Shadow and Flame

Pinkie loved to laugh.

Laughter was her element after all, it was in her nature to giggle and guffaw.

In fact her laughter made her almost fearless, one of her many mottos “Giggle at the Ghosties” empowering her to chuckle at anything remotely spooky and concentrate on how silly it was.

And yet no matter how hard she thought about it, no matter how hard the adorable, quirky, pink party pony tried she just couldn’t laugh at one massive, evil, terrifying ghostie that had been plaguing all of Equestria for well over a year.

That ghostie was war.

No matter how you looked at it war was not funny.

It was tragic and hurtful, cruel and careless, decimating and defiling everything it touched, tearing families apart, forcing sons and daughters, brothers and sisters into battle and separating them with the veil of death.

At first Pinkie could see the little good that came of war. Ponies who would never have met before, coming together and

becoming as close as siblings, the flames of battle forging ponies, griffons and aeon into kin despite differences in species, age or gender.

But then time wore that illusion down, as it does with all things.

Pinkie had a gift, multiple gifts in fact, two most notable being her Pinkie Sense, the supernatural ability to divine immediate events through spasms and sensations throughout her body, and the one that the aeon were most interested in when assigning her to a role in the military, her ability to “Blink” as the aeon called it.

The bizarre pink mare, despite being an Earth Pony, had the power to disappear and then reappear a short distance away, regardless of obstacles.

Before joining the military Pinkie used this ability to bring surprise and joy to the denizens of Ponyville, springing from all sorts of odd places to spread her infectious jubilation.

However the military saw it as a way to turn the bouncy mare into a battlefield assassin, Blinking towards a target, slaying them, then Blinking away again.

Even her Pinkie Sense was seen as a potential weapon being able to detect incoming dangers before they come and deflect or counter them.

It had taken many long months of hard training and yelling and screaming but the military had finally carved the party pony into a flashing instrument of death.

Now after a year and a half of bloodshed and mayhem laughter was an alien concept to her. When others would cheer and party at the end of a victorious battle she would sit apart, mourning the death and loss of all who had been hurt or killed in the fighting.

With her straight mane and tail instead of a crazed puff of cotton candy, her coat a dim grayish crimson instead of it’s usual vibrant pink she had devolved into one she had once dubbed “Saddy McSadpants”, her old, miserable, lonely self, Pinkamena Diane Pie.

And at this exact moment in time, she was doing what she had been trained to do best.

Kill.

She took no pleasure in it, no joy or even the slightest sense of victory.

It was murder that she committed, plain and simple.

Even when she ran her blades through the neck of a demon, no matter how grotesque the creature was, she had to wonder if it was aware of what it was doing, if it was in its nature or if it was being controlled by the Shadow.

She wanted to cry every time a pony or shadow aeon cried out in pain as she struck them.

She always tried to make it quick, going for the neck and head but there was always that one last gurgling gasp of shock as blood flew from the lacerations in their trachea and jugular and their eyes widened in shock.

Pinkamena grunted as a shudder ran through her body and she Blinked, a flash of pink in two locations signalling her point of disappearance and reappearance, a massive limb crashing down where she had been a second ago, the demon that it was attached to growling in what seemed like annoyance at the lack of a satisfying crunch before bellowing in pain as a heavily armoured Tevana leapt onto it’s face, ramming the crescent blade it wielded into one of the demon’s many eye sockets and pulling the organ from it’s place with a slicing motion as the Tevana launched itself back off of the demon’s face.

The crimson pony didn’t bother to watch the rest of the fight, returning her attention to the rest of the battle.

It was a small skirmish by the recent standards of the war, a hundred or so Equestrians and a hundred or so Nightmares facing off while being backed up by a few squads of Aeon and demons on either side.

A walking gun platform that the Aeon had brought into the fight swiveled on it’s four insectoid legs, guns flaring and booming violently as it turned Nightmares and demons into red mist with flashes of aggressive mana, it’s shields glowing deep purple under a barrage of eldritch energies from a tall, gangly demon opposite with far too many limbs and mouths.

Pinkamena flashed three times, diving in and out of the enemy lines, ending four more lives and as the blood on the blades attached to her forehooves met the ground the sky roared and opened in a torrent of rain and lightning.

A few aeon wavered momentarily, while others became empowered, beginning to harness the elemental energies of the storm against the enemy.

Pinkamena’s mind burned with the faces of the freshly slain, confusion on some as if they weren’t aware that they had just been killed, silently thanking the sky for crying when she had no time to do so herself.

A faint whisper trailed through Pinkamena’s ears, barely audible and yet clear through the chaos around her.

Giggle at the Ghosties It seemed to say in a croaking old motherly voice.

It reminded her strangely of her long passed Granny Pie.

The straight maned mare looked about, confused as to where the voice had come from. She blinked a few times then shook her head deciding to think nothing of it as she leapt forwards once more into the fray, soundlessly murdering more ponies.

As she struck another fatal blow the whisper came back trailing into her mind, Giggle at the Ghosties Guffaw at the Ghastly, don’t be afraid, just laugh and party.

Pinkamena blinked and stared at nothing.

What was that? Where was it coming from?

She had no time to dwell on it as a series of twitches and shudders alerted her to incoming enemy air support.

She Blinked several times, landing her in front of the field commander, a statuesque tan aeon in heavy armour and holding a pair of binoculars standing atop a shielded platform and relaying commands across the battle and seemingly unphased by the torrents of rain, not even squinting as the sheets collided with aer face.

Upon the dull coloured mares arrival the commander looked down at her and spoke.

“Anything to report S.O. Pinkamena?”

“The Shadow has incoming air support, possibly five or six units. And they’re close.” Pinkamena replied, her once cheerful and bouncy voice now filled with spite and hurt.

“Thank you Pinkamena.” The field commander raised aer wrist and shouted into it, after a short burst of static. “We have incoming enemy air units, keep your eyes on the skies people!”

There was a garbled reply and the weapons platform’s top most guns began to swivel towards the bleak clouds sweeping back and forth while the rest continued to pound the enemy ground forces and retaliate at the eldritch abomination that had been throwing balls of green death at them earlier.

Just as Pinkamena turned to blink back into the battle words met her ears, louder this time.

Don’t be scared, life’s a party don’t let death get you down. Go play and frolic, there’s nothing but fun to be had.

The battlefield shimmered and flickered with bright lights and the fighting turned to play before her eyes, the demons becoming clowns and the aeon becoming stuntmen and actors, screams becoming laughter, rain becoming confetti.

Pinkamena gasped and staggered in shock blinking and shaking her head, returning the battlefield to it’s original state, the colours fading with the sheets of rain and howling wind.

Piercing cries split the air as flying horrors dived towards the ground, dodging blasts of magic and snatching up ponies and aeon alike, oblivious to the continuous stabbing at their feet from those they grabbed.

“Are you unwell Pinkamena?” The field commander shouted at the mentioned mare.

“No I’m fine!” She growled back and disappeared in a flash Blinking back into the battle.

Within moments she was atop the back of one of the flying beasts hacking and slashing at the back of it’s neck sawing away at the space between it’s vertebrae. With a screech of agony and a hideous tearing and popping sound the beast fell from the sky, it’s link between it’s brain and body severed and Pinkamena returned to the ground, landing atop a shadow aeon and slamming her blades into the back of it’s neck giving it the same treatment as the flying beast.

The world spun and blurred suddenly though she remained centered, bright colours blurring and flashing amongst the dull.

A massive clown cackled and bounded towards Pinkamena and she flailed in confusion, unsure whether this was some conjuration of her cracking mind or real.

She lashed out instinctively cutting the clown in it’s shin and a gurgling cry sounded, the clown disappearing like smoke, being replaced by a regular unicorn wearing the Equestrian army armour and insignia, their throat slashed open and spurting blood that was diluted in seconds by the rain.

Worse still she recognised the unicorn, a bluish-purple stallion who had laughed and entertained the other soldiers with magical light shows to take their minds off the coming battle.

An ally and friend to many and she had just murdered him.

She tried to tell herself it was a mistake, an accident from a bizarre apparition but something in her brain wasn’t letting her.

Oh dear, oh dear look what you did. But don’t fret deary, look at them... Don’t they look peaceful now? So calm. It’s like they’re asleep isn’t it?

She stared at the corpse, their face now blank, eyes wide but no longer looking confused or betrayed. She reached out and pulled their eyelids down, closing them.

The unicorn did look asleep. So peaceful.

Life’s a party and death’s just the after-party. Don’t be scared or worried. Don’t fret. Just laugh.

“Just laugh.” Pinkamena said a queer, alien sensation crawling up her spine. “Life’s a party.”

Somepony was shouting something at her, shaking her violently.

Just...

Pinkamena shoved the pony away, her coat suddenly brightening and her mane springing back into a poofy mess.

Laugh...

Pinkie Pie slammed a hoof into the pony’s face, driving the blade attached to it into their cranium.

“It’s time to party!” She screamed at the top of her lungs, giggling maniacally as something else took hold of her limbs, ethereal tentacles worming into her brain.

Hours later a trio of Valkyrie Gunships landed in the mud, a ramp lowering from their streamlined underbellies and a squad of aeon hustled out, weapons ready.

A garbled message from the field commander had brought them here, something about one of aer soldiers snapping and killing everything.

They were expecting a rogue aeon when they slunk into the bloodied terrain, most likely managing to somehow get into the weapons platform and mowing everyone down by surprise.

So it was easy to say that they were surprised when they found the weapons platform a mangled wreck it’s converter overloaded and blood and bodies decorating it’s surface, blood and water glinting on the slowly returning sunlight.

They spread out, trying to find any survivors.

Demons were brutalised left and right with a savagery not even maddened Tevana would put out, their entrails spread wide, aeon were dismembered and decapitated in greater number and ponies were absolutely everywhere, their bodies lacerated beyond recognition but all their faces, untouched, their eyes closed and mouths slack as though sleeping.

One of the aeon suddenly shouted, waving an arm frantically for the others to come, calling out that they had found a survivor.

The others approached swiftly, but slowed, becoming cautious as they drew near.

In a small depression in the earth, clear of any bodies except two, a bright pink earth pony in light Equestrian armour stared blankly, into space, breathing without pattern and tears streaming down her face.

In her forehooves, held in a tight hug a seemingly untouched bluish-purple unicorn stallion lay in her forelimbs, seemingly asleep other than the clean slash across his throat.