//------------------------------//
// The End 
// Story: Flight 
// by wkblack 
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Go.
Canary eyed the leatherwing emissary as it flew away, its sharp wings silhouetted against the sky. 
Echo grabbed the scroll and skimmed it quickly. “You know what this is, Canary: It’s not a summons, it’s—” 
“—a death warrant, I know.” Her chest tightened, and black played at the edges of her vision. The glowing wings at her side had faded, leaving only mangled nubs at her sides. 
Echo fluttered to her side. “Canary, no one expects you to go with them. We’ll escape somehow, like we always have!” 
Conversations sprung up between the Storm pegasi and the changelings, growing to a dull roar. Their emotions crashed down on her like a tsunami—fear, worry, love—their intensity suffocated her. Any encouragement or hope she had wanted to give stuck in her throat, locked down by her deepening frown. As the group assaulted her with ideas, Canary’s heart rate peaked. 
Without an explanation, Canary bolted from the growing crowd and paced along the Ravine’s wall. Is escape even possible?  Canary looked up at the bats lining the canyon’s ridge, two dozen eyes locked on her every footfall. I should just surrender. Canary shook her head, brushing aside the thought. What do we have to work with? Perhaps the changelings could burrow their way out? Make a tunnel to escape? Again, the dancing shadows reminded her of the leatherwings’ hawkish watch. She bit her lip. Any large movement would draw suspicion and give the leatherwings a reason to attack. 
Surrender yourself. “There must be a way!” She envisioned herself heading towards Feathermore, drawing attention, allowing the others to escape. Her vision continued, and she saw the bats descending onto her group, killing many, while only a few survived. While her imagined self walked into town, changelings followed her, helping her escape. But they still moved sluggishly, exhausted from days on end chasing each other. The rag-tag rescue group was soon silenced by hoards of guards. Even imagining the changelings turned into dragons (though Echo was the only one to have done this) ended with many murdered. 
Surrender yourself. Canary halted in her place. “Why‽” A glimmer from above revealed the multitude of blades waiting above her, hungry for flesh. Scenes of them tearing through her hivelings rended her heart. “Isn’t there a way to avoid a massacre?” Her heart sank in response. “There must be some way!” After the same feeling crossed her heart, she sighed. “You haven’t steered me wrong yet. So what should I do?” Surr— “Yes, I know: Surrender myself. But... I don’t think I can. Can you help me?” 
No answer came. 
“Please, can’t you give me the energy, or resolve to do this thing?”
The silence in her heart continued. 
Canary collapsed to the ground, exhausted, both mentally and physically. “Please~” 


Canary stood on an impossibly high cloud, looking over the land of Avondale. Somehow, she saw everything at once: Her two-story home back in Woodburn, the pockmarked rocks of the Hive, the deer city of Solarium, to the skyscrapers of Feathermore. She even saw cities she’d only heard of: The cities of Castor and Pollux, the leatherwing city she guessed was Nox, and the string of shipping cities along Avondale’s western coast. 
Beautiful, isn’t it? Eon sat to her right, his golden scales now beaming with light. 
“Eon? What are you doing here?”
The dragon bore his teeth in his half smile, half snarl. “Preparing you to die.”
Canary blinked. “There must be a way out of this!” From the higher ground, Canary inspected the Ravine’s turns, nooks, and crannies. 
“Of course, there are many ways out. You can even escape the Ravine with no immediate casualties.” 
Canary saw before her the possibilities unfold: In one scenario, the changelings turn into moles, and in a hidden corner of the Ravine cut through the sandstone, escaping into the forest above. The escape leaves the changelings damaged and the Cloud furious. The rest of their days are spent running from Cloud guards, losing their makeshift hive members with every encounter. 
“But widen your vision! What happens a decade from now? A century from now? A millennium from now? If you leave now, the Lightbringers become nothing more than a passing legend, soon forgotten. If you give yourself up...”
Canary saw the guillotine fall and the celebration of those clustered around her in Feathermore’s center square. But in the corners of the crowd, some gazes avert, and others’ hearts take courage. For a blink, she even saw Iris shed a tear. Her friends in the Ravine escape, as the Cloud thinks they’ve won. Their story spreads faster than in any of the possibilities where she had escaped, and around all of Avondale, creatures of all species flock to their throng. Hundreds, then thousands learn flight, discovering their true natures. 
“But do I really have to die?” 
Eon leveled his golden eyes with Canary’s. “Avondale doesn’t force actions. But what do you feel?” 
A strong gust of wind awoke her. 


“Canary?” Echo’s voice reflected his worry. His voice came from above her, but she didn’t have the will to speak. “Are you okay?” 
After a moment’s pause, she felt him curl around her, pressing his buzzing chest against her back. “You know that none of us will let them take you. Now that the Storm has joined us, we have enough to maybe make it out of here. We’re all prepared to fight to the death for you. We’ve come up with a plan. The walls of the Rift are stone, but if we just—” 
“That’s exactly the problem!” 
“Sorry?” 
Canary broke from Echo’s embrace, and wiped the tears from her eyes. Pointlessly so, as new ones quickly filled their place. “Fighting to the death—there’s no way out of here without losing you! I can’t let any more die on my account. If I had just stayed in Feathermore, kept my wing cover on, and stayed silent, my friends would all be alive! Libra would still be your queen, Eon would be happily sleeping, and—” 
“—and we would all be worse off. Listen, Canary: Do you really think death is the worst thing possible? Remember what the Storm stood for! The way you talked to me about flight, I can’t believe you’d be happier at home! Life isn’t about staying in the cradle—it’s about growth! That’s what the deer said, anyway. And more importantly, I would have never met you. Do you really think that I’d be better off? A slave of the leatherwings? A torturer? A prison guard? Can you really say that I’d be better off without you? Can you be so heartless‽” 
Though responses came to mind, Canary found it difficult to breathe. 
“Oh, I’m sorry, Canary, I didn’t mean to depress you. I just can’t bear for you to put yourself down, to miss the good you’ve done for me—for us—for all of us!” After a quick lookover, he slipped Canary onto his back. “Come on, I have something to show you.” 

Echo brought Canary over to a large crowd—Canary’s ‘hive’, and sat her before them. 
“The bats want Canary! What do you all say?” 
With a flash of green fire, Canary faced a copy of herself. She couldn’t help but notice how her shape had changed since Woodburn. Though she was bruised and covered with scratches, her eyes were fierce and warm. Echo’s version of her looked far more composed than she herself felt. “No, Echo, you can’t—” 
Hyacinth joined his side, transforming into the triple. “Let me take your place!”
“You can’t die in my stead—you’re just as important as I am!” 
The changelings before her transformed, one by one, into echoes of her self. “I am Canary!” came their yells. 
As their yells died down, Canary heard her own voice yell above them all. “No one dies but I!”
The clamor silenced for two heartbeats before roaring twice as loud. Changelings and pegasi alike clustered to her, listing a thousand reasons why she shouldn’t go. “We need you!” “It’s pointless!” “Don’t go!” Canary couldn’t keep from tearing up at their emotional distress.
Echo locked eyes with Canary. “We can’t let you die with us doing nothing! We’ll fight to the last creature standing! We’ll—”
“—fight to the death?” Canary stood tall, raising her voice. “And what good would that do‽” The crowd silenced. “The leatherwings won’t rest until they spill my blood. If they find any deception, they’d take it as a declaration of war, and hunt you all to the last head. It would be a massacre. I can’t let anyone else die because of me! If I forfeit myself, you at least have a chance to live. I’ve always been willing to fight for you; but now, you must let me die for you.” 
Tears formed in Echo’s eyes as he embraced Canary. The rest of the flyers drew near to her, herding together in a massive embrace. The changelings’ shells shifted colors from a teary blue to an impassioned red. We’ll never forget you, their minds asserted.



Canary stood at the Ravine’s edge, waiting for the sun to rise. Her heart beat like mad—she couldn’t believe she was doing this, but it just felt right. She felt torn apart, with her heart urging her forward, dragging her mind behind. 
Red crested over the horizon, lighting Canary’s face. My last sunrise~ Echo stood at her side, wiping away tears. Wincing, Canary opened her wings. Red warmth infused itself through her feathers into her broken wings, bringing a smile to her lips. What I’d give to fly, just one last time. Canary smiled at Echo, tears running down her face. “Thank you for being at my side, Echo.” 
Echo buried his face deep into her mane, body shaking from agony. “Oh Canary~ I love you!”
She held her husband close, feeling his pulse—even faster than her own. “I love you too~”
“I’ll stay by you every step of the way.” 




Increasingly tall buildings passed behind her as she headed for Feathermore town center. The buildings looked somewhat like a termite’s nest: tall and thin, pockmarked with caves, looking somewhat like the Hive. A strong wind rushed from behind her, and the hundreds of homes resonated with the caves, creating a dissonant symphony. In her heart and in her wings, she felt the wind pushing her on.
Canary focused on her steps, putting her entire mind’s will towards putting one hoof in front of the other. She had braced herself for the bats’ ridicule, but she hadn’t expected the pegasi to yell louder. They all sported wing covers—she’d all but forgotten their existence—and spat, jeered, and ridiculed her from the roadside. 
“You fool! Pegasi could never fly!”
Do they not know? Has the Cloud blinded them so? Even after all our efforts?
“This is what you get for trusting the wind!”
One foot in front of the other. Step. Step. Step. Step. 
Canary looked into the crowd. Beyond the screams of those closest to her, most didn’t take glee in her pain. Some bowed their heads as she passed. The leatherwings watching from their caves above made no noise but wore looks ranging from fear to confusion to wonder. Are they so scared of me? Images of her fight with Aether flashed through her mind. As she remembered the feeling of the empyreal claws sinking into Aether’s flesh, a shiver ran up her spine. Was that really the right thing to do? 
Cloud guards appeared above her in the air, escorting her towards the courthouse. Her mind worked faster and faster to stop her heart. If I dash down that alley and hide in a shop, then I could call for Echo. If he turns into a dragon, we could maybe escape! We could still live on together! 
The guards commanded her into the courtroom. 
Wouldn’t the hive be better off with you at their head? Echo needs you! Surely you’d be more help alive than dead!
The trial was short and one-sided; they never called on her to testify. The courtroom was only half as vicious as the crowd. 
Why not escape?
As a flock of guards above and behind her pushed her towards the guillotine at Feathermore center, each passing alleyway seemed more enticing than the last. She saw herself break through the crowd, escape the guards, and run back to Echo. Her heart pounded in her chest. 
Then, a yellow canary perched on a building’s corner in front of her. Her heart stopped. That’s him. 
Rather than the usual rapid-fire song she knew canaries to sing, its song took on solemn, slow tones, in a song Canary swore she’d heard before. The song was mournful, but not quite sad—a song of good times past. 
I told you not to turn into me, Echo. Canary tried to smile, though she only managed to grimace. How can I still doubt, after seeing all the evidence? I know this is—I feel this is right. And that’s enough. 
After a deep breath, Canary took another step. 
And another. 
A crow fluttered above her, lighting on the cave up to her right. As the canary’s song continued, the crow joined in. Its harsh voice somehow blended with the canary’s in harmony, turning the song more hopeful. More and more crows flocked from above, joining the song. The Cloud guards looked on warily, and some broke formation to shoo them away. 
The guillotine came into view just as the song swelled. 
A guard behind her hit the blunt of his spear on her back, yelling for her to continue. She hadn’t realized that her legs had stopped working. The guard hit her again, harder. 
Then the canary flew in front of her, spreading its wings in the rising sunlight above her. The sunlight hadn’t reached the ground yet, but from the canary’s height, it lit the canary’s wings with an empyreal glow. 
Canary stepped forwards. 
And again. 
Though ponies and bats alike shouted at her from the sides, she still felt the Heartwind pushing her on, towards city centre. I've felt it a million times, do I really need to keep checking? She couldn't shake the constant push, urging her towards the bats. But what if the winds change? The answer came quick in response. If they do, I'll feel it. 



The city centre of Feathermore could have swallowed Woodburn whole. The guillotine stood almost as tall as the nearby buildings—unlike before, the bats wanted a show. The bats marched her onto the stage. 
Over the last year, she had braced herself for a hundred deaths: killed by the Cloud, drained by changelings, eaten in the forest, sabotaged by the Storm—the guillotine seemed such a sudden death in comparison.
Canary rested her head in the lower lunette, somehow feeling the weight of the blade poised above her. Every fiber of her being shook, fighting against her submission. The canary flew in front of her and perched on the clockmaker’s shop to her east, tears running down its beak. Without a doubt, Canary knew it was him. She locked her gaze. 
The executioner read her crimes off a sheet of parchment: heresy, treason, murder, but she heard none of it. Though the guillotine’s lunettes trapped her neck, her mind flew free. The Storm would be safe. Her death would save thousands, if they followed the Heartwind. 
The sun crested over the clockmaker’s building and warmed her entire body. A burst of gold told her that the empyreal wings once again shone at her side. 
As the blade fell, Canary smiled. All was well.