//------------------------------// // Act II, scene vi - Castle Crashers // Story: A World Rent Asunder // by NeverEatTheLemonsAlone //------------------------------// Alright, confession time: I've been nursing a private hope that when and/or if I ever saw her again, Pinkie and/or Mena would seem more sane. [1] Clearly, this was a mistake. The first thing—literally the first thing that pink terror does upon recovering from the teleportation dizziness is to light a Tartarus-damned bomb. Only careful application of magic to snip off the fuse saves all of us from becoming cave paintings. She wildly glares around, seeming disoriented and completely lost. Her eyes meet with those of Rainbow and she growls animalistically, launching herself at the pegasus. "Where is she?" she shrieks, pursuing Rainbow as the agile flyer darts away. "What did you do with my—ngg!" Her face seizes up and she twitches for a moment, "Our friend?!" As she leaps for Dash again, I intercede. "Hey, whoa, Pinkie! I'm right here!" She drops mid-jump in the most blatant abuse of physics I think I've ever seen before slowly turning her head to meet my stare, eyes abnormally wide. I shudder slightly, reminded suddenly of the Princess echoes, but I don't have time to do much more than that before she throws herself at me, mane and tail ballooning as she envelops me in a crushingly tight embrace. "Purple! We missed you!" Though it's probably the most opportune of times, I can't help but wonder why she just called me Purple. Actually, now that I think about it, I don't know if I ever actually gave her my name. Then again, at that point in my traveling I was just grateful to meet somepony that didn't want to rip my throat out through my eyes, so eh. Justifiable paranoia.[2] Regardless, I manage to squeeze out an "I missed you too" from between the steel-tight forelegs, prompting her to suddenly release me and let me drop to the cave floor, heaving in heavy breaths. As if me speaking somehow gave her the ability of basic observation, she takes this moment to look around her surroundings and, in doing so, she sees Trixie standing there uncomfortably. Her face goes utterly blank and dead still. Not even a psychopathic grin. Brrr. She walks—she doesn't trot, bounce, pronk or hop, which is disconcerting all on its own—to my sister, staring her dead in the eyes for a good few minutes. Rivulets of sweat are running down Trixie's face at this point, but she doesn't dare look away. Finally, a great deal of time later, Pinkie speaks a very simple, three word sentence: "I know you." Now, this is important just for the content, because of the shared history between them. But only recently recovered from having the wind utterly crushed out of me, the only thing I can think of is that she's actually using grammatically correct pronouns without correcting herself, meaning that this isn't Pinkamena talking, or even Mena. No, this is all Pinkie. Another three word sentence: "You were there." I take a step back. If I know Pinkie, this is going to get ugly real fast, and I want to be far enough back to see what's going on clearly so I can snuff away the next inevitable bomb. At the same time, I open my mouth to shout a warning to Trixie. A warning which promptly dies on my throat as I realize that I don't actually know Pinkie at all, and that there's a grin, slow but genuine, spreading across her face until it stretches from ear to ear. Literally. Pinkie likes three word sentences: "You didn't run." A wobbly smile pops up on Trixie's face and she lifts a foreleg, motioning the pink pony that I think I've learned a little something about forward into a hug. Yaaaaaay. Now we might not all die in a horrifying cataclysm of explosive death. [3] Though I place stress on the word 'might.' No, I don't have trust issues. What are you talking about? [4] Just as quickly as the peaceful moment occurred, it breaks up. Pinkie's smile goes wide and unhinged and she thrusts herself off of Trixie. "So!" she exclaims in a tone far, far more chipper than it has any right to be, "what are we blowing up this time, Purple?" I sigh. "...It's Twilight. Not...not Purple. Please." She shrugs, seemingly unconcerned. "Okay, Midnight!" My teeth screech together slightly. Either she doesn't notice or she doesn't care, and by the wink she sent my way, I'm pretty sure she notices. Ergo, she doesn't care, ergo, there's nothing I can do, et cetera. "Anyway," I grind out, harshly emphasizing the the first syllable, "didn't Luna brief you on what was going on over here?" She looks at me like I'm crazy. Ah, the irony. "Luna? Some unicorn just told us she could teleport us someplace where we could blow stuff up!" She pats me on the head condescendingly. "Are you feeling okay? Pfft, thinking Luna told me" another brief spasm of her face, that's really getting disturbing now, "us to do something! Ha!" I take a deep, deep breath to shut down my violent urges before continuing. "Well, whoever sent you over here, you get to blow up something big. No, you get to blow up the BIGGEST something." She can barely contain herself with excitement; in fact, I think she's vibrating. That would explain the low buzzing sound and she fact that she's only partially visible at this point. "Whatisitwhatisitwhatisit?" I grin cockily. "You get to blow up the Solar Citadel." Well. She faints instantly. "Stop vibrating, damnit!" --- [1]: In light of what happened a little afterwards, I have doubts that any of us are any better. [2]: Yes, I am fully aware that this is impossible. No, Word Smith, you don't need to correct me. You're an editor, and my list of doctorates is probably longer than your extended family tree, I am aware of basic pony biology. Shut up. [3]: Although, let's be honest: as ways to die go, a huge explosion isn't bad. [4]: My therapist disagrees. --- So. While it's true that they're utterly terrifying in most cases, explosions are sometimes just as good as a symphony on one's ears. [1] This is one of those times. The unholy cascade of noise that comes from Pinkie's ballistic setup is tortuously loud, creating a kind of noise vacuum as the ringing drowns out all other sound even through the shockwave-deadening barrier that Trixie and I conjure, even as far away as we are. After the effort that it took to breach the teleport lock around the Citadel, there's both a relief in the fact that I can teleport straight to the gate and a delicious catharsis in blowing the north wall, all resplendent marble and gold, into gravel and twisted metal. Suddenly, I can capture why Pinkie likes this as much as she does. A crazed grin spreads across my face and I dash forward into the hole in the wall while shrapnel from the detonation is still flying. The familiar courtyard is worse for wear. The enormous power of the series of shaped charges wired up by Pinkie have cracked the immaculately kept marble roadway leading to the palace into fragments. The fountains have ceased running and water is spilling out, the pure magic that once kept them pouring igniting in pale purple flames upon contact with air. The pipelines of liquid mana beneath have ruptured, sending phantom flames up in random conflagrations of soul-mangling fire throughout the previously-clean lawn, decay spreading across it at incredible speeds. An exultant laugh explodes out of me as I revel in the destruction around me. It ignites a dark pleasure within me, a primal lust for destruction. I lose all control, though not in a magical sense; this is no magic surge. This is simply years of deeply-repressed destructive urges towards this infernal place bubbling up in a chaotic outpour of violence. The token guard left behind in the courtyard by Celestia for appearance's sake are stumbling about, clutching their heads as they bleed out of their ears, eardrums shredded by the intense blast of sound. Before they can even begin to react, I lift up a spar of gold, heat-blasted into an intricate curve that could, in any other situation, be considered artwork. With savage enjoyment, I club the confused ponies to the ground. Yes, it's more efficient to deal with a situation like this by using magic to restrain them and then put them into restorative sleep. However, I wasn't in a proper frame of mind at the moment. Instead of soldiers and guards, all I see are meat-covered punching bags to beat into submission. But hey, that's war. [2] A curious sensation overcomes me. I feel disconnected. That is to say, I'm having some sort of out-of-body experience, watching from an aerial viewpoint as I club into the ground already-senseless ponies that were just doing their job to make ends meet. [3] That's what the trio that steps through the blasted wall sees of me, at any rate. By Trixie's horrified stare, Mena's flattened hair, and the fact that Dash's hoof just impacted my eye at record speed, they're not pleased with that image. "Tartarus damn it, Twilight, what are you doing? This isn't the plan!" she hisses, her single eye sparking furiously as she rips the improvised mace away from my magic, tossing the bloody implement as far away as possible. Suddenly I snap back into myself, and begin to shake. "I..." I'm already expecting the beating that's undoubtedly about to come. Trixie is still just kinda...standing there in disbelief. I don't know if she's fully comprehended what I, her adoptive younger sister, just did. As for Pinkie, or, well, Mena, I'm...not entirely sure what's going on with her. Her eyes are judging, but not angry. It's like she's looking at a pet who just ripped up the furniture, and that's somehow worse than what I was expecting. Surprise surprise when the pain doesn't actually come, for some inane reason. Instead, Rainbow draws back, sizing me up. "Sparkle, have you ever actually been in direct combat? Without using spells?" I look down at my hooves, noticing with vague detachment just how much my hooves are trembling. "N...no. Never...not without magic..." That's not entirely true, but fighting time-displaced ancient princesses down doesn't count. I look up as she sighs and drags a hoof down her face. "Seriously? You've never...I...Ughh. Look, I get what happened here. Battle madness. Sky knows I did worse in my first combat, I had a spear. But Twilight..." The hoof that just peeled off of her face lashes out, laying me out on the floor gasping for breath. With a speed approaching impossible (honestly, I don't know if Rainbow's speed can be measured logically at this point; she just seems to go as fast as the moment demands), she's on top of me, eye boring into me. "What you just did? That's what you did with your magic at Skahaben. I expected you to take more out of that experience." The eye narrows. "That's two strikes. Don't lose control again." --- [1]: My editor's aunt, one Miss Philharmonica, glared at me in the most ferocious manner upon reading this. [2]: I believe this confirms that I had no idea what the realities of war were at that point in time, having always stayed away from the front. [3]: I later found out that out of the eight ponies I savaged, five of them died, either from blunt force trauma or from an inability to escape from the magical fire that consumed their souls. Not my proudest moment. Was I any better than Celestia? i don't know. --- For the rest of our little mission, Trixie and Mena won't speak to me. Won't even look at me. In fact, Dash is the only one that acknowledges my existence at all. [1] Thankfully, that inner rage doesn't have to come back out; those few in the courtyard were the only ponies here. I'm pretty sure none of them are dead, so that does wonders for my conscience. That said, I'm still feeling pretty awful. As I lead the uncomfortably silent group behind me into the guts of the Citadel, past manalights hissing and leaking with unstable magic, I suddenly stop. There's something on the periphery of my hearing. Hmm. Turning backwards and avoiding eye contact, I speak quietly: "Keep going for a little while longer. The sixth left should lead you to another hallway, and the first right should lead you to the magical archives. Enchanted artifacts, ancient magic, there's a lot of stuff in there that should help Luna. Time limit, though. Remember that they're still fighting out there." [2] Trixie and Mena don't acknowledge that I even spoke, but they take the sixth left (mumbling to each other all the while), so I sigh and let my head drop. After a moment, I lift it again, only to find out that, to my surprise, Rainbow is sticking around. Her eye narrows. "What's going on, Sparkle?" I frown as I hear the sound again. "There's something I need to check out." I try to brush past her, but she moves in front of me, meeting my piercing gaze unflinchingly. "Wherever you're going, it isn't safe for any of us to be alone right now. That explosion destabilized the entire Citadel's magical system. One wrong move and the whole load could pour out on you." I shudder despite myself. Like liquid Chasmlands. [3] Dash notices and takes it as a sign of acquiescence, moving aside. "I'm coming with you." I shrug and, straining my twitching ears, catch the thread of sound again, following it down several flights of stairs to parts of the Citadel that I've never explored. Never even seen. The isolated murmurings slowly begin to assemble into a single sound so unexpected that I stop in surprise and Dash nearly trips over me. It's a high, lilting song, weaving its melody through the underbelly of the Citadel. It's so weird and out of place with what else is going on in the world that I'm mostly just confused. Still, my insatiable curiosity guides me along the silent corridors, only rarely broken by a rumbling from above our heads. "This is seriously creepy," mutters Rainbow, "we're following a song through the underbelly of an abandoned castle after a blowing a hole in the wall, and it's still coming down on top of us. What am I doing?" I ignore her, navigating my way through the labyrinthine passages. The architecture down here is older, and the deeper we go, the older it looks. The song is loud now. Following what's now the lone pathway ahead of us, we come to a simple wooden door. This is the source of the song, no doubt. I knock on the door and Dash moves up slightly so she's standing just ahead of me. The song stops and a soft, melodious voice echoes out from inside: "Come in!" As Dash pushes open the door, a plaque on the door catches the light of a candle—not a magical candle, but a real one—and I can see the name Flit embossed upon it. Flit. The Commander of the Second Brigade of magical study. I reach out my hoof to warn Dash, but just as quickly, the warning dies in my throat. The room before is festooned with plant life of all shapes and sizes, from small creeping lichen to enormous trees that somehow sprawl across the ceiling. Birds and squirrels chirp and chitter among the branches. The entire thing feels obscenely surreal. That's not really important, however. What's important is the pony that stands among it. She's a grown mare now, about as old as I am, but she has the same yellow coat, the same pink mane, the same teal eyes. Even the useless wings crumpled and broken by her sides from where I ripped them apart in sixty-eight different ways. [4] Her eyes widen as she looks at the door, and at first, I think she's staring at me. Not so; it's Dash that her eyes are focused upon, and as she makes eye contact, the former Valkyrie's jaw falls slightly open and a strangled word, barely audible enough to hear, slides out: "F...Flutters?" --- [1]: I'm still not sure how I feel about this today. [2]: Words fall slightly short of how I felt assuming a dubious leadership position after the display in the courtyard. [3]: Yeah, pure, refined magic will do that to you. [4]: Yes, I counted. No, I'm not proud of it.