A changeling without the ability to morph is often of little use beyond hive worker. But a changeling that can go unseen entirely is another matter. Some would say such a specimen is too dangerous to keep around.
The walls of the subterrainian city reflected a dim, incandescant glow from the empathite crystals jutting out of their smooth, polished surfaces. All around the hive, the sound of clicking mandibles and buzzing wings could be heard as the inhabitants went about their assigned duties. Some would mine for empathite, the mineral capable of storing and transporting emotional energy, the lifeblood of the swarm. Others were busy constructing new tunnels, tending to the young, training or patrolling for intruders.
Chrysalis, the immortal queen of the changelings, entered one of her nurseries to inspect the new young. It was customary of the queen to visit the larvae after the time of breeding. Despite what outsiders believed, she was not the direct mother of every changeling; her body simply did not have the required build like other insect queens. Nevertheless, she loved the swarm as her children.
One of the den mothers approached her and bowed. "Forgive my impertinance, hive mother, but there is a dispute among us."
"Tell me what troubles you, my child," Chrysalis answered.
The den mother stood up. "One of the younglings is... different. It's eyes are a chilling blood red. It has us... frightened. We were hoping that you could identify what is wrong with it."
"Show me."
The queen was led to a small nest where small changelings who'd just come out of their pupas were playing together and soaking up the nourishing affections of their caretakers. All but one, who sat off to the side alone, feared and shunned by the others.
As Chrysalis approached them, they all looked up at her with wide, curious, icy blue eyes. The red-eyed one acted no differently from the others once the queen had his attention. She smiled down on them, and closed her eyes, reaching out to them with her telepathy.
Inside their minds, the blue-eyed ones were no different from each other. The red-eyed one bore a slightly different mindset. He wanted to hide, to go unseen.
The queen's warm smile stretched into a brooding smirk. This one could lead to new posibilities. She wrapped the ruby-eyed hatchling in her acid green aura and pulled him close. "This one is different, that is true. But you won't need to concern yourselves with him any longer."
"W-what will you do with him?" one nurse fearfully asked.
"I'm going to see what he is capable of." She turned and looked at the youngling over her shoulder. "Come along, Trace. Your first lesson begins now."
Trace stalked silently through the thick foliage, inching closer towards his mark. Below him in the valley, a gryphon scouting party patrolled the edge of the domain. These scouts were a threat to the harvest convoy that planned to leave through this route, but not for long.
He gripped a rock in his sticky hoof and threw it with the aim of a seasoned marksman. The stone, too small to damage, was meant for another purpose. It struck the lead guard in the head, knocking his helmet off.
Alert, the gryphon scanned the direction the stone had come from and caught sight of Trace in mere seconds. "Contact right! Sieze the insect!"
Perfect. Trace ducked down and squinted, channeling his magic througb his body. His chitin plating rippled before disappearing altogether, refracting the light right through his body. This was the best part for him, to be spotted and lost instantly, and to see the confused faces of his persuers up close.
One time, while thwarting a minotaur's attempt to delve deep into the badlands, a trek that would have exposed the location of the hive, Trace had gotten close enough to whisper into the intruder's ear. To him, sneaking up on others was the second greatest joy in his life. The first was the taste of pride eminating from his queen.
His mind returned to the task at hoof when he heard the clicking of gryphon talons landing on the side of the stony hill.
"Fan out and bring it to me!" the gryphon in charge ordered. Trace wondered what rank this guy was, if only to know what colors they would fly over his memorial. Perhaps he was a captain, judging by the plumage on his helmet.
Trace crept back and took aim. His horn hummed softly with charged magic. His marks might notice the glow before he shot, but by then, it would be too late for them.
A beam of sickly green light errupted from the underbrush and pierced the darker gryphon in the neck where the armor was at its thinnest. He fell to the ground, already dead.
The others were alerted to his position and moved to attack. Trace took to the sky and made sure to let them know what direction he flew in, only to drop back underneath and let them fly over. Striking the second in the underbelly was too easy.
This one screamed and plummeted to the ground, landing with a loud crack as his bones broke on impact. Deafening roars ripped through the valley from the gryphon in agony.
Trace didn't care for how they felt, but finished him off all the same just to bring back the sweet silence. Only two remained.
The captain and his last charge, a light-gold gryphon who seemed younger than the others, stood back to back. They swiveled their heads and eyes around, searching for their unseen attacker.
"Stay close, lad," the captain said, "Don't separate. No matter what, don't pa--" He never got to finish his last word before another beam shot him straight through the eye.
The last gryphon watched in stunned horror as his only remaining comrade's lifeless body fell to the ground. His heart raced, and he shook his head, trying to get a grip of himself. He turned tail and fled, stumbling through the trees. His idea was that if he stayed under the cover of the forest and kept moving, he just might make it back to the road alive.
Trace waited at the edge of the forest and watched his last target dash right by him. This was the most exciting part, when the last one tried to save himself. He decided to challenge himself this time and let his prey gain some distance. He charged his horn again, and locked his eyes onto his target.
Chrysalis paced back and forth in her chamber, ocassionally flittering her wings in contemplation. Trace was quick, fierce, not always elegant, but effective. That added to his standard changeling powers, minus the ability to morph at will, he was probably the most dangerous of her children. And he knew he was different.
The queen needed to know exactly what he was capable of, especially in the event that, she loathed to think of it, he betrayed her. What was going on in the outside world that was big enough, or perhaps too big, for him to handle? She had no reason to go after the gryphons for anything more than keeping them from capturing her harvesters. The diamond dogs were pathetic, and would be boring playthings for Trace.
What of the ponies? Chrysalis lamented on her defeat in Canterlot, her humiliation in public against the princess of the crystal empire, and the unicorn that exposed her. How she wished to get revenge on that one, that Twilight Sparkle. The very name of the mare left a bad taste in her mouth.
Chrysalis spat at the taste of her own hatred. She sighed and stood silent for a moment, and then her eyes shot open. The dragons!
The ambassador of the dragon empire was meeting with Celestia to negotiate an exchange of territory so the dragons would have another resting place for their next migration. A smart move for Celestia, as it often took forever and a decade to get anything done with dragons. Better to settle things years in advance.
But suppose the treaty were never signed? Suppose the ambassador never returned? If all went well, it would raise tension between the two kingdoms, as well as add a thorn to the side of the dragons who were too large and powerful for her drones to mimic at full size. And if Trace should fail, well, different eye color could suggest another brood. She could brush him off as a member of another swarm. Who would have evidence otherwise?
Finalizing her plan, she summoned Trace.
The assassin bowed in reverence before looking upon his queen. "What does my mistress wish of me?"
"I have a mission for you, Trace," Chrysalis said, "You will be going to Equestria. You are to infiltrate Canterlot, and await the abassador of the dragons."
Trace's eyebrows raised at the mention of dragons.
"He must be eliminated before negotiations with Celestia can be completed. You are free to use any methods you choose, but you have two rules. One, you must not be seen by anypony."
Trace grinned. Easy enough.
"And there must be no collateral."
The assassin's grin was wiped off. "Mistress?" He looked at her with uncertainty.
Chrysalis grinned. "Don't believe you can do it?"
Trace lowered his gaze. "Of course I do, my queen. So you command, so shall it be done."
"Good." Chrysalis couldn't help give him a treat of the pride she held for him. "You will meet a nest south of the mountain where you can rest and restock. But do not linger. You have one month to reach Canterlot, find your way in, and kill the dragon."
Trace nodded and stood, awaiting further orders.
"You are dismissed," Chrysalis ordered.
Three weeks had passed. Trace was able to bypass the border patrol with the greatest of ease. They would have made fun target practice, had he permission to take out others. But orders were orders, and Trace's loyalty was absolute; he would rather die than return a failure.
As he journeyed, he wondered how best to kill a dragon? Dragon's bane leaf was hard to come by, even in a land that feared them. A dragon's scales were powerful, too strong for his favored laser spell. A shot to the eye, maybe. It was even trickier business with the parameters of his mission.
Equestria was large. Time was running out for him, and he had yet to reach the final nest. He hid himself in a bush and turned invisible, then projected his thoughts. The queen had the power to enter the minds of her subjects, and they had the power to communicate with each other over moderate distances. If any changelings were nearby, he would get their position from them with this.
No one answered his call. He was hungry, and exhausted from arduous travel. If he didn't find the nest, he would not have the strength to reach Canterlot at all.
After a few hours, he tried again. Is anyone there?
Identify.
At last, a connection! This is Trace, servant of the hive mother. I request your position and permission to join you for a brief respite.
Speak the words of our queen and enter.
To my children, I give thee my love that ye may live, and that ye might return thy love to me and live for the swarm.
Authorization confirmed. Welcome, Trace.
A green glow became visible in the distant shadows of the night. It was a wave form visible only to changelings that was used as a flare. In this case, it was the rondesvous point.
Trace reached the edge of the nest, disguised as a mining camp. Don't be alarmed. I am invisible.
The changelings around him nodded and motioned towards the mine shaft.
Inside, Trace was able to shed his cloak and relax. A pile of empathite stones lay to the side, casting warmth and light throughout the hidden chamber. Several changelings lay in their natural forms, depositing the emotions they'd collected into the stones. The assassin took a stone from the pile and tapped into its energies. The smell of spices and herbs flowed into his nostrils, indicating the pony it had come from may have owned an apothecary shop and had an affinity for such things.
Their special talent, signified by the things known as cutie marks. Trace couldn't care less that he would never wear such a mark; he didn't need one to know what he was best at.
A larger changeling, one of the soldier breed, approached him. "I am Captain Duo, steward of this camp. Why have you come, brother? Are you here to join our crew?"
"No," Trace said flatly, "I'm here to kill someone." The ice in his voice let the captain know he didn't need to hear any more than that.
"Right," Duo said, "Queen's affairs and all. I'll let you rest, then."
Trace said nothing, and hunkered down. He stared into the light of the empathite, reflecting on his mission. He still needed to find a way to kill the abassador.
The sun gently carressed the land of Equestria with its warm beams of light as it slowly rose above the mountain tops. Every creature great and small emerged from their homes to greet the new day.
Princess Celestia lighted down on her balcony, having set the sun on its daily course. Today would be another uneventful day of court. What made this day different, however, was the company she was expected to recieve later that evening. It would certainly be a nice change from the monotony her rulership had slipped into, even if dragons could be so rude and ill-tempered.
Of course, even the mighty dragons had to respect the pony who had managed both the sun and the moon for a thousand years. She would also keep plenty of guards nearby; despite the peaceful gathering this was meant to be, her little ponies didn't trust dragons, and for good reasons.
But Celestia would treat this one with all the respect she did with any other foreign dignitary. It was her duty as princess to ensure peace between her people and the outside world, after all.
At long last, the day was ready to come to a close. As Celestia began the sun's descent, the powerful gusts of giant wing beats heralded the arival of the ambassador. She went down into the courtyard to greet him.
"Lord Brimstone, at long last," Celestia said warmly, "It is a pleasure to finally meet you in person. We trust your journey was safe?"
Brimstone nodded. "Indeed, Princess. And might I say, the stories of your fair beauty hardly do you justice." He brought down his head towards her and took a hoof in his claw, delicately kissing it.
Celestia tried not to giggle, but apart from Spike, it was rare to see a dragon behave so politely. "Shall We show you to your guest room? We're sure you must be tired from your long flight."
The princess led her guest through the castle down the long corridor. As they made their way to the guest chambers, an entity with neither image nor shadow followed close behind, scrutinizing the dragon.
Trace silently moved closer to the lumbering beast. Outsiders actually found these creatures majestic? The great lizard dragged his heavy tail on the ground, scuffing up the floor as he went. Not to mention his talons clacking hard on the ground and his scales grinding against each other with each movement. The assassin actually felt sorry for how easy these creatures were to sneak up on when they walked; nopony would hear his hoof steps of this big oaf.
Of course, Trace loved stealth. A creature like this was built more for direct combat, with its powerful muscles and fully armored hide. Trace had to respect the natural plating they had in common, even if Brimstone's was less refined.
The ponies, on the other hoof, were thoroughly undesirable. Their whole bodies were soft and fluffy, and most had only wings or a horn. Some had neither and had to rely purely on physical strength. It was a miracle such soft creatures had built such a thriving society. It was probably because other outsiders found them beautiful.
Trace realized he was in the perfect position to destroy the princess of the land that had defeated the changeling army and humiliated their queen. To exact such revenge seemed favorable, but disloyal; his orders were no collateral. But was the commander in chief to be considered as such? The queen hadn't said "kill no one else," only "no collateral."
Better not to risk it. Trace determined that if he were to make an attempt on her and fail, a being of such ancient wisdom would undoubtedly find a way to extract the hive's location from his mind. Then she would let him live long enough to see the destruction of his home and the death of his beloved queen. At least, that's what he would have done in her position.
The abassador's room was guarded from the outside, but from the inside, the dragon would be alone. Trace climbed onto the wall and slipped in at the same time as Celestia after the dragon.
"I hope you will find your accomodations satisfactory," said the princess, "You will have an attendant present at all times for anything you need."
"Thank you, your highness," Brimstone replied.
Trace glanced out the window at the garden where the princess's animals were settling down for the night. Several rare and exotic fish swam about lazily in a marble-rimmed pool. One of the fish caught his eye: a round, red one with purple spikes.
He remembered reading about this particular type of fish during his training. It was called a poison puffer fish, and was known to inflate its body and extend highly venomous barbs all over its body when swallowed by predators. The hungry animal would either suffocate, or if the fish was completely swallowed or managed to escape, the predator would likely succumb to the poison.
Trace smiled. Not only could he do this, but make it look like it wasn't even an assassination.
Brimstone called in the room attendant. "I'm feeling rather peckish. Would it be any trouble to ask for an assortment of gem stones?"
"Not at all, good sir," the pale pink unicorn mare responded and turned to leave, "I shall have them to you shortly."
"Thank you."
Trace climbed the wall in search of a good hiding spot where he could shed his cloak for just a moment to rest. He found a dark corner behind one of the decorative tapestries depicting pony knights wearing golden armor. This princess had too many of these tapestries; it didn't take someone with his abilities to sneak around in here.
The room attendant returned with a large, regailed cart filled with gems of all kinds from the royal treasury. Useless junk to a changeling, but a delicacy to dragons. Brimstone thanked the pony and waited until she left before taking the cart to the other side of the room.
The changeling sat on the ceiling and rested while he watched his new mark sit down in front of a large lecturn and begin writing a letter as he crunched contentedly on his last meal.
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN DEAD?!" Princess Celestia roared, shaking the entire castle.
Before her servant could recover, much less answer her, she teleported to the royal guest room and looked around. It was entirely empty, and the window was still open. Celestia's eyes widened and her mouth fell ajar as she saw outside.
There, in the garden, lay the body of Lord Brimstone. His muzzle was at the edge of the fish pool with his tongue hanging out.
A unicorn doctor climbed out of the dragon's maw. "It appears Lord Brimstone was thirsty last night. Or he wanted fish. I found this in his throat." She levitated an asphyxiated puffer fish that had been carefully dislodged from the dragon's throat. "I'm sorry, your highness."
Celestia took the dead fish and grimly looked from it to Brimstone. "Didn't he know these fish were toxic?"
The doctor shook her head. "No way of knowing now, your highness."
The princess closed her eyes solemnly. "Then it seems I must bear this awful news to the dragon king. I can only hope he does not blame us for this accident."
"An accident?!" Chrysalis stared at her master executioner in baffled horror. "How did... how did you manage that?"
"Simple," said Trace, "I lured him out into the garden at night when he was drowsy and whispered into his ear, making him believe he was dreaming. The fool went to the edge of the water and stuck his face in for a drink." The changeling chuckled darkly. "All I had to do was push a poisonous fish into his mouth, and he did the rest himself. Even Celestia believed it."
Chrysalis froze and stared at Trace. This wasn't supposed to happen. Has Celestia not stepped up her guard since my attack? Trace was supposed to come back a failure. Supposed to learn humility. But now... She closed her eyes and lowered her head.
Trace frowned. "Mistress? You're frightened. Why? One less dragon means our family will be that much safer, right?"
Chrysalis paused, and then smilled at her littke assassin. "But of course. You did marvelously."
Trace smiled proudly. "Thank you, your excellency."
The queen waved a hoof. "I have no further need of you now. Go, have fun with your brothers and sisters."
Trace's smile faded. "Mistress?"
Chrysalis raised an eyebrow. "Did you not hear me? Must I beam it into your brain? Go and play!"
Trace jumped back. Never before had Chrysalis been so forceful with him before. He nodded and then flew away into the tunnels.
He was confused. What was fun, other than ending the life of an enemy? Trace knew nothing of recreation, only training and fighting. Spies and gatherers were taught to play to blend in with outsiders, but the only thing Trace knew how to blend into was the environment. What did she intend for him to do?
To kill was fun, or the closest idea Trace had to it. But the hive mother would never wish harm upon her children; it was against the nature of the swarm. Maybe she meant for him to patrol and make sure no enemies found the hive, and if they did, they weren't to be allowed to tell anyone.
Yes, that sounded right. Standing on high and keeping lookout would put his mind at ease until either his queen summomed him again, or he could bring up the courage to ask why she was suddenly so frightened.
Trace pushed past his siblings and made his way to the surface. On the edge of the mesa, he sat and stared out into the vast nothingness that surrounded his home.
Out here, it was silent. There were no other chsngelings buzzing all around, only the small few going in and out now and then. The crisp, warm night air was still and gentle, like the love his queen showed him as a hatchling when she first taught him to use his unique gifts.
He reflected on his training, his nearly flawless records. Nearly. Perhaps that was why the queen seemed frightened: she thought he would fail and she would lose him. Perhaps she feared he would be captured and reveal the location of their home. Never. Trace loved her; he would never betray her like that. If it ever came to such torture, he would rather kill himself.
Perhaps I can prove myself to her, he thought, Show her I won't fail. I can't fail! I'm the best, she told me herself. Why would she doubt me?
His thoughts were cut short when he felt the prickling sensation of someone watching him. Not unusual that the guards would check on each other, but this one was different. He sensed malevolence and ill intent. Someone wanted to kill him.
Chrysalis summoned her right wing of her honor guard. "Commander Likeness, enter."
The elite changeling, a breed above the soldiers, stepped forward to her queen and bowed. "Why is the bidding of my esteemed queen?"
"Trace has become craftier than I foresaw," Chrysalis began, "The last mission I sent him on, he was meant to fail. He kills without mercy, just as I trained him, but he knows nothing else. I may have been short-sighted in his training. I fear... I have created a monster."
Likeness silently watched her queen, not speaking until asked a question.
"My soldiers have killed before, but only out of necessity," the queen continued, "Trace, on the other hoof... enjoys it. Disturbingly so." She shifted her eyes towards her guard. "What say you?"
"He has done well to protect us," Likeness said, "What reason have we to doubt his loyalty? And if he were disloyal, could you not simply enter his mind and confirm it?"
Chrysalis looked away. "It is not his loyalty I doubt, rather, his rational. Suppose he ever felt... shorted. There is no telling how he would react. He's a powder keg waiting for a spark to set him off."
"What would you have the dark wings do, your majesty?" Likeness asked.
"I have no choice." She shot her honor guard a cold look. "I want you to end him."
Trace pivoted around to face his assailant, and saw not the intruder or possible rogue he expected, but his own queen's royal honor guards, the Dark Wings. Their piercing stares dug into his mind, making it obvious what their intentions were. No words were wasted as Trace faded out and leaped off the mesa. The guards opened fire on him, shooting bolts of mana wildly around.
Despite being invisible, his escape wouldn't be flawless. They could sense him like the rest of the hive sensed each other, and if he focused on one to take aim, his exact position would be revealed. It would be impossible to fight them together like this. He'd sparred with them in training, and could never beat them without them being handicapped.
He hid behind a large dead tree and caught his breath. He couldn't outrun them either, or take them on in hoof to hoof combat. The Dark Wings were bred to be above soldiers, and in terms of physical prowess, he was only a drone. If he fell into their grasp, he would be dead.
"I have no more need of you now." The queen's words echoed in his mind.
No more need? He made the connection. She wants me to fight them to the death! Why?!
A green beam cut the tree down behind him, almost crushing him under it. Trace rolled out of the way just in time, and carefully looked over the trunk. If he looked directly at them, they would sense his emotion and know he was still alive. He needed a quiet way out.
If he flew, the sound of his wings would draw their attention. If he ran, the dust would betray him. He was out of options.
Trace charged his horn and fired, not looking at any of them until the last instant. His beam landed surely on the chest of one guard, piercing him in the heart. One down, eleven to go.
The others saw the beam and immediately began to bombard his hiding place. He used the commotion as a cover to fly and fired another round, striking the second in the head.
The assassin realized what he was doing: he was killing his fellow changelings. It drew up a conflict in him. They were his family, but they were also trying to kill him. He didn't know what to feel.
All the remaining honor guards were airborne again, now. They fired a spread of shots in Trace's relative direction. Their fire was random in an attempt to force him into being struck by a stray beam.
Trace went down and came back up behind them. He fired several small shots directly into the junction of the armor where the neck met the collar bone, severing their spinal cords. Three more guards fell to their deaths.
The remaining seven changed their tactic, forming a ball out of their bodies. They would not have their backs to anyone but each other this way. They hovered together, looking around fkr any sign of their enemy.
Trace his his horn in the crook of the dead tree to keep his glow hidden, and focused on a little bit of dirt on the other side. The spot of dirt began to glow and rise. The honor guards' attention was drawn to his, and believing it was Trace, opened fire.
This was the opportunity Trace needed. He jumped out and began shooting an array of beams. He killed three more, and targeted the remaining deadly quartet. They were unable to react in time. As soon as they looked in his direction, he aimed at their eyes, and dropped the last of them.
For the first time in his life, the death of his enemies brought him no joy or comfort. There was only bitterness, and something new: hatred. He devoted his entire life to his service to the queen, and this was how she repayed him, by making him fight for his own life. This wasn't a test, this was a disposal. He'd outlived his usefulness to the swarm.
Another new emotion formed in him. He'd never really felt it before. It hurt, badly. He pounded his chest, trying to make the pain go away. Instead of leaving, it got worse. Trace understood what it was: the pain of betrayal.
"My queen no longer loves me," he said, standing amkngst the dead guards. "She hates me, wants me dead." He looked up at the cold, distant stars, feeling tears form in his eyes.
"What did I do wrong?"
Days passed by in an endless blur for Trace. He fled the badlands, knowing if he returned to the hive, his queen would only try to have him killed again.
He'd never heard of the one he loved like a mother killing another changeling unless they had done something to threaten the whole swarm. Had Trace done so somewhere and missed it? No, she would have said so, and then executed him on the spot. Instead, she said he was no longer needed, and sent him off to die outside, out of her presence. He came to the conclusion that he was so useless to her that she wouldn't even take the time to watch him die.
Her mistake.
Trace felt another new emotion now. It filled him with a fire and fueled his will. Most of all, it made him want to kill again. Hatred. Trace learned to hate, and the first subject of his hatred was his own matron.
The assassin was past the Equestrian borders. The whispers he heard through the hive were that this land was the richest in love. But without the ability to copy their images, Trace would be unable to survive among the ponies. He would need to find another food source.
Trace hid at the edge of one of the mining camps where changelings stored their collected empathy. He thought about the one that betrayed him, and the family that tried to kill him. It was time for retribution.
Trace padded softly through the grass, thankful for the muffling effect it had on his hoof steps. Silence was his only friend now. That, and the crystals that held his next meal inside the cave.
His first objective would be to locate the local cerebrate, the changeling specially bred to send long-distance telepathic messages, and eliminate her. The cerebrate would logically be in the mining office where she would be disguised as the camp director in case any real ponies came to speak with the "pony" in charge.
Trace kept his head down to avoid focusing on any of his former hive mates. The ground here had less grass from all the trampling, but was also packed down tight enough that one could run on it without kicking up dirt. It was ideal for him here where no one could even see the grass bend under his hooves, and the sound of his steps were drowned out by everyone else's. Not sensing any emotions told him he was as of yet undetected.
He opened the cerebrate's door and stepped in quietly.
"Hello?" said the chsngeling disguised as a sandy tan mare with a short red mane, "Is somepony there?"
Trace was too hungry to indulge in her fear. Quicker than she could blink, he was on her, his hooves on either side of her head. In one swift movement, the oblivious cerebrate's neck was snapped violently to the left with a sickening crack. Green flames errupted from the dead foremare as she reverted to her natural form and slumped like a rag doll to the floor.
With their communications and leader gone, the nest would be uncoordinated and unable to regroup properly after an attack. They'd grown too dependant on being able to call for help, and Trace held nothing against exploiting this weakness.
The assassin then moved to the sentries. They were the first to notice the disconnection and were trying to re-establish a link. Trace saw them in the trees, and they responded to his gaze.
"Unicorn spy!" one shouted.
The error of assuming Trace to be a unicorn gave him an opening to fly around. The changelings below him scurried about in search of what they believed to be an invisible pony mage, spitting their silk threads around to ensnare the non-existant equine.
The guards were rallied and helped scour the site. In the midst of the confusion, Trace slipped into the mine. The crystal tenders were slain on sight; not one of them even had a chance to scream before their bodies hit the ground.
Trace reached the empathite chamber and looked upon the trove of glowing green gems. With no one around, he feasted until his reserves were full, and then found a stone with a particularly strong charge to it. He clasped his mouth around it and concentrated. The stone was soon enveloped in his cloaking field and turned as clear as the rest of him; even its glow was masked.
On his way out, he spotted a crate of dynamite. Grinning through the stone in his mouth, he levitated the crate over himself and carried it out of the mine shaft.
The changelings on the surface were in a panic. They failed to find the intruder, and were now accusing each other of being spies. Trace shook his head and chuckled.
They really are lost without their hive link.
He flew to a high point on the hill and settled down to watch the chaos. If only he could pick a few off without them spotting him and returning fire. Still, this would have to do. He telekinetically opened the explosive crate and scattered the sticks around with a burst of force. The unfortunate insects had only a second to register what had been thrown everywhere before Trace shot one of the sticks with pin point accuracy.
The first explosion caused a chain reaction only a fraction of a second later, engulfing every changeling in flames and blasting every structure away with powerful concussive blasts. Trace oohed at the spectacle and smirked at the carnage he wrought. It was exciting to say the least. And like the assassination of that pompous dragon, this too would look like a mere accident to anypony who happened upon it.
Satisfied with the destruction he'd caused, Trace picked his prize up and took to the sky.
My dearest, most faithful student, Twilight Sparkle,
As you know, Lord Brimstone of the dragon empire recently passed away as a result of an accident at the castle. However, my forensic experts did a resweep of the room and found new evidence: a small flake of chitin from a large insect.
We have confirmed that a changeling is in our midst, and all the castle staff are being checked as I write this. I'm afraid we will be out of contact for a while, as I will be leaving for the dragon empire today to see what can be done. If you need anything, write to Luna. She will see to your letters, as well as the kingdom, in my absence.
Please be safe, and stay on the lookout. I do not know the motives behind the assassination, but I believe it may be the queen's retaliation for what happened in Canterlot. If you see any changelings, do not hesitate to report them to the guards. The killer may well be in your village this very moment.
Your princess and mentor, Celestia
Twilight grimly re-read the last letter she'd recieved from Celestia in days. She wrote a letter to Luna each night, just to see how she was and ask about updates, but still missed her teacher dearly. It also shook her to her core to think about somepony going around killing others.
Nevertheless, she had a duty to keep Ponyville safe. She would do all in her power to ensure that duty was fulfilled.
There were several knocks on the door. Before they could be answered, Rainbow Dash burst into the library with a newspaper in her mouth. She spat it on the table and landed. "Twilight! Have you read the news?"
"Not this morning's," Twilight responded, setting the letter from Celestia down, "What happened?"
Dash held the paper up and pointed to the headline thaglt read 'Explosion Rocks Neigh York'. "Apparently there was an explosives misshap at a coal mine," Dash said, "No survivors were found, but at the same time, neither were there any pony remains."
"What?!" Twilight snatched the paper and read it for herself.
...excavators searched under the rubble for possible survivors, but instead found the bodies of no less than a dozen changelings. The changelings were believed to have been shot with magic at point blank, execution style. A large ammount of yet unidentified green glowing stones were also found on the scene. So far, searchers have found no ponies...
Twilight released her magic hold on the paper. A changeling assassin, and now changelings being murdered in a mine shaft? Was the explosion a cover to hide the bodies?
Trace never stopped moving, except to drink or find a safe place to rest for the night. His energy crystal would last him a few more days if he used it sparingly, but eventually, he would need to find a new food source. He couldn't return to the nest he raided now that the ponies had siezed the empathite inside. The dumb equines would probably just make jewlery out of it.
His options were few at best. Changelings may have gone as little more than a neussance, had it not been for the queen attacking Canterlot. If not for her, maybe he could try and convince somepony he was on their side, if only for food.
But how would he do that in the first place? Diplomacy was new to him; his whole life he knew only fighting and killing. Kill, and return home for food. It dawned on him that he was never meant to survive on his own; even with successfully evading and killing Chrysalis' troops, he could not blend in as a pony, and he could not reveal himself to anyone.
A new way to interact with the populace would need to be invented. He didn't know anything of Equestrian culture, so he had no idea how they would accept someone who was perpetually invisible. He hadn't been trained to lie, only to stay silent at all costs when needed.
It was impossible to plan for. Trace would just have to improvise and make sure above all that he was never seen.
The changeling eventually came to a dark forest shrouded in mist and foreboding atmosphere. A place like this would be good for a fall back, and as well, he could drop his cloak here and conserve some energy. If he encountered anyone, he would simply vanish; no one could sneak up on him anyway.
But there was something else about this forest, something unnatural. The very air here was different. It lacked magic, and held a different charge; something closer to electricity. The air was also hot, damp and sticky, like the breath of a dragon lingering around, but carried the scent of muck and mildew instead of sulfur and cooked meat.
The very earth beneath his hooves was moist and squishy, and low-hanging vines had stalagtites of loose moss while some trees were barren and black. The whole place resembled a giant maw waiting to devour anyone foolish enough to enter.
What made this place so enticing to Trace, though, was the silence. Graveyards were louder than this place, and brighter and more cheerful to boot. The green glow of his empathite shard made the place look even more gloomy. It was as though the grim reaper himself had cultivated this forest. The changeling loved it.
Still, food would need to be found. He silently cursed the design of nature for making it impossible for him to be self-sufficient. Somepony would have to be found, and then he would need to find some way to earn their trust.
For the time being, Trace had no reason to exert himself. He would seek shelter, make his new home, and then search for food. After some searching, Trace found a large tree with a hollow space under its open roots. Grabbing some moss and vines from around the trees, he sealed up the openings, except for the largest one which he made into a door using a moss curtain.
He crawled in and set his crystal down, curling up on the soft earth. Trace wanted to sleep early so he would have plenty of time to locate a pony settlement. After careful observation, he would be able to devise a way to survive amongst them. His eyes slowly fluttered before finally sliding shut as sleep took hold.
The sun rose high over the everfree forest. Trace awoke to the few rays of sunlight that filtered down through the trees and struck the mossy covering, casting a soft glow over the still balled up changeling.
Trace stood up and stretched his legs and neck, making his joints pop into place. He took a small portion of energy from his crystal, and then buried the shard under the dirt to keep anyone from stumbling upon it.
The forest was not nearly as intimidating at day as at night. Everything was lit with bright earth tones ranging from vivid green to rich brown. Even the gray bark of the dead trees looked more lively than before. It was as though the forest had been completely replaced.
The assassin paid the pretty colors no mind, and instead set off to learn his way around his new home. In the following hours, he'd found a clear stream for his water source, a breeding ground for manticores which he decided not to stir up just yet, and a road that led from a large tree house belonging to a zebra, to a small town outside the woods.
This presented two feeding possibilities. The zebra looked to be a knowledgable type with all the herbs and potions she kept. If he got on her bad side, she could be a real threat. The fact that she lived in a wild place like this, as opposed to the cushy homes of ponies, showed she might be able to hold her own against the changeling for a good thirty seconds.
Trace smirked at that thought. He was getting full of himself, but how hard could it be to take down a zebra when he had invisibility and lasers? Still, someone like this must be smart to live in such a dangerous place. She may survive with traps and alarms, things Trace wouldn't be able to detect with his changeling senses. He'd have to be wary and keep his eyes sharp.
The village, on the other hoof, might prove easier. He could probably pass himself off as a friendly spirit. Scratch that; he didn't know how to be friendly. A benign spirit, then.
But how to talk to ponies? Never in his life had he spoken to anyone outside the hive, and he rarely made casual conversation. His only option was clear: spy on the town and find a pony he could trust.
Trace turned invisible and began his trek into the village. The first thing he noticed was how bright the town was. It wasn't as bleached as Canterlot, but the colors still made his eyes sore. The ponies in this place seemed more lively and social as well, either stopping to chat or just giving a passing greeting to each other. It wasn't so different from changelings, except that so many of them really didn't seem to have anything to do besides wander around or socialize.
At first glance, their lives appeared perfect. That could only mean bad things for Trace. Nobody's life was perfect unless it hindered on someone else's suffering, and the bright and happy lives of these Equestrians brought out the worst suspicions in him.
The day he spent observing them was largly uneventful. The most he could gather was that many of these ponies seemed rather shallow, and some had shown a tendancy to judge others by appearance. Things didn't look good for Trace here.
A few seemed different. One particular pink earth pony was very friendly with everypony she met. This one was undoubtedly an attention seeker, probably the most shallow here.
A quiet yellow pegasus seemed like she might be more trustworthy if he could talk to her without scaring her. This proved harder than it seemed when she demonstrated that she was afraid to talk to even her own kind. He filed her away as a possible last resort.
The day came to an end faster than he realized. As the ponies went back to their respective homes, so did the assassin. Back in the forest, he nestled into his burrow and fell into a light sleep.
Trace awoke to the sound of bushes rustling nearby. The creature sounded too clumsy and noisy to be a denizen of the forest; it must have been a pony. Donning his invisibility, he went outside and realized just how much he'd overslept. His body was trying to compensate for his more conservative diet.
Climbing out of his nest, he found hoof prints nearby leading deeper into the forest. He silently followed the tracks, analyzing them as he went. The short radius and shallow imprint suggested a foal. The spacing indicated stubby legs, more commonly found on the males of the species. That made whoever he was tracking a colt, and a rather small one at that.
The tracks led towards the manticore den he'd seen the previous day. If the colt wandered too close, he would undoubtedly be devoured by the beasts. Such was the cruel way of nature.
Trace was reminded of his escort missions long past. He would watch the convoy from afar while scouting ahead to eliminate anyone who threatened the safety of his hive. His former hive.
The assassin, no longer of the swarm, needed to pick a new allegiance. The ponies were enemies of the swarm, yes, but also peaceful. In fact, they were the only species Trace hadn't needed to kill... more than one of.
A scream pierced the silent woods, followed by a deep, rumbling roar. Hoof falls were heard approaching, and soon, the very colt Trace was tracking appeared out of a dimly-lit area where the canopy was thicker.
The pony was mostly white with light brown spots and a dark brown mane. Just as Trace predicted, he had short legs, and also a somewhat chubby build. His stature was meant for anything but this.
The manticore gained on his prey, jaws wide open to snap up the little morsel.
In a flash of instinct, Trace's training took over. He fired his horn with deadly accuracy, striking the beast in the head.
The felinoid's skull was exposed under the bured flesh, and the beast responded with a stomach-curdling scream. It turned towards Trace and looked right at him.
So, you can sense me too? Trace thought, Excellent. I needed a challenge. He lunged forward, his horn alight with burning energy.
The small colt ducked behind a large tree and watched the battle ensue between the enormous predator and his unseen enemey. The giant cat swatted at the empty air in front of him, but something kicked up dirt as it rolled out of the way.
He couldn't believe his eyes. Something invisible was there! He didn't know whether to run away or stay and watch. Fear and astonishment made his decision for him, and held his hooves in place.
Trace dodged a stray jab from the monster's tail. It was relying on scent and sound to track him, but still depended on its sight a great deal enough that staying cloaked was giving him a good advantage, and one he did not take for granted; one swipe from its massive paws would very likely be the end of him. He rolled to the side and slapped a glob of mud into its face.
As the manticore tried to clear its face, the assassin fired another shot while rolling, slicing its wing. With the appendage hanging by a thread, the manticore started to panic and reared up in an attempt to hide its injury and appear more intimidating. Trace took this opportunity to charge its underside, jamming his horn into its chest. A well-placed charge made the beast's heart explode in its body.
The manticore's breath caught, and with a sickening gurgle, it fell to the cold ground, feebly caughing up blood. Its eyes slowly closed as death took hold of it.
Trace panted and wiped the blood off his horn against a somewhat clean part of the manticore's pelt. He felt the colt's gaze glancing off him, trying to search for his rescuer.
The little pony's eyes flicked around the body of the creature that now lay dead before him. His breathing shuddered and became more frequent. His eyes locked on the ground where hoof prints were appearing out of nowhere. They were coming right towards him. He gulped and slowly backed away, visibly and audibly trembling.
"Are you alright?" came the disembodied voice.
The pony froze and stared straight ahead.
"Answer me."
The foal gulped. "Y-y-yes, s-sir..."
Trace didn't recognize this accent. Somehow, it suited the foal, though. This was a trait the assassin had come across once in a nursery, something called endearing. It was a demeanor that was used to draw pity and adoration from others in an effort to gain their affection. Trace could imagine no a no-more shameless method of getting one's way. He liked this kid already.
"What do your kin call you?" Trace asked.
"P-Pipsqueak." The colt cautiously stepped out from his hiding place, still cowering low to the ground. "D-do you have a name?"
Trace weighed the option of giving away his real name. He was an enemy of the swarm now, but none of them would be able to catch him off guard here. The ponies didn't know who or what he was either, and even if they found out what he was, there was no way they could link him to the last time he came to Equestria. That and saving one of them from near certain death (as certain death would have actually happened) he might be able to make a case for himself. To further differentiate himself from the swarm, he was the only one with red eyes and had different powers; he could argue he wasn't even related to the ones that attacked Equestria.
"You can call me Trace," he finally said.
"Trace," Pipsqueak repeated, "Th-thank you for saving me."
Thank you. Trace had never been thanked before. He'd been praised by the queen, sure, but no one had ever expressed true gratitude towards him.
Trace put his hoof on the colt gently. Without being seen, physical contact would be needed to properly conduct an empathetic link.
Pipsqueak froze at Trace's touch. His gratitude was a new and welcome taste, and surprisingly more satisfying than the queen's pdide, which was shallow by comparison.
"It was nothing," Trace said, "I... do stuff like this all the time."
"You save ponies all the time?" Pip asked excitedly, "Are you a hero?"
"Um... something like that." Trace figured the foal was probably too young to understand what an assassin was.
"Will you..." Pip hesitated. "Will you be my friend, too?"
Friendship was exactly what Trace needed if he was going to live outside the hive. "Yes, I will be your friend. But only on one condition."
Pipsqueak cocked his head to the side. "What is it?"
"Nopony can know what I am," he said, "I stay invisible, no matter what. When I am ready, I will show myself to you and the others. Agreed?"
Pipsqueak nodded. "Alright. I promise."
"Promise what, little Pip? What is it, my dear?" asked another voice from behind.
Trace fell silent and let go of Pipsqueak when he sensed the zebra nearby.
She gasped at the sight of the dead manticore. "How did you avoid that monster's grip? What happened here?!"
"The manticore attacked me, Zecora!" Pip squeaked, "Then this thing that was so fast, I couldn't even see it, came out of nowhere and beat it up!"
Zecora looked partially sorrowfully at the dead cat. "I wonder what could have brought this one down. But for now, come along. Let's get you back to town."
Trace followed Pipsqueak and Zecora all the way back to the town he'd visited before, Ponyville. Zecora didn't talk much, while Pip, on the other hoof, wouldn't stop talking.
The foolish colt had gone into the Everfree forest on a dare to prove he wasn't a coward to his peers. His cute charms worked well enough on sentient beings, but the animals of the woods would only see it as a sign of vulnerability and take advantage of him. The assassin couldn't fathom what went through Pip's mind when he took that dare.
Zecora rhymed farewell to her young friend and returned to the forest. Trace eyed her suspiciously, but she didn't seem to suspect his presence.
Pipsqueak waited for her to leave. "Trace?" He looked around.
"Over here," Trace replied.
"Oh." Pip faced his general direction. "Do you want to come to my house with me and meet my family?"
"We talked about this," Trace said, "I can't be seen by anypony. I can't talk to them either. Only you can know about me."
"But I don't think I can keep that secret," Pip said dejectedly.
Trace's wings twitched, and he grinned. "You can try. But I'm only going to talk to ponies I trust. And I will trust others on my own terms."
Pip looked down sadly. "Oh, OK."
"Hey," Trace said, deciding he should try being friendly while also gathering information, "How about you show me around town? Tell me about the ponies here."
Pipsqueak perked right up. "Alright!"
The chatty foal led Trace through the village. Most of the routes, he'd already seen, but Trace was now given the names of all the important land marks, as well as the names of some of the ponies that Pipsqueak knew. Pip insisted that everypony was friendly and would like Trace if he introduced himself to them, but all the assassin was concerned about was which ones were dangerous and which ones weren't; his only objective now was his and Pipsqueak's survival.
Pipsqueak stopped after the sun started to set. "Um, I should be getting home now."
"Where do you live?" Trace asked.
"This way." Pip pointed north with is hoof. "Do you want to come with me?"
"I am your protector now, aren't I?"
Pipsqueak tilted his head. "I dunno. Are you?"
"It's a simple question," Trace said, "Do you want my help, or don't you? Because I can't guarantee your safety should you choose to reject my protection and venture into the wilderness again."
"Hmm." Pipsqueak tapped his hoof to his chin. "Is a protector just like a friend?"
Trace facehoofed. "Yeah, sure, whatever. Do you want me, or don't you?"
Pip nodded. "Yes, I do."
"Good. Then let's go." Trace sighed as he followed Pipsqueak back home. If only he'd rescued somepony older, someone who didn't ask silly questions. It was in a foal's nature to be curious and naive, sure, but that didn't make it any less annoying. The assassin-turned-guardian decided to deal with it; it was a living after all. No sense in looking a gift horse in the mouth, much less a pony.
Pipsqueak's parents welcomed their son home while Trace slipped in through the top of the door. He made sure not to touch either of them on the way in, and found a spot on the ceiling where he could stand out of the way and observe the events of the evening.
"So, Pip," the colt's father began, "How was your day?"
"It was great!" Pip said enthusiastically, "We learned about how the princesses defeated Discord over a thousand years ago in school, and then some of the other foals were picking on me again, and I told them I wasn't a scaredy pants, and then Diamond Tiara told me to prove it by going into the Everfree forest. So I did, and then this giant manticore appeared and almost gobbled me up!"
His parents gasped in shock.
"You met a manticore?!" his mother cried, "What happened?"
"Well, he was right about to eat me," Pip continued, "when out of nowhere, this invisible pony came and beat him to a pulp!"
Trace's eyes widened. Oh, you have got to be kidding me.
"He swooped in, slayed the manticore, and then he said we could be friends! And then Zecora came and showed me the way out of the woods." Pipsqueak concluded his short epic. "And now Trace is my new friend. He even came home with me."
The adult ponies looked at each other and smiled, figuring the story was made up.
"Oh, really?" his mother asked, "So Trace is here now, is he? Will he be joining us for dinner?"
"I think so." Pipsqueak looked around. "Trace? Do you want to have dinner with us?"
The changeling remained dead silent.
"Oh, I forgot he's really shy," Pipsqueak said, "He only talks to me."
"That's alright," his dad said, "Just as long as you stay out of that forest from now on. I'd hate to have to punish your new friend for letting you get into trouble."
Trace folded his legs under his head and smirked. Heh, right. As if you could even touch me.
Dinner went by slowly for the changeling. He sat and watched the way ponies ate, how they consumed physical food instead of emotions. Trace knew other races ate with their mouths, but never took the time to really watch; he was usually too busy killing them to observe their feeding habits. The temptation to try pony food arose, but he brushed it off as a useless curiosity. Doing such a thing would be wasteful, and may draw attention from those he desired to avoid detecting him.
Later that night, after Pipsqueak was tucked into bed, he waited for his mom to leave before trying to talk to his guardian again.
"Trace?" he whispered, "Are you here?"
A moment passed.
"I am," Trace responded.
"Will you stay the night with me?" Pipsqueak asked.
Under normal circumstances, this wouldn't even need to be offered. Trace would have willingly shed his cloak and rested with his companions back when he lived among other changelings. But sleeping while invisible would yield poor rest, and to become visible now ran the risk of losing his ward and alerting the ponies to his presence.
"I'm sorry," he said, "but I must return to my home for the night. But I'll be back tomorrow, OK?"
"OK," Pipsqueak said sadly, "Will you be here in time to walk with me to school?"
"I will try." Trace opened the window and climbed out.
"Trace."
The changeling stopped.
Pipsqueak smiled. "Thanks for being my friend."
Trace was still unsure of how to respond. "Alright. Go to sleep now. We both need our rest." He turned and took off, flying back to his nest in the forest.
Pipsqueak yawned and fell into a deep sleep.
A few hours prior, at Sugarcube Corner, Pinkamena Diane Pie felt a strange sensation run through her body. She shivered in different places while her ears flopped in a certain way.
"Hmm," she said to herself pensively, "Somepony new is in town." She suddenly put on a big grin. "Ooh, that means I get to plan a party! But first, I need to find out who the new pony is!"
She set out into town in search of her target, but despite her best efforts, even when her Pinkie Sense told her she was close, she could find no sign of the new pony. Finally, when night fell, she gave up and decided to continue her search tomorrow.
"So this is where your kind goes for education?" Trace asked, looking at the tiny school house before him.
Pipsqueak's mother had already said goodbye to her only foal and was trotting away back home.
"Yeah," Pip answered, "It's not so bad, really. Most ponies don't talk to me here, though." He looked down sadly for a moment, then perked up. "But now that you're here, things'll be different. Right?"
"I'm sure they will," Trace replied, "Best get inside now. Wouldn't want you to be tardy."
"Oh, Miss Cheerilee won't mind if I'm a moment late," Pip answered.
Trace grabbed his muzzle and turned the foal's head so they were making eye contact. Pip couldn't really see Trace, but could still feel the stare. "Tardiness is inexcusable. Get going."
Pip looked surprised at Trace's sternness, but nodded and obeyed.
That child needs to learn discipline, Trace thought to himself as he followed Pipsqueak inside.
The bell rang a moment later, and all the other foals filed in. Pipsqueak took his seat at the back of the class. The other foals joined and took their places around the room.
A magenta earth pony with a teal mane and flowered cutie mark entered and stood behind the larger desk in front. "Good morning, my little ponies!" she sang to her students.
"Good morning, Miss Cheerilee," the class said in unison.
"I'd like for everypony to take out their homework assignments from last night so we can go over them," Cheerilee said as she pulled her chalk board over and began writing a numbered sequence across it, "Now then, who would like to share what they found for number one?"
"Hey, Trace?" Pipsqueak whispered, "Do you know if this is right?" He pointed with his hoof to the first question.
"I forgot my sixes table again," Pipsqueak replied.
"Pipsqueak!" Cheerilee called, "Who are you whispering too? I hope you aren't trying to cheat."
Pip looked up, guilt plastered all over his face. "Uh, I was just, uh--"
"Miss Cheerilee," came a snide female voice from the left, "Pipsqueak is sitting all by himself over there. The only pony he could be talking to is his imaginary friend." The voice belonged to a light blue earth pony with a silver tiara upon her head studded with rhinestones, and a matching image on her flank. Trace could easily tell what kind of stone they were; such useless rocks were often found in the empathite mines back home.
"Trace is not imaginary!" Pipsqueak snapped.
Trace gaped at Pipsqueak and then facehoofed. Idiot. He's going to get me killed one day.
"Then prove he's real," the tiara-clad filly said so condescendingly, it made Trace want to smack her.
"He is too real! He's just shy!" Pipsqueak shot back.
"Pip squeak has an imaginary friend!" The rich pony pointed and laughed at Pip.
"Diamond Tiara!" Cheerilee snapped, "I will not tolerate this behaviour! As punishment, you will be writing me an esay explaining the ways you pick on ponies and why each of them are wrong. Given your track record, I expect it to be a long one."
Trace smirked at the teacher. His respect for her went up ten points for her teaching methods. Giving an extra assignment as punishment seemed much more effective than the physical punishment he recieved back at the hive from his combat instructor. It added an extra lesson to the experience, and gave better instruction than a blow to the face and the simple shouting of the word "Again!" Changelings could learn a thing or two from this pony.
"It's not my fault he can't make real friends," Diamond Tiara protested.
"Not another word," Cheerilee sharply replied, "Your father and I will be having a talk about your constant misbehavior."
Diamond lowered her head. "Yes ma'am."
Trace leaned in close to Pip and whispered, "Technically, you could say it is her fault."
"How?" Pip whispered back.
"I'll tell you after school." Trace climbed the wall silently and sat high on the ceiling where he watched the class go by quietly.
After school was finished, Pip and Trace walked home together.
"What did you mean when you said it was Diamond Tiara's fault that I didn't have friends?" Pipsqueak asked.
"Think about it," said Trace, "She had the opportunity to show kindness to you instead of inflicting pain, yet she chose the latter. Any time someone chooses to do something, the outcome is their responsibility. She chose to deprive you of a potential friendship when you had none, and so it is her fault."
"Wow," Pip mused, "You must know a lot about friendship, Trace."
"Not really," Trace said, "But I understand consequences. This scenario simply factored in well. To be honest, you're the first person I've ever truly been friends with."
"What?" Pip cried, "But you sound like a grown up! How have you never had friends?"
Trace sighed. "It's difficult to put into words you'd understand. Basically... I was raised alone. I had teachers, training partners, but never time to make any sort of bond. But I've heard enough about others from my homeland who did make friends, so I knew that what I had wasn't normal." He took a slow breath before continuing. "My mother told me I was kept seperate from the others because I was special. She wanted me to be the best of the best. But then..."
"But then what?" the colt asked curiously.
Trace snorted in disgust. "Nevermind what came next. It's nothing you need to be concerned about."
Pip hmm'd and walked quietly for a moment. "Hey, do you want to go to Sugarcube Corner and get a treat?"
"A treat?" Trace asked.
"Yeah, I got some of my allowance left. This way!" Pip waved excitedly and ran off down the street.
Trace watched him run for a moment. "Hold on... what's a treat?" He fluttered his wings silently and flew off after the little pony.
"Just a little more, almost there..." Twilight Sparkle stuck her tongue out to the side as she focused on the flask she was ever so slowly tilting into another one. She had to take great care to get the measurement just right.
The door burst open, and Pinkie Pie jumped in. "Twilight!"
"Gah!" Twilight jumped back as the mixture exploded in her face. "Pinkie! Look what you made me do!"
The pink mare grabbed her unicorn friend's head. "Stop worrying about your exploding cool aid, Twilight! This is serious business! My Pinkie Sense has been itching all day! There's somepony new in town and I can't find them!"
Twilight deadpanned. "You interrupted my work for that? Just go ask around town."
"Uh, duh! I already did that!" Pinkie rolled her eyes, "Nopony has seen anypony new!"
Twilight pulled away from her. "Well then, either your sense was wrong, or they're invisible. Now can I please get back to--"
Pinkie cut her off with her signature gasp. "Twilight, you're a genius! The new pony is probably hiding!"
Twilight scowled. "Pinkie, I was being sarc--"
"Thanks, Twilight!" Pinkie disappeared with a puff of smoke.
Twilight stared at where she was and blinked. "Huh. Oh well, back to work."
Pipsqueak sat at the corner table with two cupcakes set out before him, one for him, and one for his invisible friend, Trace. He nudged the latter forward with his hoof. "You're supposed to eat it, Trace."
"I can't," Trace said, "The ponies here may see me. Besides, organic food does nothing for me. It would be a waste if I were to eat this."
"It's not a waste if you like it," Pip pleaded, "Please try it."
"My apologies," Trace said flatly, "but I cannot. If one of the other ponies saw, it would cause a scene. I cannot risk alerting them." He felt somepony looking in his direction and looked at Mrs. Cake standing at the counter, staring at the corner booth. "Hold on. I will be back."
"OK," Pip sighed, and rested his chin on the table.
Trace stood up and stalked over to the pudgy mare.
"Carrot, do you see that poor colt there?" Mrs. Cake said.
"I noticed him, Cup," Mr. Cake replied, "I have no idea why he's acting like that, though."
"Isn't it obvious," said Cup, "The poor dear is lonely. He might have been waiting for somepony who never showed up."
"Poor kid," said Carrot, "Maybe we shouldn't charge him for his snack. Might help perk him up a bit."
Cup Cake nodded.
Trace glanced at Pipsqueak. The colt didn't even need to lift a hoof to get what he ordered for free. Endearment may have been useless in the wild, but it was something very powerful in civilized society.
"You don't think he doesn't have any friends at all, do you?" Cup asked.
Carrot shook his head. "I wouldn't know. I'll bet Pinkie would want to fix that real quick though."
At that moment, a pink earth mare with a cotton candy-like mane burst in through the door. "Where is he?!"
The Cakes stared wide-eyed at the new arrival. "Speak of the nightmare," Mr. Cake said.
Pinkie Pie began sniffing around like a dog, then sat bolt upright and grabbed her tail. "My Pinkie Sense is telling me he's in this room!"
"Who's in the room, dear?" Cup asked.
"The new pony!" Pinkie squeaked, "I've been looking for him all day long! There's a new pony in town, but I can't find him." She turned around and addressed the crowd. "Alright, everypony, listen up! One of you is new in town, so you better step forward and give me your name so I can throw you a proper welcome to Ponyville party!"
Everypony in the bakery stared at Pinkie, most of them looking afraid of her.
She squinted at them and scanned over each one. Everypony looked familiar, so that meant nopony was new. Pinkie tilted her head in confusion. "But I... I was sure he'd be in here."
Trace, meanwhile, was hiding on the ceiling, staring intensely at Pinkie. No way she can sense me. She's an earth pony. They don't have magic spells. But who else could she possibly mean?
Cup Cake stepped forward and put a hoof on Pinkie's shoulder. "Pinkie, dear, maybe the new pony could wait. There's another problem we need your help with."
"Really?" Pinkie asked Cup, "Okie dokie Loki! What's the problem?"
Mrs. Cake pointed at Pipsqueak, who was still sulking in the corner. "That poor colt over there. He bought two cupcakes, one for himself, and one for a friend. But as you can see, he has no friend with him."
"Aw, that poor guy," Pinkie said sadly, "Don't worry! I'll see to it he gets his friend! Maybe Twilight was right, and my Pinkie Sense was telling me about this colt instead of somepony new in town."
"Uh, yeah, sure." Cup Cake grinned.
Trace continued to watch Pinkie intently, trying to make out any signs of her detecting him. She trotted up to Pipsqueak and sat where the assassin was sitting just minutes ago.
"Hiya, Pip! What's got ya down?"
Pip looked up at Pinkie. "Oh, nothing much."
"Is the cupcake not good enough?" Pinkie asked, "I can get you a new one. Or maybe you'd like something else?"
Pipsqueak shook his head. "No, it's just... never mind. I don't wanna talk about it."
"But if you don't talk about it, it'll never get better," Pinkie said sagely, "No problem ever got solved by ignoring it. And believe me, I've tried ignoring tons of problems! But all that happened was I ended up burning a lot of cakes."
"Well," said the paint colt, "I made a new friend, but nopony can see him. And Diamond Tiara kept teasing me that he was imaginary."
"Aw, there's nothing wrong with having an imaginary friend, Pip," said Pinkie, "I say an imaginary friend is better than no friend at all, but that shouldn't stop you from making real friends either."
"But he..." Pip stopped himself. He didn't want to risk getting Trace mad and losing him as a friend. "He's... more than imaginary to me."
"I understand," Pinkie said, "Sometimes I still have parties with Madame Le Flour when I'm all alone."
"Madame Le Flour?" Pip asked.
"Yep," said Pinkie, "Hey! We should totally have an imaginary friend party! I'll bring Madame Le Flour, and you bring Trace! They can meet each other and we'll have a super big fun party and show everypony that imaginary friends are cool too!"
Pipsqueak smiled. "Thanks, Pinkie. I'll ask Trace if he wants to come."
"Absolutely not," said Trace, "There's something wrong with that pony."
"But she won't tell anypony," said Pip, "If you make her make a promise, she keeps it no matter what. Everypony in town trusts her with their secrets. If she finds out you're real, we can just make her promise not to--"
"You don't understand," said Trace, "Grown up ponies don't understand me. They'll... make me leave."
"But why?"
Trace stood silent; he couldn't think of an excuse. What would a foal believe anyway? He sighed and gave in. "Pipsqueak, I... I have a good reason for staying invisible. I look... scary. Other ponies would be afraid of me. Even you would if you knew what I looked like."
"But you're my friend," said Pip, "You saved my life in the woods. I don't care what you look like, because you're so nice and good and you're my best friend."
Trace sighed. The foal was too attached to listen to reason. He lowered his head and decided to give in. "Alright," he said, "I'll come to the party just for you. But I'm not talking to Pinkie Pie. Do you understand?"
Pipsqueak nodded. "I understand. You're not ready for ponies to see you, right? Will you ever show yourself?"
Trace looked out the window. "That is... something I can't really control. But if I ever get the chance, I'll show myself to them."
"Promise?"
The assassin cringed at the sight of his ward. The colt was using his endearment on him again. "I promise."
Pip smiled and held out his foreleg.
Trace moved closer so the pony could feel him and give him a tight hug.
"Thank you," said Pip, "I hope I get to see you one day soon."
"Yeah." When I feel like committing a slow and miserable suicide. "When is the party?"
"This weekend," Pip said.
"Alright." Trace let go of him. "Better get your homework finished. I'll be back in the morning."
Ponyville had a normal day the following morning. Ponies went about their usual business and did their everyday pony things. Everything was dull and ordinary, following a routine so closely, it was almost like clockwork.
Trace stood on top of a house beside the market street, learning the ponies' schedules, looking for abnormalities. He'd taken the day off from watching Pipsqueak in favor of learning more about the town. Resting his head on his crossed forelegs, the assassin lay on the warm roof and inspected every pony individually.
One pegasus mare stood out. She had a green pelt and a cyan mane with ice blue eyes; normal coloring for an Equestrian. What made her stand out so much was how nervous she acted. She was either up to something, or something or someone was after her; Trace knew the signs well. This wasn't normal anxiety, this was somepony trying to avoid contact with somepony else.
Trace focused on her and watched her as she went about her business and pretended nothing was wrong. She stopped at a couple stalls, bought some vegetables, and then left. Trace flittered from roof to roof, never taking his gaze off of her. At the same time, she seemed to become increasingly uneasy.
She ducked into an alleyway and hid behind a dumpster for a moment before leaving. Trace landed beside it and looked where she hid. The vegetables she'd purchased were laying on the ground. Trace climbed the wall and waited for somepony to come take the vegetables away, but nopony came. He continued to wait, taking note of the mare he saw in case this thing with the vegetables proved to be a dead end, so that he could observe her later and find out where she went and what she did after leaving her cargo behind.
After a couple hours, he checked the pile again. The only thing that claimed the vegetables was a swarm of tiny insects. Trace grimaced and turned to fly away. This was a new mystery, one that he would solve in due time. For now, he needed to meet Pipsqueak and go with him to Pinkie Pie's party.
Boring... Boring... Boring... Trace droned on in his head. Pinkie and Pipsqueak were making cheerful conversation with their 'imaginary' friends; Pinkie with Madame Le Flour, and Pipsqueak with Trace. However, Trace was standing on the ceiling, trying to keep his distance from Pinkie in case she decided she wanted to pretend she was touching him.
"Would Trace like another biscuit?" Pinkie asked.
Trace reached down and tapped Pipsqueak twice on the shoulder.
"Yes, he would," Pipsqueak answered.
Trace believed Pip would have said yes anyway, but Pip requested that Trace at least signal him yes or no from time to time so he wouldn't be playing without him.
The assassin's eyes started to flutter from boredom. This was a new form of torture. He'd always imagined that if he were ever captured by ponies, they may try using pain or forceful magic to extract information from him. He never guessed they would be so cruel as to make him watch a tea party.
Pipsqueak felt several nudges on his shoulder. "What is it?" he whispered.
"How much longer is this?" Trace asked.
"Just until we run out of tea," Pip assured his friend.
Trace looked at the tea set and frowned. "There's no tea. There never was any tea."
"We have to pretend it's all run out," Pip explained.
"So then pretend," Trace said sternly, "I have things to do."
Pipsqueak pouted at his invisible friend.
Trace grimaced and looked away. "Five more minutes, and then I'm leaving."
"OK."
"What'cha two talking about?" Pinkie Pie asked and then giggled, "You're good at doing voices, Pip. It almost sounded like you really had somepony there, but that's silly because nopony is there."
Pipsqueak jumped slightly and shifted his eyes around. "Uh, yeah, um... Trace just wanted to ask for some more sugar."
"Okie dokie lokie!" Pinkie took a spoon from an empty sugar bowl and pretended to add sugar to Trace's empty teacup.
The assassin muffled a sigh and sat quietly in the corner.
Having finally freed himself of Pinkie Pie's torture chamber, Trace sent Pipsqueak home and told him he'd be back later that night, and that he just needed to check something out. The little colt agreed and happily scurried off to meet his parents and tell them of the fun time he just had.
Trace, meanwhile, began his search for the mare he'd seen earlier that morning. The image of her was still clear in his mind, and he wanted to find out where she lived while it was fresh.
He silently stalked through the streets, weaving past the ponies who were oblivious to his presence. Being invisible all the time was becoming tiresome, and he wanted nothing more than to return to his tree, shed his cloak, and get a good night's rest.
But that would have to wait. He found his target happily chatting with several other mares near a well. As soon as he focused on her, her body seemed to tense up.
The pegasus' ears swiveled around, and her demeanor changed from cheerful to nervous. Suspicions arose in Trace immediately, and he started to move in closer.
"Uh, I have to go now, girls," she hastily said, "I'll see you all tomorrow."
Her friends bade her farewell and went their separate ways.
As Trace followed the mare home, she showed even more signs of fear. Trace could now smell her fear, and allowed himself a taste.
Fear, unlike love, did not need to be directed at a changeling for them to draw from it. But instead of drawing off the life force of the pony, the fear drew forth a negative energy. Most changelings found it disgusting, but to Trace, it was intoxicating.
He allowed himself just enough to get the high he was looking for, but took no more in case he should become impaired. If he allowed himself to become drunk with fear, he might drop his cloak and become visible to the world. That was not a risk he could afford to take.
Upon reaching her home, the pegasus was frantic. She slammed the door shut and locked it tight. Trace grinned to himself and slinked around the house. His suspicions had been confirmed, and now he was going to have some fun with this impostor; there was no way she'd be able to reveal him without revealing herself in the process.
He climbed up the outside wall and, making sure nopony could see, used his magic to unlock her window. Climbing in slowly, he silently made his way down the stairs where he found the panicked mare closing her window shades. He smirked directly at her, and she looked in his direction. Her eyes were wide with unrestricted shock.
"W-who's there?!" she shouted.
Trace stood still and remained silent, then focused on the spot beside her.
She looked confused and started scanning for her unseen observer.
Trace went down to the bottom of the stairs and stood right behind the mare, then looked at the back of her head.
She spun around and lost her breath. "Where are you?" Her fear was almost tangible now.
Unable to resist any longer, Trace revealed himself to her. "Boo."
The pegasus reeled back and fell flat on her flanks. "Y-you're... you're a--"
"Oh, drop the act, we both know what you are," said Trace, "Nopony could sense me watching them just like that."
The mare gulped and was engulfed in bright green flames. When they went away, a changeling sat where the pony once was. "Alright. You found me. But, why would you scare me like that?"
Trace's smile disappeared, and he glared death at her. "Cut the shit, hive pawn, and tell me where the pony you're posing as is hidden."
The other changeling shook her head. "I haven't hidden anypony. Why would you care, anyway? And... what's wrong with your eyes?"
The assassin's grin returned halfway. "So, you don't know about me, eh?" He began to circle her. "You never heard of the queen's master assassin?"
The changeling would have turned white if her chitin allowed it. "W-what do you want with me?"
"Tell me the truth," Trace said tersely, "and I won't bring your head back to the queen on a stick. Where is the pony you're posing as?"
"F-Fillydelphia," the changeling whimpered, "It's the truth, I swear it! I got this body from out of town. I've been living here for almost a year now. I swear in the name of Chrysalis!"
"So then, if I killed you now, and your original was still in Fillydelphia, nopony would miss her. They'd just think you were her and you moved back home."
The changeling scooted back. "Please, don't kill me! I've done nothing to betray the swarm! My loyalty is to the queen!"
"That's the problem," Trace hissed, "Your queen cares nothing for you! Your loyalties belong to an empty shell."
"Why would you say that?"
Trace glanced to the side. "Try asking her what she had done to her master assassin after he'd outlived his usefulness to her." He paused. "I won't kill you now; you may be of some use to me in the future. But know this:" He brought his face up against hers. "If you do anything to betray me, so help me, I will hang you by your entrails in the town square for everypony to see. Do. Not. Test. Me."
The changeling gulped again and nodded hastily. "I get the point."
"Good." Trace stepped back and turned invisible. "Remember, from now on, you belong to me. I will be watching you."
The changeling waited and listened. She raised a hoof and felt in front of her, but came into contact with nothing.
"Pipsqueak! Are you ready to go?" Pip's father, Shortstack, was waiting outside his son's room.
"Yeah, I'm ready." Pipsqueak fastened his saddle bag and rushed out past his father.
"Whoa, hold up there, kiddo," Shortstack said, "Aren't ya forgetting somepony?"
"Oh, um, I was gonna walk with Trace today." Pipsqueak looked at his father meekly.
Shortstack smiled and shook his head. "Really? Just you and Trace, huh?" He knelt down and put a hoof on Pip's shoulder. "You sure you're ready to take on the big world all by yourself, huh?"
Pip nodded confidently. "Sure, Dad. Nopony can bother me with Trace watching me, right Trace?" He looked over his shoulder, but of course, received no response from his invisible guardian. The little colt didn't wait, and went for the door.
Shortstack watched his son depart and sighed as his wife came to stand next to him. "Our little boy's not so little anymore, eh, Minnie?"
"No, he isn't," said Minnie, "You don't suppose he'll become to dependent on his imaginary friend, do you?"
"I don't think so." Shortstack shook his head. "He's just trying to tell us he's confident enough to go out on his own now. I'm sure he'll be fine."
"I hope so."
Trace stood on the ceiling, listening to Pip's parents talk. Something inside him tugged at him and made him wish he could tell them their son was being protected. For the first time in his life, he actually wanted to reveal himself to someone other than a fellow changeling. His logical side shook the feeling off and disregarded it, reasoning that it was too dangerous a feeling to keep. But still, he wondered why he was having this feeling at all.
Deciding it was something to think about later, the assassin crept into the next room, and snuck out the window, then flew to join Pipsqueak on his way to school.
He found his ward faced with two fillies he knew from before. Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon, the girls who liked to pick on him.
"Well, if it isn't the little mud flank!" Diamond jabbed, "Where's your imaginary friend today?"
"He's here!" Pipsqueak said bravely, "And what do you mean by mud flank? I don't have mud on myself."
"Just look!" Silver Spoon pointed to his rear. "It's just a brown spot that looks like mud."
"Makes sense to me," Diamond sneered, "Little Pip is as useless as mud, so it only fits that his cutie mark would be mud."
Pipsqueak shrank back. "I-I'm not useless as mud!"
"Maybe he's right," said Silver, "After all, at least pigs find mud useful."
Diamond sighed. "Yes, you're right. And Pipsqueak looks rather dry. Maybe he's useless as dirt!"
"I'm not dirt!" Pipsqueak shouted.
"Did you hear something, Silver Spoon?" Diamond asked, holding a hoof to her ear, "I can't hear anything over this mound of dirt here."
"I think I got some in my ear," Silver replied, "I can't hear anything either."
I'll give you some dirt in your ear, Trace thought as he grabbed a clump of earth from behind a tree and lobbed it with pinpoint accuracy.
The clump landed right on Silver's head with a loud thump.
"Ow!" She shook the dirt off and rubbed her ear, which now had dirt in it for real.
"Ugh, you're not supposed to really put dirt in your ear," Diamond chided.
"I didn't do it on purpose!" Silver shot back, "Somepony threw it at me!"
Right at that moment, another clump of dirt flew out and hit Diamond Tiara right in the face. The blue filly squealed in disgust and furiously brushed her face clear.
"Whoever did that is in for a world of hurt!" she growled.
As they went to look for the assailant, Trace flew to the other side of the path and hit them from behind. It felt different from what he was used to: simply killing his targets with a well-aimed laser, but it was still satisfying. Something about getting to see the reaction of his targets when they were hit made leaving them alive worth while, and it was very gratifying to bring such snobbish ponies down.
After several more shots, the girls had had enough.
"Ugh, this isn't over, Pipsqueak!" Diamond shouted, "We'll get you and your little hide and seek buddy back soon!"
The two fillies turned and ran away as fast as their tiny legs could take them.
"I don't know what the fuss is about," Trace said nonchalantly, "Earth ponies are supposed to like dirt, or so I hear."
Pipsqueak spun around to face the source of the voice. "Trace! Was that you?"
Trace chuckled. "Maybe."
The little colt lunged forward and landed flat on the ground. "Ow..."
"Uh, I'm over here."
Pipsqueak picked himself up and gave Trace a slower hug this time. "Thanks for protecting me, Trace."
"It's my duty, isn't it?" the changeling asked.
"Um, I don't know. Is it?" Pipsqueak asked.
Trace sighed and shook his head. "Never mind."
Pipsqueak let go and looked where Trace stood, his face showing signs of weariness.
The assassin noticed this right away. "Pipsqueak? Did you stay up late last night?"
"No," Pipsqueak replied.
Trace picked up no signs of dishonesty in Pipsqueak's voice. But the little colt was looking nonetheless drained. "Pip? Have you been feeling well, lately?"
"Um..." Pipsqueak put a hoof up to his lip. "Well, now that you mention it, I have been a little tired. Yesterday, during recess, a couple other colts asked if I wanted to play tag, which is my favorite game, but for some reason, I didn't feel like playing."
Trace's eyes widened in realization. His feeding off Pipsqueak, even though it was only enough to get him through each day, had already started taking its toll on the little colt. Soon, ponies would become concerned with his health, and with no medical problems to be found, his presence would be suspected.
"Pipsqueak," Trace said sternly, "I have to leave."
"B-but why?!" Pip cried.
"Because, there's something important I have to do." He thought he could relieve his ward's unhappiness if he came up with a reassuring story. "I think you may be getting sick, so I'm going to get you a special vitamin to make sure you stay healthy." He should buy that.
"A vitamin?" Pip asked, "What kind?"
"A very special kind," Trace replied, "It could take a while for me to find, though, so if I'm not back in a couple days, don't get discouraged. I promise, I will be back."
Pipsqueak looked down sadly. "I understand. You're trying to take care of me. But, if I get better by the time you get back, do I still have to take the vitamin?"
"Yes," said Trace, "I need to make sure you're one hundred percent. Now I'll stay with you today, just to make sure those girls don't pick on you again. But tonight will be the last you hear of me for a while."
The colt nodded. "Alright. I think I'll be fine, but thank you."
Trace hesitated, resisting the urge to consume the colt'sgratitude. "You're welcome."
Facade sighed and laid across her bed on the second floor. It had been a busy day at work, sorting out the letters that had come in from Canterlot. What had been most stressful for her was the royal decree that had gone into circulation.
The princess had written home from her stay in the dragon kingdom, and the entire land was put on high alert for changelings. If any changeling were sighted, they were to be brought in for questioning regarding the past assassination of Lord Brimstone, and anyling found guilty would be sent to the dragon king to be dealt with. The decree didn't say how, but Facade knew full well that it could only mean a merciless execution.
She felt to make sure nopony was able to see her before dropping her pegasus disguise and drawing the curtains shut with her magic. It felt good to get out of her pony body and stretch her real wings out, and feel the cool air flow through her large fetlock pores; sweating like a pony grossed her out.
A shifting noise drew her attention, but before she could get up, she felt herself being watched. She bolted upright, but found nopony in the room with her. Scowling, she relaxed.
"What do you want?" the changeling asked.
"I need information," Trace said.
"I don't know what I could tell you," Facade answered.
Trace shoved her onto her bed. "I don't have time for your games. I know you have been collecting love from this town. You must have a repository somewhere. Perhaps one of the hive's mining operations? I need to know where."
Facade grunted as she was roughly pushed back, but after hearing Trace's request, she laughed. "Oh, is the poor invisible changeling having trouble gathering love for himself?" Her laughter was cut off as she felt his hoof press against her throat.
"Where do you store your reserves?!" Trace demanded.
The female coughed. "I'm not telling you where! You think I'll betray the hive to you, you murderer?!"
Trace paused, and then chuckled. "Oh, so you know, do you?"
"Who else could it be?" Facade wheezed, "An entire mining camp slaughtered before anyone could escape? Nopony could get in long enough to do something like that unless they created their own spell to become a changeling. Even then, you need to know the password. Anyling who was captured would kill themselves before letting that information out."
Trace laughed loudly. "You're so sure of yourself! I find your arrogance in the face of death refreshing. But I have no intention of hurting anyling else. That little... incident... was simply my way of sending a message to our queen."
"Which was?"
Trace revealed himself so Facade could see the murder in his eyes. "To never cross me. That day was just a sample of what I could do against the swarm. Mark my words, if I wanted to, I could simply give the hive's location to the princess. The kingdoms are already on the brink of war. If Chrysalis, or anyling else, crosses me, I will make sure she and all her brood are wiped off the face of this earth."
Facade fell limp in fear. "You... you wouldn't! They're your family, too!"
The assassin scoffed. "Family. Does family send their own out to be executed for nothing? Does family get rid of you when you've outlived your usefulness to them?" He pushed harder on her throat, and brought his face closer. "I. Have. No. Family. Anyling who gets in my way is dead. Now," he threw her to the floor, "you're going to tell me everything I want to know."
Several miles south of Ponyville, an iron mine buzzed with the activity of ponies pushing carts around and carrying things in and out of the mine. Mercenaries wearing leather armor stood guard at key points and in a perimmiter around the camp.
Trace glared at one of them to test for attention, but was not noticed. So, they've employed ponies to guard them? He chuckled. Idiots. What could they do to stop me? They must have thought it was another pony who attacked them, perhaps in retribution for that disgusting dragon's death. He sat back and looked up. Maybe that means Chrysalis doesn't know I'm alive. No, I can't afford to go on that assumption.
He shook his head and stood up, then continued to survey the camp. This one was bigger than the last, and had several buildings. The cerebrate could be in any one; if he killed the wrong one, it could alert the whole camp. There was also a gate over the mine this time which he wouldn't be able to open without revealing his position.
Trace crept down closer for a better look, and stopped when he saw something glint in the light of the setting sun. He leaned down and saw a tripwire set in the dirt. Stepping back, he retreated into the brush and found a rabbit who was totally unaware of his presence. He hissed in its ear, scaring it into running out over the wire.
Its foot caught the thin string and the rabbit tripped over. Almost instantly, a jolt of electricity flowed into its body, roasting it alive.
Trace smiled. Very clever. But what traps could they have set in the air? Looking up, he spotted blotches of the sky that were darker than everywhere else. This time he scared a bird, and it too met an electrified death as the night-camoflauged storm clouds struck at the first conductor to enter their range.
The assassin grinned. One does not simply walk into this camp. He knew that flying under the range of the clouds would kick up dust, and surely that would be noticed. A distraction was needed.
Trace hunkered down and made sure his horn was covered in the brush. One of the sentry towers stood off to the side out of the way. He focused on one of the load-bearing struts, and with a kinetic slash, cut a gash into the wood. It was slow work, having to use small cuts to prevent the light of his magic from growing too bright and drawing attention. With the wood sliced in several places, the tower began to creak and groan.
It was now or never. Trace silently slinked forward to the edge of the camp. The wood started to splinter under the weight above it, and the first leg of the tower snapped. Several voices called out as the tower fell down, killing the pony on top of it in the crash. Enough dust was kicked up that Trace was able to flutter over the network of electric trip wires and land on the other side, safe and sound.
Feeling unusually sadistic, he tripped one of the scurrying ponies and watched them tumble into the wires and get electrocuted in front of him. The pony burst into green flames and reverted back into a changeling that sizzled on the ground. It was especially satisfying to Trace to find new ways of punishing the changelings who betrayed him.
Sneaking past the commotion, Trace started to hear the telepathic messages of the changelings.
Cerebrate! A sentry tower collapsed and one of our guards is dead. One of the workers got caught in the electric net.
Take care of our fallen brother, and tell the ponies their pay just went up. Let them take care of their own.
Trace used the confusion to enter the mine. Sadly, there were no stores of dynamite in this one, and from the looks of it, they really were digging for iron here, probably as a cover and a way to pay the mercenaries. There was something else different, too: the cerebrate's signals were stronger in here; she was probably overseeing something here in person.
"We've struck a rich vein, my cerebrate," a worker said from around a corner, "The ponies will gladly keep our secret for this much."
"What of the empathite?" the cerebrate asked.
"Almost fully charged," the worker replied, "We will be ready to ship them off soon. Speaking of which, what should we do with the prisoners?"
Trace's ears perked forward at the mention of prisoners. He snooped in a bit closer, keeping in mind not to look at the changelings he was spying on.
"They're no mercenaries; no ammount of riches will buy their silence," the cerebrate said, "Kill them all as soon as we're ready to go."
The assassin grinned to himself. He'd stumbled upon a live cache; a place where changelings kept the original ponies they had replaced in stasis. He briefly considered leaving them to their deaths, but then he thought about the consequences of their rescue. Having so many originals returned would uproot a number of changelings and make the swarm suffer that much more. Besides, what fun was there in dealing death if he didn't do it himself?
With all the guards about, getting the ponies out alive would be tricky. The first step, of course, would be cutting off communications. With the cerebrate right there, it was too easy. The last part involved finding the prisoners and leading them out; doing so with too many guards still alive would be impossible.
Trace moved through the tunnel and silently killed off every one of the confused changelings. There weren't many; most of them were out living the lives of their captives. However, the few on the surface had noticed the silence of their cerebrate, and soon after, several mercenaries came down to investigate.
"Someone's killing the bugs," one of them said, "Fan out, find the bastard, kill him."
"Hey!" one of the mercs called, "I think this one's their leader."
"Damn!" said another, "There goes our pay!"
"Change of plans then," said the first, "These bugs pay us all the iron, or our enemy becomes our friend."
Over your dead body, Trace thought. He climbed the cieling until he was behind them, and quickly killed them all off.
Unfortunately, stealth would not be so favorable against those on the surface. Instead, Trace found the empathite store and dug in, relishing in the flavors of all the collected love. He fed until he was full, then took even more, supercharging his magic. When he couldn't possibly hold anymore, he flew out of the mine and burst into the air.
Taking the others by surprise, he started firing down on everyone in sight. They quickly retaliated with magic and crossbows, but in the end, they were firing at thin air as Trace rounded back and shot them from behind.
"We're surrounded!" A pony tried to escape, and Trace grabbed hold of his head. The mercenary cried out in fear, but was quickly silenced by Trace snapping his neck; sometimes it felt so much better to forego magic and kill his prey with his bare hooves.
The remainder was dealt with within minutes, and at last, Trace was alone, standing in a field of death. He now had free access to a love store which he would gather in time. Now, it was time to strike another blow against the swarm.