//------------------------------//
// Chapter 12. Proverbs 16:18 
// Story: The Ponies who Played with Fire 
// by A M Shark 
//------------------------------//

Chapter 12

"Pride goes before destruction, and an arrogant spirit before a fall."—Proverbs 16:18





"Hey, kid!"

At the sound of the voice behind him, Highflyer froze, fighting the urge to throw a hoof up in front of his face.

"You better get home!" said the pony who had called out to him. "It's not safe out here!"

"I-I know!" Highflyer squeaked, trying to disguise his voice by pitching it higher than usual. "I'm hurrying!" He mentally grimaced. Normally he was quite proud of his croaky voice but now it was just one more hindrance in his attempt to pass himself off as a much younger colt. Ironic that he had spent so many years trying to bury any vestiges of the tiny adorable colt he had once been—chopping off his wavy mane and tail, covering his small body in tattoos, and hiding his still youthful features under a mask—only to now wish his efforts to reinvent himself hadn't been quite so enthusiastic.

He began to move forward again, wondering if the pony would call out to him once more, but when that didn't happen, he chanced a quick glance over his shoulder.

When he had first reached Ponyville several moments ago, the streets had seemed deserted, but as he snuck further into town, he noticed a couple other ponies (or at least what appeared to be ponies) hurrying between the buildings. Fortunately the weather had gotten cold enough that nearly everypony seemed to be wearing some form of winter clothing, and his oversized cloak didn't look too out of place. And so far—apart from that pony that had just called out to him earlier—he had been mostly ignored. Still he kept his head down, and did his best to avoid eye-contact. He longed for his mask. Even with the extensions tumbling over his forehead, and the cloak's hood pulled far forward, he hadn't felt this exposed in years.

Finally he reached Scootaloo's house, which seemed to be shut up as tightly as the other houses. He glanced back again to make sure no ponies were observing him, then dove into the shrubbery of a nearby house. Feeling a bit more secure in his new hiding place, he peeked out at Scootaloo's house again. It looked undisturbed, but was that a good sign or a bad one?

Without really thinking about it, he reached up and began twirling an extension around his hoof as he peered at the house, trying to decide on his next course of action. Despite all the plans he and the other ponies had discussed back at Fluttershy's cottage, there had simply been too many variables in each of their intended missions to plan for every possible scenario—

At that moment the extension he'd been winding around his hoof came free of his collar and fell in front of him like a pink cord.

Oh swell, High, he mentally groaned. You haven't had a mane in over a decade, and you're already twiddling your hair again! It was a habit he had struggled with ever since he was a colt. He had tried to quit when he realized how cutesy it made him look to other ponies. But it seemed that whenever he started thinking, his hoof came up to scratch at his head, and that scratching always turned quickly into hair twiddling. It got to the point where he finally gave up and buzzed his mane down to a crewcut that was impossible to twiddle. Later on he had ended up shaving his mane off completely to allow more ventilation under his masks, and his habit of messing with his mane had stopped. But now it seemed he hadn't kicked the habit as completely as he had once thought. However as he looked down at the twisted-up extension, an idea began forming in his head.

Still keeping his hood up, he tugged the rest of the extensions out, and twisted them together with the one he had already pulled out. He braided them into a make-shift rope and gave it several experimental tugs. When it didn't break, he tucked it into the strap of his saddlebag, and pulled out his mask. Slipping it back on under his hood, he suddenly felt like himself again.

Keeping the hood still pulled forward, he quickly checked that no one was around before jumping out of the shrubbery, and sprinting to Scootaloo's front door. Checking around him once more, he rapped on the door.

"Loo?" he called out softly. "Kid, you in there? It's Highflyer."

"High?" said a voice that sounded like Scootaloo's. "Hey, come on in."

"Is it just you in there?"

"No, Rainbow Dash's parents are here too."

Alright then, Highflyer thought. Time to spring this possible trap.





Meanwhile, deep in a tunnel of Foal Mountain, Discord's three former prisoners, now minus their pony disguises, had rejoined their queen and fellow changelings. Now all of them, the semitransparent crowd and their solid black leader, were huddled together with their eyes trained on the tunnel's entrance.

That was until Discord's three former prisoners all let out startled cries. Glowing bands had appeared around their necks. These bands pulled themselves free and morphed into the shape of glowing moths before flying up into the air. Several feet above the crowd, the glowing moths seemed to strike an invisible surface and vanished.

Then a sinister chuckle reverberated around the tunnel.

"He's here," Chrysalis breathed.

"How observant of you," said the mocking disembodied voice.





Loosening the cloak clasp at his throat, Highflyer grabbed a hoofful of cloak hem and held it up by his face as he pushed the door open and stepped inside the house. He saw Scootaloo sitting on the couch next to an older blue pegasus mare who he guessed must be Rainbow Dash's mother. Then two huge forelegs were flung around his neck from behind! They hauled him off his hooves, and as he dangled in the air, the forelegs began tightening mercilessly around his throat, as if intending to crush it!

But the attacker's forelegs had not only wrapped around Highflyer's neck, but around his hoof holding the corner of the cloak as well. Which was just what the tiny stallion wanted! Grabbing the free corner of the cloak in his other hoof, Highflyer yanked it upward, forcing the two forelegs away from his throat in the process! He dropped to the floor, leaving his pre-loosened cloak behind and darted around behind his attacker, a big periwinkle blue pegasus stallion with a multicolored mane identical to Rainbow Dash's. Before the big stallion could turn to face him, Highflyer leapt up and drove both back hooves into the other pony's spine. The force of the blow caused the stallion to stumble forward, and as his head snapped back reflexively, Highflyer bounced up a second time to land on the other stallion's shoulders. Small as he was, his added weight was still enough to keep the bigger stallion off-balance. As they fell forward, the masked pony yanked the braided extensions out of his saddlebag strap and whipped them around his opponent's neck. When they hit the ground, the big stallion tried to get up, but Highflyer twisted the ends of the braid together, tightening it into a make-shift garrote. The big stallion fell back, choking and pawing at his throat.

"Stay down, buddy!" Highflyer growled in his ear.

"Let him go or she gets it!" shouted an unfamiliar female voice. Highflyer looked up to see the blue mare now holding Scootaloo in a choke-hold almost identical to the one he had been in just seconds ago.

"Windy, what are you—?" Scootaloo's question abruptly turned into a gasp of pain as the older mare used a wing to strike her hard in her bandaged ribs.

Then Highflyer's attention was yanked back onto his own opponent as the bigger stallion tried to get up. "I said stay down!" He punctuated this by giving the hair-garrote a warning tug.

"And I said let him go!" The older mare followed this up with a second blow to Scootaloo's ribs; this one producing a choked sob from the younger pegasus. Highflyer's eyes flicked back up to them. Scootaloo was trying to loosen the choke-hold on her neck, but she wasn't in full-blown fight mode yet. Her expression was equal parts shock, pain, and confusion, all of which seemed genuine, but how could he be sure? He had announced his name earlier in hopes that any disguised changelings would jump at the chance to finish him off. Just as the stallion he was currently holding down had. The fact that Might-be-Ray's-mom was threatening a pony she likely normally regarded as a second daughter made Highflyer suspect she was also a disguised changeling. But what about Scootaloo? Was it really her, or a third changeling playing the victim to trick him into releasing his current hostage by trying to come to her aid?

This dilemma was suddenly taken out of his hooves when a green blur shot into the room. It was Tank in his flying gear! He hurled straight toward the two mares. They ducked but he managed to snag one of the older mare's wings in his beak!

Highflyer didn't get a chance to see what happened next because at that moment the other stallion surged to his feet, taking the tiny wrestler with him. Highflyer frantically tightened the garrote but the big stallion had managed to get a wing tip in between the rope and his throat. And Highflyer could feel the noose being forcibly widened! To hinder this, he began kicking furiously at the other pony's wing joints. The big stallion let out a choked cry of pain and tried to smack Highflyer away with his free wing, but couldn't quite bend it back far enough to reach his much smaller opponent. He backed toward the wall, and went up on his hind legs, evidently intending to squash Highflyer against it. But before they hit the wall, Highflyer jumped off the bigger stallion's back and, still hanging onto the garrote, swung around so that he was now in front of his opponent. The big stallion gave him a startled look right before Highflyer pulled up both back legs and kicked the other stallion in the head. The big stallion growled and tried to grab at Highflyer, unwittingly moving away from the wall in the process, but Highflyer swung back out of reach onto the other stallion's shoulders. The big stallion tried to slam him against the wall a second time, and once again Highflyer swung around to the front. But this time the big stallion was ready for him and clouted Highflyer in the face!

There was a sharp pain in Highflyer's mouth! He tasted blood, and his brain registered the fact that the blow must have reopened the cut he'd gotten on the inside of his mouth back when he had bitten that first changeling the day before. Then he lost his hold on the garrote and found himself tumbling through the air to crash-land on his back. The pain in his mouth was immediately eclipsed by the pain of his injured wings and back striking the floor. Groaning, he tried to roll over onto his feet, but the bigger stallion was already on top of him, grabbing his vest front, hauling him up, and slamming him spine-first into the nearest wall. Highflyer cried out as this second blow sent fresh waves of pain through his back. He struggled to breathe as the huge hoof pinning him to the wall began crushing his chest. His back legs kicked uselessly at empty air while his front hooves scrabbled against the much bigger one on his chest, trying to force it away. But it was clear the bigger stallion was the stronger of the two. Chuckling at his opponent's helplessness, the big stallion threw a punch at Highflyer's head. But the masked stallion threw up one of his forelegs, knocking the incoming blow off-course enough that it slammed into the wall beside his head.

"Why, you—!" Furious that the tiny wrestler had managed to avoid the punch even while pinned to the wall, the big stallion leaned in closer, putting more of his weight behind the hoof crushing Highflyer's chest. He could hear the tiny stallion straining to draw breath, and the masked pony's kicks now seemed much feebler than they had earlier. Confident his next blow wouldn't miss, the big stallion drew back his free hoof again...

And Highflyer spat a mouthful of blood straight into his eyes!

The big stallion recoiled with surprised disgust, and when his hoof jerked away from Highflyer's chest, the masked stallion did not let himself drop to the floor, but rather wrapped his own forelegs around his opponent's much bigger one. As the big stallion tried to rub the blood-and-saliva mixture from his eyes, Highflyer swung his back legs up, and wrapped them around his opponent's foreleg as well. Shimmying backward up the limb until his back hooves came into contact with the big stallion's shoulder, Highflyer braced himself against said shoulder, and yanked backward. This caught his opponent off-guard, and the big stallion over-balanced, landing on his back. Highflyer was now lying on his back with one of the big stallion's wings underneath him, and one outstretched front leg above him. Highflyer groaned. Even with his wings splinted and bound tight against his sides, all this slamming about wasn't doing them any favors. The one thing that kept him going was his wrestling training; the countless times he had forced himself to get back up and continue working a match, even when all his body wanted to do was curl up in a fetal position until the pain went away. Now, as Highflyer felt the huge foreleg being pulled away from him, that very same conditioning kicked in. He tightened his own tiny forelegs around the big one, trapping it in a wrestling hold known as a front-leg-breaker. Once again planting both back hooves against the other stallion's shoulder, he began pulling backward. The big stallion thrashed about, trying to get free, but Highflyer forced himself to block out everything but pulling back on that captured limb. Then there was a sharp snap and his opponent howled in agony! Highflyer shoved the now-limp foreleg away and rolled onto his feet.

The blue mare still had Scootaloo in a choke-hold and was trying to free her wing from Tank's beak. But the tortoise held on, the propeller on his flying gear buzzing furiously as he tried to pull the blue pegasus away from the orange one. Suddenly light flared from the blue mare's forehead and a similar aura appeared around the flying gear. The gear was magically wrenched off Tank's shell and flung aside. It sailed high into the air where it smashed against the staircase with an audible crunch. The blue mare whipped her wing about and this time she succeeded in throwing Tank off! The tortoise hurled across the room, struck the far wall, and tumbled to the floor.

However, the mare didn't have any time to savor this triumph because at that moment Scootaloo threw her forward in an over-head judo throw.

Nice move, kid! Highflyer mentally cheered as the older mare landed on her back with a thud. Then he darted forward, swung his little body up in the air, and drove both hocks (the sharpest points on his body) into the older mare's gut. Her breath went out in a whoosh. In the meantime, the big stallion had been getting to his feet while at the same time trying to keep his weight off his injured front leg. While the mare was still trying to get her breath back, Highflyer darted around behind the stallion, and leaped up, kicking him right in the injured shoulder so that he crashed down on top of the downed mare. While the injured ponies (Disguised changelings, he mentally corrected himself.) lay in a groaning pile, Highflyer turned to face Scootaloo. Tears were leaking from her screwed-up eyes, and she was rubbing tentatively at her sides. After all that had happened, he was pretty sure she was the real pony, but just to be certain...

Wincing several times himself, he hurried over to where Tank had landed. The tortoise was on his back, paddling his legs in the air as he tried unsuccessfully to right himself. He looked a bit rattled, but his shell seemed to have protected him from serious physical injury. At that moment, Highflyer both heard a gasp, and felt a tail brush against his rump. Spinning about, he saw that Scootaloo had backed into him. Looking beyond her, he saw Not-Ray's-parents slowly untangling themselves while shooting the two pegasi murderous looks.

In split seconds Highflyer's brain reviewed his options: Fight or (non-aerial) flight? If he were facing the changelings alone, he would have picked the former, but with Scootaloo and Tank also in the equation...

"Up the stairs, kid!" he whisper-shouted, wrapping one foreleg around Tank, grabbing one of Scootaloo's hooves in his free one, and running toward the stairs on his hind legs. He was almost to the top when he felt something seize his hind legs and yank him off them. As he pitched forward, Tank squirted out of his grasp and went tumbling haplessly across the top stair. Highflyer felt himself being dragged back down the stairs, and grabbed wildly for the banister to halt his descent. He heard Scootaloo scream behind him and, realizing he had let go of her hoof, looked down to see her also clinging to the banister below him with her hind legs encased in the same pale blue light as his own!

Straining against the hold on his legs, Highflyer lunged forward, seized the shattered remains of Tank's flying gear on the stair above him, and flung them down the stairs in the direction of Not-Ray's-parents. He heard a pair of startled shouts and the hold on his back legs suddenly disappeared. Then he and Scootaloo were racing up the stairs again, Scootaloo scooping up Tank in the process. They dashed into Scootaloo's bedroom, where Highflyer slammed the door behind them, and locked it. Looking over at the young mare, he noticed Tank wasn't struggling to get away from her, which was the final proof he needed that she was the real Scootaloo.

He drew a deep breath. "Loo, you've probably guessed this by now, but those ponies weren't Ray's parents. Or even ponies for that matter."

Scootaloo nodded shakily. "Yes, but how'd you figure that out when you first came in?"

"I can't really explain everything right now, but long story short, Discord didn't murder Ray or Pinkie."

"What?!"

"A bunch of changelings did it and framed him to keep us ponies distracted. They attacked Derpy's family, they had plans to capture me, and now they want me, Dinky, and Screwjob dead because we know too much."

"But how—?"

At that moment there was a hard blow on the other side of the door. It shuddered but didn't burst open.

"No more time to explain," said Highflyer. "I came here to stop you and Tank from getting captured and that's what I'm going to do."

Somehow... he added in his thoughts as he took in their surroundings. He was still wearing his borrowed saddlebags. Maybe he could fashion them into some sort of weapon to hold off the changelings while Scootaloo snuck away with Tank. Some of these thoughts must have shown even through his mask, because Scootaloo began looking about as well.

"The window," she breathed. "We could climb out the window while they think we're still trapped in here. I could use one of my workout shirts to carry Tank on my back."

As she grabbed up one of said shirts, Highflyer noticed a couple of dumbbells, and a water bottle lying nearby. He had a brief memory of suggesting she should start pumping iron. Apparently she had taken his advice to heart.

And unknowingly given him an extra battle strategy.

The door shuddered from another blow.

"Loo," said Highflyer. "You go out the window. I'll hold those changelings off as long as I can so you can get away."

Scootaloo paused in tugging the stretchy spandex shirt over her head. "But you're wings, you're hurt—"

"I'm used to working hurt, kid!"

The door shuddered again, this time straining audibly, and Highflyer forced himself to soften his voice. "Look, there's no time to argue. Head for Fluttershy's cottage, and when you get there, say the word 'Kestrel.' You got that?"

"Kestrel?" Scootaloo repeated, albeit a tad uncertainly.

Highflyer nodded. "Then if you hear the word 'Whistler,' it's safe to go in. If you get any other response or no response at all, get yourself away from there and find a place to hide.

"And whatever you do, keep Tank with you. He can sense the windigo-essence in these changelings, so he'll try to stay away from them if he can. The fact that he hasn't tried to get away from you is how I know you're not a disguised changeling."

Scootaloo looked down at the tortoise who had been staying near her ever since she had set him down to get her shirt. "He did try to hold me back when I first went to let Bow and Windy in..." she murmured in dawning realization.

With the banging on the door getting more furious and flashes of magic showing around its edges, the two pegasi hurried to the window and opened it.

"Be careful, kid," said Highflyer. "There's no telling how many ponies out there the changelings have replaced so far."

Scootaloo looked back at him with Tank tucked into the back of her shirt, so that the tortoise seemed to be riding her piggyback. "You too, High."

Then she was out and climbing down the wall. Highflyer shut the window behind her. Better not to give the changelings too many clues as to her escape route.

Shucking off his saddlebags, he took out the jar of apple peelings—which miraculously hadn't broken in the earlier tussle—and replaced it with a couple of the dumbbells. Then facing the door, he chugged some water from the bottle to clear the blood from his mouth.

Okay, ya punks, he thought as he spat the water out. Let's see what you can do now.





Discord could sense Chrysalis drawing furiously on her subjects' power, filling herself with it. Good luck with that. At a flex of his magic, the changelings were all yanked away from their queen and each stuffed into a brightly-colored (and magically-reinforced) package heavily trimmed with bows. After all, no need to deliver them to Celestia with their dignity intact. Considering their queen had just graciously taken away their power for her own use, there wouldn't be any chance of them breaking out of their clownish prisons any time soon. And now to wring a confession out of that queen.

"We don't have any quarrel with you, Discord," Chrysalis sounded scared as she looked around wildly for him. "This was between me and Twilight Sparkle!"

"And I might have believed that," came the sarcastic reply. "Were it not for the pesky way you tried to frame me for murder."

"I'm serious! Both those murders were to hit Twilight where it would hurt the most!"

"And the attack on Derpy's family?"

Chrysalis seemed to fumble at that. "Well... okay, that was just because you stayed with them, and we couldn't have them voicing any possible doubts about—" Her tone suddenly went from sheepish to accusatory. "Why do you even care?! You spent the past year kicking any goodwill the ponies might have held for you into the compost heap, so what difference does it make if they think you killed a few of them as well?"

"I prefer to earn my own animosity, thank! You!" At those words a tape recorder popped into existence, floating in midair. "Annnnd your confession has been duly recorded!"

The changeling queen snarled at being tricked. "That won't do you any good! I've already got the rest of my changelings in place, and we're going to unleash a wave of anarchy that will make your reign of chaos look like a small foal's temper tantrum!" Her face blanched, apparently realizing she might have gone too far.

His contemptuous laugh echoed around the tunnel. "You! Outdo my chaos?! Ho, ho, let's see you say that to my face!" And with that, Discord flashed into existence right in front of her. He was upside down, holding a sign that declared: Direct your voice here, with an arrow pointing down at his face. He was sure that at the sight of him, the furious queen would attack, and he was ready for it. Ready to repel the attack back at her and make her look absurd into the bargain.

Go ahead, do it! he mentally urged her. Oh, the look on her face when he—

"Now!" Chrysalis shouted, and Discord's glee suddenly turned to confusion when the expected attack didn't come. Instead the changeling queen's magic level plunged down to the barest reserves without firing off so much as a single attack.

What—? Before his mind could even finish forming the question, Discord felt a huge surge of magic behind him, a second before that magic punched into his right shoulder! The force of the blow was so great it sent him whirling tail-over-teakettle in midair. His shoulder on fire with pain, he struggled to right himself and a second blast caught him in the left hip, spinning him around. Now he was facing the parceled-up changelings. But one of them had burst out of its prison and unleashed the blast that had struck him! Through his curtain of pain and shock, he sensed another surge of magic behind him, and realized it was coming from Chrysalis a moment before a blast greater than either of the other two struck him right in the head! The pain in his hip and shoulder was blotted out by the pain in his head ... before his world went black.





Scarcely had Highflyer emptied his mouth, then the door broke open. Not-Ray's-mom was in the lead and Highflyer met her by swinging one end of the loaded saddlebag. The blow knocked her down, and he swung the saddlebag back around to strike Not-Ray's-dad as well. Before either changeling could recover, Highflyer was raining blows down on both of them, striking their backs, sides, anything to ensure they wouldn't get up. Fortunately they didn't seem to have either his high pain tolerance, or his experience when it came to working through it. Still Not-Ray's-dad tried to swipe at him with a hoof that suddenly transformed into long talons.

Guess they don't care about trying to keep up the pony act now, Highflyer thought, grasping each of the saddlebag-encased dumbbells and wrapping the resulting loop of the saddlebag around the swinging claws. Yanking the claws toward him, he rolled underneath them, sending them into the mare's side. Not-Ray's-mom screamed in pain, and Highflyer released one end of the saddlebags before ducking out from under the big stallion and leaping up onto the bed. From the bed, he dropped the loop of the saddlebag straps down around the changelings' necks, and jumped back down to the floor. He shifted one end of the strap from his hoof to his teeth, reached around the base of one bed leg, grabbed that section of the strap in his hoof again, and cinched the straps around said leg.

The stallion changeling had managed to pull his claws from the other's side, but when he tried to get up, he found himself fastened to the base of the bed leg by the saddlebag looped around his neck. The other changeling's attempt to get up was met with identical results.

Highflyer saw light flash from their foreheads and swiftly snatched the dumbbells out of the saddlebags. "Try grabbing anything with your magic, and I'll beat the both of you unconscious with these." Despite their earlier success as an impromptu flail, the little dumbbells were far from an ideal bludgeoning weapon, considering both floggees were still conscious.

The big stallion must have guessed this, because he started to sneer, "You couldn't do it with those—" but stopped mid-sentence when Highflyer pressed the weighted end of one dumbbell warningly against his forehead just under the multi-colored hair.

"You wanna find out?" As much as he'd rather not go through with the messy business, he wouldn't hesitate if they forced him.

Apparently this was crystal-clear to each changeling, because they made no move to stop him when he backed away. Still keeping his face toward them, he moved to retrieve the jar of apple peelings from its hiding place.

"You won't get away with this!" the mare snarled.

Highflyer spat, partially to clear his still bleeding mouth, and partially to show his contempt at this threat. "Yeah, enjoy telling your queen you got your tails kicked by an injured pony less than half your size. I'm sure she'll be so proud of you."

"All your posturing didn't do Ray any good, did it?" said the stallion.

Highflyer froze at that.

"Yeah," said the mare, joining in. "You might have won this battle, High-Flyer," she emphasized his name so that it almost sounded like an insult. "But nothing you do will ever bring old Ray back."

Highflyer felt his lips pull back from his teeth. He had developed a pretty tough skin when it came to insults (one of the side effects of having Screwjob as a best friend) but hearing that nickname—that special nickname he had given Rainbow Dash and that he alone used—coming out of their mouths, got to him in a way no insult to himself could! With Rainbow Dash dead, that nickname was all he had left of her!

"Don't you dare use that name! Nopony calls her that but me!"

"Just try and stop us from saying it," the stallion taunted.

Highflyer was about to march right over and do just that. But the look of triumph that flashed across the changelings' faces as he made a move toward them caused him to halt. Considering he had just incapacitated them, and warned them he could hurt them further, they logically shouldn't be trying to goad him. Most ponies might not have noticed this, but Highflyer did because it was a tactic he had used many times himself: egging an opponent into attacking you, and then revealing your trump card.

So rather than getting any closer to them, he snatched up the jar of apple peelings in his mouth and leapt out through the broken door.

"Running won't do you any good!" he heard them shout after him as he slid down the banister. (He didn't want to risk taking a tumble down the stairs with both his mouth and front hooves occupied.) "We've already got the changelings we need in place!"

When he reached the bottom of the stairs, Highflyer dropped the dumbbells to the floor before jumping down himself. He spat the jar into his now-free hooves and unscrewed its lid. Tipping his head back, he pulled his mask away from his nose and dumped the apple peelings inside, shaking a bit to get them settled against his forehead. Not the most enjoyable way to carry things, but with the saddlebags currently doing duty as neck-cuffs, he might easily lose the jar if he needed his hooves and mouth free. And Fluttershy had given him the impression that the apple peelings were more important than their container.

"Just give it up, pony! You're too late anyway!"

I don't do giving up! Highflyer mentally shot back as he released his mask, allowing it to snap back into place against his face. Grabbing up his cloak from the floor, he swept it on, pulling the hood over his masked head. Snatching up the pink hair garrote (which he felt would be an easier-to-conceal-and-carry-not-to-mention-practical weapon than the dumbbells), he bolted out the front door, and started heading for the train station, feeling that familiar urge to keep fighting—to succeed if only for the satisfaction of proving his detractors wrong.

But oh, how he hoped they were lying when they said he was already too late.





Chrysalis stepped cautiously toward the downed draconequus. He lay sprawled out face-down on the cave floor, his only movement a spasmodic twitching in his fingers. Smoke and the smell of charred meat rose from his shoulder and hip, while her attack had left a huge wound sparking magic right between his horn-and-antler. Being hit with that much magic would have killed a pony and it seemed to have done the same with the draconequus. Still it would be best to make sure he was completely out of the picture. She fired up her magic once again, and aimed her horn at him a second time.

Stone began appearing on the end of his tail and creeping up his body. In seconds he was completely encased and Chrysalis stepped back to study her work. Satisfied, she poured most of her remaining magic into her imprisoned subjects and they used it to burst out of the presents.

"Well done," she told them, before looking back toward the stone draconequus. Though she and her subjects had been forced to use up quite a bit of their magic to take him down it had been well worth it. Going up against him had been extremely risky, but now that it was over, she felt almost giddy, thinking back to how he had bought first her supplicating act, then her furious one. A smile tugged at her lips as she remembered the orders she had given the three changelings Discord had interrogated. They had told him the truth about how she could draw on all their power to accomplish spells ordinarily out of her power range. But they had carefully neglected to mention that she could also take that collected power and channel it through any one of them if she chose to. She had been counting on Discord to expect all the big attacks to come from her alone, and he had fallen right into the carefully laid trap.

All in all not a bad way for things to play out.

Granted there had been some setbacks. First Applejack had stumbled upon those dead ponies. Her sudden disappearance soon afterward had been worrisome, but it had also sown much distrust among the Apple Family members. Distrust her subjects had fed on those ten years until they had enough power to start that blizzard. The blizzard that would isolate the ponies as they tried to wait it out, and make them easy prey for her subjects when the changelings came disguised as friends and loved ones needing shelter. It had all been so perfect.

Who would have guessed that Fluttershy would end up befriending Discord and that his accepting her friendship would result in a blast of magic powerful enough to break the blizzard!

At that thought Chrysalis felt her smile slipping, as she looked back down at the draconequus. She had not considered him a threat initially. That stone-cold heart of his that loved nothing but himself should have left him completely defenseless against their windigo powers. Should have—it had left him defenseless! But then that sniveling pegasus had to go and mess it all up!

"What did she see in you?" she demanded even though she knew he couldn't hear her. "You never gave her any reason to care for you. You treated her as less than dirt, so what prompted her to try and save you?!"

"Your highness?" said one of the changelings. "What do we do with him now?"

Chrysalis shook her head, remembering where they were. "Leave him here. Let the ponies go on thinking he's still out there, waiting to attack them at any moment. It will make them cling even more desperately to their loved ones." It will also simultaneously give us more fear to feed on through our windigo-essence, and love to feed on as we keep replacing more ponies.

She turned away from the draconequus. With that particular obstacle out of the way, they could get back to focusing on the other important phases of her plan.

"We'll go give ourselves a quick recharge, and once that's done, I want you out looking for that young unicorn and those two pesky wrestlers. Kill them at the first opportunity you get."

"Yes, your majesty. And what about the mailpony and her older daughter?"

"Ah, yes. Leave them at the hospital for now. Since the staff probably think Discord will go there to finish those two off, they'll be heavily monitored. If they suddenly died, it might look suspicious. Anyway they're only a danger to us if the unicorn wakes up and remembers what happened, so keep an eye on her at least. At the first sign of her waking up, we can arrange an accident, but for now they're more use to us alive than dead. As news of their conditions gets out, it will make every pony's fear of Discord even worse, and will keep them focused on him."

She chuckled. "That is, until we've captured so many of them that they'll be powerless against us when we finally reveal ourselves.

"Oh, and when you find those two wrestlers and that unicorn, don't bother dumping the bodies some place where they might be found. Just arrange for them to vanish discretely, and let the ponies spin whatever horror story scenarios they can to explain those three disappearances."