NMoO 1: Memories

Memories

Pain. His world was pain. Pain remembered. Pain felt. The surge of the past roared into his mind like a vast unstoppable wave. A voice called to him, but was swept away as he stood in the center of...something. Where was he? Why could he not remember nothing more than the past? So many faces passed before him; pony, dragon, griffon, camel, and many others. Male. Female. Young. Old. They came to him, went through him, screamed silently at him. It was their pain, their agony. The fear in the air was thick and heavy, the scent of burnt flesh seared itself into his nostrils. The past surrounded him with those countless faces.

The voice called again.

He thought he should know it. He struggled, found he could not move and was held fast by others. What others? Why was there so much death around him? The horror was so much as he could not eve cry. No tears fell. They could not. They took his tears, his sorrow, adding it to their hate for him. It surged like the tide, washing over him with despair and the pain of loss and ultimate suffering.

He noticed he was standing in a wasteland, a desert bereft of life. There was nothing but rocks and sand all around him. In the distance, all around him approached those faces. So far away, indistinct, but he could make them out. A dead forest with dead trees. Moving towards him, reaching out hungrily. Clear starless skies covered him, the darkness nearly absolute save for an oddly familiar white beacon in the air and just above the horizon. His body shivered, yet he felt nothing.

A ghostly presence engulfed him, dark and familiar. He tried to scream, not sure what was going on. Reacting violently, he tried to break free, screaming his terror and somehow finding the will to resist. The faces parted as he strode forward, his hooves striking the unseen ground, showering his vision with sparks. It was a dead gallop, full out and relentless. He had to get away!

His fear told him to run and he did so. His name fell upon his ears, they flicked towards the source somewhere behind him, receding. Everything. It was all around him. Everything! Nothing would go away. The looming face of a monster hovered above him, grinning wickedly as a glowing ball of red hatred mocked him. Vast wings shrouded his world in inky shadow, concealing everything.

Was there anything to see?

No, those faces were gone, seeing the thing chasing him and fleeing from him. He could sense them more than see them. There were no forms to those mouths and eyes who screamed soundlessly. The ponderous flap of great wings chased after him, always there, as if all the owner had to do was but reach out and pluck him up with little effort.

Another soundless scream of abject terror fell unheard from his lips. It pealed in silence through the dark air. He spread his wings, seeking refuge in the sky though he dreaded his chances. Yet surely there was no alternative. Always had they been there to carry him on powerful strokes and sure familiarity. He faltered as they felt weak and useless, yet they did carry him from the ground after one, two, three bounds. Aloft!

Yet the Thing chasing him did not relent.

Remember.

As he tore at the thick air with his wings, his heart pounded in his chest wildly. Gasping for air, he fought against his fears, not knowing what they were nor why he was afraid.

Remember me!

A tiny voice called to him, pleading. It felt familiar. It felt strange. It felt helpless. Everything around him went darker, the Thing going away somehow. It would be back. It would return. It was a memory and a most terrible one. He knew this, yet not why. Before him, in the distance was a soft light - a shaft imploring into the pitch black imploring. It was a beacon. The little voice came from it! Surging with renewed hope, the flier pumped his wing muscles as hard as he could. The dead followed, screaming at him, hungering for him. He was beginning to understand those faces now.

His fear returned doubly.

Don't be afraid! implored the voice from the light.

Words failed in a tightened throat. The mouth formed those words desperately, yet nothing could come forth. Renewed panic and now frustration welled from him.

A white dragon came before him with crimson spikes atop her head and along her spine. She was a beautiful creature with cruel golden eyes. She leered down at him, her long tapered snout curling a sneer. Long, sharp fangs gleamed as she tilted her head towards him. Vast wings held her in a perfect hover and her tail danced slowly beneath her lithe form. Her soul was dark and filled with flames. He could see within her, knew her. Utterly evil...

No, not quite.

As she took him in with her attention, he noticed she was not looking at him. No, her claws went out and gingerly held a tiny, tiny, tiny little form in her cupped talons. Her hard gaze softened as a small white form spoke to her gently, even warmly.

"Draccaria, this is your brother," the small white creature said. She was a changeling, a queen. She was beautiful and felt...sad. Somehow, she was the mother of the dragon, this Draccaria. He came closer still, no able to fathom why this was so. What was the form in those formidable claws?

The sneer faded away as those words fell upon her like a warm blanket, inviting her to accept them and wrap them around her. The dragon known as Draccaria peered closely at the little unseen thing hidden within her massive yet gentle grip.

"He's so small," whispered the monster.

"He'll need a big sister to watch over him," said the changeling. She encouraged the dragon, letting out her love to both of her children. They were the only ones she would ever have. Somehow the observer knew this, as if this had been told to him once before. "I won't be around forever. Your father will soon be aware of what I have done. After that, I don't think I'll be able to protect the both of you."

"I don't need your protection, mother," growled Draccaria.

The white queen paled noticeably. "Yes, you are quite correct, my daughter." She offered a weak smile as she placed a holed hoof to a monstrous foreleg, caressing the scale lovingly. "Will you at least watch over him when I am gone?"

"Do not say such things!" hissed Draccaria sharply, her golden eyes going with with fear as she snapped her attention from her brother to her mother. Her gaze saddened. "I could not bear losing you, Mother."

The mother buzzed away, shifting around the extended paws until she drew near her son. A soft smile formed as she lifted him from the dragon's grasp with her horn. Cradling the little thing, the observer noted it was a pale yellow thing with a tuft of red bearing a single streak of black in his mane. His short, stubby tail was the same way. Tiny pegasus wings flittered and shifted at the movement. She held him to her bosom, cooing and showering the little foal with kisses. Oddly, his left foreleg and hind leg were dark and pitted with holes like his mother.

"I charge his protection to you when I am gone," said the mother, looking up meet the staring dragon's gaze. Her harlequin eyes were firm, yet gentle, pleading. "You know what your father will do. Promise me!"

Draccaria became absolutely still, save for her great wings keeping her aloft. She might have been a statue as even her breathing seemed to have stopped. Her form began to fade, as did the mother and the newborn.

"I promise..."

It occurred to him now the pain he had felt was not his own. Personally, his own feelings and sensations were dulled as if the darkness around him shunted such sensations. No, the focus seemed to be to the hidden things out there, whatever they were.

The light drew nearer still and the flyer noted he could not recall his name at the moment nor who he was. The answer seemed before him, looming ever closer. If he could just get to the light, he would remember who he was! The memories seemed important to him. But why so many faces? Why was everything so gloomy and sad? Why did death follow him? Why did those pale faces have such hate for him? The answers...

That light!

With renewed focus, he set his jaw determinedly, his eyes becoming slits. With energy erupting unbidden from deep within, he surged forward with stubborn wing beats. Behind him, the looming dark thing made its presence felt, unseen save for the pressure of crushing evil threatening to envelope.

Don't stop! Don't look behind you! Keep coming to the light!

Another fade. More darkness. The thing behind him disappeared. He saw the white queen laying upon a simple yet luxurious couch showing her little yellow foal the holes in her legs. The little thing kept poking at one particular hole, batting at it like a kitten, his little golden eyes wide with wonder.

"Do you know why changelings have holes in their legs?" she asked him softly, nuzzling him. The foal blinked, craning his neck backwards until his eyes found hers. She tilted her head to one side, allowing him to chirp happily. Rolling on his back, he suddenly found his mother's muzzle very interesting to cling to. A black forked tongue rolled out and began to clean the foal slowly, with paced motions. Between licks of this bonding, she smiled and cooed at her baby for a few moments before answering her own question.

"Changelings have holes in their legs because the magic that made us was not perfect. The realm from which our kind was molded from passed through a barrier forced open and crudely held open. When we were given form and the first of us given life, our bodies were not whole and our souls were lacking in emotions. Within each changeling is a hole in their soul where happiness once was. The price of our being was being able to feel happiness. We cannot feel it, so we must take it from others. Love is our greatest strength and greatest weakness. It powers us, yet we cannot hold it. Emotions flee from us and we must take from others to feel whole. That is our story. That is our legend. That is our myth."

The foal giggled, closing his eyes as his mother continued to clean him. Her carapace shone like reflective pearls as her gossamer wings flittered with a soft buzzing sound. Obviously she had nothing but love for her child.

"Of course," she went on, turning him to face her. "Queens such as myself are supposed to give love to our children. Or they will. You will learn love and I shall be your teacher of its meaning. You are so special to me, my darling. Your sister will watch you when I am gone." The mother placed a hoof upon his little round belly and rubbed it gently, bending in with her muzzle shaking from side to side as she bopped him with it. The sadness in her eyes appeared when she looked up and away from her child, heaving a weary sigh.

"You will be a symbol of peace and love, my son," she told him when her attention went back to her playful offspring. He had found a strand of her mane and was chewing on it happily when she had lifted her head for the brief moment. "You will not be a thing of war. You will not be a machination of evil! You will not be...be..."

Faltering words eventually died as a tear streamed down her cheeks. "How long have you been watching?" she demanded in a broken voice to something off to the side and unseen.

"Long enough, beloved. Long enough. I think you've had enough bonding time with our son." The rumbling voice was mocking, yet gentle. "He will not be an instrument of war, but a part of the final solution. He is a nothing, yet at the same time the very thing I had hoped for. The mantle I have prepared for him will bring out his greatness."

"I forbid it!" she cried, clutching her baby to her chest and bowing her neck protectively over his little form. The foal was startled and suddenly frightened. He began to cry fitfully.

There was dry laughter. "Forbid away, Dalesong, my beloved. You came to me knowing this would happen. Did you honestly think you could change me? Did you honestly believe your love for me would 'save' me?"

Clenching her teeth and baring her fangs, the changeling snarled at him, "Yes!" she cried out to him again, with anguish. "You have so much to offer this world to benefit all! Why destroy it, my love? Why!?"

Meanwhile, the foal wailed. Dalesong bounced him lightly, her angry face quickly becoming soothing before her baby. "Shh! Don't cry, little one. I am here."

A black alicorn stallion emerged from the nothingness, his singular red eye blazing with a hunger that was terrible and insatiable. Flaring his dark wings, he approached the white changeling mother and her foal with cautious steps, ignoring the adult and focusing on the foal. His own expression changed, even softened if for the benefit of not scaring the young one. Without asking, his horn lit up and took the child into his own magical grasp. Losing contact with his mother renewed his mewling cries. They changed to alarmed chirps when he found himself looking into the visage of evil.

"Have you come up with a name for him yet?" he asked mildly, staring for a moment into the foal until the cries died away to pitiful sniffles. With his magic, Flamespyre turned the foal this way and that, getting a good look at all the details making up his newborn son.

"I thought you wanted to give him his name," she said cautiously, fearful as she fidgeted, rising in the air on nervous wings. She buzzed, her eyes upon her child and his father. "Was that not what you wanted?"

"Oh, it is. I have a name for him, but not until he is older. Not until he has earned it." Flamespyre smirked. "You may give him whatever name pleases you until then, beloved." Clearly enjoying her distressed appearance, the Dragonking floated his son to the awaiting mother's hooves. Eagerly she swept the foal up and drew him close.

"We are leaving. Draccaria!" Flamespyre called out. "Care for your brother while your mother and I attend to things."

A familiar pale form came into view, vast in size and graceful in movement. "Yes, father," she called out as Dalesong presented the baby to her. Gently Draccaria encased her tiny brother in one massive claw, once again the gentleness overcoming her as she and her mother shared a smile.

"His name is Famulas," she whispered with a smile. "He will serve this world well." She drifted towards the awaiting alicorn, his attention upon her an unreadable mask as he knew she was up to something. He knew! Yet, he did nothing more than to offer a quick and possessive nuzzle to his queen. Dalesong loved her husband dearly, having spent a better part of five centuries with him. They knew each other so well this old marital game had become a battle of wits having grown more and more dangerous with each passing year.

To Draccaria he commanded off-handedly, "Your mother and I will be home late. We may even be gone the night and well into the day. Until then, your brother's care and well-being is your responsibility. He will be in the same condition he is now when we return."

"Yes, father," Draccaria rumbled with narrowed eyes. Worriedly she wondered and even feared for her mother. In her massive talon lay her tiny brother, a stark contrast as ever there was between the two siblings.

A disembodied voice whispered in his ear, "So long ago...I barely was able to hold you...He wanted you to be a monster. He tried to create another monster. I would not let him. I could not let him. I refused to let him. You were my bright star in a world of madness. I tried to save Draccaria, but his grip upon her was too great. I tried to save both of my children. I sought out Discord for help and as he was the most independent and unpredictable of his father's children, he was the only being powerful enough to do what I needed to be done. I wanted so much to hold you, to love you, to be there for you, but your father...

"These are my memories, Famulas Silent Wing, my son. I have nothing else to give you other than the love magic used to sever your father's control over you. Discord hates your father, yet did nothing against him. Flamespyre could not destroy Discord because Discord was created from chaos itself, a spirit as uncontrollable as a wild god. You cannot speak now, nor will you until you reach the light. Go forward, my child! The world groans and you must stop your father! You have everything you need to do so." The strange voice left, leaving the chimera bewildered and confused.

Suddenly, he was hurled forward, his wings seemingly taking a life of their own. He wondered how this would be possible. Things were still fuzzy, the past still mostly beyond his grasp. What he could remember came back in snippets, like water dripping from a faucet. The Thing again loomed behind him. Was it a memory? He dared to peer over his shoulder, glancing quickly to see a vast ragged shape menacing after him with a singular slit of an eye set upon him. Silent Wing's eyes widened in terror and he emphasized his need to get to the source of that light! No! He didn't want to even imagine which memory it was if this was true.

For the first time in his life, Silent Wing was utterly frightened. He had known fear before and understood it about as much as his short life as the ward of Queen Chrysalis. Anyling living in the shadow of her rule understood a thing or two about fear. But he loved her and had never been afraid of his eventual adoptive mother. He had felt fear when the assassin had gored him two years ago, nearly taking his life. Silent Wing felt fear for the well being of his beloved sister, Atlanta. She was perhaps the only changeling in all the world he loved with as much conviction as Chrysalis. Even Captain Myzanum, the formidable and dangerous giant changeling warrior had stirred hard swallowing moments of hesitation and was the only changeling Silent Wing had ever been afraid of. His sheer presence could stop a regiment cold in their advance should he appear before them.

But Flamespyre, his father...

His last and only remembered memory of the Dragonking was of his father tearing every fabric of magic from deep within his body, cracking bones and rupturing organs. Muscle had spasmed, torn. Nerves of white-hot pain had wracked his small frame and the colt had been helpless to do anything about it. Through the whole ordeal, the prince could feel his father impart his will, holding him as a crocodile might hold a hapless deer in his maw. And he felt the monster's enjoyment. Flamespyre delighted in the pain and suffering of his own offspring as though he was addicted to it and could not wait for the next meeting.

Silent Wing most definitely did not want to meet him again like that!

He put speed into his flight, thinking this a dream and he was still asleep. Where was Luna if this was true? Weren't dreams her thing? He tried to call out her name, but his voice still failed him. The Thing kept coming after him as if the chimera's speed meant nothing to it. There was no wind, no sensation of flight, but the light drew nearer still. It was so familiar to him! Had he seen it before? Was it something from his past dreams?

Closer he drew, nearer came the Thing. It wasn't his father, but a memory. It was a terrible memory. Or maybe there was more than one? Silent Wing didn't know. He didn't care. He didn't want to see what was in that inky blackness determined to swallow him whole.

Murderer...You cannot escape... It seemed to say to him.

Too late! In a sudden surge, just as those voices spoke, the Thing overcame the prince and sucked him in. No!

He stood on top of a gently sloping hill, tall grass touching his underbelly as he stared out over a vast plain where two armies were locked in battle. It was difficult to see who was who, but great war banners waved in the air through the dust and the smoke. Alicorns darted in and out of the fray, leading Pegasi. Swarms of changelings clashed against them in the air while sentient creatures of many species tore at each other in fierce combat. Griffons seemed to be fighting for both sides as more than a few were battling other griffons. The cries of the wounded and the dying filled the air and the battlefield was littered with a carpeting of dead soldiers. Silent Wing could smell the blood in the air.

In the center of the battlefield, there was what appeared the burning buildings of a village, its inhabitants fleeing towards the hill upon which he stood. Gouts of flame licked at thatched rooftops. They appeared to be a mixture of races, as if the village had been a melting pot of sorts for them. They carried their meager belongings, families in ragged groups, mothers and fathers carrying their children.

"Kill them, my son," spoke Flamespyre next to him indifferently. "Kill them all."

Silent Wing looked sharply at his father, again hiding behind his Alicorn form, dressed in wicked steel armor battered and smeared with the blood of those he had spent the day slaughtering. His helmet lay on the trampled grass, his eye sweeping the carnage stretching as far as it could see. A savage grin played across his lips. The colt realized his own body was older, bigger. His father still dwarfed him. The armor Silent Wing wore was likewise a witness to battle, bearing far less damage and wear than the Alicorn, but Silent Wing had a gift for combat.

"Show them all your birthday gift, Oblivion Shadow," called out Flamespyre in adulation. "Show them what one feeble creature can do when given the proper instrument!"

His eye flared, focused upon his son, compelling. Commanding. Unleashing.

"Let them feel the futility of war."

An alien, invasive power from deep within him screamed eagerly, swelling forth with terrible power, the magic as ancient as the world itself. Everything flashed in a bright white light. In one brief second, Silent Wing caught the horror upon the faces of the refugees as they had by now come halfway up his hill. The living weapon took over Silent Wing and literally exploded in a fireball not seen since a time long ago forgotten. It was a terrible demon, laughing maniacally and filled the the madness of a thousand wars. The very air cried out against this unfathomable assault, the very earth shattering beneath his hooves and radiating out from where he stood. Flamespyre exalted in the destruction, flinging his head back and spreading his dark wings wide. The faux Alicorn laughed and laughed as the villagers died — whole families — and was followed by the two battling armies like a grotesque dominoes display begun.

Silent Wing stared in horror as the shadow of Oblivion hovered over his shocked form like some great carrion bird, its dark etherial form spreading out after the torn landscape. The very magic in the air had been flung from the air and land, the jagged landscape now scorched beyond recognition. Soil had been charred away and stone had been turned to sand. Clouds had been shredded and the place stank of death. Oblivion triumphed in a sky piercing bugle as Silent Wing trembled and fell to his knees. His horror intensified as he saw nothing before him but a sea of bones.

"Why?" he begged brokenly, staring up at his father in betrayal. "Why do this?"

"It is your destiny, son." Flamespyre chuckled as he spoke as if it was the only answer possible. "You are Oblivion Shadow and you are my greatest creation."

Silent Wing screamed, "No!" Tears had started streaming down his face the moment he understood what had happened.

"If only your mother could see this!"

Without thinking, Silent Wing turned Oblivion on his father.

He knew no more...

The Thing withdrew from Silent Wing and he reeled from the memory. Out of the corner of his eye, he found the beacon of light beckoning him urgently. It was closer now, but still so far away. Did he do such a thing? Did he do as his father commanded? Did he do it so he could feel his father's love? Oh, Maker, no! The Thing hovered, as if gathering to take him again, growing ever darker and more foreboding.

Heh. You think it only happened once?

Silent Wing started, staring at the Thing as its voice sounded eerily familiar. He stopped moving towards the light and found himself - despite his abject fear - looking up. The Thing pulsed darkly, looking more and more like something he should know. Slowly, some of his fear fell away. There was just something too familiar about the shadow.

Oh, not running away?

Feathery wings formed, oily black and stretched out to their fullest length. Nothing else of the Thing could be made out as all else of the Thing was still a sea of shadows.

Shouldn't run from yourself, Servant.

Silent Wing inhaled deeply, fighting the short breaths he only now discovered he was taking.

That's what Mother named me...you...us.

Silent Wing flinched, shaking his head as his hooves went up to ward off his own voice.

Oblivion twisted our soul, made us act with a power we should not have.

The chimera inhaled deeply, feeling his fear welling up again within. The Thing came for him again and he was pulled into another memory.

He was older, larger again. Oblivion surged within like a caged beast. Before him was a great fortress, its gray walls containing within the remnants of his father's enemies. The last of the Alicorns lay within and the massive dragon form that was his father sat behind him. The besieging army included his half brothers and half sisters. Draccaria was next to him, wearing the guise of a white unicorn with crimson mane and tail. She regarded him with a look for him alone, one no other could see. Her gaze had a hardness within, hiding the pity.

And her failure.

The army waited. How long had it been? He could not remember, but having Oblivion felt familiar. It felt wrong. It wanted to be unleashed, to destroy. Oblivion wanted to rip the fortress and all within apart. He rebelled against it, fighting an inner battle for control.

"Brother?" Draccaria asked, leaning towards him. "What is wrong?"

"Nevermind," Flamespyre rumbled. To Silent Wing he said, "Do as you were made to do. Wield Oblivion, my son. Destroy our enemies and give unto me the world."

The Chimera looked down at his hooves, struggling with the horrible thing broiling within. He didn't want it! He never wanted it! Oblivion only wanted to destroy! It only wanted to make things suffer!

"No!" he hissed. "I can't do this. This feels wrong, Father!"

"Fool boy, do as you are told! Your birthright sings to you. Can't you hear it?" the black dragon declared. "The Alicorns have had their time and it has passed! This is your glorious moment. Pity your mother is not here to see your triumph. Do it, son." His voice allowed for little patience and it was already wearing thin.

Suddenly, he remembered frightened faces, fearful eyes coming up a long forgotten hill long ago. He then saw the face of his mother and how sad seeing this would make her.

"No! Nononononono!" He took a step back from the fortress, gaping up at the battlements. How many eyes were upon him? How many would die?

"All of them, boy. All of them must die. I have no use for them. Now do as you have been told. This is the last warning."

"Father," Draccaria cautioned.

"Be still, daughter!" snapped Flamespyre. Silent Wing felt the ground quake as a claw thumped hard into the earth, stones rended by his claws. "Oblivion Shadow. My son. Do it."

The alien entity within the chimera surged and bucked. Unleash me! I am yours! Use me against your enemies! Make them fear you! They were hollow words. Oblivion knew Silent Wing hated it. He never wanted the power. Why can't he just live peacefully? It's all his mother wanted for him. She had always whispered there were other ways to live the life given him. Violence meant suffering. Suffering meant misery. There had to be something better than endless war. The senseless slaughter had been meaningless, save to push the ambitions of a mad monster.

So many Alicorns had fallen before Oblivion Shadow. The chimera hated himself for his acts. He had never been in control of himself, the thing inside him taking over, using his emotions against him. It would take over his body and he would be aware of the slaughterhe had done.

The last of the Alicorns lay within. A king. A queen. Two daughters. No more.

"I won't do it!" he screamed, spinning to face his father. Oblivion didn't care upon whom it was hurled at, so long as it could destroy. He gathered it together, his intent deadly.

"Brother!" Draccaria moved towards him. "You musn't!"

Silent Wing violently shook his head, flaring his wings. "He would destroy the world if it suited him!"

"We can't go against him," hissed his sister. "Please! Think of what he'll do to Mother!"

"Think of what Mother will feel if we let this happen."

His words stopped his sister cold. Indecision wracked her mind. "I can't go against the will of our father!" Her body trembled.

"Indeed, you cannot," agreed Flamespyre darkly. "This is your last chance to obey me, my son."

Silent Wing came to a decision in a snap of a thought. "Draccaria. Go to Mother. Protect her. Tell her I'm sorry. Go!"

"What are you...?" her question died on her lips as she felt the terrible power welling up from within. "You're controlling it?"

"Go!" he shrieked to her. No, there was no control. There was only stubborn will keeping it in check like a poorly wrought dam. It would burst at any moment. "Please!"

Draccaria nodded and flared her horn, disappearing as she teleported.

The world exploded as Silent Wing unleashed hell, unable to contain Oblivion any longer. Yet, Flamespyre only laughed uproariously as it was directed at him. Was that laugh masking...fear?

There was the withdrawal and the Thing seemed less menacing now. Silent Wing shuddered, wondering if he should wake soon. But no, he had to get to that light! It was important! Something waited for him there, something he needed. He wrestled with this newfound history within him. What had happened? Did the Alicorns survive? He remembered nothing more.

They had to have survived. How else would he explain Celestia and Luna?

Luna...

He still could not speak, but he could at least smile. His fear was still there, the Thing looming there. More bad memories? More of his past unrevealed to him? It made no move towards him, merely hovering there, a part of the darkness, fading in and out. It seemed to be there, then wasn't. It toyed with his sight and his other senses, as if it didn't want him to focus on it. Warm air brushed against his cheek, causing him to turn his head until he caught the pillar of light again.

Go...the last memory is for later.

Silent Wing broke from his reverie and felt the menacing presence of the Thing fade away. Below him, the faces of thousands of victims glared up at him still, unforgiving and filled with hate. The chimera's heart was heavy and a melancholy settled over him like a rain cloud. There was nothing to be done about the past. Yet the guilt was there.

Father just used us as a tool. We were a means to an end, Servant. Magic is not natural to us. We are no different than a pegasus or a changeling. Our dragon blood gives us strength and stamina, our pegasus blood allows us to walk on clouds and play with the weather. Our changeling blood allows us to change form. You have forgotten and no one instructed you properly. I imagine they simply could not see past what they considered a malformed body. We cannot use magic other than what our blood allows. Oblivion was never meant for us, yet Father insisted his youngest son and his built-in ability to wield his greatest terror. He still could never get past the simple truth you cannot use such power. It is beyond your ability, hence it went wild when you unleashed it. The first time, you had no control. The second time, you used far too much and Father deflected it easily. The last time...

His... old self? disappeared abruptly, as if he could no longer continue. All Silent Wing could hear was a wispy voice telling him to go on, there was nothing more to be said. Not knowing what else to do, he compelled himself to go away from the darkness. There was a part of his older self that was disturbing. It lingered upon his mind. Part of himself liked it. Part of him enjoyed the power. The slaughter repulsed him utterly. He found himself conflicted and feeling utterly lost. Nothing seem to make sense. None of these...visions made any sense to him other than to tear at his heart. No, they couldn't be his memories! It was another trick by his father. It had to be!

What they suggested and showed were simply too awful.

There was no wind now, yet he still maintained the sensation of flight. Beneath him the desert was covered with the spirits who followed him, wailing at him in rage and sorrow. Their voices were wane and weak, yet he felt if he were to hear them for too long he would go mad. By now, tears stained his cheeks. This was a nightmare. The pale spirits following him on the ground whispered terrible things to him.

Murderer...

Foal slayer...

World breaker...

Death seeker...

Abomination...

They were words like what he heard in his dreams as a foal, those bad ones sending him scrambling in the dead of the night for Chrysalis' chambers. He bravely bit his lip to stifle his sobs as he pushed his nose against her door and pause at the doorway, seeking her out for a moment. Then, he would scramble into her bed, trembling with fright and nestling for comfort against the dark form of the queen who had taken him in. She would not offer him words of comfort then, but she allowed him his sense of security. He remembered her watching him until sleep took him. Silent Wing would then awaken in his own bed with a chastised wet nurse watching over him with the expression of having just been scolded on her face. His runs to her bed ended when her found her with someling else with her.

Silent Wing wanted out of this place. The wails of the dead had grown steadily louder and louder. Stars began to wink to life above him, seemingly concentrated in one place. One by one they appeared, growing in intensity as they assumed an area of black sky near the beacon he moved towards. Slowly as a new star flared to life, the chimera became aware of connecting lines between them. As he came forward, the wails of the dead became an afterthought as the stars grabbed his attention and held it. Mesmerized, he stared unblinking, his fear giving way to awe.

The first thing he noticed was eyes bearing down upon him. Familiar eyes. Lines formed around them, taking the shape of a face. A familiar face. About the face formed a mane of midnight blue with brighter stars flaring within and dancing upon an unseen mystical wind. A mouth upon the muzzle spread into a gentle smile. From the beacon emerged a little form below it, a small form a third of Silent Wing's size.

As he approached, his attention was drawn to the tiny thing. It looked like him when he was little. His other self, this younger one seemed excited to see him, bouncing up and down, fluttering his tiny wings, a huge grin bearing his little fangs. Silent Wing could hear his own little voice call out to him.

"Come on, you silly-willy! We get to play now! I've waited so long and I've been good and I just wanna play! Can we play now? Huh? Can we play in the sun?"

Silent Wing was bathed in the light of the beacon now, feeling its warmth as well as the chill. He knew there was much to be done. He knew he had very little power to do it. At last, he found his voice when he landed before his tiny self, mirroring the grin given to him.

"Yeah, we can play. We're going to need lots of help," he told himself.

Little Silent Wing's eyes went wide as he nodded emphatically. "Yeah! We got Luna! Luna and Mommy and the other Mommy and so many others!"

"Okay," Silent Wing said with a chuckle, looking around. "Um. How are we going to wake up?"

"Simple," replied a voice next to him. Startled, Silent Wing spun to see Luna smiling at him, her dark form as beautiful as always. She nuzzled him gently. "We end the dream."

Then she gored him with her horn.

Author's Notes:

Famulas is Latin for servant.
Dalesong calls him Famulas Silent Wing in acknowledging Chrysalis' influence and love for her adopted son.
Oblivion Shadow is the name Flamespyre had given him thousands of years ago.

No, Silent Wing is not going 'god mode'...I never envisioned him being that. Let's just say his father had grand designs for him, but our favorite chimera was an obsession never realized in the eyes of Flamespyre. He will remember everything about his past, a little at a time. However, this comes at a price as the protection his mother placed over him has effectively removed his immunity to magic from him. He does have a ghost living in his head now. Should be interesting.

Thanks for the read, everyone! I hope this final book surpasses the first two. Enjoy!

NMoO 2: The Madness of Flamespyre

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Her defeat would not have happened if it were not for than little silver sphere. She had the child of Flamespyre easily within her grasp and on the brink of defeat. Wearing him down with her magic, she was about to deliver the finishing blow and have herself a prisoner she felt she could use as a bargaining chip. Despite her lack of use in her hind legs, she was still the Princess of the Sun. She was still as powerful as any Alicorn ever was. Only her sister Luna was the better pure fighter in combat and more precise with her battle magic.

The monster produced a simple little sphere even as the two armies watched the battle from their respective trenches. The monster who was Blood Assault produced that horrible little thing, spoke a single word and Celestia suddenly found herself filled with a vast void as her magic failed and fled from her. Her ethereal mane flickered, faded, and became a simple mane of rosey pink.

Yet she fought on, using her thousands of years of experience and wisdom combating a dragon more familiar with battling large armies. He was never meant to be capable of taking on the Princess of the Sun, even without her power. She was an Alicorn and the loss of her magic made her fight like a wounded tigress. But, he wore her down, being larger and better able to withstand each slash and every thrust of her deadly horn. Celestia weaved and dodged on her wings with skill enough to make Rainbow Dash think herself slow in comparison.

After putting up a tremendous battle, the exhausted princess was battered down in an odd switch of being the giant bested by a mouse. Had she her magic, should would have easily won the battle and quickly returned home to stem the tide against the invasion.

A simple, damnable sphere changed all of that.

Celestia would normally have been amused. Despite being in chains and having her magic constantly nullified, she would have found this amusing. In all her years she had never known something so twisted as Flamespyre to correct the ailment which had left her unable to walk for fifteen years. Nanotechnology, he called it, lording over his captive gleefully. The silver sphere clutched delicately in his clawed grasp was waved before her like a trophy, the cackling glee in his triumph mocking her. Yet he insisted she be tended to properly. She was an invaluable prisoner for now. It had been three days since her capture and already her wounds had been healed through both her Alicorn blood combined with the odd machines so tiny no mortal eye could make them out.

The golden links of chain about her neck and legs shimmered with something she was not familiar with. It could not be magic, but it prevented her from using her Alicorn strength to snap her bonds. Flamespyre called it something called titanium.

Though her hind legs had atrophied over the decade and a half she had no use of them, the princess determined to exercise her withered limbs every moment she had. If she had her mind on her pending execution, she paid no heed to it. The solar eclipse was not for another forty-one days. By then, the first snows of winter should be falling, if the Pegasi were still maintaining the weather. She imagined with Cloudsdale more than likely under siege, this was highly unlikely. Sadly she imagined the city of clouds already in the hands of these strange changelings, the Topaz.

They were a leaner breed of changeling, she noted from observing her jailors. They chittered to each other in their language, avoiding eye contact with the captive princess when they brought her meals and changed out her chamber pot. She was treated well, even luxuriously. If it were not for the chains binding her to her cell, Celestia might have imagined herself as being a pampered guest in a foreign land. The males distinctly avoided speaking to her, keeping their heads down and doing all the work while their commander, a young changeling female with impeccable politeness initiated all the conversations.

Her cell was in fact her private quarters in Canterlot. The irony was not lost on her as her magnificent eyes flickered around a room that had been her respite from the stresses of court for hundreds of years. She sighed, letting slip a moment of her inner melancholy. She could no longer feel her sister Luna, whom she feared badly injured or worse. Chrysalis certainly felt a loss in her heart the day the horizon bore a second sunrise, the rippling magic wakes thumping into her heart like the last heartbeats of a dying titan.

Celestia couldn’t even begin to imagine the anguish the queen must be feeling. She had been banished to the perpetual darkness of the caves deep beneath Canterlot, where the crystals muted her magic and denied her access to love so she might recharge her mana reserves. Her daughter was in the clutches of the Topaz Queens, Tappis and Tappaz. They were, for all intents and purposes insane in the eyes of the alabaster princess. They carried about them a frenzied and desperate hunger for affection making Chrysalis seem a saint compared to them.

They were powerful, these pair. Yet from what Celestia understood, her reluctant ally had trounced them soundly through her rage. Flamespyre had even informed her pointedly the twin queens had the audacity to feed upon the daughter of the Emerald Queen.

Chrysalis must still be insane with rage.

If there was one thing Celestia understood perfectly, it was how she doted over her little filly. Princess Atalanta seemed such a sweet little thing! So polite and full of life! Always positive in her outlook from what little Celestia was able to deduce. Chrysalis was wary when it came to leaving her daughter alone with either Celestia or Luna. It was a silly thing to worry about, but Celestia fully understood the changeling queen’s concerns. She was not exactly keen on having Equestria helping her, but had bore the personal humiliation well enough.

It was nearing midday. Shifting from her bed from where she lay, Celestia fell her gaze upon the great open balcony she had spent many an hour resting with her favorite tea. She could still smell the smoke in the air from the buildings that had burned down in the attack. Why did wars always involve fire? How many of her little ponies no longer enjoyed the warmth of the sun? How many colts and fillies were now without parents?

Celestia wept for them, but had not more tears to shed. She had mourned for three days and there was nothing left within her. Smelling the remains of her once grand capitol also made her very angry. Celestia was helpless to do anything about it. She could feel no magic in the air. It was as though a great void had opened, sucking all of it from all things, living or inanimate.

Oblivion spheres made Canterlot a dead zone to magic. Already the splendor of the great castle and the city it loomed over crumbled. The Solar Guard was now replaced by Topaz soldiers who marched stoically through the halls of the Alicorn’s home. She wondered if any of her ponies had managed to escape as she gazed into a smoke-hazed sky. Naturally they would be driven away from the fighting. This left them with two paths; through the Everfree or north along the rail line leading to the Crystal Empire. The Everfree was closer, but extremely dangerous. Civilians would be hard pressed to go through that evil, untamed wilderness. The way to Cadance’s protectorate was an arduous journey, frought with the endless northern snow storms plaguing the land. It was know as the Curse of Sombra and was reputed to be the cold blast from his frozen, dead heart.

She prayed her niece would send a party to greet the poor fleeing refugees and guide them to safety. The Crystal Ponies would not deny them! They could not deny them!

Her chains clinked against each other when she turned upon hearing her door open. In walked the familiar and hated form of her captor bearing his alicorn form. For some reason, the Oblivion Spheres did not prevent him access to magic. His lone crimson eye sought out and found her. He grinned.

“Feeling better, Princess?” he asked cordially. “I do apologize for the bindings upon you, but you are a rather powerful creature, even if your magic is nullified. The strength and stamina of Alicorns is legendary, after all. So resilient! So able to recover from injuries that would fell a lesser mortal!”

“Why bother curing me?” she asked him, matching his politeness. Just because Celestia was at all pleased with her situation didn’t mean she had ceased being an icon to her nation. “You plan on killing me in six weeks, why return the use of my legs to me? Why let me be whole?” She was certain there had to be something behind this.

Flamespyre approached slowly, looking her up and down appreciatively. Celestia no longer had the aura about her mane and tail giving it those famous waving colors. Instead, she bore the rosey pink of her youthful years before her full power manifested itself. “You are a very beautiful mare, even though your power has been stripped from you.” He came up to her and leaned in, inhaling the fragrance of her mane. “Too bad it would be folly on my part to keep you alive. You’re too dangerous. I should kill you where you stand, but there’s just something magical about killing you at the height of a perfect solar eclipse.”

Celestia recoiled from the monster in disgust. “You won’t have me!” she hissed at him, her ears laying flat against her skull.

His damnable grin remained in place as he tilted his head to one side. “Have you? No, I think not. Your mind is too prepared for my stare to be effective upon you. You are too aged, too wary, too prepared to defend your mind.” Flamespyre hummed to himself a tune as he turned his back to the Alicorn and pondered her furnishings. “Such opulence. I suppose the advantage of living for a few thousand years can give you a sense you deserve such nice things. A girl needs to be pampered, after all.”

Celestia shifted from where she lay on her bed, refusing to meet his eyes when he spun slowly on her, his eyes searching about until they fell upon her. His grin widened further, revealing teeth no pony could ever claim to have.

“Do you know how many hundreds of thousands of years I’ve worked, to reach this point, only to be thwarted?” he growled, his smile dropping to a sinister snarl. “Do you know how many failures I have endured because I am mad and I cannot do anything about it? Do you know I pine for my old masters and lament the deaths upon my head? Have you any idea of the billions of lives I have laid waste simply because I thought I could do better?” Flamespyre raged, slamming a hoof repeatedly into the floor until it began to crack and fissure with each strike.

Celestia tried to drag herself from him. A hoof reached out from the evil thing and caught one of the links of chain shackled to one of Celestia’s forelegs. With a jerk of power even an Alicorn could not resist, she found herself yanked towards him, yelping from shock and sudden pain. Her wide eyes shifted to a glare as she met his single eye with spite.

“You ponies and your peace and harmony. Holding the wold at bay through manipulation of the sun and moon through deceit and lies. You try to be like them, but your precious little ponies do not have the savagry necessary to survive. Chaos is the true way to live, to face life.”

Flamespyre brought his muzzle to within inches of Celestia’s, his hot breath covering her snout and cheeks.

“I found Chaos, a powerful spirit. Almost a god, if you think about it. Such a random thing; neither good nor evil. I took it as it drifted over the world, doing chaotic little things. I cobbled a body for it and gave unto it life and a name. I created a god, Celestia! A living, breathing god! The first and only one the world would need! Or so I thought.”

Celestia said nothing, but stared in shock.

“Yes! Discord! My second eldest son! The most powerful of them all, even greater than myself! This world needed a god and I tasked him with ruling. He did not want it. Pranks. Jokes. Useless little trysts with other races aimed at driving me further into my insanity! He could be a god, yet he merely chooses to use his power for pointless amusements.”

“Chaos was never meant to rule!” said Celestia heavily, narrowing her eyes at this monster. “Order and harmony and respecting life is what makes the other challenges of life bearable! If we cannot learn to live together as a society, then there will always be strife. There will always be hate. I want my ponies to be an example for the other races to follow!”

Flamespyre shoved himself from her violently, smirking. “Well, look where that got you, my pretty little mare. Your sister is fallen. Your country is mine. This world is mine. I intend to finish what I started, Celestia. No matter how many times I fail, I will continue to come and come and come again until this world is broken and subservient beneath my claws!”

“To what end?” cried the princess with both fear and anger. “What purpose is there to all of this?” She strained at her chains as she found herself lunging weakly at him.

He stared at her, heaving ragged gasps as his wings ruffled. The tail swished behind him with a wicked sureness. Flamespyre purred from the base of his throat, “It needs to be done. The world must be purged and everything begun anew. I must prepare the way, Celestia. I must bring them back.”

A casual yank of the chain again and Celestia was again face-to-face with madness.

“You’re a fine guardian, Celestia, but I’m afraid we are at the sunset of your reign.” He grinned broadly at his own joke. “You will be healed. You will be whole. Your ponies will be gathered as you are taken to your execution. I imagine you would fancy the guillotine.”

Celestia glared back at him. “You’ll be stopped!”

“How?” he asked. “Your precious Twilight Sparkle is mine. Her element is mine. Your precious Elements of Harmony are in my grasp. Would you like me to tell you what I intend to do with them? Hmm? Shall I tell you?”

She really wasn’t interested. The slight shake of her head told him so.

Magic suddenly gripped her, holding her in place through his telekinesis. Flamespyre brought his mouth very close to her ear so his breath tickled the fur within it. His tongue flicked out and teased the tip of her ear. “I shall break them, one by one. I shall have your precious bearers beholden to me, calling me master and fawning before my presence. Twilight shall be my concubine and bear me more children. I had thought of bringing Luna into my fold, but I’m afraid I have no knowledge of her whereabouts. It would appear in the process of slaying my son Tantibus, she and my youngest son were reduced to atoms.” His eye flickered to stare into the horrified mare’s field of vision, making sure she could see it. Through that terrible eye, he showed his contempt, his sadness, his insanity, and his rage.

Celestia’s visage contorted in reopened wounds, but she fiercely blinked her hot tears away. She would not, could not give him the satisfaction! “You underestimate my sister, monster!”

He laughed at her uproariously. “I hope so!” he cried unexpectedly as he withdrew from her. “If my little boy managed somehow to survive a pure ball of explosive magic, I would be pleased indeed. I may be a monster, but I’m still a father.”

The stare he received was flat and unbelieving.

“It’s true!” he insisted. “I am hard, but I am fair. I expect my children to grow, to learn how to survive. They must be ruthless and cunning. I want them all to surpass me, for isn’t that what all fathers want? To see their children surpass them?”

Celestia narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re cruel.”

“I am cruel,” he agreed with a shrug. “I am also kind. I allow you this,” Flamespyre said, sweeping a hoof grandly about her room. “I could have you sitting in a cold cell, fed bread and water. But I don’t want that. I want you to enjoy the last few weeks of your life. Your fate was sealed the moment we clashed fifteen years ago. I respect you, Celestia. I respect you far too much to allow you to live. However, I am kind. I will allow you to say goodbye to your ponies. I want them to see you in your glory one last time before I take your life.”

“You can stop this war,” Celestia blurted suddenly, her neck straining. “Please, spare my ponies. You have what you want. I do not care what happens to me, Flamespyre. I beg you!”

He studied her for a moment, his expression unreadable. “No,” Flamespyre hissed after a waging a test of wills with Celestia. “There is one bastion remaining. Your niece, Princess Mi Amore Cadenza is the last of the Alicorns. She must be brought to heel.”

“Let her be!” shouted Celestia, her anger boiling. “She can do nothing to you!”

“Physically and magically, no she cannot,” he admitted. “She’s a symbol, Celestia. She’s a dangerous symbol. Her little empire is protected by the eternal blizzard. How ironic a product of evil is a barrier defending a bastion of love.”

“Please don’t do this.”

“I am sorry, Celestia. I won’t stop my work for the sake of any Alicorn. Your kind are dangerous.” He inclined his head towards her, half apologetic and half mocking. “This was a pleasant little chat, my dear. I shall leave you to exercising your legs. I should like to see you standing when you meet your fate.” With that, he turned with a flourish, flaring his wings out as he headed for the door.

Celestia stared after him, seething.

“Ah, one more thing,” he chirped as he peered over his shoulder at her, “If your sister is still alive, my children are waiting for her. We’ll bring you the body. What say you?” Grinning madly, he slid through the door, an evil chuckle following his wake.

“And what of your son?” Celestia called after him.

The door slammed shut without an answer. The force in which it closed left Celestia wondering. There was a great deal of rage in Flamespyre concerning Silent Wing. The very air crackled even with the monster gone.

She suddenly found herself smiling. “Interesting. You don’t know, do you?” Celestia whispered.

Queen Chrysalis seethed in the darkness. Bits of light reflected here and there, hinting a fraction of the expansive caves beneath Canterlot. She sat, alone and in the middle of this darkness, completely cut off from all contact. She seethed. She raged in silence, her heart and mind in turmoil. She worried for her children, her changelings. Despite being still young young for a queen, she had always felt a loyalty to her subjects. The loyalty became a dagger in her back as her nobles first began to undermine her. First it began with the folly at Canterlot, which nearly backfired. Thinking back to the years before Canterlot, Chrysalis came to realize a dark truth.

Draccaria had been undermining her kingdom’s stability for a long time. Five of the greatest houses had schemed with her and worked to whittle away the queen’s power on the throne while an accursed magic foiled the thoughts of Chrysalis from her responsibilities. Members of her staff came from the houses of those matriarchs and they kept her from uncovering the truth. Such an elaborate hoax ensured her power base crumbled until her throne was nothing more than a gilded cage. The only reason she was never targeted for assassination was due to the unwavering and even fanatical love and devotion the common changeling had for his or her queen.

Queen Chrysalis was the everyling’s queen. Even when her staff and Royal Guards found ways to keep her in her castle, she was loved beyond the gates of her capitol.

It was all gone now. Sitting in the darkness beneath the very castle she once tried to take, Chrysalis felt very, very alone.

“I’ll kill her,” she hissed at the nothingness around her. “I’ll kill that rotten bitch.” Her eyes glowed sickly green before fading to faint slitted orbs.

“Enjoying your new accommodations?” asked a disembodied voice in the darkness.

Snarling, Chrysalis rose to her hooves, her wings buzzing madly and stirring the air around her. Her mane caught up in the draft created by their rapid, circular motions, billowing up around her head and neck. Her harlequin eyes flared with frightful purpose as she spun to face the direction the voice came from. “Who dares?” she cried. The inhibitor ring at the base of her horn crackled, causing her magic to sputter from the tip of her horn uselessly.

Flamespyre appeared beneath a fae ball of light that suddenly burst to life. Chrysalis shied from the brightness, hissing as the air about her died away. As her mane cascaded about her eyes, she squinted at the grinning black Alicorn. “Give me back my daughter, Flamespyre,” the queen demanded.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” replied the dragon-turned-Alicorn amiably. “I need the Crown Princess as a pawn for a game I’m holding on the other side of the world. If she survives the ordeal, I doubt you’ll be in the forefront of her mind.”

Furious, Chrysalis shook her mane from her eyes and charged at the Dragonking. “You slew your own son, a half-wit! One you made to be so!” She lowered her horn as if to gore Flamespyre and fully intended to do just that.

That damned eye flared and held her in place, bringing her hooves skidding over the rough stone floor. The chitinous mare hissed again, frustrated as the tip of her horn served to bury just into the furred chest of the Dragonking.

A hoof turned, its edge catching her chin and gently lifting her until she was looking up like an adoring lover. “Ah, yes. Scarheart. His part in the game ended. He really was just one half one one whole, so I actually did him a favor. Besides, having a scrambled brain makes it difficult to realize how disastrous life really is.” His nostrils flared, inhaling the queen’s fragrance as though she were a fine wine.

“I hate you,” Chrysalis spat at him through a trembling throat. “I felt everything there was to him before you took his life. He was your son!”

“He was a broken tool, my dear,” he reminded her. Flamespyre leaned in and Chrysalis found she had no will to pull away from his presence. How he turned her stomach! “As are you. If you had done what you had been told fifteen years ago, none of this would have been necessary. You would still have your throne—as my puppet, of course. You would have your blood an inheritance of a part of a greater plan. I would not have to worry about my greatest failure and Luna would already be in my grasp.”

Chrysalis wanted to kill him. Her body would not move. All she could do was moan her hatred at him as hot tears began to spill down her cheeks.

Caressing her cheek tenderly, he gently turned her to face him head-on. “Alas, I suppose it would be wrong of me to blame it all on you. After all, I had no idea his mother would have a lingering bit of her magic within that little amber prison I put him in so long ago. When he awakened, her magic fell upon you and compelled you to protect him as though he was your own. It broke my spell and you heard a voice from the past speak within your mind. Then again, Dalesong was always a devious little minx.” Flamespyre darted in with his tongue and followed her tears to one of the sources. The eye closed shut and the changeling shuddered in revulsion.

“He won’t be the one to end me, my dear Queen Chrysalis,” he went on, taking a step back from her and regarding her as one might examine an exquisite piece of art. “No, my flesh and blood and your adopted son will not be the one to finally end my torment that is life. I have been shown my death. I have seen it as it will come to be. I work towards my legacy and who will take up my shadow.”

Chrysalis tried to breath normally. It was very hard to do so. That baleful eye of the dragon tyrant leered at her. Her wings buzzed weakly.

“As for Scarheart, he was a weak link no matter how I tried to correct him.”

“A weak link?” Chrysalis found her voice with renewed rage. “How can you discard a child so?”

Flamespyre sneered, “Why don’t you ask the same question of those so-called matriarchs and their houses? Do you not think their behavior not enough to chastise them? Is not the pool of adopted children at your hooves grown? Have you only realized thousands of years of nothing changing, changeling? Are you not aware the regards of the poor value of life among your own kind, Chrysalis? Who do you think awakened such a notion within that black heart of yours? Who do you think has altered your own daughter to think like a pony?”

“Changelings need to change,” she said reluctantly. “If we cannot progress, then we will be left behind in the world.”

“Even if they’re helping me win this world?” suggested Flamespyre wryly. “Why fix what is not broken?”

Chrysalis shook her head. “Changelings must adapt. They must learn to evolve. There is more to us than being emotional vampires.”

“Ah,” the false Alicorn chortled, “but why change? You already have done splendidly as a race. I could never have dreamed you would mostly be ready to do my bidding without hesitation.”

“We should have always been a part of this world, not against it.”

“I made the first queens,” said Flamespyre. “They obeyed me. Changelings are tools, nothing more. They are a means to an end, nothing less. They are the chains through which I shall enslave all the races and it is from them I shall have the fears of the world at the tips of my claws. You are the most powerful queen to ever live since the days of old, Chrysalis, my dear. You would have made a fine empress.” He glowered at her in profound disappointment. “ Alas, you made your choice. This sentence is but the beginning of the rest of your life suffering for your failure to understand where your allegiance should have been without question!”

He was suddenly behind her, causing Chrysalis to jump with a start when he hissed into her other ear, “But you aren’t concerned about that, are you? You demanded your daughter. I have decided you will no longer be her mother. Difficult to be one with her being told you are dead. You might as well be dead, considering you’re in the very caves you placed Princess Mi Amore Cadenza some years ago. You know the poor dear has yet to foal since her marriage? Poor thing. I should pay her a visit and offer my sympathies. Perhaps she has yet to find the right stallion? What ever did you do to that husband of hers? Did you make him impotent, Chrysalis? No matter. As I was saying, your daughter won’t have you on her mind. I’ve allowed Tappis and Tappaz to use a spell I have taught them to make Atalanta forget all about you as her mother and think of them as her mothers.”

The Queen’s face fell as he spoke, finding his smug look enraging, his voice maddening. As he explained her daughter’s life away to those two… hags, Chrysalis’ contorted with rage. As it billowed up within her, the hold Flamespyre held over her cracked.

He flinched from her, his eye lifting up and down her quivering body. “Oh my!” he breathed with a small smile.

Words dribbled from her fanged mouth beneath the disguise of a hiss.

Flamespyre tilted his head to one side. “Say again?” he asked in amusement.

“Kill you….”

“Would you mind repeating that?” The Dragonking brought a hoof to an ear and cocked it towards her.

She lifted her head, her eyes ablaze with emerald fury. Her fangs gleamed wickedly in the light of the glow the faux Alicorn supplied. Struggling against his mental hold over her, Chrysalis allowed her anger to take hold. “I’ll kill you!”

“Kill me?” Flamespyre shook his head and laughed. “No, ‘tis not your crooked horn that will pierce my heart, my lovely dear.”

Oh, yes, she would love nothing more than to do just that! A crack appeared in her inhibitor. With a strangled cry, she lunged at him again, straining with her battered body against his mental bonds upon her. Her vision had blurred, focusing only on his smug expression, the crimson eye mocking her openly. Wings tore at the air mercilessly, their droning sounds growing until it revved like one of the giant engines of a passenger airship. The queen strained to get at Flamespyre, her eyes filled with nothing but pure hate. There was a snap somewhere within as if something gave way. A leg lurched forward. It was followed by another. Sweat beaded and was soon flowing down her chitin.

“I’ll kill you,” she swore through her clenched fangs. “I will have your eyeball in a chain around my neck. I’ll use your own intestines to strangle you.” Her magic tried to flare up. She found she was not inhibited down here. With a surging hope, she summoned forth from deep within her reserves as much power as she could. There could only be one possible target.

“You would destroy all of Canterlot just to hurl a spell of pure hatred upon me?” Flamespyre asked her, bemused. “I’m touched.”

She snarled, forcing herself into another step towards her antagonist. There was another popping sound in the back of her mind. More importantly, there was a sudden pop at the base of her horn. The inhibitor fell away in two pieces. Her magic continued to grow and focus on the tip of her horn. A hind leg kicked, slammed into the floor and drove her forward.

Flamespyre narrowed his eye. “No, you’re not doing that, are you? You’re using your magic to augment your muscles, aren’t you? I can hold your body, but your magic is your way around it, isn’t it?” He flared his wings out, presenting himself to her. “Come, then, Chrysalis! I release you!”

She exploded forward, her body suddenly encased in an aura of her magic. Her horn crossed with his. They were eye-to-eye, their magic intersecting with each other in a crackling battle of visual wills. The walls of the cavern reverberated. Debris fell around the two dark forms; one flared his wings while the other buzzed madly. They pushed against each other, their back legs straining as they began a macabre dance of death. She snorted and spat at him. Flamespyre grinned at her, though sweat began to form in his fur. Chrysalis was indeed powerful when fueled by rage. Nor was she thinking clearly.

“Are we to dance then, the dance of the dead?” crooned the Dragonking. “Oh, you have no idea how much pleasure I find basking in your fury, Queen Chrysalis! It’s heavenly.” He shoved her back with a toss of his neck. “You would have made a fine bride.”

“Bride?” she sputtered, her eyes going wide for a moment. “Yours? Never!”

“There’s always room for another, my dear. What say you? I’ll return your daughter to you. Raise her as you please. All you have to do is produce children for me. I would be a fool to let genes like yours go to waste.”

If there was one thing Chrysalis took notice in about Flamespyre was the instability in his choices. His mind changed like a pendulum, never settling on anything for very long. It was very chaotic. Flamespyre’s only obsession lay within something so ancient and ingrained in his mind, it could only have served to destabilize the madness of his intelligence.

There could only ever be one answer for him. “Never. I’ll die first!”

“I suppose dangling your daughter’s life would serve no purpose,” he observed as she charged at him again.

Instead of meeting her attack, he reared and kicked with a forehoof, knocking the tip of her horn roughly. Chrysalis cried and fell in a heap. Her hooves went to her horn as it had winked out from the rude interruption. Tears rolled down her cheeks again, this time from the throbbing pain.

“Ah, my dear,” Flamespyre said over her, “if only you would not let your anger cloud your judgement, you might actually be a threat to me. As it is, that inhibitor was a poor substitute to contain your power.” Something was placed over her horn and snapped into place, somehow sliding over the irregular angles in her crooked horn. “This is something of a modification to my Oblivion Sphere,” he lectured. “Designed for powerful adversaries such as yourself. It should keep you from getting into too much mischief. Does it feel comfortable?”

She did not respond.

“Rude to the end. Pity. At least Celestia remembers her rank and has the soul of a diplomat. You, on the other hand, are a barbarian, Chrysalis. Still, after a few years, we’ll see how much you’ll change. You’ll be fed and given something to keep you warm in the cold caves down here. I’ll send your regards to you daughter. I’m sure she’ll have forgotten all about you by then. Ta!”

Flamesypre was gone.

Chrysalis stared into the sudden darkness, her rage having fled her. Instead she was filled with a profound sense of loss. All of her emotions welled up within and spilled out in the form of a great sob. Her keening wail of anguish echoed around her ears and she didn’t care.

NMoO 3 A Floating, Gilded Cage or Unexpected Allies?

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When one is confined within four steel walls, one is often left to their own thoughts and reflections. For a certain chromatic Pegasus, her train of thoughts were no different as she idly stroked her half grown son’s mane, her eyes locked in a distant stare with her memories. He slept fitfully, snuggling close to her side and beneath her wing as he used to when he was but a foal, trying to hide from the thunder and lightning. The thumping of metallic engines in a steady beat could lull one into a sense of lethargic indifference. The colt’s dreams troubled him, but his mother’s touch soothed. The mare sighed and wondered how it all came to this.

Rainbow Dash had once been perhaps one of the most reckless, hard-headed ponies any could chance to meet. Her Pegasi heritage made her naturally aggressive and prone to taking chances. Battle was in her blood and she came from a long line of proud winged ponies. She achieved her dream of becoming a part of the Wonderbolts, an elite team of warrior ponies who specialized in being the public face of the Royal Army. She was trained to fight and learned how to handle herself in a skirmish. Though never personally involved in battles herself, she still trained under the watchful eye of veteran Wonderbolts like Spitfire, Fleetwing, and Soarin. She exhibited raw potential the likes of which had not been seen in a very long time.

She was brash, eager to show off, and willing to show anypony who would giver her but a moment of attention just how good she was at what she did. From her pure raw potential, Rainbow Dash was indeed the most gifted flyer Equestria had ever seen in nearly two hundred years. Not only was she loyal to her friends to a fault, she was also tough and ready to prove her loyalty by nearly any means necessary to get her point across. She got into plenty of fights once she became a part of the military, always struggling to prove herself as she found out the hard way being a Wonderbolt required more than having raw potential.

She learned. She battled. She endured. She adapted. She overcame. The challenge became more than personal and her friends encouraged her to not give up. Rainbow Dash found her dream of being a Wonderbolt realized after five years of training in the Wonderbolt Academy. During that time, she had an off and on again affair with Soarin, their fiery romance producing Lightning Dash, her son. Soarin loved mares too much to set himself into a monogamous relationship, even going so far as to pursue Rainbow’s reticent friend Fluttershy. He lied to her, as he lied to other mares for the sake of adding another notch to his list of conquests. In her anger upon discovering the deception, Rainbow Dash took her frustrations out on the timid mare and refused to speak with her even though she became aware of the truth shortly after splitting with Soarin.

She never forgave him and found it nearly impossible to face Fluttershy and simply apologize. She knew she was in the wrong and buried herself into splitting her time between work and being a single mother. Over the years, she drifted further from some of her friends as life happened. She met them when her schedule allowed it and was always happy to see them the few times her duties afforded her the chance. Rainbow matured into a more responsible mare, finding her role as a leader thrust upon her when Spitfire was forced to retire after a horrendous training accident. She became disciplined and developed an eye for detail. The chromatic mare was still brash and spoke with a blunt terminology, but she learned to become not only a leader, but a teacher in her own way.

Rainbow Dash led by example. Spitfire taught her that. Being a Wonderbolt pushed her physical limits to the edge and beyond, but she took the challenge with a grit and determination Applejack would have been proud of.

Her time with Lightning was precious. Given her own fillyhood, she refused to take her pride and joy for granted and became a surprisingly effective parent as well as the coolest mom in the world. Where her own father could never seem to find to time for her, Rainbow in turn always found a way to be there cheering her son on in his athletic competitions as well as any other school functions parents were asked to attend. She was never perfect about it as missed as many as she made, but she tried and made sure her son understood her job sometimes kept her from home.

During the summer months and whenever school was not in session, Rainbow Dash brought her kid with her to her performances. She taught him about being loyal, though even she had to admit he was smarter than her. Nothing pleased her more than watching Lightning Dust grow up watching her with awe while Scootaloo became a sort of big sister to him in the process. Between Rainbow and Scoots, the two mares kept the boy from straying too far off the straight and narrow. He also became a pretty darned good flyer for his age. He was almost old enough to compete in the Young Flyer’s Competition.

Lightning Dash had no idea how discombobulated he made his mother by stowing away on the Aurora along with his friends. Deeply disappointed in him, Rainbow felt his punishment wasn’t enough, but relented only because Luna wanted the children to learn how to be useful on board the airship for the duration of the voyage. In time, her anger did abate and she managed to stop grinding her teeth every time she thought about his little escapade. Not surprisingly, her renewed friendship with Fluttershy (they had that long-needed discussion shortly before the voyage began) enabled her to talk to her gentle friend. The butter yellow Pegasus convinced her to forgive her son, reminding her how her inability to forgive had nearly cost her a dear friend.

So, she encouraged her boy to hang out with Silent Wing. Despite the teasing from Applejack and Rarity, she was not a cougar trying to go after the prince. Lightning had few enough winged male friends to hang out with on a regular basis. Though she was not completely sold on the adopted son of Chrysalis, Luna vouched for him and bore that certain look of a mare definitely interested in a stallion. The strange kid was odd, kinda creepy looking, but managed to pull off ‘cute’ in an exotic way. Rainbow couldn’t quite put her hoof on it, but Silent Wing quietly managed to win her over as a friend after three weeks of watching him. Lighting seemed to like the young prince and Silent never put on a superior air. Guessing from the few stories the chimera spoke of himself, he was humble and polite.

He seemed more like a pony than a changeling, so far as Rainbow Dash was concerned. On top of that, he acted like a friend to Lightning and spent what little free time he had with her son and the other foals near his age. Despite being a prince, he was still a kid. The changelings under his command were themselves little more than cadets, most being around Silent’s age. They behaved like little soldiers and took their devotion to duty and honor to heights best reserved for the most hardcore of veteran soldiers Rainbow knew. They seemed like machines and rarely relaxed. Fun and play seemed a foreign concept to them. From what Silent had told the ponies on board the airship, fun and play meant training and more training as houses constantly competed against each other for status. The debacle of the three young fighters who seemed to snap had struck the body of changelings like a physical blow. Their mood matched their gloomy prince as they shouldered the shame as their own. It was telling the assault on Applejack was taken on a personal level for a group of kids who prided themselves with their self control.

Yet they did not abandon their mission. When the Aurora came under attack, Silent’s changelings remained at their posts in defensive positions over the ship and fended off the assault of the winged lizards called wyverns. With blades flashing in the sunlight, the descended upon the creatures with single minded intent and kept the unicorns free to maintain the shield.

When the dragon attacked, they did not shy away, but followed the command of their prince and harassed the beast. Some fell to his claws or buffeting wings. His hot breath seared the wings off others. They were not as fast as Pegasi in flight, but they had amazing lateral control and could change direction in the blink of an eye. Though they fell, they fought on to the last until the ship’s ballista were loaded and brought to bear.

Rainbow remembered the dragon’s dying screams, even as the ship shuddered. Huddling on the deck, she held Lightning close to her. Though at first glance it would be difficult to picture the mare as a motherly sort, Rainbow Dash was fiercely protective of her only child and was more worried about keeping him safe than joining the fight. She truly wanted to get her licks in, but her son came first and foremost. Besides, she was technically a civilian on this voyage as her career in the Wonderbolts had already lasted longer than most other members. A Wonderbolt could expect eight to ten years of being fit enough for the strenuous activities of maintaining the physical and mental toughness to pull off the spectacular and dangerous stunts. She could fight, but she had not actively participated in any combat drills in almost two years. For a Wonderbolt, she was practically retired.

She imagined Scootaloo would be one of the candidates for the captaincy. Rainbow’s unofficial little sister had proven to have a very good head to be an officer and had done very well at Officer Training School (Rainbow had been dead last in the list of those who graduated her class, but she did pass). Primed and ready, Rainbow believed she would be chosen to take her place and had full confidence the Wonderbolts would be in good hooves.

Lightning mumbled in his sleep and shivered. His movement interrupted Rainbow’s recollection of the events leading to the capture of herself and her friends just yesterday. Families were kept together, but separated from each other as they were given rooms normally meant for minor dignitaries or whatever—Rainbow really didn’t care. All she knew was she was in a locked room with a window just large enough for her to stick her muzzle out. She drew her forelegs around her colt and nuzzled him (there was nopony looking). A worried expression in the form of a frown creased her features. A shadow hovered over her spirit as she thought Princess Luna was dead, along with Prince Silent Wing.

Her quarters were cramped, meant for two with little room for personal effects. There was a small desk next to the bunk bed. She and her son were curled up on the bottom bunk of the bed, her tail reaching over the side of the thin mattress and to the metal floor. She could spread her wings to their full span and have their tips touch either wall. The berth’s length was roughly two ponies long and just high enough to allow for a pony like Luna to stand fully with some inches to spare for her horn. Thick chains held the bunks in place, which meant they could be stowed against the wall when not in use, but Rainbow hadn’t taken the time to mess with it yet. There was little in the room; she had already gone through the small closet and rifled through the drawers in the desk. A single light bulb hung over the steel door and was unshaded. Thankfully, the light was muted so as not to blind.

From the way the ship smelled, it seemed new to Rainbow. She counted the rivets in her room, but lost interest past one hundred. They white paint looked fresh and she could make out what looked like several pipes of different sizes along the ceiling and walls inside the hull. Some of them bore writing she could not understand.

“I’m here, baby,” she said to Lightning. There was a blanket next to her, folded neatly before she and her son invaded the bunk. Using her teeth, she reached over and took it up, unfolding it, and draping it over Lightning. “Ain’t nothing gonna happen to you,” Rainbow promised him.

The ship’s massive engines throbbed on, pushing the metallic leviathan through the water. The Pegasus felt the motion of the ship on the high seas, though barely. This monstrosity was a very stable platform on the ocean, though Rainbow felt a little queasy and also stifled in her prison. Pegasi were meant to be up among the clouds, dancing in the blue skies, not confined in a stuffy room!

“This sucks,” she sighed, draping her head over her son’s withers. “This really, really, completely and totally sucks.” The mare blew through her mouth, flapping her lips. This was boring. Very boring.

“Mom?” asked Lightning sleepily as he felt her head weigh down on his back. It wasn’t uncomfortable for him, but her movement disturbed his nap. “S’okay?”

Rainbow hugged him. “I’m fine, kiddo,” she replied, trying to sound unbothered by everything going on in her life the past twenty-four hours. “I’m just worried about the others.”

This was very much true; her friends had remained unseen since she and her son had been placed in this room some twenty hours ago. She could hear the constant sound of hoofsteps on the other side of the door and the voices of her captors, but she never heard a peep from her friends. Were they safe? She wondered. The mare could not think the changelings wanted them harmed but neither could she really understand why they had not been placed in cocoons, or whatever those green bags were called they placed captives in.

There was a loud thumping against her door. A heavy latch clunked and squealed as it was unlocked and lifted. The door with its rounded corners swung into the room and a tan changeling head peered in seeking out and quickly making out the mare and her child. Chittering to itself in what could be thought to be muttering under its breath, it retreated, leaving the opening uncovered for a brief moment. Rainbow Dash stared even as Lightning Dash shook the sleep from his eyes with sudden fear.

A large changeling female entered, her bent horn glowing with a copper aura. She was clad in what appeared to be some sort of white and gray naval uniform with black lapels bearing golden markings. Were they rank? They sort of reminded Rainbow of wheat stalks, though she wasn’t sure. Her body tensed as her ears perked forward as she gauged the intent of this newcomer. She recognized the changeling who had introduced herself hours ago as the sub commander of the ship.

She was thinner than some fashion models Rainbow Dash had seen in magazines. Her legs seemed like holed reeds, deceptively strong. Her wings were sheathed beneath her armored carapace and flaps of her uniform. Her tail was wrapped tightly in a braided loop and held in place with golden braids. A red sash adorned with several medals and ribbons slashed across her chest. She doffed her cap and handed it to the unseen changeling next to the door in the hallway, her golden eyes never once leaving the chromatic guest. Beneath her cap her mane was tied off in a severe bun with several strands artfully falling behind her eyes. For a moment her gaze settled upon the shivering Lightning, her lips a straight line. Even her fangs gave the impression of being impassive.

The changeling chittered over her shoulder, an irritated scowl on her otherwise smooth features. Rainbow thought changelings were terrifying in appearance. Having spent a month hanging around with them, they still looked weird to her, but there was just something...menacing about how they had those fangs and those freaky eyes.

“You are Rainbow Dash?” the mare addressed her when she was done addressing her subordinate. She had yet to turn her head, but an ear was swiveled at the two Pegasi. As a moment of silence descended between the captives and the changeling, her head slowly swiveled as the corners of her mouth upturned into a smile. With those fangs, it could easily be interpreted as nothing but predatory.

“Uh, yeah. What if I am?” the mare challenged as she slid from the bunk and to her hooves. Mindful to keep herself squarely between the bigger changeling and her foal, she flared her wings out slightly and puffed out her chest.

The changeling’s smile faded. “Do not concern yourself with thoughts of harm to you or your nymph,” she declared in a voice very much like a spoken hiss. “The captain would like to invite you and your friends to dinner. Though you are our prisoners, you shall be treated fairly and as guests. So long as you behave yourselves, you and your friends will be allowed access to the decks under close supervision.”

Rainbow Dash was not expecting this. She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “What’s with the nice routine?” she managed to ask even though she fought her fears. “Who are you?”

The Topaz changeling gave a slight shake of her head. “Ah, how rude of me. I never did formally introduce myself, did I?” She inclined her head slightly. “My name is Lt. Commander Shattershard. That is the closest approximation of my name in your Equestrian tongue. Captain Skyhorn Brittlespear wishes to convey her respects. She is a very big fan of the Wonderbolts.” Shattershard offered a slight smile.

Rainbow Dash was flabberghasted. “You guys know about the Wonderbolts on this side of the world?” she asked incredulously.

Shattershard smirked. “We also know there is only one pony alive who can do a Sonic Rainboom. We changelings have not the wings to build up such speed, but we revere and respect those who can achieve feats of wonder to glisten the very skies with the hues of the color spectrum. The captain hopes you might be able to accomplish the feat for her eyes one day.” She sighed, shrugged and offered a sad smile. “But perhaps when times are happier, yes?”

“Why’d you guys attack us?” Rainbow asked, gaining a bit of bravado at hearing she was famous on the other side of the world. That was so cool!

“We were waiting for you. Among you was one of our agents, watching and reporting your position since the day you left Canterlot. Noling you know. A good infiltrator. Perhaps killed in the battle. Perhaps not. The navy does not keep track of the Queens’ infiltrators. Know your journey was doomed the day you took to the skies.” Shattershard seemed almost apologetic as she explained. “The dragon then came, bringing with him his own soldiers and that Emerald traitor. Things cannot be simple these days, can they? But, he is dead now, the dragon. He is dead and can no longer threaten our traditions and our honor.”

“Wait, are you saying the attack was not intended?” Rainbow asked in a moment of clarity.

The changeling resumed her stoic mask. “One cannot change the past. What was done was done. Full honors will be given to the fallen and the wounded have been seen to. For the duration of the voyage and until you are formally turned over to the army, you and your friends are to be considered guests of the captain and the Vengeance.”

She turned to leave, nodding politely. “Dinner will be in an hour. You and your child are invited to dine with the captain. Your friends have all been invited as well. Guards will be by to escort you.”

There wasn’t enough room to accommodate the girls and their children in the captain’s private quarters, so the captain graciously moved the dining experience to the ship’s galley and mess hall. Curious changelings peered from behind corridors and around steel corners. The ship’s interior was painted an off white with the floor a dull gray. Almost all of the ship’s officers were female changelings. The rest of the crew were all males.

Changeling families of the Topaz Kingdom vied with the throne for great warships like the Vengeance to be placed under their command. The ship would be approved and given over to the family who won the command and it would become a mobile house for the matriarch. The matriarch would then select her most capable daughter to command the ship. The matriarch herself could assume quarters on board at any given time.

The crew were members of one house, the soldiers were directly from the thrones. Myzanum had been the royal representative and had soon after left once the last prisoner had been brought on board.

Captain Skyhorn Brittlespear was a little taller than her sister Shattershard and was only slightly less stoic. Considered humble in appearance by changeling standards, most of the ponies who saw her would think she had fallen through the ugly tree with her face shoved against the bark of the trunk all the way down. She was a mother of no less than one dozen changelings, having each one of them save for her youngest working on board the warship. The ship’s mistress absolutely adored children and was rumored to be wanting more if her body was capable of bearing them.

The nervous ponies were surrounded by off-duty changelings who blinked with solid eyes at the gathering of colorful creatures. Many changelings found Rainbow Dash to be a very gaudy looking individual as her mane and tail stood her out in a crowd. Her son was only less bright than she. The train of pony prisoners were treated like guests, as promised. No chains were put on them and the ship’s crew for the most part smiled when they were gaping in curiosity.

The food was spread across the table bolted to the floor. There was a bit of a raised edge around the edge of the table to prevent plates from sliding off in rough seas. Platters of foods from the sea was displayed like individual pieces of art, arrayed perfectly so the unsuspecting guests could have a view of the bounty no matter where they sat. Given the cramped conditions of the interior of the ship, orders were barked out and changelings scuttled and buzzed away, chittering to each other excitedly. Most were seeing their first ponies.

The conversation at the table was surprisingly pleasant, though the foals were very nervous and Applejack harrumphed and crossed her hooves over her chest. Her stetson had turned up missing and she was summarily hatless. Gilda was not surprisingly suspicious of the changelings until Captain Skyhorn explained the rules of combat at sea changelings followed. Honor was paramount and treating a defeated enemy with no means to defend themselves was not an opponent worth battling, but one worth respect if they fought well.

The Aurora had killed a dragon thought to be immortal, one from the brood of the Dragonking. Not all of Gilda’s crew was in the galley. Most of them were still coming up and would be sitting in at some of the other tables. The galley was designed to seat two hundred changelings in one sitting.

This what Rainbow and Lightning Dash saw when they first came into the low ceiling room. Applejack saw them and brightened considerably. Her foals beamed and resisted the urge to jump from their seats and rush over to Lightning. Rarity and her daughter had yet to make an appearance. The fashionista was more than likely fretting over having not a thing to wear. Spike wouldn’t go anywhere without her.

“Ah, Captain Rainbow Dash,” greeted Skyhorn Brittlespear with warm respect. “Tales of your aerial exploits are well-known to this house, this ship.”

“House?” Dash wondered in confusion.

The captain swept a pitted hoof grandly over the table. “This ship is not only a machine of war, but it is also the home of House Brittlespear.”

“A warship for a home?” Dash wondered loudly. She had to scratch her head at that one.

“Please, have a seat and join us. I am a very big fan!” A fanged grin flashed at the polychromatic mare. Her horn flared and Dash suddenly found herself encased in an amber glow and lifted off the deck. She drifted over towards the captain and placed next to her. The changing proudly wrapped a hoof around her shoulders and hugged her in close. A camera appeared. There was a bright flash.

“Hey!” cried a now disoriented Pegasus. She was plunked on her rear in a chair and a drink was shoved in her hooves.

“You’re big here, Dashie,” guffawed Gilda from the other side of Brittlespear. “Also, I snuck into the photo op. These changelings are pretty cool, once you get past the fact they really didn't do anything. The dragon burned the Aurora out of the sky and he’s blasted to smithereens.”

“Our queens have lost a major hold over us with the death of that dragon,” said Brittlespear as she sat down. “This changes a great deal for my house. My mother seeks to return the Topaz Kingdom to one free of the influence of false gods. Until your other friends are roused from their berths, I should like to hear tales from the greatest Wonderbolt in a century.”

Rainbow Dash puffed up proudly. She was only too happy to talk about the Wonderbolts!

Nightmares of Oblivion

by Scarheart

NMoO 1: Memories

NMoO 2: The Madness of Flamespyre

NMoO 3 A Floating, Gilded Cage or Unexpected Allies?