Smolder's shoulder presses hard against the bars covering the false duct, her arm straining as she reaches as far into the hole as she can. The tips of her claws lightly scratch the bark-like surface of a mass of vines.

Smolder grunts, "I'm pretty sure I see that button, but it's deep in there. I can barely touch the vines it's hidden behind."

Ocellus nods, not glancing at Smolder, trying to look everywhere else at once. She is their lookout while Smolder tries to get at the moon button which will lower the void shield.

All about her is chaos. The air is filled with flashes of red and green light. Ocellus counts it a small miracle they were able to sneak across the room without drawing attention from those fighting on either side.

Throughout the cavernous room, Pharynx's pseudoling army is battling Queen Elytra, her love-starved drones, and her Nightmare. Queen Elytra never leaves Its back, standing on It like a general rallying and commanding her forces.

An explosion on the far end of the room tears apart one of the pipes. Ocellus spins to see a waterfall of glowing cerulean pour from the dangling pipe. A drone spasms in the glowing pool beneath, lime electricity grounding through the pool. A quartet of pseudolings hover over her, spreading their forelegs and unleashing the rage in their hearts.

Queen Elytra's drones include several needle-changed monstrosities, including the fire'ling. They wreak terrifying havok, mostly on Pharynx's hive. But even Queen Elytra's other drones are careful to fly clear of them. Ocellus keeps watch for the poltergeist, but the dead drone has not shown itself.

A dozen drones surrounded in auras of red swoop upwards in formation, spreading their forelegs and sending a barrage of crimson death down on two stained-glass Nightmare Moons. One gets off a blast of lightning that strikes the center pseudoling in the formation and arcs to two more in the instant before the rage beams shatter the transformed changelings.

Pharynx's false drones don't have a real changeling's abilities, much less the catastrophic bag of tricks that Queen Elytra has armed her drones with. In the first moments, drones with sprayers took pseudolings out of the air by the dozens. But Pharynx quickly focused on them, his pseudolings attacking from every side. Their crimson beams of wrath slaughtered the sprayer-armed drones, while a dozen onyx pillars churned out new ones to replace the fallen.

Tears spill down Ocellus' cheeks. At first, the sight was too much for Ocellus. Everywhere she looks, changelings are dying!

But now, the pain and sorrow are bleeding away to a numbness. Upon that dead feeling, Ocellus builds a bulwark of grim determination.

To save Pharynx, to stop the battle and spare as many as they can. But most of all, to get Smolder and her other friends home.

Tentacles of greasy black smoke snare two pseudolings out of the air, swinging them about then smashing them together hard enough to shatter chitin and pulp the flesh and organs inside. In the center of the battle, the Nightmare tears into everything within reach that has a red aura, like a primordial horror unleashed.

Ocellus is both surprised that the Nightmare hasn't let loose a panic-inducing roar yet and thankful for it. Her best guess is that the Queen Elytra either believes the pseudolings would be unaffected, or she is cautious knowing that her own drones will be.

Either way, Ocellus' and Smolder's plan would be done for if It did. And most likely, so would they.

"If my arms were longer, I might be able to cut these, but I still couldn't reach it," Smolder announces with a huff. "Besides, you said cutting the vines is bad."

"Yes," Ocellus calls back. There's no point whispering. They can barely hear each other when they shout. "Especially the purple ones."

Well, maybe not in their case. Smolder swims in molten lava for fun; she couldn't really be hurt by fire. And they were both Smolder...

Ocellus turns towards Smolder, opening her muzzle to suggest that might actually be fine. But as soon as she does, half a dozen reasons why it might be horrible start tumbling through her head. Not the least of them being that these vines were likely filled with highly-concentrated dark essence from the vats below.

"Maybe I should just back up and burn them away." Smolder backs away an arm's length. "One good breath should do it. Any 'ling looking our way?"

From the corner of her eye, flashes of green energy grab Ocellus' attention. She takes one glance, then jolts forward, pushing Smolder. Almost fast and hard enough to push her clear.

The rocketing drone's collison barrier strikes Smolder in the dragon's left wing, spinning her like a top and sending her crashing into the railing of a catwalk above one of the essence pools. The kamikaze changeling slams into the wall, skidding along it, tearing a groove in the stone.

The young orange dragon bounces off the railing, hits the edge of the essence pool and falls to the ground, groaning and stunned. Too slowly for Ocellus' heart, Smolder sits up, holding her head then cradling her wing. She flexes it gently, wincing in pain.

Relief rushes into Ocellus' heart. She has never been so happy that dragons are hardy. That hit would have torn her wing off! Smolder is so tough.

Ocellus starts to fly down to her friend, but is stopped as a shout pierces the din of war. Even as drones fall around her, Queen Elytra screams over the raging cacophony of battle. Her voice no longer sounds like that of the young changeling queen Ocellus and Yona fought together earlier. Her voice is that of the Nightmare.

The queen seems focused on the black shell around Pharynx's tiny empire. The changeling nymph doubts Pharynx can hear her.

So why is the queen bothering? Ocellus' mind flashes back to Queen Elytra screaming into the captured pseudoling. Pharynx is connected to all of them. He must sense everything his "hive" can.

Ocellus' heart is gripped by a wrenching feeling of alarm. She suddenly hopes for his sake that he isn't feeling every death as his pseudolings are being killed in droves. She desperately wants to see him reunited with her King. That happy reunion wilts if Thorax's brother is being unspeakably traumatized.

"I was everything mother wanted me to be! Everything she made me! But once... just ONCE!... I tried to be my own being! Tried to take something for MYSELF! And in response, she takes ALL MY POWER from me and BANISHES ME here!"

Ocellus' eyes widen as she takes in Queen Elytra's words. Maybe Smolder had it wrong? Was Elytra a usurper? Did she try to overthrow Queen Chrysalis?

Or was she a deserter? Did she try to establish her own hive, taking some of her mother's drones with her? Either would have been utter treason in the mind of Queen Chrysalis.

Ocellus looks to her other side, eyes following the groove torn in the wall to the drone who made it. The kamikaze comet ended her flight against one of the giant pipes, denting it in severely. Condensed, liquid essence sprays from a crack, coating the changeling as the drone gets her hooves beneath her again.

Ocellus looks behind her at the barred hole that the button is buried in. Behind vines that are themselves just out of Smolder's reach. Her own dragon form has longer arms, but it is only the perfect disguise crafted by Smolder's love that keeps the Nightmare from descending on her and ripping her apart.

Queen Elytra screams at the void, "Tell me: how is that JUST!? HOW IS THAT RIGHT!??"

Ocellus looks down, seeing Smolder stand up, still rubbing her wing. The lovebug feels something break inside her chest as she sees tears in the dragon's eyes. But Smolder's eyes burn with determination, her expression worried but her stance undaunted.

"My only crime was wanting independence! DO I NOT MERIT IT!? Mother wanted me shackled! A lifetime of imprisonment for ONE MOMENT of freedom? DO I NOT DESERVE MY REVENGE!??"

Ocellus calls down to Smolder, "Stay there. Use Gallus' crossbow! I'll clear the way!"

Ocellus closes her eyes, taking a deep breath. The conversation with Smolder still burns at the forefront of her mind. As does the kiss. Her first kiss.

Way to hurt Smolder, Ocellus, she thinks to herself suddenly. Smolder deserved a better first kiss.

She pushes the thought from her head, thinking back to something more comforting. War screams around her. Creatures are dying. It's hard to believe that just yesterday morning, she was at the School of Friendship, her biggest worry about a test and her night terrors. Yesterday, her friends saw she was in a bad state, and they all gathered around her. Hugged her. Loved her.

Smolder was right. She didn't need to kiss the dragon to get the love she needed for her perfect Smolder disguise. She didn't even need the love that was filling the room as she stepped close.

Ocellus concentrates, wrapping herself in love as her body is engulfed in turquoise flame.

Gallus-Ocellus looks about. The drone who hurt Smolder has been joined by two others. Green bursts in front of them as they form their collision barriers.

Fortunately for Ocellus, the trio's ocelli are on her, not below. Their magic has attracted enemy eyes. Several pseudoling drones fresh from the nearest artifact begin blasting beams of red fury at them, the rage-lasers bouncing off two of the drone's shields. The third is struck from behind, the impact killing her and splattering her corpse against the wall.

The two remaining drones turn towards their attackers. One of them transforms into a moonshark. Ocellus turns away as the moonshark opens its maw, diving at the pseudolings. She has two seconds, maybe three, before they are on her.

The blue griffin Ocellus returns to the false duct and thrusts herself against the bars, reaching in. Gallus' arms are longer. His talons are larger with longer claws. Ocellus feels those talons snare and grasp around vines. She clinches as much as she can in her grip, planting her powerful lion hindpaws against the wall and pushing off with all the strength Gallus could muster.

The vines rip and the air around her rapidly fills with purple-black smoke. It geysers out of multiple rent vines under immense pressure, blasting out the hole and expanding into an enormous smokescreen.

Gallus-Ocellus somersaults backwards through the billowing smoke, flipping twice as a streak of green energy tears through the purple-black clouds where she had been an eyeblink before. She hears the thunder of the changeling's kamikaze crash, but she cannot see it. Nor what happened to the other one. The cloud of obfuscation is so thick that Ocellus can barely tell which direction is up.

But she does see red auras closing on her fast. Likely chasing the changeling that just shot by, but that won't matter when they spot her.

Ocellus yaws about, tumbling in the air as she tries to master unfamiliar wings. She closes her eyes and once more draws on her collection of love. She is mildly surprised when the turquoise flash of her own magic doesn't ignite the rapidly-expanding smokescreen. Her eyes open to see herself surrounded by angry pseudoling drones, each surrounded in a turbulent ruby aura.

Ocellus is Smolder again. She smiles a smug little Smolder smile with Smolder's cute, smug-looks-so-good-on-me muzzle. Then folds her wings and drops. A second later, she unfurls her dragon wings, catching air and swoops downward away from the pseudolings who are turning to pursue.

The smoke ignites. The air all around her catches fire. The essence pool room erupts in a roiling, pyrotechnic firestorm.

Smolder-Ocellus flies down through the broiling, rolling waves of fire. It's pleasantly warm against her draconic scales. She understands a little how Smolder must enjoy lava-bathing. But she'd rather be able to see. She knows what is down, so down she goes. For a moment, her eyes reflect the brilliant light, shining with the fire, neither harmed nor dried by it. Then she closes them anyway. Takes a very deep breath. And draws on the love of her friends.

Mixed berries, with notes of cotton candy and wakame. Seapony Silverstream-Ocellus hits the essence pool with a splash and immediately begins swimming.

Ocellus pops her Silverstream-head out of the liquid essence, feeling it fizzle against her scales like a carbonated soda. Above her, the last flickers of the firestorm burn the air clean. The drones -- changeling and pseudoling alike -- have taken cover. She wants to look for Smolder, but there is no time. Instead, she orients herself and takes another deep breath before plunging below the surface.

Ocellus swims as fast as Silverstream can, her lungs already burning. Her seapony instincts are screaming at her to just breathe. But even though she has gills, Ocellus does not want to breathe in the dark essence of Nightmare Moon. The hyper-condensed, liquified blue smoke feels almost acidic, broiling off her scales as she moves through it -- as if destabilizing or decomposing at her touch. Nothing in all of Equestria could convince her that would be wise to take a breath.

Her aim is true. Ocellus finds the pipe, her swim becoming vertical. She has done this before as a seapony, the real Silverstream by her side. Laughing as they raced straight up from the Seaquestrian depths. Her mind flashed back to racing through the salty water, pursued by the giant squid, dodging and darting about the coral. Silverstream was faster, consummately adapted to the world that had been her home. She was a breathtaking swimmer.

The vertical swim shifts abruptly to a nearly horizontal one, the pipe guiding her towards the structure above the pools. Ocellus prays Smolder has gotten to the button before she reaches the void barrier. Otherwise, this infiltration...

Before she can even complete the thought, Ocellus realizes she is through, swimming beyond where the barrier would have stopped her. Her heart wants to burst almost as much as her lungs. Smolder has done it!

In her mind, she pictures the dragon girl firing off an expert shot with Gallus' toy crossbow and whooping a victory dance as the sponge bolt sails between the bars and hits the moon-button like a dragon girl swooping in for a perfectly-aimed kiss on a changeling... and her lungs are on fire; she NEEDS AIR!

She's unsure what to expect at the end of the pipe. Given other elements of the palace design, she is hoping for a maintenance hatch. One she can find before the bags of burning coals that her lungs have become explode. She isn't expecting the pipe to stop so abruptly. Nor for the tank at the end to be made of glass.

The tank shatters as Silverstream-Ocellus' head smashes into it at full Silverstream swim speed. Ocellus comes spilling out of the tank and onto the metal floor, flopping like a fish whose aquarium has ruptured. Her head is spinning and throbbing.

A flash of turquoise (this time without need to draw on different love) and the pink hippogriff Silverstream-Ocellus hops up, shaking furiously, flinging liquid dark essence everywhere but her.

Silverstream-Ocellus opens her eyes, looking around. The room is primarily constructed of dark metal. The floor is an inch deep in liquid essence, and more is pouring in. The cerulean glow lights up the room. From the pipes and machinery, Ocellus suspects the room is some sort of pump station, although she has never been in one. Ironically, the nymph thinks, Silverstream would probably understand this room a lot better than she does. Her friend checked that plumbing book out of the library for seven straight weeks.

Ocellus quickly spots the one thing she is interested in: the door. Above it, bold words are written in flowy, Old Ponish. She cannot read them any more than she could read the cookbook untold hours ago, but she suspects the message is something to the tune of: CENTRAL ESSENCE CONTROL. The large metal hatch has no handle on this side. A small red light on the door announces it has no intention of letting her into the room beyond.

Ocellus doesn't care. She's come too far -- they've risked too much -- to be defeated by a locked door. She beats her hippogriff wings and shoots towards it, closing her eyes one more time...

The door never stood a chance. It explodes open with a resounding bang, the dented metal rebounding from the wall on its hinges.

The room beyond is lit only by the cerulean glow of liquid dark essence flowing through glass pipes, the soft multi-colored shine of gemstones imbedded into panels covered in buttons and switches, and the angry crimson emanating from Pharynx.

Crimson light surrounds him like an aura. His eyes blaze with it. Most of all, it pulses like a violent heartbeat from the jagged ruby prongs of the crown upon Pharnyx's head.

He's turned Wrath into a crown! Ocellus thinks, as she skids to a halt, staring at Thorax's brother. Or was it always like that?

Pharynx turns his glare at her. His stance is pure aggression. His face is so twisted with rage that Ocellus can barely recognize the Protector of her Hive.

Almost belatedly, she realizes Pharnyx cannot recognize her either. Even if some part of him is still in his right mind, she is Yona right now. Not only in appearance, but to changeling senses.

Pharnyx's elytra open and his wings beat like he is punishing the air. Around him, the crimson glow stretches across the floor to engulf drones that draw themselves up as if stirred from slumber.

Pharynx rises, and the six drones rise behind him, surrounding him like the numbers on a clock, their jagged horns blazing with scarlet magic.

In a flash of turquoise, Ocellus reverts to herself, allowing the cocoon of love to dissipate. Outside, she can hear the Nightmare roar! "PHARYNX! WAIT! IT'S ME! OCE--"

Six beams of Wrath-powered magic blast Ocellus, throwing her against the wall as her body explodes in agony. Then her mind drowns in blackness.

All senses are obliterated by nauseating vertigo. Ocellus sees stars detonating in the void. They're almost pretty. Her ears ring like all the bells of school are being crammed into them. Yet the changeling nymph knows that Pharynx pulled his punch at the last moment. Part of him must have recognized her. If he didn't, she'd be dead.

Pharnyx's voice is muffled by the ringing, but she hears him threatening Queen Elytra. Something about her foolishness? Setting him free? All of everything seems to be spinning.

Wait... did she believe Pharynx was using this place as his fortress? She did, or at least she thinks she did. But thoughts are elusive little bugs in her head that refuse to come together into a proper swarm. Yes? No. Thorax's brother wasn't hiding in here. Pharnyx was never the sort to cower and let others fight for him.

Ocellus feels the drones move on her, holding her down. She hadn't felt hitting the floor. Did she black out? She is dancing on a razor wire above the vast chasm of unconsciousness. And it hurts.

Ocellus tries to think, wishing she could transform into something that thinks better. And hurts less. She remembers Smolder is tough, and tries to be Smolder. Barbed hooks stab into her brain and pull, tearing apart her concentration. She feels like she screams, but she can't be sure.

Ocellus catches a thought-bug, examining it to distract herself. The mirror sent Pharynx to Wrath. Like it sent Gallus to Envy. The first void wall was sealing Envy away. If she hadn't turned it off, Gallus would have been trapped too.

This had been Pharynx's prison. Now he was free. And taking the fight to Queen Elytra directly.

She hears the thud as another of the drones is knocked off of her. Scarlet flashes of the drones' magic cut through the darkness clouding her vision. Ocellus tries again to transform -- a bugbear -- to throw them off like she did the broom-changelings in the closet. Fresh agony claws through the back of her skull, and the flashes of light she sees are from inside her head.

Ocellus doesn't scream. But she moans and very nearly vomits. Two more thuds. Then a moment of quiet beyond the slowly fading ringing. Ocellus feels rough paws tipped with sharp claws gently take her by the foreleg.

"You saved me. Twice." Ocellus tries to move, shifting enough to spot her friend kneeling next to her. "You... shot the button..."

Smolder blinks. Then smirks. "A hole behind bars and a bunch of torn vines spitting fire? Pfft, yeah, I'm that good."

The dragon girl holds a smug pose for just a moment before letting reality wash it away like a sandcastle on the beach. "I broke the wings off Gallus' toy crossbow, reached into the flames with it, and bashed it around until it hit the button."

Ocellus starts to shake her head, then stops herself, thinking better of it. Her body hurts all over, but nothing feels broken, only deeply bruised. Her head... "No. I think I have a concussion."

She tries to get her other hooves under her, but reality swims and she buckles with nausea. She can hear the storm of battle beyond the metal walls, but they are muffled by the ringing in her ears.

The thought bugs are swarming now. The ringing is much softer but still persists. Ocellus can see... Smolders, several, blurring and shifting about, trying to resolve into just one. The world about her feels hollow. But that hollowness is being filled by strawberry and habanero and a hint of ruby, only sweeter. Ruby frosting? Smolder's love, fuzzy and off, but definitely her love.

Ocellus moans, trying to get up again. Only to slump back to the floor. This time, she does shake her head -- slowly to minimize the flashes of light inside her skull.

Smolder sits back, her tone casual. "So, how did it feel to finally become your friends?"

Ocellus recognizes the question for what it is. Smolder is trying to coax her into not getting up again, at least for a minute or two. She isn't sure they have that. But she takes the offering anyway, her body thanking her.

"I... I feel okay. It felt... it felt good." Not being in their forms, she thinks, but drawing on their love to keep herself safe. "They were here with me, helping me. Even when they weren't."

And it was true. Even if Gallus and Yona were elsewhere in Nightmare Moon's Palace, even though Silverstream isn't on the moon at all, their love is. And their love helped her even in their physical absence.

With a moment of throbbing-headed contemplation, Ocellus adds,"I kinda feel bad about not turning into Sandbar."

Because my changes were still utilitarian, Ocellus thinks. "I didn't need the abilities of a pony to solve the puzzle."

Smolder shrugs, accepting that. "Maybe later you'll need to defeat the queen through song?"

Smolder gives her a skeptical look. "You clearly haven't been paying attention. Ponies will break into entire musicals over hayfries. Ponies who are complete strangers will magically know all the words and join in. We've seen it."

Smolder waves a claw dismissively. "Yeah, sure. But only in Equestria. And only with at least one pony." She raises an eyebrow, challenging, "Have changelings burst into spontaneous songs like that anywhere else? Because I know dragons don't. And Gallus says griffins don't."

Outside, changelings from a love-starved hive are dying. A battle is raging. King Thorax's brother is in danger... and they're talking about this? Ocellus feels a guilty absurdity. But her brain feels like it is assaulting her skull. Her whole body aches. She needs this moment, physically and mentally, to put herself back together enough to do... anything useful.

Smolder counters, "Silverstream's brother says the CMC did the song thing at Mount Aris. Seriously, you should go Sandbar and sing Queen Elytra's hive to our side or something."

The dragon -- again multiple Smolders as her vision blurs -- is smugging back at her mischievously.

Ocellus sighs. "I'm going to have so much for sharing in the next Feelings Forum."

Something slams into the outer wall of the pump station beyond the control room, echoing through the structure. The nymph feels a slight vibration beneath her.

Ocellus hates to dampen that laughter. But she needs to. "We... can't wait. We need to stop... Pharynx. Before he... turns into Torch and destroys the whole palace... or something."

The multiple Smolders snap together into a single, very shocked-looking, orange dragon girl. "Pharynx can become Dragon Lord Torch!??" she cries with disbelief. "Ocellus, he's as big as a mountain!"

Smolder's eyes are as wide as Ocellus has ever seen them. Her pupils shrink to slits. Her lovely blue irises are small islands in those pools of white. They dart side to side as the dragon processes something horrifying.

Ocellus feels a shot of worry, suddenly certain Smolder is remembering how their races once threatened war and facing a severe reassessment of how that could go. Or her friend was recalling her encounter with the former Dragon Lord, the lesson Smolder had told her about so vulnerably.

Ocellus jumps to pull her friend from damaging or painful paths of thought. "You're thinking that Thorax could make Ember call him 'daddy', aren't you."

Smolder's irises widen quickly. The dragon blinks three times in rapid succession. Her muzzle twists into a scowl. She huffs smoke.

Smolder had not been imagining that. But now she is. And it's all Ocellus' fault. The lovebug smiles a little, almost feeling bad for that.

She doesn't. There is no malice or real bitterness in her voice. No anger in her expression. And what Ocellus' receptors are tasting certainly isn't hate.

The cocoon of love that blinded her is gone. She can taste the love Smolder is feeling right now, even if the taste is muted -- just an ingredient within much more complex emotions. And the flavor is wonky from head trauma. Still, she feels reunited with a lost friend. And behind that, a touch of guilt.

The changeling nymph shuts down her receptors. Ocellus doesn't need to taste Smolder's love to know the dragon is joking. Rather, Ocellus thinks that maybe she is using her love-sense far too much. She has let what she senses become more than a source of nourishment or a thing to be cherished. She had let it become a director of her actions.

That sense is part of her, part of every changeling. It cannot be a crutch, and it would be foolish to be unwilling to use it. It would be like hating one of your ears. Or one of your eyes.

But she has let it become the friend who gets her to do things she wouldn't normally do. And if she wants to regain a more important sense -- her sense of self -- she needs to keep her receptors closed as much as possible until she weens herself from that bad habit.

"What I was thinking was: I'm really happy you guys have a Feelings Forum," Smolder protests. "Please keep doing..."

Both Ocellus' contemplation and Smolder's confession are seared away by a blast of heat coming through the open door and a thunderous, angry crackling. Followed by the screech of a thousand banshees.

Something SLAMS into the exterior with enough force to completely destroy the pump room and dent in the wall. Through the bent doorway, Ocellus sees nothing but fire.

The crackling becomes a roar that Ocellus can only think of as a hurricane of fire. The world shakes and the hurricane is drowned out by a cataclysmic cacophony -- the shrieks of torn and twisted metal, the sound of shattering bone and stone, all backed by the percussion of an avalanche.

Ocellus cries out as the floor lurches under her, the entire control center jumping upwards several inches, then plunging nearly a yard. Ocellus's eyelids clinch tight as the moon seems to drop out from under her. The essence tubes shatter, sending glass and glowing liquid essence into the room. Through the bent doorway, she can see metal beams and chunks of ceiling falling from above.

Something powerful hits again. The gap of the doorway becomes an open maw as the entire wall is torn away with a tortured squeal, leaving ragged ends of sheared metal. The entire central structure cants, the floor slanting. Liquid essence flows out to rain down on the firestorm below. Ocellus screams as she feels herself sliding down the wet floor. Her plunge over the rent metal edge is halted when Smolder's strong arms wrap around her.

Below, the essence pool room is nothing but flames and debris. A jagged bramble patch of twisted metal and shattered rubble.

Ocellus has barely a moment to register the apocalypse. Where are all the changelings? The pseudolings? Ocellus doesn't see any'ling down there, but with all the smoke and wreckage...

Ocellus feels Smolder's grip loosen as something she sees robs her of her strength. In panic, Ocellus spreads her wings, her elytra having saved them from harm...

They're like armor for your wings. That's pretty amazing.

Her wings catch the scorched air, working far better than her legs. Ocellus falls only a few feet before coming to a hover.

She bites back calling out something rude to the dragon who dropped her and looks up.

There is no ceiling! Instead, the creature that Pharynx has become is framed in black that is studded with stars. He has torn right through the roof of Nightmare Moon's Palace, leaving utter destruction.

Pharynx has not become (the former) Dragon Lord Torch. Ocellus never really believed he would; she doubts they ever met. That was just the first thing she could think of to convey to Smolder how dangerous the enraged Protector of the Hive could possibly be.

Ocellus was not prepared for this. Although, she suspects, she is at least marginally more prepared than Smolder.

The bird of prey hovering above the wrecked palace is completely engulfed in flames. An aura of crimson fire blazes about him. The bird isn't made of fire -- not like that impossible fire thing she and Gallus encountered. Ocellus can make out a solid body and fiery feathers beneath the layers of inferno surrounding it. But Pharynx is on fire without burning. His eyes are golden suns. His beak and talons are huge and sharp enough to tear apart trees.

Ocellus knows about rocs. Smolder once told her about the gigantic avian predators that love to eat young dragons when they are suffering and vulnerable during their molts.

Pharynx has taken all the size and strength and ferocity of a roc and infused it into the form of a phoenix, creating a custom battle hybrid! Ocellus didn't know it is possible to mix and match qualities from forms in a repertoire. Is this something Wrath is allowing Pharynx to do? Or has the Protector of the Hive always been this good?

As Pharynx lowers his head to unleash another tsunami of flame, the nymph's ocelli catch a ruby gleam from within his crest. Wrath! Pharynx is still wearing the crown. Ocellus turns her gaze to Smolder, but the dragon is staring fixated at the giant phoenix above like it is an avenging angel.

That's not fair, Ocellus scolds herself. Above her, Smolder is hovering as if pinned in place, her wings flapping slowly. Her tail hangs limply, her arms dangle at her sides. Her body language weeps of dismay.

Smolder's reaction is not that of somebody who is just embarrassed about the behavior of other dragons.

Ocellus cannot keep the thought from her mind. She tries to stomp on it like Yona would. She doesn't know that.

Spike told her dragons would steal the eggs of unborn phoenixes from their parents' nest and smash them. For fun. For sport.

Ocellus clinches her eyes shut. OIder, teenage dragons! she reminds herself. That's what Spike said. But Smolder's reaction...

Ocellus opens her eyes and stares up at her girlfriend. Smolder's wings are barely flapping. Just enough to keep her aloft. All the energy has gone out of her. All the boldness.

To Ocellus, Smolder looks like someone facing her worst nightmare. Not her worst fear... but something more gutting. Smolder looks defeated.

The thought comes to her, unbidden and terrible: How would I react if Queen Elytra took the form of the pony I hurt so badly in Canterlot? Would I even be able to fight her?

No. She won't entertain this. Smolder wouldn't have. Not a baby. Ocellus shakes her head, letting more bright flashes send spikes of pain through her brain. Her flying falters; she almost drops. But the vile thought is gone.

Only to be replaced by another. She remembers again what Smolder said about her elytra.

And that look... Smolder's wide, helpless eyes... the defeated look that hangs from her like a rain-soaked dress: Smolder knew. At best, Smolder knew. And she did nothing to stop him.

Smolder's words come back to her: When a big authority figure that you respect tells you something is wrong, you believe it. So what if he instead tells you something is okay? What if he encourages you...

It hits Ocellus like a half-dozen pseudoling hate-beams: this is still bothering her. She thought it was something she had dealt with, but she'd just avoided it long enough for it to fade from her conscious thought. It's been buried in her head for years.

Enough! She was going to ask Smolder about it. Tomorrow, when everything was less insane and apocalyptic. Okay, maybe in two or three days. But she would. And she would listen to what Smolder had to say. And she would be there to help her, and care about her. Because clearly this is something Smolder has deep issues with, and she could use a caring girlfriend.

Ocellus pushes her wings to flap as fast as she can, gaining lift despite the pain throughout her body. She flies up and tackles Smolder, pushing her back into the wreck of a room that now hangs just from the few still-intact pipes.

Smolder oofs. She blinks, turning her attention to Ocellus. Her voice is small, vulnerable, more helpless than Ocellus can stand. There are tears in her eyes.

Ocellus strokes her friend's face gently. "That's okay. Wait here. I think... I have to be the one who gets Wrath anyway."

"You and Gallus and Yona all appeared near one of the anti-Elements," Ocellus tells her. "I didn't. One of the first changelings that I met let slip that I was supposed to have appeared in the Conservatory. Which means Queen Elytra wanted me to get Wrath. Only that didn't work."

"I think that she could only make the mirror portal send us towards anti-Elements that we have some sort of connection with, like that's some sort of anchor for the spell," Ocellus explains as she pieces together her own assumptions. "I think I don't have enough connection to Wrath to be affected by it. Just like I was able to touch Pride."

Smolder snorts, getting some of her fierce back. "Are you saying you're better than me?"

Ocellus doesn't believe for more than a half-moment that Smolder really thinks that. Ocellus herself definitely knows better. There were vices on that list which she would have had real problems with. And Envy might have gotten her if it wasn't for the eye-stab thing.

The heat buffets her. The air is filled with smoke. Ocellus sniffs, searching for the stink of rotten pumpkins on fire. She immediately regrets it. If the Nightmare is still here, Its reek is being overpowered by the acrid stench from the burning everything.

She focuses, trying to take a better form to weather the heat. Dragon, preferably Smolder. But serrated knives tear through her head, making her cry out in pain. The effort leaves her gasping.

No. She'll have to do this as a nymph. Her plan is simple: Pharynx is so big he has huge blind spots. She'll keep to them, getting above him, and take the Wrath crown.

Ocellus beats her wings hard. The rising heat compensates for the thinner air, pushing her upwards above the twisted, dangling monolith of the control station.

The beating of the giant phoenix's wings is like the pounding of storm waves against coral. Ocellus yaws, sliding beneath Pharynx to keep from being caught in the turbulence. The thin air feels slippery, making her fight to keep control. The heat from the massive firebird's breast is stifling. She feels faint.

Ocellus pitches upwards as she slips beyond the phoenix's wings, sweeping around Pharynx's tail and up towards the frigid air of the moon. The cold strikes her like the snap of a towel, shocking her body, bringing her heat-addled mind back to clarity.

Behind her, she hears Pharynx let loose another rending screech. She looks back to see Pharynx spread his wings majestically, surrounded by a corona of sunfire riddled with dark crimson. Pharynx unleashes crepuscular rays of blinding yellow-white light stained with scarlet rage. The heat is focused downward, but still makes her gasp.

Everywhere beneath those rays, stone chars and metal debris glows hot. The metal structure within which Smolder is hiding heats to a ruddy light, growing brighter. The jagged edges of the torn-open room glow yellow, the metal becoming soft.

Ocellus cries out as the control room collapses to the burning floor below as the pipes melt. "SMOLDER!!"

Angry scarlet lashes past Ocellus. She turns to see a trio of pseudoling drones flying up above and behind the gigantic phoenix.

Ocellus dives, beating her wings furiously, shifting pitch to lunge towards Pharynx. The phoenix's fiery corona collapses back into its natural burning aura in the wake of its attack.

Deadly rage lances past her. The nymph successfully slips past the first beams, but finds herself having to furiously correct. The thin air of the moon defies her efforts at precision, and the battering she took left her in bad shape. She can't keep dodging.

Instead, she swoops and skims across the phoenix's back, close enough to its fiery aura for her chitin to heat up painfully. Her flesh blisters beneath the chitin.

But Ocellus knows that the pseudolings won't shoot her when she's so close; Pharynx will read her move as an attempt to trick him into blasting himself. And Pharynx -- at least according King Thorax -- is the master of the "Why are you hitting yourself?" game.

The blistering heat combines with her concussion and physical trauma, tearing away her strength even as she cooks. Threatening to steal her consciousness and leave her to burn.

At the speed of her flight, she reaches Pharynx's crest in seconds. Any longer, and her maneuver would cause serious, possibly fatal injuries.

The crown is nestled in the fiery feathers of Pharynx's crest. The knife edges of the crescent moon rise like tiny red horns from the phoenix's plumage, glowing fiercely. Ocellus sweeps her hooves into the fire and snatches Wrath from Pharynx's head.

The gigantic phoenix vanishes with an abruptly-cut scream and a burst of transformation light as his link to the pseudolings is severed, the psychic trauma knocking Pharynx unconscious. Ocellus watches helplessly as Thorax's brother reverts to his true form, falling towards the burning rubble below.

The bite of the moon's frigid air snaps Ocellus to full awareness. The changeling nymph's heart hammers in her chest and throat, adrenaline battling with fatigue and heat exhaustion.

The Nightmare bursts out of the rubble like a shark, Queen Elytra clinging to Its back. The Nightmare's many-mouthed mouth, ringed with layers of fangs, yawns open to swallow Pharynx whole.

Pharynx is clutched away from the jaws of the Nightmare by a speeding orange dragon.

Ocellus tries to cheer. But nothing comes out. Her lungs, her whole body, is telling her no more.

Everything feels like it is happening in slowed time. She doesn't pass out. Her body doesn't simply give up. She doesn't fall. But she feels it coming. Like being on a sandy shore near the edge of the water, watching the tide come in, feeling it wash around her hooves, dragging the sand away around them, and knowing the undertow is a killer.

Ocellus wants to move. To get away from here. Here is not a good place to be. Here is dangerous.

Below, the Nightmare crashes back to the rubble, Queen Elytra cursing at Smolder as the little dragon carries Pharynx away. The nymph remembers Elytra and Pharynx have history. Although she was never clear on what it was.

Ocellus feels panic building up inside. She needs to move! But she can't. She feels like she is stuck in glue. With despair, she realizes being afraid is no longer enough to keep her going.

She looks to the side. There is a glow on the horizon. Daylight is coming. She wonders what day is like on the moon. Is it still freezing cold, just like days in the Frozen North? Or will it become scorchingly hot, like in a desert? All of this, she realizes, has happened in a single night. The longest night ever.

The spires of the Palace of Nightmare Moon correct her: the second longest night ever.

It was supposed to be a nice day. A fun field trip. A day with her friends!

Instead, she was grubnapped.

Instead, she has been burned, bludgeoned, tossed around. Nearly killed. By changelings she doesn't even know.

By changelings that don't have to be this way!

Luna left a huge mess on the moon, and she is stuck running around, doing the work, while Luna hides behind mirrors and does nothing.

Sandbar and Silverstream aren't even here. And her friends who are aren't being very helpful!

They haven't even been good to talk to. Not one of them has said anything she didn't already know somehow.

The one who can swim in lava took a time-out when the giant phoenix showed up, leaving her to have to cook herself.

Gallus did what? Made a toy?

Yona was actually a huge problem.

Don't be afraid.

Get angry!

Ocellus scowls, looking down at the crown she is still holding in her hooves. The dark crimson light of the crescent moon gemstone blazes at her. "Get drained, Wrath."

Prey

by Kkat

Chapter 16: The Second Longest Night Ever