//------------------------------//
// Chapter 21 
// Story: Lost Reflections 
// by Purple Patch 
//------------------------------//

Sparkler made her way back home silently, dead-eyed, her blank, emotionless face a perfect contrast to the roiling storm that was her mind.
They’d come soon. She knew it. And, as always, they’d bring madness.
From her garden, Carrot Top gave her a wave, her face marked with a couple of plasters after the last attack.
Sparkler briefly waved back, uncertain if she was smiling or not.
The general mood of Ponyville was a lot more sombre than usual with all that had occurred. Nopony felt safe.
It was surprising which members of Ponyville’s citizens were putting on a brave face for others. Some found newfound courage, others felt more alone and afraid than ever.
Sparkler paused at a hedgerow overlooking a bench.
Upon it were Octavia Melody and Vinyl Scratch, the two town musicians as close as a married couple (It was likely exactly that but they weren’t very clear about it).
Vinyl was rubbing her cheek against Octavia’s shoulder. The elegant, grey earth pony gave a rueful look.
“Vinyl, please...I didn’t come here to play around.”
“I’m bored!” Vinyl huffed “You brought me out here but you ain’t telling me why. Are you going to give me the silent treatment just because I accidentally smacked Bonbon’s flank in that last dance?”
“No!” Octavia sighed “Look, it’s about what’s been happening...You’re a mare of the world. You grew up rough.”
“Thanks.”
“I mean...If these mercenaries are coming down on us, dragging ponies off in the night, torturing and burning...I mean, that’s serious!”
“No curd, Dusk Shine.”
“Will you please stop acting like this is a joke?” The earth pony snapped, fixing her marefriend with an angry glare.
A moment passed. Vinyl’s back hoof gave a shuffle, her mouth twisting with half-concealed hurt, blinking fast behind her shades.
“Sorry, Tavi...”
Octavia lowered her head.
“No, I’m sorry. I’m just really stressed with this right now, mostly because...My parents want me back home. They want to head back to Trottingham and forget about Ponyville until this thing blows over.”
There was another pause.
“...I see...”
“Look, they-they’re only doing it because they’re worried. They asked if I want to bring you. They...”
“I know.” Vinyl put a forehoof on Octavia’s and gave a half-smile “You know...my parents asked me pretty much the same thing.”
“And?” Octavia asked, to which her marefriend gave a cocky smile.
“I told them to screw off.” she chuckled “Ponyville is my home. It’s where I found everything good that has ever happened to me. And I’m not going to leave it. If those buckers come back to cause more trouble, I’m going to fight them off and spend as much time as I can with the mare I love.”
Octavia Melody’s anxious face lightened up with admiration and adoration. Craning over to kiss her marefriend long and lovingly on the lips, she felt Vinyl’s forehooves brushing her neck and mane.
“Doncha’ worry, Tavi.” Vinyl cooed in between kisses “Scratch’ll keep you safe.”
Sparkler gave something close to a smile as she finally reached her doorstep.
Her horn lit up and the door unlocked. Her home was a modest little thing, but the Doo family had made it liveable the day their lives crossed over each other. The hallway was dark but Tootsie’s shawl was hung up.
“Tootsie? You home?”


“Sparky?” a little call came from the bathroom. It sounded somewhat pained “Please can you help?”
Tentatively, the young mare crept forward. The bathroom door was half-open.
Tootsie Flute was seated on the edge of the bath, clutching at her forehoof. Her eyes were moist.
“Sparky...” she whined “I...I sprained by forehoof on the way home. I can’t remember how but...it hurts.”
“Oh, Toots, come here.” Sparkler rushed to her side and examined the bruising around her little sister’s fetlock.
Glancing up, she noticed Tootsie had a small cut near her muzzle and a bruise on her cheek.
Tootsie noticed her sister’s anxious look.
“Um...when I sprained my hoof, I tripped over and hit my face on the path. I-it’s not that bad.”
Tootsie looked at her little sister. Her purple and violet mane was shaking slightly. There was a slight sound of chattering teeth behind her mouth.
“Sparky?” she asked, putting her free forehoof on Sparkler’s muzzle, giving her a friendly ‘boop’ “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, sure.” She answered, a lot quicker and more sudden than most would do “Look, don’t worry kid. You just need a bit of rest. Shall I take you up to your room?”
“Thanks, Sparky.”
It was the work of a moment for Sparkler to prop Tootsie Flute atop her back, carry her carefully up to her little bedroom and place her down on the bed, placing her music player and the Ogres and Oubliettes book Pipsqueak had let her borrow on her bedside table.
Checking the sprained foreleg was in a safe position, Sparkler brushed her little sister’s mane and kissed her forehead.
“I’m just taking care of some stuff around the house.” she explained “Just let know if you need anything, okay?
“Okay.” Tootsie chirped with a smile “Thanks, Sparky. I love you, big sis.”


Sparkler swore her walk downstairs took longer than she’d ever thought possible.
A small package had just popped through the mailbox.
She knew for a fact, however, that it was not Derpy or her friends who had delivered it.
Tentatively, waiting to hear the hoofsteps of the pony who delivered it fade away, the young unicorn retrieved the small brown paper package and opened it.
A small rock fell out.
There were specks of blood on it.
She knew whose.
Underneath it was a letter.


You should keep a closer eye on her.
Or you’ll make the same mistakes she did.
And you know where that led her.

There was a photo stapled to the letter.
A photo of Derpy Doo, nestled with her Doctor and daughter the day before Dinky fell sick.
The letter shook in her grasp. She couldn’t tell if it was through fear, grief or rage.
She certainly felt a generous measure of both.


It happens tonight.
Don’t be late.


Or next time, it’s a bigger rock.


*


Conkers glanced at the vibrating crystal spires that made up the pillars of the empire’s edifices.
Something distinctly unprepared was taking place outside.
He turned back down the corridor with a resigned shrug.
This wasn’t his business. His master had requested a cocktail and he’d deliver. He wouldn’t be an able valet if he did not.
It wasn’t easy to get a cocktail on a military outpost, even if you had special pass. But he’d deliver.
The taste was Blueblood’s problem, not his.
He hoped to be back in Canterlot soon, the dangers notwithstanding.
He missed his coltfriend. Since Roscoe had left Marchion to take his degree at Canterlot, they’d been able to see a lot more of each other but a valet’s work was never done.
And despite all the burdens, he could never leave Blueblood’s side.
There was commotion in the corridors.
Hooves clattered on the crystalline floors and through the doors came a trio of crudely-armed and armoured ice-beasts.
A skua-headed griffon, a mountain goat and a buffalo (Or bison as they were known in the Frozen North). All of them had weapons of some sort. The griffon stood in front, clacking its beak in readiness.
Conkers placed the cocktail on a windowsill and stood before them trimly.
“Are you gentlebeasts lost?” he asked “Is there anything I can do for you?”
“I’ll say there is, squeaky.” the griffon snarled, drawing a sickle “You can die slow!”
The metal blade whipped forward.
Too quick for a common pony.
But not quick enough for Conkers.
Strafing deftly to the side, he brought his hoof down hard on the griffon’s outstretched talons. There was a dull snapping sound but before he could cry out, the griffon’s head lurched back as the pegasus followed with an uppercut.
The skua was out for the count. The mountain goat drew back to ready his mace. With nimble grace, flat-faced and calm throughout, the massive pegasus struck out with one hoof, pinning the goat’s to the wall. Hearing the mace clatter as it fell, Conkers grabbed it and swung it into his foe’s hind-leg. The mountain-goat gave a throaty bleat of pain as the stallion he’d imagined an easy fight grabbed him by the base of his horns, spread his wings and sprung upwards, slamming the mountain-goat’s cranium into the ceiling. Swift as the wind, Conkers grabbed the unconscious goat by the hind-legs and swung him into the bison.
The bison was less damaged by the blow than Conkers would have hoped but he yet had speed on his side. As the shaggy bovine reeled, Conkers landed stike after strike in swift succession, readying another at the muzzle.
Too close. He didn’t see the bison’s forehoof.
Blankness hit his eyes for a moment as he found himself flying independent of his wings. Crashing into the shimmering pillar, Conkers noticed the drink meant for Blueblood toppling from its shelf. Hurriedly, he caught the drink in his hooves, spilling only a small sip.
Cradling it like a puppy, Conkers paled as the bison readied his axe, grinning viciously, rumbling a threat in broken Equestrian.
“Kiss head goodbye, bird-horse!”


With a swoop, the bison’s head disappeared under a black shroud.
Blinking, Conkers noticed it was Blueblood’s jacket, its owner wrapping the cloth over the attacker’s face, tugging hard at the sleeves as he yelled out at his valet, a frantic expression on his face.
“Don’t just stand there, you goof! Hit him!”
Trying to keep himself together, Conkers obeyed his master as ever, grabbing the bison’s shoulders and headbutting the beast hard before spinning in mid-air and kicking back with both hind-legs. The bison gave a muffled groan and fell backwards with a crash.
Dusting himself primly and picking up the cocktail glass, he glanced around.
“Sir?” Prince Blueblood was nowhere to be seen “Sir?”
“Down here, lunkhead...” he heard a muffled growl some distance beneath the unconscious bison. Wincing, Conkers craned down and hoisted the bison’s shoulders up a moment, a difficult but not arduous feat for a stallion of his strength.
Shuffling under the prone bovine, Blueblood freed himself and got to his hooves, gasping and bedraggled.
Conkers stood as trim and calm as always and held out the glass.
“Your cocktail, sir.”
Blueblood took it only too gratefully, quenching his throat and soothing his parched throat.
“Good stallion.” he rasped.
Conker’s ear twitched as the clatter of hooves sounded down the corridor again. The valet stepped in front of his employer and prepared for war.
A full cadre of armed snowbeasts cantered towards them, swinging blades or cudgels.
“Run, sir. I’ll hold them off.” Conkers sounded, flat-faced as ever.
Blueblood stared at his valet then at the oncomers.
Did he want to be brave a second time in one day?
He may never have known if he would be as a blaze of heliotrope snaked past into the corridor and crashed into the foe.
Aria Blaze darted from foe to foe swinging a pair of giant chakrams, bladed wheels of the Orient, crafted from dark cobalt, crackling with bright blue-electricity as they spun and weaved round all four hooves. Like a bounding bolt of lightning she struck out at the Jotnar, cutting them down in droves. Sirens were ever acrobatic beasts and as the lilac lady of war swished and weaved over the canopy like a streaming banner, she left carnage in her wake.
As the blood haze cleared, the siren shook her mane, standing over a pile of dead or defeated invaders and glanced at the two stallions.
“Blueblood?” she started, raising an eyebrow “What are you doing?”
The prince shrugged.
“Trying to be a hero.”
Aria blinked and gave him an awkward look
“...You’re not very good at it.”
“I realise. It’s my first time.” Blueblood leaned against Conkers with a tired expression, whining almost childishly
“Conkers...Would another cocktail be possible?”
Conkers rolled his eyes but managed a smile.
“I’ll see what I can do, sir.”


*


Shadows were without form and thus without weakness.
That was what Shadowplay had always been told by Cascadius, teaching him from the moment he found himself alone and afraid.
He owed him everything. And when given a mission, he’d see it through to the end.
He stood, upside-down it was worth pointing-out, watching Zecora’s hut with keen, steely eyes.
Project Omega was a-go.
Trixie Lulamoon, dressed in a plain dusky cloak and hood, was picking the lock to the zebra’s homestead. The mare was twitchy, checking left and right at any noise. The wooden door opened with a creak and the stage magician ducked inside.
The hut still gave Trixie a slight chill. The wooden chimes rattled like bones.
She kept reminding herself that Zecora was a civilized pony and a friend of her friends.
But she had bad experiences with zebras. She didn’t speak often of it.
Trixie feared to light a lamp or even cast a spell. Taking each step carefully to avoid creaking any floorboards, she made her way over to the little compartments where the special ‘doohickies’, as Pinkie Pie called them, were kept.
There she saw it. The Alicorn Amulet, or whatever it was meant to be called, resting under a glass compartment.
She winced at the sight. The sheer black frame contrasted the blood-red gem in the centre of it.
It never shone. That was something she’d always noticed. She’d actually been quite disappointed when she’d first put it on all those months ago. She’d hoped to appear radiant, perhaps overshadowing Twilight Sparkle and that necklace of hers.
Looking at now, knowing more about the horrors of the world this amulet could have brought to Ponyville, she felt sick to her stomach.
What did Balisong, or worse yet Cascadius, want with it?
She cleared her mind of such concerns.
What mattered now was getting the damn thing and proceeding as planned.
She took another step forward, almost close enough to touch the cabinet with the tip of her hoof.
It was then that she felt the spearpoint just under her ear.


“Trixie...Have you lost your mind?
Or have you with our foes aligned?”
Zecora’s voice was quieter and colder than Trixie had ever heard.
And the spear was definitely sharp. The glint running down the edge threatened to blind her. The blade was single-edged and the handle was bamboo, more like a Neighponese weapon than a Zebrican though Zecora had likely made it herself. And Trixie didn’t much fancy finding out how well she could use it.
“...Zecora...” she said softly, trying to keep her cool, no easy task with sharped steel inches from her face, even for the Great and Powerful Trixie
“You need to understand...If I don’t get this to them, they’ll kill the three they have prisoner.”
“You spoke to them without us knowing,
While all the while this threat is growing?”
“No, Zecora, I just want to save my three friends. Okay?” Trixie felt sweat beading down her brow.
“Please...”
“No beast may have this cursed stone -Through any means we could condone - To save their lives, you’d doom the land- This, I tell you, shall not stand.”
Trixie glanced out the window and braced herself, her lips twisting with awkwardness.
“Is that your decision?”
“My decision has been made - You will leave or face my blade.”
The blue unicorn breathed heavily.
“In that case...forgive me.”


Shadowplay ducked into the foliage as the wood around the window he was looking through shattered. An unconscious zebra flew over him and landed in the forest undergrowth. The sound of startled nightbirds rang overhead.
Then silence.
The pale batpony watched with baited breath as Trixie Lulamoon, wide-eyed and shaking, made her way unsteadily out the hut, placing the alicorn amulet in her hat and carrying it at her shoulder.
He bit the air with trepidation.
She was doing it.
She was going against Equestria’s secret organisation. All for three ponies of arguably little worth.
This could be easier than he thought.
Admittedly, this was only part of the grand scheme. An important part but a long way to go to the final design.
But if easy sailing continued, well...
Shadowplay shook his head. Cascadius always taught him to prepare for the worst and the worst was far from behind them.
Never be certain of victory until after it’s happened. Never underestimate your enemy. Never-
Thwack!

His quiet, prep-session was cut viciously short as the butt of a bamboo spear cracked into the side of his jaw.
Catching his face in the ferns, the batpony scrambled in the undergrowth and caught sight of a zebra.
An angry one.
“You death-desiring sack of pus! I’m sending you to Tartarus!”
Shadowplay reached for his knives. He blinked as the blade on the end of the bamboo caught the moonlight.
There was a sound of pinching steel as Shadowplay opened his one good eye and shrieked as the blade pierced his chest.
Grinding her teeth, Zecora twisted the spear until forced to retract it, covering her eyes as the batpony’s scream became a cone of sonar, threatening to rupture her eardrums.
The mercenary clutched at his spurting chest and folded his wings. There came a cloud of shadow from his wing membranes as he shielded himself. With a sound not unlike tearing of paper, a black mist enshrouded him as Zecora cut at where he’d laid.
When the mist subsided, she found her spear-tip in a patch of moss.
Growling, she turned her head left and right, her sharp, teal eyes scanning the undergrowth.
One of the talismans around her neck, white-spruce and moth-shaped, began to rattle. Taking it off and holding it like a pendulum, it titled slightly south-west.
Sinking into the bushes, Zecora began hunting the batpony.


‘Hurts...It hurts...Sweet Saola, it hurts!’
The frail batpony clutched the bleeding wound, huddled atop a branch among the gnarled, towering trees, the other hoof clutching his mouth for fear of the zebra hearing his breath.
His batpony shadow magic shivered in small tendrils as he tried to force his wound to heal. It wasn’t obeying him. His focus was diminished. His control had wavered.
Shadowplay realised that for the first time in years, he was afraid.
Not just of the zebra but of the plan itself.
Fumbling around his cloak, he pulled out the transceiver.
“Bali...” he whispered into the box “Bali, something’s gone wrong. Abort. Quickly...”
A low clinking sound came from the transceiver, like a tiny glass shattering on the ground.
The batpony stared at it in confusion.
He tuned its focus node and spoke again.
“Cass? Boss? They’re onto us! I can’t get in touch with Bali. Come in! Please come in!”
He found himself slamming the back of his head into the tree as the transceiver screamed, a cacophonic whine erupting from the shaking device. Hastily, he switched off the gadget and craned his neck round.
Another flock of birds had left the canopy.
The undergrowth rustled and the glint of a spear surfaced.
Cursing in Ib’Xianese, Shadowplay painfully took to the wing.


“Can we trace it?”
“Not to his boss, no.” Special Agent Sweetie Drops put her array of hacking and spying equipment down on her desk with a despondent sigh.
“Damn. Very well...” Fleur de Lis ran a forehoof through her mane with anxiety “We’ll have to focus on her original plan then. I just hope Trixie knows what she’s doing. If she really hasgone rogue, none of us are safe.”
“That’s not gonna’ happen.” Starlight Glimmer stood before her squad-mates with a resolute smile “I’d know if it was. Me and her have an understanding. She’s turning the fear tactics the Mercenaries like so much on their heads. They think she’s playing into their hooves. But if things go her way, they’ll play into ours.”
“Well, we can’t expect it to be that simple.” Sparkler added “From what we’ve seen, these guys prepare for everything.”
“Nopony can prepare for everything, Sparky.” Twilight Sparkle’s Apprentice replied “Somewhere along the line they’d have had to slip up, everypony always does. We just need to find out where!”
“We’ve got the signal for who he was calling first.” Bonbon piped up “The kidnapper.”
“Perfect.” A low gruff voice with a country accent sounded behind them “Ah’ll gather the town.”
Big McIntosh Apple slung a belt over his shoulder and eyed himself.
Bedecked in improvised armour of leather, hardened canvas and scrap metal, he passed for as good a warrior Ponyville could create at these times.
But if all went to plan, it would serve.
“Tonight...” he said as calmly and frankly as ever “These varmints’re gonna’ learn what happens when ya’ hurt the ponies we love.”


*


“Right...I see...You’re quite sure?”
Royal Flush was witnessing a phenomenon.
One he’d never really expected to see in his lifetime even before all this horror took place.
Cascadius looked nervous. He was standing in the middle of his officer with the transceiver at his ear, his face showing something that was neither anger nor fear but somewhere in between and not excessive in its level.
But such a change in a stallion like him was impossible not to notice.
“Yes, yes, I heard that bit. If you can’t get in touch with them then...No, no, I think you’re right. We can’t take the risk, not now. Does Bali know...”
His hoof brushed the side of his face where strands of his mane had fallen over his brow.
“I see...No, I’m going myself. For a matter like this, I need to personally observe the state of things. Besides, I’m not letting anything happen to Bali, even if she has let things slip. Look, Bovril, we need the Palioxis up, running and taking me and a squadron of our most adaptable fellows to the Outer Everfree, asap! Countermeasure Clean-Up! Not a drill! Don’t let me down!”
He turned off the receiver and headed briskly for the exit to the door.
Royal Flush shuffled on his hooves.
Cascadius halted an inch from the door. The former-Senator’s heart felt clenched in invisible claws as the mercenary leader slowly turned, his expression giving away little more than cold suspicion, which was often the last thing unfortunate ponies saw in him before their grisly end.
“Royal Flush...” he said flatly “Come here...”
Each step felt shaky, like parts of the floor were ready to crumble and fall beneath him.
And Royal Flush would have found that preferable to a moment longer in a room with a mildly irritated Cascadius.
“Senator...” he still called him that, likely out of mockery, though there was no amusement in his tone. His eyes were fixed on the trembling politician and Royal Flush noticed Cascadius’s upper and lower teeth did not move far from each other as he spoke.
“If I find...that you are, in any way...responsible for this predicament...”
“I’m not, sir. I promise you, I’m not. I-”
“Shh...I’m not finished.” Cascadius raised his hoof to Flush’s lips “Now, as I was saying, if that is so...and if I have not by now made the risks of upsetting me transparently clear...then neither of us will enjoy the methods I employ to remedy that. Though...personally...I will try my very best to do so...”
And with that, he turned, opened the door, and stood before the strange snowy owl griffon new to the organisation.
“Are you still here?” he asked tiredly.
“As per your request, Mr Cascadius.” she said with an innocent smile “I bring good tidings. My master and her warhost have proven themselves at Quartzwald and are returning as soon as can be.”
“Fine, good. I’ve been meaning to speak with her.” the paymaster turned down the corridors with an expression that could only be described as ‘peeved’.
“Your mood appears sour, my lord.” Strilda cooed “May I enquire why?”
Cascadius stopped, sighed, rested his hoof against the corridor and spoke.
“Because, Miss Strilda...Through means I am still working on determining and, I assure you, the very last time...somepony...has bucked us!”


*


A mighty crash of fire and stone came out of the Portal Chamber above, causing those in the courtyard to turn their gaze. Shining Armour watched, perplexed, as what appeared to be a pair of comets shot out.
Sunset Shimmer and Angrboda landed like metal shells upon the ground, rolling across the floor in their heavy armour with clanks and rattles. The towering caribou matriarch got to her hooves and scraped them across the ground with a snarl, cradling her battle-axe.
Sunset Shimmer leapt up and slammed her mace upon the tiles, the magical emberseeds within cracking against each other, bursting the metal head into roaring flame.
“Come on then, you big nag!” she growled “I’ll turn your skull into a spittoon and use your antlers as tampon hooks!”
Several heads turned. Thrym Hrodrison and Shining Armour both shared a glance of alarm even while their sword and hammer locked.
“Is she always like that?” the moose asked.
“You’ve no idea.” Shining Armour replied tiredly before bringing his shield up and continuing their clash.
The ice beasts relentlessly harassed the crystal shield wall. Blades, banners, plumes and helms of every shape and colour slammed against each other in the courtyard.
Atop the main fortress, Sonata Dusk was leading her own archers. She did not, however, carry a bow. Instead she wielded a heavy chrome hailgun, an enormous rotary firearm carried over the shoulder, magazines hanging from the side of it. The deafening rattle of the contraption was one of the only two sounds that could be heard atop the fortress, the other being the hyperactive cerulean mare’s yell of ‘Dakka-Dakka-Dakka-Dakka-Dakka!’, a crazy look on her face as she fired at the second and third lines of the Jotnar onslaught.
The tide was turning. Shining Armour could see that.
All they needed to do was hold out.
‘Easier said than done’he reminded himself as the hammer of Thrym swung through the air, taking a few blue strands of his plume off his helm as he ducked just low enough to keep his heads on his shoulders.
Placing his shield before the flat of his sword to blocked a strike, he recalled a simple but effective technique Peregrine had taught him. As Thrym brought down his hammer, Shining stepped back and let himself be pushed down then swiftly drew forward, pushing the weight of his weapons against Thrym’s, throwing the head of his hammer backwards.
The dark cobalt and star-shaped garnet smashed into the side of Thrym Hrodrisson’s face. The moose spat blood but a smile stretched across his face as he drew back and sent another blow against his opponent’s side which nearly sent Shining Armour flying.


In the centre of the courtyard, Sunset Shimmer’s mace struck as fast as it was strong, relentlessly bashing against the armour of Angrboda. The reindeer barely flinched as each strike met, fixing the unicorn with a cold look conveying little more than mild contempt.
At last, Sunset Shimmer’s mace slammed the ground as her horn lit up, blowing a gust of the flaming emberseeds at the doe’s face. Angrboda gave a hoarse cry of pain and angrily tried to brush the embers out of her eyes and mane.
Sunset Shimmer took her chance.
The mace swung round and, despite the reindeer taking the chance to turn slightly, saving her head from the blow, the furnace-like macehead crashed into her shoulder, nearly shattering the pauldron and likely doing no favours to the bone underneath. As the raider princess fell to the ground, Sunset Shimmer’s shield pinned her down, the bout at the side of it fitting round the reindeer’s neck like a guillotine. A fitted, flame-shaped blade in the centre of the shield clicked readily, ready to spin, surely to decapitate whomever pinned in the bout.
Sunset Shimmer and Angrboda stared at each other, the daggers in their gazes near as fearsome as their own weapons.
“Now...Back...The Buck...Down!” Celestia’s former student growled.
Angrboda eyed the blade on the shield and struggled to swallow.
Her options, it seemed, were limited.
A transceiver fitted at the side of Sunset Shimmer’s diadem sounded as a gruff stallion spoke.
“Lady Shimmer. This is Commodore Ctenophore. Air Group CB. Nearing Quartzwald. Ready to bombard the enemy position on your order.”
“Very good, Commodore.” Sunset gave a nod and glanced at Angrboda once again. The reindeer looked odd. Her one good eye was vague, cloudy, as if in a trance.
“Are you listening? Our fliers are coming down on you in moments. The beasts who serve you will die in their hundreds. Crystal bombings never leave many alive.” she gritted her teeth and pressed the shield closer to her neck.
Even in the din of battle, Sunset Shimmer swore she heard something on the wind.
A horrid shriek, like a bloody rip through the winds.
Slowly, a sardonic smile crept on Angrboda’s ruined features.
“I think you’d better tell them to fly home...fast.”
Sunset raised a brow. As her free hoof hovered to her transceiver, it picked up worried voices.
“Wait, scanners are going wild, check the perimeter.”
“Confirmed, unidentified, heading for...holy...”
“WHAT IN TARTARUS IS THAT?!”
“Disperse!” Ctenophore’s voice bellowed as the shrieking grew louder“Fliers disperse. Get to the towers. Get to cover.”
“Taking damage to the right flank. It’s coming too fast. We have no-HRAAARGH!”
Sunset glanced back at Angrboda.
In the next instant she drew back, shrieking suddenly as the reindeer’s antlers glowed an icy blue. Pursing her lips and puffing her cheeks, Angrboda blew a stream of dry, stinging icy mist at Sunset’s face.
Raising a shield and blinking fast, splinters of frost in her muzzle and mane, the unicorn snarled.
“You sick nag! What’s out there?!”
The shrieking grew louder and louder, the most horrible sound that had ever met Sunset’s ears. Like the sound of hundreds of dying animals, crying out with rotting lungs. All around, the Equestrians broke off the fight and gathered in the courtyard, staring fearfully as the sky as the Jotnar regrouped, shooting their foes with sadistic leers.
Angrboda got to her hooves and spoke softly and coldly as the lands of never-ending winter from which she came.
“What’s out there you ask? Heh...” she ran a hoof over the terrible pale scars on the side of her face and answered.
“The one that gave me this!”


Shining Armour glanced skyward to see Ctenophore and Air Group CB scatter in the clouds.
A dark shape pierced the hazy skies and a rippling, blue-grey miasma erupted from its tip.
Fifteen pegasi and four sky chariots disappeared in the smog with a terrible collective scream. When it cleared, shapes were falling to earth.
The Captain-General drew back as pony-shaped detritus smashed upon the marble courtyard.
They weren’t burnt. They were more...drained. As if every drop of moisture was sucked from leaving a husk, like dead wasp nests, crumbling to powder.
This creature had reduced two dozen fliers to bundles of rotted parchment.
As it screeched again, it landed.
The beast was draconic. But it lacked all majesty they’d seen from the species. It was built more like a bird or bat with a long, low body and short, chubby legs. It lacked a pair of forelimbs but it more than made up for it with its back legs spreading like chicken toes with talons a dozen times the size, curved like a raptors, scratching the marble tiles with an eerie, stony wail.
It was coated with skin rather than scales and was a murky mix of inky and fleshy tones that ranged from the kind of pink one would find on a dead bird embryo and the kind of blue one would find in the gunk that tended to clog up shower drains.
The most prominent thing Shining and Sunset noticed was the presence of two heads on its single pair of shoulders.
Neither of them had eyes. That wasn’t to say they were blind, rather than they literally simply had bare skin where the eyes would have been on any other creature. The head on the left was snake-shaped with an extended, hog-like snout. The head on the right was bulkier, a heavy lower jaw full of jutting, slavering fangs like an alligator.
As its tail coiled up and over its shoulder, they noticed that it was, in fact, a third head, or at least a third jaw, circular, leech-like, trailing a cold, noxious ooze.
As it stood between the two armies, Angrboda trudged over to it and stroked the side of its neck in a manner that seemed kindly. The better side of her face smiled. The serpent head gave a tender hiss while the alligator head shook in a somewhat canine manner.
Sunset Shimmer was the first to find her voice.
“What is that?!”
Angrboda turned to her as if she’d forgotten she was there.
“That would be Skoll and Hati. Brother and sister that together make a Dire Cave Wyrm. The tail doesn’t have a name but I don’t think it minds. I don’t know if Cave Wyrms all look like him or if she’s just...special...But one is certainly enough, would you not agree?”
She leapt up on its back as the Jotnar Warhost sheathed their weapons and scrambled to the gates.
“This has been a nice day.” the reindeer said with a nonchalant smile “I look forward to our next endeavour. Continue to impress.”
With another screech, one of the beast’s heads, Skoll perhaps, reared and shook and blew a great cloud of winter-grey vapour out its great nostrils. What began as a slow, thin mist became a thick fog of piercing frost that nearly divided the courtyard in two.
Sunset Shimmer, with a cry of rage, blasted a jet of flame through the mist. Drilling a hole through the smog, she peered through it, the fellow officers gathering with weapons raised.
The mist cleared.
The Warhost was gone. All that remained were hoofprints and bloodstains.
The weighty silence was broken by Sunset Shimmer’s mace-head smashing into the marble tile.
“Son of a nag!” she swore “Next time I see that overgrown slab of curd, heads are gonna’ roll!”
Shining took a step back as Princess Celestia’s former student ground her teeth.
“Antlered heads!”


Metal, stone and bone-headed weapons clattered to the ground as the Jotnar Warhost rested at Sheersmoke Peak, a barren expanse with its towering crystal peaks grey and dead, one of the several places in the Crystal Empire that painted a perfect picture of the aftermath of Sombra’s tyranny. Normal ponies feared to tread the area.
But the Jotnar weren’t all that normal.
Angrboda dismounted, patted Hati’s snout and rubbed Skoll’s chin. The tail coiled around her shoulders a moment, caressing itself on her fur in a comforted manner, hissing lightly.
As she approached, any warrior close stood and bowed. Those around had largely taken to resting, nursing wounds or boasting over victories.
Angrboda’ breath came out as a wispy vapour. It did so naturally now, ever since her scarring.
The beast at her side was more than worth it however and overall, the scars had largely been a benefit. It made her more...unique.
And few could boast of ever enduring a Dire Cave Wyrm’s breath and living after all.
As she was about to prove.
Her holler drowned out all talk among the Warhost, snuffing out any conversation they held amongst each other like a scythe through a sheet.
“INGVAR!”
The white moose froze and those around him ferried away. In the time he took to fully comprehend the situation, his Princess was standing before him.
“Ingvar...” she said again “Word reached me of your achievements.”
“Ah...” the moose bowed “I did only as you instructed, your highness.”
“Did you?” she asked.
Ingvar felt a hoof clutch him by the nape.
“Did I tell to rape?”
Frost clutched at the inside of Ingvar’s chest. A few of the Warhost cringed, others chuckled. But all knew what was coming next.”
“I...She...”
“She was our demonstration. I had severed a leg and sent her fleeing...Why...did you believe it necessary...to do...” A tight, growling noise came from the back of her throat “That...to her?”
“I...P-Princess, she...” he took a step back but found he couldn’t move. The hold his princess had at his fur was hard as a steel gauntlet “Sh-sh-she was our enemy...”
“Does that not make it rape?”
“Sh-she was a pony!”
“I repeat the question.”
What came of Ingvar’s mouth was a series of burbles, stammers and gasps as he find himself rising in the air. Frost-white wisps were coiling round Angrboda’s antlers as her magic took hold of him. Her good eye was half-closed in disappointment. The scarred one was wide and piercing.
“Ingvar...” her voice began to deepen, darken, her rage creeping to the surface like ice across a pond “We are the Jotnar Warhost. We seek out the strong, we prove ourselves on the harshest battlefields and return bathed in the blood of those others used to think great. But, Ingvar...To rape...It is to prey upon the weak. You cannot rape what is stronger than you. Rape, therefore...is an act of weakness. You lower yourself to commit it. You neglect the challenge of the strong to harm what is already defenceless and defeated. You...shame...the Warhost.”
The Warhost silently beheld the spectacle, Ingvar wriggling in Angrboda’s magical grip like a worm on a hook. Thrym rested his hooves on the end of his war-hammer with an amused expression while Grendel stretched his neck with trepidation, licking his lips.
“And as I hope you know, Ingvar...” Angrboda hissed, one hoof raised “I do not allow any beast...to shame the Warhost.”
“Please, your highness, n-AAAAAARRRRRRRGGHH!”
Ingvar’s screams suddenly grew about four volumes louder and eight octaves higher as Angrboda ripped something away from between his hind-legs. Holding a bloody clump of something that was hard to make out for most of the Warhost, she raised it high in the air.
Skoll’s nostrils twitched and the Dire Cave Wyrm began hissing and snarling, blood on the air driving it to ravenous hunger.
Tossing the thing in her hoof distastefully, Angrboda gave her pet an appetiser. Skoll caught it first and snapped it up while his sister growled and smacked her jaw against his with indignation.
Ingvar’s mouth was open wide, hoarse whimpering escaping his throat as tears streamed down his face. Angrboda turned to him once more, her voice slightly softer.
“Now, Ingvar, I must ask...Did that hurt?”
The white moose could do little more than gasp and wail, lost in agony.
“I thought so. But here is what you must know. What you tried to accomplish, it grants a very similar sensation. Your victim...loses something they kept very close and considered safe, sacred, now despoiled and ruined before them, helpless to repair it. Your victim dies every time they close their eyes and lives a life scarred forever.” Her bad eye twitched “For many...the pain never ends.”
The fur around Ingvar’s throat pulled tight and twisted, the moose’s eyes widening as he gurgled and croaked helplessly, rising higher and turning on his side.
“So you might consider yourself fortunate, Ingvar...” Angrboda snarled “That your pain ends so soon.”


Like a sack of trash tossed into a compactor, Ingvar flew over the Warhost with a plaintive scream. He didn’t even land before the jaws of Skoll and Hati were upon him. Pulling on opposite parts of him, the screaming changed again and again in pitch, tone and volume and at last stopped as Skoll rended and Hati tore. Blood and gore spattered the grey earth and a foul stench cut through the frost.
Dire Cave Wyrms were famously messy eaters.
As a bighorn sheep and a mountain horse tried to slink back further into the compressed horde, Angrboda’s voice cut the silence.
“Sundrel! Idengruf!”
At the sound of their names, their compatriots seized them and threw them forward, landing on their knees to kowtow before their Princess.
Sundrel the bighorn sheep stared up at the unsmiling caribou matriarch fearfully.
“M-M-Mighty Herald! We didn’t help him!”
“Neither did you stop him.” Angrboda’s tone was dry.
“We...we...we spoke against it.” Idengruf the mountain horse whimpered “We tried to persuade him...”
“You failed.” Her antlers gleamed with wispy magic once again and two knives rose from the sheaves at her sides.
They spun in the air and rested under their necks, steadily starting to glisten with the colt sweat from their brows soddening their faces.
Angrboda hissed in an inhale and raised her good eyebrow.
“Nonetheless...” she said slowly “You made some effort.”
Sundrel and Idengruf opened their eyes, glanced at each other and raised their heads with relieved half-smiles.
The knives flashed.
The two beasts gave a collective scream of pain and clutched the sides of their faces.
About two-thirds of Sundrel’s left ear and roughly the same amount of Idengruf’s right lay in a red puddle between them.
Angrboda redeposited the knives at her side, picked up the ears and slotted them into their former-owner’s bandoliers.
“Hold onto those.” she commanded “Remember that if this is allowed to happen a second time, you will deal with it personally and properly. Because, let there be no doubt in your mind, this will not be allowed to happen a third time!”
“Y-y-yes, your highness.”
“Th-thank you for your mercy.”
“You are most welcome.” And with that, the Herald of the End Times turned, stood before the bloody-muzzled Skoll and Hati, spun round and bellowed her command to all among the Warhost.
“Now. We march on! We must meet with our new employers! They have a task for us that, if completed to their satisfaction, will put the Jotnar Warhost on the map!”


*


Trixie Lulamoon gazed around the forest clearing.
The transceiver felt unclean in her hoof as she raised it to her ear.
“I have it.”
“Well, stop the presses, eh?” the sardonic voice of Balisong sounded in her ear “Trixie Lulamoon finally delivers what she promised. ‘Was there ever any doubt?’”
“Where can I find you?”
“The crossroads you take out of town? You always turn right to the Hushed Whisper. This time turn left.”
“Fine. I’ll meet you as soon as I can.”
“Do, darl. Oh and, this is just a polite suggestion but I wouldn’t dawdle if you get my drift. Because, not wanting to tantalise you or anything, my guests are getting a tad impatient.”There was a fumbling sound “Ain’t that right, love?”
The voice in Trixie’s ear changed drastically. Gone was the derisive tone and the accent.
In its place was a familiar and unspeakably frightened stallion.
“Trixie...Please...Please, help...Please, get us out, she’s a monster...”
“I beg your pardon?” Balisong’s voice was back “Am I to understand that...you’re not enjoying my company?”
“N-n-no, i-i-it’s not that, I-I-I...”
“Balisong!” Trixie exclaimed, paling.
“You mean you've been lying?” the mercenary’s voice sounded horribly playful “Do you think I’m...unkind?”
“NO! NO! NO, MISS BALISONG, PLEASE!”
“Miss Balisong, please stop!” Cherry Berry’s wail was heard “You...you said you wouldn’t hurt him anymore if I...if I did what you said...”
“Did I? Well, it stands to reason that deal only stood as long as you were all polite...”
“Miss Balisong, stop! I’m getting you the Amulet! I...Trixie promises you!”
Trixie Lulamoon stood in the clearing, cold and afraid, for a terrible while.
At last there was noise from the other end. She wanted to bet that the wait was deliberate.
“Alright, sweetheart. Don’t get your tail in a twist...Meet me on the left side of the crossroad and I’ll take you to my humble dwelling, right?”
“Fine. And do you promise not to hurt them until I see them?”
There was a noise that sounded like the mercenary sucking her teeth in thought.
“No. Bye.”
The blue unicorn growled as the transceiver threatened to break in her magical grasp.
“Trixie is going to kill that bucking nag!”


She indeed found the mare left of the crossroads, lounging predatorily upon a fallen tree.
“Good girl.” she purred “Daddy would be proud. Let’s have it then.”
Trixie held the amulet tight and arched an eyebrow, hoping her defiance wouldn’t cost her dearly.
“Not until I have the hostages.”
Balisong sighed, slunk off the tree and stood before her with a dry smile.
“You are hard to please.” she chuckled “So...you interested in what that thing really is?”
“Not as much as Trixie’s interested in what your master wants with it.”
“Master?” she sniggered “You think we’re some sort of priesthood? No, mate, he’s my boss, my employer, my paymaster, so to speak. Though, honestly, he’s spent a while as my tutor, you might say, so you’re not that far off the mark.”
She shrugged and gave a chirpy shake of her dreadlocked mane as they paced down the path, into the tall grass, too dark for Trixie to get her bearings.
“History time.” she chuckled “Now, what you may not know is that Sombra’s ascension wasn’t the first time the Crystal Empire fell to ruin. Every time the Empire’s fallen, this little darling has cropped up and every time it’s buried again, the Empire revitalises. Now here’s how the story goes. When the Empire was founded, the twelve royal houses of Crystal decided to build their capital, Geoya, atop the Winterwonder Peak as north as north will go. After the hundred and twenty years of peace and plenty, they felt it right to build a great temple to give thanks to their ancestors. They designed a house of worship such as the world had never before seen with colossal halls and a tower that pierced the clouds and touch the very heart of paradise. Seasons went on then years then decades, then close to a century. As the tower’s height grew, so too did the difficulty building it ever higher. Work ground to a slump and the Crystal Ponies feared it would never be completed and their favour with fortune would whither.”
Her piercing glinted as she smirked.
“Then a stranger came. A stranger claiming that he could finish the tower, single-hoofed, within a single night, wishing for a boon in return. Now nopony remembers what this stranger called himself or what he was. All that is recorded is the note they gave to his two...curled...horns.” she chuckled “Three guesses.”
Onward they walked. Balisong continued at her leisure.
“So the household masters said ‘Why not? What have we to lose?’ and asked the stranger of his boon. This stranger, he claimed, wished only to add the shrine of his own faith to the twelve shrines of the house forefathers, marked with a sacred gemstone. The masters agreed and the deal was struck. At dusk, he entered the temple and told them to return at midnight. After what was, by all accounts, the darkest, longest night the crystal ponies had ever endured, Geoya awoke to find the tower complete, its height so staggering it would take a pony a full day and night to climb the staircase to the top. Of the stranger himself? No sign. And none spoke of him long after. But the shrines of the gems stood tall and proud. Twelve for the masters...and one for the stranger. A lonely diamond, red as blood, encased in oily black stone. Not wishing to offend any mystery gods, they chose an honorary Abbot for the Stranger’s Shrine. As a gesture of good faith, they picked one of the most beloved stallions in the Empire, Veemon Adamantis, the younger brother of Highmaster Valo of the House of Diamond. Veemon took his post and worshipped well for six good years until the ailing illness of his pregnant wife, Pendance, impeded his prayers. On his behalf, the twelve masters prayed for her recovery but after no luck, he desperately sought the aid of the thirteenth god, the ‘Blood Diamond’ as it had started to be called. As he refused to eat or sleep, he regularly fainted mid-prayer and it was said the God behind the Blood Diamond sent him visions and commands. On its insistence, he cut his fetlock and spilt his blood upon the shrine, the diamond soaking it up like a sponge. Upon hearing Pendance’s condition had improved, the twelve masters gave their own blood in turn. Within the day, Pendance recovered. Of course there was celebration and joy and new interest in this strange red gem. But it soon died down as the studies grew inconclusive and prayers went unanswered, the Blood Diamond determined alien to the Empire and indefinitely taboo.”
She chuckled.
“Of course, the Blood Diamond didn’t like that at all.”
“So when the time came for Pendance to give birth, the whole city waited with excitement for the arrival of Veemon’s beloved child. And what they saw was a freak. A misshapen monster, eyeless and hairless with bat-like wings, monkey-like hands and maggots crawling out of every orifice. A creature that could neither be considered living or dead. Pendance fell into a fit of horror and despair and Veemon prayed to all twelve gods...and then thirteen. The Blood-Diamond spoke to him again, claiming the child was his gift to her and his wife’s ailing health was what he took in return. If he wished her recovery, he had only to...return the gift.”
She made a slicing gesture across her throat.
“So he did. Again and again and again. All to keep her alive. In her state, she couldn’t argue. And he was desperate, desperate, to keep her alive by any means. Eventually, his brother discovered him in the midst of the ritual. Valo Adamantis brought forth the Diamond Hammer of his family and made to smash the evil shrine that had corrupted his brother. In terror, Veemon grappled with him and the brothers beat each other to death. By now as mad as her husband, the experience shattering her like glass, Pendance climbed to the top of the tower, quicker somehow than anypony could do by normal means, and threw herself off the top. According to notes, with the force of which she landed, there wasn’t so much a ‘splat’ as a ‘splash!’. When the masters and citizens came to the temple, they found Pendance spread across the yard and the two brothers sprawled before the Blood Diamond Shrine, their skulls smashed open and the red stone pulsing with power as blood flowed from the three corpses.”
Balisong took a great exhale, no doubt satisfied with her delivery.
“The night after saw the city swept up in a winter harder and crueller than they’d ever imagined. The snow and frost and the clouds that carried them were red as gore and those caught in it froze from within. The city was abandoned before the month’s end. Nothing is left of Geoya that anypony can see. To this day the winds and cold around it are too much for most explorers to tread.”
Trixie felt like something caught in her throat.
She remembered bitterly this foul thing that had caused so much misery and death had been worn, by her, willingly, around her neck.
She wasn’t certain but she had a feeling the place it had been worn was starting to sting.


Balisong continued, showing no sign of unease.
“Now, nopony knows how this thing got out. Maybe the stranger retrieved it, maybe some other worshipper, maybe it got up of its own accord. Regardless, the second time this baby cropped up was during the prelude to the Republican War of the Sesquitera, between the First and Second Age. News of the Blood Diamond’s return reaches the ears of the House of Opalis. Now, the House of Opalis were among the most prominent pioneers who founded the new capital of Esperanta. When Gaudian Opalis, now old and crippled by the terrible winter, heard of the Blood Diamond’s presence seen among the Methys Vale, likely brought over by the brilliant but insane explorer, Amethystopholes. He wrote to the Methys Clan urging them to do all in their power to keep the Blood Diamond away from pony hooves and never to touch it. He then wrote to all the other clans to do the same. But after years of no reply, he and his sons swore to prevent the Blood Diamond falling into the wrong hooves and dooming the Crystal Empire again, by any means necessary.”
She shook her head.
“So began the Three Kinslayings committed by the House of Opalis and the sons of Gaudian. The first was a massacre of the Aquamarinos who refused to give over their fastest and strongest ships to the Opalis. The second was an invasion and wholesale slaughter of the Methys Clan who refused to give up the Blood Diamond. And the third, when the Opalis found out that a son and daughter of the Methys had been sent to their allies in the Ijadi Clan on Renia Isle, the slaughter not only of the Ijadi but the entire population of Renia Isle, fearing the Blood Diamond had corrupted the place. The Blood Diamond was recovered but when it was discovered the daughter survived somehow, Gaudian all but two of his sons in a fit of fanaticism. After that, the other Clans revolted and Gaudian moved to become Emperor of the Crystal Empire, determined to protect his beloved ponies from the thing that, unbeknownst to him, had already taken root in himself. The Republican War took place and the House of Opalis was rendered virtually extinct. Before dying, Gaudian hid the Blood Diamond where he believed none would find it, causing the victor of the war, Lulo Nacris, to spend years searching for it for fear that the Opalis would return to use it again. In the end, he practically ruined the new Republic with the resources he spent searching for it and went missing on his journey back to the Ruins of Geoya. He left in command his brother-in-law, Ormer Abalon who ‘somehow’ came into possession of the Blood Diamond. Choosing to wear it on a diadem that increased his power a hundred-fold, he soon set about crowning himself Emperor and would later earn the name ‘Ormer the Abhorrent’. Inviting the clan leaders and their families to a feast, he had them all slaughtered as he ate, sparing only the youngest fillies and colts who he collected for his pleasure, all under the Blood Diamond’s wishes apparently. His cruelty lasted ten years until he fell asleep with a dark little catamite who prized the diadem off his head and tore him to pieces on the bed. Greeting the populace with Ormer’s head, he was hailed as a hero and a liberator, worshipped by millions and crowned with the most magnificent gems in the Empire, one of which unfortunately being the very same Blood Diamond his predecessor had worn. The colt’s name?”
Trixie felt her neck grow tense as she guessed.
“Sombra?”
“Spot on, love.” Balisong patted her back “So you see, this little baby, the Blood Diamond, has been regarded by the Crystal Empire as the Bringer of Doom and Destruction for over three thousand years, since before the First Age of Magic. Nifty, eh?”
“Well if that’s the case, your ‘paymaster’ is more than welcome to it.”
“Ah, you might think so.” The mercenary sniggered “But you see, there’s a twist in the tale, so to speak. After the Crystal Empire was rendered moot, its royal family guests of Princess Laurelore, the Blood Diamond was brought to Laurelore, bound with every protection known to ponykind, and examined by the finest minds Equestria had to offer. Star-Swirl, Vorpal Blade, Aurora, all the greats from far and wide examined it and concluded...” 
She began giggling. Pausing in the grass and doubling up, her body shaking with each cackle.
“Concluded...what?” Trixie asked, disturbed more than ever by the dark tale.
“There was no dark magic!” Balisong exclaimed, her face twisted with sick amusement “No curse, no blasphemies, no demonic presence. The Blood Diamond increased the power of its wielder, more than most magical catalysts, but that’s it.” She shook her head “Quite a turn-up, eh?”

“But...that’s not possible, the Amulet...the Diamond causes evil. Causes it’s wearer to-”
“No, no, no, love.” She patted her on the shoulder again. It was becoming degrading.
“Take it from me...Evil, for a loose definition, does not come from gems or stones or plants or clouds...Evil is, was and always will be ‘pony-made’. The Rituals? Simply the result of desperation, paranoia, terror. The Kinslayings? Terror again, fear of the past repeating itself, which it very much did. Ditto for the Republican Civil War and the Blood Diamond Hunt. Ormer and Sombra and...heh...little old you?”
She titled her head as her demented citrine eyes stared into Trixie’s own. Her hoof tapped the side of the blue unicorn’s head.
“You know what they say about power going to your head. Thing is, Trixie, my old mate, is that the best way to get a good pony to do bad things is to convince them that they’re not in control, that they’re not responsible for their actions. In truth, the Blood Diamond has about as much power over your ‘morality’ as a cheerleader squad has over the results of a hoof-ball game. It has no power over what actions we take, what we choose to do with what it gives us. That’s our own bloody fault. All the madness, all the noise, all the death in all the scudding mess that took place over this Blood Diamond, it gets all the blame. But in the end, it was just ponies being ponies. Thing is, you lot just have to find some way to justify it! An evil artefact, an ancient curse, a never-ending nightmare, abusive parents, a jilted affair, anything, anything at all to avoid the alternative...That some ponies, indeed most ponies, perhaps even ponies in general...are just...really...curd.”
They paused a moment. Balisong looked at Trixie with her crooked little smile and laid-back stance while Trixie looked at Balisong upright, disdainful and suspicious.
“I’m afraid...Trixie does not believe you.”
“Suit yourself.” She shrugged “Could have said that at the start, would have saved me some scudding time.” She leaned her shoulder against a barn and Trixie realised they’d finally reached her hideout.
Balisong tossed her the keys and gestured at the door.
“They’re in there.” she winked “Well, go on then, they must miss you. I’ve a few calls to make.”
Trixie eyed the place, then its owner.
She didn’t fancy entering anything Balisong had been inside, especially if Balisong herself wasn’t inside at the time.
There could any number of traps waiting for her. She didn’t want to have too high an opinion of herself but she wouldn’t put it past these mercenaries to hold this elaborate plot just to kill the Great and Powerful Trixie (After all, she too had taken part in the field of world-saving on more than one occasion)
Steeling herself and remembering there were three innocent ponies within, she opened the door and crept inside.
Outside, Balisong’s grin widened as she pressed the transceiver by her ear and spoke quietly and coldly.
“Move in...Look for the fire.”


Trixie took every step carefully, expecting a bear trap or a falling axe to pop out of any corner.
The place was large but bare. The haybales had long turned to rot. Instruments hanging from hooks had long gone to rust.
Yet there, at the back, were three chairs. Upon them were the figures of ponies with her hooves tied.
Trixie felt her breath return as she noticed their chests rising and falling.
They lived. All three still lived.
In the darkness, however, it was impossible to tell one from the other.
She cast an illumination spell, a primrose pink glow lighting up the barn interior.
The three ponies had their heads bowed and, to her shock, Trixie saw that was largely due to the fact that each of them were wearing large wooden boxes on their heads, dirty things with heavy padlocks.
Carefully, Trixie edged forward.
The pale pink mare, it must have been Cherry Berry, raised her head slowly, the box likely making it an arduous task. Soon, Caramel and Berry Punch did the very same.
It was then that Trixie realised the boxes were chained together by the padlocks.
She sensed all was not well.
Carefully focussing her magic, she held up the key and, concentrating hard, formed three magic molds of the same shape, inserting the three keys, one solid and two arcane, into the padlocks.
They gave a twist and the medal locks and chains fell to the straw-strewn floor.
With another gust of magic, Trixie opened the front of the boxes, three at once.
The three ponies within stared terrified at her.
In each of their mouths of a giant, glistening worm, coiling across their faces, poking inside their nostrils, sliding over their eyelids or snaking round their necks.
At the sudden entry of the newcomer, the worms craned their heads towards her and gave a collective bubbling screech, their faces splitting open like flowers, showing off rounded, hungry jaws.
‘Of course.’ Trixie thought, her mind a flurry of revelations ‘Coldwater Leeches. They’ve used these before.’
The next instant, her horn lit up bright pink as the leeches shot forth out the prisoner’s mouths and pounced at her.
There was a flash of light.
Cherry Berry, Caramel and Berry Punch opened their eyes to see the worms their captor had placed in their mouths. Balisong had warned them all, smiling as she did so, that any move they found unnatural would make them burrow into their necks and drink their blood until there was nothing left.
For what seemed like hours, the things had delved across their faces, sliding and sniffing and licking. Every move they made would cause them to jump and scream if only they could.
Now all that was left of the Coldwater Leeches were three thin, twisting trails of ash on the floor.
Trixie Lulamoon undid the wooden head-prisons. Cherry Berry instantly fell before her, clutching her hind-leg and weeping incessantly.
“Please! Please get us out of here, Trixie! Please!” she sobbed “I-I-I wanna’ go home! I just wanna’ go home.”
“Of course. Don’t worry. Trixie’s here to save you.”
“Sh-sh-she’s not c-coming back is she?” Caramel stammered, rubbing his forelegs and shoulders frantically “Please don’t let her come back. I can’t take any more...”
“It’s alright, please stay calm. Trixie will keep you safe, Trixie swears on Trixie’s life. Berry, are you alright?”
The young, mulberry-red single mother slowly looked at her rescuer.
She looked as though her capture had aged her by ten or twenty years. Bags were under her eyes and her lips were cracked. She was blinking over and over but her drained-looking expression didn’t change.
Trixie tapped her gently on the shoulder. Berry simply tilted her head blankly.
“Is...is she still with us?”
“Balisong...She...She gave her something.” Cherry Berry whimpered “Berry Punch bit her and...she really didn’t like it.”
“She gave Berry something...A drink” Caramel shuddered “I don’t know what it was but...She wouldn’t stop screaming...”
Trixie shook her head at the horror of it.
“Tri...I promise, I’ll get you back. Your families, your loved ones, they know what’s gone on and they’re waiting for you. I promise, just...”
There was a clunk. Berry Punch’s head turned sharply to the sound.
The four noticed liquid pooling swiftly under the barn door.
“...oh...” Trixie murmured.
Cherry Berry grabbed her hind legs in terror.
“She’s gonna’ burn us...She’s gonna’ kill us!”
“No, no, calm down!” Trixie exclaimed, gathering the three “Stay close, hold onto Trixie. She’ll...She’ll try her very best.”
Pink light shone and a cone of glittery primrose sheen slowly began to form.
Keeping her eyes wide-open, focussed on the shield, the Great and Powerful Trixie faced the blast head-on.


*


The noise and light weren’t hard to spot.
Big Mac felt his girlfriend clutch his side.
This hero business was paying off already.
“Do you...Do you think they’re okay?” Cheerilee’s worried tone sobered Big Mac who held her gently.
“Ah’m sure. Trixie’s a bit hot-headed but she’s sure capable. S’long as she’s by ‘em, they’ll be okay.”
“Okay...okay...Stick to the plan, right?”
“Eeyup.”
He didn’t mind saying Miss Cheerilee looked positively scintillating in her improvised armour. Mostly a set of leather, harnesses and straps of scrap-metal. But it was the way it seemed to carry her up, complete with the purple cloak and sabre at her side.
He hadn’t known until now that her uncle had been a soldier.
He wasn’t certain why he found her more attractive than ever in armour, or what she or indeed Granny Smith would think of him if they ever found out.
But, steeling himself, he remembered that his girlfriend’s sister was in peril, experiencing torture he couldn’t begin to imagine.
And it had gone far enough.


*


The ground rushed up to meet Trixie Lulamoon as she lay, near catatonic, upon the bare foot of ground that had escaped the explosion, her magic exhausted.
Berry Punch stared into space, Caramel desperately shook Trixie’s shoulder and Cherry Berry crouched on the ground, her head in her chest, and prayed for an end to the horror.
Striding through the flickering flames around what remained of the ruined barn, their tormentor re-emerged, similarly hard-faced ponies with deadly weaponry moving in.
“You are one persistent little madam, ain’t ya, darl.” Balisong purred, spinning her glaive around her free hoof “See ponies like you can rise high...or die young. And I’m afraid to tell you that our organisation considers it necessary for you to rank among the latter.”
“Please...” Caramel whimpered “Please don’t...”
“Shhhhh....” Balisong hushed him, her citrine eyes gleaming like gold flecks in the fire “You three are in enough trouble already. I really wouldn’t make it worse for yourselves.”
Swatting away the young stallion, the mercenary took hold of Trixie’s mane in her free hoof, holding the glaive in her magical hold, resting it under her neck.
“Anything to say, Great and Powerful Whatsname?”
The fatigued magician gave a faint mumble.
“I’m sorry. what?”
The blue unicorn cleared her throat and repeated louder for all to hear.
“Trixie said...Go Suck Trixie’s Magic Wand And Die...”
There was a pause. Balisong gave her new nemesis a tired look.
“Well...thank you for that. Congratulations, Miss Lulamoon, you’ve succeeded in ever so slightly pissing me off. Perhaps that’ll grant you some momentary satisfaction before I cut off your ‘Magic Wand’ and put it somewhere Starlight never shines.”
“Bali?” one of the mercenaries called.
Their leader sighed impatiently.
“What?”
“There’s something out there. Something in the bushes, it sounds like a-”
A shower of leaves cut of their sentence as a...shape flew forth.
Balisong spun round as time seemed to slow.
Leaping forth towards her was a humungous red pony in cobbled together armour. His eyes were blazing, his mouth opened wide with a war-cry.
And, she noticed, in his hoof was a huge stone hammer.
Coming right for-


Time stood still for both parties as Big McIntosh’s hammer swung round and hit Balisong square across the cheek.
There was a grisly, wet crunch as half her face disappeared behind the great stone head and a spurt of blood appeared between. Her lips twisted to the side as teeth fragments were spat out and her piercing came loose. Her eye closed and bled as did her ear. Her undamaged eye stared a moment as time caught up with them.
The next moment, the mercenary spun through the air, making a noise not unlike a mad cat caught in a storm, before she smashed into a dead tree and fell still.
The mercenaries gaped as this six-foot-six giant of a stallion stood where their commander had once done and cast his eyes around with contempt.
“Who...Who the hay are you?” one of them gasped.
“Who am ah?” Big Mac growled, raising his hammer high “Ah’m what happens when ya mess with Ponyville!”
His hammer arched through the air while his other free hoof shook loose a weighted net. Coiling round his foreleg like a snake, he charged the squad.
“Shoot him! Kill him! Now” One of them yelled.
Big Mac set about making clear that was easily said than done.


The first of the mercenaries was sent sailing through the air by a mean back-kick.
The second drew a gun but found it snatched from his grasp by the net as the hammer came round and cracked into his chin, sending him head-over-hooves.
The third threw a knife. With reflexes that would put a wolf to shame, Big Mac craned his neck to the side as the blade hit another attacker in the shoulder who was promptly brought down by another back-kick square in the face.
Before he could draw another knife, the wielder’s head was wrapped in the neck and dragged forward, right into Big Mac’s forehooves smashing him into the ground.
A fifth swung a sabre sideways for his neck. Ducking down, Big Mac swung the hammer across her sword-hoof then kicked her other forehoof out beneath her, smacking her head into the soil.
Hearing the click of an aiming gun, Big Mac whirled the net around in his hoof and threw it forward, catching the gunpony by the forehooves and dragging him into another lunging forward with daggers. The two crashed in mid-air and fell to earth.
As one left on the ground reached for his gun, he found his forehoof disappear suddenly under the stone hammer. Before he could scream, Mac’s hoof came up and cracked into his jaw.
The final mercenary, a griffon, thrusted forth with an electric spear that narrowly grazed Mac’s shoulder as he spun. Breaking the metal shaft, he grabbed the spearhead, stabbed it through the griffon’s left wing and shoved his beak against the dead tree beside him.
All eight hardened mercenaries law sprawled on the ground before Big MacIntosh Apple.
Trixie, Berry Punch, Caramel and Cherry Berry stared nonplussed at the scene.
A proud smile spread across the stallion’s face.
Then suddenly became an open-mouthed silent scream.
Something had stabbed him.
Dropping the hammer, he found himself pressed against the earth as a keen, metal glaive stuck out of shoulder, inches from the back of his neck.
Trixie stared and moved to aid him but fell forward in the ashes and lay immobile, struggling like mad to force her body to move.
The glaive twisted in Mac’s shoulder. His scream became a howl of agony as it wrenched itself free, gripped in venom-green magic. Tossed on his side, the glaive rested against his face. The stallion tasted his own blood as the blade edged itself into his mouth and tugged the edge of his lips. His hoof reached for his hammer but another’s pinned it down.
Balisong stood over him.
The left side of her face was blotted out by gore. Her eye didn’t show. The side of her lip was loose and torn. Her muzzle was bent and bleeding. She coughed and dribbled blood as she breathed heavily but the right side of her face appeared to smile slightly as she leaned in close.
“Bad move...mate...”
The glaive gave a hiss.


It then dropped lifelessly. Mac half-threw, half-spat it out and stood as Balisong fell, pinned down by a petite mulberry mare with the angriest face Mac had ever seen on a pony.
Cheerilee stared at the monster who’d tortured her, put her sister through hell, traumatised her niece and had just been trying to carve her boyfriend’s face.
All patience, joy and timidness in her mind was gone.
With a roar of unbridled rage, her hoof rose and smashed into the crimson-matted face of Balisong.
Over and over, again and again, Balisong’s hooves flailed helplessly under the Ponyville Schoolteacher who raged and screamed on and on.
“MONSTER!” she screeched “YOU MONSTER! YOU MONSTER! YOU MONSTER! YOU MONSTER! YOU-”
“Cheerilee!” Trixie’s voice cut through her screams just as her hoof landed again.
Something gave way under Cheerilee’s hoof.
Balisong gave a scream unlike anything anypony around had ever heard.
Cheerilee threw herself off and crawled away in horror, staring at the aftermath. Mac’s hooves took her by the shoulders.
The mare she’d punched was clutching at her face with bloody hooves and writhing on the ground in a frenzy, shrieking and wailing as a tide of scarlet poured out of her shattered jaw.
The schoolteacher stared at her bloody hooves. Her lip trembled.
Then her sister came forward.
Berry Punch wrapped her forelegs around her sister and didn’t let go.
There was a mechanical humming from above as a star seemed to travel forward. Light began to shine on them.
Big Mac winced as he wrapped a piece of green cloth around his shoulder and gestured for the forests.
“Quickly! Get outta’ here! Vamoose!”
Caramel and Cherry Berry scrambled to their hooves and retrieved Trixie Lulamoon. Carried atop their backs between them, the blue magician cast one last look at the maimed, screaming remains of her attempted murderer.
Her cries sounded almost...filly-like.
Remembering all she’d said and done, she turned away as they disappeared into the safer parts of the Everfree, reminding herself to consult Twilight and Starlight heavily over the events.
This night had been a difficult one for all concerned.


*


As the sleek, dark airship landed in the smouldering clearing, a beige stallion in a trench-coat and goggles leapt out with a bizarre firearm slung over his back.
Others followed. One by one, they gathered up their fallen brethren. The ones who could stand supported by the shoulder and the ones who couldn’t carried on the back.
A lithe, pale batpony materialised, a white bandage with dark red stains strapped right around him. He gasped and stammered as his comrades approached.
“Bovril...Thank buck...” he panted “You have to hurry.”
“We’re here, Shadow. Don’t worry. It’s a clean-up. We’re getting out of here.”
Bovril patted him on the shoulder and turned back to the creature on the floor, screaming and sobbing seemingly without end.
“Bali!” they crouched round her “Bali, it’s us. We’re getting you out. Okay?”
“Hurksh!” the mare on the ground howled incomprehensibly “Ik hurksh! Ik hurksh! Ik hurksh!”
“Bali, wh...” Shadowplay gaped “What in hay happened to you?!”
Balisong’s hooves shook as they gently pulled them away from her face.
Or what was left of it.
“Dolk! Dolk! Puk ip back! Preesh!” she burbled.
“Give her to me.”
Behind them, the paymaster stood, holding the door open for the wounded and their carriers.
Anxiously, Bovril wrapped a bandage around Balisong’s head, hoping to keep both the situation and her face together.
Carried between the two, the mare whimpered and whined as she was passed to her mentor. The door to the hold closed behind them as a dim light turned on. Mercenaries applied aid to themselves or each other.
As the Palioxis took to the sky, Cascadius cradled his old student and placed a hoof over her chest.
“It’s alright, Bali. I’m here. I’m here.”
“Plss...” she mumbled incoherently through teeth shut together, tears from one eye streaming down her cheek “Mrk it shtp hrrtng...”
Reaching up and retrieving an oxygen tank, Cascadius carefully placed the mask over Balisong’s ruined face. Her spluttery gasps and whimpers were muffled and became short, sad hisses that steadily slowed.
Her remaining eye blinked as Cascadius dabbed at it with a cloth, then slowly closed. The breathing became slow and quiet.
“Breathe...Breathe...” he whispered, almost tenderly, gently rubbing her shoulder.
He was reminded vividly of the first time he met her. Alone, afraid, desperate.
He’d promised to never let her find herself in such a situation again, as long as she learned and served well.
And Ponyville had led him to break that promise.
As Balisong's eyes closed and her head lolled against Cascadius's chest, her hooves retracted.
A shiny, dark-grey amulet with a blood-red diamond in the centre fell from her hoof into his.
He gave a relieved sigh.
As he softly rocked the unconscious mare in his hooves, his gaze darkened as he thought of Ponyville and its surprisingly tenacious denizens.
Far more tenacious than he’d expected.
But Cascadius was a pony who learned from his mistakes and acknowledged the strength of his potential enemies when demonstrated to him, vowing thereafter to take their threat seriously.
'Of course, those same enemies aren’t always happy when I do.'
The ancient red diamond gleamed in his grasp.
'And Ponyville will most certainly be no exception.'