• Published 19th Sep 2016
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Hecate's Orphanage - BlackRoseRaven



Cadence and other ponies from across countless parallel worlds work together to protect their universe from monsters.

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Burnt, And Broken

Chapter Seventy-Five: Burnt, And Broken
~BlackRoseRaven

The badly-mended galleon limped into the port, dragged by enchanted wooden sea serpents that had been made from the remains of the mast. The sails that hadn't been torn apart in the storm had been taken down and stored: they could probably sell them for enough to buy their ragtag crew a drink at the tavern. A cheap drink.

Cadence was more relieved than she wanted to admit when they finally stepped down onto the docks and solid ground, Moonflower all-but-flinging himself out of the ship to join her with a wheeze and even La Croix looking relieved. Only Aster seemed reluctant to leave the broken ship behind, lagging on the gangplank long after everyone had stepped onto deck and calling to the crew still aboard: “Remember, even if she is but a wreck, do not cut corners! She will be rebuilt and reborn and... I will return here one day and-”

“Enough, Aster. You can't lecture those boys forever.” Freya called mildly, as Brynhild impatiently paced in circles on the deck, Scrivener and Morgan looking far more relaxed; relieved, even, to be on solid ground, just like the rest of them. “Let's get going.”

Aster sighed a little, but then she finally nodded and reluctantly strode down to the deck, tossing wistful looks back at the ship every now and then before she muttered: “It was a good voyage. I just pray it was not my last.”

“I would point out that the ship was torn in half by a giant snake, but I suppose since everyone survived, I can't exactly disagree.” Scrivener remarked as they headed towards town, and then he smiled as Morgan bumped into him lightly, before he staggered and nearly knocked the purple mare over when Luna cheerfully rammed into his other side. “Hey!”

Brynhild only grinned widely at him, then she turned her eyes towards Cadence, asking cheerfully: “So, how long will it take thee to build thy silly portal? Should I go ahead and warn Hecate of thy coming on Hex? As a matter of fact, 'twould probably be easy for Hex to cart all of thee back and forth, and 'twould be much faster than thy silly-”

“Obviously Loki knows we're here, but we're still going to do what Hecate ordered and march a few miles past the port. We'll set it up in the forest. That way if something does happen to try and take over our portal ring, we can fight it somewhere where we don't have to worry about collateral damage.” Cadence replied dryly, and Luna huffed at her, but Cadence pointedly ignored the Valkyrie as she turned her eyes forwards and said quickly: “Let's just concentrate on-”

“I think some of us need to rest.” Freya said loudly, and Cadence slowly closed her eyes, taking a slow breath as the Valkyrie continued in a reasonable voice that Cadence knew by now meant trouble: “We've all had a trying journey, and I would think you'd want to send a little warning to your superior, anyway. Who knows what else might be out there, Swan?”

Cadence sighed, letting her eyes open before she asked sourly: “Can't you just once tell me, honestly, what it is you're after?”

“And where would be the fun in that?” Freya replied with a mischievous wink, before she suddenly became serious as she added: “And you know me by now, Swan. I would be disappointed if you didn't realize I had an ulterior motive. But I'll be even more so if you think any of my games were foolish: I play often, but always with purpose.”

“Aye, Freya has always been like a cat.” Brynhild meditated for a moment, then grinned suddenly and winked at her sister as the Valkyrie smiled amusedly back at her. “Or perhaps I should say quite the-”

“We're taking a break!” Cadence shouted, rolling her eyes and sighing as she strode forwards, muttering moodily: “Guess it's not like the locals aren't going to be talking about us for years to come...”

Thorn Blackfeather breathed quietly as he clutched at his aching stump, Burning Desire smiling at him as he encouraged: “Remember, let it flow through you. The pain, the anger, everything else: it's all secondary. You can only feel what you let yourself feel.”

Thorn grunted in response, continuing to breathe slowly as Burning advised: “Instead of focusing on the pain, focus on everything around you. It's beautiful, isn't it?”

Thorn only grumbled again even as he half-opened one eye: he was sitting back on his rump, his hind legs painfully crossed, his head lowered, his mane half-hanging in his eyes and only crudely knotted behind his head. His hoof clutched at his black stump, which was steadily leaking ooze: something he still hadn't learned to control. A tell, that made his weakness visible.

He looked around, away from his weakness: he was seated inside an uncaring stone pagoda with a massive ornate pillar at each corner, holding up the ceiling and the tower above. Rafters crisscrossed elegantly: intricate runes and details covered every inch of these ancient oak rafters. Detail and precision that could have been paid somewhere else, somewhere more important. Waste.

He saw Burning Desire. He saw sympathy. He saw himself, reflected, pathetic, in the stallion's eyes. He saw Morning Glory at the edge of the pagoda, looking at him with contempt.

Thorn smiled thinly, closing his eyes.

The world was not beautiful. He missed the sterile, cold halls of metal that made up Decretum and Endworld and the rest of the Clockwork Empire. He missed the efficiency, the meaning in order, the logic of it all.

This world was not beautiful. Chaos was not beautiful.

He wanted to go home. He could control himself now. His temper was shorter, but he could maintain his facade. He was strong.

Except for that ever-bleeding black, ugly stump.

But he could have that fixed. Machinery could replace flesh. At worst? His broken mind could be repaired by callous machinery and logic. He could be fixed. He could be repaired. He was only an organic machine, like the rest of life.

No pony mattered. Nothing mattered.

This didn't matter.

Why did that infuriate him? Why did he see nothing as valuable, and yet he was so angry?

They had no meaning. Meaninglessness shouldn't make him angry, but it did.

“Hi, Thorn!”

Thorn's eyes opened in surprise, and he looked up to see Necrophage standing in front of him, her face only inches away, beaming brightly. Thorn winced and leaned back a bit, but the mare only giggled before she said happily: “I just thought I'd come by and check in on how you're doing!”

“Thank you. I'm busy.” Thorn replied shortly, but the Replicant only smiled at him kindly, even as Thorn's gaze shifted pointedly away.

“I know! But I thought that I would come by and see you anyway!” Necrophage said positively, before she leaned quickly back and forth, studying him intently before she frowned and added anxiously: “And are you sure that you're okay? You're always saying you're okay, but, and I don't mean to be rude or anything, sir, but you don't look okay.”

“Just Thorn.” Thorn murmured, and then he shook his head and said quietly: “I will talk about this with you later, Necrophage. I'm busy.”

“Me too! But I want to talk about it now because I'm worried about you.” Necrophage insisted, dropping on her rump in front of him and leaning into his face, making Thorn scowl a little even as part of him ached so much at her kindness, her infinite affection, the way she was so good, too good... “Let's talk!”

“I said no!” Thorn shouted, before he grimaced and quickly looked away, half-covering his muzzle as he murmured: “I meant... no. No, Necrophage. I do not want to talk about it.”

Necrophage smiled at him kindly, popping up to her hooves with a firm nod before she said quietly: “But sometimes when you care about someone, you gotta help them whether they like it or not!”

“That's not how it works.” Thorn muttered almost pettishly, before he shook his head and sighed, his eyes opening as he stared off at nothing and murmured: “This is pointless. I want you to go away. I don't want to talk about this. You are embarrassing me in front of Burning Desire.”

“Nah. I don't think so, because I see you, Thorn!” Necrophage smiled up at him kindly, her eyes warm and loving and tender. “You want to talk about everything, a whole lot of things, but you never do because you're scared of how we're going to react or what we might say or what might happen. But you don't have to be because we're all friends here, and we all love you.”

“'Love' is an overused word.” Thorn said, before he suddenly added cruelly, as his eyes flashed: “What would a puppet like you know about 'love?' The only kiss you've ever had was because I was afraid we were going to die. I don't love you.”

Burning Desire's eyes widened, but Necrophage smiled up at Thorn before she replied, unflinching, unafraid, unhurt: “But I love you, sir, and that's all that matters!”

Thorn's eyes widened in surprise, and he visibly trembled for a moment before he lowered his head, whispering a weak apology. But Necrophage only continued to smile before she said kindly: “I really mean it. You're super special, Thorn, and I know it's really super hard with all the poison in your system. Yep, I know, that's why I can turn my emotions on and off, remember? And I know it might be mean but I'm glad you can't turn your emotions off, because I know you can be strong enough to deal with it and not go crazy-loopy like me, and that means you can really master the Clay of Prometheus, because it doesn't have to be a bad thing, nope!”

Thorn was silent: he barely understood Necrophage's semicoherent rambling, but what he did understand was her tone, her gaze, her... infinite kindness, as he lowered his head and murmured: “I don't deserve your kindness.”

“You deserve that and more! You always treated me like a person, after all, even when I wasn't!” Necrophage smiled brightly at him, and there was silence for a few moments before she nudged gently: “Well?”

Thorn looked over at Burning Desire, but the Passion pointedly averted his eyes as he turned and wandered towards Morning Glory with a whistle, and Thorn sighed before he returned his eyes to the Replicant and said weakly: “I don't know what to do. I don't know what to feel. It should all be easy, but... it's not. It's like... ten thousand pounds of pressure being poured on me at once. It's like...”

It was indescribable. What was he doing? Wasting his time, time he could be spent...

Doing what? He knew why he was here. Everyone knew why he was here. Because he couldn't be useful to Hecate. Because he was damaged equipment. Because there was absolutely nothing wrong, and yet...

“You're sad. You're mad. Those things make sense!” Necrophage said with a smile and a firm nod. “I know you don't know what would make you feel better, Thorn, and that's okay, too. I never know what's wrong with me, after all! I depend on other ponies to help me through it, and there's nothing wrong with that, right? And you can do the same!”

Thorn looked up at Necrophage silently, and Necrophage smiled before she said: “Before I met you, I never trusted anypony, you know. Not even my sister, because even if she's super-duper great and I love her...”

Necrophage's expression suddenly went hollow, looking at Thorn silently, seriously, completely without emotion as she said quietly: “We are both Replicants. Machines. Our duty to serve Valthrudnir: our master, who could destroy us at any moment. We were tools. And if we did not operate at optimum capacity, we were to be recycled.”

Necrophage paused, lowering her head as she continued: “I was designed to mimic – mock, perhaps is a better word – the emotive expressions of ponies. But my neural programming is damaged and incomplete, and I was redesigned for service duties. I was eventually rendered obsolete and placed in stasis.” The Replicant halted, then she looked at Thorn, somehow naked and vulnerable not in spite, but because of her emotionlessness: “I do not know if I am truly capable of feeling emotion. But I regard you as a leader and a friend and a companion, and I fully trust you, as I believe you trust me. I trust you because you are an authority, and you are a leader, and you have shown me more patience than I have rightfully earned.”

“I don't know about that.” Thorn murmured, looking down before he shook his head and whispered: “It's maddening. I know nothing is wrong and yet something is. Is this what Thesis meant by the chemicals in his brain? But there's no one here to tear them out of me...”

“You are not broken. You do not need repairs.” Necrophage said, and Thorn couldn't help but smile a little as he looked up at her. “But a system cannot update when the files are in use.”

Necrophage paused, then shook herself vehemently before she blinked a few times, then smiled brightly. “You need to have some quiet time, that's all!”

Thorn lowered his head for a moment, and he wanted to be angry, and he wanted to be upset, and he wanted to lash out. But when he looked up at Necrophage, and into her kind, kind eyes, what he wanted most was to be honest, as he gave a faint smile and whispered: “I don't know how. I'm... scared of being left alone with myself. I'm scared of what I might think. I'm scared of what I might do.”

“Well, you're super smart, and I know from my sister that that's really scary sometimes, because smart people think about things that dumb people like me don't!” Necrophage said brightly. “But if you ever need me to be around to help you not-think, you know I'm more than glad to, and so are all your other new friends! Because you've got lots of friends, Thorn, even if you can't see that right now, and no one's blaming you for it, nuh-uh! But the real problem is that you gotta stop blaming yourself!”

Thorn frowned a bit at this, and then he flinched when Necrophage gently reached out and touched his black, bleeding stump, adding quietly: “And you can't be scared of yourself neither, nope! Because you've never going to be able to face these problems if you keep running away from yourself!”

“I'm not running away!” Thorn shouted angrily, and then he flinched before he sighed and lowered his head, muttering: “I guess that's excellent proof that I am running away, isn't it?”

“That's silly, you just said you weren't!” Necrophage replied kindly, and Thorn sighed again, but he gave the faintest of smiles before Necrophage added: “All you have to do to find yourself is stop looking at everyone else, though, and then you'll find yourself right where you last left you.”

Thorn looked blankly for a few moments at Necrophage, but then he slowly nodded before lowering his head with a sigh, murmuring: “Yes. I know you're right. I'm just...”

He looked at his stump for a moment, and Necrophage rubbed silently over this, making him grimace a little before she asked worriedly: “Does it hurt?”

“No. Well, yes, but not when you touch it. It just always hurts. But that's not much different from before.” Thorn said quietly, and Necrophage smiled at him faintly before she brought her hoof to her lips, studying the black blood that had smeared over it for a moment before she quietly licked it.

She closed her eyes for a moment, then smiled a bit before she said finally: “It doesn't have to be poison. It can be fuel. It can be energy. We can all be good things; you taught me that too, Thorn. I don't have to be a monster, even though I know that's what I was meant to be.”

Necrophage smiled with her too-big-teeth, the squat little mare gazing up at him warmly. “Okay! Thank you for talking with me, Thorn!”

Thorn smiled briefly back, studying her silently before he asked bluntly: “What do you want, Necrophage?”

“Everypony to be happy. But mostly you.” Necrophage smiled again warmly, nodding firmly to him before she leaned in and kissed his cheek loudly, Thorn half-scowling and half-smiling before the Replicant turned and bounded away, saying brightly: “Bye Thorn! Bye Morning Desire! Bye Burning Glory!”

“I think that one should die.” Morning Glory said moodily after a moment, and Burning Desire laughed before he squawked when his sister punched him out of the way to stride into the pagoda, saying coldly: “Time for training.”

Thorn nodded as he began to climb up, before he grimaced, leaning back and catching Morning Glory's hoof when she attempted to drive it into him. The Destroyer grinned coldly at this, studying the stallion for a moment, perched on his hind legs, leaning into her to prevent her from pushing him back further as the foreleg blocking hers trembled.

Then she suddenly yanked her limb back, but Thorn simply let himself drop to the ground, before he ducked easily under a swing of her hoof. She stomped viciously down, but Thorn dodged that as well, and Burning Desire winced as she cracked the floor of the pagoda, shouting: “Hey, hey! They're going to make me pay for the repairs, you know!”

“That makes it tempting to just bring the whole thing crashing down.” muttered Morning Glory, before her horn lit up with white radiance as she said coldly: “Resist.”

Thorn grimaced, but set himself with a short nod, and then he clenched his eyes shut as white lightning crackled over his body. He felt his muscles stiffen up, his teeth gritting, his whole body shaking with pain as purification raced across his form.

After almost a minute of this, Morning Glory finally let up the stream of magic before she attempted to stomp on him: Thorn barely dodged backwards in time, his stump now leaving a trail of dust instead of poison, his movements clunky and clearly pained as he wheezed loudly for breath before gasping when Morning Glory slapped him across the face, knocking him stumbling.

“Weak. Pathetic.” she said with disgust, then she stepped forwards into a vicious punch, and Thorn didn't quite duck under the attack, which caught his horn and knocked him staggering to the side before he gasped when Morning Glory smashed him to the ground with an elbow. “Resist.”

Thorn clenched his eyes shut as white hot fire burst over his body, gasping in pain as he trembled on the earth, his body shaking violently beneath the fury of the Destroyer. Morning Glory leaned callously down even as Burning Desire hurried up to her side and grabbed her shoulder, but she only shrugged him off and continued, saying harshly: “Surrender. Give up. You're too weak, Thorn Blackfeather. You cannot, will not, survive.”

Thorn shivered on the ground, before he gasped as the white fire suddenly let up. But he wasn't able to get out of the way this time when Morning Glory stomped down, and Burning Desire winced at the crack as the stallion gave short hiss of pain. “Show me your face.”

The sapphire stallion breathed slowly in and out, shivering once before he pushed himself up and rose his head, looking fearlessly up at the Destroyer as he said quietly: “I will not allow you to break me.”

Morning Glory smiled thinly, and then she leaned down into his face, meeting his eyes before she said ruthlessly: “You haven't learned anything. You're just being stubborn. But I'm going to make you break. I'll make you scream. I'll make you cry. I'll make you show me what's under that mask you keep putting on, you sulking foal.”

“Okay, okay. You made your point, uh... maybe you should be a little nicer to him, sister, try being nice.” Burning Desire suggested, before he winced and scuttled away when the mare swung a foreleg at him moodily.

“I am being nice. That's what you don't get.” Morning Glory glared down at Thorn, leaning down into his face to say harshly: “I am trying to help you. Now look at me, you worthless bag of mud, and tell me the truth.”

Thorn looked up at Morning Glory, meeting her eyes before he answered quietly: “It hurts. But the pain is just a reminder that I am alive. Pain is welcome. Pain is... is easy to deal with. It makes everything else go away for a while.”

He looked down for a moment, then pushed himself shakily up to all three hooves, as Morning Glory studied him intently. “I'm still angry. I want to lash out. I want to scream. Your methods are inadequate and your performance is unsatisfactory.”

Morning Glory slowly narrowed her eyes as Burning Desire gave an awkward, high-pitched laugh, before Thorn turned to him and added coldly: “And you. You display little leadership. Quoting wise thoughts without context is a fool's blind gambit, and your methods may make your normal patients consider themselves, but I am not a demon.”

“I uh... don't have 'patients.'” Burning Desire said awkwardly, and Thorn smiled thinly.

“Precisely. You lack patience.” he said calmly, and Burning scowled horribly before the sapphire stallion shook himself out, then said shortly: “This is not what I need. You are both relieved of duty, effective immediately.”

Burning Desire's jaw dropped as Morning Glory blinked slowly, and then the Passion suddenly reared up, the stallion's mane and tail flaring as he shouted: “Now wait just one minute, y-you... you can't fire me! I don't work for you and-”

“Precisely. You do not work for me.” Thorn said bluntly, and then he strode quickly past the two siblings, who traded dumb looks as the stallion strode away as elegantly as his three legs could carry him.

“What the hell was that? What the hell just happened?” Burning Desire almost shouted, but Morning Desire only smiled wryly as she shook her head before she sighed and let a foreleg drop around her brother's shoulders, making him wince, then look up at her with dumb surprise.

“Progress.” Morning Glory said, and Burning Desire sighed before the Destroyer half-yanked him around in a circle, saying mildly: “Come, Ardent. I'm not wasting this day sulking, and neither are you. You can be my sparring dummy.”

“Wonderful. Just like when we were kids.” Burning said wryly with a shake of his head, before he sighed as he murmured: “I hope we can help him.”

Morning Glory shrugged, but she knew from personal experience that unfortunately, that was more up to Thorn than them. But she was encouraged, if anything, by the way the stallion had acted, even if she also recognized that Thorn had a lot to figure out.

That was something Thorn understood well himself, as he plodded slowly through Subterra, breathing quietly in and out. His stump wasn't bleeding, for a pleasant change of pace, but he thought that was in part because he was... lucid, at the moment. That was the easiest word for it; not the best, but the easiest.

“Lucid.” Thorn murmured to himself, and he gave a thin smile before he turned a corner, heading towards the Thorn Palace in the distance. Had he really been named for that mighty place, the heart of Subterra? Or had he been named Thorn because that was what he was; never a beautiful flower, always the punishment, the spike, the-

“Beautiful?” Thorn snorted in amusement, shaking his head, and the ridiculousness of his thoughts faded a little before he frowned a bit as he realized he was being followed. He paused and glanced to the side, and he was somehow unsurprised to see Eventide there, the Greater Nightmare dressed in heavy silver armor, but with her face left uncovered, her eyes full of maternal concern for him.

“You're so strange.” he said, before he could stop himself, before the Nightmare could say anything. Eventide almost flinched, but then Thorn shook his head before he continued quietly: “Affection. Love. Of course the most powerful emotions give the longest life and... I don't know. I can't think. My mind is jumbled. I don't know what I just did: I'm barely aware of... anything, right now. Can you help me?”

“Yes.” Eventide said simply, and Thorn smiled briefly before the Nightmare bowed her head and continued reassuringly: “Come with me. There is a room for you at the Thorn Palace, where you may rest and relax. A message has also been delivered from Empress Hecate.”

“Alright. I... am glad.” Thorn said softly, even though some part of him wasn't glad at all. That was strange. Hadn't he been excited for work? Hadn't he spent most of the time complaining that he wanted something to do, needed to go back to helping Decretum, not merely wasting his time here, vacationing...

Thorn felt tired and sore, and for a moment he wasn't sure why before he opened his eyes and looked around, realizing with disbelief that he was inside the palace halls... when did I get here? Did I lose track of time? Am I...

Thorn shook his head, before he glanced up as Eventide bowed him towards an open door, saying gently: “We have prepared a room for you here. Please rest. Is there anything else I can get you, Prince Thorn?”

“No... no. I'm... no.” Thorn murmured, shaking his head briefly before he rubbed slowly at his skull, muttering: “I guess I just need... I need some time. Necrophage is right about that much, at least. I need some time.”

Eventide only smiled kindly, gently half-nudging the stallion into the room as she said softly: “I will bring you a bit of refreshment after you have had some time to refresh yourself, Thorn Blackfeather. May I fetch anything for you? We have demons who are skilled in the art of inducing relaxation and sleep, and I don't mean that as a euphemism.”

“No. I just need time.” Thorn repeated, and for no reason at all, he wasn't angry, or sad, or happy: he was just numb and hollow, so much so that what would have been a slash of rage at any other time instead became maybe the mildest peck of annoyance, as he said almost distantly: “Please leave, Eventide, I require rest.”

Eventide politely bowed her head and withdrew, closing the door, leaving him inside an empty room. An empty room, alone, without distractions, without-

There was a mirror on the wall. A massive, rounded mirror, and Thorn stared at this for the longest time before he slowly strode in front of it, gazing into it, and seeing both himself, and himself.

He studied his reflection silently for the longest time, tilting his head back and forth as he watched the faint black trails pulse under his skin, as he took in the way his stump flexed and curled and dripped, moving almost with a life of its own, as if it were crying tears, as if it were meekly trying to hide itself beneath the veil of black sludge. Thorn softened, before he looked into his own eyes and whispered: “Look at you. Is that all you really are?”

His reflection snarled suddenly at him, but it only lasted a moment before Thorn looked down, then brought his eyes up and said quietly: “I am not a failure.”

It didn't sound true. And that wasn't the problem, was it? No. Failure or triumph, the past was the past. What mattered was the mission, the here and now.

Yes, that was what mattered. Getting things done. Dealing with the hand he was dealt. Moving forwards, and continuing to uphold the mission of the Clockwork Empire, which was even more important than whether or not they failed or succeeded in the tasks they were given. They existed, ultimately, to protect the worlds. No matter what that meant, they would find a way to do it: they were united beneath one cause, as one people, with one goal.

He needed to stop focusing on things in terms of victory or defeat, triumph or failure. It wasn't productive, and all it seemed to be doing was delaying his progress towards... what? Being useful? He had to do more than just be useful, though. He had to look at this as larger than just... parameters and machinery, as much as he preferred to work in those safe, definable limits.

He had to heal. Even if he didn't even know what that entailed.

Thorn smiled faintly at himself, silently studying his eyes and his features. He looked so unwell, in a word. Pale, trembling a little, his eyes sunken with exhaustion and nihilism. God, he looked so... pathetic. So utterly pathetic.

Thorn shook his head slowly, reaching up to touch his reflection for a moment before he closed his eyes and let his head fall forwards, horn tapping gently against the smooth glass as he whispered: “Nothing is wrong, and yet everything is. We should be celebrating, but I just want to lash out and be angry and be upset. I don't understand it. I understand perfectly what I should be feeling, and what I should be doing; so why can't I do it?”

Thorn chewed on his lip slowly, and then he pushed himself away from the mirror, shaking his head before he murmured: “I can do this. I can fix myself.”

No, what did Necrophage say to him? She had said he wasn't broken. That he didn't need to be fixed. But what did that even mean, really? That, what, this existence wasn't awful, that he wasn't really feeling these things, that...

No, it wasn't that, either. Thorn frowned a bit, studying one of the corners of the room silently as he continued to chew a little on his lip, before he flexed a hoof slowly and asked quietly: “If I'm not broken, then I can't be fixed. Maybe that's what Necrophage was trying to say. Or maybe...”

Thorn looked down for a few moments, and then he took a slow breath before he rose his head and looked back in the mirror, seeing himself as if for the first time. He tilted his head back and forth, then murmured: “I'm not okay. But that's... okay. That's why I'm not broken. That's why it's not...”

For the first time in as long as he could remember, Thorn found himself struggling to find the words. It was something that made sense in his head, but he couldn't explain: not to himself, let alone anyone else.

But he didn't have to, did he? Maybe it was time to stop analyzing things to death, and to stop... fighting so hard to hide the fact he wasn't okay. Because he wasn't okay, but he wasn't broken.

He looked at himself in the mirror for a few moments, then shook his head before he looked almost hesitantly towards the bed. He hadn't been sleeping well, but maybe that was because he had been spending so many of his sleeping hours trying to stay awake, trying to work, trying to fix what might not be broken after all.

Thorn slid towards the bed, hooves becoming heavier as he lowered his head a little, closing his eyes as he murmured: “It's okay that things aren't... fine. It's okay that I'm sad. It's not okay to give up, or to lash out... I can deal with this. And yet, I don't have to deal with this, because there's nothing wrong. Sometimes it's just about surviving through the day. Sometimes it's just about... acceptance.”

Thorn crawled into bed, and almost the moment his head touched the pillow, he was asleep. Asleep, and somewhere between dreaming and aware as he stood in darkness, his eyes roving back and forth meditatively before he silently looked down at a front hoof: a front hoof that no longer existed, as he murmured: “This is... hypnos. A shared dream. Muse, I assume?”

“My sister asked me to speak to you. I hope you don't mind, Thorn Blackfeather.” said the mare meekly as she emerged from the shadows, joining him with a small smile. Thorn only nodded politely, however, and there was silence for a moment before Muse said finally: “Your mental shielding is exceptionally strong.”

“My cervical implants create psionic interference, reducing the effectiveness of telepathic involvement.” answered Thorn, although funnily enough, that sounded more like an excuse than a reason. Muse smiled and nodded a little before the sapphire stallion added quietly: “I trust you, though. I'll try and... let you in.”

Muse bowed her head in gratitude, and there was silence for a few moments as the dreamscape around them became a little more stable, Thorn grimacing and absently rubbing at his foreleg: his whole, healed foreleg, he marveled, before he shook his head and drew his attention away. No, that was dangerous, he thought: that was how people lost themselves in the false paradise of dreams.

Instead, he turned his eyes towards Muse and asked: “How did Necrophage contact you? Our previous diagnostics showed your passive link with her wasn't strong enough to travel between dimensions. Nor were you...”

Muse only smiled a little, and Thorn smiled briefly back after a moment, saying softly: “You've been learning. I am rather impressed. I'll have to schedule you for reevaluation.”

“Thank you, sir.” Muse bowed her head, then she hesitantly looked up and added quietly: “I appreciate what you've done for us both. Myself and my sister, I mean... and... my sister asked me if I would help you. I told her that I can't help you, not really... that you have to help yourself. But I thought about it, and... I also thought about how much you've helped me indirectly. You, and Empress Hecate, and everyone in Decretum... and of course, Necrophage too.”

“Of course.” Thorn said softly, before he asked almost hesitantly: “Does the medication help?”

“Yes, of course.” Muse smiled, nodding even as she blushed a little. “The stabilizers alone are not... sufficient, of course. There is more to coping with... the chemical anomalies that Valthrudnir was using me to study, than simply... stabilizing them. It is not just because neural pathways are hardwired, there are... what I suppose you could call 'software issues,' as well.”

Thorn nodded slowly in understanding, before Muse continued quietly: “I know why I'm sad. I know I shouldn't be. That everything is okay. But honestly? The sadness feels... safer, sometimes. Happiness is so easily stolen away. Crushed. Destroyed. The world is an upsetting place. Why bother being happy? Why try to smile? And it is why I was designed: the master, Valthrudnir, designed me with this flaw. Why not embrace it? I was designed... to be worthless. We all were.”

Muse chewed on her lip, lowering her head for a moment before she murmured: “But life isn't about... what you're born with, or born into. I understand that the master was cruel. That he did not care about us. But that doesn't mean that because he made me broken, I cannot be whole. That, in spite of being designed with such a glaring flaw... I have to allow myself to succumb to it. You and Empress Hecate have taught me that there is no burden we cannot lift, if we apply ourselves to it. It hurts. It hurts so much some days. And it never felt worth it. Not at first...”

Muse slowly rose her head, smiling faintly. “But I carried forwards. Sometimes I was forced to. There was less mockery, but you had expectations for me that I had to meet, and so... I eventually did. Because it hurt more not to. Because my sister supported me. Because you and Hecate were always there to push me. Sometimes it felt cruel. Sometimes I hated you both. But today I am... I am very proud to be an instrument of Decretum. I am very proud to be a Replicant. I am... I am very happy that I am a pony.”

Thorn smiled faintly, and there was silence for a moment before Muse glanced down and murmured: “It's different for everyone. But I like to think that... everyone can carry their burden. The weight is different for us all, the way we must carry it is different, but we all can. I truly believe that, if even something designed to be broken like I was, can smile now. Can come to understand why everything is worthwhile. Your problem, though, is the opposite of mine: you were never broken. But the meaning, the joy... all of that was taken away from you, while I never had it to begin with. I can't imagine what that must feel like. To suddenly experience that loss of control. That loss of balance.”

Thorn shrugged a bit, and Muse chuckled softly before she said quietly: “You've been lashing out. But it's never really anger, is it? It's all... despair, and sadness. You're sad. That's okay.”

Muse stopped, then strode hesitantly forwards before she leaned in and carefully hugged him, and Thorn closed his eyes before he almost shyly hugged the mare back as she whispered: “My sister loves you very deeply. Love is not something we were programmed to feel, so she expresses it in strange ways. But she does, all the same. And if she loves you, then I will do my best to love you too.”

Thorn smiled faintly, and then the two stepped apart before he nodded once and murmured: “Sometimes I get angry when people try to help. Or I... I hear you, Muse, and I hear their stories, their attempts to reach out to me, but it just...”

“Despair is a strange thing. It makes us... childish, in a way.” Muse replied with a faint smile. “You want to be fixed. But you don't. You want someone to take your problems away... but you still want to have all the worst problems in the world. You want to be guiltless, but you crave to be blamed.”

“Everything and nothing. What are we all each, but worlds without end inside ourselves?” Thorn murmured, and then he shook his head quickly before he silently reached up and grasped his whole foreleg: the foreleg that no longer existed, the foreleg that he craved to feel... the foreleg that he wanted to go away. I understand. Better than I want to. “I think I know what I need to do. Take advice. Be open. Not... consider myself broken. But most of all...”

“Not allow yourself to be selfish, yes. Sadness makes us hide, search for an artificial womb to tuck ourselves away in. Not a sanctuary, but a shell.” Muse answered with a nod. “And even inside that shell, you still feel so... cold. So alone. Suffocating. Suffocating, until...”

Muse halted, and Thorn shook his head before he said quietly: “I won't... I'm doing better.”

“Are you?” Muse smiled at him faintly, studying him with an intentness that surprised him. “Or is this just a brief oasis?”

“A breath in the middle of the ocean. A moment of peace before the typhoon hits again. I was doing okay before, wasn't I? Or at least, I had convinced myself I was, and then... I crashed again.” Thorn silently squeezed his foreleg for a moment, before he looked down and asked: “But why don't you or Necrophage consider me broken?”

“Because you are not. Because it is different for you, Thorn. Not just because we are different, but because you are... poisoned. Poisons can be cured. Or in your case, perhaps... the very thing that poisons you can become your remedy.” Muse suggested hesitantly, gesturing at him with one hoof, and Thorn tilted his head with a slight frown before the Replicant smiled faintly and shrugged a bit. “The Clay of Prometheus... runs in your heritage, does it not?”

“I suppose, in a manner of speaking.” Thorn said after a moment, rubbing slowly at his whole foreleg before he said quietly: “I have no idea how to control it, though, and it's clear that its presence inside my body has something to do with... my difficulties.”

Muse only continued to look at him, in her quiet, listening way, and after a few moments Thorn continued hesitantly: “I might be able to harness it. It is reactive to my... my emotions. But with my current emotional state I seem incapable of...”

He realized what he was doing, that he was only stalling by whiffling and waffling around with big words and technicalities, and he sighed before saying bluntly: “I'm scared I can't control it.”

Muse smiled, then she gestured at him gently, and Thorn leaned slightly to the side in surprise as his leg became nothing but a tarry black mass, twisting and boiling with corruption. He shivered a little, but Muse reassured him gently: “Everything begins with a desire to achieve something. Proficiency and focus come with time. What do you want, Thorn? Visualize it. Idealize it. That is what you taught me.”

“Control. Over... this.” Thorn said quietly, as he slowly rose his tarry foreleg, staring at the corruption, and Muse smiled faintly.

“Then control it, Thorn Blackfeather. Don't let it control you. Either you rule your power or your power will rule you. And you are too good, too strong, to let power rule you.” Muse said softly, and Thorn smiled faintly before the Replicant suggested gently: “Let's work on a few exercises. Let's loosen up your mind. We have as long as you like in this dream state to tire your mind out, and help you sleep and regain... yourself.”

“I appreciate it, Muse.” Thorn said softly, glancing up at her, but Muse only smiled kindly.

“Helping you helps me. I feel... better than I have in a long time.” Muse said honestly, before she rose her head and said softly: “I'll try not to be too gentle, Thorn. But I'm very new to teaching so... I might need your guidance.”

“You know I'm always happy to give it, Muse.” Thorn replied with a small smile, and Muse bowed her head in gratitude.

“Then... let's begin.”

Thorn yawned quietly as he climbed out of bed, slowly stretching with a grimace before he grasped at his stump, and his eyes widened slightly in surprise.

He drew his hoof away, bringing a few flecks of corruption with it, but for once it actually felt dry. Well, almost: he could almost feel that gooey core of corruption, that eternally-flowing black ooze that-

No. That was a place he didn't want to go. Thorn took a breath and threw off those thoughts, then he forced himself to slide out of bed, heading first to the bathroom.

He emerged, washed and clean, his mane neatly braided back into a ponytail, his tail trimmed short. He had been unsurprised to find cloth bandages laid out for him next to the sink, just as he was unsurprised to find that someone had neatly set out a nice, clean set of clothes on his bed while he'd been occupied in the bathroom.

Thorn wrapped his stump, then slipped into the comfortable half-suit and cape, smiling briefly as he noted the sleeve had already been folded, pressed, and pinned so it didn't hang loose. He tightened the clasp of the cape around his neck, then smiled briefly as he squeezed the symbol of the moon slowly, closing his eyes and murmuring: “Thank you.”

He rolled his shoulders, then turned before frowning slightly in surprise: he sensed something outside his door. Without hesitating, the unicorn strode quickly to the door and opened it, and Burning Desire flinched as Morning Glory only glowered at him, although Thorn knew her well enough by now that was her own way of hiding surprise.

They regarded each other for a moment, and then Burning Desire cleared his throat loudly before he declared: “My sister and I have decided to refuse to allow you to tender your resignation with us and-”

“I am not your employee.” Thorn interrupted, before he added: “While a pleasant turn of phrase, it also isn't possible for an employer to refuse to allow withdrawal, unless otherwise stated in a contract due to obligations arising from the premise of the work. Disregarding slavery.”

Neither demon seemed to understand that Thorn had just told his version of a joke, as Burning stared at him for a moment before Morning Glory smacked her brother aside and growled: “We won't tolerate your disrespect, colt. It's time for your lessons.”

For a moment, Thorn studied Morning Glory meditatively, and then the ring around his horn glowed as he said gently in demonic: “Kneel.”

Morning Glory bared her fangs as her eyes bulged with surprise, the massive Destroyer slowly lowering down into a bow on one front leg as Burning Desire's jaw dropped, and Thorn remarked meditatively: “That means Hel's Archives haven't completely lost power yet, and that you were registered properly with the Helherlið.”

“Let me up, colt.” Morning Glory muttered, although there was a distinct blush in her cheeks as one of her eyes twitched, and Thorn simply nodded, which was enough acknowledgment to let Morning Glory fling herself to her hooves as her eyes burned holes in him. “Fine. If you want to be a child, then go cry and rot.”

Morning Glory began to turn away, but then halted in surprise as Thorn said: “I wish to harness the Clay of Prometheus, and I will require training – mainly mental – in order to control it effectively. Will you and Burning Desire assist?”

Slowly, the Destroyer turned towards him, studying him intently as Burning Desire said apprehensively: “That's uh... a little bit different from what I expected. It looks like your limb finally stopped bleeding, so... I mean, do you really want to tamper with that?”

Thorn shook his head, then answered quietly, as he touched his stump: “The state of my foreleg is precisely what compels me to learn to control it. If I can control my power, my power will no longer control me.”

Morning Glory nodded slowly at this, understanding, as Burning Desire sighed and grudgingly shifted, muttering: “Well, perhaps, but all the same... this isn't exactly what I had in mind. Wasn't our training before helping?”

“Yes. It was helping me to mask my emotions instead of deal with my pain.” Thorn said bluntly, and Burning Desire winced as Morning Glory scowled a little, before the sapphire stallion lowered his head humbly and added quietly: “And in large part that is my fault, but now I am asking you to teach me what I actually need to learn instead of how to simply cover up my emotions. I am already grateful to you, but-”

“I don't need your gratitude, colt.” Morning Glory said rudely, before she snorted and said moodily: “Fine. I taught your brother how to harness his abilities, and I'll teach you the same. But I won't be nice to you just because you're feeling sad, boy.”

Thorn smiled briefly at this, and Burning Desire groaned before he threw up his forehooves and nodded grudgingly. “Fine, fine! Why not, there's no way this could go terribly wrong and no reason violet would be upset with me after this, so let's go ahead and just dig in!”

“Thank you, Burning Desire. My mother always spoke highly of you.” Thorn said, and the Passion gave a wry smile in response to this even as he smoothed back his fiery mane.

“Oh, shush. I'm Lust and Greed, I can see right through your flattery.” he retorted, then paused and leaned towards Thorn with a grin and a wink. “Although no one said you had to stop!”

Morning Glory hammered a hoof down on her brother's skull, knocking him flat with a squeak, and then she shook her head slowly before saying coldly: “Fine. But we have to have an understanding: you refrain from using your privileges, spoiled little brat, and I'll teach you. Take it for granted even once, and I leave.”

“Understood.” Thorn bowed his head politely, and then he looked up and smiled a bit, saying quietly: “I trust you both. I promise to work with you and not undermine your efforts.”

Morning Glory only studied Thorn moodily, but Burning Desire smiled warmly and shrugged a bit as he replied cheerfully: “You do your part, Thorn, and we'll do ours!” He paused, then added mildly: “Even if I think that spending all that time in that scary place with all the machines has left you a little... how do I put this politely...”

“Different. But it was only recent events that left me damaged, and... I am not broken.” Thorn answered, and Burning Desire smiled.

Morning Glory only shrugged, then she gestured for him to follow, and Thorn fell into pace behind her as Burning Desire bounced along last, watching the stallion thoughtfully as his smile lingered on his face, wondering curiously just what had helped the unicorn finally wake up.

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