Andean Ursagryph gripped the rope tightly and hauled himself aboard the light airskiff. The journey from the castle to Ahuizotl’s mechanical flyder would have been a simple thing for the king, but the mad god himself had less aerial mobility. So Ahuizotl and his small gaggle of sycophants climbed aboard, ready to return to their apparent home.
“Fetack!” Crested Barbary screeched an order to the helmsgriffon. They pushed off and beelined it for the gigantic Strutter.
Captain Barbary cradled his volleygun close and stood beside Andean. He spoke in the low purrs of an older variant of the griffon language, one that Ahuizotl’s crew would be less likely to know. “Your Grace, I feel nervous sending you in the middle of this den of… I can only call it monstrosities.”
Andean chuckled lightly. “You think me unable to handle myself?”
“I see a side of you, King Ursagryph,” Crested said, “that I have not seen since Princess Stella’s illness was cured.”
Andean swiveled his head. None of the Blitzwings, nor Painted Ones, were within earshot. “You think me unstable?”
“I think you’re feeling stifled.” A gust of turbulence shook the deck beneath their paws. “Perhaps claustrophobic? You feel the Fae bearing down on you, breathing down your neck, and you’re acting accordingly. Did you see the look on Ahuizotl’s face when you spoke to him? He will not remain an ally for long under these conditions.”
“Too blunt, then?” Andean tapped his beak together. “I’ll admit, I find it difficult to give him the respect he craves. However, it will not do to soften my words as Celestia might.”
“Perhaps not, Your Grace,” Crested said. “Perhaps not.”
The tour of the Hesperus Mactans was uneventful for the vast majority of the trip. Ahuizotl practically preened as he went about, pointing out the weapon emplacements far beyond what either ponies or griffons had conjured up. The control room held a vast view-port, offering an unhindered view of the landscape around the machine. A scant few Painted Ones milled about, looking half-asleep.
Most of the hallways were littered with those strange, antlike Strutters. They climbed on the walls, dragged scrap metal around, watched their every movement. There had to be hundreds of them, all with legs as sharp as swords, and pincers able to slice through bone.
They finally came to the coup de grâce: The cargo bay. Dragonfly-shaped Strutters lay beside beetle-shaped brethren; the darting flyers and the slower, shielded powerhouses respectively. They carried similar—if smaller—armaments to the Hesperus itself. Their wings, built from the same hexagonal material as the shield within the mountain.
At the center of the room stood Felaccia’s salvation.
It was a single spire made up of interlocking panels. At the top, the plates shifted to form jagged points, like crazed battlements, or a massive claw reaching upward. At the bottom, bronze-colored plates were arranged in a pattern.
“I recognize this,” Andean said in Equestrian, pointing a talon at the foot of the Sun Device. “These will interlock with similar panels we uncovered atop Castle Roc. We followed them through the mountain and found they connect with the control array.”
“Ah!” Ahuizotl practically pranced around the Sun Device, his smile wide, his eyes burning. “Then we have a location! Perhaps the magic of the mountain serves to power the device.”
Andean furrowed his brow. “It isn’t powered by hearts?”
“The amount of hearts to move this very airship is insufficient to raise the sun.” Ahuizotl rubbed his chin, narrowing his beady eyes at the device. “I suspect this spike, this Sunspear, if you will, was always designed to channel a great amount of power. Hearts brought it up from the depths, to be sure, but I believe we shall need all the power we can muster… if we are to wrest the sun and moon out of the Fae’s hands.”
Andean reached out to touch the cold surface of the Sunspear. The mind boggled; how much power was an alicorn capable of accessing, if they could guide the celestial objects all on their own? Was there a limit? Did even Celestia know? If all of Ahuizotl’s hearts were unable to grasp the sun…
Which brought something to his remembrance. There was one last room he needed to see. “May I see your engine room?”
“My what?” Ahuizotl snapped out of his reverie, not unlike a branch snapping in a strong wind. “Why would you bother yourself? It’s barely more than a storehouse for acquired hearts.”
“And yet my curiosity piques.” Andean smiled at Ahuizotl, extending a talon palm-up. “I expected my tour to be all-encompassing. As was yours.”
Ahuizotl snorted. “Perhaps we shall tour the showers, and the maintenance tunnels as well. Had I known you wished to see the dingiest parts of the Hesperus Mactans, we would have started in the equipment room.”
“The engine room shall suffice.” Andean gave the Sun Device one last lingering look. “Then tomorrow, we can commence with the installation.”
Two antlike Strutters led the way. Andean followed close beside Ahuizotl, with the Blitzwings who had come aboard trailing behind. They made their way to the heart of the vessel, step by step.
Andean needed to see the room. If he was to work with Ahuizotl… he needed to see that much. For Corona’s sake.
What she’d said weighed heavily on his head, of course. And she was right, to a point. Ahuizotl was far too dangerous a bedfellow to treat as anything but a constant threat. Seeing the callous way he treated his soldiers, separating them from their bodies and stuffing them into machines… Seeing his countless victims treated as mere baubles to collect… Forcibly kidnapping a young girl from her home to serve his mad scheme…
But the alternative was to allow Celestia’s shortsightedness to send them all into a world of darkness.
The closer they came to the engine room, the more the walls throbbed. Power coursed just beneath Andean’s feet, while his ears were subjected to a steady thump. His own heart shuddered in his chest, torn between flight and succumbing to the beat.
“I am curious,” Ahuizotl said.
Andean scowled at him; perhaps out of discomfort with his surroundings, perhaps due to his opinion of the creature beside him. “What?”
Ahuizotl kept his eyes forward, his tail wriggling haphazardly in his wake. “Felaccia is famous for their funerary rites. They burn all their loved ones on pyres. Much like the pegasi in that regard. But your kings are kept in catacombs. Why?”
“The pyres are a recent occurrence.” The thrum echoed off the walls and trailed their way down his spine. The atmosphere was oppressive, like a thick smog had replaced pure air. “We had an infestation of wights a few years ago. They inhabited the mountain tombs and masqueraded as undead monsters. Many griffons lost themselves to terror and the beasts’ cannibalistic tenancies. We burn bodies to prevent the wights from inhabiting their horrific habitat.”
He patted his scabbard; Euroclydon sparked with a ready energy. “But there is not a wight alive who would attempt to invade my home.”
“Well…” Ahuizotl grinned as he opened a hatch in the wall. “I’m certainly glad you’re on my side.”
Andean stepped through the door. His jaw dropped.
An orb stood suspended in the middle of the room, pipes leading from it to every corner of the Hesperus Mactans. Indents ran across the orb’s surface, in which were placed two-hundred hearts. Each heart was a different color. Each heart radiated with a different light. Each one represented a unique soul.
Each one spoke with its own voice.
“Help me, please!”
“Where is Sweetie Belle? She said she’d save us!”
“Mom! Help! Momma!”
“It’s so dark!”
“I can’t breathe!”
“What’s going on?”
“Where am I?”
“I wanna go home!”
“Sweetie belle!”
“Help!”
Andean staggered. He reached out for support and grabbed the bulkhead. The voices continued to speak, straight to his heart. There was no way to shut them out. There was no way to ignore them. There was no way to turn away from their pain. Their fear. Their heartache.
Two-hundred voices screamed at once.
“I’ll admit,” Ahuizotl said. “It’s pretty to look at.”
Andean turned to him, clenching his fists. “They’re all… still alive?”
Ahuizotl laughed. He made his way into the engine room, his tail’s hand gesturing like an orchestra conductor. “Dead hearts cannot produce magic, wise king. All their bodies are currently safe and sound in Equestria. Little more than vegetables. Mouths being fed on Celestia’s bits.”
Andean clutched his chest. His feathery beard caught the sudden trickle of tears as he was overwhelmed. “How can they speak?”
“Can they?” Ahuizotl plucked a heart from its place and tossed it to himself. “I haven’t heard a word since I ripped their souls from their bodies.”
But Andean heard them. Like ice to the heart. Like a sword in the stomach. He wiped his eyes and stood upright, forcing himself to look at the multihued monstrosity. “How can the body live without a heart?”
“A creature can live without a soul, King Ursagryph! Not very long. Not very well.” Ahuizotl replaced the heart and drew the dagger, admiring the way the light reflected off the blade. “And the soul was always meant to move on when it left the body. The dagger merely encases the soul—the magic of a creature—in a new home. For my use.”
He sheathed the dagger with a hearty chuckle. “Do not worry your delicate complexion. It only took fifty hearts to reconstruct the Sunspear. It shouldn’t take more than that to connect it to the castle.”
Fifty hearts.
In constant agony.
Screaming to him.
Andean pulled away from the orb. He saw his Blitzwings just outside the room, all staring at him with an expression bouncing between concern and confusion. They snapped to attention at a glance from him. “I assume this concludes the tour?”
“I believe we’ve seen all we can.” Ahuizotl made a brushing motion with his right paw. “Sanctus, if you would?”
One of the half-dead Painted Ones shambled up to them. She looked blankly at them, then started walking down the hall. Andean looked to Crested, then followed her out.
Andean leaned close to crested and spoke in the old Fellacian. “Did you hear anything?”
“No, Your Grace.” Crested glanced over his shoulder with a deep breath hissing from his nose. “Hear what?”
“Those hearts spoke to me, Captain.” Andean felt anger swell in his chest. The voices rang through his skull, overlapping into a single horrified wail. “All of them. Screaming.”
Crested Barbary nodded slowly, grasping his beak with a talon. He spoke around his fingers. “What did they say?”
“The cry was unanimous…” Andean gripped the hilt of Euroclydon hard enough that the leather handle squeaked. “‘Help.’”
***
The sun set without a word for Martial Paw. Twilight overtook the sky above, shifting from blue to purple to black as starlight appeared one pinprick at a time. The moon danced into view, lighting the horizon on the far side of the Roc Mountains.
He hung over the railing of the Vanishing Point, the chains of Daring Do’s pocket watch tangled in his talons. Here he was, returned to Felaccia after nearly a decade as an Equestrian citizen. Banished, disowned, and disallowed.
He had guided the airship through crags and little-used pathways on the outskirts of Roc. To fly over the mountains was to invite instantaneous death-by-turbulence or death-by-apex predator. One did not simply tangle with a dragon’s only remaining natural predator, after all. Even if they usually only went after baby dragons. The roc species acted as a natural defense for Felaccia in that regard.
The moonlight was just strong enough to illuminate the watch’s face. The image of Daring Do and Time Turner smiled back at him, as it always did. Martial blew a breath through his beak and returned his attention to the city of Roc itself. His old home had remained unchanged since he’d left… at least from a distance. The farms, the fishing huts, the castle, all were familiar. An upward gaze took him back to his old home; the floating barracks and watchtowers where the military slept, trained, and stood watch over the city.
And there, marring the landscape with its wickedness, was the Hesperus Mactans. Ahuizotl was no doubt aboard. To be so close to ending things, yet so unable to make a change, left Martial floundering in his emotions.
A presence at his side coughed and brought him back to the moment. The breeze chilled his skin beneath his feathers. He pulled his cloak over his arms and eyed the newcomer. Captain Carrot leaned on the rail a respectful distance away, her eyes trained on the city. She glanced over when she noticed him looking. “Sorry. Tried to be quiet.”
Martial closed the watch and tucked it into his collar. “There’s a reason we sent Blank into the city instead of you.”
“I don’t wear feathers as well as he does.” Care’s ears laid against her scalp at the distant call of a full-grown roc. She looked him up and down, furrowing her brow. “How’s it feel to be back?”
Martial grasped his beak, unsure of how to answer that. How did it feel? There was too much to explain. It was too complex to sum up. “I feel like I’d rather not get arrested.”
“What’s the punishment for breaking banishment?”
“Mrph.” Martial’s memory went back to training. Patrolling the sky on the lookout for dangers, enemies, and other undesirables. Testing his carry capacity. “It could be a number of things. It depends on the severity of the transgression. On one hand, they might merely tie your wings and toss you into the ocean; to make sure you leave this time. On the other… Felaccians are awful fond of throwing stones.”
He fished through his saddlebags and came upon a document he’d kept by his side for as long as he’d been in Daring’s service. The stamped seal of the princesses granted him full citizens’ rights. “Since I’m an Equestrian these days, they’d probably deport me. There would be further consequences, I’m sure. Many of them meted out by out by Equestria itself. Much like the espionage I’m sure you’d be tried for.”
Care nodded, her tail swishing behind her. “Geeze. What’d Luna get me into this time?”
Martial snorted. Captain Carrot continued to surprise him. “I thought a pony like you would be used to this type of consequence.”
“A pony like me?” Care gave him a lopsided, slightly accusatory smile. “Buddy, I was Captain of Princess Celestia’s personal guard. You don’t get that position without a squeaky-clean record. Before I met Daring, I’d never broken a law in my life.”
Martial’s feathery ears drooped. He forced a scowl from his face, taking on as blank an expression as he could. “I find it surprising that you’re the leader of our little band, given your lack of experience.”
“Again, dude. Princess Celestia’s Personal Guard.” She polished a hoof with no small amount of satisfaction. “I’m not inexperienced. I’m just used to operating inside the law. This black ops stuff was more Daring’s wheelhouse, but she taught me everything I know.”
Martial returned to leaning on the rail, looking over the city. “I can’t help but notice how specifically you phrased that.”
“Yeah, but look at it from Princess Luna’s perspective.” Care scooted a step or so closer. “I’m here because I’m cool under pressure and can kick a lot of butt. You’re here because you know the layout of Roc better than anybody else, and can also kick a bit of butt. Blank’s here because he’s Blankety Freaking Blank. The butt kicking goes without saying.”
Martial raised a single eyebrow. “Even if he can’t swing a sword to save his life.”
Care raised her forelegs. “Hooves. What more can I say?”
Martial rested his chin on a closed fist. “That neither of us would be alive today without Daring?”
“I’ll drink to that.” Care Carrot reached behind her head to tie her mane in a tight ponytail. He gave her hooves a double-take when he noticed how complicated the movements were.
“Why do you do it like that?” He waved a talon, indicating the bone that sat proud and tall on her forehead. “You could do it much easier with magic.”
“Raised by earth pony farmers.” She shrugged. “I learned to tie things the hard way first.” One last tug set the band in place. She pulled the green ponytail over one shoulder. “Besides, I like to keep switching things out. Gives my hooves something to do when I’m waiting for something.” She giggled to herself and waved a hoof into the distance. “The many moods of Care Carrot.”
Martial found his eyes returning to the Hesperus Mactans again and again. Each time, his blood boiled anew. He rubbed his eyes and turned around, facing the Vanishing Point instead. He looked across the deck of his tiny airship, all dented and chipped and worn. “Not one to buck tradition, then?”
“Nah. Not generally.” Care set her chin on the railing. “Not if I can help it.”
Martial put a talon to his chest and felt Daring’s watch ticking away beneath the fabric of his cloak. “I feel… I feel that if Daring were with us, she would have a plan. A plan to defeat Ahuizotl, destroy the sun device, save the hostages, and be home before the day was through. And with her confidence, I would have no doubt in my mind that she’d pull through.”
Care pressed her lips tight. “Even she’d need to wait until Blankety gets back. Get the lay of the land. Find out who’s where.”
Martial Paw bowed his head. The wooden planks that made up the deck of his airship creaked as the wind rocked it back and forth. “You’re right.”
He stood up and walked to a chest that was heavily roped to the rearmost part of the deck. A quick turn of a key unlocked it, and a flick of his talon opened it. He pulled a sack off the top of the pile and weighed it in his palm. The handheld volleygun his uncle had given him slid out, alongside a small bag of ammunition. He opened the back and inserted four rounds, one for each of the “Turner’s” barrels. He closed the weapon, set the safety to “on,” and strapped the volleygun to his belt.
He then took out his best rapier and slid it from its scabbard. He had honed the edge to a hairsbreadth. It sang as he swished it through the air.
“I guess I’d better get my armor aired out.” Care’s hooves clattered across the deck behind him. “You have armor, right?”
“A bit of enchanted mail. Greaves and boots. Any more gets in the way of flying.” Martial turned his rapier in his talon, making sure the ornamental grooves in the basket guard hadn’t been bent. He watched Care lift a small purple breastplate from the interior of the Vanishing Point. A minimalistic helmet set itself upon her head. “I see you’re not wearing your usual full suit of Royal Guard armor.”
“Now that’d be asking for trouble.” She tossed the helmet to herself. It had no adornments and less coverage, almost like a scooter helmet. “It’s too bad. With the new upgrades we’ve made, full armor can stop a volleygun shot.”
Martial gave her a double-take. “You’re joking.”
“Not even.” Care smiled and clasped the armor around her torso. A faint shimmering shield of magic covered her from head to tail. “Some kid in Ponyville crafted a sort of super-alloy. Combine that with the best enchantments our wizards can cast, and you’ve got yourself a mobile brick wall.”
She looked herself over, spinning around a couple of times in her quest to see over her shoulder. “I wish we’d come up with some stealth armor that didn’t look like budget hoofball outfits.”
He pointed his sword at her head. “I’d say most of that’s in the helmet design. Besides, between the purple metal and your orange coat, you’ll be the least stealthy thing in the castle.”
“It still beats marching around in full ceremonial bling.”
“Touché.” The flap of wings reached Martial’s ears. He gazed into the darkness and saw an average-sized griffon approaching. It was either Blankety Blank or trouble. Maybe both, if they were unlucky. “Get below. Somebody’s coming.”
Care ducked out of sight. A moment later, an incredibly nondescript griffon male touched down on the deck. Greenish-blue eyes shimmered in the darkness. “I wasn’t followed.”
Martial sheathed his blade. Care rose from the lower deck, her armor removed. She gave Blank a quick hug and sat a short distance away. “Lay it on us,” she said.
“S-Sweetie Belle and B-Button are in the castle. Third floor guest rooms. Guards everywhere; mostly Blitzwings.” He pointed to the Hesperus Mactans, which glowed a sickly green from within. “Ahuizotl is s-staying on his airship tonight. Tomorrow they’re gonna hook up the sun device to the castle and try to test it on the sun.” He narrowed his eyes and waved at the castle, indicating the top few floors. “The Blitzwing patrol is going to b-b-be centralized on the c-connection. That’ll be the best time to grab the hostages.”
“Unless Ahuizotl is using Sweetie Belle to control hearts.” Martial stood at the helm and gave it a lazy spin. “Then our job becomes that much harder.”
“Well, we can’t grab her tonight,” Care said. “Not if the entire Blitzwing force is hemming them in. We’ve all seen Blitzwings fight. We wouldn’t get through. Not nearly.”
“Our only chance is to use tomorrow’s bustle as a sc-screen.” Blankety scratched the tip of his beak. Black flakes of chitin drifted down from behind the false yellow bone. “M-maybe use some of the liquid explosives Ap-Apple Bloom gave us.”
Care gave him a slow nod. Martial spun the helm the other direction, unwilling to give up his position, but unable to make a real argument. He knew better than any that you didn’t face the Blitzwings without expecting a few losses along the way. Facing them in the castle or atop it, it didn’t matter.
But they had to go through.
“Explosives won’t do much against the Sun Device,” Martial said. “That material is stronger than… stronger than wootz. But it might do something against Ahuizotl.”
“Dragonfire didn’t faze him.” Care snorted, rubbing her forehead at the unbidden memory. “I doubt our piddly little bottles are gonna do much better.”
“Th-that’s just the armor.” Blankety fanned his wings in the moonlight, his brows low. He all but danced on his hind legs, looking as though he was ready to shoot off into the sky right then. “We find some way to negate or remove it, and he’s m-mortal again.”
Care’s eyes flicked between the two of them. Her left ear dipped down. “Any bright ideas? Or should I wish for an early Hearth’s Warming while we’re at it?”
Martial growled deep in his chest. He stowed his rapier away in the trunk and made his way towards the lower deck. “I’ve only known one weapon capable of besting Ahuizotl’s breastplate.”
Blankety’s head snapped up, a touch of hope in his voice. “What’s that?”
Martial gave them a sardonic smile before disappearing belowdecks. “My uncle’s.”
***
Shining Armor sat alone in a spare suite, somewhere on the west side of the castle. The root beer he’d been guzzling hadn’t been quite hard enough, so he’d switched to orange sherbet sometime around three-o’-clock. It turned bitter in his mouth, and sour in his stomach.
Cadence hadn’t come out of their suite all day. So he’d left her alone. Made sure Chrysalis II was as comfortable as possible. There wasn’t much comfort to be had. She, too, was holed up in a suite, surrounded by her changeling bodyguards.
When he’d left, they’d all watched him. Their heads moving in synch. Their eyes judging. Their teeth bared.
When she wasn’t wearing a false face, the relation between Shining and his newfound daughter was unmistakable. She had the same eyes, the same mane, the same nose for crying out loud. Some small part wanted to apologize for the… stately nose; they usually only imposed themselves on the males of the Sparkle family.
But there she was. Unmistakably changeling. Unmistakably a Sparkle.
Unmistakably messed up.
“Ooh horseapples.” He usually despised cursing, but he had no other words for the situation. It seemed the only way to let off steam, and he was alone for the first time in… in twelve years. There was nobody to call him out on his hypocrisy. “Holy rutting horseapples.”
A soft tap was heard against the door, having less of a rhythm than a simple melody. Shining Armor pushed the sherbet back and stood. Maybe it was a servant coming to deliver more sherbet? Maybe they decided to move him onto the really good stuff: Mint ice cream. He eased the door open and glanced outside.
He had to look down before he could see the pony who had disturbed him. It was a thin pony, with a blue coat, black-blue mane, and high cheekbones. It was a very familiar pony indeed. “Dad?”
Night Light looked up at his son with what could only be described as a very deep weariness. “I saw the light under your door. Thought you might need some company.”
“It’s three in the morning. What are you doing out of bed?” Shining glanced out the window to verify the deep blackness of night outside. “Don’t you have a class to teach tomorrow?”
Night Light gave him a wry smile, small but sincere. “After all that’s happened today? This is what they made substitutes for, buddy.”
Shining stepped aside to let his father in. Night Light took a lackadaisical stroll around the suite, not looking for anything in particular. “Besides, your mom went back to Ponyville after Spike left. I hate sleeping alone.”
Shining let the door click behind him. He took a seat at his tiny table across from Night. “Sherbet?”
“This late? With my stomach?” Night let a low breath hiss from between his lips. He tapped his hoof against the table a few times. “Ahhh. Just two scoops.” A spell laid the bowl before Night. He picked at the dessert, waving the spoon under his nose.
He gave the spoon an extra lick to lap up the excess sherbet. “Do you wanna talk about it?”
Shining leaned on his hoof. He swallowed another glob of fruity frozen fun. “About what?”
“You know the answer to that question better than I do.” Night Light yawned. He stirred his treat until it became a rainbow of soup. “I can tell there’s something—”
“I… have a daughter I didn’t know about.” Shining Armor looked to his father like a drowning person might look at a lifesaver. “I met her this week.”
The spoon popped out of Night Light’s mouth and hovered in midair as he chewed on the already-melted sherbet. His eyes widened, flickering around the room as the gears turned within his head. The tips of his blue ears turned red. He finally found Shining again, his forehead furrowing. “Who is the mother?”
“Aha ha.” Shining Armor winced from his tail tip to his horn tip. “Queen Chrysalis the Tyrant.”
Night’s ears drooped. He coughed into his hoof and pushed the sherbet aside. “Then the changeling queen visiting right now—?”
“That’s her.”
“But she’s an adult—”
“She’s twelve. It’s a disguise.”
Night Light chewed on the tip of his hoof. His voice cracked as he pressed on. “That means before you and Cadence got married—”
“Yep.”
“Chrysalis used her magic to—”
“Uh huh.”
“And kept it secret all these years—”
“You got it.”
Night Light cradled his head in his hooves. He leaned against the table, his eyes closed tight. “Oh, Shining Armor, I’m sorry.”
“Yeah.” Shining took a bite that tasted like ash in his mouth. “Yeah, me too.”
Night’s ears snapped upright. “How did Cadence take it?”
“She—” Shining found it difficult to speak around the lump in his throat. “—won’t talk to me. Still.”
Night Light frowned. “Do you know why?”
Shining Armor nodded. He reached over to mash up the tension in his left shoulder. “She hates changelings, dad. Chrysalis the Tyrant specifically. She’s terrified of what she almost lost. Me, the kids…” He shrugged. “Now I guess she feels like her deepest fears came true.”
Night Light raised his eyebrows and looked Shining in the eye. “But she didn’t.”
“Didn’t she?” Shining dropped his bowl into the empty sherbet container. He brushed them off to the side as a sick, grimy feeling permeated his stomach. “I had sex with the incarnation of evil, Dad. I even know when it happened, too. I wanted to get away somewhere quiet with Cadence. Just so we had a moment to ourselves outside of the wedding planning. Nothing dirty, just a conversation. I woke up in my own bed, a little dizzy but none the wiser.”
His father ground his teeth. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Shining Ar—”
“I opened the door!” Shining Armor all but jumped from his seat to pace around the room. “I gave her the opportunity and she took it. And took me for an idiot!”
“Sit! Down!”
Shining Armor’s mouth fell open. His father hadn’t yelled at him in around twenty years, if he had his internal calendar right. He looked to the older stallion, who held his gaze firmly. He backpedaled to the chair and took it quietly.
“Chrysalis took advantage of you. Not the other way around.” Night Light folded his forelegs. “She took something very special from you and Cadence. But it wasn’t your fault. It will never be your fault. You may have consequences to deal with, but it was not your fault.”
Shining Armor wiped his eyes. They stung like a hornet. “Why don’t I believe that?”
“Because you have your mother’s stubbornness.” Night Light let out a sigh and turned to the window. “And mine.”
He grasped his bowl with a spell and sipped some sherbet soup. “You need to talk with her.”
“I’ve tried, Dad.” Shining Armor let his chin lie on the table. “She shut me out.”
“You need to keep trying,” Night said. “If you wait until you’re both ready, it’ll never happen. You need to clear it up as soon as possible.”
Shining’s head tilted until his cheek was pressed against the table top. “How am I supposed to clear this mess up?”
“The same way you clear anything up in marriage.” Night rubbed his forehead, smoothing the wrinkles for an instant before his skin sagged to its normal state. “You both pour your hearts out, then try to piece things together. You’ll both feel like garbage, but you’ll come out the other side stronger. You gotta actually work it out. Make decisions based on loving each other. That’s all it comes down to.”
Night Light reached across the table to touch a hoof to his son’s foreleg. “You can’t do it alone, Shining Armor. You need Cadence. And she needs you.”
Shining scratched the back of his neck. He patted the top of his dad’s hoof. “I guess I know what I gotta do, then.”
“Attaboy.” Night Light paused for a long moment, quiet and thoughtful. He finished off the last of his dessert, passed the bowl to Shining Armor, and moved to the settee by the window. He fiddled with his hooves, watching the clouds roll by in the glistening night sky.
“So,” he said quietly, hesitantly, “when do you think I can meet my… my new granddaughter?”
Shining Armor breathed deeply, and a black cloud of stress exited his body. “I think we can set something up sometime tomorrow.”
***
Andean Ursagryph strode into the castle’s central room, Euroclydon clinking against his side. A long table awaited him in the center of the room, with high-backed chairs lining each side. The decor wavered between stone gray and obsidian black depending on its substance. The black chairs served to highlight the griffon lords seated in them, contrasting with whatever finery they had decided to wear to the meeting.
Crested Barbary stood to the left and slightly behind, his presence more felt than viewed; as befit a guard. He rested his volleygun against his shoulder, his opposite talon resting on the hilt of his saber. The other Blitzwings took up position around the room, evenly spaced to equally cover the entire occupancy.
Andean’s eyes rested on the throne placed at the far side of the room. He decided against taking the seat, and instead propped his forelegs against the table. “Gentle creatures.”
“Your Grace,” the closest lord said. “Welcome back to Felaccia.”
Andean gave him a polite nod. He turned his head to one side to look over the assembled lords. All were in attendance, as requested. He expected nothing less. “Preparations are set. Tomorrow, we shall install the sun device atop the castle. Then, our period of study can begin.”
“What of Equestria, Your Grace?” A voice near the middle of the table echoed around the room, tinged with a faint metallic bent. Andean sought the source and picked out an unmistakable face, that of Aquila Gildwing. The gold flecks among the griffon’s dark feathers shone in the low light. A metal beak was attached to what scraps were left of his natural one—razor sharp and stained from countless arguments won. “What interference can we expect?”
An ache made itself felt in the back of Andean’s neck. A cocktail of tiredness and anxiety. “I believe whatever grievances they have shall be voiced by ambassador. They will not make any aggressive moves.”
The lord across from Aquila—a hulking, owl-faced griffon—gripped the top of his scraggly walking stick. “Then it is the perfect time for us to be the aggressor. Now that we finally have an advantage over the ponies, the time for rrrretribution has arrived.”
“Haven’t we moved past that thought, Lord Tigris?” A young griffon at the back of the room leaned on one talon while he drummed the other against the table. “I still have hopes that the Equestrians will come to see the benefits of sharing the sun.”
“They share among themselves, Morphnus,” Aquila Gildwing said. “Not with other species. Lord Tigris is right. If we want the world to return its proper state, we must take action.”
Lord Morphnus Barbary—Crested’s elder brother, if Andean recalled correctly—sat up a little straighter. “Return? To the old ways? When each species sought to eke a living out one day at a time? When monsters roamed unchecked, devouring families whole? When war tore lives apart as surely as a sword tears bone and sinew?”
“Rrrreturn to a time,” Lord Bubo Tigris rumbled, “when the world was not rrrrun by the embarrassment known as Equestria.”
An elderly, white-striped griffon snickered quietly. “Rather let us be the embarrassment, you old goat?”
Andean bellowed a roar that shook the table down to its legs. The lords fell immediately silent, their eyes on him. “This much is already decided: We shall take no action against Equestria. We are yet allies, if only on paper. If there is to be aggression, it must come from them. Am I clear?”
A chorus of silent nods greeted him.
“If any should break that alliance, no matter how secretly think you’ve done it, you shall answer to me.” He patted Euroclydon’s scabbard. “Directly.”
When no one else spoke up, Andean walked around the table. He kept the lords in his peripheral vision, but did not look at any specifically. “Tomorrow, I am mobilizing the entire Roc-based military. I do not trust Ahuizotl, nor shall I ever. Should he try to undermine any of our treaties—Equestria, Beefland, Giraffrica, and so on—we shall come down on him with every ounce of strength we possess.”
Lord Gildwing began to rise from his chair. “He’s our one chance at—!”
“And confiscate the sun device as the spoils of war.” Andean allowed a low growl to be felt in the room. “I’m certain, Lord Aquila Gildwing, that will suffice?”
Aquila slowly returned to his seated position, facing a peeved-looking Lord Tigris.
“If the unthinkable happens…” Andean sighed deep within his chest. “If Ahuizotl betrays us and succeeds, I do not want our entire government to fall in Roc. Tonight, you shall all return to your own lands. Build your armies for a reprisal. If Ahuizotl were to claim victory, he would become the single most dangerous being on the face of the planet.” He gave Gildwing, then Tigris, a burning glare. “Ahuizotl is not to be trifled with.”
Morphnus Barbary leaned back in his seat as Andean passed. “Shouldn’t some of us stay here? Our guard retinues are some of the fiercest warriors in Felaccia.”
“No. The Blitzwings and the Roc Armed Forces shall make their stand.” Andean rain his talons through his feathery beard. “If we are unable to overcome Ahuizotl, with all the power at our disposal, I don’t believe a dozen or so more soldiers would be enough to shift the tide.”
A messenger entered the room. It was a tiny griffon, barely as big as Andean’s eye. He flittered up to Crested Barbary’s ear and whispered, then exited in the same moment. Crested gave Andean a signal that it was important to discuss; he flicked his left ear down twice.
Andean Ursagryph nodded. He addressed the gathered lords with wings half-spread. “Time is of the essence. Move swiftly and quietly. I do not want word of your movements to reach Ahuizotl’s ears. Now go.”
The lords stood as one and headed for the exit. Bubo Tigris paused in his pained shuffle to stand beside Andean. He leaned heavily on his walking stick, his grayed, striped feathers flaking in his wake. His dull eyes sought his king’s face. “One tires of being wary of all one’s allies, Your Grace.”
Andean’s beak twitched towards a frown. He kept the expression in check, but just barely. “It is the lot of a griffon’s life, Lord Tigris.”
“Perhaps to a degree. We teach that the Creator gives us the strength to lead only for a little while.” Tigris opened and closed his talon. The limb ached with every movement, his frail skin stretched to the limit. “Yet we still spend our whole lives worrying that He made someone stronger than us. Fighting against those who could be stronger. Doing everything in our power to mold His ‘Perfect Plan’ into our image.”
His wispy eyebrows hung low over his eyes as he wheezed a dusty breath. “Be mindful of where you wield your strength, Andean Ursagryph, lest it falter.”
He hobbled away, his guards surrounding him in an impenetrable barrier of steel and feathers. Andean watched him go until he vanished out the door. One of the oldest of the lords, not to mention the wisest, wiliest, and most vicious.
He was Berkut’s chief advisor five hundred years ago. He survived Celestia’s attack by taking a tour of the troops. He survived the subsequent battle for kingship by staying out of Andean’s way.
Crested locked forelimbs with his brother. When their short-lived greeting was finished, he walked the rest of the way to Andean’s side. “Your Grace, urgent news from the border.”
They were far enough away that most lords were out of earshot. Andean gave the go-ahead.
“The Equestrian Royal Navy has weighed anchor in neutral waters. Right outside Felaccian limits.” The Blitzwing Captain clicked his beak a bit longer than usual. “They haven’t moved for an hour. What do you want to do about it?”
“What indeed?” Andean allowed himself a single, solitary, sardonic smirk. “What’s one more earth-shattering meeting for today?”
***
Andean Ursagryph exited the ironclad warship and stepped into a cloudless night. Stars shone overhead with a quiet ferocity, burning brightly on their preordained flightpath through the ether. The moon glowed brightest of all, framing a figure on the deck of the Equestrian flagship.
Luna gave him a nod. “Welcome aboard, Your Grace.”
“Thank you, High Princess.” Andean craned his neck to take it the spectacle of it all. “It’s a beautiful night.”
“Thank you.” Luna held herself imperiously. Her eyes shone with pure ice, and her voice clanged with iron. “Why did you wish to meet? In secret, at that.”
Andean was joined on deck by Crested Barbary. He nearly excused the Blitzwing Captain, but stopped short when he saw Luna was not alone either. A large earth pony mare, only slightly shorter than the princess herself, hovered behind Luna. A closer look revealed it to be Apple Bloom, Applejack’s little—no, younger sister. She looked like she was ready to punch him right in the face, should he step out of line.
He decided crossing the line held no purpose for him. None whatsoever. “I wish to know what the Equestrian Navy is doing so close to our border.”
“I suspect you know why.” Luna pressed her lips into a firm, thin line. “We are pursuing Ahuizotl. The instant he is no longer under your protection, we shall pounce on him with the utmost ferocity. No mistakes this time.”
Andean nodded. “But so long as he stays within our borders, you will not attack him?”
“As long as he is your guest—” If she had spat the word, it would have held more dignity. “—we shall not interfere with your dealings.”
Luna let out a breath, more of a huff than a sigh. “We are also here to ensure that the ponies Ahuizotl kidnapped are safe.”
“Sweetie Belle,” Andean said quietly. “And… I do not know the stallion’s name.”
“It’s Button Mash.” Apple Bloom wore an expression Andean had seen once before: When Applejack had accused him of murder. He hadn’t been guilty. That time. “He’s a friend.”
Luna stiffened, as though she wished to cut Apple Bloom off, but did not want to present disunity in front of the griffons. Andean gave her a solemn nod. All was well. He just had to deal with her the way he would deal with the Lord Mayor herself…
With respect.
“Button Mash. I will not forget.” Andean dipped his curved beak towards Apple Bloom. “I swear I shall protect them with every fiber of my being. They will be returned to you. Nothing shall sway me from this mandate.”
Apple Bloom looked confused for a moment, but the anger quickly returned. “And it ain’t just Button or Sweetie, either. We—”
“The hearts.” Andean interrupted her with a calculated verbal parry. “You also seek to free the hearts.”
Apple Bloom’s frustration stopped her mouth up. Too many words flooded her all at once, and none could escape. She could only nod and await Andean’s next sentence.
“They, too, are under my protection.” Andean shifted his stance to include Luna in his attention. She remained stiff, her face stony and her emotions impregnable. “It is ludicrous to believe their sacrifice is the only way to work the Sunspear. They, too, shall be freed.”
“But not yet,” Luna said.
Andean sent a muted frown her way. “That’s the cincher, isn’t it?”
“The moment you wake up and realize exactly what you are doing…” Luna sat, her wings spread to reflect the silvery moonlight. “We shall be ready to help you.”
King Andean Ursagryph and High Princess Luna stared at each other, neither wishing to budge from their positions.
He bowed his head, and turned towards the ironclad. “Keep a careful watch, Luna. Fate has… yet to be decided.”
He waited for her response, the voice asking for him to clarify, but she said nothing. Perhaps she understood. Perhaps she still thought him all the more gormless for it.
The ironclad sailed back to the Canyon of Entry, its lord and king nestled within the hold. He leaned against the wall, peering through the porthole at his kingdom as they approached. He itched to draw Euroclydon, to treat his problems are mere physical things which could be destroyed.
But problems of the heart had no such easy solutions.
He turned to Crested Barbary, who was busy sharpening his saber. “Captain?”
“Yes, Your Grace?”
“You read the Canon regularly, do you not?” Andean gripped his beak in a talon, parsing the words before sharing them. “What wisdom does the Creator have regarding our situation?”
Crested tested the edge of his blade. He blew a long, slow breath out one side of his beak. “We are meant to love peace and hate injustice. Neither one comes naturally for a griffon.”
Andean chuffed. He shook his head. “No. There are some to whom it is the most ordinary thing in the world. Two special griffons in particular.”
Crested sword slid into its sheath. He stowed away his whetstone beside his ammunition. “I believe Corona will be an excellent queen, Your Grace.”
“Aye, that she will.” Andean narrowed his eyes as the statues of the ancient kings loomed over them. “But only if Felaccia survives that long.”
***
“You should not have shown Andean Ursagryph the engine room.”
Ahuizotl brushed off Cicada’s words with a flick of the wrist. “He would never take ‘no’ for an answer. It is for the best that things are seen clearly between us.”
Cicada’s armor clanked its hooves against the deck as she followed Ahuizotl through the Hesperus Mactans. The lights alternated between battle-ready red and sickly-changeling green, depending on the room. “He cannot be trusted, Ahuizotl.”
“To a point. His betrayal is inevitable.” Ahuizotl tapped the side of his nose. “The question is how much work we can get done before the inevitable happens.”
He nearly tripped over a plodding, thoughtless acolyte. He curled his upper lip as he watched it shamble away, dribbling ichor from its mouth. “You know these creatures were already loyal to the death, did you not? You needn’t have worked your… changeling magic on them.”
“It is an ancient technique,” she said, her voice mechanical and buzzing. “Before a battle, a changeling queen synchronizes her soldiers with her, so that she can direct them more efficiently. If done correctly, she can control their very thoughts. Chrysalis the Tyrant did not know of it; therefore, she lost.”
“You expect a battle tomorrow?”
“Don’t you?”
“To a point.” Ahuizotl opened the door to the bridge and walked up to the helm. The controls were silent, as the ship had docked on the rocky canyon walls surrounding Roc. “When we connect the Sunspear to the castle, we will be able to conduct a test of the device’s capabilities. At that point, Andean’s cooperation will be, shall we say, surplus to requirements.”
Cicada’s soulless eyes glared into Ahuizotl’s soul. “You intend to use the device against Roc?”
Ahuizotl smiled. He flicked a switch and opened the windows. Roc lay peacefully beneath them, mostly dark, but studded with lamplight here and there. “Celestia cemented herself as the greatest superpower in the world some five-hundred years ago when she turned Felaccia’s king into ash and brimstone. We can do the very same thing here. Cow the world into submission with a single action. Show that the power of the sun has finally shifted hands. Reveal just what I am capable of.”
He sat before the viewports, his eyes twinkling with the promise of victory to come. “While Celestia united the world under a banner of playing nice with each other, I shall unite them under a banner of reverential fear. Only with all peoples united can the Fae be defeated. Only under my leadership can this be achieved.”
Queen River Cicada folded her metallic wings behind her back. “With Andean Ursagryph as the first casualty in the war?”
“The first price to pay.” He grinned, and his teeth matched the sharpness in his voice. “The price of a god!”