//------------------------------// // Chapter 25 // Story: A Bug on a Stick // by Orbiting Kettle //------------------------------// After Beewax finished the report of what they had found and left to continue his search, Sharp Spark was left with a lot of questions and a slight smell of honey in the air. It seemed the time had come for her to get the answers personally. The smashed gate was an apt metaphor for how this whole thing had gone down. It had been well built, solid, and it had done an admirable job for many years. It had protected and granted security, and its destruction had not given Sharp Spark any joy or satisfaction. But it had posed an obstacle that had to be eliminated. Violence, something she abhorred, had been once again a tool in the service of the greater good. Ugly, despicable, necessary. As she walked onto the farm, Sharp Spark hoped it would be one of the last such acts necessary to bring about Harmony. Not the last, she knew that. A few misguided souls remained out there, hiding salvation from ponykind. She passed the cataphract and some griffins standing guard over the minotaur caught in the nets. Stoic, silent, terrifying, the donkey unnerved her. If everything went well, he would be one of the last of his kind. The griffins were noisier. Bragging, puffing out their chests, laughing, one could think they were a bunch of young stallions showing off. The way they kept their weapons ready showed any half-decent observer that that appearance was only superficial. They never left their prisoner out of sight, nor did they stop checking the binds. As efficient as they were, they too would become something ponies only half-remembered. A farm was no place for them; their role was a different one. What once had been a kitchen was nothing more than a heap of debris and broken earthenware. A hole in the wall showed a glimpse of the aftermath of the fight that had taken place outside. There was so much to rebuild. So much unneeded devastation to cover up. Ashes fertilizing a better future. Sharp Spark considered if she should look at the underground workshop her brethren had told her about. The black tumor festering there had tingled her curiosity. No, better not. She had a feeling she would need what precious little time she had for what waited for her. Getting the fillies out of there was her top priority, everything else was comparatively unimportant. The inner court displayed an even sadder sight when she reached it. The arcade had once been beautiful, all stone columns with ivy crawling upon them. Now scorch marks and strange, multicolored stains defaced it. In the court itself, the flowerbeds had become trampled earth and mashed-up plants. And in the middle of it stood Master Sottile surrounded by those of her brethren still able to fight. Less than she liked, more than what she had hoped for as they had begun their attack. The fools hiding here had shown restraint; nopony had died. She would keep that in mind; she would thank them for that. Sharp Spark walked up to the prisoner and smiled. It was time to be civil again. "Master Sottile, I'm glad I can finally meet you. You have been quite hard to find. You know why we are here, so please let us cut to the chase. Where are the fillies of the Prophecy?" They had won, which was nice. And yet, somehow, Autumn Leaf felt uneasy. It wasn't the black growth at the end of the cistern that bothered him. Or, at least, it wasn't only that. "Brother Stout Oak, was this really necessary?" Autumn Leaf shifted his weight from one hoof to the other. "Yes." Stout Oak didn't move an inch. "No other way, we do what we need to do." Autumn Leaf liked Stout Oak. He admired him. He was as solid as the name suggested, both in his faith and in his dedication to duty. While Autumn Leaf couldn't really stop fidgeting, Stout Oak never had lost sight of the black thing or the stairs leading into the cistern. Or what had once been a cistern. On one side was a workbench covered with tools and stones, right beside a sturdy table covered with piles of paper and crystal fragments. Traces of old chalk on the floor and the vault hinted at what had been mystical signs, at least as far as Autumn Leaf could tell. One could still tell from the stains on the stonework where the water had been, but it was clear that the cistern hadn't been used for its intended purpose for many years. Which was not the case for the farm above. The fields all around were well cared for, and the granary and the barn Autumn Leaf had seen as they had stormed through the wall surely weren't there for show. In this place, ponies had lived and, well, farmed. "I–" He shifted his shoulders, his armor itched. "They don't seem evil." Stout Oak didn't lose a beat. "They aren't, and nopony whose opinion matters said they were. That is the great tragedy." He slightly turned his head and looked Autumn Leaf in the eyes. "They truly believe in what they do, but what they believe leads to ruin." It was getting a bit warm. Autumn Leaf could feel the sweat start run down his back. "Yes, but–" You're on the wrong side. You brought devastation. You're guilty. Autumn Leaf turned around. "What? Who said that?" "Who said what?" For the first time, Stout Oak moved and looked around. "Did you hear something? Could it be the fillies?" "No, I think I heard a voice, a… I'm not sure, it was weird. It was like–" Autumn Leaf wasn't that good with words. He had listened to the preaching and had even learned to read the oaths of fealty, and yet he couldn't find a way to explain what he had heard. It was– "Uh, is it getting darker in here?" Stout Oak scoffed. "Don't be silly, that–" He blinked and looked around. "You're right. Something's going on. Keep watch, I'll get some help." As Stout Oak turned around and ran up the stairs, many different thoughts ran through Autumn Leaf's head. The one that won, in the end, was neither the fear nor the doubts about how proper it was to leave him there alone. It was the pride in being thought of as capable enough to hold his own. That was unwise, little morsel. The voice seemed to come from right between Autumn Leaf's ears. He turned on the spot and squinted into the darkness which had somehow filled the corners of the room. "Who are you? Where are you? Show yourself!" Right behind you. A shiver ran down Autumn Leaf's back. He almost had to force himself to look over his shoulder and he felt his heart stop. The black mass at the end of the room had swollen up and had begun pulsating. Fine tendrils had grown out of it and covered almost the entire wall behind it, where they seemed to suck the light out from the air. Drops of goo fell on the floor, where they wiggled and dug through the bricks and into the ground. And in the middle of it, a green, vertically slit eye as big as a pony looked down at him. Silly, little pony. Finally, Autumn Leaf could think of the right word to describe the voice. Deep emptiness, like standing on the brink of a chasm and looking down into the hungry nothingness down below. As he felt something cold and slippery crawl up his legs, he only wished he could have explained himself to Stout Oak sooner. At least then he would be remembered as a little bit clever. Foolish slave, blind follower, duped idiot. There will be nopony to remember you. And then the darkness closed on Autumn Leaf. Sharp Spark was a patient pony. She had to be, or the years and years of searching up and down the land would have shaken her faith, weakened her resolve, or driven her mad. She had endured it all, and though she was close to taking another fundamental step towards finally bringing Harmony to the world, she wouldn't allow eagerness to ruin everything. Steam rose in curls from the cups sitting between her and Master Sottile, the smell of peppermint covering the acrid stink of the battle still polluting the air. Surrounding the cup in her magic, she pushed it forward to Master Sottile. "We have won and we shall find the fillies, one way or another. Please, be reasonable and tell us where they are. I suspect they may be hidden somewhere in the darkness, scared, their heads filled with whatever nonsense you told them." She picked up her own cup and savored the calming aroma. "Accepting that you lost and giving them to us is the merciful thing to do. I'm convinced that however misguided you are, you cared for them. Save them some unneeded suffering." He looked up, smiled, and said, "I fear you're a bit late for that. The fillies are in Everfree Haven, and probably already on their way out. You won't get to them. It's over." It wasn't the best herbal infusion she had had. The peppermint was good but the preparation wasn't ideal. Sharp Spark sniffed. A bit too much limestone in the water, and they had poured it when it was too hot. Still, better than nothing. She put the cup down and said, "You're lying. I understand why you're doing it, believe me, and I won't hold this attempt against you, but I know that they are still here." She glanced up at the sky. They still had enough light, she could allow herself a bit of time to try the soft way. "We observed the farm for a while, both from the sky and below the earth. We wouldn't have done, well–" Sharp Spark waved her hoof at the damaged arcade "–this if we weren't certain that the fillies are still here. We will find them, but it will take time. Time they'll spend terrorized for no good reason at all. So please, do them a favor, tell me where they are." Master Sottile looked down at the trampled grass. A distant crash came from somewhere behind the farm. It was a sad reality that there would be additional damage while searching. The big reflected in the small. Distasteful. "You know we won't hurt the fillies, right?" The cup felt rough in Sharp Spark's magic. Simple earthenware, functional, essential, perfectly adequate for what it had to do. "We want to keep them safe, allow them to fulfill their role. We want to bring true Harmony. In the end, if you think about it, you and us, we want the same thing. It's just that we’re the ones who can achieve it." As he looked up there was a bit of fire in Master Sottile's eyes and stone in his voice. "We do not want the same thing. We want Harmony. You want chains!" A little chink on the border of the cup. A small imperfection that didn't impact its usefulness. A detail on which Sharp Spark could focus and keep her anger at bay. "You're wrong. We want Harmony too. We just know how to get there. What was your plan? Hide here, wait for their ascension, and then what?" "’They will be the best a pony can be, and through their example, they shall plow the world for the seeds of Harmony to fall, so that a Crystal Tree shall sprout and shine a light of many hues onto spirits and heart.’" A little stomp ended Master Sottile's declaration. "Faulty translation. A frankly stupid error which you somehow keep insisting on, you–" The sun shone, the dust had almost settled and the air was clean. Sharp Spark took a deep breath. "’They shall be higher than ponies, and through their rule, they shall cultivate Harmony in the world, so that a tree bearing fruits of order shall nurture spirits and fate.’ That is what the prophecy says. That is the path forward." Master Sottile shook his head vigorously. "No, that's wrong. You're following that old charlatan Stone Ink's translation of the First Dawn. It makes no sense in the poem and even less as a tool to read the Prophecy. Harmony can't come from tyranny. That translation can't be right." "We don't want tyrants, we want rulers. We want something better than us to bring order, bring peace. We know we can't do that on our own." It was the same old discourse, the one she had every time she found another pair of fillies. Sharp Spark snorted. "You've seen the Concord. I know you sit in the Council of Houses. We can't play nice. The threat of Eternal Ice hangs over our heads and we still barely get along. And you expect them to simply become better because they see somepony be decent? Hah! We both know that's not how the world works. Not yet." "But it will, and the reason it will become that way is that there will be good ponies setting an example." There was a new ardor in Master Sottile's eyes. "The Alicorns will be shining examples. They will be a pillar on which ponies can lean." Gizerico was quite surprised the whole thing hadn't been a complete waste of time. There had been a hunt, a pretty good fight–although with orders to not kill anyone–and the second part of their payment to be had. Now they just had to keep the prisoners out of trouble in the storeroom for a while and it would all be over. There was just that horrible itch at the base of his feathers that spoiled the victory a bit. He rolled his shoulders and winced at the pain in the right one. He didn't like pain either, but at least that was a sign that there had been a bit of a challenge. A quick glance towards the prisoners reassured him that the griffon chick was still bound in the corner and wasn't about to throw him through the closed door. Again. Maybe she would join Gizerico's flock after the job was over. She was quite the fighter; he could use one like her. He would’ve loved to ask the minotaur too, if only she could fly... and if she didn't look ready to snap his neck. Knowing she was on the other side of the farm, guarded by the cataphract as well as Gaviano and Gemma did a lot to keep him calm. "Stop squirming! Stay put and it'll be over soon." Gilia sounded annoyed. Probably because the mare she was berating had managed to get a solid kick into her side. "Leave her alone. You won, let us have our grief." The young stallion didn't sound beaten, but since he had surrendered, he hadn't done anything aside from caring for the wounded. It was alright in Gizerico's opinion, as bringing him to surrender had involved a lot of burning eyes, coughing, and hallucinations. And the damn itching. Scratching helped a bit, but some of the itching was in hard-to-reach places. Maybe Gizerico could ask the stallion for something to ease it. There was a certain risk that the pony would try something funny to knock him out, but the more time passed the more he was willing to take the chance. You have so much more to worry about, little bird. Gizerico's feathers stood up on his neck as he whipped his head around. Something was observing them, something had spoken. His flock-mates stood ready to pounce something. Whatever it was, they had heard it too. "Unicorn tricks?" Gilia hissed. The large room was filled up with crates, barrels, and sacks. "Maybe, but not in here." He looked up. No windows, just an oil lamp illuminating the room. "Did you check the floor?" Gilia's muscles tensed. "No secret doors. Not hollow below. Walls seemed solid too, but they had a Diamond Dog, so not completely sure." "Right, lemme check the door." Soft steps, slow, deliberate. Gizerico tried to not make any sound as he crept towards the door. If something was about to come out from under the floor he would at least try to make it harder for it to hear where he was. He reached out for the door and pulled it open. Behind it there was only black nothingness. "What…?" You griffins like your stories. They are very funny. I like them too. Gizerico jumped back and grabbed the short sword hanging on his side. "Gilia, knife on the prisoners, they got magic!" He pulled the blade out and raised his guard. I like the stories about the hunt. The chase, the fight, the feast. It's wonderful. The prisoners looked up, confused. If Gizerico had to guess, they weren't hearing the same things. Somebody was trying to play games with them, somebody who had some kind of magic ritual going on somewhere. One of the things he’d learned when fighting ponies was to get a measure of unicorns, and that was no unicorn magic. "Threaten the mare. Blade on the neck, orders be damned." He took a deep breath and screamed, "Guards!" Too soon for that, little bird. I have things to do before everybody hears. No answer, that was bad. He changed the grip on his sword, ready to throw it or stab whoever was trying to play with them. It was an impressive spell, but they could handle the situation, they still could catch their prey. "We have prisoners. Let us go or their death will be on your head." The young stallion shouted, "Stay away from–" before the sound of splintering wood silenced him. Gizerico dared to glance over his shoulder. Gilia held the bound mare up, keeping a sharp dagger at her neck. The stallion lay half a pounce away among the debris of a smashed crate. Little bird, you make the same error every other griffin seems to make. Gillia's cry of pain had him jump aside and look back while keeping his guard toward the door. Black tendrils oozing through the bricks of the wall had grabbed Gilia and were pulling her up to the ceiling. Her dagger clattered on the floor as she tried to fight for her freedom. You think you're the hunter… Hot air ruffled his coat. And yet he felt like the icy bite of the wind of Boreas was gnawing at his heart. The black nothingness behind the door had disappeared. Behind it was a corridor. A corridor made of teeth. You, little bird, are not. The mint infusion had cooled down. It was a lukewarm broth barely good enough to be used to water flowers. Sharp Spark couldn't even ask for a new cup as she had sent the guards to join the search. She raised it to her lips and drank. Sometimes it was necessary to make some sacrifices for the sake of not being rude. "You talk about giving an example, yet you live here, hidden, among griffins, minotaurs, and a Diamond Dog." "So? They are good people." Her guess had been right, it was barely worth being thrown away. Sharp Spark put down the cup. There was a limit to politeness. "Are they? Griffins are hunters, they smell of blood and death at the best of times." She scoffed, a shiver ran down her back. "And then there's the minotaur. I know who she is. I have been in the south, in that cauldron of cities brawling and fighting and scratching and biting each other. There is no peace there, and yet even they still tell stories about the warlord who raided and pillaged. They use her name to scare their young! There are still adults with nightmares of what she did. And those too rotten to care remember when she fought in the arena. She is a monster, she's the reason I brought a cataphract, and yet you have her here, living with the fillies. Is that the kind of example you intend to bring to the world? Do you want the Alicorns to stride through the Concord leaving a path of destruction? Do you intend to bring harmony through fear?" Master Sottile looked at her with… was it pity? Her breathing had become ragged, her heart beating like a hammer in a forge. Sharp Spark was standing, she was angry, that wouldn't do. She tried to calm down and sit again. It was no time for emotions now; she couldn't afford a dull mind. "I apologize for having raised my voice." "I know what she did in the past, but that part of Donna Copper Horn is no more, and for years she has worked tirelessly for redemption. Harmony is also forgiveness, and that is what I granted her, even when she won't ever forgive herself." His cup stood in front of him, cold, ignored. Sharp Spark scoffed. "It isn't your place to forgive her. She can't be forgiven, she will forever be a cancerous growth poisoning everything around her. And what about the black abomination in that laboratory of yours? From what my brethren told me, their magic barely touched it, and they still were certain that nothing good could ever come from it. You talk about some idealistic dream while you surround our only hope for a good future with corruption." "You seem to come with griffins and donkeys too." "Because we understand harmony. Everything has a place in the world and knowing it is where peace comes from. We use the tools according to their purpose. We will teach the fillies to use the tools so that we all may be saved. What did you teach them amidst hunters and warmongers?" "We taught them mercy and empathy." "Mercy and empathy for what? Have you told them the truth about who they live with? Did you force into them compassion for sickness and predators? What is that thing in the laboratory?" There was silence, the only sounds the chirping of distant birds and the muffled voices of her brethren searching the buildings. The air smelled of thunderstorms and rotting meat. The ground trembled, and even the rocks whispered with fear. Something was coming, and Ladon didn't like it at all. The architect they had to catch had seen the obvious trap, unearthed the hidden one, and dug right into the pit they had for him on the only way out. Hard but solid work without the whole hassle of having ponies or birdies or other interlopers bothering them. Something had to go wrong at some point. Ladon wasn't even surprised. "Issa, did the prisoner wake up?" Ladon kept his paw on the ground, feeling, hearing, staying alert. His second in command knelt at his side, claws scratching the rock. "Nope, still out for good. The guy was too clever and Sticte hit him pretty hard when we got him. I don't think we'll be able to wake him up for a while." She scratched her muzzle with her silver hook. "What's coming? Doesn't smell like anything that should be here." Ladon swore under his breath. "No, it doesn't. Wanted to ask the dog if he knew what it was, he's local and all that. No luck, though." The stone under his paw vibrated, almost shuddered. "Sandstone and oil! Didn't need this right now. Issa, send Sticte and Theron back with the prisoner. Tell them to run. The others shall prepare shields and spears, we could have a Deep Crawler coming up." He never let his attention wander from the tunnel. He didn't need to. Issa would do what she had to do and make sure his dogs would be ready. Something moved down there. Ladon felt it even more than he could hear it, the air tickling the fur on his snout. Time to move back. He stood up, turned around, and unsheathed his sword. "Right, pups, you know what to do. Slow retreat, let's all get out of here in one piece." His dogs passed him and closed the cave with shields behind him, the wood of their spears clacking in the nock. In the distance, he heard Sticte and Theron’s steps getting away as fast as possible. He hoped it would be enough. One of the biggest dangers when retreating through tunnels was losing oneself. Time became viscous when waiting for the things of the deep to come for you. The shields scraping on the ground and walls made it hard to hear the enemy approaching. His dogs had to use their eyes, he had to use his nose. Both could be fooled. It was one of those situations where it was easy to get lost. Ladon had lived through it more often than he cared to count. It never got easier; he only got a bit wiser. It was his wisdom which guided him when something cold and smooth and horrible touched his leg. He whirled around to stab it and jumped away, an alert barked without even thinking about it. An instant later Issa was at his side and plunged her spear into it with a wet ripping sound. Issa left her weapon, claws scratching the wood for an instant, and retreated. The spear stayed stuck. "Keep the shields in place. There could still be something coming." Ladon tried to understand what he was hearing. Scraping of shields, breathing of his dogs, the sound of leather strips over copper armor. There it was, skittering. I see you are a smart one. Good. The voice hadn't come through Ladon's ears, he was sure of that. It meant it was worse than he expected. Issa's spear clattered on the floor of the tunnel, metal shattering as if it had become glass, and rolled to Ladon's feet. Maybe you'll be a bit of a– Five steps in front of him. Ladon jumped forward and dug his sword deep into whatever was trying to get them. Not that he had any illusion it would do much. Just, maybe, enough. "Retreat, fast!" He heard his blade cut through something and then stop as if encased in stone. That wasn’t nice. I was talking. Can't you see that– Shields clattered on the floor and more spears hit the thing as his dogs sprinted down the tunnel. Good. Now he just had to remain calm. Ignore the voice, and keep the pressure up. Oh, I see, you– Ladon let the sword go and jumped to the side. He reached for the knives and threw them while getting between the thing and his dogs. Will you stop that? It's– Another jump back. The steps were far away enough. He grabbed a potter flask, woke the little fire spark in it, and threw it. He ignored the sound of the explosion, the smell of brimstone, and the rumble of the collapsing tunnel. He had no time for that, not now when he had to use only his memory to navigate the caves. When it was all over he would have to get a lot of extra coin for it all. There had been no talk about whatever had ambushed them. When he hit the wall he let out a surprised yelp. He didn't remember it. He touched it with his hand. It was smooth, slightly elastic. It was moving. I get it now. I can't show you things. Ladon stumbled back. A foul stench assaulted his nose. Unbearable, alien, fear condensed in almost palpable miasma. You should be honored. This is something special just for you. The sun had moved in the sky. It was getting late, Sharp Spark didn't like it. If needed they could search the whole farm well through the night, but that wasn't the plan. "Master Sottile, it's over. I know you still hope for them to flee for some reason, but they won't. I have a troop of Diamond Dogs to scour the earth and I don't believe the madness that charlatan Starswirl says about teleportation being possible. I've tried to be gracious because I respect you, but this is more important than me or you. Where are the fillies? Surrender them and everything will be over. We shall grant them everything they need, the best education possible, and the chance to become the most important mares in the world. " Master Sottile sagged down. "What education? To use people as tools? That is what tyrants do." "Rulers do it. Tyrants are petty and greedy; they will not be." Her tone became soft. "Your house shall survive. I know there is another filly who can take their place. Let them go. Let them be great." "They are not the fillies of the prophecy, you know? There… There have been signs which the prophecy never mentioned regarding them. I swear on everything I hold dear, you are not looking for them. Let them be free." Sharp Spark stepped forward and put a hoof on Master Sottile's shoulder. "We shall be the judges of that. Even if you're right, if it is not their fate to become alicorns, they still will be educated as well as possible. They will become heralds and ambassadors. They will still work for Harmony, for peace." She leaned down and looked into his eyes. "We all have a role to play in this. Let them go. Tell me where they are." A few moments passed, and Master Sottile looked away. Sharp Spark stood up straight and snorted. "As you desire. Let us do it the hard way. The farm will be dismantled. No stone will go unturned. Your stubbornness will leave you and your ilk with a ruin and nothing more. Your ego will be the downfall of your House." Something was not right, Barseen could feel it. For a moment he felt a spark of excitement. An emotion he squashed as soon as he became aware of it. It had been a moment of weakness, one on which he would meditate when everything was over and the unicorn had released him from his obligation. It was not good for a cataphract to have such a thing pollute the purity of the Duty. He looked around. The minotaur was still bound and down. Probably not defeated, but not the cause of his unease. Something else was coming. Something– Something was trickling along his fetlock. The surprise hit him like nothing else had that day. Had he forgotten to properly clean his coat? Had he–the unfathomable wormed itself into his mind–had he made an error in putting on his armor? Had he committed a sacrilege? No, that wasn't possible, he would have felt it during the fight. Slowly he looked down. A thin, black thread coming out from the ground was stuck between the plates covering his legs. And then it wriggled. An attack. Some vile kind of magic! Barseen cleared his mind of every extraneous thought, of every emotion. The Fifth Prayer of Bronze Devotion focused his intent and the world shrunk to the essential components of reality. As he took a step back there was only Barseen, his skin made of metal, his spirit flowing through the plates cutting off everything that was not him, breaking the spell. Nice try. In another world, it could have worked. The thread didn't break. The Second Devotion of Shattering Stone ran through Barseen's soul as he lifted his forehoof and brought it down on the ground, dirt shooting up and waves running out from the point of impact. There was a crack and the plates around his hoof fell away. No prayer came to his mind as Barseen looked down in horror at the sheer impossibility of his armor breaking. It was… It wasn't even wrong, it was something that shouldn't be. Slowly, carefully he lifted his naked hoof. From the hole in the ground a green eye looked up at him. Small tendrils enveloped the metallic remains and sucked the color out of them. I see you think the world can't touch you. Let me show you how wrong you are. The eye opened, revealing row upon row of fangs. I'm feeling peckish, and you look delicious. A scream came from somewhere on the farm. Sharp Spark's head snapped around. Another followed, one of the griffins. "What's happening?" The air grew colder, the light dimmed. "What have you done?" Sharp Spark prepared a brief spell, a crude display of force ready to lash out at whatever was coming. "I– I don't…" Master Sottile's voice sounded unsteady. He was looking around, apparently as confused as Sharp Spark. "Is this some kind of trap? Another attempt to keep us out?" More screams, these sounded like her brethren. "Did you–" He didn't do anything. No, everything happening now is your fault. Sharp Spark turned around. In the dense shadows under the arcades, shapes were moving. Without a second thought, she let the spell go, magical lightning shooting out and burning through the darkness. For an instant, she thought she could see ponies, or at least things resembling ponies. Black, like holes in the world, crooked, shuffling. You'll have to do better than that. Much better. Colors grew muted and the remaining grass along the arcade visibly withered. "Sharp Spark, something happened in the cistern!" She turned and saw Stout Oak charge through one of the side doors, black goo clinging to his sides. A heartbeat later tendrils shot out from the room behind him and wrapped around his barrel and muzzle. Sharp Spark had just the time to blink before he was pulled back in, a curtain of unlight falling on him as he disappeared with a sickening smacking of lips. He was a stubborn one. Still delicious, if a bit on the tougher side. A shiver ran through Sharp Spark, one of anger. She prepared another spell. If this thing thought she would be easy prey it was going to be disappointed. With gritted teeth, she snarled, "What do you want? Show yourself!" You come here to take what is MINE, you disturb my slumber, you upset my playthings, and then you ask me what I want? The shadows dripped and contorted into small pools on the ground. They bubbled and rose to join into a mockery of the equine form. It grew and grew until it stood three ponies tall. Boils popped on the surface revealing green eyes. Well, now that I'm awake, I just want to snack. Magic flowed through Sharp Spark's horn and filled the spell, the one she was uniquely talented in. With a flash she released a blade of blue light. It was impossibly sharp, faster than the wind, and it flew swift and sure. The sound it made as it cut through the thing would give her nightmares, but it did its job. The head of the creature stayed in place for a moment, then fell and splattered to the ground. Sharp Spark breathed fast. It had taken a lot out of her, but it was worth it. A smile crept on her face. Not bad. The neck of the thing split open on rows of crooked fangs. Not enough. Sharp Spark felt all the anger leave her, the void in her heart filling with dread. Her own voice was barely more than a whisper as she asked, "What are you?” More shadow ponies stepped out of the arcade, shuffling, crawling, stumbling on malformed legs. Me? I'm the thing you tell yourself isn't real. I'm the bad dreams of foals, the truth beneath comforting lies, the fate you try to escape. The figure towered over her. Gollops of stinking darkness falling from its maw. I'm the Queen of the Changelings, and you, little pony, trespassed into my kingdom. And then the avalanche came down on Sharp Spark, leaving behind only screams. The attack was over. The prey was silent. It considered what It should do now. Some deep drive urged it to eat, consume, grow. It was complete once more, and every little part, be it in the central mass towering over the devastation of the internal court or crawling along the caves deep below felt it. Reality was a feast all around It. It knew the name of things now. Those too would sate it. A wisp of fear caught Its attention. Eyes turned and focused on Master Sottile/Fidelis/Donna Copper Horn/Willow bark/Ginevra/Millet/Garvino/Meadowsweet. They were looking up at It. They were scared, terrified. It was like a miasma coming from them. It was…It was bitter. It didn't like it. It– Chrysalis cried out. A pained moan poured out from her mouths. They feared her. She knew it, she tasted it. They didn't run away because they couldn't, because it was paralyzing. She had ruined everything. She had lost her family. She closed her eyes and her maws and her senses, cutting out the flow of emotions. She had to– "Chryssi?" Tia and Lulu stood in the door to Fidelis' room. They had seen her. It was too much. Chrysalis couldn't face them. She had to go away. With a sob that shook every part of her, the black mass that was Chrysalis rose into a tidal wave and stormed away.