//------------------------------// // Act I - Ch. 6 An Angel Unmade // Story: Justice Itself // by Autocharth //------------------------------// Here it is, chapter 6 and the last proper chapter of Act I – The Root of Evil. This is the first chapter I’m sending to my beta-reader, who saw the note at the start of the last chapter (I really should have realised that would happen, now I think about it) and has assured me she’s happy to start beta-reading already. So it’s off to her, which does mean from now on my updates might be a day or two later than normal extending the wait time a tad. I don’t believe she has an account here, despite being the one who got me to watch FiM in the first place but if she did I’d link it and tell you to go say thanks for her correcting my horrible, horrible rare mistakes. I’m opening the floor (metaphorically speaking, I’m no renovator and this doesn’t really have a physical floor to open anyway) to her for anything she wants to say below. If she doesn’t, well I’ll give her the chance again at the end and in each chapter. Really just seeing if I can get her to. Also: this officially means I am no longer to blame for any typos or errors! Mwuahahaha! This is going on too long, so here it is, the thrilling conclusion to Act I: - Chapter 6 An Angel Unmade. *** Tyrael slogged through the depths of the Everfree, at war with the fierce greenery around him. In truth, any green plant-life was few and far between now. Black roots reached from the base of every tree, curled around the base of every shrub and left the forest around him dark and deathly in colour. Whatever this was, it was no demon of Tyrael’s long experience. He could easily understand such an assumption and had nearly come to it himself, but in the end he would not accept such an answer. It was too...clean. Too familiar. Any lesser creature would have been destroyed by the blast, only the power of an Archangel or Prime Evil could have survived it. A moment of worry, that this might be some work of the Lord of Destruction, was brushed away. Baal was cunning and deceptive, but he would have already begun to lay waste to such a peaceful land. There seemed nothing that could threaten even a wounded Prime Evil here. The devastation he could unleash would have simply strengthened him as well. No, Tor’Baalos was not responsible. The force of the Worldstone’s death would have obliterated his essence anyway after his undoing at the hands of those brave heroes who had fought their way from Tristram to Hell itself and up to the summit of Mount Arreat. It was a cold comfort. As he approached the Heart, Tyrael could not shake the feeling of being watched. It had begun minutes after leaving the hut and now it had intensified. He trotted at a fast pace over a small stretch of hard packed dirt bridging a bog. Only the internal blessing of angelic power gave him sight in this dark place, the sky completely blocked out by dense tree-cover. It felt as though he had entered a dome. Nothing came to mind so much as the feeling of venturing into the depths of a demonic fortress alone. ‘You know I come, and yet you do nothing.’ he thought at whatever controlled the roots. ‘That is a mistake you will regret.’ As if his unseen foe was aware of his thoughts, the syrupy bog’s surface broke on both sides and roots shot out like spears. Tyrael jumped forward and the roots passed between each other in the space he had occupied. A single strike with his hind-hooves tore them apart. Tyrael took off, feeling the tremble of movement beneath his hooves. The bog exploded around him and roots arose, each as thick as a tree and coming to a wicked point or a fat knob studded with sharp growths. They came falling down, smashing through the land-bridge a hoof-pace behind Tyrael. His legs burned as he ran, leaning his head down at the urging of his shell’s instincts to decrease wind-resistance. Despite his speed a tree-root blurred in his vision before him smashing the land-bridge apart. Beneath his hooves a stone or ancient fossilised tree-trunk was lifted and Tyrael catapulted into the air. To his shame, a neigh of shock escaped his mouth. A spike-knobbed tree-root swung at him, and without control of his fall Tyrael was seconds from death. His wings spread and for one beautiful moment, his fall halted. The tree-root, anticipating his fall, swept through the space beneath the pegasus. The moment he realised he was flying and tried to take control of his wings, Tyrael fell. He landed on the tree-root, scrambling for a moment to regain his senses. Numberless millennia of combat made this simplicity itself and Tyrael was moving in seconds. The massive root heaved and tried to shake him off, but Tyrael leapt, aiming his fall in time as another tree-root passed under. He landed squarely on all fours. A short gallop and he leapt again, clearing the edge of the bog. Ignoring the giant roots Tyrael charged onward, his focus on the Heart. A veritable wall of blackened plant-life, armed with thorns the size of short swords, loomed before him. He pushed his hooves into the dirt, sliding to a stop a foot away from the thorn-wall. Behind him the ground continued to erupt in larger, menacing roots. A plan formed instantly and Tyrael turned to face the storm of dark roots headed towards him. He squatted, tensing as if to jump and take flight. Behind him the thorns bristled with living malice towards the intruder, seemingly seeking to tear themselves from the wall and gouge into him. He twitched when the roots were little more than a metre away and whatever mind controlled the branches reacted. They curved up, aiming where they expected the pegasus to have leapt. Instead he ducked, the feint sending the surge of roots into the thorn wall. The roots broke apart and began to pull back, realising the trick. Before it could fully withdraw or regrow the wall over the opening Tyrael was moving, leaping from root to massive root and diving through the hole. Every plant in sight shook, quaking in rage at the pony’s determination and tricks. “Nothing in this world will stop me.” Tyrael murmured, hoping that his hidden enemy would hear the words and feel fear. His eyes hardened. “Nothing.” He sprinted through the field of black grass that covered the ground on the other side of the wall. It ran to either side in a knee-deep circle, curving around the Heart. The moat of corrupted grass quivered as well and Tyrael felt tiny slices as the miniscule blades cut into his skin. His angelic power reacted, enhancing his fortitude and already healing many of the tiny cuts before they were done. Thorned roots ripped their way out of the grass, curling and lashing in rapid succession. Tyrael weaved and jumped, skidded and bounced. When a root struck him he rolled with the attack and moved on without pausing. His path became erratic but he powered on undefeated. A barrier of dark purple flowers as tall as Tyrael stood at the inner edge of the grass moat. Four long, sharp petals with softly glowing feelers bearing its dark seeds covered every inch and they turned to face Tyrael like he was the sun as he approached. A pulse ran through them and a wave of purple and black energy rushed out. It struck Tyrael and he was rebuffed for a moment, the dark magic sticking to his form. He grimaced, feeling the corrupt power. It mattered not its source, its evil was clear to his senses. Light burst from his cutie mark and Tyrael’s eyes lit up. The energy around him shattered as if hammered by a great force, dissipating into the air. The flower-small pulsed again and yet another wave was unleashed. Tyrael’s luminescent wings spread and he gave them a great flap. Power appearing as a white-blue wind ran forth and it dissolved the arcane attack. A bare trace of his rebuttal touched the flowers, and those nearest him began to wither. He flapped again, far stronger though the second long gale he sent out seemed disproportionate. The flower-wall melted away into ash, the purifying might of the High Heavens leaving nothing dark remaining and so long had these flowers been darkened that nothing was left. He passed the breach, and beheld the Heart. It pulsed like a real heart, deathly magic running through the roots reaching above and below it as blood. The trunk was a fat, bloated monstrosity lit from within by a foul dark purple light. Its seemingly thin bark rippled in constant motion as it twisted endlessly. Its base was a mass of slithering roots that covered a full metre in every direction before going underground. From its top sprouted nearly as many branches that seemed more like vines, hanging with overripe fruit. The moment he stepped in, the dirt was torn from under him and a torrent of roots struck. Tyrael moved desperately, his only saving grace the pause his glowing hooves gave any roots thinking to come directly from beneath him. Even so there would only be so much time before the air was so full he could be breathing between the roots, so Tyrael acted. He gripped the thin rope of the saddlebags in his mouth and jerked his head forward. The heavy end, laden with the fossilising brew, flew true and swift at the trunk. ‘I should have thrown it at the roots.’ he realised in a stomach-flooring moment of despair. Any part close to the Heart would do, but he had foolishly thrown it at at the Heart. A root nimbly wrapped around the airborne rope trailing behind the jar and tightened. The slack went out and the jar fell down, swinging in the air. Tyrael had only a second to stare at his failure before he was overtaken. A cocoon enveloped his shell, tightening around his head. The Heart’s magic, so strong at its centre, reached in through the unfortunate door provided by his physical brain as it split open a root to reveal a four bladed flower behind his skull. *** He was himself again. Tyrael floated on an empty void. His shell’s senses were lost to him, but his angelic senses remained. His form was once again that of the magnificent Archangel of Justice in this place beyond mortal thought, a realm formed within the mind. He stood in the dead space where his thoughts touched the dark network before him. The Heart was linking his shell to its network, preparing to drain its prisoner of life force. He could feel that knowledge, flowing from the new connection it forced through the medium of his shell. He could feel its confidence in its victory, the gleeful vengeance the mind behind the roots was already beginning to satisfy. It was eager to begin supping on the strangely powered pegasus it now held near its Heart. In the endless void of the mental plane, a dark thing glutted on the lives of others floated before Tyrael. It had no idea what it held. With a thought a spiritual copy of El’druin was in Tyrael’s hand. Though the true blade was lost to him, it was a part of his being and some shadow of it would forever be etched upon Tyrael’s soul as symbol of his role and power. Had he still a visible face, it would have been curving into a smirk for all the world to see. He could feel it, but it had no idea and to it his shell gave off no more emotions. It had already linked him to its entire network in its greed to begin feeding. Power welled up within Tyrael. He would unleash his full might into the Heart and through it into every root it had spread. The black roots would be purged, burnt away by his righteous fury and all because it was too foolish to take any precautions. Even as he readied to do so, Tyrael felt something else...six flows of power, draining steadily into the Heart. They came, he realised touching the root network, from Ponyville. The terrible knowledge flooded his mind. The girls, trapped in Twilight’s library. Their lives were being eaten away and the root had too much time to do its grisly work. Tyrael’s fury at such actions fanned the flames of his power to greater heights. Around the Heart six lights winked into being. He stood on the precipice, El’druin poised to strike. But something held him back, and after a moment he realised what. The girls were beginning to wane. They were near the last of their reserves and even with the Heart’s death they would likely die. The six lights around the Heart were fading away. The shame of failure beat at him, and Tyrael wished he could close his eyes, hide the sight before him to all his senses. He could not. If he could not save them, he would avenge them! ‘Strike!’ Nothing happened. Tyrael’s blade did not move. ‘They’re dying.’ some part of him whispered. ‘There must be more I can do. There must be a way to save them!’ A solution came to mind and immediately Tyrael shied away. He thought, going over every memory for some other way. None came to him and already time was running out. He could strike down the Heart, destroying it utterly. The girls would die, he knew, but... It was his only choice. The only way to save them was to use the roots against the Heart, to channel his power to them and let his angelic life-force replenish their own. But he would be weakened, perhaps irreversibly so. At the very least it would now take him months. The only reason he could survive would be the shell. He had been an inferno reduced to a torch when he arrived. This would leave him a single ember, a bare flicker of angelic power left to illuminate the full emptiness of his soul. Sanctuary would be left defenceless. The weight of the decision settled onto him, and if Tyrael could weep he would. Six girls, innocent youths barely into adulthood or an entire world. Sanctuary, or Twilight and her friends. He had to, for the sake of millions of souls. He had to let the girls die. ‘No. Twilight Sparkle. Rainbow Dash. Applejack. Fluttershy. Pinkie Pie. Rarity. If I must do this, I will not shy from the blame.’ he swore to himself. Yet still his blade did not fall. He was frozen, faced with two paths but unable to take the step he knew he had to. And every moment, their lights dwindled. ‘...I must.’ the thought swept through him with certainty, a terrible certainty that no mortal would endure and wish to every make a decision again. ‘I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.’ With that, El’druin fell. Tyrael stepped from the blade as it dropped away, vanishing, and dived into the flow of life force. ‘Sanctuary, if I do this, forgive me.’ *** He was in Ponyville. Or at least a strange copy. Everywhere he looked ponies he had glimpsed in the streets of the town soared and glided, wings out stretched. The one Applejack had called ‘Doctor’ flapped past, a grey mare with a blonde mane flittering clumsy at his side with a foal bearing both horn and wings, the same colour as the mare between them. The town floated across an endless sky on bases of clouds. The joyful ponies made no attempt hide the pure thrill of flying and cried their love for the air. A trio of pegasi in blue-with-yellow-trim zoomed past in the middle of complex manoeuvres. Tyrael floated through the streets, his own wings of light spread out. A faint sound, at odd with the song of joy the entirely pegasus population sung, reached him after a moment. He searched, gaze moving through the white and blue of clouds on sky until at last a dab of green appeared. The Archangel descended in a single smooth movement without a twitch. His hood and tabard fluttered in the breeze and he beheld a wide land that had not been there moments before. The sound he now identified as sobs continued and he followed to the source. He found it, sitting upon a hill. ‘Sitting’ may not have been really appropriate, he realised as he approached. Shaking, Rainbow Dash cried to herself. She stared up into the sky, eyes transfixed by the sight of joyful pegasi and ears filled with their song. Everything about her seemed...wrong. Broken. It was not simply the crying. She was slumped, not in her usual lazy way but like a puppet with the strings cut. Everything about her screamed ‘defeated’. In place of her usual cutie mark a chain and ball marked her flank. He gazed upon her, and here in this place of dreams and nightmares he saw her. He saw her flaws, her faults. He saw her triumphs and virtues. All that she was laid bare to him. He alighted next to her but elicited no reaction. He followed her gaze, watching the same for a few seconds. At last he spoke, once more his reassuringly angelic resonance that no mortal would naturally reproduce. “You watch them with such sorrow, why do you not join them?” asked the ancient angel quietly. “I can’t!” Rainbow Dash sobbed, still staring upwards. “I want to, but I can’t!” Her tears fell and it was like a waterfall parting to reveal something hidden in plain sight. Thick iron rings bound her just above each hoof, chain links as thick as her legs leading from them into the ground. “It’s impossible to break free! I tried and I tried, but nothing worked!” she screamed in distress. “What of your friends?” Tyrael asked now. All this brought was more sobbing. “They flew away! They...they laughed and said if I couldn’t get out I didn’t deserve to be free.” “If I cut you free, will you fly once more?” he asked finally, letting her strengthened sobbing die back a little first. It took a minute for the broken pegasus to respond. “How? I don’t have wings.” She cried, fresh tears falling. It was like something ignored coming into focus again. Tyrael glanced at her back in question and had he eyes they would have widened in shock. Stumps wagged weakly, raw and untreated. As though his looking was a rough touch Rainbow Dash wailed in agony and loss. Tyrael’s hand curled into a fist, and when it opened El’druin’s hilt was in it. He lifted the blade and brought it down, striking the first binding. Three more times the blade rose and fell until Rainbow Dash stood, unrestrained. “I have freed you. You are bound no more.” He told her simply. Rainbow Dash shook her head, her crying unresolved. “But I don’t have wings! I’m still stuck on the ground, while everypony else is flying! Without my wings I’m worthless.” He listened, considering her words. In his mind, the words she had spoken to him when forced to speak of her feelings for flying repeated slowly. Tyrael dropped to his knees and gently cupped her cheeks in his massive hand. Turning her towards his hood, he let emotion into his voice at last. “Are you truly so weak? Do you truly believe your friends would abandon if you were left grounded? Even now you six strengthen each other. Anypony else would be dead long ago, but your bond protects you.” She stared up at him, peering into the darkness concealing his angelic perfection. Though tears continued to leak, something deep in her eyes changed. There was one last step, a choice he had to make. Tyrael reached one hand around to press against the wing-stumps. She flinched but made no move to flee. “If you wish wings to find your friends, I will give you mine. Fly, Rainbow Dash. Soar the breadth of the sky and never stop. There is your freedom.” Behind him, Tyrael’s wide wings, tendrils of light and fire burning blue-white, began to fade. On Rainbow’s back, her stumps were overtaken by a healing glow and two new wings began to form. As they did so, the world around the pair broke apart. The false cutie mark melted, and the truth returned to her. *** Tyrael stood before the Heart in the mental plane once more. The sky blue light of Rainbow Dash was shining strong and whole once more, yet it was not enough. With regret, the wingless angel fell forward once more. *** In all directions, desolation filled Tyrael’s sight. In every direction farm land lay dead and decaying. Buildings he could only conclude were barns dotted some of the hills. Trees were another common feature, either shattered as if struck by a great force or burdened with overripe apples. Tyrael strode forth, bound to the ground once more. He slogged through the mud and fields of rotten or overgrown plants seemingly without end on his way to the closest barn. As he got closer, voices began to filter through the buzz of insects and caw of crows. The closer they got, the more distinct they became. Some were loud, some only barely audible but all held one common factor. Each was filled with anger. No, he realised, not just anger. Some held disappointment. But all were hostile, and all were spoken to hurt. He walked around the old and decrepit barn until he came to the front. Tyrael paused, watching the gathering in front of him. Dozens and dozens of ponies, far too many for him to have missed before stood in a mass centred on a single figure of orange. “Stupid sow.” “How pitiful, for one of the Apple clan.” “Disgusting, isn’t it?” Each barbed comment made the cringing Applejack flinch, and while no tears dripped from her eyes it seemed not from lack of pain. Tyrael passed through the crowd without notice. Ponies he had seen in Rainbow Dash’s nightmare were here again, along with far more. Many had apple related cutie marks, and must surely be the extended Apple family. As with Rainbow Dash, he saw all that made the pony before him, though in truth there were no words to give them in. Impressions that flared against his senses. So it would be with each. “Ah wish ah didn’t have such a sista’!” A voice he recognised as Applebloom got the first tear from Applejack. In truth, she sounded so unlike Applebloom to be nearly another voice entirely. Malice transformed it into a weapon that struck at her sister’s heart. “No, no, ah was just tellin’ the truth! I was being honest!” the farmpony mumbled. As Tyrael approached he saw her coat was stained and around her lay the broken remains of fruit and vegetable that had been throw at her. On her flank a trio of rotten apples replaced her usual cutie mark. “I was just bein’ honest.” A large red stallion wearing a collar of some sort shook his head sadly. “Ah can’t believe it, ma’ own sister. Lettin’ the farm go ta waste cause of yer own pride.” He spat in her direction, a disdainful expression coming to his face. “Disgustin’.” With that tears began to slide down Applejack’s cheeks. A hand of metal reached down, gently lifting her chin to look into his hood. “Why do they say such things?” he asked first, looking to her eyes for answer. “Because ah failed! Ah...ah let the farm go ta waste! Ah let the whole family down!” she wept bitter tears. “They’re right ta call me a failure.” “Did you do your best? Did you strive to do all you could?” was his next question. Weakly, she began to nod before pausing. “Well...Ah....no....” she admitted, wincing as the crowd boo’d. A rotten tomato came flying through the air and Applejack made no move to evade it. Tyrael’s hand easily battered away the projectile. “No?” he queried softly. “That does not sound like Applejack to me. What else could you have done?” “Ah coulda lied.” She mumbled, trying to look away but unable to. “Ah...Ah shoulda lied! I let everypony down because Ah couldn’t bring myself ta lie.” “No.” His voice became cold. “They let you down. You tried everything you could, but you came to the line you could not cross. There is no shame, no failure in choosing to keep to your truth.” “But it hurts! Everypony calls me horrible things! Ah can’t stand it, it hurts so much.” she whimpered. Reaching up, Tyrael began to pull his armour off. Each piece became a wisp of white-blue power that wafted down and ran over Applejack’s fur removing the stains and bruises. Soon Tyrael stood, a man-shaped shadow clad in a pure white tunic and hood. His form was darkness made solid, and he looked down on the farmpony now covered in angelic steel. “I have given you my words, my truth. Now I give you my armour. No matter the barbs others may throw, no matter the words they say it will protect you. You can walk fearlessly, knowing that you will not fail to be true to yourself so long as this armour protects who you are.” Applejack looked into the hood, and at last a smile worked its way onto her face as the world around the pair broke apart. The false cutie mark melted, and the truth returned to her. *** Applejack’s orange light was blazing with power once more, but it was still not enough. Shaking his head, the unarmoured angel let their minds draw him in again. *** The river running by Flutteshy’s cottage ran red. Tyrael, a contrast of pure shadow and bright white, stood amongst the wounded animals covering the ground and needed little to know where he was. He began to walk to the cottage, trying his best to avoid stepping on any of the animals. It was pointless, every time his foot came down on a once empty patch of grass a creature was waiting to be trod upon. Tyrael forced his way forward, still trying his best to hurt as few as possible despite the futility. At last he reached the cottage, shoving open the door. Before him lay...Paladin? He froze in shock, staring at the copy of his shell. But his shell had never been so damaged! It lay broken on the floor, leaking blood from great gashes. Its wings were shredded and its breath laboured and heavy. At its side was Fluttershy. She wept, but never stopped moving. Bandages that dissolved into individual strings were tied into place for a few seconds before falling apart. Bottles of salves were brought out only to tumble to the ground and shatter, the healing substance turning to dust amidst the glass. Medicine evaporated before it reached Paladin’s mouth or was washed away by a loose tear. Her cutie mark was gone, the new mark that of a broken bone. Within ten seconds, the body ceased to breathe and Fluttershy broke down completely. After a few moments the world twisted, and once more Fluttershy was at work on a badly wounded Paladin. “Please don’t die, please be okay.” She whispered, trying to hold herself together. “I want you to be okay, oh this is all my fault I’m so sorry, you shouldn’t have come with me. Please, be alright.” Tears began to flow in earnest as the body began to expire again. Heavy, cold hands that nonetheless gave off some inner warmth touched her shoulders and drew her to look into his dark hood. Tyrael didn’t even have to ask this time. “Fluttershy, you did nothing wrong. He is fine.” He told her. She stared back, still overwhelmed by the nightmare. “Paladin is alive. He will live.” “But...but...” she whispered, glancing at the shell. “He’s-” “He chose this. His choice was to protect others, and this is the result. You are not to blame for what awaited him in the Everfree. He would not want you to do this to yourself.” Her looked up at him, wide eyes wet. “I still have to help him. But I can’t. I’m not good enough. I’m just me. Just Fluttershy.” It took no time for Tyrael to decide. He reached up and tore free his hood and tunic. Now nothing more than a shadow standing in the form of a man, placed the white cloth in Fluttershy’s hooves “I have told you the truth, though your pain and guilt tries to blind you to it. Your endless capacity to love and be kind has left your heart open to guilt and pain. Take this cloth, and bind his wounds and yours. It cannot break; it will never give way to time. It shall be an eternal bond connecting you that you need never fear the darkness again and your pain might be left bound in it.” The cloth flowed from her hooves the moment she took it, wrapping around Paladin’s form. The blood stopped pouring, the scratches faded and, staring down at the healed pegasus, Fluttershy smiled. Fluttershy turned her smile on the shadow-man who had saved them, as the world around the pair broke apart. The false cutie mark melted, and the truth returned to her. *** The light of kind Fluttershy shone like the sun, yellow rays reaching forth and yet again it was not enough. With little left to give, Tyrael stepped in once more. *** Ponyville overflowed with colour. A festival filled the streets. Ribbons and flowers hung from windows, stretching between buildings. Pegasi in rainbow-hued uniforms wowed the endless sea of ponies crowding the streets below. Tyrael was a dot of black in an ocean of vibrant colour. Ponies of every shape and shade danced around him. They laughed joyfully in celebration. What they were celebrating he could not see, the festival a great party seemingly thrown just for its own sake. He marched through the throng, space cleared around him yet the partying ponies paid the mysterious shadow-figure no mind. Tyrael was in the main street now, Sugarcube Corner visible not far away. As he watched two more ponies burst from the building, ones he recognised as the Mr and Mrs Cake he had seen on his visit the day before. With them came foals, not even a year old yet celebrating. Their tiny hooves waved in glee and they bounced on their parents’ backs happily. Not a foot from the door to their home and workplace, the Cakes didn’t seem to notice the pink pony trying to follow them. Pinkie scrambled in their wake, unable to avoid other ponies. Though they blocked her and pushed her back none paid Pinkie any mind. She opened her mouth and her lips moved, but no sound came forth. Her cutie mark, three balloons, was barely different. Now, the balloons were sagging and torn, each a sad gray. It was the work of a moment to reach her, the crowd parting for the angel. Pinkie’s hair was limp and she appeared seconds from crying. Denied entry, outside the party she began to break. Her laughter silenced, the only sound she was capable of making being sobs. The crowd opened and Tyrael stood before her. She looked up, staring at the shadow-form in front of her. He opened a hand to her and silently indicated for her to follow him. Colour began to return to Pinkie, and though her sobbing ceased she still could not laugh or thank the shadow. He reached up, touching the silhouette of his throat. As he spoke, the angelic resonance that no physical being could make unaided began to leave him. “You cannot laugh nor join in the revels. You despair at being abandoned in sorrow and darkness. Let me open the way for you so you can join your friends and family, so you can spread joy once more. Take my voice, the harmony of the High Heavens, and let them hear you laugh.” Walking next to him through the crowd, a giggle escaped Pinkie. She gasped, looking up at the shadow’s head. Though she could not see its features, she knew her new friend was smiling as well. The crowd parted ahead of them and Pinkie saw her family, a place open for her between her old gray father and the Cakes. The gray stallion’s face lit up with joy at the sight of his daughter. Happiness radiated from Pinkie, and before he could react she had leapt up and wrapped her hooves around his neck. She hugged him, as the world around the pair broke apart. The false cutie mark melted, and the truth returned to her. “I knew you’d be a great friend, Pally!” *** Tyrael stared at Pinkie’s pink light in shock. Had she just...? No, no it wasn’t possible he assured himself...still... He turned his attention back the web of life force. ‘Still not enough.’ The light welcomed him once again. *** This time, Ponyville looked normal. The lessened angel strode its street and it took him a few minutes to realise what was wrong. Everypony was beautiful. All he saw were physical paragons, unflawed in appearance as they went about their business. Tyrael now saw the truth in a moment of the world twisting to reveal what it had always been. Reflections. From every surface light was reflection. The ponies weren’t perfect, but their reflections were. Perfect proportions, flawless colours, everything matched perfectly. Privately Tyrael knew the High Heavens outdid even this dream-world but it was the closest he had seen. He turned in the direction of Carousel Boutique. A single step seemed to carry him down a whole street, the blindingly beautiful landscape flying past him. He stopped as the Boutique came into sight, and knew he had come to the right place. The once beautiful structure was now a blight upon the eyes of all who beheld it. The perfect pony reflections and their lesser realities walking past scrunched their muzzles in revulsion and some seemed ill from looking. Even then, their beauty did not fade, simply changing subtly to match them in ways he could not explain. Run down and worm-ridden Carousel Boutique was a vision in foulness fit for any demon. The door practically fell apart when he pushed it open. Stepping into the store, ruin greeted Tyrael on all sides. Moth eaten cloth that might have once been dressed lay strewn across the dirt-covered ground. The floor creaked as he stepped in. “No, don’t come in!” A voice screamed from within the shadows. “Don’t come in! Go away, don’t come in! Don’t!” the voice trailed off into silence. The sound of sobbing, so familiar to him now, slowly became louder. Tyrael approached the source of the sounds, each step letting the sound of old wood out into the air. Deeper he walked, his shadowed form absorbing into the darkness. At last he came to the room the voice had screamed from. The moment he entered, Rarity wailed in pain. She lay before a mirror, staring at her reflection. Tyrael did not recoil from the sight of her though few would. Her reflection was a thing of putrid form, the foulest pony he had laid eyes on. Everything about it seemed wrong, too wrong to be natural. As though everything could have purposefully be twisted into a monstrosity and offense to the senses of other beings. On her flank her cutie mark was gone, in its place a cracked mirror. Though her real body was not such a sight, it was clear that Rarity was in a state he doubted she would stand for. Dirt matted her fur and discoloured her coat, her mane hanging in a limp mess. Something shifted in it and he saw the infestation of lice running amok. “Don’t come in!” she screamed hysterically, not taking her eyes from the reflection. “Don’t look at me!” Tyrael came to kneel beside her. “The mirror lies to you. Your form is not that monster.” He told her plainly. The once elegant unicorn sobbed. “You don’t understand! Did you see them outside, the reflections of the other ponies?” he nodded, though how she knew a head made of shadows had done so in the darkness he knew not. “Those...those aren’t just reflections! The mirrors never lie, and what they show is inner beauty.” “Inner beauty?” She nodded frantically. “Yes! Everypony can see me for what I am. I’m not kind or generous, I’m ugly. Hideous and shallow, a foul harridan full of vanity. A horrid brute the world is better off without.” She closed her eyes, unable to stand the sight of her monstrous reflection a second longer. She felt the warm shadowy hands on her face, shielding her eyes. Tyrael felt the burning of loss across his form, the shadows departing as his perfection was lost. “Open your eyes. The mirror is wrong. I give you my perfection, my soul’s light of beauty. Behold the beauty of your own soul. Your pride does not control you, and your generosity knows no limits. Go forth once more, and show them the inner beauty you strive to spread to others.” He removed his hands, forcing his eyes not to see what he had become, and Rarity opened her eyes. She gasped in wonder. The mirror held a perfect vision of Rarity, every detail immaculate. It was more than physical though, a sense of beauty conveyed to all the senses. This, the reflection said, was not the beauty of form but of spirit; to give and to love, to do her best to help other ponies. Rarity looked up, staring at the reflection. In it, a tall being clad in armour with wings of white-blue fire stood behind her. She turned, smiling up into the brown-skinned creature as the world around the pair broke apart. The false cutie mark melted, and the truth returned to her. *** Clear white light shone from Rarity’s soul. Five glittering torches of life circled the Heart and Tyrael. He avoided looking at his own shape, avoided seeing the loss of perfection. He had so little to give now and yet still a purple light was dying before him. He let it draw him in, down into the last nightmare. *** He had nowhere to go this time. Though it was changed, wood blackened and roots sprouting from all walls, Tyrael recognised Twilight’s library. In its centre, Twilight cried. Her friends surrounded her, cocooned in roots. Every moment that passed they diminished, their life being eaten away. Twilight stared into the slack expressions of her best friends as they died and she wailed her pain. At her side Spike was curled into a ball, whimpering. He called for Twilight, his voice broken and his eyes empty. He called for his mother, but her answers went unheard. She had lost her cutie mark and gained another, a circle broken in six places. “I failed. I wasn’t strong enough. I failed. I wasn’t strong enough. I failed. I wasn’t strong enough.” She repeated her guilt-ridden mantra, head down. Her posture hid the last loss from Tyrael. He stepped closer, looking down at her. “You have not failed, Twilight Sparkle.” His rough, no-longer angelic voice was still strange even to him but it was firm. “You did all you could, and your friends yet live. You must stand up to the darkness and be strong. You have power, you must simply use it as it should be used and save them.” “Save them?” the unicorn let out a bitter laugh that turned into a sob. “I can’t save anypony! I’m a failure. How could I do this to them? Let them get caught, let them die?! I’m too weak to save them or myself.” He leaned down and forced her to look at him. Tears ran down her cheeks, but it was her forehead he noticed first. Where once she had a horn, there was now flat unbroken fur. “No! You are not weak!” he told her fiercely. “Hear me, Twilight Sparkle! I have stood upon the edge of Hell and seen those who are truly weak! They are the souls who live only in evil and pain, who exist to spread death and suffering. You are strong; I can feel it in you. Heed my words, for I am Tyrael, Archangel of Justice; Save them.” For a moment she saw him as he had once been, clad in shining armour and wings of fire stretching out like the rays of the sun. “But how?” she asked, tears running dry. “I don’t have a horn anymore. I’ve got nothing to fight it with.” Twilight looked at the ground, despair written on her features. This was it. His last gift. A sword blazed into being, its shape carved from white-blue fire. Tyrael held it out to her, the symbol of his power. “Twilight Sparkle, to you I give my power. Take the might of my blade and cut free your friends. Burn the evil from your home and pierce the Heart. Let this foul work-” The fiery blade burst, a swirl of shining light that dissolved the cocoon holding her friends. Spike’s tears ceased and light returned to the library. The light grounded itself in Twilight’s forehead and consolidated into a horn. Yet this horn came to a point and gleamed with power new to her. “-be undone!” The world around them broke apart, and truth returned to Twilight Sparkle. *** “Spike? Are you okay?” a voice shouted through the branches binding one of the windows. Spike looked up from where he was curled, not bothering to wipe away the tears. “I-I’m fine. Is the Princess here yet?” he begged, hope filling him but not halting his fear. Derpy took a second too long reply and he already knew the answer. “I’m sorry muffin; we only sent the message off a little while ago. I’m sure it won’t be too much longer though!” she tried to keep her voice upbeat but by the lack of reply doubted she had done much. Sighing, the mailmare left the window and landed next to the Mayor and Big Macintosh. Between the two a demanding bunny tapped its foot in impatience. Not far away Rarity’s parents fretted, seeking comfort with the Cakes. Though not related by blood, Mr and Mrs Cake had been waiting just as long. Despite not being the strongest of ponies, Mr Cake had still done his best to help Big Macintosh. “He’s still..well, ‘alright’ isn’t right.” Derpy told the Mayor, struggling to keep her voice as normal as possible. This was too important to be distracted with lisps. “He’s...he’s still little.” Her voice lowered sadly. Once they had found a window thin enough to heard through, though still not breakable, they had managed to get Spike’s attention. He had explained as best he could that the girls were all trapped in strange root cocoons and they were... No one wanted to say it, but what he described sounded like the girls were dying. Getting weaker every second. The way his voice had broken as he told them was heartbreaking, and Derpy realised that like so many others she had forgotten that Spike was still a child. Big Mac narrowed his eyes at the door and moved to try again. Opening her mouth to point out they had already tried a dozen times Derpy felt the Mayor’s hoof on her shoulder. The older mare shook her head sadly. “Let him try” was all she said. Watching the big farmpony straining against the roots, Derpy looked down. “I wish the Doctor was back.” She muttered to herself before joining the red stallion’s attempt. The rabbit bounded up and neither had the heart to tell him he would be no help. *** Inside, Spike wondered back to sit in front of Twilight. He clutched his knees, watching her nearly colourless face. Even his flame-mail was unable to penetrate the roots around the tree. “Come on Twilight, you can do it.” He whispered. “Please, I-” his voice broke. “I don’t wanna lose you.” He sniffed, barely able to hold back his tears. “Tell me what to do and I’ll do it. Please....Twilight...” Something changed and it took Spike a few seconds to realise what it was. Looking past the Elements, unable to reach them through a wall of roots surrounding the ancient artefacts, he looked around until he found Rainbow Dash’s face. She had been the most colourless, but now she shone in the fullest glory her coat and mane had ever been. Orange light beamed from the next cocoon, and life began to shine from Applejack. Fluttershy shone next. One by one, the mares began to glow. From behind the roots holding the Elements matching lights began to shine. At last Spike had turned in a full circle and was facing Twilight once again. He waited with bated breath but for a moment nothing happened. Despair flooded Spike and his face fell- Twilight’s eyes shot open, blazing with the full power of her magic. The roots around the Elements broke apart and each necklace shot across the room, wrapped in Twilight’s magic, to lay themselves on their Bearer’s neck. The roots around each of their heads gave way and Twilight’s tiara settled into place. The room was alight with the power of Harmony. Through the water-tight seal of roots the multihued light shone. Outside, Big Mac, Derpy and over a dozen other ponies at different places trying to force their way in withdraw. The light reached out to them, bringing comfort. Pound and Pumpkin Cake, held in their parents’ arms, giggled and delighted in the wonderful feeling it spread. The tree exploded with every colour of the rainbow. *** Tyrael gasped, coming back to his shell. Desperately he reached down into his soul, searching like a pony possessed. What he found was... ‘Nothing.’ he stared hollowly from his cocoon. ‘I’m...empty. I, I never meant to give that much. Enough to save them then destroy the Heart. But I gave them everything.’ With each symbolic gift, Tyrael had stripped from himself his power. Piece by piece he had given away his mantle, showering them with the angelic force that was his soul. Now all that remained was an ember, a dying heat trapped in the charcoal that was his shell. Had he been so reduced outside such a container he would have been erased from existence, unable to support his own life. His power gone, his mind weighted down with the consequences of his choice, Tyrael still struggled. He rocked weakly, doing anything he could to weaken the roots around him. Before the unmade angel, the Heart pulsed darkly. *** Something was wrong. The malevolent entity lurking within the Heart could feel it. Its newest prey had been caught, an impudent pegasus with strange powers that had dared to penetrate the depths of its new lair. The six who had defeated it were near death, their precious life forces filling the Heart with more power than ever. The pegasus had done something. As it closed the cocoon and tried to drain his life, the pegasus had unleashed some scathing power into the roots. For a moment the hateful being feared he had used some magic that would be carried throughout the roots from Ponyville to its newest growth, a slender root on the other side of the Everfree slithering towards an unsuspecting unicorn and her cart. To the entity’s relief, nothing had happened. Or so it thought. The Bearers had recovered! Somehow, the pegasus had enough life-force to not only fully replenish but strengthen six other ponies, one of whom had more power than any other unicorn the dark being had seen. It could feel the Elements touching their Bearers and that disgustingly pure power welling up. It tried to withdraw, to release the ponies but the Element of Magic held fast. She was going to channel the Elements through the corrupted tree-house, the Heart’s inhabitant realised. Harmonic force spread into the network of roots, working back to the Heart almost instantly. With a voiceless wail the entity threw itself to the end of the network, desperate to escape even if it meant sacrificing most of its carefully hoarded power to do so. A root breaking the surface next to a cart glowed with sick purple energy, attracting the attention of a light blue unicorn that sniffed it curiously. *** Twilight could feel them, the Elements and her friends. Not, she saw a moment later, that there was much distinction between them. Girls, with me! She cried to them without her voice. Their connection was alight with the power of Harmony and they could feel each other. The roots which bound them and had been killing them tried to flee, but with a thought Twilight pinned it in place. It had done so much harm but now she would use it for her ends. Channel the Elements. Twilight sent the thought to her friends, each already falling into a sea of calm emotions and comfort. They sent back their agreement. We’ll send the magic back through the roots, right to the Heart! even as she thought it, Twilight realised she now knew the roots had a Heart deep inside the Everfree. Only as the spiritual song of Harmony rose to a great crescendo did Twilight discover why. A flickering light of white-blue flame that existed in her mind’s eyes struggled, fighting the roots with a fierce will. Paladin! Girls, hurry! He’s in danger! Together, the Elements of Harmony sent their holy magic coursing through the roots. Unseen by any the Elements raced through the roots that lay beneath the Everfree and, born from the library’s infection, Ponyville itself. For not unrelated reasons, all the places the roots had spread would experience several years of good growth and high yield in seeds and flowers. *** Tyrael was dropped to the ground, the roots withering as the Heart drew its power back in. He saw the trace of purple light around one of the roots leading away from Ponyville. ‘You will not escape!’ the thought roared through him. Deprived of his power and his shell weakened, Tyrael could barely move. When he did pain screamed at him. Zecora’s saddlebag lay a few feet from him, one side damp as the brew flowed out a crack in the glass. Dropped when the root holding it withered, whatever lived in the Heart was ignoring him in terror at the strange power Tyrael had felt as it began to release him. He had no idea what such a force might be, but he had felt a trace of its touch. Harmony; perfect in all its aspects. That was the only way he could think to describe it. But that thought was for later. If the entity in the Heart escaped now, this might all be for nothing. A groan forced its way out of Tyrael’s lips as he staggered over to the bag. He leaned down, amazed at how painful the action was, but he picked up the dry side of the bag. He tossed it with strength that surprised him. The jar soared, slipping from the bag as it flew. The Heart realised the threat far too late and the jar hit the pulsing root. There was not much left in the jar, but it was enough to fully petrify half a metre of the root. He had succeeded. The Heart’s true master had been trapped. Darkness closed in on Tyrael’s sight, and he knew with a bitter sigh that he was going to fall unconscious again. He had time to see the Heart explode in every colour of the rainbow, each hue vivid and most surely alive. *** The first thing Twilight felt was two little claws digging into her neck and a scaled face pressing against her. “Spike?” she asked dumbly, reeling at the sudden return to her mundane senses. “Twilight!” the little dragon endeavoured to cheer and sob in joy at the same time. “You’re alive!” She managed a smile. “Of course I’m alive, silly. Why would I not be?” she drew his head away and started, seeing the expression of sheer relief he wore. And, she noticed, signs of extended crying. “Twilight...” his voice began to break. “Ssh.” She shushed him, leaning down into another hug and patting his back. “It’s alright now Spike, everything is okay. I promise.” Glancing up, Twilight smiled as her friends began to recover. Before they had more than a few seconds the door burst open and ponies began to stream in. Big Macintosh swept up his sister into a hug, holding her tightly enough to cut off her air. She struck his back a few times to get him to loosen his grip and pulled back when he did so. They looked into each other’s eyes before smiling and hugging again. Derpy had broken into an odd ‘victory’ dance, pulling Rainbow Dash into it while singing ‘You’re alright, hurray!’ as her daughter bounced around them. The weathermare looked bewildered but endured it, smiling at the ditsy mailmare’s happiness. Probably not sure why everypony was so happy Pound and Pumpkin Cake nonetheless did their best, wrapping their tiny hooves around Pinkie while Mr and Mrs Cake looked over their apprentice for any injuries. Pinkie just giggled at all this and pulled the four of them into a great big hug herself. Angel Bunny was up in Fluttershy’s hooves, doing his best to convey the thought ‘Never do this AGAIN!’ without being able to talk. The gentle pegasus patted him and murmured quietly, relief all over her face. Rarity’s parents had their daughter in a tight embrace, and she seemed to be trying to endure being touched by their horrid clothing as best she could. “Twilight, what in Equestria happened?” the Mayor approached her, looking extremely relieved but still on edge. “The..the Elements!” she whispered in awe when she saw what the unicorn was wearing. “I’m...I’m not sure.” she admitted. “We were...well, about to d-” Twilight cut herself just in time, glancing down at Spike. “You know what I mean. It was consuming our life, all the energy that living creatures have. But something came in at the last minute and replaced it. It... healed us, I think, and gave me the energy to get the Elements.” Pinkie was suddenly between Twilight and the Mayor. “Pfft, Twilight, how silly! It was Pally!” the party pony exclaimed, rolling her eyes in an extremely over the top way. “Paladin?” Twilight asked. Thoughts lurking below the surface snapped to the fore of her thoughts and she gasped. “Paladin! We have to go!” “Darling?” Rarity asked, breaking away from her parents. “What do you me-oh!” she began to ask, gasping lightly as she stared at Twilight’s horn. “I felt him! The roots were all connected and they got him. Pinkie’s right, he was the one who saved us.” Twilight explained at high speed. “Whatcha mean, sugarcube?” Applejack approached, her brother at her side. “The root, it was sucking out our life-force. It had nearly drained all of it, when suddenly we got more! Heaps more! Now, I’m not sure about you girls but I remember...something...” the unicorn flushed. “Its, ah, kind of hard to explain. A bit like a dream, but not quite. It was, oh I sound stupid but-” “Now calm down, sugarcube. Ah know whatcha mean.” The farmpony nodded at the others. “Ah’m willin’ ta bet the others do as well. Ah don’t remember much, but somepony helped us get outta that alive and ah’m fixin’ ta pay him fer that. If’n its Paladin, well, even better. You say we gotta go get him, let’s go.” Twilight smiled at her friend’s reassurance. “Good. If I’m right, he’s still in the Evefree.” “Ah’m comin’.” Big Macintosh said in a voice that would broke no argument. Rainbow Dash was already at the door. Surprisingly, so was Fluttershy. “Fine, what are you lot waiting for? Come on!” Dash shouted. Twilight nodded and rushed out. Pinkie handed the twins back to the Cakes and was bouncing in her wake. With quick farewells Rarity followed and Applejack brought up the rear with her brother. Forgotten in the rush, the cause for Rarity’s surprise was left unvoiced. Twilight didn’t notice her now sharp horn and nopony thought to point it out for her. *** Miles away, on the very edge of the other side of the Everfree, a small cart was left to the elements. Staggering away, a unicorn with a blue coat hidden by a magician’s robe shook. Nearly hidden by her long hair, a thin root curled around the base of her horn. A voice laughed, dark and bitter, at its escape. Though no one heard it, the laugh continued, echoing in her mind. It would continue, deep into her sleep until Trixie would do anything to get rid of it. This was one nightmare that wouldn’t be banished by the light of the morning sun. *** I just can’t let this end with good news, can I? Although I bet someone out there cheered at Trixie’s appearance. Yes, she’s being possessed by an evil plant the identity of which should be obvious now, but hey, at least she’s in the story. That’s good, right? Anyway, the next chapter should be either the first chapter of Act II or the final, recovery chapter of Act I. Oh yes, and I reveal the name of Act I. Act I – The Root of Evil I know, I know, how original and unexpected. But hey, a pun! As I said at the start, I’m sending this to my beta-reader for the first time at last. I’m also opening the floor to any comments she wants to leave here or at the start, so long as she acknowledges my greatness, supreme dignity and all around absolute amazingosity. Oh, and my masterful modesty too of course. So yeah, next chapter up at some point. You’ll know when, if you’re watching me or have favourite this story or possess very odd powers of supernatural perception. Although if you make the last claim I'll have to call bullshit, since I don't believe in the supernatural. Which is a pity, I'd like to be able to use magic. /sigh, annoying reality. Leave as many comments as you want, please, I love them so.