//------------------------------//
// Chapter 52: Counterattack 
// Story: The Life of Penumbra Heartbreak 
// by Unwhole Hole 
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The field marshal slowly waded through the holographic map projected by her palantir, scrutinizing the paths of the units highlighted in red as they moved through the tiny streets of the magical model. 
“Field marshal,” said her crystal slave, trying to maintain his composure. “We are reporting more incursions. More patrols are being lost- -”
“I am aware.” The field marshal watched as the flares went up in her map. Distress signals that served to assist in mapping. Nothing more. No help would ever come. “The patrols are expendable.” She inspected the incoming data concerning the enemy army, relayed from the lesser palantirs throughout the city. “They are spearheading their attacks with werewoods, using it as a cover for the chiropterans.”
“Bat ponies,” said Asahel. “They’re just so cute. I could hug them to pieces. Literally, that tends to happen. A lot.” 
“We have only limited reports of bat-pony incursion. The numbers are only estimated at- -”
“There are more. I can track each and every one of them.” The field marshal considered, watching as several more patrols were lost and as the force began to move swiftly down the widest avenues of the kingdom. “Nightmare Moon’s elite forces. They are pushing hard and fast, trying to encircle and clear out the main city. Probably so that they can lay a traditional siege to the Capital District.” The field marshal frowned. “It’s too cold outside the shield for a war of attrition. Unless they think they have something that can crack our shield...” 
“Celestia’s forces have not yet joined the battle,” said Eternity, whispering without a body. “They are still waiting.”
“Then our time has come to cease waiting.” The field marshal looked into the map. The tiny red-colored batpony figures had moved deep into the city, advancing quickly and crushing through the patrols and defense forces- -forces specifically chosen for weak commanders and given thralls instead of golems. 
“I think it is time,” she said. “Asahel. Drop the core shielding and dump the remaining ionic charge.”
The golem laughed softly. It was a terrible, chilling sound. “I can’t wait to see,” he said, mostly to himself. “Filthy adorable organics...” 
The ship responded to his will, transmitted by the cables implanted in his body. Outside, the clouds began to react. 

The force of Nightmare Moon rushed through the city, ripping through the enemy troops like lightning. They were unseen, their bodies clad in enchanted cloaks and armor that hid them both from sight and protected them from the cold. The hideous thralls of the Heretic King fell in their wake in the name of the One True Goddess. Their dedication was absolute. The word of the goddess was law. The heretics would be purged in the name of Dark One.
The werewoods lead the way, distracting the enemy forces as the bat-ponies rushed behind them, leaping quickly and silently from building to building and cleaning up the mess. Few of the werewoods retained any semblance of their original mind, but each and every one knew enough to remember. They remembered that when they were hunted and persecuted, rejected and downtrodden in poverty and agony from their curse, it was Nightmare Moon who had given them sanctuary. The first pony who did not judge them for what they could not control, and though it was her light that brought the Change, they loved her as their mother. 
With ease, they penetrated the kingdom. The enemy forces were far weaker than they had been led to believe- -a simple matter of heavily armored ponies combined with the accursed thralls in their strange, disturbing mass. Before long, the forces of Nightmare Moon had penetrated deeply into the Crystal Empire, on their way to the Citadel to slay the foe of their goddess. 
Then something happened. None among them had the vocabulary to express what it was. Their society was to primitive to understand it. Though many decades later, when bat-mares and bat-stallions (the few that would withstand the Solar Purge) would tell their grandchildren about the events of that day, they would almost invariably describe it the same way. As a force of lightning.
Except that the lightning did not fade. It propagated through the clouds, striking them and splitting across the sky. Whatever it touched ignited, driven by the reaction of some unknown gas against the undercurrents of magic already present in the storm. The result was that, although it was the dead of night, the sky was suddenly filled with a hideous and unnatural twilight glow. 
The batponies screamed, suddenly blinded by the flash of light. At that moment the thralls- -the stiff, stupid, mindless things throughout the Empire- -turned on them. They attacked, grabbing the bat-ponies and pulling them to the ground screaming, grabbing at their wings and their armor. Though they bit and struggled, the ponies that fought could do nothing to harm the thralls. It was too late for them.
The remainder took to the air. They were agile at low altitude, able to move easily between the buildings to outrun the armored ponies below. 
“We’ve been spotted!” cried a bat-mare, still trying to overcome the dazzling of the sudden surge of light.
“That does not change our orders!” retorted her leader, a pony clad in silver armor that covered every inch of him save for the dark skin of his long wings. “Forward! FORWARD! FOR NIGHTMARE MOON!” 
The batponies charged forward, the werewoods beside them. The knight-commanders, though not always bats themselves, lead the charge. This was no longer a stealth mission, but one of outright religious frenzy. If they could not carefully excise a path through the city, they would burn a swath to victory instead. 
It did not even occur to them that they had already lost. 
Their force was stopped cold by an oncoming formation of ponies, hesitating instantly out of pure instinct. The werewoods sensed it most of all, but the rest understood it more deeply: that these things they now faced were different.
They were not thralls. They were not simply ponies in masks and armor. Though they walked on four legs, they moved with unnatural speed and an obscene gait of something that had most certainly never been alive. 
“GOLEMS!” cried the commander. “Archers!” 
Without any further hesitation, the night archers dropped into positions, taking the front line. They opened fire, their crossbows firing dimeritium bolts specially designed for the occasion and equipped with powerful runes guaranteed to stop any magical being in its tracks.
Their accuracy was perfect, and the bolts stuck hard into the joints and weak spots in the golems’ armor. The archers smiled, ready to congratulate themselves on their perfection- -except that the golems did not stop moving. 
“What- -no!” The commanding knight turned to another of his order, a unicorn clad in silver. “The bolts!”
“It’s not- - it’s not magic! THEY’RE NOT MAGIC!” 
In a panic, the chiropterans fled- -only for the golems to accelerate to unnatural speeds, leaping into the air and capturing those who tried to flee. The golems were not nearly as merciful as the thralls. They ensured that those they brought down would not have a second chance to fly away. 
The werewoods sensed that their brothers were in danger and flew into a rage, charging into the golems and tearing at them with their teeth. The golems were heavy and armored, and felt no pain; they swarmed the werewoods- -but their momentum had been stopped. 
“FORWARD!” screamed the commanding knight, drawing his blade and pushing it through the chest of one of the golems. “WE SHALL NOT STOP!”
The others shrieked in unison, drawing their swords and charging into the fray. 
There was hope. High above, the light of the One True Goddess shined upon them. There would be pain, but they all accepted it, because though the battle was fight, each and every one of them could taste victory. 
Then, from the corner of his eye, the knight saw a flash of silver. One of the werewoods screamed as its bark was torn away in a single strike, and as it stumbled a powerful blow was sent into its chest, sending it reeling over several smaller bat-winged ponies. Through his mask, the knight beheld a pair of enormous griffons. Their eyes were strange and their bodies wrong- -and in their claws they held blades of silver covered with the runes of the vedmaki. 
“Monster slayers! Troops, ON THE- -”
He was suddenly knocked back by a blow so powerful that the armor around his chest imploded. He could not breathe, but he raised his blade by instinct alone in defense- -and it was promptly cleaved in twain by a red-steel blade held in the magic of a massive blue-clad knight. 
“You would dare to challenge a knight of the moo- -”
A vast metal claw closed around his head and with one motion crushed his helmet, knocking him out instantly. His limp body was thrown to the side. His partner, the unicorn knight, leapt over his unconscious body and charged into battle against the one who had defeated his brother, his horn charged with the holy light of the goddess- -and in a single flash of orange light, his armor was melted free of his body. A second blow to his face knocked him to the ground. 
“What be this?!” screamed the Blue Knight, equally disgusted and insulted. “Is THIS what you have come to bring me? ME?! How am I expected to perform powerful deeds with such WEAK foes? I  will not be outdone by my beloved damsel! I require a foe who is MIGHTY INDEED!” 
He looked to the fray and saw none who were adequate. “OUT OF MY WAY!” he cried, throwing his sword. It ignited with his orange-amber magic and shot forward, driven by the spell. Bat-ponies screamed in pain as the blade cleaved through armor and wings alike, traveling in a wide arc until it returned to the Blue Knight’s grasp. 
“Fine,” he laughed, stepping over the wounded and weeping heretics as he advanced slowly across the battlefield. “If nothing in Equestria is of worthy quality, then quantity will have to suffice.” He raised his sword to his griffons. “A gold piece for every heretic you reap!”
“GOLD!” cried the griffons in unison, raising their own swords- -and together, they charged across the kingdom, intending not to stop until they reached the Princess herself. That thought made Zither smile- -the thought when Celestia would finally pay for what she had taken from him, and of the look on Sombra’s face when he presented her with the alicorn’s wings. 
But there was still much to do before then. He gripped his sword tightly, knowing that there were peasants in need of attention.