//------------------------------//
// Starchild 
// Story: The Sacrifice 
// by Blackhaert 
//------------------------------//

The wind swept through the barren wastes, a harsh foreboding land made of rock and sand. Ash came down gently, as if it was the first floating flakes of winter. There was no green to be found with all the soot that gently floated down from the greyed skies, and perhaps if there was any green to be found in this forsaken place, it had no doubt been lost to the ashes of thousands, brittle bones blackened upon these rocky hills. The clouds slowly darkening as evening crept over the skies above, the rocky outcroppings became almost pitch black in color. Save the wind blowing ash through the various cracks and crevices winding throughout the hills, it was silent, a silence that was as if it was vigil, for the many that had fallen in the past few days. 

Amongst the chitinous plates of the enemy, laid scorched pieces of armor. Rent swords, beaten pistols, halberds, shattered rifles, and many more worn weapons laid scattered among the bodies of their wielders, seemingly bereft of any purpose now that their masters have been broken. 

A snap of bone broke the silence, angry and sharp, followed by the crunching of boots on gravel, resounding with painful recollection at the stillness of the mass graveyard. Seemingly in a breath later, a small growl could be heard. A figure, garbed in a hood that hid her upper face, save her irises, which glowed with a fierce purple color, betraying her arcane capabilities. The figure’s hood also served as a scarf, glared ruefully over the badlands, cursing herself. Her leather armor was a simple, dark gray, and well worn, with gauntlets, greaves, a series of plates forming her right pauldron, and a breastplate, with a simplistic long lavender kama lashed to a belt held with a silver buckle with a six-pointed star, surrounded by five more smaller stars, engraved upon the buckle. The belt also had four thick scrolls lashed to it, within easy reach in case a quick casting was needed. The kama was crushed into the ash and dirt as Twilight collapsed on the ground, a single silver ornamented pistol held in a black holster attached to the back of her belt, nestled amongst the arcane scrolls. The Sun shone upon her purple skin as she felt the warmth of the Sun upon her face. 

Twilight, glaring over the desolation, recalled why she had been sent here: to aid the Royal Army of the Shattered Crown. The battlefield had been teeming with the enemy: chitinous insectoid bipedals that loosely resembled mortals: the Hive. The Hive had been able to mostly hold the desolate battlefield in their favor. As such, the Royal Army had begun to retreat, as defeat drew near. Then Twilight had appeared in a white flash of teleportation Magic. Everybody on the battlefield knew what that meant, the battle was not to be lost. 

She had been sent to unleash her Magic upon the enemy. Having just mastered a classic third-class spell, she let the Magic sigils form and begin to pluck the strings of the weave. She had pulled together the stable solar Magic she typically had used for her spells, but for some reason... Twilight narrowed her eyes as she reviewed the memory. Twilight had missed a sigil, and had felt her violet Magic flood the spell, taking on vast power. Pure Magic, chaotic and volatile. The fireball that had been formed was wild and explosive, radiating immense Magical power, and more accurately resembled a particularly devastating ninth-class spell Twilight had read of. 

Twilight sighed, content that she had at least killed every last Hive in sight. Her self-analysis now completed, Twilight huffed, blowing a strand of her errant navy-blue hair from her face. Some Disciple she was. Twilight realize there were tears on her face and dried them; the spell had taken all of her concentration just to maintain control. Twilight hardened her heart to the thousands of lives she had extinguished in less than six seconds. She began to focus upon her meditations, to draw in her expended Magical power, but if she had to admit to herself, the meditation was to calm her nerves more than anything else. That amount of power was honestly frightening, which is why she often relied on solar Magic, the young mage realized. She felt the familiar call of darkness, that blasphemous Black Magic. It was calling her away, as it always had. She ignored it, as she began to sense in her expended power, drawing in her eager Magic, only to clamp down on it, and let it never escape. 

The Royal Army had barely managed to retreat before her devastating Magic had landed upon the battleground and combined with the losses accrued from the fighting with the Hive, the Royal Army had been decimated. But also, thanks to Twilight, the Hive was now non-existent in this area. Ultimately a win, but Twilight cringed at the thought of incinerating her own. Her hands shook as she clenched them, trying to drive the fear and adrenaline coursing through her veins away, as the Solar Magic began to once again suffuse her form. She felt the Magic of her mentor throughout herself and couldn’t help but recall a few pleasant memories of her younger days. Her eyes trailed over the distant over the Macontosh Mountains, and the returning army set for Canterlot. 

Her eyes narrowed to slits as she heard light footfalls approaching behind. A dark silver blade, almost black, marked with gold iconography reminiscent of the Solar Queen, flashed with warm Sunlight into existence as Twilight whipped around and held the blade aloft with a practiced grace, and felt herself seize the familiar Solar Magic, a small golden sphere of preparatory Magical energy in her other hand. Realizing it was dusk, Twilight cursed herself, the Solar Magic beginning to falter as the Sun began to set.

“My, my, Disciple.” The words were drawn out, as Twilight felt fear run ice cold down her spine, followed by rage. The Scion of the Hive, Crypsis, stood before her, a Hive-twisted hand cannon in claw, pointed in her direction. He was bipedal, like most Hive Twilight had seen, but was slight in form, his large wings camouflaged to resemble a black hooded shawl, with the edges of his disguised wings uncannily resembling red stitched fabric. His eyes where alight with the green Magic common to the Hive’s mages, creatures known as Hiveminds. The rest of his slight frame draped in clean and tailored black leather armor, dull iron buckles glinting as the moon began overtaking the eastern horizon, under the command of Celestia, the Solar.

Twilight recalled that it was the Hiveminds that could actually shapeshift, despite the popular train of thought that the Hive were all shapeshifters. Crypsis’s chitinous hands and face were the only details revealing that he was indeed of Hive origins. Twilight had read a few books on the notable Hive, recalling that Crypsis had faced down the Umbral King for a contract and survived. Twilight dared not doubt that the creature had several of the Hive’s legendary poisoned knives, said to be able to draw out an individual’s emotions. That said nothing for the notorious Hive’s equally legendary hand cannon, Word of the Queen. Twilight’s face became awash by fear, but with a second, she steeled herself, three different prepared spells coming to mind, most prominently another Fireball. 

“Crypsis, where’s your Queen?” Twilight growled untactfully, venom clearly in her tone, “Knowing the situation of those in her fold, I would have thought she’d love to come to this graveyard. Plenty of lingering emotive energy amongst the dead here.” Twilight snickered, a slight smirk grew upon her face. The celestially summoned blade seemed to hum with unseen power, and quickly grew warm in Twilight’s grip, almost borderline hot as the Sun finally sank beneath the western horizon. The Magic was only there through force of will, and it wouldn’t be long until the Sun’s power had fully ceded to Night. 
Crypsis swallowed as he saw the faint motes of light that swam around the presence of the summoned blade. He took comfort in three facts: he had no less than thirteen kunai, each primed to evoke different aspects of a mortal’s emotions, he had Thorn at the ready, and Night was falling, when dark Magic would find more power than the Sun. Yet, the Hivemind was nervous, before him was an individual so suffused with solar Magic that death would be an inconvenience. He was but a courier today. Killing could wait.

“We both know that killing you would be useless, as I would waste hours of work and you would just reappear a few seconds later, albeit pissed. Could you please put away the Blade? Besides, we both know you are an excellent spellcaster, despite the public’s lamentations.” Crypsis winced as he said those last words, instantly regretting it. Do not upset mages. The one thing to keep in mind. And what was he dealing with? A mage that wiped out the entirety of the last Queen’s army. Mages all are highly eccentric, weird, and are easily insulted. Crypsis would no doubt come back to his new Queen with valuable information, but he had to survive. Reviewing his internal itinerary, he remembered he had also taken a contract on the side, and Crypsis intended to keep his bargain. Imagining the payday from this, he let the inscription from his contract, hidden in his mind, now find utterance. Crypsis rasped in a voice not his own, but one that sounded deep and utterly sure in itself. Twilight realized the Hivemind was acting a courier yet was only comforted by this knowledge until the message began. “MidNight rises Starchild,” Twilight’s eyes widened at the declaration, as Crypsis continued, “It shall find you, and the Sun will never shine upon your face again.” It was now Crypsis’s turn to smirk, pleasantly surprised at the contents of the message now unveiled. 

Twilight’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly, but it was enough for Crypsis. Twilight had a new threat against her, and Crypsis filed that tidbit in the “For Later” pile in his mind, his Queen would soon be aware of all this knowledge. Twilight lowered the blade, and it dissipated into a flurry of soft golden light, the Magic of daylight now finding no purchase against the power of Night. Crypsis smiled, showing the layers upon layers of sharp incisor-like teeth, just one of the many things that made his kind so unsettling amongst mortality. “And just about three hours as of now, my Queen sent some regards for you.” Crypsis quipped, his normal voice sounding scratchy and hollow, like crackling paper.

Twilight braced herself, it wasn’t the first death threat she had received from the Hive Queen. But damn, couldn’t the Queen just write a letter? The weird echoey voice pouring from her servitor’s was going to be unsettling. 

“Duuuu-ssss-k-k-k-k,” The characteristic hissing of the Hive Queen always did that, yet the smooth silky hiss of the voice was unfamiliar to the Disciple of the Solar Queen, “Greetings, Wizard. Though we personally do not know each other, no doubt you have thwarted my predecessor’s armies for the last time. Regardless, my predecessor’s ploy was ultimately cursed to be unsuccessful. I am aware of the limited immortality you possess and all, but the venom that my predecessor had for your kingdom knew no bounds. Come to my Home, south of the Badlands, alone. I don’t need your... distrustful Queen to come and hunt down my Hive. Consider Crypsis an honor guard until you arrive.” Not receiving the typically vomit inducing record, Twilight couldn’t be anything but surprised, and looking at Crypsis’s face, the Hivemind had been obviously unaware until now what his exact purpose here was. “So, a new Queen finally overthrew your previous tyrant?” Twilight asked, trying to remain casual on the outside while internally having a nervous breakdown. 

Crypsis gave her a look with a smile that betrayed no emotion save the slight smirk. “Yes, Starchild.” The emphasis grating on Twilight's ears.

Twilight decided she didn’t really like the legendary Hivemind all that much.