Broken Wings, Scattered Dust

Here in My Garden of Shadows

“You’re not sorry.”

It wasn’t a question.  Nor was it entirely incorrect.

“I’m sorry for putting you through that.  Not for anything else.  I did what I had to, and I won’t apologize for that.”

“You’re not even sorry for that.  I can tell, Zephyr.  You can’t hide that from me.”

“I’m as sorry as I can be.”

“And that’s not sorry at all!”

Violet rounded on me, her eyes ablaze, her anger almost palpable.

“You don’t feel, Zephyr!  You just don’t!  You’re not sorry for killing them, you’re not sorry for putting me through that orphanage, you’re not—”

“I am sorry for putting you through that,” I said calmly, and honestly.  “I am, really.  I know how much it hurts.  The silence.  And what I put you through—it was twice as bad as what I went through.  I’m sorry.  Believe me, I am.”

“Even if I did, which I don’t, you still killed them.  In cold blood.  You didn’t even look back.  You don’t feel.”  She spat at my hooves.  “You’re a demon.  A cold, hollow demon.”

“I have to be.”

“Why?” she demanded.

“I killed,” I said quietly.  “I took a life for my little sister.  I valued her life more than theirs.  I purged emotion because if I hadn’t, I would have driven myself insane.  Was her life really worth more than theirs?  ‘Yes,’ I kept telling myself.”

I was pacing now.  I couldn’t help it.

“But that’s not true.  A life is a life.  I convinced myself otherwise.  I convinced myself that Whimsy was worth more than any life I took since then.  Worth more than every life I’ve taken, combined...and...after all this time, I still want to believe I was right.”

She said nothing.

“That was the first time.  The second time...the second time.  My second victim...”

I hesitated.  Her eyes were swollen and puffy, but her face was dry.

“...my second victim...I couldn’t feel.  I couldn’t.”

My deepest fear, come true...but there was one thing that still held true...if I had felt...if I had allowed any of the overwhelming emotion from that day to touch me...corrupt me...I looked her in the eye.

“I would have killed me.”

“Yeah?”

Her voice was low, trembling with not fear, but anger.  Something about what I had said had pushed the wrong button.  She was quaking, too.  She was close, so close, to losing control...

...and she did, but not to her.  And even as she spat fire into the night I knew she didn’t mean it, that it was just measly words thrown in a fit of anger, that if she had said anything else I would brush it off as easily as dust in the wind...but two words.  Two words set fire to a boiling, crushing, thrashing sea of blood...

“Who was it?”

...You...

No reason.

...you even think yourself worthy...

Just look at her, standing there, defiant, foolish...

...to even think of him...

No sense.

...spitting in the face of a pony infinitely your greater...

...so naïve, so stupid, so gullible...

...a pony you would be blessed to hold an unlit candle to...

No restraint.

...when you don’t even deserve to know his name.

No mercy.

“Your dog?”

Her face made a satisfying thunk smashing into the bubble’s wall.  Her neck was soft, and her mind had become brittle through fear’s constant wearing.  Both would be easy to break, so easy...I tried to drown out the blood thundering through my ears, my mind, and I fought the urge, but it snarled and hissed, howled and lashed out.  Primal, feral, and deadly.

The hunter’s instinct..

...the only part of Ventus I had left.

Ventus.

I drew a breath, held it, and found peace in my storm.

Ventus.

“Don’t.  You.  Dare.”

I pressed harder, robbing her of the air to speak, and in a few moments the air to breathe.  Her limbs flailed in protest, but they had no force behind them.  I leaned in.

“If you ever disrespect him again, I will end you.  He was a greater pony than you’ll ever know, and if you ever...ever...insult him again, I will not hesitate.”

I shoved off with force just short of snapping her neck, and took up a position far enough back that she would know I was not about to kill her, but close enough that she knew I still could long before she could react.  She had every right to kill me, but if she was going to insult him like that, disrespect him, then Celestia and Luna protect her, because no one else can.  Not from me.

She pushed herself up, breathing heavily and rubbing her neck with something of a stunned air.  An air distinctly more stunned than the other time I’d threatened her—so she’d expected it then.  Small, but warm comfort.  A wound so scarred over that even she couldn’t see it...

“I’m—” she coughed, then stopped and looked up at me.  It was pitiful, really, and I could smell the apology she’d just swallowed.  See?  She was toughening up already.

“Get the point?” I growled, daring her to make a move.  She nodded slowly, not taking her eyes off me.  She was outclassed and she knew it, but that wouldn’t stop the righteous fury from seething.

And seethe it did.  We locked eyes in silent contest, and I pictured mine; cold and dead, grey and hollow.  Hers, burning and vindictive, violet and charged with vengeance.  I knew she was searching, desperately, for that tiny little spot of gold she’d tunnel visioned on when we first met.  That miniscule ray of light whose existence proved that even I, a heartless murderer, was not beyond...redemption.

Her eyes swam in and out of focus, obscured by a tingling light, and I saw her, for the first time.  Violet Lotus.  Naïve to a fault.  The believer in everypony, the seeker of golden hearts.  That what was kept her from exploding in the orphanage.  She knew that the place was depressing only because of its nature, and not because anypony made or wanted it so.  But here I was, an open challenge to her beliefs, evidence that there was a point of no return, and she was struggling with the truth.

Just what did it mean?  She knew I killed so I could save Whimsy, give her a clean shot to make a difference.  That was the good she was seeing.  But we both knew that a life is a life, and it was only my word that made Whimsy’s life worth more than my victims’.  And now she knew I never stopped to grieve; all I ever did was close their eyes.  Between those two, it was hard to deny that I had chosen to take some dark ways...and that was what was eating her.  Just one simple question.

Was I a good pony, or a bad one?

Hate to break it to you, Violet, but there’s a lot of colors outside black and white, and I am definitely some shade of grey.  A darker shade.

I could almost see the storm inside her head, raging, agitated clouds pouring rain, and of course, that one, revelatory stroke of lightning.  She may not be able to answer the question, but she knew now where she had tread.  And she knew never to tread there again, or she would never tread again.  She didn’t stand a chance.

“I’m sorry,” she said.  “For the...dog thing.  That...I went too far.”

My blood crystallized.  “It’s okay.  You didn’t know.”

“I just...I don’t know who you are anymore,” she mumbled.  “I know you only kill because you have to, for your sister, but you...you...”

“I failed,” I said quietly.  “Any target I accepted couldn’t have foals or children of any kind.  There wasn’t any evidence that Ebony or Ivory had one, let alone two.  I have to admit, they did a damn good job of hiding you.”

“Or they abandoned me,” she said, eyes growing wide with the horrific revelation.

“They didn’t.”

Out of the shadows stepped Luna, followed by an enormous set of green scales and two molten-gold eyes.  Violet squeaked and backpeddled so fast she bounced off the wall.

“W—what?”

“They did not abandon you,” repeated Descant.  “While they declined to give me certain details of their plan, I have inferred much.  They arranged their own deaths, through me, that their souls would escape to a waiting vessel.”

And from a spine on his neck, he withdrew two necklaces.  One black, one white.

“As they instructed me specifically to ask for their amulets upon their death, I can only assume that these are said vessels, and that they intended them to end up in your possession, Seer.”

Fear and confusion were shunted aside in favor of awe.  She didn’t even react to Descant calling her Seer.  Violet took the necklaces reverently, as though they were made of frozen glass, brittle enough to shatter on the slightest application of force.

“Why did they need Zephyr...?”

Luna stepped in.  “I am not certain, but I would guess that if they attempted to perform the transfer themselves, via suicide, their souls would instead cave, or fold in on themselves, and defeat the purpose of the act.  Given a choice, they likely chose Zephyr because her methods are both clear and merciful.”

“I thought you managed everypony’s soul,” I said quietly.

“In hearts of stars, not of stone.”

“What I could not divine was the amulet’s purpose,” Descant said.  “But you are certainly better equipped than I for that issue.”

Violet slipped the necklaces over her head, to join with the silver ring.  They clanked together softly, with the soft tinkling of wind chimes, and they incessantly continued to do so.  Violet’s gaze dropped to them so often it almost looked like I actually had broken her neck.  At least until she raised her head and squarely met Descant’s gaze.

“Thank you.”

“There is one other thing,” the dragon continued.  “There is a pony who goes by the name of Crimson Lotus.  He is your—”

“—brother, I know,” she said.

“No, Violet.  I believe your term for it is uncle.”

The necklaces...Descant had just forked them over.  Violet hadn’t even asked...

“You knew,” I growled in sudden realization.   “You both knew.”

“So I did,” said Descant.

“I did not,” said Luna.

I whirled on the dragon.  Luna had already admitted that her connection to the Calamus was conveyed through whims and hunches at best.  Intuition.  And there was no reason for her to lie, nor any evidence that she had.  Of course the best evidence of a good deception was none at all, but Luna’s recount of Holly had fit everything I’d known about her.  Including Dad’s necklace...

Which just left Descant, sitting there, smug, implaccable, pompous...

“Just thought you’d have a little fun, eh?”

“You wound me, Zephyr.  I take no pleasure in manipulation.  The two ponies were adamant that I perform, and even more adamant that I hire you, specifically.  They claimed failure to do so could result in, at best, a war, at worst, mass genocide.”

“And you just believed them?”

He looked me carefully in the eye.  “Placing my faith in ponies has paid off far more often than not, Zephyr.  This is a mistake many dragons make, out of fear, prejudice, the illusion of a primal superiority.”

Something hit me.  “You do know my real name.”

He looked momentarily stunned.  “What of it?”

“Nothing.  I’ve just...you’ve never used it before.  But just what made you believe them?”

“Knowledge of another plot to kill them.”

“I—what?”

“The Starweaver has already informed you of their abilities, yes?”

Luna, of course.  “She has.”

“The dragons were equally aware of them, and there were those who knew, with the proper leverage, they could sway the council into approving the merger.  A council of that size could not be moved to convene at a different time, and they could not simply fail to present, or the council would be forced to make its decision without them.”

I nodded slowly.  “And if they did get assassinated by dragons...”

“There would be no hiding that their unrequited killers were dragons, and a war would not be far behind.  Whereas—”

“—if I killed them, everyone would know it wasn’t dragons.”

“Precisely.  Your methods are well-known enough to achieve that.”

“So they were subverting a war, then.”

“In one scenario, yes,” Descant said.  “As they said, the other outcome was likely mass genocide.”

“Of who?”

“Those that chose not to strike first.”

“Clever,” Luna said.  “They gave their lives to protect us...they may have known you were also, in a way, working for us, Zephyr.  Their refusal of an escort...if they had one, they might have captured you, and crippled your ability to act outside the law.”

“It does make sense,” I said.  “But still...”

I looked up at them both.  Luna.  Descant.  Neither was prone to manipulation of others...which could be just what they wanted me to think.  The same for it all making sense.  But the latter read my mind.

“I apologize for the deception, Zephyr, but it was necessary.”

“So it seems.”  If it was all a grand scheme of some sort, all evidence was that it went higher than both of them, and both Ebony and Ivory.  What Descant had asked was remarkably lacking in detail—critical to any fine manipulation—and if Luna wanted to manipulate me, she would’ve been infinitely better off using Dad’s necklace as leverage instead of gambling on me to feel like I owed her.  But if it was Princess Celestia, then why did it all seem to revolve around the Calamus, whose only remaining link was with Luna, and Luna alone?

This didn’t make sense.  Either Luna was manipulating things against her own will, or there was a much greater unseen force at work.  How else would Violet end up with me...

“If you two are manipulating me...”

“I am not,” Luna said flatly.

“As you have completed that job, my role as the manipulator is over, as well,” Descant said.  “As far as I am aware, the Progenitor has involved you and I in none of her grandmaster chess gambits, either.”

I looked around at Limbo.  “Then it only leaves this...because this is too coincidental.  And how did you get here, anyways, Descant?”

“The shrine called,” he said.  “As I finished my...work, it called out, and I answered.”

Probably the same way it’d called to me and Deluge, and now me and Violet...but Whimsy had been with Deluge.  Another pair.  So who was he with?  It had to be that other pony...Sterling?

Either way I didn’t need to know about his work.  Not my business.  What was...

“No signs of Lucifa?”

“Unfortunately unlucky.  You?”

“Glimpses.  Nothing concrete yet.”

Luna looked around.  “I see no signs, either.”

“Back to square one, it seems,” said Descant.

“I never left square one,” I grumbled.  “All I learned is what she looks like without color, and a fat lotta good that’s going to do me.”

“How did you see her?” he asked sharply.

“I don’t know.  The shrine was sending me to the Everfree when I did.  It’s...this shrine.  It just...I don’t know, it...just knows.  Violet,” I said suddenly, and she looked over her shoulder without a word.  “What brought you three to the shrine?  How did Deluge end up with you?”

Her head drooped slightly as she mulled it over.  Given the circumstances, I really couldn’t hold it against her if she chose not to answer.  But then again, what reason was there to not?  She had to know by now that without a contract, I would go to every extreme I had to to avoid needless deaths...and really, it was too convenient.

Three ponies just show up out of the blue.  One a remarkably similar weathermare, one the icon of collateral damage, and...what would the last one be?  More importantly, who was behind all this...?

If it wasn’t Luna, Descant, or Celestia, then it could only be the Calamus...

...and...and...

“It’s her.”

All eyes—even Violet’s—snapped to me.  I ignored her probing purple eyes.

“It’s Lucifa.  She’s pulling all the strings, she...she...orchestrated your arrival, Violet.  Yours and Deluge’s and Sterling’s.  And mine, Whimsy’s, Descant’s...I need a word with her.  Just manipulating us like that...”

“I’m not so sure,” Luna murmured uncertainly, almost to herself.

“No, it all makes sense,” I insisted.  “I mean unless she is trying to deceive us, too, but...”

The dragon shook his head.  “It would not be like her.  No, I think there is another force at work.  One much more prone to deception, and one you have encountered her more than a few times.”

“Dust.”

The corners of his mouth curled; I kept forgetting that wasn’t actually her name.  “A name most apt for one so...capricious.  She would like that name, but I feel it is only proper manners that you know hers.”

He drew a slow breath and released it even slower.  The name seemed to get caught in his throat, like it was fighting to stay unknown the whole way.  More evidence that she was the cataclysm...

“Mélange.  The Valkyrie.”

I couldn’t resist leering at him.  “Your name for her.”

“Yes.  But of course, therein lay another question; if she is indeed leading you along a path, then what is her connection to the Calamus?  Why is she able to guide you as no one else can?”

“If she has Lucifa’s magic...”

“Mélange?” Luna repeated, a little belatedly.  “Are you certain?”

“Yes.”  He answered without looking at her, and in the oddest, most off-kilter voice I’d ever heard him use.  “It is not a name many know, so I must warn you.  If you reveal your knowledge of it, she will retaliate, and not kindly.”

Understandably.  Who’d want a name like that, honestly?  At least Dust sounds cool.  Mélange sounds like your throat’s half-full of honey or something.  Then again, he had also called her the Valkyrie...

But whatever it meant, if he was bringing it up, I could be sure it was indicative of something pivotal.  Especially because of just one, singularly odd thing.  The twin sisters only seemed to know what Dust had done, and anything beyond that was a calculated guess at best.  Yet, Descant...Descant knew her real name, her title, and most surprisingly, her nature.

And even if he had given her that title, the few times I’d encountered her had proved her nature was as fickle as the wild sky.  The first one, the day I’d ambushed Ebony and Ivory, Dust had been there, in the dragon council.  If not a part of it, then a subject of it.  How or why she was involved was curious enough, but she had been subdued then.  A victim.

The next time had been at Riverside, when she’d lowered the rippling wall as no one else, apparently not even Canzonetta, could.  But her behavior that time had been casual, polite.  She’d even thanked the Caelum guards for protecting her.

Then something darker.  Her purpose there was to meet Canzonetta before her death, and sap the magic of life from the dragon as she departed.  I had no doubts as to what Dust’d taken from her that day.  There was nothing else, no other magic, she could have taken; all of that had gone to Deluge, and thanks to the Canzonetta’s memories, she would’ve noticed if it had fallen short.  But...

It was all connected.  Through the Calamus, through whatever interventions and methods it used, and apart from Dust, there was one common theme between both expeditions.  Neither had been the start of anything, really, but the continuation of something that had already occurred.  Something Dad had mentioned at the start of this one...

“The end.”

“I beg your pardon?” Luna and Descant said, accidentally synchronized.  It sounded especially weird because Violet, still without a word, had began shuffling around the outer edge.  Slowly and deliberately, like she was trying to shave ice.

“Last time.  I was with a pegasus, Deluge.  She’d imagined a perfect life after her wedding.  An end to her story.  But instead she’s thrown into a new one, and now she has a whole new story to write.

“And this time.  I thought I was done with that job.  Finished.  The end.  But now this...thing shoves Violet in my face.  The job was done, sure.  Story over.  But Violet...she’s proof that there is life beyond the end, and a brand-new story to go with it.”

“That does seem to be...stretching,” Descant commented.

“Maybe, but it makes a heck of a lot more sense than anything else.  It works with Dust, too.  She’s the calamity, but those don’t come from nowhere.  No, she’s part of a completely different story.  Her own.  And she’s looking for the end.  That’s what the Calamus wants.”

Luna frowned.  “I cannot say I follow...”

“It’s all about the end,” I said.  “None of them, not a single one, had just one story to their name.  They all came after the end of something.  Violet, after the end of her parents’ lives.  Deluge, after the end of a fluid romance.  Dust, after the end of...some great tragedy.”

I paused.

“And even me.  I’m here after the end of all my jobs, after the end of my parents, after the end of every incident...”

“So it wants you to learn there is life after death.”  Descant frowned with the dampened sound of grating steel.  “How trite.”

“No.  Death is not the end.  That’s the point.  Something happens after every story, even after you think it’s ended, when you think it’s dead.  That’s what it wants me to learn.  Flicker said it, too.” The dragon’s malevolent voice of innocence rang in my head, clear as a crystal bell toll.  “‘Perception alone creates time, a beginning, and an end.’  Which, if she’s right, means...”

“...The end is but an illusion,” Descant murmured.  “Now that is much more poignant.”

Luna nodded in silent agreement, lost in thought, and something occurred to me.

“But if it is all about the end...then maybe what I’m looking for isn’t Lucifa, but what came after her end.”

“Perhaps,” Descant said sadly.  “As much as it pains me to admit it, there is little evidence she will return.  Windraker, you know what to do...”

I brushed the name aside; the dragon wasn’t always changing his given titles, but then he didn’t any problem with it if he thought it was appropriate.  Windraker almost definitely came from using wind to pick Ebony and Ivory off of Melisma’s back.  “Of course.  But even if she did leave, it’s not the end of her.  It’s not.  She left something behind.”

“A memory,” Luna said quietly.

“No,” I said, looking up at the mountain of green scales.  He had raised his head, his sheer size hiding his eyes.  But a tiny droplet of water ran down his side, a rainbow in a bead, and even Violet’s agitated shuffling ground to a halt when his tear hit the ground.  “A legacy.  But you want to know if there’s more to it than that...more to what’s left of her.”

I paused.

“...and I do, too.”

There was nothing but a confused curiosity on his face when he looked down.

“This.”  I gestured to the bubble.  “All of this...if this is really her doing...I think I understand why you want to know.  You want to know if she left us anything other than a legend, a stone, and some hazy memories...”

If she had left any inheritance meant to be ours...just like...

“Dad left my goggles, his coin, his enchanted clouds,” I said quietly.  “Just material things, but to me...to me they’re so much more.  In a way...” I couldn’t help a chuckle.  “In a way, they’re his foals, too.  Neither one of us would be here if it wasn’t for him...and..you feel the same way about Lucifa.”

“Yes.”  He half-nodded, pausing for a sigh that was anything but melodramatic.  “Yes, I do.”

“Then I need to know how she began,” I said.  “How she came to be.  An end is just a beginning upside down.”

“To the contrary.  Her end is our beginning.”

“And whose end was her beginning?”

“That is a mystery that remains resolutely unsolved.”

I nodded.  “So that’s what’s next.”

“Perhaps not,” Descant said.  “I refrained from sharing that assumption in the hopes you might find something less founded on hope.”

“Oh, the irony.”

He managed a small grin.  “Indeed.”

“Coincidentally,” Luna said with a smile.  “It seems a good place to start.”

“Not many choices.  And where is it?”

“I’ve yet to meet anybody that knows,” Luna said.  “Any manuscripts on her origin that I’ve found were calculated guesses at best.  Some proposed she was simply a result of countless years of elemental turmoil, of chaos, that was before she gave it order, structure.  Most seemed convinced she came from another dimension entirely.”

Never a straight answer.  “Might be a problem if she did.  And I still don’t know where to start looking.”

“The ancient cities,” Descant said, and, upon seeing me confused, clarified.  “In the olden days, four cities served as sanctuary for all; Haven, Atlantis, Aeolia, and Animus.  Between the four of them, they could provide any living creature with the essentials, if not more.”  His tone shifted to one of muted sadness.  “Of course, with Equestria and the birth of the divine, the need for such cities is dead, and time has found them little but ruins.”

“Aeolia?”

A glint of his steely teeth appeared.  “Quite.  These cities amassed large populations, and in doing so they also accumulated a considerable wealth of medeis vitae—life magic, if you will, though that is a liberal interpretation—moreso than any other place on the planet.”

“So what good does that do me?”

Luna looked slightly dazed, her eyes glazed over with memories years old.  “All life came from Lucifa if you trace it far enough,” she said clearly.  “If you are able to discern a pattern in the lingering traces, you will likely find her.”

Descant’s list stirred another question, but it was irrelevant, for the time being.  There was a different question I had to ask, even if I already had an answer. “How am I supposed to find a pattern in something I can’t see, feel?”

“If I knew, there would be no need for this quest,” Descant said.  “You might be able to find both her end and her beginning if you find the right perspective.”

Perspective, eh?  So even in all his grandeur he hadn’t discerned Whimsy’s sleight...

“Noted.”  I sighed.  “Well, it’s a start, I guess.”  Four massive cities like that couldn’t be hard to pinpoint.  I already had a vague idea of where Aeolia was, and Atlantis was famed for being the city lost to the seas, but the other two were new.  If they really were beacons of any kind of magic, though, Whimsy would be able to find them with relative ease.  The Calamus had to pair us this time...

Luna’s head snapped up.  Her eyes were shut, her horn ablaze, her mouth moving soundlessly.  I glanced at Descant; he looked as confused as I was, but he shook his head slightly.  Don’t interrupt.

Whatever she princess was doing, she was no longer with us.  Violet’s agitated shuffling had grown ever louder, and Descant had taken to shifting around so much it looked like someone had burned his scales.  That alone was interesting; the only thing I could think of was Dust.  Just talking about her for whatever reason set his scales on edge, moreso than anything else I’d ever seen get to him.

And yet Luna was completely unaware of the ungainly combination of scuffling scales and scratching hooves.  Interesting.

What was even more interesting was when her magic spiraled off her horn and curled into various arcane runes above her.  A few were Draconic, but majority weren’t, and didn’t seem to be from the same language, either; the Draconic ones were mostly circular, but there was rectangular, triangular, and ones that seemed to be miniature pictographs.  Admittedly it wasn’t odd at all for her to know ancient languages, but it was odd was that she was stuck in some dream state recalling them now, of all times.

Several overlapping voices churned to life, utterly indistinguishable from one another; Luna nodded slowly, still muttering.  She continued like that for a while, and when she finished, the voices and runes vanished instantly.

“What is it?” asked Descant, to no avail.  Luna gave him a tiny shake of her head.  Don’t.

“I must think on this.  In the meantime, Zephyr—you need to find what’s left undone.”

The princess found two blank faces staring back at her.

“What’s left undone,” she repeated.  “The last time I spoke to Lucifa, she thought it likely she would be unable to finish what she’d began.  I, in all my wisdom, tried to convince her otherwise, but she didn’t listen.  She said that of all the things she had made, she was proudest of whatever it was she’d left unfinished, something that would outlive her, and outlast her end.  ”

“You don’t know what it is, do you?”

“No.  Of course not.  She was fond of letting us discover on our own.”

“Something for us to finish,” I muttered.  “What’s left undone...for us to finish?”

“But of course...” Descant began, and we all finished it with him.

“What could it be?”

Not a legacy.  You can’t finish a legacy.  Forget it, hail it, pass it on, sure.  But not finish.  What, then, could it be?  Something that had to grow on its own?

“It might not be just one thing,” I said darkly.

“It may have something to do with something she taught all of us...” Luna mused.

“Which is?”

“‘There is no shame in being who you are.’”

“Sure,” I grumbled.  “Unless you ruin other ponies’ lives just for fun.  Lots of shame in that, apparently.”  Wasn’t exactly helpful in the first place.  There was only one thing I could think of that combined what’s left undone and be yourself, and that was completely out of the question.  Never in a million years.

“You didn’t do it for fun,” Descant said sharply.  “You did it for your kin.  The Ghostwriter.”

I paused.  I hadn’t really thought about what he would call Whimsy.  “At first, yeah.  At first.  But after a while I...enjoyed it.  The challenge, the thrill, the hunt...all of it.  Walking a razor’s edge.”  I sighed.  “I enjoyed it...and I can’t hide that.”

“There is serene liberty in the hunt,” Descant said quietly.  “And if it is of any solace, the Forerunner was similar.”

Great, another title.  “The who?”

Luna was looking at him with a strange expression on her face.  “He would mean Captain Bolt...Holly.  A posthumously given title, if I’m not mistaken.”

“It was...apropos,” he confided in a low voice.  “In life she was the consummate professional, but underneath she was spirited.  Little lit her passion like a mission.  A single goal to achieve, countless ways to get there, and constraints to make it all the more challenging.  A puzzle.  There was only one thing I could think to call her, and she wore it with a pride she would never confess.”

He peered down his snout at me.

“The Skybreaker.”

“You know her pretty well,” I said coldly.  “As you do Dust.”

“I have spent my share of time in their company, yes,” he said, and that was that.  His tone of voice made it exceedingly clear.  “All I will add is that both are exceptional ponies, and I am honored to have known them.”

“Have?” I repeated.  “Dust is still alive.”

“The one I knew met her end long ago.”

I brushed it aside.  “So how could something we have to finish be related to being who you are?”

Luna almost replied, but stopped for some reason.  I wasn’t sure why until Violet appeared around her flowing tail.  Descant breathed in sharply; I couldn’t blame him.  Violet did have a tendency to turn invisible.  Metaphorically.

“G-guys.”  She was shivering violently, and her shrouded eyes were darting about like something was about to attack her.  There was nothing else around us, not even anything magical besides Limbo—which itself had been harmless so far—but she had to be terrified of something.  And she knew so long as she didn’t insult him again, I wouldn’t lay a hoof on her.  “Gu-guys, I...I...”

She yelped and toppled in panic as Luna’s mane brushed against her side, and it took several moments of deep breathing to bring her back to coherence.  Just what in Tartarus had spooked her?  There was nothing here.  Nothing.

Apparently Violet thought otherwise.

“Guys, I...”

Slowly, painstakingly, excruciatingly, like she would drop dead if she moved too fast, she lifted her gaze an inch, then another inch, then another, until finally...she was looking straight up, unable to speak.  There was still nothing of note up there.  Just the bubble of Limbo and all of its illusory stars.

But up there, up where the sky would have been, she saw something through her veil of magic, her magic that exposed the truth.  And though she spoke so softly I had to strain to hear her, her whispered words sent silent shockwaves thundering through Limbo and us alike.

“...I think something’s watching us.”

End of Arc 2

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