The Moon Also Rises

by Nicroburst

Twelve

It is done. We—I have stopped him, broken the back of the storm-front that tore through my kingdom. There are many smaller pockets of resistance left, but for the first time since it appeared, it has halted its advance.

I rode the light like a goddess, arriving back in my home not a day before it would have been covered. The storm is not kind, leaving very little in its wake. Recovery will be a long, hard road for an already battered and weary people.

Twelve

STARING OUT AT THE PLAIN BEFORE HER, Luna breathed a sigh of relief. Equestria was in sight. She would be home soon.

She had very nearly fell to anger. It had surged back, a tide of emotion that swept over her, leaving no room for coherent thought. She had wanted nothing more than to lash out, to strike back at the vile thing that had imprisoned her, and demolished her surroundings.

But that anger had been accompanied by will, a sudden realisation of her danger motivating her to focus, to resist. Fear had, eventually, triumphed, coaxing her rage into submission. She wasn’t as open to her emotions anymore. All that worry, and yet Luna still did not believe she had mastered herself. Matured, certainly, grown to realise the terrible impact her choices could have, and understand the corruptive nature of her impulses.

Once, before all of this, Luna would have shut the issue from her mind, preferring not to dwell on it. Now, though, now she knew better. She had been able to utilise her anger in her escape without falling to the Nightmare, through a combination of knowledge and fear. For all the pain it had brought her, it was still just a tool. She couldn’t blame it for her failings.

No, her problem wasn’t her anger. Before her fall, she had given in to her emotions; feeling jealous of the adoration of her sister, and the dominance of the day. Jealousy had, in time turned to hate, and it had consumed her, devouring reason and logic. Luna had always prided herself on her sharp mind. That she had fallen so easily stung. But the fault lay, nonetheless, in bottling herself up. She had never brought those emotions forward, never spoken with Celestia, or encouraged her subjects.

Returning, she’d blamed herself, but for the wrong flaws. She’d thought the problem had lain in succumbing, that she could refuse to acknowledge how she felt. So she’d blocked all thought of her suppressed anger, denied the resentment bubbling inside her. That had hamstrung her, leaving her with nothing but fear of being overwhelmed, and of falling, again, to the Nightmare.

What she’d experienced, forced into the use of that anger, was altogether different. She’d been afraid of her capacity for evil, but she’d never considered the use of anger for good. And she’d found that although it was harder to deny it, harder to force herself back into passivity, she hadn’t been as furious. She’d accomplished something, found validation in herself and justified in her hate. She felt empowered, and suddenly, that hate was once again her tool.

In truth, it had never been anything else. Luna had used her emotions as an excuse, claiming, if only to herself, that they destroyed her capacity for control; turned her to evil like some character from a fairy tale. And there was some truth in that. Certainly, the heights of emotion lead to a loss of composure, an erosion of control. But ultimately, she was responsible. Coming to terms with that allowed her to go back to her power, to try again.

Luna opened her wings, gliding down the mountainside. The Southern Equestrian desert, known as the Badlands, lay spread out before her, stretching out into the distance. After what she’d seen of the Wastes, as she called the desert behind her, that name was misleading. The Badlands was far gentler, a veritable oasis in comparison. There was still a fog, hovering low over the ground for about a mile from the mountain range, but Luna was high enough to see over it, spying a few dragons, circling in the distance.

That was the other reason nopony had even tried to leave Equestria via the southern border; they’d have to cut across dragon territory. For an alicorn, though, it was a non-issue.

As she glided, Luna began to feel a strange tingling sensation, spreading from her head down, over her torso and wings, right out to the tips of her primaries, and down her legs and tail. She shivered, suddenly uncomfortable.

The wind had cut off the moment she’d entered the mountains, a welcome relief after all her time in it. Perhaps it was her flight, naturally generating its own wind. It felt nothing like the wind from the Wastes; instead a cool breeze, refreshing instead of oppressive. If anything it soothed the chills running over her body.

Luna frowned, pressing her ears flat back against her skull. This . . . this felt like magic.

She flared her wings, halting her forward movement and diving to the ground. Pressing her own magic in front of her, she landed in an explosion of dust and fog, throwing a giant cloud of fresh air around her as her magic forced a tunnel through the fog bank. Standing, Luna carefully pressed her senses forward towards Equestria.

She could just barely detect the edges of a barrier. It was faint, far subtler than anything any unicorn could manage, and as far as she could tell, extended across the entire southern border. There were no edges, no locus points in the weave. She never would have found it at all were it not for all the time she’d spent examining her prison.

Nor could she tell what purpose it served. Luna remembered back to her departure, how the desert had seemed to extend as far as she could see. The reality, revealed simply by crossing over that illusion, of an entire mountain range spoke of a highly sophisticated spell. Was she simply looking at its back?

Tentatively, Luna approached the barrier, pressing a hoof against it. Nothing happened.

But she had learned caution. Reaching inwards, Luna pulled on her fears and hopes, holding them close and extending her senses around her hoof and through the hole in the spell it had created. As her will trickled away, consumed by the magic, she felt a vague sense of apprehension. But neither Sight nor Sense told her anything of use.

Luna sighed. It was probably just the illusion. Slowly, she pushed her head through the spell, opening her eyes on the other side. Everything looked different, and everything was well.

***

Trixie lowered her hooves to see Boundless standing over Shining Armour’s unconscious body. He looked worried, though Trixie wasn’t sure what about.

“The train left at three, Trixie,” he said, not looking away from the body. “It’s a three hour trip out to the Crystal Empire, and it’s past six. They’ll know he’s missing.”

“So?” Trixie asked, still tired from all her spell-casting. Chaining together so much, for so long would have taxed her even at her best, and she’d hardly been that, a few short hours after coming out of a fight with Shining Armour—a highly capable mage in his own right. “They can’t find us. Not here.”

“You don’t know that,” Boundless hissed. “You don’t know anything.”

“I know more than you do.”

“They’ll be here, and soon. So stop questioning me, Trixie, and check on our . . . guest.”

“Guest?” Trixie said, snorting. Still, she bowed her head, giving Shining Armour a glance.

“Wake him,” Boundless ordered. “But keep him pinned, and without magic.”

Trixie wasn’t supposed to know that spell. But then, Boundless wasn’t supposed to know that Trixie knew that spell, to know that she had found it years ago, buried away on a dusty bookshelf in Fillydelphia’s Magus Library. What was one more dirty secret in a life of shadow?

She didn’t waste time denying it, instead approaching Shining Armour. Lighting her horn, Trixie prepared the spell, weaving strands of azure power into a carefully-staged process. As she laid it on him, the blanket of magic covering his body, and cut the power to her horn, she watched it take effect.

First, it countered the Sleep spell. Strands of the power reached upwards, snaking into his eyes and ears, down his throat and through his nostrils. Disappearing inside, it woke him up, stimulating the mind and spirit to restlessness. Second, it bound him, the blanket anchoring itself on either side of him, locking him down onto the table. Finally, it coalesced around his horn. Cutting into that physical conduit, placing a barrier there, would block the expression of his power, and therefore his power itself.

Shining Armour woke with a start, surging upwards against his bonds with his chest heaving, panting with exertion and sweat dripping from his coat in lather. She should refine that spell. Maybe she’d sunk too much energy into waking him up.

You’ve gotten stronger.

Cumulus! Trixie exclaimed silently. Welcome back.

Humph, he grumbled. I’m not sure if I’m ready to forgive you for that. You almost killed Brash.

He’s okay, though?

“Trixie,” Boundless said, calling for her attention.

Yes. He’s recovering.

Oh, thank Celestia. I didn’t want to do it, you know.

I guess not. But you don’t know what it’s like.

“Trixie!” Trixie snapped back to reality, realising she’d been standing still, staring into place. She glanced down at Shining Armour on the table. He was looking at her askance, as if slightly creeped-out. A slight blush crept onto her face.

“Sorry, sorry,” Trixie said, focusing on Boundless. “What now?”

“Now, you find out what we need to know.” Boundless gestured at Shining Armour. “Do your thing. We’re looking for the Crystal Heart.”

“Not even going to ask him first?” Trixie asked. Boundless arched an eyebrow.

“You’re the one who decided to kidnap him. I should think that we’ve blown any chance we had of getting cooperation.”

He’s got you there.

Cumulus . . . I had no choice, Trixie said. You know that, right?

“Okay.” Trixie took a deep breath. Instead of trying to go through Boundless, Trixie walked around the table to the opposite side, coming to a halt above Shining Armour’s head. Leaning over him, she locked gazes with the furious, helpless unicorn.

“You’ll never get away with this,” he said, eliciting a laugh from Boundless.

“Please,” he said, “Spare us the clichés. Will you give me what I want?”

“No,” Shining Armour said, turning to face Boundless. Puckering his mouth, he spat a glob of saliva. It missed, spattering on the floor.

“Fair enough,” Boundless said, shrugging. “Trixie?”

“Yes?”

Boundless nodded towards Shining Armour.

“Oh. Yes, yes, of course. Right away.”

Trixie reached out with her magic, grabbing Shining Armour’s head, and forcing him to meet her gaze. Through that connection, she dove into his mind, seeking with tendrils of her awareness and her power, for some hold on him.

Instead, she fell backwards, clutching at her head. Where most ponies’ minds were open to her, had points for her to latch onto and absorb their thoughts, like some kind of parasite, Shining Armour was a wall. She hadn’t only failed at gaining any access to his mind, she’d been struck at for trying, an acerbic lash of power striking out and searing her. It left the impression of rage; an intense and present anger at the injustice of his situation.

Could he . . .? No, that was ridiculous. Trixie hadn’t encountered anypony able to do that in all of Equestria. It was probably just her imagination.

“Well,” Boundless said. He sounded like he was laughing. For all his talk of their time limit, he didn’t seem particularly stressed, now that Trixie thought about it. More . . . strung out. It was tense nerves and nervous energy, leading to manic behaviour. Why was that?

“He’s shielded. I can’t read his thoughts,” Trixie said, moving back to the table.

“So that’s what you were doing on the train,” Shining Armour said. “Do you know how invasive that is?! Do you care?!”

***

Twilight paced nervously as she waited for Cadence to come out of her trance. The Alicorn of Love wasn’t as accomplished as Celestia or Luna—like Rarity, she required a particular state of mind in order to See. Nonetheless, she was an alicorn, and one powered by a particular sense of urgency.

Cadence couldn’t See who had taken Shining Armour, but she could See where he was. Once they knew that, Twilight and Cadence could teleport to him. For a normal unicorn, a jump like that would be considered near suicide, if they could even make the distance. Twilight wasn’t a normal unicorn.

Strangely, she didn’t feel overly worried for her brother’s health. She’d been through enough to know how to focus on a situation, but even so, she would have expected to feel more frantic.

What was more concerning was the simple question of who had taken him. The ability to hide the presence of your magic didn’t require power, as such, but it did demand an incredible amount of control. The mage would have to be an accomplished spell-caster. One with knowledge and motive.

Why would anypony kidnap Shiny? It didn’t make sense to Twilight. An ex-Captain of Celestia’s Royal Guard, the Defender of Canterlot and now the Prince—Consort of the Crystal Empire—that was a powerful name. They couldn’t expect him to take his capture lightly, nor prove a tractable captive. Twilight was almost surprised he hadn’t broken free already.

They could be looking for a ransom. He’d certainly be worth an awful lot of bits. But there had been just six cases of kidnapping in the last millennium, and none of them had been about money. There were other, more profitable and less harmful ways of garnering income in the Equestrian underground. Twilight knew those ponies. This would have been far too great of a risk.

They could be looking for knowledge. Shiny would certainly know a great deal—guard patrols, the locations and security systems protecting various artefacts, the secret ways in and out of a city. Twilight nodded, liking that theory more.

Still, it was all conjecture until they found him. Twilight turned back to the alicorn on the bed, eyes closed. Cadence had already been under for a few minutes, and while Rarity might take a few hours to gain anything useful, Cadence was at another level entirely.

The alicorn’s eyes snapped open, filled with fire. Twilight took an unconscious step backwards, before steeling herself; that fire was not hers, nor for her.

“Cadence? Where is he?” Twilight asked. Cadence fixed her eyes on Twilight’s, near searing her with their intensity.

“I’ll show you,” she whispered, horn alight and power threading through the air towards Twilight.

The spell was a simple illusion, designed to create a hologram in the air before her. Twilight scanned the image quickly, her own eyes widening.

The scene was something out of a horror story. Her brother lay, strapped to a wooden table with magic in the middle of a dark, dank room. His horn was covered in a shield of the same azure light as his bonds. Twilight knew that light.

There were two ponies with him. One was Boundless, the colt Twilight had confronted.

The other was Trixie, her power filling the room as she leant over Twilight’s helpless brother.

***

In truth, Trixie did care. She hated that she hurt her friends to preserve her life. She hated that she could fall so low, become capable of so much. When she’d first discovered what she could do, first lashed out at another, after the fire . . . she’d struggled. It wasn’t just something she could do, some badge of ability that marked her out of the crowd. She’d grown past that egotistical, shallow pony.

The real world wasn’t that simple. It had never given her that one last time, the break she needed. Over time, as she’d been lead, again and again, into abusing her abilities, she’d grown accustomed to it. She’d begun to block out the self-loathing, to hide away from the reality of her actions. She had been the victim.

But that didn’t excuse her. She had always had a choice, no matter what she told herself. It had been her pride, her need for self-sufficiency that had prevented her from asking for help. Somehow, she’d twisted life to where hurting others had been the lesser evil.

How had she done that? How had everything gone so wrong, to end here, hidden somewhere under Canterlot in a dirty, small basement. She’d never had anything be so clear, or felt so trapped.

”Can you get through?” Boundless asked. His voice was low, silky smooth and confident.

“Not a chance,” Shining Armour growled. Boundless casually reached over, slapping him with a hoof across his muzzle. Trixie winced at the violence, and the reminder of everything he was capable of. Again, she heard the crack of breaking bone in her head.

Shining Armour spat out a glob of blood to the side. He remained defiant, but there was a spark now, in his eyes. Trixie knew that feeling, the fear, slowly building. She could feel it right now, the situation, rapidly falling out of control, beginning to overwhelm her.

Layers within layers, Cumulus whispered. Do you see the pattern?

No, Trixie replied. His analysis often exceeded hers, and she was grateful for his assistance. Brash was still pouting, hiding away from her in the recesses of her mind.

I’m so sorry, Trixie. I wish I’d seen it earlier. Cumulus began, only to be interrupted.

“Trixie,” Boundless said, almost purring. “If he won’t lower his defences himself, we’ll just have to bring them down.”

“You’ve always had a flair for that,” she replied dryly. But for all her posturing, inside she was trembling just as much as Shining Armour. She could sense it, everything piling in, here, to this tiny room hidden underneath Canterlot. It was the culmination of the last four years. Did she dare hope that Boundless would be done with her after this? Could there be a way out after all?

Boundless just smiled. “Not this time. Unfortunately, I can’t get into ponies’ heads, Trixie.”

“Well, what do you want me to do about it?” Trixie snapped with false bravado. Her heart was racing in her chest, pounding against her ribs almost audibly.

Boundless stepped close, looming over her and igniting his horn. Leaning down, he whispered gently, softly, into her ear. “How does one go about breaking through an unbreakable spell? For make no mistake, in there, in that most intimate domain of magic, he is utterly unbreakable.”

“You can’t,” Trixie said, but she didn’t believe it. Boundless was leading her somewhere, somewhere dark. The shadows there turned her away, concealing his purpose. She knew, but she wished not to know, on a level beyond conscious choice, and so she did not see.

“Kill him, Trixie,” Boundless continued. “Stare into his eyes, press yourself against his walls, and draw a blade across his throat. Watch his life and power drain away, and as he fades, break through, break into his mind and take what we need.”

Trixie stumbled back as he spoke, not registering the last of his words. Kill?! What?! How . . . How can I . . . I . . .

Do you see it? Cumulus said, his voice drowning amidst the noise of Trixie’s panic. Was he ever after the Heart?

But she couldn’t listen. Trixie couldn’t focus, still reeling from his order. She backed up, her rump hitting the wall, and sat down with a thump, hyperventilating.

She had confronted murder before, when she was contemplating going against Boundless. But she hadn’t been able to do it then. What made him think she could do it now?

He had broken her. She could not turn against him, not against that. Boundless stood over her, an avatar of darkness. Shadows flickered over his frame, breaking the lines of his back and legs, giving him an ethereal appearance. Intense eyes fixed their glare on her, conveying the ultimate expression of will. She would do this, or he would unleash his considerable wrath upon her.

And there was no resistance. She had been broken down systematically, brought low by the slow induction into her fear. Oh, he had been careful, yes. To teach her enough that she would be helpless, now, and yet not enough to scare her away, taking her chances with authority.

Trixie concentrated on her breathing, slowing it down. In and out, in and out, and slowly, the panic receded. It left in its wake only terror—a stark, sharp fear. But there was no paralysis, and no hesitation.

Trixie stood, lighting her horn and summoning a blade of azure light. The magic condensed in her hoof, taking a material form she could clutch. It became a symbol of security, of control. There was nothing else to hold.

“Hey! What’s going on?” Shining Armour called.

On the table, he had begun to struggle with his bonds once again. Trixie ignored his cries—the knowledge of his fate was written plainly across his face. He knew, already. It was in the wildness of his eyes, bulging in their sockets and rolling around the room. It was in the tenseness of his cheeks, pulling the skin and fur tight across his muzzle. It was in the stiffness of his ears, laid flat against his skull, as if glued there.

***

“Where are they?” Twilight asked, looking up at Cadance as the effigy dissipated into the air.

“Underneath Canterlot,” Cadence replied. A map of the city appeared in the air, hanging between the two. On it, Twilight could see the pale blue of her brother’s magic, shining over a small hovel in the slums of the city.

“In a basement?” she asked.

Cadence nodded. “There’s a huge network of tunnels connecting all the houses down there. We call it the Canterlot Underground.”

“I’m going,” Twilight said, wasting no more time. She began to pull magic in to her horn, the familiar purple hues gathering around her as she readied her teleportation spell. She would fuel it with joy—the joy she found in a sunny day, or a cool night, a good book and good company, the joy of family; a partner, a sister, and a brother.

On the map, a pink line began to move back from Shining Armour’s current position. It traced a circuitous route through the slums, before rising to street level and terminating at Trixie’s hideout. Twilight gestured to the building.

“I know that spot. I can get there in five minutes,” she said, charging the spell.

“I’ll be a touch longer,” Cadence said, nodding as her own aura began building around her.

Twilight had never rued that particular limitation on teleportation as much as she did now. But it was not a matter of strength, or even luck. One simply could not teleport somewhere one had not been before. That left Cadence to move into the city proper, and fly down. Twilight, who had already visited the slums on occasion, would be faster despite being limited to the ground.

The spell came together easily, the warmth of her memories flowing through Twilight. Magic engulfed her vision in purple, and she disappeared in a flash, to appear on the street outside Trixie’s burnt house.

She had the route fixed in her mind, of course, and as she galloped down the street, heading for the entrance to the Underground Trixie and Boundless had used, she ran through possibilities in her mind.

Why would they have taken Shining Armour? Trixie hadn’t struck Twilight as a particularly bad pony—while she had been shoplifting, and generally terrorising multiple cities, she hadn’t had the desperation it took to kidnap somepony. Boundless, on the other hand . . . there was no question there.

They had been after the Crystal Heart. That, Twilight could assume, from Trixie’s slip and Boundless’ notes. Why they wanted it, she had no idea, but if they’d kidnapped Shining Armour just for information, they must need it, badly.

Twilight shook her head. Motivations were secondary now; she had to focus on the situation at hoof. Sprinting now, she found the cellar door they’d passed through and blew it inwards, a simple telekinetic spell empowered with her panic. Calm, she needed calm right now, to think clearly and act rationally. Panic served her best as a bludgeon.

The door didn’t just splinter inwards, it was torn clean off its hinges, flying across the room and carrying a pony with it. Crashing against the far wall, the pony slumped down, unconscious, but largely unharmed. Twilight didn’t spare him more than a glance as she sped past.

***

To Trixie, it seemed such a simple thing, so pure and beautiful. A telekinetic field—the truest expression of a unicorn’s power—providing light as it gently hummed in Trixie’s hoof. Not hot, or trembling with energy, instead it was as if she was holding a leaf, floating in the wind, or a sunbeam playing across her muzzle on a warm summer’s day.

In a very real sense, at that moment, the blade of light was her, and she it. All that Trixie was was contained in the gleam along its edge, the radiance and barely-contained power, shimmering down its length in waves of azure. She stood above her captive, her victim, and pressed its edge gently into his throat, leaning over him to force eye contact.

Touching his mind was easy now, here, in the twilight. Trixie felt calm, somehow, the fear and doubt melting away. It was so clear to her, the decision simple. She walked the blade’s edge, and yet, no matter which way she fell, she would fall.

Shining Armour was anything but calm. Foam pressed against his mouth, lips pressed together tightly in the clamp of Trixie’s magic. And still she couldn’t see in, couldn’t grasp hold of the mind that contained her salvation. It was incoherent, a jumble of fear and shock, hidden behind strong walls. Trixie couldn’t gaze long on those walls, though. They were barely-contained themselves, all the emotion, repressed behind a thin veneer of control. They glimmered, reminiscent of her blade.

Trixie took a deep breath. It wouldn’t do to be tense, not here, not now. She could afford no distractions, not if she wanted to be precise. She would fall, but she would fall well, cleanly and without pain. She did not begrudge nor blame him for holding out. He had as little choice as her.

“Do it, Trixie,” Boundless whispered, standing next to her. Even here, in this place of calm he sent a shiver through her, causing her world to tremble. The iridescent blade flashed, shaking. Trixie couldn’t tell if it followed her hoof’s movements, or its own, frantic, motions.

Her hoof spasmed, just slightly, causing a thin line of blood to appear on the upper edge of her blade. It coloured the light, turning it a murky brown as it shone through the blood. Under her, Shining Armour gave a gasp, redoubling his struggles. But it made no difference, his muscle not even coming close to disrupting Trixie’s magical hold.

“What are you waiting for?” Boundless said, his voice sounding breathless in her ear. Why was she waiting? Was she waiting?

Her ears flicked as she heard a loud crash. Drawing herself back, she eased up, and brought her eyes up to the room around her.

The door had been thrown clear across the room, to reveal a panting unicorn standing in the doorway. Twilight was clearly exhausted, lather covering her sides and frost appearing from her muzzle with each short, sharp breath. But the violence of her entrance and the fire in her eyes left Trixie with little doubt as to her capability.

She met Twilight’s eyes, the intensity nearly shattering her from her trance.

Trixie! Cumulus shouted, his voice coming from far away.

“I’m sorry,” Trixie whispered, before lowering herself back to her task.

***

Twilight burst into the room feeling like death itself. The path she’d taken had seemed much longer than the map had indicated, and while she wasn’t unhealthy, she wasn’t the fittest pony. Cadence would have caught up a lot of ground—she could be here any moment.

But Twilight had made it first, and the scene that had awaited her blocked out all other thought. Her brother lay, strapped to a table with an azure knife resting against his throat, held in the hoof of one of her friends. Twilight couldn’t believe what she was seeing; Trixie hadn’t been this bad, this evil, before, had she? Had she fooled her, lead her to believe she could be redeemed, all the while planning this?

Beside her stood Boundless, eyes wide from Twilight’s unexpected appearance. He looked . . . confident; a slight, smug, smile playing around the corners of his mouth as he met her eyes squarely. It infuriated her.

Twilight screamed, throwing her magic across the room, carrying with it all the pain and fear and anger she’d experienced from the moment she’d discovered her brother’s absence. It materialised as a spear of lavender light, its blunted end forming into a ball of pure power the size of a pony’s head, tearing through the room with the force of a hurricane, absorbing and refracting the glow of Trixie’s blade to cast the room in blue and purple hues.

Under that surreal light, Twilight saw Boundless step forward to meet her attack. His own horn crackled, though its light was washed out by Twilight’s puissance, and Trixie’s agonised indecision. With a sweep of magic, he attempted to deflect her attack, to redirect it to crash against the side wall. But Twilight would not be denied, and though he strove, his efforts yielded little more than a deafening detonation and a rush of air.

The crushing bludgeon took Boundless in the chest, cracking his ribs with an audible snap. He was thrown backwards, striking the wall with the crunch of splintering wood and sailing through into the adjacent room. Twilight, recovering from his small explosion quickly, stepped forward with her eyes smouldering. He didn’t move.

***

Trixie, reeling from the sudden violence beside her, had managed, though only just, to keep her knife from slipping into his throat. Slowly, she regained her balance, shaking the excess force of Boundless’ magical explosion from her. Could he be dead? Had Twilight done that; stopped him, given her an escape? Trixie felt hope begin to rise in her chest, an almost transcendent emotion of freedom.

But the fear rose alongside it. And though she dared to hope, she could not believe that Boundless would stop from something as trivial as that. She didn’t believe he could be stopped; he was a force of nature. He was not something that could be fought.

Fear forced its way into her heart, and, her whole body trembling, she established a connection with Shining Armour, and prepared herself.

***

Twilight spared him only a glance; Boundless hadn’t twitched from where he lay in a heap, resting on top of the shattered planks of the wall behind him. Twilight didn’t think he was seriously hurt—certainly some broken ribs and a bruised back, but nothing he couldn’t recover from. It was enough, then, enough to take him out of the fight.

She turned her attention to Trixie. Boundless’ diversion of her attack had given her pause, Shining Armour still lying on the table with Trixie’s magic hovering at his neck. Twilight reached out, seizing Trixie’s hoof in her magic.

“Hey now,” Twilight began, still breathing heavily. “Trixie, it’s me. It’s over.”

Trixie didn’t respond. Instead, eyes fixed and face resolute; she pushed her hoof against Twilight’s hold, suddenly and forcefully, breaking her grip with a surge of unrelenting, absolute terror and a belief, a fundamental belief in him. Somehow, across that magical connection, Twilight could feel Boundless; feel his touch against hers, instead of Trixie’s, as if the mare was merely a vehicle for his intent.

Freed, she drew the blade across Shining Armour’s throat, her eyes widening, and her body falling backwards to the floor. Twilight screamed in sudden shock and denial and the blood welled up to pool on the table and drip to the floor, as the blade slid out with a thick, squelching noise.

The End of Part One

Author's Note:

Notes: Chapter Twelve

Comments

[BuffaloBrony]

Well ,Trixie. It was nice knowing ya. I fully expect either Twilight or a freshly arrived Cadence to turn you into a burnt grease spot in the next 30 or so seconds...

stupid cliffhangers

[Nicroburst]

2416358
But I love cliffhangers! Funnily enough, my pre-reader said the same thing: rest assured, a reckoning is coming. I will say, however, that it isn't going to be in the way one might expect.

It's also great to hear from someone new! I hope you continue to enjoy the story.