//------------------------------//
// Chapter 44: The Final Trail 
// Story: Daring Do and the Hand of Doom 
// by Unwhole Hole 
//------------------------------//

Sleep came with dreams. It was an unavoidable consequence of a long life. Daring Do, in her time, had lived through more peril and adventures than could be had even by unicorns with their half-millennium lifetimes. This came with its share of regrets- -and those were always the first things the dreams summoned.
At first she considered herself lucky. In this particular dream, she was floating through the void. Not the debris-filled region of interdimensional space that Flock inhabited, though, although perhaps something contiguous with it. Something far higher, from where all the debris that might ever have been there had sunk out into other places long ago- -save for a few strange and unspeakable things that could never fall from the endless and eternal emptiness.
It was the place Daring Do could sometimes glimpse if she were teleported. In those times, it terrified her. In a dream, though, it was peaceful. She could float in the dark and emptiness, freely rejoicing in the fact that there was nothing to disturb her. Even her consciousness began to fade. 
Then, suddenly, she heard it. Knocking. The sound was simple, and distant at first, a low tapping against some far away object, perhaps through and endless expanse of deep water. Yet somehow it was terrifying. 
Daring Do sat up from the cold floor. She looked around, and although the world was black- -yet somehow lit in a way that she did not understand- -she had the perception that she was somewhere. A room, perhaps, or a cell. As she slowly stood, she realized that one wall was blacker than the rest. 
That wall radiated menace. Yet, for an unknown reason, Daring Do was drawn toward it. She stared into it, as if looking through a window into a pool of pure ink. That was an apt description: she was sure that what lay on the other side was not dark void, but some kind of thick, opaque, black substance. 
The sound came again, and this time Daring Do saw what was making it. She wished she had not. A metal hand emerged from the darkness, its pointed fingers tapping gently against the wall. The taps were almost imperceptibly light, yet Daring Do understood that they should have been crushing. That if the hand had touched her, she would have been shattered beyond repair, even in a dream. Yet the wall prevented it from reaching her. 
“You can’t reach me,” she said. Her voice echoed strangely- -or, rather, failed to echo. She had a sense that she was in a room, a square, cubic room, but there were no walls that she could perceive. Whether it was a prison, something meant to protect her, or a metaphor, she did not know. 
“Too…far…”
The voice seemed to tear through Daring Do’s head- -yet was spoken from her own mouth. Unlike her own voice, it seemed to echo limitlessly, both through her cell and through the endless inky void beyond. 
Daring Do understood, though not consciously. Something peered back at her from the emptiness. She could see the outline of a tall, thin shape. Yet all that was visible was its hand. 
“Who are you?” she asked it. As she spoke, she wished she had stayed silent.
Another pain through her head, one that nearly made her scream. “Don’t make me- -Don’t make me- -Remember…” 
Anger flared within Daring Do, and the figure watched, not understanding but clearly interested. She felt its interest echoing through her, and she did not know why. 	
“Why are you following me?!”
A long pause. Then a response. “I want…” 
Despite the pain, Daring Do called back to it. “What do you want? WHAT?!”
Only horrible screaming came in return. Then, a cry from Daring Do’s own lips.
“TO BE BORN.” 
Daring Do clutched her head against the pain. An image came to her. One she could not comprehend. It was too horrible. 
Others came as well. Tall, thin creatures uncorrupted by the machinery but already insane as they planned the End of Times. A dying planet covered in crystal. An empty void. Then the first image again, this time clear, even as Daring Do’s mind pushed out the sight of the black shape looming before her. Her will was strong enough to not understand, to not read the words that no one had ever written upon the ebony surface. 
“Why do I know you?” cried Daring Do. “I’ve seen your world! It died! You killed it!” she caught her breath. “Why?”
A long pause. Then a simple, agonizing answer. “To evolve.” 
“But you failed.”
Another pause. “Endless. Endless. ENDLESS. ENDLESSSSSS.” More screaming. “NOTHING LEFT…” 
The black image appeared to Daring Do again, and the screaming instantly stopped. Daring Do wished it had continued, because she now understood. What she saw were shadows that even this thing did not remember. They were part of an era that no longer concerned it. It had not been alive in a very, very long time. Yet living flesh persisted within it, beneath the metal and foul magic that maintained its being. 
“Be born,” it said, now quietly. “Be born. Please. It must be born. Please…please…”
Then, in a different voice, one spoken from the black ink beyond the wall. “Destroy me before I am born.” 

Daring Do sat up suddenly and silently. She was sweating and confused, and she froze when she saw a pair of eyes staring back at her. They belonged to a gaunt alicorn who stared at her, watching, before turning and departing through a solid stone wall.
Only then did Daring Do breathe. She did not know if that was part of the dream or not, but hoped that it was. Whatever those alicorn were, she did not like them. The emotional response was not so much fear as a mixture of disgust and, strangely, horrendous pity. 
She stood slowly, expecting her body to creak and for her joints to be swollen and frozen. Yet, as she rose, she encountered no resistance. Even though she had slept on a cold, hard floor with nothing but her winter clothing as blankets, her body was painless and well-rested. It was almost frightening. Instead of an old mare a few years out from mareopause, she seemed to have the body of a teenager. 
Shaking off the sleep, Daring Do put her coat back on and departed the room where she had slept. She had not had time to inspect the facility before sleeping, but she highly doubted that there were any better accommodations than perhaps a large aviary. Being so tired, she had just fallen asleep in the first empty artifact-holding chamber she had found. The impression it gave her on waking was unpleasant; she felt like an artifact that had been stored away, meant to be contained apart from Equestria for all eternity. Like the unicorn mare in the enchanted frost. It might have explained why she had dreamed that she was in a cell.
Daring Do paused. She remembered part of the dream. Being in a cell, and pain in her head. No more of it came to her. 
She ignored it and continued down the long corridor. This part of the castle was low and silent, and most definitely deep underground. Flock seemed to organize his artifacts by size, and this region contained a number of the smaller ones. They lined secured shelves on one wall, as well as shelves in various small rooms like the one Daring Do had slept in on the other side. 
Most of them gave off an exceedingly unpleasant malevolence- -in some cases literally. Daring Do stared at them as she passed. A few came from cultures she recognized, or had been transferred down several throughout the ages, with each adding modifications. She saw grotesque ceremonial knives, skulls carved from crystal, black gemstones filled with swirling masses that almost looked like screaming faces, among other unpleasant artifacts. 
She stopped at one long shelf. The contents were not unpleasant, and Daring Do did not know why she stopped at first. Then she realized how familiar they were. The rack contained a number of identically sized, round objects that appeared to be made of clockwork. All of them were made of the same whitish metal, but most of them were badly corroded. Some were charred, crushed, or otherwise incomplete; one had a hole straight through the center. 
They were the same type of machine that Flock carried. Except that these were dead.    
A sudden motion caught her attention and she turned sharply. As soon as she moved, though, the motion stopped, leaving her eyes to scan the shelves and alcoves. She waited.
It moved again. This time Daring Do saw where, and she approached a small niche that contained a globe-sized magically projected sphere, one that was maintained by a system installed in the alcove and linked to the rest of the machinery in a somewhat haphazard way. 
Daring Do approached the sphere. She leaned forward and looked inside. It was translucent, and after a moment her eyes were able to discern a tiny metallic shape. One that looked like a tiny pony.
The figurine suddenly moved. It raced up the side of the sphere, leaping toward its equator and toward Daring Do before it collapsed on its back and slid down. It would lie there for a moment, then pick itself up, wander around aimlessly, and eventually try again. 
As it moved, Daring Do could have sworn she saw tiny mechanical parts within it. Regardless, this was not a clockwork automaton. It was a golem. A ridiculously tiny golem, perhaps the smallest she had ever seen. She was not even aware that such delicate workmanship was possible.
The tiny golem jumped again, and something seemed to tickle the back of Daring Do’s mind. She had seen a figurine like this before. She reached for one of her pockets, feeling through her coat. She still had her notes, her broken whip, and a few supplies- -but not the tiny die-cast wizard that Dulcimer had given her. 
Suddenly a scream rent the air. Before she even realized what she was doing, Daring Do was already halfway down the hall, propelled by her newly youthful and arthritis-free wings. 

Daring Do arrived within seconds into one of the larger warehousing rooms. As she did, the scream was already rising in pitch. For a moment, she though it was coming from Rainbow Dash, but as she entered, she saw Rainbow Dash lying on the floor, rubbing her head. 
“Rainbow Dash! What ha- -”
Flock was suddenly thrown past her. He was once again wearing the dial in his chest, and projecting pale yellow magical shield around himself.
Before Daring Do could ask him what was happening, another barely articulated shriek filled the room. A shrill and heavily accented voice screamed across the room.
“YOU WILL NOT HURT ME AGAIN!” 
There was a flash of white, and then a flash of sparks as a rune-covered sword struck Flock’s shield spell. It wavered, but it did not break. White then turned and struck again, her red eyes flaring with rage. Flock once again parried, but poorly. It was obvious that White, unlike her sisters and brothers, had never been trained to use a sword. She just swung it wildly and nearly blindly. Against any competent opponent, she would be on the ground already if not worse. Flock, however, was far from a competent opponent. He, likewise, had no idea what he was doing, and seemed to have no idea how to move as a unicorn.  
“Abomination!” he yelled. “That’s a vedmak sword, do you have any idea what that will do to me?!”
“It will return to you what was done unto ME!”
She slid past his shield and struck him in the leg. Black ichor spilled out, which quickly evaporated into magical shadows. Crows burst forth from the wound, flying wildly and desperately trying to escape the injury inflicted by the silver sword. Flock screamed in a distinctly avian tone and burst into crows completely. They flew through the air and reformed on a higher ledge. He was breathing hard and, despite being fully rebuilt, clearly in pain. 
White spread her wings and hefted the sword. It was quite clearly too heavy for her; Darning Do doubted she would be able to fly holding it. In case she cold, though, she stepped forward. 
“White!”
White turned to her, raising the sword. Her red eyes met Daring Do’s violet ones, and both ponies gasped in surprise. “M…mother?” said White.
“White? You- -you can talk?”
White’s hoof went to her throat, where the scars had been from the surgery that had deprived her of that ability in the real world. “I can here,” she said. “But…but I can’t see…”
“Yes. Yes you can. You just have normal eyes. Like I do.”
White blinked. “This…this is how you see?”
Daring Do nodded. 
“I…I didn’t realize. I never had my own eyes before.”
Something rushed through the air behind them. Rage suddenly returned to White’s eyes, and she raised Sweetie Drops’s sword. Daring Do did not need to know that Flock had landed behind her. 
“Get away from him, mother,” warned White, stepping forward with the heavy blade in position for a clumsy block. “I won’t let him hurt me, not again, and I won’t let him hurt you or Pretty-Dash either!”
“Oh come on!” wheezed Rainbow Dash from across the room. She struggled to stand, and managed to do so despite missing much of her heart and lungs. 
“White,” said Daring Do, blocking her path to Flock. “Please, something’s wrong, I can tell, but I don’t understand. You can talk now. Can you tell me what’s wrong?”
White’s eyes narrowed. She pointed the tip of the rune-sword at Flock’s face. “This- -this thing! This BAD thing! He took me, here, to this place where I can talk, and he- -he did things to me.” She shook her head, trying to hide the fact that tears were welling in her eyes. 
Daring Do turned sharply to Flock. “Is this true?”
Flock stared with his bird-like eyes. “Yes,” he said. “Although I assure you it was nothing unseemly. Horribly painful, admittedly, but it was important to the acquisition of knowledge. Also I found it fun.” 
“FUN?!” screamed White. “FUN? I can’t sleep alone! Bad nightmares! Not without seeing metal, or feeling my bones being- -being- -” Unable to articulate what she meant, she held up her hooves, showing new and strange scars. Then she lifted her white hair, showing similarly fresh scars. 
Daring Do glared at Flock. “Why?”
“I already told you. Because I found it interesting. And fun.”
“Fine.” Daring Do pushed White back. “Then you can find the Hand of Doom on your own.”
Flock’s eyes narrowed. “What?”
“You heard me. Take us back. To Lyskymm. To anywhere, I don’t care. Not here.”
“You’re joking.”
“I’m not.”
Flock’s face contorted in a way that Daring Do was sure a normal pony’s would be completely unable to. “Are you that thick? You can’t complete this task without me!”
“I’ll find a way.”
“I helped you! I saved your life! I gave you access to the carved stone, I was the one who did the math to create the map!”
“And you were the one who tortured this girl!” Daring Do stepped forward, causing Flock to retreat. His eyes grew wide. Despite all his power, it was more than apparent that he was a coward. “You hurt one of my friends, one who was vulnerable and weak. What gives you the right?”
Flock leaned forward. The dial in his chest clicked menacingly. “Genetic superiority.”
Daring Do passed her hoof through his face. His head burst into a plume of crows which circled and rapidly reassembled back into Flock’s hideous face. “No,” she said. 
She turned to White, who was staring at her, unsure. Despite this, her eyes were filled with what seemed to be deep admiration. “We’re leaving,” she said. “Find Sweetie Drops and give her back her sword. You shouldn’t use a weapon like that unless you’re prepared for the consequences.”
“Y…yes, mother.”
“And I’m not your mother.”
White nodded, even though it was clear she did not understand. She allowed Daring Do to lead her away, toward the opening to the room. Rainbow Dash followed, still unsure about the whole situation. 
“She’s not even a real pony, you know,” said Flock. 
Daring Do suddenly grabbed the sword from White. She pivoted sharply and stomped toward Flock, raising the rune-covered blade. Flock saw this and smiled. He raised a hoof, and Rainbow Dash suddenly cried out. A translucent magical disk had appeared around her neck. 
“Don’t be too hasty,” he said, still smiling. “I don’t know what happens to a pony if they’re fully manifested in the alternate phase and get…injured.”
“Don’t listen to him, Darning Do! There’s no way he would- -ERK!”
The collar had tightened, and Rainbow Dash pawed at it.
“Try to be quiet, Rainbow Dash,” said Daring Do. Flock loosened the spell, allowing Rainbow Dash to breathe- -but also making its edge far sharper. Rainbow Dash did not see that part, but Daring Do understood what he meant. That the next time it would not be simple strangulation. 
“Will you hear me speak?” 
“I have nothing to say to you.”
“Then listen. I once had a body. A beautiful, perfect body. And when I was alive, I was a scientist. Which is why things like her,” he pointed at White, “draw my curiosity.”
“You mean fillies who don’t even have their cutie marks?”
Flock glared. “Don’t be vulgar, it doesn’t suit you. Or maybe it does. But it does seem  you’ve noticed.”
“Noticed what?”
“Her lack of cutie mark. Among other things.”
“Then call her a late-bloomer. It happens.”
“You don’t understand.” Flock was becoming increasingly annoyed. “Questlords. They are unicorns. Always and invariably. When I saw these things, these albino Pegasi, I began to wonder. To grow curious. That very rarely happens at my age.”
“So what?”
“You never realized it? How each of them is nearly identical? Perfect white, red eyes, colorless manes? Did you ever stop to wonder what they are?”
“They’re ponies. Unlike you.”
Flock hissed. “No,” he said, regaining some fraction of his composure. “They are not. They are synthetic organisms. I stripped out her chromosomes. Counted them. Slowly.”
Daring Do shivered. “And?”
“Forty pairs exactly. Five more than a normal pony and just over half of a unicorn. And her mitochondria? They’re not Pegasus. They’ve come from a unicorn. As has her bone marrow.”
“You’re lying.”
“I rarely lie. And not when it concerns my research. You’ve seen the scars on her body.”
“Scars you left.”
“Wounds in this world leave no scars in the real one. No. Those were left by somepony else. Her entire body is filled with implants. Metal, mostly. It’s not just her eyes. And even stranger, there are signs that her growth rate was artificially accelerated. I would estimate that she is no older than a year.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“No,” said White. “He is correct. I am currently eight months and five days old.” 
Daring Do turned to her, wide-eyed. “W…what?”
White nodded solemnly. “I do not know how we are born. I was not adequate to work assisting Mother. But he is not wrong. We are born from Mother, and from her machines.” 
Daring Do looked from Flock to White, and then to Rainbow Dash. Despite wearing a magical collar, Rainbow Dash just shrugged.
“Don’t look at me,” she said. “But to be honest I’m kind of digging the drama. Oh, and you have a really cool accent, White!”
“Thank you, Pretty-Dash.”
“Don’t call me that, though, it sounds so stupid.”
A voice called from behind them. “Can one of you applebuckers help me?” growled Sweetie Drops.
Daring Do turned, and gasped in horror at what Sweetie Drops looked like in this world. Rainbow Dash nearly spilled her oats. 
“What is it?” said Sweetie Drops, pulling herself in on her front legs. “I can’t feel my legs. The back ones. I don’t know why. Why can’t I…” She looked down and grew pale. “Oh buck,” she whispered. 
“It seems they’ve taken your spine,” said Flock. “As well as almost everything below it. How interesting. They must really find you amusing.”
“WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY LEGS?!”
“Nothing. You’re out of phase. You’ll be fine when I return you to your own world. Or, rather, as soon as Daring Do decides what she wants me to do.”
“Me?” asked Daring Do, turning. 
“Yes. I’m getting calmer. I don’t like swords being swung at me. I’m adverse to being injured. I’ve never liked it, even when I was mortal. Yes. You can leave. Because I’ve realized you’re not necessary.”
“Not necessary? But you said- -”
“I only needed the map from you. I have it. I know where the Hand of Doom is. I am capable of retrieving it myself. If necessary.”
“Then why haven’t you already done it?”
“Because it puts me at undue risk. I am a mage. I study the arcane, create texts and gears. I am not made to fight. I would lose in a fight with this failed clone, let alone with the better ones- -or even a real blooded Questlord. Not to mention the traps. I could use help.”
“I’m not helping you,” said Daring Do. “Because you hurt White.”
White put her hoof on Daring Do’s shoulder, and shook her head. “No,” she said. “I didn’t realize that he was critical to the mission. That you had this planned. I hate him, and I am afraid of him. But not when you are here. You make me feel better. If you order me to go, I will go. And I will protect you. And Sword-Horse and Pretty-Dash.” 
“I’m not Pretty-Dash,” muttered Rainbow Dash.
“Sword-Horse sounds pretty cool though,” said Sweetie Drops. “And, for the record? This is really, really uncomfortable. I think I’m missing a stomach. Or maybe have an extra. The faster we can get back to ANYWHERE the better.” 
Daring Do paused, thinking. Then she turned back to Flock. “Fine,” she said. “Take us there. To the Hand of Doom. But if you try anything- -”
“You will be the first to know.”