It is quiet. Nothing drives down the street, no 'lings peruse the storefronts, no birds coo from the nests high up in the windowsills. Even the wind refuses to whistle by, leaving the air stagnant and hot with the memory of the fires that torched the city so recently.

There is one, lonely sound, though. Hoofsteps echo off the largely featureless building exteriors, giving the Changeling the uneasy impression that he's being followed as he slinks down the street. It is an irrational fear; the noise is clearly of his own hooves. Still, he can't quite shake off his paranoia, and he regularly stops to take a quick scan of his surroundings.

The Equestrian military has been strangely absent all day. He wonders if that has something to do with their knowledge of the planned Loyalist ambush.

Earlier, the Changeling awoke to discover a steady stream of changelings returning to their homes or simply wandering the streets, apparently triggered by the unexpected surrender of the government and the conclusion of the battle in Vesalipolis. Through the gossip and rumours spreading among the refugees, he was able to discern the rough location of where the Loyalist remnants were congregating.

It's one of the newer sections of the city, a series of massive housing complexes ordered in a neat grid right on the main street. Like alien monoliths, they loom over the alleyways, deposited onto the city with a cold efficiency only the Queen- no, Chrysalis, the Changeling reminds himself- could muster up.

It's nothing like the cozy, cluttered streets he remembers. With a shiver, the Changeling wonders how much of Vesalipolis looks like this, quietly transformed in the years he was away.

He's suddenly put on alert by a quiet, rustling noise coming from ahead.

A changeling soldier leaps out from around the corner. He brandishes a short-barelled shotgun. A knife hovers dangerously close to the Changeling's neck, held aloft in a shimmering blue glow.

"We've got one over here! You, halt! Halt in the name of Her Majesty!" he yells loudly, despite the fact that the Changeling is already standing stock-still. He's surprised by the sudden challenge, yet doesn't feel particularly threatened. From this position, he could easily disarm the soldier and gain control of the knife, but- should he?

No. The Changeling promised: never again. He'll talk his way out instead.

"It's alright-" he takes a quick peek at the rank markings on the soldier's uniform- "Corporal. I'm a Jaeger. You can stand down."

The soldier's luminous eyes narrow. "A Jaeger, huh?"

"Yes, a Jaeger," the Changeling agrees. He shifts uncomfortably under the soldier's stare. The gun and the knife are starting to look much more menacing. "I think I'll just be on my way-"

"Last I heard, all the Jaegers were dead, or captured," the soldier spits out. "It's mighty suspicious, you showing up like this."

The Changeling has to bite back his surprise. For the Jaegers to be utterly destroyed like that... no wonder the government surrendered so quickly. With all those elite soldiers gone, there is nothing left to counterattack the Equestrians with.

"Yes, well, I got out," he mumbles. He's sharply aware of just how much danger he's in. "Listen, just- don't shoot, alright? Let's talk about this."

"Corporal!" A buzzing voice calls. Two more changelings whip around the corner, guns at ready. One of them isn't even wearing a uniform, dressed instead in a labourers' coat and muddy pants.

"Sergeant, we've got a 'Jaeger' over here. Permission to open fire?"

The uniformed changeling pushes the soldier aside, taking a good look at the Changeling. His face flashes in surprise and he jumps up in shock, hovering just above the ground with buzzing wings. "Lieutenant! I- we- get that dagger out of the Lieutenant's muzzle, Corporal!"

The soldier grumbles incoherently in response, but dutifully lowers the shotgun and tucks the knife into his coat.

The Changeling blinks, equal bits relieved and confused. "Do I, uh, know you?"

The Sergeant touches back down and salutes. "Sergeant Agate, 2nd Infantry Detachment, sir! I was on perimeter security at the Jaeger base." He nods at the Changeling's bandages. "You look like you've been through hell. What happened to your uniform?"

"Got stabbed," the Changeling replies simply. "I heard the military's gathering somewhere nearby?"

"Yep. It's this block, right down here. Major Thulite's in charge, you'll find him on the top floor." Agate leans in conspiratorially. "Though, personally, we're getting the hell out of here. I'd suggest you do the same; they said the airforce's coming in with reinforcements, but I'm not so sure."

So much for 'in the name of Her Majesty'. The Changeling is glad that there's at least some soldiers who have the sense to flee the impending battle, though. "Right. Thanks for the offer, but there's someling I'm looking for. I won't leave without him."

Agate shrugs. "Then I wish you good luck. If you want to get away without running into any soldiers, this side of the block's completely clear. Everyling's deserted already. Alright, let's move out!"

The other two changelings file in behind Agate. The Corporal gives the Changeling a glare as he passes by, while the other soldier merely tips his hat at him. He watches as the trio disappears down the street, then turns to enter the block they indicated.

Like the other blocks in this part of the city, it looks like a single massive building rather than a series of smaller ones, with no breakups in the facade or height differences to indicate otherwise. The Changeling pushes open one of the many cheap, identical sheet doors, into a narrow concrete hallway. It's littered with abandoned equipment: woodcutting boards, stacks of tiles, and hastily stored tools.

There's a faint hubbub coming from ahead. The Changeling moves down the dark passageway, up a flight of stairs, and down another corridor that leads deeper into the block. He's guided only by the whispers of sunlight coming from ahead, and the quiet noises that slowly define themselves as hushed chatter and hoofsteps.

The bright light at the end of the corridor grows with every hoofstep. The Changeling raises a hoof to shield his eyes as he steps out of the corridor. His vision slowly adjusts, revealing swarms of changelings filling every available spot in a wide, open room lined with windows. The space seems to run uninterrupted along the entire exterior wall, more like a hallway than anything else.

There is not even a semblance of order among the soldiers present. They chitter quietly to each other, they smoke cigarettes, they shout out crass jokes from across the room. Others simply mill around uncertainly.

A confusing rainbow of different uniforms is assembled: there's the standard smart black outfit of the army, but also white navy attire, forest- and desert-patterned camouflages, and even some tan Equestrian uniforms. He guesses the latter was worn by the Loyalist infiltrators.

A few of the soldiers give the Changeling interested glances that range from curious to outright hostile, but he's mostly ignored as he trots through the room, slowly weaving around tables covered in all manner of guns, ammunition, and bombs. Empty food wrappers and loose papers litter the concrete floor, carelessly tossed aside by the occupying soldiers.

The Changeling tries to keep an eye out for his brother, but in this crowd there's no way of telling if he's already missed him. Thinking about the impossibility of the task, he finds it suddenly harder to force the precious air down his lungs

Eventually, he comes across a much thicker group of changelings. They are strangely hushed, speaking in quiet whispers and looking at something ahead. The Changeling tries moving through them as best he can. As he pushes past the last soldier to an open space, though, he nearly trips over something on the floor.

"Watch out!" A soldier next to him reaches out a steadying hoof.

He looks down. A changeling stares back up at him with dull eyes. It's a corpse. There are rows and rows of them, all laid out on white sheets, packed together so tightly that the spaces between them are just wide enough for a single 'ling.

The soldier notices him looking. "Gruesome, huh? We had some volunteers go and dig the poor bastards out of the rubble, right from behind the Equestrian lines. Brave, brave 'lings. Once we smash those ponies, we'll be able to put them to rest where they belong."

The Changeling ignores him, staring at a vaguely familiar body at the other end of the makeshift morgue. Cold dread seeps through his chest. He moves forwards in a daze, arriving far too quickly for his liking to stand next to another soldier who quietly smokes a cigarette.

Together, they stare down at the limp form of Topaz. The Changeling doesn't know what to think.

Glancing over, the other changeling comments wearily, "You're short for a Jaeger, aren't you? Any chance you know uncle?"

With a start, the Changeling realizes she is talking about Topaz. He gives her a half-nod.

"He was..." He trails off, still staring at the body. A white sheet covers Topaz up to his head, mercifully hiding the wounds the Changeling knows are there. With his closed eyes and almost peaceful expression, it isn't hard to imagine him simply asleep.

"He was a great soldier," the Changelings finally musters up. "My- my condolences for To- for your uncle."

The other changeling snorts. "He's not really my uncle. He's the one who raised my lot but... I could never call him dad." Her gaze becomes unfocused, lost in some memory. The cigarette burns in her hoof unattended. "I remember when he would have us sit in a circle, and explain to us how great Chrysalis was and how horrible things were before the hives were unified."

The filthy cigarette paper tears, its contents spilling out on the floor. "When the Queen called, he went to help take Olenia. I followed him the moment I was old enough, and that's why you have JCO Chrysolite here in front of you. I never found him again."

Chrysolite raises her gaze to look at the Changeling. Her narrowed teal eyes water up with tears. "I'll fucking bet he was a good soldier! He was a shit dad!"

A few other changelings glance over to see what the commotion is about.

The Changeling simply gapes at her. It's easier than looking at Topaz. Not once did he mention that he had raised nymphs. It's difficult to imagine the hardened soldier playing games, reading out stories... even just writing a letter home.

"But... I don't know," Chrysolite continues more quietly. "It was so damn easy to hate uncle when I thought he'd be around forever. I always imagined him turning it all around, that he'd start replying to the letters, maybe come back home with the rest of us on leave. Make amends." She shrugs. "And now he'll never do that. Isn't that horrible?"

She looks to the Changeling expectantly, as though waiting for an answer. He backs away uncomfortably. He's horrified, but he tries his not to let it show.

"I- I've got something to do-" he mumbles, spinning around. He bounds away as fast as his legs will take, passing ten, twenty, a hundred neatly laid out, horrifyingly ugly bodies, and eventually leaves them behind altogether, and disappears back into the faceless crowd.

The Changeling doesn't know where he's going. He simply keeps pushing his way past the disorderly rows of soldiers in a vain attempt to get away from it all. The faces keep flashing through his mind, like a projector flicking through a reel of photos: Aspen's determined glare, Chrysolite holding back tears, Topaz looking shocked and disappointed and betrayed all at once.

He wants to scream. He wants to curl in a corner and shrivel away. He wants to-

"Woah, little one!" a surprised, mildly amused voice says. "Where are you off to?"

The Changeling looks up, stopping dead in his tracks. His brother stares back, head tilted to the side inquisitively, bright purple eyes slightly narrowed in confusion.

Without hesitation, the Changeling rushes forward to nuzzle the Brother, who returns it in kind. His worries feel suddenly distant. His brother is here. It's over.

For a few seconds, they simply enjoy each other's company.

"You look like sh- er, pretty bad," the Brother eventually comments, a measure of strain in his voice. That familiar tenderness he knows so well is still there, though. Nothing can take it away.

"Got stabbed," the Changeling mutters back.

"Stabbed- well, it could be worse." The Brother draws in a deep breath, momentarily closing his eyes. "I heard the news about the Jaegers, and I thought-" His voice cuts off and he simply reaches out a hoof to give the Changeling a quick pat on the head. "I'm just glad to see you."

For the first time, the Changeling takes a hoofstep backwards to really look at his brother. Above the black infantry uniform and slung rifle, the Brother's tight, anxious face tells the Changeling more than any words could. He feels suddenly selfish; he's not the only one under stress. He needs to pull himself together.

He gives the Brother a determined glance. "It's good to see you too, but there isn't much time. We have to leave."

"Leave, little one? Is there some kind of Jaeger mission going on?" the Brother asks, puzzled.

The Changeling shakes his head. "Nonono, we're leaving," he says, lowering his voice to a hush. "We're- we're leaving, and we aren't coming back."

The Brother's eyes widen in understanding. "Can we even do that?" he whispers back, casting a furtive glance behind him. None of the other soldiers seem to be listening. "Aren't there guards?"

"They've deserted too. I don't think there's anything stopping us from just going." Still, the Brother seems hesitant, so the Changeling presses on. "Listen, the Equestrians know we're here. It's a trap. If we stay here, we'll die. Let's go," he pleads, trying to instill as much urgency as he can into his voice.

At that, the Brother nods. "Right. You're right, little one. We'll go. I just need to pick up some things."

The Changeling pauses. "There's really no time-"

"It's important," the Brother cuts in. "It'll only take a few seconds, little one."

"Fine, then. Quickly, quickly."

The Brother leads the way back through the room, heading towards a disorganized pile of bags and suitcases dumped against the wall. He ruffles through them as the Changeling stands behind him, on constant lookout for any possible threat.

After a minute or so of searching, the Brother extracts a saddlebag from the pile and ties it to his back, picking up an overstuffed folder with it. "Done. Let's get out of here."

"What's in the folder?" the Changeling asks as they head towards the exit.

"The photographs ma and pa sent." The Brother glances at the Changeling, as if judging his reaction. "Did you ever write them a letter?"

The air turns suddenly cold. "No," the Changeling responds coolly. "I don't recall getting anything from them, either." He speeds up to trot slightly ahead of the Brother.

"They love you, little one," the Brother says gently. "I know it. No matter what, they're still family."

"So are the twenty other 'lings they raised. You think they have enough love to go around?"

With an exasperated huff, the Brother stops dead in his tracks. "What's the matter with you? You were never like this."

The Changling stops too, and stares up at his brother. "Yes, well, shit happens to a 'ling," he deadpans.

"Language, little one!"

He ignores the Brother and continues on. "They would have preferred I stayed in a warzone than left for Equestria. You know that, right? They hated the ponies so damn much, they thought it was safer here with the soldiers and the chaos than in the University of fricking Friendship. Where's the love in that?"

"No, they didn't want you disappearing for years in a country that loathes us! That fears you!" A tangible level of bitterness has entered the Brother's voice. "And last I checked, you never got into the- the stupid University anyways! Ever wonder why that was?"

The Changeling bares his fangs and turns away, trotting silently towards the exit. After a moment, the Brother rushes forward to pull him into a sideways hug, suddenly warm again.

"OK, that was crossing the line," he admits sheepishly. "I'm sorry. I- I'm just glad you're alright- well, alive- and I think ma and pa would be glad to hear it too."

Sighing, the Changeling returns the hug. It does calm him down a bit. "Yes. I don't really have anything against them, I just... how do I even fix that? How do I break a silence that's lasted, what, half my life?"

"By talking," the Brother simply replies. He lets go of the Changeling as they reach the corridor that leads out. "Now, are you sure this is-"

"Where do you think you're going, soldiers?" A cold voice rings out from behind them, crystal clear even above the chaotic noises of the room. The Changeling swivels his head to see an officer standing upright in a crisp black uniform, silver stars adorning his hat.

The Brother stares back. "Well, we were, er-"

"Lieutenant here, sir." The Changeling steps in front of his brother and gives the officer a sharp salute. "We've been ordered to secure a status report from the patrols. We were just on our way to do that."

The officer's eyes narrow. "Strange, I was under the impression that that was my duty. And is that a Jaeger uniform? Where did you get that?"

This is bad. The Changeling glances back at the Brother's rifle, slung along his barrel within easy reach. It's unloaded. If he's quick enough, he can load the magazine and pull the trigger with his telekinesis before the officer reacts, then flee in the chaos. That would be the easiest option.

But that's not the path he wants to take, he reminds himself. He still has a chance to make things right.

The Changeling puffs out his chest and draws himself to his full height. It still leaves him craning his neck to look upwards at the officer. "I am part of Her Majesty's Jaeger Corps, yes. And since our orders seem to conflict each other, I have the authority here. Respectfully, sir, return to the command post and receive new instructions."

The officer doesn't seem convinced. "'Her Majesty's Jaeger Corps' didn't do all that much when the ponies arrived, did they?" he sneers. "They were a bunch of soldiers too old to fight, and cowards growing fat off the extra rations and pensions. No 'ling here thinks much of your 'authority'."

The officer has made a mistake. The Changeling moves to capitalize on it. "Are- are you suggesting insubordination, sir?" His voice trembles, but he makes sure it rings loud and clear. Several soldiers look over curiously. "I'd like your rank and name, please," the Changeling continues.

The officer hesitates, clearly aware of the watching soldiers. "I- I don't think that will be necessary," he mutters quietly, breaking eye contact with the Changeling.

As if on cue, a series of urgent shouts cascades through the room.

"Targets approaching!"

"Affirmative, targets approaching!"

"Fire Squad Beta, on me! Load weapons!"

Soldiers rush around the room with sudden purpose, grabbing guns and ammunition from the tables and lugging them towards the windows. If it was loud before, it is now almost deafening with orders constantly being yelled by the few officers present. The floor thunders with hoofsteps, and heavy guns and carts of equipment roll along on improvised or worn-down wheels that constantly squeak in protest.

"Go and receive orders!" The Changeling offers the officer a way out. "They need you here, not roaming the streets looking for some guards."

Looking hesitantly between the preparing soldiers and the duo in front of him, the officer eventually nods. "The report goes through me first, understood?"

The Changeling forces a grin in response. "Understood, sir." He turns and marches down the corridor, smile quickly slipping away. The Brother follows suit.

"You did good back there," the Brother whispers once the commotion has faded away behind them. "I had my rifle, though, I could have-"

"No. No killing," the Changeling growls.

"- could have caused a distraction, I was going to say." The Brother's eyes are wide. "You think I would kill a fellow 'ling? I haven't even had the chance to shoot at a pony, yet."

The Changeling lets out a deep sigh, trying to relax. His heart is still racing for some reason. A sense of impending doom has slowly invaded his chest. "I don't know. I never thought I'd kill anyling either. When we're under pressure, sometimes we just... do things."

"You killed a changeling?" the Brother asks in disbelief.

A nearby explosion sends a deafening boom through the corridor. The duo stops to listen to the unmistakable thunder of a full arsenal of guns opening firing at the same time.

"We'd better go. More moving, less talking, please."

The Brother shakes his head, but reluctantly complies. "You're not off the hook, little one."

Both changelings pick up the pace with a newfound sense of urgency, the Changeling guiding them back down the route he remembers taking. They both stop at the noise of hoofsteps from ahead. A pair of soldiers rush by, but they barely spare a glance.

They continue onwards. That dread in the Changeling's chest only seems to fester and grow in the darkness. The shadows in the corners pool together to form haunting faces, faces that disappear when he tries to look at them. Horrifying noises echo down the corridor, each and every distant explosion and gunshot setting the Changeling more on edge.

He moves to trot a bit closer to the Brother, taking comfort in the soft clipclop of his hooves. With the seemingly random holes in their legs, every changeling's hoof has a distinct sound to it. The Brother's hoofsteps are almost as familiar to the Changeling as his own.

After a couple of minutes, they emerge into the biting frost outside. The Changeling looks up at the grey sky. It might just rain soon.

"Now what, little one?"

"Hm..." the Changeling thinks for a moment. "There's a refugee camp near the center of the city. If we find some civilian clothing along the way, we can blend in and wait for this to blow over."

"What about ma and pa's house?" the Brother offers. "They'll be glad to take us in, even if they know we're... I guess we're deserting, aren't we?"

The Changeling shakes his head. It's not the notion of going back to his old home that scares him. He has no doubt it'd be safe there. What is terrifying is the thought of being turned away.

"No. I can't. Maybe someday, but... not now. You should go, though."

"Are you kidding?" The Brother looks aghast. "I just found my little brother, I'm not letting him go off to survive on his own."

The Changeling decides against mentioning that he was the one who found his brother. He's admittedly relieved to have the Brother with him. It's going to be a long journey to the city center. "Fine, then. Refugee camp?"

"Refugee camp," the Brother affirms. "Lead the way."

They take off down the street, the cacophony of the battle quickly dying away behind them. As they turn down another, smaller alleyway, the Changeling tries to relax. He's done it. He's gone and found his brother, and gotten him out of the clutches of the Loyalists without even a scratch on either of them. They're not out of the woods yet, but they're pretty close.

Brrrrr...

Shivers run up the Changeling's spine. He and his brother both freeze at the sound of a whining motor rapidly closing the distance towards them. With a growing sense of foreboding, he turns to look behind him.

A tan motorbike squeals to a stop at the end of the alley. A unicorn and an earthpony sit upright on the bike, balancing precariously on a cramped seat that looks too small for them. The two groups regard each other uncertainly, waiting for the other to act.

The shock quickly wears off the Changeling. "Go!" he shouts. "Go, go, go!"

They turn tail and flee in a mad dash. Behind them, the menacing revving of an engine indicates the ponies are pursuing them.

The Changeling easily skids around the corner onto another street. Next to him, the Brother stumbles but manages to catch himself. He struggles to keep up with the Changeling's pace.

"Where are they?" the Brother shouts between breaths.

The noise of the engine has become muffled, as though something is in the way. Out of the corner of his eye, the Changeling can see the bike straddling the sidewalk alongside them, partially hidden by the row of thick trees in the way. He risks a glance to the right.

The shaking barrel of a rifle stares back at him. Behind it, the earthpony squints at the duo, carefully lining up a shot.

"Keep moving! Holy shit, don't stop!" The Changeling draws his body as close to the ground as possible without slowing down. He's agonizingly aware of the gun pointed right at him just a few meters away.

"What-"

Bang!

A thick chunk of rock is thrown up near the Changeling's hooves. His heart thumps deafeningly against his chest. He tries to summon his magic to do something, anything, but he can't muster up the concentration to do so. He's powerless.

Bang! Another shot whips past.

"Are you alright, little one?!" the Brother yelps. His rifle levitates with him, as he desperately fumbles with the magazine. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, just keep going!" the Changeling shouts back, trying to keep the panic out of his voice. "There, the alley!"

They thunder into a shadowy alleyway, hemmed in between two oversized structures. The Brother stops near the end, finally loading his rifle with a resounding click. The motorbike sounds distant now.

"What are you doing? Let's go," the Changeling urges. There's something familiar in the Brother's dimly glowing eyes, a horrible, cold determination he's seen on another soldier's face.

"Get behind me," the Brother orders coolly. He stands on his hindlegs and points the gun down the alley.

"What are you doing?" the Changeling repeats. He wants to reach up, to smack the weapon out of his Brother's grasp, but his hooves feel firmly rooted to the ground. He simply looks on in horror. "We... we can just leave. This is our chance, what are you doing?"

The Brother's face is obscured by the shadows. "They almost killed you, little one. I can't let that go unpunished."

"You want to kill them? Forget it!" the Changeling snarls incredulously. "You- you'll get us killed too, you moron." This strange conviction the Brother has developed is disturbing.

He finally finds the strength to reach out a hoof and grab at the rifle. The Brother lifts it out of his reach, shaking his head.

"You're right, I've been a moron. I'm sorry that I wasn't there for you." He sounds genuinely regretful. "I'm sorry I let you get swept up in this... madness. I'll make it right, starting now."

The Changeling reaches up, rising to his hindlegs in frustration. "Just give me the gun-"

They both go still. Something is coming. In the dim light, the Changeling can just barely make out the motorbike slowly rolling down the alley with its occupants.

"Get down," he hisses quietly. Dropping to lie on the floor, he observes as the bike creeps closer, disappearing altogether in the gloom.

"Let's. Go. Now."

The Brother ignores him, still staring straight ahead despite not being able to see the ponies.

A sudden flash of light blinds the Changeling. The headlight of the motorbike is clearly visible just a few meters ahead. A shining duck in a barrel.

"No!"

Adrenaline courses through him. Without hesitation, he reaches out and wrests the gun from the Brother's hooves. As he pulls it away, it goes off.

The Changeling's ears ring as he stares down at the smoking gun, trembling in his hooves. He throws it aside and looks towards the ponies. They are faintly visible behind the discarded motorbike, lying motionless on the ground.

The Brother stares up at him. "What was that for, little one?"

He giggles hysterically, moving to trot out of the alleyway. "Figure it out, will you?"

Behind him, the Brother gets up and hurries to trot alongside him. "I don't know what's wrong with you. I'm just trying to do the right thing, and you're-"

Bang!-bang!-bang!-bang!-bang!

The Brother yelps, staggering forwards. Thick blood sprays into the air.

Suddenly alert, the Changeling pulls him around the corner. He supports him with one hoof as they stumble down the street as fast as they can, going through street after street, alley after alley in a panicked rush, till he's certain that they're safe.

"Stop," the Brother mutters.

The Changeling halts. He sets the Brother against a nearby wall. Staring at the red splotches on his uniform, the trail of blood leaking out of the corner of his mouth, the unfocused gaze that looks at nothing, the horror of what has just happened finally sets in.

"It's alright. You'll be alright. I'm a medic. I'm a medic."

In a daze, he unbuttons the Brother's shirt. He's greeted with the sight of torn flesh, as if the bullets tore straight through him. Like paper. So fragile.

"I'm a medic," he repeats hoarsely. His hooves fall back to the ground. He isn't surprised. It feels almost inevitable that this would happen.

The Brother understands. He gives him a weak smile, poking out his fangs in a silly fashion. "It's alright, little one."

A hopeless sob tears through the Changeling's throat. "Brother, no..."

"I guess this is it." The Brother shifts his gaze upwards. To the sky. "I'm sorry."

"Nononono, this isn't your fault." The Changeling shoves the Brother with an insistent hoof. "It's not your fault!"

"No. I'm sorry this had to happen. All of this." Tears trickle down the Brother's face. "There's some world where you go to that university, and you get to- you were always so insistent about the idea. I don't even remember where you picked it up. But, in this world, there's no war, and you read my letters every day, and you meet new people- heck, I'm tired."

The Changeling starts crying too, huge sobs that wrack his whole body. "It's alright. You don't need to speak."

"It would have been really fun, reading your letters. Really fun, little one..." The Brother shuts his eyes tightly, as if he can't bear to talk anymore. His hooves reach out for a hug.

Not knowing what to say, the Changeling simply leans forward to hold his brother closely. The memories are still warm. Wasting away sweet nymphhood playing pointless games and talking about nothing. Growing up in a world that was confusing and terrifying, but always with a beacon of tender light to guide him onwards.

And now that light will never shine again. Like a candle on its last smidgeon of wax, the life inside his Brother slowly flickers and fades away. The heart stops beating, the chest ceases its rhythmic motion, and the Changeling is finally alone.

Now what?

End of Act 2

Author's Note

Act 2 ends here, assuming you've read Scene 5A. The two main arcs of the story are basically over- the tragedy has concluded and what follows is our characters picking up the pieces.

I do hope everyone has been, at the very least, enjoying reading. As always, feel free to leave your feedback in the comments.