‘Oh crud, are these the bad guys of the adventure?’ Daring thought to herself as she shared in Aorta’s confusion.
Sanguine dismissed Aorta’s worry, “Oh relax, it’s just a minor case of demonic possession.”
Daring piped up, “Does this happen… often?”
Sanguine shook her head, “Oh goodness no, not in living memory. Or most of dead memory, for that matter.”
Aorta’s short-circuited mind reset itself after a few tries, “You are planning on having the King be possessed?! Wh… What?!”
The doors opened and two tuxedo-wearing thestrals entered, carrying trays on their backs. One carried a bottle of red wine under a curled wing. When they approached the table, they unloaded the plates that the trays held, and placed the bottle as well as two wine glasses next to the Elder.
Sanguine uncorked the bottle of wine, “Ah, Here we are. Do tell me what you think of the meal. It’s so rare that we can entertain guests, let alone those capable of enjoying our cuisine.”
Aorta’s muzzle twitched, “Now, Elder Sanguine, I’m trying to remain as calm as I can possibly be, so forgive my bluntness; what the fuck did you mean when you said you are going to let King Phasma be possessed?! Do you have any idea what we just went through to make sure that didn’t happen?!”
Daring just looked between the two as they talked, not wanting to butt into the conversation too much. Not while it was getting her the answers she wanted, at least.
Sanguine poured two glasses and chuckled, “Not the faintest clue, no. But we have all night to speak, as I’m certain you won’t be able to rest while you believe the life of your king is in danger. So, do share.”
“You just said you were going to have him possessed! That’s not a belief that he’s in danger, it’s a fact!” Aorta yelled while standing up and pushing himself away from the table.
Sanguine merely placed a filled wine glass next to Aorta and spoke quietly and calmly, “I assure you that your monarch is in good hooves. We can help him far better than anypony else alive, you know. Besides, we gave our assurances to the Night Mistress that we would save him. We have not broken faith before, and we never shall.”
‘Again with this Night Mistress? Come on Aorta, tell me who she is…’
Aorta nearly growled as his features pulled back into a snarl, “Never? Just where were you when the alliance was forged between King Phasma and Nightmare Moon?”
Sanguine’s features had tightened into a controlled neutral expression.
‘Right on schedule! So, the Night Mistress was Nightmare Moon. An obvious choice, in hindsight–’
“Our seers did not receive visions for quite some time. The prophecies were ambiguous. We were blind, deaf, and without guidance. By the time we realized that we were being called upon, we rushed to the Night Mistress’s aid. But the war had moved on by then, and the only thing we could do was cover up the fact that we had mobilized for war. Now we stand at the Night Mistress’s beck and call, ready to make up for our failure. From what has been passed to me, she is rather happy with our lack of response. A miracle which we have not earned, and are eager to make up for. The Night Mistress was not clear on just what King Phasma was to her, but they must be somepony important to make Princess Luna panic like that.”
“Princess Luna?”
Aorta and Sanguine turned to face Daring Do.
‘Oh. I said that out loud...’
“What does King Phasma have to do with Princess Luna?” Daring pressed further. There was no point in trying to take back her question. It was better to press forward.
Sanguine looked angry for a split second before she turned her gaze towards Aorta, “I was hoping to learn that myself.”
‘Huh? Wait, is the Night Mistress Nightmare Moon, or is it Princess Luna? Now I’m confused.’
Daring decided to voice her question out loud, “Is–”
“Don’t think you can slip the possession thing by me that easily, Elder Sanguine,” Aorta spoke in a deep voice.
‘Damn it, changeling! I’m trying to do some detective work here!’
“My dear Aorta, as I said, this is our chance to prove to the Night Mistress that we are willing to help. This is our chance to redeem our sins. We will not mess this up.”
Daring grimaced, “You shouldn’t have said that.”
Aorta attempted to rein in his anger, “Sanguine. We had risked a lot to escape the clutches of the Nightmares. Rushing right back into their fangs is the last thing we want to do right now. I need to know that the King will be alright. You’re not doing a good job of convincing me of that.”
“The ritual chamber is completely sealed. The four wisest Elders are tending to him as we speak. Centuries of knowledge, decades of experience and training, and the finest quality artifacts and materials that can be acquired are all dedicated to saving the young King Phasma’s life. There is no chance that he will die tonight. There’s plenty chance of you wishing he died tonight, but that simply won’t happen. We will not allow it. Even if we have to resort to the most drastic measures, the King will survive this ordeal. It was ordered by the Princess, so it shall be carried out.”
“As it is woven,” Aorta mumbled to himself, but loud enough for Daring to catch.
“Now please, enjoy your meal before it gets cold, I would hate to ask the chefs to prepare another dish,” Sanguine said as she started to help herself to her own food.
Daring leaned away as Sanguine ate meat.
'... If the Night Mistress is Nightmare Moon, then that means the changelings are in league with monsters that could try to destroy the world, or whatever. If the Night Mistress is Princess Luna, then... King Phasma– why is he a King and not a prince?– might have been telling the truth about Division-P... I need more information. I need answers.'
Scrunching her nose and swallowing her disgust, she was about to try to start a new line of conversation about the Night Mistress when Aorta suddenly froze.
“Completely sealed?”
Sanguine swallowed before speaking, “What was that?”
“You said the chamber was completely sealed?”
“It is.”
“Then why can I still feel the Weave? Why am I still connected to the King?”
‘Feel the what-now?’
Sanguine’s wings slowly stretched out.
“Connected?” She asked. “You are connected? The chamber is unsealed?! Oh stars, we have to tell the Elders to fix that open connection! How are you connected?”
“Through the Weave!”
“What’s the Weave?” Sanguine and Daring asked at the same time.
Aorta’s wings began to buzz and he lifted out of his chair.
“The hivemind! It was probably how the Nightmares spread back in the Third Hive! We– we have to get out of here, now! Get the other changelings out of the King’s Weave, before it’s too late!”
‘Hive–?’
Aorta shot towards the doors, the guards reacting only just barely in time to open it ahead of him.
“... Not sticking around to see his kin evacuated, huh?” Daring wondered out loud.
Sanguine yelled to the guards by the door, “Alert our new guests! Tell them to get out of this ‘Weave’ at once!”
The guards saluted then practically vanished in a blur as they shot through the doors. Sanguine then got up and made for the door in a dash that was nearly as fast as Aorta’s sudden escape.
“Hey! Where are you going!” Daring yelled as she stumbled away from the table and after the thestral.
“I have to warn the other Elders! Stay here, pegasus!” Sanguine called out over her shoulder, not even stopping for a second.
“Not a chance!” Daring yelled as she followed Elder Sanguine out the doors. Her heart rate was skyrocketing again. Panic was more infectious than most diseases, and just as deadly at times. Daring breathed deeply as she beat her wings to take off from the ground and keep up with the blur of a thestral ahead.
‘I knew she shouldn’t have jinxed it!’
Web and the Elders were no longer alone in the room. He could tell, though he dare not look away to check. The witches had warned him not to, but even without the warning he would have been too terrified to look anyways.
He squinted and tried to focus as much as he could on the silhouetted figures in front of him, as well as his armored King on the stone slab. Web tried as best as he could to ignore the things standing around him, gently tapping on his pegasus-disguise. Like knives on a chalkboard, they practically reached through him to tap on his insides. Web shivered involuntarily as one felt like it touched his very mind
Web fought to remain focused on the candles. There was a small group of five, sitting at the base of the altar. King Phasma’s tail fin was draped over the edge, and the smoke from the candle wafted up and brushed against the fin. It parted like waves of water against a share.
Web stared at the candles, the smoke, and the fin for what felt like hours. He was prodded for what had to be lifetimes. Then the thestrals suddenly quieted, and at last the unwelcome sensations ceased.
Elder Mind cleared the silence, “Sisters, the rites have been consecrated. Let us begin our work.”
‘Begin? What do you mean, begin?!’
Web held his tongue, too afraid to break whatever concentration they were holding. Elder Blood retrieved a vial of red substance, Elder Bone brought forth a mechanical device that looked more like a sextant than anything that would be found in an operating room, Elder Soul placed a brown pot smudged with black paint on the table next to the King’s head, and Elder Mind flipped open an oversized tome on top of a lectern. In the dim candle light, Web could see various ribbons of paper and cloth fluttering down from the thick book like… Well, Web didn’t know of anything that he could compare it to.
Elder Soul opened the pot and began smearing a white chalk on the royal’s face. Elder Blood hoofed over the vial to Elder Bone who placed it within her device, and placed it on the King’s withers, right above where it heart was.
Elder Mind began to recite from her book. As she hummed the words, the metal spiral on her head began to grow dimmer and dimmer, as if absence of light was collecting within the metal’s confines.
“Thrice, with mercury I purify and spit upon the twelve tables…”
Elder Mind then made a spitting motion to her right and then her left. The prodding then returned, ten times as strong as it once was. Web felt a four-clawed appendage reach through him from behind. As if that wasn’t enough, Web began to hear whispers. They were quiet, just barely audible above the pony’s chanting and reciting.
Web couldn’t make out the words. He didn’t try to, either. Some things were best left to the imagination, as counterproductive as that sounded.
The ritual only got more elaborate from there. Web went back to trying to focus on the candles near King Phasma’s tail, but was distracted by something else behind him. The black metal doors behind him had shut themselves at some point. Web thought back and tried to remember where the other three ponies he had entered with had gone to, but he couldn’t quite remember. As he stared at the candles, Web heard a peculiar set of noises coming from behind him. Remembering the witch’s words, he ignored them.
A breeze started to flow past him, whisking candle smoke towards the lowered section in front of him. The awful feeling of being poked and prodded receded and as the breeze grew into a quiet wind. The smoke in the room was pulled up above the ritual, twisting into an upside down cyclone above them as it was sucked into the hole at the top of the room.
The noises grew louder. It was someone shouting. Web was shaken by an intense feeling of sickness. He dry heaved as a wave of nausea literally went through him. The voice grew louder. Distracted, he unconsciously focused on the voice to make out its strange, distorted words…
“Stop the ritual! The chamber isn’t fully sealed!”
The voice, which bounced between high and low pitches, was accompanied by a soft banging on the metal doors behind Web. Curiosity killed the cat, and Web turned to look at the doors. There were no candles behind him, or any in his field of view anymore. The world had already faded to black before this, but now almost nothing was visible. There was only one single thing Web could see anymore.
Just the door.
It had slowly swung ajar on a loud, creaking hinge. Web saw black smoke slowly creep out from underneath and between the two metal vertical slabs. As he continued to stare, the doors swung backwards more, the black fog turning maroon, then blood red.
“Stop! The! Ritual! C’mon, open, you rusty piece of…!”
The creaking grew louder and louder as the red fog turned brighter and brighter.
Web was confused. Web was scared. Web had no idea what was happening anymore. There was no possible frame of reference for what was going on, what he was seeing, or what he was hearing.
He saw something snake out from between the doors, something beyond description. It made him shiver at the sight, but he dared not look away. It was too late for that.
‘I have to protect the King! I have to protect the King!’
Web’s orders rang through his mind as all other thoughts cleared away. A voice from behind him nearly swept him off its hooves. However, the voice was calm, collected, and assuring.
“Shut the door.”
Shut the door.
‘Shut the door.’
Web grunted with effort as he obeyed his King. The metal door screamed in protest while Web sealed the doors shut in his black magic grip.
Just before it went out, Web had made out a mural on the backs of the doors. They were painted in beautiful vibrant colors as well as being carved right into the door. The mural on the left door was a male thestral in a blood red suit, a similar shade of crimson dripping from his fangs. The door on the right was a female alicorn with fur as black as night, wearing a blue armor that gave her an almost purple tinge. Her fangs dripped a black liquid.
‘Was that always there?’ Web asked himself as the red light from the door was extinguished. The sound faded away, and Web was left in a sea of black. No sound. No sight. Alone.
At least the voices gave him company.