A Game of Chess

Rolan lay, alone, within a small cave in Darkfrost. Or, rather, a dungeon, for it was where Wendigo was known to store his most dangerous threats (mostly being treacherous windigoes, or ponies who had managed to form rebellions amongst the tortured populace). There was nopony anywhere near him, and the former king lay upon the cold stones. Leaving was impossible due to the odd magic that laced the cave, and the wound on his side had since stopped bleeding, yet still ached.

He shook his head, and looked away from the bars that locked him inside. There were no windows, and the only lights were two flickering torches positioned outside of his cell. In short, the former king could do nothing, and the wretched conditions - albeit better than they were for some ponies - made even sleeping within the prison horrible and wretched.

"How... fitting," Rolan heard himself murmur, but only to himself. "A prison as wretched as this... for a king as foolish as I had been."

"Fitting indeed," came the reply, as cold and cruel as he'd remembered it, "but you always were the one to seek out the subtext or the symbolism, never focusing on the actual story. Eh, Rolan?"

The figure appeared before him, the air having converged as the massive windigo made himself apparent to the prisoner.

"Wendigo," Rolan said. It wasn't accusatory, it wasn't angry, it wasn't even sorrowful or annoyed. The voice that spoke had no energy left for any of those, and instead sounded tired.

"Indeed," said the beast, a cruel smirk on his muzzle. "So I take it that you've been wandering around our beautiful little nation, worming your way past the windigoes, and trying to convince several ponies to tell you of information that could aid the traitor, Checkmate?" He shook his head, but the smirk remained. "What a... shame, Rolan."

"I assume you're here to kill me?" asked Rolan, still tired. "If so, then you may as well get on with it, instead of trying to screw around with my head."

Wendigo sighed, and glanced away. "Honestly, you think that I'm here to kill you, Rolan?" he asked, and shook his head. "Please. If I wanted you dead, I would ensure a public execution, so that everypony here in Darkfrost could see just what happens to those who rise against me."

"They already know that," said Rolan, and his voice had become cold. "They've seen everything you've done, already."

Wendigo turned his head back towards Rolan, and laughed. "But of course!" he said. "How can they learn to obey if they are wrought by their ignorance and arrogant ideals? A god requires his servants to worship him, no?"

"You think yourself to be a god?" Rolan hissed, his energy returning. "You must truly be insane."

"Insane? Perhaps," Wendigo admitted. "It's certainly plausible, given that... No, that's unimportant. What truly matters is why I'm here now. Aren't you the slightest bit curious?"

"To mock me?" guessed Rolan.

"Not even close," replied the tyrant, and he turned away. "You see... I've simply come to visit an old friend. Is that so hard to fathom?"

"Coming from you?" Rolan said. "Yeah, that is somewhat hard to believe, really. Considering that you betrayed me, killed me, and took my throne for yourself, I think it's a safe bet that you're just the heartless bastard everypony here knows you to be."

Wendigo shook his head. "Allow me a question, Rolan, if you will: why do you all claim me to be a heartless bastard?"

"Because you're a monster," growled Rolan, not even hesitating. "You kill ponies for fun, and then you..." He shuddered. "You're just a sadistic monster. You kill, you destroy, and you do it all just to make yourself seem more powerful, like some kind of foul god."

"I am a god, Rolan," replied Wendigo. "You just don't know it, I'm sure, but I have the power to destroy this entire world if I desire. The difference is that it's much more enjoyable to watch it all play out."

Rolan looked away from the monstrosity. "What happened to you, Wendigo?" he asked, somewhat sadly. "You used to be so -" he thought for a second "- friendly, and compassionate, and just... not this. So what happened to you?"

Wendigo was silent, for just a moment. "... Ponies change, Rolan," he said, quietly. "What once was, that innocence, that compassion, is now lost into eternity's maw. Sometimes one must pull back the curtains and look at what lay beneath." He touched the side of his head. "And what lay beneath - the true me - was... this. This is my destiny, and there is nothing that can be done to alter fate. It's simply a fact of life."

"Fine," Rolan said, "but allow me a question, won't you?"

Wendigo said nothing.

"Tell me this," Rolan started. "Is there really a Catalyst?"

Wendigo turned towards him, but didn't meet his eyes. "It's as I said, Rolan," he replied, his voice surprisingly soft and reserved. "Ponies change. Don't pursue this any further than you have; the further down this path you tread, the more painful the outcome shall be."

Then, he turned away once more. "Now then, Rolan. I must be off. You see, I've business with Checkmate Vigarde in Solace, and I'm not one to allow my targets to wait for me. I shall tell Deun to allow you your freedom once I've returned; I'll tell him that I mentally scarred you, or some such crap as that."

"Why?" Rolan asked, confused. "Why are you being so... reserved, instead of how you usually are?"

Wendigo laughed, bitterly. "Like I told you," he said. "Don't pursue this matter any further. I'm not about to give some heartfelt apology, or change sides, or atone for my actions. I'm not looking for sympathy for what I have done, because I know just what I've become. I'm not letting you live because of any of that; I'm letting you live, and I'm not about to torture you, because you were the first one to accept me all those years ago, and if it weren't for a certain... event... that happened, I'm sure that we'd still be the same today."

The windigo left, then, leaving the prisoner to his thoughts. Thoughts of an old friend, of his monstrous change, and, most importantly, of which personality was Wendigo's true one.

The first thing that Checkmate and the others saw once they'd entered into Solace was Lynar, sitting on the ground, along with the fillies, Spike, and Cora, holding cards in his hooves.

"Oh, hey there!" Lynar said, grinning as he noticed the group enter into the area. "How did it go?"

"About as well as you'd expect," Dusk muttered, rubbing the side of his head with his hoof. "We would like to speak to Asgard, if you wouldn't mind?"

"About Hecatoncheir?" Cora asked, standing up, and glancing over at him. "I'm not sure if he'd be able to talk. He always goes to the Ignis's chamber whenever Hecatoncheir appears, for some reason or another..."

Lynar grimaced. "Hecatoncheir's alive?" he asked, and he let out a sigh.

"Unfortunately," said Dusk. "We were unable to kill him. However, we were able to give him deep cuts on his side and one of his legs. I doubt that he'll be able to escape easily if we meet him once more. He's no longer threatening Solace, for now, at least, so we would like to ask Asgard some questions."

Cora and Lynar exchanged a glance. "What kinds of... questions?" asked the former.

"Simple enough," replied Dusk. "We just wish to know a few... facts about this matter that may have been denied to us. Such as, for example, Hecatoncheir's elemental alignment, and any weaknesses that we can exploit."

Cora let out a sigh of relief. "Alright," she said. "For a second I was worried you were going to ask him about his past. Asgard is very touchy about that subject, for some reason or another."

"Really?" Twilight asked. "What do you mean by 'touchy'?"

"Well," replied Cora. "He always makes me turn off my scanning before we meet up, and rarely talks to me anyway... He's very secluded, compared to the rest of us."

Dusk grimaced. "I see," he replied. "Could you possibly get us an audience with him now? I'm inclined to hear his answers to our questions."

"Certainly," said Lynar. "In fact, I'm sure that Cora could just escort you there now, if that's alright with her."

The captain in question smiled. "Sure," she said. "I've no problems with it, after all, and I'm sure that Asgard will be quite happy for anything that can help rid us of Hecatoncheir."

Checkmate felt his blood run cold. Did she really not know? Did none of them know the truth? Of course, it was possible that Asgard himself didn't know the connection between Illia and the Ignis, and that was why they needed to talk to him, rather than simply attack, yet...

"Good," Dusk said, interrupting his thoughts. "We'd best be going now, though, while we still have time before that bastard's next attack."

The group, which now included the fillies and Spike (who related everything they'd learned to the others on the walk), and Cora, spoke as they walked along the obsidian pathways, over the bridges that stood over magma, and over the lakes that seemed to be bubbling with the molten rock.

Twilight looked at Cora. "Hey, I've been meaning to ask... shouldn't the magma theoretically kill us?"

"That's a good question," replied Cora. "There's a kind of magic in this volcano that creates a barrier around the magma itself. The heat it exudes is decreased massively, but it still has the same properties. Basically, just imagine that the magma is blocked off from the rest of the area by the magic, although it doesn't mean much to us. Those with an affinity for the fire element don't feel heat as much as the other elements do, so us sleipnirs don't really notice it as much as most other ponies do. Windigoes, on the other hoof, would do terribly in this place, and we'd do just as bad in Darkfrost. This hasn't stopped Wendigo from attacking us, of course, but he's much more reserved and far less dangerous here than he is back where the elements work in his favor."

Sweetie Belle looked up at them. "For the record," she said, dryly. "This is exactly how the entire time you guys were fighting Hecatoncheir was like for us."

Dusk grinned. "Well, Cora's always been a bit of a chatterbox. Always wanting to show off the information that she knows..."

"That would have been nice to know before you left us with her and Lynar..." Spike muttered. "I'm amazed she and Twilight haven't started talking about complex theorems, or which elemental affinity has the advantage over the others, or something like that..."

"Well, there is no elemental affinity that's better than the others," said Twilight. "They all have their strengths and weaknesses, after all..."

"That's right," agreed Cora, the two suddenly walking next to each other. "It's the ponies who have a connection to more than one element - alicorns, sleipnirs, and windigoes all have more than one - and those who have an affinity for three - which is especially rare, but sometimes some of the more powerful sleipnirs, windigoes, and alicorns have that, but it's usually for more god-like creatures - who are the most powerful. I like to think that light and darkness are the two most powerful, but they're also the most useless unless a pony is Celestia or Luna, or can manipulate shadows automatically."

"What do the affinities do?" Checkmate asked, curious.

Twilight turned towards him. "Well, the debate is still ongoing about it - mostly because it's not a very common subject since so few ponies know what their's is - but, from what we can tell, fire affinities are strong in warm environments, but bad in the cold, ice is the opposite, water is able to hold their breath underwater for longer but are more susceptible to electricity, lightning is the opposite of water, earth is naturally sturdy and powerful, and wind is fast and can resist powerful gales. That's not it, of course, but that's the most that we know at the moment about them."

"What about light and darkness?" asked Checkmate.

"Nopony really knows," admitted Twilight. "So few ponies have either affinity that nopony understands just what advantage ponies with them have. The only ones most of us know about are Celestia and Luna, and even they don't seem to understand just what they can do."

"That's right," Cora said. "Very few sleipnirs are born with a third element - since we're all a combination of fire and earth -, but if they are, the element is usually lightning or, occasionally, wind. There hasn't ever been a sleipnir who has access to dark or light except for one, as far as I know, at least, and I'm the one who can read affinities."

"What's mine?" Checkmate asked, once more.

"Yours?" Cora stared at him for a few seconds as they continued to walk. "Huh, that's odd. You're neutral, it seems."

"Neutral?" Checkmate cocked his head, slightly. "Do you mean that I'm not especially strong either way?"

"That's right," Cora replied. "You're not particularly good at any element, but you're not bad at any either. I think that you're the one with the advantage, really; it makes life much more interesting to not have to plan everything out."

Twilight grinned. "Yeah, it sure seems like you're at least not too complicated, Checkmate. For a second, I was worried that you'd somehow be light or darkness or something like that. Or some type of unheard-of element."

"That really would be stupid, wouldn't it?" Cora asked, and she grimaced. "Although, to be honest, neutral isn't exactly common, either. It's somewhat rare among ponies - not especially rare, I mean, but not as common as the six primary elements, and it's certainly more common than light or darkness -, and sleipnirs and windigoes never have access to it, but there's really no advantage to having it, either."

"Good," replied Checkmate, and he smiled. "I'd rather have no disadvantage than have some easily exploitable weakness."

"Huh, you really are learning," said Cora. "I mean, most ponies in your position would curse Chronos for giving them no real strength, but I think you've found yours."

Checkmate held up the Glacius. "Yeah," he said. "I think I have, and once I've gained the Ignis, Wendigo will know my strength as well."

Twilight looked back at Cora. "But what about the rest of us?" she asked. "What are our affinities?"

Cora looked her over, before grinning. "Please," she said. "I'm not going to tell you that. Part of life is letting things come as they do. In Checkmate's case, I could at least tell him since there's nothing for him to worry about more than anything else. The rest of you have affinities of your own, but telling you would just make you paranoid."

Twilight sighed. "I guess that makes sense," she admitted, "but it could be such an interesting subject to study..."

The captain laughed. "I'll tell you what, Twilight: I'll try and give you all back in Equestria a hoof in your studies after you've all taken down Wendigo, alright? After that, I'm sure that Asgard will be glad to let us out of here, once the threat of that bastard has vanished."

The lavender alicorn nodded, but glanced over at Dusk, who nodded. They both knew all too well what was about to happen, but said nothing to the captain.

"Ah, we're here," Cora said, stepping up to the door of Asgard's chamber. "I'll go in with you, just to be sure that he understands the importance of this matter. If we don't find him, we should just go to the Ignis's chamber further in, and I'm certain he'll be there."

The nod from the group was unanimous, as they entered into Asgard's chamber. Naturally, the place was empty, so they did as Cora suggested and walked through a passageway in the back, down obsidian steps and through dark walkways until, at last, they reached the chamber where the Ignis lay.

The room was round, with the top - a layer of red rock - suspended over a vast pool of molten magma. In the center of the platform lay a pedestal, wherein a sword stood with its blade inside of it. In front of the pedestal stood a figure that was all too familiar to them; tall, dark-red, and with eight legs.

"Asgard," said Cora, stepping towards him, "I've brought you the ponies. They wish to ask some questions regarding Hecatoncheir."

The figure turned, slowly, and Checkmate noticed a wound on his side. He stood before them, his face a mask, and his eyes cold.

"Very well," said Asgard. "What exactly do you desire to know?"

Dusk stepped towards him. "First things first," he said, calmly. "You claimed that Illia is dead, didn't you?"

"Indeed," replied the sleipnir. "It was a tragedy, to be sure. A shame that such a powerful, strong-willed, determined -"

"Cut the crap," growled Dusk. "Illia isn't dead."

"Whatever do you mean?" asked Asgard, his left hoof trailing to a dagger at his side; a dagger that was the color of blood.

Dusk stepped towards him. "Illia cannot be dead," he replied. "She's sitting in front of us now. Or perhaps you didn't know the secret of the Ignis, although I'd think that to be false. You're its protector, so don't deny that you've known this for so long."

Asgard let out a sigh, and turned around. "You're quite intelligent," he replied. "In fact, I may go so far as to claim you to be a genius. However, if I may remind you of an important matter..."

Pinkie stepped towards him, her eyes blazing with an odd fury. "Well, why don't you tell us this 'important matter', then, Mr. Liar-Liar-Pants-On-Fire!"

"Indeed I shall," Asgard's voice remained level, almost monotonous.

And then, as if out of nowhere, he reached forward, his frontmost-right leg pulling itself around Pinkie's neck, and pulling her so that her back was to him. Then, with his left hoof, he pulled the blood-colored dagger up, and held its point to her throat so that a single bead of blood ran down it.

"Around here, in this place called Solace," he said, calmly, although his voice shook somewhat as he spoke, "they call me 'the strategist'."

"Asgard, release her!" Checkmate growled, stepping towards him.

"I will, don't you fret," replied the lord of Solace, the dagger still pressed to his hostage's throat. "But first, allow me some questions of you."