The clock was ticking down. Flock, Daring Do, and Rainbow Dash were speaking a significant distance from the vandrare, although they each had an instinctive sense that despite the time dilation it was watching them intently. In its mind, it immediately recognized the one with the golden wings, and also saw one that was badly deformed by improper use of magic. In its mind, it reflected that such magic was pointless. The type of creature that it was had no soul, and it saw no use for one.
The room outside of held other ponies, although they did not interest it as much. Several meters away, Softwings and Zel were both leaning on White for support, as both had been injured. Sweetie Drops came behind them, her eyes now almost completely red. Distantly, she understood what the black blade was trying to do to her, and that it took an enormous amount of energy to wield it. She had enough, though, and she refused to give up hope, even as she saw the monstrosity slowly raising its hand within Scarlet Mist’s spell.
It was only Caballeron, though, who dared to approach the bubble. He hated the thing inside, and what it had caused to happen. He hated the way it seemed to be staring at him, hungrily watching as numerous synthetic eyes followed him behind its opaque mask. More subtly, he hated that he had contributed to this outcome, but he refused to allow himself to consciously think such a thing. Instead, he just felt a simmering discomfort that was all that remained of his shriveled, withered conscious.
The creature, though- -if it could even be called that- -was not his concern. Instead, he was approaching the looming masked semi-unicorn that kept it contained. Her ethereal robes had nearly vanished, with what remained looking like little more than rags. The red, leather-like armor she wore beneath was still bright but was already collapsing in places. She was burning from within, and hardly seemed to care.
“Argiopé,” he said, his voice cracking. He was so very afraid, but once again, not of the thing trapped in the magical dome. This would normally be the time he fled, running for his life, but he could not managed to make his legs work, except to move toward the wizard he hated even more than the vandrare. “Argiopé, I know you’re in there.”
“She is not here,” said Scarlet Mist. “Only I.”
“No. No, I refuse to believe you. She has to be in there.”
“Her memories, perhaps.” Scarlet Mist sounded oddly calm for a mare that was in the process of dying- -until Caballeron suddenly made himself feel sick when he concluded that SHE was not the one dying. The Masque of Red Death would surely survive, and it would pass on to the next pony willing to put it on. And so it would go on for eternity, earning its name in a futile search for its no longer existent body. “I can remember every moment of her life. I comprehend her rage, her sadness, her fear. There is a great deal of it here. And much of it centers around you.”
“So you know me.”
“I know you as well as she did, yes. I can recall that you paid her little attention except when you needed her, and were only kind when you desired something. That otherwise you would yell and hit. And the many times you looked upon this body with disgust, knowing what she truly was.”
Caballeron winced again. He was glad Rogue was not here to see this, but in a way, he wished he was. Rogue always knew the right things to say. At this point, even Withers would be better at it than him. And that was a horrid thought. “Is it too late to apologize?”
“Yes. She is already gone.”
“Well, then, I’m going to anyway. Because this might well be my last chance. So listen carefully, because I don’t want to bother repeating this.” He puffed out his chest, trying to gain some level of confidence, but Scarlet Mist barely acknowledged it. She did turn her head slightly, though, all while keeping up the continuous flow of Argiopé’s life-force into the time bubble.
“Then speak, earth-pony.”
“Argiopé, I…”
“NO!” cried Rainbow Dash from the far side of the room.
Caballeron was shaking, but he forced himself to stay still. To remain calm. To speak as he forced himself to speak. Honesty was a new phenomenon to him, but perhaps if he had been honest with his father so long ago, he would not have lived in the shadow of his family’s shame for so long. And there would never be a chance to have that conversation again.
“Argiopé,” he repeated. “In all honesty I have no idea how you feel for me.”
“Felt,” corrected Scarlet Mist, but allowed him to continue.
“I don’t know if you were just hungry or if you actually cared. And…” He paused. As difficult as being honest was, admitting mistakes was harder. “…I treated you poorly. She’s right. I was cruel, and I was disgusted. Blinded by vanity. Can you believe the irony in it?” He laughed softly. “A mare who did nothing but try to appeal to me, and I was too much of a wicked fool to see beyond.”
“Your point?”
“My point is that I do care.” Caballeron took a breath. “Maybe not as you want me to. Perhaps, I cannot love you. Not really. But I don’t know. It hardly matters. Because I do respect you. Or I tried to. As a colleague, as any of the ponies who have helped me get this far.” He paused, and lowered his voice. “Although, to be completely honest, you are the only competent one I have found so far. The rest are dunces and steeds.”
“Where she still here, she would be heartbroken, I’m sure.”
“Well she shouldn’t be,” snapped Caballeron. “Argiopé, you’re fired.”
Scarlet Mist’s rapidly fading body shook slightly. Scarlet Mist herself did not seem to notice, but Caballeron most certainly did. He smiled, as if he really had told the joke.
“Because it is not professional. I am a gentlecolt, after all. Conflating romance and occupation always ends poorly.” He looked past Scarlet Mist at Daring Do, who was now looking into a large, ancient book. “I know this form experience.”
“Your point is moot. You will never see your friend again.”
“Perhaps not. But if I should, if I were to have that one more chance, well…I would like to pursue it from a different approach. One where she does not work in exchange for love, but can attempt to gain it all on her own, if she is willing.”
Scarlet Mist’s body tremored again. This time she felt it. The gears in her spell ticked suddenly, and the vandrare’s hand seemed to suddenly shoot upward two inches before once again slowing to a crawl.
“Stop,” she said, turning her head, as if trying to clear it. “I do not understand. What you are saying cannot be comprehended. It is nonsense.”
“No,” said Caballeron, removing his watch from his hoof. “Not by you. But I think Argiopé knows.”
Scarlet Mist’s eyes turned to the watch. “I know what that is,” she said, her voice beginning to seethe with anger- -and with distant fear. “A phoenix star. One you’ve been carrying since the beginning of this. Waiting to use it, no doubt. An object of incredible magical power. Were you saving it for this? To finally use it on the vandrare? Or perhaps on me?”
“I do not keep it because it is a weapon,” said Caballeron, softly. “I keep it because it was given to me by a pony that once…mattered to me. Deeply.” He turned it over, and Scarlet Mist saw the inscription. Something inside her mind began to crack. The words written there burned her more than any ancient runes could have.
“To a friend,” it read.
“No,” she said, now turning her head sharply from side to side. “You cannot- -you CANNOT.” She let out a low, agonized groan and took a step back. “Not again- -NOT AGAIN! I don’t understand, why? WHY?!”
Caballeron laughed softly, and put the watch around Argiopé’s wrist. “If you have to go,” he said, “know that I will remember you fondly. And that I wish you could have stayed.”
Scarlet Mist let out a low sound, a gurgle that no pony could have made. Her consciousness was on fire, burning from something she could not comprehend, but she did not scream. She had screamed last time, when Penumbra Heartbreak- -later known as Mi’Amore Cadenza, and even later as Cadence- -had removed her, and she had never forgotten the disgrace. Yet, in all that time, she still did not comprehend what it was that allowed them to resist. It was beyond her capacity. She was not whole.
One of the hooves- -what she thought of as her hooves, even though her real hooves were somewhere else, or possibly did not even exist anymore- -reached up to her. It was shaking and as pained as she was, but she could not drive it away. The hoof grasped the base of the Masque of Red Death, and began to pull.
“No!” screamed Scarlet Mist, suddenly. She was no longer able to control herself. “PLEASE NO! I don’t understand! I DON’T UNDERSTAND!”
Then came a different scream. A higher one, but one that sounded more triumphant than enraged. The Masque creaked and held on for its life, but Argiopé was stronger. She forced it away- -and then severed it form her entirely.
The Masque of Red Death dropped to the floor. It bounced once, spun for two or three revolutions, and then lay still. Argiopé, alive but completely devoid of energy, collapsed. Caballeron, as much a gentleman as he was a criminal, caught her.
And, as these two things happened, the time-spell dissolved and finally collapsed. The vandrare stood before them, watching- -and now fully complete.