It was chaos. Absolute chaos, and the fire that burned along the upper reaches was not helping matters.
Changelings ran, panicked and terrified. This had started as a normal defense, something they had dealt with before. Attacks on the hive were not uncommon.
A thousand griffons coming at the same time however, was not. Eager and ready and strong. They swarmed the swarm, but one in particular was terrifying them.
An old griffon who was swinging a sword like it was nothing, cleaving through anything in his path and not even flinching when he was hurt.
It was like a nightmare, and the hive was screaming as griffons hunted changelings down, and killed them, the griffons too large and strong to be defeated by one or even two changelings.
And in the end of it, the hive was burning, every changeling dead, and the griffons were gathered nearby, waiting. Waiting for Stonebeak to reemerge from the hive.
He said that he was looking for something.
Stonebeak cut his way through the hive, hearing the fire burn around him as he carved deeper. He was searching for Hag, and though he didn’t find her, he found something else.
Her bag, discarded, and the crown, half out of it.
He stared for a moment, the worst coming to mind. He went to it, and picked up the crown and bag, looking carefully for any trace of blood.
He didn’t find any. There was no trace of what happened to Hag at all and he drooped.
Had he failed her?
Far…
“What?” he said. Had he heard something?
Very far…
Stonebeak hesitated. He had definitely heard that. A faint whisper nearby.
Wear… it…
He stopped, and then glanced at the crown he held. Were…
Were the whispers emanating from it?
The hive shuddered as it collapsed slightly, the fire burning away the supports. It grew hot, and smoke began curling into the deepest chambers, where he was.
Wear… it…
He stared at it for a long time. And then, slowly, carefully, reverently, he set the crown atop his head.
His vision shifted, and he found himself in a plain of dark grey, mist swirling under his claws. It was empty, but for one thing:
Every dead king that the griffons had ever had. All forty five of them, ranked from the first to the last, and he knew the names of only a few. He stared in awe, and they stared back, unmoving. He tried, but found himself unable to speak. Something stopped him.
The hag has been taken far. one said, no indication of speech visible as he spoke.
To the pony’s kingdom. said another. Each one spoke in turn.
Canterlot, where the changelings gather and conquer.
Save her, save them.
Or it will be for naught.
For if they claim that prize…
Then nothing will stop them. Not even our greatest might.
Cripple them before they have a chance to gain it.
Prove yourself the warrior.
You are already wise.
You already fear the responsibility.
You already fear the failure.
In every other way, you are ready.
But just one last thing is needed.
Just one more battle.
But you must do it alone, and without aid.
In a place unknown.
Against a great many.
Wielding our blade.
Wearing our crown.
Holding your honor close.
Remembering what we once stood for.
Remembering honor even against the honor less.
Fighting with all you have.
Killing any and all who dare to stop you.
Then, Stonebeak… if you prove yourself in this last way…
Then you will have made yourself a glory.
You will have made a foundation for the empire to stand atop.
You will lead them all back to the right ways.
You will rebuild the empire, and make it anew.
You will see your dreams given life.
Or you shall see hope die.
Save her.
Save them.
Save us.
Save everything.
One last battle.
And we will find you worthy.
Worthy to wear our crown.
Worthy to lead our people.
Do this for us.
For them.
For you, and you…
You, old Stonebeak…
You shall be called king.
The griffons outside waited nervously. Most of the hive was on fire now, and it was falling in on itself, the fire consuming it from the inside, and still Stonebeak had not emerged.
“…Should we go and look?” one of the armored ones asked.
“It’s too dangerous. Look at the smoke; going in would be done blind.”
“But Stonebeak…”
With a shuddering rumble, the hive collapsed completely, a great pillar of fire rising as it fell.
The griffon flinched back, and shielded their faces with their wings form the fire and the smoke.
And when they looked again, it was all gone, a burning wreck.
They all stared in shock and horror. It had been a great victory, over an enemy that had troubled them for some time, and troubled their neighbors. It was something to be proud of, something that was finally theirs, and not something long past.
And yet…
The one who had roused them had been taken. The one who rekindled their fire was gone.
A great many of them, most of them in fact, felt weak. Felt like it had been for naught. Many felt like it was worthless to continue.
Until one youth, barely an adult, gripping his perch with a strength to crush the stone, whispered, “No…”
“No!” he yelled, taking to the air.
“No, I won’t let it! I won’t!”
The others turned to see the young griffon flying high, angry and enraged.
He turned to look down at them.
“I will not allow this effort to go to waste!” he screamed. “Even if he is gone, I will not let his memory die with him!”
“He wanted us to make ourselves new! Gave us a chance, dragged us from the pit that we buried ourselves in!”
“Even if he is gone, I shall stand tall! I shall become what he wanted to see, even if not one of you can bring themselves to!”
The others watched. Watched and thought. He stared at them, not one joining him and his fire dimmed. They saw him slow.
Then one cried out, “We shall try!” The rest nodded, making a choice.
“We shall remember!”
“We can change!”
“Time is all we need!”
“Together, as one!”
“Together… together, we shall try.”
They all agreed. Knew what to do, despite not really saying it.
None of them had the fire to lead. Not one had the strength to bear that burden.
But not one of them dared to go back to their old life. Even if it might never reach the old glories, they would change.
Clean their lives, rebuild their towns. Spread the word, and make everything ready.
And then they would wait.
Wait for one who could lead.
One who could bear the burden.
One who they would live and die for.
One who would bring them to glory.
One who could inspire them to great acts.
A griffon, strong and wise and proven.
One who they could call king.
Stonebeak stirred, and opened his eyes. He was high up on a peak.
He didn’t know how he arrived there, but he saw the crown lying on the ground in front of him.
He stood up, and before he did anything else, he placed the crown on his head. Then he looked, feeling the kings watching him.
Far below him, he saw a city. A castle, and it swarmed with changelings. Like a dark fog, they littered the sky and ground. He knew that Hag was inside that swarm.
He reached, and felt the sword on his back. He pulled it free, and readied himself. No armor. an old griffon. One against an uncountable swarm.
He knew what he had to do.
He took flight, and roared his greatest roar to the air before diving toward the swarm.