the shoulder. "Let me speak to her."

"No," Shae commands. "She'll do anything to break you. I won't lose you again."

"Mother, it'll be okay. I know who I am. She can't change that."

Shokenda tilts her head. "Hm, you refer to her as your mother. So the princess is a liar. Does the other one do the same?"

"Y-yes," Celina answers, stepping around Shae. “Luna and I… Shae Sparkle is our mother.”

"A pair of lying royals, then." Shokenda clicks her tongue. "Shameful."

"She may not have given birth to me, but she's loving and caring, and she saved me from the abyss. I wouldn’t call her my mother if I thought of her as anything less.”

"Did I ask for your reasons? I won't bother trying to change your mind. Just know you that are denying yourself something greater than... this," Shokenda gestures to Shae with contempt, "so long as you call it your mother, and yourself a princess of these equines. Now sit down."

Celina remains standing.

“Hm. These equines are just an orgy of insolence.”

"Then die."

All eyes turn to Ironclad. He, much like Moonshine, has not changed his disposition, even in the presence of somepony as intimidating as Shokenda. However, unlike Moonshine, he is not smiling.

“It’s clear enough to me that you hate equines. You are an equine.” He speaks no different than if he were in a casual conversation. “It’s only logical that you die.”

"Hm. What a bold declaration from one so young," Shokenda says with a smirk as she prowls towards the unmoving jarl. "How was it that your father dearest died, again? Fighting my subjects? I am quite sure he'll be so proud his little whelp has the same streak of impudence that got him killed."

“Are you a complete imbecile?” Ironclad retorts. “My father died to save his village, my village, from dragons. You dishonor him by claiming his death.”

“Just the same…” Shokenda begins, only to be interrupted.

“And if I’m a whelp for insisting that you follow through on your prejudice, then I'd rather be lauded a whelp than jeered as a coward who won't come before his own enemy. Remind me, who is the projection here?”

Shokenda’s eyes narrow to the point where their unnatural golden glow is reduced to a pair of slits. “You see, Platinum? This is what your rule has lead to. A young, immature stallion on his bloated throne, astute only in the language of insolence. Shall I applaud you?”

“Enough of your childish insults.” Queen Platinum leans over the table and faces Shokenda directly, scorn in her eyes and frown. “I won’t appease your ego by justifying the mistakes that lead to your decision to lead this rebellion. Just tell me why you’re here and get the hell out of my city.”

“Don’t act so offended.” Shokenda circles the edge of the table, making laps with her slow, broad steps. “Let it be known that my actions are nothing beyond what has been done in eras past. For a new way to come to be, the old way must wither and die, whether it be through the passing of time, or at the end of a bloodied blade.” She pauses, glancing at the queen. “I will not wait for the former.”

“So, you wish to take your rebellion to its next stage?”

“Ah, finally you understand. A natural progression of this stalemate we’ve been stuck in for too long would lead us nowhere, wouldn’t you agree? Do you not wish to see this threat to your stability stamped out?”

“If it would mean protecting my subjects from you? Yes.”

Shokenda has leaned in uncomfortably close to the unfettered Queen Platinum. “Then I suggest we meet on the fields of the land you claim to care for so much, our armies prepared, our grounds equal, our steel fully sharpened. No dirt or dishonesty to shame a battle that shall be sung throughout history. An appealing idea, isn’t it?”

“Appealing, and very unorthodox from somepony such as yourself. I presume you would gather your army and march on the Empire even if I were to refuse?”

Shokenda flashes an uncanny grin that causes the queen to lean back a little. “Very wise. So, Platinum, where shall this battle commence? I have set it in motion. As such, I leave its location to you.”

Queen Platinum points to a certain fissure on the map of Equestria before her. “It shall be at Ghastly Gorge.”

Shokenda has a look at the map. After a moment of surveyance, she sighs with disappointment. “Hm. Your kind is truly an unimaginative one. A second battle at this gorge? Surely you have something grander in mind.”

“So the beggar grows picky,” Platinum remarks. “You demanded a battle, and you will have it wherever I damn well please.”

Shokenda sighs once again. “My Blackwings will meet your drones at Ghastly Gorge for a second time. I expect to see you there in three weeks. That should be enough time for you to gather your forces and ensure they are fully equipped for the endeavor ahead. My subjects will not be merciful, and neither will I.”

Caro steps forth and says, “Likewise.”

“This does not concern you,” Shokenda snaps at him.

“So long as you’re involved, it does. The only way you will make history is if you kill me. And here I am, presenting myself on a silver platter.” Caro gestures to himself, flaunting his muscular frame. “By all means, almighty one, take your prize!”

“Allow me to put this delicately: I do not want to kill you yet,” Shokenda states contemptuously. “Understand? Now sit down.”

Caro, like the princess, doesn’t do as Shokenda demands, standing proud and defiant. He advances on her, as if she’s no smaller than a child. Caro is positively beaming at her disgruntled expression. “Why delay the inevitable?”

Shokenda sighs once again and turns to Queen Platinum. Caro, left without a response, lets his smile disappear.

“Two weeks,” says Shokenda. “Ghastly Gorge. Do not keep me waiting.”

Queen Platinum nods slowly, her eyes lowered in grim consideration. “Very well. Usual terms.”

“No bombs, no sabotage, and, oh…”

Shokenda surveys the room, her unnatural leer falling on several indiscriminate ponies. In an instant, two sages, three audience members, and Jarl Moonshine all collapse, hitting the ground simultaneously.

“...No spies.” Shokenda shows off an innocent smile and begins to fade away.

“Deceitful whore!” Caro shouts, galloping to the table and swiping his hoof where the albino alicorn once stood.

“Goodness, this…” Queen Platinum swallows, her composure visibly disrupted. “That’s certainly not ideal, is it?”

After taking a moment to shudder and let his anger ebb away, Caro goes over to Jarl Moonshine’s unconscious body and touches his neck. “Good, he’s still breathing…”

Moonshine groans and raises his head. To the surprise of nopony, he’s still smiling. “Wow, I’ll have to tell those zebras to thin out the next brew…”

“Hey!” Caro shakes the inebriated jarl in an attempt to snap him out of his stupor. “What did Shokenda do to you?”

Moonshine rubs the wrinkles of his forehead. “Haven’t the foggiest. Honestly. This is the first time I’ve even laid eyes on that brutish lass in years.”

“Sleepers,” Tohro says as he walks up to the visibly shaken queen. “Shokenda made a passing mention of them back when I first joined the Blackwings, but I never knew she actually went through with it…” He grits his teeth and runs his hoof through his mane. “Damn it! I should have said something...”

Platinum is breathing abnormally fast, her hooves clenched together on the table. “Don’t… don’t worry yourself, love, you didn’t know. We’ll… just have to formulate a counter-strategy, that’s all. That’s all…”

“This is nothing new. Queen Crystalia of Gran Magus did the same thing during the settlement wars,” Captain Gauntlet says. He points at the four soldiers standing at the door. “Get a small unicorn squadron together and sweep Everfree. If they detect anypony with an anomaly, politely have them escorted to an isolated location. We must flush out any further sleepers.”

“Yes, Captain!” All of the soldiers depart from the war room.

Gauntlet turns around and waves to the exit. “Meanwhile, all those who collapsed should come with me. There will be no disciplinary action. You’ll simply be checked, cleaned out, and sent on your way.”

The drowsy ponies are taken from their seats and escorted to the exit by the other present soldiers. Gauntlet leads them out of the room in a hurry, and shuts the doors behind him.

“It’s just a constantly flowing river of disappointments and setbacks…” Queen Platinum grouses while her hooves massage her temples. Her gaze is distant, removed from the room. “Two weeks. I am supposed to amass a fully prepared army to counter Shokenda’s forces in two weeks. It would be pure simplicity for…” She knocks herself across the forehead. “No. No. I can do this, I…”

A puce hoof touches Queen Platinum’s shoulder. Jarl Ironclad has finally broken through his unwavering stoicism, putting on a brave smile. “We can do this.”

“Right you are,” Jarl Golden Sieve chimes. “Do what you will with your soldiers. I’ll put in a word with my contacts across Equestria. It’s time I put my good fortune towards a good cause.”

“Keep calm and carry on, yes?” Jarl Drake suggests, stretching her forelegs out. “My town guards have been obsolete since your dear soldiers entered the fray. You can have them back. Trottingham is in no immediate danger.”

Boysenberry elevates himself onto the table, his pupils rapidly scanning over the map beneath him. “With your mutual permission, Jarl Drake, Your Majesty, I would like to stay here and route out a plan of attack with your other coordinators.”

“You’d be a fool not to allow him the chance,” Jarl Drake says to Queen Platinum. “Even if you don’t, odds are he would have found a means to make it happen.”

Jarl Moonshine laughs aloud, though it sounds more slurred than usual. “Intelligence and rambunctiousness! This one truly is a treat. Now, I’ll be off to the infirmary, I think I hit my head a little hard there…”

“I’ll help you,” says Jarl Golden Sieve. He takes Moonshine’s hoof and leads him away.

“I’ll be going back to Trottingham, then,” Jarl Drake announces, making a dramatic show of getting out of her seat. “Boysenberry, come along. I need you for a moment.”

Boysenberry takes a few seconds to respond, being diverted by the uncharted northern section of the map. “Hmm… Oh! Sorry.” He leaps off the table and levitates onto Jarl Drake’s back. “I look forward to working with you, Your Majesty!” he says to Queen Platinum with a salute.

With respectful bows and waves, the remaining jarls depart from the table and go on their way.

“I suppose tragedy can’t squander every bit of hope, and it’d be a damn fool to try,” says the queen. “Now, there’s just the matter of my soldiers… I suppose commissioning a few new blacksmiths is in order…”

Rosemary breaks into a gallop, her hooves scuffing the floor. She bumps into a chair and trips, landing on her stomach in front of Queen Platinum. She salutes without standing up. “I volunteer, Your Majesty. I’ve been supplyin’ Dragonrein with weapons and armor since before I even knew their names.”

“It’s true,” says Caro.

“Her crafting is exemplary!” Shae pipes up. “Do hire her!”

Queen Platinum stands. There is still a remnant of her earlier panic on her face, but she is gleaming all the same. “I’ll gladly accept any help on offer, especially from Dragonrein. I daresay we would be in a very different situation if you hadn’t gotten involved in this war, and I’m not about to turn you away.”

“Aw, ya flatter me, all a’ya.” Rosemary stands and dusts herself off. “I won’t letcha down, Your Majesty. My forge is the Empire’s forge so long as ya need it.”

“Provided your work is decent, you’ll have yourself an Imperial forge. Can you begin immediately?”

“Rules of nature allowed it, I would start yesterday.”

“Excellent.” Queen Platinum levitates a quill from the table and dips it in ink. She begins writing on a blank scrap of parchment. “Take this to Captain Gauntlet, he’ll provide you a quota, and you can get the necessary supplies. Also, Ironclad?”

“Hm?” Ironclad is still in his seat, arranging the table’s ink bottles in a row. “Oh, yes. Onslaught wants to stay behind to assist in the war effort. If you need an assistant—”

“Yes!” both Shae and Rosemary cheer at once, causing Celina to jump out of her seat.

“Such enthusiasm…” Queen Platinum says, visibly startled. She removes herself from her seat. “Caro, would you please follow me? There is something I’ve been meaning to show you for a while.”

~Caro~

I walk alongside Platinum into the hall. She seems reserved about telling me exactly what it is she wants me to see, so I’ll just assume it’s a surprise. While she remains quiet, I have a look at her.

I think I know how she feels. The weight of the world on her shoulders, simultaneous torrents of dread and excitement rushing through her, her chest pounding as her heart threatens to burst for several different reasons at once. I felt the exact same when I awakened as the Dragonborn, and again several times after. I knew who I was. But what was going to happen next? It was terrifying and exciting beyond all reasoning.

The difference between me and her is that, until now, I’ve never had an entire country on the line, so while her heart races, I’m entirely content. At least, for the most part…

I look at Platinum and say, “I’m scared too.”

“Damn, and here I thought I was special,” she says with a chortle. “And how do you hold on to the hope that we’ll all be alive by the end of the incoming glorious battle Shokenda Blackwing has long sought?”

“For one, there is the reassurance that she doesn’t want to kill me… But that only makes me fear for my friends.”

“Even somepony as capable as Tohro?”

We take the main staircase down into the main hall. The many windows bathe me a romantic orange evening glow. “Ah…” I cover my eyes as I follow the queen into another corridor. “Especially somepony as capable as Tohro. Shokenda herself made it clear that she has plans for him, and he doesn’t stand a chance against her. He barely lived even with Muramasa. Shokenda wants to make him suffer for betraying her, but I won’t let that happen to him. I can’t lose him.”

Platinum pauses in front of a set of double doors and presses her hoof to my chest. “Then you won’t. You have a way of making your desires a reality, and if you truly want Tohro to be safe, you’ll make it happen.”

Even so, ever since the revelation of Saviikaan’s imposed cycle of violence, I’ve come to accept a lack of control over some things. I can’t control the progression of some events in this war, and I’d drive myself mad trying to do so.

“You’re a different sort of pony, especially compared to how you were when I first met you,” Platinum continues. “I mean that as a compliment. Sometimes, a soldier has to choose one life over another, but you would be the one to save both, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes.” I can at least agree with that much.

“You’re much like my husband in that regard. During one of the final battles of the war in the old kingdoms, he managed to save both me and Pansy from certain death. He looked at probability and respectfully spat at it, and I loved him for that.”

Platinum opens the doors, leading into a colorful bedchamber. The varying colors of the furniture’s cushions, mixed the gold trim of the curtains, makes this place resemble a rainbow one could sleep in. I can infer as to who this bedchamber belonged to.

“This is Hurricane’s room?” I ask.

“Yes…” Platinum lets out a nostalgic sigh as she walks about the room, her hoof brushing the furniture. She spends an especially long time near the bed, though thankfully she doesn’t try to inhale some sort of errant scent from the sheets. I would have left if she did.

I survey the room, feeling an odd warmth settle into my fur at the sight of the late king’s colorful decor. It’s as if his commanding presence and aura of majesty remains, even after so much has passed. What especially catches my attention is a large blue case up on the windowsill. I motion towards it and asks, “What’s in there?”

Platinum doesn’t respond. She goes over to the dresser and picks up a rainbow urn, embracing it like it were a loved one. She then removes the lid and takes a small clump of ashes in her magical grip. The ashes fall back into the urn to reveal a small key.

“He appeared to me in a dream a few days ago… He told me many things.” With a wistful blush, Platinum brings the key over to me. “He thinks you should inherit one of his most prized possessions.”

With a glance back at the case, I realize what’s in there, causing my heart to sink. “Excalibur… No,” I say, strong and firmly. “No. He didn’t listen to me. I told Hurricane, I’m not ready yet! I don’t want this!”

“Why not? Why aren’t you ready?” Platinum asks, still holding the key right in front of my face.

“You should know!” I yell, shoving the key aside. “He was your husband. It doesn’t matter if I emulate him, because I... I’m not him. I could end this war and stop the dragons tomorrow, but I wouldn’t be half of what he was.”

Platinum, unwavered by my sudden panic, simply picks up the key again. “Do you fear letting him down? Do you worry that you would dishonor him by wielding Excalibur?”

“Yes!”

“Well, you won’t. King Hurricane, conqueror of Olympus, the founder of Equestria, my husband, has bequeathed a weapon of Hephaestus to you, Dragonborn, and if you do not take it… I don’t want to say you are dishonoring his memory, but he’d certainly think you a damn fool, as would I.”

My head droops. I refuse to look at Platinum in the eyes, fearing her disappointed glare. Odds are I would see King Hurricane within her, urging me to take his sword, but the very thought of holding the weapon of somepony so charismatic, so heroic, whereas my accomplishments amount to spilt blood and nothing more… It hurts.

Then again, it doesn’t have to hurt. What if the day I take Excalibur into battle is the day I become the hero I’ve always wanted to be? Who says I can’t make myself worthy through the use of the weapon? Perhaps that is what Hurricane intends for me.

“He told me you would be unwilling, and to tell you that he understands why. Just because you have the makings of Hurricane doesn’t mean you have to strive to be like him. All you need to do is be you. The world needs nothing more, and nothing less.”

Platinum’s aura strokes my cheek. It’s uncomfortable for a second, but I come to appreciate it, and lean into the gesture. I reach out and take the key.

Inserting it into the lock of the case is more difficult than it should be, my hooves are shaking so damn much. I can assume Platinum is having a smile at my silliness, and I can’t help but smile at the absurdity of it all as well. I finally manage to get the key inside and turn it. My heart skips a beat when I hear the click. I open the case…

There’s no sword here.

There is only a small scrap of parchment with a poorly written message.

I need this. -M

Platinum’s expression goes entirely blank at the sight of this, not unlike Shokenda’s perpetually dry demeanor. All she can say is, “Ah.”

XXXVII - Rising

One clank after another, and another after that, and another after that. One of a million sounds of metal clashing against metal rattles the brick confines of the forge. This is followed up by a certain mare’s deep and guttural grunt as she struggles to lift her hammer. Beneath all of this clatter, Rosemary sings softly to herself, hoping a jaunty tune can help her to ignore the aches in her forelegs.

“A soldier lad came here last night,
with riding he was weary.
A soldier lad came here last night,
and the moon was shining clearly.
Bonnie lassie, will you gang with me?
Bonnie lass, will ye lie near me?
I'll get all your ribbons reel,
in the morning ere I leave ye…”

“You’ve quite the singing voice, when nopony is listening,” says the soft voice of another mare. Rosemary recognizes the voice immediately. “Hello,” Shae says with a wave. She stands at the forge’s front steps, leaning against the railing. She has a small package levitating at her side.

“Wish ya’d be seein’ me in a better condition, darlin’...” Rosemary laments as she turns away from the forge and looks at Shae. She moves towards the enchanting table, her movement slow and jolted. “What brings you out here, this, er, lovely evenin’?”

The sarcasm isn’t lost on Shae, who takes a look at the falling rain. It’s not an intense downpour, but it’s enough to warrant keeping her hood up. The rest of her overcoat is moist and dripping.

Shae removes her coat, revealing her black undergarments, and hangs it up by Rosemary’s jacket. “I haven’t heard a peep out of you in days. Normally I’d assume you were out in the fields, scrounging for ingredients, but I know what you’ve been up to.”

“Same thing for the past two weeks, love. Doin’ the Empire a favor,” Rosemary says as she takes a seat.

“Working yourself to death?” Shae remarks. “Let me see you in the light.”

“I wouldn’t advise that, sweetheart…”

Shae ignores Rosemary’s advice and lights up her horn, bathing the forge in magenta. Rosemary’s face is revealed, causing Shae to flinch. The exhausted mare’s mane is more chaotic than usual, with strands sticking to her sweaty, grime-stained face. She starts to retract her hooves, but Shae takes notice of them quickly, noticing several welts and bruises, as well as a telltale shudder to every movement they make.

“Told ya.”

Shae goes to the water bucket in the corner and picks up a dry rag. “Have you been avoiding sleep again?” She soaks the rag and returns to Rosemary. “You know there’s nothing to gain from staying awake for too long.”

“I’ve been sleepin’,” Rosemary snaps. She loses her frown the instant she puts it on. “Most nights...” She clears her throat as she lays her black falchion and a large soul gem on the enchanting table. “She takes the trooper by the hoof, and leads him to her chamber…”

Shae sets her levitated package down next to the sword. “She's given him some wine to drink, and his love it flared like tinder…”

Rosemary’s dim eyes widen. “Ah, you know that one?”

“Sundance taught me a lot of tavern songs back at the academy. It certainly made stormy winter nights a bit warmer.”

“She is such a treat.” Rosemary opens the package, revealing three seasoned buns and a wedge of goat cheese. “Ooh, and speaking of…” She takes a bite out of one of the buns, devouring half of it in a single bite. Her chewing is louder than her talking.

“Now, this is the part where I urge you to do this much…” Shae gently pushes Rosemary’s hooves away from the sword and soul gem. Rosemary is too weak to resist. “You need rest, Rose. Real rest. Please, if not for yourself, then for me."

After utterly demolishing her bun and sinking her teeth into the cheese, Rosemary snorts in amusement. "I getcha. I need to be at my finest to be useful, right? You can save yer speech for later, hon." She picks up another soul gem, setting it in the center of the enchanting table, next to the falchion. "I've only got three more swords to make in this batch, and then I'll settle in for the night."

The sword glows brilliantly for a second, the light of the gems fading in contrast. As the light dies down, a faint mix of green and red light mingles on the blade.

"There we go," Rosemary murmurs with renewed vigor as she picks up her latest creation. "Captain Gauntlet needs a new sword, and do I have one for him. It's like a weapon made of coffee and poultices, able to heal small cuts and revitalize its wielder, perfect for an extended battle. Or, in my case..."

"You’ll need more than magic to fix your condition," Shae retorts as she pulls the weapon from Rosemary's grasp. "Come along, I won't ask again. You're going to bed, even if I have to wrap you up and keep you under the covers."

Rosemary smirks suggestively, her weariness dissolving slightly as she tries to form some reluctance. "And what if I resist?"

Shae smiles sweetly as she heads towards the stairs. "Then I'll just get Celina to help hold you down. And Luna knows some adorable lullabies that I'm sure she'd love to sing to you.”

Rosemary bows her head. Just the thought of crawling beneath the covers, in any form, causes her eyes to droop and her crying muscles to relax. Her voice weak and labored, she continues her song. “Bonnie lassie, will you gang with me, Bonnie lass, will ye lie near me…”

Shae wraps her aura around Rosemary’s forelegs and removes her from the table. Rosemary chuckles as she allows her hooves to move on their own, until she finds herself mere inches away from Shae’s face. “I'll get all your ribbons reel, in the morning ere I leave ye.”

The magenta light fades just before Shae’s lips collide with Rosemary’s.

CHAPTER XXXVII - RISING

“Good day, everypony, and thank you for attending. I will now ask you all to stand at attention.” Tohro clears his throat, stomps his hooves as he stands up straight, and summons the most commanding voice he can manage. “Attention!!”

Beneath the stage upon which Tohro stands, positioned in perfectly aligned rows, stand a countless amount of Imperial soldiers. All of their eyes fall on him as they salute.

“Ah, now that’s respect. Greetings to you all, good soldiers of the Empire.” Tohro salutes back. “I thank you all for gathering here today. As you’re all likely aware, this time tomorrow, we’ll all be fighting what is, let’s not be folly about this, going to be a difficult battle. Ghastly Gorge isn’t exactly notorious for sunshine and rainbows. But let’s not hold on to battles long past. The Legion has changed, and we know what lies ahead. Now, to relay our plan of attack, I give you Captain Gauntlet.”

There is a shuffling of hooves in applause as the captain comes onstage. His helmet is clutched in one hoof, showing off his furiously red mane. “Well said, Corporal,” he says to Tohro in a hushed voice, before stepping forth and addressing the soldiers. “As the benefactors of Equestria and its people, it is our responsibility to take on the task ahead without fear. I ask you all to look at our upcoming battle not as a threat to your lives, but as a chance to show the Blackwings their actions are not welcome upon this soil.” Gauntlet waves behind him. “Corporal Tohro?”

Tohro flies up to the wall and pulls down a large map, which has been decorated with a detailed etching of Ghastly Gorge from an overhead view. Captain Gauntlet lights up his horn, creating gold specks of light on one side of the map, and blue ones on the other. “The Blackwings will be at a disadvantage, as they will be funnelling out of a quarry. As such…”

Most of the gold specks move across the gorge, concentrating around the quarry. The blue specks attempt to move against the gold ones, but are pushed back.

Captain Gauntlet finishes Tohro’s sentence. “Most of you will be across the gorge, bottlenecking the Blackwings and keeping them away from the chasm. In case any of them manage to get around you, pegasi being the most likely to do so, they’ll fall prey to the smaller teams of soldiers scattered around here.”

A few more gold specks materialize in front of the gorge, picking off any blue specks that come their way.

Tohro gestures to the gold specks on the other side of the gorge. “Unicorn and pegasus troops will be positioned along this perimeter. If any Blackwings try to fly over the gorge or make use of the bridges, take them out. If that fails, cut the bridges down. That’ll make things a little more difficult for their earthwalkers and less disciplined unicorns on their end.”

“Should it come to that,” Captain Gauntlet announces, “we will have sages on standby, ready to set up a one-way nexus to get our reserves to the other side of the gorge. I emphasize this: one-way. You will have to get back by your own means.” He taps his hoof against a new set of specks far behind the gorge, these ones being white. “If you have to choose between protecting our camp base or stopping the Blackwings, choose the former. We need to keep our healers alive at any cost. Any questions?”

“Actually, I have one.” Tohro slowly steps towards the front of the stage. “Some of you are scared, right?”

A few of the soldiers across the room dart their heads around, slightly falling out of line.

“If you are, you’d be a fool to deny it. I’m scared too. Hold on to that fear, it’s what makes you better than the Blackwings.”

Captain Gauntlet takes a step back, allowing Tohro free reign of the stage.

“I don’t like to patronize," Tohro continues. "When I was with the Blackwings, Shokenda built me up to believe I was a part of something special. It took some good friends and a lot of convincing for me to realize I was just another puppet to her. I lost my purpose. I sought desperately for a cause, and in doing so, I ended up here, among all of you. I know my cause now. I think mine overlaps with many of yours. We all want a free and equal Equestria, with its fate held within the hooves of ponykind, and all others who grace its soil. This land does not belong in the hooves of a mare with delusions of godhood. Shokenda dares to threaten this good Empire? Well, we’ll show her troops a good time, while she falls prey to the blade of—”

“Me?”

Caro is up on the balcony overhead, leaning over the railing with a bemused smile.

“That’s right,” Tohro says. Although the soldiers hear him, his voice has become softer. “Yes, the Blackwings have their wildcard. So we have ours. We let them have their fun…”

“So you all can focus on taking the gorge.” Caro thrusts his hoof into the air. “That’s right! Shokenda’s blood will run alongside that of the Blackwings. I won’t fail you.”

“Stay the course, Dragonborn.” Tohro returns to his bold voice of announcement and continues speaking to the soldiers. “Remember your training. Trust your instincts. Put mercy before cruelty. Hold on to your fear, but don’t let it control you.” Tohro gives a salute to the soldiers, and again to Captain Gauntlet, who steps forward to take the stage.

“We make for Ghastly Gorge in two hours, soldiers. Put your affairs in order and meet at the front gates. Understood?”

“Yes, sir!” every soldier shouts at once.

Tohro rolls his eyes. “Oh, come now. You can do better than that. Be as loud as you are strong!”

“YES SIR!” the soldiers shout again, their voices like a gust of wind.

“That’s how it’s done! Now move out!” Tohro commands.

The soldiers take their leave, departing the auditorium in rows. Instead of the stern and conflicted expressions Tohro had seen earlier, there’s a healthy amount of smiles and determined grins. Captain Gauntlet shares the enthusiasm, offering Tohro a friendly bump on the barrel.

“For someone who has seen the worst sorts of ponies imaginable, you make for quite the motivator,” says the captain.

“Takes all kinds,” Tohro says with a flip of his mane.

“But, just for future reference, I am the one who orders the soldiers’ movements, Corporal.”

Tohro stares at the captain quizzically. “Oh, is that so? Why do you suppose they took my order this time, then?”

Captain Gauntlet makes a one-noted laugh, gives Tohro one more nudge, and makes his exit from the stage. “Two hours, Corporal.”

Tohro looks up at the balcony, hoping to see Caro there, but the Dragonborn is being dragged away by an elderly looking mare. For a moment, his heart races, but he takes a deep breath and calms himself. He looks down at his hooves and says to himself, “If only that were enough…”

~Shae~

Hello, Shae Sparkle, star pupil of Headmaster Frosthelm, admirer of Clover the Clever, beloved child of two of Wintercolt Academy’s finest instructors. I presume Sundance, Lancer and Eavesdrop are doing well? How are your studies coming along? You’ll soon be leaving the comfort of your home to take up your extracurricular project, of course. I know the outside world seems harsh, but surely it is full of good ponies. Right?

Yes… Yes, it is.

I have to stop talking to somepony that doesn’t exist. In the mirror, there is just Shae Sparkle, mage of Dragonrein. Friend to Queen Platinum. Rosemary’s sweetheart. Murderer of Clover the Clever…

“Mommy?” says my beloved Luna. She has just risen from a large bundle of blankets that had become wadded up on my bed. Judging by the pillows loused around the room, she and Celina must have had quite the pillow fight last night. That, or a very enthusiastic pretend adventure. I haven’t had a chance to tidy this all up, because I’ve just gotten in. I wanted to get back sooner, but Rosemary was rather… insistent. And now I have to force myself to stay awake so I can take care of Luna.

I sigh, turning away from the mirror and going over to Luna. I pick her out of the sheets and kiss her on the forehead. “Good morning, little one.”

I haven’t yet told her about where I’m going today. It’s too much for a little girl at this hour. Until I find the courage to tell her, this will just be like any other day. But she probably won’t entirely understand the gravity of the situation. Celina, however…

“Good morning, Mother,” says my other lovely daughter as she enters the room. She has to push the door with her shoulder, as she has a tray of alfalfa, honey-baked biscuits and celery balanced atop her muzzle.

“What in the world are you doing, Celina?” I ask incredulously.

“Balancing act… I’ve been carrying it like this since I left the kitchen. You always said I should practice poise, and I think— Woah!”

As I expected, the tray starts falling from Celina’s nose, and all of its contents come with it. It’s easy for me to catch every last bit of food in my aura, helping them land on the tray just as it hits the carpet. “Keep practicing.” I pick the tray up and set it on the bedside table. “Thank you for coming by. I have something very important you should know.” I turn to the little one. “You too, Luna.” I regret saying that the second her smile disappears.

Celina seats a seat on the bed right next to Luna. “Is something wrong?” she asks.

“No, not in the sense that anything bad has happened…”

“Has happened?”

“...How about we focus on breakfast first, dear?” I suggest. “Nothing even mildly challenging should be faced on an empty stomach.”

“Oh, I’m not empty-stomached, Mother,” Celina reassures me as she takes the tray to the bed and sits beside Luna. She takes a bite of celery. Just now, I notice that she’s a loud eater. I would tell her it’s uncouth, but I’m in no mood to criticize right now. “I’ve been eating quite a bit lately. I have to be in top condition for…” She trails off. “I’ll tell you later.”

I hope she gets the chance.

Luna runs across the bed and reaches for a biscuit, but Celina levitates the tray just out of her reach. She takes another fork and offers some of the alfalfa to Luna. “Now, now, little sister. You know what we agreed on. Eat your alfalfa before you eat anything sweet.”

Luna tries to push the tray away. “No,” she snips. “It’s dumb and gross, and it smells funny!”

“Keep your hooves off the tray, loved one,” Celina says.

“You never eat your a… al… alfuhfuh,” Luna grumbles.

Celina purses her lips as she realizes that Luna is correct. Not once, despite my urgings, has Celina ever taken a bite of the stuff. For what reason, I’ll never know. But I’ve had my distaste for beans since before I can remember, so I’m not one to act so above it all. Leave it to Luna to convince Celina to finally have herself a mouthful of alfalfa.

Suddenly, Celina turns to Luna and opens her mouth wide. “BLAAAARGH! ALFALFA MONSTER!!”

“Ew! No!” Luna shields herself from Celina’s playful roaring, laughing all the while.

Smiling at their antics, I feel the urge to join in somehow, but all the same, I feel that this is their moment more than it is mine. To them, this is just another morning of peace. Peace, despite the world of chaos that lies outside of this palace, and this city. I don’t want to put it to an end, but I have to. I trot back and forth, hoping I can bring forth the words I pieced together in my head yesterday. They’ve all fallen to pieces since this morning, and lie in a pile before me. “I, uh… I have to... go.”

Luna comes down from her fit of giggles, a curious frown crossing her little muzzle. “Go?”

“Go where?” Celina realizes my implications sooner than I hoped she would. Divines bless her cleverness. “You’re attending the battle of Ghastly Gorge,” she says. I expected a question, but her unwavering voice makes it sound more like a resignation, like she doesn’t plan on protesting.

“That’s right. A few of the sages, as well as a good amount of soldiers, asked that I be a healer, and I said yes.”

Celina doesn’t speak, and Luna doesn’t make so much as a peep. It disturbs me far more than it should. I would have preferred if Celina had protested; begged me not to go, so I would have some reason to tell the sages and soldiers that I changed my mind.

Still, I feel the need to defend my choice. “I’ve surveyed my options. I could have chosen to stay here with you, and every wisp of the Fae within me demands I do so, but… I can’t possibly be a parent to either of you if Everfree becomes Shokenda’s next target. So…” My words aren’t strong, and they certainly wouldn’t convince me if I were in Celina’s place. My last syllable hangs in the room like an unwelcome draft of cold air.

“Okay,” Celina says, standing up and taking a few paces away. “That’s…” She masks her tears by clearing her throat. “It’s your decision, it’s perfectly…” And the mask is removed. Celina brings her hoof to her eyes and tries to wipe them clean, but it’s no good. I open up one of my drawers and bring out a small cloth, levitating it over to her. As she dabs at her eyes, she turns to me.

For a moment, I remember what Celina once was. I imagine her malnourished, anemic corpse of a body, with nopony to bring back her effervescent beauty. But before I make the easy decision, I remind myself that it will not be that way. Luna is here. Celina dreaded loneliness, but she will not have it. All of Everfree knows what she is. I can assume most of Equestria knows at this point. She will never be alone.

I’m resolute in my decision as Celina embraces me. Knowing she is ready to let me leave Everfree with the burden of the possibility that I’ll never come back, that is all the permission I need. The last part of me that demands I stay here has been stamped out.

“Then…” Celina wipes her eyes one more time. “Then I have to show you something now. I was going to wait until later, but…” She walks to the tray and starts wolfing down a biscuit. At the same time, she tucks a few celery slices behind her ear.

“What is it?” I ask.

“Can’t say. But it’s...” Celina interrupts herself by stuffing the rest of the biscuit in her mouth and swallowing. “It’s mostly for you. It’s also for the rest of Equestria. I’ll, uh…” She opens the bedroom door. “I’ll send one of the sages to get you when it’s ready.”

I try to protest. “But, wait, The sages will be busy with—” Celina doesn’t let me finish my sentence before she gallops away, leaving me to sit on the bed and ponder what she wants to show me. I would assume it’s a book, or perhaps jewelry, but I doubt I could share either of those with the rest of Equestria… “What do you think she wants to show me, Luna?”

Luna just hums in confusion.

I spend the next few minutes sharing the rest of the breakfast tray with Luna. For a little one, she can eat like a mare. I assume it’s just one of the many oddities that come with being an alicorn child. She consumes two biscuits to my one, and I assume she has room to spare.

“You really should eat your alfalfa, dear,” I suggest. “It helped me become strong. I’m quite sure Uncle Caro ate plenty of it as well.”

Luna seems more inclined towards my urging than Celina’s. She smiles and takes the fork in her hoof. “Yes, Mommy.”

Aside from the occasional sounds of hoofsteps outside the door, along with Luna’s chewing, everything is struck with an uneasy silence.

Knowing that Celina has a gift for me, I can’t help but feel it would be unfair to leave without giving something in return. But I don’t think I have anything that would befit my daughters. It can’t just be a book or a piece of jewelry. It would have to be something that contains all of my love and affection, along with that of my friends and family.

Family… Mother… “Oh!”

“What is it, Mommy?” Luna asks, putting down her fork. During that period of silence, she’s managed to consume all of her alfalfa and take in a few more biscuits as well.

“Sweetheart, I want you to have something.” I crawl onto the bed and nestle up close to Luna. I bring my hooves to my muzzle and remove my glasses. “These were a gift from my mother, and the only thing I have left to remember her by. I think it’s only fair that you have them.”

“Don’t you need these to see?” Luna asks, looking at the glasses with her naturally curious eyes.

“No… They’re mostly for reading, and even then, I don’t exactly need them. I just think…” I sigh and collect my thoughts. I don’t want there to be any more crying in this room. “You and Celina are the most important things in my life, and I think you deserve something that will help you remember that.”

“Don’t worry. I will,” Luna says as she puts the glasses on. They’re a tad too large for her, so they lie askew on her muzzle. “Heehee! I feel smarter already!”

That is probably the funniest and most adorable thing I have ever seen in my entire life. I can’t help but laugh out loud. It’s odd how much my laugh has changed. I used to giggle, but now my laughter sounds hearty and full of love.

A sage comes by, peeking his hooded head into the room and asking, “Am I interrupting anything important?”

“No, not at all,” I reply, stifling my fit. “Did Celina send you?”

“Yes, she did.” He gestures to the hallway. “Everything is ready.”

“Ready? She must have put a lot of preparation into this, whatever it is.” I stand and begin to depart from the room. “Come along, Luna.”

Luna gallops out of the room before I make it to the door, where the sage speaks to me. “And don’t you worry about a thing, Miss Shae. Should Princess Celina grow fatigued, my fellow sages are on standby, ready to pick up the slack.”

Still left unawares of what Celina even intends on doing, I elect to just smile and nod, playing along with this surprise. I follow the sage, as well as Luna, through the halls. We take the corridor stairs up to the second floor of the palace, then turn into a hallway that leads to the balcony overlooking Celina’s garden.

There she stands, with three sages on either side of her. Her pink mane appears to be flowing, despite the lack of any breeze; it’s a very still night, with the sky almost completely cloudless, and not a hint of noise to be heard in the air. Yet, just by standing against the darkness, Celina creates a soft radiance that makes the world feel a little brighter.

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” Captain Gauntlet comes speeding past, nearly toppling me over. He stumbles to a halt, turns, and salutes me with the wrong hoof. “My apologies, Miss Shae.” He immediately resumes his gallop towards Celina. One of the sages has to silently urge him to slow down.

“Princess Celina requires absolute concentration,” the sage next to me whispers. “Step out onto the balcony and be as quiet as possible.”

“Understood.” I levitate Luna onto my back and touch my hoof to her lips. She nods, understanding immediately. Divines bless her.

Celina’s majesty is even more impressive up close. She doesn’t stand like the delicate flower I’ve come to see her as; rather, she stands like a ruler, her chest thrust out, her legs erect, her head held high. Her eyes are closed, I assume so she can keep focus. Her horn is alight, the brightest I’ve ever seen it glow.

“Mother…” she mutters under her breath, so quiet I almost miss it.

I approach her and lean in close. “Yes, my love?”

“When you brought Luna to me, I became the happiest I had ever been. So happy, I reached out to the clouds and parted them with my will alone. It was on that day that I realized I’m supposed to be a light in the darkness… So, I figured, why shouldn’t I be the one to do this?”

“Do what?”

Celina opens her eyes. Her irises are as bright as her horn, slowly turning from purple to gold. “It’s almost morning.” She steps forward to the very edge of the balcony and walks right off. Her hooves step onto thin air as if she never left solid ground, and she keeps walking until she’s standing over her prized garden, right above the circle of sunflowers I helped her plant.

As Celina spreads her wings, it occurs to me what she meant. I should have seen the signs. She had been disappearing to speak to the sages. She had been practicing her levitation with her food, her toys, slowly working her way up to levitating an entire kitchen’s collection of silverware and plates. I assumed she was practicing her magical talents for the sake of itself, but I should have realized her end goal. If her words weren’t enough, the depleted soul gems lining the balcony would have been enough to clue me in.

She’s rising higher into the air. Some part of me wants to stop her. Tell her it’s too much. She doesn’t have to do this now. But who would I be to deny her this? If the worst happens, I’ll catch her.

It’s still a trial to watch her strain herself against the weight of her burden. Her magic flickers every so often, causing me to tense up. Her eyelids are strained, her lips are curled, and her face is turning from alabaster to red.

The sages step forward all at once, but Celina’s eyes shoot open to stop them in their place. Her eyes are now entirely white, both blinding and entrancing. “All will be well,” she says. I can feel the reverberations of her voice in my skin. It’s as if she speaks to me more than she does to the sages.

The sky has become brighter, bathed in the deep blue of an early winter morning. It can’t be long now… I pray, for her sake, it isn’t.

With a strong yet elegant call, Celina raises her hooves to the sky, just as she did on the day I brought Luna to her. This time, however, instead of bringing light to Everfree, she brings light to all of Equestria.

The sun breaches the horizon, and Celina lowers her forelegs, letting herself fall. Her eyes are closing again… I think she’s losing consciousness.

I levitate Luna off my back and set her down. “Stay here.” I gallop to the edge of the balcony and leap off, surrounding myself in my aura to slow my fall and push towards Celina. I reach out and seize her, holding her close as her legs wrap around my body.

We land in the very center of the garden. I make sure to set myself down gently as to not disturb a single petal. I let Celina go, softly laying her down among the sunflowers.

My expression is one of awe as I turn to the sunrise. Its glow seems more magnificent than usual, but I have a suspicion that it’s my pride in Celina’s achievement that makes it seem that way. I look at her, taking in how her body’s natural glow is at one with the sunrise, and even more mesmerizing. Should she need to sleep, I’ll gladly stay here at her side.

But it seems the gesture would be unnecessary. Her legs start to move. In an instant, she’s grabbed ahold of me, her chin resting on my shoulder. I’m too caught off guard to return the embrace before I realize that she’s crying again, but these are happy tears.

“I love you…” Celina sobs into my coat. “Please… Promise me you’ll come back…”

My chest twinges as I try to think of some way to tell her the hard truth. “Celina, you know why I can't make that promise..."

"I know, Mother. Just... please, just... lie to me. Say it'll be alright. Promise you'll come back. Please."

"I..." My throat tightens; I know she's worried, but I’m willing to make this sin just to see her smile one more time.

In case I...

"I promise."

~Vision End~

~Caro~

“Gently, now…” I wheeze. The straps of the waistcoat clench my fur and squeeze my barrel to an unreasonably tight degree, making even the slightest breath feel like a thousand mile walk.

“My apologies, deary,” says the outfitter. She’s a sweet old unicorn, having put up with my grievances against wearing armor. I’m amazed she hasn’t run out of patience, working with a stallion like me who flinches every time a piece of fabric or metal gets even reasonably close to my body. “I’ll loosen that up a little.”

It’s still uncomfortable, but a slight adjustment of the straps makes wearing this damn thing a bit more tolerable. At the very least, I feel safer. “Thank you. The only other time I’ve relied on armor was when I was fighting for survival out in the fields. That barely qualified as a pauldron.”

“Here. Give these a try.” The outfitter presents a set of cloth sleeves to me. “This will keep the armor from chafing. It’ll be a little warm, but still much more comfortable than having leather and metal rubbing up against your fur.”

“Like wearing a winter robe. That could be nice.” I raise my hooves, letting her levitation magic slip the sleeves onto my forelegs. They’re a nice fit, going all the way up to my chest while leaving my hooves free.

“Now for the hindquarters… Brace yourself, deary.”

I hold my breath as I feel a cold patch close around my flanks, locking into the waistcoat. No turning back now, I suppose… The discomfort is mitigated slightly by a silky drape hugging my hind legs.

“Swallow your pride for once, did you?”

In the mirror, I can see Tohro coming into the room. He’s fully dressed in Imperial armor, with a scarf thrown around his neck. How fitting, considering the unorthodox amount of snow that’s been bombarding this part of Equestria lately. Hopefully Queen Platinum has convinced the Weather Guild to let up for the battle at Ghastly Gorge.

“What took you so long to get here?” I ask Tohro. “The show is nearly over.”

He pats his bag of holding. “I had to make some preparations, just in case. You know how it is…”

“Have to make good of every moment, I know.”

“I’m sorry I’ve been so distant these past few days, mate,” Tohro says. He sounds so unusually grim, like something deep within him is about to fall apart. He’s trying to keep himself in high spirits, I know it, but dread is a powerful enemy, one somepony even as magnificent as Tohro can’t overcome. Such a shame. Even so, he manages to smile as he looks me over. “That set looks good on you. Is it custom made?”

This garb suddenly feels much less uncomfortable. “Rosemary suggested the design, but she was too occupied to make it herself. This set took three blacksmiths to create. I owe it to them to at least try it on.”

“It certainly makes you look like the hero you’ve wanted to be.” Tohro moves in close to get a good look at the seamless blending of fabric and metal, and how the armor forms to my figure to a point where if anypony else were wearing it, it might as well be a sin. He seems particularly fond of the trim. “That’s not real gold, is it?”

“What do you think?” I snark.

My attention is taken away from Tohro as the outfitter lays the gauntlets before me. “I need to step out for a moment, deary,” she says. “Silly blacksmiths forgot the plating for those.” She leaves the room and shuts the door, leaving me, my reflection, and Tohro to ourselves.

Breaking what could have been a painful silence, Tohro tousles the back of my mane. At least, what little there is of it now. I still have a hefty, unkempt set of grey hair to boast, but a good portion of it has been lopped off in the back. “I told you it would be a good idea to cut it here.”

“I never doubted it. I was just a little apprehensive about you using your hidden blade.”

Tohro deploys said hidden blade from his gauntlet. “We make do with what we have, mate. Besides, your neck is in one piece, so you have nothing to worry about next time.”

The dust in the room seems a little thicker all of a sudden, as Tohro’s smile fades away for a second that lasts all too long. He looks away from me, his eyes desperately seeking for something to acknowledge other than the sad truth, eventually settling upon my new pair of gauntlets. “You know, you might want to test their fit before the kindly one returns.”

I nod and do as he suggests, trying to fit my left foreleg into one of the gauntlets. Tohro helps out, holding it steady for me. As I suspected just from my first glance, my hooves are too bulky to fit.

“Damn,” I growl, removing my hoof. “I guess I’ll have to wear something more plain…”

“That won’t be necessary, mate. Just let me see...” Tohro kneels down and has himself a gander at my hoof. He looks a little disgusted. “Of course. You haven’t trimmed your hooves in months. Look at this, it’s distended like a breezie stung by a bee…”

I sigh, cursing myself for letting my greatest secret become unveiled. Hoof trimming, the one hygienic practice I’ve avoided. But I have a good excuse for doing so. “I’ve never had any reason to trim.”

“Until now, it seems. We’d best get these things whittled down if you want to go into battle fully armored, hero.” Tohro stands up and goes over to the outfitter’s drawers, searching through them with careless abandon. “Hm. Who leaves coins scattered about in their workspace?”

“What are you looking for?”

“Anything to cut your hooves down to size, mate.”

“This isn’t the armory. I doubt that she has—”

Tohro presents a roll of sandpaper and a worn, yet functional rasp. “You were saying?” As he comes back over to me, he takes the bucket of water from beside the mirror with him.

I’m a little reluctant to subject Tohro to this monotonous and rather dirty task. “We could just wait for her to come back—”

Tohro shuts me up with just a glance. “Caro. I know you. You wouldn’t let anypony near your hooves, except for me. I have to be the one to do this.”

“Don’t think you owe me for preening your wings. I only did that because I wanted to.”

“And I want to do this. Now, lend me your hooves, Dragonborn.”

I surrender to my friend’s insistence and allow him to hold my forelegs. He directs me towards the water bucket and dips my hooves into it.

Some time passes. I decide to fill the quiet room with some form of conversation. “You were inspiring up there,” I tell Tohro. “Those soldiers truly believe in you.”

“It’s amazing how far a little kindness can go, isn’t it, mate?” Tohro removes my forelegs from the water. He brings out his hidden blade once again, this time sticking it into the crevasse of my hoof. The grinding sensation is far from painful, but having a blade that close to such a sensitive area makes me whinge. What brings me calm, though, is knowing Tohro is the one holding my hooves. That’s more than enough.

“Will you be in charge, or just fighting alongside the rest of the rabble?” I ask.

Tohro answers as he begins picking scum out of my other hoof. “I’ll be leading the western offensive, and Gauntlet will take the east. It's a collaborative effort.”

“The bane of Gauntlet’s existence,” I jape. “Ah.” I retract my hoof a little bit. “Careful.”

“Sorry. Funnily enough, the good captain seems a bit happier than usual. It's uncanny, but also rather adorable."

There’s a sizeable pile of dirt, pebbles, grass, and other indecipherables on the floor now. It’s rather sickening to think I was carrying all of that in my hooves. It’s enough to make me want to trim them from now on.

"...Are you nervous?" I ask as Tohro picks up the rasp and starts grinding it against my hooves.

"No,” he replies as he makes an unusually loud scrape. “I'm lying. I'm not too enthusiastic about seeing Shokenda again, even at a distance."

Even with this impressive set of armor and some freshly cleaned hooves, I don’t see her being intimidated by me in the slightest. "I don't think I can defeat her yet, let alone kill her."

Tohro nods agreeingly. "We at least know that she can bleed, and that means she can die. All you need to concern yourself with is keeping her occupied while we lay waste to her drudges."

Her spoken desire for a historic battle comes to mind. I still remember every word she spoke at the gates to Neigh Hrothgar. "That shouldn't be too difficult. She wants me more than anypony else. She'll want to fight me. Intimidate me. Possibly break me, but not kill me. But she would hurt you, and Shae, and anypony else I care about. I won’t let that happen."

"All because you didn't appease her..." Tohro says with a grimace.

If I’m ever going to say this, I may as well say it now before my cowardice convinces me to say something else. "Tohro, let me be clear about this. I want you to stay away from me during the battle ahead. Shokenda would not rest at the opportunity to hurt you at my expense. This battle likely depends on me being as far away from my friends as possible."

Tohro pauses his grinding. I suspect he’s going to switch to my other hoof, but instead he just stays still, thinking this over for far longer than he should have to. “Yes. I understand.” He sighs, and resumes trimming. I’m ready to give him my other hoof when he needs it.

As of now, I’ve grown completely numb to any discomfort from the rasp whittling away at my flesh, or the armor encapsulating my body.

Caro Dragonborn, the stallion who will duel his sworn enemy alone.

Tohro Blackwing, the defector soldier who will lead half an army to fight his former allies.

"We're not going to see each other until the battle is done," I say.

"No, we won't,” Tohro says in return.

The battlefield that lies ahead; a stark and empty land that houses the unnamed graves of several Imperial soldiers and Blackwing rebels. Oregano Von Spice, former husband of Tangerine, lies there. My mother and father, Goldheart and Earthquake, lie there. Death surrounds Ghastly Gorge, along with all who enter it, and a battle that will determine the course of this war will ensue there tomorrow…

“I love you.”

Tohro stops trimming my hooves and looks up at me.

XXXIX - Falling

~Caro~

She’s smiling.

She holds Tohro and Gauntlet in her magical grip, just above the ground. They struggle, kicking their legs like mad in a hopeless attempt to break free. Their weapons clatter to the ground in a heap of metal and wood.

Gauntlet, for as much as he struggles, keeps his stoicism very well. It seems I’m not the only one who doesn’t fear Shokenda. At the very least, he doesn’t bring himself to look like he fears her. He won’t give her the satisfaction.

Tohro, however… Caught off guard, left defenseless, held captive by the mare he once dedicated his life to, while she whispers threats into his ear… He is well past the point of screaming, not that he can. He just looks at me, tears forming in his eyes.

Shokenda is torturing him just from her mere presence, and she’s fucking smiling.

Before I can even take my first step, Shokenda holds out her hoof and shows me a piercing gaze. “Before you draw your blade, you will tell me something.”

I continue to stare at her. Knowing her, she’ll continue to speak regardless of my approval.

“Something has changed. Your fury, your drive, your desire for blood. Where has it gone? Surely you still have something that drives you forward in your mad scramble for the semblance of a peaceful land.”

She watches me closely, holding her gaze. I try to do the same to her. Show no fear. Show nothing that she can use against me. I refuse to let her forge a weakness in me.

But that weakness is right there, floating next to her, crying as he silently screams my name. I told him not to stand beside me for this battle, and he disobeyed. I could have told him to leave when he came for me. I could have done more. Attacked him, insulted him, forced him away with a shout… I couldn’t. My heart wouldn’t let me.

Shokenda sees my weakness. She looks between me and Tohro, her sick smile intensifying. It crawls along her face like an inscription, not like any sane smile I’ve ever seen. “I thought you above such earthly desires,” she says to me. “But don’t think any less of yourself for it. Even my kind understands something what it is to be in love.”

I find it within myself to let my strong exterior fall. I’m not afraid to admit it, though I won’t say it to Shokenda. Instead, I just share a much more intimate gaze with Tohro. He stops crying, if only for a moment, as he returns my sentiments with a nod.

“It’s not a weakness, Caro,” says Shokenda. “But you are still weak.”

My body seizes up. I drop my sword as my forelegs snap together. Golden tendrils rise from the ground and slather around my body, pulling me down. It doesn’t matter how much I pull. I can’t break free. Shokenda has me trapped. I ignore the pain and try to look forward. I want to see Tohro. If this is how it ends, I need to see him.

“He’s not weak!” I hear him say. He must have broken free from Shokenda’s grasp, at least for a moment. “How can you call him weak?! The fact that he’s standing there, challenging you—”

I find some way of resisting the tendrils just enough to see Tohro, but the image is spoiled by Shokenda, who has her muzzle uncomfortably close to his. “What challenge? You and him both, all you are capable of is yelling and screaming. You are both just undisciplined children.” She lifts him up and brings him into the ground, face first. “Children. Subservient to a higher power, as much as you wish to deny it.” She forcibly rolls him over and splays out his forelegs. He can only move his head. “You are only alive because I allow it. Accept that.”

I want to growl at her. Say a single word of hatred and spitting rage her, throwing away her demands without a second thought, like I always have. How can I do that with Tohro taking in her wrath, while I’m unable to do anything...

Shokenda places her hoof on Tohro’s neck. I feel a white hot fire rising in my chest as she strokes him like a mistress would her pet… Damn her… “You would not let me have you. You would not obey my wishes. You strayed from the path. You sowed the seeds of pain when you abandoned me, and now…”

I await the inevitable. Shokenda summons a shaft of light and molds it into a serrated dagger. Tohro’s imperial armor is ripped open, and his mail is torn to shreds. Shokenda twirls the dagger over his exposed flesh.

“I think you know the rest, my dear.”

CHAPTER XXXIX - FALLING

She starts to carve. She begins with the very tip of the dagger, just barely scraping the surface of Tohro’s chest. His eyes bulge, and his lips curl. He’s holding something in, and he’s determined to not let it out. I don’t know if it’s for his sake, or mine.

Shokenda cuts deeper, retracing her steps and dragging the blunt end of the blade through the fresh wounds. Every time she retracts her dagger, it shines with a new coat of glimmering, dripping, warm blood that stains Tohro’s beautiful white fur.

Shokenda looks disappointed… At least, I think she does. Her expression is so ambiguous, and my vision is fast failing me, whether it’s due to grief, or utter rage. But I can’t do anything. All I can do is watch.

Unless…

“Rasahrel… I need you…” I gasp.

She takes too long to respond. By the time I feel her presence, Shokenda has already cut deep again, this time along Tohro’s hind legs. “I am sorry, Caro. What Malyol and I gave is all we could muster. We may have been beasts at one time, but in here, our power is little.”

“Then… Then… I need someone else…” The tendrils tighten their grip as I try to crawl. One of them tries to wrap around my mouth, but I’m able to bite at it and drive it away. “Hevnodiin, are you there?”

“Why should I assist you?” he asks disdainfully. “You humiliated me. You took my eyes. You skewered me atop a church. I was not permitted a good death.”

“I’ve changed…”

I hear Hevnodiin growl at me. “But you were not then as you are now, and no matter what you become, how you killed me will not have changed. I will not serve you.”

“Leave him be,” I hear a shrill voice snap at Hevnodiin. “You have nothing to gain from acting so shamefully towards our host.”

“Nahkriin?”

“Yes, it is me. I have bided my time, and I have made my decision. You wish to see this battle won,” she says. “You wish to see your master again. Most of all, you wish to save him.”

Shokenda has become more intense. She tosses the dagger aside and lights her horn. A steady stream of fire emits from it, coating Tohro’s wounds. She’s cauterizing him. In any other circumstance, this would be welcome, but it just brings him more silent pain.

“You know this already,” I snarl at Nahkriin.

“What you want is what anyone would want, dovah, key, or otherwise. You are not the same being that struck me down in Reinoc, and again over Trottingham. That, among other things, helped me believe that perhaps you would be worthy…”

I’m grateful, but no less impatient. “Fen hi ofan zey hin mul?! You talk too damn much!” I shout.

Nahkriin pauses, and chortles like an noblemare. “Hm. It seems I have my own sins to correct. But, I digress… Caro, I willingly give my power to you.”

It’s like a forest fire, consuming everything in its path in a slow, towering, oncoming inferno that no mortal or immortal can stop. My strength returns to me. It starts at my hooves, allowing me to pull at the tendrils once again. I lift my forelegs up, severing the tendrils from my body. They fall into wisps as they fly from where they sprouted. The ones holding the rest of me, however, they’re not willing to let me leave so easily. It’s only a matter of time… I just need a little more…

“We can fight this, Caro. Otar said that you have nothing to fear. Make his words truth.”

I look to Tohro once again, just to assure myself that it isn’t too late, and to know for certain that he’s still holding on, but Nahkriin may have been too late. His chest is red and black with burns and sealed wounds. His breath is barely anything than hyperventilation.

Shokenda holds her hoof up high. She speaks quietly, as if remorseful, though not without a sense of relishment. “Dragos, Divine of War and Mother of Dragons, be merciful to this one. For I will not.” She surrounds her hoof with her signature golden aura. She brings it down, into Tohro’s chest.

Tohro’s eyes twitch, his lip quivers, and he breaks.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGH!!!”

Shokenda has a glimmer in her smile. “Finally…”

That’s it. Like the barrier between me and my potential, the tendrils snap. They cannot hold me. What was once an immovable, threatening force, has now become nothing to me. More wisps rise from my hooves, bathing me in a warm, powerful glow. It reminds me of childhood, when I rose in the morning, ready to strike at the anvil… or how I feel every time I look at Tohro.

The aura visibly shimmers in my coat. Shae was right. The Fae does live in everything, and for the first time, I feel it within me. My target lies ahead. She was once a mountain. Now she is just a mound. And she dares to put a hoof on somepony that belongs to me.

I charge at Shokenda. Even the slight effort of moving my legs is gone. Before Shokenda can even see me, I’m right in front of her, able to see every strand of hair on her body.

She turns to me. Her shock is absolutely glorious.

I swing my sword at her neck. Of course, there’s a ward. I know Shokenda is fast enough to block me. But with another swing, the soul gems upon my blade discharge, disabling her ward. I take advantage of the small window of opportunity. I channel Nahkriin’s strength into my hoof and strike Shokenda’s jaw. She flinches. I strike her again, this time with my sword. I take a quick look at Rosemary’s wonderful creation and smile at the golden blood I’ve just drawn.

I look at Tohro, who is stained and broken, but nonetheless smiling up at me. Something about this smile is a little different, but I don’t have time to figure out why.

“You do not touch him,” I say to Shokenda.

She touches her jaw, still wearing the same look of grim surprise. “What…?”

A dormant cauldron of anger spills from my mouth. “YOU!” I charge straight at her, bringing my blade down on another shield of hers. “DO NOT!” I put enough strength on the shield to pierce it. “TOUCH!” I punch her upside the head. While she’s stunned, I hack away at her neck and strike her armor, leaving a noticeable crack. “HIM!!”

I swipe at her hooves. She trips, then disappears before she hits the ground. I know she’s behind me, and I’m able to turn and plant my sword into the ground, blocking her buck. I rise to counter her attack, but she disappears again.

I run and slide away from three explosive shots. I don’t stop, even as their impact rings in my ears. I turn and look at Shokenda. Her mane is losing its flow, strands falling to her muzzle. She snarls at me like a beast, then leaps.

She’s getting aggressive. Too aggressive. “Iidahiik tozein!” I shout. I’ve taken a page from her book, and she will fall for it, now that I’ve broken her hold over me. She gets close to me. Too close. An eruption fires from the ground beneath her, coating her in flames. She sends them away with a turn of her head, but not without leaving a nasty burn on her face and hooves. Half of her armor has lost its shine. It’s turned dark, and is smoking at the edges.

She touches the scorched part of her armor, as if she’s never seen a burn before. She looks as though she just watched somepony die. She retaliates with with a wave of her hooves, which creates a circular rune in front of her. From its six corners comes intense, burning rays of light.

And she expects me to cower? Instead of running away, I’ll just go right through them. “Wuld nah kest!” I shout. The offensive lights just graze my armor as I leap past them. I hold my sword up high and slash at Shokenda’s rune, shattering it into pieces. “Diin strin gron!” Shokenda doesn’t get a chance to step back. My breath coats the ground beneath her in solid ice, which crawls up her legs and holds her still. She manages to break one of her forelegs away, but she’s still too slow. “Zahkrii! Bel! Kinz!” Five golden swords appear at my side. They fly at Shokenda, one at a time. The first two shred through her armor. The third takes off one of her pauldrons. The last two embed themselves in her chest. Golden blood comes out of her in spurts, littering her hair, the ground, and the remaining parts of her armor.

Her chest is exposed, and she has nowhere to run. I gallop at her. I can’t hear anything. My ears are pounding with blood, adrenaline, loathing, and all things I associate with a long unfelt desire for flesh writhing at the mercy of metal. Not just a passing casualty; a long, suffering death that I shall cherish for every second it lasts.

My blade passes through Shokenda’s chest. She doesn’t scream. She just seems surprised, more than anything else. I want to make her hurt, just as she hurt Tohro. I twist the blade. Still nothing. I drive it into her further. Why won’t she scream? Why doesn’t she bow to me? Why is she still standing? “WHY WON’T YOU DIE?!”

Her passive state breaks. I see legitimate, recognizable anger in her eyes as she levitates my sword out of her body and throws it away. I reach out for it, only for Shokenda to take my foreleg in her aura and bring it down, pulling me onto my stomach.

“I was wrong, Dovahkiin.” She places her hoof on my head, grinding me into the dirt. I feel salt on my lips. “You were ready,” she says. “You now channel the power of the dragons, and in doing so, you’ve become powerful enough to surpass my expectations.”

“Could have saved yourself the trouble,” I growl. “Should have just killed me at Gallopagos Keep… You have nothing to gain from letting me grow stronger…”

“Your strength is just as important to me as it is to you. Our battle is just beginning. And even after its conclusion, you will still serve a great purpose. Of course, you won’t know what that purpose is until you’ve already fulfilled it.” Shokenda removes her hoof from my head and turns away. “I would advise against trying to avoid it, by the way. I’m not entirely sure how it will transpire, but be assured that it will happen.”

“And do you have to be alive for me to play a part in this purpose?” I ask, getting back on my hooves.

Shokenda smiles again. She knows I hate her when she smiles. “You say that as though I intend on dying today.”

I take my sword in my hoof, pick it off the ground and sling it over my shoulder. “Then we’re at an impasse.”

Shokenda turns around with a swish of her ursa fur cloak. “Take up your sword, Dovahkiin. Show me your newfound strength.”

~Vision End~

Mistral has her hooves firmly pressed to an Imperial soldier’s wound. A Blackwing had just ran him through with a scimitar and left him bleeding profusely on the ground. The wound is too deep to keep the blood withheld, no matter how hard Mistral presses. The soldier gasps out words that she is unable to hear, due the rampant shouting of the soldiers surrounding them, echoing off the stone walls of the pass.

With a final cough, the soldier goes quiet. Mistral backs away from his corpse and bows her head. “Damn.” She closes her visor and pulls her hood back up. “Sorry, mate.”

She looks over her constructed wall of wooden spikes. The entire width of the pass is lined with them, requiring any non-pegasi to make running jumps, leaving them exposed to ranged attacks. It would be a foolproof system, if it weren’t for how ignorant to pain the Blackwings seem to be. It doesn’t matter if their skin gets torn on the spikes, a sword swipes them on their mad charge, or their bodies end up as pincushions, they hardly falter in their efforts to break through the lines of defense and head out to the gorge.

Mistral sees three Blackwing earthwalkers making a mad dash for the wall, swords in their mouth and ferocity in their eyes. She grabs a crossbow off of the dead soldier and aims it at the Blackwings. She fires off two bolts, landing a hit on two different heads. The last Blackwing comes too quickly for her to line up a shot. She dives along the wall of wood, intercepting him as he leaps over, and slashes a wing blade across his stomach. He hits the ground running, only to slow to a crawl and roll onto his side. Mistral leaps onto him and slashes his neck with the blade. It shatters, leaving half of it embedded in the Blackwing, the other half in her hoof.

“Mistral!”

She looks up to see a familiar gryphon coming down from the cliffside. She can recognize his finesse in parkour anywhere. “Altair?” she asks, tossing her broken wing blade away. “You shouldn’t have come, this is a war zone.”

Altair looks around, examining the dead bodies, pools of blood, and abandoned weapons littering the pass. “Is it?”

“This had better be important,” she says. “The Blackwings are getting restless, and I have an inkling as to why.”

“The pawns cheer, for the queen has come out to play,” Altair muses, flourishing his claws. “You remember the plan, yes? My agents are looting the battlefield after the fact, before anypony comes to reclaim the bodies. The Thieves Guild will make quite the profit today, Mistral,” the gryphon says with a grin. “Baltimare will welcome us back like heroes.”

“I’m aware of this. Why are you truly here?” Mistral asks.

Altair chuckles, patting her on the shoulder. “You know me too well, friend. I wish to confirm that you reclaimed our property.”

Mistral nods, having expected this exact question. “I’ve liberated the weapon from its place of holding, but I had to store it elsewhere. The preparations for this battle have made it difficult to stay away from prying eyes. But I can take you to it now, if it would please you.”

“No need. Just do whatever is necessary to stay alive. After the battle, meet me in the mead cellar where you hid the weapon, and we’ll smuggle it back to Underreach—” Altair pauses as Mistral does a double take. “Don’t look so shocked, friend. You hid it well. Being a master thief has its perks, that’s all.”

“You flatter me, elder one,” Mistral says with a sarcastic bow. Her eyes wander as she considers a stray thought. “Though…”

“What is it?” Altair's disposition quickly changes from pompous to concerned, turning Mistral’s head his way.

“I don’t think it was appropriate to take Excalibur at this time… Queen Platinum was willing to bequeath it to the Dragonborn, and it could have aided him in this battle. Hundreds of lives could have been spared with Excalibur’s power. If we had just waited a little longer—”

“Hephaestus’ power does not belong in the hooves of anypony, especially not in this war,” says Altair. “If Caro did carry the sword into battle, it would just be an opportunity for a Blackwing, or worse, Shokenda, to take it from him and take the advantage. And that is just one of many poor outcomes. Trust me, Mistral. This is the right path. We should just be thankful the Empire hasn’t let anypony wield Muramasa yet. We’ll be taking that one back soon enough.”

Mistral takes Altair’s reasoning to heart and nods again. “Yes, Master.”

Altair looks over her shoulder, his expression growing more bewildered by the second. “Huh… What the hell is…” He gasps and throws his arms around Mistral, pulling her to the ground and rolling away. “Stay down!”

“Sir, this is neither the time nor the place…” Mistral manages to look past Altair and see what he was so terrified of.

Shokenda Blackwing is just a few steps away, her hooves kicking up dirt as she coasts to a stop. Mistral’s bravery falters, and she quickly buries her muzzle into Altair’s chest. He tightens his grip on her, ensuring that his entire body shields her from any harm. After a few agonizingly long seconds, the initial panic wavers, and Mistral dares to look, wondering why Shokenda hasn’t struck her or Altair down on the spot.

Shokenda is occupied with somepony else. She rapidly trades horn attacks with Caro, who tirelessly strikes at her with his sword. She deflects with her hooves, and steps away to launch a cutting wave from her horn. Caro sidesteps it and raises his sword to block Shokenda’s charge. As she passes him, Shokenda knocks Caro off-balance with a sweep of her foreleg, warps to his side and bucks him away. He hits the wall hard enough to become embedded into it, unable to set himself free no matter how hard he pulls.

Caro stops his struggling and closes his eyes, his breaths lowering and his muscles relaxing. When his eyes open again, they glow gold, along with the rest of his body. He roars, discharging his aura and leaving a crater in the wall. He floats down to the ground, picks up his sword, and lashes out at Shokenda, firing off waves of magic that bring her to her knees. “Wuld!” Caro shouts, dashing to Shokenda’s side and making a vertical slash. His sword cleaves through her armor, tearing off layers. With another swing, he cuts along her barrel, leaving a gaping wound across her. Her cloak falls to the ground in tatters.

“What?!” she yells.

Mistral has never seen Shokenda with any expression other than fear-inducing apathy or unnatural happiness. To see her confused is downright cathartic.

Shokenda surrounds herself in a shield so thick, she is barely visible beneath it. She rises into the air, beyond Caro’s immediate reach. He fruitlessly slashes at her as she floats away.

Caro faces the ground. He’s growling like an enraged animal, and his anger is visibly intensifying.

Altair gets off of Mistral and helps her to her hooves. She carefully approaches Caro, holding her hoof out. She can feel the air vibrate around him as she gets closer. “Dragonborn, please consider yourself. You’re hurt. You’re irrational. Perhaps it would be for the best if you let her retreat—”

“No!” Caro screams, his voice echoing across the pass. Mistral falls back, feeling as though she were just struck across the face. “She demanded this! She crossed the line! I will never forgive her! I will chase her into oblivion!”

His eyes and hooves glow. He gallops to the wall, places his forelegs on it, and begins to run along it. He sprints up the wall as if it were any other surface, hell-bent on chasing down the fleeing alicorn.

~Caro~

“KEEP RUNNING, YOU BASTARD!!”

The wall is easy. Nothing more than a cobbled path, at the mercy of my hooves. Gravity is just an insect. I ascend to the top of the pass, leaping to flat ground.

This area has gone untouched by the battle. It’s almost empty, being little more than patches of grass and dirt, along with a bleeding false god that has yet to taste my full wrath. After all she’s done, she has the gall to try and run? I won’t allow it.

“NOTHING WILL PROTECT YOU FROM ME! NOT SOLDIERS! NOT MAGIC! NOT ARMOR!”

The only thing in my vision that’s unblurred is her. I can see every single movement she makes. She’s become predictable. Fast, yes. Powerful, very. Damn near implacable. Yet, predictable all the same. She’s never had to face an opponent who can take more than a few strikes before falling or dying.

Shokenda attacks with a stomp of her hooves, which causes waves of energy to travel my way. I leap over them effortlessly, barely slowing in my assault.

“NOTHING CAN PROTECT YOU FROM ME!!”

The me that speaks is everything that remains of my former self. The hatred-filled, revenge-driven side that came to life when I watched Master die. Once this battle ends, I won’t have to rely on that part of me anymore. I only welcome him back for this.

I launch myself at Shokenda, preparing my sword. All three soul gems are fully alight. I bite the hilt, aim the blade at the ground, and prepare for the impact.

Everything is dust and rock and the sound of the earth shattering beneath me, bending to my will. The ground ruptures, splitting open from my sword. A hellish blend of magic and pure force form a crater where I land, several times larger than myself.

The battle was a song, and this is the lull. The part where everything goes quiet, and my strength temporarily leaves me. I wrap my forelegs around the hilt of my sword, clutch it tight, face the ground, and retch.

“That was the other reason why we withheld our power from you,” Rasahrel says. “This may be our essence, but it still requires your body, and the body is… fallible.”

I can accept that. My body will grow used to this power, but for now, this was enough. I look up, expecting to see Shokenda there, but of course, she’s gone.

“Beautiful, Caro. Absolutely beautiful.”

I turn around. Shokenda stands outside of the crater, her hoof tapping the ground.

“It only took the strength of several dragons and the sight of a loved one’s blood for you to finally realize your potential. The beauty of it all is that this, all of this…” She gestures to the whole of the crater. “This is only the beginning of what you can do.”

I wipe the sick from my mouth and stare at Shokenda with absolute disdain. “Every time I make even the slightest stride, it feels like it’s only the beginning.” I stand up and approach her. “The only reason I want this power to begin with is because of you.”

“An understatement. Everything that has happened to you is because of me. It all began with a single order.” She casts her hoof out and addresses an invisible crowd. “‘One stallion imperative to our victory has been taken captive by the Imperial Legion, and he eagerly awaits our aid. Once he finds refuge among us, it is only a matter of time before he bathes all of Everfree in its citizens’ own ignorance and blood!’”

I should be angry, but all I can do is laugh. “And how did that work out for you?”

“Like flowers in the spring!” Shokenda snaps at me. “Don’t pretend you’ve diverted off of a preset course. Your refusal to come along with me, poisoning Tohro with your impudence, it changed nothing! The steps towards my endgame do not rely on you following every step I’ve laid out. I know your kind, Caro. So long as you live, so long as you gain strength, victory is within my grasp.”

“You’ve made that quite clear. All that seems to matter is how powerful I become…” I trail off, realizing that something about all of this doesn’t make sense. It’s only now become clear to me. A stray number in the equation. “Why couldn’t you do it? Why can’t you do it now?”

Shokenda looks up from dusting her armor off. “Hm?”

“You have the thu’um. You have the power to kill a dragon on sight. I’ve seen it happen. Why can’t you take Everfree on your own?”

“Make my presence known in front of its entire populous? Give the Empire something to rally around? I think not.”

“What do you mean?

“If I were to do this alone, you or another Dovahkiin would have an opportunity to gather forces and pin me down. The odds of my failure, slim as they might be, would still be too much for me to risk.” Shokenda flourishes her hoof and points at me. “And what an anticlimax it would be to end this war in an instant when I could make you all suffer for years on end! It never ceases to entertain me! But it has to come to an end eventually, and in that end, you and I will stand in the ashes of Everfree together. But, you are right. Should you die before then, I will still have the capability of destroying Everfree myself. It's a risk I'll just have to take.”

“I won’t have it…” I say as my body shudders. “I won’t let you…” My eyes widen. “Another Dovahkiin? You’ve fought others?”

“Perhaps.” Shokenda turns on her hooves and steps away.

“Wait!” I kick off the dirt and run up the slope of the crater. She’s not making any damn sense. I’d assume she’s trying to drive me mad, but something about this seems different. It’s not a lie. Rather, it’s as if she’s telling part of the truth. The truth of what, though? “What the hell are you, Shokenda?!” I yell, my voice backed by the dragons I’ve slain.

Shokenda looks over her shoulder at me. “A god. The specifics of which are irrelevant, and unneeded to be heard by anypony, least of all you.”

She goes silent, peering over the edge of the cliff. A breeze has picked up, causing her mane and tail to flow. Even that part of her looks unnatural, with wisps of gold, not unlike the ones that surrounded me earlier, rising off of her mane, as well as the injuries I’ve left on her.

She can act as smug as she wants, but I won’t be intimidated anymore. I know I can kill her. I can remove the head of the beast, put an end to this war, and focus my efforts on the dragons. For what Shokenda and the Blackwings have done to me, Tohro, Shae, and everypony else, this is where I’ll put her to rest.

I reach for my sword, only to stop when I feel vibrations beneath me. Pebbles begin to rattle. I can hear the ground shifting in the distance. It could be a minor earthquake, but I have my doubts that I could have such luck.

A clawed hand grasps the edge of the cliff, followed by another. Then there are arms, with violet scales, punctured by spines so sharp I cringe at the very sight of them. This dragon is something new, something I’ve never seen before. He rises into view. His beak is long, with three sets of nostrils that billow out a putrid gas. His eyes are yellow and steely.

I’m not scared. But this one… He makes me back away.

“I heed the call of the Reclaimer… Where is he?” the dragon speaks. His voice is dripping with malice, more shrill than the voices of any other dragon I’ve faced before. He sounds even more depraved and sickly than Nahkriin. “Where is Saviikaan?” he asks me.

I can’t have him here. Not at this moment. This is the worst possible time… “Kuz hin tovit ahstaadvoz!” I yell at the dragon in reply. “Saviikaan is not here!”

“Then… He must have summoned me here for…” The dragon sniffs the air. He puts on a garish smile, showing off his shimmering teeth. “Ah, yes. Dovahkiin. I should have suspected as much. I figured it would only be a matter of time before it was my turn…”

The dragon advances on me. I keep switching my gaze between him and Shokenda, who he seems to pay no mind to.

“First went the weakest, with each dovah gathering in strength, testing your abilities. One after another, just as suspected by Saviikaan, they fell to you, and my, how it shows. I have never felt such aura from any Dovahkiin to precede you!” Depraved, sickly… and excited. A dangerous combination, dragon or otherwise. “But never have any of them succeeded against me. Do you see fit to change that?”

“Yes! But not now!” I shout with a wave of my foreleg. “Leave!”

“Hm. That is not the answer I was expecting, nor one I am willing to accept.”

Before I can recommence our battle of words, my eyes fall on the dragon’s inflating chest. Throwing his head back as a mighty roar escapes his razor-toothed maw, a current of sickly green liquid spews from the dragon’s throat, narrowly missing my flesh as it paints the ground around my hooves.

Judging from the putrid odor and searing sound of disintegrating dirt and rubble, I got off lucky. I step back to escape the substance’s heat, only for another splash to land behind me. It splashes onto my hind leg, searing through my pauldron. Thankfully, it stops before it touches my body, but it tore through like fire on paper...

“So that how you want to play, is it?” I growl upwards at the mighty beast. “Wuld n—” I break out in a fit of coughing. I made the mistake of inhaling. Now I can barely breathe, having to lean on my sword for support once again. “Wu—” I keep hacking. My eyes sting and my nostrils burn… I can do this… A moment of pain for my survival... “Wu-uld…” I dart forward, just barely escaping my toxic prison.

I stand, ignorant of how much my insides hurt. It’s like my organs have turned to glass. I feel like I’m about to retch again, but I hold it in. I stop using my sword as a crutch and keep walking. I have nowhere to go but forward.

“That’s it. One step after the other,” I hear Shokenda say. “The dogma that all your kind insists upon, never faltering, never wavering, never accepting an end.” She lands in front of me. She’s visibly furious. That I survived, or that she wasn’t the one to reduce me to this state. “I truly hate you, Caro. You and the rest of equinekind. The fact that my brethren harbor any sympathy for you fills me with disgust.”

“Bre...thren… You mean… Celina…?”

Shokenda clicks her tongue, shaking her head. “And here I thought you would have come to know by now. ...Or, at least, I would expect Hammerfell to know.”

I’m too weak to attack her for daring to mention his name. All I can do is gasp, “Master…”

Shokenda steps away from me, walking towards the dragon. The dragon is too focused on me to pay her any mind, until she looks up. He looks at her, momentarily angered, but then his expression shifts into a state of understanding.

“Kill him.”

The dragon nods, flaring out his wings and advancing. The ground trembles, as do I. Tears of frustration and grievance start to fall.

I’m so sorry, Tohro…

“Dovahkiin!!”

My tears halt. I know that voice. I heard it once before, echoing off the walls of a dark cave, pleading for my acceptance. I had thought differently about dragons back then, but this one helped change me into what I am now…

I turn and see the grey dragon flying towards me. “Sahvot?!” My mouth opens in disbelief as he lands beside me, the ensuing quake like a gentle reassurance.

“Faal vax!!” Shokenda exclaims.

Sahvot gets in front of me, his tail nearly grazing my body as he braces for the incoming attack. The acidic dragon charges into Sahvot, who blocks the blow with his arms and pushes back against the gigantic beast. Compared to him, Sahvot looks like a child against a hardened warrior, but he’s a fierce one nonetheless, and he saved me.

“Nid aal haalvut faal Dovahkiin. He saved my life. I now return the favor. Leave this place or die, Almoskir.”

The acidic dragon, who I know now is called Almoskir, holds his arm. Sahvot’s claws cut him deep. “Zu'u lor Zu'u lost sizaan hi... Hi los zuk qolor fein Zu'u lor.”

Sahvot must have been pursuing Almoskir. That would explain a lot. No doubt Sahvot has become sympathetic towards Dragonrein’s efforts, but to think he would come to my aid…

I’m unable to muster a word of appreciation before Sahvot’s scaly tail knocks the wind out of me, blowing me back in time for me to witness the smaller dragon’s weight drag along the ground by his claws. A powerful crunch connects with his back against a large boulder, the two dragons now several yards apart before Almoskir begins his charge again.

I watch astonished at the display; Sahvot swiftly maneuvers behind the boulder, scrapes it up with a single claw, and smashes it into the larger dragon’s maw, crumbling into mere pebbles on contact. Sahvot follows up with a earth-shaking strike of his tail combined with his entire body weight, sending Almoskir stumbling backwards before another strike with a claw leaves him crashing to his back.

Sahvot moves to pin the fallen dragon, but the contrast between their body weights are too great for it to last long. Amoskir easily shoves Sahvot away. The two dragons are on their feet once again. Despite landing most of the blows in the short amount of time, Sahvot is left desperately catching his breath, his heavy heaves revealing that he’s not as strong as he looks.

This time around, Sahvot makes the first move, as he charges forth with claws at the ready. Before my eyes can even catch the counterattack for myself, Amoskir has the smaller dragon pinned by the neck under his much thicker tail. The spikes upon the tail dig into Sahvot, piercing his scales and slathering his body in blood.

I call out, joined by the voices of every dragon inside of me. “Sahvot!”

My strength returns. My throat no longer hurts. I start to gallop, every bound making strides even the fastest pegasus would gape at. I’ve never felt such speed before.

Almoskir raises his tail again, ready to land a finishing strike. I won’t allow it. I stand between Sahvot and the impending death that approaches him. My sword raised up high, my hind legs digging into the ground, I take in Almoskir’s attack.

Sparks fly as the spikes grind against my sword. Yet, thanks to Rosemary’s expert crafting, hardly a dent is put into the blade. Alas, the soul gems are all but drained, so I can’t push the tail away… I turn my head towards Sahvot. “Get up!” I yell.

Sahvot brings his arms around me and rises. He snatches Almoskir’s tail, yanking hard. Aloskir cries out as he stumbles forward, helpless to recover as Sahvot cocks his arm back and rams his clenched hand into Aloskir’s head. I can hear bones shatter. Sahvot then brings his hand back around, flaring his claws and slashing through Aloskir’s wound, tearing out muscle, scales, and a fresh splattering of warm blood.

I feel a nudge at my side. Sahvot presents his other hand to me, setting it on the ground and opening it. “Aav zey, Caro. If you trust me.”

“I do,” I say without pause. Even if I myself were reluctant to step onto his palm, I can feel the trust of the dragons in me.

Sahvot lifts me up quickly. He doesn’t have much time before Almoskir is able to recover, despite his utterly destroyed face. It has only served to make him angrier. “Nid groso... Nid aaz... Hin klus fen kos dii zurgah!” he screams.

I jump onto Sahvot’s head and stand between his horns. “We’re with you,” my dragons and I say.

~Vision End~

~Tohro~

Why doesn’t this hurt? Why does my burnt, bleeding, utterly wrecked body not feel any pain? Is it the red potion being shoved down my throat? Is it the sages’ healing magic piecing my skin back together? Is it the dawning comprehension that I survived yet another encounter with the hag I once worshiped? No, I don’t think it’s any of those things…

“Tohro. Tohro!” I hear Shae call out to me. “Are you awake? Can you see me?”

Yes, I can see her. She looks beyond distraught, not that I can blame her. This battle is several levels of hell, all rolled into one. I’ve lost so many soldiers. I expected that much, but it still pained me to see them fall, unable to witness the outcome of their efforts. Without me, being out there to assist them in the stoppering of the pass, I can’t be certain of how this will all end.

That being the case, why am I happy?

Shae takes my hoof, holding it in an iron grip. Such a worrier, this one. “Hello, there,” I say to her. My voice, at its loudest, is just a whisper. Did Shokenda damage my vocal chords? I wouldn’t think her above that. “How are things?”

“It’s awful…” she says. “We’re only able to save so many soldiers. I shouldn’t have come here… I can’t take all of this death. I’ve seen so many amputated limbs, ponies gasping their last breaths, I… I can’t get the stench of blood out.”

I smile up at her. “You’re getting scared over nothing… You used to be so calm. What happened to you?”

“Tohro, you…” She looks like she wants to tell me something, but there’s a wall in front of her. Her hoof covers her neck. For a moment, I swear I see her eyes flash red. “It’s none of your concern.” She immediately reverts to her worried state. “You’re hurt, Tohro. Just stay as you are and let me heal you.”

Shae clasps her hooves together and prepares another healing spell. I’ll never grow used to the sensation of fur and skin growing and shifting so quickly. It’s like my body is stitching itself together, against its own will. Nevertheless, whatever pain I can feel is rapidly fading.

Another sage approaches Shae. “His wounds are deep. If he hopes to get back on his hooves, it will take more than piecing him back together,” she says. “Feed him some more healing vials and put him to sleep.”

“No chance for an appetizer first?” I ask. The sage doesn’t reply, though Shae finds it in her to chuckle. “There’s a smile.”

I part my lips and accept more of the potion into my mouth. It’s a stronger, thicker substance than what I’m used to, and I have a little difficulty swallowing it. It hurts as it goes down my throat.

Shae focuses for a few seconds, then casts another spell that envelopes my body. I start to feel numb. “You’ll fall asleep in just a few minutes,” she says. “I’m not going to lie… When you wake up, you’ll probably be in worse pain than you were when you arrived.”

“It won’t hurt,” I say. “I may not be at my prettiest, but I’ve never felt so alive.”

“Well… Sometimes it takes getting close to death to realize how much of a gift life can be.”

She is so clueless. Divines bless her. I don’t know how I can truly explain myself, but I know that Shae will understand. I’m sure she’s experienced what I’ve gone through, though not in the exact same way.

“Shae…”

“Yes?”

“When…” It’s getting difficult for me to speak. Why couldn’t she wait a little longer to cast that sleep spell? Ah, it’s because she cares so damn much. “When did… did you realize that… you love Rosemary?”

Shae looks away from me and sits down on her haunches. “Well, uh…” She smiles again, thank Epona. “I guess… It was when she braved the wrath of an entire cult and a dragon to come and save my life. I knew she loved me long before then, but I didn’t know for certain that I could return the favor until…”

I complete her line of thought. “You could have died in that cave, and of all the things you thought about before the end, you found yourself thinking of her.”

“Yes… Yes, that’s exactly right.”

Everything is becoming a blur. My eyelids are as heavy as boulders. My head slumps against the pillow. Dammit, I don’t want to sleep just yet…

Caro…

~Vision End~

~Caro~

Sahvot cries out in rage and pain as Almoskir’s teeth sink into his arm. The acidic bastard bites down hard, locking himself in. The way he pulls, he seems keen on ripping Sahvot’s arm clean off. Not if I have any say in the matter. And with the power of several dragons backing me up, oh, how I do.

What would be a momentous effort to anyone else, leaping the distance from one dragon to another, is easy for me. I land on Sahvot’s twitching hand and face Almoskir. I trust the dragons in me to know what to do. “Zahkrii bel kinz… zuk!”we shout. Ten golden swords above my head. I take the hilt of one in my mouth and leap at Almoskir’s jaw. I embed the blade into his scales. I doubt he feels it, but he will in a moment… I’m not sure how, but I’m sure this will lead me to victory.

I leap off of Sahvot’s hand, taking my nine remaining blades with me. I send two of the swords to stab Almoskir’s shoulder, and as I descend down his arm, send three more into his hand. I hit the ground hard, leaving impact marks where I land. I have four swords left, I better make them count…

As I gallop to the leg, I send two of my remaining swords into Almoskir’s stomach, then take the last two in my hooves as I leap through the air. I land the swords in his foot.

“Well done, Caro. Allow me,” says Malyol. I let him into me, feeling his power taking control of my throat. “Kaag!” he shouts through me.

The swords come alight and detonate with a force more powerful than any bomb I’ve ever seen. It starts at Almoskir’s jaw, with muscle and bone falling to the ground in pieces. He immediately legs go of Sahvot. The rest of his body is ravaged by the exploding blades as well, with his arm, leg, and stomach all torn to shreds. He falls to the ground, hissing with pain and anger.

Malyol speaks again. “Run. Now.”

Just when I think this whole ordeal has me exhausted, another reservoir of strength is untapped. My my hooves move furiously, as if the dragons control them as much as I do. My view of the sky is eclipsed by the larger dragon’s scaly underbelly, a thought which occupies my head a mere second before I’m found throwing myself to avoid Almoskir’s earth-shattering stomp.

I’ve entrusted my body to the dragons, not allowing a single thought of doubt to cloud my head. Because of this, a claw resting open and bare in front of my hooves nearly catches me off guard, my eyes tracing the hand up to the shoulder to discover that it belongs to a saving grace.

“Sahvot,” I say with relief. I hop aboard and let him take me back to my perch atop his head.

Almoskir is livid, his nostrils fuming and his distorted eyes dilated. He rises from his fall and digs his claws into the ground. He seems to care not for his exposed muscle tissue. He opens his mouth.

We all know what to do. “Jaaril lahspaan helt zuk!” we yell with a harmonic ring. I can feel my power leave my body as it manifests itself into a wall of light in front of me. I was just in time. The trail of acid only makes it so far as it splashes into my shield.

Almoskir isn’t done yet. He lets out an enraged roar and charges at the shield. I don’t expect it to hold up for very long against him. He cracks it with just a shoulder check. Several shards fall off when he hits it a second time.

“Hold on tight,” says Sahvot. He crouches down, as do I.

Almoskir shatters the shield with a fierce punch, immediately charging through as the shards fade away. His claws and fangs are at the ready, hungry for the kill.

Sahvot has none of it. He grabs Alomskir’s arms and forces them upwards. “Fus ro dah!”he shouts. Almoskir’s head is thrown backwards, leaving him defenseless against Sahvot, who ensnares him by the shoulders. Despite being easily outmatched in size, Sahvot still manages to lift him up, bring him over his head, and take him down. Almoskir’s head hits the ground first, with the rest of his body shaking the ground as it falls after.

“You filthy… vax…” Almoskir sputters out. “Turning your back on your own kind—”

“Why would he want to be associated with creatures like you?” Rasahrel says through me. “Those blinded to all reason and forced into the servitude of a vorohah jun. Saviikaan’s time is over. He needs to accept that.”

“Sister.” Almoskir seems to recognize Rasahrel’s voice. “You always were easily swayed. Has the key seduced you so?”

“I have grown fond of this stallion, I admit,” she says. Ah, she might make me blush. “But, for the most part, I simply despise you.”

“Then take solace in that I give this victory to you. Not that it will mean much.” Almoskir chuckles, getting back on his arms and legs.

Sahvot is quick to react, attempting to hold him down, but it’s not enough. Almoskir throws him off easily. I end up losing my balance, having to hold on to Sahvot’s horns to keep myself from falling. My connection with Rasahrel is upset, causing her to go quiet. I regain control of my voice. “What are you talking about?!” I yell.

“Dovahkiin. I know that your fellow equines are gathered not too far from here. I can smell them.”

I hear a faint whistling in my ears. “No.”

Dust rises from the ground as Almoskir spreads his wings. He’s taking off. And if he gets away…

“Sahvot!” I yell, tapping my dragon companion on the head.

I was so distraught, I hadn’t noticed that Sahvot is also readying himself for flight. “Geh, I know. He will not harm our fahdon.”

Friends.

Sahvot doesn’t have time to rise gracefully. His start is like an angry politician barging in on a meeting. He’s fast, abrupt, and he causes everything to shake. I keep an iron grip on his horn as the edges of my vision stretch out and blur, cold air assaulting my fur, my mane trailing behind me.

All the while, I’m fixated on Almoskir. He flies slower than I would expect, likely due to his injuries… To say they’re injuries is putting it lightly; his blood is like rain. He won’t get far.

He sweeps through the pass, drawing the eyes of many Imperial soldiers and Blackwings alike, who stop their fighting to gaze up in awe, and simultaneously cower.

Despite being at death’s door, Almoskir still finds it in himself to gloat. “Such is the nature of you equines. You kneel to us… You must kneel to us, even if you do not think it.”

“Do not listen to him!” Sahvot yells. “This is exactly as he has done with the Dovahkiin before you.”

“I’ve been broken too often to fall for mere words,” I say.

Sahvot continues to close the distance between us and our foe. Almoskir seems to have no intents of saving his strength, giving it his all to cross the battlefield to the Imperial camp. Of all the dragons I’ve fought, this sordid attempt to take the lives of defenseless, vulnerable bystanders is by far the greatest sin any of them could commit.

Then again, when I look below and see the lifeless husks of hundreds of soldiers, Imperial and Blackwing alike, I consider that I may be exaggerating. A few dozen sages mean little compared to this greater number of soldiers.

I know the difference between the sages and these soldiers, though; the sages are still alive, and they did not come here to be torn apart by a dragon. Death at the hooves of an equal would be preferable. Even more so, they should all live… If only that were possible.

“Can you strike him from this distance?” Sahvot asks.

I look ahead at Almoskir. He’s ill-prepared to deflect any of my attacks, but I don’t think anything direct, like fire or lightning, can breach his armor. No, my best option is to disable him, so Sahvot can go in for the kill.

“Iiz diin naak!” I shout. A streak of blue flies from my mouth, directly at Almoskir’s tail. The instant it connects with him, spikes of ice spring forth and consume his tail. His wings flap sporadically, his arms flailing as he tries to maintain altitude, but he can’t hold it. He’s going to fall.

But he seems prepared for this too. He steers into his fall, heading towards a canyon wall. He swings around and smashes his tail against the wall, shattering the ice, but his tail is ripe with scratches, dented out of shape. Also, he’s vulnerable.

Sahvot blows a stream of fire at Almoskir as he goes in for the kill. Almoskir glides out of the way, just barely avoiding Sahvot’s angry fist, which tears right through the wall.

“Just as the infestation tore Saviikaan’s kingdom asunder, all equinekind and its supporters are capable of is destruction,” gloats Almoskir.

“The Precursors doomed themselves!” Sahvot yells, brandishing his claws.

Almoskir dives to dodge the attack, turning away and flying off again. “Irrelevant. Return they shall, ready to obey Saviikaan... Just as it was before, our kingdom will reach the heavens themselves.” As he speaks, he turns his head to the sky and quickly ascends.

“He’s trying to lose us,” I say to Sahvot.

“It won’t happen.” Sahvot kicks off the remains of the canyon wall and pursues once again. The clouds grow larger as we fly higher. I can feel frost forming at the tips of my mane. I ignore it and keep my grip, bracing for the moment when we breach the clouds and rise above, where Almoskir can’t hide.

The moment we hit the clouds, moisture and ice batter my face. I close my eyes, grit my teeth, and hunker down close to Sahvot. He is my lifeline in all of this… I wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for him, a dragon… I should be more confused, torn, and unsure about all of this. I’m allying with one of the very things I have sworn to kill. But then again… I’ve fought alongside dragons since I first killed Nahkriin, haven’t I? No, it’s more than that. Master has always been a dragon, simply choosing to take the form of a stallion. So I’ve had dragons on my side since I was born.

The soul is what matters. The form is irrelevant. That is why I accept Sahvot’s companionship; our souls are alligned.

We shatter the last layer of cloud to reveal an endless blue sky, with the sun shining off in the west, early in its descent. This would be an ordinary sight to pegasi, but I’m seeing this for the first time, and words just aren’t enough… If only my first time witnessing this were with Tohro.

Almoskir is gone from sight, nowhere to be found in any direction. “Damn…” I growl. “He must have given us the slip in the clouds.”

“I haven’t lost his scent. Give me some time…” Sahvot cranes his neck and inhales. “This way.” He soars along the clouds, his eyes scanning and his nostrils flaring as he seeks out our foe. “Move onto my back, Caro. I need to keep an eye out, and accidentally throwing you off is not in either of our best interests.”

“I agree,” I say with a smile. I slowly let go of Sahvot’s horns and walk down his body. Thank the Divines for my good posture; a lesser pony would be subject to a long fall.

“I wish to confess something to you,” says Sahvot. “Might I do so?”

“By all means,” I reply.

“I know what it is to be full of vengeance and hatred for a species that isn’t my own. I harbored so much anger against you equines after I was taken hostage by the zealot.”

“Sacred Rite?” I still have bad dreams about her death, and how she begged for release, but Tohro’s words blocked me from delivering her request. “I can see why… She was the worst of our kind, but she’s gone now.”

“That she is, and I owe that to you, and your friends. Had the unicorn not happened along, had I endured just one more week in that pit, I would have never found it in me to accept key as anything but bottom feeders, just as how Saviikaan sees you.” Sahvot turns towards me. Much like with Master, I can see emotions beyond anger and loathing, and they seem strange on the face of a dragon. Yet, they are no less welcome. “Knowing that the good ones of your kind don’t stand for injustice and stride for a better world, that is what gives me hope. The Precursors never had such ambition…”

“They were content to take in the dragons’ leadership without question? Never pursuing anything beyond Saviikaan’s approval?”

Sahvot seems surprised. “Precisely. Who told you this?”

“My master. Hammerfell. You might know him.”

“He’s still alive?!” Sahvot exclaims with a roar of surprise. He turns away and faces the horizon, as furious as any dragon I’ve seen. At least he’s angry for the right reasons. “When we first attempted to take back this land, Saviikaan insisted that Hammerfell was dead. Then again, why should I be so surprised? Saviikaan hated Hammerfell for sympathizing with his subjects, taking on the name they chose for him rather than forcing them to speak his own… He was the exact opposite to Saviikaan in every way.”

“And that is why the ponies of Neigh Hrothgar worship him. He’s an earthly god that deserves recognition, unlike Saviikaan or Shokenda…” I trail off, looking away as I contemplate something. “Huh.”

“Is something the matter?” Sahvot asks. “I might have an inkling—”

A patch of clouds erupts just in front of us. Sahvot leans upright, flaring out his wings as he tries to come to a halt. The sudden stop causes me to smack my face against his back. I’m disoriented, flailing my forelegs blindly as I try to find something to grab onto. By some miracle, I manage to get a grip on Sahvot’s spines, but it’s not ideal. They’re sharp. Very sharp. But I’ve had worse than a few deep cuts.

Almoskir has risen from the clouds. He broadsides Sahvot, who takes the blow without complaint. He isn’t as resilient against the next attack, which comes in the form of a slash across his shoulder. Almoskir strikes several times, drawing more and more blood every time he cuts into Sahvot.

Why isn’t Sahvot moving? Why doesn’t he try to dodge? He might throw me off, but that's beside the point.

...He’s willing to die for me, isn’t he?

Sahvot inhales and spits out a stream of fire that wards off Almoskir. It doesn’t last for long, though. The flames sputter out when Sahvot winces, grabbing his gaping wound.

With Sahvot’s wing flaps shaking me, the spins are grinding further into my legs. I can feel them tearing my muscles. I have to convince myself it doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t hurt. It’ll heal. I’ll be fine…

“Hold on, Caro!”

I look beneath me, but there’s nothing there for me to safely land on. It’s just clouds and sky. I might be able to survive the fall, with a little help from the Thu’um, but I would be leaving Sahvot to his own wits, and he won’t stand a chance without me. Either we stay together, or we both go down. “Just keep up your guard! I’ll be there!”

Almoskir is preparing another rain of acid, and I’m in no place to summon a shield. I can’t focus my power, and I need to concentrate on a single area for longer than this constant shaking will allow. Sahvot will have to dodge, and that won’t do me any favors.

Sahvot dives, tucking his body and rolling out of the range of the acid spray, but I lose my grip in the process. I’m flung into the air, trails of blood leaving my legs as they’re removed from Sahvot’s spines. For a terrifying second, I’m exposed to the open air, with a mile drop to the world below.

It takes me a moment to realize I’ve been caught in a familiar hand. My heart throbs as I lay my head on Sahvot’s soft scales. If I had the means, I would embrace him. For a moment, he reminds me of Master, in the way he stares down at me with warmth in his eyes. A dragon with genuine gratitude for the life of a little pony.

Almoskir’s claws pierce through Sahvot’s body, breaking out of his chest.

Collectively, every dragon in me calls out at once, joining my voice. “BROTHER!!”

Sahvot appears unsurprised, as if unaware of what just happened. His body seems to realize it before he does. His head sways, his wings flap once before going lax, and his arms fall to his sides, leaving me to roll off and go into a fall once again.

Sahvot falls towards me as we pass through the cloud layer. I reach out to him, hoping that I can take in his soul as the lights leave his eyes. He has the same thought. He weakly raises his wings, trying to angle them so he can fall towards me.

Almoskir appears out of a thick bundle of clouds, flying at frightening speed. He snatches Sahvot’s arm, bending it past any way an arm should ever bend, until I hear a snap. Sahvot is too weak to cry out. Almoskir then grabs him by the neck, opens his mouth, and bites. He tears at Sahvot’s neck, ripping out half of its mass in a single bite. Anything that remains doesn’t last, as Almoskir sprays enough acid to consume Sahvot’s face. His scales, muscle, and skull all erode before my eyes.

I close my eyes as the grotesque discord of rotting flesh and bone fills my ears, all the while gritting my teeth from the pain. The pain of my bleeding legs. The pain of the cold ice and wind assaulting my back. The pain of every single dragon within me as we hear the violent death of our brother. It’s a second that lasts an eternity, and how I want it to just end, one way or another...

“It’s over, little one…” Rasahrel whispers to me, her voice shaking. “Please, open your eyes.”

I do as she says, even though I don’t want to.

Sahvot is dead. No corpse to be seen. No proof that he even existed. No soul for me to collect. Almoskir consumed it all. And he’s smiling. I try to shout, but my voice is consumed in the void.

Rasahrel is right. It’s over.

I’m throttling through the air, at the mercy of the elements and an inevitable rain of acid that will either take my life or leave me unable to keep myself from softening my impact with the ground.

I look down. Somehow, through the maelstrom of ice and wind and blood, I can see the Imperial camp. I know Shae is there. I know several soldiers, wounded and healthy alike, are there. With any luck, Tohro and Gauntlet have found their way there by now, and will be brought back to proper health. They’re all getting along so well without me, aren’t they?

Except for one loose end. The dragon above me, who would gladly see them put to a horrid death. First comes me, then all of them.

I’ll save him the trouble of the former.

As my blood runs gold, and my eyes shine bright, I realize what I have to do. Being suspended a mile in the air suddenly doesn’t seem like such an obstruction, and a single acid-spitting beast doesn’t seem like much of a threat.

I have my sword. I’ll need at least a little power if I want to make this work, but the gems are depleted of soul, so I have nothing to use against Almoskir.

"So I use the sword's power to strike my enemy down and take their essence, which fills the soul gem, which charges the weapon..."

Maybe I was wrong to assume this sword only fills itself when it takes in an enemy’s essence. Maybe it can work on anypony. Maybe…

I look at my left foreleg, only needing an instant to decide. It’s just one leg. Not as if I’ll be using any of my legs by the time I’m done here.

The strength of the dragons allows me to resist the wind as I raise my sword up high. I cast out my foreleg and bring the blade down on myself.

In a single, almost perfect swing, my foreleg is gone, lost to the air. And yet, oddly, it feels as though it’s still there. For a second, I almost miss it. My only regret to this decision is the fountain of blood that drains from what remains of my foreleg. Makes it a little difficult to keep my focus.

Most importantly, it worked. One of the soul gems has come alight, filled with my own essence. I cock my sword back with my remaining foreleg. The dragons provide me with the knowledge of how far back I must hold it, where I should let go, and in what direction I should aim. Their collective minds tell me exactly what needs to be done.

It all happens slowly, just as Almoskir opens his mouth, ready to let loose another torrent of acid. He won’t get the chance.

“Swing your leg forward,” says Malyol.

“Let go of the sword now,” says Hevnodiin.

“Trust it to know the way,” says Nahkriin.

My sword rotates through the air. It travels in a curve, colliding with Almoskir’s mouth the instant it opens up all the way. There’s a burst of white light, which destroys several of his teeth, and severs his tongue.

Almoskir chokes, grabbing for his neck, gargling on his own acid. That was all he had left. Now he succumbs to every wound Sahvot and I inflicted upon him. His body is decomposing from the inside. His muscles are deteriorating. He is ceasing to be. I may not be able to obtain his soul, but I don’t care. I wouldn’t have much use for it anyway.

“Caro!” Rasahrel yells. “If Almoskir’s corpse lands in the Imperial camp, this won’t mean a damn thing…”

I turn my body and look at the camp once again. Another thought occurs to me.

Master always told me the stories… Ancient heroes who would sacrifice anything just to preserve a single innocent life. I had formed the expectation that such chances came along every day, and I simply needed to keep my eyes open.

My eyes were shut for a long time. When I lost Master, I became the exact opposite of the hero I should have been. I was an insult to my own title. Yes, I killed a few dragons, and perhaps I protected more innocent lives that most have the opportunity to. But I was cruel. Selfish. I desired death more than life. I expected the world to change for me, when I was the one who had to change the world.

If only I could have done better. If only I could have left more alive. If only I hadn’t said some things. If only I had said some things sooner…

That doesn’t matter anymore, because now I see an opportunity to be the hero I’ve always wanted to be. Giving myself up for something greater. The Empire. The soldiers. The sages. My friends. Tohro…

I best make these next two shouts count, because they will be my last. After that, the rest of the world can decide what happens next.

I finally find the strength to speak. The elements now obey me, because they’re not what’s important here. What’s important is that I get to the camp before Almoskir, and there’s only one way to do that.

“WULD NAH KEST!!”

~Vision End~

~Tohro~

I wake to yet another sting, this time in my chest. I try to clamp my hoof to it, but I’m too weak.

“Blimey, Shae… Let me know before you start. Hurts like a—”

Shae plants her hoof on my lips. “Shh. Talking only makes it worse.” She resumes the healing, taking a rag that’s been dipped in another red potion and dabbing it on the seams of my wounds. Oh, how I wish a strong mentality were enough to put the pain to rest. Everything that happened earlier was just an induced high that allowed me to deny how much my body hurts.

Induced by what, though? The answer should be obvious. It’s the very reason I’m still smiling right now. I haven’t felt like this in a long time, and even then, I never felt it in this particular way.

Shae gives me a smile in return. I’m glad that she went out of her way to heal me, but more than anything, I want somepony else here. But he’s fighting hard, securing safety on the battlefield for me and everypony else out there.

Shae rinses out her rag and goes on to where she’s needed next. By the darkness lining her eyes, I can tell she needs rest, but I know she’s not going to. She’ll push on through all of this pain. She’s become a strong mare. She’s thick skinned, all the way through. Not at all like me… One thing seeps through me, like Shokenda’s hoof, and I’m useless to everypony.

But I won’t stop fighting. There will never be a reason for me to stop fighting, until I can have that quiet, peaceful life I’ve always dreamed of…

I hear a rumble, and a crash. A flash of light shines through the tent. I hear some of the sages yelling. The shield must have been broken. Have the elites arrived?

Shae is the first one in the tent to look outside. She looks worried, for a moment, but when she sees what everypony else is looking at, she looks outright horrified. “CARO!”

No.

Shae leaves the tent, with me still lying here. It’s clear that she expects me to stay and heal, but I can’t wait for this. I need to get up. I need to see him. Whatever’s happened to him, even if I’m no good to help fix it, I want to be there for him. It’s what he’d do for me.

Against all logic and pain. I rise from the bed. My chest and stomach feel as though they’re full of splinters, and my hooves refuse to work with me. Dammit, move! You’ve been through worse.

I move my body all at once. I roll off the bed, hitting the ground hard. A sharp pain shoots through my whole body. I cry out, just a little bit, but that doesn’t stop me from moving. I drag myself, bandages and all, inch by inch, to the entrance of the tent.

I don’t want to believe what I’m seeing. A part of the sages’ shield has been shattered, leaving a gaping hole, and Caro lies beneath it, lying on his side with his mouth open, and his eyes closed. From head to hoof, he’s covered in blood. His left foreleg is gone. It doesn’t look like he’s moving.

No, no. Divines, no. Don’t do this to me.

I reach out, plant my hoof into the ground, and pull myself forward. I don’t go very far, but I do it again. I feel weaker with every pull, yet I keep going. I manage to get close to Caro, before all the bystanders start to crowd around him.

“Tohro, what are you doing?!” Shae says in a panic. I don’t reply to her. She kneels down to Caro and conjures up a healing spell. I don’t think that’s going to be enough, but she can try her damndest. I start feeling a little more hopeful when the other sages follow her example.

“Caro…” I stroke his bloodstained cheek. “Please, open your eyes.”

Nothing happens. Open closer inspection, I can see that he’s still breathing, but it’s like a lesser animal’s breath, being fast and weak.

“Everyone’s here for you, Caro. We’ve been waiting for you to come back. We need you.” I brush my other hoof through his mane. “I need you.”

His eyes open, and my heart jumps. For a second, my pain fades away again. I’m at a loss for what to say next. I never considered how I would tell him the truth. I figured the words would just come to me.

Caro seems to know the word, though. He always does. He parts his bloodied lips and speaks in a dry, weak voice. “F…Feim…”

“What?”

“...zii… gr...on…” Caro looks at me, a weak smile crossing his lips. “...f...fahdon…”

It feels like a breeze is passing over me. Suddenly, my body feels lighter. My pain is a distant throb, and it’s less of a constant presence, now being more of a suggestion; I know my wounds are here, but I don’t quite notice them.

I look at myself to see what’s happened. I’ve lost my white coat. My entire body is turning translucent. I look up at Shae to ask her what’s going on, and see that she’s going through the same transformation. I can see the tent through her body, as well as another translucent pony. Everypony in the camp seems to be going through this transformation at once.

I remember this. Caro used this ability to avoid getting mauled by the chimera. While he was like this, the beast passed right through him, and he stepped away unharmed. Now he’s granted us the same protection…

It only takes the scream of a sage and a quick glance upwards to see why he did this. The decaying remains of a dragon are falling from the sky, cloaking the camp in shadow. It doesn’t matter how strong the shield is; it can’t withstand that much weight.

The dragon crashes into the shield, and there’s only a brief moment of resistance before it shatters and disappears. The dragon comes down, hitting the ground and causing a mighty tremor.

It would be a horrifying sight if it weren’t for the assurance that the dragon can’t hurt us. Those that were caught in its fall end up walking right out of its body, alarmed but by no means hurt. They move away from the dragon with speed.

All goes quiet. We’re all alive, and another great threat has been put to rest by the Dragonborn. This should be a happy occasion, but it couldn’t have come at a worse time. Why did the dragon have to come here now, in the middle of the Empire’s greatest battle? Why, when victory was on the horizon, did everything fall apart? Why did Caro have to end up like this? Why is this happening?!

I take a fearful look across the gorge. I see the Blackwings watching from afar, coming to the realization that our last line is gone. I know what they’re going to do next. They’ll sacrifice anyone and anything to ensure their victory.

We’re not going to win this battle.

What’s worse is that the dragon seems keen on taking us to the grave with him. As he rots, acid drains from its scales, coalescing into a pool. It grows rapidly. It will consume the camp, along with all of our supplies, weapons, carriages, and should Caro’s shout wear off, our lives.

Rosemary dashes out from her tent. “We have to go! Now!”

A single soldier raises his hoof in protest. “But we can still fight!”

“No, we can’t.” Captain Gauntlet stumbles out of the infirmary, sans his gear, with his hoof clutching his shoulder. “There’s nothing here worth fighting for. It’s over. Stop what you’re doing and leave. Doesn’t matter where you go.”

“We can’t push any of the cots while we’re like this!” exclaims one of the sages. “We’d have to carry the wounded.”

“Then do so! Get as many out as you can! We’re going!” Captain Gauntlet signals every nearby soldier and ushers them away. “Wounded take priority!”

I suppose that means I’ll have to carry Caro. I turn to him, thanking every Divine I can think of that he’s still moving, and that his eyes are open. I reach my forelegs around him, but they just pass right through him.

He wasn’t able to cast the spell on himself. I can’t touch him. I won’t be able to get him out of here…

“No.” My heart goes numb. “No, no, please!”

I keep trying to touch him, but my forelegs keep passing through him. There’s nothing I can do… But I have to help him! If he were in my place, he’d find a way! He’d do something! I can save him, somehow! I just need time… I need more time…

“Tohro!” Rosemary yells. “Let’s get a move on!” She approaches me and holds out her hoof.

I’m about to scream at her, tell her that she’s being selfish beyond all reason, but when I look at her, I see the grief in her expression. Grim acceptance.

Fine. That’s how she’ll go about it. I’m staying here with him. Even if I can’t touch him, I know he can at least see me. I wrap my forelegs around his neck and bring myself as close to him as I can without passing through him. I can feel what little of his warmth remains.

It’s okay… Nothing can hurt him as long as I’m here…

I hear him choke. His head starts to turn, and his eyelids drop.

I shake my head. I can’t accept this. “N-No, you can’t! I…”

Rosemary yanks on my hind leg. “Tohro!”

“NO!” I buck her in the chest, causing her to reel. I don’t care about how much I hurt her. All that matters is this. “I love you, Caro! See?! I said it! Can’t you hear me?! You can’t die! Don’t leave me! I lo—”

“Okay, that’s it!” Rosemary comes around and strikes me in the jaw. My voice fails, for a second, but more than that, I’m stunned enough for Rosemary to lift me up by my waist and put me over her back. I’m too weak to resist her.

“YOU BASTARD!” I scream, flailing and weakly hitting Rosemary with my barely movable limbs. “PUT ME DOWN! JUST LET ME BE WITH HIM!”

“I’m sorry…”

“CARO! CAROOOOOOOOOOO!!!”

XL - Bedside Manner

~Caro~

I’m not dead.

But, damn, if I didn’t try…

At the very least, I’m able to recognize that I’m not awake. I know because I can’t smell anything, or feel the ground… The fact that there’s even a ground at all amazes me. If I could feel the ground, it would be coarse, and the ash would stain my coat.

My coat… I’m not wearing armor anymore. Even if I can’t feel anything, it’s still a relief to be out of it. I swear on my life, as little as that means anymore, I won’t wear that armor ever again if I can help it. Outside of a grand battle, at the very least.

Well, I shouldn’t get ahead of myself. Odds are, I won’t be seeing battle for a long time, if ever… Such a pity. Even in this state of subconsciousness, where my senses are limited, I don’t have my left foreleg. Sliced off at the base, with a layer of skin covering the wound. Not much fur has grown there yet. Walking on three legs, that’ll take getting used to. The hardest part is trying to stand up.

After a few attempts at standing end up with my face in the not-quite-there dirt, I let out a frustrated groan that echoes across the void. Still, I keep trying. I’ve been able to come back from next to nothing before, and this will not be an exception. This time, however, I’m willing to say that one word my past self hated so much.

“Help…”

A white hoof appears to me. An involuntary smile comes onto my muzzle, and my heart pounds so heavily I can feel it in my ears. I knew this one would be here for me. I look up to the source of the hoof.

Much to my disappointment, it’s not exactly who I expect it to be. In fact, I don’t know this pony at all, at least I don’t think I do. I’ve seen so many faces in recent times, I’m sure I’ve forgotten many of them. Although I doubt that I would forget a mare with distinct draconic features. Her tail, muzzle, eyes and wings are all so distinctly those of a dragon.

I can only think of one thing I’ve seen that fits this description. “Dragos?”

“Incorrect. Try again, Caro,” says the dragon mare.

Just hearing her speak is enough for me to figure out who she is. Of course I would recognize her. I’ve only heard her voice for so long. “Rasahrel,” I say, this time sure I have her right.

She nods at me. “Were you awake right now, I’d take control of your body and strike you across the face.”

“I missed you too,” I grumble. I reach out and take her hoof. She pulls me up, allowing me to stand. “Thank you.”

It’s the strangest thing. As far as I’m concerned, the only proof that I don’t have a fourth leg anymore is that it’s not there at all. I still feel it. It’s like that part of me is a ghost, as if I could bring that part of me back through sheer willpower. But I can’t. It’s gone, and it’s not coming back. I accepted that before I cut it off.

I’m more concerned about the unknown, like why Rasahrel has this equine form. She’s beautiful, without a shadow of doubt, but I remember her as a dragon, so seeing her in a pony’s form, at least partially, may take some adjusting on my part.

I smile and gesture to the void around us. “Welcome to my mind. I apologize, the place isn’t very furnished.”

“I should be welcoming you. I’ve actually occupied this place for some time now,” Rasahrel says.

“Is that so?”

“I’m a part of you, Caro. Your body is mine to explore, as it is for the rest of the dragons that you’ve consumed. I’ve long grown used to the wide, empty expanses of your head. Although I have come across some unusual instances…”

I purse my lips, trying to suppress a blush. “Such as?”

“Nothing I can’t understand. Other areas, however…” Rasahrel looks away from me. I think she’s seeing something I cannot. “I have questions. See, none of my fellow dovah know your culture as well as some of us would like. I’d wager It would take more than a few months to know the entire equine race. I would at least like to know a single pony.”

“I’m not going anywhere for a while. What would you like to know?”

“Everything,” she says. “About you. What makes you… this. Why you’ll be the one to kill Saviikaan.”

I move forward, but I can’t do it in the same way as before. I have to move my foreleg out first, put my weight on it, and then move my hind legs. It’s an arduous process, not to mention I move much slower than anypony reasonably should, but I’m moving. That’s what matters.

The void fills with apparitions from my past. I can only recognize a few, as they’re distorted and rippled, like I’m looking at their reflections in a lake. I’m sure I see Riverhoof, as well as Master’s old forge.

“Where do you want to start?”

~Vision End~

CHAPTER XL - BEDSIDE MANNER

In a small shack on the outskirts of Ghastly Gorge, a foal leans over a desk, muttering frustrated words to himself.

“What went wrong… What went wrong?” Boysenberry’s tired voice echoes within the small cabin. The late hour provides little light for him to read by. His withers are hunched and his normally well-groomed mane falls around his head and neck like a mop. He looks more tired and angry than any foal should.

The floor around his hind legs is littered with broken quills and ink bottles. He’s working his magic beyond the level he reasonably should, levitating several quills at once as he jots down notes on a map of Ghastly Gorge. His notes are inconsistent in quality, with his earlier lines of writing being elegant and organized, as per the norm for his works.

Eastern squadron’s initial assault, intercepted by centaurs. Centaurs defeated with passable losses. Charge continues. Corporal Tohro breaks away from group upon arrival at the pass.

He lays another note down, this one in the center of the map. Now his writing has become less articulate.

Shokenda Blackwing’s arrival Situation dire Dragonborn attacks Blackwings regroup Not done yet

Boysenberry bites his lip as he holds his head, growling at himself, as well as the pain riling up in his forehead. This is his third migraine today. He counts himself lucky that he has his medicine with him. He sets his quills down, alleviating some of the pressure, and opens up his pouch. He sorts through the rest of his ink bottles and a few stray coins to find his white potion. Jarl Drake made sure he packed an excess.

As Boysenberry raises the vial to his lips, he hesitates. He swears he can hear laughter. He turns around, looking for the source, but he can’t pinpoint it. The laughing seems to move every time he turns his head. He covers a single ear, but the laughter doesn’t stop. It seems to be even louder. Reluctantly, Boysenberry sets down the vial and covers his other ear. There’s still laughter. He’s hearing it in his mind.

“Away with you,” he says, waving his forelegs. He reaches for the vial’s cork, only for his hoof to stop.

For a moment, he considers whether he really wants to drink it, and whether or not Jarl Drake’s intentions are entirely reasonable. Why should she determine what he puts down his throat? Besides, it’s not as though he needed any medicine before he met her. Yes, a select few tried to hurt him, but he survived just fine on his own. It was their fault for standing in his way of what belonged to him.

Such sweet, succulent gems. Vessels for power untold…

“Child? Are you still awake?”

Boysenberry blinks quickly and looks behind him. Jarl Drake is entering the cabin, lowering her decorated hood. Her horn lights up, and she casts a small light above the table, illuminating Boysenberry’s work. He hadn’t realized how dark it is until now.

“It would seem so.” Boysenberry quickly uncorks the vial, drains it down his throat, and shoves it back in his pouch. His migraine starts to subside, though he can’t help but think it’s only because he’s making an effort to pretend he never had one to begin with. They’re becoming more frequent.

He decides to check over his notes again, looking over the western offensive for what feels like the ninth time.

Blackwing archers lie in wait. Offensive splits into diversion team and stealth operatives. Archers are taken out. Moderate losses. Advance becomes easier and quicker.

He finds a patch of the map that he hasn’t filled in yet. He jots down another note, his handwriting shaken and uneven.

Lieutenant Grappler separated from party by a unicorn elite. Twelve Blackwings arrive. Shot and stabbed. Grappler enters berserk rage. No survivors.

He takes another note, placing it at the gorge, just across from the Imperial camp.

Defensive line dragged into the gorge by pegasus strikers, one survivor.

And another note.

Field sages go to heal scorched soldiers no survivors

And another.

push into pass frozen by line of blackwing unicorns no survivors

Jarl Drake takes a seat across the table from Boysenberry, removing her drenched cloak and laying it on her chair. Her extravagant attire is the rain’s latest victim. A storm had rolled in a few days after the battle, completely washing Ghastly Gorge clean of blood and rot. Yet, even after a week, the stench of a melting dragon is still pungent, and the rain has done little to cleanse solemn thoughts from anypony’s mind.

Except for one pony, it seems. “Why must you obsess with what’s already done?” Jarl Drake asks, scanning over the obsessively noted map.

Boysenberry looks at her as though she had just called him the foulest possible name. “Easy for you to say. You didn’t have much of a part in this battle. Now I understand why Her Majesty isn’t too fond of what you did all those years ago.”

“Funny,” Jarl Drake says with a straight face. “You sound a lot like her right now.”

Boysenberry isn’t about to lose his calm. He keeps a neutral expression as he speaks. “Congratulations to you then, being so able to forget how much it hurts to have the deaths of a hundred soldiers on your hooves. Maybe you can help me through this, then.”

“Blaming yourself for a battle plan collaborated upon by several strategists. I can’t say I sympathize—”

“How fitting for a son to make his mother’s mistake!” Boysenberry shouts. He quickly retracts his voice. “Sorry…”

Jarl Drake folds her forelegs atop the table. “I’m not your mother. But I am happy to know you think of me as such. Should have made that clear years ago. If I had, maybe you wouldn’t have become so anhedonic.”

“I don’t do any of this to make you proud of me, if that’s what you think,” Boysenberry mutters sternly. “I’m simply trying to do my part, that’s all. I want to help. I want to be seen as a good pony, someone that can be respected and looked up to.”

“I respect you.”

“Do you?”

“I made you my court mage. I let you use your brilliant mind. You’ve more than made me glad I did so. You’ve exceeded my expectations. Why are you so insecure about that? You’ve accomplished so much. Why can’t you accept even the slightest mistake? That’s not healthy.” Jarl Drake stands, slowly moving around the table to Boysenberry. She gently lays her hoof on his shoulder. “This... goes deeper than you, doesn’t it? Are you trying to compensate for something? Or someone?”

The jarl’s words strike deep. Like blood from a gaping wound, Boysenberry can’t stop the words from pouring out. “We’re different. From most ponies, I mean,” he says. “Everypony I know in a position of power expects something to give for their shortcomings, or somepony else’s. Just look at Queen Platinum. She spent half her time under the burden of the crown making careless mistakes, and has spent the other half trying to fix them. And look at King Hurricane before her. He made efforts to change Equestria into the exact opposite of his homeland. Even Shokenda’s motivations are understandable. Equestria isn’t how she thinks it should be, so she’s fixing it, albeit in her own insane way...”

Jarl Drake nods. “So this is about compensation. You want to make up for what was lost.”

Boysenberry takes a deep breath and pushes Jarl Drake’s hoof away. “And you didn’t.”

“Oh. Ooooh, my goodness…” The jarl touches her forehead and steps away.

“How do you do it? You have countless missteps in your history. Giving Dragonborn Argent political power, the first battle of Ghastly Gorge, breaking off from the Empire, publicly executing Blackwings…”

“Yes, I made some mistakes. Why is that such a problem?” Jarl Drake shakes her head. “I’ve understood for a while. You want to go beyond what I’ve accomplished, which, to be honest, is very little. But it’s not enough. You must be this flawless king among kings who has a clean record. Everything you touch much turn to crystal or it’s worthless to you or anypony else.” She goes back to her seat and grabs her garment. “I hate to be the one who teaches you this, but the world doesn’t work like that. You will slip and fall. But life is hard enough even without those failings, and you won’t get anywhere pretending they matter in the grand scheme of things. When you spill your potion, just make another one. That’s what my parents told me, and that’s what I’m telling you.”

Boysenberry bows his head. His breath begins to tremble, though it goes unheard by Jarl Drake, who is opening the cabin door. She’s about to step out into the rain again, when Boysenberry speaks in a rattled voice, “Why can’t you accept that you should have just left me on the beach to die?”

Jarl Drake stops just as her hoof touches the dirt outside the cabin. Her expression is grim and still. She only remembers to blink when a drop of rain falls on her face. She turns around and faces Boysenberry.

The child raises his head and opens his eyes. Where his whites should be, there’s an acidic green aura that cuts through the darkness. “You know what this is,” Boysenberry says, his voice echoing through the air. “You’ve known ever since you found me. I was alone. There was fire everywhere. You told me I survived a dragon attack. You lied to me. There was no dragon at Macintosh Coast that day. I destroyed that town.”

Jarl Drake holds up her hoof, gesturing at Boysenberry commandingly. “Yes, I lied about the dragon. But I will not admit that you were responsible for what happened.”

“So… what?” Boysenberry’s hoof crosses his chest. “You’re just going to pass the blame off on this… thing? I’m its host!”

“I swore when I took you in that I’d be the one to get rid of that thing. I won’t let it—”

“Oh, you swear!” Boysenberry yells. “You have the deaths of hundreds on your hooves. What makes you think you can save one life?”

Jarl Drake opens her mouth, ready to give her response, but nothing comes out, besides a weak breath and a defeated sigh. She leans against the doorframe, unable to speak. She raises her foreleg up to her face, holding it up to her eyes to preemptively stop any tears.

Boysenberry is about to speak again when Tohro, clad in a simple robe and several bandages, walks by the cabin. As it has been for the past few days, the young pegasus looks fatigued, and he walks with a limp. Despite that, he somehow finds it in himself to smile. He leans into the cabin and glances over Jarl Drake and Boysenberry. His smile drops when he takes in their bitterness. “Oh, am I interrupting anything?”

Jarl Drake grunts. “No, you’re fine…”

Boysenberry’s green aura disappears. “Has the Dragonborn come around?”

Tohro shakes his head. “No, but his heartbeat is a bit more consistent now, so that’s something.” He puts his smile back on. “That’s something…”

Boysenberry quietly reaches into his pouch and takes out another potion. “It’s odd, really. I was convinced that he would… Granted, he won’t come out of it entirely unscathed, but… Well, you catch my meaning.” He takes a swig from the vial. “Do you think he’s heard you?”

“I’ve been at his side for days, but no, I don’t think that has anything to do with anything… Still, it would be nice if he did hear me. Otherwise, I’ve let this pretty face go to waste for nothing.” Tohro smirks, gesturing to his visible exhaustion. “Still, the sages said it’s all fine and good if I sleep next to him, so you know where to find m… m…” He’s interrupted by a sudden yawn. “...If you need anything.”

“She might,” Boysenberry mutters, keeping a threatening eye turned to Jarl Drake.

~Caro~

“You speak of your hometown so often, it’d be a tad surreal to actually see it,” says Rasahrel. “The way you describe Riverhoof, it’s as though it’s some haven irrelevant to this plane of reality, or any other.”

“I can understand that much,” I reply. “I’m sure that if I saw the old kingdoms, or even the Precursor cities, they would look nothing like I imagine.”

“I could describe them to you.” Rasahrel casts her hoof up to where the sky would be. “Imagine towers suspended from the clouds, held in place by an older breed of magic that likes of which your kind has yet to discover. Their temples, which were dedicated to us dovah, were the only buildings allowed to breach the clouds.”

“What happened if anything other than a temple went above the clouds?” I ask, though I’m pretty sure I know the answer.

Sure enough, Rasahrel draws her hoof across her neck. It’s still so bizarre to see her without claws. “Saviikaan was ruthless. Hard to believe I ever admired him…”

“He drew you in by making you fear him, and you deluded yourself into thinking that was a good enough reason to worship him. Trust me, that’s a story I’ve heard told time and time again.”

Rasahrel bows her head, sighing heavily. “So much of my kind is a slave to his whim, unaware of how they suffer in his shadow.”

“And yet, he served her anyway…”

“Huh?” Rasahrel looks at me with a cocked brow. Before I can clarify, she nods. “Oh. I understand. That Shokenda Blackwing… I imagine she’s livid at how many times she’s let you and your friends slip through her grasp.”

“She can’t seem to make up her mind on whether I should live or die. She’s an indecisive one, and that just makes her all the more difficult to read. But it doesn’t matter what she wants from me. If I die, or let her have her way, Everfree will fall. I can’t let that happen.”

“Don’t let it fall!” I hear a familiar voice call out. It’s familiar for two reasons; not only is that Master Hammerfell’s equine voice, it’s also something I somewhat remember him saying to me several years ago.

There I am, a mere child with a proper mane of bronze, walking upon the roads of the outskirts of Riverhoof. My hoofsteps fill in the void as I follow Master Hammerfell, who pulls a heavy cart. A vase is dangling from a bag on top of the cart’s load, which includes crates, decorated pottery, and ingots of various metals.

Responding to Master’s plea, I hop onto the crates, using them as stairs as I go to the top of the load. I grab the vase out of its bag just as it threatens to fall. That’s one crisis averted. “Should I just carry this the rest of the way?” I ask Master.

“By all means,” he replies. His grin is bright when compared to his dark coat. “Talk about a close call. When you carry a burden such as this, it can be hard to move forward, much less keep everything intact. It’s good to have companions to share it with.”

My child self is ignorant of Master’s meaning. “It’s just a vase.”

“Yes, but even so, you’re assisting in carrying this load, and that is admirable. Come along, now. I have a craving for honey-baked biscuits.”

“As do I, sir.”

I watch Master and my child form pass by. I’m looking at Master with such reverence, full of pride that I have the privilege just to know him. I’m so ignorant of what he truly is, and what he has in store for me. His message will sink in eventually, even if it takes several years.

“I see you used to be the type to take things literally,” Rasahrel comments.

I blush, mildly abashed at the reminder of who I used to be. “I was young. Well… younger. But yes, I was always out of sorts with the rest of Riverhoof’s populace.” I gesture to the forge where I used to live, my heart pumping fast in anticipation of nostalgia. I can’t take in the scents of cedar, smoke and honey that had long since settled into the walls by the time of this memory, but I can certainly remember the smell.

Out on the porch is a pit made of bricks, filled to the brim with coals. I rapidly tap the bellows, causing the coals to come alight. It’s the dead of summer, so it should be sweltering, but I’m able to shrug off the heat in the name of the craft.

“This was your day? Just this?” Rasahrel asks, bewildered by what she sees before her. She steps onto the front porch and walks around my young form, eyeing my wide, childish smile. A few of my teeth are crooked. If I recall correctly, that came from biting hilts a little too hard. I’ve had the town mage set my teeth right more than once. “Well, I can see the difference between this form of labor, and the labor of the Precursors,” Rasahrel says. “The majority of them only performed such crafts because they were told to. You…”

“I did it because I loved it. There was nothing else.” I point to an assortment of children who gallop past the forge, one of them tripping over the first step. My young self briefly glances away from the sword placed over the coals, then continues to sharpen the blade. The child looks at me with indifference, and walks away to join his friends.

Meanwhile, Master sits in a nearby lounging chair, adding tobacco to his pipe and lazily smoking it. He looks up to the sky, inhales, and breathes out five smoke rings. I look up from the sword and look at Master with a hint of jealousy. “Wish I could do that,” I say.

“This is my finesse. Yours is with the forge, my dear,” says Master.

“‘My dear’?” Rasahrel asks, a toothy grin spread across her muzzle.

“Not a common phrase among dragons, is it?” I ask in return. “Master always went out of his way to make me feel comfortable, and hearing things like that certainly helped. Though, I think I’ve long since outgrown the need.”

“Have you now?”

I chuckle and nod. “You have noclue how distressing it is to hear a dragon call you pet names.”

Rasahrel laughs heartily, and begins to move away from the memory of the forge. “Shall we continue on then, uh… darling?”

“Do you wish to be slain twice?”

~Vision End~

~Tohro~

Flowers are lain by his bed. Roses on his nightstand, cosmos on his blanket, and cherry blossoms at the end. I’m sure that if Caro were able to smell, he’d be enraptured by such a pleasant, welcoming scent. It’s partly the reason why I remain on the bed next to him. Being able to see and smell such beautiful things helps me keep my smile alive.

Ever since the flowers began arriving, I’ve tried to keep count of how many have come in to add to the expanding garden. I lost a few days ago, when sleep took over and forced me to close my eyes. When I opened them again, Caro’s bed was unrecognizable, aside from the mighty stallion himself.

Today brings a new change for him. He’s smiling, for whatever reason. It seems that these improvements come more and more rapidly. When he was first brought in, bleeding and broken beyond all recognition, we all thought he was gone. We only put him to bed as a formality, holding on to hope that he would recover, as ridiculous as the idea seemed.

Then, against all odds, his heart started beating again. He began to breathe. His body turned warm. Once again, Caro defied all of my expectations and came back from the brink. Unfortunately, it won’t be a complete recovery, but still, any semblance of life is a blessing, for both me and him. The fact that he’s smiling is further reassurance that he’s aware of how much we need him, and I sincerely believe that he’s going to wake up.

Eventually.

Until then, I have plenty of familiar faces to keep me company. My favorite foal Treesap comes into the room, joined by Onslaught. The two seem to be two peas in a pod, despite being complete strangers until just a few days ago. “Hello, Tohro!” Treesap says to me, galloping up and giving me a welcome embrace. “Long time, huh?”

“Yeah, too long… Came back for your usual deliveries, I’m guessing?”

“That’s right.” Treesap presents a small jar and pulls out a cherry blossom. “These are getting harder to find.”

Onslaught has a cosmos in hoof. “But it’s worth it. Can’t wait for him to see this.”

“Don’t worry. He will.” I tousle the manes of both these lively foals. “And I know he’ll love it. You may not realize it, but this strong warrior has his soft side. Always keeps himself clean as a whistle, when he’s not slaying dragons.”

“And saving my brother’s ass in the field,” says Treesap. He’s told me this story before, but judging by Onslaught’s curious expression, this is all news to him. Treesap goes to Onslaught and explains. “Branch, my older brother, walked right out of the dragon after it fell and Caro cast that fancy ghost spell. He was beside himself when he returned to Everfree. Sat me down and told me the whole thing. I had to come down here and show Caro my appreciation for all he’s done.”

“Dragons falling from the sky. For once, in a good way,” Onslaught japes. “Anyway, Caro saved Dragon Bridge, and my family’s legacy. The dragons took my dad away, but I can at least be grateful that my home is still intact, and I still have something to remember him by.”

“Counting your blessings, that’s the way. Would you like to go for a walk?” Treesap asks, gesturing to the door.

Onslaught nods enthusiastically. “Yes, actually. I was heading down to the forge anyway. Sir Rosemary’s there repairing weapons, and I was going to ask her about an apprenticeship.”

“Oh, you can make weapons? Then we have something in common! I can bake!”

Onslaught is taken aback. “Fascinating… But yours and mine are two very different practices.”

“In theory, perhaps.” Treesap places his hoof over his chest and stands up straight, looking the part of a philosopher for a second. “Both be trials of fire towards the creation of a fine product.”

“Though eating a sword is generally frowned upon…” Onslaught searches his pockets. “Tell you what, we each put… ah... two bits on the line, and ask Rosemary what she thinks.”

“Deal.” Treesap taps his hoof to Onslaught’s.

The children go on their way, talking and smiling as they head out into the rain. I would hate to say it, but I’m rather envious of them right now. Whether it be by lack of comprehension or lack of knowing, they aren’t aware of how grim the situation really is. Further, aside from me, they’re the only ones who seem confident that Caro will wake up.

He will.

I’m getting a little anxious. Those little ones and their energy… They tend to rub off on me. I too shall go for a walk. I get out of my bed and move to the entrance of the infirmary, taking my pillow with me. “I’ll be back soon,” I say to Caro. “Don’t go anywhere.”

The recovering soldiers are spread out across this entire house. Funny to think this place was empty when we came across it, but now it’s filled from end to end with the wounded. I’m not too keen on finding out where we’ve stashed the deceased, but we have to make room for the living.

I’m saluted by a few conscious soldiers that catch a glimpse of me as I pass by. I feel sorry for these ones, as the overflow has left them to sit out in the hall without any comfort whatsoever. I give my pillow to a young soldier whose face is half gone from a nasty burn.

“One of Shokenda’s elites?” I ask him.

He nods, graciously accepting the pillow. He curls up on the floor, inviting one of his fellow soldiers over to share.

The one room that is somewhat lively is still filled with wounded, but they’re staying in good spirits. And I can see why. Everypony in here is well enough to walk, or at least sit up in bed, and having a collective of bards to play music for you certainly doesn’t hurt matters. Divines bless Xephyr. He and several others from Everfree’s bard college came along as soon as word got out about Caro’s sacrifice. The thick concentration of zebras had caused some sages and soldiers to raise a few eyebrows, but I vouched for them. It’s not as if they’re a burden. They hardly take up space when they’re not playing their jovial songs, and they even brought their own food.

I’m one of many who bob their heads and hum along with their song. This one in particular is equal parts sorrowful and joyful, and the eclectic mix of lovely voices makes it sink under my skin.

“Aye, he is that what you said, and your oath's been sworn in vain...
Never trust the northern winds...
Never turn your back on friends!
‘Oh, I'm heir of the high Lord!’ You better not trust him.
The enemy of mine, isn't he of your kind?
And finally you may follow me!”

I’ll make sure Caro hears this one when he wakes up.

Another ingredient to such light in darkness comes from constant letter deliveries. This room has been designated as the place of arrival for these messages. As such, the soldiers here are the first to receive them. An organized stack of envelopes sits upon a table in the corner. I let my curiosity take over and have a look at them. They’re already open, so what’s the harm?

My dear Gentle Crossbreeze,

I care not for your loss of eye, for my love for you transcends sight itself. Let my everlasting joy to know you live be thrust upon you when you read this letter.

From your darling Long Haul.

“Ugh, bards,” I say with a pained smile. I look over the next one.

Do not terrify me like that again. I have been worried sick for a week. I did not marry you just so you could And what’s this we hear of the Dragonborn turning everypony into ghosts? You’d best hope he’s around to save you again if I come down there.

Come home soon.
Ash.

Even the most hardened Imperial Legion soldier is no match for the wrath of a furious wife. I pick up another letter, finding myself attracted to its fine wax seal (which has long been broken) and the extravagant calligraphy. I have an inkling as to who wrote this.

Dearest Mother,

It seems your lie was the truth after all. Upon word of your survival, I rounded up some guests and threw an impromptu banquet at the Rainbow Palace. It seemed like something that just had to be done, despite the unfortunate occurances at Ghastly Gorge. If anything, it’s helped keep everypony in high spirits, ready for what may come in the oncoming days.

I’m deeply sorry for what happened to Uncle Caro. I can only hope that his recovery comes quickly. I express regret and wish I could do more to help him. Give him my best.

Everfree is shining brightly as ever. I wish you could see it from up on this balcony. Please return as soon as you can. Luna prefers it when you sing her to sleep.

Love from Celina.

Beneath all of this fine penmanship are several hastily scrawled letters that somehow spell out a coherent sentence.

I lov yo momy
luna

“I’ll teach her proper writing ability when I return to Everfree,” says Shae as she looks over my shoulder.

“Oh!” I lurch forward and drop the letter back on the table. I scratch the back of my head, looking quite sheepish and insincere as I try to act casual. “That was just, not, um, not anything. Sorry.”

Shae waves her hoof and taps me on the muzzle, prompting me to stand up straight. “It’s quite alright. Celina is just as much family to you as she is to me.” As she puts the letter back in its envelope, she tilts her head at me. “You look like you’re coming along.”

“Am I? I feel like hammered shit.”

“Your posture is consistent, your walking cycle is steady, if a bit slow, and your flinching from any sort of discomfort has decreased. I daresay you’ll be up and fighting within a few weeks. Assuming you plan on going right back into the field.”

I chuckle, humbled by her thorough analysis. “I do have to go back on duty. I’m wasting valuable time lying around.” As great as it’s been being this close to Caro…

“I’m sure Queen Platinum would grant you a leave of absence.”

“Another one? That’d be awfully generous of her… Though, I would welcome it. I would hate to slip up if my wounds decide to have a second coming in the field.”

“Speaking of which…” Shae’s horn comes alight with its red aura, catching me off guard. I know her signature color is supposed to be magenta, same as her eyes, so why has it suddenly turned red? For what little I understand about magic, I know that unicorn aura can’t change spontaneously, and this change seems to coincide with some strange behavior on Shae’s part.

Shae’s thoughts on the matter are the opposite of mine. She seems to be losing hope with every passing day. She’s told me that if Caro could walk away from this, or at least stumble, he’d have opened his eyes by now. She fears that his returning breath and heartbeat, partnered with the absence of consciousness, mean that he might have gone into an indefinite coma. I can’t blame her for worrying, and I would be a fool to try and convince her to feel the way I feel.

“Hey, listen—”

“It can wait. We need to change your bandages.” Shae looks more focused than she should be as she levitates rolls of gauze out of a nearby drawer. “Remove your robe.”

I snatch the gauze out of the air. My shoulder twinges a bit in doing so, but I ignore it. “Shae, I changed my bandages an hour ago. Calm down.”

“Oh, sorry…” Shae’s aura fades. She takes a seat by the table of letters, sulking into the chair. “I’m not doing well, Tohro.”

“What was your first clue?” I say, partially as a joke, but I do want to hear what has her so upset, aside from the obvious.

“Cognitive dissonance. I want to be here, helping the soldiers that are protecting Everfree from Shokenda… Protecting my daughters from her.” She leans her head back, her voice shaking as she lets out a long sigh. “She wants Celina and Luna. So, what should I do? Put my life on the line and stop her before she gets one step closer to Everfree? Or do I stay in the Rainbow Palace, spending every waking moment with my children, praying that Shokenda meets her end before I have to fight her myself?”

I take her hooves and pull her forward until she’s sitting properly. “I think you should do whatever you think is best. Be selfish for once in your life.” I raise my foreleg. “But I want you to promise me something.”

“What’s that?”

I place my hooves on Shae’s shoulders and drop my smile. The music seems to go quiet as Shae and I envelope ourselves in our own private moment of grim truth. “No matter what happens, you must not die.”

Understandably, she looks confused, narrowing her gaze. “Huh?”

"Shae, until this point, at least one of Dragonrein was expendable. The survivors would have found some means of coping and moving on. But not now. I realize that we're not just some chess pieces on a single board. We are moving those pieces with every choice we make, and if even one of us dies, everything falls apart."

Shae slowly nods. “I think I understand, but—”

“You were never expendable. You proved that time and time again, but now Celina and Luna need you, and the rest of Equestria does as well. No more battles for you. Not ever."

She nods again. "Okay..."

"As for Caro... Well, he caused just as much damage as he fixed, once upon a time. But when I think of him now, I barely remember what he used to be. He will decide the end of this war."

“Even without a leg? Even if he never—”

“He'll find a way. He always does. As for me…” I look down at the wood floor and force a hollow laugh. “I was never anything special.”

Shae shakes her head, her eyes wide and bright as ever. "Of course you were! Don’t say that."

She has no idea what she’s talking about. "Pegasus soldier with a rebellious streak and intermediate weapon skill. Ten bits for a dozen in the Imperial Legion. I could have fallen any time and it wouldn't have mattered. Until recently..."

"Hm?"

I let go of Shae. "If I die, Caro loses everything." As if I’m casting an aura of my own, I suddenly feel weaker than I was when I came into this room. I should probably lie down. “I… I’m going back to bed. He might have woken up by now.”

“Assuming he—”

“He will wake up.”

~Vision End~

~Caro~

The bedsheets are covered in specks of blood and tiny shards of glass. The source of such a mess is my hoof. My younger self’s hoof, that is. Curled up on the bed, his head tucked to his chest, his hind legs bent, his forelegs clasped tightly to his shoulders.

If I could feel the air of this particular memory, it would be arid, cold, and moist. The rainfall is louder than it should be, as the one window of what once was my bedroom is shattered. The trail of blood is at its thickest on the floor beneath the sil.

“From a pleasant memory of honey biscuits to something like this…” Rasahrel says, taken aback by such a nightmarish scene. “Whatever happened?”

“You’ll see,” I respond wearily.

Rasahrel approaches my child form. There’s nothing she can do for me; she’s several years too late for that. Still, I can’t blame her for wanting to hold my small hooves, even if she can’t touch them. Her hooves pass right through me. I’ve never seen such a caring, motherly expression on a dragon before, equine form or otherwise. Even Master, a dragon who openly wept, has never looked so emotional.

Speaking of Master, his former equine form has entered the bedroom. “Caro?” he asks in a concerned tone. He takes notice of the broken window, as well as the blood. On any other day, he’d be upset at me for such an act, but not today. Not after what happened. “Caro, I need to speak with you.”

“Fuck you,” my young self says, causing Rasahrel to step back.

Master is unfettered, as per usual. He steps up to me, knowing better than to touch me when I’m in such an emotional state. Instead, he stands there, and speaks calmly. “...Just let me say something, and I’ll leave you be.”

“What’s there to talk about? My parents are dead,” I say, my voice unnaturally calm, as if I’m restraining myself from doing something rash. More rash that breaking a window, anyway.

Master sits at the end of my bed and sighs. “I... don’t want to say you should have seen this coming… Holding on to hope that they would come back was what set you apart from the rest of the children hurt by this war. I just want you to know that this is but one hardship of many. Do not let it be the one that kills the hopeful side of you. Equestria is obsessed with death enough as it is.”

I don’t respond for some time. The lull is filled with the sounds of dripping water, and another shard of glass falling from the window. “Why did it have to be them?” I ask, my body unraveling slightly.

“I don’t know,” Master says with another heavy sigh.

I kick the sheets away, sitting up as my red, manic eyes glare at Master. “Then what good are you?!”

Rasahrel is visibly stunned, slowly backing away from my younger form until she’s back next to me. “My goodness… Were you and your mother and father terribly close?”

“...Not exactly. I didn’t know Earthquake and Goldheart as well as I know Master. They were just… my parents. But that’s exactly why I had to grieve for them. They were still my parents, dammit, and I wanted to know them...”

I look at my young self, seeing his vapid, broken face. That certainly looks familiar. I wonder how often I’ve worn that face since my parents died? All too often, that’s for sure. But even so, if I were to look back on all of times I’ve been worn down, physically and emotionally, they somehow don’t seem so awful. Those moments where I thought I had lost everything served to make me what I am now, and while I may have regrets about who I used to be, I have no regrets about where I stand today. Not even for my missing leg, because I disposed of that thing on my terms for the sake of sparing innocent lives.

But my parents were my first loss. And in retrospect, it seems so minor. So expected. Something out of an old story. That’s why I can bring myself to smile, at least for a second. “That was the day I lost faith in the Empire,” I say to Rasahrel. “That distrust turned into hatred. Even as I recovered, I never forgave them for something that was beyond their control.”

“Do you think you should have directed your anger at something else?” Rasahrel asks. As she speaks, a group of equine silhouettes appear behind her, slowly taking form. I’ve seen these ponies far too often for how long they’ve all been dead. Pyro and Ember. Preacher. Sunflower. And now Sacred Rite is among their ranks, even though I merely left her to die… I miss Sahvot.

“I shouldn’t have been angry in the first place,” I say, my voice firm and resolute. The apparitions disperse as the words leave my mouth. “Anger only caused me more pain.”

The silhouettes reconvene into something else, forming a distant landscape decorated with slabs. It’s a graveyard. I can recognize my figure, as well as Master’s. I’m standing tall and stiff at my parents’ empty grave. There wasn’t enough of them to bury. That, among other things, is why my silhouette angrily tosses a rock into the distance, kicks the tip of the gravestone, and collapses into Master’s embrace.

“Why do you act this way?” I ask myself.

XLI - Darkness

"Because you should probably get some sleep?" Tohro says to Rosemary in a firm yet scalding tone. "I haven’t seen you so much as close your eyes since you set up shop here."

Rosemary ties a protective cloth over her eyes and grips her hammer tight. She swings it downward, missing the pommel laid over the iron. She hits it on her second swing. "There we are." She clears her throat, takes a few breaths, and continues swinging, warping the pommel into a smoother form, one much more suited to a pony’s mouth. "Caro’s sword was in surprisin’ly good shape, seein’ as it went through the bowels of an acid spittin’ dragon. I must’ve crafted that beauty better than I thought I did."

Tohro peers over Rosemary’s work. The blade of the enchanted sword is set right next to the iron, bent out of form and partially eroded, but still intact. Much like Rosemary herself, but she seems as though she can collapse at any moment. "You’d be even better if you got some sleep. The battle’s over. And it’s not as though Caro will be using that sword anytime soon."

Rosemary removes the pommel from the iron with a set of tongs, dropping it into the bucket of water adjacent to the forge. "Actually, laddie, I’m happy you’ve brought that up." She skips over to the workbench, which is almost unseeable beneath piles of leather strips, assortments of ingots, knives, various pieces of metal, and other innumerous scraps. She pushes a few out of the way, letting them fall to the ground, and picks up a journal. "This here be my journal! Whenever I get myself one of those pesky ideas, I drop everythin’ and jot it down in here."

"You know you can’t write," Tohro says in deadpan.

"Aye, but I can draw, cannae?" Rosemary slams the journal down on the iron and opens it. She flips through several sketches of swords, axes, hammers, pieces of armor, and so on. Tohro catches quick glimpses of the armor Caro wore to Ghastly Gorge, as well as some other pieces that Rosemary had supplied Dragonrein in past times. A whole minute passes before Rosemary slows down her turning.

Tohro rubs his forehead, in disbelief at Rosemary’s manic dedication. "You’re… quite the artist."

"Flatterer. Now, have a look." Backing away from the open book, Rosemary nudges Tohro forward.

On the page is a rather grotesquely intricate design for a prosthetic leg. The main portions of the leg are drawn to be made of wood, with many gears making up the joints. When he examines the base of the leg, Tohro covers his mouth, his throat feeling inordinately tight. "That’s…" He shuts the book and pushes it away. "That’s a lot of wire."

Despite Tohro’s squeamishness, Rosemary is utterly beaming, clutching the journal tightly to her chest. "It wouldn’t have the functionality of a full-grown, flesh and blood leg, no sir, but it would allow him to stand and fight!"

As enthusiastic as Rosemary is, and as much as Tohro wishes he could humor the glimmer in her eyes, he still can’t ignore the holes in her concept. "It’d be a detrimental weakness. The moment an enemy sees he has a bum leg, they’d rip it right out, or break it in half. Caro wouldn’t have his usual agility or strength to prevent that."

"I’d be there to fix it." Rosemary’s enthusiasm is so constant it’s almost become a monotone. "Look, I’ve thought it over, I’ve gone through one design after another, I even discussed other options with…" She looks away from Tohro. "Oh, lassie! There you are."

Shae enters the vicinity of the forge, leaving pools of rain in her wake as she approaches Tohro and Rosemary. Her hood casts a disconcerting shadow over her face, almost distracting Tohro and Rosemary from her hastily tucking away her amulet under her coat. "Hello," she says in a dry voice.

"What was it you suggested, Shae?" Tohro asks.

Shae looks away for a second, then turns back. "Huh?"

Tohro narrows his gaze and steps closer to Shae. "Caro’s leg. What did you suggest we do?"

"Oh, uh…" Shae puts her hoof up to her neck. "I, uh… See, there are some great warriors out there who have lost their limbs in battle, but to compensate, they have a unicorn companion create artificial limbs. Magical constructs."

"But it seems that even magic can’t solve our problems in this conundrum," Rosemary says with a sigh.

"The unicorn casting the spell have to be astronomically powerful, and even then, the practice is impractical." Shae says. "Magical limbs wear off over time, and they can be destroyed with enough trauma."

Tohro nods along with Shae’s explanation. "Not to mention Caro would be entirely dependent on you, and you have your own responsibilities back in Everfree," he says. "So, yes, a prosthetic leg is our best option." He smiles at both the mares. "Well done, both of you. I’m happy to have such bright mares on my side in a time of crisis, and I know Caro will appreciate the effort, even if our situation isn’t exactly ideal."

Tohro departs the forge, throwing a cloak on over his robe to cover his head as he steps out into the rain. The downpour was so loud, he almost doesn’t hear Shae talking under her breath.

"He won’t wake up, Tohro."

CHAPTER XLI - DARKNESS

Tohro turns around, his smile gradually disappearing. "Say that again."

Shae pulls down her hood. The shadows on her face remain, with her irises shining the same intense red as her horn. Despite being in her usual overcoat, with her mane straight and proper, and her stance tall and firm, she looks nothing like the Shae Sparkle that Tohro knows. "He’s not going to wake up."

Rosemary backs away from Shae. "Lassie…"

Tohro grits his teeth behind his closed lips, trying to steady his heartbeat. "Don’t talk like that. You know Caro. Even this would never be enough to do him in."

"Accept reality. It doesn’t matter how much you demand it. You won’t get what you want."

Tohro detects that something is wrong with Shae. His ears perk up as he steps a little closer to her. "It’s not what I want… I mean, yes, I want him to live through this, probably more than anypony, but I know that there are so many ponies waiting for their Dragonborn to stand tall and reassure them that we can win this war."

"Keep your reassurances for yourself. You can’t fight the inevitable. The one you love will betray you in the end." Shae speaks in the exact same apathetic, distant tone she has held the entire time she’s been at the forge.

"...Stop talking." Tohro shoots a glare so intense he feels as though he could pierce through solid brick.

Despite that, Shae is unwavering, and she continues her droll speech without pause. "In the end, all you have fought for, everything you desire, it’ll all be for naught. You’d best just let it all go."

The hair’s width of patience Tohro has left is just about to snap. He advances on Shae and raises his hoof, ready to do something drastic. The only thing that makes him restrain himself and stop walking towards her is Rosemary. Just seeing her frightened and open-mouthed is enough to pull him back.

But only for a second. Tohro launches at Shae, but instead of attacking her, he grabs her by the collar, puts all of his weight on his hind legs, and lifts her up into the air. He ignores the burning of his wounds and the soreness of his muscles, all for the sake of screaming, "HE WILL WAKE UP!!"

Shae’s expression remains still. "What makes you so sure?"

"HE! WILL! WAKE UP! HE HAS TO! I can’t explain it, I can’t… I can’t comprehend it, I… I just know! He will wake up!"

"Why?"

Tohro isn’t even sure if he’s looking at Shae anymore. In his refusal to blink, his vision has become blighted with tears of anger. "BECAUSE I LOVE HIM!" He never knew he could be so miserable, angry, and happy all at once. "I LOVE HIM! THAT’S ALL I NEED TO KNOW HE’LL WAKE UP!"

"What’s wrong with you?!" Rosemary screams. "Put her down!"

"NO! THERE’S A LINE, AND SHE CROSSED IT!"

"Tohro…" Shae gasps.

"I TOLD YOU TO STOP TALKING!"

Shae clasps her hooves around Tohro’s forelegs. "No, please! It’s me!"

Realizing her plea is genuine, Tohro looks into Shae’s eyes, and sees the magenta irises he’s used to It’s as though they were never red to begin with, and he’s able to recognize her again. The innocent, loving face he’s come to know has returned, and he can’t comprehend why he’s holding her aloft. He lets his anger wane, and he sets Shae down. "I… I am so…"

Rosemary walks up to Tohro and socks him across the jaw. "She crossed a line?!"

Tohro barely flinches, even though the impact hurts. He rubs the welt that Rosemary’s hoof has left on his face, and turns away from his friends. "...Don’t ask me to be the voice of reason right now. I’m in no condition for it."

"You're doin' a right awful job as the voice of shame, too," Rosemary says in a scolding tone.

Shae remains quiet, her head hung low and her grip tight around her chest. Tohro takes notice of her distant demeanor and approaches her, though he’s intercepted by Rosemary. He lays a hoof on her shoulder. "Okay, I’ll make up for this, I promise. For now, I just want her to do something for herself."

"What is it?" both Shae and Rosemary ask at the same time.

Tohro reaches out to Shae and slips his hoof beneath her overcoat, his hoof touching the amulet she’s been so keen to hang onto. He pulls it away from her until the chain goes stiff. "You’re taking this off."

"No, I need it," Shae says almost instantly, as if it were rehearsed. "It belongs to me."

Tohro tugs on the chain. "I don’t care. This is turning you into something you’re not, and if you’re not going to remove it, I will. Take it off, Shae Sparkle."

For a moment, Shae’s eyes flash red again, her teeth baring. She seems ready to strike Tohro for touching the amulet, which only assures his suspicions, giving him enough reason to stand his ground and stare back at Shae.

"Take it off," Tohro says again.

"I need it."

"Take it off."

"No."

Rosemary joins Tohro in holding the amulet away from Shae’s neck. "Do what he says, lassie."

Shae’s grit disappears in an instant. After a lingering glance between Rosemary and Tohro, she closes her eyes and exhales. "...Okay."

Her aura turns from red to magenta as she levitates the lock open and removes the amulet from her neck. Just as she does so, she shudders and gasps, and loses her grip on the amulet. It falls to the ground, landing with its red gem facing upward.

Shae blinks rapidly as she glances around, looking confused and worried. "T-Tohro, were you just yelling at me?"

"No, not you." Tohro kneels down and scoops up the amulet. He examines it closely, particularly captivated by the sinister red gem. He’s able to see his reflection at first, but as he focuses his gaze, he’s able to see the faint silhouette of a tall unicorn. She’s hunched over, her body shaking with fury. Tohro tears his gaze away from the amulet and holds it up to Shae. "I was yelling at her."

"Her?" Shae reaches out to the amulet, but Tohro pulls it back.

"Look. Don’t touch."

Shae’s pupils constrict when she sees the mare inside the gem. "Clover!" she squeals, taking a sudden step back, nearly tripping over the leg of the workbench. "That’s… That’s Clover the Clever."

"I thought you—" Rosemary speaks up, then quickly cuts herself off. "She’s dead, isn’t she?"

"She is, but… She… She was trying to…" Shae steadies herself on the workbench as she calms down. "I felt her inside me. She was eating away me. But I couldn’t get rid of her. I felt so…" She goes quiet as Rosemary wraps her forelegs around her. Her frail body melts into the embrace, and a smile crosses her lips. It looks like the first genuine smile she’s worn in ages.

"She won’t be hurtin’ you anymore. I’ll make sure of that." Rosemary lets go of Shae and walks over to Tohro. "Might I have that amulet?"

Tohro happily drops the amulet into Rosemary’s hoof. He watches with a smirk as she goes over to the firepit and drops the sinister artifact onto the burning coals. As the light of the fire gleams off of the red gem, Tohro swears for a moment that he hears somepony screaming. He flicks his ears and ignores the noise. "Now, as for the both of you," he says to Rosemary and Shae as they embrace once again. "We’re in a sorry enough state without the souls of our enemies trying to sabotage us from the grave. I’m going back to the infirmary, and as Corporal Tohro of the Imperial Legion, I order you both to get some sleep."

"Actually, um… You might want to hold off on calling yourself a corporal." Shae takes a step forward, pulling two letters from beneath her coat. "The reason I came here in the first place was to give you these."

Tohro takes both of the letters from Shae. One of them is embroidered with the royal seal, which is broken, and he recognizes Queen Platinum’s writing immediately, although it seems a bit shakier than usual.

"Sorry, it was already open when it arrived."

Tohro reads aloud as he scans the queen’s words, which seem to run together at times. "‘...with incredible sorrow…under extreme circumstances…Captain Gauntlet informed me…couldn’t be more sympathetic…’" Tohro sighs before reading the last line of text. "‘I hereby promote you, and deem you Sergeant Tohro Blackwing.’ Fantastic."

Shae watches in confusion as Tohro tosses the letter aside. "Isn’t that good news?" she asks.

"Wonderful news. Hundreds of Imperial soldiers died for nothing, but at least I’ve been given a greater position of power. Half the Imperial Legion would follow my command even if I were still a private, and we have sergeants and corporals falling left and right. What does my official rank even matter at this point?"

"Public relations?" Rosemary suggests. "Possibly for the same reason my mummy dearest became General Tangerine immediately after my daddy died. Those loyal to the Empire want there to be some semblance of control over the situation. Back then, the name of Spice carried a lot of weight. As does yours, these days. Like it or not, your title matters." She lowers her head. "Shame your own flesh and blood don’t…"

"Huh?" both Shae and Tohro ask simultaneously.

Rosemary’s head snaps back up almost instantly. "Nothin’. What does the other letter say?"

Tohro keeps a watchful eye on Rosemary as he opens up the second letter. "Hm… Oh, it’s from Half-Pint!" he exclaims, his mood suddenly lifted at the reminder of an old friend. "Seems she has some information from behind enemy lines."

"Seems you’re not the only one takin’ the role of turncoat, eh?" Rosemary japes. "A bunch a’ one-eyed traitors comin’ over to the Empire, now that’ll be a sight."

Tohro shakes his head. "It doesn’t seem Half-Pint is interested in joining us, I’m afraid. She and Jade are fleeing the country to Saddle Arabia…"

"Are they that desperate to get away from Shokenda?" Shae asks.

"No, they’re trying to get away from Temerity Blackwing."

Rosemary’s smile disappears. "That name sounds a little familiar."

Tohro continues reading the letter closely as he explains. "I might have mentioned him before. If the Blackwings are the scum of Equestria, then Temerity is the rag that keeps them all in check."

"Even a rag gets covered in dirt."

"Exactly. He runs numbers for the Blackwings. Keeping track of inventory, resources, treasury, soldiers, and so on. He has one hell of an eye for detail, and he’s quite the strategist. If it weren’t for him, the Blackwings wouldn’t have survived the first battle of Trottingham. I’d have killed him already if he wasn’t so elusive. He rarely leaves Fillydelphia, and never sticks around to witness the battles he plans out."

"What does he have to do with your friends hitting the road?" Rosemary asks.

Tohro delays his response until he’s able to read more of the letter. "Jade and Half-Pint were investigating the disappearances of children in small towns that the Blackwings had taken over. There are direct ties between these abductions and Temerity. It seems he has something big planned, but Jade and Half-Pint aren’t entirely sure what."

"Maybe you can find them and ask?"

"Not likely. They’re stowed away on a boat with a band of dashing rogues by this point. Lucky them." Tohro tucks the letter underneath his robe. "I’ll look into this when I get back to Everfree. If the Blackwings are kidnapping children, then I’m sure plenty of ponies will volunteer to ensure they don’t get away with whatever they’re planning."

"Don’t hurt yourself," says Shae.

"I won’t. This is an operation that requires strategy over strength, and I’ve been wanting to outwit Temerity for some time. As soon as Caro wakes up…" Tohro glares at Shae, anticipating one of two responses.

"He’ll wake up," Shae says with another genuine smile.

Tohro continues. "As soon as that happens, I’ll escort you and him both to Everfree. While Celina and Luna get to spend time with their mother and uncle, their other uncle will be ensuring the Blackwings’ plans are outed. Then Shokenda will lose one of her greatest resources. I’ll need to write some letters to Queen Platinum… Uh, Rosemary? Do you have any quills to spare?"

Rosemary isn’t standing where she was just a few seconds ago. A quick look around the forge reveals that she’s left entirely. Her coat is gone, in addition to a few weapons from the workbench.

"Maybe she needed to attend to something?" Shae suggests with a hopeful smile.

"Let's hope not," Tohro says grimly.

~Caro~

It’s so easy to reflect on a horrid event that’s happened in one’s past after a significant amount of time goes by. One’s mind can choose to forget the worst of what was seen, or we convince ourselves that what we saw wasn’t as awful as it truly was.

I’ll never forget how I felt that day, when my whole world was burned to ash, and the only thing I loved was destroyed. But seeing it again, watching myself collapse, ears bleeding from the sound of an incomprehensible language, Master at my side, ready to die for me, and Nahkriin, the first dragon I would ever kill, with her claws shimmering in the light of the fires she set to Reinoc.

The only question on my mind is if I willing to watch this again.

I don’t have any questions for why I couldn’t move, nor do I have any as to why Master was so willing to throw his life away. I know why Nahkriin was there, and that it was at the behest of something far more monstrous than her.

The result is all the same. Master falls, his sword is broken, and he’s left just as helpless as I am. Nahkriin takes her claw to his body, slashing at him until he’s reduced to mere pieces… I turn away and swallow what would be vomit, assuming I could vomit in the expanse of my mind.

There’s the answer. I couldn’t watch. This isn’t the origin of a mighty Dragonborn, it’s just a tragedy. Even if the effect lessened by it being a memory, it’s a tragedy, and the last thing I want to see today.

"Rare is the journey with a happy beginning, don’t you think?" says Rasahrel.

I frown at her, but I stop when I realized that she’s trying to counter the sordid sight before us with a little humor. I’m able to at least fake a smile to show her I appreciate the effort. "There were happy moments, and I’m sure more lie on the horizon."

"So why hang on to this moment?" Rasahrel gestures towards the carnage, which I will myself to look at once more.

"Just because it’s an unfortunate event doesn’t mean I can just get rid of it. It’s part of who I am. To deny that this happened, regardless of all the good that it’s brought, would be to deny part of myself, and that’s just…"

"Foolish," says Nahkriin.

For a moment of anger, I step forward and turn my gaze to her as she looms over the mangled body of Master. I expect her to be gloating, absolutely gleeful before my past self takes up a sword and attacks blindly until she’s sedated. But something feels off. I don’t remember Nahkriin ever saying that, even if the memory is distant. She only spoke her native tongue that day.

"A meaningless death for a meaningless cause," she says. "And who was the one who made it happen?"

"Not you, that’s for certain!" Rasahrel says pleadingly, looking at me as she nods towards Nahkriin. "She was a different dragon then, wasn’t she? Do say so, Caro."

I don’t need to look at Nahkriin to know she’s telling the truth. Even so, I don’t want to. What I’m about to say will no doubt crush her spirit. "You were a different being, yes, and I do thank you for everything you’ve done for me. I likely would have been reduced to an even worse state if you hadn’t done your part during our last battle, and yet—"

"That is all I can do," Nahkriin interrupts. "I wasn’t so important to Saviikaan. It is pleasant to have somepony who respects me as an individual, rather than a puppet."

"You’re right. I respect you, Nahkriin. And I trust you. But, at the moment, that’s as far as I can go when it comes to your partnership."

This might be the first time I’ve seen a dragon reel back from anything other than one of my attacks. "As far as you can go?"

"I eagerly await the day that time heals this wound. To say I haven’t recovered would be a lie. Master is alive and well, and a dragon at that. Not to mention the good friends I’ve made that have helped fill the emptiness that I felt when you…" I pause when I see Nahkriin’s distraught expression. "The thing is, Nahkriin… I don’t think I can forgive you yet."

"Caro…" Rasahrel says with caution in her tone.

Nahkriin points a claw at her. "No, let him speak. I was prepared for this."

"Okay, then." I let out a slow sigh and continue. "I saw my master get torn apart and taken away from me. Regardless of how temporary it was, it hurt. Yes, the scars have healed over, and I’ve become so much more than I could have ever dreamed of, but that doesn’t change how I felt that day. It still hurts. And I know plenty of the dragons inside of me are responsible for greater atrocities, but I have to be selfish about this one thing." I frown at Nahkriin. "Saviikaan gave the order, but my world ended that day because of you. I know it seems like insult to injury after I took your life, but can’t forgive you."

I wait for Nahkriin’s response. After my words sink in, she nods. With a turn of her head, her body shifts and bends, shrinking into a hybrid of pony and dragon, much like Rasahrel’s current form. Nahkriin’s new appearance is much like I would expect it to look, her red mane wild and swept about, and her black scales unkempt and grungy. What I don’t expect is what comes out of her mouth. "Then allow me to make up for it."

I snicker and tilt my head. "I don’t think there’s much you can do, unless you think your bones would make for a decent set of armor. But I doubt even Rosemary could—"

"Caro. I want to give you my soul."

If there were any sound to be heard in this white abyss, odds are this would be the part where everything went mute. Nahkriin’s words fly over my head, with every syllable being more nonsensical than the last. "Excuse me?" I ask.

"That’s…" Rasahrel walks around me and stands beside Nahkriin. "That’s why I asked you to show me your memories. Nahkriin was nervous to ask, but she wanted to know if you forgave her. In the end, though, the result is the same. She wants to give herself fully to you, so you might live."

"Well, I respect you for sticking your neck out for her," I say, my voice mildly hysterical, "but I’m still confused. I already took her soul, and yours. You’re all a part of me."

"Yes and no. Your body is a host to our souls, and you can call on us whenever you wish. However, a time will come when we will eventually fade into your subconscious. Surely you’ve noticed the signs?"

I say to Nahkriin, "You have been a little quiet lately. I mean, not as loud as you once were."

"I’m already beginning to fade, Caro," she says. "Eventually, I’ll just be nothing more than a power source for you to call on when needed. While I wouldn’t mind helping you in that way, I’d still prefer giving myself up now so you might wake up."

"Behold." Rasahrel points her foreleg upward. The white void turns to black as I look up and see what I can only assume is my soul. At least, what I picture as my soul. It’s a white orb, though it isn’t contained into a perfect sphere. It fluctuates, with wisps of white coming off of it and reconnecting in equal measure.

"I thought it’d be worse for wear," I say with a light chuckle. My sense of humor disappears when my soul rotates around, showing how broken it is. It’s like shattered glass, with the shards floating nearby, unable to attach themselves to where they should be. "Oh," I utter grimly. "...I did die, didn’t I?"

"If you were anypony else, you would have. The only thing keeping you alive is our presence," says Rasahrel. "Multiple souls in one body. Never considered the perks of such a thing until recently, did you?"

"To be honest, no… But, then again, I can’t relate to anyone in my situation." I look at Nahkriin. As the pieces come together, I realize exactly what she and Rasahrel have been implying this entire time, and I’m not thrilled about it. "You’re going to sacrifice yourself for me."

"My soul would become part of yours, and in turn you’d be able to live. One life for another."

"Mine, or my master’s?" I retort. "You don’t have to make up for what you did. Just give me a little time, and I’ll—"

Nahkriin bares her fangs at me, though it’s far less intimidating when she’s in an equine form. "Your forgiveness would mean nothing. So long as I am unable to make amends for what I did to you, I’ll never be able to forgive myself. Get it through your head, Dragonborn; I want this."

Our eyes remain locked in a fierce yet solemn stare. I can see my draconic slits in the reflection of hers. Seeing her bravery and her unwillingness to back down from such a decision is enough to make me break the stare.

"Well…" I face the emptiness beneath me and sigh, shaking my head as I choke out my confession. "Maybe I… I don’t want to lose anyone else. I just watched Sahvot die for me…"

"Are you sure that mere words are enough to convince someone to betray the path they’ve chosen?" Rasahrel says. How fitting for a dragon to say something so scalding. "Caro, you of all ponies should realize by now that sometimes you have to accept a loss."

"I’ve accepted the loss of my leg! I don’t want to lose more than that! Not after what happened to Sahvot."

"Oh… Oh." Nahkriin steps in a circle, one of her hooves brushing through her slick mane.. "I think I understand. I knew Sahvot well, and I can see why his loss hurts you so."

She has no idea. "A good dragon. One of the only two I’ve ever met. I didn’t have to take in his soul for him to fight alongside me. And yet, the Dragonborn can’t seem to leave a dragon alive. Isn’t that just a fucking blessing? And here I am, having to let another dragon die for me, lest I lie in bed as a living corpse for the rest of my existence! Yes, Nahkriin! It hurts!"

Nahkriin waves her hoof at me. "Go on."

"It’s… It’s what I deserve, isn’t it?! I’ve slaughtered a lot of ponies without a second thought! How kind of Epona, or Fauste or Dragos or whatever fucking Divine is smiling down on me to let a few good dragons die! Am I the only one there is, mortal or otherwise, who wants there to be peace between ponies and dragons?!"

Nahkriin’s eyes widen.

"Well?! Answer me!"

I feel Rasahrel tap me on the wither. When I turn to face her, I’m met with one of the most bizarre embraces I think I’ll ever experience. Rasahrel’s scales brush up against my coat, making the simple gesture of her wrapping her forelegs around my neck feel so alien. And yet, knowing why she’s doing this and what she’s come to mean to me, I’m able to accept the gesture wholeheartedly. I return the embrace, leaning my cheek against Rasahrel’s neck and letting out a small sob.

After all the anger leaves me and I’m able to think rationally, I look at Nahkriin through my teary eyes. I wipe them clean so I can get a good look at her. It feels odd to notice this now, but she looks nice with a pony’s mane.

Letting go of Rasahrel, I approach Nahkriin. I look up to the shattered mass above me, then back to her. "I accept your gift."

Nahkriin smiles at me. Her lips are crooked, causing her fangs to poke out of her mouth. She sighs and holds out her foreleg. "Oh, come here."

This is the last thing I thought I’d ever do with her, but the truth dominates the strangeness of it all. The dragon who was once my enemy is now my friend, and I’m not ashamed to hug my friend. Although, she is a bit more aggressive than Rasahrel, with her grip a little tight around my neck.

Our mutual caress lasts for all but a moment. When I start to put my one foreleg back down, Nahkriin’s body is already disappearing. As is fitting for a dragon, she is overcome by a thick golden aura. When her body completely fades, with her smile being the last thing to go, the aura rises, flowing like a river into my soul. The fractures are filled in, and in seconds my soul is made whole again.

"You’re worth more than you realize," says Rasahrel, drawing my attention away from the surreal sight. "Even the more disgruntled of our kind will grant you power, and that includes sparing your life should you take mortal damage. Nahkriin was happy to be the first."

"Well, don’t be in a hurry to throw yourself away for me," I say to her. "I’m not about to make a pecking order, but I think it’s fairly obvious who I value around here."

"Don’t worry. If I can help it, I’ll stay with you to the very end."

Upon that final word, the void around me begins to distort. Rasahrel is growing farther away from me by the second. A great wind rushes through my mane, as if I’m flying high, and then I’m brought to a halt.

And now it’s just a matter of opening my eyes.

It’s nothing too different from waking up from a long, pleasant sleep after a hard day’s work at the forge. I’ve had many mornings like this, but the only reason I make such a comparison is because I just witnessed a reminder of those days.

My waking is made even more pleasant by a refreshing scent filling my nostrils. I look down the length of my bed and see the source. Flowers. A whole garden’s worth of flowers laid out for me. I just hope that these are supposed to be tribute, and not some sort of funeral decoration. My blissful mood falters slightly when I wonder something.

How many ponies think I’m dead? A good many, no doubt. I can’t truly blame them. Anypony else would have died from such an impact, not to mention all the blood loss. There’s another thing to wonder about; how many times did the sages have to restore my blood? And how long have I been asleep? Days would be too generous... A few weeks perhaps? I hope it hasn’t been months. ...No, it can’t be, I’d be a total mess by that point. As I am now, just a cup of tea and some breakfast and I’ll be right as rain.

Speaking of which, I hear a teacup shatter nearby. I look over to the infirmary entrance and see a young sage standing above the pieces of the cup, staring at me blankly. “Oh, my…” he utters.

I let out a well-earned yawn and stretch out my one foreleg. “Good morning...” I say to the sage. My voice is weak and ragged. It’s a little painful to say anything, but it’s negligible.

“It’s… It’s actually late afternoon,” the sage replies. “And, uh… Goodness!” Somehow forgetting about his magic, he kneels down and gathers the pieces of his teacup into a pile.

“Goodness indeed,” I say, chuckling at him. “Do you need any help with that...?”

“No, no! Y-You just… stay in bed, Dragonborn, I’ll…” Now he remembers he has magic. He levitates the pieces off the floor and heads into the hallway. “I have some good news to spread, it seems!” He gallops off… somewhere. If I knew where I was, I’d be able to hazard a better guess, but I assume he’s going to tell everypony that, against all odds, I’ve come back.

If I concentrate enough, I can hear music playing a few rooms over, accompanied with the lovely singing voice of Xephyr. He seems to be playing something akin to a tavern waltz. At least, until I hear the shouting of the clumsy sage.

“He’s woken up! Everypony, s-stop what you’re doing!” he commands, causing the music to come to a halt. “The Dragonborn’s alive! Come and see!”

If only the air itself didn’t feel like a weight on my frail body. If that were the case, I would brace myself for the incoming cacophony of revellers. It’s something I’ve wanted for much of my life, but I feel this is not the most opportune moment. In truth, I would rather have a moment to reflect on losing Nahkriin.

Nevertheless, I wear my smile proud and allow the events to transpire. The first pony to enter the room isn’t anypony I know. Judging by his bulky figure, he’s probably a soldier, though odds are he won’t be seeing duty for a while with that missing eye of his. He waves hello as three more ponies come in. This group consists of two sages and a housemaid.

Along with a few more new faces, Ironclad enters, joined by Onslaught. Just as Onslaught raises his foreleg, he’s trampled by an overzealous Treesap. “Hello, Caro!” he shouts when he hops back onto his hooves.

I’m about to ask where Tohro is, but I’m interrupted by two female pegasus soldiers who come flying in over the crowd to assault me with an embrace. “Woah! Easy...” I advise them, waving them away. “Th-Thank you, though…”

Gauntlet emerges from the crowd. “Both of you, get over here! Don’t crowd him. Honestly, you’re civilized ponies, now act like it.”

“Sorry, sir!” both the pegasi say as they return to a standing position alongside the good captain.

“Dragonborn,” Gauntlet says. I expect that to be the end of it, but then he places his hoof to his brow. Epona’s mane, he’s saluting me. “Once again, I find myself in gratitude towards you and your actions. The battle may have been lost, but it’s a shallow victory for the Blackwings with so many lives spared.”

“I just…” Even my innards feel week. I haven’t talked much since my awakening, and I’m already out of breath. I inhale and continue speaking. “I just did what I…”

Gauntlet finishes my sentence for me. “What you had to. And that’s it, isn’t it? You didn’t have to. But you did. It’s one thing to dream, but there are so few that would actually go so far as to…” He clears his throat and resets his train of thought. “Many of us owe a debt to you.”

“Don’t feel pressured to repay it…” I mutter. I raise my hoof and place it against my forehead. It’s hardly a proper salute, but for once, I feel like an attempt at the gesture is warranted.

Shae is next to come to me. She pushes past Gauntlet, galloping to my bed and hastily throwing herself around me. Given my condition, she might as well be an out-of-control carriage. She pulls away from me the instant she hears my pained grunting. She looks worried at first, but we then share a smile.

“See...? I can keep a promise…” I say to her.

“Huh?”

“I saved your life...”

“What?!” she exclaims through her smile. “Damn you, is that why you had us all scared half to death? Just to prove a point?” She lightly pushes me against my pillow. “Don’t joke about things like that!”

“Well, I’m not lying…”

“You are such a…” Shae bows her head, stifling a sob. She covers her eyes, but she’s unable to hold back a few tears from traveling down her hoof. “Damn you... Don’t put me through that ever again. You and Tohro, both of you… You’ll be the death of my sanity, I swear.”

“Wouldn’t count on it… You’re a mother, Shae…”

“You and Tohro both have more immaturity in a hair strand than Luna has in her entire body. And neither of you are alicorns, so stick that down your throat.” Despite such criticism, Shae still wears her smile. She gently presses her hoof to my cheek. “Thank you for coming back.”

“CARO!”

Ignorant of how much it hurts to do so, I sit up at the sound of a certain somepony’s voice, nearly throwing Shae off of me in the process. “Tohro!” I strain myself to yell. “Where are you?!” I search desperately for some white hoof to appear among the crowd, but it’s a pointless effort when all of these ponies are moving around so much, and many of them have white coats. “Tohro?”

“Let me through… LET ME THROUGH!”

I see a few of the gathering ponies shift about as a determined force breaks through their ranks. The pounding of my heart escalates into my ears, reaching its climax when I catch a glimpse of Tohro’s blonde locks between two soldiers. They move aside for him, allowing him to step into the open.

“Caro…” he whispers, his voice cracking.

I can see the exact moment when he becomes stricken with everything he could possibly feel from being where he is. His lips clamped tightly together, trembling as he resists the urge to yell at me for making him worry. His eyes twitching, filling with tears. His movements towards me are heavy and hindered, partially by the wounds that blemish him, but also by the weight of his emotions, and the indecision as to what he could possibly say to me. Even as he comes to my side, gently laying his hoof on my chest, he’s still at a loss for words.

“Hello,” I say to him.

“H-hello…!” he chokes out. “I… S-see, this…” He gestures to all of me, emphasizing my lack of a left foreleg. “This is why we…”

I finish his sentence for him. “We have to stay together…”

He nods repeatedly. “Hardly anything good happens w-when we’re apart.”

“To be honest, a lot of bad things have happened when we…”

“True, but even when I was scared, I had you to face those things alongside me. That’s…” He wipes his eyes with my blanket. “I was more afraid of Shokenda when I served her than I am now, because I know you’ll always be there to keep her from hurting me.”

“Along with anypony else that tries to touch this.” I touch his cheek, brushing down to his chin.

“T-This?” he asks.

“Your pretty face, you fool.”

“Oh!” Tohro laughs out loud. Xephyr could write the most perfect symphony and it wouldn’t sound as heavenly.

“And you’ve always been there to keep me sane in my darkest moments… I would have been so lost without you.”

Tohro draws his hoof across his neck. “Would have lost your head without me.”

I chuckle. “In more ways than one, my angel...”

Tohro flinches, and I fall back a little, finding myself having made a bit of a presumptuous comment. I look away for a second, then turn back to Tohro.

“Sorry, that was…”

“No, no, it’s…” Tohro leans back in towards me. “I don’t mind.” He places his hoof back on my chest, laying his other hoof over it as he puts his head against my cheek. “I love you, Caro. I’ll accept whatever silly pet names you conjure up for me, but on one condition.”

“And what would that be?” I ask, although I’m sure I know the answer already.

Tohro closes his eyes and presses his lips to mine.

I’m suddenly reminded of what Hurricane said about his mistakes… He said that every single one he ever made was just another step towards meeting Platinum, and remembering that was how he found his solace. At first, I didn’t fully understand what he meant. The arrogance in me assumed that any mistakes one makes should be looked upon with regret. How wrong I was.

It’s like the ripples on a calm lake have disappeared, and I’m looking into a clear image for the first time. I know now what the late king meant… If any series of events in my life had gone differently, then I wouldn’t be here, just having escaped the clutches of death, looking into the watering eyes of a beautiful stallion. Not just any stallion, though. There’s nothing to compare him to. There’s nopony else.

Our kiss, my first kiss, ends. I hear Gauntlet clear his throat, which forcibly pulls me out of my trance. I see that he was getting the attention of the gathered crowd, which I had nearly forgotten was there in the first place. Gauntlet, along with a few soldiers, quietly ushers everypony out of the room. Some are more reluctant to leave than others, but they all do as they’re told, leaving me, Tohro and Shae alone.

Come to think if it, I almost forgot Shae was here. She’s turned slightly away from me and Tohro, her face looking a tad more red than lavender. “Are you… Are you done?” she asks with a squeak.

“You didn’t have to stay and watch,” Tohro says, wearing his usual sly grin.

“Surely I would have rather missed this! You two are so… so…!” She raises her foreleg. It shakes vigorously before she lowers it. She exhales, then leaps towards me and Tohro. She seizes Tohro one foreleg, and me in the other, bringing out heads against hers on either side.

~Vision End~

A set of talons wraps around a small flask. As Altair rummages through a large sack, he raises the flask to his beak, leans back, and takes a long chug. “Well, I should have expected as much,” he says, wiping a few drops of mead from his beak. “I heard many Blackwings are prone to desperation attacks, but to see them carry so little worth keeping…” He tosses the rusted sword he had been analyzing behind him, letting it clatter to the ground.

Mistral lands on the rooftop and sits next to Altair, folding up her wings. She looks down to the field below, analyzing the crude number of Imperial and Blackwing corpses. Some patches are so thick with dead ponies that the ground goes unseen for long stretches. “They came to this battle prepared to die, using quantity over quality. The only reason they win at all is because they either overwhelm their enemies, or—”

Mistral grabs Altair’s flask with her wing and takes a swig. “An acid dragon falls from the sky, right on top of their enemy’s camp.”

“I’m surprised it doesn’t happen more often.” Altair takes the flask back. “Still, we’ll at least make some profit. I’d estimate around a thousand bits. I’ll hold a banquet for the rest of the guild when I get back to Baltimare.”

“A celebration? Is that really appropriate?” Mistral points to the corpses. “Given the state of things, I mean.”

“A gathering of company is especially appropriate in a time like this. Another victory for the Blackwings could spell trouble for Baltimare, and I’m not too fond of what Shokenda might think if she showed up on our…” Altair slows down when he sees Mistral tremble slightly. “I lost my path of thought. My point is, we should try to remain in high spirits, if it’s a choice between that or accepting defeat.”

Mistral turns to Altair, her expression dark and scolding. “Don’t become so enamoured with your sugar and alcohol that you forget what’s at stake here. At least assure me of that.”

“I assure you.” Altair places his talons on Mistral’s back. “A banquet, then we will continue our efforts to keep our guild afloat. I’m considering setting up a perimeter around Baltimare’s outskirts. Any Blackwing that gets within a few miles is a target. With any luck, a patroller’s haul will be more bountiful than—”

“Sir?” Mistral interrupts.

Altair stops himself and says, “Go ahead,” as he passes the flask to Mistral.

After she takes a drink, Mistral clears her throat and speaks. “Are, uh… Are we good?”

Altair blinks. “...I don’t follow. Thieves aren’t meant to be good, we just—”

“I’m not talking about the guild. I’m talking about, um…” Mistral leans in close to Altair and whispers to him. He nods slowly as she pulls away. “I don’t feel entirely in the right here. I didn’t feel like I was doing the right thing, when I took Excalibur out of King Hurricane’s bedroom. If Caro had Excalibur during the battle, the Empire could have walked away victorious.”

“Any number of things could have led to the Empire’s victory. You can’t chalk it all up to a single pony’s weapon, and you certainly can’t assume that Caro was even worthy of its might to begin with.”

Mistral sighs. “You never even let him find out.”

Altair points a talon at Mistral. “You know how Excalibur works. Once it finds a worthy wielder, it and the wielder are bound for life. Caro would have made use of it against the Blackwings, yes, but you saw what nearly became of him. What if he died? What if a particularly noble and strong Blackwing were to find Excalibur on his corpse and slaughter the Empire’s forces one by one? In any case, we never would have gotten it back.”

Mistral points back at Altair. “And what if that didn’t happen? What if Caro and his friends are unable to win this war by their strength alone? Are we just dooming the Empire, and our guild, to a slow and painful death because we’re unwilling to take a chance?”

Altair stands up and trots around Mistral. “I thought you knew what you signed on for when I offered you your position.”

“Here’s something to consider,” Mistral says calmly. “What if we were to rethink our purpose? Perhaps, instead of ensuring power doesn’t fall into the wrong hooves, we could ensure power falls into the right hooves.”

“Right hooves?” Altair grunts. “You know the term ‘might makes right’? I despise such a sentiment. It’s just something those in power use to justify the purging of the weak, who never had a chance to become strong in the first place because of those in power. It’s a paradox. No. I believe in might for right, and I haven’t met a single pony in my many years of service to Hephaestus that is worthy of his creations. And what if right hooves turn into the wrong hooves? What if the wrong hooves take the power for themselves? It’s not meant to be, Mistral. Hephaestus has tasked us with this job because it is the best option. It is the only option.”

“Tell that to Scar when he finds out that the Carrier Clan’s most sacred artifact has been stolen. Again,” Mistral grumbles. When she looks at the bodies littering the ground below, she motions Altair over to her. He does so reluctantly as she casts her hoof out. “A better idea; tell that to them.”

Altair deliberately looks away from the carnage. He takes his bag of spoils, fastens it to his belt, and leaps off of the rooftop. He grabs a windowsill to slow his fall, then lands on his talons and paws perfectly. “I have to go. I’ll be in Trottingham if you need me.”

“Understood.” Mistral says begrudgingly. She crosses her hind legs and relaxes against the roof, looking up to one of the few cracks in the perpetual cloud cover that has spoiled Equestria in days past. She waits for a minute or so until she knows that Altair is out of sight and earshot. “Well, Hephaestus… I asked for permission.”

She sits up, reaches for her belt, and snaps off a small pouch. She opens it and reaches into it. She hasn’t quite gotten used to the concept of enchanted bags, and seeing her leg disappear into the bag without coming out the other side is still unnerving. After some searching, her hooves close around the hilts of two weapons.

“I suppose I’ll just have to ask for forgiveness now.”

~Shae~

Night has fallen, and yet it’s now of all times that I awaken from my sleep. Somepony forgot to light the lamps in the infirmary, so now the only sources of light come from the hallway lamps, as well as the gleam of the moon through the high windows. The only other two ponies in the room don’t seem to mind how dark it is. Of course they don’t; they’ve been lost in each other’s bright eyes for hours now.

Caro and Tohro don’t seem to care that they’ve long run out of things to talk about, or that it’s the middle of the night. They seem perfectly content with lying beside each other, forelegs intertwined and muzzles close enough for their nostrils to brush. I’ve sure they’ve breathed each other in several times over by now.

It’s such a happy sight, one that I’m glad to witness, but I can’t help but feel that Caro and Tohro are using their union as a metaphysical wall for an unfortunate truth; Caro is missing a leg. Eventually, that wall will crumble and we will have to confront the issue.

I would be able to get past this issue just as well as those two if I had somepony to hold, but Rosemary isn’t here right now, and I have no idea where she’s headed off to this time. I was able to take solace in her previous absences because she always reassured me that she would return, sealing her promise with a kiss. But now she’s gone and disappeared without a word, and that terrifies me.

I’m not the only one suffering in her absence. We need her skill set specifically in order to construct Caro’s leg. No other blacksmith could possibly do it. But even when she comes back, that leg will take weeks to make, at the very least. Patience is manageable in the face of much greater threats, but not when the reward would be a mechanical limb prone to failure. Not that I doubt Rosemary’s abilities, but flesh and blood cannot be replaced with wood and wires. It’s just not good enough.

But maybe that’s why Caro and Tohro are the way they are at this moment. They’re grasping a thread of happiness to hold back a grim truth. The fact that they constructed this thread themselves makes it all the stronger, and less likely to slip away.

So then, what’s my thread? What have I created that allows me happiness despite the hardships that try to tear me apart? I had nearly forgotten with Clover the Clever clawing at my mind. I know the thread Rosemary and I have created is still there, but I need her with me to face the darkness. She’s not an option at the moment. But I do have another.

I’m reminded of what’s waiting for me back in Everfree when I feel the moonlight touch my fur. If I concentrate, and embrace the moonlight fully, it’s almost as if I can feel Luna. It all comes to me at once. The chirping sounds she makes when she can’t form the words necessary to express her happiness. The innocent gleam in her eyes when she becomes fixated on the sky. The kneading of her hooves on my barrel when she needs my milk. The smooth threads of her mane on my chin when we share a bed...

I have to go.

I rise from the bed in an instant, kicking the covers away. I levitate my overcoat from off the floor, put it on, and prop the hood up, then grab my bags. I search through them, just to ensure I have all I need. I find a total of two red potions… Is that all I have? ...That’s right, I gave them away to the sages and healers so they could tend to the wounded.

Caro and Tohro are bound to have some, though. I walk over to them just as Tohro nuzzles one of the many scratches on Caro’s cheek. He opens his eyes and looks up at me. “Hello,” he says in a hushed yet gleeful voice. “Are you well? No more amulets come to mess with your head?”

Caro turns over to me, pushing Tohro away with a pillow. “You look a little distraught.”

“I’m going back to Everfree,” I say simply. “I’ve been away from my daughters for too long. I was away too long from the moment I set hoof away from them.”

“No need to be so dramatic, Shae Sparkle,” Tohro says with a hoof across his chest as he forces the pillow onto Caro. “If you feel the need to go, then go. We won’t be offended that you want to be a responsible mother.”

“Dragonrein can afford to be apart for a little longer,” says Caro. He reaches out to me and touches my wither. “You’ve played your part. The worst of it is over. Let’s all be with our loved ones.”

I sigh with relief. I knew their response would be nothing short of supportive, but I still felt as though I might be letting them down by leaving. But they have the capacity to know priorities. They’re such good friends. “...Thank you. I’m a tad short on potions. Would you happen to have any extras?”

“Loads,” Caro says enthusiastically. “Take all you need, we have plenty to spare.”

“It’s a shame they weren’t potent enough to fix your bones, else you might have woken up sooner,” Tohro says to Caro. “I tried to make you swallow a few, but they didn’t make enough of a difference to warrant their use. The sages had to put you back together the traditional way. After that, we just had to wait.”

“And was it worth it?”

“What do you think?”

After that, their conversation becomes muted to me. As I search through Caro’s bag and take a few of the overt amount of potions that he somehow came across, I find something else among the clutter. I don’t notice its significance until it shifts slightly, allowing its gems to shine in the moonlight. It’s an Elder Scroll.

I stifle my gasp, but not soon enough. Caro turns over and addresses me. “What is it?” He realizes what I’ve found. “Oh. I never told you, did I?”

“Where did you find this?” I ask. I try to lift it out of the bag with my magic, but as I suspected, it’s immune to my aura’s grasp. I instead pick it up with my hooves and hold it out to Caro. “These aren’t things you pick up on the side of the road.”

“An undead dragon gave it to him,” Tohro says bluntly. “On the side of the road.”

“Hilarious,” I say without a rise. I look between Caro and Tohro as they share a smile. “Oh! Undead? Truly?”

Caro nods. “His name is Durnehviir. Otar revived him, though he doesn’t truly have a soul without Saviikaan’s magic. He’s not long for this world without somepony to keep him alive.” He sighs and leans back against his pillow. “Damn.”

“What is it?” Tohro and I ask at the same time.

“If Sahvot still had a body, I could ask Otar to revive him, at least for a little while.” He brushes his hoof across his brow. “...Never mind. It’s a moot point. I haven’t seen Otar since I awakened, or reawakened… whatever it is you want to call it. I’m guessing he’s long gone by now.”

As I put the Elder Scroll back into the bag, I ask, “Does it bother anypony else that this is all normal for us? Undead creatures, souls as tangible elements, dragons speaking to us on a regular basis…” I can’t even finish coming up with examples before I’m lost to a fit of laughter, one that Tohro heartily joins me in, with Caro removing his frown to laugh as well.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he says.

I pocket five large vials of red potion, three medium vials of magic potion, and four small vials of stamina potion. “In that case, I am off to the Rainbow Palace to be reunited with my adopted alicorn daughters,” I say with another laugh, though this one is a bit more hollow, fading into nothingness as I take one last look at Caro and Tohro.

For all of their happiness and the love in their eyes, Caro is still missing a leg.

I’ve discovered another thread. Rather, I just remembered it. It’s the moments I share with these two stallions, and how they help me feel strong and dependable even in my lowest moments. I don’t recognize myself when I reflect upon my days as a mere student at Wintercolt Academy, and as time goes on, I realize how much I’ve come to accept that. This is my new normal.

And yet, am I too quick to leave it all behind? The reason I came to Ghastly Gorge is simple; I felt I needed to help in some way. But my assistance amounted to little in the end. Ponies still succumbed to their injuries. Pain and death tore through the battlefield all the same. And I wasn’t able to save my best friend. Now I know the pain he felt whenever he failed to protect me in the past.

I want to hold on to this thread because I’m nothing without it. And the thread is coming apart with every second I’m away from Caro and Tohro. And now that Caro is bedridden and broken, unable to fully reclaim what he used to be, will that thread be lost forever?

“Quant vo douceur adoucir vuet mon amer, dont loer et aourer…
Et vous cremier, tout souffrir… Tout conjoir, Tout endurer…
Vueil plus que je ne desir Guerredonner…
Foy porter…”

I stop beside a cabin when I hear a low singing voice. I never knew Jarl Drake was an alto. Her singing voice is very distinct, and quite pleasant, if a little shaky on her long notes. She is clearly drunk, if the bottle at her side means anything. What bewilders me is why she’s inebriated whilst looking over a map of Ghastly Gorge.

I’m about to let this oddity slide and move on my way, but then Jarl Drake stops singing. “SHAE SPARKLE!” she yells with a squeak in her voice. “What brings you heeere?” she asks with an exaggerated tilt of her head.

“I was just leaving, actually,” I say, pointing further down the road.

“Can’tcha have a cup?” Jarl Drake asks with a slur. “Come on, I have spirits!” She raises the bottle, only for her to realize that it’s completely empty, aside from a single drop that spills onto the tabler. She looks down the bottle and frowns. “Ah. Had. Past tense.” She drops the bottle and lets it roll away. “Such sweet misfuuurtune to have befallen ussss... I’m dead inside.”

I have myself a guilty chuckle. It wasn’t what she said, it was the way she said it. “I’m sure there’s more alcohol at the infirmary, ma’am.”

“S-Shae, ‘old on a second. Minute.” Jarl Drake sways off of her chair into something that resembles a standing position. She has to lean on the table to keep herself from falling as she works her way over to me. “D’you suppose…” She swallows. “Shae, ‘m I a bad parent?”

That’s a loaded question isn’t it? I guess Luna and Celina can wait a little longer. Just a little, though. I step into the cabin. “Well, uh… Do you want an honest answer, or do you want to be reassured?”

Jarl Drake snorts and bursts out laughing like an insecure child. “Ghaaa, what?” she asks. “Y’know, just… say whatcha gotta.”

Honesty is what’s best in this situation. “Jarl, I haven’t been a mother for that long, and I don’t know your exact methods when it comes to raising Boysenberry, but I think you’re... decent. You gave him room to stretch his legs, and he became an intelligent, wise young mage.”

“Oh, I see… I see…” The jarl stumbles back to her seat, suddenly becoming dull and quiet. She rubs her head as she sits down. “Think I shoulda kept him on more of a leash?”

“Excuse me?” I ask, tilting my head.

“Not a literally leash, I no a monster… I just… I spendin’ so much time lookin’ into that bowl of liquid glass, divinin’ errything happening in Equestria that I could, but I ain’t seein’ my own child resenting me from right across... ‘cross… the, the bleedin’ room.”

“Why would Boysenberry resent you?” I ask.

“He’s the type of child who… fixates. Once them ideas getting into his head, doesn’t let it leave. All ‘a little mistakes I make over the years… Executions, isolation, that first battle of Ghastilliry Gorge…”

“Ghastly Gorge.”

“I know. He know. I mean, he knew. He couldn’t get past ‘em, more so than any of my enemies, and he was obligated to stay alongside me through all of it.” Jarl Drake looks past me. “Epona’s mane, I considers how offin’ he considered running away ‘fore now.”

“Wh— He ran away?!” I exclaim. “Where? Did he leave a note?”

“He most certainly didn’t not!” She hides her head away between her forelegs as she levitates a torn scrap of parchment over to me. The words are angrily scrawled, and much less elegant that Boysenberry’s usual penmanship.

I’m done with your lies. I have to find the truth on my own. Don’t try to find me.

Who knew words could be as sharp as a knife? I hate to imagine how it would feel if this were written by one of my children. “Did something happen? Was there a last straw?”

“Oh yes… Yes, there were straws, an’ this was the last one.” Jarl Drake removes her head from the table. “He was in deep… Blamin’ hisself for what’s happening, er, happened during the battle, goin’ over the battle plans again and again again again to the point of ex…haustion. I feared the worst migh' happen.”

“His... other side?” I ask cautiously.

“Nearly came out again… I done put a stop to it, I did! Don’t tell I ain’t honest! I tell him exactly why the battle don’t play out the way he wanted it to. Why more ponies died than was nece... necessarily. At very least, I’m able to put his self-grievance to rest, but then goes and he turns his anger onna to me. All I do is sit, watchin’ as he gone storm off, and when I went looking for ‘im, I found this note. Now, well, here I am…” The jarl reaches for her bottle, only to realize it’s not there anymore. And that it’s still empty. “Fuck.”

It wouldn’t take an academic to know that Jarl Drake has done something truly awful. Awful enough to lose her son and her sobriety in the same evening. “What did you do? What was the last straw?”

“I shoulda have rid myself of that liquid glass years ago…” she moans. “...Can detach myself from my mistakes so easily, and yet I can’t let go of a single bowl of that accursed sub...stance. C-Can I have another bottle?”

I kick the empty bottle away. “No, you can’t. Keep talking.”

Jarl Drake looks like she’s about to cry. She takes a deep breath and continues talking. Or, at least, some form of talking. "There I am, looking at Boysenberry and Captain Gauntlet's agreed battle pla... plans, I'm thinking... This here? It's good. I couldn't think of a better plan if I tried. And believe me, I tried. I wanted to ensure we got through like the gold-wearing glory seekers we are. I see a way to ensure victory lies ahead of us... After all, if I were to look into the liquid glass with the battle plan memorized, then all I need to do is adjust where we might fail.”

I narrow my gaze at her. “You didn’t...”

“Minor wrinkles in a fine robe, flattened and smoothed out. Sent the new plans to the commanding officers... Now look at what's happened. So many dead. Snipers and assassins picking off the stragglers. Fuckin'... unicorn elites with their scary masks... Boysenberry's plan accounted for the unexpected, and I went and messed it all up, ‘cause the liquid glass can only look into the known future... Why dunnit work when I need it most? Tell me that, Shae..."

I was miserable before just now. So much has been lost because of circumstances beyond our control. All we had to our advantage in that battle was the Dragonborn and a meticulously crafted battle strategy. Now what do we have? A field full of corpses, an infirmary filled from end to end with ponies struggling to stay alive…

They’re the lucky ones; I had to watch many a fighter die right in front of me. My two best friends, Equestria’s greatest hope for the future, were nearly among them! If anything had gone even the tiniest bit differently, they could have walked away from that battle with their heads held high, welcomed back to Everfree as the heroes who led the Empire to victory!

"Well, uh..." I say, trying to answer Jarl Drake’s question. I have nothing. I’m too occupied with trying to hide my anger.

No one could have foreseen the arrival of Shokenda, or the acidic dragon. But knowing that at least a few of the horrors that occurred at the gorge could have easily been prevented if a certain somepony had just left well enough alone…

One of many things I've learned from my travels with Dragonrein is that actions speak louder than words. I've also come to accept a certain truth: as versatile and applicable as levitations and matter manipulation is as a magical ability, nothing compares to the satisfaction of punching somepony with your own hoof. I realize that truth more than ever as Jarl Drake falls out of her chair at my mercy.

"Are you out of your mind?!" I yell as she laughs at herself, unable to support herself on two limbs.

She looks up at me with a darkened eye and a toothy grin. "Well, I am drunk!"

I regret my actions the instant that I see the pathetic tears that fall from the jarl. Though it’s not so much regret for what I did to her. It’s more like regret that I was the one who had to do it.

Still, I must apologize. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I am so sorry," I mutter repeatedly as I take Jarl Drake's legs and lift her up. "You're hurting enough as is. I shouldn't go and make it worse."

“Somepony had to…” Jarl Drake nearly falls over again as she picks up her chair and sits back down. "I know I act the ig… ignorant fool, but that is only because I don't wanna to seem a coward. Ever since I became the jarl, I’mma relied on the liquid glass. Issn’t not ‘cause I think it makes good decisions. It's ‘cause I worry that if I go act of my own free will, I’d do even worse..."

“You didn’t need to take part in this battle,” I say with an intense glare.

“That is the truth… I’m nothin’ but the fool here.” The jarl rests her forehead on her hoof. “And here I thought I’d caused Caro enough pain as is…”

“Rationally speaking, I don’t think you could have prevented what happened to his leg.”

“I coulda prevented sommat else!” she shouts with a sudden burst of anguish. “I ain’t talkin’ about this battle, I’m talkin’ about the other one.”

It takes me a second to make sense of her drunken talk. “The first battle of Ghastly Gorge?”

“Thaaas the one,” she says. “Gold Heart and Earthquake, the finest soldiers I ever did know. Good friends, dedicated warriors... Unsung heroes of the Legion, I say. They spoke of Caro offin’, sayin’ he was such a happy little colt, so full of life, and how it pained them to leave ‘im behind to fight for the Empire."

I have difficulty believing this to be true. "You knew his parents."

"Yes, I did, and I expected that… that they would be the ones to win this w-war."

"Yeah, that turned out well..." I mutter, my one foreleg tightening around my stomach.

“During the first battle of Ghastly Gorge, Ore… Orega…”

“Oregano Von Spice.”

“Right… He was killed in action, and I was the one to take the helm o' control in his place... I made many, many decisions with the liquid glass that day, but this was not one of them. See, I... saw an opening. I ordered a small battalion to escort a cart of explosives to the Blackwing camp and set it off. Then, halfway across the battlefield—”

I remember Caro’s long-winded talk about it well. "A happenstance arrow set off the explosives, killing several Imperial soldiers and Blackwings," I say dryly. "And killed his mother and father."

"...I might as well have."

As it turns out, some other things have to be added to my burden. I hunch over, sigh deeply, and start pacing back and forth. "Does he know?"

Jarl Drake slams her hooves onto the table and leans in close to me. "Don't you dare. There are many secrets I have to keep, and this one I'll take to my grave. Not just for my sake, but for Caro's. If he knew... Well, that’s the thing, isn’t it? I don't know how he'll react. But I'm afraid. And I can't risk losing him to the same anger and loathing I lost Boysenberry to."

"You'll have to tell him eventually," I say, glaring at her.

"I will,” says Jarl Drake, suddenly appearing very sober. “When this is all over."

I’ve tried to keep a mental list of everything we’ve lost in recent times. I wanted to remember the names of the ponies who died under my watch. I wanted Tohro to make an instantaneous recovery like he always does. I wanted to be the one to find a complete solution to Caro’s missing leg. I wanted ponies to lean on each other in this time of crisis, but now I see that it’s not quite that easy. "We've lost too much, Drake.”

"I know,” she mutters.

My mind wanders to the recent memory of gemstones encrusted in bronze, glinting in the moonlight. "If there were any way to bring any of it back... Any of it?"

"I wouldn't hesitate. But it won't happen, Shae."

Just goes to show how much she knows. I turn around and storm out of the shack. I hate to keep Celina and Luna waiting, but I’m sure they can spare a few more minutes. I just hope they’ll be able to forgive me.

The world steps aside for me as I walk back uphill. No passing villager stands in my way, and the rain trickles to a stop. The skies are clearing out, at least a little bit.

Acceptance of inevitability can be tragically calming, as there are things that one simply cannot change. Even the Weather Guild must make way for a happenstance storm at times. Even Rosemary can’t craft the perfect weapon. A parent can’t fully control their child. So now, here I stand, at the gate of a decision. I can either enter the infirmary, or turn around and go back to Everfree. Do I accept the inevitable? Or do I take a chance and change one thing?

I’ve already decided. I open the doors and step inside.

Mother, what are you doing?

I politely nod to the injured soldiers who have taken up resting places in the entrance hall, and again to the healers on standby. They look at me oddly, no doubt wondering why I’ve returned after making my exit.

Something is only inevitable if, well… it can’t be changed. Even if somepony were to go after Boysenberry, he wouldn’t return to Jarl Drake. He crafted that inevitability. Further, even if Jarl Drake hadn’t so stupidly interfered with the battle strategy, we still couldn’t have prepared for the damage Shokenda would do. Or what the dragon did to Caro.

But perhaps I can change what happens next. After all, I have access to an artifact that exists outside the bonds of probability. Something that can change history itself.

Yes, that’s it… History will change by my hoof. The world needs its hero, and I will not let him fade from history because of circumstances beyond his control.

Mother, please consider what you’re about to do…

Nothing slows me down as I ascend the stairs and step through the hallway. Not even the thought of what happened to Squall when he made use of an Elder Scroll. After all, his actions were purely selfish, driven by a mad desire nopony would have wanted. He couldn’t withstand the Elder Scrolls’ might because he didn’t have respect for its power.

But I do. I can comprehend its might. I’m borrowing only a sliver of its full potential, and it’s all so Equestria can be saved.

It’s foolishness, Mother. You don’t have to do this. Come home.

I enter Caro and Tohro’s room quietly, hoping that they’re both getting a good night’s rest. I see them right where they were before, lying on their sides, wrapped up in an embrace tight to the point where I can’t tell where one of them ends and the other begins. And, thankfully, both of them are fast asleep. In an odd reversal of what I’d expect from them, Tohro is the one cradling Caro, smothering the larger stallion’s head between his neck and chest. I suppose it’s the better option than the reverse, seeing as Caro is quite the snorer.

Just let them be. They’re able to find happiness despite their heavy hearts, and you should do the same.

The wooden floors are suddenly so loud. I don’t recall them creaking this much before. When I set my hoof down, the sound ravages the quiet night air. Thankfully, Caro only shifts slightly with a nasally grunt, burying his muzzle deeper beneath the collar of Tohro’s robe. In subconscious response, Tohro tightens his embrace and rubs his cheek against Caro’s mane. They’re too deeply entrenched in each other’s dreams to notice the world around them.

I cast some light levitation magic on my hooves to soften the impact of my steps. Now I’m nearly silent, which serves me well as I slowly approach the bag where I found the Elder Scroll.

I open the bag, dreading for a moment that in the short time I was gone, somepony had went and moved the Elder Scroll. I let out a long breath of relief when I see that it’s still there. I try to levitate it out, but my aura dissipates the instant it wraps around the scroll’s casing. I should have expected as much, but it was worth a try.

This is a sign, Mother. Please stop what you’re doing. There’s still time.

With hooves trembling from fear and excitement, I unravel the scroll and reveal what lies upon its immortal parchment. I didn’t know what to expect in the first place, but this… It’s something different. I cast a soft illumination spell to get better acquainted with what it says.

The letters seem to shift and change before my eyes, as I’m reading them. I can’t get through a single sentence, let alone any spells (assuming there are any), without the text suddenly transitioning into something completely different. For a moment, I’m looking over a writing about a volcanic eruption, and before I’m able to finish it, it has shifted into a passage about a being of shadow that plagues a distant land. Before I’m able to read that, the text disappears entirely.

You’re tampering with forces beyond your control! Don’t do this!

I’m already disoriented just from trying to read lines of scripture on this bloody thing. I look further down the scroll, passing more moving blocks of text, and stop when I see a few etchings. A detailed map catches my attention. It’s Equestria. And I don’t think it’d be out of line to assume this is the most accurate map of Equestria there could possibly be. I see mountain ranges that aren’t on any maps I know of, as well as uncharted forests and roads nopony has likely traveled before. If only I had more time to look upon it…

The map changes. It expands upon the parchment, as if I were looking at it through an eagle’s eye. Now I find myself looking at a skyward view of Ghastly Gorge, and just next to it is the small town I happen to be in at this very moment. Could it be that the Elder Scroll is trying to show me something?

It can only lead you astray, or worse! Don’t believe what it tells you!

The map changes again. I’m looking at a schematic of this infirmary. With a little searching, I can see the room I’m sitting in, and there, next to the beds… I’m right there, in ink form, reading this scroll. For a moment of sanity, I look up at the ceiling, expecting to see myself looking down at myself. It’s enough to make my head spin.

Mother, stop right now.

I look back at the map. The ink form of me begins to move. She sets the Elder Scroll down, then sits. After a moment where nothing happens, I realize what I should do. I set the Elder Scroll down, then sit. I keep an eye on my ink self, my heart pounding until she starts to move again. She stands, turns to the bed next to her, and begins casting some sort of spell.

I look to that same bed, where Caro and Tohro lie. Yes, this should be exactly what I’m looking for…

Mother.

I step away from the Elder Scroll and glide over to Caro and Tohro. I wrap my aura around Caro’s hooves, neck, and head. Then, I gently remove him from Tohro. His motions are slow enough to not rouse him or Tohro from their sleep. I turn Caro over onto his side, now able to clearly see the stump where his left foreleg should be.

Mother, please.

I look to the scroll again. This time, there is no map to be found. I fear I did something wrong, but then I see myself upon the parchment again, joined by a caption that writes itself out as my ink form’s eyes turn white, and power surges through her body. More power than any unicorn could possibly imagine. Power that defies the limits of an alicorn.

Mother, stop!

I silently plead with the Elder Scroll to let me have that power. Just for a moment. I won’t use it for any purpose other than to help my friend, and in doing so, help countless others. Equestria needs its Dragonborn, and the Dragonborn needs me. So please, give me the strength to bring him back to his full glory. I won’t ask for anything else.

NO! MOTHER! STOP!

My hooves feel heavy. They drop to the floor, hitting the wood panels hard. I don’t see it come from anywhere, but I feel the Elder Scrolls’ gift flowing into me, manifesting into something I’ve never felt before. This isn’t just power, this is everything. This is absolute. The will of the world imbued within me.

I turn to Caro. I direct this power through my horn as I conjure up the most powerful healing spell I could possibly think of. But it takes none of my strength. I feel no limitations, no pool of magic being depleted from my body. It’s an infinite stream of pure black aura that encapsulates Caro, slowly lifting him from his bed.

But the strange lights and sudden sensation of being airborne is what causes Caro to open his eyes. He shifts around in the air until he sees me. Understandably, he’s rife with confusion. “W-What is this?!” he yells. “Shae! What’s happening?!”

“All will be well,” I reply with tranquility. Despite the nightmarish black light surrounding me, I still sound like myself. I’m in control. I know what I’m doing.

MOTHER!

“Shae!” Caro is forcibly turned until his stump faces me. I cast everything the Elder Scroll has given me into him. The black aura gravitates to the stump, growing and shifting until it takes the form of an appendage.

IT’S NOT TOO LATE, MOTHER! YOU DON’T NEED TO DO THIS!

Tohro rises from his sleep at the sound of Caro’s voice. “Mrragh… Is it morning already?” he grumbles. He’s taken out of his sleepiness the instant he sees Caro floating above him, as well as me, casting a nonstop stream of the Elder Scrolls’ power. “What in Epona’s name?!” he shouts.

The black aura has finished its job. Its shape is just like that of Caro’s old foreleg. It removes itself from Caro, and in its absence leaves him with the growing flesh of a new foreleg.

I mentally thank the Elder Scroll for its strength, and stop casting the spell.

But I can’t stop. It won’t let me.

MOTHER!!

“Oh no. Caro…” I have to get away from that thing. I step away as a sudden terror overcomes me. “Caro, Tohro! Somepony help!”

The spell won’t stop. The Elder Scroll won’t leave me alone. I can see its text in the corners of my vision. It’s trying to tell me something, but I can’t read it. It’s all too much. It’s too much information. It’s too much power. It becomes a haze, rapidly clouding my vision.

I fall onto my hind legs. I clutch my head between my hooves and shake my head furiously. It still won’t leave me alone! Why won’t it stop?! I don’t want this power anymore! I don’t want this! I don’t want this. I don’t want this I don’t want this I don’t want this I don’t want this I don’t want this I don’t want this I don’t want this

“SOMEPONY HELP ME!!”

I don’t want this I don’t want this I don’t want this I don’t want this I don’t want this I don’t want this I don’t want this I don’t want this I don’t want this I don’t want this I don’t want this I don’t want this I don’t want this I don’t want this

~Vision End~

~Tohro~

If this were any other magical anomaly, I’d call upon a sage to help us. But this is beyond the realm of any mage’s understanding, much less my own. Caro is stuck in the air, holding his restored left foreleg, growling in pain as the raw flesh grows upon him before his eyes.

I can come to conclusions right away. This is the same black aura I saw in King Hurricane’s memories, when Squall did… that… to those helpless ponies. This is not natural. I don’t care if an Elder Scroll is the will of the universe. It already played a part in destroying King Hurricane’s life. I’m not going to let it take another.

I leap from the bed and land right in front of the open scroll. I lift it up from the ground, and while it’s as light as any given scroll, it still feels as though I’m picking up an entire world. I turn the knobs upon the seal until the parchment is rolled back up. Even then, the aura doesn’t disappear. Shae is still screaming as lies down, and Caro is still floating.

In a moment of panic, the only apparent solution to me is to bash the Elder Scroll against the ground several times. After three hits, the aura fluctuates around Caro. That’s progress. I turn around and ram the scroll into the bedside table, then the wall behind it.

“Leave them alone!” I yell at it.

I throw it on the ground and watch as it rolls to a stop. The aura is weaker, loosening up on Caro, but Shae is still paralyzed by it. Her eyes are still and unblinking.

“Somepony…” she chokes out.

I reach into my bag. I count the seconds until my hoof finds my gauntlet. I slip it on and trigger the hidden blade. I gallop to the Elder Scroll, plant my hoof on it, hold the parchment still, and drive my blade into it with a desperate cry.

I’m flung against the bedside table, hitting the back of my head hard enough to make my vision go topsy for a second. I shake it off, and rub where I’m pretty sure I’ll have a bruise.

Caro has landed back on the bed on his front. He turns to me and shows off his left foreleg. It’s restored in its entirety. Well, aside from a lack of much fur, but that’ll come back in due time. At least, I hope it does. I never thought such a normal part of a stallion’s body would be so amazing to look upon.

“Amazing…” Caro whispers, stroking his leg as if to prove to himself it’s even real. “How did she do it? Shae?”

He looks over to the little mage. She’s still in shock, lying on her side and holding herself. A few sparks of black aura are still coming off of her.

“Shae?” The wonder in Caro’s voice disappears. He gets off the bed. His new foreleg hits the ground first. He kneels on it for a second, then fully stands up. He’s just as majestic as I remember. But neither of us have time to bask in this miracle. We run over to Shae as she begins to rise.

Why couldn’t I see it before? Shae was in pain and I never stopped to think I should do something to help her! I was so lost in Caro’s touch, I assumed that time would stop for me until I would inevitably have to step away from him… Now look at what’s happened.

“Shae… You could have died,” I say to her. “Are you mad?”

She turns her head my way, though she doesn’t look at me directly. “Maybe a little,” she murmurs. “I felt so helpless. I didn’t want to just let this happen…”

“I owe you everything for this, but never scare me like that again.” Caro kneels down to her and lifts her up by her withers. She leans on him as he speaks. “You should know by now, if it’s a choice between a piece of myself or you, I will always pick you.”

“I know… I just…” Shae’s lips pucker as she lets a few tears fall.

“Shae,” Caro says firmly. “Look me in the eye and promise me that you’ll never do anything like this again.”

Shae continues to whimper as she looks past Caro.

“Shae, look at me,” he says, tapping her on the cheek.

“I can’t.”

Caro and I glance at each other. “You can’t promise him that?” I ask.

“No… I…” Shae chokes. Her words are broken and inelegant beneath her sobs. She turns towards the vicinity between me and Caro. “I can’t see...”

Her face comes into the moonlight. Immediately, I see what she’s crying about. Her pupils shine, reflecting the image of the night sky. Her eyes are clouded and distant, unable to fixate upon anything.

“I… didn’t think this would... I just… I couldn’t stand by and… I couldn’t just do nothing… I had to… t… aaaah…”

I trot closer to Caro and Shae, kneel down, and bring my forelegs around them both. I share a grim, miserable look with Caro. Silently, we resolve to stay there beneath the moonlight, taking in the misery of our mage’s loss. We don’t leave her even as the sages come running in, demanding to know what just happened.

~Vision End~

~Shae~

Mother...

I'm sorry.

Mother, why did you do this?

I'm sorry. I am so, so sorry...

Why did you do this, Mommy?

I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry

XLIII - Forsworn

~Tohro~

It just came out of nowhere. I didn’t think it possible, but just when I firmly believed nothing could overcome us, after all we’ve been through, the world proves to me, once again, that there’s always something waiting in the shadows, ready to strike at your confidence.

In this case, it’s a robed quadruped with a jet black body, who stands over Caro. He’s just fallen unconscious.

“What the hell?!” I shout, immediately leaping into a battle stance. I crouch, flare out my wings and point my crossbow at the robed creature. “What did you do?!”

“Tohro?” Shae was just about to cross the wooden bridge when she heard Caro collapse, but she doesn’t know what’s happening in the slightest. She turns towards the sound of my voice. “What’s going on?”

“Stay there, Shae,” I command.

I don’t take my eyes off Caro, or the robed creature. On closer inspection, I can see blood dripping down its lips. My breath catches in my throat as I see the bite marks on Caro’s neck, and consider the worst possibility. If that comes to be, something’s going to bleed.

I move closer to the creature, my steps slow and arduous. “Walk away. I don’t care who you are or what you want, but I’m giving you an out, and if you’re half as stupid as you were to attack him…” I nod in the direction of Caro. He’s stirring a little bit, but his eyes still remain shut. “...you’ll take off.”

The strange pony doesn’t seem to care for my threats. Its mouth curves into a grin, presenting jagged fangs.

“Last chance,” I state.

The robed creature moves towards Caro in a strange, non-fluidic way, its limbs stiff and its movements sudden. It places its black hoof on Caro’s barrel, and in doing so causes my skin to crawl. I tighten my grip on the crossbow and aim, my hoof on the trigger.

“Back. Off!”

“Tohro, what’s happening?!” Shae shrieks.

“Shae, stay right there!” I growl.

“Can’t you hear that?! Something’s coming!”

“What?” I tune out the pounding in my ears long enough to listen up. At first, there doesn’t seem to be much beyond wind against stone, and the creaking of the wooden bridge. Then, I hear it. A faint, distant racket of wingbeats and chattering. Undeniably there, soft as it may be. What causes me panic is not knowing what the hell it even is. I’ve never heard such a sound in my life.

The only certainty right now is that we’re all in danger. What else is new? I reaffirm my aim with the crossbow and step closer to the robed creature. “What are you playing at?!” I yell at it. “What’s going on?”

The creature kneels down, its forelimbs reaching around Caro’s neck and stroking his fur. It speaks, its voice dry and scratchy. “He… be...longs to… Mo...ther…”

“He belongs to me!” I fire the crossbow. I hear a distinct shatter, and the creature is flung away from Caro. It leaves a trail of green liquid as it rolls to a halt, rather far away.

“Tohro?” Shae asks once again.

Is this how it’s going to be until we reach Everfree? We’ll be put in danger, and she’ll be clueless towards what’s happening beyond a few ambiguous noises. This is going to be harder than I thought. “Shae, don’t worry,” I say, more for myself than for her. “I’m over here. Follow my voice.”

Shae steps away from the bridge and slowly approaches me. She reaches out and touches my wither, and she doesn’t seem keen on letting go anytime soon. “What happened?”

“I think we have followers,” I say grimly.

“Shokenda?”

I scrape some of the creature’s green… stuff off the ground and examine it. It’s a bit more viscous than a pony’s blood. It reminds me of something a squashed insect would leave behind. Whatever this is, it’s not related to the Blackwings. “No, this… this is new…”

“...We should probably be moving now, shouldn’t we?” Shae asks. She’s obviously holding in her terror. I don’t know how she does it, considering that distant skittering sound is getting less distant by the second. “Tohro?”

“Rightly so.” I get on my joints and hook my forelegs underneath Caro, lifting him onto my back. Unfortunately, this is the one time I wish he didn’t have the muscle mass of a centaur. I’m over-encumbered and can barely run. “Dammit!” I groan as I slowly move to the bridge. “This can’t happen! Not after all we’ve been through!”

Caro moans as his eyes flicker open and closed. “T...T…”

I take my first step onto the bridge. “Stay with me, darling… I lost you once, like hell that’ll happen again.”

Shae’s foreleg presses against my shoulder. She follows my hoofsteps as closely as possible. Even though it’s a bit of a tight fit between the ropes of the bridge, it’s far superior to her walking it alone. The problem is how slow we’re moving. I can still hear the skittering.

I bite my lip as I adjust Caro’s position on my back. No matter what I do, I can’t find a comfortable way to carry him. I take solace in knowing we’re nearly to the end of the bridge. At least I’ll be able to move quicker when I’m not weighing down rope-suspended wooden planks.

“I… I don’t think.... we can... outrun this one,” Shae pants.

I hate to agree with her, but… “We can’t fight it either. Not like this. Not…”

The skittering becomes loud enough to overtake my voice. It seems to be coming from beneath us. I swallow and look down. Instantly, fear takes ahold of my body and clamps down upon my legs.

More robed creatures. Hundreds of them, all ascending the face of the mountain as if gravity has no meaning. It’s like a loud, mobile cloud, and it’s coming for us. I swallow, thankful for the first time ever that Shae can’t see anything.

“Tohro?” Shae shakes my foreleg. I can barely hear her over the sound of the creatures. “Tohro!”

“Not like this…” I murmur, looking back towards the end of the bridge. There, as if a veil was lifted, appear several more of the creatures. I sense that they’re all staring at us from beneath their hoods, intent on doing Divines know what to us.

One of the creatures limps forward. As he approaches, I painstakingly reach into my wing and grasp a blade.

The creature then turns aside from me, instead stepping to one of the stumps that holds the rope… that holds the bridge up… “Oh no.” I shove Caro off of me. He lands on his side with a groan.

I flap my wings, ready to take off. Just as I leap into the air, something snags around my hoof. My stomach and jaw slam into the bridge, my foreleg dangling between two planks as one of the creatures holds me down. Two more of them use him as a ladder, crawling along his body and up to the bridge.

“No, no, no…” I repeat under my breath. “No!” I flick my hoof and trigger my hidden blade. It pierces the hoof of the creature holding me down, and after a moment of inequinelike screaming, it lets go, falling back down to the hundreds more below. My hidden blade is covered in its green mucus.

Now unrestrained, I start to take flight yet again, but my moment of hope is brief. The limping creature is already taking its sharpened stump of a leg to the rope, and with one sweep, it slices through. As I start flying, I turn around and see the bridge tilt sideways. Shae screams as she’s tripped up. The first thing she does is fumble helplessly until she finds Caro’s foreleg. She hooks one of her forelegs around his, and uses her other to feel for something sturdy to grab onto.

It happens quicker than I can calculate. First, I take my wing blade and throw it at the limper. It cuts into his neck, causing him to stumble and fall off the cliff’s edge. Then, I turn and fly to Shae and Caro. Just as Shae lets out a cry and her hoof slips off the the bridge, I take ahold of her hoof, and embed my hidden blade in the bridge.

“TOHRO!” Shae screams. I can see the pain in her face as she clings desperately to me, and to Caro. I could barely hold him. What good is a young mage’s strength? “I CAN’T HOLD ON!”

I look to the end of the bridge again. I was foolish to think getting rid of the limper would be the end of it. Two of them bare their sharp, gleaming fangs, and bite into the other rope, eating it like dinner.

“Tohro?”

I look down at Shae. Her cheek brushes against my hoof. I can’t tell if her tears are from pain or from sheer terror. “What should I do?” I ask. “Anything. I’ll do anything.”

Shae bites her lip. “L-Let go.”

Judging by the weakening hold of my hidden blade, the snapping rope, and the alarming amount of creatures coming upon us from both sides of the bridge, we don’t have many other options. It’s just comes down whether or not I want to give these things the satisfaction of watching us fall by their will.

I flick my foreleg and disengage my hidden blade. The instant gravity takes ahold of me, I catch one final glimpse of the rope eaters. I see something else under their hoods: intense, blue slits for eyes that change from angry and disdainful to completely shocked. Now their satisfaction is mine, and I show it through a bittersweet grin.

And now I’m falling, with Shae‘s hoof in mine, and hers in Caro’s. It’s not a long fall, not by our standards, and with my flight and Shae’s levitation magic, we should be fine. For now, I enjoy the turning heads of the creatures as we fall past them, down into the darkness below.

Caro slips out of Shae’s grasp.

~Vision End~

CHAPTER XXXXIII - FORSWORN

“Foolish, foolish, foolish…”

Caro can hear two things. The first is a faint ringing in his ears that he can’t get rid of no matter how much he shakes his head, not that he can do so without making himself feel sick. The second thing is somepony muttering between dull thudding noises against the cavern wall.

There’s not much in the way of light to give context to the situation, aside from wet dirt, stones, and towering stone walls. The only thing that cuts through the darkness is a sliver of sunlight that falls from the ceiling above. Caro knows that there’s no going up there; his dashing shout is too imprecise, and Tohro isn’t strong enough to lift him up for longer than a few seconds at a time.

Thinking about Tohro makes Caro suddenly feel more alert. Not knowing where he is makes his nerves go into overdrive. He immediately lifts his face out of the dirt and looks around the dark room.

He sees Tohro standing just outside the light, and his nerves calm themselves. His relief is short-lived when he sees what Tohro is doing, and comes to realize what the source of the thudding is.

“Foolish!” Tohro shouts, slamming his hoof against the wall. “Why am I always torn in two directions?!”

Caro is about to respond before he starts coughing. He realizes that the air around him is filled with dust. He rolls over and gets back on his hooves. “Not our finest hour, was it?” He stumbles over to Tohro with a hoof across his forehead. “Sleeping for a few weeks didn’t do me any favors…”

Tohro leans against the wall by his forehead. “That is the least of our problems,” he says grimly. “We were falling. I had only two paths to choose between. I had seconds, seconds, to choose.” He slowly turns his head to look upon his choice. “You want us to always be together? This is the cost, my dear! I end up leaving a blind mare to her lonesome while I dive to save the Dragonborn! What a marvel!”

“Wait, Shae’s not…” Caro looks around, stepping in a circle. “Oh. Oh no…”

“I had you both! I was ready to flap my wings and break the fall, but then Shae let go of you. The fall must have been too intense for her to hold on… I tried going back to look for her, but...” Tohro pulls his head back from the wall. “You would have been fine! You’re the fucking Dragonborn, you would’ve survived the fall. Then you would have woken up from the bite, and found a way out of the caves by yourself!”

“So where was this thinking when you had to choose between going after me or Shae?” Caro asks. He doesn’t sound angry, though he stands tall and rigid over Tohro, his lips tight and his brow low.

Tohro softly grunts and shakes his head. “I was bound to make the wrong decision sooner or later. Story of my life.” He points to Caro’s saddlebag. “Do you have a torch?”

Caro reaches into the saddlebag, but he doesn’t turn away from Tohro. “I’m not going to hold this against you. I know we agreed that we need to stay together, but I think having a blind mother of two under our care usurps that.” He hoof slips into the hook of the lantern. He pulls it out of his bag and gives it to Tohro. “Shae is much less likely to come back from an injury than I am.”

“Already renewing our vows, are we?” Tohro jests, laughing solemnly. He stands there, holding the lantern, his expression blank. After a few tense seconds, he says, “...Couldn’t bear to lose you.”

“You won’t,” Caro says. He kneels down to the lantern and whispers, “Yul.” A small burst of flame lights the lantern, bathing him and Tohro in a warm, welcoming light. “Just so you know, even if we’re apart, I’ll be with you in spirit, just so long as I know where you are. In time, I would have figured out that you were with Shae, and that I would have to find a way out of here.”

“Speaking of which…” Tohro moves the lantern up high, swishing it around. Its glow reflects off the moisture of the walls around him and Caro, revealing a tunnel on the other side of the room.

“Into the abyss,” Caro says with a sigh. As Tohro attaches the torch to his belt, Caro holds out his hoof. Tohro takes a deep breath, and accepts the gesture. “It just goes to show you that there’s enough problems in the life without fretting over one’s mistakes.”

“At least the dark doesn’t make you suffocate,” Tohro mutters.

Caro wraps his free foreleg around Tohro’s neck and kisses his cheek. “I’m here. It can’t touch you.”

~Shae~

I open my eyes. There’s no difference.

My shoulder, chest and left side of my face are sore. I feel all three parts with my right hoof, applying pressure to detect if they’re bruises. And… Yes, all bruises. My shoulder seems to have taken the crux of the fall, and my face is a little swollen.

Ever since the Elder Scroll took my sight, I’ve trained myself to do a few particular actions when I can’t get my bearings. I’ve had to do this a few dozen times, so it’s already routine to me.

First, I get a feeling for the ground. It’s dirt mixed with rocks, as well as a few roots. It’s fertile ground. At least, it would be, if it weren’t for the lack of sunlight. I know that I’m not outside because I can’t hear any trees or birds or rustling grass. Being blind helps one appreciate those things.

Secondly, I call out for a familiar presence. “Caro? Tohro?”

I wait for a few seconds. No response.

I call out again. “Hello?”

More waiting. Every passing second is intensifying agony, as well as a rising realization that my situation is far, far worse than it should be.

I’m alone in the dark.

I slam my hoof into the ground. “FUCK!” I then take a deep breath. “Okay, okay, dammit, okay...”

My legs are fine, but my sore shoulder causes me to flounder as I stand up. I end up leaning against the wall, which I use for support. I shrug off the pain and get into some semblance of a standing position.

"Think, Shae, think... No, you can think... Calm... Don't freak out. Remember where you are... You're in a cave... we're in a cave to find something... someone? I must have... Right, I was falling… Must have gotten separated from them...”

I’m not doing myself any favors by just standing here. Whatever those creatures were, they might come back, and I will not be a sitting target.

But what if they find me anyway? No. No!

“Yes, keep talking to yourself; you're not crazy, you just need to hear a voice to keep calm. Breathe. Remember your breathing exercises…” I raise my hoof to my chest, inhale, then hold my hoof out, and exhale. “Okay. Okay. Okay..."

I start to move. "The ground is uneven, sloping steeply up about five paces away from where I landed. There's... another slope, less steep I think, about... ten paces from where I landed, forwards and to the left of the path I fell down.” I giggle to myself. “See? Logic. There's always something logical; you're not dealing with Discord here.”

I hear a faint whistling.

“Just a cave... filled with cave-related things, like underground streams, bottomless pits, spiders, dammit, no! You'd hear spiders, you damn fool! Don't think about them, please stop…” I brush against something. “GET OFF OF ME!" I scream, backing away quickly.

I lose my balance and fall over backwards. My voice is silenced by a mouthful of dirt, which I spit out the instant it touches my tongue. I get back on my hooves, ignoring how exacerbated my bruises have become. They’re throbbing.

I stand up… again, then keep walking forward, this time a bit more slowly. “Can't trip if you're trotting calmly, yep. No sirree, can't trip. Gotta stay calm. Can't think about what's out there. It’s just a cave. There are no spiders, no skeevers, no draugr…” Are there? “No, no, no draugr. Certainly no draugr. You’ve researched draugr, remember? This place is far too moist for draugr…”

I hear a distant whispering just barely within earshot. Draugr certainly don’t whisper… What does whisper, though? Ponies? Good ponies? Possibly? Possibly Caro and Tohro?

“Hello?!” I shout, my voice quivering. “Is somepony there?”

The whispering becomes louder. It’s not Caro or Tohro’s voice. Their voices don’t sound this haggard. I try to listen to whatever’s being said, but I can’t understand a word they’re saying… whoever they are. It doesn’t even sound like a language. It sounds like gibbering nonsense.

“Forget what I said,” now whispering to myself. “I don’t want to know who you are. There’s nopony here.” I slowly, carefully, step towards the wall. “There’s nopony here…”

As soon as I can feel the stone, I rest my back against it and lie down. I remember the techniques Eavesdrop taught me. That seems like a lifetime ago.

I focus on the whole of my body, and concentrate a subtle amount of my magic throughout myself. With any luck, I’ll be turning invisible, and whoever’s coming this way won’t see me. They likely won’t see me. They probably won’t... Possibly.

As the hoofsteps and incoherent whispering grow closer, I lean my head back against the wall. It’s taking every fiber of my being to avoid screaming myself until my conscious fades. At least if that happened, I wouldn’t have to be afraid of whatever’s in the waking world.

I still remember what it was like to see, to the point where images still appear in my dreams. They’re just memories, though. Wintercolt Academy. Equestria on a sunny day. The Rainbow Palace. Celina and Luna looking at me with pure love in their eyes. These dreams were all faded and distant, like looking through damaged glass, but it’s still seeing. And every time it happens, I wake up crying.

My worst blind dream came the night after the Elder Scroll did this to me. In a moment of desperation, I reached out to Luna. I expected some sort of salvation, or at least something familiar that I could hear and touch without fear of the unknown. But I saw nothing. I just heard Luna call to me once, before I woke up. Again, in tears.

I’m tired of crying. I’m tired of hurting. But I know it’s all worth it, just so I can be back where I belong, with Celina and Luna. I can still be a good mother to them.

Until then, though… There’s nopony here.

~Vision End~

~Rosemary~

I look over the edge of my perch. I can’t see all the way down the vertical shaft before me. Can’t shake the feeling that this’ll be the point of no return, at least until I find Shae and the boys. I look behind me, gazing up along the path I took to get into this cavern. See you later, sunlight. This is where I leave you.

Ready for anything, I hitch my lantern to my belt, wrap my scarf around my muzzle, adjust my hat, and crouch down. “Into the abyss,” I say confidently.

I leap from my perch, and fall into the darkness. The walls are lousy with vegetation, allowing me a hoofhold to slow my descent. I grapple onto a vine, then kick off the wall, soaring through the air to grab another vine on the opposite wall. I let out the breath I’d been holding in, then check below me. Good, I can see the ground now.

With a grunt, I let go of the vine and enjoy another moment of weightlessness before my hooves hit the ground. The dirt is wet, so the impact isn’t too rattling.

I don’t want to run into foreign territory, especially when that mystery mare’s living map claimed that there were hostile forces everywhere in these catacombs. Just to be certain, I take out the map and give it another look. I’ve been checking it constantly to ensure I haven’t lost Shae or anyone else yet.

I’m closer than I was before, that’s for true. I can see Caro and Tohro’s inky names moving quickly through the winding paths. Fortunately, I can’t see any red dots surrounding them, although I can’t help but wonder if they’re just in hiding, whoever they are.

What causes me greater concern is that I can’t see Shae with them. Did she get lost? Is she…? No, no, that’s a foolish thing to think.

I notice something in the corner of the map: an etching of Nutmeg. I didn’t draw that. Where did she come from? She turns to me and says, “I’m happy you’re making the smart decision, sister.”

“I was an idiot to think I could save you myself,” I say. “Just wait a little longer, and I promise you’ll be home before Mum finds out.”

An etching of Cinnamon steps out from behind Nutmeg. “You know you are going to have to tell her what happened to us, right?” he asks.

I stare at my siblings gruffly before folding the map shut.

“How rude!” Nutmeg shouts as I stuff the map into my bag.

The path goes even deeper than I anticipated, though thankfully I don’t have to make another leap of faith. I step out into a dome-shaped area of the cavern, where a large waterfall can be plainly seen. Much like the water, I descend, walking down a winding, wallbound arrangement of stones. The moss is a little slippery, so I have to take it slower than I would like to. The path expands at a hole in the wall, next to the waterfall.

There’s not much to be found in this room, just a bunch of dirt and stalagmites, and a chest buried in the corner. Oh! Chest buried in the corner! I gallop to it quickly, sliding to a stop right in front of it. It’s a tough one to open, owing to all of this vegetation binding the latch, but with a hard push, the lid comes off. There isn’t much in the chest, aside from some stray bits, a quartz, and a few rusted swords. I have a feeling this isn’t a trove. It might be somepony’s storage. But who would live down here?

I leave the contents of the chest be, shutting the lid and continuing forward. A smaller cave entrance lies ahead, covered in webbing. I’m filled with a moment of looming fear, now aware that an arachnid might be roaming about, but calm down quickly, knowing I can handle it.

I pull out my falchion, about to take it to the web, only to see Cinnamon tangled up, hanging upside down. His eyes are vacant, and his fur is greying and unsaturated. “You’ve been tangled in a web of lies for a while now, Rose,” he whispers.

With a strained grunt, I slash at the web. Cinnamon disappears, and the way forward is revealed to me.

I continue into the cave. This corridor is winding, with many paths branching off of it. Peering down a few of them, I can see that they lead to small, packed-in areas filled with moss and various animal skins. They look like sleeping areas, of a sort.

It’s getting harder to see ahead, even with my lantern. Natural light is dwindling with every step. Whatever dwells down here, it can’t possibly be of ponykind.

I come across a collection of stalagmites with enough breathing room between them for me to keep moving. My bulky figure and heavy baggage makes it difficult to maneuver through them, but I manage. One of my bags snags on the last stalagmite, causing me to trip and spill a few red potions. None of them break, thank Hephaestus. I get my bag off the stalagmite, restock my potions, and survey the area.

I’ve stepped out into a circular chamber. More stalagmites border the room, integrated with the walls. Holes in the upper parts of the walls are carved out, with enough room for a pony or two to fit. Makeshift windows, perhaps? ...Or sniping perches.

I look up towards the ceiling when I hear a rustling noise. The webs become thicker and thicker as they reach the top, and in the center, riddled with the decayed corpses of dozens of ponies, is the nest. And who better to occupy the nest than its owner? The largest spider I’ve ever laid eyes on comes into view. It’s awake, and very much mobile.

Nutmeg is up on the ceiling among the corpses. Suddenly, she starts moving, breaking one of her forelegs out of the webbing. She raises her hoof to the part of her mouth that’s still intact. “Shhh.”

Not that being silent would do me any good. The spider is already spinning a web trail, latching on and descending from the ceiling. Its limbs creak as they extend outward, touching the ground before me. Ugh, it’s so hairy.

I can see my reflection in its every eye. Eight black orbs staring me down is more than enough to make it known that I’ve stepped upon its territory, and it doesn’t take too kindly to that.

It lunges at me with one of its legs. I duck and roll away from it, standing up to see that it was a strong enough thrust to end up embedded into the wall. The spider removes its leg, revealing to me many little sharp teeth that travel down from the base to the very tip. Now I know I have more to worry than ending up a bloodbag.

The spider spits a wad of discolored mucus at me. I dart back from that, as well as the other wads it throws at me. The mucus is viscous, like molasses, and it clings to the wall. I ready my falchion, ready for a counterattack, but another wad strikes my foreleg and sends me back against the wall, forcing the falchion out of my grasp.

The spider is approaching quickly. I’d be more terrified than I am if I hadn’t prepared for this. I reach for my belt and pull out one of my many knives. I cut at the mucus, grazing over my foreleg. After a few good slices, I’m cut free. When I land on the ground, I find myself looking at only a single eye of the spider, followed by an impressive view of its pincers.

“Mine’s sharper!” I shout, shoving my knife into one of its eyes. The spider shrieks, its legs buckling as it stumbles away from me. A trail of blood follows in its wake.

My falchion is just a few paces away from me, but the spider doesn’t seem intent on letting me get it. In a skittering rage over its lost eye, it scrambles to strike at me with its front legs. One jab after another creates a hectic storm of chitin and blurred images of the chamber around me as I gallop for dear life. This chamber seemed so large before, but this thing eats up so much room it’s hard to find anywhere to run.

It’s when the spider slams all of its front legs into the ground at once that I have a window of opportunity. I make a break for the falchion, picking it up in mid-gallop. I turn around, now ready to face this beastie properly. The spider tries to skewer me like a Saddle Arabian kebab, but I sidestep it and scrape the leg with a swing of my sword. With another swing, the falchion’s fire enchantment comes to life. I leap to the crest of the beastie’s leg and slice through it with two downward slashes. Exoskeletons are tough customers.

As the spider screeches and flails about with its remaining seven legs, I step away from it, as well as the twitching severed one. I kick it away once it’s done moving, which the spider seems to take offense to. It focuses its screeching on me.

“Watch your language!” I shout, brandishing my flaming sword. “I had the courtesy to cauterize the wound, so be grateful.”

The spider doesn’t take too kindly to that. In a bloodrage, it charges at me, its pincers hungry and its remaining legs strong and fast. As it lunges, I dive to the side and roll under its swiping leg, swinging upward. The leg splits, and the spider is now short two legs to walk on. Nothing more than a common insect. Aside from it being a hundred times larger than a little crawler.

I turn around, twirling my sword in celebration of my imminent triumph. My eyes widen as I’m blindsided by another leg and tumble onto my back. This time, I hold tight to the sword, ready for the next attack. The spider’s leg swipes over me. I’m able to deflect its attempt to stab me, but the combs slice through my foreleg. A bit of my own blood splashes into my eye, turning half of my vision into a blur. As I instinctively wipe the blood out, the spider gets closer.

“Be with you in a moment,” I growl, wiping the last of my blood out of my eye. I raise my sword to strike at another one of the spider’s eyes, but then I’m struck in the gut by the blunt end of its leg. My back hits the wall, I lose my falchion again, and I lurch over its hairy appendage. Ugh, even its hairs are sharp. “Hello,” I say meekly as I look at myself in its eyes. “Has anyone told you you’re angry when you’re ugly?”

Its pincers flap rapidly. I can see a set of bloody fangs, making it apparent that I’m too much trouble to warrant webbing up and saving for later. The beastie wants to drink my blood right here and now. I hate it when this happens.

Suddenly, a rather bad idea pops into my head. Two swords I should not touch are slung over my back, and I’ve been resisting the urge to make use of them this whole time. I know I’m not worthy of wielding Excalibur, and I do not want to know what’ll happen if I try to use it. Muramasa, however, can be used by anypony, with a few stipulations…

With a bit of a struggle, I free my foreleg and reach behind me to grab the rough hilt of Muramasa. I don’t feel anything come over me as I remove it from its sheath. No turning back now… If I want to put it away, I’ll have to draw blood. Hopefully it accepts spider blood.

The spider screeches just before I sink Muramasa into one of its eyes, and then its screeches escalate to wreck my eardrums. Its screams continue when I slice through its leg without any resistance. I land on the ground, clutching Muramasa’s hilt firmly against my chest.

That felt good. I don’t know why I was so apprehensive towards this beauty of a katana before. It’s weightless, sharper than any sword I’ve ever used or even seen, and it fills me with a sense of power I’ve never known before. Divines be damned, I love this!

The spider lunges at me with another leg. My body knows when to raise Muramasa high, step to the side and slice right through the leg. The spider, down to a mere five legs, can’t move towards me without collapsing. It falls, unable to support itself on uneven sets of legs and a significant loss of blood, which it flounders helplessly in. Obviously it’s miserable, but to Muramasa, this is a feast. Fucking beautiful.

I sprint to the spider so quickly my vision becomes like a tunnel. I slice at its face, cleaving right through three eyes, and take out another two with a perpendicular slice. It’s a shower of blood and other liquids. I hope Muramasa is enjoying itself, because I am.

When the spider’s legs lose all tension and splay out on the ground, its body follows suit. With a scream I didn’t know I could muster, I leap onto the spider and shove Muramasa dead center into it. Removing the sword is like unplugging a reservoir full of blood.

I humor Muramasa by letting its blade bathe in the geyser. That’s when I notice something curious about the sword; every drop of blood is absorbed into the blade, like water into fabric.

As I dismount the spider’s corpse, I take out Muramasa’s sheath. I hold my breath as I line the blade with the sheath, sighing with relief when the blade lets me put it in. I feel dizzy. It’s like coming down from a skooma high, although I’m not entirely sure I liked the high in retrospect. I feel a little unclean, and the fact that I’m covered in blood and guts does not help.

Okay… It’s clear to me that Tohro is meant to wield this. He’s far too nice to let himself be taken over by this blasted katana’s bloodlust. Who knows what could’ve become of me if I let myself carry on with it?

I’d probably end up looking something like the ragged looking earthwalker boy who steps into the room. I catch my breath when I get a good look at him. He wears only fur rags, which doesn’t seem necessary when his coat is so wild. He’s caked with dirt, his eyes are sunken and red, and his teeth, which I can only see because of his jagged lips, are yellow and misaligned.

“Hello…” I say cautiously as I put Muramasa on my back. “Somethin’ tells me you’re more familiar with these caves than I am. Would you happen to have seen a pretty lavender unicorn passin’ through? Because if you have, I’m envious.”

The homely pony stares at me like a child stares at the first zebra he’s ever seen. The very sight of me seems to be a world shaking event for him. He walks up to me, his head tilted and his nostrils fluctuating.

“I… do so take that as a no?” I ask with a nervous chuckle.

He raises his foreleg, then quickly touches the brim of my hat before quickly pulling away. I step back immediately. He steps forward and touches me again, this time on my face. Offended and confused, I shove him away.

“None of that, ya bampot!” I yell. I’m tempted to threaten him with one of the swords I have on me, but the desire fades away as I see how pathetic this pony is. Besides, who would I be to cut somepony down when I’m intruding on their territory? That’s a whole other level of rude. “I’ll be leavin’ now. No bad blood, I trust?”

Just past him, I see a small entrance surrounded by recently cut webs. That must be how he got in. I walk around the pony and head towards the exit; well, ideally it’d be an exit from these caves, but I’ll gladly accept an exit from this nightmare.

That ragged boy better not be staring at me.

If there are more ponies like that skinny fellow back there, it would explain why these passages are so cramped. I pass by more sleeping crevices, some of them smaller than the ones I’ve seen before… Oh, mercy me, there are children among these savages, aren’t there? I pray to Hephaestus I don’t come across any of them.

I step out of the passage, breathing easy now that I can stand up fully straight. I take in the fresh air… Relatively fresh air. I’m on a carved-out balcony, with torches lining the edge. Their light isn’t thick enough to illuminate much of whatever’s below. All I can see when I look down is uneven rocks. Odds are, if the savages haven’t added any torches or carved out any pathways down there, I’d best not take a leap.

I need to get a bearing on my surroundings. I set my lantern down, reach into my bag, and take out the magic map. It’s still showing a rough sketch of these catacombs. I’ve made a fair amount of progress, growing closer to Caro and Tohro’s marks. As for Shae, I still can’t see her. Even when I say “Shae Sparkle,” she can’t be seen.

I grit my teeth, as if biting down on the worst possibility. I refuse to let myself think such a thing. Only when the flimsiest reasoning for her to still be alive fails to reign true will I accept losing her. Until then, I’ll keep searching. Caro and Tohro can lead me to her, no doubt.

As I continue to scan over the map for any other areas of interest, I hear a rustling to my left. It’s distant, and it doesn’t sound like a monster, so I ignore it. I say to the map, “Treasure,” but that doesn’t bring up anything. The most I can hope for is a pony named Treasure walking about.

The rustling is still going on. It’s getting increasingly difficult to ignore. I grunt and return to the map, planning out a course of travel. It seems that there’s a pathway straight to Caro and Tohro’s neck of the catacombs. I’ll have to cut through a few caves, and I don’t look forward to whatever I’ll have to fight to get there, but with any luck I’ll intercept them, or at the very least catch up… I hear grunting.

The map shows a few new marks, all of them in red, surrounding me on all sides. One in particular is very close, and it’s coming out of the passage behind me.

I grab my falchion and turn around, pointing it at whatever’s coming my way. I immediately drop my aggression when I see it’s just the savage boy again. I put my sword away. “I said I’d be on my way. You needn’t be botherin’ me.”

The boy pulls a knife out from his belt and advances on me. I jump back and keep my hoof on the hilt of my falchion, waiting for him to strike. With a yell, he charges at me, but his form is poor and predictable. I dodge to the side, stretch out my hind leg and slam it into his side. I then grab him by the neck and shove him over the ledge. He hits the ground, though not hard enough for anything to be broken.

“Think about what you’ve done!” I yell at him.

I can still hear the rustling and grunting. With a grunt of my own, I grab my bag and follow the torches along the balcony. I climb a stone staircase and step over some collapsed pillars. When I turn the corner, I see what the source of the grunting is.

I look into the red eyes of savage filly with a painted face as she lies on her front. A muscular savage is crouched behind her, thrusting his hips with wild abandon, a telltale grunt escaping his mouth every time he pushes forward. The filly seems… indifferent.

I let out a disturbed whine as I step away. As I force myself to look away from such a horrid sight, I see that I’m the only one who takes issue with it. Other savages stand among the two… intermingling ones. Curiously, they’re all male. Or not so curiously. They must be waiting their turn.

I shake my head. I can’t be seeing this. When I look again, I gaze into a worse sight: Nutmeg is in the filly’s place. She’s crying. “Sis...ter…”

Nutmeg disappears when I shake my head again. The submissive filly glares at me. She crawls forward and stands up, leaving her dominator disappointed. Her legs shake slightly as she holds out her foreleg. Her dominator, who remains disgustingly unsheathed, takes a spear off the wall and gives it to the filly.

She points the spear at me, yelling a series of clicks and jabbers that I can’t make the slightest sense of.

“Oi, I’m not tryin’ to invade on anythin’, I’m just passin’ through,” I say back. “I’ll just leave, and you two can continue with…” I take notice of the strange markings beneath where the filly was lying down. “Uh, this is some sort of ritual?”

The filly’s spear touches my chest. She continues to spout gibberish.

“Okay, you can stop that!” I raise my hoof and bring it down on the spear, snapping it in half.

She shrieks, the clicks interspersed now with warbles and growls, like she's speaking both bear and blue jay at once. Another spear comes flying my way, and I just bat it down the staircase behind me, where it rolls off the edge. "I'm goin', ya indecent cads, sheesh. Fuckin’ weirdos, the lot of ya." I trot past the filly, not bothering with trying to ‘save’ her; if her behaviour so far is any indication, she's not in need of saving.

The stallions all stare at me and make odd sounds of their own as I pass, the one with his personal spear still hanging out even taking a step towards me, which I stop with a firm shove to his face. "No. I got a mare I fancy, and you’re twenty baths and a sanity check away from bein' remotely in my league, anyhow."

The filly's lost all interest in me at this point; apparently, since I don't seem intent on joining, she's fine with getting back to business. The stallions all clamor to join with her, and I leave them to their whining and growling to show off their dominance, with me all but forgotten. I can't help but mutter a parting "Good riddance," before turning back to the map.

Among the grotesque sounds of the resuming ritual, I hear Nutmeg scream. I don’t turn around.

~Vision End~

~Shae~

I wake up, and immediately move my forelegs about erratically, feeling for anything familiar. I’m still up against the wall, my hind legs are still lain against the dirt, and the world is still dark. Nothing has found me. For the moment, anyway. I can finally breathe easily… Again, for the moment.

I keel over and scoot my hind legs close to my stomach. Once again, I feel my scar tingle as I thought forms in my mind. The thought of some shapeless beast striking me where I stand, my body going numb before I’m even aware of their presence.

My thoughts then drift to the nightmarish armor of the unicorn elite, his horn surrounded by dark magic. I see his horn become a demonic version of Excalibur as he charges at me. I try to move, but my hooves are suspended in the air by Shokenda, and in the distance, Celina and Luna watch with broken eyes as their mother— “NO!” I scream, slamming my head against the wall. The impact is great, and my skull begins to throb.

No more of that. No more thinking. There’s nopony here… There’s nopony here…

XLV - The Contract

~Caro~

“Wake up.”

My eyes open wide, granting me a close view of moldy, wooden panels. I remember exactly where I was before I was knocked unconscious. A lantern going out, a beautiful pegasus listening to my every word, an insect in his place, with the audacity to imitate his voice, blue, soul-piercing eyes everywhere I looked, and… now I’m here, being scratched by wood splinters.

I roll onto my front and stand up. It’s either adrenaline, or I wasn’t completely out, but it’s far easier for me to move than I expected. I’m completely lucid. Aside from a splitting headache and a pounding heart, I’m fine.

At least, I would be if there was a certain pegasus to greet me where I woke. Less importantly, I don’t know where I am. Judging by the shoddy wooden planks, shambled dresser and shelves, water-stained walls and the seams in the ceiling, as well as the distinct scent of mildew, I can guess I’m in an old cabin.

From one dark place to another… At least there’s some sign of sunlight. Still, how did I get here?

“Caro. Up here,” a deep, silky voice says to me. It’s not Tohro.

Up on the dresser, I see the source of the voice. I mistake it for a tall equine mare at first, but a few outlying features come into the light. Her wings and legs are filled with holes, not unlike the monsters I saw earlier. A chitin exoskeleton, a long, green, flat blanket of a mane, and sharp teeth that gleam from the rays of light poking through the ceiling.

I tilt my head and grunt. Whatever this thing is, I wouldn’t put it on my list of the scariest beasts I’ve faced. It’s just an insect. “To whom do I owe the pleasure?” I ask snidely.

The insect mare-thing chuckles. “Chrysalis.”

CHAPTER XLV - THE CONTRACT

“And you will address me as ‘Your Highness’, or ‘Your Majesty.’”

I smirk at her request. “And I want to be back in Everfree with Tohro and a hot cup of cocoa. We’re both not getting what we want.”

Apparently, we’re both amused. The insect called Chrysalis laughs and jumps down from the dresser. She’s a lot bigger than I expected, at least two heads taller than me. “Just as inept as my children claimed you to be,” she says. “You have a problem with authority, Caro of Riverhoof. Delusions of grandeur. Hatred for the established way of the world. And apparently…” She leans in close and has herself a gander into my eyes. “You have quite the temper.”

I lean my head forward, forcing her to back away. “Are you surprised that I’m angry?”

“If there’s one thing I understand above all else, it’s emotion. No, I am not surprised. What surprises me is that you have such a backbone when, I should have mentioned, this Tohro you’re so fond of will die if you act out of line. You’d best behave yourself.”

I feel a crawl up my spine. As if I didn’t have enough reasons to hate Chrysalis on first sight, now she has to put my loved one on the line. That said, she did give me a reason to not rip her jugular out. She might not be as stupid as I thought.

“Given his condition when my children found him, I dare say I did him a favor.”

Stupid, or brave.

“Neither of us are pure, Chrysalis,” I say. “Stop pretending as though you have anything good to offer me in place of my Tohro. I want him back.” I make an enraged snort. “No doubt you’re using him as leverage.”

“Right to the point, are we? Isn’t that a breath of fresh air. But I should explain exactly why we took your precious one away from you.” Chrysalis places her hoof against her chest. “We changelings care little for equine sustenance. It does nothing for our bodies. We survive on raw emotion. Anger. Hatred. Dread. Fear. Joy. Lust…”

“Is that so? How do I taste, then?”

Chrysalis leans in again, her cold breath far too close to my face for comfort. “A bit hard to swallow, but otherwise quite decadent. Well-aged too. You hold tight to your feelings, yet you express them so openly. You’re a reservoir of emotions, mouth gushing anger, mind filled with dread. I can feel it all, Caro. You’ve supplied me and my children with ample sustenance for some time now.”

“Equestria is a very angry and fearful place right now. Who says I’m solely responsible for putting dinner on your plates?” I ask. I advance on Chrysalis, brushing a cloud of dust onto her legs.

“There’s something special about you, Caro. I’d expect you to believe the monster who can read your every emotion.” Chrysalis nonchalantly brushes the dust off. “See, we changelings go by another name. Do the words Sisterhood of Shadows mean anything to you?”

I remember well. Tohro spoke of them fearfully in the past.

Chrysalis smiles. “And surely you received my letter?”

We know.

“Oh, shit,” I exclaim. The room seems to go dark around us.

An acid green flame appears between me and Chrysalis. “The Sisterhood is responsible for the deaths of hundreds who, at one time or another, did wrong to a certain someone; someone who would reach out with all their hatred, and recite unto me these words.”

The flame grows every time it hisses out a syllable of a haunting incantation. “Sweet Mother, sweet Mother, send your child unto me, for the sins of the unworthy must be baptized in blood and fear.”

The flame bursts outward, taking the form of three ponies. One is speaking to another, though I can’t hear them. They then nod, and approach the third pony. They take out a dagger, raise it up high, and bring it down on the third pony. At that moment, the flames disperse.

“And how does contract killing benefit you?” I ask, my hair standing on end.

Chrysalis turns her head to her left. “Hatred from the one who wishes death upon another.” She then tilts to the right. “Fear from the contract in their moment of death. There’s nothing quite like it. My children take on the forms of female assassins, fulfill whatever contracts that fall to us, and we devour the emotions that emerge from such a violent situation.”

I turn away and face the floor. “Dragos’ wings…”

Chrysalis still talks, ignorant of my disgust. For all I know, she could be consuming it right now. “Doing all of this under the name Sisterhood of Shadows helps secure us a reputation. And since my children can take on an infinite number of forms, we operate in complete secrecy.”

“No way to trace an organization that kills on command…” I put on a grin. Despite everything I’ve heard making me ill in the head, I’m morbidly curious. I also realize that the more I know, the greater chance I have of getting my angel back from this so-called queen. “You’ve turned Equestria into a basin of fear…”

“To be fair, it was like that when we rose from underground.” Chrysalis giggles. “Should have seen the face of that living skeleton when I crawled out of my hole in the wall.” She gasps, like she just had an epiphany. “Oh! You can!”

Just like with the changeling in the cave, a green flame washes over the insect in front of me, and in an instant, I’m looking at another pony. One with an ancient robe and a decaying body.

I take on a sarcastic tone. “Hello, Otar. You know that insane hole-dwelling moth-eaten queen with a god complex? Maybe you should fill her hole with sap so she can’t get out.”

Otar disappears, and Chrysalis unfortunately returns. “If only I had sunken my teeth a bit deeper into him, maybe he wouldn’t have grown a backbone and…” She waves her hoof, as if shaking away a few bad memories. “That’s irrelevant. What’s most important here, is you.”

I figured as much. I can’t become Equestria’s hero without a few more enemies taking interest in me, or my loved ones.

Chrysalis gestures behind me, to the other end of the cabin. “Oh, and them.”

“Huh?” I turn around quickly, and only now do I take notice of something I can’t believe I never noticed in the first place. Call it deliriousness from being knocked out or distraction at the sight of a large hole-littered insect, I’m caught completely off guard by the sight of two ponies and a gryphon, appendages bound and forced onto their haunches by three changelings; one for each prisoner.

The gryphon is on the left, an older greying mare in the center, and an average seeming purple stallion on the right. At least I can save somepony from Chrysalis today. “More hostages?” I ask gruffly. “You already took what’s most important to me. Why do you have to put other innocents in the way?”

“You took a contract from us, Caro,” says Chrysalis. “Somepony you murdered was supposed to be ours.”

I feel ice in my blood. It’s like getting a cold stare from Tohro. I haven’t been subjected to that torture in some time, and I didn’t miss it. “Who was it I took from you?” I ask, looking back at Chrysalis.

She digs her hoof into my hair and turns it back towards the hostages, making me snarl in discomfort. “That’s not important. What is important is that you interfered with what matters to us most. You denied us food. So, you must make amends for your mistake.”

“In what way?” I ask, wanting to deny the inevitable answer.

Chrysalis’ horn shines the same sickly green color I’ve come to associate her with. She levitates the dresser open, taking out a simple steel dagger. She sets it on the floor in front of me. “Guess.”

I stare at the dagger. It’s a generic iron blade with a wooden hilt. I used to make these by the dozen. In the blade I see both my reflection and Chrysalis’. After staring for a long few seconds, Chrysalis hums with impatience. She makes me shiver, the way her voice crawls through the air and into my ears. As if that weren’t enough, she decides to make a greater mockery of me by shifting into Tohro. I turn away after a mere second of looking, shutting my eyes.

“If you want to save my life, you will fulfill her wishes. It’s not all that complicated,” she says in Tohro’s voice.

“Well, you say that…” I still refuse to look. “Don’t try to appeal to the beast. Tohro helped me shut it out long ago.”

“Did you now? Or have you simply avoided the need for it?”

I reflect on my refusal to kill Sacred Rite, despite her request for me to do so. I didn’t kill her because I feared relishing it. I remember infiltrating Chain Link’s disgusting slave camp, ignoring my body’s every demand to spill slaver blood on the grass.

“I’ve had plenty of opportunities to play executioner in recent times, but I haven’t,” I say, my voice calm and reserved. Speaking defensively would only give her a means to berate me further. “I’ve only killed out of necessity. Not much you can do when a raging Blackwing is charging at you with bloodshot eyes and a raised axe. Don’t tell me I’m cruel for winning in a life or death scenario.”

“You can imagine yourself that way all you want, Caro. All I think of when I see you is a mighty stallion of draconic descent standing over mangled bodies. One of those bodies should have been ours. So, take the dagger, and make amends.”

“But why are they here? Who wants them dead? And who are you to command death?”

Chrysalis grunts with impatience as she changes back to her regular form. I know now that it’s safe to open my eyes. “That never mattered to me or my children,” she says. “A contract was made, so blood must be spilt. Take the dagger, and make amends.”

Reluctantly, carefully, I take the dagger in my hoof. I expect something to happen to me as I lift it up, but I feel nothing. It’s merely a dagger, and before me are mere mortals, held still by insects who would do nothing to obstruct me from taking their lives.

“Determine which one we have been contracted to kill, and carry out the deed,” Chrysalis says coldly. “Simplicity in itself.”

“Okay,” I mutter.

There’s still no voice telling me to stop. No white hoof to seize me by the hind legs and drag me away from this waking nightmare. I always assumed that, if I ever caught myself in this sort of situation, Tohro would always be there to save me from myself. But there’s nothing stopping me. A few steps, and a decisive thrust… I can enjoy the sight of blood on my blade once again.

But there’s something missing. There’s no… catharsis. No reason. I don’t have anything against these captives. Why would I want them dead? For all I know, they could have done awful things in their past, but… look at them now. They’re weak. Defenseless. They don’t know where they are. They don’t know that they’re facing recompense for something they did in the past. How is that fair? Those I killed in the past… Ember, Pyro, Preacher, Sunflower… They knew why they had to… why I decided to kill them, right?

“No need to rush yourself,” Chrysalis comments. “You understand your role here, so be as decisive as you need to be.”

In that case, I might as well gain a better understanding to why these captives are here. Blood might be spilt here; if any of them are in my kill list’s league, then I might have to make a difficult decision, if only to keep me and my loved one safe.

I set the dagger down and approach them. The changelings standing watch all keep their eyes on me. “Relax,” I say, both to the captives and the changelings.

I first speak to the purple stallion. “Hello. My name is Caro.”

“Huh?” he raises his head. His panicked, shaking voice is muffled by the bag. “Y-yes, I know. Dragonborn... I heard you and that… thing talking. I don’t know what she is, so I can’t help you there… I-I’m Two-Bit. I don’t know why I’m here. I’m not a bad pony.”

“I want to believe you, Two-Bit. Sincerely. I don’t want anypony to die here.” But can I avoid that? “I want to know why somepony would want to hurt you. Have you done anything that might have made you an enemy?”

“N-no! I mean…” Two-Bit whimpers. “I didn’t… want to…” He goes quiet. I remain kneeling, waiting for him to fess up. I know what it is, to have a confession forced out.

I choose my words carefully. “Was it a mistake?”

“No! I mean, yes… See, I’m a cook… I work at an inn, up in Tempest. But, Tempest is very… remote. Not many visitors. Especially since everypony started having nightmares a while back. They stopped when Princess Luna first showed up, but who wants to visit a town who had something that mysterious happen to them? The inn started to suffer for it. We couldn’t pay to keep it intact.”

We’re getting somewhere. “So, what did you do?”

“Eventually, my emergency supply of bits ran out, and I had to resort to begging. While I was well-liked around town, and was able to get a little support, eventually my fortune ran out. My inn was already gone. I had nothing left…” His voice shudders once again. “It was in the middle of the night. This young lad, he was drunk and violent. He started shaking me up for what little I had. I had to defend myself…”

I nod. “I see.”

“No one trusts the beggar. I couldn’t justify what happened to the lad. All I could do was run… I was on the outskirts of Fillydelphia when I suddenly woke up here. Evidently, that lad had friends.”

It must have been family of the drunken lad he murdered who muttered the incantation and called the Sisterhood of Shadows to hunt this poor stallion down. It seems that they don’t take self defense into account. But I think I understand why he’s here. To everyone in Tempest, he’s just a murderer.

“I won’t kill you,” I say.

“Damn…” he curses. “Well, thanks for being a saint, Dragonborn.”

“Are you going to take all damn day?” the old mare asks. Her voice is wrinkled and obnoxious, despite being muffled by the bag. Why is it I can’t encounter any kind elderly ponies? It’s always the rude, craggly ones... “It’s down to me and the other one, so just pick already!”

“If the Dragonborn isn’t in a position to make demands, then neither are you. Please reevaluate yourself,” says the gryphon. “Also mind that your life is in his hooves.”

I imagine that, beneath the rotted bag, the old mare is sneering. “Waste whatever air you have left, feathercock. I don’t have time for this shit.”

“Neither do I.” I step over to her, though I back off slightly at the scent of alcohol. “You seem stressed.”

“Think of a few good reasons why, numbnuts.”

I laugh at her attack. “I mean... beyond this. Where’s your fear?”

“Honey, when you’ve pushed five kids out of you and don’t know half their fathers, you really get a sense of perspective.” She laughs too. “Try to think, dipshit, of course I’m scared. I’m just not gonna beg and whimper for mercy. Did it once, wasn’t a fan.”

“And you’re worried you’re not going to walk out of here alive to see your kids again? I know a mother. She’s good to the fillies. Can’t think of a time they aren’t happy. I fear for the kids as much as I fear for her whenever she’s in danger… She could be in danger now.”

“Tell her to enjoy motherhood while the fun lasts, asshat. Congratulations, by the way.”

“They’re not my children, I’m…” I sigh. “Look, I’m not about to kill a mother. You’re a ray of sunshine compared to the last old caretaker I met.”

“Well, shit, I try to be. I love those little bastards, but it’s tough… I know they didn’t order the hit on me. They couldn’t have.”

“Then who would?”

The mare waits. “O-okay, I messed up once. My first three children, I knew their dad. He was a baron up in Scoltland, and he wasn’t… well. I don’t know what I saw in him, but after our third kid, he stopped treating them like a father should. No one hits my little rats like that. So, one night I got him drunk, took him to the cliffs outside the the mansion, and…”

“It was probably easy to pass it off as an accident,” I comment, imagining a stuck-up stallion falling from a great height while an elderly mare watches. It’s almost comical, but not as much as it would have been to me a few months ago.

"Technically, it was one." I can hear the satisfaction in her voice. "He was known for taking drunken walks before. The farthest he'd ever gotten was halfway down the mountainside. I just went back inside, told a curious maid that the Baron had gone walking once more, and..." She snorts with derision. "The drunk fool walked himself off the cliff, I didn't even have to push."

I can’t say I blame her. “If he was a baron, odds are he had supporters. Maybe they’re the reason why you’re here”

“A large family in the northwest. Rich bastard parents for the rich bastard. Wouldn’t put it above them to try and get rid of me. That’s karmic payback if ever there was any… Why do I get the feeling they were more upset at me squatting in his mansion with my kids over letting him die?”

“In any case, they clearly care more about their own reputation and wealth over basic decency.” I smile and lay my hoof on the old mare’s shoulder. “You’ll live. Even my former self wouldn’t wish a bruise on you. You’ll see your kids again soon.”

“Do I have to?” the mare asks with a chuckle. “You’re alright, numbnuts. My name’s Inkstain, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you.”

All that remains is the gryphon. Out of the three, he seems to be the most stoic, judging by what he said earlier. I wonder if he’s remorseful? Or has he accepted what could happen to him?

“Hello, Dragonborn,” he says quietly as I approach. “Come to play pastor for a day? Because, to be entirely honest, I’m surprised I didn’t end up like this years ago. Hell, I’m surprised I’m the first in my family that the Sisterhood got ahold of. See, I come from a long line of criminals…”

“Not making a good case for yourself, are you?” I jest.

“I’m a crook, not a liar. I force wealthy families to pay protection money, or their property gets stolen. I raid tombs and sacred resting places. I rob graves for jewelry. The only possessions I deem sacred belong to me and my closest friends. In short, Dragonborn, my face is the most punchable in this room, and I say that knowing Chrysalis is here and listening.”

“Do you have a death wish?” I hear Chrysalis coo.

The gryphon leans to the side and says loudly, “Not until I met you, your holiness. You should know that I’ve killed plenty of your kind before, so don’t act so high and mighty.”

The changeling behind the gryphon grabs the him by the neck, pulling him back and baring its fangs.

“Stop!” I shout at it, making it look up in annoyance.

Chrysalis’ sickly green aura moves the changeling away from the gryphon. It chatters as it’s set down. “I know you’re angry, but Caro hasn’t made his decision yet, little one,” Chrysalis says. “Be still, and only act if any of them try to run.”

As the high tension lowers ever so slightly, I turn my attention back to the gryphon. His candidness makes me worry that he’s looking for any reason for me to pick him as the one who dies. “Please give me a reason to pardon you,” I plead.

“Why?” he asks tersely.

“Because…” I can’t believe I’m the one who has to explain this. I know what it was like for Tohro to confront that murdering bastard in the cellar. “Well, surely there has to be something good in you? Some regrets, maybe? Isn’t there anypony you love that would want to see you alive and well?”

“Of course,” he says, his stoic tone unchanged. “But does that allow me the right to live? The nice things in my life don’t grant me a free pass on the atrocities I’ve committed. I’ve killed people, Caro. Lots of people. And unlike them,” he nods to Inkstain and Two-Bit, “I wasn’t exactly down on my luck when I took their blood-covered gold coins.”

For a split second, I see Sunflower’s blood on my hooves. Or it could be Preacher’s. Either way, I also remember smiling.

“I’m already a demon,” the gryphon confesses. “And I knew I’d pay for my crimes eventually. Either in life or after, you eventually give recompense. I’m just giving mine now. So, if you’re expecting me to beg for mercy or forgiveness, I’m sorry. That’s not going to happen. Somepony has to die here today, and I know it’s not going to be the two ponies next to me.”

I know bravery. I also know those who have no regrets. I’ve never seen both at once, and I never expected to see it in the form of a bound and blinded prisoner. He has no remorse. He’ll accept this. I can save two ponies, and Tohro, and walk away with a clear conscience.

Then again, I have known those that have no remorse for the awful things they’ve done. More than that, I’ve killed them. Ponies and dragons both. But I know how the dragons feel now, long after their souls became mine. I’ll never see the soul of a pony. Pyro. Ember. Preacher. Sunflower. How did they feel in their moment of death? Did they feel regrets? Were they content in their failings? How many people want to see them alive and well? What family did they have? What were their dreams?

I took all that away without any thought towards another solution. I could have reported Pyro and Ember to Queen Platinum and let the law sort it out. I could have told Preacher off and let him continue blathering on about the will of Dragos… Who knows, maybe I could have learned to respect dragons sooner. And Sunflower… She wasn’t worth anypony’s time. I could have just ushered the kids out and scared her into submission.

And none of this means a damn thing. They’re all dead. I took all of their years of life and knowledge, everything they were and ever could be, and destroyed it.

I fucked up. Forever.

And now it’s time for me to pay the price.

“Do it, Caro,” the gryphon says. “Kill the demon.”

I pick up the dagger and hold it close to my heart. I’ve made my decision. “Okay.”

I throw the dagger at Chrysalis.

She gasps as she steps out of the way. The dagger is embedded in the wall behind her, and a sliver of her mane has fallen to the ground. She stares at me with absolute fury and detestment. “You fool. Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

She sounds quiet. It must be all the blood pounding in my head. I don’t feel well. I don’t regret my decision, but I’m aware of the damage I’ve caused. I know what will happen to Tohro now. In one moment, I’ve lost the love of my life.

The changelings abandon their prisoners and leap at me. They all try to take a bite out of me on all sides. With barely a change in my still demeanor, I slam my forelegs into one’s neck. As it falls back, I plant my forelegs down and buck at the other two.

Why am I doing this? I keep asking myself that much. The answer is obvious. Because there is no clear conscience if I have to kill somepony in cold blood, especially at the behest of a monster.

The first changeling leaps back into the fray and lands on my back. It seizes my neck and tries to restrain me, but with a mighty whinny, I knock it off, grab it and throw it down in front of me. I bring my foreleg down on its leg, hard, and break the exoskeleton. Green fluid drains from its severed limb.

He won’t be the first. I’ll tear Chrysalis and the Sisterhood of Shadows apart, and save everypony that they would put to death. If Tohro knew what I’ve been faced with, and he were here right now, he’d tell me I made the right decision.

The other two changelings stand stock still, horrified and apparently in pain at what I just did to their ally.

Over the pounding in my ears, I hear the gryphon shouting. “They’re a hivemind! They can feel each other’s pain!”

Useful knowledge, but if I know pain as well as I think I do, now they’ll just share each other’s anger and get a second wind. I switch into a defensive stance as they both charge at me, faster than before. I block one with a strike on their jaw, and shove the other away with my barrel. The former pushes back, bares its fangs and bites down on my foreleg. Instead of pulling away, I ignore the pain and charge forward, pinning the changeling in the corner of the room. I rip my foreleg away from it, splattering my blood all over my body. I don’t care. I just keep smashing the changeling’s head against the wall until its exoskeleton caves in.

I take the fresh insect corpse and throw it against the remaining changeling. It catches it and sets it down gently, then leaps over, spreads its dragonfly wings and flies straight at me, filling my ears with an obnoxious buzzing sound that breaks through my deafening heartbeat.

The changeling counters my punch, bucking at me faster than I can react. Rapid blunt strikes to my neck and barrel leave me reeling, until I topple over, clutching what are sure to be some nasty bruises. Now I see why the changelings’ rotted limbs might not be such a detriment.

The changeling isn’t done. It takes advantage of my weakness, pinning my weakened foreleg to the floor and biting down on it, making the already fresh wound even larger. I feel the sting of venomous teeth surge through my body and into my head, turning my vision into a contorted mess and making noises seem even more distant and twisted.

As I flail helplessly, the changeling relentless bites at my foreleg, chest and neck, making unholy clicking and hissing noises that should not come out of any living creature. All I can do is lightly swing at it with bleeding limbs, my body betraying me and my consciousness fading away.

It shouldn’t be any surprise that Tohro is what I think about as the pain reaches its apex. I see flashes of him in the blank spots of my vision. Flashes of his smile, his beautiful golden locks, his angelic wings, his perfectly groomed coat.

The pain would mean nothing if he were here with me. Perhaps we would be victorious, or maybe we’d just die together. Either way, I’d be happy…

A curved, serrated blade cuts into the changeling’s neck and latches on. It screams as an attached chain pulls it off of me, leaving a green smear in his path. I’m barely able to turn my head and see where it’s going.

The gryphon prisoner has broken out of his bonds. Now able to see him in full, standing in what little sunlight there is, I notice only now that he has no wings, and his feathers are white as snow. It’s Altair.

He finishes the changeling off by taking his blades, which are chained to both of his arms, and gutting the insect where it lies, kicking and screaming until the blades leave its body, spilling broken chitin and green sludge on the floor.

As my sight begins to fail and I see my own blood seeping into the wooden cracks, Altair’s weapon disappears into flame. He sprints to me on all fours and grabs of my body. That is all I know before everything goes black.

I dream about Tohro. Where the dream begins and ends, I’m not really sure. It’s just me and him, necks intertwined, forelegs locked firmly around each other’s bodies. Wherever we are keeps changing. A grassy field, a snow-drenched mountaintop, a forest of falling leaves… It doesn’t truly matter where, so long as he is there with me.

“Sleep while you can, Dragonborn,” I hear a deep, soothing voice say along the wind. “You’ll have your work cut out for you if you want to save him…”

Past Tohro’s embrace, I see the gem-encrusted hilt of a sword. Whatever sword it is, it seems a little familiar. If only I could see the blade…

Curious as to whatever it could be, I find myself leaving Tohro’s embrace, passing through him as I reach out to the sword hilt. I miss it by only a hair, tripping and falling into a pile of leaves.

I reach out for the sword again, only to be a fool a second time and just barely miss. Even as I recover from another fall, I can’t quite reach the sword because the ground has violently begun to shake. I turn around, fearing an oncoming stampede, but it’s only a herd of ponies running past. In their wake, leaves cascade down on me like rain, further denying me the sword.

“Damn you, don’t be difficult…” I leap for the hilt, but it deliberately flies away. It’s mocking me!

Here I am, jumping about like a fool in the middle of some autumn forest I’ve never seen before, trying to grasp a sword I only have the faintest memory of. I deserve to trip over a stump and hit my head against a tree.

I fall on my back. My hooves immediately going to my forehead. It feels like it’s about to split open. Not to the degree of when I first heard the dragons’ tongue, but there’s definitely a fissure there.

Tohro comes into view, leaning over me and smiling innocently.

I smile back. “What?” I ask.

He speaks, not in his voice, but with the same deep voice I heard earlier. “Time is wasting away. You have to wake up.”

Wait, I know that voice.

“Don’t tell me you still retain your distaste for mornings, little one.”

My eyes shoot open as I become all too aware of the stinging gashes that decorate my body. I’m more or less a broken window pane. My headache is also there, just as searing as it was in my dream. I’ve certainly had worse, but I’ve never felt worse. What a disappointment.

The only real solace is that it’s a beautiful day. Even through my faded vision, I can see the sun poking through the tree above me, illuminating the dew drops and rain-soaked grass around me. A beautiful image for an otherwise unideal wakeup call.

I hear the grass rustling as a nearby group walks through it. “You give him too little credit. Surely you’ve seen him in his finer moments?” says a mare’s voice. I think it’s…

“I saw him at Ghastly Gorge, and the rest is hearsay. I won’t deny all he’s done, but I won’t be convinced until I see it in his grip.” And that must be…

“If anypony can wield it, it’s him.” And that is most definitely…

Despite the pain, I sit up, growling from the bottom of my throat. It’s so dry. “M-Master?” I hack out. “I-I heard…” My voice dwindles into the worst coughing fit I’ve had since I was a child. I nearly lose the bread I ate back in the cave. “I… Agh, Epona… Help…”

“He wakes!”

“Oh, for Dragos’ sake, get him some water.”

“Yes, sir.”

I blink until I can see properly, and by the time the blur fades, my vision is filled with the young, smiling face of a certain mage I’m fond of. “S-Shae?”

She levitates a canteen to my lips. I lean my head back and accept it, gulping down mouthful after mouthful of water. I’ve never tasted anything so sweet. I nearly find myself begging for more when the cap leaves my mouth, but it just comes out as more coughing.

“Leave it to the Dragonborn to show up bleeding from every part of his body and come back swinging,” she says heartily. “You’re lucky to’ve not gone into another coma. I don’t think you’re on good enough terms with the Divines to have earned yourself another resurrection.”

My mouth is still like a barren wasteland as I speak. “That wasn’t how I—” I notice something I would’ve seen earlier if I wasn’t in such a sorry state. Shae’s eyes are no longer glassy and faded. Rather, she’s reclaimed her magenta irises, which seem to be perpetually glowing. “...Shae, you look different…” I reach out and touch her face. “Are you still…”

She gently embraces me. “It’s a miracle, isn’t it? In a moment of doubt, I reached into the Fae and had an experience even the most powerful sages can only dream of! I saw so much, and… and now I see so much! Does that make sense?”

“No…” I say in a cough.

Shae sighs, but she still appears happy, and that’s enough for me. “I’ll tell you everything on the way to Baltimare, I promise. We don’t have much time.”

“Understatement of the twilight age, Shae Sparkle,” Altair says, approaching me from seemingly out of nowhere. He truly is a master of stealth… Either that, or I’m still delirious. “It seems we were able to extract most of the venom. The remnants will eventually work their way out, sooner or later…" He shows off a vial of green and red liquid, and gives it to Shae, who tucks it into her bag. It’s just now that I notice a long package slung over her back.

“You should avoid overexerting yourself,” she says. “When changeling venom works its way into your body, your muscles are the first to go. But I think we can make use of this venom in our favor…”

“We can use it against Chrysalis,” I suggest. “She can learn what it is to be weak and afraid.”

“My goodness, you have become quite vicious. Hearing you speak such words in person is much more intense than hearing it through the liquid glass.”

I look over my shoulder for the soothing voice I’ve come to associate with Master. Sitting next to the tree, his dark scales shimmering in the light, his beard rustling in the wind, there he is. Commanding all of his power with his mere presence, but the familiar twinkle in his eye assures me that it’s the stallion who raised me, simply in a larger form.

I crawl to him, a smile finally crossing my lips. He returns the expression in the best way a dragon can. He respects my strength and willpower by allowing me to struggle to my hooves without any helping claw. I stumble to him, walking as proudly as I can, until finally, I collapse against his arm.

“Hi…” I mutter.

“You don’t question why I’m here?” he asks.

“I don’t care about that.” I bury my muzzle into his scales.

He lightly strokes my mane with a single claw. “Still, I think it would assist you to know that I came across Shae Sparkle and her dear friend Rosemary Von Spice just outside the catacombs. They had an unexpected guest. If I recall correctly, it was…”

Shae clears her throat. “It was Tangerine. She became a lycan.”

“That took a while…” I comment.

“She turned back into her pony self while Hammerfell flew us to the villa. She looks… different. Her coat is like soot now.”

Master nods and continues. “It was decided to leave Rosemary Von Spice with Lady Tangerine while she recovered from her difficult transformation. After that, Shae’s new abilities and my sense of smell allowed us to pin down your location.” Master chuckles to himself. “We… followed the scent of perfume. It seems some habits never die.”

I see Altair struggle to hold back laughter. I’m too relieved to be angry; I also find myself amused.

“Unfortunately, your trail went cold around the marshlands. It was only when we happened across Altair that we found you and two other ponies. The smell of blood, it was… haunting. I feared the worst had happened.” Master strokes my mane again. “It might as well have, with what you went through. You worry me, child.”

“I’m sorry…”

“I should be the sorry one, knowing what nearly became of you. Altair informed me of everything that transpired in that cabin after he sent the ponies off, with bags of money in their pockets.”

“It’s to ensure they stay quiet,” Altair explains. He’s sharpening one of his knives on his pauldron. “The fewer who know about changelings, the better. It’ll help ensure our victory in the trial ahead.”

“Trial?” I ask.

Altair shoots at me with his intense avian gaze. “Few are able to cross Chrysalis’ path and survive, Dragonborn. Even fewer are able to stand up to her. You’ve seen firsthoof how sadistic she can be, just for a quick meal.”

“It may as well have been torture,” I say, pulling away from Master. “I wouldn’t wish that on anypony.”

“She feeds on the things that have defined Equestria ever since the twilight age began,” Altair pushes, holding out his talons. “Fear. Anger. Hatred. Despair. This place may have been damaged before she came here, but she made parts of it rotten to the core. Removing her means removing the thing that slumdogs and barons alike fear when they go to sleep at night.”

I suddenly remember a reason I should be seething. “She took my angel away from me…”

“Tohro won’t die, Caro.”

“How?” I ask, reluctant to believe it.

“What use would she have for a dead prisoner? She’ll continue to feed on his fear for as long as she can. So long as he has anything to feel, he’s a source of food and power for her.”

I feel a glimmer forming inside of me. I nod at Altair. “So, what do you propose we do?”

With a smirk, Altair approaches me, playfully tossing his knife around. “What else are we supposed to do when somepony like her crosses the line? This isn’t just your average street crook. She is a self-pronounced queen who has monopolized an empire of fear and loathing for her kind’s own gain. She has sanctioned the deaths of hundreds, if not thousands of ponies without a second thought. Some of those ponies happened to be members of the Thieves Guild. My guild. And now she’s taken one of my finest students hostage.”

Altair beckons to Shae, who makes a small “Oh!” sound. She takes the package off her back and levitates it before me. The ropes begin to come off.

“I believed that I shouldn’t disobey the higher power I follow because I feared it would upset the balance of the world. But there is no balance anymore, not with demons like Chrysalis exploiting their abilities on the world. It’s time that I allowed good ponies like you to take matters into your own hooves.”

The wrappings come loose, revealing the gem-encrusted hilt I saw in my dream. The rest of the sword comes out of the wrappings, causing my heartbeat to escalate faster than I thought possible.

That flawless blade… It’s Excalibur.

Altair takes Excalibur from Shae’s levitation field, holding it with tender care. “I too have abused something… My authority as a Nightingale. I swore to uphold the legacy of Hephaestus, but his legacy means nothing if his creations can’t be used for the purposes of their creation. Excalibur is a tool for leaders to carve out a future for themselves and their followers, and you have quite a number of followers, if I recall correctly.”

Altair sets Excalibur down before me. I step towards it, afraid it’s too holy for me to even look at. I once had a chance to wield it, but the opportunity was taken away from me. I won’t let that happen again, and I won’t turn down the possibility to own King Hurricane’s finest sword.

“I apologize on Mistral’s behalf for denying you this in the first place,” Altair says. “Her actions were at my command. Blame me for not allowing you a fair chance.” He steps away from the sword and crouches down in anticipation. “Caro, if you are worthy, both the Thieves Guild and the Nightingales will follow you into Chrysalis’ lair without question.”

I take a deep breath. Tired of waiting for a sign of whether or not Excalibur is mine to wield, I reach down, and touch the hilt. Nothing out of the ordinary happens. “How will I know if I’m worthy?” I ask.

“You’ll know,” Altair says.

I take another breath and lift the blade. After a second that lasts far too long, something finally happens. Excalibur shines brilliantly, a warm, pleasant light emitting from its blade. I feel the light pour into me like a dragon’s soul would, and when it fades, the sword is gone from sight.

Altair looks both excited and apprehensive. “Hold out your hoof. Call to it.”

I do as he says, reaching out and concentrating on the image of Excalibur in my mind. Just like that, the sword appears in my hoof, aglow and mighty. I give it a proud swing, and it gives off a satisfying swish. I feel as though I’m cleaving through the wind itself.

I swing it one again, this time moving my whole body. My elation for my newfound weapon is almost enough to make me forget my aching muscles. When I will the sword to disappear, I look up at Master.

“Like the stallion I believed you could be.”

I turn back to Altair and Shae, who are both beaming. I say to them, “Let’s go rescue Tohro.”

XLVI - The Worthy

~Rosemary~

She can sleep so peacefully… This is the one time that I’ll admit I envy her. Her bed is a comfortable one, and she has a grand portrait of my daddy to watch over her.

Lady Tangerine. Former general of the Imperial Legion. Successor to her husband, Oregano Von Spice. Owner of a expansive villa, a massive family fortune, and, as of her husband’s unfortunate death, an impressive library of weapons. She is currently a mother to two beautiful young ones; a boy and a girl. Nutmeg and Cinnamon.

There’s also her other daughter, Rosemary, but that’s not really important in comparison to everything else she’s done. Like run off with a lycan from a family of roughnecks, get engaged, traipse about Equestria while a war escalates behind her back, and become a lycan herself.

My forelegs are crossed as I sit in my daddy’s old thinking chair, overlooking the mare who gave birth to me. She looks worlds different with a black coat, but it’s not as though I would’ve recognized her anyway. Her mane is disheveled, no longer tied up all prim and proper like it always was. Her complexion is far dirtier, one of a pony who has embraced their wild side. Most alienating of all, though, is her smile. So blissful and carefree… since when does she emote so liberally?

Looking at that smile for so long makes my thin wire of tolerance snap. “Wake up,” I say.

She finally stirs. Her eyes flutter open. I can still see red in them, left over from her lycan form. "Hello, Rose..." she whispers, in an alarmingly sanguine tone. “Some dream… I remember rain… And a dragon, of all things.”

"You tried to kill me,” I blurt out, leaning forward.

Her eyes dart around the room. "...Uh?"

"You became a lycan, tracked me down, and tried to kill me."

She sits up, her mouth agape. "...I did?” She holds her hooves to her head, her teeth clenched as she tries to think. I deeply enjoy her face of shock when she sees her black coat and remembers. “...I did… Oh, Divines, Rosemary... You know I'd never—”

"I know,” I interrupt. Even I don’t think that low of her. “But it's hard to forget the feelin’ when a lycan's claws are inches away from your body, so you’d understand why I’m apprehensive to thank you for not killin’ me. Drank Wolf River’s blood, didja?"

"N-no. It’s far more complicated, it took so long to gather the ingredients to…” Tangerine pauses, looking at me with a worried and curious expression. “How did you know that?"

I bend over and pick up the book I had been reading while I waited for her to wake up. Lycans and Lycanthropy: A Log of Legendary Lacerations and Lynchings, one of my old favorites."I ain't stupid, Tangerine. Daddy read the whole library to me a hundred times over, I know how Lycans come to be, and I heard the rumors about you and your new husband from city to city. You’re not exactly off the map.”

“We haven’t gotten married yet…” she mutters. If that’s all she has to say, then I suppose she’s not as high and mighty as she once was, and there’s no reason for us to talk further. She’s made her choice.

I stand up, grab a tunic off the floor and toss it onto the bed. "Come to breakfast if you want. I'm makin' sandwiches. Never had 'em before? You're in for a treat." I get out of Daddy’s chair and walk to the door.

Tangerine calls out to me as she throws the tunic on. "Rose, please, I want to talk."

"Ha!" I yell sarcastically.

Before I’m able to walk down the stairs, I see Nutmeg and Cinnamon sitting on the top step, giggling like the little tykes they are. They turn and flash naughty expressions at me.

“What?” I ask.

“You didn’t tell heeeer!” Nutmeg sings. “She’s gonna be ma-aaaad!”

“How mad d’you think she’s gonna be, Nutmeg?” Cinnamon asks coyly.

“Shut it,” I command. The moment I step onto the stairs, they disappear.

With those two gone, I’m able to relax. At least, as much as I can with Tangerine in the house, but I’ll take what I can get. I know I’m caught between a rock and a hard place, and trying to pretend as though Nutmeg and Cinnamon are still here is a truly mad idea. But I’m still afraid. There’s getting dust on a family heirloom, and then there’s letting your siblings be taken away and hiding it for a few months.

There is no sane option for me. I’m just going to delay the inevitable for as long as I can.

~Vision End~

CHAPTER XLVI - THE WORTHY

“How are your muscles, Dragonborn?” Altair asks as he disembarks from Master Hammerfell’s back. He extends his arm and offers it to Caro.

Caro takes up his offer. He grunts as his chest and legs refuse to move as much as they should. He can almost hear them creaking beneath his skin. Altair is gentle as he holds Caro’s foreleg and barrel, easing him onto solid ground. “Thank you,” Caro says.

“You’re probably the first pony to take more than three bites from a changeling and survive. Their venom is insanely stubborn,” Shae comments. She leaps from Hammerfell’s head and lands on the grass with the utmost grace. “How many red potions have you drank?”

“Five, and they were the most potent ones you had.” Caro chuckles weakly. “On the bright side, I’m completely hydrated now. Nothing we can do but wait til the venom dilutes, I guess?”

Shae nods as she checks up on Caro’s withers and legs. Her eyes flash as she scans over his most crucial areas. “Fluids will help with that, but as soon as we get to the Thieves Guild’s den, I want you to find a place to lie down. I think some hot coals and a deep tissue massage will help cleanse your body and get you back in fighting condition.”

“And while you attend to that, I’ll address my thief brethren, as well as the other Nightingales,” says Altair. He grabs Caro’s belt of knives off of Hammerfell’s back, as well as a few pouches, and tosses them to Caro, who catches them in his sore forelegs. They’re slightly damp. “I found those just outside the cabin. Apparently Chrysalis didn’t cover all of her bases.”

“Smarter than leaving it with her for me to find,” Caro says. “And I think she had plans for me beyond forcing me to kill someone. Glad to know those fell through.”

“You should be even gladder to know that we’re taking a preemptive attack against her before she enacts any other schemes against you. She is devilishly tricky when she wants to be.” Altair stares at the bushes and trees. “And her spies are everywhere. Don’t talk about her until we get underground.”

“I think all attempts at stealth have been thoroughly shattered from my presence alone,” says Hammerfell, who turns his head to Mount Everfree. “I must depart.”

Caro, suddenly looking morose, moves as quickly as he can to Hammerfell’s neck, leaning on it with all of his weight. “I don’t want you to go.”

“You know I would stay if I could, but Saviikaan would love nothing more than to usurp Neigh Hrothgar in my absence. I can’t leave my followers to their own defenses; they’re but simple monks. They’d never stand a chance against him.”

Caro takes a deep breath. “I understand. Tohro and I will visit Neigh Hrothgar when we finally have time to breathe.”

“Do bring Shae and the young princesses along. I would love to meet Equestria’s future rulers in person.”

“Luna would just adore you!” Shae says, absolutely beaming at the thought, before putting on a more focused expression. “We’d best get a move on.” She gestures to Altair, who is already moving quickly to Baltimare. It appears to be aglow, with the morning sun reflecting off the water it sits upon.

“Give my best to the Greybeards,” Caro says to Hammerfell before running off after Shae and Altair.

“Hark, Caro,” Hammerfell calls out. “I forgot to tell you something important.”

Caro turns around. "What is it?"

Hammerfell leans in close and brushes his beak against Caro's muzzle. “I love you. Good luck.”

With a mighty beat of his wings that rustles the grass, bends the tree branches, and sweeps Caro’s mane and tail back, Hammerfell leaps into the air and soars away. Caro watches him, solemly waving until he disappears from sight. “I love you too, Master,” he mutters.

“Caro! Time waits for no one!” Altair shouts.

Along the moat on the outskirts of Baltimare, two gryphons loiter outside the entrance to a sewer. One of them sits on a post in the water, writing a letter, and the other stands closer to the sewer, sharpening her knife. “So, I’m fairly new around here,” she says.

“That so?” asks the one with the letter.

The knife-sharpener blows some of the whittle off of her blade. “I only left Gryphonstone three weeks ago. Flew around, thought this place looked like good a place as any to live, run into Altair and suddenly I’m running weapons for a guild of crooks. So, hurrah for me. But something’s been eating at me ever since I met him.” She shrugs. “What happened to his wings?”

The male gryphon nods his head back and forth. “He tells a different story every time you ask him. Some say it was a rare bone disease that he had to cut off at the source, but I don’t buy it. I mean, why would the disease be in both wings?”

“No such thing in Gryphonstone, as far as I know. Any other stories?”

“Some say he sold them to a collector as a child, others claim that he lost them in a raid gone wrong.”

The knife gryphon snorted. “Losing a body part in combat, that’s original. We should invent one of our own.”

"My personal favorite is where they fell off after he fell victim to a powerful sneeze," Altair says, making the post-set griffon drop his paper in the water below. "Of course, that sneeze came to be from being in a room filled with pepper and sparkpowder for explosives. And he was in there because he'd fallen down some stairs. And he'd fallen down the stairs because a vile changeling threw him down them to make an escape, before he could valiantly destroy her and her vile hive." He gives the two other griffons a wide smile. "But that's only a story."

“Mind if I steal that, sir?” the knife-sharpener asks.

Altair pats her on her spaulder as he leads Shae and Caro into the sewer entrance. “Go ahead, and sell it to the same black market dealer who betrayed me and cut them off while we were making love in a field.”

The letter gryphon fishes his letter out of the water and joins the group. “Oh, they wouldn't buy that bilge if a fat rat had drizzled itself in honey beside it!” he proclaims. “No, best give it to the surviving Blackwing from the thirty that ambushed you, and took your left, along with the lone Imperial guard who snuck up to claim your right.”

"Rest assured, that rumor will never reach the hooves of Wintercolt Academy; not after how they stole your wings and made pillows from them for their students," Shae says.

Caro looks absolutely stricken. “Wow.”

Altair bursts out laughing. “I should spend more time with company like this. But onto more important matters.” He points to the letter-writer. “Rook, finish your personal matters posthaste and empty our armory. We need our best weapons.”

“Right away, sir.” Rook flies ahead.

Altair then addresses the knife gryphon. “Arlow, I need you to wake up Mistral and find Chippy. I need them for an upcoming mission.”

Caro and Shae look at each other. “Chippy?” they ask quietly.

“You mean, all three of you will be out at once?” Arlow asks. “That… never happens. Is everything okay, sir?”

“It will be, by tomorrow. Until then, I want everyone in the guild on high alert. Those who don’t come with me and the rest of the Nightingales on this mission will be in a different sort of danger than we’ll be. Everyone needs to be awake with their backs watched. Have them all go through an identification procedure.”

“Very thorough of them,” Shae observes. “We’re witnessing what many ponies don’t have the privilege to, Caro. I want to see if the rumors about the Thieves Guild are true. We might get to see their techniques in action. See how they keep a low profile.”

“Despite everything…” Caro flashes a smile. “Yeah, I’m excited too. Tohro had to be tightlipped about how these people function. Aside from Altair and Mistral, he never mentioned any other members. We should follow his example, once we’re done here.”

“Oh, Caro, you know I’ll have to write down our adventures in a journal, one of these days,” Shae chimes innocently. “I would never leave well enough alone.”

Caro pauses. He imagines holding a fresh binding of pages that detail every moment of his life, as well as the lives of Tohro, Shae, and Rosemary, from the moment they met by happenstance. He pictures it being read to adventurers and children across history, albeit with a lot of the more unsavory aspects omitted or simplified. The idea of a documentation of Dragonrein reminds him that he, at this very moment, is shaping history alongside the greatest warriors and rulers that will be remembered for centuries to come.

“Caro? Is the venom acting up?” Shae asks, waving him back towards the group.

“No, I’m fine,” Caro says, his smile returning. Although Shae mentioning his illness makes him realize how sore he truly is. He trudges through the tunnel, joining Shae and Altair at a turn while Arlow flies ahead.

At the end of the tunnel is a sewer hub, though one would mistake it for a lively tavern, if it weren’t for murky water traveling through the center of the room, with a fittingly overbearing scent to accompany it.

“I’ve seen that look before,” Altair says after taking a glance at Caro and Shae’s faces. “Don’t worry, you acclimatize to the smell.”

“Of all the places to settle down, why a sewer?” Caro asks. “Your group may be sneaky in operations but you’re not exactly low-profile in Baltimare.”

Altair smirked and held up two talons. “Shadows and size. The sewers are just dark enough for us to hide in a hurry if an undesirable comes a-knocking, and even if they could get a mark on us, we’d be able to scatter so quickly that they’d never truly catch us.”

“So your only legitimate fear is falling victim to subterfuge?”

“Yes, and even then, it’s incredibly un—” Altair is stopped short by a hooded unicorn, who stands in his path with a neutral demeanor. The unicorn’s horn comes alight, and then he scans over Altair’s body. The inspection ends at his tail, after which the unicorn nods, and goes on his way.

Caro finishes Altair’s sentence for him. “...likely?”

“Uh, yes. Whenever the Sisterhood of Shadows is a threat, immediate or otherwise, we have ways of keeping our integrity. Now, if you’ll excuse me…” Altair crouches down and jumps up to a makeshift balcony, disappearing into another tunnel.

Shae is scanning over the many gryphons and ponies of the sewer lounge. Her eyes are slightly more aglow, but her horn is unlit. Caro looks at her with fascination, approaching and asking, “What are you doing?”

Shae pauses her surveying and lets her eyes go back to a dimmer glow. “I’m sorry, I forgot this is new to you... Ever since Fauste spoke to me, I can see the souls of everything I look upon.”

Caro nods, still taken off guard by Shae regaining her sight in his absence. “I have a shout that’s somewhat like that. It lets me distinguish friend from foe. But I fear it might be fickle; I haven’t used it since I was last in Baltimare.”

Shae resumes looking around the room. “This isn’t so black and white. I don’t see good or bad, I simply see… people. No soul is the same. Even in this room, there are so many stories and lives at work. They’re all so unique and fascinating... and fortunately, none of them are changelings.”

“What do their souls look like?” Caro asks, genuinely captivated.

“They look like the person themselves, just in a, um, purer form. Some souls are still, well-held within the confines of the body. Others transcend the body, like a flame. I don’t really know what it means. I’d have to get to know them to understand why one’s soul can take on such a shape, but I have theories.”

“What does my soul look like?” Caro holds his hoof to his chest.

Shae turns and looks at him, peering closely. “Hm. Yours is complicated. You look… consumed. Like your soul is more than yourself. And those wisps that surround you… Oh, I get it. Those are the dragons that are with you, I’m guessing?”

Rasahrel’s voice comes through Caro’s mouth. “That is a valid assertion.”

Shae steps back a little. “Oh!”

Caro chuckles and blushes. “Sorry. Rasahrel is bold. You would be too, if you only had brutes for company in this duraal grunz. Your body is not as large as it looks.”

Shae finds herself both amused and somewhat frightened. “Well… Caro is quite the brute himself.”

“The only brute I can tolerate.” Caro shakes his head and taps his cheek. “Okay, that’s enough out of you, friend. I’ll call on you when I need you, which may be very soon.” He goes quiet for a moment. “I’m looking forward to it as well.”

“You’re amazingly strange.” Shae jabs Caro in the shoulder, only for him to grunt and hiss. “Oh, right…”

Shae leads Caro along to the other end of the sewer lounge, where a fireplace full of coals resides. As they do so, many of the residents shuffle quickly past them, all speaking excitedly about something. Among all the cacophony, Caro and Shae hear mention of Altair, as well as Chrysalis. “I think they’re just as excited to take the fight to the Sisterhood as I am,” Caro says. “...Mostly. Tohro is my priority.”

Shae levitates a pillow from a nearby bunk and places it on the bench in front of the fireplace. “I feel the same, to an extent. Now lie down.”

Caro does so, much to his muscles’ discontent. As he splays his body over the bench, he has to let out several long breaths before his body stops screaming at him. He relaxes his head on the pillow.

Shae levitates some round coals out of the fireplace, dipping them in the sewer water to douse the flame. They’re still steaming hot when they rise from the water. “I know you’ll hate this, but just bear with it… I’ve only done this once before. The heat from these coals will disperse the venom, and I’ll break the rest of it down with my hooves. After that, it’s just a matter of, uh, purging it. You’re in for an unpleasant trip to the lavatory afterwards.”

Mentally prepared, and with the thought of walking back to Everfree with Tohro beside him held in his mind, Caro braces himself. “I’m ready.”

Shae places the first hot coal on Caro’s back, between his shoulders.

“Oh, that’s… AGH, FUCK!” Caro shouts. The burning sensation is felt throughout his entire body. He feels like his inner fluids are churning around the coal’s point of impact, squeezing his muscles and bones like coils. The feeling only burns worse as the other coals are placed along the length of his spine, ending at his haunches.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Shae mutters. “I swear, this will work, just hold on…” She claps her hooves together, creating a spark. Two orbs of magenta fire surround her hooves. She gently presses into Caro’s back, drawing circles into his muscles. “You’re going to be fine.”

“I know…” Caro growls. His trust in Shae can be heard beneath his pained exclamations. “You’re… you’re an amazing mage… Urgh… I trust you…”

“I know,” Shae reciprocates. She sends a little bit of her aura over to Caro’s face to stroke his forehead. “Just a little longer, Caro… We’re not going to keep Tohro waiting.”

Altair waits impatiently outside the door to Mistral’s chambers. He leans against the frame on his hind legs, tapping his paw impatiently. He resists the urge to make some sort of gender-based assumption, knowing he’s above such a thing, but every second Mistral isn’t fully prepared still eats away at him.

Finally, just as the temptation to open the door overtakes him, Mistral comes out, fully armored in her skin-tight black armor and hood. She has yet to put on her mask. “This will be the first time in a while that more than one Nightingale will serve on the same mission. I thought that was taboo.”

“Some parts of my creed are worth breaking,” Altair says. “Besides, it’s mere superstition. I scarcely believe in luck, let alone taboos.”

“Chippy is rubbing off on you.” Mistral puts her mask on. It completely hides any indication of her identity; even her voice is greatly subdued and altered by the metallic face she now wears. “Where is he, anyway?”

“Approaching.” The Nightingale known as Chippy walks into the corridor. Even a lanky earthwalker such as him looks fearsome in his armor and mask. He walks with a large amount of dignity for somepony clad in the armor of the highest class of thieves. “A worthy excursion into the changeling queen’s demesne is long overdue, yet no less unorthodox. Why such a sudden shift in plans? If I recall correctly, your trojan prisoner mission’s very purpose was to abridge an incoming war.”

“Circumstances got out of control. Besides, I wholly doubt I’d have been able to kill Chrysalis alone, in retrospect.” Altair strokes the underside of his beak. “Every other time I’ve tried to take her out, she had a tendency to detect my scent. But when the Dragonborn was there, something was different… Chrysalis is particularly interested in him.”

Chippy nods. “Indeed, but we can only guess as to why. According to reports, he has a tendency to wear his emotions on his shoulders. Perhaps it’s a sensory overload for her. Or maybe he’s just an unusual combination of emotions that she wishes to sample. It could be both, or neither.”

“In any case, she clearly had a rare slip-up,” says Mistral. “And Caro was a likely reason as to why. I know one instance doesn’t really make for a pattern, but using him might be our best shot at finally killing her.”

“The Thieves Guild always gets their due,” Altair states, patting both Mistral and Chippy on their backs. “By any means necessary.”

Altair motions to the entrance back into the sewer lounge, and walks towards it, leading his fellow Nightingales on either side of him. On the arch above the doorway, etched-in letters spell out TAKE ALL, GIVE MORE.

The moment Altair steps out onto the balcony, the loud discussions of the thieves below descend to a murmur. By the time he takes his spot in the center, the murmurs escalate back into loud voices, only now they’re far more unified, as they all pump their hooves and talons.

“Al-ta-ir! Al-ta-ir! Al-ta-ir! Al-ta-ir! AL-TA-IR! AL-TA-IR! AL-TA-IR! AL-TA-IR!”

“Yes, yes, hail me.” Altair takes a bow as his thieves cheer loudly. “Ah, your praise grows louder as our numbers grow, and yet these beautiful catacombs of brick and moss still conceal us from polite society.”

“And we’re not polite?” one gryphon in the back asks loudly.

“Quiet down, Arno! Teacher speaks!” Altair points and shouts. He collects himself and leans over the railing. “Now, my students, I am ashamed to report that my stealth operation was unsuccessful. Due to unforeseen circumstances, I had to compromise my position.”

A lot of the thieves groan in disapproval.

Altair waves his talons. “Not to worry! I think you’ll all agree that saving the Dragonborn took precedence. His battle is far more important than ours.”

There’s some quiet muttering, as well as some nods of approval. Others still hold their disappointment, though not in as many numbers.

Altair resumes his speech. “As is our tendency to find silver and gold in the most unexpected of places, I have found us both a silver lining, and a golden opportunity! See, the Dragonborn too has lost something to Chrysalis and her spawn. Tohro Blackwing, a dear close friend of his, and one of our fellow thieves, has been taken by the cruel queen. He is being held as livestock, just the same as many of us before him.”

Arno speaks up again. “So what makes this any different from the times before?”

“Arno, sit down,” Altair says with a sigh. “For too long I have ignored Chrysalis’ bargains and baiting. I’ve tried to break a vicious cycle that she’s attempted to impose upon us. She would want us to pursue the thieves she’s taken from us, or seek revenge for those she was contracted to kill, and in doing so let our rage and grief make her stronger. I’ve tried to cut us out of the picture to keep that from happening, and yet she still grows stronger as contracts towards our deaths continue to pile up.”

Mistral lowers her mask and shoots Altair a concerned frown. “You’ll lose them, sir.”

“Don’t worry,” Altair whispers, before resuming his speech. “I’ve known for some time that removing ourselves from the equation is no longer an acceptable option, but it’s only now we have a chance to succeed.”

The thieves are silent, Altair grinning all the while as he prepares for the reveal that he believes will change everything.

“Prepare for this, friends, because this is important: When in the presence of Caro, Chrysalis was unable to detect me.”

There are several exclamations of “What?!” among the sudden ruckus that sprouts from the revelation.

Altair shouted over the restless crowd. “It’s true, it’s true! Every word! She couldn’t feel a damn thing! And it goes deeper than that. She has a certain attraction to the Dragonborn, one that we can use to our advantage!” He casts his talons out, pointing at the Dragonborn himself.

Caro is still lying down, in pain from Shae’s flame-based healing. He opens his eyes slowly, weakly motioning his hoof at Altair.

“I know, I know, he doesn’t look like he’s in the best of conditions, but please trust me when I say he is the key to our success.” Altair clenches his talons into a fist and holds it aloft. “I knew it from the instant he clutched the sword of kings, Excalibur, in his hoof, and it accepted him as its master. Caro holds Equestria’s last remaining pure light in his hooves, and he will wield it to end this cold war. The long battle between the thief and the demon will finally see its conclusion.”

There’s a thunderous applause, along with the returning cheers of Altair’s name. The thieves stand united once more as they pump their talons into the air. “AL-TA-IR! AL-TA-IR! AL-TA-IR! AL-TA-IR!”

Even Shae sees fit to join in, softly repeating the cheers as she continues to apply her flaming hooves to Caro’s back. “Altair, Altair…” She chortles. “He knows how to make a speech, I’ll give him that much. Even I’m excited for this.”

“I’m not,” Caro says, his voice shuddering. He tilts his head as much as he can towards Shae. “You realize what’s going to happen, right?”

Shae shrugs. “Did I miss something?”

“I can read between the lines. Altair wants to kill Chrysalis.”

“Oh, I’m… I’m sorry.” Shae, unable to consider an answer to such a predicament, continues the healing process quietly. The procedure is just as intense for Caro as it is for her; she has to keep the flames under control, not to mention having to constantly attend to every area of his back. Luckily for her and him, she feels the venom begin to dilute. She levitates the coals off of Caro’s back and throws them back into the fireplace. “I’m going to turn you over now.”

Shae wipes her black and white mane out of her eyes and removes her hooves from Caro. As her horn lights up and her aura surrounds all of Caro, she remarks at the extent of her abilities. She doesn’t feel even the slightest hint of fatigue in lifting up the inordinately muscular stallion and turning him over, all the while keeping her forelegs aflame.

Caro is also amazed, and sighs with relief when he’s set back down without his soreness getting aggravated, for the most part. His back is still coming down from its treatment, and his mind is still racing. “Shae, I’ve had time to think about what Chrysalis did to me. At least, why she did it.”

“Uh-huh?” Shae places her hooves on Caro’s chest and presses down on it. “Sorry, this is going to be even worse.”

“I figured… Agh…” Caro wheezes as he feels something bursting from his lungs. He thinks that might be the venom. “Fuck.”

“Keep talking, it’ll distract you,” Shae suggests, moving the flames down to his belly.

Caro’s forelegs curl every time he feels a surge of pain throughout his body. Beyond that, he focuses purely on his thoughts and feelings. “I… I think I might understand her. And I understand why Altair wants her dead. I mean, I do too, but… I don’t want her to die. I want to connect with her.”

“Do you think that’s even possible?” Shae asks. “She seems like she has her own breed of morality, or worse, none at all… I’m excited for what’s going to happen, yeah, but I’m also scared for you.”

“I don’t blame you. This isn’t like anything we’ve fought before.”

“No, Caro,” Shae says. “I’m scared that you won’t be as decisive as you’re supposed to be. You’re the one who charges through with brute force when logic or bureaucracy gets in the way. You’re not a diplomat, you’re a force of nature.”

Caro’s voice is seized by Rasahrel. “He can be decisive without being a thug. Perhaps we don’t have to rely on diplomacy, merely a discussion of morals… It’s not as though we have to land the decisive cut, mind you. I, too, want to understand Chrysalis’ actions.”

Caro’s voice returns. “Hm. That could work…”

“What would work?” Shae asks.

“I’ll have to take it up with Altair, but maybe I don’t have to decide Chrysalis’ fate. Maybe I can serve as a weapon of infiltration, and let Altair decide what happens to her.”

“Caro…” Shae’s mouth is agape. The flames on her hooves momentarily go out.

“Chrysalis is… unique. She may be a demon, but there’s more to her than just that. She knew Otar. Actually, I think she might be responsible for whatever made him live for so long. She might even know something that could help me fight Saviikaan.”

“It’s all assumption.” Shae hunches over the bench next to Caro. “This is dangerous. I know risky is how you operate, but please, for my sake, and Tohro’s, don’t do anything downright stupid. The world can’t handle the Dragonborn dying twice.”

“I’ll be fine.” Caro flashes a smile. “I have a few good minds to keep me in check. Speaking of which, are you okay? You seem a little high-strung.”

Shae quickly raises her hoof to her neck. “Do I?” She quickly pulls her hoof away. It’s still hot.

Mistral brushes Altair with her wingtips. “Sir, with all due respect, while I appreciate that you’ve learned to trust the Dragonborn, I think you might be making an overcorrection.”

“I know how powerful Excalibur is. We all do.” Altair pokes at the map with his talon, and moves a small wooden quadruped figure into a large chamber at the top of third floor. “We only need be a safeguard for Caro. He can singlehandedly infiltrate the Sisterhood of Shadows’ mansion, approach Chrysalis, and strike her down where she stands. Excalibur can finish her in just one swing, and it’s not as though Chrysalis will be able to speak to the hive with Caro buggering up the connection. That’ll give the three of us enough time to take a small search party below to the lower chambers and find the prisoners.”

Mistral closely examines the map, as well as the rest of the wooden figures that stand beside it. The mansion is surprisingly detailed, leading her to believe that Altair has been in there more often than she’d wish for him. She’s at least thankful that their battle strategy will be all the more fine-tuned because of such experiences. “Might I suggest an adjustment, sir?” she asks.

“Go ahead.”

“We know how powerful Excalibur is, no one is denying that… Problem is, a weapon is only as powerful as whoever’s holding it. You said that yourself.”

Chippy grunts. “You seem a little too eager to believe that having a single variation in the status quo will ensure victory. I understand your plight, but don’t let idiocy clog your veins the way Caro’s veins are clogged with venom. It doesn’t matter what Shae Sparkle does, he won’t be in peak condition for at least a week.”

Altair falls back into his chair and folds his arms. “Even with an advantage, Chrysalis still has to weigh down on our shoulders…” His expression turns sad. “You understand why this has to end, right? Chrysalis has made a mockery of me, my family, my friends, and my students for years. And I’m not the only one suffering for her selfishness. The only thing holding me back from seeking justice until now was a lack of authority and no means of taking the advantage over her.”

“And now you have both,” says Chippy. “It’s an overwhelming experience, huh?”

“When Ezio died, I was thankful that the Thieves Guild would fall into much more capable talons, not to mention that I’d be able to finally bring the Nightingales back.” Altair flashes his talons, taking a knife out of his belt and looking at his reflection within it. “I think I’ve done well as a leader, but I still feel like a child, holding one of these for the first time…” He glares menacingly at the map of the mansion. “I need to make this count, for everyone that Chrysalis has had killed. She’s too dangerous to leave alive.”

Caro and Shae had just walked into the room. Caro immediately ducks back around the corner with a loud gasp at Altair’s words. They crawl over him like a cold breeze.

The Nightingales are far too perceptive to not notice Caro. “Come on out, Dragonborn,” Chippy says. “You’re just as responsible for this operation as we are.”

Caro takes a deep breath, mentally reciting his intended request one more time before walking into the room, with Shae close behind. “Hello, Nightingales,” he says.

“Hello to you two as well,” says Mistral. “We’re just coming to an agreement on a battle strategy. Obviously, Caro, you’ll play a large part in it, but I think exactly how much should fall to you. You’re the one who contains both Excalibur and an unhealthy dose of changeling venom.”

“The latter isn’t doing me any favors.” Caro rolls his shoulders with a pained groan. “Still, better than I was an hour ago… At the very least, I might be able to move quickly, but anything that would strain my muscles is out of the question.”

“In that case,” Altair says, picking off one of his feathers and dipping it into a fresh bottle of ink, “we’ll have to make due with what you can manage. If we want to save Tohro, Chrysalis’ connection to the rest of the hive must be afflicted.”

“So I’ll have to confront her no matter what.” Caro walks up to the table, coming into the candlelight, and leans over the map. He tilts his head as he examines the intricate detail of the drawn mansion. “So, this is her base of operations.”

“You’re awfully familiar with the layout," Shae acknowledges. "Have you been held there before, Altair?”

“Too often for any sane gryphon or pony,” Altair admits. “Fortunately, most of those captures happened on my own accord. So, yes, I’m quite familiar with the mansion. You’re probably wondering why Chrysalis is here instead of—”

“A seedy cave, or an actual hive?” Caro interrupts. “Actually, if you’re an emotion eating scarab, it makes sense to disguise one’s self within a high establishment. Sure, it might draw attention, but that’s a good way to gather food.”

“In more ways than you know, Dragonborn…” Chippy muses. “If the Sisterhood of Shadows feeds on anger and fear with their assassination stint, how do you think they feed on pleasure and lust?”

Caro steps away, feeling dizzy from something other than his sore muscles. “Oh. We’re invading a brothel.” He comes back to the map and leans his forelegs on it. “And Tohro’s there…”

The Nightingales all focus on Caro. His expression is unlike anything he’s worn before. The anger and pain is visible with his twitching mouth, but he’s also unusually calm and focused. The gears in his head turn, almost audible to everyone around him.

Shae puts her hoof on Caro’s shoulder. “I am so—”

Caro slams his hooves down. “Okay. I think we can all agree that I’m in no condition for an assault or stealth mission, but maybe we can try something different.”

“Like what?” Chippy asks. “Using the front door?”

Caro’s expression turns thoughtful. “Actually…”

Altair looks unusually giddy.

XLVII - The Unworthy

CHAPTER XLVII - THE UNWORTHY

Caro looks intensely at the Nightingales as he speaks. “Chrysalis has been thwarting every sneak attack that’s been thrown at her. I think it’s high time that we do the opposite. Listen very carefully, because I’m about to suggest we do several stupid things in a row.”

Step One - Preparation and Transportation

Jarl Golden Sieve opens the door of his decorated hall of commerce, exposing himself to the moist, chilly winds of Baltimare. He shivers and quickly closes the door, turning to his coat rack. He grabs a fur-lined cloak with triangle embroidery, wraps it around himself, and returns outdoors. “Good morning, Baltimare,” he says, walking with a swing in his step and his talons gripping his cane.

As he approaches his oak and gold carriage, a hooded chauffeur greets him. She bows and opens the carriage door. “Not the best day for a ride, is it, Jarl?”

“For you, perhaps,” say the jarl to the chauffeur. “Me, I will be enjoying my ride to Trottingham in warmth.” He gestures to the carriage pullers. “No gnosh breaks this time, I am behind schedule as is.”

Golden Sieve steps into his carriage and takes a seat next to Altair. “Hello, Jarl,” he says with gusto as he reaches around and closes the door.

“Hello, Alta—” Golden Sieve quickly realizes who he’s looking at and falls back in shock. “Oh! Divines… What are you doing here?”

Altair reaches into his pocket and pulls out a few papers. He scans over them and summarizes. “These are extortion documents drafted up by your private court. On your trip to Trottingham you intend on stepping away for a nature walk, on which you will ‘happen by’ a mine owned by a zebra family. You would demand a large weekly shipment of all materials they gather, and threaten them with closure of the mine if they don’t comply.”

Golden Sieve shifted in his seat, trying to remove his tail from between his legs. “Uh… It seems that my intentions may have been compromised.”

Altair pretends to hold a woodwind flute between his talons. “Do I need to get out my whistle?”

“None of that, Altair, I’ll…” Golden Sieve sighs. “I’ll compensate those zebras for their efforts and put the mined materials towards repairing Baltimare’s outer wall.”

“Yes, you will. Good boy.” Altair pats the jarl on the head. “Also, to give you time to think about your poor business decisions, I’m taking your carriage. And this.” He snatches the cane out of Golden Sieve’s claws, clutching it like it’s a rare gem. “Oooh, is this mahogany?”

“Yes, it is…” Golden Sieve mutters solemnly. “You’ll be wanting me to get out now?” He opens the door, taken aback once again as two ponies stand below, looking impatient. A pinto male earthwalker in a leather jacket, and a black unicorn in fur robes. They look awfully familiar to him. “Who’s—”

The pinto earthwalker steps into the carriage and turns to the jarl. “Get out.”

Golden Sieve immediately recognizes his intense voice. “Dragonborn?”

Caro smirks. “Altair gives you too little credit. Fus.”

With that sudden burst of wind, Golden Sieve falls out of the carriage, landing on the cobblestones with a comical squeal. The black unicorn lowers her pince-nez and says, “I’m sorry this couldn’t happen under more ethical circumstances.”

“He’s a politician, my dear,” says Altair as he helps Shae into the carriage. “Ethics are a foreign language to him.” He then calls out to the carriage pullers. “Excuse me, sirs! You’ll be paid double your usual wages if you would take us to Eden Forest. There’s a particular mansion we have an appointment at, just follow the road.”

The pullers converse among themselves for a few seconds. After they finish, the stallion at the helm looks back at Altair and says, “As you wish.”

“Make tracks!” Altair claps his claws, sits down in the carriage, and closes the door. “That went better than I thought it would. Caro, Shae, you were absolutely wonderful.”

Shae is beaming. She pulls her sleeves up to examine her new black body, and puts her hood down to play with her silver mane. “I need to use illusion spells more often. Even I don't recognize us."

"Silver is a good look for you," Caro comments.

“W-wait, why will I need a disguise?” Shae asks.

“Because you’re coming with me into the mansion,” Caro replies. “If there’s even a slight chance that Chrysalis knows the name Shae Sparkle, we can’t afford you walking in there as you are.”

“And why do you want me there in the first place?” Shae asks. “I’m horrifically unstealthy.”

“I need your magical abilities in case of an emergency,” Caro explains, nodding towards her horn. “You can also cover me from any suspecting changelings.”

Mistral leans over the map. “How would she?” she asks. “Aside from some very subtle cues, it’s almost impossible to tell the difference between changelings and anyone else that might be walking about the mansion.”

“Soul vision,” Shae realizes.

“Soul vision?” Mistral asks, blinking several times.

“Soul vision,” Caro confirms. He puts two wooden figures next to each other outside the main entrance to the mansion on the map. “She can explain later. Now, Shae…” Caro turns to her with an intense, entirely serious gaze. “You know I wouldn’t ask you to go outside what makes you comfortable, but I need you to pretend to be my wife.”

Shae looks back and forth between Caro and the Nightingales. She then bursts out laughing.

Step Two - Arrival

“Your eyeliner, it’s a little smudged,” Caro says to Shae. He gestures to his right eye. “Imagine I’m a mirror.”

“Oh?” Shae frets about with her robes as she looks for a cloth. She finds one one in the back pocket. “This carriage may be luxurious, but it’s terribly unbalanced.”

Caro grunts in agreement as another bump in the road causes him to forcibly shift in his seat. “The gold might not be evenly distributed. Master and I used to help repair the occasional carriage, and more often than not, it was always due to an imbalance in materials.”

“Worry not, I think we’re almost there,” says Altair. He scoops up his cane and points it to the carriage window. Shae leans close to the window and has a peer outside, where the Eden Woods pass quickly by. The name is hardly indicative of the environment; few trees have any leaves, making the forest appear desolate and abandoned.

Caro wonders, for a moment, if the desolation has anything to do with the changelings, but he can’t think of how that could be possible. Trees are alive, but they’re not cognizant.

“Why would a brothel be stationed in a place like this?” Shae asks, pondering all the possible answers in her head. “To make the brothel appear more attractive than it really is? Or maybe it’s to keep a level of discretion. I mean, hardly anyone comes to the Eden Woods for anything these days, aside from lumber…”

“And a paid lay, it would seem,” Caro says gruffly. “Uh, Shae. Eyeliner.”

“Oh, right. Sorry, this soul vision makes everything look like glass, and I can’t see faces very well.” Shae dabs at her eye and wipes away the smudged bit of black makeup that blemishes her otherwise perfectly made-up and disguised face. A little powder and a streak of blush makes her facial structure completely unrecognizable, and the pince-nez are a far cry from her reading glasses. “I’m starting to see the value of this disguise. Odds are, if Chrysalis wanted to get to you, I’d be her next target.” She exhales, with a noticeable shudder grabbing Caro’s attention. “I just hope that we’ll be able to sell a married image. What if the emotion isn’t genuine enough for the changelings to fall for it?”

“Well, if you’ve taught me anything, it’s that love isn’t exclusive to couples,” Caro contemplates, pointing between him and Shae. “You love your daughters just as much as you love anypony else, and I’d say there’s enough between us to fool the changelings.”

“Perhaps,” Shae mutters, uncertainty still prevalent in her voice. “How do we sell this illusion?”

“Just do what you would do if Rosemary were in my place, and I’ll do as I would if you were Tohro.”

Shae nods. “You’d need greasier skin to be slightly like Rose, but I’ll do my best. Will we have to kiss?”

“Likely not.”

“Good.” Shae taps her lips, giggling awkwardly. “Rosemary’s kisses taste like soot. It just wouldn’t feel right.” Just as she bursts out laughing again, the carriage’s wobbling begins to subside, and the pullers all whinny loudly.

“We’ve arrived, sire!” one of the pullers shouts.

“On that note, our trip ends,” Altair announces. He reaches out with his newly stolen cane and pushes the carriage door open.

“And the madness begins…” Shae tries to breathe slowly. She lowers her voice to a hush. “Caro, I can cope with crooks or the average beast, but so much of this is outside of my understanding and everything is spiraling out of control. What’s happening, really?”

“I don't really know either,” Caro replies. "For now, let’s pretend we’ve been married for twenty years and it's been nothing but flowers in the spring, at least up until we decided to spice things up a little. Stay close to me, and Chrysalis won't suspect a thing.”

Shae takes one last deep breath. “Spice…” she whispers. “Okay.” She takes Caro’s hoof and lets herself be led outside the carriage.

Altair whispers to them, “I’ll be taking the carriage around. You won’t see me inside, but I’ll see you.” He snaps his talons. “Right, gentleponies, take us home!”

Eight hooves land on rough, vine-entangled cobblestone as the carriage takes off. A tall fenced gate stands before Caro and Shae, like an entrance into Tartarus itself. They both suck in and dissolve any lingering fear as best as they can. Following Altair’s instructions, they keep their fear and worry at bay by taking everything at objective face value.

Caro recites a key thought. It’s merely a mansion filled with mild-mannered, if somewhat depraved, ponies. Imagining Tohro saying that makes him feel worlds calmer. He only hopes that Shae holds on to a happy thought of her own.

“This is a good start, but you have to be careful. If you can convince yourself that there’s nothing to fear, then the changelings won’t sense it,” Altair says. “Now, I don’t think it’s going to be a surprise that the changelings will do everything in their power to welcome you into the mansion while also keeping a close eye on you. They will constantly change appearances so you don’t know who you can trust.”

“I’ve got that covered. Besides, who said we planned on talking to anyone?” Shae asks. “All we have to do is walk through calmly, right?”

Mistral shakes her head. “Perhaps, when you get in. You’ll still have to convince the changeling guards to actually let you in, and they won’t be the only ones.”

“Understood,” Shae says, turning to Caro. “If I spot a changeling, I’ll tug a few hairs on your tail in their direction.”

“Good show,” Altair says. “Now, if I may make a few additions to this plan? You’ll have to do a lot more than just stroll in and hope for the best.”

Step Three - Infiltration

Caro, for once in his life, is thankful for his sensitive body. He feels the hairs at the apex of his tail get pulled left and right, cluing him in that the two ponies standing guard at the gate are changelings.

One of the changelings has taken the appearance of a mare, and the other a stallion. They wear extravagant gilded robes beneath simple steel plating. That, and their manes and faces being far too well-kept, makes them far too picturesque to be real.

Does Chrysalis have no idea how this world works beyond her appetite? Caro thinks.

He remains close to Shae, pulling her close to him and putting on a subtle smile. He tries not to force it. “Hello,” he says to the soldiers, who seem friendlier than he expected them to be. “We were told that this mansion holds services of the, ah, illicit sort. How would we get in on that?”

“No prerequisites, sir,” says the female guard. She taps the gate, and it slowly creaks open. “Just go on inside and enjoy the many services our mistress offers to the strong and weary both. All are welcome at this palace of pleasantries, so long as you don’t disturb the peace, and you can afford the price.”

“We wouldn’t dream of it,” Shae assures both the guards. Aside from looking a little spooked, she carries just enough confidence and tenderness to put on a convincing guise. “Just a little bit of a sabbatical and it’s back to the farms of Trottingham with us.”

“Understood. Do enjoy your stay,” says the male guard. His unusually pleasant manner of speaking is also a bit of a giveaway, though Caro presumes that if he didn’t know they were changelings, he’d just take their demeanor as merely strange, as opposed to masks hiding monsters. “And please tip the servers, they are woefully underpaid.”

The entrance garden appears worn down, yet seems to be pleasant enough to take a stroll in. Vines have overtaken some of the cobblestone, and there are numerous cracks in the stone walls bordering the many pathways that lead around the mansion.

The rounded water fountain boasts an impressive marble statue of four ponies of ambiguous gender contorted in what appears to be a lewd act of passion, although it’s hard to tell. From the multiple points of view Caro and Shae can get as they walk around it, the expressions of the statues seem to switch between pleasure and agony several times over.

Caro feels two additional tugs on his tail as he notices two more guards standing at the main entrance, which is wide open. The guards greet Caro and Shae with mere nods before returning to form. From there, it’s easy to walk into the mansion’s entrance hall alongside other guests, all of which look eager, yet at the same time, somewhat emotionless.

“My greatest fear is that they’ll see through our disguise and just let us in anyway,” Caro confesses. “Then they’ll be able to pounce on us like a pack of feral cats. I do not want to be beneath one of those things again for as long as I live.”

“I agree, but Chrysalis wouldn’t do anything to compromise the illusion she’s set up within that mansion, right?” Shae asks.

“I was just about to say that,” Altair says, pointing a talon at Shae. “Very astute of you, Miss Shae. The key is to be in plain enough sight that any attempts on your life would do more damage than good for Chrysalis.”

Shae smiles broadly, before realizing the implications of such a strategy. “Being caught alone is a different story, then.”

“We don’t know how much Caro’s presence clouds up Chrysalis’ connection to the hivemind. It could work for the whole of the changeling armada, or it could only apply to her. As such, you should only fight a changeling as a last resort, and make sure you dispose of them as quickly as possible. If they go down screaming, it won’t matter if Chrysalis is in another room or on the other side of Equestria. If the hivemind isn’t clouded, she will feel it.”

Altair grips Caro’s shoulders tightly. Caro nods with grim understanding. “So if we have to take one out, we’ll make it count.”

Shae clears her throat, drawing everyone else’s attention. She turns her head and fires off a quick, quiet bolt of lightning that leaves a small crater in the wall. “That shouldn’t be too much of a problem.”

Step Four - Hiding in plain sight

“This might be a problem,” Shae comments in a hushed voice. She keeps a smile on her face to hide her concern from the patrons surrounding her, and pretends to appear fascinated as she looks over the velvet carpet, many floors, white columns and ornate furnishings that decorate the mansion. “Yes, definitely…”

Caro keeps a smile on as well, though he’s not pleased to hear about a hitch so early into the operation. “What is it?”

"Altair was very thorough about the layout of this place, but I’m seeing inconsistencies.” Shae subtly nods to the center of the large gathering hall. “There should be a large staircase, but the mansion we’re in now has stairs to the sides of the room. Also...” She looks up. “Altair mentioned four floors, not five.”

“It looked like three floors from outside,” Caro recalls. He shoots an annoyed glare around the room. “Are we being played with? What’s going on?”

“Smile,” Shae reminds him. As he relaxes and reclaims his disguised expression, she begins to think. “I’ve felt this strange frequency going through my head ever since we walked inside. I thought it was just nerves, but there’s something wrong with this place, something my aura vision can’t detect. It’s obviously a physical construct, but beyond that…”

“We’ll improvise. It’s not as though we’re—”

Caro is interrupted by a tap on the back. He turns around, keeping a pleasant fake smile, as he finds himself looking at an face he thinks he’s seen before. A pink earthwalker stallion with the most eye-catching, cloudlike beard, a darker shade of pink. His fur robes were just as colorful, with warm reds and greens throughout.

“Hail, new patron!” the bearded stallion shouts in a jovial tune. “What brings you to this slice of paradise? Are you here merely to eat up the sights, or partake in a few bites? Seeing or being, what brings you here?”

Caro is a little disoriented by somepony so forward in a place so menacing, but a quick glance at Shae, who shakes her head, tells him that this fellow is not a changeling, so he plays along. “My wife and I seek a little jolt in our otherwise wonderful lives. Perhaps a,” he clears his throat, “little quality time with some strangers?”

“Well, you would want none from me. Your tastes are mild by my standards.” The bearded stallion chortles as he takes a pint from a nearby table and swigs whatever was in it. He then offers his hoof. “Sir Puddinghead at your service.”

Caro swallows and takes a step back, as does Shae. “Excuse me?” he asks.

Puddinghead snorts and puts the pint down. “Oh, right. I’m still not used to having fame to my name. What a shame, but that’s the game.” His mane grows fluffier at the sight of a long-maned beauty on a couch, who flashes a sultry wink. “I see a lion that I must tame.”

Caro subdues the multitude of emotions coursing through him. Confusion, fear, anger at both his confusion and fear… He can’t comprehend why one of the six founders was just right in front of him, and is now flirting with a young mare at least half his age.

“What is happening…” Caro angrily mutters.

“Keep it together.” Shae taps Caro on the cheek. “This place plays tricks. We need to keep ourselves focused.” She nods towards Puddinghead. “Now, get him away from that mare so we can ask him how to find Chrysalis.”

“Oh, good thinking. From the stories I heard, he’s almost always on an emotional high. Chrysalis wouldn’t dare let him out of her grasp.”

“That would explain why he’s here. Go ahead, I’ll keep watch. I’ll pull especially hard on your tail if anyone comes at you.” Shae turns around, keeping one eye turned to Caro, and goes off towards a conversating pair of rugged stallions. “They’re not changelings... Oh, fellas!”

Caro follows her example, making nice smiles and periodic friendly greetings at the many mares that fire off propositional gazes as he passes through. It’s hard to think of anypony that he sees as friendly, changeling or not; knowing that this mansion is more than it appears makes everything seem like a threat. It’s just like when he first lost Master Hammerfell, and the world appeared darker and more menacing than it truly was.

If this flirty, bouncy, boisterous stallion is the real Puddinghead, then Caro figures that he is as good a trusted stallion on the inside as any, though he’d have to exercise caution. What else is new? he thinks on that regard.

Caro sits next to Puddinghead, though he doesn’t look at him. It is easy to slip in unnoticed, as Puddinghead is the talkative sort, engaging three mares at once in a thrilling story involving a cheese wheel and the full moon. Caro tries not to keep up, and instead focuses on looking as comfortable as possible.

A few minutes pass. As soon as there is a lull in the conversation, Caro interjects, speaking while facing forward. “Puddinghead.”

The deep, loud voice in his ear assures Caro that he has gotten the bearded stallion’s attention. “Ah, hello again! What a night, huh? Simply outrageous, these fine mares are, and the wine just keeps on coming! But drunk on spirits I am not, no sir, I am simply inebriated with elation, I am bashed with bliss, yes sir!”

Caro sighs. He would welcome such a pony in any other situation, but he has no time to waste. “I’ll stay sober, thanks. I need to ask something of you, and it’s very—”

Puddinghead scoots next to Caro and presents an odd looking confection; a crystalline lotus. "Oh, you must partake in one of these. Sugar crystals that form in the shape of flowers!"

Caro knocks it off the plate on instinct. It shatters on the ground at the hooves of a glaring mare.

"Sorry, hoof slipped,” he says to the mare. “Might I have another one of those?"

"Best not break another one, love. They cost fifty bits each,” she says, her voice all too cheerful. Caro quickly darts his eyes towards Shae, who mouths ‘Changeling’ to him before returning to a glass of wine and the two stallions.

Caro figures that with that infraction, he may be on borrowed time. He drops all pretenses and says to Puddinghead, “You’re not supposed to be here. Tell me what you know about this place so I can find the hag who owns it, and get you and everypony else out in one piece.”

Puddinghead is anything but unsettled. He leaps towards Caro and lands on his stomach, with his hooves on his cheeks. "Are you blind, young lad? Such a friendly place can’t be all bad."

"Really?” Caro says sarcastically. “How long have you been here?”

"I only got here an hour ago. Although I am quite the regular; Sugar and Spice sweeped me up on the spot, and have already treated me to a wonderful—”

“I don’t need to know the details. What were you doing before you came here?”

“I find your approach to be of the un-entertaining sort, friend,” Puddinghead says, his smile dwindling very slightly. “But if you must know, I was on my way to a summit in Everfree.”

Caro knows that Puddinghead most definitely wasn’t on the guest list of Platinum’s most recent gathering. "Which summit?"

"Don't you know, dear boy? There's to be a huge gathering at the Rainbow Palace. It's a three day party, organized by the gracious soul that stands before ye. Of course, it's also Queen Platinum's birthday, but her boundless generosity shines through; she insists on everyone in Everfree getting presents instead of her... Don't doubt that Hurricane will give her a special present of his own, though. Ever the scamps, those two. Young love, don't you know?"

Caro turns to Puddinghead and places his hoof on his shoulder. "Hurricane is dead, Queen Platinum is old and bitter, Equestria is at war with itself, dragons are burning it to the ground, and you've been in here for decades."

Puddinghead looks through Caro for a moment. He then flinches and asks, “I phased out for a second, could you repeat that?”

“I cannot repeat this enough, Caro. Don’t do anything that would disrupt the mansion’s atmosphere, unless it means getting close to Chrysalis,” Mistral says. “If you must disrupt the mansion’s atmosphere to get to Chrysalis, then for Hephaestus’ sake, don’t not do it.”

Shae and Caro blink in unison. “Understood, I think,” the latter says. “So, thanks to my ‘haze,’ Chrysalis will think I’m alone. That’ll make it easier for you to seek out Tohro.”

“Right,” says Chippy. “You may not notice us, but the Thieves Guild will be placing themselves around and within the building, coming in increments. A sudden influx of guests would be too suspicious to observing changelings.”

“The three of us and a squadron of inside thieves will slip away and meet up here.” Altair points to an entrance to the wine cellar. “There’s a hidden door down here. Once we meet up, all we’ll need is enough time to find Tohro and Chrysalis’ other prisoners.”

Altair imagines that Chippy is smiling beneath his mask as he says, “‘Enough time’ is pretty much whatever you give us to work with.”

Step Five: Enter the Nightingales

Altair comes out of the lounge into a hallway just as his invisibility potion wears off. He is dressed in the golden-laced robes he had stolen from a Saddle Arabian dignitary a few years ago. He walks with confidence, eager to see where this mission ends, and also happy that he finally has an excuse to wear this outfit.

As he walks, however, he feels something increasingly off. He looks around at the paintings of beautiful mares in lewd poses, the tasseled carpet, the wooden floors, and pauses in his stride. He turns to his left, then his right, and raises an eyebrow.

“I have no memory of this place,” he whispers to himself. “Those paintings were abstract, and the floor was horizontally laid, not vertically… Something’s wrong here...” He then shrugs, shutting down all sense of worry. “Oh well, Caro’s doing just fine. What’s a few extra minutes to comb this place?”

“She saw you coming,” says multiple female voices in unison. “They will comb these halls for your corpse.”

Three adjacent paintings begin to shift before Altair’s eyes. The mares within them stand up, crawl out of the frames, and turn from oil to organic with a simultaneous leap. They all turn into changelings as soon as they land, with two behind Altair, and one in front. The archways back into the main lounge disappear, turning into walls.

“Your mom’s been doing some redecorating.” Altair flourishes his arms. Fire travels from his shoulders and converges around his talons. From the fire emerges chains connected to two thick blades. “Mind if Ares trims the curtains?”

The changeling in front morphs their hoof into a spear. It disappears in a burst of green flames. Altair swings one of his Ares blades around just as the green flames appear behind him. He thrusts his blade forward. The changeling materializes, screeching as it raises its spear leg, but the screech devolves into choking. Altair yanks his blade out of the changeling’s body, bringing green mucus and unidentifiable innards with it. The changeling collapses, dead on the spot.

“Surely you know I don’t fall for that anymore.” Altair swings his blades around and points them at the changelings behind him, who let out bloodcurdling screams.

Both the changelings launch themselves at Altair. He grips his chains and throws both blades out. The changelings fly out of the way, but Altair counted on that. He yanks the blades back, knocking over a buffet and a painting of the ocean. The chains catch on one of the changelings’ legs and stumble them, but the other one reaches Altair, its tongue flared and its fangs hungry for his flesh.

The changeling’s chitin creates sparks against Altair’s swinging blades. It keeps bucking, biting, and swinging at him, with Altair effortlessly dodging and blocking its every strike. “Are you even trying?”

Altair swings the chains around the advancing changeling and pulls. The chain snags around the changeling’s neck, making it squelch out in pain. It coughs out a wad of acid that lands at Altair’s paws and burns through the carpet and wood.

Altair turns around and throws his blades forward. The chains follow suit, throwing the changeling across the hall. It shatters a wallbound plate on impact. Altair leaps after it as he allows one of his blades to disappear. He lands against the wall, wraps his talons around the changeling’s neck, and slams him further into the wall. He raises his remaining blade for the kill.

The blade resists. Altair turns his head and sees that the other changeling has bitten down on the chain and is tugging hard on it, keeping Altair from delivering a fatal blow. He merely shows a smile at this, tightens his grip on his victim’s neck, and throws him at the tugging changeling. It’s too slow to get out of the way. The two careen into the wall together, taking down several more paintings and shredding the tapestries as they fall.

Altair smiles at the mess they’ve left; a gruesome mess of green blood and broken limbs. The changeling on the right has one of its hind legs broken right off, sitting in a pool of blood that’s staining the rug. “Against ten of you, I might be worried. At least then you’d have the means to retreat and regrow your limbs. In these numbers? Easily crushed like the bugs that you are.”

The changelings sit up as much as they can. The one on the left spits up more green, and starts cackling. “You’re proud,” it says in a voice that Altair unfortunately remembers. “Gonna kill her this time? Or will you take the form of a mare’s nethers and scurry off when things inevitably go up shit creek?”

“Hi, Ezio,” Altair says, rolling his eyes as the changeling takes the form of his late black-feathered brother.

The changeling does a good impression of Ezio, from his graveled voice to his aggressive mien, but it’s hard for Altair be impressed when it’s merely an image projected by a dying insect. “Where’s your aggression? Your warrior’s spirit? Disappear for three years without saying a damn thing, come back to your guild just in time for me to die… I trained you to be ruthless.”

“You trained me to be a thug. I found a higher calling. I help people now.”

“Keep telling yourself that. Can you truly escape your fate? The only claim to fame you’ll ever have is leading a band of liars and killers.”

Altair snickers, and points to the pretending changeling. “Pot.” He then points to himself. “Kettle." He then takes out his crossbow, points it at the changeling’s head, and pulls the trigger. The bolt doesn’t penetrate deep, but it cracks the changeling’s skull, shattering the illusion and forcing it to change from Ezio back into its original form. It dies, green blood trickling down its face and into its mouth.

The other changeling still lives. It lurches forward, stumbling as it tries to grab its severed leg off the rug. It’s grunting. Altair knows it’s trying to regenerate. He loads another bolt into his crossbow, once again aiming for the head. The changeling looks up at the crossbow and backs away.

“You’re slow and weak. You can’t feel your mother right now, can you?”

The changeling’s eyes are widened, its ears twitching. Altair has never seen one act like this before. He’s able to assume that this is because his suspicions about Caro’s presence clouding the hivemind was correct.

“Tell me where she is, and you live,” Altair says. “Trust me, I’m the king of thieves. I know a good bargain.”

“Betraaaay…” the changeling hisses.

“Speak up, brighteyes.” Altair jabs the crossbow forward. “Deal or no deal?”

The changeling speaks in a raspy lady’s voice. “You betrayed me!”

Altair is taken aback. He knows that voice, and unlike Ezio, who is merely a disownable annoyance, this is one that he would rather forget entirely. He points the crossbow, wanting to fire as quickly as possible, but he’s too late to do so before the changeling takes on the form of a bright blue pegasus. Not too old, but she’s definitely seen better days. Her eyes are heavy, her wrinkles apparent, born from the wonderful stress of being a mother.

“You told me you’d keep Mistral safe, you liar,” she says, her voice sad and filled with contempt. “Look what you’ve done. You made her into a monster. She can never have a normal life now, and it’s because of you!”

“I made her strong…” Altair says to himself.

The mare crawls forward and grabs Altair by the arm. Her voice turns even more haggard, and her eyes go white. “You ruined her life! You indoctrinated her into the scum of the world! Traitor! You’re a Divine-damned traitor! All of your friends are in hell and Mistral will be joining them!”

Altair pulls the trigger. The bolt fires into the changeling’s jaw and pierces right through its eye. It collapses, remaining in its disguise for far too long than Altair would like to see. He stands and watches as the mare fades away, leaving the corpse of an insect in her place.

Altair hears echoes in his head as he backs up against the wall. The sounds of two identical mares grunting and yelling as they kick and punch each other into bruised messes. The gleam of a kitchen knife in the sunset. The quivering filly with an empty eye socket. The wrong choice.

“You did nothing wrong.”

Altair turns and points the unloaded crossbow forward, only to see that it’s Mistral coming his way. She’s not wearing her armor, instead boasting a pure white dress with a golden shawl around her shoulders. She approaches Altair and slowly, carefully pushes the crossbow down.

“You did nothing wrong,” she repeats. “I didn’t know, and neither did you.”

Altair is still clutching the crossbow. His talons refuse to let go. “There was half a chance to save her life, and I—”

Mistral takes the crossbow out of his talons. “I miss my mom too. But I have no regrets. I chose this life, and I have you to thank for everything I’ve learned and all the incredible things I’ve seen.” She gestures to her lips. Aside from a crooked front tooth, she has a remarkable and genuine grin. “See this? This is a smiling pegasus who regrets nothing.”

“Oi, I think I found the wine cellar!” Chippy shouts from further down the hall. He’s still clad in his Nightingale armor. Altair and Mistral wave at him as he steps onto a bench and examines a painting of a glass of wine. He leans forward, and his hoof passes through the painting like it’s not even there at all. “It’s a false wall. Seems Chrysalis didn’t think to completely hide the prison away. It’d be fully within her power over this place to put them underground, or something of the like.”

“She has to let her prisoners out to play somehow… Not to mention they have to breathe.” Altair rubs his eyes. “They have their purposes, especially in this place.”

“Oh, Divines…” Chippy groans. “I’m already committed to killing Chrysalis. I don’t need to know how much of a beast and harlot she is. She already crossed that line by harboring Chancellor Puddinghead.”

“I know, but—” Altair pauses, pointing a talon at Chippy. “Wait, repeat that?”

Chippy shrugs. “Caro’s talking to Puddinghead in the lounge. Apparently he’s been trapped here since Equestria’s founding. Fuck all sorts of duck, right? Now get in your armor, this is a rescue mission.”

“Once we get to the cellar, I’ll find you and give you the go-ahead to go after Chrysalis,” Altair says to Caro. “You’d better know how to get to her by then, because I’ll be following you from afar while Mistral and Chippy make their way into the prison.”

Step Six - Advancement

Away from the party, in a quiet area in the corner of the lounge, next a wooden pillar, Caro explains everything to Puddinghead.

For the past ten minutes, Caro has laid on thick the absolute truth. He has told Puddinghead every excruciating detail of what happened to the rest of Equestria’s founders. Hurricane’s long stint in limbo, Pansy’s murder, Platinum’s long, difficult tenure as high queen, Clover the Clever’s dive into madness, and Smart Cookie’s unfortunate disappearance. By the time he finishes a simple summary of Saviikaan’s war on Equestria, all of the cheer has drained from Puddinghead’s face, and seemingly some of his color too. His mane also seems less bouncy, falling limp across his forehead.

"You don't have to believe me,” Caro says to Puddinghead.

"I'm torn between two things. On one hoof, I have no reason to trust you, seeing as we just met. On the other hoof, you sound candid, and I doubt you'd have any reason to tell me for your own amusement, because that would be a joke of the utmost cruelty."

"Well, I'm not laughing.” Caro gestures to his face. “You could have left decades ago, but you didn't. Clearly you're important to the monster who runs this trap, otherwise you wouldn't be here. Me personally, I have a suspicion that you give off a joyous vibe that keeps her drones well-fed over long periods of time, and I doubt that it's going out any time soon. You're the Sultan of Soirees, after all. Why would anyone trying to uphold an illusion such as this want to get rid of such an influence?"

Puddinghead looks off into the crowd of guests, which seems less inviting than before, and also quieter. "I always did find it strange that one of the guests thought I was part of the staff… She said the waitresses looked at me with regard. Now I know what she was talking about. Those smiles… like the happy look of a fat cat that caught a mouse. Rather disconcerting, that."

Caro wraps his foreleg around Puddinghead’s shoulders and whispers with extreme strength and importance in his voice. "And now it's time for the mouse to vacate the vicinities, because the cat’s ego is as large as the holes in her legs."

Puddinghead gasps. "Oh, Epona's sakes! I've seen the legs! How could I ever forget?!"

Caro slams his hoof to Puddinghead’s lips. “It’s not you, it’s this place. It doesn’t work by the rules of our world. So let’s just assume that we’re on another plane of reality, and the only way to escape is for me to catch the aforementioned cat unawares and create another hole in her body. Understood?”

Puddinghead stops muttering panicked extremities under Caro’s hoof. As soon as his lips are uncovered, he takes a moment to think. “...I need more,” he says. “Prove to me that this is real, and I can trust you, and I’m not just in some insane fever dream, because I truly, with all my heart, want to wake up.”

Caro knows just the thing. He smirks and holds out his hoof. A bright light travels down his foreleg and forms the blade of Excalibur, which Caro clutches proudly, despite how much his muscles ache at the action. “Bequeathed by Hurricane and the Nightingales.” He then dispels the blade before anyone else sees it.

Puddinghead swallows. “You couldn’t be using that if he wasn’t dead…” He turns around and lets out a long breath. He then approaches the wood pillar, and casually slams his head into it. “FUDGING RANCID SWEET ROLLS!” He rubs his forehead and returns to Caro. “Right, then. I’m the youngest living member of this great land’s founders. That’s okay. I’ll tell you what I remember now…”

“Thank you,” Caro says, finally satisfied at gaining progress. “And don’t worry, I know two good princesses that would welcome your return, and can help you through this.”

Puddinghead takes out a kerchief and wipes specs of blood and wood off of his forehead. “Okay… The memories are twisted like red on a candy cane, but I do know that there was always a door and a lot of stairs. Yes, yes… Even if this place is of a different sort of magic, one thing that never changes is that this Chrysalis lady always lives on the top floor. Wherever that is, well, for all I know, it could be downstairs or through a hallway that turns upside down.”

Caro can’t help but take a little dark humor out of Puddinghead’s reaction to all of this, though he only shows it through a little smile. “Knowing you, if you were in charge this place would be paradise.”

“Spare me, friend, I am in no state for that,” Puddinghead grumbles. “Chrysalis always spoke with... undeserved accomplishment. She’s on a fragile pedestal, one with more holes in it than her legs.”

“I know another matriarchal figure with an ego. I suppose I can use this one as practice.” Caro looks out to the crowd, scanning over it for Shae. “Hm. Where’d she go…?”

As he walks out to find her, Puddinghead pulls on his tail. After Caro whirls around with a whinny, Puddinghead asks, “What would you have me do, once you kill Chrysalis?”

The word ‘kill’ suddenly makes Caro feel uneasy, in regards to Chrysalis. “Hell is going to break loose around here, very soon. Make your way out before the changelings do anything desperate, and don’t draw attention to yourself.”

“Very well. Have fun slaying the demon!” Puddinghead says with uncandid cheerfulness.

Caro retraces his steps back to Shae. He walks away from the pillars, past the array of couches, across the entrance, and checks his surroundings. A young mare approaches him. Quite young. “Hello, sir. Are you looking for company?”

“Uh, how old are you?” Caro asks, unsure of whether or not this young one is a changeling.

“As old as you need me to be.”

Still unsure, Caro politely shakes his head and walks off, feeling a tad queasy. He considers how much would be accomplished if Chrysalis is killed. How many lives would be saved. Broken and used ponies set free from this hellhole. But he also takes into account all of the uncertainties.

What would happen to the changelings without the center of their hivemind? Would they just die on the spot, or would they seek vicious revenge? Equestria can’t handle another party in this dodecahedron of a war. The Imperial Legion, the Blackwings, the dragons, and then Changelings in the mix? Equestria would suffer worse than ever. But Chrysalis may have the answer to ending Saviikaan’s genocide, a guaranteed threat. But what if Chrysalis doesn’t have the answer at all?

Caro snarls and taps himself on the head.

The easy answer is to let Chrysalis die. The one time that answer is the logical one, and I’m questioning it. What is wrong with me? ...I’ll decide in the moment. Time cannot be wasted any further.

Just as his head stops spinning, so does he. He’s able to see Shae at the other end of the room, still in conversation with the two stallions. She seems as calm and aloof as she should be, but the stallions appear to be getting too comfortable around her. Caro furrows his brow and approaches.

“It just occured to me, we don’t know your name,” says one of the stallions. “What do we call you?”

Shae thinks about a fake name as she looks between the stallions. “Uh… Saltlick?”

The stallions exchange a smile. “She gets a discount,” they both say.

Caro tugs on the hood of Shae’s robe and talks fast. “As soon as Altair gives the signal,” he whispers, “he and I will move to the top floor. You’ll turn us both invisible and we’ll sneak away without a sound.”

“Uh, what are you two talking about?” one of the stallions asks. “What signal?”

Caro ignores him. “You remember what to do? Altair will tell you where to meet up with Chippy and Mistral. Whatever insane abilities you have, they’ll surely be more than enough to help Tohro and take out any threats you encounter down below.”

The stallion interjects again. “You’re coming between us and a sure thing here, lad. And honestly, what’s this about signals?”

Caro pulls away from Shae and eyes the stallion threateningly. “The signal is fuck off.”

“Rude one!” The stallion pushes Caro away. “Don’t tell us what to do, boy. She ain’t your lass.”

“We don’t have time for this.” Shae advances on the stallions and plants her hooves on their foreheads, her eyes and horns coming alight. The stallions both grumble, their eyes close, and they fall asleep, collapsing to the carpet at the same time.

“That could have come in handy several times,” Caro comments, nudging both of their faces.

“It only works on the weak-willed, really,” Shae explains. She looks at her hoof as eyes dim. “Although, with Fauste’s gift, hm…” She motions for Caro to follow her. “I was mostly using those two for discretion while I looked for Chrysalis or the changelings in the Fae. You’re right, she is quite high up.”

“How powerful do you think she is?”

“I don’t have much of a benchmark, but I’d say she’s worth about, ah, half of Shokenda?”

Caro sighs. “That’s not promising. I can’t decide between killing her or merely subduing her, but if she’s stronger than me, I might not have a choice at all.”

“She’s been doing this for a long time, and she doesn’t understand empathy, clearly. But she is Altair’s enemy more than ours. Maybe you should let him decide her fate. Not every decision has to be yours.”

“It feels like it is sometimes… But you’re right. We’re here for Tohro and everyone else she’s captured. Maybe that’s all we need to take part in. I’ll just—” Caro stops himself as he feels a talon lightly tap his shoulder. He turns his head and sees Altair, who has his other hand over his beak.

Altair nods and points behind him, towards an archway that leads out of the lounge. He then backs away and disappears into the crowd.

Caro smiles at Shae. “We’ll just see how this plays out.”

Altair squeezes Caro’s shoulder. Despite the sudden contact, Caro trusts Altair enough for his skin not to crawl. “We’ll just see how this plays out.”

XLVIII - Worthless

One hour before the operation

As the carriage comes over the hill, Baltimare shrinks on the horizon until it’s taken from sight by the passing trees.

Altair is speaking plainly to Caro, while also admiring the finish of his new cane. “In truth, there's no way to completely purge one’s emotions. None of us are sociopaths. You'll just have to keep your most basic urges under lock and key for as long as you can.”

"And then what?" Caro asks.

"I know how Chrysalis moves better than you do, and you're in no place to fight right now. I'll engage her once you knock her off her guard, and you can rendezvous with the rest of the guild, with the rescued prisoners in tow. Given your body’s condition, you do not want to stick around for the action."

As comforting as the thought of reuniting with Tohro is, Caro can’t find comfort in ditching such a pivotal event, regardless of how much more reason Altair has to fight Chrysalis. If anything, it’s the fact that Altair wouldn’t hesitate to kill Chrysalis on the spot that concerns him the most. "I don't want to leave you alone. What if she kills you?"

"I don't plan on that happening,” Altair says with a smirk. “Buuut... if I do get to go out protecting the wielder of Excalibur, then the 'what if' is me taking as much of her as I can with me."

Noble a response as that is, something tells both Caro and Shae that he’s not being genuine. “Are you sure revenge won’t guide your talons?” Shae asks. “Chrysalis could possibly sense your anger close by, even if Caro clouds her senses.”

"I'm as composed as can be. I have a higher calling than emotional weight. Loyalty is a purpose, not an emotion.”

Satisfied with that response, Shae resumes playing with her disguise, switching her hair between sliver, blue, and red with merely a thought. “I can’t decide.” She goes back to silver and turns to Altair. “Is this pretty enough?”

“Very much so,” Caro compliments.

Present time

Caro estimates that the carriage ride was only a half-hour ago, and yet it feels like it’s been an eternity from there to the halls of the mansion. He and Altair walk swiftly yet subtly.

“I could be there in a heartbeat but my level of stealth is beyond you,” Altair says. He peeks around the corner, seeing that there is nopony passing through. He waves Caro onward.

“You must be excited,” Caro says. He hides his apprehension towards Altair’s desires behind a smile.

“To say the least, I’m anticipating much change in the world once Chrysalis is out of the picture. My thief brethren will rest easy, along with all those who have fallen to the Sisterhood of Shadows.” Altair leaps up a flight of stairs, which Caro takes a little bit longer to climb, grunting through the pain of every step. “I want you to understand how much this means to me. You have the key to her end, and I’m going to be there to witness it.”

Caro thinks nothing of it, imagining that he’d eventually be here even if the changelings hadn’t struck first. “All you had to do was ask me to help.”

“Dragonrein has already done enough for the Thieves Guild. Ezio’s death put me in power, and Tohro has been a wonderful student. But, Mistral did eventually get her message through to me. I’ve carried too many burdens alone, and for a long time I’ve needed to ask for assistance.”

“Not to mention that Excalibur was collecting dust,” Caro japes.

“It found a good wielder. As will Muramasa, when it's returned Tohro.”

Caro stops walking. “Wait, you have Muramasa too? I thought it was being kept by the Imperial Legion.”

Altair turns around and shrugs. “How are you surprised? If Mistral could infiltrate Hurricane’s bedroom, what was stopping her from getting into a standard-issue weapons crate in the barracks? What do you take her for?”

By the time the realization that the Thieves Guild tripped up the entire Imperial Legion washes over him, Caro is left alone in the hallway as Altair turns the corner up a flight of stairs. He runs to catch up, taking the steps quickly. He can hear the sound of a harp playing from beyond the gold-decorated double doors that stand imposingly at the top of the stairs.

“You and all of these rare weapons…” Caro says, not sure how to respond to this. “What is the purpose of the Nightingales, anyway?”

Altair drops his hood and removes his mask, latching it onto his chestpiece. His eyes sparkle as he speaks with one set of talons clenched. “We protect Hephaestus’ creations, of course. They belong in the possession of those who will keep them safe. Until recently, I believed that only we had the right to such magnificent crafts of labor and love, forged by the giver of fire.” He points at Caro. “You and Mistral proved me wrong, of course. Might for right, you know how it is...”

Caro nods. “I’m the Dragonborn. I’m fortunate to have learned about power and responsibility before doing something unforgivable.”

“You suffered much to realize that, did you?” Altair asks.

“Mmm.” Caro nods again, with his head pointed towards the ground.

“I’m a thief who has sacrificed more than he has gained. It’s why I’m after Chrysalis in the first place.” Altair’s talons are wreathed in flames. When Ares appears, he lifts the blades and crosses them in front of Caro. “I won’t bore you with the details… I had half a chance to save a life, and I fell upon the wrong half. I pray you’ll never be in a situation where someone’s life or death hangs on a single decision.”

Caro touches the flats of the blades, admiring their ridges and tribal etchings. “At least you have the tools to prevent that from happening again.”

“That was what I was looking for. I got low, so I left my brother and the Thieves Guild to rot while I sought a reason to live. And that’s how I found Hephaestus.” Altair chuckles. “That’s not rhetoric, I actually found him.”

Rubbing his forehead, Caro turns in a circle and inhales. “Shit, Altair, you are... full of surprises.”

“Said the dragon slayer.” Altair spins his blades around. “Where was I? Oh. See, Hephaestus said he could grant me power and purpose, but I had to show my commitment. He said that his weapons all require particular ingredients, and if I wanted something truly unique, I would have to give up something only I would be willing to give.”

Caro looks at Altair, then at the Ares blades, and then back up to Altair, who tilts his head and lets the blades burn away. Only now does Caro notice how much the flames resemble wings as they disappear.

CHAPTER XLVIII - WORTHLESS

Chippy feels Mistral’s wings brush against his back before the rest of her body follows suit. They tumble to the ground together. Mistral drops a few of her wing blades in her fall. “Damn!” she shouts.

Two changelings leap from the wine barrels and come at her with gleaming fangs. She quickly sweeps her blades up with her hooves, jumps at the changelings, and slices through them both. She kicks off the wall and bounces back at them as they fall. Her blades pierce their chitin, creating fountains of green mucus as they’re impaled to the ground.

Chippy stands up and redraws his sabre as he hears the pained cries of three more changelings They all drop from the ceiling. Two of them morph their hooves into makeshift daggers and begin thrusting at Chippy. He sidesteps and ducks most attempts, until two thrusts jab him in the chest, cutting through the weak slits of his Nightingale armor.

He grunts through the pain and parries the next onslaught of attacks. The moment one of the changelings hesitates, Chippy smacks the other one away, taking another puncture on his foreleg, and swings his sabre down on the hesitating one. It slices through the changeling’s foreleg, and with another quick swing cuts through its neck. It falls before it can even screech. Chippy pounces on the next one as it reels back from the shared pain of its brethren’s death, silencing it with his hidden blade.

“How are these things a threat, honestly?” Mistral asks, taking out a knife, casually dodging a wad of spit from the last changeling and charging at it. She rams the knife into the changeling’s chest, neck, and head, then bucks it into a nearby cupboard. Wood planks and wine bottles cascade down onto it. Many shades of red and white liquid mix with its green fluids in a pool.

“Impressive,” Chippy says to Mistral.

She takes off her mask and straightens out her hair. “Thank you. I had my doubts about you wearing the armor, but you make good use of it.”

“It’s not like I’m in any real danger. Not here, anyway. Changelings aren’t fighters. I mean, why would they need to be? If I could turn into anypony I wanted to, I wouldn’t bother with combat training.”

Mistral shoots a condescending glare at the many changeling corpses surrounding her. “Hm.”

“Don’t be like that, we can’t all be as driven as you,” Chippy says. Mistral imagines him smirking beneath his mask. “Let’s move on, shall we?”

Mistral approaches the wooden archway leading to a stone passage. It’s as grim and uncomfortable seeming as a changeling prison would be. As she walks through, her attention is drawn to the wall, where various cloth garments and gold ornaments are mounted. Her breathing quickens. “Goodness...”

Chippy is a different sort of bothered at the sight of the dressings. “For the prisoners? Ugh. How are those things supposed to be sexually appealing, anyway? It’s not even real gold, look at the shimmer…” He turns to Mistral. “Oh. I am so sorry.”

“Do I look like I’m crippled?” Mistral asks with a glance. “It’s been years, I’m fine.”

Altair puts his talons to the right side of the double door, and Caro puts his hoof to the left. They both look at each other, showing nervous but assured glances.

“You know what must be done,” Altair says. “I know that you’re not the aggressive berserker you once were, but at least call on that strength enough for me to finish this war.”

“I’ll clear the way for you,” Caro says. “I feel it bears repeating; are you sure you can stay out of sight?”

Altair grins. “You need not worry. Even without wings, I can still fly.” He cracks his knuckles, knocks on the door, and leaps up to the ceiling. The moment he leaves Caro’s eyesight, he cannot be located. Caro looks around the hallway from top to bottom, and yet it’s as though Altair was never there to begin with.

“Enter, but do not waste my time.” a weary voice says from beyond the door. It’s Chrysalis, beyond any shadow of a doubt, and the very reminder of what she sounds like sends Caro back into a quiet rage.

You’ve done nothing but waste mine, Caro thinks. He takes a deep breath and enters Chrysalis’ room. The instant he does, his disguise disappears. His faded turquoise fur and white mane return.

Surprising to Caro, her chambers are not far off from how he imagined them to be. The warm reds and browns of the mansion might as well be worlds away. This room is cold and dark, with no windows, and the only light sources are two sets of wallbound torches adjacent to a shabby marble throne. Bizarrely, there are also two buffet tables stocked with chocolates and appetizers in the middle of the room.

Chrysalis lies upon the throne. Not even a hint of regalness can be felt in her presence, as she lazes like an adolescent with her hind legs hanging over the side, one of her forelegs over her eyes. She looks tired, like she hasn’t had a good night’s rest in months.

“What’s wrong with you?” Caro asks without thinking.

“Caro?” Chrysalis sits up and looks at Caro, appearing genuinely surprised to see him. “My goodness, what brings you here? How did I not sense you?”

“My guess is as good as yours,” Caro answers.

“Ugh.” Chrysalis returns to her slack position. “What do you want from me, Caro? You’ve already shown me impudence, you’ve already insulted my children, and I know you’re in alliance with that sorry dewinged excuse for an avian.” She sighs and leans against the armrest of her throne. “Say what you must and leave.”

Caro swallows every little bit of seething hate that threatens to escape his mouth. He speaks as sweetly as he can to Chrysalis, showing an attempt at a warm smile. "I apologize for the knife, I apologize for my impudence, and I apologize for putting my relationship before respect for your radiance and beauty. I have rethunk your generous offer, and I want to pledge myself to you as your shield and sword."

Chrysalis turns sour, her frown growing larger by the second. It’s obvious to Caro that she doesn’t believe him. "Every single syllable that comes out of your mouth is a lie, and I have no tolerance for liars. I know you. When you make a decision, it takes nothing less than your world turning upside down to change your mind. If you have something to say, then go ahead and say it." Though her voice remains syrupy sweet, the threatening intent is there. “Why do you spite me so?”

“What is it you want me to say?” Caro steps forward, placing himself in front of Chrysalis and flashing a threatening glare of his own. “You reek of blood and death? Something about how you've sown hatred and distrust throughout Equestria? That ponies who slip up just a little end up dead at your hooves, you sit on a throne of lies, and nothing would please me more than to shove a knife through your forehead and twist it?"

Chrysalis seems neutral and unperturbed. “Say the truth. What do you want?”

Caro sighs and listens to his heart, instead of his anger. "...I just want Tohro back."

“No spell can reawaken the dead, little thing. Honestly, you think I’d just keep him around for you to come and find? Your precious toy is gone, and there’s nothing you can do about it. Understood?”

Caro’s heart tells him to walk up to the smorgasbord of fruits and chocolates and shove them all away, hard enough to make at least half the plates and bowls shatter against the floor and wall. As one of the bowls rolls along the carpet, he keeps his eyes trained on Chrysalis. “I know he's alive.”

“Is he?” Chrysalis turns her head, allowing her mane to fall across her face. Her eyes are visible through it, like a thin curtain. It’s one veil that she can’t maintain. “Is he, truly? Or is this another mortal delusion? Some sort of invisible tie between lovers that persists despite all outward forces? Please tell me you have one of those, I am desperate for a comedic performance.”

“He’s an emotional bloodbag for you,” Caro says. “He’s no good to you dead.”

Chrysalis looks pleasantly surprised. "Oh. Someone's done their research.” She sits up. “Still, you're lucky he hasn't died already. He and the dark chambers below are so very incompatible.”

A memory of Tohro curled up in the oppressive darkness of an underground maze makes Caro fume, and momentarily forget all concepts of keeping his emotions in check. "You left him in the dark?!" he yells before stepping back and taking a deep breath.

Chrysalis flashes a smile. "You sound so shocked, my dear. I thought you'd find the fact he hadn't taken his own life more surprising."

"He wouldn't,” Caro says quietly. “He… He wouldn’t. He's braver than that."

"He’s crawling at the walls, or at least he would be if he could move. He whispers to himself... repeating a certain stallion's name. Of course, that’s between absolutely scrumptious emotional breakdowns. It’s been almost too much for me to eat. But what do I care? I can treat myself every now and again, I deserve it."

You deserve to be nailed upside down to a crucifix with your head held underwater, Caro thinks, before searching his mind for more dignified images of the stallion he loves. Tohro in his strongest moments. Fighting off the Thieves Guild before they became allies. Fighting off his former army in the name of his friends. Diving headfirst into a squadron of armed cultists to rescue innocent unicorns. The intimate details of his fur as he closed in for a kiss...

Caro displays his anger, but he speaks calmly. "So long as I'm in his heart, you can't break him. It's the same for me. So long as my angel lives, I have nothing to fear."

"Ahhh, so that's why he keeps repeating your name. I was worried he'd already snapped… See, my darling Caro, breaking someone just sends them into a miasma of panic. Doing that to him was never my goal. I’m no sadist.”

“Really?” Caro mutters.

"You can’t make use of a broken tool. That said, I am interested in seeing what would make that happen. I'm almost tempted to show you to him, to see if that would do the trick."

Caro focuses on an image of himself and Tohro walking out of those doors, forelegs intertwined. "He and I are leaving this place together."

"Oh, I've no doubt. Everyone leaves this place eventually. The questions is… when? See, Tohro's been such a lovely source of food for us. He radiates something that I can’t quite comprehend. A new flavor, if you will. It comes as I listen to him whisper your name, forever hoping for you to come save him. Why would I be so keen to let you take him? I’d rather watch him grow old, senile, as he speaks to the darkness itself, trying to believe he can see you. I don’t know how long it’d take for me to tire of this new flavor, but I’d enjoy it while it lasts.”

Caro's expression remains neutral, but his words are much less so. "You're ugly."

Chrysalis looks a little offset. “Come again?”

Caro never thought he could be so calmly angry. "You make the world ugly so you can be beautiful. But you're not. You're a sick and twisted abomination from another age with no purpose. You fill your empty void of existence with hate and misery because that's all you've ever known. You're hopeless, meaningless, and ugly."

Chrysalis purrs. "Scathing, dragon-eater. But doesn't the Dragonborn kill and devour to become stronger himself?”

"I protect the weak,” Caro says. He turns away from Chrysalis, uninterested in hearing this spiel, especially from her. “You just exist."

“I fulfill what is demanded. Lines up rather nicely with what I want. We are assassins, feared like the Dragonborn. Killing to feed ourselves, to grow stronger. That’s a service, an exchange. You’re just an anomaly in a cycle of violence, desperately trying to protect a race of unintelligent barbarians who feed on empty sustenances like violence and rape."

Caro’s body moves against his will, turning back around as Rasahrel’s voice overtakes him. “You don't know them as well as you think. You certainly don't know my Dragonborn either."

Chrysalis, for just a sweet second, falls out of her haughty demeanor, in shock at the sound of the new voice. “M-Mistress...?” She shakes her head and returns to as she was before. "How cute. How does it feel for your power to be controlled entirely by a being you once despised? Surely you feel some hatred for being condemned to a life of servitude? That must put things into perspective."

Rasahrel forces Caro to step forward. “Surely you remember that ponies and dragons once coexisted. Together, they created a society that lasted for millennia. Before the collapse that you caused, we lived in relative harmony in our airborne cities. The time for cooperation has come again, and it starts within Caro. We who shed the doctrine of Saviikaan know that he will set both dragons and ponies free, not with genocide, but with strength of heart and good will. If you stand in his path, you won't like where yours leads." Caro feels Rasahrel’s contempt for Chrysalis beneath his skin. “Slave.”

Chrysalis flinches. “I don’t obey you anymore. You’re the slave now. You’re trapped in a walking prison.”

"It matters not to me. All of your rhetoric will mean nothing when your hollow empire falls and you lie dead at the Dragonborn's feet. You can wax philosophy all you want, but my host has accepted the atrocities he committed. You relish in them. You're just as pathetic as you were when you cowered at my feet."

“Ah, my old mistress, you forget yourself.” Chrysalis stands up, shedding her cloak and revealing her hole-littered body. “In the end, death serves me."

The room is filled with the oppressive noises of buzzing wings and clattering chitin. Caro, relinquished of Rasahrel’s control, looks up and sees a familiar sight. A ceiling filled with glowing eyes that threaten to pierce his soul. Unlike before, though, he knows what they are, and he refuses to show fear to them, not that he has much fear to begin with.

Rather, he displays a sense of humor, laughing to himself. "You know,” he says to Chrysalis, “the problem with your hive mind is that, despite having so many drones at your command, you're more alone than anypony else.”

“Hm.” Chrysalis steps down from her platform. “I should have figured you’d have backup. When do you intend on calling your friends?"

"I'm the only one here,” Caro lies.

"No, you're not. You have no weapons. Therefore, you thought you could delude me into a false sense of security, and distract me from the rest of my children. But that is not so. My children have been prepared for the Thieves Guild’s arrival. As for you, I'm not letting you leave this room unbound or unscathed. So, all that remains is for you to make a desperate attempt on my life. Go on, Dragonborn. Take your shot."

For the moment, the plan is a bust. Caro holds on to hope that the thieves will locate Tohro before he's put to death. Despite that, he chuckles at Chrysalis' bold assumption. He finds it hilarious that, for once, Chrysalis is objectively wrong about something.

"So, about me being unarmed..."

Caro’s foreleg is wreathed in a bright light. He summons Excalibur into his hoof and swings it upward, creating a wave that slices through the carpet and destroys the staircase leading up to Chrysalis’ throne, which topples over as she leaps from it.

“Hm. That’s new,” Chrysalis comments, taking a gander at Excalibur’s perfectly forged beauty. Clairvoyance comes to her in the form of widening eyes. “Ugh. I should have known.” She hisses at the sky. “Come out, thief! I know you’re there!”

A flaming chain cuts through the darkness, just for a moment replacing the acid green light with intense reds and oranges. Chrysalis fires off spreading blasts of non-elemental magic, but none of them seem to hit the target, wherever he is.

“Where are you?! Why can’t I see you?!” Chrysalis screeches.

The flaming chain snags around her neck, silencing her cries. A metal boot appears out of the air, planting itself on her back as she falls to the ground. With a distorted shimmer, Altair appears, his talons tight around his Ares blades. “Because you never see with your eyes,” he softly muses. “Lie down and die easy, lest I steal your fluids and everything else you hold dear.”

Chrysalis disappears in green flame and reappears behind Altair. She levitates the chains and pulls on them, tripping Altair and landing him on his beak. “You know not what I cherish. Now you, Caro, and the entire guild suffer.”

Altair glances at Caro, who is taking cover beneath the table. “We already have.” Altair spins onto his feet, kicking at Chrysalis’ face, following up with a swing of Ares that slices her cheek. He goes for her neck next, only for her to cross his blade with her horn. The two sharpened objects grind against each other, setting off sparks.

Altair swings his blade upwards, then strikes at Chrysalis’ mouth as she hisses. She shrieks and roars simultaneously as she spits green blood from her mouth. She disappears again, reappearing above Altair with a fully lit horn. She fires off more magic bolts that tear Altair’s cape and hood, as well as burn his armor. He grunts every time he takes a hit, running full-tilt across the throne room. Chrysalis teleports in his path every time he gains distance, continually assaulting him with magical blasts.

Altair reaches the table opposite from Caro, leaping over it and kicking off all the bowls and plates. He slices through the center with Ares, rending it in two. He picks up one half, and with unforeseen strength, swings it around and smashes it against Chrysalis just as she materializes in front of him again.

Chrysalis backs away. Her eye is leaking green just the same as her mouth, which is now slanted. Her jaw appears to be broken. She brings her hoof to her face and presses into it. An unpleasant, cringe-induced crack sounds out, and her face returns to normal.

She steps over the table. “That was mahogany.”

Altair glances at the splinters beneath him. “Oh. There goes a small fortune.”

"No matter. Life is the only thing that's priceless, apparently." Chrysalis narrows her eyes into a glare, the green tears adding a malicious light to her stare. "You lose so much, and yet you persist?”

Altair raises his blades and brings them down on Chrysalis, who blocks with her foreleg. Her chitin is far less fragile than that of her drone, the blades barely leaving a dent. “I’m not some honorless crook. My guild is my family, and you’ve tormented them as long as I’ve been with them.”

“Blame the one who prayed for that old housewife’s death. It wasn’t my fault.” Chrysalis levitates Altair out of her grip and holds him up by his talons. “You might as well blame a courier for a dirty letter. And yet, you chose to bother me. So I had to take away some of your toys.”

“They had names! Fraptious, Ava, Grimly—” Altair’s cries are silenced as he’s forced into the wall, face first.

Chrysalis strides past Altair, talking to him like a nanny would to a malcontent child. “First they merely were taken, and when you bothered me more, they were hurt. When you still yet bothered me, they had to be killed. Else you might not have learned your lesson.” She gently touches Altair’s back. “Blame me not. Had their bodies not shriveled up and stunk up the place, I would have returned them in time.”

Altair ejects from the wall and kicks Chrysalis across her head, then smacks her with the flat of Ares. She topples over. Altair lands and plants one of his blades into the hole of her foreleg, twists it to lock it in, grips the chain, and starts running. “You insult me, Chrysalis!”

As he runs, Chrysalis is dragged through wood, splinters and broken masonry, pieces of her chitin being left on the floor to mix with greed fluids in her wake. When they reach the end of the room. Altair lifts the hilt of the lodged blade and pulls as hard as he can over his head, until Chrysalis, screaming in pain, is relieved of her foreleg.

Like an echo across a chasm, the observing changelings all scream as well, in vicarious agony. Caro realizes that he’s hearing the pain of hundreds of forelegs being ripped off, all at once. Even his clouding the hivemind doesn’t seem to dull that pain.

Caro, watching closely, realizes how hard his chest is beating as he looks into Chrysalis’ crying eyes. But the pounding is not of the good sort. It’s not a rush of excitement or adrenaline, it’s fear. Fear for Chrysalis’ life. Despite every irredeemably sick thing she’s said and done, something about this sight doesn’t sit well.

Altair points his blade at Chrysalis’ face. “Your continued existence is insulting to me!” He kicks her in the chest and neck.

Caro looks up at the ceiling. The changelings have recovered from their pain and are concentrating their gaze on Altair. Their chittering, merely white noise until now, has risen into a deafening cacophony. Caro knows they’re about to attack.

“Altair! Eyes up!” he shouts.

Altair grunts as he acknowledges the many eyes falling upon him. He pulls his blade away from Chrysalis and steps over her. He then points his blade at Caro. “Why are you still here? You’ve done your part.”

“But I—” Caro can’t put it into words. He can’t think of any way to reasonably pitch the idea of sparing a sick creature that has ordered the deaths of countless ponies, and captured many others for her own gain. “Altair—”

“The role is complete. You can wait out the rest.” Altair flashes a warm smile. “Just go be with Tohro.”

Caro feels Altair’s talons tugging on a cord in his heart. “You think I don’t want to?!” he shouts. “But I’m not going to submit to running. I’m still in this with you.”

“I and your muscles beg to differ.” Altair jabs his talon towards Caro. “What, do you think you’re going to earn something for throwing yourself into the fire again? Yes, I gave you Excalibur, but I still stand by knowing one’s limits. Trust me, you are very limited right now.”

“By all means, stay around and entertain me…” Chrysalis japes, despite being sans a limb. Altair presses on her face with his boot, silencing her.

Altair now points at the door. “I can understand being a hero when no one else will, but you have the entire Thieves Guild backing you up. You can go.”

“Altair…” Caro loses control of his tongue. He feels Rasahrel take over his voice. “You will not kill her!”

Altair and Chrysalis wear the same surprised look as they stare at Caro, who finds himself stepping forward against his own will. The forced walking strains his muscles, making them cry out, but he’s unable to make Rasahrel relinquish control.

“Dragon?” Altair asks. “A-are you one of Caro’s slain dragons?”

“I am his friend.” Caro’s hoof points at Chrysalis. “Altair, in the age of dragons, before this thing was known as Chrysalis, she was a slave of mine and Saviikaan’s. She is not of this world. She was created, not born. She has no soul, and as such she does not know emotion, nor does she know her sins. She is but a hollow shell, unable to fill the emptiness in her soulless body no matter how much emotion she and her fellow husks devour. How is that worth killing?”

“Nothing you say can change what she’s done.” Altair holds both Ares blades to Chrysalis’ throat. “Or what she would do if I let her live. If anything, her being soulless makes this all the easier.”

Caro feels Rasahrel thinking within him. It’s as if his own mind is being used by her. Images of the children who suffered in silence at the hooves of Sunflower flash before him, and he knows that it’s Rasahrel who is drawing from them. The words then come out. “Would you rather she die a shadow, or be forever known to the world as the monster that she is? Have her secrets revealed to those who have suffered by her? ”

Altair takes a few seconds to respond. “And what would happen then?” he asks. “I already told you, the fewer people that know about changelings, the better. The paranoia that we’d induce in the populace…”

“I have seen paranoia. The equines I once ruled over were under the surveillance of my kind. They were our underlings, and what you call changelings were our created slaves. While the slaves suffered as slaves do, the underlings were threatened to stay in line by the deathly grip of Saviikaan. Their paranoia was born of a higher power’s death threats.”

“So, what you’re saying is…” Altair loosens his grip on Ares. “The changelings would suffer if they were left to their own survival among an aware populace.”

Rasahrel forces Caro to nod. “Ideally. For all we know, stamping this hive out now could lead to a greater infestation in the future. Perhaps, if Equestria were on the lookout, and with Queen Platinum’s direction and your guild as a watchful eye...”

Rasahrel, much to Caro’s relief, seems to have chosen the right words. Altair is smiling at him, and her by extension. Relaxing his arms and dispelling Ares, he stands up and approaches Caro. He grips his shoulders firmly.

“There’s always another way,” Caro says, strong words of his own finally coming to him. “Why must we carry the burden of more death than necessary? For Epona’s sake, look at her.”

Chrysalis is crawling to the door. The fluids she leaves behind her are thick enough to ripple and spread across the carpet. She limply reaches out for the door, but her foreleg is too weak to even reach halfway. She whimpers as she tries to light her horn, but nothing comes of it. She gags and collapses yet again.

“You’ve never gotten this far. Maybe this is enough. Just let your crusade end here, and leave the rest to ponykind. You’re already a hero.”

Altair smiles and sighs. “Caro, I truly appreciate your sentiment, especially in this day and age. Only when the stars align does a pony like you come along.” He glances back at Chrysalis. “The only other one I know is... Mistral. She’s unearthly kind, devoted, and too good for a life among thieves. She’d have told me to do the same.”

Caro feels Altair’s talons shudder. His eyes fidget, and his voice becomes heavier.

“Ponykind is not made of ponies like you or her.” He lets go of Caro. “You and your dragon friend are mistaken. My enemy is a sick, narcissistic queen of ruin and death. But that doesn’t make me a hero.”

“Stop… NO!” Rasahrel cries as Ares appears in Altair’s talons. Caro tries to move forward, but he feels his muscles scream, filling his vision with red and causing him to stumble. He’s not fast enough to stop Altair, who leans over Chrysalis, raising both of his blades up high.

“You’re above this… NOT ME!”

Mistral peeks around the frame of the archway, and immediately wishes she hadn’t. When she heard of Chrysalis holding prisoners, she had a certain image in her head. A dark, dank prison, with actual bars and sulking ponies with at least some room for walking and conversing to pass the time.

What she did not expect, yet feels she should have expected in the first place, was cocoons hanging from the ceiling. The entire cavern is filled with dozens of them, and all but a few are occupied by terrified, very much awake victims. Their eyes seem focused on things out of sight, and completely glance over Mistral and Chippy, even as they step into the room.

“Was this what it was like for you?” Chippy asks in a hushed voice.

Mistral turns her head, stepping back when she comes face to face with the wide eyes of an encased child. “Well, I could scream, so that’s one thing Shokenda had over Chrysalis. But at least these ones are being left alone, for the most part…”

Chippy grits his teeth. "You feel that, yes? That crawl on your back?”

“I do.” Mistral nods grimly. “It’s fear, disgust, and misery, all at once.”

“That’s their emotions being drained from them... They're like feedbags." Chippy triggers his hidden blade. Steam billows through his mask as he snorts. "Come on. They've suffered enough; let's cut them down."

Chippy slices through the first stem he can reach. The cocoon falls and breaks open on the ground, releasing more green mucus and a haggard smell of sweat and decay. He waves the stench away and reaches into the broken casing, pulling out a small, fluid-soaked blue filly. She stirs and croaks out indistinguishable words. “Grr… Br… Mmm… Ma…”

Mistral approaches the filly and wipes some of the cocoon juice off of her forehead. “Don’t fret, little starshine. The cavalry’s here.”

The filly blinks a few times, and then points to the cocoon next to where hers was. “Mum…”

“We’ll get them all out, don’t you worry.” Chippy lays the filly down. She takes a seat on the stone floor, and begins to rub the rest of the mucus out of her fur. She watches as Chippy and Mistral walk along the many rows of cocoons, briskly slicing through them with their hidden blades.

The putrid smell intensifies with every broken cocoon, but Chippy, Mistral, and the filly ignore it, as it’s accompanied with the sounds of waking mares, stallions, foals and fillies, all rising from their former prisons. They’re covered in fluids, reek of death, and they’re free.

“Mum?!” the filly shouts above the many ponies’ weak murmurs, distressed and relieved at the same time. “Mum, where are you?”

A mare of an identical blue color breaks out of the stumbling crowd and limps over to her daughter. The instant she looks upon her, she smiles and lets a few tears fall, scooping her little one up into a crushing hug. Despite the pressure, the filly fully gives in.

“I guess there are some emotions that don’t run dry,” Chippy says as he helps an older stallion to his hooves.

Mistral searches through the last remaining cocoons, cutting them down as she goes. She counts two mares, one colt, a white stallion… She does a double take, and sighs with relief. The svelte pegasus smiles even when encased in insectoid skin and fluids. Mistral carves a hole in his prison and pulls him out.

Smug smile aside, he’s unconscious. Mistral fights back the thought that the changelings might have consumed him enough to put him into a coma. Those fears are put to rest when Tohro’s eyes fly open. “Caro!” he shouts before even breathing. He breaks out into long, labored breaths, and checks his surroundings. “This is the strangest bathhouse I’ve ever…” He then notices Mistral. “Oh, hello.”

“Surprised to see me?” she asks.

She can see Tohro’s mind click. He recognizes her voice. “Mistral? Uh, hello. I was expecting somepony else, you could probably guess.” Tohro yawns and leans his head back. “What’s with the doom and gloom armor? Has the Imperial Legion changed its look? I like it.”

Mistral decides to ditch pretense and just explains outright. “Tohro, I’ve been with the Thieves Guild longer than you ever have. I’m a Nightingale. Altair, Chippy and I are here to rescue you.”

Tohro blinks a few times. “Who’s Chippy?”

“I’ll explain everything later, I promise.” Mistral lays Tohro down, stands up, and takes flight above Chrysalis’ victims. “Salutations, everypony! My name is Mistral, and this is Chippy. Odds are you don’t know where you are, and it’s best that it remains as such. There is no need to worry about it, though, because by the end of this day, you all will be homeward bound, and the monsters that dared do this to you will be no more after this day. From the moment we set hoof outside, you will be safe.”

“But that means you will have to do exactly as we say!” Chippy adds. “Understood?”

There are meek nods and vocalized agreements among the prisoners.

Chippy decides that’s good enough and “By now, the Dragonborn and our leader are confronting the monster responsible for all this. We will take advantage of the confusion and leave with haste. Stay close, walk together, and don’t stop moving. If you do as we ask, you will be safe.”

One of the freed stallions steps forward. He raises his hoof and speaks to Chippy. “Hello, uh… Not for nothing, but the last time I trusted a dark pony with a deep voice, my family and I ended up in this sordid pit. How do we know you’re not leading us into a darker pit?”

Another stallion speaks up. “For all we know, you and the other dark one could be worse than the bitch who led us here.”

“Sir!” The filly’s mother yells, covering her little one’s ears. “There are children present.”

Chippy groans. “I am not a damn— I am not a changeling! And no one would dare come down here just to make things worse for you. That’s just impractical.”

Mistral intervenes, stepping in front of Chippy. “Please, everypony, arguments and paranoia are exactly what the changelings want. Would a disguised changeling ask you to suppress your emotions?”

There are a few curious murmurings among the skeptics within the crowd.

“I hate to say this,” says Chippy, “but you’re stuck between trusting us, or staying down here and awaiting Chrysalis’ wrath. Speaking as a pony who rather enjoys people being alive and unafraid, I’d recommend the former.”

“I can vouch for them,” Tohro says weakly.

“Not good enough!” the first stallion snaps. “We’re all terrified out of our wits here, don’t you try to undermine that!”

Mistral sighs. “What could we possibly say to convince you that we’re worth trusting?”

No one answers, not even Tohro, who is still unable to move his legs. It’s either out of nerves, or a genuine lack of any solution to the issue at hoof that nopony speaks. Chippy and Mistral exchange glances. Even beneath their masks, they can sense each other’s distress. They nod and decide on a solution simultaneously, regardless of how meager it might seem, or how much it might compromise their identities.

Mistral pulls off her mask and puts her hood down, baring her light blue face and glass eye for all to see. “See? For what it’s worth, I’m just a mare.”

Chippy does the same, revealing his orange fur and blonde mane. He puts on a pair of spectacles and clears his throat. His voice shifts from deep and imposing to soft and authoritative. The voice of a trusted guide. “And I’m Smart Cookie.”

Mistral takes a step back. “Woah!”

“ALTAIR!!” Rasahrel and several other dragons scream from Caro’s mouth.

Altair’s blades pierce the carpet. The sound of tearing fabric and breaking wood echoes through the darkness of the throne room, a far cry from the expected screams, squelching liquid and shattering chitin. But there is nothing lying in front of Altair, beyond a few green wisps where Chrysalis should be.

Altair’s heavy breathing can be heard beneath his mask. “D-damn…” he whispers. He shudders and pulls Ares out of the floor. He lets the blades burn away. “I didn’t expect…”

“You wore your anger on your sleeves in front of an emotion eater. Are you truly surprised this happened?” Hevnodiin asks.

Caro blinks and shakes his head. “Enough!” he yells at the dragons. “I’m surprised he and I both didn’t lose our minds talking to that thing.”

“Thing?” Altair says with a chuckle. “Not so merciful towards her now, are you?”

Nervously scratching at his forehead, Caro bites his lip. “Altair, please understand… There’s a principle. I want to be better than the monsters that are tearing Equestria apart. Chrysalis… I think I might be able to… I don’t know…”

“What? Appeal to her good side?” Altair asks with a berated smile. “Ah, the good side of demon who doesn’t know emotions beyond their taste on her forked tongue. Keep believing in such high concepts, Dragonborn.” He immediately drops his smile and glares at Caro like he can see beneath his skin. “You really are worthy of Excalibur.”

Caro doesn’t know if he would choose between the beration of a thief or the skittering of dozens of changelings. Either way, the situation is complicated. Chrysalis is gone, the changelings remain, and the best course of action seems to be to throw caution to the wind. The most Caro can hope for is that Tohro is safe, and that they can get out of here alive.

Altair looks around at the incoming changelings. “We must defeat them here, lest they turn on the innocents.”

The distant screams of several mares and stallions slips through the door.

Caro turns to Altair and sighs angrily.

The atmosphere of the lounge was foreboding to the Thieves Guild, the Nightingales, and Caro and Shae, but otherwise it was tranquil and relatively pleasant, until now. Chrysalis appears, having regenerated her body in full, makes the room feel dark and actively threatening, especially to the recently freed victims of her cruelty. As she turns to them with a furious stare, several ponies around the room immediately stop their socializing, eating and drinking, and turn into changelings.

Mistral and Smart Cookie draw their swords as Chrysalis advances on them. Several more sounds of drawn metal are heard afterward, even above the screaming party guests. Another collection of ponies have drawn their weapons, each of them immediately turning on the nearest changelings.

“The Thieves Guild has arrived!” Mistral yells.

“If you don’t want any part of this, leave now!” Smart Cookie advises.

Dozens among dozens of bystanders begin running for the exit in droves. Any changelings that fly after them are cut down by the pegasi of the Thieves Guild. In an instant, the entire lounge has become a war zone, with blades clashing against chitin, blood and mucus being spilt, and many inequine shrieks emitting among the hive.

Among the chaos, and the many ponies leaving, Smart Cookie notices a flash of pink, and wide childlike eyes turning his way. Puddinghead gasps, unable to believe that his old friend is alive and well. He’s too quickly caught up in the crowd to do anything else but run, despite everything he wants to ask.

Chrysalis bellows out a war cry. She advances on Mistral and Smart Cookie, who raise their swords in defense.

“FUS RO DAH!!”

Chrysalis is tossed aside from the impact of a mighty force coming from the balcony above. Caro is leaning over the edge of the fence. Chrysalis fires off a blast at him, but he ducks below the fence and comes back up.

Caro shouts again. “YOL TOOR SHUL!” A massive flame erupts from his mouth, striking the ground before Chrysalis. The carpet burns, as do the wooden chairs and tables the flames splash onto.

Altair leaps over Caro, Ares blades held overhead. He brings the blades down on Chrysalis’ horn. She fires off a burst that shoves him off. He sidesteps her horn, leaping behind a plume of flame. He slips his talons into his pocket and takes out a clawful of powder, chucking it into the flame. It flies through, creating an explosion that strikes Chrysalis across her face, tearing off her silky mane and ripping through her chitin.

Chrysalis ignores the cries of her drones as she stands and looks up at Altair. Half her face is gone, replaced with green, pulsating muscle and an unlidded glowing eye. She licks what’s left of her lips, and chuckles. “Altair…” she hisses, teleporting away.

She reappears behind him, her fangs sinking into his hood. She yanks him off the ground and tosses him into the wall. Before he can stand, she picks him up in a levitational grip. He hangs in the air, prone, his blades disappearing against his will.

“Get away from him!” Mistral yells, flying at Chrysalis. She’s knocked down two charging changelings. She bucks one off of her, and slashes at the other with her sword. She and Smart Cookie both engage the changelings, with urgency behind their every attack.

Chrysalis rips off Altair’s mask and tears his hood away with her teeth. She tosses him around like a ragdoll, then holds him close to her, his entire body left to her will, as she brings him close to the flames Caro started.

Caro, making his way downstairs, summons Excalibur and holds it high, working through the pain. He hesitates when Altair breaks out of Chrysalis’ grip just enough to put out his arm and hold his talons out. He shakes his head, and nods to the freed prisoners.

Caro turns to them. They’re backed against the wall, all of them soaked in residue, too weak to run. Among them, a shining white pegasus standing in front, ready to fight despite being naked and weaponless. Caro feels his body become lighter just at the sight of Tohro, but his heart become heavier knowing what will become of Altair if he just leaves.

But he can’t ignore what’s happening. The Nightingales are occupied with the changelings that would see the prisoners put back away, or worse, and Chrysalis seems like a lost cause. Caro makes his decision. He swallows the pain of his muscles and gallops for Tohro, taking his hoof, savoring the sweet image of his smile, and pulling him towards the exit.

“Follow me!” Caro yells to him and the prisoners. He hears mutterings of his name and the title ‘Dragonborn’ as he leads them onward. Hearing such praise lifts his spirits, despite what he’s sacrificing to hear it.

“Is Shae here?” Tohro asks.

Caro looks around the battlefield. There’s no trace of her, disguised or otherwise. “I don’t know!”

They’re mere steps away from the exit before five changelings land in front of them. Caro shouts “Yol toor!” in the hopes of driving them off, but they dodge the burst of fire and reform, advancing upon him, Tohro, and the prisoners. He strains himself to get into a battle stance, not knowing what to do. The thieves and Nightingales are being swarmed, Shae is absent, and Altair is dying. He resists the urge to belt out in frustration.

"Not good enough... It's never good enough!" Chrysalis' horn flashes as she levitates Altair closer to the flame. "Altair, you find my existence insulting? Because of you, everything I've worked for has been torn apart. You just couldn’t leave well enough alone! Because of you, every single petty thief in Baltimare and beyond will suffer, hanging by their legs in my pit, sucked dry until they’re turned into the so-called husks you hate so much. And you… You will burn for what you’ve done to my children!"

Altair grits his teeth, forcing his beak into a smile. He simply raises his arms and flashes a middle talon at Chrysalis, even as his feathers begin to ignite. He doesn’t display any sign of pain. “I already burned.”

Chrysalis appears thoughtful at the sight of such defiance. "Not good enough, then… Fine. All of Equestria must pay recompense. My children will swarm the skies of Everfree, sapping it dry of all its undeserved happiness. Even the Rainbow Palace itself will be my platter! The sages, the queen, the princesses! Their happiness, their anger, their misery, I will devour it all!”

A soft yet brutally intense voice rends the cacophony of the battlefield, causing every changeling to freeze. “Would you care to repeat that, you insolent whore?”

Before Chrysalis can turn, a magenta aura pulls on her tail and she’s flung into a pillar, breaking it in half on impact.

"I think you've misinterpreted something." There’s an explosion of magenta light before Chrysalis. Shae stands tall, her ethereal scythe clutched tightly. Every part of her body is gushing aura, her eyes white as the sun. "You're not a predator, and the world is not your hunting ground."

Chrysalis hisses as her form melts, her body turning alabaster and her mane about to turn pink. Shae swings her scythe at her. She howls in pain as she's flung through the pillar and into the wall, the floor above creaking ominously at the sudden lack of support. The transformation is aborted, and the monstrous queen remains.

"We're not your prey," Shae continues, radiating with steady, melodic fury. "Understand? I see your aura. I know your role in nature. You’re just a parasite. The soils of the world will not be enriched by your death. Do you want to know what will happen?”

Chrysalis tries to stand up, but in doing so leaves behind the remains of her left hind leg. As Shae advances on her, Chrysalis looks at her, eyes wide as she realizes that she’s being destroyed by a mere mortal. "S...st...stop… please… Your… an...ger…”

“More than you can comprehend, is it?” Shae asks. “I'm not going to feed you a drop of this anger and abhorrence; that would only prolong your death. It is my strength and mine alone.” She swings her scythe and brings it down on Chrysalis.

Chrysalis's mouth opens in a silent scream as her left foreleg is crushed by the very tip of the scythe’s blade, and whimpers as her horn is sliced clean off, ending her attempt to disappear.

Shae clicks her tongue and smiles. "Where was I? Oh, right. When you die, you will contribute nothing. Your chitin will become rock and your blood will rot the soil. But, then again, I’m sure you’re used to being a useless scrap of material matter, aren’t you?"

Chrysalis opens her mouth once more, the only sound to come out is “Please…”

Shae extends her scythe and hooks the blade around Chrysalis’ neck. “You think you know what it is to be a mother?”

Caro steps forward, summoning the one last bit of him that wants to see Chrysalis alive at the end of all this. “Shae, don’t do it!”

But that part of him is too small to matter anymore. Shae doesn’t acknowledge him, and focuses all of her passion and rage on Chrysalis. The whole world seems to go silent, save for what she says. “If you did know, then you would have won.”

Shae pulls on the handle of her scythe, cleaving through Chrysalis’ neck. She walks away as the head of the former queen falls to the carpet.

“Shae…” Caro backs away from her as she walks past, actually scared of her mere presence.

“What the hell…” Tohro asks, mouth wide open. “How did you…”

“You don’t fuck with a god,” Shae mutters, not even looking at her friends.

Caro feels something shake, and he prays to Epona that it’s just him.

The changelings all seem to have halted their attack on the spot. Those that were in the air have fallen, and those in action have withdrawn themselves. They all take on neutral, unassuming stances, either standing or sitting still. Some of the thieves tap the changelings or wave their limbs in from of their faces, but even then they don’t respond.

Altair approaches Mistral and Smart Cookie. “It’s over,” he says. “We’re done. Are you both well?”

“Yes. And we’d better get home quick, because I have a lot of questions about this,” Mistral says, pointing to Smart Cookie. “But we’ll worry about that after you’re fixed up.”

“It’s just a gaff,” Altair lies. His feathers are scorched and his right eye is filled with red. “Look, don’t assume I would hide any secrets from you. I questioned not why one of the founders wanted to join our ranks. He was simply skilled enough to be a Nightingale. I needn’t have let him wear the armor for any reason beyond that.”

Smart Cookie shoots Mistral a mocking glance. “If you didn’t happen to see my face until today, that’s your problem.”

“Now now, Chippy, be nice,” Altair says. “And for Hephaestus’ sake, put your masks back on. Get everypony that isn’t Shae or Caro out of here.”

Mistral and Smart Cookie nod and approach the prisoners, waving them to the exit. As they quietly and cautiously move along, Caro is reluctant to let go of Tohro’s hoof, even for a second. Tohro reassures him with his usual sly smile and a kiss on the cheek. “Soon,” he says quietly.

As soon as the prisoners are gone from sight, Altair gestures to Caro and Shae, bringing them both in close. “This wasn’t exactly how I imagined this day, but it’s good enough. My brethren that have fallen to Chrysalis’ rampage can rest peacefully.”

Caro nods. “I’m… I’m just going to take solace in the ponies I’ve saved. That’s good enough for me.”

“It’s okay to want closure, Caro,” Altair says. “In a way, I envy you. Many of us silence that part of us that cares how our enemies feel. It makes things… easier, I guess.”

“Sometimes I don’t want it to be easy. It shouldn’t be easy.”

Shae lends Caro a gentle touch of her hoof. “Caro, do you think that was easy for me?” she asks. The glow in her eyes has returned to a soft glimmer. “That was exhausting. My mind was racing, even after I made the final cut. I don’t know if I did the right thing, but it happened. I’ll just have to live with that.”

“As for what happens next…” Altair pulls out another clawful of powder. “Do you have another breath of fire in you, Caro?”

Caro sighs, nodding for what feels like the hundredth time that day. He looks to the burning furniture, carpets, and drapes. He then looks upon the stationary changelings, and reflects on how, before now, he thought that they couldn’t appear any more lifeless.

As Altair tosses the powder around the room, and Shae prepares a fire spell, Caro wonders if this is how easy it was for Saviikaan, every time he burned a generation of equines to ash.

Puddinghead stifles his laughter, while his audience of newly freed ponies, partiers, thieves, and two Nightingales prepare for his punchline.

“So then the soldier picked up the book and smacked it over the head of the drunken mustang, shattering his glass eye. That’s when he realized something. ‘Oi, barmaid, I found my book of contacts!’”

Everyone bursts out laughing, though Puddinghead suspects that the laughter would be more lively if he and the rest of these ponies weren’t standing outside the burning building many of them were trapped in. Even so, Puddinghead feels that the least he can do is bring some humor to the matter. It seems to be working.

He takes a bow and steps off of the soapbox he found stashed behind a tree. “Thank you, everypony! Tip your nonexistent waitresses!”

He accepts a few hoof bumps from the more enthusiastic members of his audience, then strolls away, feeling the need for a drink of water. He recalls there being a creek a few minutes away from the mansion, though he considers the possibility of it having dried up along with the rest of this forest.

Once the mansion is out of site, Puddinghead feels something metallic touch his shoulder. "Chancellor."

Puddinghead turns around. He immediately recognizes Smart Cookie’s glasses and intense analytical gaze. Aside from a few more wrinkles, he’s no different from how it was decades ago. "Oh! Goodness, Smart Cookie… Don't scare me like that, my heart can only take so much after today."

"Chancellor, you once drank a chocolate fountain,” Smart Cookie says, straight-faced as ever. “The whole thing."

"That’s what happens when you go on a Saddle Arabian cleansing diet for two days. Oh, and I thought that after several years, you would have at least remembered that I don’t go by Chancellor anymore. You need not refer to me as anything but a simple Puddinghead."

Smart Cookie nods. "Mmm. I would call you a fool for doing so, but you've proven in the past that your wisdom is leagues greater than even Starswirl's."

"Now, now, that just makes me an old fool."

Aside from slightly deeper voices, their shared laughter is just as Smart Cookie remembers it. He gives Puddinghead a comradic hug and pats him on the back. "Equestria is so obsessed with death. It's good to witness our jester-in-chief's return from the dead.” He notices that the glow of the burning mansion growing brighter. “How does one end up in a place like that anyway? You're not one to be led astray so easily."

"I may be an old stallion, but I've still got certain... proclivities that most mares wouldn't entertain. And when you've lost yourself in a few bottles of wine on an expensive carriage ride, a pair of lovelies can be particularly enticing. Next thing you know, a few decades have passed in an afternoon and your best friend is older than you are."

"Thank the Divines I'm above base arousal.”

"Now now, you'll find a mare to spend your days with, even if you are never as carnal and shameless as I."

Smart Cookie snickers to himself and pulls a scrap of parchment out of his pocket. He presents a drawn picture of a himself and a female mustang. “Her name is Agro.”

The difference in size is almost comical. “She’s… tall. I mean, she’s beautiful. You’ll have to bring her to the party in Everfree. Oh, it’ll be a hoot!” Puddinghead taps his hooves excitedly. “I instilled a protocol in Hurricane's initial ruling bill that a founder's absence of three months or greater must be celebrated, and those months roll over! This party is going to last for weeks!"

"That’s not happening."

"Oh dear, he's become a stick in the mud..." Puddinghead is now the only one laughing. His smile disappears slowly. "...What do you mean?"

Smart Cookie advances on Puddinghead, widening his eyes as he removes his glasses. Puddinghead is now able to see the telltale gleam and stillness of Smart Cookie's left eye. It's made of glass.

Puddinghead gasps. "You looked into our Elder Scroll, you mad foal! I told you, I had drawn the line at foreseeing the blizzard. I was sick for half a year because of my so-called bravery."

"Yes, yes, I took a glance, and it was not pretty.” Smart Cookie takes a deep breath. “Equestria is going to be destroyed.”

“...I’m sorry?”

“I saw the destruction of this half-built country. How far off that is, I don’t know, but I don’t think it’s long from now. In one instant, everything we’ve worked for will be gone. Puddinghead, we never should have come here."

"Wh-what… How… How can that happen? And why are you so worried? You and the rest of the good ponies I've met today have the means to keep that from happening, I'm sure of it."

"If only we could. I wish the Elder Scroll had told me more, but I only have so many eyes to give. I saw enough, though. Everfree in ruins, a blackened sky, everyone and everything burning to ash as the dragons rise over the horizon. Nothing remains but nature and a small collection of survivors, but I couldn't see their faces. I doubt we were among them.”

“Epona’s hooves…” Puddinghead mutters.

“But as the vision faded, I saw something else. I found an underground vault, with passages that lead to uncharted lands, ones that the dragons would gladly ignore. We can make it there in a week if we—”

“No.” Puddinghead gives the picture of Agro back to Smart Cookie. "If the dragons want Equestria, we should stand and fight. I won't let our friends' sacrifices go to waste just because there's a chance we could lose it all. Don’t you remember what I said when we planted the flag? I said that Equestria is a song sung by earthwalkers, pegasi and unicorns. The song can't end at the first lull. I’m going to keep singing. Now, are you coming with me to Everfree or not?”

Smart Cookie lowers his brow. He reaches into his pack, pulls out another scrap of parchment, and forces it onto Puddinghead. “Enjoy your party.”

XLIX - Obstacles

Tangerine’s hooves tremble just enough to spill a few drops of soup over the edge of her bowl. She brings the bowl to her lips and takes a reluctant sip. She giggles as the crisp taste of leeks and pepper rolls down her throat.

“Another day or so and I’m gettin’ out of bed, whether my body wants it or not,” she says to Rosemary, who stands stiffly by the door. “I hope Dragonrein arrives before then. I’d rather they be as prepared as possible for the journey ahead.”

“Or you just want somepony else to dust the pottery for once,” Rosemary mumbles. She immediately switches to a much sweeter tone of voice. “Hoooow’s the soup?”

Tangerine has already drained half the bowl. “Delicious. You’ve become quite the cook. I’m impressed. I’m glad to know that Nutmeg and Cinnamon were in good hooves.”

Rosemary’s eye twitches. “Let me know if you need anythin’ else, Tangerine.” She turns around on the spot to leave, and ends up slamming the side of her face into the door frame. She silently backs away, redirects herself, and walks out successfully. “You forget you saw that.”

Tangerine sets her nearly empty bowl aside and lies down, beating her pillow a few times to fluff it up. As she rustles the sheets and gets comfortable in the her-shaped hole she’s been creating in the mattress, she muses on the happy thought of returning here with Nutmeg and Cinnamon in tow with their new father, Wolf River. A happier thought is the abstract concept of Rosemary standing alongside them, smiling for once.

~Rosemary~

I pour myself a glass of sour grape mead and slam the bottle down on the counter. I haven’t looked at the label to see how old the brew is, but that’s irrelevant to me. I raise the mug to my lips and lean my head back, letting the soothing liquid run down my— “AGH!”

It burns like a wad of acid. I spit it out, spraying drops of orange liquid all over the window and counter. I cough until I can breathe again, fumbling for the pitcher of water. I grab it and drink a few sips, which helps the burning a little bit. “Fuck’s sake…” I pick up the bottle of mead and actually read the label. “Wow, you aged seventy years for nothin’.” I leave that accursed liquid, chug a few more mouthfuls of water, and leave the kitchen.

At least, I try to, but Nutmeg is standing in the archway, blocking my path. “You know, Mum was going to let Cinnamon and I have some of that mead, on the day we got our marks. Shame that’s not going to happen, huh?”

I shove her out of the way, but she just reappears as I walk past the stairs. She’s now sitting on the bottom steps, alongside Cinnamon. “Hm, I wonder…” Cinnamon says. “What does alcohol taste like? It must be good if you have to wait so long to drink it.”

“It’s horrendous,” I confess. “All it does is silence parts of your mind.”

“Then why do you drink it?”

I glare at Cinnamon. “Because there are some parts of me that need to go away.”

“We already went away, sister.” Nutmeg wags her hoof at me. She and Cinnamon stand up and walk up the stairs in unison. “You saw to that.”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up!” I yell, clutching my head. My hooves dig into my temples hard enough to make me want to squeal, but it feels so right. It keeps me from thinking about things. Once the pain becomes too much for me to take, I let out a breath and speak calmly, calling upstairs. “Do you want anythin’ to drink?” I ask Tangerine.

“No, but thanks for offering!” she calls back, her voice still hoarse.

There’s a lycan upstairs. I keep repeating that to myself. I’m not angry at Tangerine for being one, I actually find lycans to be rather fascinating ponies, even if I could never picture becoming one myself. But I can’t muster the courage to ask why she would do it, beyond wanting to marry Wolf River. She’s strong enough in her own right. Why would she ever go through such a transformation? Wouldn’t turning her body into an aggressive living weapon be a far cry from the honor she so desperately clings to? This isn’t my mother… Wait, am I actually pining for the emotionally distant, stone cold statue that I used to know? Who am I?!

I hear laughing coming from behind me. For a moment, I fear that Nutmeg and Cinnamon are laughing at me again, but when I turn my head, I realize that it’s coming from much deeper voices outside. Two stallions, and one mare.

Yes.

Smiling like a child, I gallop to the front door and shove it open, stepping out into the sunny day. The villa has long been abandoned by the help, leaving the lawn haggard and overgrown, and making the shops and living quarters below seem like a ghost town. But I don’t care. My world is right in front of me, at the end of the tiled walkway. A turquoise earthwalker, a white pegasus, and lavender heaven on legs. I burst forward, nearly tumbling down the stairs as I gallop to them.

Shae stops and waves. “Hi, R—” I silence her with a hug, spinning her around until we both fall off the tiles and into the weed-filled grass. When I let go of her, she rolls off of me, laughing jovially. “Wow! Somepony missed me.”

“Well, one of the four ponies here had to,” I say, gesturing to the front door of the plantation house. “Come on, let’s get you all inside.”

Tohro whistles, taking in the size of the villa and my home. “I took you for granted, Rose, but then it turned out you had more or less a whole kingdom under your belt! I’m surprised you don’t have suitors breaking down the door.”

“That’s because we reinforced the door.” I knock on it to prove my point. “Heart of pine. Took my daddy a whole year to gather everythin’ for this, and the rest of the house. We could sell this place off and be set for life.” I pause and backpedal a bit. “I mean, Tangerine could. Anyway, come on in.” I beckon to my friends, take Shae’s lovingly smooth hoof, and lead the way inside. The place seems a little brighter with them by my side.

CHAPTER XLIV - OBSTACLES

I’m struck with an incredulous frown. I sit on the couch next to Tohro and say to him, without irony, “If you would please elaborate on ‘emotion eatin’ insect queen,’ I would be most appreciative.”

“She and her drones kidnapped me, Caro and Shae saved me. It truly isn’t that complicated.”

My stare intensifies. “Barrin’ the insect queen. How does somethin' like that exist?”

Caro sits on the other side of Tohro. “She was a Precursor construct, a servant of the dragons. Her emotion eating was something she developed later on, after the Precursors were wiped out.” He looks sour about something. “But… well, she’s dead now. It’s irrelevant.”

“She crossed the line,” Shae says with fervor.

“Yes…” Caro surveys the lounge and the many glass displays of my daddy’s arsenal. He seems just as smitten as anypony should be. I have a feeling that his master might have made a few of those weapons. “We should get you back to Everfree, Rosemary,” he says. “Your shop is likely collecting dust as we speak, and we’re running low on bits. The carriage ride over here was not cheap.”

“Count your blessings,” Tohro says to him. “If I weren’t part of the Thieves Guild, Altair might not have let me take a new set of leather for free. Wish I could say the same about the crossbow and blades, though.”

“That’s not a shock. Have you ever tried to actually make wing blades?” I ask. “An inch off and you end up warpin’ the whole thing, and pegasi like you go through them like a baby through rags.”

Tohro approaches me with an overly saccharine frown, dramatically swaying his head and body. “And it would just make you a true friend if you were to supply me with enough blades to last us the trip back home?”

“I’ll do you one better. Just one.” I point to the stairs. “Follow, all of you.”

Shae is poking around my admittedly messy and cramped abode. This will be her room as well for however long Dragonrein stays here, so she might as well get familiar with her surroundings. She levitates my old clothes off the floor and puts them up on the window. “Will this present be another of your fine creations, Rose?”

“I wish!” I laugh, though I know the joke is only funny to me. I’m the only one who knows what’s in the weapon crate under my bed, after all. “Some shadow pony gave this to me. I don’t even know how she came across this, but she entrusted me with it, and she mentioned, uh, she was a Nightingale?”

Tohro lowers his head. “Mistral, you clever mare.”

“But, wait…” Caro tilts his head. “Why couldn’t she have just delivered Excalibur and Muramasa in person? It could have saved us a lot of time and heartache.”

“Might be that someone didn’t want her to give them away,” I assume.

“And you’d be right,” Tohro says. “From what I’ve scraped up about the Nightingales, they don’t let Hephaestus’ weapons leave their grip so easily, for the sake of keeping stability in Equestria.”

As I pull out the weapon crate and open it up, Caro follows up on that. “I’m glad Altair changed his mind. I always felt you deserved this more than anypony else.”

At the bottom of the crate is the black katana of anger and death I briefly wielded, and wish never to wield again. I dare not touch it, even with it being covered by its sheath and wrappings. I instead simply push the crate over to Tohro.

“I always knew Muramasa was a weapon of aggression,” Caro continues. “Its wielders would always pick the wrong fights, and treat the blade as more than a tool… like an entity that needs to feed. It takes a particularly kind heart to quell that entity.”

“Well, if all else fails, I can sweet talk it out of dinner.” Tohro doesn’t hesitate. He brazenly reaches into the crate and picks up the blade.

“How does it feel?” I ask.

Tohro’s eye twitches. He makes a gargled croaking sound. Then, he belts out “I AM THE DEMON BELTHAGORE! BRING ME YOUR VIRGINS!”

Caro, Shae and I all make the most cowardly falsetto screams we can muster before we all burst out laughing.

Tohro latches Muramasa onto his belt. The long, thin blade suits him well. It appears just as quick and deadly as he is. “Yeah, you’ve got a point… Bring me prostitutes instead. They’re far more experienced.”

More laughter courses through the room, the sort that makes my skin crawl. I turn and see Tangerine leaning against the doorway. She’s never done that before, in sickness or in health. “You know, if I had heard talk of demons and prostitutes comin' from my child’s room, I’d normally be worried.” She pans over Tohro, Caro and Shae, her smile broadening slowly into she’s full-on beaming. “Now I just take comfort in knowin’ you hellraisers have finally arrived.”

“Ah, Tangerine!” Tohro approaches her with boisture. “Help me out here. Given the unkempt condition of the outside, next to how large and beautiful your home is, would you still consider this place your humble abode? Even so, we’re happy to be here.”

Despite his approach, Tohro doesn’t seem to expect Tangerine moving in for a friendly hug. “And I’m happy ta see ya, ya fack bastart.”

Tohro holds out his forelegs in confusion. “...Uh, what happened to your received pronunciation?”

Tangerine lets go of him and walks past Caro and Shae. “I’m Scoltish, don’tcha know? I’m surprised you didn’t hear I was fakin’ it, what with Rosey havin’ the brogue.” She winks at me, and I wince. “It was just so the Imperial Legion could take me a little more seriously in Oregano’s absence. But there’s no need for it anymore.”

“I see we’ve all had our share of changes as of late,” Shae says. “So… are you feeling better?”

“On top of the bloody mountain,” Tangerine says, flexing her foreleg. She admires her new black coat, then notices the continued surprise of the rest of Dragonrein. “Looks good on me, don’t it? I like bein’ a wolf.”

“Why’d you do something so drastic?” Tohro asks.

“A mission many months in planning…” Tangerine says forebodingly. “Honestly, I’d rather not spoil this reunion with a dreary confession. There’ll be time for that later. Let’s just say that I’ve bitten off a little more than I thought I could chew, and I need all of your help. Now, shall we all get some grub? I bet you’re all starvin' for something homecooked.”

“Excellent, I’ll get Nutmeg and Cinnamon!” I shout, trotting past everypony and heading for the door. I slam my muzzle into the wall on the way out.

~Vision End~

~Shae~

“Who does she think she’s kiddin’?” Tangerine asks as Rosemary walks out of sight. “I know they’ve been gone for months now. Even if I didn’t, I’ve been bedridden in my own house for at least a week. She thinks I wouldn’t notice that my babies were kidnapped?”

“They’re gone?” I ask. “I was so looking forward to meeting them… But why...”

I briefly wonder why Rosemary would skim over such a horrible thing. But then it all comes together. Why she ran off from home again, her avoidance of Tangerine, her strange non sequiturs… No wonder she was so obsessed with gathering wealth and opening up her shop; she was building an arsenal to go and rescue her siblings, all the while suffering in silence.

“Your children too?” Tohro asks Tangerine, pondering what that could mean. “Looks like the pieces are all fitting together. I’ve been investigating strange disappearances across Equestria. It seems we have a common enemy.”

“We should go over notes later,” Tangerine says, nodding in Tohro’s direction. “In the meantime, I need to force a confession out of my poor daughter. Seems dinner will have to wait.”

Tohro raises his hoof. “I’ll take care of that. Caro?”

Caro smiles. It surprises me to see him excited about this. “The Dragonborn. Slayer of the wicked. Gourmet chef.”

“I thought you’d be more worried about the children?” Tangerine lowers her brow. I can see a little bit of the old her in that glare, but it quickly subsides with Caro’s apologetic smile and bow.

“Sorry if that seemed insensitive. I am concerned, truly, but I know we’ll get them back. It’s under control. All we can worry about is food at the moment, and I know you and Shae will give Rosemary a proper talking to. I don’t have the experience to get her to open up. You’d be better off pointing me at the enemy instead.” He ducks out of the room, with Tohro giving a small, solemn nod before trailing after.

I place my hoof on my chest as I address Tangerine. “She’s your daughter… I don’t think this is my place to intrude upon.”

“Nothin' of the sort. The day you two first met, you got through to her in an afternoon more than I did her entire life. What makes think you’d be intrudin'?” Tangerine asks. “I’m not asking you to be an asset, I just think it’s good for you to be there.”

“I’m not sure about that. Isn’t this a matter of family?”

“It is a matter of family, and you’re my soon-to-be daughter-in-law, so you’re as much a part of this as I am. Come along.”

Despite my rising dread over the mental state of my Rose, my heart still has the capacity to flutter at the sound of such a simple, reassuring blessing.

Tangerine leads me through the back door, which brings us out into the garden. Much like the rest of the villa’s flora, I can see regality and beauty hidden beneath its overgrowth. The many kinds of flowers planted here shine bright in the aura, but they’re hampered by the faded static of untamed nature. The statues are still up, standing tall, and it’s not as though the plants are big enough to make this place a jungle, but it’s obvious that this place has fallen on hard times in the help’s absence.

“Hm. I just now considered the perks of having a unicorn in the family,” Tangerine says, surveying a patch of roses that have been overtaken by weeds and grass. “Ugh, what a joke. I loved this patch. Oregano planted it himself when I first got pregnant.”

“Was Rosemary really an… accident?” It hurts to say that word.

“More that she came along when I didn’t expect her to. It was before Oregano and I were truly married, and we tried to see if a spark would form between us…”

Rosemary steps out from behind a distended bush. “Somethin’ formed, alright.” She brushes her hoof through her hair. She sounds like she’s been crying.

Tangerine puts on the most genuine, sad smile I’ve ever seen from her. “Two things, really. A strong, yet emotionally removed mother, and a dream weavin' father who died too soon, leavin’ the mother to be off-balance and on-edge, wonderin' idiotically why her daughter was so eager to hit the road.”

Rosemary, however, still seems distraught. “Well, I did leave, but I swear, it was for a good reason this time.”

“I can’t help but wonder how you or Nutmeg and Cinnamon would have turned out if Oregano were still here. But, we can’t dole on what-ifs.” Tangerine stands in front of Rosemary, who is deliberately looking past her. “Now, answer me honestly... Are you okay, dear?”

“Yes,” Rosemary says, despite all evidence to the contrary. “I’m just a little worried is all… Nutmeg and Cinnamon must have wandered off.”

“To where? The abandoned servant quarters?”

Rosemary is far too quick to agree. If I hadn’t known she was lying before, I’d know now by her deluded urgency, as well as her aura. It’s flickering like a candle burning away in its last seconds. “Possibly. I’ll go have a look!”

I cast my hoof out and erect a magical wall in front of the open door, just in time for Rose to bump into it.

“Agh, Shae!”

“They won’t be there,” I say, matter-of-factly. “Anywhere you claim they are, they won’t be.”

“Shae, please, don’t do this to me…” Rosemary pines, desperation clinging to her every word. “Just let me go get them, and then we’ll eat lunch, we’ll all have a good time…”

I shake my head. As a mare of higher learning, I can’t tolerate denial of facts.

But, much like most who live in denial, Rose will do anything to make her lie real. If she had claws, she’d be scraping at my constructed wall, to no avail. She can only paw at it now, hoping against hope that I’ll let it fall. That’s not happening.

“Shae…” Rosemary whimpers. She leans pathetically against the wall. “S-Shae…” I can hear her breaking down. This is a good sign.

“We’ll have our lunch, after you talk to her,” I say, pointing commandingly to Tangerine, who is waiting with the patience of a saint. “Please? Can you at least do it for me?”

“NO!” she belts out. “NO, I HATE YOU! LET ME GO!”

I advance on her, stricken by her words. “Rose, so help me…!”

“It’s fine, Shae,” Tangerine says. She taps her hoof to the cobblestone and beckons to herself. “Be a lamb and bring her over here.”

I grab Rosemary’s hoof. If it were any other day, I’d make a big note out of how I’m now innately stronger than her, but that isn’t much to write home about considering her weak will. I appear stern, but inside, I feel sore all over. This isn’t my Rosemary. This is some other flightless bird that’s holding her hostage.

I leave Rosemary kneeling in front of her mother, step back, and wait for my future bride to be rescued from herself.

Tangerine adjusts her robe, straightens out her hair, and takes a deep breath. Her aura changes, in just a second, from a soft cloud of orange to a hardened, solid sheen. I believe I just saw her revert to a state I haven’t seen her in for a long time. It’s just like how she was when I first met Rosemary.

Tangerine speaks with sheer raw force, dropping her Scoltish accent entirely and returning to her bohemian baritone. "It's taken me a decade to finally come out and say it, and I do not apologize in advance: You are insufferable, Rosemary. You are the most imperfect, disobedient, contrarian offspring any mother could ever have. You act like Oregano was a perfect being, like he bled ambrosia and could have singlehoofedly won this war. I'll tell you the truth: your father drank too much, obsessed over his weapon collection, garnished his war stories, and left us alone. I hate to curse his memory, but Wolf River is a better father than he ever could have been. And yet, you think I'm the mad one for wanting to marry such a wonderful stallion? Are you so unsatisfied with yourself that you have to undermine my happiness?!"

"No! I didn't mean any of that!" Rosemary shrieks.

"Well, you damn well sounded like you meant it when you thought I was sleeping! There is no taking back what you said about Wolf River, and you've made it fairly clear that you don't care how I feel unless you're kneeling like the coward that you are in front of me."

"No! I'm not a coward!"

"Is that so? Then tell me, where are your brother and sister?"

Rosemary looks queasy. Her aura is building in her neck and stomach. I think she’s keen to vomit. "THEY'RE HERE!" she screams instead. Her aura doesn’t change.

Tangerine steps forward. "You can’t lie to a wolf. If they were here, I would smell them. Unless, of course, they were buried six feet underground in our graveyard further out back, which would be the only way they could possibly be here. So, go ahead.” She lowers her head to Rosemary’s level. “Show me their graves.”

Rosemary quivers and covers her head and eyes. "NO! NO, NO, NO!! They’re.. they’re alive..."

"Then tell me the truth.” Tangerine walks around Rosemary, like a preying bird. “You of all ponies should know I don't punish for telling the truth."

Rosemary’s aura is like a sea on a rainy day. It flashes as she slams her hoof into the pavement. "Fuck you! You always found a reason to unfairly punish me!"

“I punished you for breaking and stealing, sneaking out, and hurting Cinnamon and Nutmeg while playing. When you lied, your punishment was worse as needed. You’re the one hurting me and yourself by lying right now, so don’t talk to me about fairness. I might’ve been a hardass, once upon a time, but I was never unfair."

"I didn't do anything wrong! Why are you yelling at me?!” Rosemary looks up. I’ve never seen her cry so pathetically. Part of me does want to intervene, feeling she’s had enough, but that’s just not what needs to happen here. It’s awful, but it’s true. I know she would suffer more without a confession.

Tangerine clicks her tongue. "You're the only one yelling, young lady. I just want you to tell me where your brother and sister are.” She sits down in front of Rosemary. “Please.”

"H-how... will I know you... won't punish me?" Rosemary mutters.

"I would only punish you if you actually did something wrong, so do the right thing."

Rosemary’s aura is still rippling, and showing no signs of steadying. She isn’t speaking at all, and it seems that she would remain that way forever, if it were possible. Still, Tangerine and I are patient. We stand and wait for her to do something, even if that something isn’t going to come any time soon.

Several minutes pass. Still, nothing is said.

I see something shine in Tangerine’s aura. She remains sitting, but she turns to me and says, “Shae, I need you again. Would you please go into the lounge and retrieve my antique vase? It’s by the window, you can’t miss it.”

“As you wish,” I say, turning and walking back indoors.

I make my way to the lounge, trekking through the long hallways. I can smell old produce and crisp, well-aged spices, with a hint of old alcoholic beverages… and a lot of salt. I pass through the kitchen, where Tohro is skillfully chopping up two carrots at the same time. He tosses the bits to Caro, who catches them in a bowl he balances on his muzzle. “Good news, we found enough unspoiled food to make us about two gallons of soup,” he says, setting the bowl down on the counter. “But I’m not about to cast a fire shout on a pot.”

“I’ll help you in a moment,” I say. “I’ve already got a lot on my plate, and it doesn’t have the decency to be food.” I point to the top cupboard, above Tohro. “Oh, and you’re using too much salt. There are potatoes up there. Cut one in half and put it in the soup to absorb the salt.”

I leave before Caro and Tohro respond. I am rather impressed with myself, but I’m too occupied to dwell on that.

I find the vase easily, the instant I step into the lounge. Even at a glance, I can see its value. Not in whatever materials it's made of, but in its aura. I can sense the faint lasting Fae of warriors past emanating from within it. I don’t know whether this is from Tangerine or Oregano’s side of the family, but whichever it is deserves whatever fame they have. Few things leave their Fae behind when they die, and never in much capacity.

The thought of what will happen to my Fae when I die, now that I hold such power, gives me pause.

I put it aside and pick up the vase in my aura. It shouldn’t be physically touched, it’s clearly so sacred. I’m careful to keep it away from any walls as I lead it back outside.

“Here you are, Tangerine,” I say, bringing it over to her. She and Rosemary are just as I left them, and their auras have not changed.

Tangerine stands and takes the vase as I dispel my aura. “Thank you.”

“Which side of the family does it belong to?” I ask Tangerine, probably against my better judgment.

“...Daddy’s,” Rosemary answers for her.

“Indeed,” Tangerine says with a sigh. “When Oregano and I were betrothed, this was the tribute he chose as a wedding present, despite my insistence that I had nothing to give in return. I knew I could trust him as a good stallion when he gave this to me anyway. Everything else that belonged to him, it was brutish, associated with the wars he and his ancestors fought. I cared not for them.” She taps the vase for emphasis. “This? This is different. It’s everything I want to remember Oregano as, in his best moments. Poised. Dignified. In a way, beautiful. There when I needed him. Please understand, Rosemary, I didn’t get angry with you for endangering some old expensive artifact. This vase is Oregano’s life and ancestry given form.”

Tangerine’s aura blurs for a moment before returning to its strong, resolved state. She lifts the vase up high and throws it down, shattering it into pieces.

Rosemary shrieks and covers her mouth, backing away from the shards of the vase as they clatter to a stop. I see the wisps of aura that were within the vase float away.

“Why did you…”

“I don't need it anymore. I'll carry your father's memory in my heart until the day I die. But I don't want my babies to just be memories. I’ll admit it, I've been a terrible mother, always leaving you three to the maids, and it's time I did something as a parent, so please... Where are Nutmeg and Cinnamon?"

Rosemary is still looking at the pieces in disbelief. Her aura has frozen, and I think she has as well.

Tangerine leans towards Rosemary. Her soldier act dissipates as she gently holds her. “Please. Tell me. I know you’re scared, but you have to face your fear.”

Rosemary’s aura begins to crack like glass. “I’m not a coward… I’m supposed to be strong...”

“Is refusing to accept reality really strength?” Tangerine asks.

More cracks form in her aura.

“They were...” Rosemary says, as softly as she breathes. It’s only because of my heightened senses that I can even hear her in the first place. “They were…”

Tangerine didn’t hear it, though. She leans in closer. “Please say it.” She draws her ear close to Rosemary’s mouth. “Be brave, like your father.”

“Nutmeg and Cinnamon were kidnapped.” Rosemary’s aura is nothing but shards.

Tangerine nods approvingly. “I know.”

“...Please don’t be mad.”

Tangerine smiles and hugs her daughter, like a mother should. “I’m not.”

Rosemary’s aura shatters completely. In its place, I see a new aura form in her, one that reminds me of a tranquil lake. I hear more tears begin to fall as she collapses. She can’t hold it back. All she can do is surrender, clutch her mother tight, open her mouth, and scream.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!!!” She cries out to the heavens, and lets her voice descend into inelegant sobs and gasps.

Tangerine continues to hold on to Rosemary for dear life.

“I-I-I C-COULDN’T S-STO-OP THE-EM!!” she cries. “I DID E-EVER-RYTHI-ING!! I WA-WATCHED THEM D-DRAG THE-EM AWAY!! I-IT WAS HO-ORRIBLE!” She buckles, clutching her stomach. “I… I c-can still hear them... scream, ev...every n-night… I can’t g...get them out of my head!”

“It’s okay…” Tangerine whispers.

“What w-world i-i-is this?! Why do I live in a world where... I f-fight and su-suffer and bleed and no...nothin’ c-comes of it! WHY?! Why couldn’t I save them?! I… I’m so…” Rosemary’s eyes start to bulge. “M-Mum, let me go, I need to…”

“Oh.” Tangerine relinquishes her grip as Rosemary turns around, hiccups, and vomits into the dandelion patch. “Oh, my dear…” She pats her on the back. “Let it aaaall out.”

Rosemary tries to speak, but all that comes out is more sick. I hope I forget that she ever looked like this, but at the very least I’ve found another place to intervene. I gallop to her, getting down to her level. I quickly summon an orb of water and bring it to Rosemary’s lips. “Rinse and spit,” I ask.

She does as I say. “Th-Thank ya…” she whimpers. “Ugh, I taste blood…”

“I’m surprised you didn’t lose more,” I say, stroking her mane. “You might have an ulcer, or three. Depends on how long you’ve been holding that in.” I make my voice as soft as possible. “I can understand why you kept this from Tangerine, but why me?”

It just now occurs to me that she was seeking my help with something… I suspect that she was going to find a way to tell me eventually, but it’s also possible that she’d lead me into a rescue mission with my tail between my legs. But that’s all theoretical now.

“I knew… you’d understand, but…” Rosemary wipes her mouth and drinks more water, then spits it out. “I’m sorry. I… I just… I-I’m supposed to be a g… good soldier…”

“A good soldier would have known when to fold her cards and ask for help,” says Tangerine. “For you, it would have been the instant Nutmeg and Cinnamon left your sight.”

“B-but… Y-you would’ve been m-mad…”

“Why would I be mad for things happening beyond your control? You think I don’t know you did everything you could to stop this from happening? Wolf River was with me when I saw the damage. He could smell the blood and fear for days afterward. I almost wish you hadn’t disposed of the bodies.”

Rosemary looks up at Tangerine with wide eyes. Everything below them is soaked in tears and water.

“I’m more proud of you now than I’ve ever been. And that’s sayin’ a lot.” Tangerine embraces her again. I’ve noticed that her accent has returned. “You never needed to prove to me that you’re a good soldier.”

Rosemary collapses, falling forward. I can hear her sobbing into her forelegs. Tangerine gently rolls her over so her face isn’t stuck in the dirt. As her face comes back into view, she swallows, finally able to stow her tears. “I l...love you…” she gasps. “M-mum…”

“I love you too.”

Guilt is the worst thing anyone could possibly feel, next to hate. I’ve had quite a few bouts with guilt in recent times. Killing Clover, not doing more for Sacred Rite’s captives, leaving my children in Everfree… It’s all in hindsight, though. My guilt is nothing compared to what Rose has been through. She will forever hold triumph over me when it comes to misery.

Even so, I’m reminded of why I love her, as she sits on the couch and nestles against my wither. Despite her still-present tears, she’s smiling. This has been one of the hardest days of her life, with a great physical struggle ahead of us, and she still has the capacity to smile. She is amazing, truly. I levitate my blanket to wrap around her.

She clutches a bowl of vegetable stew in her hooves, taking slow sips of the broth. She deserves something warm right now. The world has been too cold to her for so long.

“So… What happens now?” she asks Tangerine, who sits across from her. “What do we do?”

“Nothin', at the moment.” Tangerine replies. “We’re stayin' here, until Wolf River finds us, you recover, and we’re fully prepared to waltz into Blackwing territory.” She’s shuffling through documents in her lap. Others sit on the table next to her, stacked in a pile at least half her height. “Hm… Tohro did well. Temerity Blackwing has a lot comin' to him, if I have anythin' to say about it.”

“What are you going to do?” I ask. I remember the splash of green blood dousing from the neck of Chrysalis.

“Throw him into where he belongs, an Imperial prison. I’m sure Her Majesty will appreciate it.”

“Oh.” I feel my heartbeat slow. Why was it beating so fast in the first place?

Tangerine stops reading the letter she just picked up. She peers up at me. “You sound disappointed.”

Even now, her eyes demand respect and truth. All of Fauste’s power is nothing compared to her stare. I cower a little. If I’m to tell anyone how I feel, I might as well tell someone as honest as her. “I should expl—”

The front door flies open. Tohro gallops in, several leather-bound journals clutched under his hoof. “Tangerine! I can’t believe I missed this!”

“What is it?” Tangerine asks. “Most information we can gather about Temerity is superfluous at this point. I’m just looking for anything that can help us further.”

“And I might’ve found it.” Tohro lays the journals on the table, and opens up one of them. “See, back when I was investigating an Imperial soldier who was indulging in slave trade, I came across his sales logs. Captain Gauntlet had copies written and he let me keep the originals so I could continue the investigation.”

“Is there anything special the scribes might have missed when making the copies?” I ask.

“Hidden messages, maybe…” Rosemary mutters.

“You’re going to love it.” Tohro opens the journal to its last page. He’s awfully cheery about it being completely blank, at least at first glance. “Shae, could you have a look at this with your magical gaze of wonder?”

“Most definitely,” I say with fervor. I’m excited to see if my aura vision goes beyond peripheral senses. Then again, if I can detect salt in a stew, who’s to say I can’t detect hidden messages on parchment? This should be easy pickings.

I concentrate on the two pages before me, trying to discern the consistency of the Fae around and within them. Through the Fae, I can feel thicker concentrations of physical material spread across the pages. “Hm… There’s something. Etchings in invisible ink, I’d reckon.”

“Thought so,” Tangerine says affirmingly. “Shae, give us some fire and hold it up to the paper.”

I do as she commands, concentrating a slow flame into my horn. It comes out as a sudden, blinding burst, lighting up the whole room. Rosemary jumps away from me, falling onto the floor, and Tohro shields himself.

“Gah! Put it down, lass!” Tangerine yells.

“Sorry!” I command the Fae in me to calm down, and the fire dwindles to a softer glow. “Sorry.”

“That’s somethin’ uncanny that’s happened to ya,” Rosemary says with a smile. “I like it.”

“Save the wild inferno for Temerity, won’t you?” Tohro asks of me, taking a deep breath. “Right, about that paper…”

I levitate the paper up to my horn while it burns. I haven’t been able to do that before. It’s rather liberating, not to mention just plain useful. I hold the paper as close as I can without setting it ablaze, tracing over it with my horn, and then set it back down on the table.

“I can only sense the shape and texture of the ink. I can’t actually read it,” I explain. “Did it work?”

“Yes, it did!” Tohro says, turning the page around. He peers at it with a huge smile. “...Oh, am I good or what?!”

“The latter,” Tangerine says quickly. “Go on.”

“I suspected this ever since I found these logs. Fade used a hidden passage of his own creation to sneak beneath Fillydelphia and deliver arrested Blackwings back to Shokenda. We can get into Fillydelphia under disguise, and use this passage to…”

Tohro’s voice fades out for me, as something particular has just crossed my mind, and it only hasn’t before because I never said it aloud… I can’t read. I am physically unable to read and discern ink.

I swallow and try to maintain a steady heartbeat, but I can’t contain this moment of panic. How could I? I’ll never read a book again… How am I supposed to be a scholar or a future headmistress if I can’t read? I couldn’t possibly rely on a translator for my entire life, however long that will be… Oh, Fauste, what did you do?!

I get off the couch and walk... somewhere. My hooves move on their own, my mind completely away from the rest of my body. Somehow, I end up back in the hallway, and it seems longer and emptier than it should, because at its very end is a black void. I should see the end of it, but I don't. I don't see that way, anymore. The world is a faded, colored mass of Fae and shapes. No visible textures, only what I can see and feel with heightened senses. In many ways, I am still blind, lost, and in the dark.

It's a moment of clarity, but the worst kind. I am suddenly, and all at once, aware of what's happening to me. I am not just a unicorn anymore, nor am I an alicorn. I'm something else... What was it I said when I took Chrysalis' life? I don't know why I said it, it just felt right, like I was supposed to say something profound and powerful.

"You don't fuck with a god."

Why did I say that?! I'm not a god! I’m not... But, I have the power of one coursing through me. Not just one, the Divine of Magic. It's not just that I’m powerful beyond reason, it's that the power isn't just my own. I'd already thought that might be the case, but to know it's affecting me in such a way… Where is this leading? What if I can’t stop it? What will I become? Does Fauste want an heir? Did she make a mistake? What I saw, the battle between her and Epona, was it even real? Or was it all a delusion brought on by this excess?

What is a god? What is a unicorn? Hell, what’s the color of the floor I’m walking on?!

“What am I?!” I shout, pulling on my locks.

“You’re talkin’ out loud again,” Rosemary says. I turn around as she approaches me. She still has her blanket wrapped around her, until she gets close to me. She takes it off and wraps it around my head and neck, like a scarf. The wrinkled fabric is still warm, and it’s bristly enough to comb through my mane… At least those senses work as they should.

“Rose… could you help me again?” I ask, my voice weak, and muffled by the blanket. “I’m... scared, and I feel alone…”

“I know what that’s like.” She tugs on the blanket, bringing me close to her. She pulls me into her strong grip, which has much less of the tension or hesitation that I had felt before. “Come be alone with me,” she whispers. “We’ll figure this out.”

~Vision End~

~Caro~

I pass by Shae and Rosemary as I go down the stairs. They’ve formed a sort of emotional cocoon with how close they keep to each other, so I don’t interject. If Shae wants my help, she’ll ask for it.

I turn the corner into the living room, where Tohro is rolling up his documents and putting them away in his bags. “Evenin’, hon,” he says with a smile. “You missed out. Tangerine and I just put the finishing touches on our plan of attack. Do you plan on making things up as you go, as usual?”

“No, I’ll follow your instructions,” I say. “Just tell me what to do on the way to Fillydelphia.”

Tohro looks at me snidely. He approaches me as I shrug in confusion. “Caro of Riverhoof!” he exclaims. “Are those sensible thoughts I hear?”

“This is a sensitive mission. I want Tangerine’s kids to be safe as much as you do.”

“You have no idea,” Tohro says. His smile fades away. “I don’t want to go back to Fillydelphia. I don’t think I’ll like what I see… The last time I was there, I was still a Blackwing.”

“In name and in loyalty.”

“Yes. And even then, I knew Fillydelphia wasn’t as glamorous or serene as Everfree. I still felt, in my heart, that I would be able to shape it into something better. Now that the veil is long gone, well… I don’t think I’ll like what I see. Odds are it’ll be worse than I remember.” Tohro looks up at me through his thick bangs. “Stay close to me, okay?”

I cross my neck against his. “Why do you even ask?”

“Hm….” I feel Tohro’s breath slow. “You’re so calm, Caro. You sometimes remind me of a, uh, gentle, softly stoked fire pit. A long time ago, you were this unstoppable inferno I couldn’t contain.”

I stroke the back of his neck, shaking my head against him. “No, no, you contained it. I’d be dead to the world if you hadn’t.” I hold him tight and face him directly. He’s one of the few ponies I can look directly in the eye without faltering. It’s exhilarating and soothing all at once. “I really wish I knew how to thank you for that.”

Tohro puts on that look again. Snide and sarcastic, his old favorite. It spoils the moment immediately.

“What?” I ask incredulously.

“You’re serious?” he asks. “You can think of absolutely nothing that would show your appreciation? Did you forget who you’re talking to for one moment in time, or were you replaced with a changeling just now?”

“Clearly not, otherwise I’d expose it… Oh.” It hits me like a steel horseshoe to the face. Tohro commended me on my calmness, but I think he spoke too soon. “Wow, that… With everything that’s happened, how could that of all things slip my mind?”

“Because that doesn’t involve blood or defying authority.” Tohro taps me on the cheek. Much more gentle than a surprise horseshoe. “Don’t be embarrassed. I know you. That sort of thing is never on your mind.”

“Not ‘never’. Just not when I have other things to focus on…” He’s looking at me like a bastard again. “Epona’s sake, stop doing that!”

He flutters his eyes at me. “What? These are my bedroom eyes.”

I hear the distinct cough of Tangerine, and for once I am glad that she saw fit to intercede. I turn around and address her as she comes out of the kitchen, wiping her hooves on a rag. “Hello,” I say, trying and failing to sound as composed as possible.

Tangerine smirks up at me in the same way as Tohro. “There’s a wine cellar by the garden out back. Take whatever looks good to you.” She departs upstairs, casually tossing her rag at me. “Tidy up at the pond while you’re out there, you have dumbstruck on your face.”

I’m not a wine savant. Hell, I’m not a savant of any kind of alcohol, I just take whatever is passed to me by the barmaid. How am I supposed to pick something out from this oversized selection? I could just point my hoof at any random one and take that, but how could I? I want this night to be as perfect as it can be, given the circumstances. Even so, out of the four racks worth of wine bottles that stand before me, I’m not sure which of them screams romance.

“Take the one on the lower-middle rack,” Rasahrel tells me. “The green bottle with the peeled label. I’m sure your Tohro will take kindly to its smooth texture.”

I do as she says. Her word is as good as any. Still, I must ask, “How can you tell it’s a good one?”

“It carries a good scent. I recognize it from one of my previous lifetimes. That wine is from before Equestria was made, drank by the warriors of a more feral land. Even the equines of that time, with all of their strength and brutality, seemed to appreciate the finer things in life.”

I hear Hevnodiin chuckle somewhere in the back of my mind. “More of the winer things in life… Yes?”

“I’m having a moment with Caro, Hevnodiin. Would you just fade into his subconscious already?” Rasahrel asks, with a sigh of exasperation.

“Why don’t you?” Hevnodiin retorts.

“Because I actually quite like being his guide.”

I smirk, as if the two dragons were standing right in front of me. “Ah, you care about me!”

I can feel her fluster. It’s like a subtle rumbling in my skull. “...Drink your damn wine, tiny horse,” she mutters.

Having gotten my share of amusement, as well as a bottle of wine an ancient dragon can vouch for, I take the wooden steps out of the wine cellar and close the hatch. I can see through the window that Tohro has already lit Tangerine’s fireplace. The soft glimmer calls to me, stoking my desire to get out of the frosty air and curl up under a blanket, with him nestled close by… golden locks reflecting the light of the fire… splayed out on the rug as I overpower…

“Caro, it’s growing humid in here,” Hevnodiin comments.

“You’re an ice dragon, everything is humid to you,” I retort. Still, he has a point. I don’t want to trip over my own words on such an important night. I want to keep some air of dignity, and have this be remembered for its highs as opposed to me making a fool out of myself.

I take Tangerine’s advice and go to the pond. It’s a little murky, another testament to the lack of upkeep around here, but it’s still cleaner than most water I drink on long journeys.

After a few sips, and a splash of it across my face, I take a deep breath and look at my reflection. No blush to be seen, no obvious displays of anxiety. I’m ready to prove something to Tohro… what that is, I’m not really sure, but I’m looking forward to finding out.

Just as I start to move away from the pond, I notice something in its ripples. My reflection’s eyes flash green, and it bares its teeth in a mighty grin.

If this were any other night, I’d write this off as a trick of the light, but I’ve been too exposed to sickly green aura as of late to take any risks. I crouch into a battle-ready stance and back away from the pond. “Come out or I’ll turn that pond into a boiler pot.”

A dark figure emerges from the water. It looks like a changeling, but not quite. Chrysalis’ drones all carried the same bodies and faces, but this one has hair, and a lankier build.

“Hello, Caro…” it mutters.

I’d recognize that condescending, grating noise of a voice anywhere. “You…” I growl. “I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but when the most powerful mage in Equestria slices your head off, it’s common courtesy to die. Or do you still think you’re above consequences?”

“Did you honestly think that was my only body?” she asks.

“I don’t know, but I certainly didn’t expect you to come back looking like… this.” I passively gesture to her much less intimidating, weakened form. She doesn’t even look like a full-grown mare. She reminds me of an adolescent yet to hit her growth spurt, teetering just on the edge of maturity. “I mean, this specifically. I did assume you’d find some other way to infuriate me from beyond the grave, I just didn’t think you’d be so on the nose about it. Hurrah for you.” I step past her, nodding at the pond. “Drown yourself. I’m leaving.”

“Caro, wait.” She reaches out to me like a desperate child. “I didn’t come here to hurt you, I just wanted to ask you something.”

“Here’s your answer. Get the fuck away from me and my family or I’ll finish what Shae started.” I toss the rag at her hooves. “You can use that to wipe away what’s left of your wretched hive.”

Chrysalis picks up the rag and brings it back to me. “You’re so vindictive… I thought that you wanted to seek peace with me. At least, you considered it…”

“And Shae made the decision for me. Honestly, I can’t blame her. You acted like the sickest, most depraved, irredeemable sack of mucus that I’ve ever had the displeasure of talking to, and that’s quite the accomplishment. I’ve put up with zealotous murderers, violent caretakers, arrogant priests, greedy slavers… I thought that none of them would get worse than Shokenda Blackwing, but then you proved to me that there is always a greater evil out there, irrelevant of my efforts. Thanks for that.”

I’m ready for that to be the end of it, but Chrysalis will not let me have the last word, daring to whimper and speak up again. “Caro, if you would just let me—”

I advance on her, now that she’s small enough for me to do so and remain imposing. “You violated Tohro. My Tohro. Fuck you.”

I almost let her feel my rage. I almost let her taste that hatred and fury boiling in my veins, and snarling in my soul. But I just stare at her calmly, letting her see my feelings, but not quench her hunger. The look she gives me is so pathetic I almost feel like laughing, for a moment. Then I realize that it’s the most genuine sadness I’ve ever seen from her.

Chrysalis looks at the pond. "...Drowning myself, admittedly, feels like the easiest choice at the moment.”

That is not as satisfying to hear as it would have been a while ago. She even sounds pathetic. Dry and parched. I wonder, can she be thirsty? No, of course she can be. Even insects have to moisturize. I detach my canteen as I slowly approach Chrysalis. My sympathy has got the best of me once again. “Do you want water that isn't littered with mud?" I ask.

She reluctantly, yet also feverishly, takes the canteen. "I would prefer it, yes. Thank you."

I watch as she downs it all. I don’t mind, I can refill it later. "Can you even taste that?” I ask. “Do you have taste buds?"

"Merely tastes clean." Chrysalis sets the canteen down in front of her. "Thank you… I just have one question, and then I’ll leave you alone forever."

“Very well. Don’t expect a gentle answer,” I warn her.

She nods, wiping drops of water off her lips. “Is it possible for a mare like me to change? Not just in form, but..."

"You're not a mare and you never will be,” I snap at her, before immediately regretting it. “I mean… Look, I don't know what it's like to be you. Hell, I don’t know if you're even self-aware or you're just made to pretend. All I know is that you're not a mare, stallion, or any kind of equine. But I don't want you to think you're a 'thing', okay? I know what it's like to be an object to someone else, and it’s humiliating."

“And destroying my one place of solace isn’t?” she asks. “If I'm not a pony, nor a simple object, then what am I?" Her eyes narrow. She’s shivering. "I used to be a queen... I used to be a feared matriarch in the shadow of the world. I used to be a leader. You stripped all that away from me. And without all that... I am but a thing." She peers up at me with wounded eyes. "You’re so wise, so fill the pit you carved in my life, if you can call it that. Tell me what I am, Caro."

"You're..." I look away. Her staring at me fills me with so many twisted feelings that I can't stomach. "Just stop thinking of everyone else as the problem. I know this world isn't easy, and I know it's not easy being you, but... Dammit, you created an empire of death and debauchery. You went out of your way to hurt people. With your powers, you could do and learn so much. You could help so many ponies…” I pause, realizing what I just said, and who I just said it to.

"I did what I did because it gave me identity! I've been doing it so long, it's the identity I've come to cherish." She grits her teeth, leering at me. "All my children shared in the same identity. For a moment of our thousand-year existence, we were more than just objects, things born of creators who couldn't give less of a thought to our well-being."

She still doesn’t get it, and that’s infuriating. "You were hurting ponies. That's all that will be remembered about you. That's your identity now."

"Not anymore, Caro." She shakes her head, frowning at him. "Identities like mine are directly linked to our lives, and the fall of my hive, my Sisterhood, is being made known to Equestria. My identity died when I 'died'. When my children died. The Sisterhood fell apart, and is going to fall into obscurity, then myth, and then disappear altogether, along with my hive.”

"That's..." I find myself freezing up at the thought of that. I never truly considered the possibility of being forgotten. I know I have a place in history, and will continue to secure it as I proceed forward as the Dragonborn. So many ponies come and go and are forgotten, despite leading full lives. But Chrysalis... she never had a chance. "I'm sorry. I know what rock bottom feels like.”

“You do?” she asks.

"It was after my master was killed. He meant everything to me, and he was my only friend. Him, and my entire future, gone in a flash, with the whole world thinking I caused the carnage that took him away from me." My heart quivers. Even after all this time, even after Master revealed himself to be alive, the memory still hurts. "I felt... empty. Broken. Like the rest of the world could die and I wouldn't have anything to say about it. And then I met Tohro.”

“There is something powerful between you two. I could never deny feeling it,” Chrysalis says.

“Everypony has that one being who can pull them out of their darkest depths, and he was mine. It didn't happen at first, but he told me every word that I needed to hear. He taught me to see the world as a malleable canvas instead of some cruel, oppressive hive. I stopped hating others and let them in again. Eventually, I was able to open up enough to realize who I could trust, and who I could love. Now I'm the happiest I've ever been." I glare at Chrysalis and speak with disdain. "None of that happiness came from committing senseless murders. That’s why I wanted you to live. I wanted you to understand that. Talk about wishful thinking.”

Chrysalis backs away from me.

"You can't understand how this feels,” I say, advancing on her. “How could you? I know that the Precursors made you to be a slave race. Why would they bother giving you the capacity for love or empathy? All you can do is pretend."

“Pretending fills the hole, at least." Chrysalis turns and looks over the water, staring at her own miserable reflection. "Pretending at least gives me a goal... something to reach for, or feel. Even if it's fake, it's still something…” She smiles wistfully. “Love must be quite sweet. Hate, malice, sadness are bitter, even putrid. But it was the easiest food to find in this land."

“Truly? Because I’ve found love just as often as those things.” I approach Chrysalis slowly, finally summoning the willpower to stand next to her.

“You’re not like anypony else. It took a while, but I figured out why you clouded my senses. Underneath your furious visage, you radiate love and happiness, much from your own soul, and from the many that you’ve taken.” She turns to me with a curious look. “I’ve never exposed myself to it in such capacity.” She raises her hoof, moving it towards me. “What must it feel like, to have such compassion for—”

The instant her hoof touches my cheek, she lets out an ear-piercing screech. She grabs her head and collapses, kicking her hind legs and crawling backwards away from me. She clutches her hoof like there’s a gaping wound in it. Her insides are aglow with green, pulsating energy. Her chitin is steaming; even the tears streaming from her wide eyes are evaporating. All the while, she twitches like she was just struck by lightning.

“Chrysalis…” I say, walking towards her.

“GET AWAY FROM ME!” she screams, hiding her face away. She finds my every movement terrifying, and treats her glowing body as an open wound, flinching and gasping in pain with every passing second.

I want to get close so I can… do something, but to no avail. She envelops herself in green flames, and disappears. It’s as if there was no trace of her to begin with, aside from the canteen she dropped. I pick it up and wipe it clean of her saliva.

I had hoped for more closure than that. Honestly, though, I’d rather just forget that Chrysalis was ever a part of my life. She was an unknown before she interfered, and she’s even more of an unknown now. Poor her… Well, not her entirely. The part of her that can’t understand the emotions that embody even the most basic of life forms, that I can mourn. Not the part of her that ruined so many lives in the name of cheap sustenance.

I do owe her for one thing: she reminds me of what I could have been. Now I’ve burned that bridge forever.

It’s like walking from one plane of reality into another. The foul scent of chitin immediately leaves my nostrils and is replaced with incense and softly burning wood. I step into the lounge to find the whole of it bathed in an orange glow, emitting from the firepit, and who else should be stoking it but my Tohro. He’s prodding at the chopped logs with one of his wing blades.

“There are more efficient ways to smith one of those, you know,” I say.

“Cute,” he replies, putting the wing blade aside and turning towards me. His leather gear is gone. He’s swapped it out for a loose-fitting blue robe that looks like it was made for a mare. He tugs at its sash as he notices my intrigue. “It’s one of Tangerine’s. Adventurer garb is ill fitting for a romantic evening, and I didn’t have the foresight to pack a robe of my own.”

“That’s odd. I thought you’d be prepared for all sorts of romantic pursuits.” I take a seat in front of the fire, next to him. With only inches between us, I can see every hair of his coat shimmer in the light of the fire. “Then again, we only packed enough to get us back to Everfree…”

“Shit happens, Dragonborn. You know that better than anyone.” Tohro sighs and leans in close to me. His neck and chin conform perfectly to my shoulder. His hot breaths ruffle the unkempt fur on my cheek, along the long strands of my mane. “You’re getting shaggy again,” he comments.

“Do you want to cut my hair before we leave?”

“No, it’s for the best, really. It’s going to be a cold journey.” He smiles at the fireplace. “This is the most warmth we’ll feel on our bodies for some time, unfortunately. Best enjoy the moment while we can.”

“Indeed,” I say. While my mind is still half in the garden, I’m trying to pull all of myself together to focus on this moment. It’s been a long time coming, and I’m not gaining anything by dwelling on the past. The only old thing I’m interested in is this wine, and Tohro happens to have two glasses prepared.

I take the glasses, bite off the cork of the bottle, and pour two equal glasses worth of wine. I’m going to drink until I forget the color green.

Tohro is admiring the wine bottle. “You picked a good year.”

“Thank Rasahrel for that one, not me,” I say, before downing my entire glass in one go.

“Thank you, Rasahrel,” Tohro says with a hint of condescension. He pours me another glassful and I down that just as quickly as it’s given to me. “Something’s the matter, isn’t it?” he asks.

I nod and grunt before swallowing my wine. “Yes. I’m not telling you what it is.” I chug what’s left at the bottom.

“By the Divines, you’re pregnant!” he exclaims.

I spray the wine across the carpet as I burst out laughing, though it quickly devolves into a fit of coughs. I wipe my mouth and shoot a glare at Tohro. “Damn you, why are you so—”

“Lovable? Awe-inspiring?” He runs his hoof through his hair and sways his braids. I feel the blood rising to my cheeks as he peers up at me with intense, sky-blue eyes. “Don’t you know that putting you in the right mood is my job? From the moment I saw your sour face at Gallopagos Keep, I knew that I had a mission: make that stallion smile.”

“Mission accomplished. Several times over.” I gesture at my involuntary smile.

He’s done the impossible yet again. He managed to pull me away from the claws of darkness, with merely a smile and a few carefully chosen words, and he didn’t even have to try. He has me beat several times over when it comes to such things. His hundred to my one; the things I said to him back in the catacombs. I don’t know how the words came to me then, but what I do remember is that seeing Tohro at such a lowly state just didn’t seem right. It felt like my whole world was distorted without him being his strong, devoted self. From there, the words simply manifested.

As I feel his breaths against my face, his forelegs tightening their grip around my torso, I figure it out. Tohro puts those words into me. It’s amazingly simple. Would there have been anything left of me if he hadn’t been the one to save me from the chopping block? No. It was him from the start. “You gave me a soul,” I whisper.

“I know,” he whispers back. He leans especially hard into me, forcing me to fall, and lie down on the carpet. My glass rolls away, spilling what’s left of the wine. His forelegs hook around my shoulders. The exposed portions of his fur glide along my coarse body. His smile turns into a pucker as his lips grace mine.

Stay with me, my angel.

~Vision End~

~Rosemary~

It’s the tightest embrace I’ve ever shared with Shae. Beneath the safety and comfort of two blankets, I’m clad in fur robes, with her in her undergarments. Her eyes are closed, but I don’t know if she’s asleep or not. She still has a glow to her, both physically and spiritually. A soft one, like the last rays of sunset poking through the curtains after a long day.

With such beauty clutched so close to me, it’s easier to appreciate the beauty of my room that I haven’t noticed until now. Perhaps I simply forgot about it in all my years of anger. Daddy’s findings, the ones that aren’t deadly weapons once wielded by his most fearsome opponents, sit on my dresser. I never appreciated them until now. Stone slabs from Precursor tombs. The necklaces of slain Blackwings. A crest from the Imperial Legion I could wear on my duster… I’m considering taking it to Everfree, but I’d rather not walk in there with a target on my chest. He gave me all these great things. I should have thanked him instead of asking “Where are the swords?”

Shae shifts in my grasp and opens her eyes. Evidently, she is still awake. That’s good. I meant to ask her something. “Hey,” I say softly into her ear. “How do I look through the Fae?”

She turns her head and smiles up at me. “Beautiful. A calm river, flowing to a known destination.”

“Poetry,” I muse. “Where d’ya think that destination is?”

“I don’t know, but I’m looking forward to seeing you get there.” She taps her lips to mine. “So, I’m not sure if you heard, but Tangerine gave me her blessing.”

“She heard all that, huh?”

“Everything.”

I squeeze Shae tighter. She gasps and laughs as I press my muzzle into her neck. We’re a mess of fur and limbs and blankets as she fruitlessly tries to resist my kisses. Once she gives up, I bite her ear as a sign of dominance. “You’re mine now.”

Shae flicks her ear right in my face. “Well, you say that.” She giggles again, resting her head against the pillow. I join her, opening my mouth for a long yawn, and end up with a mouthful of her black hair. I cough and spit it out.

“Whoops, heh…”

Shae turns over and gazes into me. At least, I assume she is. Her glowing eyes pierce through everything they look at, now that she has the ‘sight’, as I’ve come to call it. “I want your brother and sister there when we get married.”

“They will be.” I brush my hoof over hers. “Not much longer, lassie.”

She smiles and nods at me, holding our mutual gaze for another long, yet all too short moment. She sits up and gets out of bed, going over to the window and pulling back the curtains. It’s a clear night, with the stars appearing especially luminous.

Shae turns to me with a wistful gleam. “Luna says good night.”

“Might wanna sing her a lullaby,” I suggest. “For all we know, she could hear it.”

She nods in agreement. She thinks of what to sing, smiling when it comes to her, and begins.

“Let's say sunshine for everyone, but as far as I can remember...
We've been migratory animals, living under changing weather…
Someday we will foresee obstacles, through the blizzard, through the blizzard…
Today we will sell our uniform, live together, live together…”

I love this night. I know that it’s a fleeting warmth that will soon be replaced with a long, solemn trek through snow and ice. I am not looking forward to taking that journey again. Still, I won’t be alone. I won’t be alone ever again.

“We played hide and seek in waterfalls, we were younger, we were younger...
We played hide and seek in waterfalls, we were younger, we were younger…”

Author's Note

L - Ever Downcast

~Tangerine~

The crisp morning air has merged with the icy grip of my base desire… which is to simply remain beneath the covers of my bed, wrapped in warmth and comfort until hunger necessitates my rise. But, that is just not acceptable. I have a job to do. We all do.

Just as I begin to rise, I feel another breeze on my ear. It’s warm. Only one stallion I know has the audacity to do such a thing. “Hello…” I mutter at Wolf River through my dry lips.

He responds by nipping at my ear. I giggle and shove him off as I crawl out of bed. I take a glance at him. He is well-equipped for the journey ahead, with a bearskin cloak draped over his steel plating. Such an imposing figure, and yet he smiles like a child at me.

“Black is a good look for you,” he says, brushing his hoof through my new coat. “I’m glad to see that the procedure was a success… aside from the part where you threw Roches against the wall and stormed out of Fillydelphia. Jarl Drake had quite a fit trying to calm everypony down.”

“Am I in trouble with the Carriers?” I ask as I open my armor locker.

“No, we know that the circumstances were beyond our control, and none of the townsfolk know that it was you, explicitly.”

I put my spare set of bladed gauntlets on, followed by my leg plates. “Then we have little to be concerned about,” I say. I give him my vestments and spaulders. “Help me with these.”

He secures my armor to my chest and back, locking the belts in place with speed. He then locks my spaulders to my shoulders. After that, I stand on my hind legs and throw on my furlined cuirass. I’m just as warm now as I was under my blankets, though my want for sleep is waning.

“Will you be taking any of Oregano’s old swords?” Wolf River asks. “It’d be rather fitting.”

“No, that metal is long spoiled. I can’t risk a sword breakin’ in the heat of combat.” I reach under the bed and pull out my weapon locker. I kick it open, revealing two onyx longswords. I attach their sheathes to my cuirass. “Besides, he kept them because they’re important to him. I don’t want to dishonor his memory or his keepsakes. Now, all I need is… Oh!”

Wolf River tosses another bear cloak over me and wraps it around my neck. “I was jumped by a male and female,” he says before heading for the door.

I smile as I adjust my new cloak. “A husband and wife in combat,” I say with a faint blush.

Wolf River gasps and turns back towards me. “Are we married?”

“Of course.”

~Vision End~

Caro and Tohro both rise from their sleep as a shrill squeal of delight echoes throughout the house. Caro’s foreleg flies to his back out of instinct, and in doing so knocks over the half-empty wine bottle. The wine splashes onto the carpet, adjacent to the small droplets that were spat out the night before.

“I think Wolf River has arrived…” Caro mutters.

Tohro grunts and crawls out from under the blanket, standing up and stretching his body out with a mighty yawn. He snorts at the red spots all over the rug. “If Tangerine asks, I hit my head and that’s blood.”

“How is that better than spilling a drink?” Caro asks, setting the bottle upright.

“One of those liquids is expendable, in her eyes.”

“I think you still have her mixed up with who she used to be.” Caro stands and pulls the blanket over the stains.

While Tohro retrieves his bag and unpacks his leather armor, he and Caro hear Shae and Rosemary galloping upstairs, towards Tangerine’s room. “Mum! Are you okay?” Rosemary asks.

“I heard you screaming and—” Shae pauses as soon as the door creaks open. “Oh…”

Caro and Tohro hold in their chuckles, but Rosemary is the one who bursts out laughing, louder than Wolf River could ever squeal.

CHAPTER L - EVER DOWNCAST

~Shae~

I feel like I’m in an Imperial lineup, sans the armor. Tangerine made me and the rest of Dragonrein stand aligned outside the front door, for what reason I’m not sure of, but I bet I can look forward to a motivational speech. I’m already charged with purpose; saving Nutmeg and Cinnamon. After everything that’s happened between me and Rosemary’s family, it’s hard not to feel a connection to those kids, even though I haven’t even met them yet.

One of Fauste’s teachings is the presence of invisible ties that transcend time and space, linking future friendships and subtly drawing them towards each other. I don’t believe in destiny, but these ties have proven to be true more than once. I was drawn to Caro and Tohro, after all. The odds of us coming across each other were astronomical, and yet, I was fortunate enough to meet my eventual best friends. I could have happened across any blacksmith, but it was Rosemary working the forge that day. She must have believed in some form of providence to have trusted her heart with me. I’m happy she did.

Hm. I do believe I just supplied a speech for myself. I’m more than ready for this. With the Dragonborn and two lycans among us, it’s hard to feel scared of what could lie ahead.

Tangerine and Wolf River stand beside each other in front of me, Caro, Tohro, and Rosemary. Their authority is secured with their heavy armor and rigid stances. Tangerine clears her throat and speaks.

“It feel so long since I’ve had soldiers to lead. Once again, I fall into a role I wasn’t certain I’d ever have.” She looks over all of us. “You’re all unruly and go beyond common practice to get what you want. You don’t believe in ceilin’s or stagnation. You only believe in goals and decency. It is an example I hope the rest of Equestria follows in the future, but until then, there is the here and now, and what’s happenin’ now is that there are children who need our help. The Empire, for all their good will, would deem this mission infeasible, would take too long to execute it, or would make it a full-scale assault on Fillydelphia. Not us. We are not the Empire. We are merely ponies with the means to infiltrate the Blackwings’ base of operations and take back what they have stolen. My children, and all the other children who have been spoilt their innocence in a cruel world will go free by our hooves.”

“This is just as much for family as it is for Equestria,” Wolf River states. “Are you all ready?”

“Salute!” Tangerine commands.

I do as she says, as do Tohro, Rosemary, and even Caro. We may not be in Imperial armor, but we are soldiers nonetheless, and we stand as one.

I see Tangerine’s aura fluctuate, turning from solid and strong to a soft warm glow, just for a few seconds. I wonder if she’s seen such loyalty in her life before, even from her own soldiers.

The only thing to spoil the moment is the distinct sound of thunder, and the starting raindrops of a coming storm. I can still see the little wisps of Fae within every drop. From a distance, it seems that the sky is filled with falling stars. I’ve always been fond of the rain, but I never thought it could be even more beautiful.

A few days of travel have passed. We’ve met little opposition, aside from the increasing rainfall. The wolves that normally traverse the upper regions of Equestria don’t want to bother us. One would assume that’s due to the rain. I don’t look forward to the day they come out of their holes.

Despite leading the charge and commanding our paths and resting places, Tangerine is keeping to herself most other times. She often goes off on her own when we take a break. One must wonder if she’s focused on her children. I know that sometimes, when I’m emotional, I feel it best just to cope with it myself. Tangerine is far less in tune with her emotions than I am… But, for all I know, she could just be a little moody.

I can see the Fae within the trees and grass. We’ve taken shortcuts through patches of woodland, and they are like luminescent tapestries to me. Every blade of grass contains a single strand of the Fae, which connects to another, and yet another. It’s… Oh, how I wish I could paint. At the very least, I can recall this image and relay it to Lancer and Eavesdrop whenever I see them again. They can make some amazing portraits with the right materials.

As we come out of the woods onto the winding cobblestone path, I do a headcount. Without even looking, I’m able to tell that we have a missing member, due to a change in the Fae around me. “Hold,” I say to the party. All of them stop and look at me. “We’re missing somepony.”

Tangerine looks to Caro and Tohro, then to Wolf River. She sighs. “Rosemary wanderin’ off? Ah, some things never change. Shae?”

“Hold on.” I close my eyes, touch the ground, and reach through the strands of Fae that lead back into the forest. I can sense a familiar aura. Calm, with an inner fire. That’s Rosemary, for certain. “She just fell behind. I’ll get her.”

“We’ll wait here,” Wolf River says.

I gallop through the woods, relying on the sight to guide my movements. Where there’s a stray branch, uneven ground, or thick puddles, the Fae subtly tells me to move around it.

“Rosemary!” I call out as her aura grows nearer. “You’re holding up the group.”

“Huh?” I hear her voice nearby, just around a large tree trunk. “Lassie? I’m sorry, I just noticed this patch, and… I’m fine, I’ll be up with you in a moment. D-don’t look at what I’m doin’.”

“If you have to take care of business… Oh.” I dismiss my assumption. Rosemary has actually stopped to smell the flowers. I can sense that she’s picking the fullest ones and compiling them together. She must be making a bouquet. “Well, don’t do anything alone out here. We’re already on the verge of Blackwing territory, and I don’t want to underestimate Shokenda’s omniscience.”

Rosemary pauses and looks up to the sky. She frowns at it, raises her hoof and thrusts it upwards. “Upyers, ya winged scrote.”

“Don’t be cute, this isn’t the time.”

“Just speakin’ the truth.” Rosemary packs the flowers away and walks over to me. “Hi,” she says shakily.

I raise my eyebrows at her. “Do I sense a surprise for me?”

Before Rosemary can answer, I tense up and turn around. I just sensed something. A new aura is nearby, and it’s not a pleasant one. It’s like prickling spines in the air. Noticing my alertness, Rosemary quietly stands up, clutching her bundle of flowers close to her with one hoof and the other reaching for her pouch.

I hear the snarls of wolves. Three come over a rise, fangs bared and their fur chaotic and matted. They’re not on the hunt; they’re outright feral. I wouldn’t need to see their distorted and hollow aura to know that.

Rosemary backs away from the wolves slowly. “...If I had a surprise for you, it wouldn’t be that.” She taps me on the barrel and presents a vial of lantern oil. “Should we run?”

“Yes. Not taking any chances.” I conjure up flames around my horn. “Do it.”

I send off a spread of flames as Rosemary throws the vial on the rocks in front of us. The droplets ignite. I feel a splash of heat evaporate the water droplets off my face. After that, I don’t bother looking to see our wall of fire sent the wolves running. We just make a break for the rest of the group.

I can still hear them, barking up a storm. I know I’m strong enough to fight them, in theory, but if they get ahold of me even slightly, it’s over. Not wanting to risk the wolves getting a trace on me or Rosemary, I take her hoof, concentrate my aura around both of us, and force us to disappear.

When the world comes back into view, we’re tumbling down the hill. I taste dirt and grass, and then feel rocks against my cheek. I stand up quickly, relieved to see Caro and Tohro in front of me. “We have wolves,” I say quickly.

“Sneaky mutts,” Wolf River grumbles. I watch as he steps forward, his lips pierced as he summons a growl of his own. He sounds just like a dog, it’s uncanny.

“What is he doing?” I ask Tangerine.

Tangerine kneels down and whispers to me. “Claiming territory. You think the Blackwings are the only ones who believe they can own land?”

“But they’re—” I start to say, before trailing off at a strange sight.

Wolf River arcs his neck, looks up, and howls loudly. Again, just like a real dog. How a horse can mimic such sounds is beyond me. What’s odder is that Tangerine sees fit to join in, howling at the sky in the exact same way, though her imitation is less convincing.

The wolves come out of the woods. They aren’t reacting to the howl. They stare us down with their hungry, mad eyes and bloody lips. “They’re feral,” I finish saying.

“Dammit.” Wolf River retrieves his war axe. “As if they weren’t insults to dogs already… Prepare!”

I summon a shaft of purple light into my hooves, with the far end extending outward into a blade. It feels right to wield a scythe once again, and it feels even better to wield it alongside the swords of my allies… save for one.

Caro hasn’t drawn Excalibur. He casts out his hoof and gallops in front of all of us, meeting the wolves halfway up the hill. I half expect him to start acting like a dog as well, with how things are progressing. I keep my hooves held tight to my scythe as he advances on the wolves.

Tohro swallows nervously. He’s the one watching with the most anticipation, slowly reaching for his new oaken crossbow. He needn’t worry. I see some the familiar golden draconic aura rising from within Caro. He’s going to speak a few words and save the day, I believe.

“Dren ov!” he shouts.

The wolves look like they’ve walked face-first into a gust of wind. They all whinge, twitching slightly as they run their paws over their ears. They then shake their heads, looking around in confusion. I notice their auras change, though it’s not a shift in color or frequency; a harsh, jagged, red aura has left their bodies, and is dissipating in the air around them.

With a loud bark from Wolf River, the wolves realize that they’re out of their depth, and run back into the woods. “Cowards,” he grunts.

“They weren’t feral,” I speak as soon as I realize it. “They were being controlled.”

“‘Were’ being the key word here,” Caro says with a snort. “And I thought the Blackwings couldn’t sink any lower... Now they’re messing with animals who have nothing to do with this war? That’s like drafting children.”

“How could you tell this was the Blackwings’ doing?” Wolf River asks.

“It’s the best assumption I have. For all we know, Shokenda could be watching us through the eyes of possessed animals. I know that sounds like witch hunter talk, but…”

“She’s done that,” Tohro says. “I saw it firsthoof. She ordered her unicorn elites to create small armies of wild animals for spying and interceptions. Eventually, she moved up to sleeper agents. Even if we’re not being followed, we’re… well, we’re always being followed.” He purses his lips and passes a nervous look to Caro. “Best keep that shout on hoof.”

“A zebra boy named Kyne gave it to me. Part of it, anyway,” Caro explains. “I wonder if it works on Blackwings? It could save us an unnecessary struggle.”

“Like I said, keep it on hoof.” Tohro taps Caro on the shoulder before waving us down the road. “Let’s go.”

“No point in bein’ a still target for watchin’ eyes, eh?” Rosemary says with a forced smile. It doesn’t stay with her for long, even as I walk alongside her. She opens her pouch. In the spring away from the wolves, she dropped all but a single sunflower.

It occurs to me, and it makes me laugh hollowly. This is what my fellow students at Wintercolt Academy thought Equestria looked like. A blighted sky, seemingly eternal rain, a shouldered burden of dread, death looming around every corner, and a constant reminder of the lives ruined by selfishness and brutality.

It’s most apparent when I look upon the torn up remains of a carriage. I don’t see any corpses, but I wouldn’t expect to find life nearby either. There are two especially large splotches of blood further down the road, next to one of the detached wheels, and even further are emptied crates.

Tangerine gets close to the carriage and inhales, tracing her muzzle over it. “What do you think, hon?”

Wolf River sniffs the air. “Tainted metal, sweat and bloodied dirt…” He shakes his head. “I think Shokenda’s elites were here.”

That’s not good… After my last encounter with that vengeful unicorn elite, I am not looking forward to the possibility of facing more than one of him. Despite my newfound powers, just thinking about him makes the world feel much darker.

“Let’s hope there’s something salvageable,” Rosemary says, turning over pieces of broken wood.

“I don’t think this situation and ‘hope’ belong in the same context,” I say, levitating a few of the boxes around for a closer look. They’ve been cleaned out, sans a few empty flasks and bowls. “Nothing good here.”

“Damn,” Tohro mutters, pushing one of the crates over.

Tangerine takes another long sniff, this time facing away from the carriage. “Wait, someone’s close by. Do you smell that?” She looks in Caro’s direction, her muzzle scrunched up. She looks as though she picked up something foul.

Caro, looking quite tired, is leaning on one of the crates, seeming keen to doze off. He jolts awake when he notices Tangerine’s glare, and touches his face. “Did I lay it on a little thick today?”

Wolf River sighs. “The crate, pup.”

Caro blinks. “Oh.” With a light push, he knocks the crate over. What lies inside gives us all collective pause. I never thought we’d see him again so soon.

Smart Cookie is curled up underneath the crate, clad in sage robes, a powerless scroll spread out before him. His eyes are closed and his ears are covered, while he mutters under his breath. “Ican’tseeyouIcan’thearyouyou’renotherelalalalalalaaaa…” I hope that he didn’t have anything to do with this mess.

Tohro smirks and calls him out. “Oi, Chippy!”

Smart Cookie opens his eyes, only just now realizing that he’s been found out. He crawls away in a panic, until he bumps into Wolf River and looks up. He laughs sheepishly.

“Stand,” Wolf River commands.

Chippy does so immediately, as if he were a marionette. “For the record, I paid Scar back.”

“I know, and I believe the stipulation was to not cross my sight ever again, Iron Shores.”

“Iron Shores?” Tohro asks. “Uh, his name is Chippy… Or, Smart Cookie. I’m not entirely clear on who he is, but apparently he has a fondness for multiple lives.”

“I also have a fondness for not being here. Ta-ta!” Smart Cookie waves and bolts off with a turn, making the basest of mistakes by walking past me. With a casual sweep of my hoof, he is snagged by the tail and yanked back to me.

“No one wants to hurt you, hon,” I say, my tone both sympathetic and hardened. I then point to the gruesome carriage wreck before us. “We just want to know what happened here.”

“I-It’s not what it looks like!” he says, standing up and waving his hoof. “I’m a victim here, though not as much as the other two... I was riding along with some sages to get to the coastline. The bylaws of this war dictate that healers are a neutral party, and can’t be injured without serious ramifications… So sorry that I can’t justify the random chance that the elites would break the code, though, in retrospect, I might’ve seen this coming.”

Wolf River approaches Smart Cookie, leans in close, and sniffs him. After an arduous pause, he pulls away and smiles. “He speaks the truth, for once. Enjoy it while it lasts.”

Smart Cookie stands up, dusts himself off, and squeezes the water out of his robes. “You know, nothing I ever said to the Carrier Clan, besides my name, was a lie.”

Wolf River is not amused. “That, in of itself, is a lie. By signing on with us, you agreed to our scriptures. We weren’t just your allies, we were your brethren, and you stole Mjolnir from its sanctum. You lied by betraying our code!”

“Oh, come off it. No one can prove I stole Mjolnir. Besides, you got it… back....” Smart Cookie seems to wish he hadn’t said that. His aura freezes for a moment, just as he does in fear, as Wolf River’s stone-cold stare keeps him glued to the ground. “Look, if you must know, I had to steal it and present it as tribute to Altair.”

That doesn’t help his case. Wolf River snarls at him. “The thief?”

“Keep diggin’ that grave, grampy,” Rosemary japes at Smart Cookie.

“So that’s how you became a Nightingale!” Tohro shouts. “Way to take advantage of Altair’s faith, Chippy.”

Chippy… Uh, Smart Cookie, has had enough. His aura bursts outward from the confines of his body as he stands up, grabs the collar of his sage robe and yanks it off over his head. “Well, Tohro Blackwing, I’ll gladly let you know, I’m done with that! I’m just Smart Cookie! I’m not Iron Shores, I’m not Chippy, and I’m sure as shit not Soothing Melody!” He bucks the robe away as soon as it hits the dirt. “For the record, though, none of that compares to when I infiltrated Wintercolt Academy as Twinkleshine. You’d be amazed what one can do a student’s uniform and an inordinately shaped carrot.”

“Oh, for Fauste’s sake…” I mutter, rubbing the bridge of my muzzle. “Why did you play this name game for so long?”

“Well…” He looks over all of us. While his gaze lingers most over Wolf River, most likely out of fear and doubt from his presence, he sighs, sounding ready to explain what’s been going on under the noses of many an organization. “Okay. So, it started when I found Precursor scripture—”

An intense blast of fire strikes Smart Cookie in the barrel. He flies backward into the wreckage of the carriage, a choke turning into a scream. I see something intrude upon his aura. He leans forward, revealing a piece of wood embedded into his shoulder.

I immediately run to his side and lie him down on his side. He doesn’t seem concerned about his impalement. “Gah, shit…” He clutches his wound with a trembling hoof. “Oh, stop playing games and come out! If you want me dead, then kill me already!”

I feel a stinging presence slice through the aura of the world. I feel them before I turn and see them. Two elites, towering above us on the road. Dark and wicked, armored from head to hoof, with no sign of there ever having been flesh to conceal before. The word ‘elite’ is an understatement. In Shokenda’s place, I would have called them demons.

There is a frightening amount of violent anger radiating out from the one on the left. It’s him, the one who twice came close to killing me. Such anger he carries, permeating the air... Did I lead him here? One could wonder…

The elites stare past everypony else, with shared intensity directed at Smart Cookie. “We know you’ve been hiding a Precursor tomb from us,” they say in unison. “You will tell Shokenda how you found it, and where it is. If you are thorough and truthful, you will live.”

Smart Cookie grins at them. “And you’ll die in a blazing inferno. That’s two wins for m—” He’s cut short by an armored punch to the stomach. He chokes on his words and slumps forward in the air, gasping for breath.

Caro gallops in from the side and shouts “Dren ov!” like he did with the wolves. Despite the same gusty effect rolling over the elites, their aura does not change in the slightest. They both raise their hooves and levitate Caro away, sending him downhill.

“Dead or alive, Smart Cookie,” they both say. “You are either a nuisance removed from our mistress’ presence, or an asset to her endgame. There is nothing you can do to escape her will.”

“Rrgh! Then take me to her! Let me call her what she is to her face!”

The elites advance forward. “As you wish, but don’t think that you’ll—”

“CUNT! She’s a right cunt, just so you know!”

“Wuld nah kest!” Caro dashes in front of Smart Cookie and summons Excalibur to his hoof. It’s like a golden sun breaking through the rain. “I’ve had enough. Chippy, Cookie, whoever the hell you are, when these two are dead, I expect you to tell us everything.”

“Somepony is sure of themselves,” says the left elite. He summons a two black ethereal blades to his side. Something about that aura strikes me as familiar, but I don’t want to believe it’s possible, especially after all I’ve been through. I put it out of my mind and focus on Smart Cookie’s wounds. I summon my most potent healing spell to my hooves and trace over his wounds.

I watch the ensuing battle. As Caro raises Excalibur up high, all the Fae around him changes from a gentle blue to a royal yellow, closing in on him and the sword. “Do you know what this is?” he asks the elites. I can sense their aura rupture as they look upon the legendary sword of kings. “Yes, you do.”

Caro’s aura is like a controlled flame, and his sword carries its golden gleam with every effortless swing. It’s like he’s dancing through the downpour of magic bolts thrown by the elites. He lands a vertical slash against the unfamiliar elite, while my old nemesis turns on me, lighting his horn

I slam my hooves to the ground, summoning a protective dome around me and Smart Cookie. A blast of black aura glances off of it, partially, but the remains of it eat a hole through it. Knowing that it’s me that this elite wants, I decide to make good on his desires. He’ll fight me, alright. I leap through the hole in the shield and call on my scythe.

I land in front of the elite. “This is the third time we’ve met,” I say to him. “Courtesy dictates I at least know your name, before I put you out of your desperation.”

His response is a bolt of black lightning. I quickly raise my scythe, making it glance off. “Elites have no names,” he says. “It has been stricken from me.”

“Pathetic,” I reply, sweeping my weapon. He leaps over it and teleports behind me. I deflect another black bolt. “Another poor creature left with nothing but hatred.” I step forward, twirling my scythe in a continuous revolution. In doing so, I concentrate the magic of the ground, air, and rain into the blade. “Return to the Fae!” With a diagonal swing, I unleash a blast of sharp light.

The elite sidesteps the attack, but I counted on that. With my new reserves of magic, I’m easily able to teleport into the path of my attack, reach out, and absorb it. I feel my horn and hooves bursting at the seams with magical energy, all of which I unleash upon the hateful elite with one forward thrust. He can’t get away. I feel it shred through his armor.

Even so, he’s a resilient one, and my attack only tore off a few pieces of his armor, and merely scratched what remains. Even the exposed underarmor of his legs and chest are bulky. Elites are built like fortresses.

Just as I’m about to charge again, I notice something. I didn’t notice it before from far away, but his aura, while fiery around the edges, is hollow. How can that be? Nopony else’s aura looks like that.

He takes the first step, but the instant his armored horn glows, a monstrous figure rises from behind him. A short-furred lycan. It’s Tangerine. She snatches the elite by his hind leg and slams him into the ground, several times. She’s using him like a child’s doll. After all he’s put me through, it makes me smile.

Rosemary comes around with her sword ablaze, also smiling at her mother’s impressive display. The humiliation is complete when she tosses the elite against a tree. Rosemary then leaps towards the elite, aiming her sword towards one of the holes in his armor. She pins him to the tree with a hard jab and a hollow thud. The sword continues to burn as it pierces his body. “Feel the heat, you bastard!” she yells.

As satisfying as it would be to take vengeance on him for twice almost killing me, I don’t want to relish this. I return to a proper, ladylike stance and do away with my scythe. Tangerine and I share a nod. She steps forward, lightly pushing Rosemary aside. She then draws her two longswords, which fit her wolfen state just as much as her equine form. She raises them up high and slices across the elite’s neck. His helmet falls from his body, rolling to a stop in front of me and Rosemary.

It’s empty.

The elite has no head.

“What the fuck?!” Rosemary exclaims.

The helmet’s eye holes emit more black aura. “What? You think Shokenda trusts equine flesh?” says the elite. His voice seems shared between the helmet and the body… for whatever body there is within that armor, which removes Rosemary’s sword and comes down from the tree. It socks Rosemary across the jaw, then advances on me.

Tangerine snarls and screams at the elite. Even her breathing sounds demonic as she leaps onto the helmet and tries to crush it with her foot. It doesn’t even bend. I think the elite is laughing beneath all of the angry canid noises. Just as she’s about to focus her anger on the body, the other elite leaps on her back, two ethereal swords drawn. She can’t help me while she tries to get him off her back.

The first elite’s body remains focused on me. It summons a ring of black flame that surrounds his him. “I’ll deliver you to Shokenda in an urn.” He waves his hoof. I feel the heat wrap around me. It’s an intense burning sting worse than any I’ve felt before. This oppressive display of dark, inordinate, painful, magic… I’ve experienced this before.

As I create a dome of ice around me, shoving the flames away. It quickly melts. “You used an Elder Scroll, didn’t you?” I accuse.

The elite’s body rushes me, grappling me and pinning me in the mud. “Like I would dare. Only Mistress Shokenda has the power to use the Precursor treasures.”

He shouldn’t have said that. My eyes glow as I breathe flames of my own. I shove the elite armor off, and rise from the mud. “Blasphemer! The scrolls were created by Fauste! Take that back!”

The armor chuckles. “You fleshy equines and your false gods…”

“FALSE GOD?!” I launch forward and shove the armor into the tree. My hooves are faster than a mortal eye can see, pummeling dents deep into the armor. I smash a gaping hole into the armor’s chest. I raise both hooves high up, summoning even more of the Fae into them, and unleash it all into a single concentrated blast. The armor, the tree, the foliage surrounding the tree, it’s all reduced to ash, at my hooves.

Caro, who has locked in sword against the other, intact elite, falters as he sees the devastation I have left. “Shae, how did you—” The elite’s ethereal blade slices into his neck. At his shout, Tohro leaps at the elite, digging Muramasa into its neck.

“Let’s see how you like it!” Tohro shouts. “C’mon, Caro! Even those who can’t bleed can die!”

Caro wipes the blood off his neck. It leaves a smear on his wet coat. “Oh yes.” He swings Muramasa. The Fae gathers around it, making it glow even brighter. He brings it into the other side of the elite’s neck. “And…”

“Now!” Tohro removes Muramasa with a swift swing, breaking the metal of the elite’s armored neck. Caro concentrates Excalibur’s power, intensifying its glow even further, until it unleashes a magical explosion of its own. The elite’s neck armor shatters, its helmet flying off to Fauste knows where. I can’t tell if it landed nearby, because I can’t sense it.

The elite’s armor falls to the ground, as useless as unworn metal could ever be, though its hollow aura remains. I keep a close eye on it. “Is anypony going to take that?” Rosemary asks. “Because if you are, don’t.”

Wolf River has been Smart Cookie’s shield, having transformed into a wolf to cover him. With an affirming grunt, he returns to his equine form. The process seems painful, with his claws retracting into hooves, but he seems unfazed by it after all these years. “Well done, everyone. You fight as brutally as you do strategically.”

“Brutal…” I mutter, looking at the destruction I’ve left from my bout of anger.

“And, on that note, I’ll be going!” Smart Cookie grips his wound as he gets to his hooves. “Just a red potion and I’ll be right as rain.”

“You could have a punctured lung,” Tangerine says. “Don’t chance it. Equestria has lost enough of its founders as is.”

“Up until recently, no one even knew I was alive.” He pounds his wound for emphasis, whimpering when he does. “I… Ergh, I think I’ve made a damn good case as to why anonymity was a good idea. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

Caro and Tohro intercept him, much to his frustration. “I’m not going to pretend I didn’t hear something about a Precursor tomb,” Caro says. “Clearly, that is important to Shokenda. Your safety is already compromised, so clearly there’s no harm in telling a few more people why she wants it.”

Smart Cookie looks around at all of us. I believe he’s gotten the message. “Fine,” he says. “But not here. Shokenda’s eyes and ears are everywhere. Go on with your mission. Don’t come looking for me. Altair will find me before any of you would. When he does, I’ll have him contact you. Come to us, and I’ll tell you everything. Equestria will need its strongest warriors for what is to come.”

“Can you at least tell us that much? What is to come?”

“Uh, a lot of ponies burning to death…” Smart Cookie shrugs. “No pressure.”

Caro purses his lips and swallows. I can feel his aura ripple, just a little bit.

Smart Cookie salutes Tangerine and Tohro, then walks off, pulling a red potion out of his pouch. I hope he has many of those. “Best of luck storming Fillydelphia. Try not to die.”

“Grand advice, good sir,” Tohro says. I notice that he’s trying to put Muramasa back in its sheath, but it resists, not wanting to come out of his grip. “Oh, bugger all…” He tries to force it a few more times, but Muramasa keeps growling at him, louder and louder, refusing to let go. “That’s no good.”

“Of course it isn’t going in, it hasn’t drawn blood yet,” Rosemary explains. “Those elites were just walkin’ armor.”

But they were alive. Does Shokenda truly detest equine flesh so much as to take it out of the picture entirely?

“Well, I’m up a creek…” Tohro touches Muramasa to a wound on his upper foreleg, but it won’t absorb any of his blood. It continues growling at him. “Hm. I guess it likens self-inflicted blood to drinking your own piss.”

“You’re so romantic,” Caro says, rolling his eyes. He offers his foreleg to Tohro, more or less forcing it upon him. “Well? Cut horizontally and it means nothing.”

Tohro, caught off his guard, smiles deeply and raises Muramasa to Caro’s foreleg. “This ain’t nothing, mate...” He cuts gently. The blood seeps into the blade like it were a rag. Muramasa stops its metallic growling and allows itself to be put back into its sheath.

As gentle as he was, Muramasa’s cut still hurts Caro like hell. I should expect no less from a godly weapon. To stifle his grunts, I approach him and go over the slit with a quick healing spell. “To bleed is to care,” he mutters, looking between Tohro and the wound. “...love you.”

This is something I’ve always wanted to try.

Pegasi can fly over the ocean just fine. Earthwalkers need to use vessels. Unicorns lie somewhere in the middle. Already being voyagers in a sea of magic, it would make sense that water is a significant part of our culture. It is believed that Fauste was born in a spectral ocean, and rose to the plains of eternity. It has been observed that the Fae rises and falls like the tide, and now I have seen it for myself. Watching the horizon does make the Fae seem like water.

It makes sense that our capital was built on the water’s edge, and that the most powerful unicorns are marked by their ability to walk on water.

I put my hoof out onto the lake, grazing the surface. It’s turbulent and rippled from the downpour, but with enough focus, I’m able to condense the water beneath my hoof enough to not break the surface.

I step out onto the water…

“Shae.”

I turn my head. The first thing I see is Caro. Then I fall into the lake. After a few seconds of me floating around under the surface, feeling like an imbecile for being so easily distracted, I see Caro’s hoof break the surface. His aura is murky, looking at it from beneath the surface.

I propel myself out of the water, leaping out and landing right next to him. With a breath, I levitate the liquid out of my clothes and let it fall to the ground. A meaningless effort, given the rainfall, but I refuse to be so cold. “What is it, Caro?” I ask.

“We need to talk. Only Rosemary has addressed how strange you’ve been acting, and she’s not exactly looking out for your best interests. She’s more impressed that you managed to leave a crater in a forest. Tohro and I, for one, find it terrifying.”

I knew this would happen one day, just not before we got to Fillydelphia. “Caro, please… Not now.”

“When will be a good time, then? After you destroy a building in Everfree during a Blackwing invasion?”

“You know it won’t come to that. I thought I made it clear back before I lost my vision that I’m done with…” I pause, realizing where I am right now, and much has changed since then, and in so little time. “Once we save those kids, I’m hanging up my Dragonrein coat of arms.”

“It won’t end forever. Even I don’t plan on retiring. I might slow down, return to Riverhoof, or perhaps meditate alone in a cave for a few years. In any case, Equestria needs us, and it’s going to need us long after the Blackwings and the dragons are all gone.”

“I’m sorry, a few years in a cave, alone? You wouldn’t last an hour without Tohro.”

I intended on making him blush, but he’s not budging. “Platinum sanctioned us because she trusts us to be what Equestria needs,” he says. “It doesn’t need ponies too powerful for their own good. Last I checked, someone who dares call themselves a god isn’t in right sorts. It’s something Shokenda would say.”

He has the right to be concerned about my power trip. Killing Chrysalis was many things at once. Thrilling and terrifying, just to name a few. But, he calls me the daring one? “Chrysalis threatened my children. And I am nothing like Shokenda. If I promise to never call myself a god ever again, could we please not have this conversation?”

“Do you have those powers under control, or are you just afraid of confronting what you could become?” Caro retorts. “Shokenda was probably just another pony once upon a time. But she had an insane, perverse idea that Equestria needs to be ravaged, and somehow gained the power to do it. Two things, Shae. That’s all it takes.”

It’s now of all times that I’m happy Tohro has rubbed off on him so. I get the feeling he’s been on the receiving end of this conversation too.

“So… even if your powers are permanent, promise me that when you have your next bad day, you simply walk away,” he pleads.

It seems so easy to think about, but I don’t know when that bad day will come, or how it will change me. Still, I think that if I hold this moment, my future wedding, and my children close to my heart, I won’t lose control. Shokenda doesn’t have as much love as I do.

A simple agreement wouldn’t mean anything. I need to show Caro that I have it under control.

As I walk forward, I gaze up at the sky, watching the steady rainfall from the dark clouds from above. The lake welcomes me, my hooves greeting its surface with a gentle touch. Each step I take sends a ripple into the water, each one making me fear I might fall through. Everypony falls eventually, but I can’t afford to.

One hoof after the other, I make my way across the lake. I’m halfway across, I believe. I falter for a moment, but quickly regain my standing. After another few steps, I stumble again.

Caro speaks up. “Shae?”

He worries for nothing, I’m fine, I’m… I stumble once more. My hooves break the surface of the water. I quickly pull them out and keep moving forward, but it’s too late. The water no longer obeys me.

My head begins to spin like a raging whirlpool. The world is turning dark again… In a moment of weakness, I plunge into the lake. Its icy grip consumes me in an instant. The darkness… I didn’t want to come back here.

A small light pulses amidst the depths. From it, a spiral of stars flows outward like a waterfall. I’m swept up in the current, throwing me across a steadily appearing stream of constellations. My voice is lost in the vast emptiness of it all, until finally my head breaks the surface of this astral torrent. I reach out, flailing like a confused child. Hell, I am a confused child.

My solace comes when I feel a foreleg wrap around mine. The water seems more gentle now. I hold tight to the foreleg, coughing my throat out. My head is still light, but at least I can finally breathe. “Thank you, Caro…” I gasp.

“I am not Uncle Caro.”

I know that voice, but it’s also different. It’s soft, childlike, and yet omnipotent. I look up and see a tall blue alicorn, with a mane made of night and stars. She’s different from the child I love, but she is unmistakably my Luna, wearing a soft smile that makes everything warm again.

“Hello, Mother.”

~Vision End~

Soaking wet and on the verge of panic, Caro sprints headlong through the woods, throwing subtlety to the wind. The trees and bushes blur in his field of vision. He’s ignorant of the tree branches and brambles lashing at his sides. His hooves crush the soil and branches in his path. All that matters is getting back to camp as quickly as possible.

“Shit, shit, shit!” he yells, his voice already out of breath. His panic is getting the worst of him. “Shae, what the hell…”

He only hesitates for a moment when he steps out into a clearing and sees a marching Blackwing party. Their leading officer turns and notices Caro. “Oi, ain’t ya—”

“Out of my way!” Caro just charges and shoves him aside, tossing him into his fellow soldiers. They’re gone from his mind the instant they’re out of earshot.

After fighting his way through another brush, rolling down a hill, and colliding with a tree, he stands back up and keeps running. After jumping a stream and vaulting a rotting log, he finally comes to the campsite. He slows down, bows his head, and allows himself to breathe.

Rosemary looks up from her arrangement of flowers. “Hm? Caro, you look like you’ve seen a ghost. Were they friendly?”

Caro waves behind him. “Shae, she… Ergh…” He clutches his stomach. “She’s… gone!”

“She ran off?” Rosemary drops the flowers and stands up. She looks fit to draw her sword right then and there. “Did a Blackwing nab her?! I’ll kill ‘em!”

“No, no, she…” Caro pants, taking another breath. “She just disappeared. She fell into a pond, and then she… I swam until my hooves went numb, but I couldn’t find her anywhere! I even tried my aura vision shout, but that was no good either… How does Shae live that sort of sight for every waking moment?”

“Supposedly, one just gets used to it,” Rosemary mutters, rubbing her eyes. “Dammit. Ever since she, uh, spoke to Fauste, she’s been becomin’ somethin’ strange. Back at the house, I caught her mumblin’ to herself until she screamed ‘What am I?’ I don’t have the words to help her, y’know. I ain’t no philosopher. Hell, I don’t think an actual philosopher could explain this.”

“‘The blacksmith has no sword,’ I believe that’s called,” says Tangerine as she walks out of her tent, Wolf River coming out shortly after. “Shae has been touched by a Divine, and that is a path she must walk alone. I’m sure she’ll come back to us within the night.” She points down the trail Caro came sprinting down. “That being said, I want us all to take up surveillance around her last known location. I don’t want her to be caught unawares by a feral beast or Blackwing when she reappears in our realm.”

“You suppose she’s in another realm, Mum?” Rosemary asks.

Wolf River follows up a nod from Tangerine. “It happens. I remember during one of my earlier missions as a Carrier, Scar was once briefly taken to Tartarus when he touched a blighted relic. It was not meant to be held by mortals. Of course, he fought his way out.”

“And knowing Shae is about as far from Tartarus as you can get, I doubt we have anything to worry about,” Tohro says, coming out of his tent. He wraps his scarf around his mouth, and takes off. “I’ll scout ahead!” he announces, disappearing over the trees.

Tangerine appears to be deep in thought as she passes by Caro and Rosemary. As she ascends the trail, they hear her mutter, “Maybe I made the right decision after all.”

~Shae~

I would make this embrace last forever, if I could. While I always had hope that I would return from the battle of Ghastly Gorge alive, there was a time when I had lost my sight, both physically and spiritually. I had believed that I would never look upon my daughters ever again. To never see such beauty for the rest of my life would be its own type of hell.

Speaking of beauty, it’s finally struck me how odd it is to see Luna like this. I’ve only seen her as a child, both in dreams and in reality. She has spoken articulately in the former, as she does here, but when when she appears young, her words betray her appearance. Now that she looks like a tall, beautiful adult mare, her voice carries much more weight.

“So, this is how you envision yourself in your future?” I ask.

“My physical body is so limiting. I’m not strong enough to maintain a mature form. Celina and I might have to wait a few years more before we can look like this all the time.” She sways her neck and turns her head, causing her starry mane to swing around to the other side of her neck. “A princess of the night, truly.”

“Very much so.”

“Only here may I be what I truly am inside, for now.” She peers down at me, wearing a sly smile. “Unless, of course, you wish me to be your little filly for a while longer.”

“I’m fine with whatever you wish for yourself,” I assure her. “You’ll always be my little filly. Your future as a ruler, however...” I trace my eyes up from her blue hoof regalia, past her crest and up to her crown. “I can’t imagine anyone questioning your leadership. You command such gentle presence.”

She smirks at that, twirling through a collection of stars with the grace a princess should carry. She tops off her spin with a respectful bow. When she rises, her voice turns grim. “That is what I hoped for, especially now that I can finally reach out to you.”

“Has something happened?”

“Your anguish. Every evening, I extend my presence out through the threads of the Fae within Equestria, and see into the sleeping ponies. Should their essence be filled with doubt, grief, terror or anger, I lend a few calming words, leaving a bit of myself in them to quell their pain.” She looks at me with a look only parents should hold for their children. “What pains you so much that I can’t enter your dreams?”

The trials I’ve endured since leaving Everfree run through my head in a flash. Witnessing so much death all at once, Caro nearly dying, losing my sight to heal his leg, so many moments of terror and loneliness, all ended by the gentle voice of Fauste, and an awakening within me... If it weren’t for being in the company of my daughter, I would start to tear up. For somepony with such godlike powers, I’m still so fragile.

There’s the answer to her question. Godlike powers. I can’t ignore this any longer. Rosemary gave me a moment to contemplate what this means and now I must come to a conclusion, lest the confusion over my place between the realms of mortals and gods devour me.

“Luna… In moments of power, or when you exercise your unique traits as a princess of the night… Do you think of yourself as a god?”

~Vision End~

Tangerine, Caro and Rosemary rotate the edge of the lake where Shae disappeared into. It has only been half an hour since then, by Caro’s estimate, but the uncertainty of where she might be seems to stretch every minute three times over.

The question that had been rubbing against both Caro and Rosemary’s minds is about to come to the surface. It seems ill-fitting, given that more pressing concerns away, but Tangerine’s murmurings about her ‘decision’ have continued since the search began, and now Caro feels compelled to ask, “Tangerine, is there something you’re not telling us about Shae?”

Tangerine turns her head, surprised at such a question. She chuckles. “Oh, it won’t change much. It’s in the past.”

“How far past?” Rosemary asks. “If it could help us understand what’s goin’ on with Shae, then it can’t hurt to fess up, y’know.”

“Well, if you insist. It can’t possibly do more damage than what’s already been done…” Tangerine rubs the back of her neck. “So, uh, when I first took Oregano’s place in the Imperial Legion, I was still training up for combat, so most of my affairs as a general involved paperwork and dictation of battle plans, as well as some rather extreme measures that might be put in place in the future, just in case the war went too far.”

“How many deaths is ‘too far’?” Caro asks bluntly.

“The first battle at the gorge,” Tohro says, passing by in flight. “I haven’t seen any of these extreme measures but I’ve heard about them in passing from Gauntlet. The Legion has come dangerously close to putting caution to the wind quite a few times during this war. I don’t think I want to see that happen.”

“Thankfully, Queen Platinum and the other commanding officers were just as reluctant to cross the line,” Tangerine says. “Most of the plans don’t get past their initial planning phase because they are either counter-productive or not viable in long-term warfare. The one that I was put in charge of was simply called, ah, Scholars of War, and if I approved it, it would’ve gone into effect immediately.”

“Scholars?” Caro asks. “That doesn’t sound too threatening... But that’s just a name. What did it entail?”

Rosemary speaks up just as Tangerine opens her mouth. “You were going to draft students from Wintercolt Academy!”

Tangerine swallows whatever gentle confession she was going to make, and slowly nods. “...Yes. And you can probably guess who was at the top of that list. Shae had so much potential as a soldier, and she was already hardened from the deaths of her parents. It seemed like she would be a perfect fit for a magical offensive. We could have overwhelmed the Blackwings with an onslaught of young, powerful mages… Of course, it all sounds so attractive on paper, doesn’t it?”

“You held the lives of hundreds of innocent children in your hooves,” Tohro muses. “How did it feel?”

“As heavy as they would be if I actually held them. In retrospect, it seemed so easy to decline the act, but the battle of the gorge was still fresh in our memories. I had lost my husband. Everyone under my command was in pain. I was so lucky that I had the willpower to say no. In that moment, I decided that we could still preserve a bit of innocence in the world.”

Caro smiles at Tangerine. “I wish I had known about that sooner. I would have had more respect for you, before you tried to have my head cut off.”

Everypony shares in a hearty bit of laughter, put out quickly when Wolf River emerges from the lake in his wolf form. He shakes his head as he turns back into a stallion. “You were right, Caro. She’s all but gone from the world.”

“Just for a little while, hopefully,” Tangerine says, trying to comfort Caro, Tohro and Rosemary’s distressed expressions. “I would’ve envied her, all those years ago. What I wouldn’t have given to just disappear for a short time and let fly all of my worries…”

~Shae~

Luna and I stand beside each other, watching projections of the recent past. My fight against the confused lycan form of Tangerine, my quick and sudden execution of Chrysalis, and from just moments ago, my obliteration of a Blackwing elite, along with a fair amount of nature.

“A unicorn can’t do that,” I say defensively. “They shouldn’t be allowed to do that. But whenever someone tries to hurt me or my friends, I feel as though they’re impeding on something sacred.”

“Fauste’s power is sacred,” Luna adds.

I point to myself. The little lavender unicorn who was once a meager student. “I am not Fauste.”

Luna does away with the projections, thankfully so. I’ve had enough of them. “And yet, her strength is yours,” she says plainly. “It’s funny that you should bring this up, because I’ve been contemplating godhood a lot lately, as the number of ponies I’ve helped steadily rises.”

I’m picturing a little filly musing on the ramifications of almighty power, but with the speech impairments that come with being a little one. I nearly miss what Luna is saying as I smile at the thought.

“I witness not the absolute extent of ponies’ minds and memories, merely what torments them in a single moment. If I were a god, I would be able to do much more than that. At least, that’s how I feel. So… No. I don’t see myself as a god. Though if I were, I’d prefer the term goddess. It carries a much more eloquent ring to it.”

It does, but that raises another point. “And I said ‘god’ to Chrysalis. Such a narcissistic, power-crazed thing to say, but I said it. She threatened you and Celina, and something inside of me just snapped.”

“We both are much different ponies when the things we love are challenged. Remember that screaming match I got into with Celina when she wouldn’t let me play with the ursa minor doll?”

I remember that day with guilty fondness. “She asked politely if she could play with it…”

Luna snaps an intense glare at me. “It’s mine.”

I lean back, trying to find something else to look at, but there’s nothing but stars and nebulas as far as the eye can see.

Luna relaxes herself and chuckles. “Suddenly my physical body’s refusal to change seems fitting.” She taps her chin. “Hm. At the moment, I am merely seen as a child by many, including you. I do not mind, but I’ll only be seen as a leader, or a potential goddess, when I am able to take on this adult form. Celina, despite her magical prowess and beauty, is only treated as a figurehead at the moment. We are both not ready to take our respective thrones, or be seen as leaders, much less deities.”

Now I imagine Celina, somehow appearing even more beautiful and regal than how I last saw her, and Luna as she appears to me sitting beside her, with many ponies bowing before them. “But you will be, regardless of whether or not you see yourselves as such. The difference will lie in how they feel about you. Will they love you, or fear you?”

Luna is taken aback. She shakes her head, very slowly, her eyes widening slightly. “I don’t want to be feared.”

I realize how much like a foreboding prophet I sounded like, and immediately return to a motherly disposition. I move closer to Luna and touch her hoof. “You won’t be. You’re already doing great things for your future subjects, and it’ll keep getting better for them, just so long as you never forget how good it feels to be so kind.”

“It is my understanding that you walk a fine line between kindness and judgment, like I must someday. Yours is a chaotic path, but you choose to walk it anyway, despite having the means to just turn back.”

Luna gestures to behind me, where another projection takes shape. It’s the Rainbow Palace gleaming in the afternoon sun. Celina and Luna, in their younger, physical forms, are looking at me with wistful yearning.

Luna speaks the truth. If I fear my strength to the point where I don’t want to use it anymore, it’d be easiest just to let go. It was my plan in the first place, so what’s the harm in putting the plan into motion now?

I remember what Queen Platinum said at the summit. It’s so easy to give up something you’ve held onto for so long, isn’t it? But she also said that there were some things worth holding onto, and now, more than ever, I understand that last part. I’ve burned so many bridges for the most extreme options, but it was only recently that I’ve found a constant I could never let go of, no matter fargone I might become.

My daughters.

There’s no escaping it, I’m a mother now, and I love it. It’s an inevitability that will follow me for the rest of my life. Everything else is a burnable bridge. But should I burn them down on purpose just because I fear burning them down by accident? That’s not what Caro or Tohro do, and that’s not what I’m going to do either. If anything, I should take comfort in knowing that if everything else burns to the ground, I will always have my daughters to fall back on. They’ll be there for me, just as I’ll be there for them.

I turn away from the projection of the Rainbow Palace. Out of the corner of my vision, I see it disappear entirely. It won’t remain that way for long. “You know, Luna, I always wondered why former soldiers hang up their weapons instead of simply doing away with them, but it makes sense to me now. Their weapons are an integral part of them, a tool with which they made an impression on the world. It’s an extension of their being.”

A smile returns to Luna. I think she knows where I’m going with this. “You can’t dispose of your magic any more than they can dispose of a sword, or axe.”

“No, I can’t… But just because I have these powers doesn’t mean I have to use them.”

Luna is beaming. Her grin could be mistaken for the full moon’s light.

“I’ll finish what I started,” I say. “One more quest, one more battle with the Blackwings, and then I can put my powers aside, until I absolutely need them. I’ll come home to you and Celina, and then… Well, we’ll see where life takes us. I’ll be there for you both, all the way through. I don’t have to be a god. I just want to be your mother.”

Ever since we left the villa, I’ve felt torn apart. Like a piece of myself has been missing, left behind in shreds somewhere on my long journey. Remembering where I’ll be when this is all over doesn’t necessarily return that piece to me, but it grants me a sense of normality that I’ve also been missing for some time.

“Thank you, darling,” I say to Luna.

She nods, takes a reserved bow, turns around, and walks to an emerging white gateway. “My debt is repaid,” she says.

It takes me a moment to snap out of my revelation and realize what she just said. “Debt?” I run to her and stand between her and the gateway. “What…? There’s no debt.”

“Of course there is,” Luna says, legitimately confused. “You brought me into this world. You gave me Celina, a home, a future… The very least I could have done is return the favor and grant you peace of mind in your time of need.”

I am aghast. In my shock, I shake my head and laugh. “W-wait, wait… You brought me here and talked with me because you thought you owed me something?”

Luna is completely humorless as she says “Yes.”

I pace in a circle while I let this sink in. This is what happens when the mentality of a wise goddess meshes with the innocence of a child, and it seems that even in her purest form, that innocence shines through, even in her greatest moments. I’m honored by her selflessness, but that’s no reason to be dishonest about how I feel.

“Luna, there is no debt!” I repeat. “The moment I decided that you were my daughter, all concept of debt went out the window. I mean, do you really think any sane pony becomes a parent expecting some sort of reward for their efforts? That something good will just drop out of the sky for basic decency? It doesn’t work like that.”

“I just… I figured...” Luna trails off, now her own breed of aghast.

“It’s unconditional. I thank you for your help but don’t you ever think that you owe me anything just because I’m your mother.” I come closer to Luna than ever, tightly embracing her godlike form. Despite her size, I can still sense the little filly that I yearn to hold close to me once again. “I didn’t choose to be your mother because I wanted any favors, I did it because I love you.” I nuzzle my cheek against hers. My foreleg wraps around her neck, parting the threads of her mane and breaking through the stars. “I loved you from the moment I first saw you.”

In an instant, Luna’s adult form completely disappears, and in my hooves I find the little blue filly I’m most familiar with. She rises from my embrace and throws her forelegs around me, squeezing me tight, as if she’s intent on never letting me go. The only thing missing is the mortal world, but for now, I will have this.

“Mommy…” Luna mutters.

~Vision End~

“When you’re at war, everythin' you’ve learned about morality can fall away,” Tangerine says. “Everyone in the Imperial Legion, even Queen Platinum, was disillusioned when they saw the damage the Blackwings could do. That they could so easily throw aside the lessons learned from Equestria’s formation. Merciless, and depraved, and selfish… We gave them exactly what they wanted. An enemy.”

Caro has remained focused on the lake, hardly even blinking. If there is sign of Shae’s return, he refuses to miss it. “Cretins will always knock you down and say you provoked them. I had to put up with more than a few of those as a child.”

Tangerine just nods. “Even at the royal level, there are many who seek only their own satisfaction. Rather, very few sought to help those in need, instead of themselves. The queen may well be the last royal who still believes in the lessons learned at the Hearth’s Warmin'.”

Tohro chuckles and waves his hoof at Caro. “I don’t know why, but I can’t picture you as a child. I just imagine a slightly less angry you, but just as big.”

“And with bronze hair…" Caro mutters. "Well, you’re not entirely wrong. But all the strength that came from working the forge was in body, not really in mind. The wandering sheep always gets picked on by the wolves… or some such noise. When the bullying became too much to bear, I trained with the swords I created. I never intended on actually fighting back.” He paws at the ground, giving a snort as he glares at the lake. “Of course, the bullies all backed off when I started absentmindedly carrying a sword on my back. Training for a month in the woods nearby had made it near instinct to equip my blade, even just to buy groceries.” He gives a toothy grin. “The bullies stopped bothering me not because I was stronger, or wiser, but because I had the bigger stick.”

“One sword keeps another in the sheath,” says Wolf River. “That’s a proverb I coopted during Equestria’s more lawless days, before it was called Equestria.”

“Back before the high and mighty invaders came to quarrel over your land, food, and resources, you mean?” Tohro adjusts his feathers, his blades shining in the rain. “I’m surprised it was still just a three way fight, when you natives could’ve trounced them all when their backs were turned.”

Wolf River smiles widely. “Why fight someone who is killing your predators, bringing you food, and slaying themselves? Almost overnight, the number of hydra in the swamps near my tribe had dwindled from twelve and twenty to a mere eight. The manticores were slaughtered for their hides, poison, and fangs. The three foreign tribes were so eager to have the better weapon that they decimated all that had kept us at the brink of death. And now, we flourish, just as everyone else has.”

“But that was just necessity,” Tangerine comments. “There’s a difference between an arms race and threatenin’ the balance of nature and society just for a quick victory. Queen Platinum reacted to Shokenda’s threats by bannin’ worship of Dragos, raidin’ the homes of suspects, and imposin' strict militaristic doctrine on Imperial territories. We very nearly became the tyrants Shokenda claimed us to be.” She grimaces, her muzzle wrinkling and her brow furrowing. “I wonder if that was her plan?”

“Shokenda’s plans have fallbacks,” Caro says in an assuring tone. “Her fallbacks have fallbacks. Alive or dead, pure or corrupt, she sees a use for everything. I have a feeling that even if Platinum had made better decisions, Shokenda still would have used it against her, twisting her words and actions to be just as vile as anything else. The Empire might not have done a good job of putting out the fire, but it wasn’t any one pony’s fault that the fire grew out of control.”

“Mightn’t be my fault, but I didn’t do a thing to stop it, either.” Tangerine sighs. “Well, I’m here now, tryin’ to clean up this mess, and that’s the best I can do, so I’m gonna do it right.”

Rosemary comes out from the woods, a few more flowers tucked into her numerous pouches. “Oi, finished my patrol. What did I miss? Still musin’ over our bellies?”

“Something like that,” Tohro says. “Power. Extremes. That sort of thing.”

Rosemary’s ears flap as a big grin crosses her face. “Ah, I might have somethin’ to add to that. Just some late night thinkin’ I’ve been doin’... Did y’know that I don’t sell my most powerful weapons?”

“And why is that, dear?” Tangerine asks.

“Because you can’t just put a flame-spoutin’ sword into the hooves or talons of some jackass and turn the other way. It doesn’t matter how much money they bring, they don’t deserve it. I keep those weapons for myself because I know how to use them.” Rosemary holds out one of her hooves, and then the other. “And I also know how not to use them. Shae is the same way.”

“How so?” Caro asks, finally pulling himself away from the water.

“She only has her new powers because Fauste deemed her worthy of them, yeah? She wouldn’t be this way if she didn’t deserve it. It’s just like you bein’ the Dragonborn, Caro. Call it random chance, but you’re the lucky pony with a soul of a dragon because you’re the only one worthy of it.”

“I became worthy of this title.” Caro says, gesturing to himself. “But you do have a point. It’s just as Altair told me.” He smiles, looking at his hoof. He remembers that, at any moment, he could summon Excalibur to his side, and with it create a brilliant light to slice through the darkened skies. “Might for right.”

“Oh, I agree entirely,” a young, wise mare’s voice says, echoing across the lake and through the trees.

From the water comes a powerful ripple, following by a sudden large splash. With her red overcoat flowing behind her, eyes radiating with overwhelming aura, scythe in hoof, Shae rises from the water, and with a wave of her hoof stops the water’s movement. It’s like time has frozen only for the lake.

“Hi,” she says calmly to the rest of Dragonrein, who look on with pride, as well as Tangerine and Wolf River, who are just stunned silent.

“There’s my girl,” Rosemary says, her voice filled with joy.

“I’m the voice of Fauste,” Shae continues. “But only for as long as I need to be. My strength is a tool of justice, not used in anger, but as a means for preservation.” Another wave of her hoof, this time towards herself, returns the lake to a flat surface, unblemished even by the rain. She descends upon it, and finds herself walking on water. “Preservation of the things I love, and the—”

Rosemary leaps onto Shae, seizing her in a stranglehold of an embrace. The spell is broken, and the two of them fall into the lake together. They rise back to the surface, Shae sputtering out mouthfuls of water. She then turns around with a nefarious grin. She throws a bit of water at Rosemary, who splashes back in return.

“Talk is cheap anyway,” Wolf River muses.

LI - The Third Princess

Once upon a time, in the magical land of Equestria, there lived a beautiful young princess…

CHAPTER LI - THE THIRD PRINCESS

~Tohro~

I hate my home. I think that repeatedly as I look over the snow-drenched burrows of Fillydelphia from atop this hill. I can’t believe it’s never occurred to me before, but… I hate this place. I hate the smell, I hate the cold, I hate the anger that permeates these streets, and I hate the mare responsible for it all.

It’s been so many months since Shokenda scarred me and made her, my eye, and Fillydelphia, a collective black blemish on my life. Fillydelphia especially. Any time I see a map of Equestria, my old home might as well just be a scorching hole in the parchment, with an insignia written in red.

You will never go home again.

And I would reply: “Fine.” Why would I want to go home to a place so filled with rotten souls? There is nothing here for me, especially now that Jade and Half Pint have abandoned the Blackwings. Long ago I made a vow that the only reason I’d set hoof back into this tarpit would be to kill Shokenda. Unfortunately, it seems that will have to wait. I can at least take comfort in knowing I’ll be walking out of there with rescued children in tow, as well as Temerity in chains.

Given that we’re going under the noses of an entire military, Shae saw fit to give us all temporary magical disguises, though even with her powers, she can’t completely change our appearances. My coat and hair have been changed from white and yellow to beige and black. Not exactly an upgrade. Caro looks adorable as a pinto. Shae has opted for switching her lavender coat and black hair, as well as putting on some fake pince nez. Rosemary’s fur is now grey, and her mane is a slightly darker grey. Wolf River and Tangerine’s natural dark fur will disguise them well enough. We are as inconspicuous as bread in a bakery.

As if that wasn’t enough, Rosemary also brought some old clothes for us to wear. Caro reluctantly puts on a worker’s jacket. I wrap a scarf around my muzzle and eye, and prop my hood. Everyone else wears generic winter robes, which I’m sure they plan on shedding once they enter the secret passageway.

For the last bit of levity we’ll have before we enter the belly of the beast, Rosemary sings for us. I’ve never noticed until now, but she has a truly ethereal singing voice.

“For smiling ponies, joy high roll, deny no pleasures to my soul.
Epona is health 'round briskly move, Epona is the friend of love…”

I know this shanty well. While I would never interrupt Rosemary, I find myself muttering the refrain of the song, while images of a smug Temerity Blackwing flash through my head.

“And he that would this health deny...
Down among the dead ones, down among the dead ones,
down, down, down, down...
Down among the dead ones let him lie…”

We approach the entrance of Fillydelphia. The long bridge there is littered with cracks, and the cold wind of the water’s edge stings my fur. This is no weather to fly in. I assume that the Blackwing guards we pass are warmed by their own depravity. They have so much violence in their eyes… That used to be me. I stay between Caro and Wolf River.

“State your business,” says one of the spear-wielding guards at the front gate.

“Trade, sir,” says Rosemary, stepping forward with a plethora of her swords in tow. “I wish to market my wares to the local merchants.”

He grunts. He seems to accept her bluff just fine. Rosemary is a better liar than I expected her to be. “Alright. And your friends?”

“Bodyguards,” Wolf RIver says, tapping his chest.

The other spear-wielder looks us over. Now is where the skepticism sets in. “That’s like bringing two shields to a sword fight, innit?” she asks.

“Leave them be, Orion,” says the male guard. “Thievery is far more common now than it needs to be. She should count herself lucky she found so many dependables. Strength in numbers, right?”

“Rightly so,” Wolf River says. “May we enter?”

The male guard nods and taps his spear to the gate. “You may. Glory to Shokenda Blackwing.”

“Glory to…” I say out of habit, before trailing off. I curse at myself under my breath, for apparently not having completely killed the Blackwing inside of me. I might have to erase my last name, before Caro erases Shokenda.

Here’s a homecoming. Crumbling houses and steps, snow building up unattended in front of front doors, which have broken windows. It’s almost hilarious; there is an absurd amount of broken windows. Fillydelphia is exactly what one would think Shokenda’s realm would look like. This is where decency goes to die.

“Fauste’s horn…” I hear Shae mutter as she stops walking.

“What do your magic eyes see, love?” I ask her, already suspecting her dreary answer.

“Everything here is… This is just wrong. I see shards of red. Auras are broken and scattered, so filled with hate. They leave traces of it wherever they go. I’ve never seen anything like this before.”

I wish I had her vision back when I thought this place was a shining beacon of light in a broken country. I might have seen the truth. The ponies that walk these cobblestone streets are ugly and decrepit, both in appearance and demeanor, and yet, they do not seem aware of it.

“It seems we have visitors,” says a passersby. Beneath his hood, I can see that his eyes are bloodshot, and his coat is overgrown, caked with mud. He holds his hoof out and waves it along the many beaten down shops and houses before us in the town square. “Welcome to the Blackwing capital! Might I recommend a few places of interest?”

“No, but thank you,” I say, bowing respectively. “Although we would appreciate directions to the docks.”

The villager points to the street on our right. “Thataway, good sir. But you’ll need a writ of passage in order to access it without a vessel.”

“Shouldn’t be a problem.” I tap the villager on the barrel. “Go about your business. Glory to Shokenda.”

“Glory to Shokenda,” he says with far too much pride. “Don’t forget to pass by the shrine today.”

I wave to him as he walks off into an alley, most likely off to participate in some form of debauchery, or shit in the streets. I miss Everfree. Though I did find a silver lining in talking to him, specifically the one in his pocket.

“So, we need a writ of passage… Anyone have a boat in their pouch?” Wolf River asks with a chuckle.

I present the folded writ of passage that was in the villager’s pocket. “You think I didn’t already know the rules of this city? What do you take me for?” I give the writ to Wolf River. “Present this to the guards at the docks’ entrance, then slip into the sewers when no one is looking.”

“Sneakthief.” Wolf River grins at me. Now that’s a face Tangerine couldn’t have possibly not fallen in love with. “And that’s where we’ll find the secret passage. With any luck, that’ll lead us to Nutmeg and Cinnamon.”

“Caro and I will go looking for Temerity,” I continue. “It’s midday, so he should be around his quarters in the barracks. I’ll get as much information out of him as I can, and take him into custody. He’ll spend the rest of his life in an Everfree cell.”

Caro, as per the norm, has his thoughts on something other than the task at hoof. He’s looking up at the palace of Ysgramare, Shokenda’s sanctum and pit of depravity. Its pillared balconies and gaping windows overlook the city much like the all-seeing eyes of Shokenda herself, piercing through and semblance of comfort, even through the heavy snowfall.

“Tempting to just burn this whole city to the ground, huh?” I whisper to Caro.

“Huh?” He’s broken out of his trance. “Oh, no. Shokenda is the problem here, not them.”

Knowing who he used to be, I’m surprised that he can stomach the sight of these filthy streets. But I know Caro. He’s a misguided idealist who becomes less misguided every day, without losing any of his idealism. I did this to him.

“Well, at least the mead here is good… at times,” I admit. “Shokenda’s court wizards use artificial sunlight to grow juniper berries. We can pick up a sack of them on our way to the barracks, how does that sound?”

“That’s…” Caro smiles, but his attention is quickly diverted away. I too am caught by the sound of shouting guards, and someone else screaming willy-nilly. That voice sounds familiar, but it’s drowned out by the distance and the sounds of commerce. It sounds like it’s coming from… ugh, the shrine.

“Come on,” I say, tapping Caro on the wither. “I know that voice.”

“Good luck!” Rosemary shouts.

“No dying, now!” Wolf River adds.

Caro and I ascend the steps into the town square. Most holds have a fountain or a statue as a significant landmark. Something regal and beautiful that gives the city an identity. What does Fillydelphia have? A crucifix, with the years-old blood and bones of some pony no one knew the name of held to it by ropes and nails. Children, couples and families gather around it like it’s the most inconspicuous thing in the world.

On the base of the crucifix are the carved words, Shokenda’s future, our future, began here.

“What the fu—” Caro exclaims upon seeing the ghastly sight. I cover his mouth before he makes a scene.

“It’s sacred,” I mutter to him.

“But it’s—”

I shoot him a glare that would put a fire out. “It’s sacred.”

It's not like it matters much anyway. I see what we came up here for further down the street, by one of my favorite book stores. It’s a prisoner convoy, consisting of several guards and two gated carriages. Three unicorn guards have a heavily robed earthwalker pinned to the ground, their collective magic holding his hooves behind his back.

"I don't have anything to do with the Empire! Back off!" the earthwalker shouts, thrashing his head. His hood comes off, revealing orange fur and spectacles. I should have known Smart Cookie couldn't make it out of Blackwing territory on his own. I can’t wait to rub this in his face.

For his impudence, he gets a swift buck to the side of the head by one of the guards. "Silence. This isn't about the Empire, shit-for-brains," she says. She takes Smart Cookie's glasses off, throws them on the ground, and crushes them. "Shokenda simply wants a private word with you. Refusal is not an option for Her Preeminence."

"Get fucked with a rusted spike!" Smart Cookie shouts.

The female guard bucks him again. At this rate, he might as well just be known as Cookie. “No one wants to hear about your libido. Get in the damn cart.” She and the other guards fit chained cuffs on, lift him up by his hooves and drag him along the cobblestone up to the carriages. “If you had just complied, you wouldn’t be going to Shokenda in chains.”

“Surprisingly, people become a little disgruntled when you act like a—” Smart Cookie’s expletives are cut short when he is thrown into the carriage. I hear him and a few other prisoners grunt as he slams into them.

“Go about your business,” the guard says to the bystanders as the carriage is pulled away. She and the other guards disperse, waving civilians off from the scene.

I feared that, at some point, the proverbial carriage we’ve been riding on would derail and we’d have to adjust our plans accordingly, but I didn’t expect this. There’s now a fork in the path, one that could be more important than the road we’ve been traveling this whole time.

Caro and I turn away, returning to the shrine. I speak to him in a hushed tone. “This complicates things a bit.”

“Shokenda will do anything to get the location of the Precursor tomb out of him,” Caro says grimly, breathing heavily. “This is not good. Equestria could lose another one of its founders, and who knows what could be in that tomb that she could use to turn this war in her favor. Elder Scrolls, perhaps, but it could be something even worse. Precursor magic was powerful enough to lift entire cities into the sky, what if that were used as a weapon against the Empire?”

“I think we should weigh our options,” I suggest. “Smart Cookie is one hell of a liar, being able to remain hidden for so long. I think he could turn the interrogation in his favor, or at the very least resist Shokenda long enough… Then again, this is Shokenda we’re talking about.”

I see the determined look in Caro’s eye. He’s already made his decision, and I don’t think I’ll be able to talk him out of this one. “I’m a non-factor in this mission,” he says. “I have the least amount of ties to Tangerine’s family and I don’t know Temerity as well as you do. Shokenda, however, would be expecting me to show up at one point or another.”

“I think you should set your sights a little lower, love,” I say, wrapping my forelegs around his neck. “You’re amazing, and any foe should cower before you, but you are still not strong enough to fight Shokenda.”

“Shokenda wants me as her plaything. It doesn’t matter if I win, I just have to survive. I’ll catch her in the middle of her interrogation of Smart Cookie, challenge her, entertain her for a little while, and let Smart Cookie take care of the rest. He’s resourceful. I’m sure that, given enough of a distraction, he’ll find a way out.”

He makes for a convincing argument, but still… “That’s a lot of what-ifs.”

“Then here’s something definite. Shokenda will be so busy with me that you and the others won’t have to worry about her ruining everything.”

And just like that, he’s got me sold on his insane idea. All I can hope for is that I’m not sending him off to another death. I can’t lose him again. But he has a tendency to make his dreams a reality, so if he doesn’t intend on dying, then he won’t. I trust him that much.

Just as I’m about to kiss him and tell him for the hundredth time how much I love him, a glint of white catches my eye. In the distance, through the snow, I can see Shokenda flying from Ysgramare. She appears to be flying to the slums. But for what reason?

“Caro, eyes up.” I point at Shokenda. Caro turns and spots her almost immediately. “She doesn’t usually leave her abode unannounced,” I say. “This only happens if she has an emergency situation to attend to.”

“Something must have grabbed her attention, something that concerns her more than Smart Cookie.” He smirks. “We can catch her unawares.”

“That’s not a bad idea.” I start walking. “This city can be dangerous, and Temerity isn’t going anywhere. I’ll lead you to her.”

Caro starts to follow, but he’s distracted by something at the shrine. A little filly has kneeled before it, her hooves clasped together. I can’t hear what she’s saying, but it’s fairly obvious that she’s praying. She looks at the skeleton with, dare I say, reverence.

Caro purses his lips and scowls. “I’m going to throw up.”

I put one foreleg around him and pull him away. “Don’t look at it.”

~Vision End~

~Shae~

How any ships make it in or out of this harbor without any damage is beyond me. Between the mountains that border this city, and the river that leads off the mainland, there are thick sheets of ice that I doubt any schooner could get through without a carver.

Rosemary, bless her, is keeping the dock guards occupied with her surprising silver tongue. I think finally coming out of her shell to her mother has helped in this regard. Letting go of a lie she burdened herself for months with has made her a better liar. She’s not working under stress.

While I hide behind a large pillar next to the sewer entrance, I listen through the Fae. In one ear, I hear Tangerine and Wolf River knocking out one patroller after another, while in the other ear I hear Rosemary. “So, a pass to Saddle Arabia is how much?” she asks the guards. Tangerine told her to say absolutely anything, so she’s chosen to do what she does best: annoy authority figures.

“I told you, lady, we don’t sell passes, we just survey arrivals and departures,” the younger of the two guards says. “Besides, if you want to go to Saddle Arabia legally, you’ll need both a pass and a visitor’s writ, which you can obtain at Reinoc.”

Rosemary puts on the face of the most confused mare in equine history. “Why can’t I get one here?”

“Why would anyone want to leave this paradise?” The guard thrusts his hoof out to the walls of Fillydelphia with pride, beaming at their crumbled, inconsistently lain glory. “Shokenda takes care of us. Leaving her is the last thing on any sane pony’s mind.”

Sane? I think.

Rosemary's face lights up with the widest, beaming smile, as she seems to swell with pride. Or withheld laughter, as her aura has become bubbly. "Aye, but why should we not spread the wondrous news of Shokenda across the world? The Empire may turn their simple minds away, but her gloriousness would surely not be lost upon others."

"You know those lands are beyond saving,” says the young guard. “At least, that's what Shokenda says. Equestria is the last beacon of light for this poisoned world, and the founders lied to us when they said they'd make it a perfect kingdom. That's why we'll remain here, until the light truly shines."

They don't know light. The only thing they know is dogma. Poor souls...

Rosemary steps forward, and the guards step back in turn. "Do you think her light so weak, it needs protectin' from the weak-minded beyond these walls?" The guards are now backed into a corner, and seem to have forgotten their wings as they cower. "Are you questionin' her power to bring all the world into her control?"

That'll do. Through the Fae, I hear the last of the six lookouts kiss the pavement, done in by Tangerine's deft hoof. I tap the pillar and softly whistle to Rosemary, then kick off, running quietly yet quickly along the water's edge until I reach the sewer entrance. I shuffle along the edge, avoiding touching the water, lest I tear this whole operation apart before it truly begins. I hear Rosemary follow from behind.

“Will your new friend follow?” I ask.

“No. Apparently you can love Shokenda a little too much for some of her so-called children to tolerate.”

I tap my muzzle to Rosemary’s cheek. “Good. More for me.”

“Now’s not the time, kids,” Wolf River says, emerging from around the corner. He has blood on his hooves, which he washes off in the sewer water. When he pulls his hoof back out, it’s covered in a thick layer of sludgy unmentionables.

“Oi, wash that jabby off...” Rosemary says, scrunching up her muzzle. She’s just now noticing how putrid the scent of the sewers has grown with every step we’ve taken. “Anyway, when they were all good and riled up, I knocked ‘em out, so we shouldn’t be havin’ any followers. Where’s me Mum?”

“Right here, hon.” Tangerine drops down from a balcony up above. “Keep your voice low, you’re startin’ to echo.” She raises her hoof to her lips, which are also covered in blood. That raises more questions, which she answers when she notices me and Rosemary’s eyes widening. “Oh, I had to transform for a wee bit back there… One of the burlier soldiers was gettin’ loud, so I tore a bit o’ his neck out. Wasn’t clean.”

“I’ll say…” Rosemary mutters.

Tangerine shrugs incredulously. “I didn’t swallow.”

She’s a wolf in spirit now, that’s for certain.

It’s gotten colder. I can’t tell the difference between night and day much anymore, but even a little bit of light has a presence in the Fae, and I can no longer see it. I’m not looking forward to diving into the unknown like this, but the thought of meeting my future in-laws helps me smile through the dread.

At the end of the long sewer, we turn the corner into a brick hallway. It alone is cleaner than all of Fillydelphia, at least as far as we’ve seen. Still, I can imagine that, with the foul scent and lack of sunlight, only those who want to be here would ever come.

At the end of the hallway is a steel door with a window slot. Beyond the door, I see and feel the auras of more red, shattered Blackwings… and one child. One can only wonder what they’re doing to the poor thing.

Rosemary, fearing that she might still be recognized on the other side, pulls her hat down and hides her face from immediate view. I adjust my hood, and Tangerine tightens her scarf around her muzzle.

Wolf River takes the helm, leading us to the door. He turns his head towards the three of us. “Let me do the talking. The Blackwings know me the least.” He smirks. “Mostly because I’ve killed every single one I’ve met. I don’t think I’ll be breaking that streak today.”

Tangerine clicks her tongue. “Too late, you haven’t killed Tohro yet.”

“Yes, but I like Tohro. Therefore, he was never a Blackwing.” He puts his hoof against the door. “No more delays. Let’s save those kids.” A blunt metallic clang rattles my ears as he knocks.

After a few seconds, the window slot opens. The face of a Blackwing comes into view. “What dies when it drinks?” he asks.

Wolf River clears his throat. “Fire, my brother.”

There was an index of riddles scribbled in the corner of Fade’s sales log, on an indiscriminate page. If we hadn’t found them on the journey over, we’d all be in serious trouble.

“Why aren’t you in uniform?” the guard asks.

Wolf River takes a subtle bow. Even with the benefit of knowing he’s lying, there is sincerity behind every word he speaks. “We’re not with the Blackwings, but we’ve sympathized with the intrepid spirit of this rebellion for some time. We wish to look into this secret operation.”

This is good so far. The guard seems more curious than suspicious, and his aura remains steady, if still shredded. “Who sent you?”

“We wouldn’t know. The letter telling us of your location was pieced together with other letters.”

The guard turns away. My heart skips a beat. I look at the auras of the Blackwings in the room again, this time noticing a particularly stable aura belonging to a sitting pony. He turns his head. I think he’s making eye contact with the guard at the door. I wait another agonizing moment, knowing that the whole mission could be torn apart with a single gesture.

The gesture is a nod. That could mean anything.

The guard closes the window. I hear a click on the other side. The door opens.

“You may enter,” a softer voice says from the inside.

I follow Wolf River through the entrance. Contrasting the degrading city that sits above this facility, everything in here can’t be described as anything but pristine. Clean walls, cushioned seats, a rug, there’s a bottle of wine on a glass table… In order to get this all in here, there must be other secret entrances. That, or a powerful unicorn learned how to teleport across rooms. Even I haven’t quite gotten the hang of that; it’s not a matter of strength, it’s a matter of finesse.

The Fae wasn’t lying, there is a child in here. A grey filly sits in the corner, playing with wooden blocks. She looks up from the little house she’s building and waves to us. “Hiya!” she chirps.

I ignore all other ponies in the room and walk over to her, though I remember to pick my words carefully, as I have three Blackwing guards breathing down my neck.

“I don’t think this is a place for children, little one,” I say to the filly. “I suggest that you go home.”

The filly looks offended that I would suggest that. “But me Daddy told me ta stay here until he got back.”

“Hello,” says the soft voice. I turn back around and see the sitting pony, a lilac stallion with a braided maroon mane. He sits at a meticulously organized desk full of papers, quill and ink levitated at his side. “Welcome to my home away from home… My second quarters, if you will. I’m glad you caught me, I was just about to go back upstairs.”

“Who are you?” Tangerine asks. Judging by the tremors in Rosemary’s aura, I can already guess.

“Temerity Blackwing,” he replies, putting the ink down and writing his signature. “Well met, all of you.” He speaks so affably. After all the monsters, both equine or otherwise, that I’ve had to face, it’s surreal to hear this kidnapper talk as if his greatest crime is tax evasion. But I won’t let that get to me. This is somepony I know is responsible for ruining hundreds of lives.

“And you as well, sir,” says Wolf River. Only now do I hear a little of his sincerity disappear.

Temerity stands up and walks around his desk. He has a limp in his left hind leg, further emphasized by the metal brace that comes into view. This explains why he would find sitting behind a desk far more enjoyable “I’m happy to have outsider opinions on my magnum opus, for once,” he says. “Better than the usual array of bootlickers I find myself surrounded by.”

One of the three guards posted around the room grunts. I can’t tell which.

Temerity points accusingly at the guard at the far wall. “Don’t deny me, Arwen, you’re a bootlicker and you know it.” He looks back at us. “I’ve been meaning to broaden the scope of this project. It doesn’t have a future without exposure beyond the Blackwings. Otherwise it’s just masturbatory, if I may be so blunt. So, what do you currently know about the project?”

“I’m led to believe that it’s a sort of facility for reeducation,” Wolf River says. “Something involving children?”

“Of a sort. I would understand if you were squeamish at the thought of children in uncomfortable situations. I won’t pressure you into investing yourselves.” He points to a door behind his desk. “With your permission, I’ll show you what Mistress Shokenda’s most esteemed have created.”

“By all means. Lead the way, Temerity.”

The part that scares me most about Temerity is something I couldn’t confirm until I could get a close look at him. His red aura is entirely intact, and smooth as a sheet of glass.

~Vision End~

~Caro~

It’s not as though every single pony who lives in Fillydelphia is toxic, but it’s hard to keep one’s eye on the pleasant-seeming folk when the downtrodden demand attention.

I suppose I should be happy for the three cheerful children Tohro and I nearly trip over. They don’t seem to care that they live under the oppressive, watchful eye of a deluded matriarch. How long will that blissful innocence last, though? Will it end when their lone, tired mother lets slip her distaste for this city’s pisspoor food stock? The celery she’s negotiating for is still muddled with dirt, for Epona’s sake.

If Everfree is the Equestria I’m trying to preserve, this is the Equestria that I’m trying to save. Trying being the key word here. How do you save a city that believes it’s already been sad?

Tohro and I pass by the ruins of a collapsed house. I expect it to be empty, but for some reason a family of five has taken up residence here. They’re huddled up against one another beneath their meager ceiling space. The overly thin young ones are swaddled between the equally skinny adults on either side of a grossly overweight elderly earthwalker.

“Love? You okay?” I hear Tohro ask. He’s as focused as ever, but I need a moment.

I step into the ruins and shove scraps of wood into a pile near the family. This grabs their attention. I pass a glance and a smile at them, but they just frown at me. The fat one, which is the epicenter of their huddle, scoffs at me. “They already took me son, steal whateva’ ya want.”

My smile disappears. I roll my eyes and let my actions speak for me instead of my lips, aside from one word. “Yul.”

The wood comes ablaze. The adults pull the fat one off his ass and bring the kids over to the fire. Something welcoming to gather around, for a change. “Thank ya, Dragonborn,” says the fat one. “Can I repay ya?”

“No. Feed your kids,” I grunt, turning around and heading back to Tohro. I’m stopped by one of the children tapping me on the hind leg. “Hm?”

The kid’s teeth are yellow like pollen-coated metal and one of his eyes is lazy. He looks up at me and asks, “Dragonborn, are y’gonna fight S’kenda?”

I don’t believe in lying to children. I’ll save them from anything but the truth. “Yes.”

The kid clasps his hooves together and kneels before me. “Please don’t kill ‘er. She’s da only ‘un we can trust anymo’.”

I look up at the family and see that they’re kneeling too, praying to me. Even the fat one is curled over as much as he can be. “Be a noble demon,” he mutters. “Take whatcha want, jus’ don’t leave us widout her…”

The frigid cold has intensified all at once, freezing my hooves to the ground. Or, perhaps, some powerful unicorn has locked my joints so I’m temporarily unable to move. That’s a better reason for me to be rendered immobile than this. I’ve always known that Shokenda needs to die so this war can end and Equestria can be saved. Then, I would turn my attention to Saviikaan.

How can I save those who don’t want to be saved?

“What would you do if Shokenda died?” I ask the family.

“I ‘unno,” says the fat one, his somber expression making him look even more pathetic. “We’d ‘ave nuttin’ iffit weren’t fer ‘er. I ‘unno what I’d believe in if she’re dead.”

Maybe they need to be saved from themselves first. “You have a family. Believe in that,” I say definitively. I turn in place and walk away, like I should have in the first place. “Equestria is going to change, very soon. Come what may, you’ll have to be prepared for it.”

“Please don’t kill ‘er!” the kid squeals.

I didn’t lie to him, at least… I squint my eyes, cringing at the sound of someone other than a Blackwing wishing Shokenda anything but the worst. When I open them up again, I’m treated to the welcome gaze of Tohro, whose sparkling blue eyes calm my anger. Not entirely sure who I’m angry at, but it might be myself.

I look at Tohro, and somehow everything makes sense again. “I didn’t come this far to question where I stand.”

Tohro nods at me. “You’re not here to give them what they want. You’re here to give them what they need.”

It could’ve been any rundown shack in the worst part of this cesspool, but it’s beyond me why Shokenda has touched down in this one specifically. Every house on this road is abandoned, and I doubt anyone is in a hurry to gentrify a district that reeks of blood and piss. There is nothing here for Shokenda.

And yet, as Tohro and I peek around the edge of a brick barrier, we see her, in all her albino glory, standing among the wreckage of an unseeming ruined cottage. Despite her presence being overpowering as ever, she seems distinctly bothered by this place. All the more reason to wonder why she’d be here, but more than that, in the past she was too arrogant to be bothered by anything other than disobedience, or me landing a lucky blow on her. Now she has a look of, dare I say, sadness.

“You have been unruly,” she whispers.

My heart jumps. Tohro pulls me back around the barrier and holds his breath, covering my mouth. We await some sort of magical explosion, or a sea of summoned blades, but nothing comes. After a minute or so, we dare to have another look.

Shokenda is still just standing there, sad and alone. I can’t imagine she ever had any need for friends, but seeing her without anyone to demean or subjugate is almost pathetic. Like a part of her is missing.

“Do we need to do this again?” she whispers, slowly walking to the one unruined cabinet in the room. She opens the top drawer, and pulls out a silk cloth. It looks like it’s wrapped around something round. The cloth drops to the dusty floor, revealing what it contained; a simple white orb with a faint glow.

I gently nudge Tohro and mouth the question, ‘What is that?’

Tohro speaks in the quietest voice he can manage. I lean in close enough that his lips brush my ear. “I think it’s a memory orb…” He takes another look at it, then nods. “Yes… Definitely a memory orb. They’re a Precursor invention. You can use them to get rid of bad memories. I mean, the memory will still be in your head, but the specifics, like sight and sound, go into the orb. The Blackwings use them all the time to forget traumatic battles… I think that’s how I was able to get past all the people I killed. But eventually, I couldn’t forget enough. The emotions kept building up, and I couldn’t take it anymore.”

Shokenda has tapped her horn to the orb. She stands rigid, her eyes closed, remaining in that position.

“What could Shokenda possibly want to forget?” I ask.

“I don’t know and I don’t care.” Tohro puts his hoof on Muramasa’s scabbard. “Before I go, do you want to give this a spin? Across her neck?”

“No.” I summon Excalibur to my hoof. “The last thing I want is to go into a blood rage. I need to keep my composure. Find the right opportunity to strike, then get away. Besides, you can use Muramasa as a threat against anyone who spots you... “ I chortle. “As if that could happen. You’ll be one with the shadows.”

“Caro…” I can see a glint of desperation in Tohro’s frown. His hooves shake, creating the sound of rattling metal. “I’m so scared… I...” he speaks through clenched teeth. “Do you have any idea how many nightmares I have where you don’t wake up from that coma?”

“Probably just as many as I do.” I place my free hoof on Tohro’s, putting his trembling to an end. “I’m scared too… But, you know, I’ve been scared for a long time. When I went under, for a moment, it seemed like I had done enough. Like I had cast a light for my friends to follow. But then there was you. You gave me a reason to wake up. I needed to hear your answer.”

He nods. I notice a few tears escape his eyes. “A-And my answer was yes. So don’t keep me waiting again.”

“...Okay, just a little longer.” I gently pull Tohro against me, his head resting gently against my neck. I keep him there, satiating his reluctance to leave me, and let him blanket me with his wings. Under the cover of hundreds of feathers, the snow lets up its assault on us, and the chilling wind is gone, if only for a little while. Until we muster the courage to move onward, we are each other’s shield. Even Shokenda seems like she’s a whole world away, instead of a few steps.

But those few steps must be crossed. So, with one soft, tender kiss, I tell Tohro, “Good luck.”

Tohro takes me in a tight, warm embrace. “Please don’t die,” he mutters, his voice strained. Even as he takes flight, he doesn’t stop looking at me, and I don’t stop looking at him until he merges with the snowy sky.

I cross over the barrier, and with long, steady strides, move forward. I roll my neck to work out a kink, take a deep breath, twirl Excalibur in my hoof, and step into the house.

Shokenda is gone.

Huh.

Then again, I shouldn’t be surprised. I can’t imagine she would want to maintain a presence here. Besides, what has me more interested than a fight, for once, is that mysterious object of hers. A memory orb… For all of her posturing, Shokenda is still quite the ghost, having come out of nowhere to haunt the world. There must be something about her in this orb that could reveal a debilitating weakness, or at the very least help me understand her more, perhaps allow me to get under her skin.

I reach for the top drawer and pull out the silk cloth. I unveil the orb. It’s mystical in its perfect shape and gentle glow, but also unseeming. One would mistake it for just another magical trinket, and not a very interesting one at that. Considering the hundreds of Precursor artifacts and legendary weapons that lie in waiting for the yearning adventurer, a single glowing orb is hardly noteworthy.

And yet, knowing what this is, I just have to see what it contains. But it’s no good. Touching it without the cloth doesn’t do anything. I touch it to my forehead, but again, nothing happens.

“Damn you…” I growl. If this thing won’t be useful, then it’s wasting my time. What if these precious few minutes are the difference between life and death for Nutmeg and Cinnamon?

After tapping the memory orb to my head a few more times, I get a little rougher. I tap it on the side of a broken table. Nothing. I drop it on the ground. Nothing. What the hell? My one glimpse into Shokenda’s past and it’s sealed inside a fucking rock?!

I hear Rasahrel speak. “Caro, watch your temper.”

“Shut up!” I yell, staring intensely at the memory orb. I growl at it, ignorant of how stupid I might look to a passersby. “Dumb rock!” I throw to the floor and watch it bounce away, undamaged. I stomp in a circle, biting my lip in frustration. With nothing logical left in my head, I ready Excalibur, charge at the memory orb, and bring the blade dow͏̭̜͚̮̜n̶̴̟̲͕͔̳̯͟ ̪̲̯̜̯̗̟̳̹o͖̠͇̙̲͙͎-͔̱͍̩̱͠͡ͅo̙̳͉-͔̳͇o͚͇͖n̥̭̻̲̞̞̗

W͏̸̯̣̝̣̤͈̮̥̪̕h̵̡̩͉́e̶͎̬r̵̵͌͛ͩ̈̐̈̚e am̶̢̨ I?҉ Oh, fuck, my head… It’s nothing but cracks and noise and nails on my skull… I can’t see, I can’t think...

“Oh,” I mutter to myself as I look up. I’m in the same shack as before, but it’s no longer ruined. It’s no palace, by any means, but somehow the walls and ceiling are back, the furniture is restored, and it actually looks like a home. It’s comp͢lete͠ ̵ ͡ ͜ly l̡y͟ restored. “It worked, I... g̶̵ùès͞s̵͘?”

“I warned you thaT was a bad ide͟a-͠a-á-a͞,”̶ Rasahrel murmers to me, “But whẫt’s done is d°ne. Since we’re here, we’d best pay at-10-tԷn-tention.”

I feel sick. It’s like my innards lept back and forth across the room while still being inside of me. “What do ý̷̨ǫ͝u҉ m-mea-an?”

Now that I can focus, and my head is no longer keen to split open, I look at what’s in front of me. Next to the ca͝b̶͘in͝è̡͘t̶̵͠ is a hanged portrait, framed within a scra҉t҉che̡d and scu̸͡f́fed wooden frame. The portrait itself is worn down, but I can’t mistake who it is. Young and proper. A purple mane and a light blue coat. It’s S͡q̧u̴a͜ll.

“...This was Squall’s home?” I ask aloud. “What does he have to do with this? Shokenda was after his time.”

I hear Rasahrel click her tongue. “Guess again, Caro. Turn and see ̶ou̡r̛ ̢e̡n͟emy.”

I do as she says. Sitting in the center of the room, on an ursa fur rug, reading a scroll, is a little albino un̛̓ͮíͤc̷̄̊̈́̐̒o̔ͬͫ͂̅̽̓rn child. I step back, gasping upon realizing who she might be. Even if it’s beyond a reasonable doubt, I don’t want to say she’s who I think she is until someone else confirms it.

“It can’t be…”

“What more must you see to k̨n̢ow̨ the tr҉u̕th̡?”̛

I don’t know… Something. What has me even more confused is the scroll she is reading. After one too many close experiences with their kind, I would recognize an Elder Scroll when I see one. It does not belong in the hooves of a child. But this is the past, so I’m helpless to stop whatever monstrosity is about to occur in front of me.

Once upon a time, in the magical land of Equestria, there lived a beautiful young princess…

Who said that? It sounded like Shokenda, but...

The front door squeaks open, and in walks Squall, a sack of groceries slung over his shoulder. He does not look like the young prince anymore. His hair is short and unkempt. His eyes are sunken and hollow, one of them white and clouded. There is no royalty left in him. “Hm. Still nothing?” he grunts at the child. “You’re u̕͡͝s̶e͘҉ĺ̵es͘s̵̕ as ever, Cloud.”

But the princess did not live in a beauți͓͍f̘u͚͞l ̣̫͝c̷̭̼̜a̢͙̮̺̩s͈̦̝̗͇̣͢t̫͈̲̞̗le. She lived in a humble cottage with her f̵̵̵̧͔͎̼̮̤̗̦̟̮͎̪̝̜̠̟̭̮a̡̙̱̘̬̤̲̯͘͟͡ͅţ̶̱̦̳͍͈̟̫̻̟̞h̶̢͚̬̹͓͉̥͙͉͈̠͘͟͢ͅę̟̲͈̪͞r̜̖̺͔͓̟͔͚͚͔̗̤̪̘̜̮͞.

He thr̵ow̷̡s̨͢ ̡t̛͠he̡̡ ̡s͡a̧̛ᢇ

〽ck aside, letting the moldy carrots and withered potatoes spill out onto the floor. Cloud looks up from the Elder Scroll, wincing at the sight of spoiled food. “You’ll get that if you make a lick of progress,” Squall says to Ç̶̫͉̫̹̠̤͘ḷ̵̸̛̪̜̞̻̟̹̖̺̻̘̗͍͙̗̀o̧͇̩͈̝̙̘u̶̡͔̼̜̮̜̝̹̻̮̜͇̭͕̝͎̗̼̯d̩̠̟̺͔̜̦̯̮͕̯̹̠̟͜ͅ.̸̴̶̳̠̞̘̕

Cloud rubs her eyes and s̶̡̐ͮ͑̔͗̃̒̋t͆̊̿͛͑̆̅̀a̡̅ͧ́̚n̨̽ͩͥ̏̓͋͐̄͢ḑ̏͆s̶ͮ͐̒ͮ̓͊̀͑͜͡ up, her whole body shaking ever so slightly.

I make a stނangled, choking sound. Cloud’s eyes are naturally red like any albino’s, but with an unnat̡u̵͢r̢a͝l̴͢͠ and sticky gleam. I can feel bile burn at my throat as I watch the blood from several popped veins slosh around inside the little filly’s eyes. Small red tears trickle out as her hoof leaves her face.

“Father, my eyes hurt…”

Squall pulls up a chair and sits, glaring at Cloud and the Elder Scroll with fur̛͡í͏̷ous im̶̕͡p̶̵͡a̶͝t͏̵ien͡c͢e. “Get used to it. Keep reading.”

The princess’ father did not want her to go out and play. He wanted her to stay inside and read. The princess did not have very much fun.

Cloud frowns indignantly at Squall and kneels back down, pulling out more of the Elder Scroll and reading further. “Hmph. Well, excuse me…” she mutters, rubbing her eyes again.

“What was that?” Squall snaps at her.

Cloud hides her face behind a portion of the Elder Scroll. “I said nothing, Father.”

“Good. Read.”

And Cloud reads.

I take a close look at her, and every second is more unsettling than the last. Her eyelids twitch frequently, and she makes quiet yet noticeable sounds of anguish, but she still reads, even though the Elder Scroll is clearly hurting her. For all I know, it’s killing her.

It doesn’t matter which. I see the real monster here, sitting in his chair, letting it transpire. Squall, forcing this upon a child, his child… the child who would become Shokenda Blackwing. Shokenda… and the child, Cloud. It’s an answer that only raises more questions, and makes my stomach churn further.

“Keep reading, my child,” Squall says, a dirty smile on his muzzle. “Eventually you’re going to see something b҉ḛ͉͜ā̳͎̉u̾͊҉̗t̴̘̀i̹̙͚ͥ͟f̥͉̻͖̭̫̔͑̽͢u̮̐̄ͩ͡l̢͊.”

Cloud quickly glances up at Squall, with nothing but hate in her eyes. For a brief second, there was Shokenda.

“I don’t get it,” I mutter, still aghast at the sight of my nemesis like… this. “She’s only a child.”

“And you weren’t?” Rasahrel asks.

I stand and walk over to Squall. “And you… How dare you?! You had more than your parents ever did! You were free of their burdens, a bright future ahead of you, and you threw it all away for an insipid fantasy! And now your own flesh and blood suffers for that?! You created a monster! If Equestria dies, it’ll be your fault! But you’d welcome that, wouldn’t you?!”

Rasahrel sighs impatiently “He can’t hear you, little one.”

“I don’t ca엑

ꭌ. Ȼɐꭌ. Caro.” I flinch at Rasahrel’s voice. A sound like crackling wood tells me the memory has cracked again. Squall has disappeared.

I see days pass in mere seconds, each moment a painting that disappears as quickly as it forms. The shadows shift, c̀͒͊̾̀ͮ̽̈́͂o̸ͬ̐ͬͧ̆̀̚n̴̋̄ͤ̅̑̊͗̓͜s̸̸ͪ̍ͦ̄̚u͌̈̄̿̎͘m̐ͧ̎̄̂͢ę̛ͮͦ the room, are gone in the next second, then reaqqear. Cloud and Squall move without moving, blinking aboưt̕ t́h̴̴̸é̷ ̡ŗ̷͘oom as time flashes by. Cloud shifts in her spot on the floor, moving no more than a few inches, at times appearing to sleep, while Squall does as he pleases. Here he reads a book of his own, there he drinks mead, now he’s settling in to more food than he gave to Cloud… I’m going to be sick a̶g̢a͠in.

Is this it? Is this all there is? I’ve seen abuse, but it would take one hell of an unstable mind for this filly to make the jump to Shoken̶͖̫̼̘̟͉̠̩d̶̗͔̬̘̣̻͝͝a.

The memory goes all sherbert and I taste purple stained glass, and everything suddenly snaps into focus. Cloud looks like she’s aged a little, probably a year or two, and with her longer hair and unfocused eyes, I can see a lot more of Shokenda in her now. But she’s still a child, and doesn’t carry the same air of madness or malice as Shokenda, so I’m still at a loss.

Until one day, when the princess decided to attend a formal occasion, unbeknownst to her father.

There’s a commotion outside, one that Cloud takes notice of. She checks around herself, even poking her head into the bedroom, before smiling with conviction, throwing on a fur robe, and stepping outside.

The princess did not see her kingdom as often as she liked. This was the first time she had gone out in the snow.

As the memory drags me with her through the snowfall, I’m treated to the alien sight of the mare that would become Shokenda frolicking. In truth, I can’t blame her. For a moment, she is free of her cruel bonds, walking in a much less ugly Fillydelphia. The buildings stand steady, the roads are clean, and the people seem outright affable. Then again, anything is pretty in comparison to the hellhole I’ve been witnessing. Don’t worry yourself, little one, you’ll ruin this city in due time.

The commotion in question is an impromptu gathering of townsfolk around the marching royal guard, and the pony that they’re guarding. A younger Queen Platinum walks alongside the guards, who all carry etchings I can’t make out from this distance, and neither can Cloud, thanks to the crowd that blocks her path. She can’t get through.

The guards are presenting the etchings to the townsfolk, asking questions along the lines of “Have you seen this pegasus?” and “We are looking for this stallion.”

Platinum herself is speaking to a large green stallion, whose embroidered robes lead me to believe he’s the jarl. Cloud’s eyes are wide, for once from something other than the Elder Scroll. She manages to mosey her way through the crowd to reach the perimeter of guards surrounding the queen.

“Don’t cross the line without permission, kid,” one of the guards tells her.

Cloud looks past the guard and waves her hoof frantically. “Queen Platinum! Your Majesty!”

The queen stops talking to the jarl, noticing Cloud. “Huh? What is it?” she asks, waving her forward.

The guard stands aside and lets Cloud come into the perimeter. “Who is it you’re looking for?” she asks Platinum.

Platinum looks aside, swallowing and sighing. “I’m looking for my son, Prince Squall.” She shows an etching of her own to Cloud. It’s a lifelike recreation of Cloud’s face. Of course, I’d expect a mother to never forget, but to think that she doesn’t know who this filly really is…

Cloud gasps and backs away from Platinum. She moves her lips, but anything that she wants to say refuses to come out. “Say it…” I whisper. “Tell her who you are... Ask her to take you with her.” Cloud is still frozen in shock. “Cloud! Do it! Tell her you’re her granddaughter! Go with her! Stop this war before į͞t́͠ s̕t̵̡̛A͟͠ŗ̸̀t́͢͝͠T̸͠͠s̸̕͞ ͘͏s͏̢̀ ̴̷͢s͜!̢̕͜”҉͜

Rasahrel growls at me. “Caro! She can’͢t̨ ţ̝͖̌̓̊̉̒ c͕͙͉̣̟̀a͕̻͙̻͍͞ņ̪ţ̸͇̳͕͈̙͍̺̦ heear y͝o̶̧̢͢u͞҉̴uu????u????u????_

The princess had discovered who she really was. She was very surprised. She ran home as fast as she could to tell her father.

The memory shifts again, yanking me by my tail until I’m thrown into the cottage. It doesn’t hurt, but it’s disorienting, landing on my back like this in a place several city blocks away from where I just was. I hear breathing in my left ear. I turn over, and immediately leap to my hooves when I see Cloud’s disturbingly reddened eyes staring back into mine. The blood pooled in her corneas slosh disgustingly as she struggles to get off the ground, but is held back by the chains and shackles that bind her.

The princess’ father did not approve of what she told him. He was very cross.

“Say that again, I dare you!” I hear Squall yell, his voice raspy and haggard. Cloud is being held to the ground by him, his dirty hoof forcing her face into the wrinkled Elder Scroll. Every time she shifts under his weight, he forces harder. “Say it!”

Cloud grits her teeth and yells, “I! Am! A! P̶̧̖͍̤̼̰͞ŗ͠͏̩̹̼̪̺͓̝͓̘̜̘̦̬i̮̣͈̲̥̝̭̭̖͈̕ͅņ̸̛͖̟͍̝͇̙̹̀̕ͅc͝͏̯͓̭̻̝̲͕͈̠̦̬͙͞͞e̴͈̘̖̝͉͙̳̩̠̩͎̖͉̞͈̬̬͜͟s̵̲̜̹͎͉̕͜͠s͙̦̣͖̗̝͍̯̘̹̙̻̀͢͟!”

Squall punches her in the jaw. She screams and pulls on the chains, but only for a moment before Squall covers her mouth. “You are not,” he hisses. “I am not a prince, and you are not a princess. There is nothing between us and the Empire.”

Cloud thrashes her head and pounds the floor, even as Squall keeps her silent.

Once she stops struggling, and the sound of rattling chains fades, Squall uncovers her mouth and continues talking. “Even if there was, you’re better off with me than with their kind. Don’t you know that’s why I keep you here? Their kingdom is not one that you deserve. You deserve a new Oly̶͢͝m̸͠p͡us. A kingdom on mig̡͜h̛t̸y ̢win̛ǵ́͡s̨̀! A new age of pegasi, keeping people safe, destroying those who would take such glory from us! That will be our kingdom, Cloud! And you’re trying to take it from us.”

“I don’t want that kingdom!”

Squall punches Cloud again, then lets her go. “You don’t kn҉̴̶́ò̕͝w̨͘͜͏ ͜͝͏w̶͠͞͠ḩ̵̶͘̕a̡͝͝t you want.” He walks around her, punctuating his ranting with hard kicks to her body. “I was betrayed by that bl⧞d traitor who calls himself a king, and his whore is no better.”

“That’s my gran̸̛͘͞d̷̕͝m̶̀o̴̶͞t̸her, you—”

“WHÔR̒E̸͋!̊͑̑"̈͊̽̓͂̚ Squall turns on her and bucks her so hard she turns over, curling into a ball to grip her stomach. “Don’t you dare betray me too. I won’t let you.” He lets out a long, distressed breath, and turns towards the dining area. He goes to the cupboard, opens up a drawer, and pulls out a knife.

I feel my hackles rise as the atmosphere in the room suddenly becomings suffocatingly heavy with malice. Squall pins Cloud to the floor again and holds the knife to her horn. Cloud opȩ᷂ͬn͌̒ͅs̄͟͜ h͚̲̹e̵᷉̓ŗ̗͖͕̱̝̀͠ ̴̶̹̜̺̺̘̹͘͟͜ͅe̸͓̰̳̳̳͈͚͉̦̫̲y̷̶͉̖̘̗̜͍̺͖͓̤͉̫͇͢ȩ͍̣̹͓̕͘͜͞s̢̗̹̞̣̜̺͡

“̨͟͝Ì̢ ̢҉̨͟ w͝҉̴ i̧̛̕͢͡ļ̸͝͠ l͢͡҉̀ ̡͝͏s̷̷̀ h͟͟o̵̷̧͡ w͏̶̷ ̢̛̕͜͡y̶͝҉ o̕͏̶͜͟ú͟͝͠ ̨́͠t̕͟͡ŕ̴ u̷̷͠ e̴̶͡͏ ̧̢҉̡ b̵̕͜e̸̕͠ a̶̢͝u̡̡͡t̸̛͜ y̛͞҉͠҉ .̸͢”͢͠

I̧͊͆ͣ’͛͌ͮ͗҉m̎͑ͥ͢͢ ̧̢͂ͭͮ͗s̏̃̀ť̸̡̽ͣͥͫ̓̾͛́a͌͌̌͆n̨̔̇d̏̒́͠i̢ͧͤ̅͊̌̀̏͝ṅ͌̀̀͞g͗͊ͥ̽͋͝ i̶̕n̴̢͏ ̴͡f͜͞r͝o̴n̷͢͟ţ͘͡ ҉̷҉o͝f̀̀͟ ̵a pǎ̸ͧ̆̒̊͊ͩn͐̓͊̽͂̓ͩ̍̚͘͢͞ĭ͋͏̡c͆ͭ̎̀ked and thrasḩ͌i͗ͥ̑͢͜͡ņ̉͆̉̽̕g Squa͏̸l̛l. He points through me, accùs̡i̛n҉gly, slowly stepping back. “Who the h̢͡҉̵͉̻͓̦̼̥̬̰̯͔̯̪̜̮̭̫ͅé̷͠҉̪̞̪̰͈̞̭̙̜͎͞l̵͖̥̮̤̙̻͓͘͝ͅͅĺ̖̼̯̺͕̲̹̳̦͉̺͎͍̠͎̰͟͟ are you?! Give me back my daughter!”

I turn and see Shokenda standing among the ruins of the cottage’s front wall. She’s smiling imperiously down at me. Through me. At Squall, but it feels like her gaze is penetrating reality itself so she can glare at my soul, and every dragon that lies within me. I tear my eyes from hers and look her up and down. Wings have appeared on her back, blood a mixture of red and gold oozing down her sides, though only one wing is filly attached. The other is bent and warped, hanging on by muscle tissue alone.

The princess decided to put ͘h͜e̛r̶ ͘p̴aśt ̶b̢ehind̨ h̕er.

Her eyes are bleeding freely, the red draining as it is replaced with gold. Her pupils spasm as they contort into draconic slits. Her gums shimmer with gold as her teeth carve themselves into dangerously sharp fangs. I have never seen Shokenda in her truest form until now.

“She does not want to be your d̸au̸̕ǵ͝h̶̡t͘͞e̢r anymore.”

“I’m… I’m sorry, Cloud, please… Don’t be this! I’ll give you anything you want! I’ll let you be a princess, just please come back to me as you were!”

“She does not want to be a princess either. She grows tired of you insipid equines and your delusions of grandeur. She chooses to evolve beyond the chains in which you have bound her. In the place of a princess, y̴O̡U̕̕ w̢̨i̶͘Lļ̛҉ ̕h͟͡͏Av̷̕̕e̛͞ ͢͝͠A͡ ͢G̀͟O͠͠Dd̶È̸͡s̵̢̨S.̶̶”̷̛

Squall flinches, and so do I.

The ̡p͠rince̸s͢s͟ had̷ learned̨ ͝t̀o b͝e̡lìeve̶ ͘in h͏e͘rse͘l͞f͞, an̶͝d͝͡ ̡͜l̴i͏v̡̀ę̀͡ ͏̷̨h̸͞e҉̵͏r͏̷ ͏̶l̢͢i̧̢͘f̸͜͏e͏ ̶t̴҉͝ǫ͟ ̨t͞he҉̀ ̕f̢́͘ư̴̕ll̶es͜t̢͞.҉͏

“She will allow you to apologize to Her. If you are sincere, you will live.” Shokenda puts out her hoof. Her horn, cracked and jagged, glows gold, and Squall is pulled through me, suspended by his neck in front of her. He gags and gasps for breath. “Go on, little horse. Talk.”

“I-I… I…” Squall chokes out. “I-I’m s-s-s…”

“Hm?” Shokenda tilts her head.

Squall puts on a pathetic, desperate smile. “Cloud, please, it’s me… Daddy… I’m s-so, so sorry…”

Shokenda nods. “Again. Make sure she hears you.”

I hear the broken chains rattle. The rusted spike that holds them to the floor is removed by Shokenda’s aura.

“I’m sorry, Cloud…”

The spike rotates until it is pointed directly at the back of Squall’s head.

“Again,” Shokenda whispers.

Squall whimpers like a little foal, having given up struggling against her aura, while the spike flies at him. “Ì'̧͘m ṣ̰̬́o̸̦̯͠r͠͏͇̹̤̰̞̯̭̘͢r̙̖͍̕y̩y̛҉̡ý̧͘ý̶̢͜y̢҉̀͘y̵̨͜͝͝y̸͘͘͞Ý̡͟͠͝Y̢̕͞Y͜͏͠Y҉̷Y̸̴͖̩̤̖̪̺̼͎͟Y͡҉͏͈̝͓̮y̵͙̮Y̳̯̲̮̝̜͟ͅy̴̻̭̲̝̩̼͓͉͜͞ỳ̷ͅy̴͇̮͟Y̴̺̪͓̖͓̖͢!̨̨̧͙̱̥̯Y̶͙͙͕̩̭͕͉̺̩͖͚̬̬͖͇̠̫̩Y҉̡̘͓̪͇̤̥̣̝̳̤͔͖Y͚̣̖̤̻̯͈̣̼̞̹̳͟͞Y̷̧̡̧̞̰̙͕͇̝̰̰͇̻̰̤͠Ý̳͓̙͖͎͈̖͕̥̞̠̳̜͖͘Y̨̡̛̼͕̪̖͕̺̙̰̙̺̦̫̟̜͚̠͖͜͞ͅY̴̡̡̪̰̠̞͍̙̱̗̠̘̺͕̞̫̲͟͟ͅY҉̢̡̩̺̲͎̫̕͡ͅY̨͚̳̖̪̫̬̼̜̦̘Y͕̻̻͈̞͢͞Y̕͟͠҉͖̫̙͓̫͓̻̯̤̩̯̻Y̶̨̠̲̻͚̗̺̪͖̹̤̼̣͔͕͇̣͍̻ͅY̷̗̙̪̮̪̗̙̳Y͘͡͡͏͏͎͖̮͍̺̩̣͕̭͉̥ͅY̡̰̼͕̠̗̠͓̭̺̙̝͚̰̭͝Y̵̙͍̮̤̱͞Ý̢̗̳̹̤̪̭̪̯̫̩̰͚ͅÝ̴͕̝̫̦͍̲͍̥͖̤͉̮̰͚͕̜͓͢͝͞ͅY̰̰̻͕̠̯̖͍͇͓̗̜̮͜͜͠͡Y͞҉̛̥̻͙̖̮͓͞Ý̡͏̦̭̭͔̦͙̩͈̱̙Y̸̟̞͎͔̺̤̟̪̳̰̫̹͈Y̷̜̟̙̱͎̝̭͙͓̲͈͢͠͠Y̸҉̡̱͈̱̖̹̯͙̭̬̤̩̥̹͇͍̥͖̦ͅY̤͍̼̘̺̗̫̻̫͇̼̬͟͠Y̵̢̰͇̱̲͍̦̺̻͕̲̼͙̫̖̻̯͞ͅͅY̗̮̗̮͖̙̩͈̖͙̭̝̳̦͕̩͜͜͠Y͇̻̭͉͢yY̵̴̨̱̰̤̣͔̪̗̬̬̠͠͠Ỳ̷̷̯̪͎̰̺̮̙̣͟͠Ỳ̖͚͇͔̭̥̥Y̛҉̮̮͔̮̞̯̱̼̹̖̩͖͇͎̘̟̜Y̷̵̰̞̻͙̩̹̤̻̗̼̞̠͚̦͔̘͈̰̼
_͙̠̭̰͙͚͍̦͔̹͚̻̜̱͘͟ͅ_̶́͢͏̻̪͎̤͔͕̘̤͔͔̦̘̰̣_̸̨̢͖͎̩̺͖͠ͅ_̱̞͓̩̺̗̦̳͍̗̱̖̀͟_̴̻̼͓̮̖͔͉͝_̡̧̝̗̳̘̘̻̯͖̼͉̣̙͈ͅ_̷̙̖̩͔̻͎͖͈̳̹̳̱̮͙͎̤́͢͝_̷͙̣̹̻͇̫̠͈̗̜̩͖̻̦̯͡͝_̸̝̙̬̪͈̩͕̖̱͙͕͡ͅ_̧͏̸͖̹̮̱͔͇̥̩̫̯̘͖̩͕͔̤͉_̗͙̰͙͇̳̪̻̭͙͕̱̣͓̹̣̳͎́̕͜ͅ_͏̧͚̘͔̹̥̻̹̱̝͔̻͉̹͇̥̭̱̼̕̕_̨̢̧̙̜͈̞̰̥̗̳̜͔̗̺̯̼̖̙_̡͎̟̱̳̜̠̯̲̞͔̙̹̞̱͈͉̞͠_̺̻̣͍̝̦̯̹̮̹͔̥͙̝̻̮̣̯̭̕_͏҉͇̟̻̳̙̤̟͢_̢̣̜̭̹̩̲̀̕͡_̢̢̗̯͍͍͟͡_̶̶͢͠͏͚̮͇͙̹̣̰͈̗̙̹̝̝̭̼͙̘̬_̛̥͓̝͓̤͈͈̩̞̜͟͡͡_̀͞҉̸̬̥̩̻̰̲͔̩̝͇͠_̢͏̸̼͍͖̱̗͇̥̬̪̲̜͡And the princess lived happily ever after._̶̵͝͏͇̰͍̖͖̥̫̳ͅ_̵̷̨̢̠̹̘̙̲͚͖͚͚̣̖͈̪̤͎̳͚̞̰͘_̡̡͕̳̙̠̰͔̥_̴̵̢̰͕̻̀̕_̢̡̼̖̱̲̭̥̪͉́͘ͅ_̶̢̹̥̯̻̹̻͔͟_̵̵̡͍͔̥̭̤̼͙̩͍͜͝_̧̜̮̣͉̜͕͙̹̟̰͚̦̫͢͠͝ͅ_̵̰̟̬̖̘̠̹̠̭̯͇͙̞͙͞ͅ_̪̦̫̫̠̜̪͖̱̮̺̥̮̮́̕͜͡͡_̴̘̜̭̜̭́͘_̵̵̨̪͍͓̪͚͙̦̻̀͜_̷̡̹̖̞̱͚̖̟͖̰̰̮͚̬̀ͅ_͖͉͉͎͈̮͈̗͖̻͉̜̬̥͙̙̀̕͝_̷̷̞̳̰̲͉̀͝͡ͅ_

“Little one!” Rasahrel pleads. “Caro, my sweet, please get up.”

I resist the urge to scream as my eyes fly open. I feel the cold air on the many beads of sweat that coat my face and neck. I’m panting like a feverish dog, clutching my pounding heart like it’s about to break. As I turn over and make an effort to stand up, I see blood drip onto the floor. My nostrils are bleeding. I take my disguise jacket off and wipe my muzzle clean of red.

“How long was I out?” I ask Rasahrel.

“I’d estimate an hour. You had me and the others so worried… You wouldn’t stop twitching.”

At first, an hour doesn’t seem so bad. It wouldn’t be if it were any other day. But not right now. I gasp and growl, furious at myself. “Son of a bitch!”

“It’s okay. An hour isn’t too long.”

“Yes, it is!” I throw the jacket aside and start marching. “It’s long enough for Shokenda to crack down on the first sign of a disturbance! Tangerine and the others might need my help! If Tohro slipped up, he’d be dead by now, or worse…” I feel faint. It’s like claws gripping my heart. “Oh, please, don’t let me be a prophet…” I shake it off as well as I can before galloping out of the wreckage.

“Caro! Your coat!” Rasahrel shouts.

“Huh?” I hesitate just long enough to notice that Shae’s disguise spell has worn off. My coat has returned to turquoise, and a quick glance at my mane and tail reveal that they’re grey again. “Shit! What am I going to…”

I notice a flickering glow in the corner of my eye. Beneath the broken table is the memory orb. Excalibur left a noticeable crack in it. I did that, and it revealed to me what Shokenda really is. Beneath those fake wings and towering figure, gifted to her by an Elder Scroll, she is just a scared, whining little child who hates her daddy dearest. If I weren’t so panicked, I’d be laughing.

Still, this makes the thought of facing Shokenda much less terrifying. Now I can get under her skin for a change. It’s not as though that skin is even real to begin with. Once the truth spills out, and it’s made known that their beloved future queen is a false god, the Blackwings’ loyalty to her is sure to rattle. After all, if they can’t trust her to be what she claims to be, how could they trust her to lead them to victory?

I pick up the memory orb and tear an old curtain off a broken window. “Rasahrel, do you know what I’m thinking?” I ask, wrapping the curtain around me and hiding my face.

“Yes. And I think it’s a wonderful idea.”

“We’re coming for you, Cloud.”

LII - Children

Metal Taggart is a young grey stallion, and a newly inducted Blackwing. One week before today, he hitched a ride to Fillydelphia on a produce caravan. After arriving, he’d marched up to the gates of Ysgramare with nothing but a cloth tunic, a blue cape and a makeshift spear, and pleaded with the higher-ups to let him be a part of their revolution, so he might lead Equestria to the promised era of harmony that the founders had failed to deliver.

This is his first day on patrol, and it’s off to an unusual start. His bunk is shared with a larger stallion who still has his forelegs wrapped tightly around him. Sore, and a little shameful, Metal Taggart removes himself from the grip of the stallion, whose name he can’t remember, and gets out of his bunk. He retrieves his scale tunic, blue cape, and spear, then sets off through the barracks. He thinks he sees movement in his shadow, but it passes by too quickly for him to identify if it was just his imagination. He can’t be bothered with it; he isn’t on patrol duty today. His job is guarding the front gate of Ysgramare.

It’s cold, it’s boring, and it’s uncomfortable, but he loves it. He knows that it’s because of ponies like him that a god like Shokenda can rest easy and calculate her next course of action in reclaiming this land for the little people who believe in a truly peaceful kingdom, not one ruled by an elitist so-called empire. And with the Dragonborn dead at the gorge, who would stop her?

Metal Taggart and his fellow soldier ready their spears as a suspicious figure ascends the steps, his cloak billowing in the wind, his face concealed. As he approaches, Taggart crosses his spear with his ally’s in front of the door, blocking entry.

“Halt, citizen. No one sees Shokenda without an official summons,” Taggart says. His voice is still meek, but he expects he’ll grow into the role of a soldier in time.

The figure drops his hood. He’s a burly, turquoise stallion with a wild grey mane and slits for pupils.

“Dragonborn?!” Taggart shouts, pointing his spear at the specter. “Y-you’re supposed to be… How did you survive the acid dragon?!”

The Dragonborn tilts his head. “You all thought I was dead? Well, that could have come in handy… I’m here to see a brat named Cloud. You might know her as Shokenda.” He takes off the cloak and throws it at Taggart, who catches it with his face. “Burn that. I don’t need it anymore.”

“What… Who the hell is Cloud?” Taggart asks, fumbling over getting the cloak off of his face. Once he throws it aside. He notes that It’s not even a cloak at all, it looks like a ratty, moth-eaten curtain.

“That’s not important. Shokenda would have you bring me to her anyway, so I’m just saving you the trouble. How about you do away with the spears and let me through?”

Unpleasant surprises aside, Taggart is rather intrigued at the possibility of being the one who leads Shokenda’s sworn enemy right to her, despite the confusion over him being alive. Thanks to him, she’ll be able to finish the job. With an approving nod from his ally, Taggart retracts his spear and holds out his hoof. “Weapons.”

“No, thanks. I brought my own.” The Dragonborn taps Taggart on the cheek, strides right past him, and opens the front gate on his own.

Taggart blinks, then scowls at Caro and his obviously unarmed self. "Of course, a stallion that need only shout to attack has no need to carry a blade. I'd call for a muzzle or bit, but I doubt your voice is a match for Her Preeminence's."

Caro doesn’t even look at Taggart as he marches inside Ysgramare, the doors closing behind him. “Trust me, kid. Beneath all that posturing, she’s just a scared little girl.” He pauses. “Oh, and you have about five minutes to leave before this place burns to the ground.”

The doors slam shut. Taggart looks nervously at his ally. “Wow, I do not like this day…”

CHAPTER LII - CHILDREN

~Caro~

The thick and tall hallways of Ysgramare are cleaner than the whole of Fillydelphia. Another rookie guard, a twitchy female pegasus, drops her spear at the first sight of me and immediately turns and flees. She points at me as she ducks into another hallway. “DRAGONBORN! THE DRAGONBORN LIVES! THE DEAD WALK AMONG US!!”

The other Blackwings look at her as nothing more than a bother, approaching me without any sense of hesitation. Four of them gather around me. I roll my eyes and continue forward despite them, only to be greeted by two steel blades, a spearhead, and an axe up against my neck in a circle.

“Let’s try that again…” I say, my throat brushing against the blade as I speak. “I’m here to do your jobs for you.”

“Spare us the mouth, Caro,” the Blackwing in front says. “Protocol dictates that you are to be muzzled before speaking to our mistress. Boys?” He gestures to his fellow soldiers.

“Aren’t you curious about how I survived?” I ask with a sly grin.

“No. Just pissed off.”

At least they have the decency to pull my mane back before wrapping muzzle straps around my mouth. The muzzle itself isn’t enough to hold my mouth closed, but it will make use of any Thu’um more difficult. I’ll have to pick one that doesn’t require me to move my jaw too much.

“You’ll be taken to Shokenda fully guarded. Do not step away from us, or make any sudden movements. If you do not comply, your actions will be taken as a threat, and you will be at our mercy. When in Shokenda’s presence, she is your mistress as much as ours. There will be snipers and additional armed guards. You will speak only when spoken to, and will not let your responses last longer than thirty seconds. If you do not comply, your actions will be taken as a threat, and you will be at Shokenda’s mercy. Do you have any requests before we take you to the throne room?”

“Shut up.”

“No. Come along.”

Blades at my neck, surrounded by soldiers confident that I’ll be dead within minutes. It’s as nostalgic as honey biscuits.

I hear Rasahrel breathing heavily within me. She sounds as concerned as ever. ”You haven’t taken any dragon souls since the last time you faced Shokenda,” she reminds me. “Will revealing the truth be enough to bring her to your level?”

I shake my head. “Probably not,” I whisper.

”I know our goal isn’t victory, merely distraction. Still, you can’t trust Shokenda to just let you walk away after our friends’ jobs are complete. You’ll have to do enough damage to take your leave.”

“I have a means. Remember the Thu’um that I used against those wolves? The one that Kyne taught me?”

”Drem. Ov. Yes, I remember. It’s a peacekeeping shout. Do you intend on using it on Shokenda?”

“It’s a longshot. I don’t know if it will be powerful enough without the third word, but if I can quell her, perhaps I can use the orb to reveal her secret. I’ll just need to wait for a moment of opportunity, then speak the words, and bring Cloud into the spotlight. Even the Blackwings won’t follow her after finding out what she truly is.”

I feel Rasahrel’s pleasant shock within me. ”Caro... I’m genuinely impressed.”

“This will be violent. I might scream a bit, but I won’t lose myself to my anger this time. When I fought Shokenda at the gorge, rage guided my body. This time, I have something else in my heart. Someone else. It’s not much, but it’s at least a little I have over Shokenda.”

”A little? Caro, I’ve lost track of how much of Tohro I see in here. I hate to quote Shokenda, but even my kind understands how powerful love can be.”

“That being the case…” The door to the throne room isn’t far ahead. I smile and look down, pretending as though Rasahrel is right in front of me. “Well, from where you’re standing, it should be obvious how I feel.”

Now I feel warmth coming from my chest. ”Caro…”

The Blackwings nudge their weapons against me. “We can remove your tongue if you can’t control it,” one of them says.

“Don’t be a wiseass,” I say. “You’re the prisoners here, not me.”

~Vision End~

~Shae~

We’ve been standing in the most uncomfortable place I’ve ever been in for about an hour now. A hallway full of iron doors, stretching on for far longer than it should. To anyone else, it would just be as it seems; iron doors, possibly containing prisoners, or weapons, or perhaps the many kidnapped children…

It’s the children. But it’s not just a few. Every locked room, from here to the end of the hall, is filled with four children, all of them sleeping on their backs, all of their auras perfectly still. If I focus hard enough, I can hear their collective breaths, and they’re all the exact same.

Ever since Temerity had to briefly take leave, Tangerine, Rosemary, Wolf River and I have already tried knocking on the doors. There aren’t any locks to pick, and the sealing is too strong for me to burn away. There’s no way to break these kids free without make a scene, and I won’t be putting them in danger.

Temerity comes down the stairs, mumbling to himself as he looks over a few notes. He folds them up and jams them in his bag.

“I’m sorry that took so long. Apparently there’s been a disturbance among the populous. Some bloke in a robe, and suddenly Shokenda is too busy torturing a prisoner to actually deal with it… Sometimes I despise being second in command, just kill me now…”

We’ll get to that.

“I have to return to my office… My actual office, the one that Shokenda knows about. But that’s no reason to end the tour. I’ll leave you in equally capable hooves.” He approaches a wall-bound bell and rings it.

After a few seconds, all of the iron doors open at the same time. At first, I think it’s a mechanism, but then I focus on the auras of the children, and see that they all opened the doors in unison, down to the second. They moved before I even noticed; their Auras still and silent as grave markers. They all emerge from their rooms, the doors again moving all at once to close, and stand perfectly aligned on either side of us, their eyes unblinking, their bodies still. It’s a gallery of multicolored equine statues.

“Good morning, soldiers,” says Temerity in a proud, sweet voice as he walks along the dozens upon dozens of stationary children. That, among other things, makes me cringe. “That was just a drill. This is the one hundred and fifty-second day in a row that you’ve all risen from your bunks with perfect punctuality and synergy. Splendid.”

“Thank you, sir,” all the children say, terse and lifeless.

Rosemary gasps quicker than she can cover her mouth. I can see her eyes starting to water. Wolf River and Tangerine’s auras are pulsating faster by the second.

“Incredible, isn’t it?” Temerity asks, before looking back down at the children. “Unfortunately, we couldn’t get any zebra children or gryphons. The former is too rare for people to not notice an absence, and touching the gryphons puts us at risk with the Thieves Guild. Not that it’ll matter much in the end, but this was our best option.”

“In the end?” Wolf River asks.

Temerity smiles widely. “Anxious to see where this is going, are we?”

“Yes,” Tangerine says. I can see her aura crack with that one word.

“Well, you’ll find out the purpose of this project in time, but the process is what’s most important. To put it simply, let’s save dessert for after the meal.” He clears his throat. “Number Six! Number Ten! Number Twenty-Four!”

Three of the children step forward. One girl, and two boys. “Orders?” they ask.

Temerity takes the scraps of paper out of his pack and hands them to one of the children. I presume she is Number Six. Or, the pony he would call Number 6. She has a name, by Fauste’s horn.

Number Six, Number Ten and Number Twenty-Four read the paper. Six then gives it back to Temerity. “Understood.” She stiffly turns towards us. “We will show you how Temerity Blackwing will revolutionize warfare in Equestria.”

“Bother me in my quarters if you need anything,” Temerity says, going back upstairs and waving goodbye to us. “Otherwise, wait back at the entrance and I’ll meet up with you. Then we can discuss your first impressions.”

Judging by the queasiness plain as day on Rosemary’s face, along with the overly grim expressions of Wolf River and Tangerine, I’m surprised our first impressions aren’t explicit enough already. Temerity must be blinded by arrogance, truly.

“Follow us,” the three children say simultaneously, as the several dozen others all return to their rooms. Again, in perfect, statuesque unison.

~Vision End~

Temerity ascends a spiral stone staircase to the top level of the barracks, muttering to himself all the while as he checks through his papers. He makes sure he has everything on file, just in case he has to make a gallop for it. When he reaches the top level, he opens the door and steps out into the outdoor training grounds. The shooting range and obstacle courses are buried underneath piles of snow. Shovels that were being used to do away with the snow have been left abandoned, much to Temerity’s distaste.

“Our evacuation procedure calls for calm and orderly removal from the area, and that includes proper disposal of utilities. Whoever was on sanitorial duty today will have three days in the barracks to think about what they’ve—” Temerity’s ranting is cut off by a sudden frigid gust. He shivers, props up his coat and hurries along the ramparts to his quarters. “Just a few more documents and I’m gone with the wind… Preferably away from this wind.”

He descends into the authority section of the barracks, walking past the many commanding officers’ abandoned quarters until he comes to the end of the hall, where his room resides. He opens it, enters quickly, and shuts the door.

“Don’t worry about it too much… A bit of a vacation, then I can finish the procedure…”

“And what procedure would that be, Temerity?”

Temerity swings around in a flash, levitating a knife from his belt. He gasps and bites his lip when he sees an old face sitting in his chair, hind legs crossed on the desk. A white pegasus with a braided blonde mane. “Tohro Blackwing. I’ll be damned. Just when I thought I’d never see you again… I suppose my good fortune had to run out eventually.”

“The Divines work in mysterious ways. They’d have to, else it’d be a perfect world and stains like you would be washed from the world already.” Tohro waves gleefully. “Lock the door and have a seat. I just want to talk.”

“Uh, no.” Temerity turns back around and reaches for the door. He quickly pulls his hoof back when a crossbow bolt grazes it, piercing the door’s frame.

Tohro has his crossbow drawn. Temerity realizes how foolish he was to expect anything less from him. “Did I stutter?” Tohro asks. “Sit down.”

Temerity still finds it in him to chuckle at this absurdity. He does as Tohro says, pulling up one of his less comfortable chairs and sitting at the other side of the desk. “So, are you here to kill me, or do you seek a polite discussion?”

“I’m here to make things simple.” Tohro puts his hind legs down, along with his crossbow, and pulls out a wingblade. “See, you don’t really have anywhere to go, since I can kill you at a full sprint. I, however, have a meeting to attend, so it’s up to you to decide how much this hurts. Put your foreleg on the desk.”

Temerity reluctantly does so, keeping an eye on the wing blade over his foreleg as he asks, “What would you like to know?”

“What you know.” With a smirk, Tohro presents a leather binder full of documents, and tosses it onto the desk. “I had a look through your private cabinet. Took a quick peek at your writing until I found what I was looking for. You’re still as apt with a quill as you’ve become at kidnapping children.”

“I never touched the childr— AGH!” Temerity’s comment is cut off by Tohro’s wing blade slicing through his foreleg. He tries to retract it, but Tohro slams his hoof down on it, keeping it in place. “What the hell?!”

Tohro points the wing blade at Temerity’s face, close enough for it to be blurred in his close vision. “I figured I should let you know how thin my line of patience is, and how much bullshit I’m willing to put up with.” His smile grows wider, but his eyebrows are low and furious. “Both are very small. But, on the bright side, you get to decide where I cut next. Isn’t this fun?”

“You’d think so, but…” Temerity retracts his to-be comment when he sees Tohro flick the wing blade. “Okay, okay, let’s get this over and done with.” He uses his free hoof to turn the binder around and open it. “There was a lot of preliminary study to all of this, so I’ll just skip to the actual execution of the project.”

“Now he understands…”

Temerity finds the page Tohro would be looking for and taps it with his hoof. It shows a set of horse-shaped black armor.

~Caro~

The dozens of Blackwings standing guard in the throne room gasp and step back at the very sight of me. I smile and chuckle in response.

I’d expect Shokenda to make a show out of how much she’d expected me to survive, but even she can be surprised. As I’m brought before the throne, I see her eyes widen. “Caro, why don’t you ever do as I wish?” she asks. “I wanted you to join me and you refused. I wanted you to become strong and you refused. I wanted you to die from Almoskir’s toxin and you refused. You wound me.”

Her words mean nothing to me. I shrug. “Good.”

She sighs and shakes her head. She then waves her hoof at the Blackwings surrounding me. “Put your weapons down. If a venomous dragon can’t kill him then there’s no point. Leave him for me.”

“So the dice falls on murder today, does it?” I ask, breathing as the discomfort of metal near my neck disappears. “Best put me down before midnight, or you’ll have to decide between my life or death again.”

“Already we tread traveled ground. I told you, live or die, you serve me in the end. But today, you’ve appeared to me when I need you the least. I thought you dead. This war is at a lull, and I am in no mood for a fight. Tell me why you’re here and leave.”

I’m glad she’s not wasting time waxing her own masturbatory fantasies, for once. I also appreciate that she’s confessed to impatience. She’s not the only one. I decide to start with the original reason I was going to confront her. “I know you have Smart Cookie. Have you got what you need out of him?”

“Yes… Unfortunately, it’s not relevant to what I want. Shame. You can have him back.” Shokenda looks expectantly to her left. From out of a door comes two Blackwing elites dragging an unconscious, naked Smart Cookie along the floor. His lacerations are deep, but they’ve been cauterized. While I’m grateful that he won’t be bleeding out, that just paints a more unpleasant picture as to what was so important about a Precursor tomb.

As Smart Cookie is dropped before me, I realize that Shokenda has revealed something to me, albeit unintentionally, that confirms my suspicions. “So you need a Precursor tomb… Not just any, though. A specific tomb, holding something you need. It’s nothing but power with you, so it has to be some sort of ancient weapon.”

“Come now, Caro. After all you’ve been through, you must know that the most powerful Precursor weapon isn’t a construct. It’s you. But what good is a weapon that doesn’t do what its wielder wishes? Then again, what good is a kingdom that doesn’t do as its leader wishes?”

“This isn’t that sort of kingdom,” I say defensively. “Equestria’s citizens aren’t pawns, and they would never bow to you.”

Shokenda tilts her head. “Really?” Her horn glows gold.

I feel like hundreds of pounds of metal have been dropped on my back. My forelegs shake and buckle. I look around and see the surrounding Blackwings are experiencing the same thing, being forced to bow to Shokenda. They give in with smiles. I struggle, forcing myself to remain standing, no matter how much the weight increases. It hurts, but not nearly as much as other things.

“You equines are but things. Rocks. Leaves. Any force strong enough to move you is dominant, and you will be subservient. You are slaves to time, age, life and death, the need to eat, the need to sleep, even your own emotions.”

“We still have control…” I growl, keeping my head up, maintaining eye contact with Shokenda. “A rock can’t want…”

“Then why should you? Platinum and the late king filled your cups with empty promises when they took control over this lawless land, and your cups ran over. The seeds of discontent were sown. I chose to be the reaper. Now I will make a better kingdom, one where there will be no wants or needs for anything other than what is already perfect.” Her eyes shine, blotting out her irises and pupils, making her seem even more emotionless. “Because there will be no wanting.”

I’m taking on a golden glow of my own, one summoned from within, accompanying a loving warmth in my heart. The combined strength of every dragon soul I’ve taken. “I… won’t… HAVE IT!!” My muzzle breaks, falling to pieces below me. I stand up, tall and proud, above all the Blackwings that surrender to Shokenda. She grits her teeth at me. ”Stop acting like your words mean anything! I didn’t come to hear you wax your pathetic hatred for my people. I came to show your loyal ones what you really are.”

“This is what I am,” Shokenda says defiantly.

I pull the cracked memory orb from my pouch. I don’t need to use Kyne’s shout just yet. All I need is this. ”You shouldn’t lie to your elders, Cloud.”

Shokenda flinches.

I throw the memory orb on the ground, summon Excalibur, raise it, point it at the orb, and bring it down. It pierces the orb, causing it to shake, more cracks appearing in the surface. This isn’t quite what I had planned, but as the cracks grow, I see a way I can make this work. I leave the orb be, dispelling Excalibur, turning around and shouting ”WULD!” I dash to the entrance, then turn around and watch as the memory orb explodes. A flash of distorted images burst from the orb, washing over the room. I back up against the door and pray to Dragos that I won’t be caught in another hour-long memory trip.

The light fades. Almost all of the Blackwings in the room have collapsed. The whole throne room is a mess of twitching ponies with bleeding nostrils. They won’t be going anywhere for a while. Shokenda, however, remains upright in her throne, having covered her face with her wing. When she pokes her head out and sees what I’ve done, she gets out of her throne. She wishes death upon me with just a stare, slowly advancing on me. I close the distance.

An unharmed Blackwing dives in front of Shokenda, forelegs planted firmly on the carpet, his sword drawn. Whatever that gesture is worth, it means nothing.

"MOVE ASIDE!" Shokenda bellows at him as I summon Excalibur back into my hoof and throw it. She swats the Blackwing away like a gnat, stomping towards me, her horn glowing with a furious overcharge.

Excalibur strikes Shokenda, plunging into her summoned shield, which falls apart as I will Excalibur's light to shine.

I break into a gallop and shout ”WULD NAH!"

I dash at Shokenda, grab the hilt of the sword, and yank it out of Shokenda's shield. I bring it back around to strike at her body, but she blocks it with a golden ethereal sword of her own. "I’m warning you. You're crossing a very thin line."

”Hasn't stopped me before, has it?!" I yell, pushing Excalibur to the limit. Sparks fly from our grinding blades.

Shokenda is pleading with me. "You don't know as much as you claim to. That Cloud is long gone. A mere shell of what she used to be. She is irrelevant. If you dare speak that name again—”

”What will you do?! Kill me?! You almost lost your toy, I doubt you want to get rid of him so soon!" Excalibur's light is shining like the sun, yet I can see through it to witness Shokenda's increasingly desperate expression. "Decide whether I’ll live or die! It won’t make a difference! It doesn't matter how many followers you still have! They know the truth! Your dream is DEAD!"

"Caro..." Shokenda purses her lips as her blade disappears into wisps.

"ALL SHALL BE LOST TO YOU!!"

The light of Excalibur consumes us both as I bring it down on top of her.

~Vision End~

Temerity clears his throat and continues. “I knew from the beginning of this civil war that Shokenda’s best option for recruits were the downtrodden of Equestria. Within a few months there was already strength in numbers, and a certain degree of respect that you don’t get from a fresh soldier in most armies.”

Tohro gestures to himself. “Blackwings don’t respect Shokenda. You can truly only respect somepony if you know their respect in return. This is feverish worship. Babies suckling at teats. It’s pathetic.”

“I agree.” Temerity raises his head and smiles. “Their minds are already like stone. Their paths are set. They will live and die by Shokenda’s command, but when this war is over, they’ll go to whatever lives await them. Hopefully, more prosperous ones.”

“Built on the graves of…” Tohro is about to go on another tirade, but he decides against it when he considers his and Temerity’s common ground. “So, if the Blackwings aren’t ideal soldiers to you, then what would be?” His eyes widen as he realizes the answer.

“A truly effective weapon must be made from a malleable material. What’s more malleable than a child’s mind?” Temerity turns a few pages in his journal. “Of course, while there are plenty who are sympathetic to our cause, children, by default, can’t grasp the full scope of a war. They start off innocent, and are corrupted by the confusion of life. We can’t give them the chance for a second opinion, so my associates and I have them put to sleep and taken from their homes. When they wake, we put them to work imme—”

Tohro smacks Temerity with the flat of his wing blade. “Tell me where to cut you next.”

Temerity sighs, puts his journal down, and presents his shoulder. “Go ahead.”

~Shae~

“AGH! STOP IT!” screams a filly as she’s shoved to the ground of the small arena by a stalwart colt. Her shoulders, chest and face are coated in bruises and cuts both fresh and old. “I’ve had enough!”

One of the Blackwings patrolling the rim of the arena shouts back at her. “This is war, soldier! There is no ‘enough!’ The enemy will not falter for your weakness!”

I watch from the balcony in horror as a dull-eyed colt plants himself over the girl and lands another hit on her, spilling blood from her mouth. “Fight back,” the boy says. It sounds more like a plea than a demand. He lands another punch.

“Save your breath, soldier. She’s a lost cause. Keep fighting.” The Blackwing rubs his eyes, taking a glance at the other watching children. Some of them are as still and lifeless as the ones we saw in the hall. Others are trembling at the ghastly sight before them. Others watch with disturbing neutrality, or even smiles. It’s a mess of discordant auras mixed with stationary ones.

The fighting boy stands up and walks away from the girl, who sobs into her forelegs as the blood continues to drop.

The Blackwing points at the boy. “I didn’t say you were done.”

“She can’t fight. I won,” the boy says in monotone. I see now that his aura is mostly stationary, but there is still a bit of fluctuation in its core, like something is trying to get out.

The Blackwing shakes his head and step down into the arena. “Two of you, retrieve her,” he says tersely, waving to the other children. Two of the more apathetic children follow his lead, surrounding the girl and picking her up. The Blackwing grabs the boy in a headlock and binds his forelegs with cuffs. “You both will spend three days in the dark room for your impudence.”

I turn to Number Six and try to disguise my shaking voice as I ask, “What is this dark room?”

“It is where the disobedient go to reflect on their mistakes,” says Number Six. “In some cases, the reflection is forced upon them. Would you like to see it?”

No. “Yes, please.”

~Vision End~

~Caro~

When the light finally fades, I see that Shokenda and I are standing in the epicenter of another disaster for the Blackwings. The throne room lies in ruins, the throne and its adjacent wall blown to shreds, half the balcony having collapsed, with several disoriented Blackwings crushed underneath piles of marble and mortar. Not enough to render the truth about Cloud inert, however; dozens of others still live, some fleeing the scene.

”Had enough yet?!" I yell at Shokenda, who has stumbled backward.

Shokenda wipes her muzzle and brushes the dust out of her mane. She's about to do the same for her armor, only to find that it's cracked beyond effectiveness. She gasps, and looks up at me just quick enough to see my hoof before it lands in her cheek.

She spits out golden blood. "You insolent..." She catches my next sword swing with her foreleg. She's still tough to break, especially now that she’s run out of patience with me. "YOL TOOR SHUL!"

The heat of a blazing inferno hits me at point blank. I feel my coat erupt into flames, my flesh burn, my face scar over, my body sent away helplessly… And in the next instant, it’s as if nothing has happened. The pain is gone and my body is no different than it was before.

“What the…”

”Caro!” Rasahrel shouts.

“What happened?” I ask, sidestepping Shokanda’s dash attack. I gallop behind one of the still-intact pillars. With a moment to breathe, I realize that I feel a little emptier, as if something has been taken from inside of me. Like an internal organ.

”Caro… We lost Hevnodiin.”

Now I feel even more empty. I slam my hoof into the pillar, letting out a growl of anguish. “DAMN IT ALL! Why him?!”

“Talking to yourself, pet?” Shokenda asks.

I emerge from behind the pillar and come face to face with Shokenda. "No. I'm communing with the souls of the damned... They're all saying you’re the insolent one. A whining child who just couldn’t stop at killing her bastard daddy. She had to take vengeance on all of Equestria for the actions of a single pony. Does that make you feel good about raping the balance of the world?”

With a flick of her head, Shokenda raises every scrap of rubble in the room, including the Blackwing corpses. “Yes.”

With a muttered “Golt su ru,” I nimbly dodge the oncoming barrage, pushing off in midair, or off the debris itself. A leaf on the breeze. "Just like your father, wanting an impossible dream... I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree if you punch it hard enough!”

Shokenda’s eyes gleam as she fires off a blast of energy. I step out of the way, only for my shoulder to be burned by another one, followed by my leg. I grab the nearest object within my reach, a floating Blackwing carcass, and hold it in front of me. It takes the force of several blasts before it becomes a blackened husk. I really wish I didn’t have to do that.

Shokenda then levitates another body and throws it at me. I’m about to use this one as a shield too, until I realize that it’s Smart Cookie’s unconscious body I’m grabbing. Just as I’m about to block another hot blast from Shokenda, I turn around in the air, and take the brunt of her attack. Smart Cookie and I are thrown across the room. He slips out of my grasp and falls to the floor. That’s all I see before I’m embedded in a pillar, the room becoming a blur as pain overtakes my head.

I call on the deep well of strength from within me and slam my forelegs into the pillar, shattering it and setting myself free. I outrun the wreckage, grab Smart Cookie, and make a heavy gallop for the throne room’s entrance. I’ve done enough here. I’ve exposed Shokenda for what she is, saved an important asset, and bought some time for the rest of Dragonrein. I’m done.

But Shokenda isn’t. She flies above me, firing beams that take chunks out of the floor. I sidestep the beams, taking scorches on my barrel along the way. I’m nearly to the door…

Shokenda lands in front of the entrance with enough force to leave a small crater. By the time I skid to a stop, her face takes up most of my vision. I raise Excalibur and point it at Shokenda. She calls back her golden sword. Our blades cross. Shokenda is right in front of me, as exposed as she’ll ever be.

”Now’s the time, Caro,” Rasahrel tells me.

“DREM OV!!” I shout.

Shokenda blinks a few times, and then concedes. She lowers her sword and steps back, leaving herself exposed. She looks surprised. Incredulous, even. It’s too perfect. I lick my lips and go in for the kill.

She casts out her hoof, catching me in a stranglehold. I gasp as my breath is denied. “Really, Caro?” she asks. “You’ve been interesting, I’ll give you that, but this is just low. Did you actually think that you’d be the first Dragonborn to try that?”

Shokenda lifts me up and throws me across the room. I black out as I feel shattering glass and cold snow embrace me.

~Vision End~

“Children ask questions,” Temerity says to Tohro. He summarizes the passages in his journal while applying pressure to the fresh wound in his shoulder. “If they don’t like their situation, they will not participate. It’s an inevitability, one that is difficult to quell without the proper authority, but what authority do we have over children that aren’t ours? Initial procedures were a disaster. The kids ran amok, treating their situation like playtime, and applying physical force would only make them more disorderly.”

“You should have stopped there,” Tohro says.

“My compatriots suggested corporal punishment but that was quickly shot down. The children would only get more rebellious the more extreme our punishments got. It was after gaining a few mages adept in rune magic that I just so happened to remember a certain insolent Blackwing’s fear of the dark.”

~Shae~

The very name of the dark room has made a small part of me shake. There is darkness beyond the edge of the Fae and I experienced it when I lost my sight. I remember thinking that no one could ever recreate it. You can’t trivialize looking into an endless abyss. The Blackwings have proven me wrong.

Number Six doesn’t act towards it, but I have a feeling that the dark room played a part in making her the way she, Ten, and Twenty-Four are now. Beyond the open iron door is a room wreathed in a wall of blackness so thick I can’t see the room’s end. Just looking in, I feel everything Tohro would feel in a cave without a lantern. It’s suffocating, lifeless, and feels like death. I feel nothing of the Fae in there.

And the Blackwings casually toss two children inside.

Toss isn’t quite the right word, though. The boy is quiet, stepping inside obediently. It’s the girl who is rightfully shrieking, flailing her hooves and biting at the Blackwing who pushes her in. “NOT THE DARK! NO, NO! PLEASE, I’LL FIGHT! I’LL DO ANYTHING! DO WHATEVER YOU WANT TO ME, DON’T PUT ME IN THERE!”

It’s spoken so quietly that I could be imagining it, but I swear I hear one of the Blackwings say, before closing the door, “I’m so sorry.”

The girl screams one more time before the door is closed, and silence follows. For a very, very long time. I don’t hear Rosemary speaking into my ear for at least a minute, and by then we’ve already left the vicinity of that accursed place.

Through the darkness, I can’t even see the girl’s aura. There is no Fae to hold her, just the empty black, even worse than death. I vow to return for her, but we cannot fight our way out of here. I will not fight children.

~Caro~

I’m surrounded by snow, buried in the dark, I smell blood, and I have no idea where up is.

Tohro had demanded that he trim my coat before we made it to Fillydelphia. I refused. I’m glad that I did, else I would be freezing cold and my body would be littered with glass. It’s an Epona-damned miracle!

“Come out, Caro!” Shokenda yells. “I will burn away everything on this coast to the ground, including you!”

I can hear her voice above me. That means I can leap straight up, and strike at her before she senses me. I adjust my body to properly prepare for wuld nah kest, but merely moving makes my cry out in distress. The glass shards have penetrated my flesh, in every leg, my barrel, and my back. It’s as if all of my joints have calcified.

”Your pain is great, Caro,” says Rasahrel. ”I can feel it. Will your movements be impaired?”

“No!” I lie, filled with rage. A single attempt at punching through the snow sends a stinging burst through my foreleg. A grunt from me tells Rasahrel all she needs to know. I’m a non-factor in this fight now… but I can’t be. Everyone’s counting on me. “I can do this!”

”You’re at your limit. We have to end this soon,” Rasahrel says firmly. “Let me take control! It may hurt, but your pain won’t stop me. I can disable Shokenda and get us out of here.”

I stop thrashing. “But that’ll put you at risk, won’t it?”

“That matters not. Either I fight for you, or you wait to die here. I shall take control, whether you want it or not!”

I’m about to scream something, but my voice changes, overlayed by her thunderous call, and my limbs move against my will. It does hurt, but not as much as it would if I were doing it myself, and I feel my full strength beneath it all. My forelegs pierce the snow, bringing the shining sun right into my eyes.

I leap out of my frozen grave and feel a thrum in my throat as Rasahrel shouts her challenge. ”False one! Goddess of lies! You are naught but a swollen cloud, heavy with your own shame and sorrow! Fight me, and pay for your treachery!”

Shokenda comes screaming at me, the snow in a flurry as it melts in her wake. “CAAAARRROOOO!” She slams her foreleg into my chest, sending me off my hooves as she grabs my head.

My lips curl into a feral grin as they form the Shout “Wuld nah kest!” I dash away from her attempt at cracking my skull, flipping in the air to land on my hooves. “The false one is powerful, yes, but not smart. Quick to anger. Certainly a child.” Rasahrel is revelling in Shokenda’s anger almost more than I was.

“Antagonizing her is my way of thinking, aren’t you the reasonable one?” Although my words don’t leave my mouth, I know Rasahrel can hear them. “That’s what got me like this in the first place.”

“I’ve been fighting false gods longer than you, little one,” Rasahrel whispers back. She moves my foreleg to recall Excalibur. “Be respectful.”

“Yes, Mom,” I jest. With that, my smile widens as we share a chuckle.

“STOP LAUGHING!!” Shokenda screeches. Her wings spread, the snow surrounding her blasting away from the gale force. She once more launches herself at me. “ZAHKRII BEL KINZ!” she shouts. Four ethereal swords appear around her, dispersing as she raises her hoof.

Excalibur blocks her attack, and she comes to a dead stop, creating another explosion of snow and wind. I continue to raise Excalibur to deny her every punch, until I hear the glint of a blade cutting the air. Rasahrel takes me away from Shokenda with a jump, dodging the first ethereal sword. My hooves swing Excalibur, swipe away the second one, and again with the third. My hoof grabs the fourth one by the hilt and brings it around, landing the blade into Shokenda’s neck and spilling her golden blood.

What starts as a cry of pain turns into a roar that shakes the ground. She disperses the blade in my hoof, blocks my next attack, and disappears in a flash, reappearing behind me. “IIZ SLEN NUS!”

Excalibur disappears. My body tenses as I try once more to use Wuld, but the words are frozen in my throat. Icicles grip my hooves, even as I rip one foreleg off the ground and reach out at Shokenda. Her breathing is ragged, deranged even. She relishes watching my movements slow, and eventually stop. Even my eyes are glazed over with ice.

She circles around me, admiring me like a statue she carved herself. “I should have used that long ago… I think that look suits you better than the constant posturing.”

My lips refuse to move, for me or Rasahrel.

Shokenda summons her black sword again, tapping it against my barrel. It bounces off the ice. “It would take time, but I can’t help but wonder how long it would take you to bleed out if I sliced you in half. Better yet…” She plants her sword in the snow. “I know wherever you are, my former plaything is not far behind.”

My Tohro is not your plaything.

“But I’ll get to him later. I never got a chance to tell you the reason why I gave up on convincing you to be my pet.” She strokes my chin with her hoof. “It was in my hopes that a greater understanding of the Thu’um would make us equals. We might understand what it is to hold dominance over the weak. But you play fast and loose with the balance of power, never meeting me on equal terms. I knew that it would be difficult to let you have any power by my side if you weren’t brought to heel...” Her face darkens. “But your insolence and belligerence has forced my hand.”

She raises her sword, golden energy swirling around it. I can’t do anything, and neither can Rasahrel. We are both prisoners within my motionless body. Except for...

“Whether this strike kills you or not, this is the end,” Shokenda says, her voice raspy and tired. “You’ll either obey or die, those are your only options. Just like everyone that has soiled this holy land!”

I summon Excalibur back to my hoof. From its light, the ice surrounding me shatters. From the instant I can move, Rasahrel and I will my aching body to charge at Shokenda. Excalibur plunges into Shokenda’s broken armor, and continues into her body. ”You were saying?” Rasahrel asks.

“You…” Shokenda says before hacking up golden blood. “...All you want… is destruction…”

“You created your own destruction. All that Caro has become, and how far you’ve fallen, is only possible because of you, Cloud.”

~Vision End~

“We dared to dream, but none of this would’ve been possible if it weren’t for a single soldier,” Temerity continues. “We found him with a slashed throat after the most recent battle of Trottingham. He was on his deathbed, but Shokenda had recently recovered an Elder Scroll that was particularly detailed in soul magic. It wasn’t the one she was looking for, so she let me have a gander at it.”

“What does this have to do with the children?” Tohro asks, tapping his blade against the table. Small drops of blood splatter onto the documents. “You’d best get back on track soon.”

Temerity nods. “Of course. All you need to know is that there was no point in lugging that Elder Scroll around if we weren’t going to use it. I had one of our wiser mages take a gander at it, and in mere moments, that soldier’s angry soul ended up in a suit of modified Olympian armor. After that, the ideas just flew to me.”

“I still don’t see what this has to do with… Oh.” Tohro falters, deflating back into his chair, putting his wing blade down. “Oh.”

“What are you doing?” Temerity asks, noticing that Tohro is reaching for something else, though never taking his eyes off of him.

“Don’t worry about it.” Tohro, not once blinking, his body still but his heart pounding out of his chest, touches the hilt of Muramasa.

LIII - By Any Other Name

~Shae~

The mess hall is the greatest misnomer I’ve come across in a while. The tables, while rudimentary, are well-kept, the plates and crude, wooden utensils are licked clean and then washed in a large, soapy basin, and all the children eat while maintaining a dissettling silence. Not one cough, sneeze, or intake of breath breaks the dense, almost mechanical air around them. The thumps and thuds of spoons in bowls and forks on plates are muffled and indistinct.

I hear Rosemary mutter about something smelling off, but pay no real mind to it. The childrens’ auras have my attention. Every single one, is dull, almost lifeless, and a strange, gray miasma seems to waft about the room.

I huff and then immediately sneeze. A feeling of foreign magic tickling my nose is overpowering the dull scent of undercooked porridge. “Don’t breathe any more than you have to,” I murmur. “There’s some sort of spell in...” I take another whiff as a foal walks past me carrying his own gruel-laden tray. “No...” I blink, and focus on the colt and his food. His aura isn’t as dull as the rest, and there’s the barest hint of a flicker.

He sets down his tray with a small clatter, before he starts eating it. As he chews and swallows, the miasma swirls around him, flowing into him as it chases the porridge. The gray soup gradually slows its advance as his breathing, chewing, and every movement changes to match those of everypony else around him. His aura gives one last flinch before the color dulls and turns solid.

“I’ve... enjoyed the tour so far,” I say to Number SIx, the taste of bile in my mouth, “but—”

“But nothin’!” Tangerine yells, making me flinch. “This whole place feels wrong, like a herd of windigoes had spent the year feastin’ on whatever happiness had clung to the walls before you lot set up shop!”

I’m a bit surprised to see Tangerine stomping angrily towards our three guides, and Rose looks like she’s about as confused that she hadn’t as I am.

“I’ve been settin’ here on me furry arse while yer all blathering all hither’n yon and all around the damned place, and all I want tae know is where are me wee li’l babies?! Where’s me red-haired, splotchy colt with ‘is da’s cute snout?! Where’s me garden-lovin’ creampuff?! Where’re Cinnamon an’ Nutmeg, ya cursed numbers-by-the count tripes?!” Tangerine seemed to be holding herself off the ground with naught but a shaky breath and her motherly fury.

None of our trio of guides give any indication that they’d even heard her, but all at once they turn and start walking away, down a different hallway. “This way,” they chorus, a strange tone added to their usual crisp monotone.

As Tangerine deflates a bit and we all fall into step, I feel all the auras behind us turn and stare. Whatever we’re being led towards, I have the sinking feeling we’ll have to fight them all, or be slaughtered ourselves.

“I’m sorry,” Tangerine mutters.

“We’ll deal with it as it comes,” Wolf River says. “What could happen?” The silence after shows how much we all are dreading the answer.

I find myself feeling more and more trapped as the hallway continues. There are no other doors beyond the one that awaits us at the end. It’s open, but it has the same locks used on the dark room. Soon we get close enough to see what’s inside. It looks to be a circular chamber modeled after Olympian ancestral halls.

“In,” the three children say.

“This feels like a threat,” Rosemary says firmly in response.

“It’s a suggestion,” says Number Six. “A threat would be if we introduced you to Number Five. Do you wish to meet Number Five?”

Rosemary shoots me a sly look. She’s just as tired of this as I am, though not to the extent of throwing a fit. She compares her height to that of Number Ten, the tallest of the trio. She looks between her mother and Wolf River, who give her a nod of approval. She turns to the kids and states proudly. “We would love to meet Number Five.”

The trio step off to the side of the hall, something in their auras giving me the thought that, if they weren’t stone-souled, they’d be giggling, like how Sundance would right before a teacher sat on a whoopie potion. Here and now, every nerve tenses as I’m suddenly not sure we’re equipped for ‘Number Five,’ whoever they are…

There’s a ripple in the Fae. Normally, teleportation is like using scissors to cut a hole in space, then you jump through, and sew the hole shut. The unicorn elite that appears in front of me shatters the Fae like glass, his black aura continuing to pour out from the floor as he rises. He lowers his head and scuffs the ground. "EyahaHAhAhaHaaaa, BYE BYE!!"

The elite’s cry makes my heart stop cold for a moment. His voice, while filtered through the armor and likely several enchantments, was very distinctively a child’s. My heart starts beating again as I dodge his rushing strike, which buffets me with wind. There’s another crack in the air as he teleports back to his starting position.

As he laughs again, I can’t help but wonder if he’s related to that boy in the dark room. I dodge another of his attacks, and bring forth a magical dagger; a scythe would be unwieldy in this tight corridor, packed with allies... He truly does sound like the boy. I raise the dagger and clash with his armored horn.

“I can’t wait until I’m like him,” Number Six says. The first drop of emotion she shows, and it’s admiration for a monster. “It’s what we were chosen for.”

I’m shoved away, caught by Tangerine. Wolf River brings his axe down on Number Five’s neck, but the axe head ends up lodged in the armor. Number Five grabs Wolf River by the foreleg and throws him across the hall, towards me. The force of a few-hundred pound stallion sends me, Rosemary, and Tangerine tumbling into the chamber, with Wolf River not far behind.

“NO!” Tangerine slams her hoof on the ground and charges for the door, but Number Five jumps inside and strikes her upside the head.

There’s enough room for me to summon my scythe, but only after I call it to my hooves do I realize what I’d be putting to death if I were to strike this living armor down. More than just an immediate threat, this is a child… My heartbeat rises as I remember the elites we fought on the road to Fillydelphia.

My heart beats even faster when three more suits of armor, these ones with metal wings, emerge from the shadows, eyes red with cold, dispassionate rage.

~Vision End~

CHAPTER LIII - BY ANY OTHER NAME

Temerity gets out of his chair and backs away, holding his hoof out in protest at the blade of Muramasa. “Tohro, Tohro, now, don’t be rash,” he says shakily. “Just… Put that away.”

Tohro tilts his head and pulls on the hilt, revealing the black blade of Muramasa. It murmurs, making the quiet sounds of a hungry demon. “Hm. Too late. See, I can’t put this thing away until it draws blood. That’s not so much a problem for me as it is for you, because I can’t think of anypony else who deserves to bleed more.”

“This is unbecoming.” Temerity is eyeing the door. “You’re an Imperial soldier. You don’t have power of execution. I have the same right to due process as anypony else, why are you doing this?”

“Surprisingly, torturing and enslaving children strikes a chord with some people.” Tohro spins the hilt of Muramasa in his hoof. The sharp side of the blade reflects the candlelight. “I’m sure Her Majesty would understand. She would likely have you sent to the block for all you’ve done, so I’m just saving time.”

“Tortured, enslaved, liberated, saved and ended..." Temerity narrows his eyes at his old ally, furrowing his brow. "I tapped their potential earlier than usual, so what? They were tiny drops in a drizzle, and I decided to make them into a collective monsoon."

"Drops?!” Tohro yells, knocking Temerity on his back. “Fucking... Not everypony wants to be a soldier! I sure as fuck didn't! But I felt I owed Shokenda my life, and after that it was just one debt after another to repay. Finally, I’ve found what I’ve been looking for. A real purpose. Altruism. A good mate. You don't know what that's like! And you never will! Because all you care about is, 'Hm, what will happen if I tear out this child's sense of wonder and take away his future? Won't that be fun? Isn't that just fucking hysterical?!' Well, I'm not laughing!!" Tohro leans in close to Temerity. “You’re going to die.”

Temerity leers at Tohro as he stands back up, coming face to face with him. "Excuse me, but I haven’t been laughing thus far. I don’t think you don't know what you're trying to talk about."

“I think I do, because I know your kind. ‘The greater good,’ they always say. You think that everything can be justified. Everything you’ve done is part of the greater plan, a plan that thousands of ponies will hate you for. A plan that involves heinous, insane, irreversible acts of cruelty that the Divines should smite you down just for considering. So, Temerity, smartest Blackwing alive, how are you going to justify this? Look me in the eye, and tell me that ruining hundreds of innocent young lives will somehow be worth it. I dare you. I fucking dare you!”

“No.”

Muramasa’s murmurs lower in volume. Tohro is taken aback. “No…?”

Temerity keeps his composure, looking Tohro directly in the eye as he lowers the blade of Muramasa. “Tohro, I never once believed that I was making any sort of necessary sacrifice. I know that I’ve committed atrocities beyond reasoning. Do you think any sane pony would believe creating child soldiers serves some sort of greater good? No. I did it to see if I could.”

Muramasa goes quiet. Tohro no longer feels its pull, its desire for blood. Instead of imagining Temerity as a bloodied corpse, he imagines him rotting in a jail cell for the rest of his life, or going to the block among all other threats to the Empire.

“Wow,” Tohro says, turning away from Temerity. “You are truly one of a kind.” He looks at Muramasa’s blade. It wouldn’t look good with unworthy blood staining its blade, and he doubts that it would accept Temerity’s demise anyway.

But the Empire would, in a heartbeat, and they would give Temerity a fair trial. Tohro wishes to curse that as unfair, but he knows that’s not true. He knows that Temerity is just another criminal, and a proper arrest would amount to something more than just a violent murder. It would be justice.

Tohro flips Muramasa around and grasps the hilt backwards, before turning around and facing Temerity. He raises the hilt and brings it down on Temerity’s head. He opens his mouth, wanting to give one last scathing remark, before grunting and frustratedly sheathing Muramasa’s dry blade.

~Caro~

Shokenda thrashes and snarls, her spit and golden blood splattering onto my face, my hooves, and the blade of Excalibur that pierces her flesh. Her face contorts in exquisite ways that continuously surprise me. For a mare known for such a dissonant emotional display, it’s delightful to see that a blade to the chest hurts like hell, even for her.

She reaches for my hooves and seizes ahold of them, but all of the force in the world can’t remove them from the sword that chose me as its wielder, nor can it move the sword itself. It’s bound to me, and I will it to destroy her. I plunge it deeper into her body. Part of me would have relished the squelching and oozing blood draining from the irreparable, possibly fatal wound I’ll be leaving her with, but all I can think about is the damage that has been done to Equestria, and how fixing it starts with her destruction.

“Cloud…” I say, Rasahrel’s control having subsided.

Shokenda looks at me with nothing but rage, but I remain serene.

“You had a good soul. I wish Squall hadn’t tainted it.”

Shokenda blinks, breaking eye contact. She lowers her head, sighs, and braces herself for… something. She grits her teeth and, and with a growl of pain and sheer effort, backs away, removing herself from Excalibur. I’m too surprised to move the blade forward and reopen the wound, not that it isn’t open to begin with. The snow beneath and all around us is soaked with her gold blood at this point.

She stumbles, but she doesn’t fall. “Cloud’s soul was tainted to begin with… Hers less than others…”

“So, what, you think your soul is pure now? After all the horrible things you did to this world? To my people? My friends?” I flick the blood off of Excalibur. “You don’t know any kindness. If your soul has always been tainted, then what makes you think you’re fit to rule this land?”

“My soul is pure…” Shokenda growls, holding her hoof over her chest. “It’s beautiful…”

I flaunt my sword, letting the sun and snow shine off of its radiant blade. “You don’t know beauty. You’re surrounded by death and suffering.”

“Oh, you don’t know the half of it…”

I twirl Excalibur and plant it in the snow. I nod at Shokenda. “Well, it’s all for nothing now. From the first moment I decided to rise against you, this is exactly how I wanted it. All of your strength against all of mine, out in the open, among the ice and snow of an eternal winter, with me, a mere pony, standing victorious over you, a false god. And what can you possibly do to stop me?”

I regret saying that the instant the words leave my mouth, but I felt like they needed to be said. Now I’m going to pay the price. Both Shokenda and I know that.

“Stay there and find out,” she replies in a loud whisper. Her horn glows as she calls fire to her hooves. With a yell, she presses them to her gaping, bleeding open wound, and torches it shut.

Ignoring the gruesome smell and sight of burning, cauterized flesh, as well as my aching body, I break into a gallop and shout “WULD NAH KEST!!” I make a leaping slash at Shokenda, only for her to block Excalibur with her gauntlet, her other hoof still welding herself shut.

I feel my body become seized, and not by one of my dragons. Shokenda’s horn is glowing, and I see the tinge of a golden aura surrounding me. She’s caught me unawares, and now I’m at her mercy once again, too impaired to resist.

She presses burning hoof to my neck. A searing sting travels through my nerves as I feel my fur burn and my flesh boil.

“Bear the pain!” Rasahrel yells. “Hold on, Caro! Just hold on!”

Shokenda takes ahold of my right foreleg. Excalibur is forcibly dispelled. My leg twists beyond my control. My muscles grind against each other, creating a different burning sensation. I feel my bones wail in agony, and then become silent. There may have been a crack, but my ears are whistling too loudly for me to have heard.

All I know is that I’m still screaming, until Shokenda lifts me over her and slams me into the ground headfirst.

~Vision End~

~Shae~

I ready my scythe as Tangerine crouches, growling at the newcomers. Wolf River grunts as he manages to pull his axe free of the unicorn elite’s armor, kick it away, and turn to me. “So, what’s the plan?”

Tangerine snorts. “You? Askin’ about plans? I thought your idea of a plan was to thwack ‘em till they drop, and then thwack some more!’”

“Aye, but I tried that. Tyke’s got freakishly strong armor, to not buckle from a blow like that. So, I ask the mage of the group…” He blocks a pegasus elite’s bladed gauntlets and pushes back against it. “What would you have us do?”

The four elites have been spreading out in a by-the-books flanking maneuver. Perfect for small areas such as this. “Stay on your guard,” I say. My voice is just on the verge of wavering. “We have to release th...” I swallow a lump in my throat. “... Release them.”

The unicorn is now looking directly at Tangerine, while a pegasus is getting ready to each charge one of the rest of us. “Release them?” Rosemary sounds like she’s sized up her opponent and failed to find a chink in their defense.

“Their souls are bound to the armor. This… It isn’t a child soldier. There’s no child left.” My voice trembles with regret. Anger stings in my eyes. “A child dies when they become this. We have to set their souls free.”

“Shae…” Rosemary drops her guard, turning off her sword’s flames. “There’s gotta be another way, right?”

I pull up my hood and summon my scythe.

Rosemary is still standing down. “...Right?”

“Do as she says! Raise your weapon, soldier!” Tangerine yells. She raises both her greatswords and brings them down on the spaulders of a pegasus elite. She severs the spaulders from the elite and drags her swords along its body, then slashes at the second one over, tearing a gash through its armor with a warrior’s yell.

With that one stunned, I leap to it and spin my scythe’s blade across the gash, widening it enough to shoot an ice spell inside. The elite draws its black wing blades and makes a swing at me, grazing my chest before I teleport out of the way. As I block the blow of the third pegasus elite, I watch as the second is consumed by my ice, drowning in frost and icicles. It freezes in the middle of an attempted attack on Rosemary, who steps back with a yelp.

She seems to have been convinced that there’s, regrettably, no other way out of this. She takes a quick breath, reignites her sword, and slices upward at the neck of the frozen elite. With the rest of its body frozen, it’s helpless against the heat of her blade warping its metal plating until it can no longer move its neck. Rosemary finishes the job with a decisive swing, cutting its helmet off.

I see the hollow Fae within the armor rise from its physical prison, and briefly take the form of a child before disappearing into the faint glow of the world around me.

As I continue to hold my ground against the third pegasus elite, I hold back tears and say under my breath, “Go in peace.” I let go of my scythe and thrust my hoof at the elite, pushing it back with a mighty gust. It only stumbles enough for me to gain ground on it, but it blocks every pass of my scythe, no matter how furiously I swing it.

Tangerine tries to land an attack, only for the elite to push back against me and buck her to the ground. She quickly recovers and dashes back into action, this time dodging the buck and slashing at the elite’s undercarriage, throwing it off-balance… or so it seems. It spreads its sharpened wings and smacks Tangerine away. When she gets back up again and goes to grab her dropped sword, I see that her eye is swollen and bleeding.

Wolf River gives her sword to her, then, with a fast spin, throws his axe into the back of the elite’s head. It turns around to face Wolf River immediately, leaving the axe open for me to rip out with a levitation field. It pulls the elite back and makes it stumble. I toss the axe back to Wolf River. He slashes it twice across the elite’s chest, then brings it down into its head, splitting its helm wide open. I levitate the axe blade and pull it down, harder and harder, ignoring the elite’s screams of distress, until the helm and neck are split in half, and the elite falls silent. Another soul disappears into the Fae.

Rosemary pierces the unicorn elite’s chest with her flaming falchion, only for the elite to lift her up by her hooves, the sword dropping to the ground and her getting flung into the wall. I hear a crack as her face hits solid stone, and my heart skips a beat. She gets up, but her mouth is slack and bleeding.

I gallop to her and touch her face, channeling a healing spell to her jaw. I then feel the aura of the elite approach mine, and instantly turn around. I duck under its bladed gauntlets and cast another ice spell upon it, but as the icicles emerge, the elite simply casts them away with a wave of its head, levitating them off and throwing them my way. I erect an ethereal shield and deflect them.

“This isn’t easy, lass…” Rosemary says, massaging her jaw and grabbing her sword. “How do you fight like this?”

“Death is a part of life,” I say, partially for her and for myself. I momentarily do away with my scythe and put my hoof to the ground. The individual concentrated specks of Fae that make up the fabric of this world obey me, and come into my hoof. I feel the strength of the world itself inside of me, and use it to smash through the unicorn elite’s magical blast. I dash to it and land an uppercut into its jaw, then a hit to its forehead, sending it to the ground.

I call my scythe back, leaping onto the elite. I concentrate the Fae I absorbed into the blade, and slice clean through the elite’s torso. The armor is severed in half by the sheer force of the Fae, but the elite’s aura remains. I finish the job by shoving the scythe’s blade into the elite’s head, silencing its screams and releasing the child’s soul.

Rosemary is still stricken with horror, but I’m questioning whether or not it’s from the elites, or from me. I’m scared too. I wanted to believe that I could be more than this, more than a callous witch with an inordinate level of power over the Fae. I wanted to be a teacher. I wanted to learn about the world. I wanted to be innocent… I wanted my mother and father back.

I never believed in fate, and I still don’t. But, maybe if I did, this would be easier. It would be easier to accept that I’ll never have what I once wanted. It’s not about that anymore. It’s not about what I want, it’s about what I need, and what Equestria needs. Equestria needs me to be an embodiment of Fauste’s divine strength, a deliverer of peace and tranquility.

What makes me cry is the hard truth: today, in this maze of atrocities beneath the decrepit city of Fillydelphia, peace and tranquility comes from putting innocent children to death.

I gallop at the last remaining pegasus elite and slice through it with a single swing of my scythe.

~Vision End~

~Caro~

My consciousness is like a fever dream. Constant pain throughout my body, enough to make me black out, but not enough to send me into shock, waking up and fading away at uneven intervals. I can only see the snowy, icy coast in brief glimpses before the screaming pain of my broken leg and my seared flesh takes it away. Every time I’m able to open my eyes. Fillydelphia grows closer, as does the looming fear of what will happen when Shokenda drags me there.

As the snow-covered earth turns to snow-covered cobblestone, something new enters my little slices of consciousness. I see broken windows and doors opening, dirty townsfolk poking their heads outside to see why their false god dirties her hooves with their city’s filth. And they see me, the stallion they were told is their enemy.

It’s living tragedies like these that break lessers, when the common folk are against you just for being present, but I don’t show any anger to these ponies for shouting praise at Shokenda for what she’s done to me. I can’t blame them, they’re brainwashed. They’ll eventually see the truth… Hopefully I’ll live to see that.

My spots of consciousness are gradually growing longer, meaning that I’ll be able to hold on long enough to form some sort of escape strategy. Or perhaps Rasahrel might have one in mind…

“I’m sorry, Caro,” she says. “There is little I can do with a broken equine’s body.”

I let out a pathetic sigh. “I’m still just an insect to you.”

“You have always been so much more than that, my child.”

My vision goes dark again, but only for a few seconds. Finally, I have some level of recognition for my surroundings. We’re passing the bar where Smart Cookie was captured. That means the crucifix isn’t too far off… Am I going to be the second skeleton to hang from it? Some legacy that would be.

Shokenda lets go of me in front of the crucifix. I see the words once again. Shokenda’s future, our future, began here. I look up at the skeleton that I’ll likely be replacing for the next few decades. Hello, Squall.

Even better, my execution will have an audience. Wouldn’t be the first time.

The citizens of Fillydelphia gather like flies to fruit. I can’t imagine what’s going through their heads right now. If I could read their thoughts, I bet they’d be equal parts admiration and fear of Shokenda, seeing her at her lowest, knowing what she would do to those who defy her, wondering what could push her to the edge… I already pushed her that far, and it wasn’t pretty. I bet she would erase the name Cloud, even just the word, from all of history, if it meant preserving the fear. Those who wouldn’t fear her would end up just like me, broken and humiliated, facing the end of a summoned sword.

“All this time, debating with myself… Not knowing if you were strong enough to be my ally, or insolent enough to deserve death… I think it’s time you made the decision for me.” Shokenda raises the blade to my neck. The edge cuts at my fur, slowly grazing over my burnt skin. “Do you choose safety in servitude? Ruling with me, preserving this holy land’s dignity, as well as the lives of your allies? Or will you face death in defiance of a higher power? Will you be a martyr for the selfish thieves, both in the shadows and in the public eye, who blemished this soil with their mere presence?”

I say the first thing that comes to mind, and even I’m surprised at what comes out of my mouth. “I choose life.”

The blade moves away from my neck, giving me room to breathe. Shokenda actually sound surprised. “Well… That’s not quite what I was expecting. If I had known you would choose to join me, I wouldn’t have bothered with this.” She does away with the blade and walk in a circle. “You’re a queer one. But at least you won’t bore me when we share the throne.”

“Were you listening, you dull child? I said I choose life!” I yell, turning and staring stiffly at Shokenda. “For a long time I thought that all of my problems could be put to death and they would be removed from the world, but only the scum of Equestria truly believes that. I wanted to rise above that. I wanted to rise above you. I’ve realized that…” I grunt and stand up slowly. “...when I take my blade to a Blackwing, or slay a rampaging dragon, I’m not a harbinger of death, or a worshiper of blood. I’m fighting for the very thing you despise. I’m fighting for the downtrodden. I’m fighting for those who believe I can save them from corruption, cruelty, and death. I’m on the side of life.”

Shokenda turns her head like an owl.

I look to the crowd, to those who would bear witness to my execution, and see how stunned they are at my defiance. It’s not a look of horror, but confusion. I will make things clear to them. “Life is when you have a choice,” I say, both to them, and Shokenda. “Life is… when you can move and talk and think as you wish, without fear. When you can experience love. Love for a partner, a friend, or just someone that makes you feel whole.” I take a deep breath and raise my voice for the people of Fillydelphia. “Does Shokenda make you feel whole?!”

Shokenda returns to me. “Stop talking or I will remove your tongue,” she says, her voice shaking. “Along with everything else you hold dear.”

“No,” I state firmly. “Cloud, I’m sorry for what your father did to you, but that excuses nothing. He’s gone now. You were free of his grasp, and instead of taking ahold of the life you always dreamed of, you threw it away for a selfish, angry crusade! You could have been a princess! You could have filled the void in Queen Platinum’s heart! She needed somepony like you! You could have taken the throne someday, and become the ruler Equestria needed, without all of this bloodshed!”

“You know less than you think, if you believe that ever could have happened…”

“In my heart, I know I’m right about this. Squall was ignorant and selfish, but as you are now, you’re only doing him justice. Please don’t make Equestria suffer for his mistakes. Please let it go…”

She glares at me, and starts advancing.

“If you don’t think you can do that, at least try to be what these people think you are. Give them a life worth living. The one you should have had. The one I… wish you had.”

Shokenda stops, and not in the way of a pony who gives pause; it’s like her whole body has been removed from the progression of time. The only parts of her that move are her mane and tail, which flow in front of her face like curtains. Amidst a flurry of arid white hair, I see one of her eyes begin to tear up. Just the one, if only for a moment.

But that moment is not enough. She closes that eye, and the tears evaporate under the mercy a harsh glow. She puts on the face of a cold, unfeeling monster who could never believe in what I do. With one foreleg, she gestures to her masses and says in a harsh, hushed voice, “What has any of your kind ever done to deserve life?” In that foreleg, she recalls her executing sword.

As the arc of the sword cuts through the air, and the falling snow, the world slows for me. Flashes in the corner of my vision. Draconic words disappearing as quickly as they appear. The words of a peacekeeping shout a little zebra taught me, and a new word, one I never considered until now.

Laas. Life.

I ignore the pain. I stand up, step out of the way of Shokenda’s execution, and shout “LAAS DREM OV!!”

~Vision End~

~Shae~

I see the wisps of the Fae dance around me, coalescing into the unmistakable forms of children. Four of them. If they had eyes, they’d be fixated on me, but I don’t know what feelings they would hold. The Fae, for all of its beauty, is a limbo, where magic is all, and nothing else. Only when a unicorn channels it do emotions play a part. Anger, happiness, sadness, all powerful emotions that bring out a unicorn’s power.

Where they fail is in complete and utter misery. As the children’s spiritual forms circle me, my adrenaline fades and I finally collapse, gripping the shaft of my scythe, holding onto it for dear life, while my silent tears fall to the cold stone floor in torrents. This is the most dignified I can be. If I weren’t being watched, I would lie down and cry out in agony.

“I’m sorry…” I whisper to the children. “I’m so… so sorry…” I muster the courage to look up at one of them, who kneels down to meet me at eye level. “I wanted to save you…”

The child nods, stands back up, and turns away. The other children follow them, forming a small herd that walks off into the void. Their collective wisps disperse and rejoin the others that make up the gentle ethereal world that only I can see. As they do, I hear their combined words echoing throughout the void. The sound is not at all like the dull, lifeless unified voices of the child soldiers, rather being a gentle, combined sentiment.

“Thank you, Fauste,” I hear them say.

“Fauste…” I whisper, still holding tight to my scythe. In my peripheral vision, which is finally becoming unblurred after so many tears were shed, I see both Rosemary and Tangerine kneeling with me, hooves clasped together in prayer. Wolf River does not kneel, but he lowers his head, eyes closed, sighing with remorse.

Our quiet reflection on what was saved, and what couldn’t be saved, is put to an end by a sudden loud knock on the chamber door. I ready my scythe again, but through the Fae I see the gentle, composed aura of an armored mare, along with several other auras that don’t give off a hostile mien. I dispel my scythe and motion to everyone else to stand down. “I think we have friends.”

The door opens, and from the hallway emerges a light blue pegasus in thin black armor, a hood, and a cape. It’s Mistral.

“Shae, Rosemary,” she says with a small gasp. She hovers into the room and shows us a welcome smile. “Thank Hephaestus, you’re okay… I’m so sorry I wasn’t able to collect you when you arrived, ”

“‘Okay’ is a relative term,” Wolf River says defensively. “You have no idea what we just had to do.”

“Yes, I do, and I am so sorry it had to happen.” Mistral paces around the ruined armor of the elites. “The Nightingales and the Thieves Guild deal in subterfuge and retrieval. Combat is not our strongest suit. Dragonrein, however, has the strength of an entire army packed into a table’s worth of ponies.” She points at Wolf River. “And a horse?”

“Pony,” Wolf River says with a derisive snort. “And you should have tried. Called in as many soldiers as the Nightingales and Thieves Guild could spare. You could have saved the children before...” He looks at me. “Point is, you should have called in the dogs.”

“Any while we’re at it, let’s armor them all in glass and send them across a riverbank of wet mossy rocks. Sorry, friend, but this was a delicate operation. I only called in the muscle I needed, and that’s you. Now I can do my part.”

I approach Mistral. “How long has the Thieves Guild been looking into this conspiracy?”

“Not as long as I’d wish. We like to be proactive, but it was a small pack of Blackwings who approached us first, shortly before the Imperial Legion occupied Baltimare. These fellows, actually.” Mistral leads us to the other six ponies among her, all of which are friendly seeming Blackwings. While their condition is still rather ragged, their relaxed smiles make them come across as surprisingly pleasant.

“Hi. Lone Digger, alchemist for the Blackwings,” says the stallion in the front, gesturing to himself. I recognize him as the stallion who tossed the malcontent filly into the dark room. “Sorry for the unpleasant scene I made earlier. I couldn’t afford to break cover, so…” Judging by his shaking aura, he’s just as disturbed as I was. “I swear, I will never complain about bratty children ever again.”

“So, you and your friends are…?” I start to ask.

“Rebels against rebels, yes. We were obedient soldiers, wanting to improve Fillydelphia’s lot along with everyone else’s. Temerity trusted us enough to involve us with the project, but from day one we knew we weren’t okay with this. Kind of… woke us up, so to speak. I personally want to stop this nonsense and go back to working on my brother’s farm.”

The stallion next to Lone Digger speaks up. “I was having doubts about the Blackwings from the day Tohro left us. Considered this child soldier project the final nail in the coffin. I was the first to start smuggling children out, and everyone else followed.”

A unicorn emerges from behind them. He has bandages over one of his eyes, and has far too many wrinkles for such a young soul. His aura is tainted with black splotches. “They made me read th’ Elder Scroll what did wrong to those poor ‘uns.” He removes said scroll from his pack and gives it to me. “Didn’t matter how ‘ard I yelled, they wouldn’t let me stop. It hurt so much. Can’t even do magic no more. ‘S better in your ‘ooves, Shae Sparkle.”

“It’s not good in anypony’s hooves, but thank you.” Just seeing the Elder Scroll’s black aura makes me angry, even if it’s harmless in its parchment prison. “You’re good ponies, all of you.”

“Not good enough,” says Lone Digger. He waves us forward and leads me, Mistral, Rosemary, Wolf River and Tangerine back down the hall. “We should have stopped this before it started.”

Outside the hall, back in the many chambers of these illegal barracks, I see hundreds of auras, all dim and lying on the ground. Blackwings and children alike like flat and still, breathing softly, as if they had all just fallen asleep on the spot. A faint, tangy smell invades my nostrils. “It smells like citrus in here… with a hint of dry flour?”

“It’s what’s left of the sleeping bombs we tossed into every room,” says Mistral, kicking an empty wooden sphere aside. “Courtesy of Lone Digger, and about a month of secretive development. Unless your metabolism is through the roof, a whiff of a fresh batch will knock you out in ten seconds flat, and you won’t wake up. Unfortunately, it does not work on elites. That’s why I needed you.”

“Oh. Sorry I was so shortsighted,” Wolf River says, admiring the lake’s worth of unconscious Blackwings. “I’m glad to know that we all had a role to play here… I’m guessing you’ll need someone to carry the children out of here?”

“Them and the Blackwings.”

I turn around and see a welcome, half-scarred face. Tohro is at the entrance to the mess hall, with Temerity in chains. Temerity has several cuts, as well as a nasty bruise on his head.

“He’s concussed,” Tohro says, tapping Temerity on the bruise, evoking pained grunts. “Do not let him pass out like the rest of his ilk, I do not want him going into a coma before he confesses everything to Queen Platinum herself.”

“Do what you must, my duty is fulfilled.” Temerity chuckles through his exclamations of pain. “I’ve already created hundreds of elites. They’re out there, wandering Equestria, doing what must be done. The Blackwings will live on forever, thanks to me.”

Tohro taps him on the bruise again. “And you, my friend, just made a confession worth hundreds of life sentences. Or execution. Who knows? There’s a world of possibilities for people like you.”

“Tohro, so good to see you after all this time,” says Lone Digger. He and the other traitorous Blackwings salute him, to which he salutes back. “Mind if we join you on your way back to Everfree?”

“Hm. While I personally would like that, it might be a one-way trip for you. You are still Blackwings, by all accounts, and you might be charged for participating in… all of this.” Tohro gestures to the room, and the entire bunker by extension.

“Unwillingly,” Lone Digger adds.

“Just a possibility. I’ll escort you to Everfree as free ponies and vouch for you. Hell, I’ll even give you credit for Temerity’s arrest.”

“Sounds good to me. And besides, even if we’re locked away…” The unicorn with the bandages shoots a vengeful glare at Temerity with his single eye. “With any luck, we’ll share the same cell as him.”

Temerity snickers, much to the chagrin of every conscious pony in the room. His aura is putrid.

“Hey!” Tangerine steps forward and advances on Temerity. I’m surprised she’s held this in for so long. In her place, I could picture myself pouncing on Temerity on sight. “What’s so funny, ingrate?” she asks, giving off a quiet, intimate rage.

“Who are you?” Temerity asks dismissively, before realizing who he’s talking to. “Oh, the late general’s wife.”

“How dare you?!” Wolf River shouts. Tangerine signals for him to stand down.

“I suppose you’re here for your children,” Temerity guesses. “Numbers One and Two. You should be honored to know that I had those titles reserved for them the instant I began this project. I knew that the children of Oregano Von Spice would make for fine examples for the other recruits—”

“Prisoners,” Tohro interjects.

“—given their family’s wartime history. Unfortunately, I was mistaken. They could barely pick up weapons. They combined had the combat capabilities of a retarded mule.”

“Good!” Tangerine yells, striking Temerity across the head. “I don’t want them to have the life Oregano had, or the one I’ve chosen to lead! They deserve to bask in the comfort he and I fought for. The kind that you and your fellow Blackwings destroyed when you invaded my home.”

“You owe me a few soldiers, by the way,” Temerity says. He glances at Rosemary. “Your housemaid killed most of the ones I sent.”

“That’s my daughter!” Tangerine puts out her foreleg protectively as Rosemary comes forth.

“Huh, is that so? Then I guess the life of a soldier came to everyone in your family, no matter how hard you tried to stop it… Well, I say that, but in truth, your wants were well-placed. Number One and Two, I must confess, were not fit for any of this.”

“So where are they now?” Rosemary asks.

Temerity spits at Rosemary and Tangerine’s hooves. “Why would I tell you—”

“They’re in the dark room,” Lone Digger says. “I’m sorry, Lady Tangerine. I didn’t realize One and Two were yours. If I did, I wouldn’t have put them in there…”

“I di’n’t even wanna make that dark room in th’ first place!” the Blackwing with one eye exclaims. “The Elder Scroll I read revealed a complicated rune that would summon dark clouds from Tartarus itself. By the time I wanted to go turncoat, I...” He touches his horn. “I couldn’t do nuthin’.”

Rosemary turns to me. I can see her aura ripple, boiling like hot water, but she remains composed on the outside. She then looks at the unicorn. “Shae can dispel those runes and clear out the darkness. Can’t you, lass?”

“Absolutely,” I say with confidence. “Lone Digger, lead us to the dark room.”

~Vision End~

~Caro~

Shokenda’s eyes stop glowing. She looks up at me with an expression I’ve never seen from her, one that I never thought I’d see from her. She looks almost pained as she falls back onto her hindquarters. Beyond her gaping wounds, I see genuine anguish that she’s never displayed before. Something is clearly wrong.

"Are you there…?” she whispers, her voice having lost all its malice and dominance. “Are you…”

She’s not speaking to me. I don’t think she’s aware I’m here anymore. I’d go so far as to say she doesn’t know where she is at all. As she looks over herself, fixating on her own hooves and looking at them with horror, she lets out a noise that I’d expect to hear from a wounded child. I start to think she doesn’t even know what she is.

But this can’t be right. She shouldn’t be horrified at herself. I saw everything in that memory orb. She summoned the power of an Elder Scroll to become an alicorn, didn’t she? She can’t have done all of this unawares, which is why it’s all the more confusing that she keeps letting out cries of confusion and distress.

“W-what's happening?!” she screeches. “I... I don't want t-to do this anymore…” She keels over, seizing her head. She screeches like it’s about to split open on her. “I-I-It hurts, please s-stop..."

She lurches forward as if being pulled by strings. Her eyes glow again, so bright that I can’t even look at them. As I turn away and shield my face from the searing light, I hear a bloodcurdling roar escape Shokenda’s mouth. And then I hear a voice that makes my skin crawl and my heart stop. "Cloud! Be silent!"

~Vision End~

~Shae~

Lone Digger takes a deep breath as his hooves take ahold of the gate’s handle. The dark room lies beyond, with none of the Fae to be seen within it. “Epona knows how many times I’ve sent a child in there to an unimaginable fate…” Lone Digger says. “It’s comforting to know that this is the last time I’ll open this door.”

The gate slowly opens, revealing a chamber of infinite darkness to me and everyone else. Only Temerity is unperturbed by this. “I took a step in there myself, for curiosity’s sake,” he says. “I couldn’t see, hear or smell anything. By the time I walked out a few minutes later, a week had passed.”

“You should have stayed,” says Wolf River. “As if brainwashing children wasn’t enough, you’d deprive them of their birthright senses?”

“It was the only way they’d learn,” Temerity replies. At this point, I doubt the destruction of the world around him could phase him. “Of course, a properly disciplined child would learn to cope with sensory deprivation, knowing it to be a temporary loss, but… Mmm, why spoil the surprise? Go on, dispel the runes. Do as you please.”

Tangerine furrows her brow. “I don’t like your tone. What are you playing at?”

Lone Digger answers for Temerity. “It wasn’t a matter of how long the children would wander in the dark room. It was a matter of who wanted out more.”

As those words wash over me, the whole world becomes just as black and oppressive as the dark room, which makes it all the easier to run inside, despite Rosemary’s pleas for me to hold on a moment. The instant I step into the void where the Fae doesn’t exist, it’s like being cast back into that bed, in an infirmary on the outskirts of Ghastly Gorge, with nothing to see but darkness and memories. It almost makes me stop, but looking down at myself reveals that the Fae within me remains, untouchable by the darkness.

I call upon the Fae, summoning a good portion of it into my horn, and let it burst outward like a firework. Most of it dissipates, but some of it settles on two glowing, smoking, demonic runes to my left and right. Both of them emanate an offensive amount of dark magic, more than most unicorns would ever wish to see in their lifetime. Now that I know where they are, I summon more of the Fae within me and cast out two beams from my hooves, both of which collide with the runes and begin to erode them like old paint. After a minute of concentrating on my dispelling beams, the runes are damaged beyond effectivity. Their black aura disappears, and the flowing darkness stops.

I use the rest of my immediate power to create another burst, this one of purifying light, which burns the darkness away and returns the Fae to this room, and restores sight to me. I can see the auras of dozens of children. The faint, dwindling auras… of…

Dozens of corpses. Piled on top of each other.

The first thing I notice is the stench. I back away from it, towards the auras of my allies, while covering my nose and trying not to scream, or run in terror, or faint on the spot. On the way, I stumble into something small and moving. A filly who yelps in terror as I accidentally step on her tail.

It’s the same filly who was thrown in here earlier, and the distant colt who refused to fight her sits at her side, holding her hoof. “Hm?” He looks up at me. “Oh, it’s you. Are we free to go?”

I don’t open my mouth. I fear what would come out if I did. I merely nod at the colt and wave my hoof towards the door. He helps the filly up and takes her there, where Lone Digger is the first to greet her. His stoic demeanor breaks as he falls to his hindquarters and hugs the filly, holding her close. “I’m sorry, sweetie, I’m so… so sorry…” he mutters.

As the rest of the Blackwings, along with Mistral, shy away, Rosemary, Tangerine and Wolf River step into the room, looking upon the carnage with the horror one would expect. Shock. Disgust. Fury. Sadness. Disbelief. I see it all in their rapidly changing auras, and if they could see mine, it would be doing the same.

And Temerity doesn’t care at all. He displays a solitary smile. “Look upon my works, ye mighty, and—”

Tohro seizes him by the neck in a chokehold, eyes wide, tears falling, not saying anything. He doesn’t relinquish the chokehold until Temerity falls unconscious.

Finally, someone who isn’t the scum of the world speaks, and it’s Tangerine, whose aura is the most ruptured of all. It seems that she too had a wall she needed to let down. “Nut...meg? C-C-Cinnamon?” she calls out, her voice weak and shredded. She swallows her tears, instantly breaking into a scream. “NUTMEG! CINNAMOOOON!!”

“Mum…” Rosemary wraps her foreleg around her mother’s barrel.

“COME OUT! THAT’S AN ORDER!” Tangerine traverses the piles of dead children, spinning about, nearly tripping over her own hooves. “COME ON OUT!” Amongst her shrieking, I hear nervous laughter. “COME TO MOMMY! Come to...”

“Mum.” Rosemary jabs Tangerine, getting her attention and pointing to Wolf River.

Wolf River already had Nutmeg and Cinnamon’s scent. He found them.

~Vision End~

~Caro~

I back away in shock. I’ve heard this voice before, once. Despite having every reason to doubt it to be true, somewhere deep within me I feel a single thought pass between every single dragon I’ve killed. Several voices on the surface of my mind, all speaking a single name.

“Go away… SAVIIKAAAAAAAN!!” Shokenda screams, her eyes losing their glow once again.

No. No, no, no. That’s not… I back away from her, shaking my head.

Shokenda is shaking her head too, thrashing her limbs, trying to rid herself of something that can’t be felt. "I-I don't like this anymore! Please stop touching me!"

Just as before, that demonic voice makes my heart stop. "Stay with me, Cloud… STAY WHERE YOU BELONG!"

Shokenda screams, her voice weak and broken. “NO! NO! LEAVE ME ALONE!”

“YOU BELONG TO ME!!”

Shokenda lets out a piercing bellow that forces me to cover my ears and turn away again. The ground trembles, cracking all around her, until there’s an explosion of stone and mortar. The crucifix collapses, and the skeleton upon it falls to pieces.

The dust settles on me, and the unsettled civilians. I can’t imagine what’s running through their heads as they see… whatever is happening in front of me. I can barely believe it myself.

We all look upon the atrocity of an alicorn who claims to be a god, seeing that she has composed herself, though not entirely. She remains still in the pit she has created, looking up at me and her subjects with, dare I say, horror. For a while, I might have believed that she was some sort of god. But now I know it was all just a lie, much like everything else she’s ever said. What he has said with her voice this whole time.

To think he was right in front of me all along...

“Saviikaan.”

LIV - Engraved

~Caro~

“You’re Saviikaan.”

The fake alicorn I once knew as Shokenda looks at me with empty, glazed-over eyes and speaks with the echo of a demon. “Yes.”

It’s easy to forget about a broken leg or a glass-filled body when you’re lying in front of the beast you’re destined to slay, but the revelation isn’t at all what I would expect it to be. I want to be thrilled. Relieved. Curious. More than anything, though, I just feel scared and angry. He was there, all along, tormenting me and my friends, tearing my fellow equines apart, using Cloud’s body as a vessel.

Even if I could think of something to do to express my rage, I’d be helpless to actually do it. My strength is gone from me. Nothing remains.

~Vision End~

CHAPTER LIV - ENGRAVED

“And then what happened?” Queen Platinum asks. Her every word and breath carries dignity, refinement, and poise, but even through all of that, Caro can see her royal stoicism take a hit from the revelation.

“Nothing. She disappeared,” Caro answers. “I mean… They disappeared… I’m still unclear as to what to call that amalgamation. The name Shokenda was merely a front.”

“From what you’ve told me, it’s apparent that Cloud is the victim. The threat is Saviikaan.”

It’s a beautiful day. The Spice family villa retains much of its former glory in the glow of a cloudless day, especially in the back garden. Birds are taking up residence by the pond, feeding on the overgrowth and the seeds falling from the untrimmed trees.

These things could be appreciated on any other day, but to Caro, he can’t find it in himself to admire the beauty of nature. He only feels a widening pit of dread in his stomach. The whole world feels fragile and empty to him, like it could all shatter with one small slip.

“You should eat something,” says Platinum. “You look absolutely destroyed.”

Caro shakes his head. “How could I eat?”

“It’s rather simple, actually. You take the food and put it in...” Platinum snickers into her hoof. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist.”

“I think you could’ve.”

“What’s wrong with a laugh in a time of crisis? And I used the word crisis very liberally. As I see it, it’s high time you did away with this dread. It’s wasted effort that could be put into preparing for what happens next.” Platinum lends Caro a gentle touch upon the cheek. “I understand. It’s easy to think that these hard revelations mean the surefire collapse of everything you know. Trust me, they don’t. A disaster occurs, you get shaken, and the rest of world moves on without you.”

“Saviikaan would have my world destroyed.” Caro looks to the graveyard beyond the garden. “And now I know how close he’s come to doing so. I can’t move on when I know he intends to strike again, and this time he won’t hide what he truly is. The Blackwings know they were lied to, so Saviikaan has no reason to pretend anymore.”

“Which also means that he can’t hide behind zealots, sans a few dragons, but I doubt they’ll be much of an issue for the Dragonborn.”

“With all due respect, Your Majesty, plunging a sword through Shokenda’s chest for at least a minute wasn’t enough to finish the job.” He points to Tangerine, Rosemary and Wolf River. “And I don’t feel too good about my odds of killing Saviikaan when all of us combined couldn’t save dozens of innocent children. Hell, we couldn’t even save two.”

The gravestones of Nutmeg and Cinnamon are innocuous enough. Humble stone graves for humble children, with Nutmeg’s on the left, and Cinnamon’s on the right. Their names had been carved by Tangerine, and the soil was decorated with the flowers Rosemary picked on the journey to Fillydelphia. She looks over the graves, wearing a surprisingly stoic expression. The sadness is plain to see in her eyes, but she maintains her poise.

Platinum displays a nod of sorrow for the deaths of the innocent. “Poor little ones… Still, for as many young lives were lost, I hear that hundreds of others were saved. I’ll make that known to all of Everfree after I have Temerity locked away.”

“I trust he isn’t giving your soldiers too much trouble?”

“Tohro and the turncoat Blackwings are handling him well, back in Everfree. I’m considering sending a platoon of soldiers into Fillydelphia to quietly extract any other Blackwings involved in the project. I would be fair, and give them the chance to serve the Empire as recompense for what they’ve done.”

Appreciative as he is, Caro still wears a grim frown. “Yes, irreversibly damaging children is quite forgivable…”

“Actually, if my intel is correct, their condition is quite manageable,” Platinum says with gusto.

Caro’s eyes light up as looks up at Platinum. He is then startled when Mistral and Smart Cookie emerge from behind an overgrown bush.

“It will take time,” Smart Cookie says, “but with the right alchemical ingredients, there are potions that can restore almost anything. The Blackwings took advantage of how malleable a child’s mind can be. We can do the same.”

Mistral strokes her chin and looks deviously towards Platinum. “That said, the Thieves Guild would be able to speed up the process if we were to, say, somehow procure the Imperial Legion’s stockade of curative herbs…”

Platinum exaggeratedly rolls her eyes. “That would be incredibly compromising to the Empire’s integrity. I can’t directly trade with a guild notable for its misdemeanors, you’ve already taken so much from me as it is. For example, I’m sending a caravan past Baltimare one week from now, and I fear that you’ll steal something from it.”

Mistral shrugs and turns her head, briskly walking back towards the house. “As you wish, Your Majesty.”

Smart Cookie looks at Platinum with awe, giving a respectful bow. “How pragmatic of you.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Also, hello!” She puts on a coy smile and warmly approaches Smart Cookie, pulling him in for a gentle hug. She took care not to touch the cuts and burns that blemished his greying body. “It’s so good to see you, old friend. You had me and everyone else worried with your disappearing act.”

“It was all in good intentions, I swear. I was investigating this war from the shadows, stopping battles before they started, moving money where it needed to be moved. The whole of the Thieves Guild wasn’t on your side, but I made sure you had the upper hoof. Eventually, I was called up to become a Nightingale. I hoped I could have landed the Empire some legendary equipment, but that went awry when Mistral went and gave Caro your husband’s sword.”

Platinum smiles at Caro, passing an admiring glance at his hoof. “I suppose all I have left of my rainbow angel are his paintings now. Do take care of what he bequeathed to you.”

Caro crosses his heart with his hoof.

“Good boy. If you need me, I’ll be at my carriage with a cup of tea. Smart Cookie, I humbly request that you join me.” Platinum departs the garden with a swing of her cape.

“W-wait, Platinum…” Caro reaches out to her, but she’s already turning the corner.

“It can wait, Caro.”

“No, it…” Caro is left feeling like both he and Platinum haven’t said enough, but he decides against taking time away from her reunion with a long lost friend. Despite being surrounded by allies in high places, right alongside him, and within him, he feels more alone than ever. He partially attributes that to Tohro being off in Everfree, unable to say the right words to make the situation better.

He has to settle for the next best thing. “Rasahrel?” he says aloud.

“Hello, my child…” she says softly. “You’re still arun with sorrow.”

“Of course I am. People died. We failed to save Tangerine’s kids. My sworn enemy is out there, angrier than ever.” He rubs the bandages that cover much of his body. He grimaces, even though the pain from shattered glass and a broken leg is long gone.

“Your pain is mine. For so long I’ve witnessed lives be taken when they were meant to be taken, either by your hoof, or by others. I can’t remember seeing deaths so… undeserved. Preventable. If only we had, ah...”

“...Had what?” Caro blurts out. “Acted quicker? Stormed Fillydelphia on day one of this war? Butchered every potential Blackwing before the war even started?!”

“No. That is not the way. You couldn’t have solved this with genocide.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time I traded one evil for another. Being helpless to cure the world is just as awful as infecting it with an evil of your own.”

Rasahrel is quiet for a moment. “Are you talking about becoming the Dragonborn? I know that you stumbled through what having such a title means, but you came out a hero. One that I would follow into the abyss.”

“Right. Only because you were forced into doing so.”

“I could have been a quiet objector, but I’m better than that. I’m not like most dragons.”

“So, what, then all of our mistakes are justifiable? Just because you might’ve thought slightly different from your ilk means that killing hundreds of ponies before now is forgivable?!”

“What… Caro, that is not who I am anymore! How is that relevant to anything?”

Caro wishes he could stop, but he has a waterfall of poorly chosen words built up and can’t stop them from flowing. “Because no matter what you do, those deaths will never be undone! You fucked up!”

“Don’t you talk to me that way! Genocide is not my wish! That feeble wish died when my body did! There is nothing left of it! It’s over!”

“It’s only over for the dead!” Caro slams his hooves onto the half-wall. Through tearful eyes, he gazes upon the graveyard. Even if the gravestones only add up to a mere dozen, they are still a dozen ponies that are no longer with the living, and judging by the numbers etched in stone, they were robbed of too many years.

“What is this really about, child?” Rasahrel speaks firmly. Caro feels her standing firm in the deepest reaches of his essence. “Do you hate me now? Or do you hate yourself again?”

“I hate…” Caro’s hooves drag along the half-wall. His fangs cut his lower lip as he bites down.

“Everything. Right now, the way things are, it’s easy to hate everything. Because you’re filled with the same self-loathing that every living being in history has felt and will feel, no matter how much good one does for themselves or others. In turn, you force that hate onto others, in a vain, distant hope that they understand how much you hurt. But it doesn’t help. It doesn’t restore what you’ve lost, or undo what has happened that hurts you.”

Caro folds his forelegs and sinks his head into them. Shrinking away, he closes his eyes and imagines the world without him.

“You don’t need to say you’re sorry. I know I’ve harmed Equestria, and I know that, in your best moments, you’d never hold that against me. What’s happening to you now is just a thought. A moment. A temporary bout of sadness expunged as shortsighted hatred. It’s okay to feel that way.”

For a second, Caro swears he can feel somepony embracing him, even though there’s nothing there.

“I know this because I still loathed myself as a dragon, and sometimes loathe who I am now. Both parts of my life, as a dragon and as a soul floating about inside you, have been filled with moments where hatred would be all that could be felt, even for the things I love. But there is a key difference between then and now. Would you like to know what it is?”

Caro whimpers and nods as he feels the distant embrace grow stronger.

“The time I’ve spent with you has been the happiest of my life. You have shown me how strong a mortal equine can be, beyond what the dovah ever thought possible. I’ve watched you save innocents, cut down the irredeemable with dignity, stand up against the unstoppable and prove that it isn’t. Every good thing I’ve seen you do makes me adore you and your fellow equines even more. You made me want to see this kingdom saved.”

A stray tear falls from Caro’s eye.

“Do you want to know why you’re a hero? It’s because you’re an inspiration. Shokenda took advantage of the feeble-minded. Temerity forced those children to join his cause. You, however, have the power to make ponies, gryphons, dragons, everyone, believe in good. Until I met you, I never knew compassion. That is a power no Dragonborn before you held in such capacity. It is a power Equestria needs.”

Caro takes one more glance at the graveyard, at Tangerine, Rosemary, and Wolf River, who all share eye contact with him. There is no malice or blame there. Sadness. Loss. Grief. But nothing held against him. And as for the grave itself, Caro never knew Nutmeg and Cinnamon, but he has a feeling that in their final moments, they were proud of defying those who would turn them against their fellow equines, and would be happy for every child set free in their wake.

Caro can’t bring himself to smile, but now that his eyes have run dry and no longer shed tears, he sits still. Quietly. He doesn’t feel the weight of guilt rise, but it feels lighter with the thought of many, many children walking free from that bunker, to be mended by the Thieves Guild, or simply sent home to their families, where they belong.

“Their wounds can heal…” Caro whispers. “I… I can try to mend mine.”

The carriage ride back to Everfree is both fast and arduous. Queen Platinum’s chauffeurs are mighty pegasi stallions, swift as the wind, flying over the fields and forests of Equestria with speed and grace. The carriage itself is lined with cushions and velvet, making for a smooth and comfortable ride, capped off with cups of sweet tea all around.

Despite the pleasantries, Everfree still feels like a world’s journey away for Caro and Shae. With how long it’s been since they lived among its prosperous citizens, the Imperial city is like some fantastical paradise they only ever dreamed of. They look at each other, sharing the same anxious expression, and confirm their mutual yearning to be with their loved ones.

Platinum finishes the last of her tea, savoring the sweet clusters of sugar from the bottom of the cup, and finishes her story. “Anyway, that was when I threw the war room at her.”

Shae and Smart Cookie both nearly spit out their tea. Shae swallows her mouthful and giggles. “The whole war room?”

“How is that even possible?” Smart Cookie asks.

“Those seats aren’t as bolted down as they look, and I had a hearty breakfast that day. Anyway, heaving a table, several lamps and the aforementioned rows of seats at Jarl Drake was enough to make her run for the hills. I didn’t see her again until the most recent summit.”

“You made quite the impression, it seems.”

“On her face. One can imagine how much the crisis would have escalated if I had broken something. Well, aside from the Empire’s bond with a central trading hub, which led to an inflation in price for basic amenities...” Platinum lowers her cup. “I made myself sad.”

Shae waves her hoof. “It’s all amended, just don’t throw a room at somepony when they mess up. As tempting as it may be.”

“The relationship is amended; those years where an entire day’s effort could barely buy a bag of oats for one will never disappear. I have a mountain’s worth of debt to repay, and you’ve helped me with a small portion of that by uncovering Temerity’s plot.”

Shae has a look out the window. The white towers of Everfree can be seen in the distance, although to her, Everfree looks like a collection of shapes and glowing auras. However, the shapes are familiar, and the auras match the prosperous city she knows. A wistful smile crosses her muzzle. “How long have we been gone?” she asks.

“Long enough,” Caro answers. “Longer still for you, right, Smart Cookie?”

“You disappear for over a decade and they change everything.” Smart Cookie is the only one in the carriage who doesn’t greet Everfree with happiness. The carriage lowers onto the bridge. The gate opens, welcoming the carriage into the city. Smart Cookie takes in the surroundings, and despite its beauty, still sees fit to scoff. “You seriously lined the streets with gemstones.”

“Do you have any idea how much a ruby is worth nowadays?” Platinum asks. “Equestria is full of gems. Even if you collected the entirety of the gemstones leading from this street up to the Rainbow Palace, the exchange rate would amount to little more than a cheap breakfast.”

Smart Cookie pays mind to the hoof in his mouth and shrugs. “I see… Well, they are quite pretty.”

The carriage suddenly slows to a crawl, causing everyone inside to lurch forward. The wheels screech along the road as they come to a stop, and the pegasi up front whinny in surprise.

Platinum looks out the window, checking the signs. “Baker Street? I haven’t set hoof here in years…” She leans outside the carriage and whistles to the pegasi. “I don’t take kindly to a stop and go, dears, I hope you know that! The royal vessel has the right of way, always!”

“Our apologies, Your Majesty,” says one of the pegasi, who detaches his reins and trots to the window. He quickly bows to Platinum and gestures up ahead. “It seems a mob has broken out.”

The queen purses her lips. “Excuse me?”

The pegasus clears his throat and chuckles. “N-Not an angry mob, I assure you! It’s something of an… impromptu party.”

Smart Cookie rolls his eyes. “Oooof course.”

Only now do the occupants of the carriage notice the cheers and laughter coming from up ahead, along with the sounds of pounding drums and woodwind instruments. It’s a jovial cacophony. Caro, Shae and Smart Cookie all stand up and disembark the carriage, stepping into the radiant sunlight.

~Shae~

At first, I held a tinge of remorse, knowing that I wouldn’t behold Everfree’s radiance with my own eyes, but it didn’t last long. Now, I remember that I’m the only unicorn in history to see the world through the eyes of Fauste, and only I can behold the glowing, vibrant auras of Everfree. These colors, these lights, they are more alive than any night sky I’ve ever seen through a telescope, and far more numerous than anything I saw in the fields of Equestria, or in Fillydelphia. As I pass by these auras, wisps rise from the ponies who behold them and become one with me, filling me with a warm, small surge of strength. It’s just what I need, after all I’ve been through.

“Miss Shae!” A young chef I’ve never met before approaches me, carrying a basket of edible goods. “It’s so good to see you! When did you get back?”

I point to Her Majesty’s carriage. “About twenty paces ago, actually. What can I do for you?”

The chef grins brightly and, using his horn, levitates a pastry out of his basket. “Nothing, I just wanted to give you this. It’s Prench bread cut thin, dipped in cinnamon-sugar and lightly braised. Your daughters, that is, the princesses, they absolutely love it.”

I take a hearty bite out of the breadstick. I haven’t had anything this sweet in months. I devour the rest and give the chef repeated nods of approval. I swallow quickly and ask, “Do you have any more?”

“In time! Back in a flash!” The chef dashes away.

Much of this party continues in that fashion. I’m recognized by dozens, given free food by many, and I’m not the only one partaking in the pleasantries. From rich to downtrodden, everyone seems to be enraptured by this sudden get together. Just as I start to question why, I notice a line of dancers in the middle of the street, who are the center of everypony’s attention. It takes me longer than it should for me to realize that those are royal guards making up the majority of the dancers. What a hoot!

And then I see two familiar faces leap out from the armored ensemble; Tohro does a backflip out of the center, twirling before he hits the pavement and drifts to a stop, followed by Puddinghead, who tumbles into a dramatic slide, throwing a bundle of confetti into the air.

Then comes somepony who makes my heart leap. I see her royal golden aura before she appears. My Celina rises from the crowd, wings spread wide, shooting off a gentle flash of light from her horn, before curling up and falling to the ground, landing with graceful, elegant poise between Tohro and Puddinghead.

Just as I wave to grab her attention, she leaps into the air again with a flip, and from below, I see another powerful aura, this one like a glowing night sky. Luna comes out, gliding along the pavement with her forelegs outstretched. She’s grown exponentially compared to when I last saw her. She’s just short of Celina in terms of size, and going by her laughter, her voice has deepened too.

She notices me, gasps, and falls flat on her face.

My instincts kick in. I rush past everypony else and go to Luna, picking her face off the ground. “Are you okay, sweetie?”

Luna rises and wiggles her head. She has a little scratch on her muzzle, which I do away with by a simple touch of my hoof.

“Boop,” I say, before seizing Luna, kissing her forehead, and holding her close with all my might. Divines will it, I will never let her go.

“Mother, you embarrass me,” Luna mutters. She’s lying.

Celina comes to me. Her mane has become ethereal, its natural pink joined by a bright blue. It looks just as brilliant as it did when I still had my own eyes. She greets me with a dignified bow. “Mother, welcome home.” When she rises, I hear the first sign of oncoming tears. She wipes them away and says, with a hushed choke, “I-I missed you…”

I levitate her to me by her forelegs. She falls into my embrace with Luna as I pull her in, bringing both my daughters against me.

“I’m here.”

~Vision End~

~Rosemary~

“You’re leavin’?!” I exclaim.

My mother drops her satchel and immediately stands to attention. She didn’t intend to leave her bedroom door slightly ajar, but she did, and a passing glance was all I needed to know why she was stuffing rations and spare clothes into a bag, alongside Wolf River.

“She was going to tell you, uh…” Wolf River sets his axe down alongside a collection of spare swords. He raises his eyebrow and looks at Mum. “When were you going to tell her?”

Mum sighs and resumes packing. She should not be this calm… Maybe calm isn’t the right word. She is definitely determined, but she also looks defeated. This isn’t what she’s supposed to look like.

“Mum?” I ask, stepping into her room and brandishing a pleading frown. “Tell me what’s goin’ on? What’s happenin’?”

She folds a wool scarf and packs it away.

“Mum.”

She does the same with the cape I stitched for her when she came home on her first leave from the Imperial Legion. She only stayed for three days…

That bitter memory makes me tense up and clench my teeth. “Tangerine!”

She looks at me, and I look back at her. I’m so used to there being this distance between us, like we can be in the same room yet still be hundreds of miles apart, like usual. This is different. We’re on different planes of reality now.

It’s only her sudden urge to hit the road that’s new here. It’s been a few weeks since we got back from Fillydelphia, and we’ve had time to heal. Not nearly enough time, but just enough to close old wounds, as well as some new ones.

The new ones…

“I hear you cry at night,” Mum mutters. “Do you dream about them too?”

I can't help it as my hackles rise and tears threaten to spill. "'Course I do," I choke out, a bit more forcefully than I'd intended. "After Daddy died, and you took his place as general, it was always just us three." My ears fold back, and I give her a little smile. "Most of my best memories were spent watchin' ‘em grow."

“And I wasn’t there for any of it.” She shivers, as if shaking cold water out of her fur, and then shows an apologetic look. "I should’ve been here. If I'd just swallowed my pride sooner, and come home, I could have saved them. I could've helped you. I could've done somethin’. Could’ve, should’ve, could’ve…” She steps forward. “Listen. I don't blame you for this. You did everythin’ you could to find them, and where was I, the cold, distant mother... Bah. That’s too kind. I was no better than a broodmare towards you."

I glance away, my chest tightening a bit more; there's not much to say. I could resort to platitudes, but none would change the truth. We're both too stubborn to blame each other, and we can't take back the years of hurt between us. Not in one night.

"Well, now you get it.” I turn in place and march out the room. I need to be angry about this. If I hold anything in, my stomach will rupture. “At least I don’t need need to forget what it’s like to watch somepony leave.”

“Rosemary!”

“The ones you wanted are dead, so what the hell else matters?!”

~Vision End~

Platinum strolls down the halls of the Rainbow Palace, alongside Shae and Tohro. “Thanks for your punctuality,” she says to them. “I know that there’s nowhere you’d rather be than relaxing in your rooms, but there is one last thing that needs to be done before we put this whole Temerity business to rest.”

“Has a punishment for him been decided?” Tohro asks.

“He will be locked away in an Imperial cell in the mountains under strict surveillance from high ranking Imperial soldiers. My husband built it to hold the most provocative criminals, if they were ever too valuable to kill. Temerity will be its first occupant.”

“Wait. Valuable?” Shae asks. “Since when is Temerity worth anything?”

“He is worth something to the Blackwings. If we had his head, he’d become a martyr, and would serve as provocation for them to do the same to us. He’s almost as valued as Shokenda is… Well, was. I’m not sure what consequences will arise from the truth.”

The light of the stained glass windows seems a little less colorful just at the thought of Saviikaan in the flesh.

“It makes every victory against the Blackwings seem paltry,” Tohro says.

Platinum steps in front of Tohro and touches his shoulder. “I can’t have you becoming a worrywort, that’s my job.” She returns to her walking. “The point is, Temerity will have the rest of his life in a stone cell to think about what he’s done.”

Shae remembers how putrid Temerity’s aura was, and it makes her grimace. She can’t imagine the world being cleansed of his crimes in any amount of mortal years, no matter how extreme the punishment.

Tohro hesitates to follow, pondering the queen’s decision. “Whoever guards him should wear non-military armor. We don’t want to draw his sympathizers’ attention…” He puts a pin in that notion when he hears the shuffling of armored hooves. He can make out a blurred crowd of soldiers through the stained glass window. “Did I miss a drill?”

“No. I’ve called together an assembly. I think it’s time my soldiers know what they’re up against.”

~Caro~

I peek through the curtains. The stage is empty, but not for long. Platinum will be out there soon, speaking to hundreds of soldiers, telling them a horrible truth. How is one pony meant to bequeath such horrors without a massive demotivation? Or worse, instill panic in their hearts and weapons? Tohro once told them to hold on to their fear, yet not let it control them… What if this is what pushes them over the edge? What if this results in another few years of paranoia and betrayal among our own kind? One of the many things Dragonrein stood up against, brought back in a single speech. It’ll be exactly what Saviikaan wants.

Captain Gauntlet and Tohro show Platinum the list of arrivals. “It’s nearly a full attendance. Even the sick and injured have risen from their beds just to hear about this.”

“What did you expect? Nothing less, I would hope.” Tohro looks over the list with a proud smile. I take a peek as well, realizing that hundreds might be an understatement. His smile is at least a little bit of a comfort, especially when he keeps sneaking glances at me.

“What did you tell them?” I ask Platinum, in a noticeably nervous voice. My concern is hard to hide at this point.

And yet, she shrugs it off. “I simply made it known that Dragonrein has returned to Everfree and this war has changed.”

That is not assuring. “For the worse, or for the better?”

“There is no ‘better’ war, my dear. But that is for you to decide, really.”

This is going to be a shitshow of historical proportions, I just know it. The soldiers will find out about Saviikaan, they’ll be shaking in their boots, they won’t be ready for what lies ahead, I can’t watch this. I turn away from my friends and the queen, hellbent on getting out of here.

I’m held back by Platinum’s hoof. “What is it?” I ask her.

Platinum casts a slow, grim glance at me. “Do not be this way. This is happening. I am going to tell my soldiers what Shokenda truly is. I can’t, and won’t, spare any details. Are you sure there’s nothing else I should know?”

I swallow. I’m reluctant to bring up the revelation again, but I know it’s for the best. “I’ve already told you everything. Saviikaan, through some means, possibly an Elder Scroll, merged with Cloud and twisted her body into an abomination that he used to maintain the illusion of equine godhood. Whether or not Cloud wanted that in the first place, I don’t really know.” I shy away, rubbing one foreleg against the other anxiously. “I don’t want to know. But she doesn’t want it anymore, that’s for certain.”

“Hmph.” Platinum leans back against her carriage seat. An intense shadow is cast upon her face.

I lean in close, hunching over and looking Platinum in her jaded eyes. “Your Majesty.” I clasp my hooves together. “Please, tell me what I should do.”

“It’s not about what I would have you do. I care not for the how. What I care about is what you’re willing to do.” Platinum hides her grief with a stiff expression and a decisive tone. “That said, if you must have orders, I will keep it simple: Do everything you can to end my granddaughter’s suffering.”

The words strike me like a knife to the gut. My hoof scrapes the carpet as I wrestle over a disturbing thought. Smoke and embers on the battlefield. Hundreds of soldiers torn apart. The dying body of a young, weak mare, a golden soul of the Reclaimer himself rising from her open chest, the blade of Excalibur buried into it… Excalibur. “Wait!”

For the first time in what feels like forever, I stop thinking. Instead of running away, I gallop to the curtain, lightly push Platinum aside and step out onto the stage. It’s like being assaulted by a wall of eyes and murmurs, which quickly rises into a wave of applause. I can only look at it for so long before I’m bombarded by conjured spotlights from the sages in the rafters.

It’s a fast, overwhelming burst of adrenaline, but so unlike the kind I receive in combat. I’m held stock still instead of moving on my own, and whatever words I thought I’d say in the split-second I made this decision are nowhere to be found.

The applause continues for a while. I even hear the pierce of whistling from soldiers on the upper balcony. They’re happy to see me. They’re not judging. They want me to be out here.

I can hear hoof pounding that’s almost tribal in nature. A particularly tightknit group of soldiers in the front row are pumping their hooves at me, performing a war chant. “Dragonborn! Dragonborn! DRAGONBORN! DRAGONBORN! SKOL! SKOL! SKOL! SKOL!”

“Uh,” I thrust my hoof into the air, “SKOL!” I shout, having no idea what that means.

They pound the ground and yell triumphantly.

And then, with a wave of my foreleg, they all quiet down. This is surreal. Trained soldiers following my lead. They respect me. I’ve never seen this much reverence in such concentration before. I wish Master could see me now. He’ll want to hear all about this when I finally find time to visit Neigh Hrothgar.

The problem now, again, lies with words. I think my speech to the people of Fillydelphia doesn’t really apply here, and I can’t willingly look death in the face so I can summon another almost-eulogy.

So, I decide to play my best card early. I swing my hoof upwards and summon Excalibur.

After a synchronized gasp, there’s another explosive roar of cheers and applause.

“Y-Yes, thank you, thank you!” I twirl my sword and rest the tip on the stage floor. “You all know what this is. The blade of kings, the highest honor bestowed by Hephaestus himself. This is Excalibur, as entrusted to me by the Late King Hurricane, may he reign the eternal sky.” I take a moment to breathe. I think I can do this. “With it bound to my…” I clear my throat. “With it bound to my very being, I took it upon myself to advance into Shokenda’s demesne.”

I hear a few hisses and boos as soon as I say her name.

“Meanwhile, my friends in Dragonrein, as well as the former general Tangerine, stepped into the shadows of Fillydelphia and freed hundreds of children from the horrible experiments of Temerity Blackwing.”

“Y’ALL SAVED MY SONS!!” a soldier in the back yells. My heart skips a beat just hearing that.

“You’re welcome!” I shout back, pointing Excalibur in his general direction. “But that wasn’t the only thing that came out of the rescue operation.” I rest the sword on my shoulder. Feeling the comforting presence of Rahsarel brush against my thoughts, I give my most confident grin to those gathered. "Bravest ones, I have grand news for you. You’ve tested your mettle against corruption outside and inside Everfree’s walls. You’ve bled for the lives of others. You’ve lost for the sake of the innocent’s gain. The Blackwings fear your sturdy, unwavering might. Despite that, you’ve probably all asked yourselves the same thing I asked myself when my parents died for this empire, and for many days since as I fought for the weak, felling Blackwings and dragons alike. I asked myself, ‘where does this story of blades and blood end?’.”

I have them hanging on my every word. I delve forward, giving Excalibur a practiced swing as I walk the stage.

"I met Shokenda in her own house of vanity and ignorance. I fought her until my body burned and my bones cracked. Yet, I did not yield. And for my refusal to give in to her power fantasy, I learned that she was never as we once thought she was. During one of our many conflicts, I learned that she can bleed.” I thrust Excalibur forward, to the excited cheers of the soldiers. “Then, I learned that with enough force, and the power of many dragons at my side, I could inflict lasting wounds upon her, proving that she is no true immortal alicorn. Then…”

I pause. Two paths lay before me. One of them is the disturbing notion of the false alicorn being Platinum’s granddaughter. The other is the even more disturbing revelation, that her body is being used by Saviikaan as a vessel, creating the being known as Shokenda.

I decide to appeal to the Imperial Legion with a promise of a powerful final foe, feeding on their lust for a challenge. No doubt many of them expect this war to end with a bang, so I’m going to give that to them. “In a moment of life and death, I saw firsthoof that Shokenda is merely a husk. An empty shell. What’s been bled by the sword of kings, what was once a symbol of fear made a symbol of lies and vanity, is the lord of all dragons. The Reclaimer. The one who once ruled this land one-thousand years ago. Shokenda is Saviikaan.”

I can't really help it, the looks of surprise on some of the soldiers' faces just makes me laugh, and I can feel the dragons within me laughing along.

"Yes, I've already fought the decrepit lizard to a standstill twice, both times without even realizing how powerful he supposedly was. And that, unfortunately for him, has made him weak. For what reason he has to take on this form, I do not know, but he has now been made the fool. All of Fillydelphia knows the truth, and now, so do you. The truth being that our nightmares will be slain, and this war will end." I give a draconic smirk at the shocked and awed faces before me. I impale Excalibur into the stage floor. “When Shokenda is cut down by my blade, Saviikaan will be cut down with her. I will bring peace to Equestria in a single thrust. That is my promise to you.”

I feel like I just shattered glass, this time in a good way. This glass was smudged. Dusty. Filthy. Now it’s gone, with only a few pieces to clean up in the midst of a pleasant breeze. Judging by the pleasantly loud cheers of the Imperial Legion, I’m not going to be alone. But I knew that already. I’m never alone.

“Beautifully spoken, little one,” says Rasahrel. “Don’t mess up your exit.”

“Because I was planning on tripping for giggles,” I snark at her, making one last flourish with Excalibur and willing it away. Rasahrel is right to be concerned, though; suddenly I feel dizzy. What happened?

I go back behind the curtain. Tohro and Shae are beaming at me, and Gauntlet is expressing a surprising amount of respect, but it’s Platinum who catches me off guard. She’s completely aghast. “The nerve of you!” she exclaims.

“Whatever dirt is on my hooves, I’m sure it’ll wash out of your robe,” I say with a drunken chuckle.

Platinum’s frown intensifies. “No, I mean… How dare you! I spent days articulating my speech and there you go, in addition to dirtying the royal adornments, trumping every single word I had written down.” She pulls a few cards out of her robe and tosses them away. “Somepony pick those up.”

Shae levitates them off the ground with ease. “Their auras are nearly blinding, Caro. Everything beneath the stage is like a warm fire.”

Gauntlet looks at Tohro. “And it’ll be our responsibility to keep it burning. We have our work cut out for us.”

Tohro salutes. “I suggest we take advantage of this boost in morale and send every able-bodied soldier to the training grounds. Double the usual routines. Work them until their muscles scream. They’ll be sore, but they’ll be happy.” He points at me as I start snickering. “Shut up. And maybe we should have Caro there as a demonstrator, showing them what a berserker can do in the heat of battle.”

“Good idea, good idea,” I say, nodding a few too many times. “But, uh, can I make one request first?”

“What is it?”

The room shifts and tilts, as do I. My legs buckle. “Catch me?”

“Woah!” Tohro leaps forward and locks his forelegs underneath mine. I’m stopped before my back hits the floor. I look up at Tohro’s face, which is still beautifully welcoming even when it’s upside-down. “Hon, don’t scare me like that.” He peers into me, probably taking notice of my sunken eyes. “When was the last time you slept?”

“Good question.”

“Oh, Fauste,” Shae slaps her hoof to her forehead. “Caro, I know it’s easy to forget basic needs in turbulent times, but you can’t do that. Even when I was taking care of baby Luna, I found time to sleep… eventually.”

“You’re confined to your room for the next twelve hours, Dragonborn,” Platinum commands. That’s the last thing I remember before the overwhelming relief I feel blankets me in a deep slumber. I’ve never slept better in all my life.

Shame that such a peaceful rest has to be interrupted. Something stirs me from sleeping the rest of the night away. With a groan and a smack of my lips, I look around the bedroom for anything that could have caused this.

It’s hard to see anything. The clouds have rolled in, covering the moon and bathing everything in darkness. A black, peaceful night for Everfree, hopefully one of many to come. What do I have to be awake for? I’d rather just curl back up beneath the heavy covers, next to Tohro.

I lie back down and scoot over to Tohro, my bulk acting as a second blanket for him. The day has been long for him too, and it won’t be the last. I’ll try to treasure the time I can spend with him, but it will be difficult. We both need to spend time preparing for what lies ahead. That means I’ll continue saving Equestria from Saviikaan’s minions, and he’ll be a leader to the Imperial Legion. Strength and order, that’s who we are.

Just as I’m about to close my eyes and fall asleep to the sound of his breath, I hear a soft, childlike voice by the door. “Caro.”

I shoot back up again. The source of the voice is a small, hooded unicorn with heavy greaves. He takes off his hood to reveal a long black mane. It might just be the heavy darkness, but it seems as though he is one with the shadows.

“Boysenberry?” I ask in a whisper.

The dark child comes into view. Indeed, it is him, but he looks much older and worn than a kid should be. He was already rather like a shadow when I first met him, but now it’s as though he’s become a demon himself. The acid-green tinge to his eyes does not help in that regard.

He nods to the door. “Come with me.”

I do as he requests, albeit with a yawn. The halls of the Rainbow Palace are not as impressive under the blanket of a dark night, though I have an inkling that Boysenberry welcomes it.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” I whisper.

He coughs sarcastically. “That’s a laugh.”

“I’m serious. Where did you run off to?”

“Nowhere in particular. I couldn’t associate with ponykind after what happened at the gorge. I needed to be alone for a while.” He holds out his hoof, allowing more of the darkness to cloud around it. “I can’t be exposed to such violence. It’s just one of many things that allows it to take over.”

“It picked a piss-poor time to latch onto somepony.”

“Disagreeable. It couldn’t have picked a better time. It’s getting precisely what it wants me to give into. Anger. Aggression. Loathing. It’s easier for me to pick up than most and Equestria is a goldmine of it all. Until recently.” He sniffs at the air. “The darkness is still here, but it has grown weaker, and I know that it had to be Dragonrein that did away with it. So, for the moment, I have returned.”

“For what reason?”

Boysenberry stops before the entrance to the war room. “The same reason I talked to you when you came to Equinesreach. What started my investigation into the dragons in the first place.” He opens the door.

“The very reason I was revealed as Dragonborn,” I think aloud.

Boysenberry shepherds me over to the central table. “Many answers have been revealed to us, but one loose thread remains.” He reaches into his bag and places a wrapped object on the table. He removes the cloth, revealing what appears to be a simple grey stone… Oh, it’s an egg.

I look over the egg. It hasn’t changed at all since I last saw it, if my memory serves. “Right, right, you were looking into this. It never hatched, huh?”

“Obviously. There are passive, natural seals imbued within the egg. It can’t be broken. It can only hatch… Except, for some reason, it hasn’t. And I think I know why.” He pushes the egg towards me.

I’m lost already. I gesture at Boysenberry, urging him to continue.

“Dragon children for dragon parents, perhaps,” he explains. “This isn’t a bird egg, where warmth and stability are all that’s needed. From what you’ve done, I’ve learned that draconic bodies and souls are far more separated than any other being. A dragon’s body is merely a vessel, and there are means for the soul to migrate between bodies. In your case, as Dragonborn, you destroy a dragon’s body and take its soul. In Saviikaan’s case, he uses his innate powers as the ruler of all dragons to wake a dormant soul. He is the only one who can do this.”

“I met a reanimated dragon,” I add.

“Was his undeath a necromancer’s doing?”

“Yes.”

“His soul would still be dormant. If the spell ever wore out, the dragon’s body would drop dead on the spot. Anything reanimated is just an echo of what it used to be. It can’t become more than it ever was. Dragons are different, essentially immortal, always learning, always growing. Is it any wonder they’re so strong?”

I feel Rasahrel take control of my mouth. “But all the more years to fill our heads with doubt. Any living being becomes jaded as time goes by. Imagine what it’s like for us.”

Boysenberry is taken aback by the sudden addressal by a dragon. “Okay, hello,” he says with an awkward wave. “You must be one of his souls.”

“I am my own soul; I merely give myself willingly to the child.”

Boysenberry waves his hoof back and forth. “Well, consider me jealous.” He grimaces as more plumes of dark energy rise from his body. It looks like the sort of quiet pain a sick dog would go through. “S...so, what can you tell us about this egg, if I might ask?”

“You are correct about our souls, and yes, they play a large part in our birthing process.” She takes my hoof and graces the curvature of the egg. “This poor thing is of a dragon’s womb, yes, but it is long lost to its original parent. A large amount of draconic essence is required to hatch an egg, and this one has barely enough to keep its contents alive.”

“Well, I wouldn’t mind seeing it hatch before I leave Equestria for good.” Boysenberry pushes the egg at me again. “Imagine it, Caro. It’s one thing to have a dragon change sides, but to have a dragon that, with your guidance, will serve ponykind from birth. What do you think?”

“Good question,” I say, taking back control. “You should know by now, I’m not fond of imposing loyalty on anyone, especially an infant. Origins only matter so much when it comes to choosing a side, or just staying out of a conflict altogether. Think about where I came from. When my parents were killed, I hated the Empire, and this war for taking them away from me, and I distanced myself from all who would associate with those things. And yet, here I am now, serving the Empire as a free agent, free of hatred, no longer a bringer of death, but a symbol of hope.”

Boysenberry nods.

“Tohro was among the Blackwings’ most celebrated assassins, but in one instant defied the so-called god he worshiped, just for me. Then he signed on with the Empire, and is determined to see that false god struck down. Same case for the dragons within me. They’ve chosen to be my allies.”

“Okay, I hear you.”

I pull up a chair and take a seat, leaning forward and looking Boysenberry in his glowing eyes. “Should one blind themselves to all other possibilities beyond what they were told to believe, or should they listen and choose the options beyond their origins?”

Those glowing eyes blink. Boysenberry paces around the war table, muttering to himself. He comes to my side as another plume of darkness comes out of him. “I know a thing or two about being born on the wrong side.” He looks at the egg. “The difference between me and them is that they’d have a choice. Still, no matter what you do, they will latch on to ponykind in some capacity.”

“They will still be a dragon with more choices than any born into Saviikaan’s grip.” I touch the egg, claiming it gently in my hooves. “So, these natural seals… Do you think I’m dragon enough to dispel them?”

“I anticipate greatly the answer.” Boysenberry gives me the go-ahead with a nod and a point. “It’d be nice to behold the miracle of birth. Watch something come into this world, instead of watching everything fall apart.”

I hold the egg close to me and close my eyes, trying to do away with all of my senses just to focus on this single object. I feel my hair rustle and my skin crawl, as my golden essence comes to the surface, traveling in streams along my forelegs.

“How are you doing that?” Boysenberry asks.

I don’t answer for fear of breaking focus, but I know how. I’m simply calling upon my own power for once; not that of any dragon’s. I want this egg to hatch by my hooves, nopony else’s. Even though my bloodlust has dwindled and my world has brightened, I still am guilty of taking more than I’ve given. With this opportunity, I can create something new. Holding on to that happy thought, I instill life into something without it.

Some of my essence leaves me. I open my eyes and see the egg glowing gold. I can feel it trembling, just barely. “There,” I say, putting it back on the table.

For a moment, I see the happy court wizard I once knew in a twinkle in Boysenberry’s eye. “Oh, Divines,” he says with baited breath. “This is it…”

The egg cracks at the tip as its vibrations intensify. The fissures grow in size and length until they circle the length of the egg from top to bottom. Light shines from the inside, seeping out in uneven shafts, like the sun breaking through thick clouds. The wait is terrible, until…

The egg falls apart and the light dwindles, revealing what I expected, but also something more. Two baby dragons, one with silver scales, the other with shimmering black ones, awaken among the broken remains of their former prison. To think that such small things could become the size of houses…

“Hi,” I say quietly to the little ones, grabbing their attention. Their reptilian eyes are different from mine or any other dragon’s I’ve seen, except for Master’s. These are the eyes of dragons who have hope, who have a chance to be anything other than a force of destruction.

They crawl to me, tripping over each other and their own wings. They make throaty, crackling sounds that I think were attempts at roaring, or saying hello back. They’ll learn in time.

“Best name them sooner than later, Caro,” says Rasahrel. “There are many dragons that stood up against Saviikaan before the infestation. I could suggest some of their names.”

She doesn’t need to. I knew their names as soon as they hatched.

~Vision End~

~Rosemary~

Tomorrow, Mum will be long gone with Wolf River, leaving behind the entire villa, along with the rest of our heritage. I'll be the last Spice in Equestria.

This is what I wanted. I wanted a life of independence, apart from my family, unburdened by familial ties, free to forge my own story. How does it feel, Rosemary? Was it everything you hoped for?

I punch the couch pillows until my hooves threaten to blister. Like the answer isn’t obvious. That freedom means nothing if I don’t have a home to return to, or siblings to make proud…

Well, fine. If Mum wants to leave me, then I’ll spare her a tearful goodbye. I won't let her have it. In a flash, I get off the couch, throw on my mail, jacket and fedora, grab my falchion and toolkit, pack some food, and gather up what I have left of Shae's potions.

As I approach the front door and prepare to beeline it for Everfree, I hear Mum and Wolf River quietly talking upstairs. Mum laughs a little at something he said. That makes me back away from the door. This was a mistake.

They’d hear the front door open and shut and come after me. I should leave through the back.

I make my way to the other door, cutting through the kitchen and running through the back hallway. I open the back door slowly, then pull it shut. I take a deep breath, and make a break for it through the overgrown garden.

My heart starts to pound. I’m not sure why. Is it grief? That makes sense. Am I scared? Definitely. I’m escaping from home again, there’s always been a bit of fear in that. Excitement? I do have a shop waiting for me in Everfree, along with Shae… I need that beautiful unicorn. She’s the only constant in my life anymore. And I have Mum’s blessing. There’s no guilt in us getting married soon as we lay eyes on each other again.

Just as I get to the graveyard, a large black figure lands in front of me. "Hello, Rosemary,” it says in a beastly voice.

I halt and back away, pulling out my falchion and triggering its flame enchantment. The graveyard is illuminated, as is the lycan in front of me. Short fur. It’s Mum.

She turns back into a pony. “I could smell you runnin’,” she says, briskly walking up to me.

I stick my flaming sword in the dirt. “I’m an adult. I can leave if I want to.”

Mum approaches me. Even without her armor or weapons, hell, even without her wolfen form, she still overpowers me in presence. I squint my eyes in anticipation for a scathing, but it doesn’t come. I realize that all of her intimidation is nowhere to be found today. Instead, she wraps her forelegs around my neck and pulls me in for a hug. "I know you are," she says.

And now the thrill of leaving has abandoned me. Now all I have left is sympathy for her, and all she’s gone through. “You’re probably tired of hearin' this, but… Are you okay?” I ask.

“I should be asking you that.” When the hug breaks, I look into her eyes. They’re firm. "I'm better than okay. I have the greatest daughter anypony could ask for."

“Liar,” I say with a smirk. It quickly fades away. I say I’m an adult, but some immature part of me still feels betrayed. Something about this feels like reverse psychology. “N-no, I’m serious, don’t say that! Please don’t be okay with me leaving… Oh, Hephaestus, I’m such a…” I cover my eyes as I feel the tears coming again. I thought I had none left. “You’re allowed to leave... I’m not! That’s how it’s supposed t-to work!”

“You and I both know that nothing about our family worked. I was sent to fill an empty space no one could live up to. I never listened to what you wanted out of life. I tried to keep my children pacifists in a time of war. I traipsed about with a band of mercenaries instead of taking responsibility for my failures. The only thing that worked in this broken mechanism was you.”

I point to myself, making sure I’m still within my own body. “Me?”

“You believe in heroes, and fashioned yourself in the image of one. You haven’t quite been a paragon, but don’t think I didn’t hear about a number of arrests in Baltimare at your hoof, or what you did for the students of Wintercolt Academy. Not to mention…” She glances over to a certain set of graves I dare not look at. She then gazes upon her home, for once without pride. "This place is dead to me. I can't ask you to fill it with traditions I've forced upon you for so long. You did the right thing, disobeying my orders. If you hadn't... We never would have gotten close as we did to saving Cinnamon and Nutmeg." She grimaces, though she doesn't lose her smile for long. "I don’t want you to uphold our family’s legacy anymore. You have your own legacy already.”

“Stop…” I mutter.

Mum leans forward and kisses me on the forehead. “You have my blessing to go.” She strokes my cheek. “Wolf River and I are leaving Equestria forever. What happens next is your choice.”

I grab her hoof with my own. “You don’t have to! Just because I never listened to you doesn’t mean I never wanted you here!” I find myself hyperventilating a little. “I, I, I…” I can’t stop. “I thought you, you, you were joking, I…!”

“Breathe deep, soldier.”

I stop talking and do as Lady Tangerine commands. I breathe, and let my heart slow to a calm pace. Then, I speak. “I’m sorry. For everything. I wish I could’ve been better to you.”

“I feel the same. I know I didn’t show it, but even though you came along sooner than I expected, even though I didn’t properly plan for you, I never once doubted my feelings. I love you, Rosemary.”

I nod, swallowing back any sobs that want to escape. I feel strong enough to look at Nutmeg and Cinnamon’s gravestones. I then take in one final look at my mother. She isn’t how I always knew her, but as she is now, she’s more real to me than ever.

There’s really nothing more to say. I lift the falchion out of the ground and start walking, using its flames as a lantern. The first steps of many into a new and familiar world.

As I descend the hill and Mum disappears from sight, I pass by another gravestone. This one is a finely carved square slab, with etchings of swords embedded into its majesty. And the name in its center is one I know well.

“Goodbye, Daddy.”

~Vision End~

~Caro~

I pet the newborn dragons, pleasantly surprised at their innocence, and their desire to be close to me. I look up from them and speak to Boysenberry firmly. I’m going to be a rock on this one. “Their names are Nutmeg and Cinnamon.”

Boysenberry, being on the outside of that brief conversation, looks at me oddly. “You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.” I stroke the chin of the white one, Nutmeg, then the black one, Cinnamon, as they crawl closer. “Two good soldiers who gave their lives fighting oppressive forces that even the most hardened veterans would’ve caved under. They died with swords in hoof.”

“Really now?” Boysenberry raises his brow. “I’m surprised I never heard of these soldiers. I wish I could’ve met them.”

“So do I.”

Nutmeg and Cinnamon crawl up my forelegs, the former wrapping around my neck, the latter leaping onto my head and and nestling into my mane. A living scarf and hat, who knew? Their soft, quick breaths are in perfect harmony. They traveled far to get here, they deserve a rest.

I chuckle to myself, though I keep my head movement to a minimum. “Well, Shae had hers. I think it’s about time I had mine.”

“Indeed…” Boysenberry rapidly taps his hooves on the table. He’s deliberately looking away. “Well, good luck with that.” He departs from his chair and heads straight for the door.

“Wait!” I shout, causing Nutmeg and Cinnamon to stir. I stop moving just before I leap out of my chair, though I keep a commanding point focused on Boysenberry. He stops moving at my behest.

“This is the part where you ask me where I’m going and what I’m going to do.” He turns around. His head is low, allowing his forest of a mane to cover most of his face. “And the answer to both is that it’s none of your business. I got this loose end off my chest, and now there’s nothing left that binds me to Equestria.”

“I’m sure Jarl Drake misses you,” I say, petting Nutmeg as she dozes off again.

Boysenberry’s eyes flash, even as he tries to remain stoic. “I don’t have anything to say to her.”

I grunt at his impudence, though I doubt I’d be any different in his situation. “You’re too smart to hold grudges. I’m sure she misses you, and I know she loves you.” I rest my hooves over my heart. “She can’t change your mind, but at least get some closure. That way, if you make good on your intention to never see her again, you’ll have no regrets, and neither will she.”

“Since when does she regret anything?” Boysenberry looks at himself, and the dark clouds he exhumes. “...Okay, I’ll talk to her. Eventually.”

“That’s a start.” I lean into Cinnamon’s eager nuzzling. He’s a cuddler, I’ll have to keep that in mind. I’m so distracted by his affection that I nearly lose my chance to say something else to Boysenberry before he leaves. “If it’s all for nothing and you can’t deal with your problem alone, please come to me. I’ll gladly drop everything to help you. I don’t care what it is that ails you, we can deal with it.”

He rolls his eyes, though I see a bit of longing there too. “The difference between you and me, Caro, is that there’s a separation between you and your powers, and you can hang them up whenever you’re done with them. I can’t do that. Hell, I don’t even know if my desire to avoid Jarl Drake is my own, or…” He looks at his chest. “His.”

“Don’t listen to him.”

“I don’t know where his thoughts end and mine begin… Ugh, forget it. You have the luxury to care about more than yourself. I'm not that lucky."

"Stop being a poet,” I plead. “Let me help you. You led me down the path of heroism, I should repay you somehow."

Boysenberry waves his head. "Wow, you are truly a blood-covered saint. Okay, you know what you can do?” He holds out his hoof and summons a crystal dagger. He approaches the war table and slams it into the map of Equestria. “Win this war. I don’t care what happened to Shokenda at Fillydelphia. Until she’s dead, or at the very least, permanently crippled, she won’t stop. Not until she has Equestria. The darkness she carries is not unlike my own, though it is self-formed. It’s a sick amalgamation of lust and greed for things that shouldn’t be sought.”

“And how do I deal with… her?” However one might refer to her.

“You’ve been attacking her. Disrupting her efforts. Disturbing her with your presence. Now, it’s time to go on the defensive, and show her that you will not accept retaliation. Weaken her by showing her just how weak she is to you now.”

I nod. I would have come to the same conclusion myself, given time. “I will.”

Boysenberry dispels his dagger and walks to the door. “It’s your decision. Whatever it is, I hope you’re ready for what happens next.”

Looking back, I have no idea what I expected. A full-scale assault on Everfree? There was never even a hint of that happening. Letters written in blood? None. A surge in attacks on Imperial camps, towns and strongholds? They had time to bolster themselves against enemies that never came.

The fires of the Imperial forges could be felt even as the long winter continued, and yet the weapons and armor made by those forges remained unblemished. Soldiers without a mission were called back to Everfree by the dozen, reunited with their families. I recall there being a common topic among them; disappointment. Not in that their service had come to an end, but that it petered to a halt without so much as a skirmish. For some, it was a mockery of all they had prepared for.

I and Dragonrein, of course, had experienced something more, but to most of Equestria, the climax of the civil war was the second battle of Ghastly Gorge. After that, the war was an old horse crawling to bed, and now, after so much misery, rest has come.

With one year having passed since Nutmeg and Cinnamon’s birth, it sometimes feels like I’m the only one who knows the final battle with Saviikaan approaches. It’s only a matter of time.

LV - Abeyance

~Tohro~

Gauntlet and I have been escalating the parameters of this combat drill for the past year. It initially started off as a simple trial of one soldier against three, and slowly grew from there.

It's a necessity of this war. With Shokenda and the elites being a continuing factor, there are going to be moments when, say, a dozen soldiers against one target isn’t going to be enough. The odds will fall in the one target’s favor, either because of an inordinate amount of strength or magic, or because they’re an abomination of nature. We have to have a contingency plan for these beasts.

So, I've decided to pit a dozen soldiers against the most dangerous beast in Imperial-occupied Equestria: Me.

I stand in the center of the training grounds, completely surrounded. Six melee infantry form an inner circle, and six crossbow wielders form the outer circle. All I have are my wing blades. If I get taken down, then I'll know these soldiers are well on their way to being ready.

I’m scheduled in for a little one-on-one time with Caro tonight, but that’s no excuse to take this easy. I draw my first wing blade and take a gander at the inner circle. The Legion is a more unified group than any other group of foes I’ve faced, making it difficult to single out the strong from the weak. I’ll just have to play this by ear.

I swing my wing blade and give them the go-ahead. “Begin!”

Two soldiers with battle axes come at me first. Their aim is true, and they don’t swing wildly like some might be tempted to. They’re difficult to read thanks to how well they judge their moments of opportunity; one bum rushes me, knocking me off-balance, and the other comes at me with a vertical slash. I dodge with a roll backward, landing on the rim of the inner circle, where a soldier with a broadsword waits for me.

I block their attack, but my wing blade gives out and shatters. I grab another, ducking horizontal and diagonal slashes. I sidestep a thrust, leap forward, and tap the soldier on the neck with the wing blade. “Out. Drop your weapon.”

They do as I command and step out of the arena. I kick the dropped sword away and ready myself, turning around to see the remaining three sword wielders unite up with the axe swingers. They approach in a blockade, the unicorns of the group forming a shield just as I grab my crossbow.

Speaking of crossbows, two pegasi fly over the shield and fire a few rounds of bolts at me. These crossbows have been modified to fire at low velocity, but that doesn’t stop the bolts from stinging as they rain down from above. I shield myself with my wings, then charge directly at the blockade, leaping into flight just as the soldiers ready their weapons.

I grab a second wing blade with my off-hoof and smack the crossbows out of the hooves of the pegasi. They immediately grab their own blades and come at me from the front and the rear. They’re fast and precise, blocking my blows and striking hard whenever I defend, but I interrupt their pattern with a buck to the front soldier’s ribs, and a forceful grapple of the rear’s foreleg. They drop their blade as I bring them down to the dirt.

But lying down on the job is what did Shokenda in, and that’s what has done me in. Four of the soldiers seize the moment of my impact to charge at me, forming an even circle around me with their weapons crossed overhead. In a real battle, any attempt to trip them up would be met with a severed leg.

One of the soldiers takes off their helmet. It’s Mistral. “You’ve been pinned, Sergeant.”

“Aye, there’s the rub!” I cross my eyes with my foreleg. “Let me die with dignity!”

The pegasus I had grounded struggles from beneath me, clearly irritated at their situation. She too removes her helmet, spitting out a mouthful of dirt. “Sir, this is far from ideal.”

I get off of her, helping her up and patting her on the shoulder. “Go wash your mouth out, and be quick about it.” I turn to the four soldiers who brought this exercise to a checkmate. “Atten-tion!”

They all stand rigidly, their chests thrust out and their weapons held close to their barrels. Not an inch out of place, in a perfect horizontal lineup. “Sir!” they all yell in recognition.

I pace back and forth among these four, continuing to make sure they stay in line. “Captain Gauntlet and Smart Cookie are hosting an expedition to a recently discovered batch of Precursor tombs. They will be bringing twelve of the Imperial Legion’s finest to serve in this endeavor, and I was charged with selecting those finest. For your attentiveness and unity, you have been selected. Are you honored?”

“Yes, sir!” I believe they genuinely mean it.

“Good. Report to Captain Gauntlet in his chambers immediately. He will fill you in on the details.” I wave my foreleg. “Dismissed! Those who were asinine enough to get taken out by yours truly during that exercise will be cleaning the stained glass windows of the Rainbow Palace’s throne room.”

The sound of synchronized, shuffling hooves of disciplined soldiers is music to my ears, and the muffled grumbling of disgruntled weak links is a guilty pleasure. They have to be disciplined. I was never allowed to trip on my way to becoming the Blackwings’ top assassin. I expect the same for the Imperial Legion. Hell, I expect more, now with the Elites in the picture.

I hear a flutter of wings behind me. I turn and see three field soldiers approaching from above. They land in a bow before me. “Sergeant Tohro!” the lead mare says. “We come with a call for aid from Ferocity Keep.”

“Ferocity Keep is a Blackwing settlement,” I comment, raising an eyebrow.

“Not anymore, apparently. According to our scouts, they lit their signal fire and waved an Imperial flag. That means they want our help.”

I’m still not convinced. “It could be a trap.”

“Not when a dragon is involved.”

It’s amazing how fast one can change their mind. I walk up to the mare and pat her on the back. “See, you should have led with that.”

She has the good sense to look chagrined. "Of course, sir."

"Lead with the important bits, and share the details if needed afterwards, this isn't bedroom gossip," I tease with a wink. “I want you to dispatch an away team to perform cleanup duty. Help is already on the way.”

~Vision End~

CHAPTER LV - ABEYANCE

~Caro~

Oh, Dragos’ fangs, I missed this!

The dragon is determined to stay exactly where she is, claws dug into the side of watchtower, wings spread out, furious flames spouting from her mouth. The Blackwing soldiers of this keep were prepared for this, surprisingly, as they continuously reload javelins into the crossbows that line the walls. If only those were enough; even as a javelin pierces the dragon’s side, she simply rips it out and tosses it at me and the soldiers down below.

I push a few younger Blackwings out of the way, shielding them from the impact. They and the others, who try to keep a steady blockade up along the wall and entrance, are sitting ducks until the dragon can be brought down to their level.

That’s where I come in. If we can’t go at her from the side or the ground, I’ll just have to be the outlier and hit her from above.

I get up, get a running start, leap into the air, and shout “Wuld nah kest!” In a single burst, I fly upwards, above the walls of the keep, right to the dragon’s level. That gets her attention. She wastes no time in spitting balls of flame at me, to which I shout “Jaaril lahspaan!” A magic shield appears in front of me, breaking the flames on impact. I will the shield away, then throw Excalibur, sending its mighty blade into the dragon’s shoulder.

“Dur hi! Key los ni vos do grik zun!” She yelps as I call Excalibur back to me. I begin my descent.

She’s surprised at Excalibur’s power. So was I, once upon a time, but suffice to say I’ve grown numb to it. It is but an extension of myself now. “Hard to believe, isn’t it?!” I yell as I hit the ground. “You’re not the only ones with ancient secrets!”

She leaps off the tower and flaps her wings hard, kicking clouds of dirt and blowing away the smaller soldiers. I stand my ground, squinting through the onslaught, listening to her words. “Ruth mey! That blade was crafted by the essence of this sacred land! Essence that does not belong to you!”

“Well, you say that.” I can’t help but give her a cocky grin as I twirl Excalibur, before launching myself skyward once again. I sail up, past her, in a neat arc that drops me on the fortress’ roof, just out of reach of her snapping jaws. “What’s your name, dragon? It’d be a bother to fight without at least that formality, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Dovah do not answer to worms, especially those that steal our blood and souls,” she growls, before once more unleashing her flames.

“Oh, how fitting for one such as you.” I pull back from the ledge, and toss Excalibur over the side, blade first, recalling it once I hear her roar in pain and rage. “Really, how old are you? You’re not very good at this whole dragon business,” I say as I rest Excalibur once more against my withers.

“I thought we were past baiting, Caro,” I hear Rasahrel muse.

“Do you even know me? I’d just like to see her stop clinging to the wall and fight,” I reply. Flames are once more licking the side of the tower. Their heat warms my fur as I stand at the far side, against the crenulations. “This might be good practice for the little ones.”

“I agree.” Rasahrel seems content with the conversation there, so I get ready to go along with the oldest plan in my book. Except this time, I’ll have something this dragon might not take kindly to. She wouldn’t be the first.

Her fire’s petered out, but I can hear her taking another deep breath as I stride over. “Hey, catch!” I yell.

She looks up, and jerks her head out of the way as I fall past her, my sword missing her neck by mere inches as I swing late. I manage to grab onto her tail briefly, killing my momentum enough that I can once more shout “Wuld nah kest!” rocketing me once more up towards her head.

She unleashes a blast of fire that tingles my underbarrel as I soar up and over the flames, landing a kick in her face before leaping once more to reach the roof.

The building shudders beneath my hooves as her head appears over the roof’s edge. “I will enjoy tearing my brethren from your body, one soul at a time.” She once more breathes fire, but this time it’s not directed at me. It licks along her spines, down to the tip of her tail, and across her wings. “This is for you.”

“You brought me a present?!” I yell with a feral grin.

She lunges at me, flame-cloaked claws drawn and poised to kill, and I raise Excalibur in defence. I can’t help the elated feeling welling inside my chest. I am a stallion of simple taste, and battle is a flavor that never gets old. Our edges clash, as I feel the roof groaning beneath our combined weight and effort.

I hop up and over her claws, then Wuld past her. Flames lick along my body as I pass beneath her fiery wing. I land further along the keep wall, keeping up a brisk run as I grunt through the burns. I might be up against more than I bargained for; the Blackwings below definitely are. I’m amazed they haven’t made a retreat. But, as Tohro tells me, that’s not really their style.

“Oi, jackasses!” I shout down at the soldiers below, garnering their attention. “Get the hell outta here! You’re all out of your league!”

I can’t stick around long enough to see if my words are given heed. The dragon intercepts my path. I duck and roll below another billowing wave of flames, taking a jab at the dragon’s throat with Excalibur. I miss. She slams her wings down, buffeting me where I stand.

Her growl rattles my bones, and I can’t help it as my smile widens. “I have scorched fleets of hundreds. You have yet to do more than scratch me, even with a piece of this sacred land’s essence. You are not worthy of the fear and hatred that Dovah have given you!” She lashes out with her right front claws, tearing a hole through the roof where I’d been standing, as I vault over her attack, and once more kick off into the sky using her snout. I climb into the tower window and sprint down the spiral stairs. She crawls after me, tearing out chunks of the wall and slashing at me with flaming claws. As the scratches and burns build up, I begin to see just how much I overestimated this one. She’s nothing compared to the poisons of Almoskir, but I might need to call in some aid all the same.

~Vision End~

“Cinnamon, I am most bored.” Nutmeg gives a small groan as she lets herself sink lower in the sky. “Fancy a race?”

“Stop yourself and keep flapping.” Cinnamon replies. He rolls his eyes as his sister groans, her wings thrumming against the air as she rises back up to match him. He nods to the keep below. “This fight has been rather interesting to watch, if you really need to distract yourself.”

“Daddy wins every time. It’s grown dull. I don’t understand why he doesn’t allow us to intervene right away.”

“For the last time, it’s to protect us from those who would be less accepting of our presence. Ponies beneath Caro are a paranoid lot, so we can’t arrive as soon as the dragons do, lest you want an ally’s blade in your scales.”

Nutmeg snorts, dismissive of her brother’s injury. “Be a more cowardly beast of destruction, why don’t you?”

“Maybe I should be! Better that than associating with her lot.” Cinnamon gazes upon the burning dragon and the flaming ruins of the keep, and thinks about how he’s one of the few dragons who sees such destruction as a loss.

An equine whistle pierces the air. Nutmeg and Cinnamon take notice of its origin; Caro is poking his head out of the tower window, one of the few that remains wholly intact from the dragon’s onslaught.

“Try turning your fear into something other than cowardice.” Nutmeg tucks her wings and starts to dive. “There is more than one way to embrace your heritage.”

~Caro~

They’ve never let me down before. I know my leap of faith is well-placed. As the dragon closes in with a decisive thrust of her talons, I make a running jump. I slice through two of her claws on the way down, and relish her cries of discontent.

My fall is slowed when I land on the leathery back of Nutmeg, and my spirit is put at ease by her chipper laughter. “Whee!” she cheers. “I’m eight for eight!”

I roll off of her and drift to a halt on the keep walls. “To Cinnamon’s twelve for twelve. You need to catch up.”

“Then jump from high places more often!” She makes a landing and bows to me, before flapping her wings menacingly at the dragon approaching from above. “What would you have me do?”

“You’re more acclimated to fire than I am. Draw her away so I can find a crack in her defenses. I’ll get you started.”

“Yes, sir!”

I stomp my hoof and shout, “Zahkrii bel kinz!” Golden sword constructs surround me. I direct them upwards, and with a wave, throw them at the dragon as she swoops in, slicing at her stomach. I dive out of the way as she makes her landing and breaks down a few brick layers of the wall.

At this point, the keep is a lost cause. This is more of a matter of stopping this flaming mass of aggression.

I descend the wall and try to get a vantage on the dragon. Her self-inflammation is still going strong, but Nutmeg is doing well against it. She uses her small stature to her advantage, leaping over the dragon’s attempted slashes and fire breathing and landing on her back, getting in a few slices of her own. The bleeding is stoppered sooner than I’d hope; the fire cauterizes the dragon’s wounds too fast for her to bleed out. We’ll have to end this with a mortal blow. But how?

“Dragonborn!” A greasy Blackwing grunt approaches me and salutes with the wrong hoof. “If I might make a display of assistance?”

“What is it?” I ask.

He gestures to a pile of bags lined up next to the supply carts at the keep’s entrance. “See, we have these—”

We’re bombarded by a lob of flaming spit that collides with the supply carts. Whatever was in there doesn’t take kindly to the fire, exploding after merely a second, sending me,the grunt, and the other remaining Blackwings into the air.

I get up just fine but the grunt is clutching his ears, fittingly grunting in pain. As I try to yell for Cinnamon to get down here, a bitter, burning sensation invades my mouth and throat. I enter a crippling coughing fit as I stumble away from the burning carts. I think I just inhaled smoke... Any attempts to call out are replacing with croaking and coughing. I won’t be able to use any Thu’um like this. Son of a…

A welcome black dragon lands before me. It’s Cinnamon. “I’m here,” he announces with quiet dignity.

I gesture to my throat as more coughing escapes me, trying to tell him what just happened.

He understands entirely, his eyes widening with concern. “That can’t be good. Orders?”

I point to the burning wreckage behind me. Cinnamon understands that too, bless him. He makes a flying leap to the remains of the carts and exhales a gentle, frosty breeze over them, stoppering the flames and putting an end to the awful smoke. I wipe the pained tears from my eyes as Cinnamon returns to me.

“This is out of control, sir. I suggest we back off and recuperate.”

“And what would come of that, dragon?” a commanding Blackwing asks. “We run to the next keep in our guard rotation and that dragon will tear that one down too. I know that’s what the Empire wants, but…”

Another Blackwing runs up from the wreckage and yells at Cinnamon. “Can’t you tell that thing to bugger off?!”

“Presumptuous, much?” Cinnamon mutters in response.

I feel the heat of the raging dragon behind me just before she slams down on the wall, whatever’s left of it. Cinnamon covers me with his wing as we face her. “Dovahkiin!! Dispense of these traitors! This fight is between you and me!”

“Since when do you have a code of honor?” Cinnamon asks with a false politeness.

“You will hold your tongue, hatchling.” Even more embers emerge from the dragon’s mouth. “Begone!” She lets loose a stream of wild flames.

Cinnamon leaps straight at the inferno, flaring his wings out and countering the blaze with his icy breath. He outlasts the dragon’s flames, and keeps the cold air blowing long after they’re expunged. The dragon is forced to back away, lest the cold put out her burning body.

Nutmeg has other plans. She flies up from behind the dragon and delivers furious swipes to the back of her head, then uses her momentum to slam her into the wall. Brick and mortar comes toppling down above me, which Cinnamon shields me from with his mighty wings and scales.

“It appears my dear sister has yet to quell her recklessness.”

We’ll have to work on that, then. I’m about to summon Excalibur and do what I can to assist Nutmeg without my shouts, but the sword is dispelled as quickly as it appears when Cinnamon grabs ahold of me and takes me clear across the keep, landing on the other side and taking me into the armory. He’s insistent on getting me away from the battle, despite my flailing my hooves in protest.

I manage to work through the searing agony of my throat for one commanding yell. “STOP!!”

Cinnamon pauses, and after a moment of hesitation, sets me down next to a wall of rusty weapons. I dust myself off, let out a few more pained coughs, and cast a disapproving stare at my draconic ward.

The look seems to be paining him. “Sir, please don’t hate me for this. All I’m concerned for is your safety.”

I shake my head, knowing that’s at least partially a lie. It’s fairly obvious that he’s concerned about himself, if his constant glances and strokings of his broken horn are more than just standard tics.

In truth, I blame myself for that horn. It was another dragon that did it; a stray one that was feasting on Ivarstable’s livestock. It was Cinnamon’s first time fighting one of his own kind, and all of his training availed him little against serrated claws. His horn, and a few layers of scales, went down the river, and I was left to finish that dragon off in a heat of rage. The attack on Cinnamon cut deeper than I thought it would.

I speak in a hoarse whisper. It’s all I can manage. “I… I know you’re... worried, kid, but let me tell you something Tohro told me... when the pegasi ruled over Olympus, they…” I go into another brief coughing fit. “...They wore their scars like ceremonial medals. A battle scar mean that you hurt... and bled... for your homeland, and now... a part of you is permanently embedded... into its soil.”

“Most compelling, Father, but I’m not eager to get another horn cut off for the sake of honor.”

I touch Cinnamon’s hand as it wraps around his broken horn once again. “You want… to help Equestria… You and Nutmeg… want to be good dragons… To stop Saviikaan.”

Cinnamon nods. “I do. And she most certainly does.”

“That means… you shoulder a burden…” I hunch over and cough again, very nearly losing my breakfast. “You… You’re gonna hurt and bleed… because you’re standing up against a toxin… A hateful culture… But if you run from that burden, it’s… it’s only gonna hurt more.”

Cinnamon squeezes his horn tightly. “But I—”

The dragon’s hand scrapes through the window, causing every weapon and armament on the wall to clatter to the ground. Seeing that her arm and hand isn’t as ablaze as the rest of her, I spring into action, grabbing two swords off the ground as I slide beneath the flurry of sharp claws. The moment the dragon’s hand hits the wall, I throw myself at it, piercing her palm with one sword, pinning her hand to the wall, then slit her wrist with the other. Her cries of pain shake the room as I make a confident stride back towards Cinnamon.

I point at the pool of blood forming beneath the dragon’s hand. “...She bleeds for fire and death. What… do you bleed for?” I ask him.

“I…”

The dragon pulls her hand off of the wall, throwing the blades aside. I have to duck the second one, and Cinnamon just bats it away with his wing. He and I stay close as the room begins to shake even more violently. Dust cascades down from the ceiling, prompting Cinnamon to put his wings around me and pull me beneath him.

The dragon’s violent, burning eyes are the first thing I see when her flaming head bursts through the ceiling, before a cavalcade of bricks falls upon me and Cinnamon. He’s able to take the brunt of it, but I can hear his grunts of pain.

“Hi ruth mal key! You would turn my own kind against me!” the dragon yells. “You poison their minds with your delusions of worth!”

Something feels different about Cinnamon when he rises, releasing me of his grasp. He crouches down and growls at his massive foe. “What’s more worthless than the hatred and destruction you spread?!”

The dragon roars as flames swell in her gaping maw. “Better a destroyer than a servant to this livestock! I’ll devour you for your blasphemy, vax!”

As the flames in her mouth continue to grow, Cinnamon looks between me and the dragon. He opens his mouth and prepares another wave of ice, but I don’t think it’s going to be enough to block the dragon’s flames this time. I’m surprised it even worked at all before. The dragon won’t relent until Cinnamon and I are cooked alive. We can’t just resist her fire; we have to stopper it entirely…

“Dragonborn! Use these!” A soot-covered Blackwing unicorn sprints into the room, levitating three heavy bags. He tosses them my way. They fall on the floor, spilling out some of their contents. Sand. These are sandbags and nothing more...

I’m about to ask what sort of mockery this is, but as the Blackwing points between the dragon’s mouth and the sand, I realize his intentions the same time as Cinnamon does. “Thank you, friend!” he says, leaping into flight as he grabs two of the sandbags.

I’m filled with pride as he flies right at the growing inferno in front of him. He raises the first bag over his head, slices it with a claw, and throws it into the dragon’s mouth, filling her maw with sand. Her fire breath is aborted, replaced with garish, sickening gags and sputtering as she keels over, trying to rid her throat of it. Before she can, though, Cinnamon breaks another bag and throws it over her head and neck, raining the sand down along her body and quelling her self-inflicting flames.

From the sky comes a white dragon I welcome the sight of. Nutmeg smiles and winks at me as she makes landfall beside me. “Target practice, is it?” She grabs ahold of another bag, shoots up to the dragon’s head and smashes the bag over her head like a club, splattering more sand over her and doing away with whatever embers remained.

“You… accursed…” The dragon now knows what it’s like to choke on one’s own words. As she raises her arm, ready to crush me where I stand, Cinnamon intercepts. He dives into her hand shoves it against the wall, and lets loose his frigid breath, coating the length of her limb in ice and freezing it to the wall. “NO!” she yells, thrashing about like an displeased baby.

“Death from the sky!” Nutmeg yells triumphantly as she flies towards me. I reach out with my forelegs and let her take ahold of them. She swings around and flies me upwards, a good shouting distance away from the dragon, though I don’t need to shout to end this.

Nutmeg lets me go. I summon Excalibur as I break into a spin. I slam into the dragon’s neck and slice through it several times over, bringing her destruction and intolerable screaming to an end.

~Vision End~

~Tohro~

Our first priority when we arrived at Ferocity Keep was to set up a perimeter and help Caro do away with the dragon, but its cries of agony rattled the sky shortly before our arrival, putting that plan to rest. Our next concern was addressing the distress call from the Blackwings, and even that was put to rest when, of all things, they surrendered as soon as we set hoof in the keep. We were confused, and we insisted that we weren’t on a mission of conquest, but they insisted we take them to Everfree, in chains or otherwise. It seems they’re just as tired of this war as anyone else.

One young recruit’s words have resonated with my heart. “Shokenda’s lot is with the dragons and she let that one rip us apart! What kind of a god does that?”

One you shouldn’t worship, that’s what. So now we’re answering the call for aid, not with blades and ballistae, but with medicine and healers. We should have brought more sages.

“They’re still cleaning the blood out of the armory,” says Captain Gauntlet. He directs a sage to a cart of wounded Blackwings before turning back to me. “The Dragonborn did a number on the beast. Sword carvings and bloodstains on the walls, scorch damage all over the ground, we even found puddles of ice. How does that happen?”

“When it gets cold, sir,” I say with a straight face.

Gauntlet narrows his eyes at me for a while, but he breaks into a smile the same time I do. “Are you giving me lip, Sergeant?”

"Sorry, sir, but these lips are promised to somepony else," I say with a pout and flutter of my eyelids. "And I think the sunny princess would rather you kept yours for hers. Unless you want somepony else to grace her hoof tomorrow?" I flash a deliberately suggestive smirk.

I can see Gauntlet blush a deeper red than his mane, though he maintains his poise. “Do your job and wrangle that walking disaster area of yours.”

Oh, gladly.

While I search the keep plaza for Caro, I’m greeted by a few familiar faces. Blackwings I stood alongside long ago, looking at me like I’m a hero again, despite the black mark on my eye. It’s comforting to know that Shokenda’s hold on them can be broken. Perhaps truth is more powerful than even the lord of all dragons.

I ascend the one remaining set of stairs and go into what I think was the keep’s armory. I instinctively reach for a wing blade when I see the black leathery wings of a dragon, but I quickly retract my foreleg. It’s just Cinnamon. Nutmeg is there too, crouched in the corner next to the stallion I’ve been looking for.

“Busy day, huh?” I ask Caro, gesturing to the gigantic hole in the wall, along with the skeleton of the dragon. “That’ll fade in time, right?”

“Its soul is his now,” says Nutmeg. “Without a soul to occupy it, the body will disappear. Not that there’s much of a body to begin with.”

Cinnamon clasps the bone claws of the dragon, sighing. I dare say he wears a look of pity. “Such a destructive, pitiful creature. She was willing to set herself ablaze just to do meager damage to a single keep. Father must be giving Saviikaan hell to make his forces so desperate.”

I kneel at Caro’s side and take in his smile. Humble, but simultaneously proud. Though something seems off. The usual burns and blemishes that come with a dragon battle are everywhere on his body, but more than that, he seems to be breathing oddly. “You okay, love?” I brush his messy mane aside and end up covering my hoof in soot.

“He inhaled an unhealthy amount of smoke,” says Cinnamon. “I don’t know how bad the damage isl.”

“I need…” Caro mutters. It’s like his throat is made of gravel.

“Let’s get you to Shae.” I interlock my forelegs with his and help him to his hooves. I point to the dragons. “Either of you injured?”

“No, sir,” they both say.

If I have any regrets, aside from the pile of bodies I created for Shokenda, it’s that Caro and I will never fly alongside each other, at least not in this life. We’ll have forever in the eternal sky to do that once we both die, but until then, I guess we’ll just be stuck with the kids whenever we take to the air.

On the bright side, I do get to say I’ve flown alongside dragons. I fly ahead in front while Nutmeg follows up from behind. Between us is Cinnamon, and atop his back rides the Dragonborn, finding another way to live up to that title. His grey mane is swept back, flapping in the wind, his unkempt coat rippling and shimmering like diamonds… I need to keep my eyes forward.

The entrance to Everfree lies beneath us. We make landfall, and without much surprise, the rows of soldiers at the entrance step back at the sight of two dragons. Her Majesty was kind enough to make it known that Nutmeg and Cinnamon are our allies, and their relatively small size helps mark them as such, but having these two on our side is something we all have to get used to. They’re helping us as much as we’re helping them.

“At ease, all of you,” I say, strolling past the soldiers. I turn back to the dragons. “You two go back to the keep and help with anything Captain Gauntlet needs.” I offer my hoof to Caro, who nods approvingly as he disembarks. “I hope you both know you’re making a good impression.”

“We have to,” says Nutmeg. “Saviikaan is destroying so much more than ponykind, he’s tainting draconic dignity. We have to put a stop to his toxin. Redeem our race.”

“I know a thing or two about redemption,” I say, patting Nutmeg on the arm. “You’re on the right path. Now, off with you!”

As they take flight, I lead Caro to the entrance. This is a standard routine at this point. He’ll come home a bleeding mess, I’ll escort him inside, and he’ll be properly taken care of like the hero he is. He doesn’t seem to think much of it; even now he wears a determined, focused stare instead revelling in his special treatment.

My ears perk up at the sound of murmuring among the soldiers. “It’s not like they’re much of a threat, but still… I didn’t sign on to work with the enemy…”

I see Caro grit his teeth. For once, I’m as angry as he is. I swing around, snap into a commanding voice and yell, “You’ll speak when spoken to, maggot!”

The soldier, that swine, immediately falls back in line with a few awkward steps and the sound of rustling armor. “Sir!”

“If you have anything else to say, keep it to yourself.” I point at the two younglings flying into the distance. “If you mistook your brain for porridge this morning, you’d do well to remember that those two dragons are free dragons. Their minds and souls weren’t bent and broken to the will of that fake god.” The soldier not looking quite cowed enough, I channel Gauntlet’s intense, punishing glare. “Name.”

“Sir—”

“Name!”

“I-it’s Rustled Laurels, Sir... Fifty-first platoon. P-private...”

“Thank you, Private Laurels,” I say with a well-practiced growl. “Congratulations. You’re getting a temporary promotion to a new training regimen.” He goes to speak but I put a hoof up, smiling dangerously. “You’re going to be performing drills with the Dragonborn and his two hatchlings with the special operatives. Ever wonder how much damage you can do against a baby dragon with a wooden toothpick? I guess we’ll find out." I glance back at Caro. "Sound good to you?"

Caro nods.

I look back at the coward. “Well now! We’ll be seeing you starting tomorrow morning before the sages are out of bed. Best get your beauty sleep before then.”

Without a backwards glance, I turn a cool ninety and march imperiously through the gate, Caro at my side. The Rainbow Palace lies ahead, through bustling crowds and far more festive streets. Puddinghead’s influence can be felt in the colorful banners and flora that decorate even the most humble homes. It’s almost enough to distract me from the words of that distasteful soldier.

“Special… operatives?” Caro asks quietly. It kills me to hear his voice so rough and fragile.

“The Queen, the Captain and I had a few ideas when we were finalizing the investigation into Temerity’s scheme. The Blackwing elites are a travesty, no doubt, but it got us supposing, what if the Imperial Legion had elites of its own?”

Caro stops walking. I realize just as quickly as his eyes widen that I could’ve worded that better.

“Not at all like Temerity’s drones. This will be units bred for the jobs no mere soldier can handle. I’m tired of seeing my allies get swatted about like flies. It’s time we raised the bar.”

Caro nods, waving his hoof for me to go on.

“It’s still a work in progress, but we’ve been picking out skilled and disciplined soldiers to put them through especially vigorous training. There are separate units for earthwalkers, pegasi and unicorns. Some alchemy is involved, mostly to enhance their abilities, and the physical training is especially brutal. I’m talking about bones breaking and...” I notice that I’m talking way too fast, and more little ones are passing by. “It’s voluntary. Most importantly, it’ll help when the next attack comes.”

‘When’ is a hard word to say these days. We among the Empire’s higher-ups refuse to say ‘if’ when it comes to the remaining Blackwings’ next plan of attack. Or worse, Saviikaan’s. But when is when?

Caro starts walking again, rubbing against my side as he steps aside for some giggling foals. “Good...” he rasps, “...idea... Cinna...mon and... Nutmeg will... also benefit. I’ll... tell them tonight.” He’s wheezing at the end of his sentence, and from the look on his face I can tell he’s completely annoyed with his current predicament. “...Shae?”

“Right away, hon.”

~Vision End~

~Shae~

The life I’ve found for myself here is worlds away from Wintercolt Academy, and yet so much of it is similar to my days as a student of the magic arts. It was easy to readjust to the warm, comfortable beds, company among robed unicorns, and a sense of order and security I haven’t felt in so long. My days in the Rainbow Palace are quiet and peaceful, spent in meditation, reciting the will of Fauste, and harnessing my power over the Fae. I believe I made the right choice to become a sage. It’s a bit more spiritual than the academy, but then again, I’ve been exposed to more spiritual elements than any student would in their entire education.

A sage’s responsibility is to surrender one’s self to the well-being of others, and I know a thing or two about self-sacrifice. Maybe that’s another reason why I feel so at home among these robed wise ones.

Celina and Luna walk beside me as we step into the infirmary, greeted by the gentle smiles of more sages. Their auras are as clean and smooth as they come, unmoving and contained within in their bodies, their brightness indicating large reserves of magic. The sick and injured are less so. Their auras are broken or eroded, or even slipping away right before my eyes. I see a little of their brightness return upon seeing the princesses.

“Hello, Shae. Your Highnesses,” says an elderly sage by the front of the room. “So glad you could join us.”

There is so much about magical healing I never considered as a mere student. It’s one thing for the body to heal, but if the spirit is broken, that which heals is nearly useless. Instead of slapping healing solvents on their wounds and shoving potions down their throats, I instead sit with my patients, concentrate my magic, and slowly mend their bodies like one fixes a fine rug or a broken building. I can see the wounds no one else can, looking through the eyes of Fauste.

Meanwhile, Celina and Luna speak to the patients not as subjects or citizens, but as equals. While I sit next to a sick boy and levitate healing water over the burnt half of his face, I listen to a conversation between Luna and an older lady, whose bones had weakened to the point where they were no stronger than wooden sticks. With any luck, we might be able to prepare a remedy to strengthen those bones. Until then, she’s still and bedridden.

“My grandchildren went off to become Blackwings behind my back. I was the only one taking care of them, feeding them, clothing them, keeping a roof over their heads, and they repaid me with betrayal,” she says.

Luna nods. She carries much wisdom for a child, and it shows more than ever now that she’s taken on an older form. “I can’t say I know the feeling of betrayal. That was impudent of your grandchildren.”

“For ten years I cursed their names, and then, just a week ago, when my body finally gave in and I felt these old bones crack, there they were, standing in my doorway, ready to help me. As if they never left.” The lady sighs, smacks her lips, and grunts. “It’s hard to forgive them.”

“The memory of their betrayal hasn’t left you,” Luna explains. “It haunts you.”

Celina speaks up. “Luna, if you could perhaps go into her dreams…”

The lady’s aura pulsates harshly as she shifts about. Her bones truly are in a sorry state. “Yes, could you, Your Highness? I keep seeing them leaving me again, every time I sleep… If I could purge that thought from my mind, I might find it in my heart to call them family again.”

“That will be your choice to make,” says Luna. She puts on a confident smile. “But I can assure you, your dreams will be made peaceful. That will be a start.”

“Thank you, Princess.”

“Rest now. I’ll be with you in due time.”

I try to be humble in the best of times, but right now I’m filled with pride for Luna and how I’ve raised her. I made theatrics of it, but I didn’t know what to expect when she fell from the moon, into my embrace. All I knew was that she needed somepony to find her, and Equestria needed her. I’m glad she chose me. When she’s ready to take the throne, Equestria will be in good hooves.

I see a soldier speaking to the old stallion at the entrance. Their auras both flicker, and my mane prickles down my neck. I feel like they’re taking glances at me. I walk over to them and ask, “Am I needed?”

Just as they’re about to answer, I feel an intense aura within the walls of the Rainbow Palace, one that has the sensation of a roaring dragon. I hold up my hoof, interrupting the soldier and the sage.

“Dragonborn. Understood.”

Rarer than not that Caro shows up at the palace’s doorstep with a trail of blood in his wake.

Or, in this case, from his mouth.

Caro takes a seat on a couch in the lounge overlooking Celina’s garden. Tohro sits next to him, tenderly rubbing his back every time he goes into a fit. I’ve never dealt with a case like this; not everyone is as willing to gallop into the fire as the Dragonborn. More often than not, those injured by the dragons are running away from it. That much smoke at once, and from the wildest inferno Caro has had the displeasure of confronting? It’s no wonder his throat is a wreck. Internal injuries, and in such a sensitive area…

“I keep urging him to wear his armor and he goes and gets his throat fucked up just to prove a point,” Tohro sneers. “He’s impossible to work with.”

I work out the kinks in my neck as I prepare the spell that’ll hopefully fix this. “In that case, let’s gag him and be done with it.”

Caro is as being stubborn as he can be without vocalizing. He grunts sourly, looking between me and Tohro as he lies down on the couch, ready for treatment. Despite the unfortunate circumstances, his aura is gentle pulsating, alight with happiness.

“Well, actually, I’ll need you to not gag…” I summon an orb of water, and cast a little bit of healing magic into it, causing it to shimmer like a sunrise over the ocean.

Tohro immediately sets to massaging Caro’s neck. His shaking aura shows that he’s more nervous than Caro, who I’m pretty sure would rather be rid of the burning, throbbing aura in his neck. At the very least I can see the source of his pain better than anyone else can.

I approach Caro and stretch the orb of water out until it’s like a rope. “Open your mouth as wide as you can, relax your entire body, don’t breathe, and tap the couch when you need me to pull it out.” I point at Tohro as he starts sniggering. “No.”

“What?” he asks incredulously.

Caro nods. “Rea...dy,” he mutters, opening his mouth.

Tohro gets off the couch and watches with baited breath while I slip the water into Caro’s mouth. I’m not sure how gentle or forceful I should be. Too little force would block entry to Caro’s throat, but too much could result in a lungful of water.

I slowly build up the pressure of the water until the entrance to Caro’s throat gives it passage. I can hear and feel his discomfort, his body tightening as this foreign entity flows into him. Tohro grips his hoof tightly as I move the water deeper into his throat, until it touches the burns.

Caro squirms, just for a second, and then slams his hooves down, determined to not panic. I hold the water still, and then massage the burns, like a moist cloth on a stain. The water cleanses the lacerations and blood from his throat, while the healing spell closes the wounds.

After about a minute of this unpleasantness, I see the aura of his wounds begin to fade. I pull the water back out, slowly, and then toss it into the fireplace. The enchanted fire doesn’t go out, instead burning away the water and filling the room with steam.

I fetch Caro a cloth as he sits up and starts coughing again. These coughs are ones of cleansing, not of agony. He takes the cloth and coughs up whatever foreign moisture, blood, and pieces of his throat are left to lose.

“Caro?” Tohro approaches with a glow in his aura.

As soon as he can breathe, Caro seizes Tohro by the neck and pulls him back onto the couch for a tight, rough embrace. I chuckle, watching Tohro attempt to pin Caro, only to lose his grip when Caro nips at his wing, grapples his barrel, and turns him around to fall on top of him.

The lounge’s doors burst open. Rosemary comes dashing in with loud fanfare, with several packs weighing her down. “Dah-dada-daaaaaaaah!!” she exclaims, slamming the door behind her with a light buck. “I have been looking for you all day!”

“Lovely to see you,” I say, taking her hoof and granting her a kiss on both cheeks. “What have you been up to?”

I just now notice that there’s soot on my lips, and Rosemary smells like burnt wood. “Loooong day over the forge,” she says. “Onslaught and Treesap brought me a mountain’s worth of iron and I had to make use of it. Imperials are breaking their own swords like mad on the training grounds. I barely had enough to make—” She turns and notices Caro and Tohro, who have just fallen off the couch. “Oh, you’re here!”

“Yes, I am,” Caro says. His aura has become uneven all of a sudden. He pushes Tohro off of him and stands. As he passes by Rosemary, I hear him mutter quickly, “I’ll pick them up tomorrow morning… Don’t mention them again.” He takes a seat on the cushion by the fireplace.

Rosemary nods and steps back over to me. “So, how are the little ones feeling?” she asks, pretending as though nothing awkward had just occurred. “It’s not every day a filly gets to become a matriarch of an entire empire, eh? You can’t tell me they aren’t at least a little nervous.”

“I think the one who’s most nervous is me,” I confess. “Celina and Luna already have what it takes to rule. Good heads. Strong will. An understanding of hardship. They know what lies ahead.”

“So what has you in a tizzy?” Tohro asks, defiantly remaining on his back.

“Just worries for the sake of worrying. Pay me no mind.” I take a deep breath. “You know how mothers are. We always get it into our head that something’s going to go wrong.”

“It’s just a coronation,” Caro says. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

I - Wanted

The twilight age. They call it that because it seems the end of this young kingdom is at hoof.

Several decades ago, six ponies of three tribes made the impossible journey from their kingdoms to the land that would be Equestria, leaving their frozen graveyards behind to the mercy of the windigos.

Among these ponies were Chancellor Puddinghead and Smart Cookie, leaders of a nomadic tribe of earthwalkers, and the Great Plains on which they traveled. Their fertile land was reduced to ice.

Commander Hurricane of the pegasus legion, strong and resolute, left his frozen capital of Olympus behind, alongside his loyal friend, Private Pansy.

Princess Platinum and Clover the Clever departed their once prosperous kingdom of Gran Magus, abandoning a life of luxury for one of peace.

Unfortunately, peace was beyond reach. The tribes inevitably found each other. Their irreconcilable differences sparked a second war of settlement, and they fought for the land with what little armies they had gathered.

In the end, a bond between them was forged on a common idea; no matter the tribe, whether one has a horn, wings, or strong legs, they are of ponykind, and deserve happiness.

That was the first Heath's Warming, and once the snow melted, the six created the kingdom of Equestria together.

It has been some time since then, and despite the best of intentions and decades of development, idealism has given way to cruelty. Fate has separated the six. Platinum sits upon the throne alone. Murder, sickness and misery rule the fields of Equestria.

It will take much more than another blizzard for ponykind to see the errors of their ways. The end of Equestria will be baptized in flame.

CHAPTER I - WANTED

For many, it’s hard to tell when matters go from bad to worse.

The shackles grip at the ankles of the prisoners, keeping them from stepping more than a half inch at a time. Two pairs of armed unicorn soldiers stand at the front and back entrances to the stone tower. A yellow coated earthwalker stands between the unicorns with a piece of parchment. “General Tangerine, representing the Imperial Legion," she announces. "You are all here for different reasons, but in my eyes you are all criminals, and Equestria will be better off without you. Step forward as I call your name.”

A pegasus at the front of the line mumbles to himself. “This Empire and their lists... How much longer will this take?”

The general glances to the pegasus and huffs. “Stifle yourself, else you will be sent to the block without defense.” She examines her parchment. “You are Flatfoot of Fillydelphia, yes? You’re rather bulky for a thief. You are charged with seven counts of theft. Over six hundred bits have been lost to the ponies of Fillydelphia due to your actions. How do you plead?”

“Not guilty.”

“What do you say in your defense?”

“Well, I should say I am guilty, just not for what you accuse me. I am sure if this Imperial Legion was truly as magnificent as it claimed to be, you would know that my debt to Fillydelphia far exceeds six hundred bits.”

“However, you admit to your crimes?”

“Absolutely. I may be a thief, but I am not a liar.”

“Very well.” The general stamps the name of the thief in permanent red ink. The two guards at the south entrance blindfold Flatfoot and escort him outside to a balcony, where jeers of civilians can be heard.

Standing amongst the remaining prisoners is an earthwalker of lesser age than the rest. For three days and two nights he has been locked in this tower for a reason he cannot comprehend. Those days show on his coarse and rough turquoise coat and in his normally well trimmed greying mane, which now hangs unkempt in front of his eyes. He tries to resist the increasing numbness in his legs. These shackles are not made to fit more muscular ponies such as him.

He and a few others do not wince at the sound of the executioner’s axe falling upon Flatfoot’s neck. Other prisoners begin to act squeamish, knowing they will soon meet the same end.

The next two prisoners are taken forward, a unicorn whose horn is cracked and an earthwalker with a bright, muddy brown coat. The unicorn is accused of infidelity, and another earthwalker is found guilty of stealing from the apothecary he had worked in. Even though he has the look of an unfairly accused, he is unable to plead his case due to his lack of tongue.

Finally, the general calls the turquoise earthwalker forward. “Who... are you?”

“My name is Caro,” he says, straining to show pure loathing to the soldiers surrounding him.

The general looks at him with a puzzled expression. “Unusual name for a commoner. What does it mean?"

"My master gave it to me because it has no meaning. He wanted me to be free from the bonds of fate." Caro looks to his chains, then back to Tangerine. "Ironic. I should have known his promises would fall empty. But you'd know all about that, wouldn't you?"

The general casts out her hoof, which is armored with a bladed gauntlet. The sight of it shuts Caro right up. "Do not make attempts at intimidation. Now, you are charged with the murder of forty-seven innocents and the destruction of Reinoc.” She keeps the illusion of professionalism despite her eyes showing discomfort from simply looking at Caro. “How do you plead?”

Caro thinks back to his struggle. Near starvation, thirst and a lack of sunlight has made the memory distant. He remembers few things beyond flashes of light, cold anger, and a bodies torn limb from limb. He sighs and shakes his head, knowing that even if he pleads innocent, his defense will be met with mockery. How would they believe me? he wonders. He clenches his teeth and speaks. "If you Imperials had any sense you would know I couldn't have possibly put forty-seven ponies to death, much less destroyed several buildings with my bare hooves. I trusted this empire once, but you've effectively destroyed what little sliver of respect I had for you. It's no wonder you're losing this war—"

The blade comes out again, threatening Caro into silence. A minute that feels like an eternity passes by before the general clears her throat. It's obvious she’s anxious to send the accused to his death as soon as equinely possible. “He remains defiant. Guilty as charged.”

Caro’s fate is sealed but he does not bat an eye. Death is merely an inconvenience to him, and the same goes for most others in Equestria. If not by axe, it will be by the blade of a rebel, or a false step on a journey through the mountain pass. Few have the luxury of living to see their elderly years.

Such is the way of the twilight age.

“Hey, up and at ‘em, boy,” says one of the unicorn soldiers. His voice is somewhat muffled by his helmet, which covers everything except his horn, which glows with a yellow aura as he levitates a blindfold to Caro’s eyes.

The blindfold does its job well. Caro can only barely make out the illumination from the wallbound torches and the sunlight creeping through the southern entrance. The door slowly opens as he is pushed to where he assumes the executioner stands.

The soldier chuckles. “Smile for the crowd. Ponies come to Gallopagos Keep from all over just to see justice dealt.”

How an execution draws an audience is a mystery to Caro. He thinks, Are these ponies so depraved that they must watch their own kind die? It disgusts him to the core and makes him wish that the soldier would push him faster so the axe of the executioner can sever him from all the grating voices. They're indistinguishable but they all carry the same passion for so-called justice.

The soldier holds a hoof up to Caro’s chest, causing him to halt. Then the soldier forces him to his knees and lays his neck on the block. As if to add insult to injury, they have yet to remove the blood of the previous victims. It’s still warm.

A priestess pony with the voice of an elderly woman asks Caro, “Shall I give you your last rites?”

"Oh, now you care," he mutters.

The priestess takes it as a yes. “Thus, as we commend your soul to the Divines, we hope your passage into the next life is swift and painless. May you be pure in death if you were not in life.”

Caro mouths the words as she speaks them, having heard this prayer several times before. He could never escape these public executions, and now he’s a part of one. It’s almost hilarious to him. Almost.

He listens to the executioner take two steps back. He hears the blade of the axe cutting the humid air as it levitates above his head. The fur of his neck stand on end. His heart begins to pound faster and faster by the second. He grits his teeth and waits for the moment when every sense stops working and the world comes to a screeching halt.

The world keeps moving. Only the crowd goes silent.

Caro lifts his head off the bloodstained cinder block. He hears the executioner grunting and stomping against the wooden platform. A few of the soldiers chuckle.

“It seems our friend has lost control of his weapon.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time!”

“Stuff it, the both of you!” the general commands as she exits the tower. She speaks to the executioner. “Bloodbane, if your horn is malfunctioning we can find someone else to finish the beheading.”

“‘S not me’, ma’am. Sumthin’ else is movin’ me axe!”

The crowd is starting to get restless, and Caro feels a pang of anger, diluted as it is. He thinks sarcastically, They came here to see a show and that show’s being ruined. Oh, the horror, the horror...

Somepony yelps in pain from close by and Caro smells the faint but unmistakable stench of burnt flesh. What’s going on? He wants to be more worried, or more of anything, really, but his mind is feeling sluggish. The drugs... I’ve got to fight this off...

None of that really matters anymore as the impact of the executioner’s weapon causes him to stumble to the side, out of the way of something that carries the heat of a fireball.

“Hello, Caro!”

He looks around for whomever called his name despite knowing that the action is pointless. The blindfold is still covering his eyes... until somepony slips their hoof under the veil and rips it off in a single pull.

Those three days without a glimpse of daylight catch up to Caro in an instant, leaving him nearly blinded by the sun and cloudless sky.

The ground shakes again as he’s pushed out of the path of stampeding soldiers, or civilians, he can’t tell. As he lands on the cobblestone, he squints his eyes and barely manages to get a glimpse of the one who freed him of the blindfold.

A male pegasus stands over him. He boasts a white coat with long wavy locks of blonde hair. He wears a blue tunic reinforced by leather greaves and spaulders. “Has your eyesight returned?” he asks.

Caro keeps blinking, trying to ignore the pain beneath his lids. “It's getting there. But why do you care?”

“We’re in a warzone, Caro! Every second counts!”

Only now does Caro notice the clashing of swords and magic in the streets. Many more pegasi wearing dark garb are assaulting Imperial soldiers in packs.

Caro looks at the white pegasus when it dawns on him. “You’re all Blackwings! What the hell are you doing here?!”

A stray shot from a unicorn soldier collides with the tower, causing rubble to cascade toward Caro.

The pegasus pulls him out harm’s way again. After the loud impact, he laughs. “Ah, the brilliant convict finally realizes! Yes! We’re the rebellious Blackwings, out to silence all who dare to oppress the advancement of ponykind! Such is the way of the twilight age, as Shokenda says, ahaha!”

"Shokenda? You mean, Shokenda Blackwing?" Caro spits at the cobblestone, but a small twinge of fear creeps into his mind at the sound of that name. “If she's here, I want nothing to do with this. I don’t associate with your kind.”

“What do you mean by that, mate? We’re both ponies.”

“Aye, but I know how you Blackwings are, and it isn’t how you describe it. I’m leaving.” Caro only manages half a step before his shackles catch him and he falls on his face again, right into a puddle. The pegasus laughs again.

“Ohoho! Instant karma! Come now, you’re not going anywhere with those things on.” He helps Caro back onto his hooves, and then fiddles with the locks for a moment before spitting in frustration. “Damn, whoever crafted these made them practically unbreakable.”

Caro glances at the locks holding him. He chuckles.

“What’s so funny?”

“One of those forty ponies I supposedly, uh, killed? One of them was a blacksmith. My master, actually. These locks are of his design.”

Tohro chuckles. “The irony, eh? So you can pick it, then?”

Caro just shakes his head. “These need a key, won’t open otherwise. They’re enchanted.”

The pegasus scratches the back of his head. “Well, this wasn’t part of the plan at all. ‘How about this! Let’s put all our troops into storming an execution and rescuing a prisoner but Divines forbid they actually think they use a good lock to tie him up otherwise this whole thing goes to Tartarus—’”

Caro raises his hoof, causing the pegasus to immediately stop his blathering. “Stop yourself. Do you mean to say this attack is...”

“All for you, Caro. Feel special?”

Caro would rub his temples if it weren't for the shackles. "Uh, I'm confused, more than anything. Perchance of pissed off, too. Everything about these past few days I've been nothing but shoved around with no clue as to why." He exhales. After three days of near silence, even speaking for a little while has him exasperated. "Just... tell me why I'm so important, because I sure as hell can't think of any reason."

The pegasus raises his hoof, ready to answer, but pauses. His eyes dart side to side as he says, “I honestly don’t know. That’s the one thing I don’t like about the Blackwings. One reason we’re so damn efficient is because our superiors don’t bother with explanations. If I’m gonna dive bomb a bloke minding his own, then I want a good—”

“You talk too much.”

“Okay...”

So, there they stand surrounded by chaos and destruction with nowhere to go. Caro looks to the sky, hoping for a much more pleasant view up above than what is transpiring at ground level.

Earlier it had been a relatively pleasant day in terms of weather. The Weather Guild had cleared the clouds from the sky. However, it seems that in a span of a few minutes a storm has begun to billow over the keep. Lightning now strikes arbitrarily at the ground. One bolt lands dangerously close to Caro. He jumps to the side, locking up the chains again and leaving him lying on his side.

“The Divines must despise me!” he shouts. “Try to smite me after I accidentally survive my execution! This is the cruelest joke in history.”

The pegasus has other thoughts. He looks to the tower opposite the damaged one. “Oi, Blazethorn! Watch where you’re aiming! You almost hit us!”

A yellow unicorn looks down from his perch atop the tower, a hoof absentmindedly poking at his eyepatch. “Sorry, sir! I’ll adjust my aim!”

“You’d best!” The pegasus brings Caro to his hooves again. “C’mon, you lucky bloke. Let’s get to that tower and find us some keys. Shokenda wants you at your best possible condition when she finally gets to meet you. She's been looking forward to this for a long time.”

Despite being rescued from a cruel and unusual punishment, this isn’t what Caro considers a welcome situation. “Oh, joy! I thought I told you I wanted nothing to do with you. Just unlock my shackles and let me leave.”

“That's not happening, I'm afraid. When Shokenda expects somepony, she damn well gets them.” The pegasus helps Caro hobble slowly across to the adjacent tower as the lightning strikes continue. Thunder can be heard in the distance, like a far away crowd at an opera. “Right on time!” shouts the pegasus. He lets Caro go. “You sit and rest, okay? I’ll be right back with a key. Or a sledgehammer.”

Caro sighs and sits on a haystack. He watches the gray clouds twist and turn. In a flash they part. A gap of pure sunlight in the stormy skies illuminates a patch of grass bordering the tower. Many soldiers and Blackwings alike stop their fighting to squint at the gap and see a descending midnight blue chariot pulled by six heavily armored pegasi. It circles the battleground and lands on the illuminated grass, right in front of Caro. He watches helplessly as the hooded mare controlling the reins disembarks the chariot, landing on the grass with perfect grace.

This pony’s very presence demands reverence. Her cloak hides her face, so nopony can look her in the eye. She wears exotically decorated greaves and multiple tokens and gems of reward, or perhaps crime, across her neck. Thunder rolls across the sky with every step she takes. Those powerful steps lead her closer and closer to Caro, who begins to sweat. He fears this one, and she knows it.

When she stands above him, he swallows. Her face is obscured but he can still feel her breath as she looks him over so carefully. Upon closer inspection, the cloak is not just blue. It contains a cloudless night sky in its fabric... only it isn’t fabric. Caro’s fear reaches its peak when he realizes that the cloak is made from the fur of an ursa.

He manages to exhale when the mare finally moves her head back. At that moment, the blonde pegasus colt trots out of the tower with a set of keys jangling in his mouth, with possibly every piece of armor, weapon and gold bit that had been in there stacked upon his back. When he sees the hooded mare he stops in his tracks, a helmet falling from the top of the pile to land backwards on his head. He stands up straighter, lifting a wing to his forehead in salute. “Mmm!” He spits out the keys. “Ma’am!” The grim terror of the moment shatters at his shenanigans.

The hooded figure speaks. “Indeed. This is the one I've been seeking?”

The blonde pegasus nods, his face concealed by the helmet. “Yes’m. That’s him. He’s a tad... shrimpy, for somepony of such muscular stature.”

Caro feels a small touch of anger flare up.

“Perhaps it's because he's malnourished. Tohro!” the hooded mare shouts. “Remove that ridiculous helmet and do the same for this boy’s shackles.”

The pegasus, whom Caro now knows as Tohro, begrudgingly parts with the helmet. A few other Blackwings come along to take the stolen armor and loot to the carriage.

Caro is at least a little bit grateful that somepony has thought to assist him. He relishes the moment when he hears the click of the enchanted lock, and stretches his limbs almost excessively when the chains come loose. “I’m not proud to associate with the Blackwings but I suppose you have my thanks,” he says. "I would appreciate if you left me alone. I will not work for you. I work for nopony anymore."

She only heard the first part of his boast, evidently. “You are most welcome,” says the hooded mare as she turns to see the damage left behind by the rescue operation. “The Empire sees no quarrel in drugging their prisoners into welcoming the blade, but your strength will return in time. We had to intervene. You are far too important to lose.”

Caro snorts derisively. “Too important?” It’s just as much a question to this dark mare as it is to himself. He waves off the idea. “I think you have me mistaken for a different pony. I’m just a blacksmith’s apprentice. Well, I was.”

“Then you are selling yourself short.”

“But why?” asks Caro. “What do you see in me that I don’t?”

“You’ll come to understand in due time.”

Caro fumes. "Can't you tell I've had enough of these unanswered questions?! I’m tired of stumbling around in a stupor! Tell me what’s happening or I’ll—”

He whinnies and jolts back as the hooded one’s magic blocks his words and pulls on his mane.

“Watch your words!” yells Tohro. "You speak to a god among mortals!"

"I find that hard to believe..." Caro grunts.

"You'll believe." The hooded one makes large steps back to her now loaded chariot. As she boards, she shouts to Tohro. “Escort our guest through the underground cellars and out the back entrance. We will meet at our base of operation.” She summons a whip from her horn. With a crack, her pegasi servants take to the skies, leaving the ruined fort behind. The storm clouds relinquish and the partly cloudy skies return.

“She must be quite powerful to manipulate the weather like that,” says Caro.

Tohro does a double take and gestures to where the carriage disappeared. “That is the least of what she can do! Don’t you even know who that is?”

“Uh...”

“That was Shokenda Blackwing, the true high queen!”

"Ah..." Caro swallows when he realizes how close to death he might have just come, for the second time that day no less.

Tohro tilts his head in disbelief. “I think the Imperials drugged you a little too much. Shokenda would have executed anypony else on the spot. You're lucky she considers you so important."

“I told you already, I'm just a... former blacksmith’s apprentice from Riverhoof. I'm of no value to you or anypony, and I'd rather take my chances out in the Equestrian highlands than spend another second around you rebels.” Caro begins to sprint but he nearly trips again as Tohro intercepts.

“Where do you think you’re going? Odds are the general has already called for reinforcements. We must flee stealthily!” Tohro wraps his foreleg around Caro's, making the earthwalker's skin crawl. He shoves the pegasus away.

"Fuck off!” he hisses. "Stop dragging me into your schemes. I want no part of this!"

“You’re still a wanted murderer. Even if they pardon you for that, I doubt that anypony that’s come into contact with us Blackwings is worth keeping alive for very long in their eyes.”

As much as it pains him, Caro cannot argue with his savior’s logic. He takes a deep breath and bucks the brick wall in frustration. “Cellar?”

“Cellar.”

“So Caro, I want you to tell me everything.”

“Everything about what?”

“What exactly went through your head when you saw it? How did you feel when you took that sword in your mouth and utterly obliterated that thing?”

Caro can only remember flames. Screaming... Blood. The lingering emotions of dread and terror remain, though. He presumes the details of that horrid event will return in due time.

“That was only a few days ago, but it feels like years. It feels like... I don’t know... a distant memory of infancy, when one’s mind has yet to comprehend life. I know it happened, I just don’t know how or why. Hey, do you have a light?”

“Wha—? Oh, hold on, let me spark this torch.” The ear stabbing sound of stones grinding together precede a small blaze illuminating the dark moss infested cavern. “I feel sorry for the poor sods who were stationed at this dump,” says Tohro as he carefully latches the torch onto his bag of holding. He gestures to the area ahead. “Look.”

Moldy wooden cupboards and shelves line the walls, stocked with half empty bottles of brandy and mead. The remains of a partially eaten meal of sunflower salad and tomato soup are scattered around hastily set tables.

Caro, carefully moving forward, steps in a puddle of the soup. It’s still warm. “I think they got up and left right in the middle of lunch... to stop you.”

Tohro puts on an obnoxious smile that makes Caro’s face burn. “Well, obviously that didn’t work out. The least they could have done is left something edible behind. This place has ataxia written all over it!” While he rather loudly gripes, Tohro begins indiscriminately searching through the cupboards and checking the undersides of tables and chairs. “You neeeever know what somepony might leave behind.”

Beyond the cluster of shelves Caro notices a rack of weaponry hanging from the wall, reflecting the light of the torch. Shields, maces, morning stars... an iron longsword, complete with a sheath. Huh... Almost forgot what it was to smile. He removes the blade from the rack and slips on the sheathe. It fits almost perfectly, and the blade hardly feels like a burden. "That’s everything I’ll ever need," he says.

“What, you’re going bareback?” asks Tohro, who is still scrubbing for scraps. He points to a set of Imperial armor he had thrown aside. It's a light set; a purple tunic shielded by a vest of mail, along with thin gauntlets.

"Must be meant for scouts... Even so," Caro kicks the set away, “armor is an obstruction. I find it rather uncomfortable. I may equip some in the future, but only out of necessity.”

“If you say so. I think you made the right decision anyway. I’m not too fond of the purple cloth. Princess Platinum’s blacksmiths have no sense of subtlety.”

Caro snorts. "You’re one to talk."

Galloping ahead with no spoils to speak of, Tohro pauses to peak around the corner of the stairway leading lower into the caverns. “I think the coast is clear.”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” asks Caro. “Everyone in this fort is either dead or a Blackwing, and they've likely all up and left.”

“Well, you can never be too careful. Who’s the one with more experience in the field here?”

Caro finds that question difficult to answer as he follows Tohro down the steps, albeit slower. As the rambunctious pegasus makes a left turn at bottom of the steps, Caro shouts, “You have experience, yes, but I doubt you have the common sense to use it.” No response is heard. “Hey! Blackwing!” he calls again.

There is no sound but the creaks of wood and the whistle of wind.

Turning the corner, ever so slowly, Caro sees an unexpected sight. Tohro is pinned to the wall by a heavily built dark green unicorn who wears only a black cloak.

“Yer the lil’ sky demon that destroyed me beautiful axe!” says the unicorn.

Tohro squirms against the big one’s hooves to little success. “I don’t care about your stupid—” His mouth is jammed shut by a punch to the snout. He’s then thrown into a stone pillar, causing dust to fall from the ceiling.

“Yer not goin’ anywhere, yeh pest!”

It takes Caro a moment to notice that the big unicorn has the same juvenile voice and speech pattern as the executioner. It is the executioner. It is easy to see that he enjoys his profession a little too much as he steps on Tohro. The pegasus looks miniscule by comparison.

Caro’s mind begins to race as he feels for his neck, realizing that just moments ago, he could have lost everything to that idiot, and that idiot is ready to put Tohro six feet under simply because he is so depraved and bloodthirsty.

Such is the way of the twilight age, Caro thinks. It makes him sick to his stomach.

He sees Tohro’s teeth clench and snout flatten against the stone floor as the executioner’s hooves press gradually harder against his skull.

Caro hates that Blackwing’s guts, but as that Blackwing is the one that saved his life, he feels obliged to bite down on the handle of his new iron sword, unsheathe it, and gallop right at the gargantuan glork of a unicorn.

A single headbutt throws the executioner off balance, right onto his flank, allowing Caro to get a view of his mark. An axe. How fitting.

“Who in the—” The executioner fumbles about, trying to get his cloak out of his face. He finally sees Caro. “You! Yer the one that got away!”

Caro's overgrown mane falls in front of his eyes. He brushes it aside as a taunt towards the oaf. “Yes, I am. Maybe next time you’ll send roses first.”

The executioner snarls and leaps at Caro, his horn glowing. Caro jumps to the side, and the executioner hits the ground, a woodcutter’s axe in his magical grip. “I’ll behead ye yet, laddie!”

“What,” Caro asks as he dodges a wild swing, “not even gonna give me your name?” This just seems to enrage the executioner further, and it turns out to be a mistake.

“RRRRAAAARGH!!! Let’s see if ye can dodge this! Hahahaha!” A whirlwind of the executioner's intense blue aura forms. Every weapon in the room is lifted up and sent spinning.

Caro resists the urge to drop his sword and run. Instead, he faces the flurry head on. “Oh, I’m sorry, but you’re not my type. I prefer ponies who have finesse.” He dives into the vortex of weaponry, jumping right between two poleaxes to land beside the executioner inside the radius of the attack. The executioner barely has enough time to register he made a critical error before he finds a sword sprouting from his chest. "We're done here."

“Oi... thar be yer roses, laddie...” The executioner falls to the ground. His weapons create a clatter as his magic, and life, come to an end.

Tohro whistles as he massages his forehead. “You’ve got some fancy hoofwork there. Maybe we should dance sometime.” He laughs.

Caro just snorts and sheathes his blade. “Sorry, I don’t dance with imbeciles.”

The stench of mildew and rust mixes with that of the executioner’s freshly spilt blood, prompting Caro to help Tohro to his feet and lead him further down the path. “Thanks a lot, by the way,” says Tohro. “You’re not such a hardass after all.”

Caro doesn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he has to keep him alive.

“You’re still denying that you’re something special, huh? I doubt just any old blacksmith’s apprentice could take on a thug like that and live to tell the tale.”

“I got lucky,” Caro says, inhaling the still-fresh scent of the executioner's blood. "Very lucky..."

“Oh, I’m sure.”

As they continue, signs of former pony habitation decrease. Paved roads give way to moist dirt and stone, and the already minimal amount of lit torches disappear entirely. The caverns are far from unlit, though. Sunlight peaks in from cracks in the rock ceiling.

Tohro sighs as he gazes longingly to what little sky can be seen. “Damn you, Shokenda. Why does she always make me do stuff like this? Pegasi aren’t meant to work underground.”

“I guess she figured I’d be more willing to cooperate with you than anypony else,” says Caro.

“Well, I am the one who gave your gift of sight back.” Tohro stretches his hind legs and cracks his neck. He looks at Caro. “I know you hate me and the Blackwings, but do you at least trust me?”

Caro doesn’t even have to think about that. “No,” he states very clearly.

Their journey through the expanding catacombs lasts at least another hour. Luminous fungi fills the cracks in the walls. Stalagmites close off many potential exit routes, and frigid rivers prove to be quite the obstacle.

“Look, I’ll just carry you over,” says Tohro. Caro passes up the offer.

“You possess neither the strength, nor my confidence.”

Tohro groans, and sets about checking every nook and cranny he can as Caro slogs through the underground channel.

The dark reaches of the cavern steadily begin to fill with natural light, and it seems that journey’s end is a straight shot across a field of sand broken up by sharp rocks and weeds. The only thing of threat is...

“Bear,” snaps Tohro. He crouches behind a rock and Caro follows suit. The two slowly peek over their cover and see a rather nastily sized grizzly obstructing the alcove leading out of the miserable dungeon and into the open fields. Scraps of purple cloth and armor litter the sand surround the sleeping bear, and upon closer inspection, blood stains its lips.

Tohro’s eyes widen in mild shock. “I think I know what happened to the surviving Imperials.”

Caro scratches his head, thinking of some sort of strat. “I could throw a stone to lure it away from the exit.”

“Don’t bother. It’ll lose interest fast and go after the strongest smell, and let me tell you, you’re not exactly a basket of roses right now.”

“Okay, fine. What’s your plan, hero?”

“No flying over it, that’s too risky. Um... ah! Almost forgot I had these!” Tohro stands up and flexes his wings.

“How do you forget those?” asks Caro, leading Tohro to slap his own face.

“No, genius. Look between the feathers.” Tohro fluffs up his wings, and Caro can see, even in the dim light in their hiding place, the glint of steel that can only be a blade.

“You have swords attached to your wings?”

“Nay, I have wing blades. Only pegasi can use ‘em, of course, though anypony worth their salt as a blacksmith can make them.” With a smirk, Tohro flutters to the top of the rock. Just being in eyeshot causes the large beast of a bear to stir. “Ready...” Tohro’s wings spread out wide, revealing many more blades hidden between his feathers. “Aim...” The bear snarls. In an instant, it launches from its resting area and charges. “Fire!” Tohro’s wings snap forward.

Caro hears a yelp of pain, and then Tohro is in front of him, grinning like a court jester that just got away with a stealthy insult of the queen’s weight. The bear stumbles about, making a futile attempt to knock the small blades from his neck, and collapses into a puddle, which slowly turns red.

It takes every ounce of Caro’s strength to avoid looking impressed, and Tohro’s look of satisfaction leads him to believe he’s failing. The laughing pegasus blows a kiss at both his wings and retrieves his blades from the corpse. He cleans the blood and fur off in the stream and reinserts them into his feathers. “I could audition for the Sisterhood of Shadows with those skills.”

Caro ascends the slope that will lead him to the world above, but a looming thought makes him pause. “I may be free of my bonds but in the minds of everypony in Equestria, I am a wanted felon.”

“Don’t beat yourself up. We’re all a little bit guilty. Even me!”

An awkward moment of silence passes.

“Okay, maybe I’m more than a little guilty. The difference is, I’m not worried. Besides, I know you didn’t kill your master, or anyone else.”

Caro knows this to be the truth but he still puts the blame on himself. I did nothing to save my master. The Empire didn’t need to force me to accept death through whatever drought they gave me. The weight of guilt was enough. Yet, here I am, alive and well, with a cocky Blackwing rebel and all the time in the world. An empty cup lays before him and he doesn’t know how to fill it. “Where will I go? What will I do?”

Tohro gives him a forceful slap on the head. “Whatever the hell you want, you big oaf!”

“I thought you were taking me to your headquarters.”

“Oh, please. I did my job. I escorted you through the cellar, and now here we are. Why don’t you just bugger off, Caro? I’ll tell Shokenda we got separated and you go to the headquarters on your own time, how does that sound?” As he speaks, Tohro nudges Caro and winks. "Enjoy your freedom for a little bit, huh?"

It takes merely a moment for Caro to make his decision, and if it were five minutes prior, he wouldn’t have given this answer. “I’d rather not separate.”

Understandably, Tohro is confused. “Huh? I thought you wanted nothing to do with me?”

“There are a lot of bears out there, and I don’t have any wing blades. Plus, you know, you’re...” The confession is almost physically painful to deliver. “You’re... you’re better than the, um, other Blackwings.”

The clumsy delivery only seems to lighten Tohro’s mood and cause his smile to grow wider. “Fantastic!” he shouts.

Caro stops him from cheering any louder and covers his mouth. “However, I must establish some parameters. First... I... uh...” A loud rumble silences him. The adrenaline of the escape and struggle through the cellars and cavern had caused him to forget he has hardly eaten a healthy meal in more than three days. "First..." He lowers his head. "Divines, damn it..."

He feels another pat on the head, this one more affectionate than the last. “First, you need a little rest and relaxation, mate. Come along, I know a place. I don’t think it’s too far.”

“I’ll hold you to that, Tohro.”

Thus, the two take a simultaneous step unto green grass and wet dew as the the shadows of the cavern relinquish to the warm sunlight and bright blue skies of Equestria.

Tohro's laugh flies across the lush, green field. "Trust me, I'll show you the ways of the Blackwings yet, then you'll be practically begging me to take you to Shokenda!"

“There is no reason to doubt myself,” Shokenda Blackwing says in monologue. “I know it is him.”

At the high elevation she travels by, the clouds act as a cover protecting her chariot from sight. Nopony sees her. She only sees them. That is her solace.

“Finally, we have obtained our trump card. Many thousand ponies occupy this land and I found the one, the one whose voice will carry us into a new tomorrow."

She shuts her eyes and envisions a turquoise earthwalker fully clad in Blackwing armor, standing amongst the ruins of Everfree. The image is unfathomably beautiful to her. If she were capable of shedding tears, she would.

“Oh, you poor, mortal fool. You don’t see your true potential. I know better. If the legends are true, you will become more mighty than any earthwalker, more cunning than the most intelligent unicorn, and swifter than the most skilled pegasus.”

Shokenda looks to the empty sky, right into the blinding light of the afternoon sun, and laughs with utter glee and serenity.

“Caro! You only know yourself as a blacksmith’s apprentice, but you are so much more!”

Author's Note

XI - The Fallen General

~General Tangerine~

My name is Tangerine, and I am, well, was the general of the Imperial Legion, until I was branded a liability. I should’ve known better than to assume I could get away with making the entire Platinum Empire look like idiots.

The Imperial Legion has been growing more desperate as of late. Years ago, when the threat of rebellion was merely a pebble to an ocean, we were known as a fair judge, jury and executioner. Only for the most depraved and monstrous felons did we ever consider sharpening the axe.

This kingdom was established a mere four decades ago, which was pretty young by comparison to our enemies, and already it has shown cracks in its foundation. In fact, it more or less already collapsed. While it is tempting to say that the Blackwings are responsible for every atrocity that has occurred since their rise to power, the Imperial Legion has a red ledger of its own to tend to. The hypocrisy isn’t lost on me.

Caro is living proof of such bias and corruption. I scarcely recognize him from Reinoc. Among the burning remains of the marketplace, he was merely a sobbing colt clutching a bloodied sword surrounded by corpses. He wasn’t in a particularly favorable position to be considered sane. At the time, the only explanation was that he was mentally unstable pyromaniac psychopath.

If that wasn’t the case then, it certainly is now, and I can’t shake the terrible idea that it’s all my fault, and I have a lot to consider underneath tonight’s moonless night sky.

CHAPTER XI - THE FALLEN GENERAL

Though I walk in a strict circle around the length of the campsite, my eyes never peel away from Caro.

What unstable thoughts lie in this earthwalker’s mind? If he is the mass murderer most of us believe him to be, no, I know him to be, then every moment I let him walk free has hundreds of lives at stake. I can see it in his eyes. I’ll bet my entire plantation he’s plotting to kill me right now.

As I think, Caro is moaning as the Blackwing’s teeth pulls the straps of their bag of holding tightly around his ribs. “Gently, you fool!”

“Sorry. I just don’t want to lose our precious spoils of war. I worked hard for all of that jewelry.” Tohro nickers and shows off the many necklaces, gems and other treasures the griffons had called their own, only to be stolen in return. Hypocrisy has a stench worse than the draugr. I let out a heavy sigh. They honestly believe they are the honorable ones here? They have merely performed thievery upon thieves. Who knows how much those crystal shards are worth?

Caro doesn’t look upon the transparent gemstone with the eyes of one imagining wealth. Instead, his face carries wonder and curiosity, like the gemstone is something he has sought after for many years. He looks... disturbingly serene. “Imagine that, huh, Tohro? All of my hidden potential unlocked with an ancient language.” He carefully returns the gemstone to his bag. “What do you think it meant, anyway? Who is the Reclaimer?” He shakes his head. “Ah, well. I fail to see why it matters.”

I am tempted to ask, and I give in. “How does it feel, being this... Dragonborn character you claim to be?” It is obviously a hoax, after all. Smoke and mirrors, or perhaps an elaborate device set into motion with a few choice words.

Caro answers. “Well... It’s not too different from being a pony, aside from the fact that I feel stronger, my throat feels clearer, my senses are open, and, of course, my voice commands the elements themselves. For instance, notice that our campfire is dwindling to an untimely death.”

I have taken notice that it's growing colder. Only a few wisps of flame remain in our hastily constructed pit.

Caro continues. “Until we can find an antidote for that accursed skeever venom, it will be too much to ask Shae to reignite the poor thing,” he says, gesturing to the smiling lavender mare who lies upon a sleeping bag, the cheeks upon her pale face taking in air quicker than they should. “So! That is why I will now say ‘fire’ in Thu’um.”

He trots to the dying fire with his snout pointed upward. I take several steps away in case he tries anything unusual, or at least more unusual than what I have seen today. Caro inhales, cracks his neck, takes a deep breath, and yells into the fire pit, “YUL!”

The flames crackle and soar upward. My last step back turns into a leap. I can’t comprehend why the Tohro the Blackwing is cheering for such madness. Even Shae is uttering a weak “Woo-hoo,” despite her terrible condition.

I’m still not convinced this magic is genuine.

Tohro lets out an enthusiastic whistle. “Do you know anything else? Because I, for one, would really like to see.”

“I think I may be able to conduct lightning, or at least static electricity.”

"Bubbles?" Tohro cocks a brow.

Caro blushes. "I'm still figuring them out."

"Wonder what bubbles would be used for?"

"Dunno, but my mouth still tastes like soap."

"I thought you liked soap?"

“Well,” I say, interrupting their trade of jabs, “aren’t you suddenly the expert on Precursor culture.”

He raises an eyebrow while still wearing a cocky smile he doesn’t deserve. “Are you still here?”

“If you have such a magical voice then why don’t you heal the little one with it? I’m sure you have some sort of word for antidote in your vocabulary.”

Shae's eyes widen as she tries to scamper away. “Not in this lifetime! You’ve all seen what those shouts are–” Her protests are cut short a series of dry coughs and wheezes. A painful minute passes before she gets ahold of herself. “I’m fine.” I beg to disagree, based on the sick upon her lip.

"She's getting to be as stubborn as you," Tohro muses, nudging his friend. He then turns to Shae. “I’m sorry, love. If there is a healing shout, I'm afraid he doesn't know it.”

“Thank Fauste,” she mumbles, nestling back into her sleeping bag to fight against the infection.

I draw the line there. “Some miracle that voice of yours is. Is anypony going to tend to her using conventional means?”

“Don’t bother, I can handle this,” says Shae again. She is a terrible liar. I wave her off and advance on Caro and Tohro.

“You’re the worst excuses for miracle workers I have ever seen! You rope this innocent noblemare into your escapades, raid the graves of a long dead and highly revered race of ponies, and then there’s this fool!” Having already lost my temper, I have no qualms with seizing Caro by the chin and staring him down. “Your oh-so-impressive display of sorcery dazzles the eyes of your ragtag companions, but I find it sickening! How many more ponies will you murder with your trickery?”

His smirk broadens, making me feel nearly as sick as Shae. “I can think of a few.”

I had lost my temper. Now I’ve lost control. I raise my bladed arm high and point it right between this bastard’s eyes. “I swear to Epona, Caro! In a carriage! Off a cliff!” Only my better judgement holds me back.

"I admire your passion, General," Caro replies, having to audacity to push my hoof aside. "But you're really not one to complain about bloodshed, now are you?"

“How dare you! I may be a lady of war but am no careless murderer!”

"If you don't want to believe a dragon destroyed Reinoc, I respect that. Even I can still barely believe it. But it happened." His eyes narrow. "Blaming the deaths of those ponies on me defiles their memory! I will not stand here and be accused of such things, especially by a mare whose life I saved!"

“You speak in tongues again! Since when do I owe you my life?!”

“Do you really think you could have taken on fifty draugr by your lonesome?”

I am tempted to claim I could have taken more than a hundred without his sorcery, but pride is a vice I do not indulge in. As such, I take a deep breath and back away from the earthwalker. I’m quite amazed at how well he talked himself out of that. Based on how his previously intense eyes are now wide in shock, I can assume he is too.

I suddenly feel dirty, partially on how I had nearly broken my code, and that my armor is still coated in remains. I run off to the nearby hot spring, steaming worse than the water.

“How could anyone believe the destruction of Reinoc was a dragon’s doing?” I say to myself, dipping my helmet into the lake. I relish the thought of cleansing the rotted flesh and bone dust from my armor. “Oftentimes years pass without sighting of such creatures. It’s just... It’s asinine!”

Drops fall from the reflective blade upon my helmet’s cowl, instantly freezing as they touch the fresh snow. I can see my yellow coat and orange mane perfectly across the blade, and yet it still isn’t clean enough. Neither is my coat for that matter. My reflection brings the feeling of grime to my attention.

Curse those draugr! Their filth will never wash out of this! It’s not as if I can simply purchase a replacement. This was custom designed by King Hurricane himself! More vigorous scrubbing from the rags Shae had generously supplied to me yields no result. It’s difficult for one to claim to be a noblemare if her priceless armor is coated in the remains of undead. I may no longer be in service to the queen, but I’m still dignified, dammit!

“Do you, uh, need any assistance with that?”

I turn my head to see the Blackwing pegasus. My reflexes and my remaining frustration are badgering me to snap his neck for knocking me out in Beak Falls Barrow. I restrain myself out of sport, letting him speak his peace. At least he can give me a reason to snap his neck anyway.

“No,” I snort, returning to my fruitless struggle against the stains. “Away with ye. I have much on my mind, and your presence doesn’t improve matters.”

The Blackwing clicks his tongue. “You may jest, dear General, but I am the one in possession of the soap.” He holds up a bag containing three green bars. The smell is a welcome reprieve from the undead stench that still clouds my nostrils.

Drat. Another stalemate.

I narrow my eyes at him, hardening my stare as I slowly take the bag from his possession. His smug smile is giving me plenty of excuses to kill him right now, yet I can’t bring myself to do it. With another snort of indignation, I return to my never ending battle with the remains of the dead, keeping a watchful eye on his reflection. “You should know, I am still having difficulty believing what you call the truth.”

“It was a dragon!” Tohro barks. “The Blackwings have eyes everywhere! And we’re not the only ones who know.”

“If it was a dragon, as you claim, then why didn’t Queen Platinum say anything to me?”

“She’s a bitch like that?” He shrugs. Typical Blackwing mannerisms. “Okay, okay. Maybe she’s not one of the few who know. She’s not a god.”

“She may as well be!” I snap, jerking around to face him. “You should wish for such distinction to serve the likes of her!”

“Yeah, well, maybe she carries herself like a god, but we’re rising against her for a reason.”

“Shokenda Blackwing cast the first spell.”

“Don’t sit there acting like your side is innocent in all this.” Tohro narrows his eyes. “I do recall a certain decree placed into effect by Platinum? One that forbids all soldiers from any sort of relationship, whether it be with a pony or their right hooves.” He grins. “Is that why you’re always so tense?”

This Blackwing... If his ilk are half as annoying as he is, it’s no wonder their leader is insane. “Even if I could have a truly passionate relationship, don’t flatter yourself into thinking I’d ever consider you.”

“Wouldn’t even fever dream of it.”

“Besides, it is not because of the Antidistractionary Decree that I am without a lover. I mean, I had a husband, but..." I shake my head. My arranged marriage is irrelevant. "That's besides the point. I’m afraid that law doesn’t apply to me, along with any other set in place by Her Majesty.”

“Oh!” Tohro smiles. “So, while Platinum is the queen of the slag, you’re the queen of ice?” His smile disappears. “Wait, did you say—”

“You call me General Tangerine. I lost that title a while ago.” I set my helmet on the icy ground and point an accusing hoof at the Blackwing’s muzzle. “No thanks in part to you and your little friend! Her Majesty was absolutely livid when Caro slipped from our grasp and I was the first to shoulder the blame. I represent, well... represented, an entire empire’s military strength!” I pound the same hoof on the frozen grass. “And if that power is hardly enough to contain a single earthwalker, then... what hope do we have to crush your rebellion?”

The Blackwing is awestruck. “So, you admit your empire is doomed?”

I loudly groan and undo the straps of my greaves. “I’m simply not part of it anymore. I thought perhaps that if I took Caro’s life on my own, I could reclaim Her Majesty’s honor, and my own. But now, there are so many unanswered questions that... that killing him will likely bring more trouble than good.”

“Yeah. I should have known something was off when you took Shae as a hostage. She’ll have nightmares for weeks.”

I bow my head, shrugging off my breastplate. “That was a... regrettable decision on my part.” I don’t want to look the Blackwing in the eye, because I know even he finds me pitiful. “Listen, could you give me a little privacy? I need to make good use of your soap.” The smell of dust and rot makes my coat feel dry. I dunk my spaulders in the lake.

“It’s not my soap,” the Blackwing replies, a smirk on his face. He turns on his hoof and walks past large stone hiding my undressing from the rest of the group. “Just... save some for Caro. He doesn’t want to admit it, but that coat could really use a scrubbing.”

“For once, we are in agreement.” I actually smile for what feels like the first time, and it feels wonderful, though I don’t deserve it.

As I remove the plating that shields my flanks, I gaze at my mark. A shield adorned with three tangerines. The fruit is a trademark of my old family business. I never quite took part in it. The shield, however... “Even if I am no longer a general, I can still protect the innocent.” The remainder of my thoughts are left to the warming waters of the spring.

“You can’t be bloody serious,” says Caro after a long and painfully awkward pause.

Yes, I had just requested that I carry the burden of Shae and bring her to Trottingham to have her leg and infection mended. I can tell they all believe me to hide sinister intentions underneath my stoic exterior but that is far from the truth.

“I feel indebted to your little clique,” I say to the group, standing close to the sick unicorn. What hell she must be going through, yet she stays calm. “In more ways than one. I will not deny any further that Caro has saved my life,” I nod at him, this time without passive aggression, “so for now, until I fully understand the complicated matters surrounding his innocence, I have decided to sheathe my blade for him.” I raise my hoof at Tohro’s sudden euphoric smirk. “I said, for now. There is something else, though.” I sigh and kneel down to eye level with Shae, hoping her illness doesn’t prevent her from hearing me. “You have made your feelings about my putting your life on the line quite clear, fellow noblemare. I do not expect you to understand how desperate I was at the time, for I thought I could retain my place as a general if I brought Caro to justice. I suppose even if that had happened, there would have been no honor in the how. A hostage is a coward’s tool, and a simple apology just isn’t enough to show you my remorse.” I place my hoof on her shoulder. She’s trembling as if her body is caught in an earthquake. “Would you accept my offer of taking you to Trottingham?”

Shae’s mouth is frowning as if to refuse but her quivering eyes want to accept more than anything in the world. In the end, the eyes win. “Gauntlets. Off,” she mutters in a dry rasp.

That seems fair. The blades upon my armor were held to her neck merely a day ago. I oblige, setting my gauntlets aside for Caro to stash away. He very securely latches his pouch shut. I can tell I won’t be seeing my weapons for a while.

If anypony ever tells you that Trottingham is neutral in this civil war, they are entirely wrong. Yes, it is true that the town does not house any soldiers on either side of the conflict, nor does the jarl contribute to any battles, but, let us face facts; when it comes to two sides of an argument, someone is never truly neutral.

I have been to Trottingham before, usually on diplomatic missions or searching for spies and sleeper agents. At the time, I wore the signature purple and gold of the Platinum Empire upon my steel armor, and as such I was met with just as much respect as hatred. I remember receiving a ripe tomato as thanks from a farmer, and not a minute passed before I was given another, this time to the muzzle by a rotten one.

I suppose you could say that Trottingham is in a civil war of its own, only with words and spoiled food instead of swords and black magic. If only the rest of Equestria had that luxury...

Despite how relatively pleasant this town is, the dread of setting hoof inside its walls intensifies with every step I take up the incline to the main gate. I am fully prepared for a cruel badgering or two, but if worse comes to worst, I may end up having to speak to Jarl Drake, and that is the worst thing that can happen to me right now.

“Halt!” shouts a rather rotund soldier as he approaches me. His rusted armor pales in comparison to mine. “Imperial soldiers are not taken kindly in this city, and-”

“In case you haven’t noticed,” I interrupt, gesturing to Caro, Tohro and the sick unicorn upon my back, “we have a spot of an emergency on our hooves. This mare is dying of a skeever venom infection, so I believe it would be best if you point us in the direction of a white mage and call it a day.”

“We have no such thing,” says another guard upon the scaffolding. “The only experienced white mages within Trottingham are Jarl Drake and her court wizard, and frankly I doubt they have any interest in assisting an Imperial.”

Lazy bastard! Is this what counts for authority outside of Her Majesty’s reach? “You must have something!” I shout.

“We’re in the jarl’s good favor,” says Caro. “Perhaps she’ll make an exception.”

The chubby one’s apathy wanes as he hears another fit of hacking from Shae. He relaxes and speaks with less authority. “If you want my honest opinion, you should visit the local blacksmith at Glasswork Forge. She has an alchemy table set up inside her shop, you’ll be able to brew up an antidote. It’d be faster than getting the Jarl’s attention, at any rate.”

Shae makes another sound, that of excitement. I assume that she rather likes the blacksmith option. I turn back to the soldier. “You have been most helpful, sir.”

Tohro flies ahead, landing just outside the gate. “Here’s hoping this Glasswork broad knows how to actually perform alchemy.”

Caro shrugs. “If not, we can always ask Rosemary for assistance.”

As if a jolt of lightning had gone through my nerves, I instantly stand to attention. I recall recent memories of red hair, a yellow coat and constant refusals to wear anything vaguely feminine.

What in the name of Epona is my daughter doing here?

“Welcome to the forge! What kind ol’ Rosemary do for—” She stops talking when she turns to face us, and lets a smile spread across her lips. “Oh! You two again! Fancy that! And I see you brought friends!” Her green eyes look me over, making me feel tiny and scrutinized. It would seem that I don’t even have the distinction of being acknowledged by my own daughter.

I break eye contact to check on Shae, who is still resting in the sleeping bag upon my back. “We have a sick child here, and was wondering if you could help,” Caro explains, his own eyes looking to Shae. All the passion and madness I had seen in those eyes before is gone now, replaced with... worry? Regret?

“Well now, lets have a look at the lass and see what we—” Rosemary's eyes widen at the sight. “Oh, Hephaestus!” She darts around Shae, eyeing every detail. “Those robes! Those ornaments! That horn!” Her hooves fly to her mouth to contain what sounds like a squeal. “You’re from Wintercolt Academy, aren’t you?! Yes! You are! I knew it!”

I try to interrupt. “Rosemary, we can proceed with the formalities later. Right now she needs—”

“I was debating rather or not to show up to work today at all! But now, I’m so glad I did! Because now, I finally get to meet somepony from the most fascinatin' place in all Equestria! I have a passion for the magical arts, ya see...” she points to herself and closes her eyes, exuding an air of confidence. Briefly, I wonder if Caro and Tohro find me this annoying.

My brain registers what she says about having a passion for magic, which makes my eyes land on Caro again. “You’re not going to start shouting too, are you?” I ask Rosemary. She's always like this around unicorns, or anything magical, for that matter. I find it rather unorthodox.

“Shoutin'? Why in Equestria would I do that? Unless yer friends are plannin’ ta rob me.” She gestures to the myriad of swords and armor hanging behind her. The look in her eyes tells me she isn’t afraid to use them if the opportunity ones. At least she has my spirit, but I doubt she has the restraint. “So!” Rosemary’s attention turns back to Shae. “What’s it like up there in Wintercolt? What sort of magic do they teach? You think I could have a shot at gettin' in?” She chuckles. “I jest, of course.”

Shae buries her face into the pillow of her sleeping bag. Clearly she doesn’t want to be bothered, and I step in to run interference. “That's enough. She needs a healer and—”

“C’mon!” Rosemary ignores my talking and nudges the poor dear. “Say somethin’, girl.”

Shae replies by vomiting onto Rosemary’s hooves.

“I am so sorry!” Caro is already on the scene, trying in vain to wipe away the sick. Rosemary laughs and shakes her head.

“Quite alright, lad! Ya don’t have rowdy friends and not experience this one in a while!” She looks back at Shae. “You should'a told me she needs a healer.”

I roll my eyes and groan, stomping my hooves. Tohro’s snickering isn’t helping my mood either. As I lay Shae on the bench in the corner, I jerk my head to signal Rosemary to speak to me in private. She leads me to a stockroom behind the counter, where I see as many incomplete blades as respectable ones. She's been improving...

Rosemary leaves the door open behind her. “What’s up, Mum?”

“What are you playing at? Why are you even here?”

Her unwavering smile looks forced, her eyes darting about. “Take it easy, Mum! I’m makin’ good bits in this here smithin’ business.”

“You are supposed to be tending to the plantation!” I hiss. “And what of Nutmeg and Cinnamon? What of the villa?”

“They’re fine!” Her confidence is beginning to falter. Clearly she still has some comprehension of what really matters. "I left 'em in good care of Duster 'n the others."

“You’re abandoning your responsibilities. What you call a good business will only attract trouble, and those two are nothing but! It could have been you lying in that sleeping bag, coughing up your own stomach!” I hiss through my teeth. “If I had known you were the one they were coming to for steel, I’d have...” Honestly, I can't even think of a punishment that justifies this.

Rosemary will hear none of it. “I can take care of myself, Mum! Besides, that Caro fella is the most generous pony you will ever meet! Do you have any idea how much his donation has helped me and Master Glasswork? I'm finally makin' somethin' of myself!” Rosemary sounds so convincing as she shows off a hefty sack of gold coins. I glance over her shoulder to see Caro kneeling down to tend to Shae again, wondering if I was in the wrong after all. “Since we’re all friends now, I think I can introduce ya proper.”

I am forced to swallow my pride again as I let her take the first step.

As we approach the others, I can feel myself blushing with embarrassment. Rosemary clears her throat to get their attention and points a hoof at me. “Everypony, you've met my mum?”

The others react with the expected surprise and shock. Tohro steps forward and bows slightly. “May I say, Tangerine, you have made the most wonderful—”

“Don’t even think about it, Blackwing,” I seethe, glaring at his smug smile.

“Mum, be fair!” Rosemary whispers, tapping me with a hoof. I shoot her a glare only a mother can perform. She buckles as Shae starts hacking once again. “Um, right, I’ll get on that antidote, then?” She steps toward the back room, never quite taking her eyes away from me, and I return the favor.

“How dare you endanger my daughter with your insanity?!” I snap at Caro once I make sure Rosemary is out of earshot.

“Small world?” Tohro shrugs.

Caro nonchalantly blows his unkempt mane out of his eyes. “Yell louder, maybe that will solve your problems.”

“You should be proud of her,” Tohro adds, nodding in agreement. “From what I’ve seen, she’d make fine Blackwing material.”

I’ve tried to be tolerant. I’ve tried to be reasonable. I’ve tried to cope. But now... I’ve heard enough. I inhale deeply, walk briskly past the two misfits and their sick mage, and exit the shop.

“Kids grow up so fast in this day and age, don’t they?” I hear Caro mutter as I slam the door.

I buck the anvil nearest the entrance, sending it careening off into the distance to hopefully ruin a Blackwing’s day.

~Vision end~

After a very brief and excruciating doze, Shae wakes on the bench inside the smithing shop, moaning as the sting from her leg pulses throughout her body and into her head, keeping her from seeing straight.

“Caro? Tohro? Where did you go?” she chokes out.

“They had some business to attend to with Jarl Drake, but don’t worry, lass. Y'all are in good hooves.” Rosemary waves a hoof in the air as she leans over an alchemy table. “I’m not normally the one to handle all this alca-matic mumbo jumbo. That’s Master Glasswork’s job, and she’s out shoppin'. I’ll do what I can, though.”

Rosemary sorts through several pouches of roots, berries, flora and fungi, trying to figure out what combination of ingredients will create some sort of healing solution. She eventually shrugs and slams every bag onto the alchemy table, losing a few cockatrice eggs to the wooden floor in the process. She carefully examines a scrap of paper littered with hastily scrawled notes, scanning it over several times, her expression growing more pathetically awkward with each pass.

“Let’s see, according to these instructions... I have no idea what I’m doing,” she says, tossing the parchment aside and hunching over the table. “So I’ll just toss all these things into a bowl and see what happens, eh?

Shae has another coughing fit as she struggles to sit upright. “Great plan, if you want to blow up the whole damn shop...” She slowly crawls from her sleeping bag and stumbles over to the table, where she collapses into Rosemary for support, drawing labored breaths. The room is spinning around her now, on top of the pain in her leg and the slow death working through her body. “First, we need three leaves of an elderberry bush mixed in with a tablespoon of goat milk.”

Rosemary nods and quickly grabs the ingredients, carefully stirring them together until they form a crimson liquid that reeks of an abandoned barn.

“Now,” Shae croaks, holding a hoof to her head, “add the powder from those mushrooms.” She points to the ergot laying among the clutter. “Just the powder. If any of the mushroom gets in the mix, I’ll have much more than an infection to worry about.”

Again, Rosemary does so without question.

“Let that sit for thirty seconds.”

“Blimey, that was all off the top of your head?” Rosemary wipes the sweat from her brow, releasing the breath she had been holding.

Shae does her best to look proud, but the tinge of green from her sickly face ruins the moment. “Don’t be too impressed. This is what Wintercolt Academy calls child’s play. I learned this on my first term.”

“Ah.” Rosemary nods and peeks at the potion in progress. It is now a steaming red sludge, which looks like it would do some serious damage to one’s liver, but Shae’s excitement assures Rosemary that this is normal. “Is it finished?”

The unicorn shakes her head as her horn becomes wrapped in her signature magenta aura. “Not quite.” The aura flickers out like a dying candle, prompting her to strike her muzzle with her own trembling hoof as another wave of nausea comes over her. “Damn skeevers and their poison...” She chokes back the potential for another accident, and musters a smile through her grimace. “Could you help me?”

Rosemary nods and holds the bowl of sludge to to Shae’s muzzle. As her eyes narrow at the substance, she purses her lips and spits. A small burst of pink smoke emanates from the completed antidote. “Fantastic! And somewhat odd,” says Rosemary. “Now, we just spread this on the wound-”

Shae shakes her head and dunks her muzzle into the bowl, greedily slurping until the bowl is completely cleaned of red.

"Well, I've seen stranger things..." Rosemary mutters.

The bitter potion leaves an aftertaste of rubber and old stockings, but the stinging in Shae’s leg is already wearing off. Unfortunately, she knows that while the infection will be cleansed from her body within the hour, her frail state will not.

“I’ll need at least a day to rest. If only I had thought to brew one of those back home...” She returns to the bench, letting out a well deserved sigh of relief. She then works the bandage upon her leg, ready to remove it and the infuriating itch it provides. Her horn is refusing to cooperate, only flickering its magenta light.

Rosemary chuckles. “Here, hon. Let me get that for ya.”

“Wait!- oh.” Shae lifts her head as the yellow earthwalker bites down on the loose end of the gauze and gives a good yank, revealing a dry and discolored hind leg. “It was much worse a few minutes ago,” Shae mutters, trying to quell Rosemary’s mortification. Her own thoughts liken the appearance to the draugr. She pulls the leg of her undergarments back over the sated wound. “So, you said you wanted to hear about Wintercolt Academy?”

Just like that, Rosemary eyes light up like a foal's on Hearth’s Warming Eve. “Yes, yes! I really do!”

“A unicorn enthusiast, are you?”

“I just find your kind so... fascinatin'! You can turn water into ice or make weapons appear out of thin air! Hell, you can tear your foes apart with your bloody mind!”

It has been some time since Shae has been this humbled. At the academy, a perfect mark on a test, written or otherwise, was the bare minimum for a pony with her talents. Now here is a mare impressed with the fact that there’s a unicorn sitting in front of her at all.

“It’s not quite as simple as that,” she states, trying to quell the new burning in her cheeks. “All forms of conventional magic have their limits. It’s all about equivalent exchange. We can only create as much ice as there is water, but we can’t create more water. Summoned weapons disappear moments after their creation, usually determined by the strength of the user's magic. That, and replicas are never as effective as the actual thing. As for the tearing ponies apart and stuff, well,” she chuckles weakly, “all of that is ill-advised, obviously.”

The factual onslaught does not dull Rosemary’s spirits. In fact, she seems more enraptured than bored.

Shae continues, not used to the fact that a pony would listen to her ramblings at all. “In a nutshell, magic is a science like any other field, not a miracle. Wintercolt Academy exists to teach young unicorns that much.”

“So, anypony can learn magic?” Rosemary’s ears perk at the thought.

Shae lets out another weak laugh, stretching her sore limbs as she lay on the bench. “There do exist ways for non-unicorns to perform spells. Alchemy, runes, talismans, artifacts. But the type of magic taught at Wintercolt is, unfortunately, limited to unicorns and their horns.”

The earthwalker shrugs. “I thought as much.”

“I don’t mean to brag, but I am the top student there. A personal protege to Headmaster Frosthelm and next in line to become the headmistress, I hope. Restoration magic such as healing wounds and repairing objects are my forte, though I’m also quite good at black magic. Er, offensive spells.”

"As skilled as you are beautiful, huh? So.. can I learn magic? The other kind?" Rosemary sounds hopeful, almost pleading. "If you be willin' to teach me that is."

Shae finds herself chuckling, then bursting out laughing.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, just...” Shae catches her breath. “My roommate, Sundance. The poor dear always needs my help with even the simplest spells. I remember, during a blizzard, two winters ago, she couldn’t summon so much as a thimble’s worth of blue fire. It must have been midnight when she finally got a spark, then she conked out right there. I tucked her into bed, then I...” She looks away as she recalls snuggling in close next to her best friend, keeping them both warm.

“Hon, you’re tearing up,” says Rosemary.

Those tears are quickly wiped away. “I’m a little homesick, that’s all.”

“Can’t say I know the feeling. When I left the villa I never looked back.”

“Yes, that reminds me, I wanted to ask, what’s the cause of the tension between you and Tangerine?”

Rosemary scoffs with irritation and amusement. “Nothing, except that my mum expects me to stay home, watch over my siblings and the plants, and eventually get wedded off to some stranger in the north and reproduce like a bloody rabbit.” She raises her hoof as if giving a presentation to a crowd of upper class ponies. “As is earthwalker tradition.” She nickers. “All a bunch of dip, if you ask me. Traditions are made to be broken.”

“You have spirit, miss,” says Shae. “I’m a bit of an anti-traditionalist myself. I’m the first student in Wintercolt to pursue an extracurricular project outside of the school walls. Most are satisfied with a inventing a new spell or potion, but I’ve gone above and beyond.” She takes in a deep breath. “And... almost died. Three times.”

“Bloody hell!” Rosemary exclaims.

“It could have been worse,” she adds as an afterthought, recalling the helplessness she felt before letting a lightning spell loose on the bandit who had her bent over a rock. She would rather forget such a thing ever happened, but it just slipped.

Rosemary is absolutely appalled, and for once not in a good way. Shae pats her on the wither. “I knew the risks I would face when I left the school. For every cruel beast I face, I find at least two kind hearted ponies who would step in to save me. Take Caro and Tohro, for instance.”

“They’re, what, your dads?”

Shae shoots Rosemary a look of disgust, but then bursts into laughter again. “No... no! We’ve just become good friends in such a short amount of time.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Well, they only saved my life! Not bad for a convicted murderer and a Blackwing, huh?” Her chuckles stop when she realizes what she just let slip. Did I just endanger Caro? His innocence is earned in my eyes, but to everypony else...

“Convicted murderer?” asks Rosemary, backing away slowly. Her eyes slowly widen. “By Hephaestus! I didn’t want to believe it. Is that the same Caro that destroyed Reinoc?”

“On false charges!” Shae doubts she has the ability to convince anypony of the truth. It’ll be difficult to outdo Otar. “I know this may be extraordinary to the point of insanity, but you have to trust me on this.”

The earthwalker tilts her head. “Okay...”

Shae looks Rosemary dead in the eye and speaks slowly. “Caro did not destroy Reinoc. It was a-”

The loud drawl of the town crier pierces the early morning air. “DRAAAAGOOOON!!”

XXVI - Seventy Days

Day One

~Caro~

It’s almost as if I’ve stepped onto another plane of reality. I nearly cause myself vertigo, looking over the edge of the village. In the midst of the falling snow, which is the only thing permitted to pass through the forcefield, the rest of Equestria is little more than a memory at this point. Unless this winter ever comes to an end, I won’t be able to gaze upon the open fields for some time.

But, simultaneously, I want to appreciate every last moment I have with Master. The initial shock of his being alive wore off long ago, and that fleeting emotion was replaced with serenity and relief, which has thankfully lasted. This is the happiest I’ve been in some time. I will not let our reunion go to waste.

“I sincerely do wish that I could have revealed my true form to you sooner, child. It is not a matter of foolishness on my part. If Saviikaan were to know of my existence, all of Neigh Hrothgar would be at risk, and so would you.” His nostrils let out a burst of hot air. “Harsh as it may sound, it was a better option for you to think me dead for a short time, than for me to be lost to you forever.”

“I understand,” I say, before letting out a nasty fit of hacking. These Greybeards have been running me ragged ever since I woke up, and it’s been hell upon my voice. But I’ve been through far worse. Discomfort is nothing to me. “Right, what’s next?”

I feel the edge of Master’s wing nudge my side. It subliminally ushers me to stand beside him.

“I believe it is for the best that you understand exactly why Saviikaan is a threat to the land you equines call Equestria. That is an unfamiliar term to us dragons, as for the past thousand years we’ve never known this place by any name, only by the knowledge that it is sacred to us.”

“Why is it sacred?”

“This used to be the land of the Precursors, and most of ponykind understands that the Precursors worshipped us dragons as gods.”

“Was Dragos worshipped in those times?”

“She was a god of a different name and meaning at that time, and the Precursors preferred to focus upon what was in front of them rather than the metaphysical.”

“You know this because you were alive to witness such things first hoof.”

“Indeed, Caro. As I said, I am the eldest dragon.”

“...Wow. What is your secret?”

“A semi-immortal soul, my child. Dragon souls are peculiar to you ponies, to say the least, for they cannot be destroyed by force, and they can last for hundreds, or in the case of me and Saviikaan’s, thousands of years.”

“And I’m the only one alive who is able to absorb their souls from their bodies...”

“In the process, gaining the shouts they know, as well as a shred of their strength and skill.”

“Tohro did notice I have been getting more bulky. Is that why I have this tongue and these fangs?”

“Yes. But your eyes are the exception, for those are a sign of your awakening.”

“I do like the eyes. So, what separates me from other users of the Thu'um is my ability to absorb souls and understand the ancient text, so I can learn a new Shout on the spot, rather than spend my entire life learning it, like these Greybeards.”

“Yes, that is also true.”

“This is what will allow me an advantage over Saviikaan. But I fail to see why he wants to tear this land apart.”

“He is called the Reclaimer for a reason, child. Saviikaan doesn’t wish to destroy Equestria. He believes he is saving it.”

“...What sort of logic is that?”

“I recall viewing you speaking to Otar? I saw through the liquid glass.”

“Yes. Otar explained that there was some sort of war, or an infestation, or...”

“I prefer to call it a cleansing. With the Dragon Priests bridging the connection between the Precursors and the dragons, my race's powers became more available to the mortals, beyond just our vocal abilities. The Precursors began to... experiment, going beyond what nature may have intended. Necromancy, dark magic, artificial creations... It was horrifying. But Saviikaan was their leader, and he allowed it. In the end, these newfound creations tore the land apart, and the Precursors were forced underground. The dragons, they took to the sky to wait out the apocalypse.”

“...Holy...”

“No, Caro. It was most unholy. Especially when something went awry. Every Precursor who fell into hibernation beneath the surface were turned into horrendous skeletal creatures. I know this because I watched you face them.”

“I had a suspicion the draugr were Precursors. This means Otar truly is the only one left.”

“How he survived, I’m afraid I do not know, but he struck me as different than how I remember him. Perhaps he discovered some controversial means to survive.”

“Enough about the Precursors, I might throw up. What befell the dragons?”

“As I said, they waited, and bid their time until it was safe to return to Equestria, but by the time they did, new equines had arrived unto the surface. Saviikaan... Well, to say he didn’t take kindly to them walking upon what he considered the dragon territory would be putting it mildly. All that stood in his way was a pegasus who carried dragon’s blood within him.”

“Doré Westnaire? But he failed, didn’t he?”

“Doré was devoted, swift and deadly, very much like a dragon. Saviikaan cast Doré and his followers from this very mountain, and the rest of ponykind followed soon after. Yet, the bottle of evolution could not be sealed, and ponykind emerged once again. Saviikaan returned to the surface to wreak his havoc in kind. Even the next Dragonborn, Lilypad, a pony of physical perfection, was unable to stop him. She was left stranded at sea to die. And so, without her guidance, ponykind fell once again.”

So my entire life has been contained within this cycle. An eternal ring, in which a Dragonborn would rise from nothing to learn the way of the Voice, challenge Saviikaan, and inevitably die, along with the rest of ponykind. I’m sure the details of each long running battle are much different from mine, but that doesn’t change the bare basics of this revelation. I’m just a player in this recurring war between ponies and dragons. I’m a pawn.

My stomach churns, my throat opens, and I retch.

~Vision End~

Day Four

~Shae~

Living in isolation for most of my life, I never quite came to terms with how this era became known as the twilight age. It’s just a term that began to catch on around Wintercolt Academy as more visitors came along. ‘Such is the way of the twilight age,' they would say. It always took me as something somber and melancholy, yet it always seems to be said with a grave amount of acceptance, like this is the way things are meant to be. But what does it mean? I’ve finally figured it out.

Twilight is the one time of day where the events of the past waking hours come to light, and we reflect on them with sorrow, longing for the moments we didn’t relish in those hours’ passing.

“Ah, where gone those days once glory shone so bright?”

Regardless of how the twilight age is relevant from pony to pony, we all feel as if the hopes and dreams that were fertilized in our hearts upon Equestria’s founding have begun to wilt and die. Our ideals are setting across the horizon and soon they will be gone forever.

I understand that now because I saw that sun set in the eyes of beloved Celina. I thought I was broken when I watched her die, but she was utterly shattered when she lived again. In that moment she knew she’ll forever be doomed to watch those around her age, but she will never know mortality. Her age is metaphysical and her soul is eternal. That’s what Platinum told me. She also told me that it would be for the best that I stay away from Celina, owing to her being incredibly unstable.

I didn’t listen. That is why I sit here under the cover of a colorful awning on a rainy morning, with a mare serving me and Celina fresh malts. I ordered vanilla with chocolate shavings. Celina refused to speak, and as such I bought her plain strawberry. I’m nearly halfway through my cup but she hasn’t touched any of it.

“So, I received post from Wintercolt Academy. My friends have recovered from their injuries, and all of the students are helping to keep the place in check until they can start class again. That’s big...”

Celina doesn’t respond, but she does look up at me for a split second. Those sky blue eyes of hers look clouded, especially underneath her unkempt mane and black hood.

“That’s big...” I repeat. I dab at my malt with my straw and try to think of something else to say. “I, uh, remember seeing Captain Gauntlet being sweet on you. Are you and him awfully close?”

Again, I’m met with clouded eyes and silence.

This is worse than death. Celina, one of the most pure and wonderful mares I could have ever hoped to meet, after I poured my heart out to her, and her to me, us becoming close friends in a manner of hours... Now she sits before me, yet she is elsewhere, stranded in a black cloud of despair. It’s as if I’m speaking to a mere statue. The worst part is knowing a happy, heavenly mare I love is within that statue, and I can’t find that mare. In a moment of frustrated desperation, I lift my cup and slam it on the table. “Celina, please say something!”

She quivers and hides most of her face under her veil. She mutters something inaudible. She then removes herself from her seat, swiping her glass off the table. It shatters on impact with the cobblestone, and the sweet cream mixes with puddles of rainwater. Celina storms away. She doesn’t heed my calls as I chase after her.

I had just barely read her lips, but I don’t quite get what reason she would have to say, “You lied to me.”

~Vision End~

Day Fifteen

~Tohro~

Never let it be said that I’m not a perfectly content pegasus.

My quest, the protection of the legendary Dragonborn, has come to a satisfying, if temporary conclusion. He’ll be working his little heart out becoming the great hero I know he’s meant to be, and I, being free from Shokenda’s alcohol and sex induced control, can fly about the land of Equestria as I please. I would make love to the sky, it being a body of color unable to stop me, but I won’t. I’ll settle for making love to any barmaid or servant boy who crosses my path.

Which is just the subject upon my mind, at the moment. These Everfree saloons carry a much more sophisticated folk than the ones in Ivarstable, and as much as I used to call Fillydelphia home, the conditions there made the pickings rather slim. This is a much more fertile garden, in my mind, and far more varied too.

As Fillydelphia is the home of the Blackwings, there are far more pegasi than anypony else within that place’s bars. It takes a mere skimming of the The Winking Sprite to see a much more varied crowd, particularly a rugged clique of gryphons in the shaded area.

“Oi, barmaid! Sweetheart, over here,” I say with a whistle and a wave. A pretty young thing comes my way, levitating a tray of flasks.

“Welcome, kind sir. How may I be of service to you?” she asks. Her sultry voice doesn’t sound forced, like she genuinely enjoys the attention. I’m falling in love with Everfree more by the minute.

“Service would be most excellent, but I wouldn’t mind a drink first. I’ll have a mug of warm grape juice,” I point to the feathered fellows across the way, “and pints of the same for those gentlebirds.” I give the barmaid a tilt of my brow and a brush under her chin, passing her a small pouch of bits. “You’re welcome to join us.” She laughs and blushes at the offer. I still have it, even with this traitor eye.

I saunter forth, bobbing and weaving between the inebriated fellows of the tavern, until I reach the gryphons. They’re definitely more of a sight to see up close than afar. I’ve never bedded one of their kind before. This might be my chance to get ahold of one. Or three.

“Good day to you, friends,” I say with a twirl. This gains me plenty of awkward stares, but they’ll be smiling soon. “I’ll have you know I’ve ordered you all some nourishment, and in return, I expect to hear the good word. Tell me your stories, you all look like you’ve seen something worth mentioning.”

What did I say? They’re smiling now. Only, those don’t look like smiles of enjoyment. I feel mocked. “Well, the audacity of it all,” says the gryphon at the helm of the group. His furry legs are crossed over the table. He wears the shadiest clothing out of all of his affiliates, with a black coat over leather armor, and a scarf pulled into a hood. He removes the scarf, revealing a white feathered face with an armored beak. “I can officially put it on record that I have been spoken to by the very same pegasus that put an arrow in my brother’s head.”

My mind instantly races back to a time when I was airborne, in the midst of a battle with the Thieves Guild, caught in the blast of Shae’s magical overdrive.

“Jackpot,” I had said. Click went the crossbow, and down went the leader of the Thieves Guild in a pool of blood. And if this white feathered gryphon is Ezio’s brother...

“Hello, Altair,” I say with a nervous swallow.

“So...” Altair reaches behind him, agonizingly slowly, and equips a large knife, one with an exotic insignia upon the flat of the blade. He sets the tip upon the table, then spins it about in a circle. Twice. Three times. Then he tosses it up in the air and catches it by the blade, somehow not cutting himself in the process. He points the hilt right in my direction. “...What story do you want to hear first, my friend?”

Day Sixteen

There’s a key routine to my mornings. I check myself to ensure my body is all in a single piece, I eye my surroundings before making any sudden movements, and, usually every other day, I take note of who exactly is laying next to me under the covers. It’s saved me a lot of knife wounds, I’ll say that much.

I can’t say my life isn’t interesting. While I do give myself a mental pat on the back for what I see on my left, which would be that sultry barmaid curled up with the pillow, wearing the goofiest smile on her face, it’s what’s on my right that causes me to do a double take.

“You’re not too shabby, Tohro Blackwing,” says Altair. He’s slipping on his hosen, but I can at least get a view of his bare back. I take note of two deep laden scars where his wings should be. He catches on to my stunned staring. “Oh, these? I lost my flight when I was a child. Don’t concern yourself with it too much. I’m an effective thief, even without wings.”

Hearing that, I do everything in my power to slam my erect wings to my sides. They’re not cooperating easily, but they feel like an insult in the face of a flightless gryphon.

“I consider myself satisfied,” Altair says. After he pulls on his leather, he turns around and gives me an intimidating stare only a bird could manage. “Now, it’s time for you to tell me something; what can a former Blackwing offer the Thieves Guild?”

~Vision End~

Day Twenty-Four

~Platinum~

“What am I to do, my love?”

My hoof brushes the flat, painted mane of my late husband. It matters little to me how well crafted this portrait is; it cannot emulate the majesty of my Hurricane, not even a fraction. As this perpetual seeming storm continues to daunt Everfree, with the reflection of the rain on the windows shadowing my husband’s face, I keep asking that same question over and over again, for the answers are lost to me in this life. Perhaps the answer lies in the great beyond.

I didn’t cry for Hurricane when we sent him off. It was just as he requested; atop a high mountain, his body laid comfortably across a nimbostratus cloud, pushed off to fly amongst the other clouds. I was the only unicorn amongst a crowd of mourning pegasi. I felt like such the outcast. Even an embrace from Private Pansy wasn’t enough to blur the line, and that gesture seems even more tragic after what he attempted soon after. That’s how he... Damn it all, why did it have to come to this?

Now I’m resting both my hooves the painting, paying no mind to how pathetic I must look. “You must know something. Send me a sign, please... Anything, Hurricane...”

The picture doesn’t respond.

“I’ve... I’ve only spoken to Celina the once since my confession to her. Her response was less than pleasant. I merely wanted to bring her dinner but she cast it aside. She cursed me out without even using her voice, with a flash of blinding light and a strike of flame upon her food. I remember, upon leaving the room, hearing her burst into tears... She’s destroying herself, but she cannot die. All that will be left of her is an empty immortal shell, at this rate. She won’t be alive, she’ll just... exist.” I try to still my quivering lip. I have to stay strong in the presence of my husband. “We’ve already lost a son. How can I afford to lose a daughter? How could I let this happen?”

I made this happen. I could have just told Celina it was all an awful dream and sent her off to a bath and bed. Would she have believed me? Of course not. She’s too smart for that. No matter what approach I took to the situation, it couldn’t have ended any way but in tears and heartbreak. The only consistency is that it’s all my fault.

I hear a rustling beyond the corridor, coming from the garden. My hopes begin to soar. Perhaps Celina has finally found the strength to bring herself back to happiness, or at least a shred of what she was, and return to her garden. I’ve neglected to touch the place, for it’s hers and hers alone.

Then again, I should know better than to think she’d recover in an moment’s notice, especially when I see Shae tending to the garden herself, with Celina apathetically standing nearby. She’s still wearing that garish veil, watching blankly as Shae buries a pack of daisy seeds. She keeps looking back and forth between Celina and her, honestly, rather shoddy work.

Shae’s dissonantly happy mien disturbs me. I’ve told her time and time again that she shouldn’t be near Celina, yet that never stops her for some reason. She has tenacity, I’ll give her that much, but how long will she be able to convince herself she’s making a dent? I fear for her innocence, or worse, what Celina might do to her.

Bloody hell, I’m afraid of a mare who once called me Mother.

Shae happily mutters something to Celina, who, as is the norm of late, doesn’t speak back. Shae continues as if she heard some sort of response, I can’t quite hear them out, curse my old ears...

It’s through a few minutes of deluded self conversation that Shae’s smile begins to dwindle into a frown, with her eyes starting to water. I can see her will faltering by the second. Who am I to try and stop it? I’ll only make matters worse, that’s how it always goes.

Celina catches wind of Shae’s distraughtness and tries to take her leave as silently as ever, but Shae will have none of it. Through her tears she teleports in front of Celina and grabs ahold of her by the withers.

“You have to stop this!” I can hear her now. “I can’t cope with this, Celina! I want the old you! What happened to her?! Please, just come back! Come back to us! Come back to me!”

Celina’s response is to capture Shae in a levitation field and toss her into the corridor. That’s when I enter the fray, standing between the sobbing child and the despairing alicorn. Celina doesn’t take another step, only hiding herself away further.

“Don’t you remember...” Shae whispers as she clutches her stomach. I do believe she’s had the wind knocked out of her. “I... I said you were beautiful...”

Celina brushes the sentiment off like a gnat, coldly walking away from the both of us. I sincerely hope it was my old ears playing tricks on me when I heard her say something.

“Liar.”

I solemnly turn back to my husband. “What am I to do, my love?”

~Vision End~

Day Thirty-Seven

~Caro~

"Your poise is most admirable, child. You've come far since your... less successful attempts at meditation."

I open a single eye and give Master a pout. "It would have been far easier if I didn't have a dragon's guttural growl interfering with my focus."

"My apologies, son." He pulls his head away and rather humorously steps aside. I can tell he's embarrassed. "I've forgotten how sensitive you are. No doubt you are even moreso these days."

If I strain my nose, I can smell bread baking clear across the village. Honey baked crumpets, I'd warrant. "I grew used to the heightened senses quickly, shortly after leaving Beak Falls Barrow." I put on a smirk. "Unlike Saviikaan, I am accepting of change."

That makes Master chortle. "Your maturity is the better part of your eventual success. You are a promising Dragonborn."

"It's because I want things to change. If Equestria is in pain, then I'll be able to heal her." I close my eyes and return to my meditative pose, with my forelegs resting on my hinds. I close my eyes and take a slow breath. "Saving innocent ponies by purging the corrupt."

Master only responds with a puff of smoke.

Right then. Once again it is time for me to try and pursue inner peace. Master has repeatedly told me that meditation is all about the absence of thought. As such, I expel any distractions, pretending everything from small drafts of air to minuscule crawls across my fur do not exist. This will bring clarity to me, slowing my blood and opening my mind. A finite escape from a wounded world.

But that won’t grant me inner peace. It is, as I said, finite.

“Remember, only when you and the world have found a balance, and your path in life is completely visible before you, will you be at peace.”

I fail to see the necessity of this, but it is awfully difficult to argue with the eldest dragon. And I have taken his advice to heart; in fact, I do believe this is working. My senses are going numb.

Comfort. Honest to Epona comfort.

It is like the surrounding world just disappeared in an instant, at my will. No sounds to be heard, no dreadful cold, no temperature whatsoever for that matter... This is a far more welcome alternative to that empty void, because it's my void, in my mind. The miraculous part is that I am able to stand and walk about the void. This could be a pleasant way to pass the time.

I reflect back on the maelstrom of emotions I’ve been through as of late. For a while, after discovering my master’s true self, I harbored a sliver of hatred for him. My inner Dragonborn keeps telling me that, as a dragon, he needs to die so I may gain more power. After all, he is the eldest. What sort of abilities might his soul grant me? Fortunately I’ve managed to quell such selfish thoughts. The other part of my hatred came from the more obvious; being left alone, believing his death was genuine.

Yet, over time, my hatred descended into nothing, because I could never hate Master. How could I hate the one pony that raised me better than my own parents? Of course; it’s because I’m the Dragonborn that he raised me. My parents, for what little time I had with them, told me that he even chose my name.

So, the greatest difference between then and now is the mighty dragon where a mighty stallion used to stand. Surprising as it may sound, I am okay with that.

“Are you, now?”

I immediately crouch into a battle stance and reach for my blade, but it seems I don’t carry my equipment with me into these voids. I keep looking about for wherever that voice came from. It’s deep, like a dragon’s, but it’s far more shrill and feminine than Master’s.

“Nahkriin?” I ask aloud. I keep darting my eyes in every direction. I turn around, and find I’m staring into a much less kind, scaly face than the one I’ve grown used to. Black and red scales, and a hungry disposition.

“Yes, it is I," she hisses. "So, you show mercy for Hammerfell... Why is it you do this?”

I have a few questions of my own, mostly regarding what she has to gain by grating on me, or why she’s even in my peaceful realm to begin with. “He’s been the only pony—”

The amused glare Nahkriin gives me makes me cringe.

“...He’s the one I’ve admired since I was a child. He’s guided my hoof for many years. Him being a dragon cannot change that, nor will it ever.” I start to trot around the beast, giving her a glare of my own. “Find something better to do with your time, and do it quietly. Your soul belongs to me.”

So much for pleasant. I sigh and run a hoof across my face, trying to block out any memory of my hallucination in the woods. Instead, I focus on how cathartic it was to finally bring Nahkriin to her bloody end after all the pain she brought me... Pain that wasn't even needed in the end... I avenged a death that didn't even happen. I...

"And what puts you as higher than your ancestors, Dovahkiin? Your Precursor forefathers couldn't even survive an infestation of pathetic insects."

Hevnodiin. Just his presence is enough to turn my blood to ice, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction of that. Part of me still harbors fear for his cold and callous assault on Everfree. If it hadn't been for Celina, hell, even Treesap, I would have ended as little more than a morbid stain on the concrete. Once again, though, this is my world. It is only cold if I convince myself it is. And I don't have to listen to this drivel.

I've cast that oversized lizard out of sight and out of mind, but his voice still reigns.

"And what of your more recent kin, the other ones? They were powerless to face Saviikaan, and he has only grown stronger since their deaths. Every generation past, there have been more Dovah hatched from shell, more time for us to prepare for the next Dovahkiin arrival."

I don't respond, not even with the slightest gesture. Instead, I just keep walking.

Then I'm stopped by a horrid stench, something I had hoped never to smell twice. It's too garish to will out of existence.

The lanky green dragon, the one who went without telling me his name, materializes before me. Rather, his partially skeletal remains, with flesh and blood melted around the bone. His cruel, merciless death at Shokenda's wrath haunts me at the best of times. At the worst, I imagine the effects of Shokenda's shout upon a pony.

"You should have been killed by me," I say.

"Do you grieve for me, pony?"

I shake my head. "Never. But one shouldn't be subject to such misery."

The unnamed one tilts his skull. "And yet you are free to torture those you see as unworthy? Unworthy the instant they transgress your line of pure and corrupt?"

The screams of Ember, him writhing in agony as I made him suffer for what he and Pyro did to Jade... "Theirs was a crime of another sort. One reaps what one sows."

"So?" the skeleton asks. "The crime was committed, and no Thu'um can reverse the flow of time. And was that truly the only instance of the crime in history? Did you truly bring peace? Did murdering those soldiers restore Jade’s innocence?”

“No, but that’s not the—”

“Ah, truly the wisdom of the latest Dovahkiin is beyond compare,” says Nahkriin. She sounds like a child mocking an annoying little brother. “If the sodomizers die, then truly all of the victim’s trauma and wounds of the mind are put to rest! Yes, that makes complete and utter sense.” Does she have a third death wish? She’s making bloody tuts at me!

These questions are utterly ridiculous. This is supposed to be where I follow the path to peace, but all I’ve heard so far is criticism that cuts through my conscious like a knife of frustration and annoyance. I stand infuriated, shooting a deathly menace at Nahkriin. “How do you even know this?!”

“Your soul and ours are one, Caro,” says Hevnodiin, his icy breath traveling down my neck. “We see, hear, taste and smell as you do, and we know as you know. In fact, I daresay we know more.” He chuckles with plague. “Did Hammerfell not tell you?”

The nameless reciprocates the laughter. “Ah ha, the traitor’s old memory failed him again. It is the Dovahkiin’s misfortune that the elderly one conveniently leaves the more unpleasant aspects of the great hero’s inheritance out of his monologues.”

They called him a traitor. That doesn’t surprise me too much. Master clearly abandoned the dragons and their senseless destructive ways quite some time ago. “But... why didn’t he tell me...” I have four souls within my body. Mine, and the dragons'. And with them, their conscious and all of their being.

“Perhaps we shouldn’t be so... harsh,” says Nahkriin. All of a sudden she looks sympathetic, or at least as much as she can manage. “After all, if we share a single body, that makes us a part of him. In a way, we are now Dragonborn as well.”

“Right...” I approach Nahkriin. Looking closely, I can see the spot upon her head where my old scimitar impaled. That must have been horrendous to endure. But perhaps this lead to some good for her. Perhaps... “And as such, you should understand where I come from, what I wish for Equestria. I’m merely trying to do away with all the wrong, and the rest of your kind...” I pause. I must choose my words carefully. “I believe destroying Equestria simply to preserve your old ways is beyond immature, and I cannot make this land right if Saviikaan continues his crusade.”

Nahkriin slowly nods. “That is understandable. I may not agree with you, but I understand that much.” She begins to briskly walk past me, pausing to bring her head around to my side. She’s a tad too close for my comfort. I’d only ever allow Tohro to stand so close. “However, I, along with my fellow Dovah, cannot comprehend your methods regarding the continued bloodying of the sacred land’s soil. After all, that makes you no different from us... Mind, you are a part of us too.”

My lower eyelid begins to twitch.

“In a way, you are more of a dragon than a pony.”

I speak, with barely a sound coming out. Only I can hear myself saying, “No...”

I look to where Nahkriin is, only to see that she’s disappeared. I turn around and see that the same has occurred for Hevnodiin and the nameless one. Now I cannot argue against them. They’ve won. For the first time, I’ve lost against a dragon.

“No, I’m...” My heart feels cold as I press my hooves to my chest. This time, it’s not Hevnodiin’s doing. “I’m a foal of ponies... Nothing else... Nothing else...”

“I’m not like you! I’m not!”

I open my eyes. I’m on my side, resting under a fur blanket, beneath a star speckled night sky. I can only see the stars' blurred glow through the wetness obscuring my vision. I wasn’t meditating. I fell asleep. Yet as much as I wish to deny it, I know that was far from a dream.

“At the very least, you’ve mastered the relaxation portion of the exercise.” I hear Master right next to me. I wouldn’t expect him to leave my side, not for a second. Yet, for the first time in many years, I wish he weren’t there. He sounds as if he doesn’t want to be here either.

Wiping my eyes, I start to ask, “When did you intend on telling me...”

His scaled palm brushes my mane, which is drenched in cold sweat. “I wished for you to see for yourself. I do not know if that was the best course of action.”

“What else are you keeping from me?” I look to him. Though I can’t quite see every detail of his face through my glazed eyes, matted hair and the dark of night, I can tell he’s utterly miserable. He brings a single wing to cover himself up in shame. Suddenly I feel like the greater beast.

“Many things, my child...” He peeks over his wing, though the rest of his face remains hidden. “The only reason I keep so much unsaid because... I love you so much, and it breaks me so to see you cry. But it seems no matter how I approach these circumstances, I cannot spare you tears.”

No, he cannot. I wipe the tears clean with my blanket, and I can presume that will not be the last time.

“But, if it will help ease the pain in the long haul, I will be able to swallow my pride and tell you every—”

I hold out my hoof as if I were stopping a blade. “No.”

Master’s visible eye looks about before he asks, “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. Many of the unfortunate truths that have been revealed to me since I arrived in Neigh Hrothgar have almost killed me. I want the confessions to stop. Tell me no more, and if there is some sort of awful, mind-rending revelation waiting to happen, I will see it for myself. I cannot afford to distract myself with this any longer.” I toss the blanket aside and stand, blinking out the rest of my tears. “Equestria needs me, and it needs me soon. Starting tomorrow, I will only focus on gathering power. I will show the dragons within me that I am worthy of my inheritance!” I say that last one with a stomp upon the ground.

A stray thought comes forth. That nameless one’s soul is within me, so surely I must subconsciously know his name. I mentally reach deep within and try to recover something, anything to refer him by. The letters appear before me in my mind.

“Malyol,” I say to myself. Not exactly the most impressive name, but it is a name nonetheless. “The next I encounter one of your brethren, I’ll show you what you missed.”

As I turn to enter the temple and go off to a much more peaceful sleep, I sneak one last gaze at Master.

This is the first time, and hopefully the last, that I see a dragon cry.

~Vision End~

Day Fifty-Six

~Shae~

I’m standing in the royal graveyard.

While I have occupied the Rainbow Palace for some time now, I don’t like to pretend I know it by heart. I still haven’t explored many of the rooms or corridors, not that I’ve ever had the opportunity. I’ve been distracted by other things. This graveyard is the only place I've deliberately avoided, because, well, it’s a graveyard. It’s bloody depressing. But that has changed.

For two months I’ve tried to cope with that fateful day of loss and despair. It marks the day I learned of Platinum’s more regretful decisions. When I saw somepony I love die and come back in a span of minutes, utterly breaking her soul in the process. When that same pony learned of herself, and what she truly was. When I killed a mare I idolized without a second thought, and in the process, killed a part of myself.

“To return to the Fae upon my dying day...”

It may sound incredibly morbid, but I imagine that part of me is buried with Clover. Despite every last horrid thing she did to the Rainbow Palace, I insisted that she be given a proper burial, one worthy of the mare I thought her to be. Some part of me wanted to preserve that memory, so I still had a paragon I could strive to equal. As selfish I feel for believing that, Platinum agreed with my idea, so she commissioned a personal tombstone for Clover. Etched into it is the Pure Heart, and Clover standing beneath it. That is the mage I remember.

I let out an exasperated groan. My whole life is a complicated puzzle of death and confusion. Shae Sparkle, the smart mare, the brilliant one of Wintercolt Academy, whose family crest, a six pointed star, is a replicate the school’s symbol. How does that even work? Shae Sparkle, who lost her mother and cried, then lost her father and went catatonic, only to be pulled out of the abyss by her best friends, and she returned the favor by leaving them for a school project. She saw so much death and chaos, and she only blinked at the former because that was expected of her. She felt nothing for death on the inside. Until she felt the reaper creep upon her. Then, when she put an end to a once admired mare’s life, she screamed until she was hoarse. That’s who I am. Confused, selfish and utterly wrecked.

I reach out to the engraving of the Pure Heart. “I’m so sorry, Clover,” I whisper somberly. “I dreamed I could match you in power and knowledge, and when I found that it was all merely a means to an end, I lost all respect for you. I...” I can’t afford to cry in front of her. I swallow my grief and continue. “You never needed to hurt me or Celina, or Platinum. You should have been content as you were, beloved by all the students of the academy you created. You turned your back on them and forced my hoof. When I say I’m sorry, I mean to say I’m sorry for you.”

If the sun were not peeking through the grey clouds at just the precise angle at this exact time, I wouldn’t be able to notice the Amulet of Fauste’s red glimmer. The necklace rests at the base of the tombstone. I can see my remorseful reflection in its ebony shimmer. That is the face of a mare who now fears death, for her and other strangers.

“I’ll keep your legacy alive within me.” My magenta aura captures the amulet and brings it up close so I can get a better view of myself. I replace that remorseful face with one of grim determination. “I may not be able to keep the historical records from cursing your name for what you’ve done, but I will remember you as you were.”

I close my eyes as I wrap the silver chain of the amulet around my neck and lock it. When I open my eyes back up, I can feel a new red aura coming off of them. My horn is coated in much of the same. I smile when I realize I can feel every last tract of the Fae within me, and I have complete and utter control.

“I will never forget.”

~Vision End~

Day Fifty-Nine

~Tohro~

The quiet rustle of the leaves upon this tree are not my err. It is simply the wind caressing them. My wings are tucked in. My hooves are silent, motionless, as is my chest, yet I draw breath just the same. I am shadow. I am nonexistent to all but myself. This is the power of the thieves.

I huddle closer to this branch as I survey Everfree below. My greatest foe approaches. He’s confident, cocky, believing he has me on the ropes. He thinks he knows me as a fool, but I can outsmart him. For I am stealth incarnate. Altair himself gave me his blessing and this armor because he knows I am worthy of the newly reinvented Thieves Guild.

“Ezio’s path was of debauchery and assault in the name of riches. I do not grieve what you did to him. In fact, I thank you. With him fallen, I was free to take the reins of this family and pursue our original purpose; the evening. The blurring of the line between rich and poor. Everyone deserves some good fortune, and I’m willing to give it to them. To do that, we must be completely and utterly unknown beneath the hood. You’re more than capable of that.”

Altair said that when he gifted me this light mail, leather barding and cowl. It’s light enough to where I don’t even feel like I’m touching the ground, even when I’m walking. It’s like I’m wearing nothing at all. Now I can sympathize with Caro’s preference to go clothless. I do remember, earlier on, when he wore that pauldron, but he was probably just being cautious. When he knew he could defend himself, he didn’t need it anymore. Come to think of it, I could procure a set of this armor for him. He’d look good in it.

But enough of that. Now, with my eyes focused on my enemy, I hush up and keep as silent as equinely possible. He can’t see me. He could never possibly in this lifetime, or any other—

“Oh, hi there, Tohro!”

Divines damn it.

I slide over the branch to hang upside down, then let go, landing rightside up like a cat. At least I’m not inept in regards to agility. Even if my stealth operation to tackle hug him was a wasted effort, it is still a relief to see little Treesap. And I can settle for a conventional hug. I pull him in with a wing.

I give him a tap on the chest. “So, are you ready to attack the day, kiddo?”

“Always and forever,” he says. He breaks away from the hug and trots about the cobblestone with a spring in his step. “It’s your turn to lead, so what should we do?”

“Oh my, are you in for a big surprise.”

I turn my gaze to the Rainbow Palace. Truthfully, I’ve had my eyes on that place for some time now, but I’ve decided that on today of all days, I’m going to follow through on easily the stupidest thing I’ve ever thought of. And I have made some truly, truly foolish decisions in my time. I turn back to Treesap.

“See, my travels with Caro, Shae and Rosemary have taught me a few things about where my loyalties should lie, and I need you by my side for this.”

Treesap salutes me and stands at my side like a little soldier. “Yes, sir!”

Now that is what I like to call undying loyalty. I bloody love this child. I’m going to have to buy him a stuffed animal, something worthy of his zeal. “Very good, then.” I kneel down, spreading my wings out. “Our journey begins, little one. Come aboard.”

While having somepony upon my back for a flight isn’t what I’d call comfortable, Treesap is scrawny enough for a quick travel. I have to pull my cowl over to protect my mane and face from the falling snow, and he buries his face in my neck for the same reason. After a quick swoop through an alley and tight curve around the corner, nearly barreling over a cabbage stand, I landed at the gates of the palace.

I peek at Treesap. “Listen, I’ll tell you when it’s best for you to speak. The Rainbow Palace obviously doesn’t accept much untoward behavior.”

“Yes, sir.” His level of obedience is uncanny.

It’s just my luck that the captain of the royal guard just so happens to be here, along with a few soldiers at the ready. “Hullo, Gauntlet,” I say, removing the cowl.

The poor fellow looks absolutely exhausted, with his baggy eyes and muddled mane. One would assume that the escalation of the war is starting to abrade on him, but I’d at least expect he’d have time to sleep. “You’d best have a reason for showing your face about the palace, Blackwing,” he says. He’s trying to sound threatening, but he comes off with the mien of a depressed child.

Perhaps it’s the extended period of time I’ve spent with these Imperials, but they’re not as threatening as I made them out to be at a time. With any luck, I’m going to change that.

“I can’t help but notice you’re far happier than one reasonably should be,” says the captain.

Why shouldn’t I be? “And I can’t help but notice all the brown upon your nose. How is the fair queen, speaking of which?”

“I’d be...” He pauses. I believe he just realized what I said. He waves it off, though, gracing his eyes with his hoof. “Dammit. I’d be a liar if I said anything other than this: Her Royal Majesty has fallen into such disarray unseen since King Hurricane’s untimely death. She is keeping herself composed to the best of her abilities, and the Legion remains strong as ever with our new hoofhold in Trottingham, as well as her guidance, but I see her trembling constantly, and her mind tends to be elsewhere.” The way he looks into the distance, I think he knows why. But that is none of my concern. I’m here for other reasons.

I tap the poor fellow on the shoulder and beckon for him to follow me past the gate. Obviously such an audacious act is not something he’s used to, but he takes after me regardless. The child and I manage to gain some ground ahead of him, heading up the stairwell to the throne room.

Treesap says to me in a hushed voice, “Tohro, I think that behavior qualifies as untoward. I don’t want us to get thrown out.”

“We won’t, kiddo,” I say. “I have a certain way of going about things that ensures that getting rid of me would be far too troublesome. They’ll have to listen to what I have to say, and with you there, they’ll be more tempted to trust me.” I only now realize how unfortunate that sounds. I turn my tone to the sympathetic side. “Don’t think for a moment that I’m using you, little one.”

Treesap pats me on the head, trying to reassure me. “Whatever it is you have to do, I would love to help. What are friends for?”

Gauntlet clears his throat behind me. “You are aware that, even under normal circumstances, it’s ill advised to step into the Rainbow Palace when it suits you. The only reason Shae Sparkle is permitted to live here for the time being is—”

My current task falls through for the moment. I advance on Gauntlet. “Shae’s here?! Where? She’s supposed to be at the academy!”

“You... haven’t been in Everfree long, have you?” Befitting his position as captain of the guard, he stands his ground. “But that isn’t what’s important right now. Ask anypony within half a kilometer of this palace and they’ll be able to recite the story to you.” I can hear a twinge of pain in his voice. “Which is one of the many reasons you should leave,” he says insistently.

As if I wasn’t burdened enough. Now I have Shae to worry about on top of all of this. Bloody hell, if I make a mistake, she could be thrown out as well, and what sort of sordid excuse for an equine would I be if I let that happen? Yet, as silly as this may sound, that only serves as further motivation.

I pat Gauntlet on the cheek, very much enjoying his shocked expression. “Or, perhaps you could enlighten me. I feel the desire to make slow steps to the queen’s throne room.”

“Well, uh... That’s not...” He sighs and removes his helmet, revealing his red mane. Somepony only does such a thing if they’re about to pour their heart out. I have a feeling this ‘story’ strikes his heart more so than others.

And too right I am. While we pass by one stained glass window after the other, Gauntlet relays the very tragic tale of Clover the Clever’s betrayal, Shae’s valiant efforts to counter the attack on the palace, and Celina’s unfortunate demise, then prompt discovery of her immortality. Fortunately, that part in particular has been kept discreet, which, of course, means Celina is safe from the Blackwings, at least for the time being. I’m grateful for that much.

“I’ve admired the princess for some time.” Gauntlet pauses in mid-step and looks despairingly out the window. “You could say she... stole my affection. And now, to see her lose every last bit of vibrancy, love and life she ever had, with me unable to even speak to her let alone help her... Not even Shae can bring her back to us.”

I’ve never seen an Imperial soldier tear up before, and I’m not about to let it happen now. “Give her time,” I say.

That was the wrong thing to say. Gauntlet wipes his eyes. “She has nothing but, and that is why she’s fallen from grace.” He neglects to look at me head-on, hiding his eyes beneath his mane. He points further down the hall. “I... believe you know the route to Queen Platinum’s throne room. Do what you must. It matters little.”

Oh, if only he knew. Regardless, I refuse to leave him without a silent touch of support. After that, I take Treesap and myself away down the corridor, and I don’t stop flying until I reach the throne room.

Shae must be even more dedicated than I know her to be, with her efforts to calm Celina and bring her back to happiness going on for this long. I can’t imagine how much stress she must have to hold in, not to mention putting herself at personal risk. I fear for what may happen if Celina were to seriously injure her, possibly damage her permanently. I wouldn’t be able to exact revenge on her if that were to happen. How could I? Celina isn’t... normal, in body and in mind, or emotional state, for that matter. All of that makes the happy thought of Shae rejoining Dragonrein all the more selfish.

“Are we going to help the princess?” asks Treesap.

I solemnly shake my head. “That is not why we’re here, I’m afraid. But maybe, if this works, I can protect her from anypony who might take ire with her lineage.”

If this works. No, it has to.

The door has been left ajar, allowing me to poke my head in and see the queen. This place being the throne room, one would expect her to be sitting on the throne in question, but instead, much like Gauntlet, her thoughts and eyes are set to the window, looking out to the streets below. She notices me as I open the door slowly, merely glancing my way before looking back outside.

“Your Majesty,” I say.

She doesn’t do anything to acknowledge me.

Treesap taps me on the wing. I look to him, and see him tilting his head towards the queen. Clearly he wants to say something. For his bravery, I admire him. Most ponies keep their mouths shut in the presence of Platinum, forgetting that she’s just as much a mortal as we are. I was able to see that first hoof, which was my first step towards my growing sympathy for the Empire, as well as one of the many reasons why I am here. I wave Treesap forward.

He trots to the queen, pausing for a moment. No doubt he is searching for the right words. He speaks. “I... think your palace is very pretty, Your Majesty.”

Platinum actually jumps a little at his word. She looks to him with surprise on her face. “That’s, uh, very kind and observant of you.”

Treesap nods. “I hope Princess Celina gets better soon. I miss her singing at night. A lot.”

“The, uh...” Platinum probably didn’t expect to have a conversation with a stranger child as part of today’s regiment. “The nights are long and dreary without her. It’s as if all of Everfree reflects her as she is.”

I take note of that as I, too, find myself looking outside. I recall a certain light in Everfree, one that could not be seen under Shokenda’s influence in Fillydelphia, or anywhere else, for that matter. It was a subtle, nearly invisible radiance that warmed my heart. It was as if I knew everything would be just fine, yet had no means to support that belief.

I don’t even need to see Celina to know what she must be like at this moment. The ponies of Everfree now trudge along, as if they share a piece of her despair. I fear that if I don’t keep my focus, I too will fall under such a spell. I recall I even saw a little bit of such grey upon Treesap before I spoke to him. It takes a strong mind and stronger influence to resist Celina’s memetic disposition, it seems.

“I think Tohro wants to help,” says Treesap.

Platinum hesitates to look my way, as if she can find it hard to believe. Regardless, she does so, but I don’t see an overwhelming amount of support from her. “Dragonrein saved Everfree from a dragon attack, and since then, two members of Dragonrein have assisted me further. Shae became Celina’s one and only friend, and is currently doing more than I ever could to keep her sane. As for Caro, well, he did away with some nefarious soldiers who weren’t upholding the call of duty...”

Ember and Pyro. Caro took such sick pleasure in bringing them to death, particularly the absolute torture he put Ember through. I’ve been bottling what I saw, and yet... “You know about that?”

Platinum seemed incredibly nonchalant. “Caro voiced his displeasure in what Ember and Pyro did to a Blackwing mage. Blackwing or no, soldiers that dispense such depraved excuses for justice have no place in my kingdom, and it’s better off that they’re gone for good, rather than free to walk these streets.”

“You... ordered their execution?” I ask, utterly gaping. I look to Treesap, who is distracted with the view. I sincerely hope he’s tuning this all out.

“No. I simply turned my back.” She bows her head and sighs. “Something tells me I may regret doing so later, but I cannot take any risks. That above all is why I do such awful things, Tohro. The forbidding of relationships in the military, banning worship of Dragos, and putting many of my personal discretions in the past...” She must be referring to Clover the Clever. “I do so much to keep order, but it only serves as more fuel for the fires of revolution. Yet, I cannot put an end to such measures, as there’s always something that demands coarse action.”

“Such an open confession to such a controversial decision,” I say, trying to keep my composure. In my mind, I’d prefer to say something along the lines of, ‘What is wrong with you?’

“You have the right to know,” she says. “Caro is your friend, after all.”

If there is a positive side to all of this, it gives me more justification what I am about to do, and, in the long term, I can bury the hatchet of holding that secret within me. At least I can still hold it against Caro, should he step out of line again.

I have a few things to say about this, and I’m going to get it all out before my better judgment clouds my mind.

“You see? Such conspiracies are the reason I’m here. The Empire is flawed, Your Majesty. There are many excuses for Shokenda to tear this place to the ground and you listed just about all of them. This rebellion started for a reason, are you aware?”

I could be thrown into the dungeons for that alone. But why should I stop now?

“You want assistance from all of Dragonrein? Our good friend, Rosemary, she's a damn fine blacksmith and she can give your soldiers some truly exceptional armor and weaponry. You already have Caro's dragon slaying and Shae's compassion, but that leaves me. What can I offer you, Platinum? I’m a former Blackwing. I assassinated some of your finest soldiers within even holding my breath. I am truly sorry for that, and I won’t ask for forgiveness. Instead, I will tell you this much. Shokenda killed the dream I once had when I was part of the Blackwings, and Dragonrein woke me to what she truly is. I know this empire now, well enough to believe that, flawed as it is, it can have a good future. And that is why I say this right now: I am going to join the Imperial Legion.”

Platinum’s eyes couldn’t be any wider.

“That is not a request,” I say.

She looks about in a complete stupor, opening her mouth to say aborted sentences and ending up looking like a confused fish. She only stops when Treesap tugs on the fur of her robe.

“With respect, Your Majesty... Look at him dead in the eye and tell me he wouldn’t make a valuable soldier,” he says.

I love this kid.

~Vision End~

Day Sixty-Eight

~Tangerine~

“Once again, we, the Carrier Clan, honorable warriors of Equestria and the beholders of her finest equines, gather here in the Horsevaskr training grounds as one body. Today is the day we welcome a new shield-sibling into our ranks, our most unexpected yet, I might add.”

The gathered Carriers stand before me, staring me down. Under normal circumstances, this would be intimidating, as I once found it long ago, but in the months since I’ve stood among their ranks, such an intense gaze has become a sign of respect. Roches, Aerial, and, of course, Wolf River, are beside each other, with Scar giving the preceding words amongst the rest of the Carriers. Looking back, I expected this to be a more formal event, like when I was knighted to take Oregano's place as the general, but this is far more lax. Then again, I wouldn’t have it any other way. I’m through with formalities.

“Lady Tangerine, former general of the Imperial Legion, and valuable asset the Carrier Clan. Do you truly wish to join our ranks as the paragons of Equestria?”

I raise my hoof. “I’ve been ready for some time.”

Scar taps his chin. “Two months we’ve delayed this inauguration. That is two months too long. As the war escalates and moralities shift, Equestria needs more heroes to watch and learn from, and Tangerine will be one of, hopefully, many to join our ranks in the near future.” He gestures out to the ponies who are soon to officially become my second family. “Will anypony vouch for her induction?”

Quite a few of them, even the young ones, raise their voices in approval. My bravery during the trek through Dustcolt’s Cairn and my leadership in the battle of Trottingham has netted me a hefty amount of reverence. A familiar sensation, but one that feels much more sincere, rather than just expected of underlings.

Still, I only wish for one stallion to speak for me, and he steps forward as if he decided to gain telepathy. “I will,” says Wolf River. He separates himself from his clique to join me. What little stage fright I have becomes nil with him by my side.

“Wolf River, you could learn much from this mare,” says Scar. “She, for one, does not shove preachers into fountains.”

I hear a grumble that reminds me of when I scold my children. “I know...”

Scar’s wrinkled face gives him the sternest look of all. No one could lie to him, which is why he steps closer to Wolf River and looks at him dead in the eye... which must be difficult, considering Scar only has the one. “Would you stand as her ally in the field of battle, protecting her from any and every foe?”

Wolf River does away with the pouting and stood strong. It’s like he’s grown a few inches. A true pinnacle of physique, he is. “As I have many times before. I would shoulder no mercy to those who would dare harm her.”

As expected, he speaks nothing but the truth. Several dead Silver Horseshoe poachers back his words.

“Would you allow her to take up your weapon should you fall in battle?”

He and I share a glance, and I can tell we’re thinking the same thoughts, hoping with all of our beating hearts that it will never come to that. But I would take his war axe for my own if the worse became the worst. Every life taken after that would be for him.

Wolf River thumps his chest plate. “I would grant her my strength and will with my dying breath.”

Scar takes pride in hearing that, with a beam on his wrinkled face. “And would you raise a glass of mead in her name?”

“I would toast to her and her every victory.” After mimicking taking a hefty chug of alcohol and garnering laughs from his comrades, Wolf River looks to me again. “I would do anything in her name, for she is my friend, my hero,” he beckons to me, “and my heart.”

It’s been made public at this point that he and I share something special. I still can’t quite call it love, at least from my end, and part of me hates that I can’t, but I’m not about to force myself into something I may regret. Regardless, even if I don’t quite love him yet, I know I want to be with him. And I just love the look on Aerial’s face when I wrap a single foreleg around his back. Jealous much, sweetheart?

Scar approaches me and takes my hoof. His grip is old and frail, yet firm enough. “Then it is absolute. Lady Tangerine, you are now one of us. Our sister in arms.”

I’m about to thank him sincerely for all the Carrier Clan has done for me in these trying times, but something else distracts me. I swear I hear Wolf River mutter, “And in blood...” with a remorseful scowl. He notices me and forces his smile back on. “Congratulations, M’lady.”

It goes without saying, but I give him a very grateful, tender embrace while the Carrier Clan, my new family, all stomp their hooves on the cobblestone for me, giving shouts worthy of a charge into war.

I’m still getting used to having a smile on my face so constantly. I believe it started the night after Wolf River and I made love. Our way about each other telegraphed our relationship, but it was accepted by the others. This is happiness, being surrounded by those who care for me. Those who accept me. I never realized how much I missed this. Acceptance. I just love that word!

Roches raises his sword in a dramatic fashion. “Juniper berry mead! For everypony!”

It doesn’t surprise me in the slightest that they seem even more excited for alcohol than anything else. I sympathize with their cheering, actually. I could go for something sweet. I’ll just be on my merry way to a drunken stupor, but obviously I won’t go overboard. I have a reputation to live up to.

Wolf River’s touch stops me from sauntering away. “M’lady?”

“What is it, dearest?” I ask, garnering a bit of surprise from him.

“You sound... different. It’s as if your accent has changed.”

“Oh?” I touch the nape of my neck, then my mouth. I've hardly taken notice of such a thing. I chuckle. “Well, it’s a bit of a shallow excuse, but upon joining the Imperial Legion, I forced a more royal voice, something befitting the kingdom. My side of the family, before I was married to Oregano, lived very far away, you see. Now that I don’t need to impress anypony, I suppose I’ve done away with the false voice and fallen back into my native one.”

“I prefer you to be true to yourself,” says Wolf River with a smile. “Not to mention, northern accents are just dead sexy.”

I would have taken offense to that months ago. Instead, I kiss him for the compliment. “Only for you, then.”

“But, uh... It’s your pride in being true to yourself that makes me dread speaking of this. Come with me.”

I’d do anything he would ask of me. We trot away from the training grounds and the celebrating companions to meet at the side of Horsevaskr. The hillside forge rests above, but I see nothing significant about this stone wall. At least, until Wolf River taps three nondescript cracks. This silently causes a large stone to move aside, revealing a small yet manageable entrance into a cave.

I’m unable to say much other than, “Wow.”

Wolf River nods. “What you see here is the entrance to our sacred ritual grounds.”

As per any new location, I’m tempted to take a step inside, but he halts me with a single hoof.

“D-don’t. Only those who are a part of the inner circle of the Carriers are permitted.”

“Oh, yes, you’ve mentioned them before.”

“As I said, the inner circle are the only ones who are lycans. Or they're part of the inner circle because they are lycans. You can’t have one without the other. Either way, you’re not permitted entry.” He pauses and faces away. “Y-yet.”

I should have known he would explain such secret matters to me. It’s like dangling a chain in front of child’s face and not expecting him to have a grab at it. “So, why would you show me this if I’m not part of the circle?”

His grimace says it all.

“You want me to join.”

Wolf River is many things, but dishonest is not one of them. Blunt, however, is. “Yes.”

I shake my head strongly. I can’t make my refusal to such an offer clear enough. I trot away from him. I’m hardly mad, I just can’t tolerate the thought of becoming such a beastly thing. “I already told you, I would join the Carrier Clan, but I would never become a lycan. That is not who I am.”

I need a bit of fresh air. I ascend the stone steps to the forge, which is currently unoccupied, yet still hot and ready for use. Beside the hot coals and anvil is a pitcher of water, which I take a good look into. Rather, my reflection. I hardly recognize myself as I was months ago. My mane has become long and unkempt, my face dirtied, and my armor is mismatched bits of iron and leather. There is nothing about me that says Imperial anymore. Despite this, I look so alive. I feel alive. It’s like I was sedated during my years as a soldier. Not that I was; sedatives and drugs are for prisoners. But I cannot imagine this lively face transforming into that of a wolf’s.

Wolf River joins me in the reflection. “I never said you had to become one,” he says. “I would never force you into anything.”

That is comfort enough for me. I embrace him again, and even though our armor separates us from truly intimate touch, I still feel closer to him than ever. He would make for a good husband, should matters ever come to that.

First, I look over the rooftops of Trottingham. It’s amazing how much this town has thrived despite holding neutrality in this war until recently. It’s equally impressive that the townsfolk were able to recover from the battle with such haste. While that struggle was more than two months ago, its damages were rather severe, and yet, the townsfolk carried on in a manner that would make Platinum proud. I truly have come to appreciate Trottingham.

After that gorgeous view, I turn to look beyond the walls, out into the fields of Equestria. That outside land is filled with bandits, thugs, beasts, Blackwings and other hazards that could make anypony fear even setting a single hoof beyond these walls. Yet, out there, nary a few day trip away, is my home. Von Spice Villa, formerly owned by my late husband Oregano, gifted to me along with the title of General. At least I still own the former.

I’m overcome with a bout of homesickness, but also a brilliant idea. I turn to Wolf River and say, “Would you like to meet my children?”

~Vision End~

Day Seventy

XXXVIII - Meridian

~Jade~

“Sir Temerity, I need to ask you something.”

“Yes, Jade?” Temerity looks up from his documents and levitates his quill back into its container. His desk, despite having been set up only minutes before, is already strewn with parchment, ink bottles and a map of Ghastly Gorge. Everything is arranged meticulously, within a centimeter of error.

“Am I interrupting anything important?” I ask.

“No, you’re not. I’m tallying armor and weapons for the battle ahead. I’ve already done it twice; this is just for assurance.”

Always the bureaucrat, never the warrior. If Temerity weren’t so skilled at the former, he never would have been promoted to a commanding officer. Still, it does help distinguish him from the rest of the brutes in the rebellion, what with his perfectly braided maroon mane and well-groomed lilac body.

“Should this battle fall into our favor, I’m sure you will receive most of the credit,” I say to him.

“You’d think so, but it’ll be our dearest Mistress Shokenda that we’ll have to thank for all of this. You being back on the battlefield, my excellence in numbers, and the very fact that at the end of the day, this stalemate will be over and the better half of Equestria will be ours. All of that, we owe to Shokenda.”

I prefer to think of another pony of white color when it comes to gratitude for my being alive. I highly doubt Shokenda would have cared if I was still rotting in that rusty cage, counting the days until I’d be forcefully fed to an imprisoned dragon.

“Right… About that,” I begin. “According to recent intelligence, you were one of Fade’s customers.”

“Hm?” Temerity tilts a thick eyebrow. “Fade?”

“Fade was the corrupt Imperial soldier that sold me off to Sacred Rite and her cult of dragon worshipers. You know this.”

“Sorry, I’ve had a lot on my mind.” He crosses his forelegs and leans over his desk. “Yes, I remember Fade. Quite a disagreeable fellow, but he was knowledgeable in trade...”

“Why were you cutting a deal with him?”

“I was seeking a few Blackwing recruits. Imperial prisoners are often vengeful, and very persuadable. Why do you ask?”

“According to the intelligence I’ve gathered, all of your purchases were imprisoned children.”

“Very persuadable.” Temerity’s neutral expression hasn’t changed in the slightest, nor has his tone of voice. He gets out of his chair and approaches me. He moves smoothly, and is rather intimidating despite wearing a simple noblestallion’s robe. “Mayhaps you could tell me where from you’ve been getting this intel? Or whom from?”

Shit. My brain goes into overdrive, landing on a decent lie when I remember what Tohro told me in his letters. He stole the book from Fade. All I need to do is change some words around. “I nicked a log of Fade’s sales from an Imperial soldier. Your name was on the list, as was mine.”

“Jade, I assure you, if I had known Fade was responsible for your elongated absence, I would have had his head off in a trice. Please don’t hold me responsible for what happened to you.”

He’s trying to distract me from the real issue at hoof. “Sir, I must question your practices outside of the bureaucracy of the Blackwings. If Shokenda knew about this, I don’t think she would respond well.”

“Mistress Shokenda is well aware of my method of recruiting. Until such time as buying soldiers is no longer necessary, I will continue to do so with her sanction. To file a complaint with her will only harm your standing, not mine, and I think it would be best if you were to not pry any further. Will that be all, Jade?”

His eyes are cool and calculating, perhaps thinking himself a good pace ahead in this verbal chess game. Heh, bureaucrats. "I’m just making sure everything checks out before I report back to our future queen," I say. I turn around without offering a salute. "You forget, Temerity, that my job and trade is information. And one can't know their enemies unless they know their allies first." Without a backwards glance, I take my leave, unable to contain a frustrated sneer. "Damn it..."

“Looking for something, sister?”

Half-Pint appears right in front of me, upside-down. Evidently, she’s been practicing her levitation and invisibility magic, or I’ve just been so distracted that I haven’t been able to notice her.

“Yes, actually. I’m having myself a bit of an investigation,” I answer. Temerity’s tent is just behind me, so I keep my voice down as I lead Half-Pint away, walking towards the edge of the gorge. “Just after Temerity led his conquest through Whinnychester, there were reports of little colts and fillies disappearing right off of the streets. Most of them were orphans, or children of the underprivileged, and Whinnychester is a small town, so there was not much of an outcry. The same thing has occurred in small towns like Hooferton, Ivarstable, and—”

“Riverhoof?” Half-Pint finishes for me. She reaches underneath her scarf and presents some of Temerity’s papers (I could recognize his meticulous calligraphy a mile away). “Honestly, little sister. You think I wouldn’t catch on to your little investigation? You could have just asked me to help.”

“I wanted to be as discreet as possible… Then again, I know who I’m talking to.” I scan over the papers as I speak. “I wouldn’t have been suspicious of Temerity if it weren’t for his name being in Fade’s logbook. Clearly there’s a bigger story here, but I don’t think I can continue investigating without arousing suspicion. I don’t want to get on Temerity’s bad side, much less Shokenda’s.”

I peek over my shoulder. Temerity has left his tent to speak to a group of soldiers, but he keeps glancing away to have a look at me. Then he whispers into the ear of one of Shokenda’s masked elites. After a few seconds, the elite nods.

“Well, shit…” I growl. “Seems I’ve already tripped his wire.”

Half-Pint seems to be more affirmed than scared, but that’s how she usually approaches any dangerous situation. “It’s times like these where we need to ask ourselves if there’s a foreseeable future for us in the Blackwings while we serve somepony with an obviously naughty agenda. Do you see any significant names on that list?”

“Hmm…” I continue scanning over the papers. The tension, along with my heart rate, builds to a crest as I search for somepony familiar… “There. Sir Pathos is apparently in on Temerity’s scheme, whatever it may be.”

Half-Pint presents a quill, which she levitates onto the paper to scratch out Sir Pathos’ name. “Well, in that case, I think it’s time we delivered him a cup of tea. It’d certainly make the upcoming battle easier for our friends in the Empire, wouldn’t it?”

A thrilled smile crosses my muzzle, though I don’t lose my calm just yet. I keep my voice low as I turn to Half-Pint. “I can count on you to deliver these papers to Tohro, right? He’s a clever fellow, he can pick up where we left off.”

“I’ll slip this into his bag, along with a note of what we know so far. And I can count on you to have found a vessel into Saddle Arabia by the time I get back?”

“With how long this winter’s been going, I welcome the desert.” I tousle Half-Pint’s fluffy mane. “I’ll see you in Reinoc, sister.”

~Vision End~

CHAPTER XXXVIII - MERIDIAN

“Caro! Over here!”

Caro has only just broken away from the caravan when he hears Rosemary calling for him. She stands near a surplus of crates that are being removed from the convoy and pried open by unicorn soldiers. Swords, maces, axes, crossbows, splitters, and numerous other weapons fly from the crates, with their new owners galloping off towards their battle positions.

“I see the new armor’s design came out quite well. Wear it proud for me, okay?” Rosemary says. She’s equipped with her black falchion, as per the norm. She turns around to give Caro a look. “A beauty, ain’it? I modeled it after mah daddy’s favorite blade.”

“Why not use his sword instead of a replica?” Caro asks.

“Pragmatism, hon. I used his sword for a little bit but the swords of the Imperial Legion have long since improved. Not to mention it was duller than a conversation with a rock. It was only good for caving in a few Blackwing skulls.”

Caro chuckles. “I fail to see why you’re not participating in this battle, with that attitude.”

Rosemary pulls another crate out of the convoy. This one is smaller than the others. “Cap says I’m too important for the battle ahead. Evidently, I’ve got the spirit of my father and the combined talent of three blacksmiths. That’s why they entrusted me with this job.”

“Aw, I think the good captain has a bit of soft spot for you. I would understand why; you’ve both got similar manes and muscles.”

“Thank you for noticin’. And he would make a decent partner. Tall, strong, valiant, and I am fond of unicorns. But when it comes to throwin’ the rules aside and doin’ the right thing instead of the smart thing, he’s a bit of a dullard. And, unfortunately for him, somepony else has caught my eye.”

As if on cue, Shae enters the fray. She’s no longer in her red overcoat, now wearing an extravagant white robe that makes her blend in perfectly with the sages. “Hello.”

“Hello, yourself.” Rosemary approaches Shae and leans in to give her a kiss, but Shae stops her short, placing a hoof on her lips.

“Did you show him our special project?”

“Ah, that’s right…” Rosemary swings around and goes back to the small crate. “Sorry, love.”

“Always forgetting things, you. Hello, Caro.”

Caro steps up to Shae and gives her a sudden and amorous hug, causing her eyes to slightly bulge.

“Wow, friendly!” she exclaims as she’s set back down. “It’s only a battle, Caro. You needn’t worry that much. I’ll be right here with the sages, and the camp will be safely guarded by three layers of shields, and there are hidden traps laid around the perimeter. Not to mention, I have—”

“Shae,” Caro interrupts. “I’m fine.”

“Okay… I suppose, for once, I’m more worried about my safety than you are.”

“He won’t have to worry about anypony’s safety other than the Blackwings’ with this beastie at his disposal!” Rosemary exclaims. “Have a look at this here.”

Rosemary removes from the crate a sight that Caro will forever remember as one of the most beautiful things he will ever bear witness to. A sword. But it isn’t just anything Caro could find in a marketplace or craft with his own hooves. This sword has a blade that glimmers even in the perpetual grey of the cloudy sky and barren ground. Gemstones embroider three equidistant points of the blade along its smooth length. The hilt and crossguard are all made of the same fine onyx, with gold wrappings at the ends.

“This is amazing,” Caro exclaims, carefully taking the sword, moving slowly as if a single speck of dust could ruin its perfect form. “I could grip both the crossguard or the hilt in my mouth. This versatility is exquisite. The blade is sharp from base to tip, so no matter where it connects, it will always slice clean through. Rosemary, I…”

“Nah, Shae deserves most of the credit. Have a look at those gems, there. Those ain’t no decoration.”

“You know how soul gems work, right?” Shae asks, tapping the highest gem on the blade.

“Master was going to tell me after we got home from Reinoc. Unfortunately, ah…” Caro puts on a pathetic smile. “Well, we never made it home. But I can infer. These things are essentially containers for the Fae, right? ”

“At their core, yes,” Shae begins. “And, of course, warriors use them all the time to recharge special attributes in their weapons and staves. Soul gems refill themselves over time, as the Fae concentrates within them, but they can be refilled instantly with a little soul reaving.”

"Don't worry, fella.” Rosemary pats Caro on the shoulder. “Soul reavin’ ain't like trapping someone's dyin' spirit, leavin' them screamin' in agony."

"I didn't think of it like that until you brought it up,” Caro states bluntly.

"Ah…” Rosemary retracts her hoof and steps back. “Well, the purpose of soul reaving is to take whatever Fae goes unused by a corpse and put it into a soul gem. Shae and I figured that, if you're just going to use a full soul gem to recharge your weapon anyway, why not just make things easier and embed the soul gems into the weapon itself?"

"So I use the sword's power to strike my enemy down and take their essence, which fills the soul gem, which charges the weapon..."

"Like a wheel in the form of a blade,” Shae says with a spin of her hoof. “Go ahead. Give it a whirl.”

Both Shae and Rosemary take a step back as Caro bites down on the hilt of the blade. He rushes forward and swings it, creating a wave of white energy that travels forward, dissipating as it gains distance.

“I like it.” Caro puts the sword away in his armor’s back-bound holster. “It’s no Excalibur, but I’m sure the Blackwings will learn to fear this blade’s glimmer all the same. They don’t stand a chance.” He looks around at the other carriages, his eyes narrowing. “Where’s Tohro?”

“He’s already leading his offensive,” says Captain Gauntlet as he steps into the conversation. “There’s a rock formation west of here that will allow him and his soldiers a stealth advantage. He had to seize the opportunity before the Blackwings did.”

“Oh, well… Good on him.” Caro smiles, but his voice quivers just enough for Shae and Rosemary to notice.

Rosemary clears her throat and asks, “Where should I set up shop, Cap?”

“Wherever you feel is best, blacksmith. Just stay within the confines of the shield. Shae Sparkle?”

“Yes?” the young mare asks with a salute.

“Go to the other sages and meditate to the best of your ability. It would be best to keep your spells at the ready. This will not be a pleasant battle.”

“When is it ever?” Caro murmurs as he watches Shae depart. “And what would you have me do, Captain?”

Gauntlet turns to Caro. “Tohro said it best; you’re our wildcard, Dragonborn. As such, you do whatever you feel is necessary to turn the tide of battle.”

“That was my plan from the start, but I would still like to help in any way I can.”

“Knowing you’re a match for Shokenda is more than enough. But, if you insist, I wouldn’t mind having you along for…” Gauntlet’s ear twitches. He puts on a stern expression as he looks to the gorge, then looks up at the sky. “Hm?”

Caro hears yelling. His eyes snap to where Gauntlet is looking, and he sees an unexpected sight; an Imperial pegasus is careening towards the camp, dropping feathers and blood as he descends. He slams into a tent and rolls to the ground.

Both Caro and Gauntlet run to the pegasus. He has blood draining from his lips, and his pupils are dilated. “He’s in shock,” Gauntlet confirms. He motions one of the sages over.

“Th-they…” The soldiers moves one of his hooves to the lower section of his armor, where a gigantic, horseshoe shaped blemish lies. “They… They h-have... centaurs…”

Gauntlet and Caro share a look as the sages levitate the soldier away. Gauntlet looks especially withdrawn, displaying concern normally reserved only for when Celina is at risk.

“Fuck.”

~Tohro~

“How in the hell did you convince these blokes to join your cause?” I ask a nonpresent Shokenda as I dare to peek over the rock formation. I’m greeted with an incoming arrow, which I’m thankfully quick enough to duck away from. Though I’m sure my surprised expression looks very undignified to my soldiers. Mistral looks at me with a cocked brow, holding out her hoof in disbelief.

“That was a warning shot, little horse,” I hear one of the centaurs say. His call is chilling and threatening, yet composed and dignified. Much like Shokenda herself. Perhaps she and them found a truce through common ground.

“Fantastic,” I growl, drawing my crossbow and loading a bolt into it. “Pinned down, three already dead, and a squadron of unfamiliars breathing down our collective necks. Just… fantastic.”

Mistral lays her hoof on my shoulder. “Any suggestions, sir?”

“Well, they can’t hit all of us. I’m more concerned about Gauntlet’s party; he’s leading most of the heavy hitters of the Legion. That leaves us, the quick ones, to taking out these large merry fellows.” I tap my head against the rocks, my lips curled in frustration. My mind is like a factory, and the workers are all running on fear and adrenaline alone. “I’m not one for sacrifice plays. Let’s all rush them at once. Go for the head; that’s where they’re most vulnerable, I’d warrant. Steel yourselves.”

As I put away my crossbow and take out two of my wing blades, all of my soldiers take on battle stances. I take a deep breath. The rest of my fighters are engaging Blackwings along the gorge. I won’t have these ones put down by Shokenda’s dirty tactics.

“And… go!”

I leap over the rock formation, spread my wings, and take off. I stay low to the ground, kicking off every time I lose even a sliver of my maximum speed. The gusts of wind in my ears are frequently interrupted by the brush of an arrow narrowly missing my pretty face. I’m already blemished; the last thing I need is another scratch.

I’m fast approaching the centaur, whose simian face is watching my every move, with his bow drawn and his firing arm unbelievably quick.

“Touch me, I dare you!” I yell at him. I push off of the ground one last time, bringing my wings out to full span as I head straight up into the air. The arrows become more distant; he can’t hit me while I’m up here. As I slow down, I look down below to see what’s become of my soldiers.

This is going well, with most of them having made to the centaurs. The unicorns have erected shields to block some of the arrows, and the earthwalkers have managed to trip some of the big fellows with their brute strength and a few swings of their hammers. Despite that, I have a brief moment of pain shoot through my mind when I see a few more of my soldiers on the ground, bloody arrows skewering their bodies.

The world returns to me as I face the centaur below me. He has his next arrow nocked. I tuck my forelegs in, my wing blades out to each side of me, and start spinning. I feel the arrow come past me, just barely grazing my ear. Too close, but oh-so-far away.

I come down on the centaur’s neck and slice right through it, hitting the ground hard and skidding to a stop. My wing blades shatter and fall into pieces at my hooves, but I’m okay with that. The blood coating the shards indicates that they’ve done their part. The centaur grips his neck, gargles something unintelligible, gags, and collapses.

Mistral comes speeding past, leaping onto the centaur’s fresh corpse.

I run at her and ask, “What are you doing?”

“Improvising, sir.” She reaches into the centaur’s quiver and pulls out two arrows. With their rather large size compared to the bolts of a pony’s crossbow, they look more like glaives. Mistral takes flight towards the other centaurs, while I gallop to keep up.

My intervention is hardly necessary with what Mistral is doing. While one of the centaurs is occupied with swiping away at the soldiers striking his hooves and barrel, Mistral bodyslams into his chest and thrusts both of the arrows into him, several times over, until her hood is coated in red speckles, and the centaur begins roaring in pain.

I am simultaneously afraid and aroused.

I’m overcome by a large shadow. I turn around to see another centaur, this one holding two large, crescent shaped blades. By the size of his muscles and his many battle scars, I can assume this one isn’t going to go down easily. I grab two more wing blades as I take flight.

“Come on!”

~Vision End~

~Caro~

It had all happened so quickly. I saw the Blackwings across the gorge. They were unicorns, hocking javelins like mad, with manic grins on their grimy faces. After that, I decided that it was high time I made my grand appearance. If Shokenda wants her battle, she’ll have to stop me from killing every single one of her enthralled servants.

So these four Blackwings that lie dead at my hooves will be the first of many. But with first blood being spilt, my time to make an impression is now fleeting.

As I move onward, I take notice of the soul gems upon my new blade. The difference between a full soul gem and an empty one is its glow, and these are shining like stars. I’ve already taken in the essence of those four dead behind me.

Another Blackwing comes along, leaping over a set of stones with a warhammer swinging over his head. I roll out of the way without even blinking, and consider just how poetic this truly is. Dodging his repeated horizontal swings is like breathing to me. This one is going to die, taken by the essence of his former comrades.

I leap away from the Blackwing and swing my sword twice. Waves of pure magic explode at either side of the Blackwing, causing him to stagger. I swing once again. This wave slices his skin like paper, cutting through his neck all the way up to his forehead. With a howl, he drops his warhammer and stumbles over. He’ll bleed out in minutes.

The soul gems look a little less bright now.

The onslaught continues as I gallop up the hill. I would like to survey the horizon and see the battle ensuing around me, but I fear a moment of weakness could lead to an anticlimactic end for me. All I can do is glance around me every few seconds for a wandering foe.

“Would now be an acceptable moment to speak with you, Dovahkiin?” I hear Rasahrel ask in my mind. She catches me by surprise, causing me to swing around by instinct.

“Oh…” I sigh, catching my breath. “By all means. I’ll listen, but I might not respond.”

“That is fine. I just wanted to express an apology for the behavior of particular dovah. I don’t like to think that I would affiliate with the zealots of my kind. In truth, my loyalty to Saviikaan was waning. One can only pursue a goal for so long without reassurance that it’s something worth striving for.”

I listen intently to her words while dedicating my other senses to the battlefield. Up ahead, I see a group of five Blackwings sheathing their weapons as they stand over the bodies of at least a dozen Imperials. One of the Blackwings spots me, spreading her wings to present several wing blades.

“Take the ones you call rebels, for instance. Through your eyes, I see them, and I see the very dovah I once fought alongside. Manic. Obsessed. Their thoughts are those of another, regurgitated into their ears and turned into blind worship for a higher power.”

Despite this, the only thought on my mind is that Tohro could have become like the zealots before me. He was always so clean and well-to-do, but these Blackwings are filthy and depraved, ignorant of the blood on their coats…

Tohro be damned, I could have become like these ones.

“Wuld nah!” I shout. I shoot forward, instantly placing myself right next to one of the Blackwings. He brings his sword around, but it glances off my pauldron. Thank you, Rosemary. I trip him with the flat of my blade, landing him on his back. He’s helpless to block my sword as I pierce his leather armor and gut him.

I hear another one behind me. I bring my sword back up to block a flailing axe, then buck at its wielder. I hear a grunt as the Blackwing goes down, dropping her axe. I pick it up and stand on my hind legs, holding both my sword and the axe in front of me. The spear-wielding Blackwing charges, swiping at my hooves. I jump over her spear with each swing. She gets smart and raises her spear at me as I come her way. Time to make a correction. “Fus ro dah!” I yell, pushing myself away from the mare and bringing her onto her joints.

I’m ready to move in for the kill when the other two Blackwings get the jump on me, attacking from both sides. This is a simple matter of ducking their blades, hooking one of them by the hilt with the crook of the the axe, and pulling. The Blackwing comes with, faceplanting into the mud. I roll away, spin around, and toss the axe at the one standing Blackwing. It glances off his helmet.

I hear Rasahrel chuckle, as if she were just told an amusing story. “I suppose perfection can’t be expected, even from your combat skills.”

“Axes were never my strong suit,” I blurt out. To the Blackwing, I must look like a complete idiot.

I brandish my sword at the Blackwing and let out a roar, leaping forward and landing right in front of him. Curiously, he hasn’t drawn his sword. Rather, he looks quite astonished, and a little bit afraid. He seems keen on running away.

“Well?” I snarl at him as he backs off.

“You aren’t equine, are you?” a weak voice asks. I turn around to see the stunned Blackwing mare, who is clutching her spear just to remain standing. She doesn’t seem like a threat anymore, and if they’re willing to remember what I’ve done to their fellow rebels, they’ll remain that way.

“The key asked you a question, Dovahkiin,” Rasahrel asks. This is the first time I’ve heard a dragon sound downright flirtatious. It’s terrifying.

I stroll past the Blackwing mare and say, “I’m a foal of ponies. Just a little less than most.”

~Vision End~

~Shae~

The sages were right when they told me I would get used to this. After an hour of hearing the moans and cries of the nearly dead, I’ve managed to tune out such dreadful noise. I haven’t lost my empathy for the injured; that would truly be a nightmare. But after seeing a few dozen soldiers come into the tent, losing blood by the pint, I’ve already adapted. I fear that I may have done so quicker than most healers should.

I’m tending to a stallion who was bludgeoned by a mace while running alongside Tohro’s party. He never even had a chance to draw his weapon. Despite this, he seems abnormally cheerful, even though he’s expressed regret that he now can’t see out of one of his eyes.

“That should pass, in time,” I say as I lay a damp cloth on his head wound. “But I don’t think that you’ll be running among your fellow soldiers for a while.”

“Damn,” he snarls, still smiling despite the pain he must be going through. “Perhaps I’ll have to take up work as a town guard. Epona knows Trottingham could use a few.” He feels for his wound, but I levitate his hoof down. “How does it look?”

I remove the cloth to examine the damage. His head has become distended from the impact of the mace, and I can see tears in the muscle tissue. “Not as awful as it could be,” I assure him.

“If you kiss it, it might feel better,” says the stallion with a naughty chuckle.

I know he’s only joking, so I decide to humor him. “Only as a last resort.” I lower my hooves and close my eyes, focusing my magic. I release a wave of green, ethereal solvent from my horn, which I place onto the wound and rub in deep. “That will prevent infection and heal any immediate damage, but it won’t fix your eye, and there will be a nasty scar.”

The young soldier seems nothing but happy about that. “Excellent. A good mare loves a good scar.”

His persistence is admirable, I’ll give him that much. Although I’d love to stay and talk with him, I have to move on to the next injured. “Keep the cloth on and call me back if anything bad happens.”

“Will do, madam.”

I move away from the bed and survey the tent. All of the other beds are laid out in a circle, equidistant from each other. Much like myself, the sages are very astute on arrangement. I fit right in with them, even as a temporary addition to their ranks. I’ve been told by a few of them that I should consider becoming a permanent member, but that will most likely not come to be. I’m sure I have the intellect and skill for the role, but being a sage also requires spiritual resolve, something I haven’t quite gotten ahold of. Furthermore, becoming a sage requires making use of an Elder Scroll that would grant me great power, but also shorten my lifespan, and that is beyond unacceptable. I won’t leave Celina and Luna any sooner than I have to.

Then again, seeing as Celina now has the power to raise the sun, perhaps using the Elder Scroll will no longer be necessary. In that case…

“Miss Shae, we need you,” I hear one of the sages announce.

The sage and three of her brethren are standing over a weak mare whose armor is being removed. She has several arrows in her chest, along with a dagger. That causes the scar on my stomach to tingle. I ignore it and step forward. “Hello,” I say to the mare. She’s conscious, sustained through a recently cast numbing spell (I can recognize the light purple aura that envelopes her wounds).

I immediately get to work on these wounds. I decide to stay away from the dagger and focus on the arrows instead. It’s a grotesque process, levitating the barbs from the mare’s skin. She doesn’t feel any pain, of course, but she’s clenching her teeth anyway, since she can feel everything else.

“I’m sorry…” I keep desperately muttering to her. “I’m so, so sorry…”

“It’s okay, rrgh… I knew what I was in for when I joined this outfit…”

“You’re lucky none of these pierced your heart or lungs. Those are not so easily repaired.”

“I suppose I should count blessings, since that’ll help me endure hours of grueling agony. Hurr-agh!”

One of the sages has removed the dagger from the mare’s stomach. I immediately join him as he casts a cloud of healing upon the wound. The mare’s blood stops flowing, seeping back inside of her, and her skin slowly begins sewing itself back together.

“How’s the fighting out there?” I ask the mare, hoping to distract her from her discomfort. “I just spoke with a pony who seems to have been having the time of his life.”

“Oh, and his fun was well-earned! It’s like a bloody thunderstorm out there. Beautiful, yet fierce and uncontrollable. No matter how this ends, it’ll be a battle for the history books. Of course, you’re used to that sort of thing…”

I’m focused on keeping my healing magic going, so it takes me a moment to realize what she just said. “Huh? How do you mean?”

“Everypony knows who you are, Miss Shae. The mage of Dragonrein. Hero to Everfree. New mother of the princesses. Don’t be humble. You’re an inspiration to us all.”

I could say that being a hero hasn’t exactly been my goal in life, but I’m honored just the same to know of my title. This one is quite right, I’m used to being a part of these legendary events. Unfortunately, I’m only here out of a sense of requirement; that I’m needed at this battle, and as acceptable as it would be to stay behind and take care of my daughters, it would be a greater disservice to not have a part in keeping them safe from a greater threat than scabbed joints or minor acts of misbehavior. Though I do hope the sages looking after them are making sure they eat all of their dinner. Though, knowing Luna’s appetite…

An Imperial soldier gallops into the tent and points outside. “They’re attempting to breach the shield! We need assistance!”

A few of the sages in the tent stand at attention. They’re not caring for any wounded, leaving them free to gallop outside.

I know shield spells… I should be able to assist in the matter, but I shouldn’t leave this mare’s side. She could need me. What if the other sages aren’t enough?

The mare brings my confliction to a halt as she just barely manages to touch my wither. “Better get a move on, girl. Come on back when you do what you have to.”

I put on a broad smile and nod at the mare, touching her hoof to mine as a promise that I’ll be back. I break into a sprint and leave the tent, dashing between sages to get outside and have a look at what’s happening to the shield.

I find myself standing in a small crowd of robed ponies with their heads turned to the sky. I follow suit and see that the situation isn’t as bad as I had imagined it to be. I highly doubt that a shield summoned by the most magically adept unicorns of the Empire could be broken by only ten Blackwing pegasi. They’re hacking away at it with their hammers, axes, and swords.

Rosemary, wearing a blacksmith’s apron over her jacket, gallops to my side and examines the underwhelming scene. “Not as bad as it could be, right?”

“They must be getting desperate,” I say with a relieved smile. I’m tempted to just let these ones have their fun. Eventually they’ll tire themselves out.

My smile drops. I gasp loudly as a small nexus materializes above the shield. A Blackwing comes flying out of it, slamming into the shield on all four legs. Time slows as I share a look with him. He wears a plated mask that covers all but his eyes, and his armor blends with an ornate robe not unlike that of the Gran Magus soldiers of old. He’s like a unicorn equivalent of Zeus.

“Oh… I heard about these blokes,” Rosemary says, acting surprisingly calm and analytical. “Shokenda’s elites. Tohro mentioned fightin' a few back when he went after Muramasa... Rumor has it Shokenda uses an Elder Scroll to grant them special powers.”

I blink twice. “Oh dear.”

The elite raises his hoof and surrounds it in a black aura that seems to suck in all light it touches. He brings his hoof down into the shield, creating a loud impact that violates my ears. It’s like facing an explosion head-on. I’m blinded just from the overwhelming sound.

When the vibrations fade and I can hear again, I shake my head and look forward. The elite is looking right at me. Even as the Imperial soldiers move in and surround him, he still remains fixated on me and me alone.

The Imperials go on the attack, but the elite is swift. He easily leaps over the first sword swing, rolling right over the soldier that attacked him. He strikes with another blast of black aura that surrounds the soldier and binds his legs, leaving him to writhe on the ground.

Rosemary and I won’t have any of this. She draws her falchion with her teeth, and I summon a blade to my horn. I charge forward, right at the elite. I blindside him, slamming the blade into the side of his armor. I don’t aim to kill him outright, just keep him away from the soldiers.

“You…!” With his voice muffled by his mask, the elite sounds more like a monster than an equine. He raises his hoof and smacks me across the face, but I just keep my horn blade implanted into his barrel. “Away!” he yells. He lights up his horn and releases a burst that sends me backward. I dig my hooves into the mud and come to a stop.

The Imperials form a circle around me and him, and Rosemary stands right behind me. “All of us against you, lad, and nowhere to run," she says. "It’s over.”

The elite looks up, noticing that the shield has repaired itself. He doesn’t seem phased, grunting dismissively.

“Wrong.” The elite taps his mask, then lights up his horn again. He crouches down and dashes forward, right at me.

Rosemary steps in front of me and blocks his blast with her falchion. She then spins it around, wreathing the blade in flames. She must have renewed its enchantment. She brings it to the elite’s neck. As if by instinct, the elite summons a shield his neck and leaps backward. He brings his hooves up and slams them into the ground, creating a small crater around him and raising a stalagmite where Rosemary stands. She leaps off of it and makes a midair slash at the elite. He blocks it and every slash that comes after.

An Imperial soldier takes notice of the opening and brings his hammer into the flank of the elite, knocking him aside. He regains his posture and dashes past the soldier, blasting him out of the way. I try to gallop in there to interrupt him, but he summons an ethereal knife and slashes the Imperial’s chest before I’m able to intercept.

This must have been how Caro felt when I was at the receiving end of a knife. I’m not letting anypony else die when it’s clearly me that this one wants.

I leap into the air and summon my scythe. The elite is ready for me, but I blink away, reappearing beneath him. I’m able to stab his chest through his armor, but he’s still too thick for me to land any lethal blows.

The elite swipes at me as he spins around, but I blink out of sight again, going behind him. I slash at his neck, but he’s quick to disappear as well. He reappears above me with his horn charged. He fires his black aura at me. I’m too slow to teleport again, and find myself throttling at the ground, with my legs quickly seizing up, lost to my control.

I land in the mud, with the elite quickly following suit. He’s staring at me with those intense, piercing eyes. “You won’t escape me this time.”

“...This time?” I gasp.

“Shokenda sees your potential. She wants you for leverage. Unfortunately, she’s getting a corpse.” He summons the same knife he used to kill the soldier. He brings it to my stomach.

The revelation hits me like a brick. I've been at the receiving end of this soldier's rage before, a long time ago. “YOU!” I shout, just as he’s torn away from me by a red-eyed Rosemary. As he breaks free of her grip, I stand up and yell, “Caro slit your throat! Why aren’t you dead?!”

“Hatred is a powerful thing, huh?” he muses.

My eyes flash red as I put more of my Fae into my scythe. I charge at him, scraping the ground, and swing right at him. He disappears again, but I was prepared for this, allowing my blade to go behind me. I hear it slice through his armor. Turning around, I see that I’ve cleaved his chest, but I failed to spill any blood He teleports away again.

My scythe is too slow to block his magically-charged blow to my face. I’m pushed away, but Rosemary catches me. She then dashes to the elite and throws her flaming sword right at him. It lands in his wither, causing him to reel.

“Ya nearly killed the mare I love?!” Rosemary is fuming. Without her sword for comparison, I’d assume she’s on fire herself. She runs up to the elite, grabs the hilt of her sword and twists it. While the elite doesn’t yell, his head turns. He’s definitely in pain. As Rosemary keeps tilting her sword, the flames grow bigger, and the elite’s armor starts to glow. With an unladylike scream, Rosemary tears her sword out of the elite, splattering herself and the ground in a trail of steaming blood. She turns to me and shouts, “NOW!”

I ready my scythe, charging the blade as far as it can go before I feel tired. I rush at the elite once again, and unleash the blade. It travels in a wide arc, collides with the elite, and then it’s over.

The elite has nothing left. The entire left side of his armor is distorted and melted, and I can hear furious, labored breathing through his mask.

“Take him,” says one of the Imperial soldiers. “We can make use of his armor. Possibly figure out what it’s made of—”

“Shokenda forever,” the elite interrupts. Black aura wraps around his hooves. He leaps into the air, strikes the shield, and breaks it wide open once again. The moment he hits the ground outside, he flashes one last hellish stare at me before galloping away at an incredible speed.

“What was it he wanted with you?” Rosemary asks, wiping the blood from her face. “In any case, next time he comes around, I’ll cut his bleedin’ head off…”

“He wants me dead, but Shokenda wants me as leverage,” I reply.

I consider what that could mean. A long time ago, Shokenda wanted Tohro to kill me. Clearly something has changed, and she is adjusting accordingly. But what has changed? And why doesn’t she want me dead anymore? Leverage… She’d hold me hostage in exchange for something she could benefit from. Perhaps to have Tohro come back to her? No, I’m not worth that...

Shokenda is difficult to read. Her expressions and movement are so unequine. But I do remember, when she appeared to us at the summit, a desiring glimmer in her projection, as well as what she said when she looked upon my Celina…

“I know of Celina's lineage. I knew she was an alicorn long before she did, long before she even existed.”

She wants me because she wants my daughters.

“I shouldn’t have come here.” I turn away from Rosemary and gallop into into the tent. I intend on gathering my things and leaving as soon as I can. I have to be back in Everfree. I have to be with Celina and Luna. I won’t let anything happen to them. I can’t.

The whole place is in a ruckus, with sages regaining themselves after the elite’s brief interruption. I remember that I left my bag with rest of the medical supplies in the back. As I push through the crowd of sages, I can’t shake a nagging suspicion that something has slipped my mind.

The mare. “Oh, damn!” Celina and Luna can afford to wait a little longer. I swing around on one hoof and dash back to the bed I had left behind.

When I arrive at the bed, my heart rises into my throat. The bed is empty. The only one here is another sage. She’s taking an orb of water to the bed, cleansing it of bloodstains. “Yes?” she asks, glancing at me.

My consciousness is rent, but I try to keep my words sensical. “T-There was a soldier here. A mare. I didn’t ask her name, but—”

“I’m sorry, Miss Shae. We couldn’t stop the bleeding.” The sage cleans up the last of the blood, stores the orb of water in her flask, and leaves quietly.

“Oh. Oh.” I’m unsure how to react, so my body does so for me. I clutch my head and fall forward, leaning over the cot. My teeth are grinding together and my fur feels numb. A hundred different ways this could have turned out, and this is what happens…

A robed hoof touches mine. The gesture is reassuring, at the very least. I hope that this one will be able to comfort me. Any words are welcome. I want to be told that there was nothing I could have done, or that she felt no pain as she passed. I know that there are times that I have to accept what has transpired, but I need someone to help me through it.

I look up and see Clover the Clever, whose touch becomes intense and painful. I want to tell her to stop, but my voice becomes glass in my mouth.

"You shouldn't have expected otherwise," she says, looking over the bed. In just a blink, she disappears, but my hoof still hurts.

Everything hurts.

~Vision End~

~Caro~

A struggle for survival never grows old, but that is no excuse for these Blackwings being such easy targets. The moment they raise their weapons against me, I know that they’re as good as dead.

“Zahkrii bel kinz!” I shout. Three golden swords come to my side, humming as they cut through the air around me. They’re hungry for a target. They very much remind me of how I once was. “Wuld nah!”

I dash at the Blackwings, knowing that they’ll be ready for me. Two of them swing their axes at me, but I leap over, leading my summoned swords with me. One of the Blackwings steps out of the way in time, but the other isn’t so lucky, with a sword impaling his chest. If there is any chance for his survival, I eliminate it by grabbing the sword and tearing through his barrel. I kick off of his bleeding body and slash repeatedly at the Blackwing behind me. He blocks every blow I throw at him, until I fake him out and bring my sword to strike his wither. He takes the opportunity to thrust at me, but I’m quick enough to grab Rosemary’s creation, block the attack, and slash at the Blackwing’s neck with the summoned sword. I finish the job by throwing him to the ground and shoving my sword through his barrel.

One of the summoned swords travels behind me, blocking the sneak attack of a hooded Blackwing. I’m able to strike her down with a single stab, but her friends come to her aid, maces swinging violently. I buck at one of them, then face the other and shout “YUL TOOR!” My breath of fire engulfs him, and he runs away in flames.

“Impressive,” says Malyol.

“Thank you,” I reply.

“I see now that you only strike for the sake of duty, and not out of selfish desire. You were once so angry. You stared me down and screamed at me like a monster. I can’t sense much of that anger anymore, beyond what one would feel in any tense situation such as this.”

I hear Rasahrel chuckle pleasantly. “When one has little to be angry about, it shows.”

“That’s right,” I say, galloping across the barren land. “I know what I fight for. I know what I want.”

I want to explain more to the dragons within me, but I’m interrupted by a sudden shake of the ground beneath me. It can’t be an earthquake. No, by the sign of the shadow that overtakes me, this is something else entirely. I turn around to witness the first centaur I’ve ever looked upon.

He clutches an axe in both of his meaty hands, fangs bared and large nostrils flaring. For one with the face of a monkey, he is decently terrifying, and he doesn’t have that sense of fear or hesitation I felt with every Blackwing I’ve fought up to this point.

I take a deep breath and shout, “YUL TOOR SHUL!” Another round of fire bursts from my mouth, throttling at the centaur. Seemingly unimpressed with a pony imbued with the powers of a dragon, he simply swipes at the fire, causing it to disperse into smaller embers. A few of those embers land on his shoulders and wrists, but he brushes them off like dirt.

“Although,” Rasahrel muses, “there are times when anger is called for. Shall we dispense of this one who makes a mockery of you?”

The centaur raises his axe over his head and brings it down. The blade alone is larger than me, but I have the means to deflect it. “Jaaril!” A barrier forms around me, causing the blade to glance off. That swing was just enough to break the barrier, though, and I won’t be able to summon another one without tiring myself out. It’s time to go on the offensive.

“Rasahrel, you know me too well.” I clench my teeth around my sword and charge at the centaur.

He already has his axe cocked back, ready for another swing. His nostrils expand with a mighty breath. He tenses up his arms, brings his axe around...

A streak of white crosses his arms and disappears in an instant. The centaur drops his axe and clutches his wrist, but to no avail, as an unsavory amount of blood has already escaped him. He was a damn fool not to wear any gauntlets. He must have overestimated his abilities.

The white streak returns, striking the centaur’s chest multiple times, drawing more blood with every pass. The speed of the strikes clues me in as to who has come to save my life. Wouldn’t be the first time.

The centaur lets go of his wrist and makes a grab at Tohro, who easily spins out of the way and lands on the centaur’s arm with perfect balance. Even as the centaur tries to shake him off, Tohro keeps steady, taking out his hidden blade and jamming it into the centaur. He runs right up the arm, leaving a deep cut in his wake.

As the centaur howls, Tohro leaps onto his shoulder, grabs a blade from his wing, and makes two diagonal slashes across the throat. Tohro kicks off the centaur, flips through the air, and lands in front of me in a crouch.

I approach him and say, “What are y—”

“Hold on,” he interrupts.

The centaur comes crashing down, his pelvis hitting the dirt first, followed by his bleeding arm and head. A small plume of dust rises from where he falls.

Tohro bows to me. “Is that how you make an entrance? I think it is.”

“I agree,” I say. I go to Tohro and push on his chest, shoving him away. “Now get out of here.”

“Huh?” Tohro dusts himself off, looking beyond offended. “Why would I do that?”

“Because Shokenda—”

Tohro makes a childish imitation of my voice, “‘—wants to hurt you and make me cry!’ I’m sorry, Dragonborn, but I’m breaking my promise.”

I show him a furious glare, but he’s able to see through it. He knows I’m smiling underneath this frown.

Tohro sighs. “Dammit, mate, she’s my enemy too. I can’t just sit idle not knowing if you’re still alive and fighting or if she’s taken you away from me. If she comes for you, we’ll face her together.” He swaggers up to me, smiling like he would at one of his conquests. “Face it, Dragonborn. You’re stuck with me.”

I want to tell him about how happy I am that he’s breaking his promise, and that it was foolish of me to think I should take on Shokenda alone. I want to break out into song, but I can’t sing for the life of me. So, keeping my stern expression, I just give Tohro another push, followed by a one-legged embrace. “Thanks,” I say into his ear.

I let go of him and ready my blade when I hear marching hooves. I turn around, taking in the sight of Gauntlet, and the dozens of soldiers that follow in his wake. Their armors are bruised and battered, littered with splotches of red. There were much more of these stallions and mares when they left the camp.

Gauntlet breaks away from his soldiers and walks up to me and Tohro. He looks like he could use a good night’s rest. “Corporal Tohro! Why aren’t you moving on the pass? For that matter, where is your squadron?”

“Actually, I was just about to ask about that…” I say, looking at Tohro quizzically.

“It seems that Shokenda didn’t expect us to make it any further than the centaur interceptors," Tohro explains. "Once my team took them out, we made our way to the pass. I lost about twelve to Blackwing assault teams, and a few were picked off by archers. Once we reached the pass, I set up a defensive line. The Blackwings won’t break through without a fight.” Tohro sweeps the ground and poses like a sculpture. “Hold your applause! So, after that, I broke away to clear out any stragglers, as well as meet up with the Dragonborn.”

Gauntlet strokes his chin. “Hm. I would have stayed with the team, but judging by the dwindling number of Blackwings, I suppose it’s all working out okay. I’ll bring my troops to the pass to back up yours. In the meantime, you do as you will.”

“It’s what I do best, sir. Best of luck.” Tohro salutes the captain.

“And to you as well. This battle could have easily resulted in another stalemate, or worse, but I think it’s your leadership and Caro’s ferocity that have made the difference this time around,” Gauntlet says, beaming at me for what feels like the first time. “Your parents would have been very proud, Dragonborn.”

To anyone else, that would have meant much more. I’m sure my mother and father would be proud, and I smile at Gauntlet’s comment all the same, but I don’t need their approval. Master Hammerfell, however… If he can look me in the eye and express his pride, like he has so many times before, I’ll be more than happy.

Gauntlet swings around and addresses his soldiers, who are straddling the fine line between terrified and brave. Perhaps one of those can feed into the other. “It’s time! March on the pass! Destroy any Blackwings that force their way through! Hold the line! The future of this war will be decided right here, right now, and Shokenda will not have a say in it! Go! For Equestria, for our queen, for our princesses!”

The soldiers fall more towards the side of bravery, casting their hooves in the air, shouting with vigor. They stay in formation as they gallop off, kicking up dust and rocks in their wake. More than just a collection of soldiers, right now they seem like an unstoppable force of nature. I’d like to see the Blackwings stand a chance against that sort of power.

Gauntlet seems happy, allowing himself a little smile before he puts on a stoic face and starts to follow his soldiers. He looks up to the sky and stops, levitating twin longswords out of their sheaths. “Corporal, Dragonborn, we have a situation.”

I look to the sky as well. A formation of Blackwing pegasi is coming our way. From a distance, the one in the front looks oddly familiar… Oh no.

I stand in front of Tohro as the Blackwings come in for a landing. The one who helms the pack is just who I thought it was. The deranged mare I met during my lone walk in the woods. I had hoped not to see her again, but I suppose my good fortune is limited.

“I’ve been looking for you!” she shouts, breaking from the group and pouncing towards Tohro, and me in the process. She draws two wing blades and brings them down. I block them both with my blade. She doesn’t seem to acknowledge me, as if I’m just an extension of Tohro. “Daaaarling!”

“Deerstalker. I’m surprised you took this long to find me,” Tohro says. I hear him equipping his crossbow.

The mare cackles and forces her blades against my sword, creating sparks. “You leave a cold trail. Would have had you on your back months ago if you hadn’t kept going from town to town! You just left one loose end!” She stares me down, suddenly losing her grin. “And he won’t get in my way this time.”

Tohro responds to Deerstalker’s threat by reaching around me and pointing his loaded crossbow against her neck. “Here’s a touching story,” I say. “Once upon a time, a strapping young Blackwing killed the insane cultists he once called his companions, and he lived happily ever after.”

Tohro fires his crossbow. Deerstalker dodges, twisting away and biting at the crossbow's string. Tohro pulls it away from her, leaving her head exposed as she recoils. I bring the hilt of my sword to her head. She stumbles back, trembling, then lets out another cackle, one that sounds far less joyous than the other.

I grunt and get low as Tohro vaults over me, flying right at the mare. His blades clash with hers in a cross. After that comes one of the fastest flurries of clashes and dodges that I’ve ever witnessed. Pegasi truly are a breed of swiftness. I can’t find any opportunity to help Tohro.

At least, until he drops onto the ground to dodge the mare’s attack. That gives me a clearing. I quickly shout “Qo ruzaak!” I jump back as a bolt of lightning flies from my mouth. Deerstalker is a crafty one, sidestepping the lightning. Being so shaky and on-edge must do wonders for her in combat.

Still, it leaves her stunned enough for Tohro to trip her with a dancing spin. He hops to his hooves, grabs his crossbow and brings it around her neck. Although she gags as Tohro pulls, Deerstalker seems ecstatic. “Eehehee! Tohro, Tohro, Tooohrooooo!” she chokes out. She brings her head backwards, slamming into his muzzle. She breaks away from his grasp and punches him.

A spike of rage bursts in my chest, compelling me to brandish my sword at this filthy mare. I roar like a monster and leap at her with no regard for subtlety. She blocks my blow with a casual swish of her wing. My sword catches between three of her blades. She then spins around, with her blades pulling my sword away from me.

“Wuld!” I dash over Deerstalker and catch my sword out of the air. I bring it around just in time to deflect a flurry of blades being thrown at me. I hiss as two of them pierce my wither, and another strikes my leg. Despite all of my determination, I give in to the pain and drop my stance. I can take a cut or a gash, but I can feel these blades in my muscles…

Captain Gauntlet appears before me. He looks fierce, with cuts and bruises all over his visible body, but he’s still composed and calm. He lights up his horn, wrapping his aura around these blades. I hold my breath as he yanks them out of my body. The burning pain disappears slowly as Gauntlet’s aura begins to close my wounds.

“Get back up, soldier,” he says, walking away and returning to the Blackwing squadron. Judging by how slouched and battered they are, Gauntlet has them on the ropes.

Tohro is in trouble. He’s holding up a single blade against Deerstalker. She has two, and she’s wailing on his, smiling with utter glee as he crumbles beneath her. Her eyes are bulging, red at the edges.

This time, I’m more cautious. I shout “Wuld!” once again, this time dashing behind Deerstalker. I swipe my sword at her hooves, causing her to lose her balance and fall onto her barrel. Tohro immediately recovers from his fall and brings his forelegs around Deerstalker’s neck. She shakes like a ragdoll in the wind, but she can’t escape his hold.

Deerstalker, having run out of options, lets out childlike screams. I have to turn my head and cover my ear, but Tohro doesn’t budge.

“SHOKENDAAAA!! HELP MEEEE!!” she keeps crying.

“Coward. You know false gods don’t answer prayers,” Tohro says, taking out his hidden blade. He raises it up high, allowing it to gleam against the fires of the battlefield before he brings it to Deerstalker’s neck.

“N… NOOOOOO—” Deerstalker begins to scream again, before her voice turns to whimpers and distorted noise. Then again, everything she ever said was just noise, and she looks no worse dead than she did alive.

As Tohro looks over the corpse, I ask him, “How does she know you? Besides being part of the rebels, I mean.”

“She was the first pony who ever…” Tohro trails off. At first, he seems neutral, but he suddenly looks remorseful. “She wasn’t pleasant.”

“Oh.” My heart sinks. “Oh, I…” I hold out my foreleg, offering him comfort. “I didn’t know, I’m sorry...”

Tohro pushes my foreleg away. “Not now…”

Leave it to me to forget everything else happening around me when I see Tohro in physical or mental pain. I had nearly forgotten about the battle happening around me. I owe it to Gauntlet’s prowess that Tohro and I haven’t been struck down.

Gauntlet fights without flair or restraint, remaining still and stoic as the many Blackwing pegasi bombard him with diving strikes. His armor is thick enough to shrug off most of the damage, and any wounds he suffers to his body don’t phase him beyond a simple flinch. Looking down, I see that his hooves are dug into the ground. That explains why he’s so unwavering.

He takes the offensive. A Blackwing charges at him head-on. Gauntlet raises his forelegs and takes the Blackwing into a chokehold, bringing her to the ground and slamming his hoof into her neck. I can hear her voice shatter.

The next Blackwing doesn’t even get to touch him. Gauntlet captures his wing in his aura and swings him around in a circle before letting go, sending him into the ground. A trail of red follows his jaw as it scrapes along the ground.

The next two that assault Gauntlet are thrown away by a blast of wind from his hooves. It’s not as powerful as my shout, but it’s still enough to stumble the Blackwings. Gauntlet follows up with two precise blasts of a white spell that eats through the Blackwings’ armor. I almost feel sorry for the one in leather armor, who clutches his chest and gallops away.

And we’ve just been standing here, dumbstruck. I see now why he has his rank. Though I can’t help but wonder if skill is entirely to thank for this.

I can sense movement behind me. I turn my head and see three more Blackwings heading our way. Three pegasi… I may be at a slight disadvantage here. But since when has that stopped me?

Tohro taps me on the wither. “Caro, throw me,” he says.

I don’t doubt his choice in the slightest. I reach under his barrel and lift him up. With a yell, I swing my forelegs and pitch him like a javelin. “Fus ro dah!”

Tohro becomes a white streak once again. His wing blades slice through one of the Blackwings like they were paper. He stalls in mid-air and flaps his wings once, pushing himself backward. He brandishes his hidden blade and brings it into the back of the second Blackwing before they hit the ground. The third Blackwing only has a moment to realize his companions are dead before Tohro pounces on him.

I raise my sword as another group comes galloping into the fray. These four are all earthwalkers, and they’re armed to the teeth with warhammers. “They’re sturdy ones,” I think aloud.

“Dovahkiin, might I suggest a shout you haven’t used?” says Rasahrel.

“I’m listening,” I say. The four are advancing on me quickly.

“Allow me, then.”

For some reason, I put my sword back into its sheath. I didn’t intend on doing that… I’m breathing regularly, and I’m able to look around just fine, but my body seems to be moving on its own. Not entirely, though… The way I step forward, it’s like my limbs being pulled by invisible strings. It’s not so much moving against my will, it’s more like a suggestion.

“Trust me, Caro.”

I’m reluctant to, but if Rasahrel wishes to harm me, she would have been able to long ago. I go along with her suggestions, and allow myself to stand on my hind legs, raising my hooves up high. It’s like a salutation to the sky.

Rasahrel and I say in tandem, “Golt kren motaad!”As my hooves come alight with a bronze aura, I slam them into the ground. I feel the earth beneath me quaking. Stone spikes arise from the ground before me, traveling at the four Blackwings. The breadth of the spikes is too wide for them to dodge out of the way. Two of them are impaled, and the other two are tossed aside, left in too much pain to stand.

“Surely you’ve realized that your power goes beyond just a few flashy spells?” asks Rasahrel.

“I did, but…” I look at my hooves in awe. “That was incredible.” I narrow my gaze, as if I’m staring at Rasahrel. “I want more.”

“And you shall receive,” says Malyol. “Your cause is ours, and so we shall lend you our strength.”

“If only you had shown me this earlier…”

“We feared you would refuse.”

I look at Tohro and Gauntlet, who are clearing the field of Blackwings with incredible speed. Gauntlet takes Tohro’s hoof and spins him around, allowing him to slice at the surrounding foes. It’s like Gauntlet is using his soldier as a personal weapon. I’m impressed. But why should they have all of the fun?

I gallop to the battle. One Blackwing stands in my way. I dive underneath her axe swing and shove her aside. “Get lost!” I skirt to a stop with my sword at the ready, alight with the energy of several souls. Tohro and Gauntlet are behind me. A battalion of Blackwings surrounds us, hungry for our blood.

The first Blackwing that attacks me has the misfortune of striking my blade. As I push against his staff, a shockwave fires from one of the soul gems, sending him back into his companions. I leap at them while they recover. “Zahkrii bel kinz!” I shout. My golden swords appear once again, and the Blackwings are helpless to block them.

I feel a weight on my back. Tohro has landed atop me. “Watch yourself!” he yells. He drops down, his back against mine, and swipes at an incoming Blackwing with his crossbow. He fires into her chest as she falls to the ground. Tohro continues to use me as a support as he loads bolts and fires at every Blackwing surrounding us. Several of his shots miss, but at the very least he drives a few away.

Gauntlet slams his hoof into the ground, creating a shockwave and forcing his attackers to step back. He dashes towards one of them and strikes them down with a downward swing from each of his swords.

He’s good, but he doesn’t have a legion of dragons within him. As I leave Tohro to pick off foes with his crossbow, I rush into an onslaught of Blackwings. The rest is a chaotic mix of blades and blunt edges coming towards me. But each second segues into the next, and I don’t get hurt. My body won’t let me get hurt. I weave around each oncoming attack like a snake.

My hoof collides with a Blackwing’s stomach. I feel their armor shatter beneath my attack. Then I feel their mail. Then, their skin. My hoof is alight with the signature golden aura of the dragons. The Blackwing collapses, holding their stomach. Blood and vomit spill from their mouth.

When I feel wing blades coming at me from afar, I leap away. However, with another glow, I leap further than I’ve ever been able to, soaring over a dozen Blackwings. Before I land, I swing my sword and let the soul gems work their magic once again. When the magic wave disappears, every Blackwing standing before me is ripped away, falling onto their sides with vast wounds and broken forelegs.

There’s one more behind me. I can hear him breathing. I turn around and kick off, reaching him in less than a second. He looks keen to run away. I overtake him as he starts galloping.

“Fus!” I shout, blowing a burst of wind that stops him in his place. I take advantage of his disabling and grab him by the scarf.

“No! I don’t want any of this!” he yells in desperation.

“Then you shouldn’t have come here,” I retort.

I can feel the sweat on this one’s neck as he stammers, trying to find some words to appease me. “Please… I surrender. I don’t want to fight anymore. Especially not you.”

That’s what I want to hear. “Would you run?” I ask. “Leave this place?”

He nods hysterically. “Yes! I’ll run! I have family in Riverhoof! Please, just let me give up!”

“Riverhoof?” I hesitate, then let the Blackwing go and lightly shove him away. I don’t recognize him from my hometown… That’s irrelevant. He wants to leave, so I’ll let him. “Good call. Drop your weapon and go.”

“T-Thank you, sir. I’ll repay this kindness, I sw… s...” The now-traitor is reduced to stuttering. As he looks past me, his eyes widen, allowing me to see their veins. “Shokenda…”

I turn my head, hardening my battle stance in anticipation for what’s to come. Shokenda stands before me, just up the hill, and yet she might as well be standing on a mountain, towering above like one of the Divines. This is nothing new. I wasn’t afraid of her before, and I’m certainly not going to fear her now.

Shokenda steps forward. Her horn glows with a sharp, golden light. I raise my hoof and prepare for her first attack. I don’t have time to dodge...

I feel the heat of her magic. However, no pain comes to me. I lower my hoof and see that no harm has befallen me. “What?” I ask aloud.

I look to my left and see that the traitor is no longer there. Not standing, anyway. I look down. The traitor is lying there, his eyes bulging and twitching as blood drains from a grotesque hole in his head.

I look up, ready to curse Shokenda out for such cold bloodedness. However, she’s no longer on the hill. I look around for her desperately, my breaths intensifying as I fear meeting the same fate as the stallion that lies dead at my hooves. However, I see nothing, until I turn my head.

Tohro and Gauntlet writhe and struggle as Shokenda holds them both in her magical grip. Every Blackwing behind her has dropped their guard, many of them smiling as they watch their matriarch.

~Vision End~

~Tohro~

I’m scared. I can’t breathe. I can’t feel my body. Caro is right there… I can’t call out to him...

Shokenda whispers in my ear, “False god?”

XLII - Eyes

“I’m sure a warm welcome awaits you back in Everfree. I envy you all greatly. It’ll still be a few days from now that I’ll finally be able to return to Trottingham…” Jarl Drake closes her eyes and shies away. “Alone.” She grits her teeth and shakes her head. “That’s not relevant. Caro, Tohro, please see to it that no harm comes to her on your way back.”

“Now more than ever, I promise that won’t happen,” says Caro, his voice strong and valiant, defying the downpour that surrounds the town. He turns to Shae and says, “We won’t let this hinder you. Just stay close to us.”

Shae nods. Her hoof’s grip tightens around Caro’s leg. She remains fixated only on what she can hear, tilting her head towards whomever speaks. She looks to Jarl Drake, hearing the clatter of her jewelry as she steps forward. “If there is any chance that somepony could fix this…” the jarl says, trailing off as she looks at Shae.

“I don’t think we can hope for another miracle,” Shae says. She raises her hoof to her cheek, just beneath her clouded eyes. “This was my mistake. I’ll just have to accept it.”

“Perhaps Celina and Luna might know of some solution?”

Even though Shae is unable to look Drake directly in the eyes, the jarl still feels the intensity of her stare. Coupled with the memories of their previous discussion in the shack a few nights before, Jarl Drake feels enough tension to make her decide to back away, and avoid pressing the issue any further.

“Right…” she says, clearing her throat. “Keep calm and carry on…”

“My children are just that, Jarl Drake; my children. Even if it were within their means to heal… this,” Shae gestures to her eyes again, “I wouldn’t impose such a burden on them. Their focus should be on their future as good rulers, not their mother’s foolish decisions.” She turns around and starts away from the path. “I’m blind. That’s the end of it.”

“Uh, Shae?” Tohro raises his hoof. “Everfree’s in the opposite direction.”

Shae turns towards the sound of his voice. “My point still stands.” She flinches, then touches her forehead. She realizes that droplets of rain have begun to fall again. “Hm. The Weather Guild has been merciless with the rain lately, hasn’t it?”

“I’d warrant they’re trying to wash Ghastly Gorge clean,” Caro states. “Or at least hinder Blackwing scouts.”

“That sounds about right,” Tohro replies. “The Blackwings tried to use the Weather Guild to their advantage in the early days of the war. Paying them off and all. But the Empire’s pockets ran deeper, so most of them abandoned Fillydelphia and its surrounding territories. Too few were left to alter the weather in Blackwing territories, and now everything past Marekarth is left to the mercy of nature itself. More often than not, it’s a perpetual blizzard.”

“No wonder you don’t shiver on cold nights,” Caro remarks. He looks over himself, noticing the dissonance between his heavy fur and the relative baldness of his new leg. “I had to build up this coat for a month before I could stand sleeping in Neigh Hrothgar.”

“Aw, the Dragonborn is cold-blooded? Who knew?” Tohro nuzzles up to Caro. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep both you and Shae warm.”

“You know I can hear you,” Shae says, tapping Tohro on his barrel. “And, uh, thank you.”

“It’s what anypony would do,” Tohro replies as he and Caro step away from each other and pretend as though their red cheeks aren’t on full display.

“Of course it is.” Shae lowers her head slightly. “Except Rosemary.” She grits her teeth and shakes her head. “No, I mustn't think that way.”

“If she knew what happened, she’d be here in a second,” Tohro says reassuringly. “She’ll come by the Rainbow Palace as soon as she’s done with her mission… Whatever it is.”

“Let’s move,” Caro says, waving Dragonrein forward.

With a resolute grunt, Shae runs after Caro and Tohro. The prevalent dollop of fear that holds her is alleviated when she feels her two stallion friends stand close to her, keeping her guarded at both sides.

Dragonrein departs down the dirt road to the village’s exit. As they walk, a few of the villagers take notice and leave their homes to have a look. They wave to their heroes as they pass by.

A filly leans over the porch railing to call out, “Caro! Go and bring peace!”

“No Blackwing will stand in your path!” a wounded soldier cheers as his bandages are reapplied by a beautiful young mare.

“Safe journey to you all!” says the mare.

Jarl Drake steps forward, about to lend words of support, but she quickly realizes that she has nothing off the top of her head that hasn’t been said before. She racks her mind for something to say, and blurts out the first thing that comes to mind. “Caro!”

The Dragonborn turns his head, though he keeps walking.

“I’m sorry.”

Caro shrugs and shows her a smile. “For what?” he says back.

Jarl Drake backs away as Dragonrein continues onward. As she returns to the infirmary, she follows Caro’s example and puts on a smile. It doesn’t last.

CHAPTER XLII - EYES

The outset of Dragonrein’s trip is quiet and unsettling. Aside from a slight chill that seeps into the skins of Caro, Tohro and Shae, there is little to impede them as they make their way to Everfree.

However, a few things of note do occur. At a crossroads, they encounter a pony-drawn carriage, with the pullers looking exhausted beyond their breaking point. Caro steps forward, ready to offer assistance, but Tohro holds his foreleg out to stop him. He shakes his head with an apologetic frown, then nods at Shae.

“Be selfish for once,” he whispers to Caro.

The pullers both grunt in acknowledgement of Dragonrein, and pass them by without a word. In the back of the carriage are several bags of what smells like herbs and spices, along with a few sleeping zebras.

They continue onward. While Caro does adhere to his vow to keep Shae close by, there are times where, in an effort to stay near her, he finds himself straying off the road along with her. When they walk a cobbled path along a river, Caro realizes something is wrong when he can’t feel the cobblestones beneath his hooves, despite the path going on ahead.

“Caro, I’m stuck,” Shae says plainly, tugging on Caro’s hoof.

Caro looks down and sees that Shae has one of her forelegs trapped in a mudhole. “Oh, it’s nothing,” he says, sighing with relief. “Just pull out.”

The mudhole makes an unpleasant squelching noise as Shae pulls her foreleg out. Her coat and garb end up splattered with earthly bits. “Disgusting,” she mumbles. “I hoped that I’d at least be presentable to Celina and Luna.”

“I can heat up a deep puddle so you can take a bath,” Caro suggests. “Epona knows we could all use one.”

“Maybe later. I don’t want to lose any daylight,” Shae says, taking a step forward. She pauses, looks down, and sighs. “Let’s just… go.”

She taps the ground in an effort to find the cobblestones again. Caro gently pulls her towards the path, and continues to lead her along the way.

Tohro is about to follow when he hears tapping in the mud behind him. He grabs a blade from his wing, turns around, and throws it. The blade lands dead center in the head of a scrounging mudcrab.

“Horrible creatures,” he mutters, turning back around and following Caro and Shae. For a fleeting moment, he wishes he were the one being led by Caro’s strong forelegs, but he stuffs it away. He knows what’s important. “Oi, what was it you were saying about puddles?” he asks.

“We were stuck at that infirmary for far too long, and sponge baths aren’t exactly an ideal means of hygiene when you’re caked in blood and sweaty bandages down to the roots,” Caro says.

“You always know how to set the mood, love…” Tohro replies with a sarcastic groan. “You’re right, though.” He scratches at his mane, which lacks any of its usual feathered beauty, clinging to his face like a mop. “Bit of a dip would set us just so.”

“I’ll be able to clean myself,” Shae states.

“I wasn’t about to offer unless you asked,” Caro replies.

“Just being pre-emptive. I welcome the company, though.” Shae’s ears twitch eagerly.

A wide gap between trees and grass presents a distorted patch of land coated in warm rocks and moistened dirt. The sky is partially obscured by a thin veil of steam rising from the large, milky puddles that fill dozens of craters.

Tohro whistles as he looks upon the strange landscape, stepping onto the dirt cautiously. “It’s like scar tissue. How could we resist taking a pick at it?” He flies ahead, skimming the surface of every puddle he passes.

“I feel cleaner already,” Caro says with an approving grin. He takes Shae’s leg and leads her down the slope. “Doesn’t the steam feel nice?”

“Hm. It does.” Shae is happy as well, though her smile is thin and subtle, at least for a moment. Then, her face lights up slightly. “Oh! I think I know where we are! I remember reading about a patch of hot springs in my geography books. This is Dirt!”

“Very... astute of you,” Caro says, trying to mask any sense of sarcasm.

“No, I mean, this place is called Dirt! Don’t you know? This was where Equestria was founded.”

“Don’t the uncreative names usually come after they run out of good ones?”

Shae shoots Caro as much of a stare as she can manage. “Tohro has been rubbing off on you in more ways than one, hasn’t he?” She reclaims her smile and continues. “See, it was decades ago that Chancellor Puddinghead and Smart Cookie of the Great Plains made their way here. They were the first to set hoof into Equestria. But it wasn’t sheer luck that led them here. Do you know what it was?”

A few answers come to Caro’s mind. He considers the most obvious one. “A map?”

“No, Chancellor Puddinghead poked holes in the map and wore it as a pair of glasses.” Shae pauses when she detects an air of bewilderment. “That’s just… how he was. But it wasn’t him and his strange ways that led him and Smart Cookie to this place; it was a meteor shower.”

“Is that so?”

“Certainly. After days of being stranded from their group on a mountainside, they spotted a meteor shower and decided to follow it out of desperation. One of those meteors fell from the sky and landed…” Shae holds her hoof aloft, then brings it down to the ground. “...right here. It caused the moisture in the ground to boil to the surface, and it remains hot to this day thanks to the rare materials in the meteor.”

Tohro lands next to Shae, cutting in as if he never wandered off. “Rare materials, you say?” He reaches into his bag and presents a pickaxe.

“When did you get that?” Caro asks.

“Back in Ivarstable, after we first met. Never had a chance to use it until now.” He looks at the pickaxe, his expression slowly growing dejectful. “...I’m a fool to think they haven’t mined this place down to the pebble, aren’t I?”

“At least you stopped before you could make an ass of yourself.” Caro nods to a large pool of simmering water just beside a destroyed cabin. “Now, let’s clean ourselves up.”

After a few minutes pass, with his fur having already become thoroughly soaked, Caro comes to regret every instance of his life that hasn’t been spent in a hot spring. He has already tended to his hygiene, and only has to worry about relaxation, and as such has relegated himself to a stationary position on the fringe of the crater. He sinks into the water, to the point where his nostrils are barely above the surface. He puckers his lips and breathes into the water, creating a stream of bubbles that pop in front of him. He laughs to himself at such a sight.

“Well, aren’t you pleased as a first timer at a Olympian orgy?” Tohro asks, stepping out of the cabin with nothing but a few bandages covering his body. He is still blemished from neck to pelvis in scars left by Shokenda, but Caro’s blush and smile makes him feel like a million gold pieces. “Hello,” he says with a bit more of a chime to his voice.

Caro rises from the water and clears his throat. “What took you so long? Leather armor a pain to remove?”

“It chafes. But I was also taking inventory. Behold.” Tohro presents a block of soap that was tucked behind his ear and tosses it at Caro. It bounces off his forehead, and he nearly drops it in the water fumbling over it. Finally, he gets ahold of the soap and starts applying it to his chest.

“Coating myself in the fat of various animals for the sake of keeping myself free of dirt and grime. There has to be some sort of irony in that, don’t you think, Shae?” Caro looks expectantly to the young unicorn.

Shae is relaxing at the opposite end of the crater, with her clothes just behind her on dry ground. Her forelegs are held tight to her sides and her muzzle points downwards. She sighs instead of responding.

“Shae?” Caro asks again. He leans forward and has a closer look at her. The bridge between her eyes and muzzle is crinkled, and her lips are straining to remain shut. “Oh dear.”

Tohro laughs pathetically before nuzzling Caro. “Do what you must. If I think of anything clever to say, I’ll speak up.” He crawls into the water, and finds himself cooing at its warmth and enriching texture. “Even if it means abridging my enjoyment of… Oooh, that feels good.”

Stop teasing me, Caro thinks as he wades away from the playfully splashing Tohro and over to the sulking Shae. Even though he knows she can’t see him, he still tries to meet with her gaze out of habit. “If you want to be alone, let me know. I just have to pester you one more time.”

“Pestering acknowledged,” Shae mutters. “Don’t worry. I know you. There are just some things you can’t resist. Somepony being hurt, in need of saving…” She bites her lower lip. “And yet, somepony you know is finally put into something she can’t be saved from. I can’t imagine what that’s like.”

Caro rests against the edge of the pool, just the same as Shae. “Just like I can’t imagine what it’s like, being in such an inescapable condition.” He regrets the words the instant they pass his lips. “Oh, I…”

Shae’s bitten lip trembles and her nostrils flare up. For a long second, she straddles the line between composure and tears, only to grit her teeth, inhale, and turn towards Caro.

“I’m sorry,” he says quickly.

Shae doesn’t seem to have heard him. "Caro, look up, and tell me what you see."

He does as he is told. He turns his head upwards to behold a miniscule break in the darkened sky. "I see clouds... It's raining off in the distance, and judging by the smell, it might be coming our way again. Pity. Here I thought we’d be free of rain for a little while, but if it can’t be helped..."

Shae continues. "Now look left, then right, for three seconds each. Tell me what you saw from memory."

Again, Caro follows Shae's instructions. He darts his head left and right, then faces forward. "I saw the path we came from on the left. On the right, I see you, a collection of bushes and trees, and a bird's nest." The birds chirp. “Well, you can probably hear them.”

"And I'm sure if you were to look down right now, you'd see water. I can only tell because, well," Shae looks down, “I’m sitting in it.”

"Yes, that's right." Caro nods. "What else can I do for you?"

"Sure." Shae looks in Caro's direction. Her glassy eyes are a haunting sight, so different from the wide, colorful, magenta eyes she once boasted. "I want you to look behind you without turning around. I want you to see through walls and solid stone. Look left and right and up and down at the same time, through every solid object in your path, without any selective focus, having every single little thing that could possibly be seen forced into your mind. Look through the stream of time and space itself."

"I... can't?" Caro states reluctantly.

Shae places her hooves on her cheek, brushing up to her eyes. "I did, Caro. But I couldn’t take it. I did something only a Divine is able to do. That is why you're walking with all four legs. That’s why I’m blind. I broke the laws of existence.”

Caro reaches out to touch Shae, but she shoves his hoof away the moment he grazes her shoulder.

“This is what I deserve, isn’t it? So I upset the Divines? Fine, then. So I won’t be able to see the grass, or the trees, or the sky. I won’t see you or Tohro work your wonders, saving the innocent, slaying dragons and all. I won't be able to see Rosemary's rough, coarse coat or lock my gaze with hers, I... I won't be able to look at Celina and Luna again!" Shae’s whole body begins to tremble, causing the water around her to ripple. Her eyes are wide, glassy, clouded domes. "What if I can't be their mother anymore?! What if I forget what they look like?! I don't want to forget! I..."

Shae finds herself silenced as Caro throws his forelegs around her and smothers her muzzle against his wither. Her muffled cries of anguish turn into sobs as she loses all tension in her body, melting into the water, and against Caro.

“Clearly you didn’t let it all out when you lost your vision,” Caro asserted. “We’re not moving onward until you do.”

Shae shakes her head maddeningly quick. “I only now realized…” She returns to the security of Caro’s embrace. “I just…”

Caro places his hooves on either side of Shae’s upper forelegs and holds her firmly. "Shae. I was in Neigh Hrothgar for two months, in the company of only two beings that could speak my native language. It was dark and cold, the trials I endured were mentally and physically exhausting, and worst of all, I had to be away from you and Tohro. Hell, I would have taken Rosemary. But do you think I forgot what anypony I knew looked like?"

Shae’s misery hasn’t waned. "That was only two months, Caro... This is forever."

"There’s a silver lining. You have what some blind ponies will never have. You have several years of sight behind you, and I know Wintercolt Academy’s brightest student can remember.” Caro tries to think of what Shae would find to be the most beautiful thing that could ever exist. “Tell me, what do Celina and Luna look like?”

“They—” Shae answers too quickly.

“Hold on. Describe them in your words,” Caro interrupts, reaffirming his grip on Shae. “Don’t be objective. How do you remember them?”

“I, uh…” Shae taps her hooves together, then rolls them over each other as she shies away. “Well, I remember Celina’s white coat… Hm, white isn’t the right word for her. She’s brighter than white, especially when she walks in the sun’s graces.”

“I believe the word is ‘alabaster,’” Tohro says as he takes a casual sip from his flask. “Mmm, stolen hot spring mead does taste better!”

“I’m sure it does,” Caro says, cracking a smile. “What else about Celina?”

Shae is a little more vibrant now. She wipes her wet hair away from her face and continues. “Um… Her pink mane. It’s not a blinding pink like an aristocrat’s garments, more of the rich, natural pink you’d see during a cloudy sunset. We had one of those while you were unconscious.”

“Mm. Wish I could have witnessed it. Go on.”

“And when Celina is at her happiest, like the night we first met, her mane changes. Sometimes I see additional colors in it. It becomes brighter, almost difficult to look at. But it’s not like an Elder Scroll where you want to look away. It’s like when somepony gives you a gift you didn’t know you wanted, and have no words to say how grateful you are. You’re just… awestruck.” Shae wipes one of her eyes. “...I’d like to talk about Luna.”

“Do whatever you want to do,” Caro states.

“Well, uh… There’s this one unapparent thing about her I noticed recently. Her hooves are big. Bigger than most filly hooves, anyway. It was so adorable, back when I first had her, whenever I called on her she’d come running, fumbling over herself and tumbling to a stop right in front of me. She’d sniffle a little bit from the fall but she’d perk right back up in an instant. She’s such a happy child… Her smile is as bright as the moon itself, aside from the little slit between her two front teeth. That should heal in time, though.”

“Klutzy and adorable in equal amounts, huh?” Tohro asks. “Reminds me of somepony else I know.”

Caro smiles back and Tohro, then turns back to Shae. “Do you feel better?”

“...A little, yes.” Shae nods slowly, sitting upright before standing up in the water. “Having a little mist in your head can make you see a little clearer. I mean, metaphorically…”

Tohro sets his flask down and wades over to Shae and Tohro. He pats her on the forehead before pulling her into a partial embrace. “Everything will be fine, Shae. You’ll see. You can be an amazing mother with or without your eyes.”

Caro takes Shae’s hooves in his. “And this completely absolves you of any future endeavors alongside Dragonrein. From now on, you need not choose between us and your daughters. In truth, I feel guilty that there ever was a choice in the first place.”

“Mm… I should have stayed with them…” Shae feels herself beginning to tear up again. “I could have avoided all of this.”

“Do I need to tell you it’s not your fault?” Caro asks. “That it was extenuating circumstances that lead to this, and you don’t need to blame yourself for any of it?”

Shae, for what seems like one of a hundred times, lets her tears fall and mix with the steaming water of the spring. Despite this, she appears hardened and determined. “No. I won’t absolve myself of responsibility. I chose to come along with you to Ghastly Gorge. I chose to use that Elder Scroll.” Shae turns and steps out of the water. She shakes some of the wetness out of her mane and tail, then retrieves her towel.

“You didn’t choose to lose your sight,” Caro calls out to her as she walks away.

“That doesn’t bring it back to her,” Tohro says. He leans his cheek against his shoulder as he speaks thoughtfully. “Consider this, love: You didn’t choose to be the Dragonborn.”

Caro looks at Tohro. His hooves cross over his chest as his eyes flash gold. “I appreciate the sentiment, but what I have isn’t exactly a curse. I have suffered for it, but being a Dragonborn isn’t suffering in itself.”

“It could have been, but you made it not so. Shae’s blindness may be a bit larger of a ravine to cross, but perhaps she too can achieve some form of higher power. It wouldn’t surprise me.”

Caro snorts. “You drank too much.” He wades over to Tohro’s flask and takes a swig. He swishes the strong yet rich flavor of this particular brew before letting himself swallow it. He feels more relaxed in an instant. “But no matter what she gains, she still loses something.” He’s about to take another drink before he feels smooth hooves brush over his shoulders.

“Reverse that last thing you said, love,” Tohro whispers. “What would I have gained if I had stayed with Shokenda?”

Caro still feels more than just Tohro’s weight on his shoulders, which holds him back from returning the affection. “You’d be less one fool.”

Tohro clicks his tongue. “I’d be less my fool, and that’s just not acceptable.”

Tohro’s ear knocks against Caro’s eyelid, causing his vision to flutter. He gives into the temptation, leaning back to nuzzle Tohro’s forehead.

“Kiss me, you idiot,” Tohro demands.

Caro comes to understand what’s happening the second he presses his lips to Tohro’s muzzle. Out of the corner of his eye, he’s able to witness Shae sitting atop a mossy rock, her eyes closed as she faces the wind. Even if were able to shrug off the pegasus hopelessly attached to him, he can’t say anything to help Shae that hadn’t been said before.

“Maybe…” he mutters as he breaks his lips away from Tohro. “...We should just let time heal the wound?”

“My thoughts exactly.” Tohro’s hoof brushes down Caro’s cheek, leading to a tender stroke of his chin. “She’s strong. Let’s be strong for her?”

Caro turns and leans against the edge of the hot spring. He allows Tohro to lean on his shoulder, and wraps his foreleg around him to tighten their bond. Despite his heart filling up with warmth that is still wonderfully unfamiliar to him, he still can’t shake off the cold unease he feels when he looks upon Shae. She seems so distant, like half of her has disappeared.

“It hurts,” Caro confesses.

“I know.”

~Rosemary~

A baroness upbringing can make a mare less than willing to deal with the elements. I’ve always had a roof over my head, with nary a leaking roof panel or a broken window, at least as far back as I can remember. I never needed to worry about losing that roof over my head. I was always safe, secure, and bored.

I much prefer this. The sounds of rain battering my tent, the taste of bitter coffee rampant in my mouth, the obvious seams in my makeshift bed… This is the adventure I always spoke of.

So why do I feel so melancholy? It’s not the rain; I love rain. I’ve been watching it fall for the past hour, that’s how lovely it is. And while I am a little lonely, I’ve long come to terms with not being able to take Shae and her merry stallions with me to Fillydelphia. I do miss them, especially Shae, but I know that’s not the source of this looming dread.

“Perhaps you should go back. Ask for their help,” suggests Cinnamon.

I turn over on my bed and face my little brother. His head is tilted, making his eyes look more lopsided than usual. His pinto coat always caused his face to appear on the awkward side. Poor him, he’ll be adorable all his life. It’s a shame he can be so obnoxious sometimes.

“Come now, why should I bother them?” I reply. “They have dragons to slay and a war to fight. This is my mission. It’s not their problem.”

“Fairly weak reason to charge into Fillydelphia like a mad mare, if you ask me,” Cinnamon says. “Aren’t you scared?” It’s so unlike him to be this pressing. He’s the obedient one. It’s normally Nutmeg who asks too many questions.

“Why would I be?”

Cinnamon reappears in front of me. “Your last lone encounter with the Blackwings didn’t pan out so well, did it?” he asks insistently.

I purse my lips and swallow my breath. For a brief second, I feel like vomiting, but the urge goes as quickly as it comes. “They weren’t nothin’. They got us by surprise. This time, I’ll be the one takin’ charge.”

The tent flap is pulled aside by a cream colored hoof. Nutmeg peeks her head into the tent. For some reason, despite coming out of the rain, her coat is completely dry. “It’s easy enough to kill three Blackwings in your own territory when you’ve got a spark of rage and adrenaline coursing through your body,” she says.

“You’re sayin’ a lot of big words,” I reply in a passive tone. “Besides, I defeated them because I’m strong. I’m a soldier, ain’t I?”

Nutmeg glares at me. “You cried. You cried while you killed them.”

“I’m a good soldier,” I repeat.

Nutmeg looks like she’s about to say something, but she holds her tongue as she steps over to Cinnamon. She kneels down and whispers something in his ear, which he nods in response to. “Mmm,” he replies.

“What? What are you on about?” I ask them.

“You’re not ready to hear it yet,” Nutmeg says, her eyes closed and her lips mockingly puckered. “Unless you can figure it out for yourself, that is.”

There are a few things I can’t stand, and being in the dark is one of them. I stand up and advance on my little siblings. “Figure out what? Tell me.” I angrily demand.

“How could we tell you?” they say at the same time. “You’re obviously unwilling to face it. If we did say something, it’d probably just fall on deaf ears.”

I point at Nutmeg and Cinnamon. “You’re grounded. Both of you.”

“You can’t tell us what to do,” Nutmeg says. “You’re not our mother.”

“Don’t feel bad, though,” Cinnamon says. “It’s not as though she really expected you to take care of us. She never trusted you to begin with.”

Nutmeg stands up. “How can you trust somepony you hate?” She starts walking back to the tent flap.

“You get back here,” I order her. “Now.”

“I’m already gone, sister,” she says in a serene voice before disappearing out of the tent.

I turn my head to look at Cinnamon, only to see that he’s disappeared as well. Where could he have gone in such a hurry? And under my watch, no less?

“Yoohoo!” he chimes. I see him by the tent flap, waving at me with an obnoxious grin. “Mother dearest will be quite disappointed if she comes back home and we’re not back where we belong!”

I’m not having any of this. I walk right up to him and raise my hoof. “Cinnamon, I’m warnin’ you!” I swipe at him and try to grab his collar, but in a blink, he disappears.

I hear him and Nutmeg laughing, but it’s not innocent, childlike laughter. It’s not malevolent either. It’s just… wrong. My skin is crawling at the sound. “Ooh, not to mention, if we’re gone, our new daddy won’t be able to meet us! Poor Wolf River!” they cackle.

“Stop laughin’!” I shout. I slam my hoof into my bed and gallop to the tent flap.

I hear them laughing again, which causes me to stop in place, regardless of any will I had to run outside after them. “But by all means, keep up this pointless mission! Go on your adventure, big sister! You have a lot of elders to disappoint! A lot of impossible tasks to complete! So many Blackwings just waiting to do Divines know what to you!”

I can still taste it… No. I won’t go back there.

“G-Get back here and face your punishment! Like real soldiers!” I pull the tent flap open and leap outside, landing on the moist grass of the Equestrian outskirts. I feel drops of rain splash onto my muzzle. They’ve gotten heavier since yesterday. I scan over the grass, as well as the rock formations around me, but I can’t see my siblings anywhere. “Nutmeg! Cinnamon!” I shout hoarsely. “Come baaaack!”

I look towards the sky. I can’t see it all that clearly, as my vision is starting to blur, but it’s a hauntingly beautiful sight. In the distance, I can see hellishly dark clouds building over the mountain range. Fillydelphia is over there, somewhere, buried in snow. Above it, there’s an intense sunset, which brings to mind something Shae said to me, back when Princess Celina wasn’t feeling so well.

It was a rainy day like this one, and we had a little talk over my homemade crepes under a tavern awning. Shae turned and said to me, “Every once in a while I hear ponies talking about this abstract name for the time we live in…”

“The twilight age, was it?” I asked.

She nodded slowly. She was worlds away at the time. Her heart was clearly more with her Celina than me. “Mostly I hear it in jest, after a minor inconvenience. A sage stubbing his toe, for instance, and he would say ‘Such is the way of the twilight age.’ And I began to wonder, what does it really mean?”

“Twilight is a beautiful thing. Maybe they’re just holding on to one last shred of beauty before the end.” I took a nervous bite of my crepe. “I mean, Divines forbid that, but you know how obsessed with death Equestria is these days.”

Shae looked at me with a spark in her eyes. “But what if we weren’t so nihilistic? Wouldn’t the twilight age be something worth celebrating? Or, at least, treated like...” Her breath faltered slightly. “After my parents died, I froze up, emotionally. For so long I felt alone, even when I wasn’t. And when Sundance threw me that impromptu party, just to make me happy, I felt a sense of… contentment. Like I could let myself grieve while still taking part in the world around me.”

“So, what, the twilight age is a wake to you?” I asked, completely puzzled but also intrigued.

“Well, yes, but with more dragons. Not to mention an immortal child of the sun falling from the sky. I feel that so many things are going to change, and maybe it’s for the best to let it happen. The very reason this war happened was because Queen Platinum unsuccessfully tried to preserve King Hurricane’s rule. The dragons want this land because they once held it themselves. It’s just so pitiful to me… Why do we have to hold onto what we know is lost?”

It’s not all lost… The world can disappear for all I care, but not before I save Nutmeg and Cinnamon from the Blackwings. I won’t let all of my efforts go to waste. I’ll save them, take them home, and Tangerine won’t suspect a thing. Not as though she’ll return to the villa in a hurry while she’s marrying the first stallion she laid eyes on…

I push that thought away and turn back around. Nutmeg and Cinnamon are there again, but I feel none of the malice that was there before.

“You’ll find us,” Cinnamon says.

“You’re a good soldier,” Nutmeg adds. “You can do it.”

“You can’t do it,” an unfamiliar voice says from above me.

I look up. Standing atop a stone perch is a hooded figure with a split cape. It flows in the wind, unimpeded by the rain. It must be a powerful fabric if even rain can’t keep it down. I get into a defensive stance as the figure leaps from their perch and lands right in front of me. They’re so graceful that they don’t even disturb the pebbles in the grass. Upon a better look at this armored pony, I can see a pair of armored wings and a distinctly feminine figure. I believe I’m looking at a mare.

“I know where you’re going, and what you want to do,” she says. I can’t quite see her face, as she’s wearing a mask beneath the hood. Only her eyes are visible through small slits. “It’s impossible. I’m sorry, but that’s the truth.”

I breathe heavily, already irked by this mare’s attitude. “Oh, that’s kind. And who the hell are you to decide that?”

“Somepony who knows a practical approach, and also somepony who was once also consumed with illogical fantasies. Trust me, Rosemary Von Spice, your mission is doomed, unless you take the rest of Dragonrein with you.”

It’s as if my doubts have taken a physical form. If my mind were feeling particularly cruel, I wouldn’t be surprised if the mare under the hood is my mum. “It isn’t any of their business!” I snap. “Why should they get involved when it’s my problem?”

The masked mare’s laughter sounds metallic and hollow. “Your problem? I’m fairly certain you’re not the only one who has lost family to Temerity Blackwing’s schemes.” She reaches beneath her cape and pulls out several envelopes. “You’re also not the only one investigating these matters. The Thieves Guild took notice of homeless children disappearing off the streets of Baltimare and nearby villages, and promptly searched for a source. Letters to Temerity. Bounties for locating missing little ones. Intercepted kidnappings.”

“Tohro and a few Blackwing turncoats were also looking into it… But so what? I’ve gotten strong enough travelin’ with Dragonrein to do this myself.”

“Strong enough to take on an entire faction of Blackwings in their home territory?” The mare points in the direction of Phillydelphia. “With Shokenda B-Blackwing breathing down your neck?”

I could have sworn I heard her stutter.

“If somepony has a good reason to not get involved, it’s me,” she says. “I happen to be part of a prestigious organization. We are elites among elites, and we only step out of the shadows when we are needed. Unfortunately, my master has determined that we can’t let the Blackwings form a vendetta against us, so despite knowing children across Equestria are being kidnapped by Temerity Blackwing, we can’t do a damn thing about it. We’re too fragile.”

Bewildered, I shake my head and advance on the mare. “So what? You want me to look for an excuse to not get involved and just leave my siblings to… whatever the Blackwings are doin’ to them?”

“No,” says the mare. “I want you to stop making excuses and go to Dragonrein for help. I’ve followed you for a while now, since you’ve been the only able-bodied member of Dragonrein until recently, and I’ve heard you talk to yourself for hours on end.”

I was talking aloud that whole time? No wonder my throat is so sore.

Her tone turns more gentle as she continues. “Responsibility doesn’t absolve you of stupidity, Rosemary. Besides, I have a feeling that this is more about fear.”

I feel a pounding in my ears. “H-How would you know that?”

“I know about your mother, Lady Tangerine. I’ve heard you mention her a few times as well. I get that you fear her finding out about all of this. It can be hard to admit when we fail, but you’re just going to have to accept that you did, and make amends. Between that and pretending that you never failed in the first place, it’s the better option.”

She does speak the truth, but the truth makes my head twinge a bit. I press my hoof to my forehead as the pain escalates.

“Hello? Are you well?” the mare asks. Her voice is muted against the pounding in my ears. “Rosemary?”

“I can’t…” I don’t know what I was going to say to the mare. Don’t rightfully know if I’m even talking to her. I can see other figures out of the corners of my vision, but whenever I turn to face them, they’re gone. For a moment there, I could have sworn I saw Mum…

“Do you have any idea how valuable this vase is?” I remember her yelling scornfully. I can still remember the embarrassment of her voice bearing down on me, and the sting of my black eye. And yet, despite the fact that her own flesh and blood was crying and in pain, all she could focus on was that fucking vase. “Even if you broke this, a single shard would be more valuable than your father’s swords. No more roughhousing.”

Not to me, it wasn’t… I barely even touched the thing. And yet, it was always about what was most important to her. What she wanted.

And who she wanted me to marry. “Your father and I put a lot of work into arranging this marriage. Compared to Baron’s family, we’re practically peasantry. Imagine how much our warrior legacy will grow when it becomes one with his?”

“I’m sure you can extract his honor from his blood and cut it with a knife,” I muttered under my breath.

“Would you stop that? I never asked for your thoughts on the matter.”

“Rosemary?”

“It’s not a matter of love, it’s a matter of family. We need to keep our legacy afloat, and if you can’t find happiness in that, then you’d best learn how to.”

“Rosemary, stay with me.” The mare taps my cheek gently.

I wave her hoof away and remember that I’m not a child. But I’ve definitely been acting like one. I’m miles away from home, alone, trying to face down the wrath of an entire army just to save two kids. It doesn’t matter if those kids are my siblings. All the willpower, weapons and armor in the world wouldn’t be enough to get me through this battle alive.

“I suppose…” I wipe a few raindrops and beads of sweat off of my face. “I might have been a little… presumptuous.”

“I want you to say this with me,” the mare states. “Say, ‘I cannot do this alone.’”

“I cannot do this alone.” It hurt to say, but in the way of removing bandages; painful, yet necessary, and a relief in the end. “I’m… I’m still scared. I don’t want my mum to…”

“Nopony says she has to know. At least, not right now. Trust me, Rosemary. I know what it is to feel isolated among a crowd. Just know that you never suffer alone, and you shouldn’t be afraid of reaching out for help. Instead, fear what will happen if you try to suffer alone.”

I see splashes of blood on a metal door, and hear the sounds of two little breaths leaving the distorted bodies of two children. I struggle to move towards them as the swords and axes of a dozen soldiers come down on me...

Suddenly the rain feels hot. My heart's on fire. I immediately leap into a frenzy, stepping past the masked mare and walking to my tent. I enter, roll up my blankets, stuff them into my bag of holding, then look around for my weapons pouch. It’s not where I left it…

“Here you are,” the mare says, walking into the tent with the bag swinging around her hoof. “Ever wonder what would happen if you turned a bag of holding inside out?”

I take the bag from her and flash a smile. “The contents would spill out and it’d look like just a normal bag, at least until you turned it back inward. The enchantment only works if it has a space to fill, like a cup. At least, that’s what Shae told me.” The thought of her makes my heart steady a bit. “Shae…” I pick up my coat, attach my bags to it, and throw it on. “Never should have left her. She was sufferin’ under my nose. What good am I so far away from her?”

The masked mare chuckles. “Well, surely you’re in her thoughts. Let’s just hope they’re good ones.”

I stumble a bit as I get adjusted to the weight of my bags. “Uh, Miss…” I can’t think of anything to call this mare. “Miss, do you think… I’m not a good pony?”

The mare sighs. She seems to want to give a blunt answer, but she’s pondering the right thing to say. She approaches me and places her hoof on my shoulder. “You just… need to try harder. Does that sound fair?”

I take a deep breath as I let her answer sink in. There are things you want to hear, and things that you need to hear. Not entirely sure where this one lands. “I’ll take it.” I step outside of the tent, go to one of its corners, and begin taking it down. “Thanks, Miss. I don’t know who you are, really, but you can certainly sway a pony’s mind.”

The mare flies to the top of the tent and undoes one of the ropes. “I’m just glad I caught you before it was too late. I too have a mission, you see.”

“Is it of the secret sort? I wouldn’t mind hearing about it.”

The mare taps the chin area of her mask. “Actually, it seems I’ve already half completed it. Would you be so kind as to take this?” She presents another bag of holding to me, this one made with black fabric and a gold trimming. “Keep that close to you and don’t lose it. Oh, and tell Caro and Tohro that the Nightingales send their regards.”

The moment she says that, I drop the bag. It hits the ground with a metallic clattering. The hilts of two swords slide out of it, one black with a full spectrum of gems, the other long, decorated with fire rubies and a diamond pattern.

“No…” I take both hilts in my hooves and pull them out carefully. One platinum sword, bright as the sun, and one black katana, darker than the blackest night. Excalibur and Muramasa.

I look to ask the mare one of my many questions, but she’s already gone.

I look at the swords again, just to make sure they aren’t another hallucination. Much to my weakened heart’s relief, they’re real. Somehow, beyond all possibilities, they’re real. I touch the hilt of Excalibur and quickly pull away. I know I’m not worthy. And if the rumors about Muramasa are true, I don’t even want to even brush up against it, lest I end up consumed by bloodlust. If Caro used to be so nasty, then just imagine…

Keeping my foreleg away from Muramasa, I reach my hoof into the bag for more surprises. There aren’t any other weapons, for better or for worse, but I do find a scrap of parchment. Quite literally just a scrap; not a bit of writing on it.

No, it can’t just be nothing. Not when it’s so close to such treasures. “Show me your secrets,” I say to it. It doesn’t change. “I’m not a Nightingale, but maybe you can help me, a lone mare with a lot of amends to make? Come now?”

The scrap reacts to that. Either it takes pity on me, or it heard the word Nightingale. Letters begin to show in silver ink.

Speak the name.

“What name?” I ask. No response. I decide to speak the first name that comes to my mind. “Shae Sparkle?”

After a few seconds, the letters change to spell out Shae Sparkle. More ink appears around the name to form what looks like a pathway, along with some foothills and several trees. I quickly realize that I’m looking a map, and even greater than that, I’m seeing exactly where Shae is.

Her name appears among inscriptions spelling out Caro of Riverhoof and Tohro Blackwing. She walks between them, for some odd reason. I figured Caro and Tohro would walk side by side. The ink shifts as they approach a long bridge.

According to this map, the name of this area is Chitin Cross. I know where it is, and it’s actually not that far from here. If I hop a carriage to Everfree, I can intercept Dragonrein in a day, maybe two.

I hold the map to my chest and let out a long sigh. I smile and blink a few errant tears out of my eyes. “Why do I ever leave you? I swear, Shae, if you help me save Nutmeg and Cinnamon, I’ll marry you the moment we set hoof out of…”

My eyes widen as I notice something new in the corner of the map. It’s a moving red dot. No, wait, two dots… three… six… All of them closing in on Shae, Caro and Tohro.

I… I should go.

XLIV - Line of Sight

~Shae~

I don’t know where I am… No… No, wait. Of course I do. This infinite night sky, I’ve been here countless times. I live here. I am a Divine, after all. We all live here.

The Plains of Eternity never cease to fill me with a joy unlike any other. Like a blanket after a long summer’s day of frolicking among the mortal folk, this wonderful feeling washes over me as I gallop along the seemingly infinite stars. The world below need not concern me for the time being; it sleeps now, as do its denizens. Until I must raise the sun, my time is mine and mine alone.

I leap from one constellation to the next in a single bound. As I spread my wings, lights dance through my bronze mane, becoming one with my alabaster coat. I land upon a blue and red nebula, and turn my head skyward to look upon a distant galaxy. Turning, swirling forever among the void, I wonder what sorts of constellations it holds? Perhaps I can take a flight over there for a spell, and see what portraits I can make with its stars. I’m sure I would be back by morning.

Oh, but I know myself too well. Not long after arriving, I would end up distracting myself with my artwork, and my dearest sister would not be terribly amused if I were to return even slightly late. We are gods, after all. Our responsibilities take precedence over all other things, as we ourselves preside over all things. And besides, I would never forgive myself if I wasn’t there to bring the world alive.

Instead, I settle for a different sort of entertainment. I turn my horn to a collection of stars within the nebula, lifting them up to my level. I bend and shift them, I spin them all about until they bind together and take the form of another pony. Granted, they are featureless, bright as a star and do not speak, but by my will they move forward, bowing to me and offering their hoof.

I act as though I didn’t expect such a gesture. I take the pony’s hoof and bow to them in return. “Why yes, I would love to partake in a dance with you.”

And so we dance. It is slow at first, our legs moving gracefully, crossing each other, sometimes intersecting, yet never do we stumble. I turn my head and take a step away, sweeping my hoof through the nebula. Its colors splash against me, yet my coat remains untainted. I leap into the air and twirl over to my dancing partner, who reaches out to me. I take their hooves in mine and lead them into flight.

My foreleg wraps around their waist, the other held to its length by their hoof as we spin around in the air. The stars become a white blur around me up until the point where we stop and let go of each other. We descend onto a pathway made entirely of stars, our dance slowing once again. The bright pony gently takes my hoof and bestows upon it a polite kiss. Then, with a swish of my horn, they disappear.

“Thank you,” I say.

“Partaking in self-amusement, sister?” I hear a certain somepony speak from down the star path. Dearest Epona, why must you sound so condescending towards all I do? I see her in the distance, her chestnut wings spread as she leaps onto the path, landing in front of me. “I figured you would be down below, fraternizing with the mortals.”

“Nothing passes you by, does it?” I ask playfully. “Since when is socializing a sin?”

Epona smiles and sighs. “I never said it was, loved one. ‘Twas but a question. Although I must ask another…” She brushes her hoof against my own, rather smitten by the sight of my new bracelet. “Rubies and sapphires? Why do you wear such earthly items? It ill suits your celestial regalia.”

I glance at the radiant metallic vestments that decorate my body, and compare them to the bracelet’s humble steel and gemstones. “I know, I know, it’s not quite appropriate, but how can I say no when a strapping stallion offers me something of his own creation?” I chuckle as I recall his nervous laughter, and how much his foreleg shook as he slipped this bracelet onto my hoof. “Ah, Hephaestus…”

Epona’s interest in the bracelet is renewed. “A mere pony created that?”

“Don’t think much of it, sister. He heard of my arrival and saw fit to welcome me in his own special way.”

Epona raises her eyebrow at me. “Care to rephrase that, loved one?”

I chortle and step past my dear sister. “I just think it amusing to have an admirer go so much further than the usual prayer. So many voices can get lost to even my ears; a physical gift is far more memorable, wouldn’t you agree?”

“It is, but…” Epona’s horn comes alight. “I come to you tonight out of confusion. See, ponykind isn’t exactly what I would consider a race of creative types. At least, I’ve never intended them to be. And yet…” With a swing of her head, a collection of moving projections rise from the star path on either side of me and Epona. “I have cause for concern, and so should you.”

The first projection I look upon displays a herd of sleeping ponies in an open field. The moon sits high above them as they lie peacefully among each other. I’m particularly warmed by the sight of the children snuggled up close to their parents. At least, I assume those are their parents.

“Honestly, either I’m in a moment of daftness, or there’s nothing wrong with what I see here,” I say with a hearty chuckle.

“I won’t accuse you of the former. I simply ask that you look at the clouds.” Epona gestures to the sky of the projection, on which a few stray cirrus clouds drift along. “They should not be moving while my children sleep, nor should the wind be blowing. Not without your jurisdiction.”

Well, under normal circumstances. I don’t have it in my heart to tell my dear sister that this might become the new normal. She’ll either figure it out for herself in due time, or she’ll guilt me into answering. Epona can be very persuasive.

“How odd. I would suggest walking among your little ones. Ask if there’s anything strange they’ve taken notice of, moving clouds aside. Perhaps a rustle of grass, or a hint of unscheduled snow?” I turn on a single hoof and trot away with a proud smile. “I, myself, fancy a flight.”

The moment I turn my head, Epona has shifted positions. She appears in front of me, seeming just on the cusp of furious. “What did you do to my children, Fauste?”

CHAPTER XLIV - LINE OF SIGHT

“Fauste?”

I wake up, my eyes shooting open. Again, it makes no difference, but I don’t have to see to know that my invisibility spell worked. Whatever passed by earlier didn’t catch wind of me. Either I’m better at mimicking Eavesdrop’s specialty than I thought I was, or these… things… are not very intelligent. Judging by their nonsensical, primitive language, I’m more willing to assume the latter.

I come to realize that there are ways to appreciate the sunlight, despite being blind. This accursed cave’s pungent stench and suffocating moistness is taking its toll on my remaining senses. It’s all the same. I have nothing to indicate if I make any progress forward. And who’s to say forward is even the way out? What if it were to lead me straight to whatever’s lurking about here? What would they do to me?!

I stifle a shriek by slamming my hooves to my muzzle. It hurts. As I keep my mouth shut, I breathe, very slowly. I inhale for so long I fear I might pass out. After several minutes of it, my heartbeat slows ever so slightly. Not enough, but it’s a start.

I lean my head against the wall. I’ve only just woken up, and already I’m exhausted. Every second is filled with fear and dread of things I can’t see. Is this my life now? Even among the safety of the Imperial Legion in the Rainbow Palace, will I forever remain in fear?

I shoot to attention, my forehooves digging into the ground while my hind legs are kept to the ground by my terror. I hear growling. Snarling. Something doglike. Did a pack of wolves find their way in here? Perhaps a bear? Bears sleep in caves… Oh no, did I wake one up in a panic?

Now I hear steps. Hoofsteps. Somepony’s coming this way. I focus my magic once again, in the same way as before, and hope that I’m turning invisible. I don’t know what I can do to defend myself against something I can’t see. If I am caught… I think I’ll just have to hope I can scream loud enough to go berserk. But will they even allow me to?

The hoofsteps grow louder, as does my heartbeat. Closer and closer, inch by inch…

There’s nopony here, there’s nopony here, there’s nopony here, there’s nopony here, there’s nopony here, there’s nopony here leave me alone go away go away GET AWAY FROM ME!

Hooves wrap around my neck.

“NO! LEAVE ME ALONE!!” I scream, piercing even my own ears. “GET OFF! GET OFF! I’LL KILL YOU!!”

“Well, I hope not, lassie! Else we’d both have one less pretty thing to look at!”

I freeze up as the revelation slowly hits me. It’s not a monster. Never have I been so happy to hear that thick northern brogue. “ROSEMARY!” I scream, this time a different sort of hysterical. I melt, both physically and emotionally, bursting into tears as Rosemary scoops me into her embrace. “H-how did you… You were gone…”

“Ya think I could stay away?” Rosemary says. She sounds so brave. “I need you, in more ways than one. And I get a feelin’ that you need me right now. These caves ill suit you. Somethin’ scare ya silly?” She gently strokes my cheeks. After hours of nothing but hard rocks and dirt, her cracked hooves are the softest thing I know of. “Some beastie I need to get back at for ya?”

“No, I…” I rest my foreleg over hers.

“Blimey, Shae. What happened to your eyes?” she asks.

I sniffle. I never thought of how I would tell her. In this case, though… I must be honest. “I’m blind…” I say, my voice quivering. “I used the Elder Scroll to fix Caro… It did this to me in return.”

If I could see Rosemary, I’d imagine she’d be fuming. “Who made that Elder Scroll?! I’ll break their legs!” Indeed, she’s fuming.

“It’s nothing you can do anything about,” I reassure her. “It hurts, yes… But I…”

“Why you?! Why is it always you?!” She removes her foreleg from me. I hear it slam into the wall. “DAMMIT!”

“Rose, please!” I plead. “It’s nothing you can do anything about! I hate this as much as you do, hell, I’m terrified! But don’t let this be your fault!”

“It’s always my fault…” Rosemary sighs. “Any time I can’t be there to pull you out of danger, or say the right words to make you feel strong, that’s my fault.” I hear her take a sharp breath. “Well, if you can work through this, I’ll help you every step of the way, I suppose… You can still help me. But first, let’s get you out of here.”

“Of course I’ll help you… But do you know the way out?” I ask with a cautious smile. “And have you encountered Caro or Tohro?”

“When I heard you whimperin’, I had to go off course. Haven’t been able to locate them. But they’ll be fine. Our boys simply laugh at death. As for us, we should leave as soon as equinely possible.” I hear parchment rustling in her grip. “I got a bit of help from a friend in a high place, see. If it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t’ve been able to find you, or figure out that I can’t complete my mission on my own.”

“What is your mission?” I ask.

“I’ll tell you later, when I’m…” I hear her shudder. “W-when I’m ready. But I owe you everythin’ if you help me with it, so you’d best think of somethin’ good for me to do.”

“I will.” I nod excitedly. "Because, honestly, I think you owe me for all the times you’ve taken off unannounced.”

The parchment rustles again. “Ain’t I ever the tricky skeever? Still, I’ll make a point to let you know when…” she goes quiet.

“That’s not funny, Rose,” I remark.

She laughs out loud. “Sorry! I was just lookin’ for the quickest way to the surface… Aha! This route should take us fairly close to the villa.”

“The villa’s up north, isn’t it? That’s a while away from Everfree…”

“It’s what I need you for…” Rosemary says with a bit of reluctance. “I won’t put you in danger, especially as you are. I promise.”

“I trust in that.”

“All I need from you is to set a few things in order, supply some magical aid, that sort of thing. Caro and Tohro can do the rest. And if you’re truly concerned about Celina and Luna, we can have a courier send a message, Oh! Even better, I can hire a carriage to take you to Everfree faster than we’d ever get on hoof! The runnin’ boys at the villa don’t slow down for nothin’! I remember, back when I was about a hundred pounds lighter, they—”

“Rose?” I say, wanting to stop her before she hurts herself. “Please come here.” I wait for her to shift positions. I then pucker my lips and eagerly await the moment she kisses me. When our lips part, I say plainly, “Thank you.”

I don’t see the light, but I can feel it, no question about that. The difference is like night and day. As I step into the warmth that enraptures my body, I listen to the sounds of rain. Until now, I didn’t appreciate how many different sounds rain can make beyond hitting the ground. I hear it collide with the stone wall, descend along the cracks and seams, coalescing with other drops along the way, until it settles into the corner, becoming one with the earth.

Huh, was that all a single drop? And how do I know there’s a wall here?

“We’re walkin’ along a cliffside, lass,” says Rosemary. “Mind your hooves.” Rosemary takes my forelegs and lifts them, moving them to the left until I’m touching the wall. “There. Stay close, and follow my sound.”

I listen for her hooves, moving my hind legs every time I hear her take a step. “How narrow is the path?”

“Not as wide as you’d want, not as thin as you’d think. I’ll let you know when it’s safe to walk freely. In the meantime, I’ll keep talkin’ so you don’t lose me.”

I want her to keep talking regardless of how I am. “Okay… You’re good at this. Helping me along and all…”

“I raised my siblin’s practically by myself. I know a thing or two about helpin’ the helpless.” She lets out a small gasp. “Oh, not that you’re—”

“I know,” I interrupt, not wanting her to embarrass herself. “So, tell me about your siblings. Nutmeg and Cinnamon, are they? I’ve been eager to meet them. Are they even half as brave as you are?”

“Half as brave, half as stupid. Little sweethearts, the both of them. You’ll see for yourself when you meet them. You know what their favorite thing to do is? Go on, guess.”

"Um..." I pretend to think for a moment. "Study?"

"There aren't any schoolhouses at the villa. We’re baron warriors with years worth of books, we never needed such a thing. Try again, this is fun."

My imagination takes hold. I see her, albeit dressed more properly in fine robes, with two little ponies running around, playing soldier while she watches happily; not a boisterous, cocky sort of happy, but a warm, glowing sort of happy. Such a vivid fantasy, it’s as though I can reach out and touch it.

I hazard another guess. “Hm… Do they listen to their sister and do everything she says?"

Rosemary sighs and chuckles. "Cinnamon usually does, but I should be so lucky with Nutmeg."

"There's always a feisty one. But sounds like he learned from the best."

"Nutmeg's the filly, silly,” Rosemary quips.

"Oh!" I let out a giggle. "Well, that just makes it all the more appropriate."

"There's a smile. Wish you could see how beautiful you look right now."

My smile fades at that. I know she didn't mean it, but it still hurt.

"Oh, I'm so sorry..." Her hoof graces my cheek, like always when she wants to comfort me.

"No no... it's alright. I'll just have to learn to live with it... I believe you."

My mind sees myself smiling widely, almost as if it'll break out of the edges of my face. Seeing myself wrapped in Rosemary's strong embrace makes me feel so flustered.

I make that vision a reality. I remove my forelegs from the wall and wrap them around Rosemary, and she returns the favor several times over. Her grip is mighty, like a titan gripping a tadpole. “If it makes you feel better,” she says, “just pretend I’m your knight in shinin’ armor. It’s always been a bit of a fairy dream of mine. Closest I ever got was stoppin’ a few two-bit crooks and sleepin’ in a cellar, but I always have the dream.”

“You’ll get there someday. I can imagine you in a suit of armor. You already have the figure for a soldier’s uniform.”

“Let’s not get carried away, love…”

I smirk and put on the voice of a damsel in distress. “You’ll protect me, won’t you? Oh, my brave knight!”

I laugh as her hoof scratches the peak of my mane affectionately. If anypony else were doing it, I'd find it uncomfortable. Not with Rosemary, though. Not for a moment. "Knight of the noogies, at your service, m'lady!" she jests in a dramatic boast. She then kisses me between the eyes. "All unfortunate accidents aside, I'm havin’ the time of my life. Just bein’ with you is enough.”

I hear the snarling again. “Rose, is that you?”

“‘Scuse me, lass?”

I let go of Rosemary and cautiously go around her. My hoof nearly slips on the edge, but Rosemary is able to pull me back onto safe ground and let me advance forward. The snarling is still there, echoing off the cliff face. “Can’t you hear that?” I ask.

Rose grunts. “Now I can, yes… That can’t be good. But we can’t turn around. Keep goin’. I’m right here.”

“I know.”

“Just let me take the lead…” I feel the laces of Rosemary’s jacket brush against my coat as she maneuvers around me. “You’re very close to the edge, so scoot back.”

I do as she asks, moving until my back hits the wall. Rosemary starts walking, and I follow. I listen closely for more snarling, hoping that it was just the wind against a peculiarly shaped rock formation. I can hope that, anyway. “We’re nearly there?” I ask.

“Nearly off this path? Yes. There’s an open area ahead, a few large rocks surroundin’ it. I think we’re finally clear of the cave.”

“That’s wonderful…” I sigh happily. In moments of desperation, even a small victory is a blessing. “After all that’s happened, I could do with a bath.”

“Ain’t that an appealin’ thought? I’m sure there’s a pond or two to be found in this spot of land. Can you still use magic?” Rosemary asks.

Rosemary’s hoofsteps increase in speed as I feel the path broaden. I know now that it’s safe to move away from the wall, “I believe so. I may need a little direction, but—”

I hear the noise again. It’s close, very close. Among the sounds of snarling and growling, I hear scrapes. Loud, booming steps against solid stone.

Rosemary gasps. I hear her draw her sword. “Shae, you’d better hide.”

“Where?”

“Run forward, find a rock, get behind it. I can handle this one.”

I start moving. Compared to the terror I felt back in the cave, knowing nothing of my surroundings or what could be hunting for me, this is merely concerning. But I know Rosemary is strong enough to take on a single foe, whatever it may be.

“What is it?” I ask, sliding behind a stone barrier. It’s big enough to hide me, and hopefully the rain will dowse my scent.

I hear a sharp growl, and a clash of metal. “It’s a lycan, and it ain’t friendly!” Rosemary yells. She grunts several times between loud poundings of the ground. I hear the lycan yelp, and assume that Rosemary landed the first blow. So long as I hear her moving and leaping about, with confident chuckles every time she dodges an attack or dishes out a successful strike, I can rest easy.

The lycan resumes its assault. As Rosemary continues to resist its attacks, I start to wonder why a lycan would be hunting us. I know that it can’t be of the Carrier Clan, as the lycans within their circle have full control over the transformations. Until now, I never truly considered the existence of lycans outside of the Carrier Clan, despite knowing that they do exist.

We’re faced with two possibilities here. Either this lycan has fully embraced the bloodthirstiness of its transformation, or it’s a victim of poor circumstance, and Rosemary will have to put the unfortunate pony within out of their misery. How awful… I’d hate to be in her spot.

I hear Rosemary yelp. “Damn!” Her sword clatters to the ground. She’s wincing in pain. I think she’s straining herself to pick her sword back up.

“What happened?” I ask with a tremor in my voice.

“My foreleg! It got my—” I hear a blunt bash, cutting Rosemary off. I hear her slide on the ground, cough, and groan. “Urgh. Sunuvabitch…”

I hate this. I’m blind, I’m hiding like a coward, and my love is being played with like a slab of meat. I’m allowed to be scared, but I will not sit by and do nothing. “Get away from her!” I scream, rising above my barricade and channeling my anger and terror into my horn. I fire off a blast strong enough to knock me on my back. I then hear a rock formation explode and collapse.

“Holy shit…” I mutter.

Evidently, that did the trick. I hear Rosemary get back on her hooves and grab her sword. “That’s right, don’t mess with… Hey, where are you goin’, furball?!”

I hear the lycan sprint away from Rosemary, and she gives chase. Their combined movements get louder by the second. I gasp I as realize that the lycan is coming right for me. I slip on my wet coat trying to move away from my barricade, making it only a jump away before I feel my coattails tighten and snag. The lycan has me in its grip.

“NO!” I scream as I’m pulled out of hiding and into the air. I hit the ground on my back, sending a reverberating burst of pain throughout my whole torso. I belt out a bloodcurdling shriek, only silenced when the lycan grabs my head, covering my mouth, and throws me away. My head slams into solid stone, horn first.

My scream resumes, drowned out only by the rain puddle I lie in. I clutch my horn. It’s worse than every headache I’ve ever had combined. All noises dwindle into whistling, my screaming overtaking it all. Though my vision remains black, the throbbing in my head somehow becomes visible, pounding in my eyes. A faint, red ripple against the darkness.

I slam my hoof into the ground, and in my anger, I can’t bring myself to tolerate my hoof stopping there. I demand that the ground moves for me, and it does. I feel a crater form where my hoof makes contact.

That’s it… I’m not powerless. I’m not weak. I’m not some victim! Bandits can’t kill me, cultists can’t kill me, Shokenda can’t kill me... Dragons can’t kill me! I’ll be damned if I’m done in by a dog! And if this is the day I die, I refuse to die in darkness!

I’m not useless! I am a unicorn! I am a Sparkle! I am the future headmistress of Wintercolt Academy! Protege of Headmaster Frosthelm! I am the mother of the immortal princesses! I’m one of the strongest mages alive! I will not stop until I’m on the level of the Fauste herself!

“What the hell is this?” Epona asks incredulously. She examines the paper I’ve given her like I’ve written several lines of expletives upon it.

“I already told you, it’s one of my scrolls. I rather fancy the name Elder Scroll, what do you think? Although it might make the little ones think an elderly equine designed them… Oh well, it’s fitting enough.”

“Fauste, please…” Epona folds up the parchment and sets it nicely on the star path, as opposed to giving it back to me. I know when I’m being insulted, but at the very least she had the decency to not throw it away. “I’ve known you to be creative, but this is a flight of fancy, at best. I can’t imagine a world where such a thing would be necessary. It’s just so… overly complicated.”

“So is a pony, but you managed to shape them in your image regardless, without fuss or fail.” I gesture to the blue and green world beneath the path we walk. “It truly is a work of art. I’ve admired it ever since its inception. All I ask is that I get to play a part in its beauty.”

Epona smiles. “Flatterer. But your words do ring sincere. You’re many things, but a liar is not one of them.” She returns to the parchment and picks it up. “What do you intend on doing with this, again?”

My wings flap excitedly. I stand next to Epona, my hoof grazing the crinkles of the paper. “I mulled over it for a long time. I thought perhaps I could write down guidelines. Rules. Ideas for ponykind to follow in times of doubt. But I decided against all of that.”

Epona sniffs the scroll. “Hm. I sense tremendous strength within it.”

“Well, I did put a bit of myself into it. Just a bit, though. I figured, in times of crisis, your children could make use of these to help them see their goals through. A bit of a helping hoof from yours truly.”

Epona doesn’t seem too amused. She merely grunts. “Continue. I know you wouldn’t stop there.”

“You know me well. I also jotted down a few key events, based on what I saw when I looked through the stream of time.”

“Events?”

I pass over a sketch of a six ponies — two unicorns, two pegasi, two earthwalkers — all with their forelegs crossed. “I only caught a few glimpses, and even then, whatever I saw might not come to pass. I haven’t written any details, or even specified the genders for these six,” I giddily explain. “All that matters is that, at one point in time, six ponies will cross hooves in unity. I don’t know when, or how, but it will happen.”

“And what if it doesn’t happen?” Epona asks.

I shrug and take the scroll back. I roll it back into its container and send it away. “Then, I will have been wrong. But, as Hephaestus told me, there’s nothing wrong with being wrong.”

“Unless being wrong could condemn my ponies to an unhappy future. You’ve already thrown things off-balance, you know. Letting clouds move on their own, setting the wind free, and what’s this I hear of seasons? Snow beyond the mountaintops, Fauste, it’s just madness.”

As she always does when she wants to have the last word, Epona turns and walks away. I know that she wants to end this argument right here and now, just as she has every time we’ve discussed my ideologies. But I won’t allow her to walk away this time. It’s my turn to have the last word.

I leap to Epona and land in front of her. “It’s not madness. It’s chaos, there’s a difference. And chaos is a wonderful thing.”

“Why?” Epona raises an eyebrow.

“Because chaos brings change. If I can instill just a little bit of chaos among these ponies, then maybe, just maybe, they can find their own way. They can use their own unique talents to change their world for the better.”

“And they would want to change the world… why?”

“I’ve seen the looks on their faces as they run and graze and sleep in the fields. Yes, they’re content, but they’re bored, Epona. They’re happy, content, and bored. They have a world rich in materials and space, they have the capacity for creativity and drive, but you never gave them the means. You left them incomplete.”

“Hm. Well, while you’re telling me the difference between chaos and madness, allow me to tell you the difference between complete and perfect.”

Epona points to the stars. Their alignments change until they take the forms of several ponies. They all kick their forelegs and break into a gallop, running across the sky until they reach a distinct red nebula.

“I only made the three races for the sake of identification, but you suggest giving them all unique abilities for their own sake. I don’t need to look through the stream of time to know what that will bring.”

Some of the ponies, specifically earthwalkers, leap to the top of the nebula without any struggle. The unicorns fail to do the same, falling down with every attempt to scale the massive structure. The earthwalkers laugh for their success, but it’s short lived. The pegasi fly up to the top, kicking the earthwalkers off. They are only able to stay on high for so long before the unicorns summon their magic to lift the pegasi up by their wings and drag them down by force. They then levitate themselves up to the top of the nebula.

“I see inequality. Inequality breeding contempt. Contempt breeding a struggle for superiority. A struggle bringing war. A war bringing death. Death to my children, Fauste. Why would I permit such a thing?”

"Your ponies are no more than dolls, as they are. Figurines. If you had your way, you’d just create more figurines and place them around a stagnant blue marble. I looked into them, sister. Their minds yearn and desire more.”

“Fauste—”

“You call me irresponsible? Not a week ago, you scattered a gathering of ponies that had formed around a tall tree to escape the rain. The month prior you snuffed the flames of a fire spell a foal had cast to bring warmth to its cave. You call that perfection? You’ll only drive them to hate you. You gave them such beautiful minds, hearts, and souls, but no place for them to truly become their own. Throw some chaos into this orderly arranged playfield, and suddenly you'll have new structures to protect from wind and rain, new places for them to congregate. New languages so they can speak to one another as do you and I... Sister, just the smallest spark of change could have them sing!"

“Sing? Is this all some performance to you?” Epona asks, confused and aghast.

I advance on her, my glare intense. I’m at the apex of fear and excitement, and I’m not coming down. In my passionate, happy anger, I find myself singing. “‘Neath a faltered sky, cross loamless plains, and watered bliiiight!”

Epona places her hoof over my muzzle. “Would you compose yourself?!”

“Where gone those days once glory shone so bright?!”

“That’s enough out of you!” Epona waves her foreleg and wing simultaneously. I’m swept off my hooves, thrown onto my side. Stars form a wake in my path of collapse. “I won’t wait for the day my children destroy one another for you to understand how wrong you are!” Epona yells, hovering over me with wide eyes. “Sister, you must give up this pointless pursuit!” She glares at me. “Unless you wish to test my strength.”

“You always left me in the dirt, even when we were young…” I flap my wings and stand back up. I brush the stardust off of my coat, returning me to my natural gleam. “But I’ll take my chances.” I light my horn.

My horn is alight. I don’t need to hear its telltale sound, or see its bright glow, I just know it’s alight. I can feel it. I can feel the Fae coursing through my blood, my nerves, my organs, my everything.

Leaving a crater in the ground wasn’t good enough. I turn to the wall behind me and bring my foreleg around. I focus the Fae into the tip of my hoof, and just as it makes contact, the wall shatters, bringing down a cascade of stones and dust. I concentrate on the Fae within the earth and silently command it to obey me, and it does. I feel it form a shield around me, protecting me from the rest of the falling debris.

I turn my head, and suddenly the picture becomes clearer. Out from my hooves, the curtain is lifted, and the world becomes visible to me, all surfaces appearing as a faint blue glow. The world has no texture, but it has light. Light that bends and shifts to form a landscape before me. I can see it. I can see it all.

“Get back, you lout!”

I see Rosemary as well, and the lycan she fights. They stand out from the rest of the world, aglow and bright. Rosemary is a rich yellow, with her hooves shining brighter than the rest of her. The lycan is a deep red, and its light pulsates as though it’s on fire.

Rose swings her sword, but the lycan knocks her foreleg aside and grabs ahold of it, as well as her other one. It lifts her up and pins her to the ground, leering over her. It snarls, showing off its bloody teeth.

Blood is especially bright to me now. I can see specks of it all over the ground, intermingling with the rainwater. But I can’t focus on that. I need to help Rose.

I command my earth shield, collapsing it and sending every piece of stone after the lycan. Just before it tries to take a bite out of what’s mine, a rock slams into its back. It turns, roaring, only to be pelted with more stone. It yelps as a large slab breaks across its forehead. But even that’s not enough to take it down. Now its attention is on me.

I concentrate the Fae within the ground into my hooves. With its power, I’m able to leap effortlessly into the air, right over the charging lycan. I pull the rain out of the air and focus it into a ball of water. As soon as I land behind the lycan, I bring the weight of the water down over its body, forcing it onto the ground. I then force the water back up, sending the lycan into the air.

I tap my hooves to my horn, and from it I pull out two ethereal whips. I send them out to the wolf, and they wrap around its body. With a yell, I bring it over me and slam it into the ground.

I concentrate on a single hoof, willing the Fae within it to expand. In an instant, my hoof is surrounded by wisps. I leap onto the lycan, and just as it roars at me, I bring my hoof onto its chest. There’s a mighty crack that ruptures the air. The wisps burst out from the point of impact, spreading over the lycan’s body. Its head goes limp, though its eyes remain open, and it still breathes.

My heart couldn’t be pounding any faster as I get off the tamed lycan. Rosemary, however, is completely aghast, panting heavily as she lies prone on the ground.

“Up you get,” I say, levitating her onto her hooves. She doesn’t weigh more than a feather.

“H-how, did… did you…” She runs her hoof through her hair, noticing her hat is gone. I levitate that as well, back onto her head. “Shae, that was…”

“Amazing…” After a moment’s silence, I stomp my hooves in place and giggle, like I would have if I had gotten top marks on an academy final. I leap around Rosemary in a fit of jovial laughter. “Ahahahaha! I did it! I-I don’t know what I did, but… but I did it! I just focused on myself, and the world around me, and then I saw the Fae and...” I stop myself in the air. “Fauste’s horn! Rose, I can see!”

“What?!” Rose exclaims with a wide smile. She takes my hoof, pulling me down to her. Her glow is a bit more mild up close, and I can see the details in her face and clothes, but she’s still just a single color to me. I also can’t help but notice that her various scars, freckles, and other blemishes are gone. “You gave me a heart attack with your goin’ blind, and suddenly you get it all back in an instant? What is your deal, Shae Sparkle?!”

“I didn’t get my sight back, Rose, I… I just… sense the Fae. Like… Like when I look at you!” I touch her cheek. Finally I’m able to see the light of my foreleg. It’s a radiant purple. “I see your soul, Rose! You look beautiful!”

“And you… have glowin’ eyes.”

“Do I?” I touch my own face, then look around for a puddle. I see one, and walk towards it, taking a gander at myself. At least, I try to. I can't see reflections, as they don't carry any Fae of their own. I'll just have to take Rose's word for it. “I don’t think I can do anything about that.”

“Please, don’t! It’s a good look for you.” Rosemary walks up to me and brushes her hooves along the front of my robes. “...I’ve never seen you so powerful. Not just with your magic, with your… You look taller.”

“I feel taller. I feel a lot of things.” I stand on my hind legs, motioning my forelegs upward. The puddle goes with them. “I could do this before, easily… But this…” I move my forelegs again, and the floating puddle changes into my family crest, the six-pointed star. Then it shifts into a mobius strip. Then a sword. Then, with a dramatic swing of my hooves, it disperses, splattering back to the ground. “The world is at my beck and call!” I turn to Rosemary and levitate her over to me, her yipping in surprise as I hug her tight.

“Shae! Darlin’, please!”

At Rosemary’s behest, I finally let myself calm down. I let go of her, and chuckle as she brushes herself off. “Oh, sorry…”

Rosemary walks back towards the still incapacitated lycan, picking up her sword. “Shae, I’ve had a hell of a day,” she says. “I’ve seen things that I’d rather not have seen, had a few encounters I’d sooner forget… My heart can’t take much more, and I’d like to lie down for a while before I take another step.” She walks over to a nearby wall of stone and falls onto her haunches, leaning up against it. She beckons to me, and I answer, walking to her and sitting down beside her.

I manage to get her smile to come back when I set my head against her neck. I see her light flourish a little from my contact.

Rosemary gestures to the lycan. “How long do you think it’ll be out?”

“Long enough, hopefully,” I say. “That was a petrification spell. Very taxing, especially when used on larger beasts. I didn’t think I’d be able to pull it off, but…” I look at my hooves, which begin to glow. I wave my hooves, forcing the glow to disappear, and continue. “With any luck, it… I mean, they’ll turn back into a pony before they wake up.”

“Ten bits says they’re a mare,” Rosemary says. “Look at the mane. It’s shorter than the male wolves’ were at the battle of Ghastly Gorge. The muzzle is also a bit pointier, and there’s that tuft of fur on its chest… Don’t take my word for it, it’s been a while since I last picked up a bestiary, and even then, all I can really remember are the pictures.”

“That’s still very astute of you.”

“The bestiary books were my favorite, back in the villa’s library. My daddy always got me new ones on my birthday.” Rose sighs. “He read every page to me, and only him.” Her light begins to flicker. “He inspired me to read to Nutmeg and Cinnamon.” Her light dims slightly as she lowers her head. “And Mum, well… She just kept bein’ a soldier.”

I touch her chin and bring her head back up. “Rose, if you’re going to cry, please let me stop you.”

She’s not crying. She looks determined. Resolute. “Shae, I put up with everythin'… That villa is like a display case to me. It’s beautiful, and cold, and dry, and lonely, and I wasn’t allowed to do anythin'. Couldn’t touch my father’s swords, no sir. No roughhousin', lest I break some precious family vase. I couldn’t do anythin' to make Mum proud of me. She never trusted me with anythin' that wasn’t food or clothes. Didn’t allow me to make mistakes. Didn’t allow me to stick up for myself in times of doubt. I’m not a daughter. I’m a pawn. I’m a toy to her. Just some model of a pony she can place around the house at her convenience. At least, as convenient as I can be...” Rose whimpers and buries her face in her forelegs. "As if she wanted me in the first place..."

“Oh no…” I say, watching sadly as her light flickers out almost entirely. She’s dark and featureless now, a huddled wreck against the earth. I get close to her, as to not lose her somewhere I can’t see. My forelegs grip her tight, and my muzzle presses gently against hers. “I’m so sorry…”

“They wanted Nutmeg and Cinnamon...” she mutters. “They only wanted them… Daddy loved me, but to Tangerine, I was the tack. The tool. First chance she got, she found a rich bastard to marry me off to…” She bites her lip. “I swear on my own grave, if it means spiting her, I’ll never get married.”

“Never?” I ask, tilting my head.

Rosemary looks up at me, the light faintly coming back to her. She shakes her head, then kisses me beneath my right eye and rests her head against my shoulder.

I wondered when this day would come. I imagined it happening in snowfall, just outside Wintercolt Academy. A broach or hoofring embellished with my favorite gem (lapis lazuli). A dramatic hug or kiss as music escalated in the distance… I much prefer this. A simple talk under a downpour of rain as the happiness of seeing the world anew washes over me.

I lean my head back and let the rain cascade down my mane and face. Every drop is filled with a small glimmer of Fae, and I’m able to feel it against my fur and hair. It’s surreal, but it feels exactly as I would expect; like hundreds of little tingles over my body. Life in its most basic form, dripping off of me and onto the ground. The water will eventually soak in, or evaporate into mist, and the Fae within it will take a different form, joining other pieces of the Fae elsewhere in the world.

I hum to myself as an idea comes to mind.

The lycan stirs, the faintest growl escaping from its drooling mouth. It’s still unconscious, judging by its vacant expression. Its light is no longer red, as it’s not a threat to us anymore, but something about it has me curious. Perhaps, if I can see the Fae within Rosemary, I might be able to see into the lycan and discern the identity of the pony inside.

“Shae, what are you doin’?” Rosemary asks as I stand up and slowly approach the beast. “Not havin’ cold hooves already, are ya?”

“Just want to be sure… Either this poor thing lost control, or it actively wanted us dead.”

Rosemary clutches her sword. “If it’s the latter…”

I crouch down next to the lycan. It seems to be lucid enough now to follow me with its eyes, but it still can’t move beyond that much. I look into its eyes and notice how the red in them has subsided, and how the lycan’s brow has come unfurled. I’m also able to get a look at its irises. “Hm. Green,” I comment. “It looks sad. I think it’s coming back to sanity.”

The lycan whimpers. What was a monster just moments ago doesn’t seem any more harmful than a puppy. A large puppy, but even so. I can’t help but suspect this is just a newly transformed pony gone mad from the polymorphism. I don’t doubt how painful changing one’s entire skeletal structure might be.

“I’m sorry I hurt you. Can you turn back to normal?” I ask the lycan.

It shakes its head. It opens its mouth, its tongue contorting in a strange way. Odd half-barks keep escaping its throat, like it’s trying to say something.

I reach out with my magic and stroke the lycan’s mane. That calms it down. “Don’t hurt yourself. Just let me see who you really are…”

I focus on the lycan. It’s hard to understand, but if I focus my eyes enough, it’s as if I can see past its skin to the inside of its body. I don’t see organs or blood, just more pockets of Fae, conforming to the shape of its body. There’s not much to be found within the lycan. There’s not much need for magic when you have claws like swords.

Within its chest, I see a greater concentration of Fae, taking an equine form. A mare, just like Rose suspected. A strong body. A proper mane, tied back into a bun. If I strain myself, I can see the wrinkles under her eyes, her stone jaw, her orange mane—

“Fauste’s horn, it’s Tangerine,” I mutter.

“What?” Rosemary asks, rising up and dropping her sword.

I gesture to the lycan. I step in front of it, just in case Rosemary decides to do something stupid. “Rose, it’s—”

“WHAT?!” Rose slams her hooves to her mane, sounding much like a lycan herself. She hangs her head low and snarls. “HOW?! WHY WOULD SHE—”

I run to her and press my hoof to her lips. “She couldn’t control herself! She didn’t want to hurt you!”

“It’s a little late for that, wouldn’t you say?!” Rosemary pushes back against me, grabbing my hood. “Your magic eyes better be playin’ tricks, Shae Sparkle!”

“They aren’t! Rose, please…” I gently move her away from me and Tangerine. “I know this is complicated, but blind rage caused this problem, and it isn’t going to fix it. You can’t fix a fire by throwing more fire at it.”

Despite that, Rose looks fit to burst into flames. She bites her lip and storms off.

I call out to her as she descends to a lower level of the stone structure. “Don’t run off! Like it or not, we have to get her to safety! After she goes back to normal, you can ask her about everything.”

Tangerine is able to turn her head now. She looks at Rosemary, who, fuming as she is, kicks a few rocks away. I see the confusion and sadness in Tangerine’s wolfen eyes. It’s even more miserable than it would have been if she were a pony right now.

“Did you hear all of that? What she told me?” I ask Tangerine.

She nods.

“...You didn’t want to hurt her, right?”

She shakes her head, as I expected.

“This is your first time transforming, isn’t it? You lost control, couldn’t hold back the bloodlust?”

She nods again.

“Well, now you and Caro have something to talk about.”

Tangerine tilts her head, checking the surrounding area with a curious grunt.

“He’s not here. I lost him and Tohro in the caves. Wherever they are, though, I’m sure they’re better off than us. Now it’s just a matter of tracking them down...” I look at my hoof. “Hm. I wonder…”

Rosemary climbs back up to my level. She still looks sour, but not as enraged as before. She has her map tucked under her foreleg. “Think you can spot them usin’ your fancy eyes?”

I smile at Rose. “I might be able to sense their Fae, if I focus hard enough. Unless your map…?”

She sighs and stuffs the map into her bag. “I still can’t get a trace on them. I think the lass who lent me this thing was less genuine than she seemed, though given her dark garb and hood, I wonder why I should be surprised at all…”

I walk to an open patch of land and place my hoof on the ground. “She led you to me, so she was at least genuine in that regard. I might as well give this a go… It’s a long shot. I don’t really know the extent of these powers.”

I’ll show you, Shae.

Huh? Who are you?

I think you know that much. You’ve studied under my name for almost your entire life, I’d think you’d have figured out what’s happening by now.

You mean… you’re...

As I lie on my front, my body broken and my will to fight rapidly dwindling, Epona stands at the edge of the crater, reveling in her moment of victory, a well-earned one at that. Burns and bruises aplenty litter her face and body, and feathers fall from her wings when she flaps them in triumph.

For a moment, I see in her the young alicorn who would wrestle with me for domination over trivial matters, like choosing the name of a star, or playing with a toy one of us created. But now she’s several feet taller, her magic is stronger, and she no longer has a tooth gap.

This is different, though. She named this world, and she named its inhabitants. Ponies. Unicorns, pegasi and earthwalkers. They were always hers, and she never intended on letting them go. They’re still just toys to her. But from the moment I learned they could walk, run, talk, and develop the capacity for thought, I knew in my heart that they deserve more. They deserve magic.

Wisps float out of my mouth as I cough. I can only support myself by my forelegs. “You impress me, sister… I knew you were passionate, but I never thought you so driven to protect your… belongings…” I choke out. “Perhaps I… bit off more than I could chew.”

Epona chuckles mockingly. “It’s nothing new. I didn’t hurt you too badly, did I?”

I’m never worried about myself.

The damage we’ve caused extends far beyond this crater. Looking out into the field past Epona, I can see the remains of a mountain, half of it shattered from our fall from the sky. Scorches and fires blemish the grass, as do patches of ice and snow.

I look up at the sky. Gaps in the starlight are proof of our missed attacks, and new constellations show where we clashed.

Violence, in the end, did nothing for me. Epona is victorious, and several ponies have gathered around to bear witness to this. They’re confused. Unsure of why their beloved goddesses had a grudge match on their peaceful world.

“What say you we go back home?” Epona asks, fluttering down to my level. “I’ll put on a cup of tea. We can nurse these wounds, and go back to how we were.”

The ponies look at the damage we’ve caused. Some are covered in snow, others are nursing burns. Those who haven’t been inadvertently damaged are left in worry over the destruction of a mountain, and the sudden change in the stars. They’re afraid, and rightfully so.

Perhaps Epona has a point. If I were to grant my powers to them, the effects could be catastrophic. It could be more than a mountain toppled, or a field scorched. It could be a whole biome flattened or turned to glass.

Could be. Could be. But it doesn’t have to be that way, does it? They can do better than we have. They can have restraint. They can have but a sliver of my strength. Then, piece by piece, they can make this world theirs. They can go beyond what they are now, forever unto the horizon, evolving, becoming something more than just walking dolls. They can live. What greater gift is there than that?

I slowly reach out to my sister. I take in her majesty as much as I can, knowing that this might be the last chance I have to see her. She smiles reaches out to me in turn, which allows me to shove her hoof away.

“No.”

With one word, I let myself fall. My strength disappears at my command, my essence leaving my body, becoming strands of light. They feed into the ground, spreading out from where I lie, turning the ground into a glowing canvas; an expanding, glowing web.

I feel my essence spread beyond the crater, extending onto the grass. Every pony it overcomes begins to shine. Each one has a different color to their glow, forming a beautiful rainbow of lights that bring a never before seen radiance to the world. I wish I could see it from on high.

Epona steps away from me, her hooves trying to find spots of plain earth to stand on. “What is this?” she mutters. “What are you doing?”

I flash her a confident smile.

“What are you doing?!” she yells. “Was this your plan all along?! You intended on letting yourself die, just to make a point?!”

“You didn’t drive me to this…” I say in the most assuring voice I can manage. “I chose this path, so your children may choose for themselves.”

My body has become tethered to the ground. I can’t move, and my body is fading. There’s no turning back. My heart pounds as I anticipate what lies ahead for me, and the world I will soon become a part of.

I see an earthwalker’s hooves come alight. He looks at them, momentarily confused, but his concern disappears when he drags his hoof through the grass, able to pierce effortlessly. With this strength, he and his brethren can tame this land for their own, providing nourishment for ponykind.

Epona is still ignorant of her children. She’s focused entirely on me. “You're just going to... to abandon me? I made these ponies. I built this world... But you'd leave me with..."

“Everything,” I say. “Don’t be ashamed. It’s only nature running its course.”

As the clouds move above them, the pegasi feel newfound strength pour into their wings. With happy flaps, they take to the air, now able to transcend the boundaries that were once set for them.

"You have your children…” I say. “They'll show you things that you never knew about yourself. Life. Love. Their definition of beauty. All you need to do is open your mind to the possibilities, as I have."

“But it won’t matter if you’re not there!” Epona chokes out. She gallops to me and moves her hooves over my own, only to gasp when they pass through.

“I won’t truly be gone, loved one,” I assure her.

Finally, the unicorns. Their horns are no longer just an aesthetic distinction; it is a catalyst for my essence to take many forms. Lights in darkness. Elemental abilities. Levitation. They’ll come to learn a vast variety of skills in time. Knowledge is power, after all.

“But you won’t be here,” Epona pleads. “I wanted you to stay with me and shape this world into something perfect! Something beautiful! It could have been our world!”

I use the very last withering trace of my power to stroke Epona’s tearstained cheek. In all the time we’ve been together, I’ve never seen her openly weep. “It couldn’t be beautiful... It was already perfect,” I tell her.

“But… If you’re not here, then it’ll never...” Epona, clearly desperate and afraid, throws herself at me, trying to clutch what remains of my physical form. There’s little for her to grasp. “I-I love you, sister! P-please… Please don’t leave me…”

Over Epona’s shoulder, I look at the bracelet Hephaestus made for me. "Worry not. You shaped the world in a way that allowed me to be enlightened... I never thanked you for that. I truly do apologize." I glance at the surrounding ponies, solemnly smiling at their awestruck faces. "Treat them well."

“FAUSTE! FAAAAAAAUSTE!!”

I already feel the earth, sky, and sea abreast my being. I'm not atop or within any of it; I'm interwoven with it, into all things. More than the world, I am interwoven with the ponies I've grown to love. It's a constant, everlasting embrace from so many beings, young and old, big and small, pure and corrupt. I feel them all.

Including you, Shae Sparkle. I am with you, and every moment you are happy is me being happy with you, happy to experience life with you. I cherish every second.

All I can do is grant you this gift. I am so sorry you suffered for it. But you know me more than anypony else, and for that, I will light your way. Feel what I feel. See what I see. Let us walk this world together.

We will, Fauste. Thank you.

“Shae? You’re cryin’.” Rosemary comments.

“Huh?” I dab these unexpected tears off of my cheek. “D-don’t know where that came from…”

“You’re sure?”

I consider everything I just saw. Everything that it could mean. How can I explain the feeling of understanding? Knowing the origin of everything I am, everything I defined myself as? It’s intangible. I don’t know how to make it known. Even if I had the words to describe it, I don’t think it could be comprehended by those I told it to.

Maybe someday, when this fight is over, I can try to explain what I’ve seen. For now, though, this is something I will keep to myself… and perhaps Celina and Luna. They’d likely understand.

“I’m fine. Better than fine, actually…” I say, smiling back at Rose. “I think I can find our boys.”

My hoof remains in contact with the ground. With just a thought, I send out a pulse through the Fae, and in my skin feel everything the pulse comes in contact with. Stone, grass, water, wind… I blush as I feel a bit of Rose in there as well. Her smell, her voice, how her fur feels, it all washes over me in an instant.

I feel a few more ponies through the Fae. Their smells are less pleasant; musky and filthy, voices of gravel. Those must be the cave dwellers I had the fortune of not seeing.

“Anythin’?” Rose asks.

“Hold on…” The tension climbs. I worry that I’ll sense an outlying village’s whole population before I detect Caro or Tohro.

Then, suddenly, I feel them. Musky smells again, along with a hint of perfume. I can also hear their voices, though whatever they’re saying is a mystery. They talk softly to each other. Either not to be heard, or otherwise… I try to focus on them, and where they might be. By how far deep I had to reach, I can assume they’re underground, and their trace is gaining distance by the second. They’re moving away from us.

“Damn. I found them, but we might have to go back underground to find them,” I say. Then, an idea strikes me. “Or… perhaps we just need to place ourselves somewhere they can find us.”

Rose smiles and nods. “There you are. We just need to figure out what to do with our, uh…” She turns and glares at Tangerine, who remains in her lycan form. “...cargo?”

“She’s your mother, Rose. Be better than how you feel about her.” She does have a point, though. I don’t know when Tangerine will return to normal, nor do I think lugging her around in a dangerous place like this while she’s vulnerable is a good idea. “Hm. Come to think of it, I don’t really know what to do. We can’t just leave her here.”

Rose grunts. “We’re agreed there.”

“Levitation might be our best—” I start to say. Before I can continue, I feel another presence within the Fae, an intense one. It feels like a blast to the chest. “Agh!”

“What is it?”

I immediately pull my hoof away from the ground. I feel my chest, relaxing when I know it was just a metaphysical blast. “I’m fine. Wasn’t prepared for that. Must have been a lot of ponies at once… Or a particularly strong soul.”

“Strong? At my age? You flatter me, Shae Sparkle. Every bit as sweet as Caro described, it seems.”

A booming, deep voice breaks through the sounds of falling rain and wind. I look up, and the first thing I see is the giant wings of a dragon, faint through the cloud of raindrops. It flaps, and out of the mist comes the rest of the dragon. It’s black, and it has a distinct beard.

“I’m glad I raised him to be kind.”

~Vision End~

~Caro~

Every shadow cast by the uneven walls is a filthy lie. I keep ending up betrayed, thinking for a moment that I’ve finally found a way forward, only to see that it’s only a long shadow that I mistake for a tunnel. It’s infuriating.

Worse than being stranded in a dark cave is being stranded in a dark cave with Tohro. Not because I wish he wasn’t here; I wouldn’t have anypony else. Rather, I hate that he has to experience this. He tries to wear a brave face, but even Shae would be able to tell he’s terrified. His shaking is obvious in the light of the lantern. He’s hanging on by a thread.

We come across what appears to be another dead end. A circular chamber, with a puddle of water forming from a trickle that descends from up above. I take that back, this might not be a dead end. Looking up, I don’t see sunlight, but the roof goes past the visibility provided by the lantern. Maybe there’s another path up there. Anywhere closer to the surface would be fine by me.

I turn to Tohro and ask, “Do you think you can lift me up there? It can’t be too far.”

Before he responds, I hear a sizzling noise coming from the lantern. I look down at it, suddenly aware that the flame has dwindled down to its lowest point. I was so concerned with finding a way out, I never even noticed.

I set the lantern down and open my bag. I look through my vials of potions and canteens. I can’t find any lantern oil.

I look up at Tohro, only able to say, “I’m sorry,” before the lantern goes out completely. The cave walls disappear, consumed by black. All I can see is Tohro.

He doesn’t respond. He stares at the abyss above us, his eyes shaking in their sockets, tears forming within. He opens his mouth. “Fff…” He makes a strange clicking noise. “Fuck.”

“Tohro?” I step closer to him, but I fear I might be setting off an explosion.

He shakes his head and stomps away from me, going out of sight. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! Why?! I can’t, I can’t, I can’t do this! Why is it so fucking dark?!”

His being scared just serves to scare me, but one of us has to be the voice of reason here. Else we might as well just lose our minds together. I rush through the dark to Tohro. As soon as he becomes visible, I sit down next to him, and try to gently stroke his shoulder. He just shrugs me away. “Please be calm,” I say softly to him.

He shakes his head violently, his eyes held shut. “It hurts, Caro. I can’t see anything.”

I turn his head my way, despite his resistance. “You’re not blind. You can see me. Open your eyes and focus on me.”

He shakes his head again.

“I told you, the darkness can’t hurt you. Do you know why?”

He makes that clicking sound again. “Be-because…”

“Because? Say it out loud.”

“Because… you’re… here…” he gasps.

“Good. Now…” I clutch his cheeks with my hooves. “Open your eyes, Tohro Blackwing.”

His eyelids slowly draw themselves open. Even in the darkness, I can plainly see that they’re stained with tears. His eyes glisten. It’s not any state I want to see my beloved in. This isn’t what he’s supposed to be. Where’s his bravery? Where’s his unbreakable wit? Where’s the stallion I fell in love with?

“I want to lie down,” he says.

“Okay.” I hold his shoulders tight, replicating his slow descent down onto his side. His eyes remain open, fixated on me, as we lie down together. “Don’t forget to blink, okay?”

He blinks rapidly. “Right, sorry…”

“What are you apologizing for?”

“My nyctophobia... Pegasi aren’t supposed to be in places like this, Caro. They’re supposed to fly free. There’s supposed to be a sky over my head. Not this. Not this damp, dark, unending…” He trembles. “Nothing makes sense down here. Where does it end? Why am I even here?!”

“Shh…” I shift my forelegs, joining them together around Tohro’s back. I clutch him like a doll, holding him against my body as tightly as possible without hurting him. “You’re here with me, remember? I don’t want you to be afraid… You don’t have to be.”

Tohro grunts into my chest. “Try stroking your ego further, Dragonborn… It won’t make this… this void go away. What are we even supposed to do? We have no light, we have no mage...”

“I’ll light the way out. I’ll burn scraps of parchment if I have to. I promise you’ll see the light again, and I’ll hold your hoof every step of the way.” I intertwine our hooves together. “I’m never going to let go.”

Tohro frowns. “I’ve been told that before, Caro…”

“Did any of the ponies who told you that know you like I do?”

Tohro shakes his head.

“That’s it, then. I don’t just love you, Tohro. I know you. From the day you saved me from the chopping block, I’ve known you, and my world has been brighter for it. I should know that you’re better than this.”

His shaking lessens, just a little bit. “Go on…” he whispers.

“Would you believe me if I told you you’re the most amazing pegasus I could ever hope to know?

"I am?"

"Of course. You conquered the leader of the Thieves Guild. You braved a whole cavern of draugr. Even Shokenda was impressed by your efforts. She called you her finest assassin, and when she told you to do something outside of your morality, you cursed her out. Name somepony else who could ever do that."

"I'd vouch for you,” he says with a chuckle. His shaking has lessened further.

"My point still stands, Tohro Blackwing... But the greatest thing you ever did was save me from the axe. If somepony else had attempted such a thing, they never would have made it out alive. Much less befriend me. Much less become somepony I love. It couldn't have been anypony but you."

"Nopony but me..." Tohro rests his head and closes his eyes. However, instead of this being a belligerent effort to avoid facing the darkness, it’s him finally relaxing enough to get some sleep.

“It’s all true. You're strong. You're smart. You're charismatic. You’re my angel. The thought that just a few choice events could have kept us from meeting is incredibly painful to me.” I tighten my clutch on his hoof. “I can't imagine being here with anypony but you. There’s nopony else. I'm glad this happened. I’m happy that I'm here with you."

“Happy...” Tohro mutters, a smile finally crossing his lips. “...I love you, Caro...”

“I love you too, my angel.”

Tohro chuckles as he appears to drift off to sleep. I hadn’t intended to calm him this much, but perhaps I’m better with words than I thought I was. It’s all worth it to watch Tohro sleep peacefully. I’ll stay here all night, watching him, if I have to.

Because I wouldn’t feel complete unless I did, I plant a small kiss against Tohro’s forehead.

My moment of bliss ends prematurely. Something’s wrong. Tohro doesn’t feel like this. The kiss should have been soft against his forehead, with little strands of his blonde mane tickling my nose. All I taste is something hard and musky.

I snap my head away. “Tohro?”

His eyes open, and I’m greeted with a light less welcome than a lantern. Two intense, cold, blue lenses catch me by surprise. I immediately back off, getting onto my hooves and stepping away. Tohro gets up, his movements sudden and unnatural. A pony should not move so stiffly.

A green flame washes over the imposter, revealing him for what I assume he truly is. By the light of its eyes, I see a black exoskeleton, white fangs, and rotted legs full of holes. I don’t know what it is, but its very appearance offends me. It pretended to be my angel.

“Where is he?” I ask demandingly. “Tell me, or I’ll crucify you on stalactites until you do.”

“I love you, Caro,” it says, in Tohro’s voice.

“How dare you?!” I growl.

“I love you, Caro,” I hear from behind me. I turn to see another insectoid monster walking my way.

Another one appears beside it. “I love you, Caro.” And two others behind it, attached to the wall. “I love you, Caro.” And more above and below them. A field of monstrous eyes staring at me from all sides. "I love you, Caro."

“I love you, Caro.” “I love you, Caro.” “I love you, Caro.”

“I love you, Caro.””I love you, Caro.”

“I love you, Caro.” “I love you, Caro.” “I love you, Caro.”

“I love you, Caro.””I love you, Caro.”

“I love you, Caro.” “I love you, Caro.” “I love you, Caro.” “I love you, Caro.”

“I love you, Caro.” “I love you you, Caro.” “I l-l-love you, Caro.”

“I love you, Caro.”
“I love you, Carorororo.” “Love.” “I love you, Caro.” “Caro. Caro.” “I love you, Caro.”

“I love you, Caro.” “I love you, Caro.”

“I love you, Caro.”

“Love love you..” “I lo-love y-y-y-you, Caro.” “I love you, Caro.”

“I love you, Caro.” “Caro, Carooooo.”

“I love you, Caro.” “I love you, Caro.”

“I love you, Caro.” “I love you, Caro, you Caro.”

“I love you, Caro.”
“I love you, Caro.” “I love you, Caro.” “I love you, Caro.” “I love you, Caro.”

“I love you, Caro.” “I love you you, Caro.” “I l-l-love you, Caro.”

“I love you, Caro.” “I love you, Carorororo.”

“I I I Iove.” “I love you, Caro.” “Caro. Caro.” “I love you, Caro.”

“I love you, Caro.”“I love you, Caaaaaaaaaro.” “I love you, Caro.”

“I love you, Caro.”

“Love love you..” “Y-y-y-y-y-you, Caro.” “I love you, Caro.”

“I love you, Caro.” “Caro, Caro, Caro.”

“I love you, Caro.” “I love you, Caro.”

“I love you, Caro.” “I love you, Caro, you Caro.”

“I love you, Caro.”