//------------------------------//
// Revelation 
// Story: SAPR 
// by Scipio Smith 
//------------------------------//


Revelation


Sunset Shimmer, Sun Queen of Freeport, was in her library. 
Strictly speaking, it was not her library, at least not in the sense that she had collected or curated it. It was hers in the sense that it was lodged in the bowels of her tower, in the heart of her city, which meant that she had a better claim upon it than anyone else.
Possession was nine tenths of the law, after all. 
The library had been compiled, she guessed, by one of the Valish lords who had ruled this city – or the predecessor to this city – on behalf of the Kings of Vale in ancient days before the west was abandoned in the face of the grimm and the hazards of the wild. Certainly, the subject matter was Valish in the extreme, at least in part: the lineages of Valish families, the names and histories of their hereditary weapons, the deeds of their notable members. Sunset guessed that the families in question were those of the lord who had ruled over this city and his retainers; many of them had recorded not only the deeds of their ancestors but also of themselves, in first person and in detail. No doubt, they had meant for historians to come later to be able to study these accounts and thus ensure their place in history. 
Instead, the records had been abandoned, left to moulder for long centuries as the castle they had ruled had crumbled away around them, until she came. 
Sunset had ambiguous feelings about this place. There was a part of her that disliked coming down here into the bowels of the tower, where the documents had been preserved by the dry, acrid staleness of the air. The smell amidst the dark and gloomy stacks was musty and unpleasant. When she was down here too long, her skin began to dry up, and she felt as though she needed a wash. And the books… the books that the Valish lords had left concerning themselves and their deeds and the deeds of the families were unpleasant to her eyes. They taught her a lesson that she did not wish to learn: that one day, all her deeds could be forgotten, just as the actions that these lords and knights of Vale had striven to preserve. 
They had thought to preserve their place in historical record. They had thought to make themselves into legends. They had thought to attain a sort of immortality. But who in Vale remembered their names, these men who had striven so hard in the service of Vale? 
It was an uncomfortable thought: that, although she was a queen, that which she was queen of could be forgotten and her memory would fade. Not just fade but… disappear, completely. As completely as her other self had disappeared when she used the memory stone upon the other Sunset’s companions.
As completely as Dawn Starfall would have to disappear from the memories of all her subjects in order to explain her transfer into a new body. 
As completely as Sunset Shimmer had disappeared from Atlas when she had used the memory stone to erase herself. 
The memory stone was a rare power, a gift from Equestria – the first of many such gifts, she hoped – but it only served to speed up what history did all by itself: the erasure of memory that made great deeds and mighty kingdoms meaningless since there was no one left to recall them. 
Such might be her fate, even with the best intentions and the greatest of good fortune, but it would definitely be her fate if she defied the power of Salem. All of it gone. All of it destroyed. Freeport laid waste, the tribes slaughtered, all the good work that she had tried to do here cut off and turned to ashes. 
Here in her hands, she held an ancient sheaf of parchment on which was drawn an image of a sword, a sword bearing – according to the words written beside the image – the name Crocea Mors; it had been wielded by Jaune of Gaunt, Duke of Westmorland, fourth son of King Edward Farstrider, who was in turn the son of Charles the Great, who had begun to unite the Kingdom of Vale which his son would finish. This Jaune of Gaunt had been trained in arms by Olivia… who was Olivia? The name was stated baldly, with no indication of who she was; it was as if the readers of the future were expected to simply know the name. 
They were expected to simply know the name; there was no doubt about it. In the days when this account – listing all of those who had wielded the sword and what deeds they had done – had been penned, no doubt everyone, or at least everyone who mattered, had known exactly who Olivia was. No doubt, she had been some great woman in the distant past of Vale. 
But who remembered her now?
Who would remember Sunset Shimmer, if she failed at this great trial?
She shuddered. She would not fail. She would not falter. She would preserve this city, this kingdom; she would defend it and all who dwelled within it. She would make any sacrifice, any compromise with conscience and morality, in pursuit of that goal.
She would not fade away. She would not allow Freeport to fade away. 
Sunset didn’t like this place, but she had come down here precisely because she wanted – needed – to feel uncomfortable. She needed to be reminded of how fragile things were, of how success could not be guaranteed, of how the maintenance of a nation that would survive the tides of history was not easy. These Valish lords, with their ancient weapons and their long family histories, had proved unequal to the challenge of building something out here in the wilderness. Sunset Shimmer didn’t intend to make the same mistake. 
Whatever I have to do. Whatever it takes.
She heard footsteps on the wooden steps descending down into the library. It was Laurel, whose shadow briefly struck the wall before she passed out of the light from above and into the gloom of the library. 
“You’re here,” she said softly. “I didn’t think you liked this place.”
“I don’t,” Sunset confirmed, “but there are times when this is where I need to be.”
“I see,” Laurel said, in a tone that suggested that she didn’t really see. “I… I don’t suppose that the wisdom of the ancients has offered up a solution to our predicament?”
“'Predicament'?” Sunset repeated.
“Don’t play games, Sunset; you know exactly what I’m talking about.”
“Do I?” Sunset asked. “Enlighten me, please, I’m not entirely certain that we have a predicament.”
Laurel sighed, shaking her head softly back and forth. “You’ve always had the most amazing ability to seem like nothing gets to you,” she said. “Even before you started wearing a mask, you could always keep your face well hidden when you wanted to. You always seemed so cool and calm, even when everything was going wrong around us.” She paused. “Do you remember that mission, when we were tasked with escorting a supply convoy to Park Place, only for the convoy to get ambushed by brigands?”
Sunset snorted. “I remember the way they had us pinned down.”
“They had us pinned down,” Laurel corrected her. “Me, Dawny, and Cherry were all scrambling for cover as the bullets flew around us, but you… you stood there, back straight, illuminated by the fires from the burning truck, looking as proud as a queen as you returned fire with a look of… disdain. That’s the best way that I can describe it, Sunset, disdain. You disdained to cower, you disdained our enemy, you disdained the very notion of danger. And somehow, by some miracle, you didn’t get hit once. All of those scum were firing at you, and none of them hit you. I even checked my scroll once or twice, and your aura didn’t go down by one bit. You were as proud as a queen that day; you were magnificent. That was when I knew… I knew that you were someone I could follow. Not just a team leader but someone I could follow all my life. Someone I could call my queen, and gladly so.” She hesitated for a moment. “Were you scared that day?”
“I was terrified,” Sunset admitted. “I just… refused to show it. To you, to them.” That was what irked her the most about Salem’s emissary, this Tyrian creature: he had made her show fear; he had broken through an armour that she relied on every bit as much as her semblance. He had scared her, and he knew that he had scared her. 
“You don’t have to pretend, you know,” Laurel said. “It was very inspiring on that day, I won’t deny it, but you can admit it: to me, to Dawny, to Cherry. You can tell us the truth. You don’t need to pretend.”
“What makes you think I’m pretending, Laurel?”
“The fact that you’re denying that we’re in a bit of a pickle right now?” Laurel suggested. “Are you… are you really going to hand that girl over to… that thing?”
Sunset put the history of Crocea Mors back on the shelf where she had got it from. “We don’t have a choice.”
Laurel’s thin brows pinched together to hear that. “I’m… not entirely sure that’s true,” she whispered.
“What should we do instead, Laurel?” Sunset demanded. “Defy him? Go to war for the sake of one girl?”
“I didn’t say that I had any easy answers,” Laurel said. “That’s why it’s called a predicament.”
“The choice before us is not an easy one, you’re right,” Sunset agreed, “but it is obvious.”
“You welcomed her into our community barely hours ago,” Laurel pointed out.
“I know,” Sunset murmured. “But… this is me admitting that I’m scared, Laurel. This is me without my armour on. I’m not standing up in the midst of the bullets here; I’m telling you that I don’t think we can win this.”
“The other Sunset’s magic-”
“Might not be enough; we won’t know until Dawn wakes up, if then,” Sunset interrupted. “Has Dawn woken up?”
Laurel shook her head. “Not yet.”
Sunset walked towards her old friend. “What would you have me do, Laurel? What other choice would you have me make?”
Laurel was silent for a moment. “What is the point of this kingdom if we won’t fight to defend those who join this kingdom voluntarily?”
“What is the point of this kingdom if we lay it on the altar to save one girl who just got here?” Sunset replied.
“I… I don’t know,” Laurel admitted. “But… it might be the sensible choice, but that doesn’t make it easy to swallow.”
“No,” Sunset agreed. “It’s not easy. Not easy at all. Not for me, not for you.” She placed a hand on Cherry’s shoulder. “You know what would be easy? To fight. It would be stirring, it would be grand, it would be inspiring to tell that madman upstairs to go screw himself, to come with all his grimm and have a go if he thinks he can. It would be easy to unveil our standard on the walls, to muster all our Rangers and all the warriors of the clans to arms. It would be so, so easy… and it would end with all of us dead, and all the children too. Is that what you want?”
Laurel looked away. “Of course not.”
“There is no other way, Laurel,” Sunset insisted. “Don’t you think that I would take it if there were? Don’t you think that I would do anything to avoid having to break faith with Sunsprite and her grandfather, don’t you think that I’d rather just refuse to soil my hands with treachery? But this isn’t a fairy tale. This isn’t one of those stories where love and courage triumph, and we aren’t going to hold off the grimm by proclaiming our faith in one another and the power of friendship. The real world, the world that we have to live in, doesn’t work that way. This is our only choice.”
Laurel nodded, although it was a nod rendered slightly limp and clearly reluctant. “I understand, I just-”
“Don’t like it, I know,” Sunset acknowledged. “I don’t like it either, but… this is what it means to rule: we must sometimes make sacrifices, and sometimes, those sacrifices are pieces of our own souls.”
Laurel nodded again, a little surer now. “They… they’re waiting for you, upstairs. I’ve just come from them.”
“And Cherry is watching Tyrian and his acolyte?”
“Yes, with a dozen men.”
“Send half a dozen more up there; better safe than sorry,” Sunset commanded. “Make sure they don’t go anywhere until all of this is taken care of.” She didn’t want them running around Freeport; most especially, she didn’t want them trying to take care of Ruby Rose themselves. Freeport would handle this, and in the handling, it would save itself. 
She patted Laurel on the shoulder. “We are not doing the right thing,” she admitted, “but we are doing the sensible thing. Now, lead the way. Take me to them.”
As she followed Laurel out of the murky library, Sunset was very glad of the mask of gold that hid her face from view. It made her seem stronger, more inviolate. 
It hid the displeasure that she felt in what she had to do. 



The book was glowing. 
Cinder… was having another of the gaps in her memory when it came to that book. She knew what it was, thankfully: it was a magical journal, a conduit to a world named Equestria, where a unicorn named Starlight Glimmer – who had also turned away from a life of villainy, and Cinder could only hope that Starlight still remembered the reasons why that was – had given her some wise counsel. 
But she couldn’t remember where the book had come from, how it had come to end up in her possession. She knew what it was, but she couldn’t remember how she had come to know what it was. 
It was all rather disturbing. So many things that she couldn’t remember. So many things that she couldn’t remember not remembering as though they had simply been ripped from her memory overnight. 
And now, the book was glowing. The brown leather cover, with the two-toned sun of red and gold upon it, was surrounded by a lavender light. 
Cinder wasn’t sure what to do with it. For whatever it is worth, her faculties being in decline as they were, she couldn’t remember seeing it glow before. 
But still, with the way that it was not only glowing but vibrating, she couldn’t very well ignore it.
If nothing else, talking – in a sense – with Starlight Glimmer might take her mind off brooding about the massive amounts of memory that she had lost. 
Cinder sat down, and opened up the book. 
 I’m sorry if I’m bothering you again, but as it’s a lot later in the night – it’s early morning now, I’ve probably woken you up, in fact, I should probably be asleep myself, it’s just that I’m struggling to sleep right now with everything going on, and I’m rambling, I’m sorry. What I wanted to ask was, how did dinner go?
Cinder stared at the words that had appeared on the page, not sure what to make of them. She knew some of what they were referring to, like the fact that there was a portal linking Remnant and Equestria, and that a pony – name as yet unknown – had fallen though it into Remnant; that must be why Twilight was losing sleep, although Cinder wasn’t aware that it had been troubling her so badly the last time that they had… the last time that they had spoken, the only time that they had spoken, had been before they had encountered the Sun Queen and learnt of the portal so then… how did Twilight know about it?
How did Cinder know about it? Who had told her? She didn’t remember that either. She didn’t remember that, and she didn’t remember telling Twilight about it either. How much was she forgetting? What was happening to her mind? What was happening to her?
Cinder found that her breathing was becoming heavier as picked up a pen and began to scratch upon the page. Twilight Sparkle, the questions that I am about to ask you may seem strange, but I wish you to answer honestly regardless.
There was a pause before any response came from Twilight: Cinder?
Yes. Were you expecting someone else?
Well, Sunset is usually the one who writes back.
Cinder frowned. And my first question is: who’s Sunset?
There was another pause, even longer than the first. I’m afraid I don’t really understand the question.
Don’t you? I find it a very simple one.
Are you asking for my opinion, because asking how I feel about your friend
I’m not asking for your opinion, I want to know who you’re talking about!
But you know who I’m talking about, I’m talking about Sunset Shimmer.
And who is that? Do I know her? Should I remember her? I don’t understand, and I feel as though I’m losing my mind.
The pauses seemed to get longer every time that Twilight had to stop to think of something to say. 
In the end, it wasn’t Twilight who replied. It was Starlight, Cinder recognised the very decided change in writing styles. Hey, Cinder. It’s Starlight here, remember me?
Cinder’s lips twitched in spite of the situation. Yes, I do remember you, although you were right to check first. I don’t know what’s happening to me, Starlight.
Is it something that you want to talk about? So far, you’ve just kind of implied that something is wrong.
After you turned good, did you ever suffer from memory loss? Did parts of your life stop making sense to you?
Those are two different questions. I remember everything that I did, even if I couldn’t always, with hindsight, explain to you why I did it.
Do you remember why you turned away from evil? I’m not asking you to tell me, I just want to know that you know.
Yes. I remember.
I don’t. I don’t remember what I’m doing here. I don’t remember why I fought alongside Pyrrha in the vault beneath the school. I don’t remember what brought me here to Freeport. I don’t remember. It feels like holes have been gouged in my memory.
And you don’t remember Sunset Shimmer?
You and Twilight keep using that name as though I ought to know it.
Because you should. She’s the reason why you turned away from darkness, she’s the reason you’re in Freeport, she’s the reason you fought alongside Pyrrha. She’s the reason for everything. How can you not remember her?
How should I know? I don’t remember!
Yeah, of course. Sorry about that. It’s just hard to get my head around, you know. She was the person you were closest to, and now you don’t remember anything?
No, nothing.
How is it that she isn’t jumping up and down demanding that you know her? Is there a girl with red and gold hair anywhere near where you are? Have you seen her? She would be a, what’s the word that you use, when people have animal traits
A faunus?
Yes, a faunus, she would be a pony faunus with a tail and ears. Have you seen her?
No, I haven’t see anyone like that. She sounds quite striking. I’d like to think I’d remember her.
Obviously not, since that’s Sunset Shimmer. Cinder, I haven’t spoken to Twilight about this to confirm it yet, but I think you may be in danger.
I was afraid you’d say that, but I can’t argue that you’re wrong.
 If it was just a matter of you being made to forget Sunset, that would be one thing, but the fact that she’s not anywhere around. I don’t believe that she would abandon you, which means
That someone important to me is being held against her will. Thank you, Starlight, you’ve made so many things very clear to me.
I have?
Yes. For the first time in a while, I know what I need to do.
Which is?
I’m going to be Cinder Fall, obviously.
Cinder shut the book. Her mind felt clearer now. The holes in her memory remained, to the extent that it seemed more holes than not, but nevertheless, though she did not remember, she felt as though she understood. Someone called Sunset Shimmer had saved her. Someone called Sunset Shimmer had led her out of darkness and into the light. And then someone had kidnapped her – or killed her, perhaps – and ripped the memories of her out of the mind of Cinder, and of her companions too; it was the only explanation as to why none of them had the answers that Starlight had possessed. 
Whoever did this – and I’ve got a pretty good idea as to who it was – they didn’t erase the memories of those in Equestria, either because they didn’t know about them or because they can’t. Starlight and Twilight are in another world, after all; a semblance can only stretch so far.
Cinder didn’t remember Sunset Shimmer, not one bit, but that didn’t change the fact that she was the reason that Cinder was here, and now, she needed Cinder. 
Cinder had felt off for some time now. She had felt out of sorts, out of place; that, she remembered perfectly well. She had been uncertain of her course, of her place in the world, of her purpose. She had turned her back upon the destiny that she had chosen, the power that she had sought after, and found herself asking what was next.
She had found herself asking who she was. 
Now, she had an answer of sorts. 
She was Cinder Fall, the baddest of bitches, and she was going to show these clowns what a folly it was to trespass against her. 
Cinder stalked out of her room, leaving the magical journal behind as she ventured up one level to where Roman Torchwick was quartered. 
She pounded upon his door.
“Yeah, yeah, okay, I hear ya,” Roman grumbled as he slid open the door. “Cinder? What time is it?”
“Do you trust me, Roman?” Cinder asked.
Roman blinked, bleary eyed. “Cinder, what the hell is-?”
“Do you trust me?” Cinder demanded.
“Sheesh, calm down,” Roman muttered, raising one hand. “I… no, I don’t trust you, and I never did. Sorry.” He shrugged. “You still scare the crap out of me a little, if that helps.”
“And you still combine honesty with a genius for self-preservation,” Cinder declared. “That’s why I knew that I could always count on you, even if you are as slippery a weasel as ever drew breath.”
Roman tipped an imaginary hat. “Well, thank you kindly, ma’am.”
Cinder rolled her eyes. “Our good hosts are not to be trusted. If I’m not back in our hour, I want you to get everyone – especially Ruby – out of the city by any means necessary.”
Roman frowned. “You’re not making a whole lot of sense here-”
“Aren’t I?” Cinder said. “Do you find it impossible to believe that the people here have ill intentions towards us?”
Roman was silent for a moment. “No,” he admitted. “Not for a second.”
“Then do as I say,” Cinder said. “Do as I… ask.”
“And then what?” Roman demanded. “Once we’re out, what then?”
“That will be for Cardin and Ruby to decide.”
“Why don’t you just tell them to get us all out?”
“Because you’re the one who always survives,” Cinder replied. “You’re the one… that I trust.”
Roman was silent. It seemed, from the blank look on his face and the widening of his eyes that he tried to conceal, that he didn’t know how to respond to that. “What about you?”
“Don’t worry about me; if I’m not back, I’ll most likely be dead,” Cinder said. She turned away. “Good luck, Roman. Keep them safe.”
“Where are you going?” Roman called after her as she walked away.
“I’ve got some hunting to do.”



“Thank you both for joining us,” Sunset said as she walked into the throne room, having exchanged places with Laurel so that she entered first, and her companion after. Despite the lateness of the hour – or the earliness of the morning now; the light of dawn was beginning to creep in through the windows – her guards, the ones with spears and the ones with guns, still maintained their positions along the walls and at the back of the room. 
Laurel stood beside her as Sunset settled herself upon her throne, smoothing out the folds of her royal robes, and through the slits in her mask, studied the two in front of her. 
Sunsprite Rose knelt in the centre of the throne room, head bowed, her yellow cloak pooling a little on the floor behind her. 
Ember of the Summer Fire Clan did not bow; though she had acknowledged the authority of the Sun Queen, she did not forget that she herself was the lord of a fell people, the mistress of a clan, a font of power and authority in her own right. Sunset did not insist upon genuflection; it would have cost her more than she would have gained by it to have humiliated one of her vassals thus. 
Perhaps, when Ember died, her successor could be persuaded to bend the knee, being in a weak and unsure position as they would be, but that was for the future. 
Who knew, Sunset might predecease Ember, though she hoped not. 
She had yet to make any arrangements for her succession; that was something that she would have to do if she wished for Freeport to survive and thrive, if she wished for her own rule to be less transient than all those forgotten lords whose deeds were recorded in the archives below. 
But all of that was a long way off now, if fate was kind to her; what mattered now was the immediate threat to her kingdom and her rule: Tyrian Callows and the need to appease him with a blood offering. 
“Thank you both for coming at such an inconvenient hour,” Sunset said, adopting the royal voice, which had a slightly deeper timbre than she was ordinarily wont to use. It was one of the ways in which she kept the identities of the Sun Queen and Vesper Radiance separate. “I apologise if I woke you.”
“I am your loyal servant, my Queen,” Sunsprite declared. “You may summon me at any time, night or day.”
“Speaking for myself, I thought that it might be important for you to ask me to come over here at a time like this,” Ember said. “It makes me curious… and a little nervous.”
“I fear that you are right to be nervous, Lady Ember,” Sunset replied, “for I must tell you both that Freeport – and all who shelter within its walls – stand in grave peril.”
“In peril?” Ember repeated. “What’s going on? Are the grimm close by? Then why are you only telling us this and not the chiefs of the other clans? You need to sound the alarm and-”
“Peace!” Sunset said sharply, raising one hand to stay the flow of words from out of her mouth. “Peace,” she repeated, more calmly now, as she saw the scowl on Ember’s face. “If an attack were so imminent, then all would be done, as you say, to defend the city. However, we have a chance to avert an assault upon our defences, to defeat the grimm, as it were, without giving battle.”
Ember frowned. “Is this… do you mean the same way that the grimm were defeated at King’s Camp, when the Frost Mountain Clan were saved by a miracle?”
“Miraculous indeed,” Sunsprite said. “I was there, and yet I cannot recall how we were saved.”
“One cannot always count on miracles, not even when one is in direst need,” Sunset said quickly. “Rather, it is a darker means of salvation upon which we must depend now. Ember, you travelled with Ruby Rose and her companions for a little while upon the road to Freeport; did they tell you aught of the true nature of this threat we face?”
“No,” Ember replied. “What true threat?”
“Is the eye of Salem turned towards us?” Sunsprite said, a shiver in her voice.
“It is even so,” Sunset answered, her tone solemn and touched by melancholy. “A messenger has come from her this very night.”
“A messenger from who?” Ember demanded. “Who is Salem, what has she to do with the grimm, and what business has she in our land?”
“Salem is the mistress of the grimm,” Sunset said flatly. “It seems they are not the mere horde of savage beasts we have believed these many years.”
Ember’s mouth hung open. “The grimm… the grimm have a mistress?”
“A queen, one might say,” Sunset said, “and she has found our hidden kingdom. Fortunately, she is not bent upon our destruction. Her envoy has guaranteed that we will be left in peace, provided…”
“My Queen?” Sunsprite asked.
“The fact that you’re so reluctant to say it makes me think we’re not going to like this,” Ember muttered.
“I am sorry, Sunsprite,” Sunset said, “but Ruby’s life is the price of our salvation.”
Sunsprite’s head snapped up; her one remaining silver eye was wide with shock. “No!”
“It is greatly to be regretted,” Sunset admitted, “but-”
“Please, my Queen!” Sunsprite cried. “She is my cousin! She is my grandfather’s granddaughter, not merely as I am but the last fruit of Summer Rose, the daughter he loved best. This… this will break his heart. It will kill him.”
“Need he know?” Sunset asked. “Tell him that she changed her mind and crossed the sea to complete her mission and have many adventures there.”
Sunsprite stared at her, her silver eye shining. “You would have me lie to my grandfather.”
“Some lies are love,” Sunset declared, “especially when one lies to an old, sick man who has not long to live. Let him die believing the best… until he may see his beloved granddaughter again.”
Sunsprite’s head descended, her gaze falling to the floor. “I could lie to my grandfather, my Queen, but I cannot lie to myself. I would know the truth, and the truth… she is a sweet girl, and brave, the very model of a Silver-Eyed Warrior. She has the magic-”
“Magic which she cannot use at will,” Sunset reminded her. “We cannot depend on it for our defence, not in this dark hour.”
“She is kin to me!” Sunsprite cried.
“Which is why I have summoned you here, to break this ill news to you in person,” Sunset said. “I take no joy in this. Had I another way, I would take it, but… I see none.”
“She is your guest,” Ember declared. “You have taken her under your protection. That is not something that you can withdraw the moment it becomes inconvenient.”
“What would you have me do?” Sunset demanded. “This is not a battle we can win.”
“How can you know that when the enemy is not even on the field?” Ember asked.
“I will not risk the safety of my kingdom for a single child!” Sunset yelled, rising to her feet and striding to the edge of the dais. She took a deep breath. “I have felt the strength of our enemy. I have… felt their touch upon their skin. Vale, our sister kingdom beyond the mountains, was ravaged by this power, though it was well entrenched and ancient, though the might of Atlas and the valour of Mistral joined in its defence, and what have we compared to that? The strength of clans that came here fleeing before the grimm? My Rangers? And even if we could prevail, at what cost? How many must die for Ruby Rose? Would you really allow your clan to suffer for the sake of one person?”
“If the clan does not protect all who are a part of the clan, then the clan is nothing,” Ember replied. “If an envoy of our enemy demanded Smolder’s life, then all the spears of Summer Fire would be levelled to protect her-”
“Even though they knew the Summer Fire would be snuffed out in consequence?”
“Even then,” Ember declared. “That is what it means to be a clan, bonded in blood.”
Sunset snorted. “All for one and one for all,” she murmured. “A noble sentiment, but a foolish one. And besides, Ruby Rose is not a part of your clan.”
“She is my kin,” Sunsprite said.
“I ask you to be more sensible than Ember,” Sunset said as she descended from the dais and stood over Sunsprite, casting a shadow over her silver-eyed warrior. She knelt before her, putting the two of them at a height, and reached out to tilt up Sunsprite’s chin so that her most skilled captain looked on her. “I ask you to put the good of our city over your own heart. Answer me this, Sunsprite Rose, is what we are building here not worthwhile?”
Sunsprite was silent for a moment. She whispered something so softly that Sunset could not hear it.
“Speak up,” Sunset urged.
“It is, my Queen,” Sunsprite murmured.
“Why?” Sunset asked. “Why is it worthwhile?”
Sunsprite shivered. “You… you are making safe the land.”
“Yes!” Sunset cried. “Yes, I am. That is what consumes my every thought, that is what drives my every action; my mind is bent upon security. For you, for the Summer Fire Clan, for all the clans, for Freeport and all who dwell here. I hope you do not think so ill of me that I would propose this course if our safety did not prompt me to it.”
“Of course not, my Queen.”
“Then look beyond your love for your family and answer me this,” Sunset said. “Is it right that many should suffer for the sake of one, or a few?”
Sunsprite did not reply.
“I must have your answer,” Sunset insisted.
Sunsprite closed her eyes. “No,” she whispered.
“No,” Sunset repeated. “No, it is not. And that being so, you know what must be done, don’t you?”
Sunspirte nodded, though her expression was twisted with pain. 
Sunset put both hands upon Sunsprite’s face, squeezing her cheeks. “Thank you, Sunsprite,” she said. “Your loyalty is constant as the north star, a fact which comforts me more than you can know.”
“Why am I here?” Ember demanded. “You didn’t need to tell me this, and you did not summon me to ask my counsel.”
Sunset rose to her feet. “I asked you here because I need your help. Ruby’s companions need not die, but I fear that they may cause difficulties to… they may try to enlist the aid of the Frost Mountain Clan.”
Ember’s eyes narrowed. “I will not fight against Frost Mountain.”
“Nor do I ask you to,” Sunset added quickly. “I hope that merely the threat of your strength, aligned with mine, will make Prince Rutherford think twice before he does anything hasty; combined, perhaps, with some words of wisdom from you.”
“Speak to him yourself; I don’t like this one bit,” Ember muttered.
“But you understand, don’t you?” Sunset asked. “Why it must be done?”
Ember’s response was stolen away, drowned out by the sudden swell of loud noise echoing up from below. 
The sound of gunfire.