//------------------------------// // Part II // Story: Hell's Traitor // by Mystic //------------------------------// Hell’s Traitor by Mystic Part II I flew high on dark wings, soaring through the toxic smoke that choked Tartarus. I laughed as I flew; I laughed without inhibition or control, yet I did not care in the slightest, for who would judge me? Who would they compare me to in this hell to decide whether I was sane? Would she judge me? Would she hear my laughter and think any less of me? The thought only made me laugh even more. She followed limply behind me, imprisoned in a dark cell of magic, an orb floating along behind me, forever trapped in my wake. I kept the walls translucent so she could see my world for what it was, and what her world was soon to be. I was flying to my fortress, Valkor, and I was taking great pleasure in going the scenic route. My pathetic charge coughed and spluttered, her lungs choked with ash as I flew over the twin peaks Darrostoth, the mountain of dread, vomiting plumes of caustic smoke into the air. Her eyes were burning, and she whimpered, suspended so many hundreds of feet in the air. The dragons eyed her carefully as I looped around them, circling like a bird of prey. Some laughed like me; others snarled, licking their lips with hunger; still more were silent, watching, their faces carved from stone for all the emotion they were showing. But for me, it did not matter. It did not matter in the slightest. The base of the camps touched the foot of Darrostoth on its northern slopes. Filled with a desire to show off my prize, I fell from the air like a stone, tucking my wings tight against my body. At the last second, I snapped them open, my dark feathers imbued with black tendrils of magic as I skimmed over the tops of the squalid tents. “Look at it!” I screamed to her. “Do you see? Can you see it, Twilight Sparkle?!” There was no reply. “Do you see the monsters I have at my command? The creatures who look to me for orders and direction? They would burn the world at my word, casting down the sun to please my slightest whim!” I circled around Darkolith, now many miles away from the mountain. I was flying faster than I had thought. I stopped, hovering in the air. “The Gates shall crack, and my armies will pour forth, covering the land in fire and shadow.” I was booming, my voice echoing across the plain. Everything had stopped to look up at me as I screamed at her. Finally, she spoke, “Please… I’m sorry… please… I just want to go home…” I blinked at her. And then I started laughing again. I heard the nightmares near me laugh as well. I drew her close, leering at her. “Home? How do you not see? Do you not understand yet? This is your home!” I dropped her, letting her fall to the ground like a sack of flour. She hit the ash hard, not moving for a second. I floated down next to her, testing her with my magic for any broken bones. She sobbed quietly, trying to curl up into a ball. She had a broken leg, nothing more. With a flash, the leg was fixed. I left the pain though. “Stand,” I commanded, and the unicorn forced herself to her hooves. I had chosen this spot particularly. For there, watching with wide eyes and trembling bodies, were a group of slave ponies. They all wore chains around their necks and hooves, limiting them to half-hearted shuffles. Their coats were beyond filthy, and they were missing their cutie marks. They looked at Twilight, and some started to cry. I turned to them, resplendent in my pleasure. “You know this pony, do you not? You know her for who she is, what she has done for you?” A sea-green mare sobbed, falling to the ground. Another pony whispered his Princess’ name, asking the alicorn for help. My grin turned savage. “You know her for the power she wields in her Princess’ name! For the last hope your world had in keeping us at bay! And now look at her…” I turned, tight tendrils of magic already coiling around Twilight’s body, snaking up her legs. My horn flashed and she fell to the ground with a cry, the magic pulling her down, holding her still. Very gently, almost a lover’s touch, I pressed my hoof to her skull. “Now look at her,” I said to the ponies, just as softly as my hoof. “Look at how far she has fallen.” Twilight whimpered, throwing her gaze up at the ponies. Her lower lip trembled. “Don’t… don’t listen to him…” she whispered. I laughed, applying pressure with my hoof. “Everything… is going to be ok.” She whimpered, a consequence of my behaviour. “Do you hear that?” I said, mocking her. “Everything is going to be ok!” “The Princess…” she choked, “the Princess is going to make everything better…” I leaned close to her head. “Your Princess can’t save you now, little Element. Your Princess is a liar.” “Lea-leave her alone.” Silence fell. I released the pressure on Twilight’s skull after a quick push. I looked up, making sure to take my time, letting my eyes burn. The pony who had spoken gulped, a ridiculously comical gesture that had never been more appropriate. His back legs were wet, another appropriate response. “Leave her alone?” I repeated, slowly, stressing each word, trying not the laugh at the absurdity of such a request. He nodded once. I turned to Twilight, her eyes wet with tears as she stared at this stallion. Her broken, pathetic face. “So be it. I am a merciful Prince, after all.” The magic holding Twilight vanished, and she slumped properly, not finding the strength to even keep her head up. But I was not done yet. My horn flashed, and the stallion started to scream. “But everything comes at a price,” I murmured. With a wave of my hoof, not bothering to speak over the sound of the stallion’s screams, I summoned over two lesser demons, their wings and horns washed with a sickly red light. “There is a soul lamp in Valkor’s crypts that needs replacing,” I said casually, motioning to the pony writhing in agony on the ground. The demons nodded, and without another word, they grabbed the stallion and left, his screams lingering a very long time after he had disappeared from sight. “Be warned of any future requests,” I said to the ponies remaining, who trembled to scared to think let alone speak or move. “Every desire comes at a price.” With a flash, Twilight was back within her floating prison, and I took off, racing towards Valkor. I wasn’t laughing now, but I let a small smile work its way onto my face. The day was still young, and the unicorn was still very, very alive. Valkor rested on Darrostoth’s second peak, the one that wasn’t a volcano. It was cut into the rock, a spire of obsidian surrounded by a ringed complex of hell-steel buildings. There was no need for a wall, but a moat of lava existed around its entrance underneath an arching bridge. The moat itself poured into a waterfall, plunging down the mountain to the lower slopes below. The fortress was lit by a collection of soul lamps and fire. Wisps and spectres danced amongst the buildings, lost spirits hiding away from the cruelty of the necromancers. Their only safety was in their numbers.  I swept through the already open doorway, the polished obsidian floors glinting from the light of my horn. Dark statues stood watch over the room, the chief of those being two stone daemons by the staircase, His shades of fire. Long had they been absent from the seventh level, lost to the void for all time. Without a word I stalked down a doorway, Twilight floating just behind me. A shade flattened herself out of my way when she saw me coming, cackling at the new toy I had. The staircase to the dungeons was impossibly dark, the inky darkness so real that you could almost touch it. I descended into it without hesitation or thought. Twilight, however, flinched as the darkness enveloped her, depriving her of one of her senses. “You should count yourself lucky,” I said. “You’re not in His dungeons.” At the bottom of the staircase, multiple soul lamps flickered into life. I could hear Twilight whimper as the screams, so soft that you could easily be mistaken thinking they weren’t even real, reached her ears. I liked not having any lights on the stairs. The descent into darkness. The entrants liked it a lot less. I placed Twilight on a low obsidian altar. Magic bound her in place, strapping her down tight. I took my time. I circled her, slowly at first, letting her see me whenever I walked in front of her. I was so eager that my legs were trembling, anticipation setting my nerves on fire. “Can you hear me?” I whispered. She nodded, sniffling. I grinned. “Can you see me?” She nodded again when I walked in front of her. I paused, moving closer, looking her in the eyes. They were wells of fear, and I could see her fighting against the demons that lurked all around her. Such a brave pony. Such a brave soul… This was going to be fun. “Can you feel-” “My Prince?” There was an awkward shuffling sound coming from somewhere near the stairs. I stopped, my expression souring in disgust. “What?” The troll grunted. “Dracire requests an audience, my Prince.” “What for?” “Gothgor had more to say about the pony defenders, my Prince. He wants to speak to you about how we assault Canterlot. There were more unicorns than we initially assumed.” I exhaled, white hot rage bubbling just below the surface. “So be it.” With a flash of my horn, pits in the walls opened up, and out crawled a writhing mass of thin tendrils of shadow. They formed into dark claws, reaching up the side of the altar, reaching for her, caressing her coat. Twilight started to whimper, thrashing against her bonds. “Let’s go,” I said, turning away from the unicorn. Great doors led into the resplendent throne room of the alicorn city of Valaiya. They were covered in vines of coloured crystal, diamond filigree twisting through the gems. An alicorn guard stood on either side, one in golden armour, the other silver. Carvings of the sun and the moon were set above the door, and framing it was two pillars carved into the likeness of evergreen trees. Aurvandil strode towards them, his face twisted into snarl. The guards stiffened when they saw him, light creeping along their horns. Blades of light began to form above their heads, as they moved in front of the door. Aurvandil stopped, his body encased in flanged grey armour, a bright pendant on his chest marking him out as some sort of a commander. “Move,” he growled, his voice dangerously low. The guards snorted, their blades forming into reality with a bright flash. Aurvandil’s eyes narrowed, his own blade nowhere to be seen. “Please. You must be either very brave or very foolish, Ealise and Aiser. I hold your intelligence in nothing but the highest regard. Do not be fools. Move aside.” There was a flicker of doubt in Ealise’s eyes. She spoke slowly, taking a deep breath. “Without her Majesty’s permission, we cannot let your enter, my Lord.” Aurvandil’s eyes went dark. “You would dare stop me entering into mine own throne room?” Fear worked itself into Ealise’s expression. “I’m sorry, my Lord.” Aurvandil instantly lowered his stance, a shaft of grey light forming above his head. Ealise and Aiser moved their own blades in front of their faces, frail courage taking hold, determined to stand their ground. “What is the meaning of this?!” All three alicorns froze, relief flooding into the two guard’s faces at the sound of the faceless voice. Aurvandil looked black. “Aurvandil, enter with thy blade banished! I shall not have violence between my peoples.” The two guards willingly stepped down, their horns remaining alight as the great doors swung backwards, revealing the throne room beyond. Aurvandil dispelled his blade and strode in, his head held high in the presence of the nobles, his eyes murderous. He walked soundlessly over the polished marble floors, laced with threads of crystal. The throne room itself was vast, lined on both sides with great pillars covered in vines, little white flowers blooming along their lengths. Magical lamps burned in glass orbs in the centre of each pillar, augmenting the sunlight that poured in naturally through the vaulted, high glass ceiling. At the head of the room was an arch of six thrones. Only two were filled, the rest having been empty for some time now. Several lesser nobles stood around the thrones, looking up from their interrupted conversations. Guards moved quickly and silently, taking positions around the chamber. If Aurvandil cared, or if he even noticed them, he did not show it. Princess Celestia stood next to her sister, the Sun Princess’ wings raised high above her head, her face a mask of anger and power. She looked down on Aurvandil, her body covered in her elaborate golden armour, the sun emblazoned on her chest in enchanted crystal. Her sister stood silently, her mouth in a right frown, almost as if she was trying to hide her emotions. Her eyes betrayed her, though, for they were glistening like morning dew. “What is the meaning of this?” Celestia demanded. “You liar!” Aurvandil shouted. “You promised me!” Celestia regarded the alicorn before her carefully. “I did not lie,” she said after a pause. “Then why did I have to hear from Farader that you refused to give the positions to me?” “I did not lie,” Celestia said again. “You did!” the grey alicorn snarled. “You promised me the position on the council! You promised me the rule of Galathadros! Instead you give them to Thail!” Celestia was silent for another moment “I did,” she said at last. “Then you admit it! You admit your promise to me!” The Sun Princess lowered her wings. “I did promise those things to thee. However, I did so under certain conditions.” Aurvandil froze. “You lie,” he hissed. “You did no such thing.” Celestia’s eyes flashed. “Silence, child Princeling. Thy pride does thine intelligence a great disservice.” Aurvandil snorted in barely suppressed rage. “I did promise thee a seat on the council. I did promise thee the rule of Galathadros. Thou hast shown great courage and strength in the security of the Kingdom, and thou should be rewarded for such noble deeds. Thy defence of Iathalas shalt be sung of by the bards for millennia to come.” “Then why hold my prize? Why hold my reward?” “Because I promised these rewards to thee on the contract of goodwill and wise council. Thou hast shown none of this! Thou hast spit on my name and the name of Harmony! Thou hast lashed out at my sister, thy royal Princess, in anger and foolishness. Thou art not fit to rule; thou art not even worthy of my respect!” Aurvandil was silent. He stared up at his Princess in disbelief. “You cannot be… you are not serious…” he murmured, his voice shaking with fury. “Thou must show these qualities before I grant thee thy desires! Thou must earn my respect, the respect of our people!” “Me? Earn your respect?” Aurvandil’s voice was low, suddenly calm. “I have to earn your respect?” Celestia’s eyes twitched, attempting to pierce Aurvandil’s mask and guess his intention. “Yes, that is correct.” Aurvandil reared up, his eyes burning with fury. “Have I not done enough to please you?! Have I not served your name with courage and valour?! Who stood alone when the gates of Iathalas fell, when your men cried and threw down their weapons and fled against Him? Who heard His voice and cast my blade at His face, alone against the demons of shadow and fire?” The grey alicorn’s wings flared out as he began screaming. “Who stood and fought when no one else would? Who stood for YOU?! For years I have fought this menace, this shadow from hell, and I receive nothing! You are a liar and a coward, oh Queen of mine! And I spit on thy name and thy throne! Thou art no more fit to lead this Kingdom than I am!” The court was silent. Celestia stood, dumfounded for the first time in years. And then her wrath came with a vengeance. “Thou art a fool and a foal, Aurvandil!” she roared, her body glowing with holy light. The sky darkened as her sun rumbled its displeasure. “Thou cometh to my throne and calleth me a liar and a coward?! Thou art not worthy to sit amongst the mules of this world!” “Your arrogance is in full display, oh mighty Queen!” Aurvandil screamed back. “You cast away my service for a personal slight, refusing to give me what is owed! You are arrogant indeed if you think I shall stand idly by while you rule as tyrant and a liar over our Kingdom!” “Be gone from this hall!” Celestia spat, her composure shattered. “Be gone from this hall and do not come back! Thou art not worthy to be in its sacred halls; thine insolence spreads a shadow through its very name!” Aurvandil was silent. Both alicorns were breathing heavily. The nobles were deathly quiet, some shrinking away in fear. Both combatants were shrouded in halos of their own power, Celestia’s golden like the sun, Aurvandil’s dark like a storm cloud. The guards had begun creeping forward, their wings flared and their horns glowing in anticipation. They knew that if there was anypony who could challenge Celestia’s might alone, it was the alicorn in front of her. But to everypony’s surprise, Luna spoke, “Step down, Aurvandil.” Her voice was quiet, but she did not have to speak any louder. Aurvandil looked to her, the fire in his eyes cooling just a fraction. They locked eyes for a moment before he lowered his head, snarling in frustration. “As you wish, my Princess.” Without another word, Aurvandil tuned and strode out the room, the tension dissipating in his wake, leaving a harsh and cold silence. The alicorn strode out the chamber, the great throne room doors slamming shut behind him. I walked back into the festering darkness of the dungeons sometime later, my temper simmering like the burning lakes of sulphur down on the plains of duustuvur. I exhaled in a great hiss, stalking into the darkness. It was silent when I entered. I paused, my eyebrow arching in concern. Drip. Drip. Drip. There weren’t any fingers of shadow. There was no whimpering, no thrashing around, no pitiful whimpers for help, just a dripping sound, thick mucus leaking from something grotesque, no longer recognisable, pinned to the wall. I turned the corner and walked up to the altar carefully. Twilight was exactly where I had left her, but the snakes were nowhere to be seen. “It seems my friends decided to leave you alone,” I said. There was no reply. “Hmm.” I started to walk around the altar. Twilight’s eyes were closed, but they were scrunched far too tight for her to be asleep. Especially considering they hadn’t been before I walked in the dungeon. “So tell me, little element, how do you like my home?” Silence. I twitched, running my tongue along my teeth. And then with a voice so weak I could barely hear it, “Why… why do you hate her?” “Hate who?” “The… Princess… Princess Celestia.” Fire. I could feel fire. Pain. White burning light. I grimaced, for once ignoring the urge to hurt her. I wanted to, I did, but I was curious. Why did she care about my motivations? “Because she is a liar and a tyrant, little element,” I spat. “No she isn’t.” “Of course you would say that. You and all creatures of your world have been brainwashed so spectacularly that even the dragons seem to have forgotten her sins to them. The dragons have very, very long memories.”  “But she’s not. You’re wrong.” This time, I let the anger triumph over my curiosity. I launched myself to her. “And what would you know? What would you know of her? The time you have known her is but a blip compared to my own! I watched her grow old millennia ago, little element. You think you know her but you do not.” She was silent for a moment before replying, her voice shaking. “What was she like back then? Why do you hate her so much?” “Because long ago she ruled almost the entire world without council or deliberation. Because her perception of the good of the Kingdom triumphed over her friends, to those she professed to hold oaths of fellowship and honour. If she wanted something, then it happened, no matter the dissenting voices held against her.” There was a small, wet cough. “Maybe… maybe she was just trying to help.” “Tyrants don’t help. They rule for themselves, not for the good of the Kingdom. And liars don’t help; no, they are even worse than tyrants. They help themselves no matter the cost to others. Your Princess was both of those things.” “But she’s not like that,” Twilight protested weakly. “She’s not. She’s wise and she’s kind and she cares about everything. She sacrifices so much for other ponies, and she’s loved by us all for it. She leads everypony with kindness and compassion.” “Then you have been lied to,” I said angrily. “You and the rest of your world.” “But you’re wrong,” Twilight said. “Maybe you were right back when you knew her, but you’re wrong now.” “She deserves to pay for what she did to me, to my brothers and sisters. She deserves...” “The Princess just changed. She just changed when you were away.” I had had enough, angry with myself for getting caught up in pointless conversation. My horn flared and Twilight let out a half hearted scream, lacking the strength to yell properly. She writhed against her bonds like a mouse unfortunate enough to be caught in a trap and still live. “Come with me, little element. I have though of something I would like you to see. Think of it as a taste test, if you will. Tartarus has many old and ancient magics, and we know many things.” “What do you want to show me?” Twilight asked in a very small voice. I smiled at her, letting the hatred show in my eyes. “You shall find out.” Within the blink of an eye, Twilight was back in her magical prison. I tightened it, giving her barely enough room to breathe, let alone move. Once I was back outside, I took to the air, leaving Valkor behind me. I soared just below the smog clouds, racing towards my destination. Below me, the cracked and desolate earth began to change. The ground swept down into a low valley filled with writhing shadows and spectres. Beyond that lay the Blood Fields, an ocean of tall crimson grass, glistening with its namesake, the plants secreting blood from their leaves. To the west lay, Oustro, the Boiling Ocean, a sea of sulphur and molten salt that raged forever in a fury. It was the home of Leviathan, His once great champion now insane and broken. Twilight looked down at all of this with wide eyes. She shook in her prison, and I laughed at her horror. Tartarus was a place of much variation and grandeur. I was not such a poor host as to forget to show my guest its wonders. She would be seeing nothing else soon, either above the ground or below it in another plane. I streaked across the land as a dark bolt of lightning. Nothing in all of Tartarus was faster than me. The world blurred as I flew, lost in a whirl of speed that destroyed all clarity from the earth. I wanted to show Twilight the wonders of the seventh level, but I was also impatient. My destination approached rapidly. On the far edge of hell were the mountains of Garugah, the very end of Tartarus. Beyond them was the smouldering end of the world, a vast expanse of nothing except for rolling clouds of super-heated ash, laced with arcs of lightning that illuminated the tempest for the briefest moments. The first peaks of Garugah were before the clouds, and it was to one of these I was headed. Several spires were volcanoes, and from them came torrents of raging lava, pouring down to form lakes in the plains below. The earth itself burned, only to be covered in even more fire. I began to slow on my approach, banking steeply to bring myself in line with a small opening cut into the rock, a tiny portal into the mountain’s great bulk. I landed with my wings flared, the magic augmenting them halting my descent unnaturally quickly. A high pitched scream tore out into the air, nails on glass magnified a thousand times over. I flicked my head to the side, my ears pricked. Another scream sounded from beside me. Shadow wraiths. Being so close to the edge tended to send many lesser creatures insane, the great void on the other side whispering to them, the foul magics chaining us all in this place altering their bodies into monsters. They were hungry, and it seemed I had just stumbled into their nest. Well that was inconvenient. Acchreon flashed into life and I waited patiently, letting my magic warn me of their approach. Sure enough, a wraith began to creep up the mountain behind me, sticking to the shadows created by the many boulders lying around. Perhaps they knew who I was, perhaps they didn’t. If they did, then they were desperate indeed. Twilight shrank away from the ear-splitting shrieks. I knew the effect they had on mortals; a wraith’s cry sucked the light from your mind, leaving you in darkness, unable to see, hear, think or even scream. You could only wait for death to come at a moment of its choosing. Twilight whimpered, losing control of her body as the fear set in, every part of her falling limp like she had no muscles at all. I, however, was not mortal. The first wraith launched at me, a great mass of writhing shadows with elongated limbs and great silver claws and fangs, both thin and razor sharp. Without turning, Acchreon flashed, spinning around to slice the creature in half. The wraith was agile enough to dodge the attack. Mostly. An arm hit the ground, the rocks suddenly splattered with a coat of black blood. The limb began to dissolve into shadow as the wraith tried to back away to reform. Not giving it the chance, I twirled on the spot and pressed my attack. The wraith screeched, realising its mistake far, far too late. The blade cut into its neck, but this time, I channelled my power through it, the metal hissing as the magic tore apart the creature’s soul. The wraith hit the ground, my blade embedded in its neck. It writhed painfully as my horn pulsed. As it screamed in pain, I pressed harder. “Fool,” I murmured. “You attack your prince? I will make you suffer for all time, wraith.” The shadow squealed, trapped completely, my blade setting its very soul on fire. “S- stop… stop it…” said a raspy voice. I froze, my mouth open in surprise. She… what? “What did you say?” I asked the unicorn, utterly bewildered. “You don’t have to hurt it,” she whispered. I stared at her incredulously. “Do you even know what this is?” She tried to shake her head. The shield encasing her prevented her from moving far, but I got the message. “This is a wraith, foal. And it is a wraith tainted by the edge. It is mindless, a monster in a world of monsters. It deserves no pity.” “But why do you hurt it?” I looked at her, shocked by the pointedness of her question. “Let it go,” she continued, begging, pleading, but why I could not fathom. “Please just let it go.” I didn’t move. More wraiths were around us, but they were holding back, scared to approach me. I could feel the aura of power around my body, my eyes burning with magic. I looked at this unicorn. Who was she? Who did she think I was? Asking me to let this monster go, this creature that wasn’t even worthy of her pity let alone mine? She was a fool. But a brave one. “So be it,” I said. My blade flashed, and the wraith began to dissolve. The wind carried wisps of its body away down the mountain. It gave one last tortured screech before fading into nothing. I turned back to Twilight, and she looked at me. “You… you killed it,” she said. “I set it free,” I replied, looking down for a heartbeat. “I sent its soul to the void, where it can forever escape this prison.” It can even be at peace, I thought, but I did not say that. Not to her. Twilight just looked at me, her eyes bloodshot. The other wraiths had slunk away while we talked, forgetting about their kin in their fear of my wrath. So without another word, I strode into the cave, red soul lamps flickering to life around me. Twilight bobbed behind, her soiled and beaten body hanging limply in my magic. The cave was dark and surprisingly cool. The walls glistened, covered in a strange moisture. The corridor smelled like death. Piles of bones littered the floor; some were picked clean, others still had bits of rotting flesh clinging to their former homes. I followed the cave as it wound its way deeper into the earth, growing wider as it went on. Twisted fungi grew on the walls, dripping with foul smelling toxins that glowed green or orange. At the end of the tunnel was a jagged opening, devoid of any light. It was a wall of darkness, the only thing leaving being strange bubbling or clicking noises. We had arrived. I walked into the darkness, plunging through the veil and into the room beyond. As soon as I stepped through, light filled my eyes, throwing the room into sharp relief. Soul lamps covered the walls like tiny candles, each one set into its own alcove. Several pots sat over fires that burned without fuel, their sickly contents bubbling and simmering, filling the air with noxious fumes. I heard Twilight retch behind me. Nothing was immediately toxic though, so I let her breathe it. A mess of tables were scattered around the room, covered in a random and often grotesque collection of items. Fungi were heaped in piles, as were jars of coloured dust or rocks. Body parts from dozens of different creatures were left out in the open, all of them fresh and dripping with gore. Small and spined flesh eating bugs crawled around the floor, devouring anything that fell from the tables. Glowing orbs sat on shelves cut into the walls, as were more magical items ranging from weapons to scrolls covered in demonic runes. A slithery voice hissed to me from the depths of one of the exits, another curtain of shadow preventing me from seeing who it came from. “Greetings, Prince of Darkness. It has been a very, very long time since I have seen you here in the shadow.” “Zeszsuu,” I said in acknowledgement, the creature’s crawling voice sending shivers down my spine. Twilight whimpered. “And what’s this? You have a guest! A special guest! And a pony! And is that…? Oh my…” “Come out from the shadows, Zeszsuu, so that we may speak properly.” There was silence for a moment before a shape moved out from one of the openings. It was a hideous thing, with eight legs like a scorpion’s that weren’t quite jointed the right way. They were connected to a bulbous body that looked like it had once been a pony’s. It was cracked now and split in many places, pus seeping from the wounds. Its head was where the true horror was, for it had two, one inside the other; the first one, a pony’s, was splitting down the middle where a bulging mass of glistening skin and glowing eyes peeked through the shards of skull and matted hair. “What do you have here, my Prince?” “A prize, Zeszsuu. The first of many in the campaign to come.” “A prize?” The creature started to crawl around the room, shuffling awkwardly on its legs. Its many eyes never left my own. “Such a pretty prize. Purple with purple and violet and lilac. And stars. Burning stars, bright stars.” “The Element of Magic. The figurehead of our enemy’s greatest weapon and the banner for our armies.” “A banner? A fitting symbol, a worthy flag. Yes, yes. She is full of life. Full of life and love and happiness.” Zeszsuu moved toward her, its head tilting to the side as it studied her with its many eyes. Twilight was shaking, trembling uncontrollably, unable to look away. “And fear. So much fear and sadness. Sadness for her, sadness for her friends and her world. These things I can see.” “Those are not things that need the sight, Zeszsuu,” I said. “Even a witless imp could tell you that.” “Ah yes, perhaps, perhaps. But can an imp tell you about the brother? The captain of the guard, her brother, escorting her and her friends before your minions fell upon their moving carriage? What about the five friends left behind? The Princess standing over them? The other nearby, unable to help?” Twilight started to cry, giving small wet coughs as her lungs rebelled against the poisons entering them. “My brother? You know about my brother? What happened to him?!” “You see much,” I said in interruption, watching the unicorn closely. “But why here?” Zeszsuu said, moving back over to face me. “For what purpose can I help you serve, my Lord? My Prince? What good do these poison caves serve you?” I looked at Zeszsuu carefully. “You see much, abomination, but you do not see all. That is reserved for something you have hidden away. I wish to use it, to show her the world as it shall be.” Zeszsuu’s head jerked to the side, clicking sounds escaping its sagging lips. “The pool? You wish to use the pool? The mirror? The canvas? Time itself bends and burns and crumbles, but the pool shows it all. Past present and future.” “I know,” I said. “I know what the pool can do. You do not need to lecture me. I wish to use it.” Zeszsuu clicked. “Then so it shall be, my Prince. My Lord. My Highness.” He turned, and walked into the veil of darkness. I turned to Twilight. “Count yourself lucky you are in my company, little element. Zeszsuu is a foul magician and a dark necromancer. Even the demons cast it from their lairs. The edge has twisted it.” Twilight did not reply. I turned and followed Zeszsuu into the mouth in the cave. It led into another passageway, similar to the entrance, only smaller and darker. I could hear things slithering in the darkness, but if they showed any interest in my charge, their fear of me kept them at bay. Even the scum of hell enjoy their fragile grip on life, no matter how illusory that grip may be. The tunnel began to circle on itself, corkscrewing deeper and deeper into the mountain. In the places between soul lamps it almost became pitch black, and I was forced to rely on my magic to find a way. I could always feel the soul lamps, and even without their light I could use them to guide me. Zeszsuu was waiting for us at the bottom. It was hiding in the shadow of a large boulder, its glistening eyes and horrible stench giving it away. “Through here, my Prince,” it said, its voice clicking at the end. I walked past him and into a cramped cavern. I could feel the pool straight away. It called to me, filling the air with a cursed magic, an ancient evil that corrupted and taunted and hurt all those around it. A few soul lamps shed a weak red light around the room, but they looked old and almost exhausted. That meant they were probably new. The closer Twilight got to the pool, the more she trembled, her head twitching as she tried to look away. Even then, no words or sounds escaped the prison of her clenched jaw. How she still had the strength to stay conscious after everything, I was not sure. In the middle of the cavern was the pool itself. It was the colour of blood and completely still like a sheet of red glass. Even the constant dripping feeding the lake from the ceiling did nothing to shatter its surface. I didn’t bother looking up to try and see where the drips originated. I had in the past, and each time I saw nothing but darkness. Even then, I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what fed the pool. I pushed Twilight towards it. “Look at it, little element. This is the pool, and in it you can see whatever you wish.” “Why?” was all she asked. “Because I want you to see. And see you shall.” My horn flared to life and Twilight jerked, her whole body rigid as stone. I tilted her head to the pool so she was unable to look away. “You shall see the future as I have planned,” I said. Suddenly, the surface of the liquid shattered. Colour began to race across, filling the entire pool with a mixture of melted tones and shades. Fires began to burn along the edge of the liquid, throwing the room into sharp relief. At first, I could see nothing in the pool, but then, buildings began to grow. They were tall and proud – the towers of Canterlot. The sun sat above them, as did the moon on the other side, both celestial bodies sharing the same sky. But in amongst the buildings there was fire, fire burning so bright and angry that the towers cracked and shattered. Great gates sprang into the picture only to be blown open, a wave of shadow tearing across the land. The whole earth succumbed to the shadow, and more fire engulfed the world. Fire and burning and ash and darkness. There was no more grass, no more trees or flowers or water. Ponies cried and screamed, their spirits defeated and their bodies broken. Great forges were sunk into the earth, fed by the fires of the world, churning out towers of obsidian and bone and hell-steel. The sky was choked, the sun and the moon cast down, their smouldering ruins lying in the middle of vast wastelands, once rich farming ground filled with valleys and streams. But no more. No more. And in the middle of the greatest tower, a monstrosity of hell-steel and obsidian, flanged and spined with wicked points and curves, there was a chamber. And in that chamber there were living shadows of fire, and they watched with burning eyes a tall throne, where He sat, His body hidden from sight. And by His side I stood, standing tall with my armour and pride. But behind us, behind and above us lay our true triumph, for there, their bodies empty, their eyes bloodied sockets and their horns cut off, were the Princesses, the greatest prize from our victory. Our revenge. My revenge. I let the image fade, the colours leeching away from the pool, returning it to its clear surface. The cavern was silent, except for quiet sobs wracking a small unicorn’s body. “Why?” she whispered. “Why?” I ignored her question. “The pool is now yours, little element. I am sure you have things you wish to see. Speak them and they shall appear to you.” She looked at me for a moment, not trusting my words. I stared back at her impassively. I knew the temptation of the pool would be too much. And any solace or information she gained from it would only serve to make the pain so much more acute. Eventually, she turned back to the pool. She stared at it, uncertain, almost as if she were fighting against her self to speak. But she did, as I knew she would. “I… I would like to see my brother, please,” she whispered. And the pool showed her. I could see a hill swept with rain and fog, littered with stone plaques covered in the memories of the living for the dead. It was a graveyard. Twilight sobbed uncontrollably, tearing herself away from the pool, collapsing to the ground only to curl up and hold her legs tight against her. She rocked herself as she cried, the image on the pool vanishing like smoke in the wind. I was silent. There was nothing that needed to be said. Instead I looked at her, watching her cry. She was weak, weak and alone, defenceless against the horrors of my world. I was silent. I couldn’t find the words to speak. After a time, Twilight’s sobs slowed. They became gentle hiccups as she picked herself up and began to drag her body back to the pool. I watched with interest, confused. “Show me my friends,” she whispered. “Show me them like they are right now.” And again, the pool showed her. There was a room, a tent of some sort. It was dark, and the sides were buffeted as if by the wind. Five ponies sat all huddled in the middle, crying as they held each other. Twilight gave a choked cry when she saw them, reaching out pitifully with a hoof. The ponies sat together in one group. A blue one with a rainbow mane sat with her back to the others. A pink one gestured to her, her mouth moving silently. The rainbow one’s body started to shake. She pointed weakly to the tent’s exit, her head held low to the ground, but she did not move. So the group got up and went over to her. They encircled her, hugging her close, all of them crying. They stayed that way for a long time until their bodies stopped shaking and their eyes had nothing left to give. Then they sat there for several minutes more. A white pony said something, and the orange one nodded. The pink one spoke as well, her mane flat and straight like heavy curtains.  The group then actually laughed, silently for us. There were weak chuckles, their eyes bloodshot as smiles crept across their faces. Twilight was crying again. But this time, her tears were as silent as her friends’. And to my absolute disbelief, she was smiling like them too. Her lips glistened with her tears, and they trembled, but she was still smiling as she looked at them. She was smiling, her smile lighting up her face like a lantern. Her eyes shone, even despite the tears and the pain. Why? Why could she smile? How could she smile at that? What happiness was there in that image? What joy was there to be found in such sadness? How could she possibly smile? How?! I had no answer. Me, a survivor of millennia, a thing with memories as vast as an ocean, I had no answer to this little unicorn smiling at the pool. And I hated it. My insides began to burn, and I hissed, my face curling into an ugly leer. With a dark flash, I snatched Twilight up in my magic, tearing her away from the pool. The image shattered the second she looked away. She cried out, but it was quiet, her eyes looking at me with a heartbroken expression. I looked away. I strode past Zeszsuu, the creature looking at me with its unblinking eyes. It said nothing, and it just watched, fading into darkness as I left the chamber. I had to stop myself from sprinting from the caves. I raced through instead, blind to everything around me except for this tumultuous feeling inside that I could not name. I was furious. My veins felt like there was molten steel pouring through them, setting every part of me on fire with this anger. But I couldn’t work out why. I couldn’t see straight. I couldn’t think straight. So I left the cave, reaching the freedom of the surface with a half suppressed cry of joy. Without even bothering to check my charge behind me, I took off, launching myself into the air, flying home as fast as I could. The sky was alive. Little stars twinkled like faerie lights, glittering pinpricks that showered the world with beauty. It was a picture that was appreciated far too little. In all the world’s poetry and art, these stars looked just like the ones described or shown to be in the Golden Fields, the final resting place for those who grew tired of this world, transcending to another to find peace.  The night was filled with subtle tones and quiet grace. The stars twinkled, each little gem a masterpiece crafted with years of love and devotion by its maker, an alicorn with striking teal eyes and a rich and luxurious dark blue coat. Aurvandil looked upon this alicorn with a gentle smile, walking with her through the gardens of Valaiya. They were yet to say a word since starting there walk, yet neither seemed to be in any sort of hurry. Coloured flowers filled spiralling beds around them, smooth paths running in between. The gold and silver trees moved silently with the soft breeze, their perfect leaves sparkling under the light of the moon. Luna had put effort into her moon this night, and it showed. “The night is perfect,” Aurvandil said, his voice genuine. He was not lying; such a night had not been seen in a very long time. Aurvandil couldn’t remember the last time since the War began the night had been so beautiful. Luna blushed, her coat darkening very uncharacteristically. Her eyes flicked down to the flowers beside them. “You are too kind, Prince of the Morning.” Aurvandil smiled at her. “Prince of the Morning? As you said earlier, there is no need for such formality, my Princess.” “There isn’t now?” She raised an eyebrow at the double standard of his use of her formal title, but her smile betrayed her. “No, there is not,” Aurvandil said again, smirking. “That sort of language best suits your sister with her court, not out here in the peace of the gardens.” “My sister and her court? It is my own just as much as it hers.” Aurvandil looked over to make sure there was no harm in her expression to match her tone and smiled teasingly when he saw nothing there except a playful smile. “Nonsense! Your place is with things of beauty, my Princess. Not in the cramped and dirty war rooms where they speak of dark things.” “The throne room is hardly a place of darkness.” “True,” Aurvandil countered, “but that has much to do with the windows along the ceiling.” Luna laughed, a sweet sound that Aurvandil couldn’t help but smile upon hearing. “You tease, Aurvandil! You shouldn’t be so cruel to my sister!” Aurvandil’s smile never left his face. “You are right. I am very fortunate. After all, it is her who will give me the honour of the rule of Galathadros and a place on the council.” Luna looked at him. “It means that much to you? You have been leading my sister’s armies for years; you have never once mentioned such a desire before today.” “I haven’t?” Aurvandil looked up to the sky. “I do. I truly do. I am prince of title only, sired from a magical lineage older than time itself. I have no real responsibility or power. I want both these things, my Princess. I want these things as truly as you wish for peace to enjoy your night.”  “I want many things,” Luna murmured. She paused, forcing Aurvandil to stop with her. “What is it, my Princess?” Luna was silent for a moment, letting her quiet fill the air between them. She looked to the side. There, bathed in the the serene streams of moonlight were two statues, polished marble alicorns – the Princesses. The larger one's shadow fell over Luna, hiding her face in darkness. "Look at me, Aurvandil. Look at me next to my sister and tell me what you see." Aurvandil looked up carefully, studying the statues.  They were both regal and beautiful, perfect in their complexions. But there was no denying the elder's eyes burned with a fire of superiority, a fire that when combined with her size, caused her to dwarf the smaller alicorn in every possible way. He tried to think of a response, choosing his language carefully. Luna neatly interrupted him though before he could speak. “Do you see, Aurvandil?” “I see nothing but two mighty Princesses, your Highness.” Luna snorted, a sound that took Aurvandil by surprise. “Please. You do not have to patronise me.” She looked up at herself, her eyes hidden in shadow. “You desire power?” Aurvandil paused, frowning slightly in the darkness. “I want respect, my Princess, nothing more. Surely you can sympathize with that." It was Luna’s time to frown. “I can, but… I should not.” “You should not? How do you mean, Princess? I do not understand…” “Power is dangerous, Aurvandil. The world successfully balances upon a knife edge because power is given to those who have the strength to use for the good of all, not a few.” Aurvandil’s brow furrowed together. “That does not properly explain why you shouldn’t want power. What do you have to fear about desiring power?” “Because power already belongs to another, Aurvandil. Is it my right to take that from them? Am I arrogant enough to believe that I deserve more power if that means limiting theirs? I am already their equal, after all. No... I should not think like that. My place is with the night... not with the ponies of the day...” Aurvandil stared at Luna for a long time, unsure as how to respond. “My Princess, those are noble fears, but they do not apply to me, nor my position.” Luna turned back to face Aurvandil, her eyes veiled and her smile sad. “It is not something to desire so openly, that is all.” “I desire only what I deserve, my Princess. It is my dream, and I have worked so very hard for my dream.” Luna’s eyes darted away, not holding Aurvandil’s gaze. “That you have...” Aurvandil frowned. “Would you say anything to the contrary?” “No... You serve tirelessly aiding my sister within the guard. I only wonder why you would leave now with the War still unsolved. Leaving now seems...” Aurvandil’s eyes darkened. “What are you implying, my Princess? Am I not worthy of your sister’s respect because I wish for some peace for myself? Am I not worthy of the position she has promised me because I do not crave conflict?” “I meant no such thing!” Luna said. “You…” She paused. She paused, and Aurvandil’s eyes flashed. “I what?” “You… The council is the role of politicians, alicorns with years of experience…” She fell quiet at the look Aurvandil was giving her. “Years of experience? How… how could you say such a thing? You imply that I do not have experience? That I am not ancient and wizened? How could you!” “I meant no offence, I assure you,” Luna said. “You said it yourself, my Princess; I have led your sister’s armies for years, decades of nothing but war against an enemy made before I was created – an enemy made before you were created! Who else has stood against the darkness as I have? Who else has fought with every part of my strength? Your sister has not! She watches from her golden throne room while I fight her battles in her name! “Even you do not fight! The precious little sister, kept safe behind her high walls and… and…” Aurvandil fell silent, his blood turning to ice. He could not bring himself to look on Luna’s face, but he knew that he had crossed a line a very long time ago. Luna may be shy, but her temper was as fiery as a dragon’s. “I do not fight?! You believe I stand back on purpose? That I enjoy watching the Kingdom fall under the shadow of darkness while my friends fight, falling one by one, never to return again?! Do you believe that I enjoy waiting in my sister’s shadow, living by her word, looked down upon by her subjects?! I am her equal, so do not dare lecture me about respect, Prince! It is a topic I know of well, and one that you are yet to learn about!” A silence fell over the pair. They looked at each other, both of them angry, both of them not wanting to say anything more. Aurvandil wanted to snap back. Every part of him wanted to, but her eyes held him back. Her eyes forced him to keep his mouth shut. They were burning with anger, but they were still beautiful; even in her fury, even with the tears of frustration growing in the corners, they were the most perfect things Aurvandil had ever seen. He was furious; he was ready to yell and scream for a reason he was not sure, but her eyes stopped it from coming out. It all just seethed inside, making him feel sick. And so rather than risk escalating things further, Aurvandil made a decision. “Forgive me, my Princess; I have wronged you. I ask for your leave.” Without another word, Aurvandil turned and left Luna alone in the garden. She stared after him as he took to the air, her temper cooling, a cold numbness seeping in to take its place. She reached out with a hoof, but didn’t call out. Perhaps she might have. But before she could, it was too late. He had already disappeared into the perfect night. I swept back into Valkor, lightning trailing behind me as I tore through the air. The doors to my citadel slammed open, and I raced forwards, heading toward the dungeons. Down in the darkness, I headed towards the cells. I threw Twilight in front of me with magic. She hit the ground and skidded along the floor, the filth on the stone floors soiling her coat even more. Eyes looked at me from behind the bars, and creatures moved about in the darkness. I couldn’t remember who they belonged to, or why they were here. But that wasn’t important. I picked Twilight up, letting my anger get the better of me. I didn’t want to think. I just wanted to forget her smile and the way her eyes shone when she did. I threw her against the bars of a cell, her skull cracking against the rusting metal. The bars cracked and bent under the impact from her body, the gate falling off its hinge. I did not pause to consider how hard I threw her. I just picked her up again. A low snarl carried through the darkness, but I ignored it, throwing Twilight back to the ground. I turned away from her, fuming. I hated this. I hated this. I didn’t understand. How could she smile? Why was I so angry? I had wanted to hurt her before, but it had been to hurt her Princess. But now, now I didn’t understand. A shape moved in the broken cell. The creature walked slowly at first, shuffling forward on broken hooves, but with each step, it gained momentum before soon it was sprinting, bursting out of the darkness of the cell and out into the soul lamps. The creature had once been an earth pony, but now its flesh had bubbled and rotted, scraps hanging limply from its broken frame. It was missing an eye, the other in the process of rotting away as well. It snapped its jaws, growling and snarling with an animal ferocity. It was heading straight toward Twilight, its jaw reaching for her neck. Without a horn, she was defenceless, and weak and broken as she was, she could do little more but whimper and turn away. The zombie lunged forward, blood and froth dripping from its mouth. Twilight closed her eyes. And then the monster disappeared. My horn glowed and it exploded, showering the walls in gore as Acchreon formed inside of it, tearing upwards in a ball of magic. Twilight was covered in the filth, shaking at the sight of me: my wings flared out, my sword levitating high above my head. I swept the blade down, severing the bars near me, reaching the creatures inside. A swipe later and they were dead, Acchreon drinking their blood with savage delight. I moved to the next cage, screaming as the shade inside tried to cower away from my blade. I would net set him free, and he knew it. The walls were soon painted with a shower of ichor, his soul trapped inside my blade. I continued until there was nothing left alive in the entire prison. The walls were covered in scorch marks, the bars rent open and smoking, their inhabitants torn to shreds. I stood in the ruin of my own prison, breathing hard, small fires burning around me. It was silent except for my own breaths. Silent… silent except for… singing… The voice was so soft even my ears struggled to hear it. It shook, trembling like the voice of pony near death, each breath a struggle and a victory. I could hear the tears and the quiet sobbing. I walked toward the voice, trying to hear the words being sung. I turned a corner, and then I saw her, Twilight, holding herself in the corner, her tail matted with filth curled around her. She rocked backwards and forwards, her eyes scrunched shut, trying to stop the tears from escaping. “You’ll see that they can’t… hurt you just… laugh and ma-make them disappear… Ha… ha… ha…” “Twilight?” I asked. She ignored me, still singing to herself. “Just giggle at the ghostly… guffaw at the grossly… crack up at the creepy… whoop… whoop it up… with…” She broke down, her voice drowning in her own sobs. I stared at her. I stared at her for the longest time, trying to move, unable to move. Her voice. Her tears. Her eyes. They were just like Hers. My horn glowed, and Twilight fell silent, her cries fading away into the darkness. I watched as her chest began to rise and fall rhythmically, her breath easing in and out. Without even thinking about it, I had put her to sleep. And so I stood there, holding the sleeping unicorn in my magic, not quite alone in the shadows. I walked into the darkness, my mind spinning. With the storm of confusion thundering in my head, I was glad that He couldn’t read minds. Even still, I took a moment to turn my expression into stone, refusing to let any emotion show. The throne room was pitch black, and so I waited patiently, trying to work out why He had summoned me. My mind reeled with the possibilities, and I tried to keep the worm of panic out of my stomach. I had done nothing wrong. The plan was still strong, the campaign on course. I thought. Eventually, He lit up the throne room with red light, sending sickly shadows sprawling across the floor. “Prince of Darkness, how fares our guest?” The question was blunt and to the point, wasting no time with formal greetings. I kept my voice calm and level. “Poorly, my Lord. She suffers much, and it shows.” “Good,” he said without pause. “Such a weapon of the enemy does not deserve anything more. For millennia Harmony has fought me, and I shall not see its chief enjoy her last moments alive.” He was silent for a moment. “Such a long time, Prince of Darkness. I have waited for such a long time. You have seen but a fraction of how long I have waited for this war. I have destroyed each seal with effort greater than anything you could imagine. I have sacrificed more power on each gate to escape than you have used in your entire existence.” I nodded. “You have led us flawlessly, Master. We have not long to wait now.” “Yes,” He mused. “Not long to wait indeed. Already the army starts to prepare. The last gate is so very weak now. It is only a day before you can escape to lead our forces. Smaller, lesser beasts have been slipping through the cracks all day. Battle has already been joined in places.” I nodded again. I had been so preoccupied that I had not paused to think about the invasion for hours. Nothing had briefed me, and I tried my best to look like I already knew all of this without looking bored. “Victory is near…” He trailed off. “And you shall be the new world’s Prince, oh Aurvandil.” We had spoken of this many times already, so I was not sure why he was bringing it up again. “When the alicorns fall and the world burns, everything that was promised to you shall be yours and more. An eternity of power.” “You are generous, Master,” I replied. “Don’t patronise me,” He hissed, my head suddenly burning, feeling as if red hot knives were being pressed into my mind. “I know. I know everything, Aurvandil. You are a traitor, but you are my traitor. Do not forget it.” “Yes, My Lord,” I said, lowering my head in submission. “This is your opportunity for greatness,” He said. “Do not disappoint me, or I shall ensure your existence is one of suffering for all time and beyond.” The lights flickered as He spoke and the temperature in the room dropped noticeably. I suppressed a shiver. “I will not fail you,” I said, my voice harder this time. “I shall have my revenge on the liar.” I snorted, baring my teeth. “Good. You are mine, little traitor. Go now. Enjoy your last moments with your prize. Tomorrow you march to war and to victory.” “And then the world shall be mine,” I said numbly. “If you please me,” He replied. “If you live up the shadow’s name. If you serve me as you have. Then yes, those things shall be yours.” I looked up at the dark effigies on the wall, my jaw tensed. “As you wish, my Lord,” I said after a while. “Go,” He said. “Go and make yourself ready. War is upon us.” I bowed, and I turned and left the room, striding past Xastulis and back towards the balcony. I pushed everything to the back of my mind, focusing solely on the one thought that had sustained me for almost two thousand years. Revenge. I took to the sky, my thoughts filled with fire and shadow, and teal and purple eyes blinking away tears. A huge thank you to my editor, Sessalisk, for generally making my writing so much less terrible. Also, another massive thank you to everyone for reading!