Luna’s golden armor shimmered with a faint enchantment as she clasped the helmet. The Buttercup’s Folly, flagship of the Equestrian Navy, rocked beneath her hooves. It had been a hard night, battering their way through the storm thrashing the sea between Equestria and Felaccia. The sailors fought tirelessly to keep them moving forward and above the waves. But the morning had come.
The sun rose above the horizon, guided by Twilight Sparkle’s horn. She had remained back in Canterlot with Celestia, with the intent to keep the country running smoothly. That, and to wait for Spike’s health to return.
Luna commanded a navy of five ships of various classes and sizes. Magic rods sat atop the gunwales. Sails billowed, aided by strong wings crafted by weather pegasi. Helmsponies and boatswains shouted back and forth, keeping each other up-to-date. Salt hung in the air.
It had been a long time since Luna had sailed. Very rarely did she ever get out on the water, and when she did, it was part of some risky mission or another. In the old days, when she and Celestia sought out the scattered Elements of Harmony, the sea had become a second home to them. Not a very comfortable or friendly home, if she was honest, but home nonetheless.
The “old” days, she thought with a sigh. More than a thousand years ago. Even thirteen years after her return, she still wasn’t used to the idea.
“The sunlight should keep the Krakens in the deep ocean,” she said to the captain of the Buttercup’s Folly. “However, I still want hourly soundings in case one of them is hungry enough to bother an entire navy.”
“Yes, Princess.”
She stared out over the open ocean before them. They were perhaps a day away from Felaccia, having already travelled for an entire day. They were without a doubt more than half a day behind Ahuizotl. He would reach the griffon kingdom long before they did.
Her navy would not be allowed into Felaccia, Luna knew. Not while Andean and Ahuizotl parleyed.
“Airship approaching at six-o’-clock!”
Luna looked over her shoulder and saw the Vanishing Point sailing through the blue sky. “Clear the main deck of the Seaspray!”
The Seaspray was a massive barge, slow in speed, but able to hold several small airships on its main deck. A spot was cleared, and the Vanishing Point quickly nestled itself down. Captain Carrot and Blankety Blank disembarked first, followed closely by Apple Bloom. Martial Paw remained on board, directing the refueling of the engines.
Luna glided over to the Seaspray and greeted the new arrivals with a nod. “No time for pleasantries. I need you all in my cabin posthaste.” She set her eyes on Martial and raised her voice enough to be heard. “All of you.”
Martial bobbed his head without looking, then hopped down to join the others. A quick cloudwalking spell was cast on Apple Bloom and Care, and the two ships were connected with a gangplank of clouds. They hustled wordlessly into the main cabin. Luna locked the door.
“I will make this to-the-point.” Luna took a seat at the head of a large dining table and motioned for them to find a place. “We are in dire straits. Ahuizotl will reach Felaccia before we do; that is simple fact. We will not be allowed to pursue him into the country. That leaves us with the option of waiting outside of Felaccian waters until he leaves. Then we can resume our chase.” She tapped her forehooves together. “Or, we can do something very illegal.”
“I’m sorry, what?” Apple Bloom’s saddlebags clinked as she leaned forward. Luna could see several potion bottles of various colors gathered close. “All due respect, Princess Luna, but that’s talkin’ crazy.”
Luna gave her a sharp look, which ended Apple Bloom’s protestations rather quickly. “Captain Carrot, Agent Blank, and Mr. Paw shall enter Felaccia in secret, and there take steps to rescue Button Mash and Sweetie Belle from the clutches of Ahuizotl. I will task you with also sabotaging the sun device, but only as a secondary objective. The hostages come first.”
“I believe that Ahuizotl should be our main target.” Martial Paw drummed his talons on the table. “If he escapes again, it will be a disaster.”
“Right now, that is for me to decide.” Luna folded her forelegs. A slight chill entered the room as she sent small glimmers of magic through her horn. “And my say in the matter is final. The hostages are of the utmost importance. Rescue them, and we can iron out the details later.”
“It’s Sweetie Belle’s singin’ that lets Ahuizotl control the hearts,” Apple Bloom said, her head low. “We rescue her, and his whole operation’s dead.”
“D-delayed, not dead.” Blankety tapped his black, scraggly horn. “The s-siren’s song isn’t c-completely unique. And there might be other ways to sway hearts.”
Martial intertwined his talons and tilted his head, allowing one wide-set eye to look directly at Luna. “There’s only one way this ends.”
“I agree.” Luna spread her wings ever-so-slightly, outmatching Martial’s imposing size. “However, how it ends is just as important as when it ends. Sweetie Belle, as an equine being, cannot be replaced. You shall rescue her.”
Blankety bowed his head and gave her a faint nod. Martial glowered and shrunk back, his attention apparently focusing on a floorboard to the left of his paw. Care could only shrug at Luna, offering a pittance of a smile.
Apple Bloom shifted her saddlebags and let them drop to the floor. “So… you didn’t say I was going with them.”
“No. You will not accompany them.” Luna glanced at each of the others around the table, one after the other. “They have a very real chance of being discovered and imprisoned. Care and Blankety would be tried for espionage, while Martial would be charged with violating his banishment. I will not put you through such a thing, Apple Bloom.”
Apple Bloom scrunched her muzzle. “But the whole dang reason I came was to help Sweetie an’ Button! Ain’t the case? I can’t just sit on my hooves while they’re still in danger!”
Luna’s tongue was as sharp as the crack of a whip. “Allow me to speak and perhaps you shall understand.”
The whip did its damage, and Apple Bloom’s ears drooped as her expression sagged. “I’m sorry. I just… really wanna help them.”
Luna softened her own expression and allowed the iron in her voice to be warmed at the core. “I know, Apple Bloom. You are passionate, and that is a good thing. But if we do not temper our passions with rationality, they shall consume us. Turn us into something we despise.” She lingered on Martial for a moment. He gave no indication that he was even listening. “You shall remain with me. If Ahuizotl should flee, we shall be waiting to intercept him. Will you join me in my mission to put this ages-long race to an end?”
“Of course.” Apple Bloom nodded, though Luna could see the pain in the depths of her eyes. “I’ll do whatever I can to help.”
“Then it is settled.” Luna pointed her horn towards Care. “Captain Carrot, you and your troops are dismissed.”
***
Caballeron had been quiet the past couple of days, even as cooped up as the three of them were. He responded in grunts and single-syllable words. He wouldn’t even look at the Painted Ones who brought them food. Every once in a while, he would step out to wander around the Hesperus Mactans.
Button didn’t especially mind; a conversation with Caballeron was pretty low on his list of priorities. No, his priority was rationing out what little ambrosia they had left. Sweetie needed a specific dose once a week to strengthen her fairy strings. Caballeron’s chest wound was still deep, even if it had been closed up. Button was forced to heal the old-fashioned way, allowing the bruising to fade on its own time.
In short, life sucked.
As he was digging through his saddlebags, he stumbled upon the old Joyboy he’d brought from home. He clicked the power on only to find that it was completely drained. Dead weight. “Groovy…”
It was surprising how much of the ship they’d been given free reign of. As long as they didn’t go near the bridge, the engine room, Ahuizotl’s quarters, or the cargo bay, they were left unhindered. Granted, there was very little reason to move around, since all they got out of it was the passionate glares of the Painted Ones and the mechanical chitter of the Strutters.
That, and access to the “facilities.” Yes, those facilities. The shampoo was cheap and the water was cold, but darned if it didn’t feel good to get clean for the first time in ages.
Button snorted; of course even giant death machines needed a bathroom.
Sweetie had remarked that there were more female Painted Ones than she’d originally thought. They were all still earth ponies, and all of them were equal levels of peeved. The strange thing was that as the days passed, fewer Painted Ones could be seen, while more Strutters appeared. Button didn’t know whether they were being forced into the automatons or not, and he wasn’t sure which option was more terrifying.
Ahuizotl grew more agitated the closer they got to Felaccia. Four of his most trusted lieutenants had gone missing the first night, with no sign as to where they’d wandered off to. A strange presence followed him around the hallways, like a ghost. Sometimes, when Button wasn’t terrified out of his mind, he noticed a green glow coming from around the corner. It was always just out of sight. Always just out of reach. At that point, he resumed being terrified out of his mind.
Caballeron slid open the window panel, shattering Button’s introspection. The grizzled old doctor lit a cigarette and squelched the match against the floor. “Have a look, kids.”
Button was so shocked by Caballeron’s sudden verbosity that he nearly forgot to wrinkle his nose at the cigarette’s acrid stench. He glanced at Sweetie, shrugged, and moved beside Poni. A glance out the window sent some slight sense of joy pumping through his heart: Land.
Sweetie came close beside him. She pushed her frameless glasses higher on her nose and let out a happy squeak. “We made it.”
“Oh, that we have,” Caballeron said, his voice all gravel and nicotine. “We’ve made our journey through Hell to find a yet deeper Hell.”
Button pressed his nose against the glass. Unfortunately, it didn’t make his view clearer. “That’s Felaccia?”
“The land of glory-seeking warmongers.” Caballeron grimaced, and a trail of smoke escaped through his teeth. “Stifled beneath the smothering mother that is Equestria. They’re looking to break free.”
Sweetie frowned at him. “Equestria and Felaccia are friends.”
“People can be friends, nations cannot,” Caballeron said. “All alliances are rendered moot after what we’re about to do today.” A smile grew on his muzzle, lacking warmth or mirth. “But the approach is pretty, if nothing else.”
Button Mash stared across the ocean, and beheld a new nation for the first time in his life.
The water ended at a jagged cliff face, battered smooth near the bottom, craggy and mossy near the top. The size of it was mountainous, rising high above their heads even while aboard the flyder-shaped airship. A glint of light caught his eye, drawing him to the ocean’s surface. Several boxes floated in the water, glistening in the sun. “What’re those?”
Caballeron followed the young stallion’s hoof. “Griffon seafaring warships.”
“Really?” Button Mash narrowed his eyes. He could spot rivets holding plates together, and open spaces where weapons lay at the ready. “It looks like they’re made of metal.”
“Metal ships?” Sweetie Belle squinted at the gray boxed drifting in the currents. “They have to weigh tons! How can they float?”
“Buoyancy’s about more than weight, Miss Belle.” Caballeron tapped his nose. “I wager an Equestrian barge weighs five times as much as one of those. The Ironclad warships do indeed float, and a bit more besides.”
Caballeron raised his head and indicated they should look forwards. “But enough about that. Look.”
Button could only gape. It looked as though a massive talon had scraped a gap through the cliffside. Water flowed from an inland river, surrounded on either side by walls of sheer rock. An archway spanned the gap, on which griffons could be seen marching back and forth, a variety of weapons at the ready. An airship maneuvered out of the entryway and came alongside the Hesperus Mactans.
To either side of the place where the river met the sea, carved from the top to the bottom of the cliffs, were two statues. One was of a lion sitting proud, and the other was an eagle with its wings folded. Both held crowns atop their brows. The eagle’s feathers were chiseled out individually, and the lion’s fur was just as detailed. The statues faced each other, guarding the entrance to Felaccia.
A shadow fell over them, and the scope of the monument hit Button like a ton of bricks. The path through the rock was large enough for the Hesperus Mactans to pass unhindered.
The gap widened as they carried on. Below, the river was speckled with spikey outcroppings rising from the waves. Rapids churned and gushed. A small current of safe waters snaked through the passage, enough for two ships to run side-by-side, but not much more.
After hundreds of meters of pure stone walls, they broke through to the other side.
“Welcome,” Caballeron said, “to Roc.”
Button beheld a lake as large as the city of Cloudsdale in its heyday. The stone walls sloped inward, forming a caldera around the waters. Buildings were built or carved from the stone, and they stretched from the peaks of the cliff faces to the shallows of the lake. Gardens and orchards were built in steps, each level having a different crop. Fishing boats puttered around, hauling nets. A heard of Archaeopteryx ran along a circular track while griffon farmers guided their progress.
Great boulders hovered overhead, their undersides glistening with gilded magic. Bridges of rope and wood connected them, along which griffons flew or climbed. Atop these boulders, Button saw watchtowers, weapon emplacements, training grounds, and other military miscellanea. Airships were moored, among them the truly astonishing Corona and Stella. The cigar-shaped capital ships were accompanied by many, many flying boulders, each with a different purpose. One off-loaded cargo. One refueled the engines. One checked for rips and tears.
In the center of the lake, a mountain rose. Its peak had been worn down and carved into spires and battlements. Stained glass windows shone from among the outcroppings. A gate large enough to admit a dragon was barred with iron alloys.
Not a brick could be seen anywhere. The griffons had not built up, but had dug down.
On the far side of the mountainous castle, another statue had been carved. This was a full-blooded griffon, having aspects of both eagle and lion. It sat regally, its wings folded and its talons held outward like a scale. The crown was made of the same magical material that caused the boulders to fly. The Hesperus Mactans approached the statue, angling for its left claw.
The last view Button got before the flyder spun around was of Andean Ursagryph. The king stood with various other griffons in the palm of the left talon, lifting a claw in welcome.
Caballeron situated a white Ponyma hat on his head and slid the window shut. “Come on. Ahuizotl insists that we all be there.”
“Huh?” Button Mash reeled from all he’d seen. This was only one city in Felaccia. What were the others like? Were they all in caldera lakes? Were flying rocks just a thing in Felaccia? How long did it take to carve the castle, let alone the danged statues? “W-what does he want with us?”
“Sweetie for her songs. Me for my knowledge of the sun device.” Poni gave Button a soft double-tap on the cheek. “You for the leverage.”
Button pouted. “I meant a little more immediately.”
“Answer’s the same.” Caballeron tossed him his saddlebags. “Come now.”
They came to the cargo bay, where the sun device was kept. Painted ones swarmed the deck, surrounding Ahuizotl himself. He was decked out in all his grandeur, delusional or otherwise. The breastplate ornamented with gemstones. The twin Wyrmslayer swords on his back. The Spade of Hearts sheathed over his shoulder. Ahuizotl turned to them and flexed a claw. “My day of reckoning approaches.”
“You can say that again,” Sweetie muttered.
Ahuizotl directed them to climb onto a platform, which was lowered through the cargo bay doors. They landed solidly on the left talon of the griffon statue. Even with all the griffons and ponies on the massive limb, there was room to spare.
Button scratched his unshaven whiskers self-consciously. He actually wasn’t planning on being in the presence of royalty that day, as odd as it may seem. Looking at the well-armed griffons on the far side of the talon, he felt truly and wholly inadequate.
At the center of the griffons was King Andean himself, several times the size of most griffons, let alone a pony like Button. The sword at his side was so long, he could have used it to bridge a stream. A billowing black beard, a head devoid of feathers, a wingspan to put an alicorn to shame…
Button decided to look away from the king and see what other intimidating creatures he might be afraid of. Ah, there, flanking the king. Two griffons nearly as big as Andean, their hindquarters similarly bear-like, stared ahead with a predatory eye. One had a double-headed axe slung over his shoulder, the other carried a cross-shaped halberd.
The other griffons—about a dozen, all told—were a variety of smaller body-types. The apparent leader was a younger griffon, with gray-flecked feathers and a black rump. These griffons all carried the new-model volleygun, though melee weapons could be seen tucked into their belts.
Caballeron must have noticed Button staring, because he muttered just loud enough for him and Sweetie to hear. “Those are the Blitzwings, Andean’s personal guard. Their captain is Crested Barbary, a second cousin of the royal family.” He indicated the giants flanking the king. “Those are two of the Ursagryph clan. If you want to keep power in Felaccia, you need the support of the longest-lived, most influential of the clans.”
Though the air was filled to the brim with tension, it heightened even more as Ahuizotl descended from the Hesperus Mactans. The immortal mad god’s posture was regal—though to Button’s mind, immensely pompous. The platform settled down on solid stone, the monster departed, and the mechanical flyder lifted off to nestle against the stone on the far side of the lake.
Andean strode forward. The Blitzwings and Ursagryph guards remained where they were, covering every avenue of attack. Ahuizotl also moved forward after gesturing to the Painted Ones to stay back.
“King Andean, wisest among the nations!” Ahuizotl crowed his greeting with a sneered grin. “I was beginning to fear no one would take me up on my offer, but here we are!” His clawed tail snaked around to pull the Spade of Hearts from its sheath. He lay it between himself and Andean, then tilted his head down. “I present the proof of my words: The Spade of Hearts, the very key to activate…” He swung an arm out to point at the idling flyder Strutter. “The Sun Device!”
Andean took the Spade in his talons. It nearly disappeared in the midst of his palm.
“Now it is up to you,” Ahuizotl said, gripping his fist tight. “You hold the last piece of the puzzle, with which we shall throw off the shackles of Celestia and her alicorn brethren.” The mad god’s eyes were alight with excitement as he watched Andean examine the dagger. “The sun shall belong to us.”
Andean glanced at Button, Sweetie, and Caballeron out of the corner of his eye. Just that little bit of attention nearly sent Button to his knees in terror. “I have yet to see your device in operation, Ahuizotl.” Andean set the dagger on the ground and rested his talon on the hilt of his sword. “I have yet to see it operate without the use of murder as its power source.”
“Murder, King Andean? You wound me.” Ahuizotl pressed a claw against his breastplate. “They are a small sacrifice to pay for the liberation of our world.”
“Liberation?” Andean smirked. “I have seen a great many evils perpetrated in the name of liberty. Let us not muddy the waters with flowery speech and pointless platitudes. We both know what your ultimate goal is, Ahuizotl. You seek godhood, but that is not something I shall submit to.”
Ahuizotl slid the Spade of Hearts into its sheath. His smiling countenance faded away with each moment that passed. “Is that so?”
“You doubt this?” Andean glanced back at his Blitzwings, more to punctuate his point than to check their readiness. “I feel we would be better suited to an alliance if we could be honest with each other. I am merely seeking security should the alicorns fall. Should you betray me in your quest for power over all peoples, you shall subsequently face the might of the entire Felaccian military.” Before Ahuizotl could reply, Andean cut him off. “Neither of us can move forward from this point unless we cooperate for the time being. We both require a sun device. We both have but a small piece of the overall puzzle.”
Andean shuffled back a step and gestured to the stone-faced, axe-wielding Ursagryph. “I’m certain our lawyers can iron out the details, but for now I must know… will you cooperate?”
Ahuizotl forced a smile past his sneer. If Button ignored the boiling oil just beneath the surface, he thought it almost looked sincere. “Of course, King Andean. Without a doubt, we shall have our accord.”
Andean gave him a solid, solidifying nod. “Then I shall give you the requested tour.”
***
To Sweetie Belle, it felt a little like being in Canterlot Castle. The architecture was far more gray and cold, being hewn from stone instead of marble. Besides that, though, there were a few comforts of home. Colorful tapestries lined every wall. Empty, old suits of armor stood sentinel. Stained glass windows shone in the sunlight, depicting images of griffons doing heroic deeds.
At least she assumed they were heroic. The scene of a griffon king cutting off a dragon’s head was suspect. The griffon’s swords were curved, just like Ahuizotl’s.
Exactly like Ahuizotl’s. Sweetie prayed that Spike was alright.
Soldiers stood guard at every doorway, their spears, bows, and swords at the ready. Their attitudes were very much like the guardsponies back home; calm, strong and assured. Sweetie would have found herself reassured, had she not been held captive by them. Some small part of her hoped this was an elaborate trap by King Ursagryph, and the guards would pounce at a single command to lay waste to Ahuizotl’s forces.
The rescue didn’t come, of course. Though Felaccia and Equestria were on friendly terms, there was something more important at play. The Sun itself. At there Sweetie Belle was, at the center of it all.
Button Mash walked close beside her, putting himself between her and the nearest warrior. His eyes were as wide as dinner plates, to reference the old cliché. He jumped from object to object, studying intently. Searching for a way out? Or just awaiting the executioner’s axe?
Her stomach churned at the very thought. And, since misery loves company… “You okay?” she whispered.
Button’s ear twitched towards her. His voice shook as he muttered back. “A-ask me again when we’re out of this mess.” He turned his face fully towards her, and his countenance changed ever-so-slightly. A bit of fire sparked behind his eyes. “I know we’re probably the safest we’ve been the entire trip. There’s no way they’d kill two ponies in Felaccia.”
Caballeron leaned his head between them. “One pony, on the other hoof…”
Button rolled his eyes. “We’re fine. I’m fine. It’s fine. We’re. Just. Fine.”
“Aye, she’s fine.” Caballeron indicated Sweetie with a shake of his neck. “And I’m fine. It’s you I’m worried about, boy.”
Sweetie snorted. She fought to keep her voice low as the griffon guards peered at them. “I’m sure he’s real touched.”
“At this moment, he’s only alive to keep you in line, Miss Belle.” Caballeron scratched his stubbly beard. The lines and creases on his face deepened as he gazed ahead down the hallway. “The instant a better option presents itself…” He drew a line across his throat.
Button’s brown cheeks paled a shade. “I don’t suppose you have a plan?”
“The plan is to persevere, to observe—” Caballeron tilted his head back and slowed his steps. “—and to see what King Ursagryph has in store for us.”
Sweetie turned forward to see what he was looking at. King Andean led the procession up to a large, dark stone door. Very little light illuminated this portion of the hallway. The shadows served to enhance the image carved into the door, highlighting its details and intricacies.
It was a set of double-doors, arched at the top. The left held a crowned lion, and the right an eagle, just like the statues at the entrance to Felaccia. These images each had a leg outstretched, which crossed in the middle. The lion’s free paw held a dagger, and the crossed limbs each had a deep wound. Their blood mingled and dribbled down into a basin at their feet.
“In times of myth,” King Andean said, “Daphnes, King of Red Lions, and Thorondor, Lord of Eagles, united their kingdoms in mind, body, and spirit. What lies beyond is our most sacred and precious history.” Andean turned to each of them to give them an equal measure of his stern glare. He lingered especially long on Ahuizotl. “Do not touch anything beyond these doors. Do not share what you see beyond these doors. Is that clear?”
In turn, they all agreed. Even the mad god bowed his head solemnly.
Andean gripped the crossed arms and pulled. The muscles on his back tensed and rippled as he hefted the enormous blocks of solid stone. A seam appeared at the center of the arm wounds, then deepened as the ancient kings were separated. The passage beyond lay dark and cold, save for the light of Andean’s torch. The griffon king moved in slowly, and the rest of the group easily kept pace.
The path angled downward, deeper into the core of the mountain. The air was stale and dusty, smelling of something faintly foul. Sweetie couldn’t put her hoof on what it reminded her of, only that it was awful. Two other griffons also carried torches, so there was plenty of light to see the plain chiseled walls surrounding her.
Then holes began to appear in the walls. They were too dark to see into at first, but as she got closer, Sweetie could see cloth. Something gold and valuable glittered in the flickering light. She lifted her head as high as she could to see inside.
A griffon skeleton gazed at her with empty eye sockets, a cadaverous grin etched into its beak.
Sweetie’s cry of disgust and horror echoed in the small passage. She stumbled back against Button’s chest, squelching her own shriek with her hooves. She shut her eyes tight to banish the sight, but the afterimage of the torch’s glow had burned it into her eyelids.
Button wrapped his forelegs around her shoulders and held her tight. His voice rose above the annoyed moans of the griffon soldiers. “H-hey, can we just not? Maybe warn a guy?”
A huge presence loomed overhead. Sweetie opened her eyes to see King Andean staring at them with keen disapproval dripping from his beak. “These catacombs hold the bodies of ancient griffon kings. You would do well to respect them.”
“W-we will,” Button said. “B-but you can’t blame us for being surprised.”
Andean furrowed his brow. He sighed lightly through his nose, then resumed his slow processional.
Sweetie’s heart thundered in her chest. She swallowed the nerves and looked back at the dead king. Cobwebs spanned between his ribs. Faded red cloth clothed his lower section, and a sword had been cradled in his scraggly talons. There was nothing to fear from the lifeless pile of calcium. Nothing at all.
That did not stop the creepy-crawlies from running rampant up and down her back.
However, it was alleviated somewhat by the sensation of Button’s chest against her coat. He whispered, the tremble in his voice having travelled all the way to his hooves. “You gonna be okay?”
“No.” Sweetie looked over her shoulder to see Ahuizotl glaring at them. “But there’s nowhere else to go.”
The further they walked, the more bare corpses they found. Their jewelry and weapons became all the finer with each passing king. Each sword held a different shape, with a different pattern of gold within the iron of the blade. Each crown grew more ornate and stately, gemstones embedded all around the circumference. Names were carved above the tombs in a language Sweetie couldn’t begin to guess.
Sweetie chanced a look into a tomb and instantly regretted it. The skull had been smashed to pieces, and what little remained had been arranged at the top of the headless body in a macabre puzzle.
“As more kings passed, the griffons delved deeper.” King Andean spoke with a heaviness on his breath. He glanced to each tomb he passed, paying each a measure of respect. “The catacombs sank further into the mountain, until we unearthed the ancient ruins. They had been thought destroyed in the pony slave uprising, but luck was on our side. Though the ancient changeling city fell, the very heart of the complex remains.”
The corridor ended with one last tomb. This one lay empty, save for a robe and a crown. Andean paused beside it, and waited for everyone to gather around.
“This is the tomb of Berkut, the last of the Paw dynasty.” Andean touched his free talon to the hilt of his sword. “There is no body because Celestia vaporized him with the light of the sun. Once we carved his place in these tombs, we also uncovered the changeling ruins.”
Andean handed his torch to the captain of his guard. “Fitting that the death which taught us to fear the sun also gave us the means to seize it.” He drew his sword and jabbed it into the bare wall. Sweetie heard a click, a rumble, and the wall split in twain.
The room beyond was as big as the Canterlot Castle ballroom. Much of the wall was covered in bronze-colored plates, save for the spots where they had fallen away in a cave-in. Pictures had been carved into the metal with laser-precision. On one, six changelings stood on platforms above a crowd, gemstone necklaces gleaming with power.
The topmost changeling’s necklace held a six-pointed, lavender star. Sweetie Belle adjusted her glasses and squinted at it. “Is… is that…?”
“Is what—?” Button Mash trailed off with a weak wheeze. “Uh.”
Andean Ursagryph sheathed his sword with a firm talon. “It’s as the old tales say. The first to use the Elements of Harmony were changelings.”
“B-but—” Button turned a pleading expression towards Andean. He shook his head, his eyes wide. “But that’s not right. W—we know River was—”
“River?” Ahuizotl strode in behind them, a grin cracking his face in half. “Do you perchance refer to River Cicada? The first queen of the changelings and a personal friend?”
Button spun around too fast and stumbled. It was Sweetie’s turn to catch him, though she had no idea what to say. She was forced to stay still and prop him up while he blathered. “B-b-but—” He coughed into his hoof when he choked on his own spit. “—I don’t understand. The stories all—”
“The stories are wrong, of course, as they usually are.” Ahuizotl prowled around the room, examining the walls with an almost lackadaisical interest. “History is written by the victors, after all, and cannot be trusted. You need only scratch the surface to see all the dirt and grime beneath. To see the horrendous atrocities that have been caulked over with flowery language. To see blatant misinformation perpetuated by a propaganda campaign. To find the names of those that the powerful wish to be forgotten. To be—”
Ahuizotl’s speech ended with his jaws clamping shut. Sweetie strained her neck to see around him. Whatever image had shut him up had to be breathtaking.
It was, perhaps for the wrong reasons.
The changeling queen, still wearing the Element of Magic, observed as the other five changelings were executed by a blue, five-limbed creature. The monster’s wicked grin was all-too familiar.
The next image showed the queen and the monster standing beside the Elements. The magic gemstones formed a circle, at the center of which was the Spade of Hearts. Power flowed from the Elements to the weapon, taking on a sickening green hue as it did so.
“At our best guess,” Andean said, having not moved from the entrance of the room, “Queen River Cicada slew her other bearers when they refused to follow her plan to control the sun. Perhaps you were a friend, Ahuizotl, or perhaps you were merely a hitman. Only you can say for sure.”
“Not likely,” Ahuizotl said, his voice hoarse. “I remember nothing from the Second Age.”
Andean grinned out of the side of his mouth. “I’ll admit, that surprises me.”
Button pulled away from Sweetie to move closer to the image of the Spade. He stared up at the curved dagger, glancing between it and the true thing on Ahuizotl’s back. “How?”
Ahuizotl sneered at him. He walked away, banishing the memory of the etching with a wave of his paw.
Button’s eyes were hollow and tearful. His throat bobbed with pained breaths. “How could the Elements have a part in something so monstrous?”
Sweetie frowned at him. She was confused, too. Upset as well. The pictures did not tell a pretty tale. But there was something deeper than disappointment and fear in his words. There was something deeply aching, maybe even broken. He stood on unsteady hooves, sniffling and swallowing hard. She walked closer to him, her brow furrowed as she sought out the source of his—
Oh.
Oh.
His stories.
Those stories he loved so much, that he held so dear in his heart. The stories he told and retold. That he wrote songs about. That he put on shows for. The legends of great heroes and their mighty deeds. Everything Button knew and cared about was false. Fake. All the stories; lies. All the truths he found buried there, nothing but worthless imaginations.
Sweetie’s face burned at the magnitude of what lay before her. She came alongside him, her heart aching. She wanted to say something to help, but what? Button was in pain. What could possibly sooth it?
Nothing she could think of seemed proper.
Sweetie winced at the sound of Ahuizotl’s booming voice. “The décor is spectacular, but I worry about the functionality of it all.”
Andean Ursagryph pointed the mad god deeper into the room. “Come. There is one last thing to see.”
Sweetie walked slowly alongside Button as they once again were surrounded by griffons and Painted Ones. She caught Caballeron staring at Button, his expression intense but indiscernible. The doctor looked away, his jaw clamped tight.
“Doctor?” she said.
“Quiet.” He tipped his Ponyma hat low on his forehead. “This next part is important.”
They were led to one last room, longer and wider than the others, but only a meter taller than Ahuizotl at sitting height. The monster clawed at the stone overhead, grumbling faintly in discomfort. Andean had an easier time with the head-space, though still nearly bopped his head on the doorway.
Clear amber panels, much like those that made up the Hesperus Mactan’s wings, came together in an hexagonal cylinder in the center of the room. The honeycomb pattern repeated, seemingly infinitely. It looked like a cage, or a pen, or a container for something.
Within, she could see the floor drop away a short distance from the hexagons. Though it had no visible bottom, light shimmered from within. It moved like a liquid, molding and forming fantastical shapes within the cylinder. It looked very similar to the corona of a unicorn horn.
She could see dials and nobs built into the hexagons, all lying within the cage. Markings surrounded the dials, signifying settings, or positions, or any number of other possibilities. There were as many dials as there were hexagons. It was dizzying just looking at it.
Poni Caballeron stopped just short of the cylinder. “Is it not as I said, Ahuizotl? Do you have the proof you require that I have memorized the controls?”
“Without a doubt, dear Doctor!” Ahuizotl chuckled and gave Caballeron a mocking pat on the head. “You spoke truly and honestly for once in your life!”
Poni grunted beneath the powerful paw. “And my heart?”
“You are indeed one step closer to aquiring it.” The paw became too heavy to bear for one brief, terrifying instant. “So long as you continue to please me.”
Anhuizotl, his smile having regained its full, predatory luster, turned to Andean. “King Ursagryph, shall we step inside to examine this precious treasure we’ve found?”
“I would not.” King Andean pressed a talon against the amber-colored hexagon. “These plates hold back a source of magic far more powerful than a thousand unicorns. The core of the mountain is pure crystal; solidified magic. To step inside would be to invite an violent, painful death as the magic ruptures your fairy strings and burns your body to cinders.”
Ahuizotl laughed, short and sharp. “And yet the controls are inside?” He turned a snarl upon Caballeron. “Explain!”
Caballeron nodded faintly. “A changeling’s body—and by extension, a changeling queen’s—is capable of holding far more magic than a pony’s or griffon’s. While a pony generates their own magic, and is thus more often full of it, a changeling absorbs the magic around it. A changeling would still die from overexposure, but they have more time to work before the magic takes effect.” He shrugged, holding his forelegs out. “In short, it was designed so that only a changeling could control the sun.”
“Crafty dastards, aren’t they?” Ahuizotl clenched his fist tight and snorted steam. His nails dug into his palm, drawing blood. “I went to the changelings, but none of them came. None of them.”
King Andean tilted his head to the side so that he could look Ahuizotl in the eye. “Are we stalled until we can find a workaround?”
Ahuizotl slowly, gradually relaxed his hand. He wiggled the bloodied claws as his breathing slowed to a normal level. Sweetie shrunk back as his eyes lingered on her and Button. “Perhaps. Perhaps not. I may have a solution.” He licked his claws, then his lips. “If my hunch is correct.”
His smile became a mask of friendliness as he held the bleeding paw out to Andean. “But whilst I ruminate on the thought, perhaps I could show you the sun device itself?”
***
It was a small comfort that they were able to stay in the castle, rather than aboard Ahuizotl’s airship. They had full guest rooms available to them—adjoined, and with a constant griffon soldier presence. The beds were soft, the drinks were cold, and the view from the window was spectacular.
Crested Barbary, the head of Andean’s Blitzwings, eased the door closed. “You shall remain here until called upon. If you need food or medicine, let Stellar know.”
Sweetie Belle helped Button ease himself into a bed. The poor guy hadn’t said a word to anybody. Once he was on the mattress, he rolled over to face the wall.
Caballeron rapped a hoof on the door. The griffon known as Stellar Panthera poked his head in. “I’d like a whisky, if you have one on hand.”
“I’ll let the kitchen know, Doctor.”
“Thank you.” Caballeron half-turned towards Sweetie. “I’ll be in the other room.”
Sweetie shrugged one shoulder halfheartedly. “We’ll be here, I guess.”
“Obviously.” Caballeron tipped his hat and entered the adjacent room. The door clicked closed behind him, leaving Sweetie and Button in the silent room. Sweetie took a chair and hunched over. Button probably wasn’t going to be good company. Best to let him sleep.
Her thoughts were interrupted when a low whine escaped Button’s curled-up form. She watched him lie there for a moment, before another suppressed cry ended in a gasped sob. She rubbed her foreleg, an ache appearing in her chest.
She rested a hoof on his shoulder and spoke softly. “Button?”
His ears pressed against the top of his head. He covered his eyes with a foreleg. She saw his cheeks heat up to a bright shade of red.
Sweetie nibbled her bottom lip. She nudged her frameless lenses further up her nose. “Do you wanan talk about it?”
A breath pressed its way unbidden out of Button’s chest, whining on its way out. His lips trembled as he wiped his eyes. “Sh—River was—” He shook his head, coughing. “River was—was supposed to be a hero.”
Everything about Button was raw. His eyes, his throat, his emotions, his words. Reddened, tear-streaked, summer-brown gems pleaded with her for some iota of peace. “She was… supposed to receive the Elements. She was supposed to defeat the Fae and save the world. But she’s—” He shut his eyes tight, his breath coming in hiccups. “She killed all those people. The other Bearers… The sun device slaves… She killed all of them.”
Sweetie felt her own eyes pool with tears. She let them trickle down her cheeks, not bothering to wipe them away. What could she say to any of that? Saying she was sorry was worthless. Saying he shouldn’t let it bother him was tremendously stupid. There was no bright spot in any of it.
But… but that in itself was a lie, right? How do you fight a lie?
“Hay.”
He turned to her soundlessly, awaiting her next words with his ears perked and itching.
“Every great story,” she said, almost as quiet as a breath, “the one that really sticks with you, no matter how silly or outlandish it is, has a grain of truth in it. Right?”
Button Mash tipped his head downward, averting his gaze. His embarrassment was as clear as the daylight streaming through the window.. “If… if only a grain…”
She nodded, rubbing his shoulder lightly. “So what’s the truth in River’s story?”
The tears returned to Button in earnest. He pressed his hooves against his face, gritting his teeth.
Sweetie wrapped her forelegs around him, cradling just a small portion of him. He didn’t fight it. He accepted her embrace, fighting for what little comfort she could provide.
“Y—” She sniffled and tried again. “You said it was that nobody is totally alone. There’s always somebody ready to stand beside you, if you’ll let them.” Her throat hurt. It was a strange contradiction; both dry and phlegmy at the same time. “I still believe that.”
A spatter of sobs shook his body before he could contain them. “I… don’t know if I do.”
Sweetie rested her chin on the top of his head. “Will you let me stand beside you?”
“Sweetie…” He shook his head. He made a weak attempt to pull away, but couldn’t seem to find the strength. “I’m so stupid. I’m throwing a tantrum because I found out my stories were fake.”
“No!” She gave him a squeeze, surprising herself with the sincerity in her voice. “No, you’re not throwing a tantrum. You’re hurt, Button. Anybody would be. It’s okay to be hurt, Button. It’s okay to cry.”
The sun took on an orange tinge as it drifted towards the horizon. Sweetie felt its warmth at its fullest for the first time in over a week. “When I was young… Actually, just after I got my cutie mark, I got hurt. I found out about my shriveled fairy strings. I found out my magic could never be as strong as it might have been. I found out that I could die without a steady supply of ambrosia. I bottled it up inside. I hated myself. I hated the world. I hated everything for a long time.”
The orange sun reached that one particular tinge, and the sky itself reached that singular shade of familiar purple. “Without Scootaloo, I don’t think I’d ever have come out of it.”
She released him, but only so that she could look him in the eyes. His beautiful brown eyes. “There’s still truth in those stories, Button. You didn’t lose everything.”
He let his head fall against the bed. “How can I keep telling them, now that I know how they end?”
Sweetie sat beside the bed and rested her chin on the comforter. She gave him a light shrug. “Just be true to yourself? Tell the story you need to tell? Sing the song that you can’t live without singing?”
They locked eyes. Button slowly nodded, his breathing finally regaining some semblance of normalcy. He rubbed his eyes even redder than they’d already become. His answer was a small, significant word. “Okay. I’ll do my best.”
“Nobody can ask for more.”
Their door shook with a tiny knock. They turned as one to see a griffon chick poke her head in. She twittered at the guards, made a shushing motion with her talon, and slipped into the room. She was a short young girl, with silvery white feathers and shimmering gray fur. She carried a plate on her back, which she placed on a two-seater table. “Hi. My name’s Stella. I heard you guys were prisoners-but-not-really. I made you some cookies!” She grabbed her beak with one talon, then spoke around the fingers. “Well, I didn’t make them, but my sister and I had Chef Tabby make them. And we swore everybody to secrecy, so you won’t get in trouble. Or me. I won’t get in trouble.”
She fluffed her neck feathers out and smiled wide. “Are you really Sweetie Belle? One of the Cutie Mark Crusaders?”
Sweetie gave her what little smile she had left. “Yeah. That’s me. The squeaky one. You read about me in Twilight’s—Princess Twilight’s book, didn’t you?”
“Yeah. Your stories are my favorite.” Stella drummed her clawtips against the floor. “Except maybe for Rainbow Dash’s stories. And Fluttershy’s. And maybe Applejack. But only ’cause I met her in real life, too.”
Her feathery ears rose up as she turned her head to the side. “Um. I should go. I hope you get released really soon!” She was out in a flurry of feathers, the door shutting solidly behind her.
Button sat up in the bed, his eyes heavy. New tears had come to salt his cheeks. He gazed glumly at the door, his muzzle scrunched.
Sweetie looked over the cookies. They were hot, moist, homemade, and utterly delicious. “I think… I think she’s the sort of kid you tell stories to. The kind who loves them with their whole heart. Who takes it to heart.”
Button nodded weakly. “I wanna give them a truth to hold onto.”
“Y-you can.” Sweetie forced herself to ignore the way her heart fluttered at his conviction. She focused on the newfound treats and held them out. “Wanna cookie?”
***
Caballeron finally shut the door fully. He didn’t know what possessed him to listen. Morbid curiosity? A natural inquisitive streak? Some dubious voyeuristic tenancy?
Perhaps he was just hoping Button’s spirit would stay strong.
He’s seen enough spirits crushed in his lifetime. He’d crushed many with his own hooves, shortly followed by a life being snuffed out. He’d slain pony after pony without a second thought.
He hadn’t killed Button, that night when he’d kidnapped Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo. It puzzled him. All it would have taken was a flick of his knife.
Yet this very same boy saved his life a few days later. Even now, he was intent on returning Caballeron’s heart to him. He would save all the hearts, he claimed. He wished to be a hero.
Caballron was in the business of killing heroes on occasion. Yet he hadn’t killed Button.
He’d told himself it wasn’t worth the effort.
He’d told himself it was just a boy, who didn’t know what he was doing.
He told himself a lot of things, and didn’t believe half of them.
This boy cared so deeply about River’s story that seeing her atrocities brought him to tears.
Poni stared into the glass of whisky sitting in front of him. He didn’t know whether to merely take the edge off or drink until he got sick. Neither seemed optimal.
He took a sip, and the ache of bitterness gripped the corners of his mouth. His jaw snapped shut as he let the alcohol flow down his throat.
The pain brought a memory to mind. He knew of one other boy who loved River’s stories.
“Daddy! Mommy bought me and Fluttershy tickets to the puppet show!”
He shoved the table away and watched the whisky cup tip over. It rolled onto the floor and bounced, splattering the last drops of the drink across the carpet. He stood and paced, rage filling his chest. He held it in for as long as he could, but it burst forth in a cry of howling agony. He kicked the table, and it tumbled onto its side.
Poni looked into a full-length mirror and saw Caballeron. The once-proud father, the well-respected historian, had become a murderer, a thief, a thug who worked for blood money. He hated it. He hated it so much.
He’d lost his wife when she’d followed down the same path he walked. He’d lost his best friend when he’d lied to his face for decades. Rhombus was a joke, a monster, a brat who had never grown up. Ahuizotl was a bomb ready to explode. Everything in Caballeron’s life was wretched and decrepit.
The only person who cared enough to help was an amateur puppeteer from Ponyville; a kid who barely lived on his own.
Poni knew, in his heart of hearts, that he wasn’t worthy to lick Button Mash’s horseshoes.
The weight of his troubles forced the doctor to collapse onto his bed. He wept softly until night came, and sleep granted him a brief reprieve.