If you are reading this, then I have failed. And while I am not fool enough to pass quietly, leaving our fates to chance and the goodwill of our sister, I cannot See everything. I cannot know what will happen to me, if she brings her tools against me.
Perhaps I will survive. Perhaps I may bring about the long night, the night of sleep. A welcome respite from the dominance of the sun, and a chance, at long last, to recuperate; a chance too long denied our people.
Seventeen
TWILIGHT TOOK SOME TIME TO REALISE THAT SHE WAS AWAKE, clinging to sleep with a vague, bleary sense that she really didn’t want to leave the comfort of oblivion just yet. Slowly though, as sunlight filtered under her eyelids, she succumbed to reality, lifting herself from the bed and shielding her eyes from the light with a hoof.
Last night stood vivid in her mind, stark and unrelenting, and sleep would not cleanse it from her. Though she still felt weary, could still feel the strain of her exertions in her stiff limbs and slow, ponderous spirit, she forced herself to rise, sitting upright and clambering towards the edge of the bed.
As she moved, she disturbed another prone form, still asleep amidst the tangle of bed-sheets. Rainbow’s mouth was just slightly ajar, her tongue peeking out at Twilight. She was an image, dishevelled and carefree, lost in the many colours surrounding her.
It seemed incongruous that everything could so simply continue. That the beauty before her—beautiful in its unconscious grace—could remain unstained. It seemed to Twilight that all the world had darkened around her, had its vibrancy covered over in shadow, and yet there Rainbow lay.
Her stirring had disturbed Rainbow’s sleep. As the pegasus shifted, dragging one eye open, Twilight could see the evidence of her own struggle with what had happened in the bloodshot streaks across her eyes. Not untouched, then, the monstrosity of last night had spread even here.
“Twi’,” Rainbow began, pulling herself upright. “Twilight!”
“Dashie,” Twilight said simply, softly.
In an instant Rainbow was beside her, pressing into her, and holding her tightly in an embrace. “How are you feeling?”
“As well as might be expected," Twilight said, spitting the words out ahead of a rising lump in her throat. Despite all her efforts at holding it down, it quickly burst from her, wracking her torso as she clung to Rainbow. “I’ll be fine.”
She remained like that for a few more moments, just sitting, holding onto Rainbow.
Twilight heard a creak from the corner of the room. Pulling back, she turned to see Rarity poke her head in, concern written across her face. Snapping her head around, she glared at Rainbow.
“Why is Rarity here, Dash?” Twilight hissed.
“I, uh, I thought she could find the pony that . . . that . . .”
“How did you know she’d be able to See?”
Rainbow shrugged. “Rarity can find anypony, can’t she?”
“Only those she’s met before.”
“Oh.”
“Ah, if you’ll excuse the intrusion, might I offer the two of you some brunch? I took it upon myself to do a bit of cooking.” Rarity said. Twilight glanced back at her.
“Brunch?” Twilight asked.
“You’ve slept the morning away, I’m afraid.”
With a sigh, Twilight rose from the bed. Her legs still felt stiff, and her hooves twinged when they hit the floor. She still hadn’t recuperated from last night.
She wasn’t accustomed to handling such volumes of power. The amount she’d spent, teleporting to the Crystal Empire and back, on top of her Coromancy . . . Twilight wasn’t surprised she’d been sleeping so long. Her body, though stiff, hadn’t needed the rest, but her mind . . . her mind wasn’t even close to recovering, and while she'd managed to retain control, she could still feel the anger, hot and frenzied, bubbling under the surface.
Making her way to the kitchen, Twilight found a seat. Rarity had arranged a wonderful spread of food—breads and jams, oats, even a few flowers in the centre. Twilight poured herself a glass of water as Rainbow and Rarity joined her. But where Rainbow threw herself into the food, Rarity ignored it, leaning forward to capture Twilight’s attention.
“Now, darling, might I inquire as to my purpose here? What exactly happened last night?”
“It’s none of your business,” Twilight said, inwardly wincing at her tone.
“I beg to differ.” Rarity turned her head quizzically. “It became my business the second Rainbow here woke me up in the middle of the night, for you.”
Twilight sighed. “I don’t want to talk about it, Rarity.”
“Then I suggest you be quick.”
“Be quick?! Be quick?! He’s dead, and you want me to be quick?!”
Rarity flinched, rocking back. “Who’s dead, Twilight?” she asked, quietly.
Twilight couldn’t say it, as if somehow acknowledging it out loud would make it real. She felt disconnected, numb, her mouth working without sound.
“Her brother,” Rainbow said. “Shining Armour is dead.”
Comprehension dawned on Rarity’s face. Twilight watched the horror spread, widening her eyes and dropping her jaw, pressing her right hoof to her chest.
“Oh, Twilight! I had no . . . I mean . . . Oh, I’m so sorry!”
“S’ok,” Twilight forced out, around a mouthful of bread. It tasted like ash.
“The mountain?”
“Twilight and Cadence,” Rainbow confirmed.
“Oh, my stars.”
“That’s why I brought you here, Rarity.”
“Oh?”
“It wasn’t an accident. He was murdered.”
“What?”
Twilight just nodded blankly. She didn’t trust herself to speak, not yet. Instead, she observed, watching and analysing, removing herself from the conversation by filling her mouth with food, eating mechanically.
“Murdered? By who?”
Twilight saw Rainbow swivel to look at her. Rarity followed her lead, turning the question over to her. She swallowed, hard, wincing as the bulk of bread pushed its way down her throat.
“Trixie,” she whispered.
Rainbow leaned forward, as if she hadn’t quite heard her correctly. Rarity, however, gasped, comprehension flooding her for the second time this morning. Twilight could see the gears turning in her head, pieces falling into place.
“It was Trixie.”
Rainbow froze for a second, before turning to Rarity.
“Can you find her?”
“I will most certainly try.”
“She is going to pay for this,” Rainbow hissed. Twilight could almost see the fire in her, leaping up, clamouring for action. Rainbow needed somepony to blame, needed somepony to punish. A murder . . . something like that, like this, demanded an answer.
But for Twilight, vengeance was far from her thoughts. Rather than chase Trixie, chase the foolish, naïve hope that catching her would somehow fix everything, she stayed with her brother, cradling his body in the crater of her world.;
A crater she had made.
She had felt guilt before, endured its sickening tendrils in the aftermath of their destructive fight with the wolf. That had been nothing like this, lacked in the way this permeated her, altered her. Her choices had tainted her, and through them her entire life.
What had she done? She’d learnt, over and over again, that friendship could triumph over anything. That the goodness in ponies’ hearts would win out over evil. She’d extended her hoof to Trixie in friendship with an arrogance that defied belief.
She hadn’t been smug, hadn’t thought herself superior to Trixie. She hadn’t imposed herself, she had been genuine. She’d offered, as somepony whose life had allowed her the security to learn. Somepony who could help, could give back to others. She’d been sincere in her offer and in herself.
Life had thrown that back in her face. She had had the opportunity to turn Trixie in, to lock her away with Boundless, or tie her up in legal proceedings. She could have stopped this, if she’d taken Boundless more seriously. If she’d had the foresight to mistrust a pony that spent her days robbing jewellery stores and breaking into libraries, perhaps her brother would be alive.
She’d had a choice, except that there was no choice. Everything Twilight was had led her to that trust. She couldn’t have foreseen Trixie’s intentions, couldn’t have understood. That made this, made everything, her fault.
That was a truth that lay still, gently nestled against her heart. For perhaps the first time, she had failed. She hadn’t made a mistake, and yet she had failed.
“If you’ll recall, Rainbow, yesterday I found Luna.” Rarity’s voice just barely registered at the edge of Twilight’s awareness. Her attention was focused entirely inward, chasing the threads of her conscience.
What was she now? Was she Twilight Sparkle, Arch-Magus of Equestria, Coromancer, Bearer of the Element of Magic and protégé of Celestia? Her names, they were all false, all meaningless.
But she hadn’t created that knife. She hadn’t drawn its blade across her brother’s throat, hadn’t sunk it into his lifeblood. No matter the guilt she felt, she was not responsible for another’s crimes.
She had been taught to forgive. Taught that everypony deserved a second chance, that anypony could be redeemed. But nothing she’d ever faced had gotten this far, and Twilight couldn’t find forgiveness in her. Not yet, and possibly not ever.
“Rarity, I don’t think that’s important right now.”
She didn’t understand, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to. She couldn’t comprehend what would drive somepony to this. It was beyond her, outside the scope of her world. Murder . . . something only talked about, something fictional, that existed only in stories. It had no place here, in Equestria.
She hadn’t seemed unstable, or cruel. She had been friendly, been open with Twilight. Had she been hiding this the whole time, somehow concealing the capacity for darkness the whole time? Or had Twilight simply refused to see it, refused to acknowledge that she was beyond saving.
Was it Boundless? Had he driven Trixie to this? He’d had an agenda, certainly, had some involvement in what had happened. But Twilight had taken him out the instant she’d entered the room. Trixie had seen it, knew he was no threat. She’d done it anyway, pushed through Twilight’s grip—weak, from shock or horror or a misplaced trust.
How dare she? How could she so easily rip the world away? Twilight had assumed herself to have the answers, to be in the position of knowledge. Ponies came to her for help, Trixie had come to her!
The sanctity of life. Twilight hadn’t thought much on it before, hadn’t considered all the ways lives intersected, and how just one winking out could change everything in an instant. Nopony deserved death. She fervently believed that, even more so now.
Trixie’s responsibility, and her fault.
“Twilight? Are you listening?”
Twilight snapped her head up, the use of her name jolting her back into the conversation. “Yes, yes, what is it?”
“I found Luna, Twilight,” Rarity said, leaning forward. “Celestia met her at the southern border.”
“She was with us last night, Rarity,” Rainbow interjected. Rarity waved her hoof at her, leaning forward.
“Luna was wearing Nightmare Moon’s armour, Twilight.”
Twilight shook her head, trying to bring her focus to what Rarity was saying. “What?”
“Remember her regalia?”
“Luna looked fine to me,” Rainbow said dubiously.
“She was—is—fine. But she was wearing the armour, and she stood taller than Celestia.”
“Rarity, this isn’t the time.”
“No, I guess not. I just . . . never mind.” Rarity stood up, beginning to move away with a plate of food suspended before her. “I’ll see what I can dig up, then, though I haven’t much left to spend.”
Rainbow nodded, turning to her food. But Twilight found no pleasure in eating, and took no comfort in the warmth of a full stomach. Instead, she fanned the fire slowly growing inside her, threw herself on its embers in an attempt to stave off the chill around her. It had been Trixie that had stripped her innocence away, Trixie that had shattered her illusions, and Trixie that had stolen his life.
Twilight was done trying to help her. She was no friend of Trixie’s, and would never again extend that offer to her. She couldn’t—she wouldn’t do to Trixie what she’d done to Shining Armour, but she would find Trixie, and make her pay. The most terrible justice Twilight could imagine, a harsh sentence without chance of mercy or repentance, she would make Trixie understand.
That thought warmed her as nothing else was able to. Twilight seized hold of the idea, clutching to it like it was the last vestige of her past self. Looking across the table, at Rainbow, with her muzzle buried in a bowl, she smiled.
“We’re going to get her,” she whispered.
***
Celestia watched Twilight, unconscious in the hooves of Rainbow Dash, be flown away from the hell she had found here. Looking around, Celestia could see the remnants of Twilight’s grief. Between her and Cadence, they had destroyed a building, scattering it across the surrounding city block. Left behind was a crater, dug deep into the earth and rock of the mountain.
Luna was still with Cadence, and it didn’t look like they would be moving anytime soon. Twilight had run herself dry here, the residual power lingering in the air told Celestia that much. But an alicorn was hardier, and Cadence could handle a lot more before she collapsed.
Thankfully, Luna had gotten the outpouring under control. This mess would already be hard enough to deal with—just one look at the ponies gathering on the ridge above confirmed her fears. Beyond that, the repercussions of this would be lasting. Celestia didn’t even want to think about how the Crystal Empire would deal with the news.
Above all, she worried about Twilight. This experience had very nearly broken the poor mare, and she’d be fragile for days. She might never recover. Losing a loved one was an experience Celestia knew well—had been reminded of just this morning.
But there would be time for consoling her old student later, right now she had to be a Princess. Celestia cleared her throat, catching Luna’s attention and gesturing towards the body—his body. With a brief nod, Luna leaned back to Cadence, whispering in her ear. Still sobbing, Cadence released his body to fold into Luna’s embrace, burying her face against Luna’s shoulder.
Celestia wrapped the body in her magic. Just for a second, before she transported it to the castle, she felt the wound in his neck, felt the imprint of pain left hanging over him. It made her sick.
She’d thought her subjects better than this. She’d thought that somewhere, somehow, they’d grown up, grown past the passions and tempers of youth, past the capacity for such violence.
Why Shining Armour? He had never given cause for such retribution, he’d been a figure beloved by all. There was no reason to target somepony so high-profile, all it would do is bring attention to this.
Maybe that’s what they wanted. To create a spectacle, reduce Shining Armour to a demonstration. A statement—if they could get to him, one of the foremost defensive experts in Equestria, they could get to anypony.
It was certainly a public enough place. Celestia rose into the sky, pouring magic into her horn to provide illumination. Hovering above the crater, she looked out at the gathering crowd, all pointing, whispering amongst themselves. They didn’t know what to make of what they saw, and couldn’t make out detail at this distance, though some pegasi were moving closer. Thankfully, the Royal Guard were making themselves useful, holding the civilians back.
“Everypony!” Celestia called, her voice resounding, carried out to the crowd on waves of power and light. “Please, remain calm. Everything is under control.”
“What happened here?”
“What about my home?!”
“Who is that, down there?”
“Is that blood?!”
Celestia couldn’t make out much in the cacophony of noise that arose from the crowd of ponies. With a sigh, she allowed a pulse of light to explode out of her, carrying a radiant glow behind it. It shot out in every direction, washing over the crowd and leaving a silence interrupted only by the distant sound of Cadence’s sobs.
“Please, everypony, return to your homes. If anypony is injured, a guard will escort you to a hospital. We will issue a statement tomorrow. You can direct all inquiries to the staff at the castle.”
Not her most inspiring speech, perhaps, but at least her words had their desired effect. The crowd began to disperse, still disgruntled, but willing to accept her word, and the reassurance of her attention in the morning.
But not everypony left. As they filtered away, the departing lines revealed three pegasi on the ground, staring into the crater. Celestia flew down, landing gently behind them as she signalled a few of the guards.
“Is everything alright?” she asked. On closer inspection, the three bore some injuries; a superficial cut down one’s flank, and what looked like a nasty break in another’s wing. “My guards will get you medical aid.”
The first guard that reached them stepped forward, raising a hoof to place on the closest pegasi’s shoulder. While two complied, following the guard meekly, the third shook his hoof off her, meeting and holding Celestia’s gaze.
“And our home?”
Ah. They lived here. That would explain the injuries.
“Stay the night with your friends,” Celestia said. “You all need some care.”
“My sisters,” the pegasus corrected.
Celestia smiled. “As for tomorrow? Come to the castle in the morning, and I will set aside room for you and your sisters, until we can rebuild.”
The pegasus’ eyes widened, a small smile appearing on her face. She licked her lips before replying, head down and facing the ground. It was odd, how anger could give one such strength, and kindness could take it away.
“Thank you, Princess,” she whispered, backing off. Celestia watched as a guard led her away, taking her to the hospital. They would be taken care of.
There was no mistaking where their injuries had come from. They must have been inside the building when Twilight lost control, must have been caught in the blast that scattered their home across the city. It was a miracle they hadn’t suffered anything worse.
Even so, it was a lesson Celestia had thought Twilight had learnt. The kind of power she could bring to bear demanded control. When that failed, ponies got hurt.
This was exactly the kind of situation she’d feared when Luna had revealed Coromancy to them. Even lacking the versatility and sheer strength of an alicorn, when held, entranced, by emotion, they were forces of nature. They became unstoppable.
Her brother had been murdered. From just her brief touch, she could tell that much. She could feel the intent in the wound, the traces of magic, and, oddly, fear. Whoever had done it had been terrified.
She couldn’t blame Twilight for losing control, not after this. It was a situation that would have broken anypony. Even Cadence hadn’t been able to restrain herself, and Celestia doubted Canterlot would remain standing if it had been Luna lying there. But while her sympathies lay with her old student, she couldn’t deny the twinge of disappointment that accompanied the halting gait of the pegasus, leaving with the guard.
***
Boundless liked the silence. It was calm, a cool, comforting stillness that gave him room to think. Time away from those talking without speaking, from those hearing without listening. It became an escape from the world, where he could forget everything and simply feel the sound creeping around him, a tranquillity of sorts.
Trixie hadn’t spoken since they’d started out. Perhaps she was thinking as well. God knows, that was something she could do more of. It hadn’t taken much to break her, in the end. He’d shown her darkness, taught her how it could be light. Curious, that, how his dark light could be just as blinding.
Beyond everything, he hoped that those he touched would think. He found more solace in his mind than any physical comfort or reward; he had no interest in fine foods, clothing or amenities, nor did he find himself attracted to the comforts of the spirit; friends, partners, relationships and communities. There was nothing to be gained by pampering oneself.
No, he preferred solitude, simple food and shelter, the dreary thrill of the open road. It was an endless stretch of imagination, where he could lose himself in his mind, and finally be free.
He’d spent most of the morning doing just that. They hadn’t been able to cover much ground, due to his injuries, but the pain would pass. Like most things in life, it was transitory, something that claimed to have power over him through sheer intensity. It could not hold him back. Pain had power only over those who submitted to it—to Boundless, there were far more important things to worry about.
They were heading north, towards the Crystal Empire. There would be guards at the border, of course, and they’d certainly be looking for them. That would have been fine, by itself, but . . . how had Twilight found them so quickly? He’d told Trixie that she was coming, lied to her to force her hoof. She hadn’t been supposed to arrive until they’d escaped.
If Twilight had been able to do that, there was no way of telling how quickly she’d find them out here. They could be as careful as they wanted, something told him, some nagging feeling of doom that she would be coming.
Perhaps the smugglers at the border would be able to hide them. Boundless wasn’t worried about bringing Twilight’s wrath down on them. Once he was through, they would cease to matter.
Boundless found it amusing, really, how much importance ponies attributed to life. Perhaps a dragon or similarly long-lived creature might take offence at a threat to its existence. But the life of a pony? It was as insignificant as that of an insect, a mere blink against the vastness of the world.
No, a life was fleeting, as meaningless as pain. It was almost sad, how little most accomplished with theirs. He’d have thought that with such a short time to leave something behind, ponies would be more primal, a species obsessed with life. Instead, he saw ponies devote themselves to the latest trends, spend their lives chasing money, or prestige.
Could they not see as he did? Was it not clear how pointless their lives had become? Or did they choose to wallow in nothing, finding it easier than creation?
There were very few exceptional ponies. Lives that had accomplished something, made some mark on the world. Boundless had named Twilight Sparkle in that list, and after last night, he added Trixie. She was unimpressive, but for one fact.
When he’d been taken down, his presence removed and his pressure no longer forcing Trixie to his will, she had followed through. She’d killed Shining Armour on her own terms, broken through the force that had held her back. That was her accomplishment, not his, and it would echo through history. It was, after all, the first murder in the last thousand years.
Not that that was strictly true. But Boundless had learned that there was a great deal of difference between the public, widely accepted truth, and what actually happened.
Boundless winced, the pain in chest flaring. No matter. He kept walking, focusing on the road in front of him. The silent road, deep and wide as a rolling river, it would take him to his goal, and for that he thanked it.
Soon, though, he began to hear something he hadn’t expected. A dull roar, the cascade and endless cacophony of noise, it was unmistakeable here, all alone in the world. A river, where none should have been, appeared in the distance, winding its way from the mountain through the flatlands.
Glancing back at Trixie, he gestured at the river. She shook her head, denying any knowledge of its existence.
Boundless shrugged. But the silence had been broken, shattered by the river and punctuated with their communication.
“What did you learn, Trixie?” he asked as they made their way to the river.
“A lot of things,” came the reply.
“Smugglers?”
“Yes. They were close to coming down on the entire ring.”
“Shining Armour was,” Boundless corrected. “ And the Heart?”
Trixie paused briefly before answering. “It isn’t guarded at all. It’s kept out on display, in the plaza under the castle.”
“Really?”
“Who would steal it?”
Nonchalance. These rulers assumed so much. It made them weak.
“Of course, we’ve shown ourselves. It’ll be much harder to reach now.”
“I know. But the Heart wasn’t the point.”
“No. You just wanted to share your disease.”
“Oh?” This was new. She’d been thinking, then, reflecting. Perhaps she has learned something, after all.
“Do you not? It is the motivation of a parasite, to spread, expand, infect.”
“I act as I see fit. What more can any of us do?”
Behind him, Trixie sighed. “I don’t know,” she admitted. Boundless nodded in silent agreement. And though it was fractured, the silence persisted the rest of the way to the river.
Pausing in front of the river, Boundless had begun to bend down to take a drink when the air in front of him warped. With a crack, a purple light solidified, hanging above the river, coalescing into the form of a unicorn.
Twilight Sparkle fell from her teleportation directly towards the river. Before she could hit, though, she vanished, appearing behind Trixie. Boundless spun in time to see a wave of light rush towards him, catching both of them in its hold and throwing them backwards. Trixie hit the ground hard, skidding along the rough dirt, but Boundless landed in the river, sending a column of water rising to the sky.
Shockingly, he didn’t sink. Instead, buoyed by some unseen current, he quickly rose to the surface of the river, floating there as he regained his breath. Even trying to roll over caused his chest to flare up—Twilight had probably shattered his ribs well and truly. He was lucky the bone fragments hadn’t pierced anything vital.
Not that he was sure they hadn’t. Still, there was nothing he could do about that. Held up by the river, somehow not moving despite the current, he tried to remain still, and watched.
Trixie had recovered quickly, standing and facing Twilight. The azure glow surrounding her horn seemed pitiful next to Twilight’s form. The unicorn herself was glowing, an inner lavender fire rising through her body. It leaked from her mouth and eyes, spilling onto the ground and sizzling, burning the grass and scorching the earth. It rose from her mane and tail, igniting the air around her and charging it with power. She stirred something in Boundless he hadn’t felt in a long time, a spark of fear that heightened everything around him, drew on her avatar of hate and rendered it in exquisite, terrifying detail.
Twilight opened her mouth, speaking slowly, carefully.
“Why’d you do it, Trixie?”
Trixie shrugged. “Because I was afraid. Because I was weak.”
“Afraid?!”
“Yes. I’m not scared anymore, though.”
Twilight’s power intensified, spreading around her, enshrining her as an avatar of hate. “You should be.”
Trixie snorted. “What, of you? You’re weak, Twilight, just as I was.”
Boundless couldn’t make out much of what followed. The spell-work came in a blaze of light, bludgeons of crushing force and tiny slivers of magic, designed to slice and sever flickered between the two combatants. But Trixie was clearly overmatched; her horn a star next to Twilight’s blazing sun, and within seconds Twilight had forced her to the ground, all but extinguishing the faint light of her horn.
“Is this your revenge, then?” Trixie spat out, her voice muffled against the dirt.
“This? No, nothing so crude. Here, Trixie, follow,” Twilight said. A thin bolt of power streaked from her horn, colliding with Trixie’s and linking the two unicorns. Boundless saw Trixie’s body tense, saw the lavender fire penetrate and permeate her. Trixie screamed, once, suddenly, then went limp.
Twilight leaned down to her, whispering something, before she cut the connection between the two of them. Taking a step backwards, she slowly dimmed, her light losing its vibrancy and sinking back into her flesh. Enveloping Trixie in her grip, she lifted her, and encircled the two of them in the same field that had brought her here.
Trixie hung limply in Twilight’s grip for just a moment before awakening. She shook her head violently, as if trying to clear it of distractions, flinging tears around her. “That’s not enough!” she yelled, surging against her bonds. “That’s not the whole story!
“Why didn’t you stop me, Twilight?” she screamed. “You could have, you know.”
“I . . . I couldn’t.” Twilight stopped what she was doing, looking at Trixie. The fire in her eyes was gone, now, leaving orbs full not of hate, but of hurt. Lost, in the world he had shown them.
“I know. So easy, and yet so hard, just out of reach.”
“An idea only. But my principles do not make me weak.”
“No, they don’t.” Trixie was openly weeping, now, yelling at Twilight with an intensity to rival her earlier anger. “And yet you are weak.” Boundless could see azure light creeping underneath Twilight’s grip, slowly but surely beginning to break through the lavender field. With a shout, Trixie shattered it, slumping to the ground. Twilight recoiled, shying away from the explosion of azure power, though it dissipated before reaching her.
Trixie looked up from where she lay on the ground. “Weaker than me,” she whispered, her horn sparking fitfully. The air before her coalesced, a sudden azure glow surrounding a pale blade of magic—the same knife that had taken Shining Armour’s life. Faint lines tracing its shape danced as Trixie fought for control, fought to feed it the last vestiges of her power.
Twilight’s eyes narrowed, and she tensed, but Trixie did not attack. Instead, she sent the blade in a slashing motion, drawing it back and towards her own throat.
“No!” Twilight cried, springing forward. With a pulse, she knocked the blade aside, her own telekinetic field seizing hold of Trixie’s. In an instant, she had crushed the blade to nothing. Trixie jerked, and then fell over, unconscious.
Twilight looked down at her adversary with a mixture of hatred and contemplation. Whatever she’d been expecting, Trixie had shown her something completely different. Something new.
With a final burst of light, the two ponies vanished, leaving Boundless where he lay in the river. The sun, high overhead, resumed its duties, but its illumination seemed lacklustre, a far cry from the passion of their fight. He remained motionless for some time, floating in the grip of the water. Its gentle motions were soothing, dulling the pain in his chest.
Eventually, he managed to reach the far shore, pulling himself onto the bank. As he lay there, gasping, a shadow fell over him, blocking the midday sun. Twisting carefully, he found himself lying underneath a great serpent, towering out of the river.
He couldn’t make out many details, but it gazed at him with a cold acknowledgement, and his reaction was puzzling. For instead of flinching away from its draconian appearance, he found himself calm. For in the serpent’s slitted eyes he found peace.
“Hello, little nameless creature,” the serpent said, its voice deep and guttural. “How are you feeling?”