The rise, fall, and return of the Griffon Empire is something documented quite well in Equestrian history. The empire had, much like Equestria, at first been nothing but the joining of Griffon tribalists, hoping that joining together in a society would help against the harsh winters ahead. The extra talons proved helpful as two tribes, the Remolquois and Val’tan, came across an area of the mountains rich with a mineral only told of in folk legends: gold. Said to be the mineral of the gods, the two tribes moved to this area and became one, creating a village that would later become Griffonstone.
Through time, a treasure was created through this substance, meant for the chieftain of the Val’tan: the Idol of Boreas. Upon gifting it to the chieftain, the two tribes truly turned to one, and a chain effect occurred. In time, more tribes joined together, each one drawn by the marvel of the Idol, and in time the Val’tan chieftain became the leader of all. It is at this time that the griffon tribes end, and the start of the Griffon Empire is said to begin.
Many believe that the Idol of Boreas is the only reason for the empire’s collapse, but another existed: the death of the royal bloodline. Due to his tribes possession of the Idol, the Val’tan, distinct in their red feathers, were seen as royalty and nobility. The chieftain became the first king, though his name is unknown to history, and as such his family became the royal family. However, after the disappearance of the Idol, all traces of the family line vanishes from history, though new evidence leads to believe that all of the royal blood were killed in an attack.
Not all of it, however, as three decades before present day, the royal bloodline was rediscovered. For the first time in centuries, a hatchling bore the red feathers of the Val’tan, and the griffons of Griffonstone saw hope once more. Though his existence only became known to Equestria and the world after Twilight’s rise to the throne, the griffons set to work rebuilding their society. This hatchling, for the hope he was given, obtained the first known name of an emperor of the old empire: Gabriel.
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Four days before the meeting was called, Griffonstone
There was a time when Gallus would have his jaw dropped at the idea of his hometown, Griffonstone, ever looking this beautiful. Yet, that is exactly what he saw, looking down on the city he called home from the palace walls. There were times he regretted leaving Twilight’s sides, but he had to be here for this, to protect this. It was his duty as a griffon, and he didn’t want to squander the opportunity to help create a griffon empire that was truly beautiful.
Once again the gold trade ran not from Equestria, but to Equestria, and it paved the way from turning the dusty old town into something to be proud of. No longer were houses flimsy and on the verge of collapse, no longer did the roads fall apart, and no longer did griffons wealthy and poor grumble at “what used to be”. Through all of that, the Red Arm, Emperor Gabriel’s personal guard, supervised was constructed of the most talent of soldiers. Gallus, thanks to his record in Equestria, easily became one such member of this guard, and a celebrated member of it in his own right.
Yet that didn’t stop the restlessness that haunted the Red Arms in those days since Canterlot’s fall. Not once had they seen his grace, and rumors began to circulate that he had perished in the battle. Those rumors stopped as soon as they had begun, but not because Gabriel had returned to them, but because of a griffon who had made herself known in the past two weeks. A dangerous griffon, one who the Red Arm knew all too well meant to overthrow the Emperor.
“Sir Gallus,” A member of the palace guard called to him as he saw a trio of griffons approach the palace gate. “It her, Ezillia. She’s at the gates wishing to speak with you.”
“No need to tell me, I already see her,” Gallus replied, looking down in concern at the trio. The center one looked up to him, a smug expression on her face. She knew she was winning the people’s hearts, and just how much he hated it. “Gather the Arms. If she wants a greeting, she’ll get all of us.”
With a salute, the guard rushed off. Gallus sighed as he followed the wall to one of the palace towers. This hadn’t been the first time she approached the palace, but even more so it wasn’t the first time she approached him. There was clearly something about him that intrigued her, and he hated it. This griffon, this Ezillia, was already creepy enough if the rumors about her were true, but he doubted. No matter how much magic there was in the world, Twilight, who he would always see as his professor more than as a queen, there was one thing he had been made absolutely clear about.
Nothing, alicorn or otherwise, could actually talk to the dead.
“Gallus!” Gallus looked down the corridor and saw Grena and Farence, two of his fellow Red Arms, waiting for him into the courtyard. “We were told that your little admirer is here for another visit.”
“For the last time Grena, there is no history between us,” Gallus replied, talon holding his head. “Besides, after last time she showed up, I don’t think any of us want to deal with her,” He looked down to the gate before looking back to Grena and Farence. “Any more of her “followers” show up and those walls come down.”
“We were indeed lucky last time, weren’t we Farence?” Grena asked with a playful nudge. The mute griffon responded with a nod. “That said Gallus, even if they do get through those walls, we have more than enough forces to detain a few civilians.”
Comfortable with the response, Gallus motioned for his fellow guards to follow him. He looked up to the high walls of the palace, built into the exterior of the mountain. Those walls caused the sun to only hit the palace at dawn, so Equestria had lent a few unicorns to create a substitute inside. At the far end of the alcove was the actual palace itself, flags of a red griffon, a Van’tal, hanging from the two balconies on the top floor. It was a unique design, especially for modern architecture, but it was what the emperor had pictured.
“We are griffons, are we not? Did we not once line boats full of gold and a vault of shining yellow?” He had said, only in his early twenties at that time. “Didn’t that shine come from the mountains? Well, in that case, I say that if any place is to be my home, it should be inside the mountain itself.”
Lo and behold, it happened, and it stood to show that the griffons would not crumble again. That was something that Gallus had to make sure of now. Ezillia, whoever she was, wanted this throne “only temporarily”, which was as much a load of bull as could possibly be. The throne wasn’t something a griffon “temporarily” took, especially when said griffon lead a cult. Gallus kept a hand on his sword as he neared the gate, nodding for the guard to open it. With a salute, the guard started to turn the crank next to him, the door slowly opening.
In no time at all, Gallus saw himself looking through the ever growing gap in the gate at the griffon staring back. Ezillia, her similarly blue feathers betraying the ugly green primaries on the end. The cloak she wore was too short to hide her face, and even less so the smile that adorn it. The griffons behind her, in contrast, had cloaks that hide their entire body, giving off a vibe that Gallus could only describe as reminding him of the Grim Reaper. The only thing he saw was their beaks.
“I see you’ve decided to come down from your perch to say hello to me, Gallus,” Ezillia said with a smile. “Thank you for answering my request despite our… previous encounters. I see you’ve also brought along some friends, is that correct?”
“Cut the politeness, Ezillia. I know why you’re here,” Gallus replied, not sharing the smile that he had received. “You and your little following has been causing great trouble for your fellow griffons, especially for us here in the armed forces. Even if you did not, we would not just give the throne to you.”
“Oh stop being so unreasonable, dear Gallus,” She stuck her beak right across from his head. “After all, you can’t kill me. We went over this before. Not to mention I can assure you that my boys have been very well behaved since our last encounter.”
“Oh really? Then perhaps you would like to explain the two kidnappings that your men were responsible for,” Grena replied, the sweet tone from earlier being replaced by one more harsh. “Or the fact that, somehow, you still see it right to desecrate the royal burial grounds and refuse to leave.”
Ezillia raised an eyebrow in confusion. Genuine confusion, Gallus thought to his surprise, despite the fact it seemed impossible. Ezillia turned and looked to her two followers, looking at their faces for any show of concern. The Red Arms looked at each other, confused as to how she planned to do such a thing when their faces were so hidden. Farence winced as he caught Ezillia slap one of her followers. The sound causing Gallus and Grena to look back as the cult leader grabbed the followers cape.
“What did I tell you about such unlawful activity? We don’t make griffons follow us by force. Our goal is to help the Empire, not become terrorists,” Ezillia explained to the griffon. She looked to her other follower. “Take him back, make sure he receives the correct punishment for this, alright?”
With a salute, the second follower turned the first and led him down the steps from the palace gate, no words said. Ezillia turned back to the griffoness who had explained the crimes, expecting surprise or comfort in what she had done. Instead, she was met with the cold stare of a soldier who cared not for what she had done. She sighed, knowing that approval was never that easy, and that the Red Arms disapproved of her most of anyone. Nevertheless, she kept on struggling, hoping to fulfill the dead’s wish for their to be someone on the throne in his absence.
“I shall ask once again, not because I expect a change in answer, but because of the gravity of the situation,” Ezillia explains, looking away from Grena and turning her attention to Gallus. “As I’ve previously mentioned, the spirits of the royal line have assured me that our emperor, Gabriel Derev, is still alive. However, he will not be back for at least a month or two, and therefore someone else must occupy the throne in his stead.”
“And as we told you last time, we are doing well enough on our own,” Gallus replied, leaning forward to make sure he was all Ezillia could see. “Besides, as someone who graduated from a school taught by the element of magic, I’m gonna call you out on the same bullshit I have each time before,” He poked her chest as he continued, not noticing he could feel his talon against her feathers. “No one can talk to the dead. Now get out of here and stop asking such dumb questions.”
The smile finally fell from Ezillia’s face, but Gallus was left without much triumph in that fact. It wasn’t replaced with a frown, but emotionless stare. He recognized the gaze from somewhere, but he wasn’t exactly sure. Wherever he recognized it from, it was unnerving to see it, like he was piercing his own soul. That stare only stayed for a few seconds, though, before Ezillia smiled once again and turned to leave. Leaving the discomfort of the stare behind him, he turned to his fellow Red Arms and walked back through the gate.
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“One little griffon, ever so silly. One day he’ll figure out stopping me is futile,” Ezillia told the open air as she soared above Griffonstone. “Oh king of old, is it truly so worthless as to continue to try? His grace would not think highly to return with griffoness killing griffon.”
“Your soul knows the truth Ezillia,” The wind replied, or perhaps it was her mind. “I have seen what happened before when that throne was left empty, and I know how quickly the rumors of death will spread. They may believe you now, but not forever,” Ezillia looked down at the city below her, one that she thought she would never see so alive in her life. “Someone must sit on that throne.”
“And it shall be done, king of old, but I wish for more… harmonic answer,” Ezillia asks, receiving no response. She sighed. “Can I do it with… minimal casualties, at least?”
“If you think it can be done, young Ezillia, then by all means do,” The voice told her. “Yet know that if blood must be drawn, then it shall.”
The presence of the voice dissipated, leaving Ezillia by herself as she neared her destination. Grena hadn’t been joking about her holing up in the old royal catacombs just outside of Griffonstone, but desecration was not the right word. Noting the guards at the entrance, Ezillia couldn’t help but chuckle at their naivety as she flew past them. Keeping her eyes on the mountain side, she saw a small opening on the edge. It was impossible to walk to, but easily accessible to anyone with wings.
Landing at the opening of the cave, she looked to make sure no one had noticed her. Even after doing this for three weeks, she still had no idea how some random griffin hadn’t just wandered in here, but she wouldn’t complain. Happy to see she was alone, she made her way further in, the darkness surrounding her as she did. Ezillia didn’t need light to know where she was heading, as the tunnel was thankfully a straight path.
The further she went, the more her steps seemed to echo against the walls of the cave. At times, she swore she could hear her heartbeat as she watched the tunnel’s walls. Those walls, the farther she headed in, were too dark for her to see for the longest time, until she made out the light of a torch down the hall. The walls were no longer that of a natural cave, but that of the catacombs that had remained untouched in the mountain for centuries. As she reached the light, her heartbeat was drowned out by another sound: song.
As the sound of the song hit her ears, she felt a smile come to her face. She stopped and closed her eyes, taking in the song that seemed to come from all around her. Some of the voices weren’t from living souls, she knew that much. She wished that she could show Gallus just how wrong he was about her, but that meant nothing. The haunting voices of the dead mixed with the beautiful choir of the living was joyous to her. If only all other living souls had the chance to hear the dead singing, they would see that death wasn’t truly the end of life.
“The mistress of the dead returns!” A spirit said, seeming to belong to a young child. She couldn’t see it, but she knew from the voice alone exactly who it was. “Dear Ezillia, why must you leave us down here so often?”
“Even the mistress of the dead must journey among the living, and my duty to the first king is not something that allows me to be idle,” Ezillia replied as she started walking once again. “You, of all the dead, should know this Princess Ela.”
“Even so, it is nice to have someone to talk to other than my fellow spirits,” Said Ela, who Ezillia could feel brush against the back of her neck. “After a time hearing these old prunes talk about the “good old days” really starts to bore you. Still can’t believe I thought my ancestors were cool at some point.”
The griffoness couldn’t help but giggle at the spirit’s pain, though she knew well what it must feel like. Ela wasn’t wrong about how grumpy some of the other dead could be, which is why she tuned out most of them. The last of the griffon princesses was an exception to that, and a soul that Ezillia could help be felt sorry for. Killed when she was only ten during the collapse of the first Griffon Empire, it was a wonder that she had managed to stay as sane as she did after dying.
That wasn’t a joke either. The past two months had proven to be more than a suitable lesson in the afterlife. From somehow ending up in another Equestria, to suddenly having the power to talk to the dead, and as if that wasn’t crazy enough she was now an object of worship for her own cult. It was crazy, absolutely crazy, but considering she knew no way back to her world for the moment, she played the part this world had forced her. If that meant practically taking over the apparently revived kingdom her brethren called home, who was she to say no?
“I thought I heard the mistress’ voice,” A deep voice bellowed from down the catacombs, belonging to a clocked griffon. He kneeled as Ezillia approached him, smiling. “It is great to see you return unharmed, though I heard that your efforts have once again been met with… misfortune.”
“Yes, but what is one to expect when dealing with those more unwilling to accept facts,” Ezillia said as she came up next to the clocked griffin. He fell in behind her, able to feel the slight breeze of a spirit around him. “Hope you don’t mind but, as his highness refuses to speak his words, Ela will be doing it today.”
“Of course. Shall I gather everyone?” The cloaked griffin said, receiving a nod.
As he left, Ezillia looked onwards to the halls ahead, seeming to stretch endlessly into the mountain. Yet, as the choire grew louder, the griffiness, and the spirit she knew was following her, could here something more. The bustle of a crowd, the chatter of individuals, the laughs of friends or drunks. As she took a sharp turn left, the royal catacombs fell away to something different. A world the likes of which no one in Griffonstone knew about: Wisper, the town under the catacombs.
She still remembered the day where she found herself waking up in this town for the first time, this musty and damp environment filling her nostrils. Her fellow griffins had been confused about her stories, or more accurately her history. A timeline where the so called elements of harmony had never existed, where this “Equestria” had never been made. She remembered how, in her confusion, she had managed to talk to Ela for the first time and then… Ezillia shivered as she reminded herself why she never went back to that first day.
Taking a leap and gliding down to the open area below her, she watched as every griffin stopped their conversation and turned to her. The only exception to this were the few kids she could here, but others had shushed them not too long after. As if she was the emperor himself, kneeled before her, not so much as a ruler but out of respect for a folk legend turned real. The mistress of the dead, who would finally find a way to tear the void between the realms of the living and dead, creating immortality for all. She doubted that she had that power, but that had not stopped her from being worshiped like a god or savior.
“So, I’m speaking to these weirdos, huh?” Ela asked, a small tug on Ezillia’s neck feathers giving the spirit’s current position away. “Are you sure you want to do that again? You did mention how unnerving it was not having control of-”
“I’m positive, and you are the one to best send the message,” Ezillia replied. “You know as well as I do that the folks here trust us, and the throne must be occupied. We will need their help,” she paused. “You will need their help.”
Her reply didn’t come right away, but a sigh was all she needed to know Ela had been won over. Reluctantly, but won over nonetheless, and as capable of a leader as Ezillia was, she was no warrior. She had no need to know how to use a sword, but a princess from a time when the bloodline was all but dying would. It was, of course, all she believed would keep her family blood alive. That very thought reminded her of why Gabriel was so important, and why he had to be king.
He was the only one who could fool the creature who called him friend.
After much walking, she came to an altar, griffons dressed in the robes that had followed her to the palace standing in a circle, facing outwards. Ezillia walked into the center of their circle, the crowd following her stopping outside of it as she turned to face them. She took a deep breath, exhaled, and prepared for what would probably be the first real action she had taken as their “leader”. Even if, in the end, she would not be the one to actually give it.
“Griffons of Wisper, though I did not call you to gather, you wish for me to speak and I shall give you just that,” She told them. “For two months now, you have harbored me, and though I have done nothing to earn it you have given me the respect and love of family. For that, I thank you, but we all know it will be for naught if one thing is to come true.”
She took another breath, feeling the invisible touch of Ela on her, hugging her neck. She had to speak the truth, and she had to give it to them with no words sugarcoated.
“Your cousins above ground continue to refuse my offers of help,” Ezillia told them. Those words earn gasps and mumbles. “Though he refuses to tell me his reason, we all know that this new empire will fall if someone doesn’t take it. For the longest time, I had wished nothing more than to do it peacefully,” She closed her eyes as she felt Ela’s grip become tighter… no, it was something else. “And I am not the one to tell you what must be done.”
The crowd watched as Ezillia’s eyes rolled back, mouthing hanging open for a second as she became nothing more than a temporary passenger in her body. The stillness of her body didn’t last long however, as her form burst into blue flames. One griffon in the crowd thought of calling for help, before remembering that this had happened before. Those suspicions were confirmed as the flames dissipated, and a different griffon stood before them.
Her body was still very much that of Ezillia in shape, but much about it had changed. She was shorter, younger even if only by a few years. Ezillia’s feathers no longer held the same colors as before, her body instead pure red, and as her eyes rolled back the crowd saw they had changed too. Without even needing to know what had happened, or who was now in front of them, they all bowed. Ela De Historis Golde Boreas, the last true member of the royal family, now stood before them.
“Please, you have no need to kneel,” Ela replied. “Though I am royalty, I have no throne.”
At her command, the griffons stood. She extended Ezillia’s wings, allowing herself to enjoy this moment. She was, in some ways, once again living, even if the body wasn’t truly her own. She took the moment to enjoy the feeling of touch, of smell, of everything around her. It had been centuries since she’s ever felt this close to truly being alive again. She took a step towards the crowd, carrying Ezillia’s body with pride. Ela hoped that, during the coming commotion, her host would be able to sleep well, knowing full well what she was doing by giving the dead princess such control.
“In recent times, such things as aggression have been frowned upon,” Ela stated. “Equestria, for the great country it is, refuses to let reality touch its shores anymore. Until recently, however, with the return of someone who, while forgotten by those above, we know all too well,” The sour looks among the crowd told her she was right. “They now call her Queen of Equestria, but many years ago, she was the alicorn slayer. She was the one who took the immortal city of Eline Vain, which lies across the mountain, and laid a species to near extinction. In doing so, she killed us with no remorse, and called her massacre of us “conquest”. I was not alive during her rule, but I know the name well, and it boiled my blood as it no doubt does all of you.”
She took a deep breath, and spoke it.
“That name is Aurora Oracle.”
The crowd erupted into anger at the mere mention of the pony who now ruled Equestria. Ela looked out at them, many shouting about what she had done to their ancestors. Others took the time to say what they would do to her when they met. A few, however, gave the reaction she had expected: fear. They screamed, covering their ears as if it would stop her name, Aurora’s name, from reaching them. After some time of letting them vent their hatred, she had finally seen it wouldn’t end, a chant sounding out among a majority of the griffons present.
“Down with Equestria!” They chanted, preaching it as if the words itself would do it for them.
“Quiet!” She shouted, and the crowd went silent instantly. With the floor once again hers, she spoke. “It is clear you all know the severity of this pony, no, this monster being alive. She will kill us like she had time before, and as long as our cousins up above refuse to so much as try and approach her, that will always be the case. Yet, they won’t, and as such, I say that we go up there and make them do it,” She narrowed her eyes, the crowd watching as the ground around her ignite. “And show them the wails of the dead!”
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As the hours passed, the sun set on the Griffon Empire, no one none the wiser as to the events about to play out, and many starting to turn in for the night. On the palace walls, a guard rested his talons and looked out over the city. He smiled, looking at one house in particular barely visible in the distance. He couldn’t see much but the roof, but he recognized home when he saw it. If he wasn’t taking night duty, that was where he would be, kissing his daughter good night.
“You know, you don’t have to keep taking this post if all you're gonna do is daydream,” Another guard next to him said. “I’m sure the general would understand.”
“Maybe, but who would want to stay up this late?” He asked the guard. “In case you forget, most of us griffons aren’t exactly night folks. We’d be one guard short.”
“Yeah, and like we really need as many of us up here as we do. Don’t know what Sir Gallus is so worried about,” The guard replied, rolling his eyes. “Last I checked the only real enemy we have is that Ezillia lady, but I doubt she’d actually attack the palace.”
“What Sir Gallus thinks doesn’t really matter. We’re to guard the wall and that is what we are going to do,” He told his fellow griffon. He looked back out to the streets, noticing a sudden brightness lighting up the lower parts of the city. “Huh, that’s unusual.”
“Eh, probably just a party going on,” The griffon next to him said.
The other guards on the wall suddenly found themselves forced away from the wall’s edge by a sudden wind. Holding on as if his life depended on it, he gripped the parapet in front of him with both talons. The gust sent a chill through him, and for a moment he nearly let go as he swore he felt something pass through him. Then, as soon as it had appeared, it stopped, and he felt a wave of relief at the knowledge it was nothing. Letting go of the parapet, he turned back to the guard who had been next to him, who was readjusting his helmet as he got back up.
“You okay mate?”
“Yeah, a little wind isn’t gonna kill me,” The guard replied, walking back next to him though. “Still, something about that didn’t exactly feel normal. Never felt the wind pick up like that up here.”
“Yeah, same,” He replied. “I would call it a coincidence but I’m not entirely sure.”
His words got a chuckle out of his comrade. “Good one, mate, but it most is probably just… the… oh shit.”
Noticing his fellow guard staring out to the city, beak hanging, he followed his gaze to see what had happened. His eyes widened as he saw the city, completely engulfed in flames, but somehow not burning. Yet, as he stared out at it, he heard the cries of civilians in the distance, along with another sound. It took another moment for him to realize what it was: steel.
“What… what the hell is this?!” Another guard cried out from the other side of the wall.
“No, this can’t be real,” He shouted, but his eyes betrayed him as Griffonstone continued to burn. “There is no way a fire can burn that quickly! None of this is possible.”
“But it is.” A voice, no, a choir boomed from seemingly nowhere. “It did before, and it will again, for no matter how much we wish to stop it, one day all will repeat.”
“Who's there?” The guard shouted, raising a spear to the air. “Show yourself! What the hell have you done to Griffonstone.”
“What you see is our past, and your future,” The choir boomed, and for a second the guards swore they saw what seemed to be a griffon made of flames appear before them. “We have seen all that history has had to offer, and we have warned you of what it will bring,” The griffon appeared again, the only for a moment longer before once again disappearing. It wasn’t a physical being, that was clear, but it was most definitely there. “We are the collective of the dead. Separate we are invisible to the eye or ear, but together we are as physical as all.”
The wall, despite being nothing but stone, suddenly erupts in ethereal flame. The mere sight of it sent most of the guards screaming, those who stayed quickly following as the fire proved itself to be as painful as normal one. Those near the center were the unlucky ones, as though they didn’t burn to their death, they felt the ethereal fire spread up their bodies. One, in their panic and fear, crawled over the parapet and fell over the side of the wall. The spirits didn’t care to save him, instead using the fire they made and making a body for themselves, leaving those how had been touched by the fire withering in pain.
As the fire moved off of the wall, an ethereal griffon was created in its place. It’s body made of flames, eyes glowing yellow, and easily the size of the wall itself. It turned and looked to the collection of griffon soldiers staring at it in a mixture of fear and awe, blade and spear pointed in it’s direction. With a single step a flaming talon hit the courtyard, shaking the ground as it did. The next talon followed suit, and it too shook the ground, followed in turn by it’s paws.
“We are Gospel. We are a Vessel. We are the dead who you have ignored,” It said, the choir of souls forming his voice seemed to wail in discord. “We waited our turn as the mistress of death pleaded, but she grows as weary as us of this shirad. If you won’t place someone on the throne,” Gospel raised its head to the cave ceiling. “Then the dead will pave the way for her!”
With those words, the ethereal griffon exploded into a torrent of fire, engulfing the palace courtyard as it did. The heat and pain hit the soldiers in seconds, cries of pain following as it did. What plants laid in the courtyard burned away instantly, leaving nothing but scorched soil behind. Finally, the gate that stood upon the wall, mighty and tall, melted as the Gospel’s fire touched it. This time, Gospel didn’t withdraw the flames completely, only taking enough to form a body and turning to face where the gate once had been. There stood Princess Ela, still in Ezillia’s body, wearing the very armor that had been dressed on her body when she died.
“It is done, your grace,” Gospel said, removing the fire from the area the Ela had deemed to walk. “The mistress of death shall have a crown when you are done with her body, and you two shall rule till the new king returns,” As she made her way to the Vessel’s side, she stopped, looking at the soldiers yelling in pain at the everburning fire that engulfed them. “Shall we withdraw our fire from the city?”
“Yes, we have made them suffer enough,” Ela replied, hearing the palace doors open.
Gallus and the other Red Arms stood at the entrance of the palace, looking out in fear at what stood in front of them. Their men, trained for anything that could possibly come, now wailed as a neverending inferno engulfed the back half of the courtyard. His eyes looked on to what was no doubt the cause of this. Gospel and Ela watched as his fear turned to rage, and he stepped out of the doorway.
“I would be careful if I were you,” She told Gallus. “Unless you wish to feel the pain your men feel.”
Gallus abided by her warning, only going as far as the very bottom of the steps, where safe ground ended and the flames began. He looked to the griffon who spoke to him, finding her both familiar and unrecognizable. What struck him as worrisome, however, was the color of her feathers. Red, just like Gabriel, and just like any member of the old royal family. There was no mistaking what she was, but that only made things more worrisome.
“Who are you?” He yelled to Ella, the echo of the cave carrying his voice over the wails of the griffons burning before him. “No, I don’t care. Royalty or not, I demand that you release these men from… whatever this is.”
“What you see before you are the fire’s of restlessness, born and ignited by the dead,” Ela told him, ignoring his order. “This is the power of the Vessel, the combined mind of the dead created when they entwine together. Though the souls who create these Vessels lose independence, they come to create a new being,” She took a step forward. “Sir Gallus I assume? Ezillia says much about you.”
“So you are with her,” Gallus muttered to himself before shouting again. “I don’t care what is the cause of this! Release my men, or I will see that a blade finds its way right between your eyes.”
“You would dare threaten her grace, Ela Boreas of the Griffon Imperial family!” Gospel wailed. “Watch your tongue, commoner, and stay your blade if you value your-”
“Gospel, I shall deal with this,” Ela told the Vessel, looking back to it for only a moment.
“Ela… Boreas?” Gallus repeated the name Gospel had spoken. “No, that can’t be right. Empress Ela has been dead for centuries! That can’t possibly be you.”
“You are indeed correct that I died, but through Ezillia’s body I walk once again with the living,” Ela explained. “A medium as uniquely gifted as her has her own way of channeling spirits for the living. As such, I walk not as part of Gospel, but as her other half, talking whenever is required.”
She looked to Gospel, the Vessel seeming to get what she wanted and nodding in return. With a stomp of it’s hoof it withdrew some of the fire that covered the inner half of the courtyard, freeing but a few of the soldiers that had been caught in the inferno. None of them moved though, too weak from struggling to move their bodies. Gallus had taken a step back at first, believing Ela meant to target him. Instead, the fire returned to Gospel, causing him to grow to easily twice the size of the griffon that stood next to it.
“To me, Sir Gallus,” Ela said. “We shall talk, and we alone.”
Gallus looked back to the doorway, giving a reassuring smile to the other Red Arms, and then turned towards Ela. He stepped cautiously, keeping his eyes on the flames around him in case Gospel tried anything. Despite his belief that this was all a trap, he made it to the other side. Ela smiled, motioning him to her side as Gospel stepped away. She dropped a wing over him as if he was a child, and looked to the Vessel.
“Ezillia has told you that one must have the throne, but she has not told you why,” Ela told the griffon. “Though, she also didn’t have the means to tell it. If you will, Gospel.”
With a nod, Gospel leaped into the air and dived in front of Ela and Gallus, spilling into flames. Gallus closed his eyes, though he never felt any pain. Slowly opening his eyes, Gallus was awestruck to find himself standing in the middle of what seemed to be a field made of flames. It wasn’t real, of course, as he could still partially see the palace door through the walls of flame, as well as the fact he and Ela stood in a small circle untouched by the flames. Normally, such a thing would have left Gallus in awe, but there was no awe in what laid in the field.
Instead of grass or rocky earth were bodies, griffon bodies to be exact. All of them armored, all of them dead. Some had spears sticking out of their backs, some had no heads, but none of them lived. Gallus reached a talon out, only being held back as Ela grabbed it. He turned to her, and she shook her head, a small motion reminding him it wasn’t real… yet. Letting go of his talon, she let him scan the field of bodies, taking everything in.
“What… What is this?” He asked Ela.
“Our fate, years ago, when Equestria was still in its infancy,” Ela explained before pointing off in the distance. “Back when she ruled.”
Gallus followed her to see a pegasus standing on top of the body. The flame didn’t give her any identity, but her stance did. In a hoof, she held the head of a griffon, and in the other she held a spear. She tossed both aside and looked to Gallus. Her eyes were pure yellow, holding no pupil or iris, making her seem more a demon than a normal pegasus. Her body suddenly turned into a fireball and hurled towards Gallus, exploding inches from his face.
“Aurora Oracle, alicorn slayer, and second queen of Equestria,” Ela said. “Long ago there stood the city of Eline Vain, pass the mountains that we griffons called home. Eline Vain was a city of alicorns, immortal equines, and they had judged her as unfit to rule. So, to save herself the trouble of dealing with them on her own soil, she marched to Eline Vain and did the one thing thought impossible: killed an alicorn. However, as she passed through our home, she decided that she wasn’t just satisfied with just killing alicorns, so she hunted us. Griffon kind nearly went extinct, only surviving by abandoning these mountains, and paving the way for Eline Vain, and brought us this.”
Gallus looked to the sky, and found himself frozen in terror as a pony, no, an alicorn appeared. Unlike the other figures, it towered over him, easily as tall as the palace itself. With a stomp of it’s hoof, the field of bodies turned into walls of fire. The alicorn disappeared, as did the wall of fire, and where the bodies did lie piles of south.
“The first Vessel, Ancestra, formed from the souls of those Aurora had destroyed, and prompted silence by the Will of the Wind,” Ela explained, her sentence ending with the field of fire disappearing, and Gospel once again taking the form of a griffon.
“The Will of the Wind?” Gallus asked.
“Only two things can destroy Vessels: another vessel, or the Will of the Wind,” Ela told the griffon next to her as she stared upwards. “A soul who should by all means should be broken beyond repair, and yet despite that still lives. It is said that through the pain they have felt, they are freer than anyone,” She turned to Gallus. “Princess Celestia was one such soul, for though nearly all of her kind had been killed, she still stood and lived. Thus, she destroyed Ancestra.”
Gallus didn’t know what to make of everything being told to him, other than the fact he didn’t believe it. He had gone to school in Equestria, learned it’s history, and never once did such an event ever cross his pages. Believing Ela to manipulate him, he readied himself to draw his blade, and in doing so put an end to both Ezillia and the spirit that now possessed her. Ela, however, was none the wiser.
“Gallus, Aurora Oracle somehow lives again, and if she is allowed to rule Equestria she will bring death upon not just us, but every race in Equestria if she isn’t stopped,” Ela told him. “Vessels are not things that should walk this land, and if we are to keep another one from forming she must be stopped. With Celestia having vanished, it is unknown if another Will of the Wind even lives and the destruction another being like Ancestra will cause is nothing short of annihilation. Do you understand why someone must take the throne and stand against her? Do you understand why Ezillia pleaded with you now?”
Gallus was silent for a second, watching as each second of silence slowly drained hope from Ela’s face.
“Yes, I understand,” Gallus finally said, watching as hope suddenly filled Ela’s eyes again as he drew his sword. “A deranged spirit such as you must not be allowed to touch the thro-”
That was as far as Gallus got before his life ended, a spike of fire shooting from the ground and impaling him through the underside of his jaw. The sword he had drawn fill to the floor harmlessly. Gospel heard a cry come from the door of the palace, seeing that the other Red Arms had drawn their blades and now rushed towards them as well. He ended their lives just as swiftly, each one the same as Gallus. All but one Red Arm now stood dead, being the mute Farence, who instead had found it smart to throw her sword to the ground.
The smile of joy that Gallus had brought to Ela faded, instead being replaced by one of discontent.
“You disappoint me Gallus,” She said. “I had hoped that you would understand, but it seems that Equestria has not changed in all these years. It still hides the truth from it’s people, and now that very thing has poisoned our minds,” She turned away from his body. “I had planned on letting you keep your position, you know, but you’ve thrown everything away. Now, the only ones who will be able to hear you, are Ezillia and I.”
With that, Ela walked through the courtyard, making her way to the palace and not minding any of the dead she came across. That was the day Ezillia Borghiben, mistress of death, and a paradox, took the Griffon Empire as her own.