//------------------------------// // 4. The Twin Goddesses: Part 17. Undone // Story: The Wanderer of the North // by Alaxsxaq //------------------------------// 4. The Twin Goddesses: Part 17. Undone “Are you two thirsty? It must have been an awful bother climbing up here,” hissed the Serpent’s voice, his lips curled into a grin. He raised up his left hand, the scaly yellow bird-claw. Discord bent the spindly fingers, gaunt as colored bone, and snapped his talons. A zap of violet energy sparked between the two battle-ready alicorn sisters, conjuring up a small table beset with a crystal cruet of wine. A swish of his paw yielded a goblet in his grip, adorned with enameled effigies to his own grandeur. Discord took a sip, “Ah, yes! Fine vintage—not doubt at least…two-thousand years. Later Kingdom, I believe.” Halfway-through his cup, Discord’s misshapen eyes narrowed, noticing his guests were still standing there, weapons primed and gazes fierce. “You’re not drinking…don’t like it?” The Wintermail bared her teeth even more, looking a wild animal eager for her meal. “I don’t think you two are being fair; it wasn’t easy—“ A blinding flash, headed by an arrow of flame, came careening towards the Draconequus. He smirked, and snapped into reality a barrier of magic, clear as freshly-blown glass and strong as a rock face. Ten feet in front of him the Wintermail stopped, her fiery sword having shattered the magical shield into a thousand shards that vanished like morning dew. “Why exactly are you here? We don’t need to be so hostile: I can do great things for you,” Discord groaned with forked tongue, conjuring images of gold, crowns, scepters, and all manner of desirable things. He was received with a stupefyingly quick strike from the Wintermail’s flaming blade, missing again only due to the Draconequus’ unnatural ability to contort his body into any shape. He huffed, “Really, put away the weapons, and we may talk like civilized adults.” Airborne now, the alicorn sisters broke into a formation, a quarter-circle apart, and cut their paths to the center. They primed their magic to cut Discord to ribbons, who evaded the mortal wounding to his body by coiling and curving. Even so, the tips of those two elder blades cut shallow paths in his flesh. Eónadin’s swath glowed fiery, sending its heaven-sent magic into the Fell God. He seethed, groaned and glowered at his foes. His power left him for but a moment, and on its return a dark shadow fell over his face. The room beyond the three started to fade away as Discord flashed his single fang, “Have it your way.” He snapped his talons, and tendrils of blue and violet snaked about, seizing the miserable furnishings of living ponies and enveloping them in pure malice. A hundred agonizing cries of suffering and pleading came forth. The alicorn sisters beat back the ache in their chest; no help could come for them—they were Discord’s now. Soon an utter blackness remained, only broken by the three left standing. A low chuckle came from the Serpent, his body disappearing into the darkness he’d conjured, leaving only that wide toothy grin. Then that too faded. Sword’s brandished, the sisters backed up until their tails touched. Eyes scanning their black environment, they stood vigilant for any sign of their dreaded foe. They could hear no sounds, see no stirring in the shadows—nothing but their deep breaths, sweating, and occasional shimmering of their mail armor. A dull flash appeared, like lighting far off. Plumes of fire erupted around them, forming a large arena. But they burned neither red nor orange, and instead seemed to flicker with no light at all. They were cold and distant lights; the Wintermail could now see her breath. A chill ran up her spine—she recalled these black fires from the myths. Discord’s chuckling returned, and as smoke rose from the featureless floor the Serpent emerged. Forked tongue and all, the Master of Chaos took the shape of great snake, a fell slithering beast that perhaps gnawed at the roots of the world when it was young. More fumes surged from his nostrils, and in a wail of screams and laughter Discord let loose a storm of that cruel black flame. Wings spread, the sisters kicked their back legs and soared off in opposite directions, nodding at one to reassure the other. Both along the rim of the hellfire arena, the sisters charged magic into their wings and darted upwards in an arch towards the center, a burst of energy flashing in their wakes. Weapons ablaze with power, Dame Wintermail and Lady Stellara fell upon the Black Serpent. But in his wicked cunning, Discord used his primordial magic to harden his flesh. As sturdy as adamant, Stellara’s sword and axe merely grazed the skin, a simple scratch with the grating sound of metal on stone. Eónadin of course, harder and stronger than anything else that could be made by mortal or god, fared better. A bright orange slash from Discord’s brow downwards cut out his left eye. He bellowed, screamed, wailed, and laughed all at the same time—a demonic call that really defied explanation. It pierced the alicorns’ ears, and they recoiled at the sound. Another plume of his black firebreath surged, bathing the arena. Wintermail called to her sister, and Stellara joined her side before a yellow bubble of magic pulsed from the white alicorn’s horn, engulfing the two to prevent the flames from doing the same. The “wail” of Discord continued, and his long body reared up, gnarled, jagged teeth bared. He struck, slamming his slithering form onto the shield, causing a great many cracks to appear. Wintermail gnashed her teeth. Falling into the black floor, Discord disappeared from view, his last move whipping his scaly tail at the shield, finally shattering it. Wintermail fell to her knees, fighting the throbbing in her skull. Lady Stellara readied her weapons, helping her sister back to her hooves. The midnight mare shot her eyes back and forth, trying to find any sign of the Draconequus. Then, a thin white circle conjured in the air, receding into unknown space. Moments later out came the Serpent, roaring and laughing. It crashed onto the ground, slithering around the sisters. They wasted no time assaulting the fiend, striking his reinforced body multiple times. Soon several orange cuts decorated his otherwise colorless body. Discord then grinned, completing the circle around his foes. With a flex of his muscles, he closed the loop to finish the snare. But the alicorns were clever, and shot up into the air with lightning swiftness. Yet the Fell Serpent was more clever still, and jerked the ending third of his massive length around them, lassoing the ponies while airborne. As they channeled their magic to strike with their steel, Discord took his hold and smashed it onto the ground. The shock forced them both to lose their telekinetic grip for the moment. Steel clanked onto the ground, and Discord began to squeeze tightly. He showed his wicked smile, and laughed with a slow brood. The air was being choked from the sisters, their faces becoming red. “Now…what to do? Burn you alive? Or crush the life out of you? See your eyes burst from your skull…,” Discord hissed, smoke billowing from his snout. Wintermail managed to focus long enough to locate and retrieve her blade. Drawing it from the ground, the mare pulled it right through Discord. Eónadin burst out of the snake’s coil, covered in blood. He shrieked so loud and shrill that both felt like nails were being hammered into their ears. But his hold was loosened, and Lady Stellara took this opportunity to find her own weapons. With the axe she parried away the serpent’s tail, and with sword she uppercut his jaw. Now looming high and enraged, Discord was at the perfect position for Wintermail’s final strike. She narrowed her gaze and kicked off, impaling the beast at the scutes just above the ground and drawing her blade upwards until it cut all of his throat. As blood and glowing ichor flowed out, Wintermail flared up Eónadin and slashed across, ending once and for all the great Discord, Master of Chaos. As he wailed and cried and squirmed and thrashed in his final throes, Discord shouted curses in all tongues, against alicorns, ponies, dragons, princes, kings, and gods. And then, after the slithering stopped, the light in his eyes died and his giant assumed body collapsed, at last drained of lifeblood. Wintermail cleansed her blade and returned it to her scabbard. Wiping her brow, she let out a deep breath. Was it finally over? Her answer came when the black flames subsided and the darkness gave way to the twilit sky. The sisters stood and looked at one another, then at their surroundings. The strangeness and otherworldly spire the Chaos Fiend had crafted had given way to the normal, mundane scape of the White City, cracked and damaged though it was. The broken marble ruins of Canterlot were poor comfort, but at least Discord was gone. Perhaps age had not been as kind to the creature as he had hoped. As they turned to embrace, a familiar voice caught their ears, “Hail! Can it be?” It was Henarion! The two galloped out of the ruined chamber and found the steps towards the courtyard. There they saw the distant figures of their uncle and Cardúnón, as well as numerous other ponies. Stellara came first to Henarion, “You’re unhurt?” Tears were already in her eyes and she slung her hooves around him. “Aye, Girl! I may be old and slow, but ain’t nothin’ can stop me!” he proclaimed proudly. Stellara pulled back and cocked her head to the side, a coy smile on her lips, “I guess not, Uncle…” What happened next came to q haze, and Wintermail found all the chattering of victorious ponies blending together. She should have been celebrating, thrusting her sword into the air and crying out for vanquishing the greatest foe she’d ever faced. Yet…something felt off… Perhaps she’d been drained of energy. She felt tired and a little disoriented, and everything blurred. The clouds and twilight gave way soon to sunshine and clear skies, perfect for flying and maybe even a picnic. Wintermail smiled, and stepped out towards the edge of the garden to get a better view atop the inner wall. As she was about to lift upwards, a small hoof tapped her shoulder. She turned around and saw a short young colt. Wintermail bowed politely, “Yes? May I help you?” “My Lady, you’ve fought hard and deserve a good rest. Please, allow me to oil and sharpen your weapon while you leisure.” His voice was quiet, but of a high, polished sort. Wintermail studied the colt. He was yellow, dusty yellow, with an orange mane. A small earth pony, certainly no older than sixteen. For somepony so young, and having endured a battle doubtlessly so taxing, he seemed awfully dutiful. She grinned, “Thank you graciously for the offer, Friend, but my weapon doesn’t require any such maintenance. You deserve a rest yourself.” The colt then frowned, “Nonsense, Dame. Every Knight should have their effects properly looked after. I insist.” He then seemed to reach for Eónadin’s hilt. Wintermail backed away, “Perhaps…but I have my own squire for that.” The alicorn furrowed her brow, “What is your name, anyway?” But he did not answer, and instead tried again to fetch the blade. Wintermail gently stopped his hoof. The colt grumbled and became more aggressive. Then, like a dull echo, the mare heard a faint whisper, “Look…listen…” She could feel it pulsing from her sword, Eónadin speaking in its quiet way. Soon a buzzing tapped at her mind, and she sensed a faint outline of something. It grew stronger until…of course! She closed her eyes and used her aural sense. And that made everything so much clearer. The shapes of ponies’ inherent magic were made known…yet, they were too dim. They held the print of mere artifices, objects enchanted—they were not living. Turning her sight back to the young colt, Wintermail’s mind’s eye balked at the magnitude before it. Aught else were but puppets to a Master bared in full to the sight unseen. Towering above, arms outstretched and pulling on invisible strings, stood Discord’s own aura. Like staring at the Sun after days underground, the sight proved too powerful to endure. The Knight recoiled at primeval magic, the essence of a god, or something god-like. Clever he was, indeed—but Wintermail was not without her own guile. Cooling from the sting of seeing the Draconequus in his true terrifying might, the alicorn recalled a story she’d heard long ago: Discord had woven a difficult knot with trickery and illusion; was there any use in trying to untie it? Drawing her blade, Wintermail charged it with magic and swung, catching Discord’s aura with the tip. Lady Stellara gasped as the young colt cried, apparently attacked by her own sister. “Nikóleva!” she cried, rushing to restrain the white mare. “What madness has possessed you?! The fighting is—“ “Mitilion din-nylónadároco dheneÿ,(Look with your inner eyes,)” the Dame replied, voice low and stern. Stellara obliged, and she too withstood the revelation but a mere moment. The tall slithering shape of Discord knelt before them, the outline of his arm clutching his belly. Soon there came a roar, a bellow of rage and frustration. Around them the sky darkened and the Sun withdrew. Stellara looked around as all her friends and allies vanished, flashing grins of malice before disappearing in smoke and vapor. Unsheathing her weapons, the midnight mare took stance beside her sister. The effigies of Discord returned, and the ruined halls of the castle appeared again on the mountain side. In the courtyard, their foe once more became visible. Yet he had changed. No longer slim and gangly, he stood a burly creature, arms so long that they rested on the ground, fists clenched. His yellow eyes and red irises faded into diseased pits of malice, faint lightless lights at their centers. His horns, once one an antler the other of a goat, had grown to become a crown of gnarled bone, each new spire of a different animal. The feathered and leathery wings were now wide and lofty, able to enclose his body. And his scaly red tail was made into a club with spikes. And the Draconequus now truly looked a miserable thing: his fur was mangy and discolored, his skin dried and cracked. His wings were filled with holes and withered feathers, and his claws and hoof were filled with rot. “Chances I gave,” he began to speak, his voice now deep and devoid of anything but cruelty, “Yet they were refused. I have run out of patience. If you two mortal, weak ponies wish to fight a God, you shall have that wish.” He paused, allowing the alicorns a chance to retort. They said nothing, and instead scanned the situation and devised tactics to respond. “I arose when all the World was but lifeless stone, before the rains came, before the seas filled. I have faced far mightier heroes than you two, in an age of grander mortals. Your gods have withdrawn, and only I remain.” Discord then reared up and snapped his talons, ready to end it in one fell motion. A creeping heat pricked at Wintermail’s back, soon followed by a sizzling. Warmer and warmer it grew, until the sisters began to sweat. Steam rose from the air around them, and with that Wintermail understood. Sweltering became boiling hot, and the pain grew. Summoning her magic, the white alicorn channeled a barrier that cleared away the thermic spell. The monster groaned and then stamped his hoof. Moments later the grass beneath Stellara’s hooves started to melt, becoming the consistency of sandy mud. Her legs caught, the mare began to sink ever slowly but without escape. Struggling for a moment, she then remembered her lessons and prepared a spell of her own. Zapping the quicksand with a pale blue beam, she made the water inside flash boil, but not without receiving a minor but painful scald to herself. Freed nonetheless she lifted off and vowed to remain in the air. Wintermail took the advice and joined in flight. Discord scowled and threw his fisted paw into the ground, yanking it out with the loud rumble of rock underneath. A stony spire rose from underneath the white pony, its impossibly sharp point missing her by mere inches. The distraction worked, and Discord managed to hurl a punch right at the mare. She stopped herself before slamming into Canterlot’s inner wall, spitting blood and brandishing her sword. Ignited, Eónadin came barreling towards Discord, who managed to throw up barriers of conjured metal and stone. The black sword cut through each like cloth, but more simply came to replace them. Wintermail used her great agility, circling the Hellfiend up and down trying to land a blow, but was confounded each time. She then tapped into her sword’s magic, discharging a blast as she struck another barrier. The rest dissipated and Discord seemed stunned, but when she moved to strike him directly he countered with even faster precision. And so she’d be locked into a constant cycle until she died of exhaustion. Allowed a moment to breathe while the two her engaged, Lady Stellara observed from behind, trying to figure out the best way to proceed. Discord was too formidable to attack directly, too crafty to attack from afar. They’d need something creative. She thought and then remembered what Wintermail had said before. The blue mare’s eyes widen with the realization and she shook her head for forgetting something so basic; sometimes the simplest answers were the most elusive. She flashed her auric sense, mentally narrowing her field of vision to withstand Discord’s power. As he brought forth the barriers to block her sister, Stellara could see the process. The Draconequus was mighty indeed, with otherworldly magic at his literal fingertips, but he was not a God as the alicorn’s reckoned it: he could not simply draw creation from nothing. Whenever he flexed his spellcasting, there was a delay, a period when the magic wove whatever he wished to conjure or affect. And to those who could see, the process was quite visible. The younger sister tried making use of this new information; meanwhile Wintermail was waging a futile battle. She was no fool; she understood that her efforts weren’t working and probably wouldn’t if nothing changed. But now it was an effort to at least stall and distract her foe—perhaps Stellara might think of something during that time. It was moot, it seemed, when Discord swatted the alicorn out of the sky. Her blade’s edge caught him, and he recoiled in great pain, but soon raised his other hand. “I grow weary of this.” With the flick of his wrist he brought forth a glowing rope, soon tied into a lasso. Swinging it he gripped Wintermail’s back hooves and pulled tightly. Slamming her onto the ground, he stomped his hoof on the mare, but her own strong forelegs kept the Draconequus’ leg from crushing her bones. As Wintermail struggled, Discord turned his attention to Lady Stellara. Gulping and raising her blade, the mare’s attempted defense came to naught. Her weapons were earthly creations, and could not harm Discord in the way Eónadin could. She managed to plunge Nocadecoë and Ailéránen into his right arm, drawing the monster’s blood and cries, but nothing he could not quickly recover from. Clenching his paw, he then flashed open his fingers, and Stellara was yanked back to the ground. She felt a thousand tiny threads pulling at her, digging into her flesh. She yelped, trying to resist as the threads led her forwards. They must have been sharp as steel, able to spread their vicious sting in her skin. How had Discord breached through her armor? It was probably little task for him. “Come, Dear. Don’t tarry,” the Hellfiend beckoned, grinning. He noticed the Wintermail power her horn, gripping the hilt of Eónadin while she restrained Discord’s hoof, “I wouldn’t do that; one jerk and your sister will be skinned alive. I’d prefer it otherwise, though I could make a nice rug.” The rage Wintermail had felt towards Discord before that instant became a poor shadow of her newfound fury—nothing threatened her sister. The Draconequus however paid no mind, still drawing Stellara towards the black alicorn blade, “Retrieve the sword, if you would.” The blue alicorn stepped slowly, clearly understand how dire her situation had become. Yet she too possessed tricks. She met her sister’s gaze and called out, “Midailénilion belcían venë! Midilímera ydarasdro venë nówin cadabdasiln!(Watch his magic! You can see his devilry coming!)” Discord raised an eyebrow, trying to remember his Alicorn. Before he could figure the meaning, a flash of blue magic came from his trapped pony. In an instant his invisible net was empty and the blue mare was ten feet away, free and ready to retaliate. With her two weapons, Stellara grit her teeth and readied to pounce. Brow laced with sweat and her muscles with a slight burn, the teleport was tiring, but it had become easier since she first started the technique. But before the younger alicorn could strike, the elder unleashed her rage, crying out her war-bellow. Charging her already-strong limbs with magic, she shoved Discord from on top of her. Caught off-guard and thrown with force he didn’t consider was possible, he crashed onto the ground and roared. Wintermail grabbed her sword and cut the rope around her hindlegs, then opened her auric sense once more. Adjusting to Discord’s signature, she caught the formation of some tendril of magic. She struck with prompt precision and cut the tendril. Thus did she see exactly the sort of thing Eónadin could do. The fell beast was restrained, cringing in agony as the black sword’s power snuffed out his unique energies. The bright aura dimmed, his left arm growing dark and temporarily devoid of magic. Discord’s essence came back quickly, but Wintermail had made a startling and decisive discovery. The large monster prepared another attack, trying to channel his magic from below. Before whatever he was planning could manifest beneath their hooves, Wintermail severed the trail. Growling, Discord raised his hands and began to clap. Just before his hands touched, his magic reached into the chests of the sisters, attempting to crush their hearts when his palms smashed together. The white mare confounded the move in the split second she had to act, causing her own heart to pound fiercely. Snorting, Discord planted his feet and thought a moment; divide and conquer. Going in from the sides, he tried to distract the white one with the sword and knock out the blue one. But it failed prodigiously. Stellara was about to fall to his latest trick: crystallized air broken into shards and shoved in her body; she teleported away. Without a moment to rest, Stellara teleport again when the shards changed course, and again, and again. She could see his moves before they even came, but the window of opportunity was so small. Yet with each movement she got closer until she could slash and hack with sword and axe. Wintermail meanwhile cut every trail of magic, lifting off with her wings and darting towards him. She must have parried three or four times before she made her move against Discord, aiming for his chest. He pivoted out of the way, but once again was caught by the tip. Disoriented and weakened, Discord was then slammed into by the alicorn, fully grown and empowered by rage, duty, and magic. Stumbling, the beast managed to grab each alicorn’s legs and throw them across the courtyard. Rising back to his feet, he stepped forward and thought of something truly cruel, vicious, mean and nasty to wipe these stains from his world. Fang bared and eyes pouring hatred, he wove his greatest trick. But the sisters were clever enough to not let their chance slip. Wiping their lips of blood and popping their joints, they stood and flew closer, nodding to cue for their next move. Charged with magic, each of their weapons glowed and assumed their effects, Stellara with lightning and Wintermail with fire. Brimming with the channeled magic, the weapons were slashed forwards with intricate maneuver, unleashing their respective elements. The discharge of magic was grand, enough to reduce mortal creatures to ash and dust. Like the most fearsome of heat storms, a torrent of thunder and flame engulfed Discord, his smoking form screeching, but then...it changed to laughter. When the spectacle died down, and the smoke cleared, Discord hobbled out on all fours, his low dark chuckle the only sound. Seared of flesh, his bones blackened and entrails dangling in the wreckage of his skeleton, the Fellbeast advanced, seething and cringing but still with that laughter. Tissue regrew, and soon the injuries dealt were reversed. Cracking his bones back into place, the Draconequus plodded forth, growling as he did, “Quite the show, Ponies. You seek to turn nature against me? Do you not understand what fire and lightning are?” Thunder boomed, and a strike of lightning hit a nearby garden tree, catching it aflame. With a snap of his fingers the forces of nature were amplified and ready to be sent towards the alicorns. “Order undone,” he groaned. Their earlier attack was returned in kind, and only the concerted effort of throwing up a shield preserved the two from becoming ashen bones. But the heat grew, and a push-back was needed soon. “Redirect the flame and lightning, Stellara. I shall pierce him!” Wintermail commanded. When the younger one had agreed and readied, the white Knight broke the shield and advanced against the blaze and bolts Lady Stellara poured her magic to keep a cone of safety around her sister. Trudging through the singed remnants of the Canterlot Garden, Wintermail had Discord in her sights, and his magic in her senses. Batting away whatever tricks he tried, either on her or Stellara, she managed to close the gap. But as she reared back and thrust her blade into his chest, he vanished. Wintermail looked around frantically, hoping all was not now lost, hoping that he had not escaped, or that he wouldn’t reappear and kill them instantly. Using her auric sense, she soon found above a point of light rapidly growing—the exit point! Lifting off and darting towards it, she raised her sword. When Discord finally reemerged, he found himself stuck through the hand by Eónadin. His flesh sizzled and stung, scorched and blackened, but he was not done. Before the knight could retract her blade and strike again, Discord slammed his fist on top of her, driving her to the ground. The impact formed a shallow crater and bruised the white alicorn. Lady Stellara roared in vengeance, careening to her foe with reckless abandon, but Discord wrapped his tail around her and caught the blue mare in midair. A second motion threw her to the grass with her sister. With the flap of his massive wings Discord touched down and placed a foot on each one. “You confound my tricks. Deception has always been my way, alicorns, but I am not opposed to more direct methods.” Two stomps thrust the mares deeper into the dirt, and then he picked them up and threw them again, this time into the wall. Small cracks formed at their backs, and only their armor protected them from deep harm. The alicorn sisters slumped to the ground, groaning and trying to nurse their wounds. They had no time; the Draconequus stamped over and grabbed them by the necks. “Worthy foes though—tough and unyielding. I could have used ponies like you.” He began to squeeze. Gasping for breath, the sisters tried to struggle in his grip. “But where’s the fun in this? If you’re broken enough, then I can keep you around and break you two even further. Take you apart piece by piece and let you know just how much I’ve grown to hate you.” Wintermail choked something, wheezing as if trying to communicate. Discord loosened his grip just enough to let her speak, “Beg your pardon?” “Too clever by half, Discord. For a trickster, you seemed easily distracted.” The Hellfiend raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth to reply. But the incoming blade of Eónadin interrupted him when it sliced off his right arm at the elbow. The wound seared and he fell back, releasing Lady Stellara. “Twice, Discord,” Wintermail quipped, narrowing her eyes—this was it. Reattaching his severed arm, the wound sealing up, he snarled and growled, slamming his knuckles to the dirt. He was going to make these two suffer, suffer as no living being had, suffer as no damned being had. He spread his wings to take flight. But Wintermail concentrated her horn and soon called upon the infinite fountain of power that was the Cosmic Well. Eyes sickly green and glowing violet, she was now singularly focused on her foe. Charging Eónadin with this new magic, she burst forwards and slashed at Discord’s chest. Her force multiplied several times, the cut opened his ribs and burned much of his flesh. As he wailed, Wintermail swung once more, twice, three times until blood and strips of flesh stained both of them. As the initial pains subsided, Discord only laughed, “You know you cannot kill me, Pony. There is no injury I cannot heal from—I am above you all.” The flesh and bone were starting to reform and repair. Her dark ancient blade’s own alicorn magic mixing with the drawn power from its wielder, Wintermail smirked, “I know; I’m not trying to slay you.” With a blinding thrust the black steel was driven into Discord’s heart, the wound white hot. The beast shrieked in agony, seething and gritting his teeth. “You two…are a tenacious pair…,” he struggled to say, the immensely powerful magic pouring into him, biting back at his own essence. He tried to summon his chaos, but so long as Eónadin touched his flesh, his greatest abilities were extinguished. Wrapping his long fingers around the hilt he tried to draw the sword from his chest, but it still burned his palms. Roaring, growling at the pain, he managed to extract the sword a foot, but then another thrust of purple magic drove it back. Wintermail stood defiantly before him, expelling her borrowed might into keeping Discord pinned down. Soulless eyes glowering at his foe, Discord sunk his talons into the ground and tried to advance, even as his strength drained. But while he focused solely on the white one, the blue one careened from beyond his vision, barreling forwards with both her steel blades ready to bite. Lady Stellara sunk her axe into his shoulder and Ailéránen through his skull. Their nightly shrouds conducted into Discord, and he cringed, clenching his fists. She withdrew and swung again, uppercutting through his chin and jaw, cleaving his face in two. His cries now a high-pitched wail, Discord clutched his head and sutured it back together, but not before a third strike from the blue mare. A fourth then a fifth, each cutting or stabbing or chopping some part of his body. As she shouted and yelled cries of vengeance and glory Stellara battered the Fell God. Blood splashed her armor, and only her resolve and her magic kept the soreness from ceasing her offensive. Each injury was again healed, but each time less and less perfectly—slower and more riddled with scarring. His steps were now very slow, but he still was able to advance to Wintermail, who was channeling her will into the sword embedded within the Draconequus. Powered by malice and rage, he tired gravely with the blue alicorn, seizing her by the helmet and slamming her to the ground. It appeared that Discord hadn’t learned, as Wintermail immediately rose up and charged him, physically pushing the sword deeper with her forelegs. Then a swift left hook, then a right, and she turned and bucked him in the teeth. Each hit cracked his skull, leaving his dark grey face riddled with swollen purple bruises, shallow cuts where bone had torn through. His breaths now reduced to wheezes, Discord still managed to backhand the white pony, smashing his fist down on her on the ground. As Stellara recovered and moved to strike again, his tail whipped her side, the mail enough to prevent her entrails from spilling but not enough to avoid the wind being knocked out. But none of the three would ever surrender, and Wintermail simply resumed her telekinetic hold on the sword and flew over Discord. Descending upon him, she used all four legs to conduct a concert of swift, decisive melee blows to his upper half, finishing with a final charge from her horn. Bright violet surged from the alicorn to her blade, and Discord let out an ear-piercing bout of agony and suffering. At last he fell to his knees, hands clutching the ground for support. And the massive bulky creature they had been fighting began to shrink, slowly returning to the spindly, slender serpent they had first met. He gripped his side and spat blood, a grim reminder that for all his power and might, Discord was still kept in a mortal prison of flesh and bone. He trained his once-again yellow eyes to the alicorns and sneered. “Why?” The sisters simply stared, weapons still poised to attack at the slightest provocation—they recognized the possibility of a feign. “Why do you fight?” Wintermail narrowed her eyes and pulsed her horn, discharging Eónadin’s magic just to be sure. Discord's pain became almost unbearable; he placed a hand over his mouth and felt the urge to vomit. His shrieks were now silent sobs; the “God” appeared to actually…be crying? “Why…?” he squeaked through labored breaths, “Why do you fight against me? Why…fight the inevitable? Don’t you see? All order collapses, all things decay! One day there will naught but void…formless where there was form, what was substance turned to dead light. There will be nothing but…cold barren rocks under a blackened sky.” Now there was the moment of truth, Discord weakened and nowhere to go. He could not play anymore tricks, nor weave deceptions, nor talk his way out. “Ready, Sister?” Stellara asked, telekinetically unclasping her bag. Wintermail nodded, and did the same to her bag. “Ready for what?” asked Discord, “cleave off my head…and you’d be rid of me for a time. But I’d do the same, have the witless and despondent rebuild for me a new body, and return. A hundred years…a thousand…it makes no difference—I’d always come back. Restore your kingdom, alicorns; it will flourish for a while—“ “Quiet,” Wintermail demanded, voice level and calm. Out of their bags each mare drew three glowing talismans, all colorful and emanating great magic. Discord’s eyes then widened, a look of absolute horror on his face, as though to say “How?” The great white knight Dame Wintermail, of the Blood of Old Alícor, then summoned a loud magic voice, her magenta eyes now replaced with pure white. The magic of the elements was flowing into her, as it was Lady Stellara. “Discord, you have disrupted our land’s harmony and visited upon our people death and destruction. Noble friends have suffered and died by your hand, by those whom you’ve deceived and recruited. The judgement—“ and then her voice remained her own, but the words became inspired from somewhere else, “We deal upon you is oblivion.” The sisters side by side, the elements swirled above them, soon becoming a large circle. Glowing white-hot, beams of magic burst upwards and then curved towards Discord. The rainbow of heaven-sent magic engulfed Discord, and Wintermail’s voice continued, “You have betrayed honesty, by which friends remain true and wrongs are made right, with your lies and deceit.” Discord’s horror grew, his weakened breaths becoming sharp; he was powerless to stop it. “You have betrayed kindness,” came now the enhanced voice of Stellara, she too inspired by the Element’s magic, “By which bonds are formed and life made sweet, with your cruelty and violence. You have betrayed Laughter, by which pains are healed and fears abated, by perverting it towards the joy of others’ suffering, and for fostering rage and loathing in your heart and the hearts of others.” Discord was now able to stand, but he could feel himself becoming stiff. He was afraid, terrified, but also somewhat confused. Wintermail continued, “You have betrayed Generosity, by which love between strangers grow, the weak made strong, and the bitter made calm, with your greed and lust for power at the expense of the living and dead.” “You have betrayed Loyalty, by which Kings and Lords are both held lofty and humbled, and true friendships forged, with no bonds of loyalty to any but yourself, and for the treacheries you’ve committed,” echoed Stellara’s voice. “And,” the final resonance from Wintermail intensified the rainbow, and Discord could see his lower half lose its color and harden, “You have betrayed Magic, by which the World is woven and life made manifest, with its corruption. Power you were given to create and nurture, but power you have used to destroy and taint.” The rainbow column of magic swirled ever faster, tightening its grip on Discord. Now half of him was made of stone. Then he realized, and with a baleful grin he felt the disturbance—he knew it well. The Harmony was not complete; something was wrong. Perhaps one of the ponies was having feelings of doubt, of fear, anger, perhaps even…envy. Stopped he would be, imprisoned in a tomb of stone within his existing one of flesh, but not undone. He had feared oblivion, but now it seemed he’d merely have to wait. One day the spell would break, one day he’d be free again. Horror gave way to mirth, and a manic laughter rose from his throat. He stood tall and proud, placing his paw upon his chest and outstretching his talons. His mouth gaped wide, and the laughter continued until the wave of stone finally seized his jaw and could move no more. And yet, for all the relishing he had in those last moments, it diminished when he settled into his rock. Dormant, a state between waking and sleep, he’d remain yet somewhat lesser than before. The malice he’d fostered in his heart for so long, untold eons even, had dimmed. Perhaps ages hence it’d grow even smaller, until something—or even some creature, enabled him to shed it entirely. But in the current day, of this current age, this was of little concern. The rainbow had cleared, and in its place a white statue rose, the effigy of Discord cackling as if to mock them. Both sisters looked at the statue, and then one another in confusion. They approached it and let pass a moment of quiet thought. “Is this him?” asked Stellara, her tools of war still ready, “Is it another trick?” Wintermail closed her eyes, sensing for any radiant magic. It was there, glowing yet faint, like seeing and hearing underwater. Strange…very strange. “Regardless,” the Knight intoned and raised her blade, “He will not get a last chance.” The swing came, the steel charged. The black metal could cut anything, an edge sharper than was possible with any grindstone and a blade that could not be shattered. And upon hitting the statue, Eónadin was neither dulled nor cracked. Clang! But it did not cut. Utter shock came over the Wintermail’s face as she inspected her sword. Again she tried to cleave off Discord’s outstretched arm; again nothing but the reverberation of steel. Bones, armor, wood, dragonhide—there was nothing Eónadin could not pierce. “What manner of devilry is this?” she whispered. “Some sort of enchantment I wager,” said Stellara. She reached into her pack where her three elements had settled once used, “Perhaps we performed the ritual improperly.” Wintermail nodded, and flashed her horn to retrieve her three, but when the sisters attempted to hold them, a zap of magic hit their minds, and they lost focus. They tried again, only to have the same result. Then a silent voice uttered merely, “Enough.” And there they both understood the promise was fulfilled: the Elements had done their part, and would not be as weapons again, not while the Earth lasted. The elder sister frowned, “Maybe if we topple it and roll it off the edge, it will shatter on the valley floor.” Stellara raised an eyebrow, “Seems an awful long way to roll it, granted if we can even move it in the first place.” “We can try later,” Wintermail finally yielded, the battle rush fading and the soreness, aches, stinging, and general exhaustion coming to replace it. “I could use a nap…” Stellara settled on the grass beside her sister and shed her helmet, looking up at the white alicorn. “You look ravaged; fitting I suppose.” The blue alicorn wasn’t wrong: Wintermail was riddled with bruises, small cuts on her face, a darkened eye, and trails of dried blood on her snowy fur. Her eyes were becoming half-lidded and unfocused. “The pot and the kettle indeed,” Wintermail smiled. A heavy sigh left her chest when she glanced at her baby sister, also beaten and bruised, bloody and worn. But she was alive, in sound body and mind; she’d just need rest—both of them did. As the knight looked out at the castle, at the ruins of Canterlot, the marks of Discord’s reign started to disappear. The unnatural lattice above the castle throne room returned to marble pillars and stained-glass windows of ponies and their exploits. The statues to the Draconequus’ vanity returned to the various stonemasonry and topiaries as before. The city soon in its entirety reverted to a ruined, battle-worn landscape, but of completely mundane qualities—devoid of the chaotic perversions of Discord. Blinking slowly, Wintermail grinned, “Guess we didn’t perform too poorly.” The white sister then draped her broad wing over Stellara, “But to have gotten the chance to wield those Elements…do you remember what it felt like?” The midnight mare watched the starless twilight, “Powerful. The force of a god at my horn’s tip… And the sensation!” “Right? Very…tingly—but in a good way!” laughed Wintermail. “Peaceful, too…like a calm soothing coolness.” Stellara glanced up at Discord’s statue, “We did that, huh? If only Mother and Father could have seen it.” Wintermail’s eyes teared up, and she pulled her sister closer, kissing her on the cheek, “I’m sure they would have been scared to death.” The sisters giggled. “What now? It’s not over, you know, this war.” The elder one sighed, “You’re right. We should go off into the city and see who’s alive. Henarion I’m sure will want to see us. Though…,” she yawned, “I think we could sit here for a little while longer.” And a little while longer passed, but by chance or purpose the two alicorns would not need to go out and find their friends and allies. “Girls!” came a very familiar voice. Wintermail and Stellara rose to their hooves as though a hot brand had stuck them. Hobbling through the inner gatehouse, leading a crowd of other ponies, came a tall dull orange stallion. “Henarion…,” Stellara whispered, almost ready to burst into tears. He was donned in armor, covered in dried blood and dirt, and not a few scratches. But he had an even step and seemed for the most part unharmed. When he spotted them in the courtyard, he galloped as fast as his many years would let him. Slinging his forelegs around his nieces, he squeezed and kissed them as he had when they were fillies. Thank God…,” Henarion whispered, almost crying himself. His good eye then noticed what it was they were standing in front of, “So you did it? Is this what’s left?” “We believe so,” Wintermail replied, “I don’t think it can be destroyed, but he does seem trapped. In either instance, his Reign of Terror is over. And you? Looks like we took back Canterlot.” “Aye,” Henarion smirked, Primrose appeared beside him—she didn’t seem to have a single scratch on her, “Wasn’t easy, lost a lot of good ponies, but we got the bastard on the run. We’re chasing any remaining foes out now.” “I’ll bet you have a wonderful tale to tell, Uncle,” said Stellara. “I doubt it’d excite you two much, seeing what you took down.” The sisters just gave nervous laughter. The surviving pony soldiers entered into the courtyard, marveling at the stone Discord, evidence of his ultimate defeat, and of the Royal Sister’s greatest feat. Hooves were stamped and cheers called out, and more than once praise was made to the “Twin Goddesses”. The mares blushed. Several important-looking ponies emerged to greet the sisters. First, and most eager was the tall green alicorn of whom one was fond and the other was not. “Lady Stellara, Dame Wintermail,” Cardúnón bowed, “We owe you a debt of gratitude. I am relieved that both of you are unharmed.” Stellara approached and smiled, “Not entirely, but…well I’m glad you’ve made it all right yourself.” “It wasn’t all him,” his sister Rhílë quipped, craning her neck to the sisters. “Should I be surprised?” asked Wintermail, narrowing her eyes at the green stallion. He drooped his ears. “Now, Nikól, this one’s not so bad,” Henarion called, placing a hoof on Cardúnón’s shoulder. Before any of the alicorns could say something else clever, three more ponies came, each dressed in some form of armor; a yellow unicorn in a crested helm, a brown earth pony knight, and a maroon unicorn in a coat of mail. Wintermail recognized the first and turned her body stiff and stern, “Captain.” “At ease, soldier,” Gendarmette of the Canterlot Guard command, “I’ve been informed—I am no longer your superior.” “The Princess has told us: now that you are the Regent of Canterlot, you’ve been given authority of all the realm’s knights, “added Sir Grimheim, Commander of the Free Knights. “And over the raised militias,” smiled Commander Stonehewn. “Not to mention the Canterlot host sent to rendezvous northwards with the Equestrian Army. Sister, what is our next move?” came Stellara; though tired duty still came first. “Excellent question…we’ll have to take stock of our forces. Also, we must ensure Canterlot’s defenses can be repaired enough that its garrison can be reduced. Now that I am Regent, the realm’s safety is my priority." “And not simply Canterlot’s realm,” came a voice on the wind. Elderly and with a hint of sardonic bite, it belonged to a beige alicorn. He touched down before Wintermail and Stellara. “You claimed your dignity as Queen, yes? Then your authority extends quite a bit further.” Wintermail frowned; she had done that, hadn’t she? “You’re right, but is it really appropriate at this time?” “What better time than during a great crisis?” Unlike any other instance, the Librarian was not making some snide remark or hidden insult. The eyes of all the alicorns and the commanders were directed at Wintermail, a mix of pleading, encouragement, and skepticism; her next words would have to be chosen carefully. Her gaze stern, she finally replied, “Lords and ponies name their Kings. There will be time for that later. Now, I serve as Regent, and we first must look after Canterlot. What do you recommend, Delbedasir?” “If you want my old wisdom and experience, then I say the absolute first task is that Her Majesty assume her most ancient and sacred duty.” “And that is?” Wintermail raised an eyebrow. The Librarian looked up at the sky, “Ordinarily, it’s not supposed to be so dark.” He then looked back at the Regent, “Discord had stolen the command of the Sun and Moon from the Prince, God rest his soul,” everypony in ear shot lowered their heads and a nodded, “and now they stand without a Master.” The Librarian kept his red eyes on Wintermail. She frowned and returned the stare for the moment, “…Me? I…am to direct the Sun and Moon? To wake every morning for daybreak, and sleep only when the night falls? I don’t…” “Yes, Nikóleva, for nopony may assume the Right of your Bloodline, or the powers and authority therein, without also accepting the attendant duties. Reach out with your magic—the Sun and Moon know who you are, they are not mindless.” The white mare then simply gazed up at the sky at the dull twilight that had seemed to last forever. Starless, naked, empty it felt—it was all wrong. But was she to take control? The resolve that had convinced her to assert herself while in the woods faded to the background, and the mind of a humble peasant girl returned, feeling far too in over her head. She looked back at all the other ponies around her. Her Commanders were standing tall, faces hard to read, but ready to be ordered. Cardúnón and his sister met their Exilarch’s eyes with hope and pride, swelled with anticipation for their long-awaited Alicorn Queen. Wintermail’s Uncle Henarion and his wife were warm and kind, telling the White Knight that no matter what, they’d respect her decision. But she knew Henarion’s entire life had been building up to this moment, the entire line of his ancestors devoted to protecting the Royal Family in exile until their return. Could she steal that from him? And then Taberanyn. She looked…pensive, nervous…but with a slight smile. Her younger sister was just as unsure. But Wintermail was her keeper, her protector—nopony wanted nor needed indecision or hesitation. The Prince’s specter loomed heavily, the kingdom he’d fought for and the ponies he died for. Wintermail arose from thought with a fierce expression. She flashed her horn, and started…searching for the Sun. “Your Highness,” said the Librarian, “Before you take control of the Sun, please note: once you’ve bonded it to you, you’ve signed a contract that can never be broken, not until death. You’ll have an obligation, each and every day to do as ordained. Go against the Order, and you’ll incur a special sort of wrath.” The mare said nothing, and still tried to figure out how Delbedasir meant about “reaching out”. She thought about the Sun, warm spring days and sunshine. She directed her mind to the sky, trying to feel anything, or even grasp at something. Wintermail became frustrated, she felt like a fool and had nothing to show for it. But then, eerily similar to the voiceless whispers from the Elements and Eónadin, she sensed something speaking, “Do you accept?” Wintermail closed her eyes, thinking over just one last time. The terms and obligations were announced to her mind, and she reviewed them all. Finally, she took a deep breath, exhaled, and then repeated. Her limbs became heavy with anticipation, her heartbeat quickening. But she’d found the Elements, cast down Discord, and was Equestria’s rightful Queen. This was as it should be. “I accept,” she uttered, a magical echo in her voice. Opening her eyes, they glowed vibrantly with great power, and she felt the immense weight of the Sun in her magical lattice. Spreading her broad wings the white alicorn flew up into the sky, labored strokes as she moved herself and the Sun. Soon peaking above the horizon came the bright yellow orb, turning the purple sky to blue. Ponies atop the city, and creature everywhere shielded their eyes for a moment as true sunlight returned to their world. A new day had dawned, bathed in praise and cheers and shouts of joy. The Long Dusk, the Empty Night, or the multitude of many others names it was given, was at last over. And when Wintermail touched down, awed by the power she had just wielded and the spectacle she had just produced, another glowing appeared. This time it was upon her flank. She turned her head and saw a pattern develop, the light blasting away once finished. What remained was a burning orange image of the Sun, marked forever upon its new Mistress. The Wintermail very nearly stumbled back and fell over herself, so overcome with surprise. Everypony around gasped, the alicorns’ eyes widest of all. The white one found herself staring at for quite a time before Cardúnón broke the silent stun. “I don’t believe it…not one, not a one of our race has ever gotten a mark, not since the Cataclysm. Not in three-thousand years!” And that statement, more than any other could, cemented in Wintermail's mind that this was her place, where she belonged. To raise the Sun, to rule Equestria. While everypony marveled and basked in the sunlight, Lady Stellara’s attention was drawn elsewhere. What about the night? She’d always had a special fondness for the stars, their lovely twinkling and the stories of the pictures they once drew. The Moon’s silver light was pleasant, and she hoped to once again see it tonight. Had Nikóleva taken control of it as well? Stellara chuckled, “Maybe I could too,” she mused quietly, with very little meaning. She sparked her horn pale blue and pretended to “reach out”. Giggling to herself, she was just about to finish her little jest when her magical focus snapped hold of something. Stellara was caught off guard and confused. Another silent whisper came to soothe, “We’ve been waiting for you.” “They” must have been mistaken. Her sister was the eldest, the rightful Queen. “We do not make mistakes,” it said again. Through her mind Stellara learned the agreement, and was given a moment to consider. Wintermail was still being fawned over by excited ponies; Stellara was out of the crowd’s eye for the time. Less pure thoughts though gave way to a sense of righteousness—there could be no day without night, not sun without moon. She nodded weakly, then felt the energy and strength of the Moon and stars. She lowered them, tucked away beneath the circle of the world. “Until nightfall…,” the whisper came. And as her sister had experienced, Stellara’s flank lit up and dispersed, revealing her own mark. A black shroud, a pale white crescent moon in its center. Stellara’s heart skipped, and the light attracted everypony towards her. “It only makes sense,” the Librarian said, softly smiling at his favorite pupil. Cardúnón rushed forward and swept the blue alicorn up in an embrace, letting go once he realized he forgot respectability. “Forgive me, Lady, I was—ahem, congratulations!” Stellara began to laugh and slung her hooves around his neck. “Thank you.” When Henarion came, Stellara disengaged to instead embrace her dear Uncle, her caretaker all this time. The orange stallion stroked her periwinkle mane. “So this is what I have been working towards? I think if I died now I wouldn’t be too upset.” A tear ran down Stellara’s cheek, “Oh don’t say that, Uncle—you still have a good hundred years left with you.” Henarion weakly nodded and choked up, wiping his good eye, “I hope so.” The celebration then began in earnest, ponies starting to sing songs and talk about the battles fought and the victories won. Wintermail approached from behind Stellara and placed her hoof on her back. “If somepony had told me we’d now command the heavens when I woke up this morning, I’d probably hit them in the face for insulting me.” “You didn’t get enough of that already?” the sisters laughed. Stellara then frowned, “I hope we realize what we’ve gotten ourselves into.” “Nothing easy, Taby, but I think it’s clear nothing we do from now on will be.” The two stood staring out the inner wall’s gate, watching what parts of the city, mountains, and valley they could. “Do you remember the part about a ‘Sign of the Covenant’ we made with the Sun and Moon?” asked Stellara, “As I recall it’s distinct from these marks. What do you suppose it will be?” “Could be a brand or something; might really hurt,” she giggled. Wintermail bent down and spotted a single strand of green hair. It looked rather fresh and alone, but it could’ve been anypony’s; except hers—she didn’t have green hair. She shrugged and remained beside Stellara, enjoying this brief respite while she could.