//------------------------------// // 655 - Darkest Night // Story: Lateral Movement // by Alzrius //------------------------------// The sky was featureless in its blackness, shrouding everything in a canopy that had neither a sun nor stars to brighten its eternal gloom. But while the realm itself had no natural light, there was still illumination to be found throughout. Across, above, and even beneath the land, an observer would have beheld pinpoints of radiance, as though the absent stars had fled the sky to take up residence below it instead. Even these, however, were transient more often than not, with the majority blinking into existence for only a short while before vanishing from sight. Investigating what had become of those temporary lights would have ended poorly for most, as they were utilized for a variety of purposes that were to the bane of any whose curiosity outweighed their caution. Among the briefest were those lights furnished by the desperate or the foolish. Wayward travelers who had arrived in the region by accident, new arrivals who weren’t sufficiently prepared, or those who had overestimated their own ability to cope with the everlasting night, they were beacons to those who dwelt in the blackness. In such cases, predators were never far behind, eager to take advantage of such easy prey. In other cases, the lights were prepared precisely to draw in those same predators. When they went to investigate what was expected to be an easy meal, those hunters would instead find themselves becoming the hunted, realizing too late that they had been lured in by predators that were stronger, craftier, or otherwise deadlier than themselves. Sometimes the brightness was a weapon in and of itself, bursts of illumination designed to blind the unwary, giving their enemies a momentary advantage. Other times, the flashes were simply a byproduct of another form of attack, as bursts of flame or blasts of lightning lit up the area, damaging sensitive eyes along with the flesh of their victims. Least common were the lights that put out a sustained glow, shining steadily against the omnipresent gloom. In almost all cases, these were the hallmarks of those who’d carved out their own territories, their power – whether wielded by them personally, or administered via subordinates who carried out the will of their masters – sufficient to withstand the negative attention such prolonged illumination invariably invited. Such places boasted the largest populations, as there were many who found bowing down before the lords of such fiefdoms to be preferable to forging their own path through the perpetual gloom that covered the remainder of the realm…though nearly all of those who kneeled did so with a silent vow that one day, they would be the one who made others bow before them. But for all those who dwelt in that realm, whether they avoided the scattered lights or sought them out, there was one area that they all regarded with fear. In that location, the darkness was more than just an absence of light; it was the very antithesis of it, giving off a murky cast so opaque that – even at a distance – it was visible against the surrounding gloom. And indeed, “at a distance” was how most of denizens regarded that blackest of places: the moon which hovered overhead. But the darkness of that umbral orb wasn’t the real reason that the dwellers of that realm regarded it with a mixture of awe and terror. Rather, it was because that moon was the lair of the one who ruled over all of those lightless lands. And none dared look up at it for long, unable to bear the thought that its ruler might be looking back at them from that benighted place. For this was the realm that those scholars and sages who mapped the planes of existence knew as Darkest Night, the home of the Night Mare. But had there been any with the courage to approach goddess’s abode – as well as the power and skill necessary to do so uninvited, for the black moon which constituted the heart of the domain was far from undefended – and reach the innermost portion of her court, they would have found themselves privy to a most fascinating discussion indeed… “That upstart must be repudiated!” The voice, delivered in an electronic crackle that would have pained a mortal’s ears, was accompanied by the sound of metal striking stone as the speaker brought their hoof down. “Lex Legis has gone too far this time! His actions have imperiled us all, and so he must be disavowed before we’re all made to suffer the consequences of his foolishness!” The outburst brought a derisive chuckle from another resident of the great hall, who slunk forward a moment later. “I must say, I find Steel Soul’s confidence inspiring,” announced a resplendently-dressed stallion, raising one batlike wing to brush his mane back as he flashed a fang-filled grin; like all members of the Night Mare’s inner circle, the supernatural darkness impaired him not in the least. “After failing so badly to convert the clockwork ponies to Our Dark Lady’s worship, anyone else would be inclined to second-guess their judgment. Truly, our mechanical comrade is made of…sterner stuff.” Although Steel Soul’s metallic face was incapable of displaying anger, the soft hum of attack systems powering up made his anger clear as he took a threatening step toward the bat-winged pony. “The interference of that paladin was only a temporary setback, you bloodsucking corpse! My plans for forcibly upgrading the clockwork ponies to new psibernetic bodies like my own-” Are irrelevant right now. The heavy steel shield that swooped down from above made the other two flinch, as much from the tone in its mental voice as from the harsh clang that resounded as it reached the ground. While Sanguine Disposition’s rebuke is not misplaced, Steel Soul isn’t wrong. Lex Legis’ status as the Night Mistress’s champion means that Perdition might seek to indict Her for his forcibly voiding their infernal contracts. If that happens, it could be the first step toward open hostility between our pantheon and the devils. “You see? Bulwark understands,” laughed Steel Soul, his artificial voice filled with spiteful glee before glancing upward. “I hope the rest of the Umbral Regalia do as well.” Above them, the collection of sentient weapons, armor, and other tools that were the Night Mare’s closest advisors hovered in place, broadcasting their thoughts aloud. No gods have ever recognized the validity of Hell’s infernal contracts, came the sneering voice of Headhunter, a double-headed greataxe. If they issue some sort of indemnity, we’re under no impetus to honor it. Which is why they’d do so, you unsubtle oaf, hissed Incision, a small dagger. If Hell claims we’ve wronged them, and we refuse their overtures to resolve the matter, they’ll have justification for escalating things. If we’re made to appear in the wrong, then it will be that much harder to muster our allies! We can’t win a war with the devils, murmured Bastion, a suit of full-plate armor. Its comment was enough to make the others quiet down for a moment, recognizing one of the greatest of their number, who was in charge of security for the entire realm. Even if we brought the might of the rest of the pantheon to bear, our only viable strategy would be to make it clear that a victory for Hell would be costly enough that it would be more trouble than it was worth for them to prosecute such an undertaking. Bulwark levitated back up to join its brethren then. After what happened with the elves, we would be hard-pressed to make such a demonstration. That was enough to earn a grunt of annoyance from the one in the center of the hall, bringing all other activity to a halt. “I’ve heard enough,” announced the Night Mare, rising from the high-backed throne in the center of the hall. “The devils are parasites, and my champion put an end to one of their efforts to steal the souls of the mortal ponies whose worship I desire. I will not break faith with him over that.” There is a basis for saying that he broke faith with you first, if you should desire it. The rumbling chuckle that came from the Night Mare’s lip then was enough to make everyone cower. “Severance,” she sneered. “Still upset over how my champion threw you away?” Lex Legis has exceeded the authority of the divine mandate you graced him with, continued the scythe. You granted him the power to bind eldritch beasts, but not beyond death. By merging his magic with the fragment of divinity you lent him, he has tied the soul of that winter wolf to his own. Even if she dies, he is her only afterlife now. That’s as much a violation of the divine prerogative as Hell’s infernal contracts. “Irrelevant,” snorted the Night Mare, her tone bemused. “The so-called utvalgte have no gods of their own, just a few greater spirits for whom their reverence barely crosses over into genuine worship. Besides, should my champion die while still bound to her, that winter wolf’s soul will follow him to me, so I lose nothing either way.” Crossing the chamber, she didn’t raise her head as she addressed the rest of the Umbral Regalia floating above her. “As for the devils, if they bother to send any sort of formal complaint over losing a paltry few souls, remind them that we have a peace accord with the elven gods now,” she spat, her words taking on a harsher edge. “If our pantheon has to live with that humiliation, we might as well make it work for us, since the elves hate the devils on principle. The idea of Perdition carving out a place in this world is one they won’t tolerate, and the devils know it.” That might be enough to ward them off, but they won’t be happy about it, warned Bastion, floating downward to stand at the side of the now-vacant throne. The accord reached by the virtuous powers might be enough to keep them from openly making a move on Equestria, but if they send some of their subtler operatives to disrupt your fledgling church there, it could make growing that sect difficult. “I’m aware,” snorted the goddess. “So after they finish their blustering, make a deal for a few of the lesser Regalia to aid them in their next sortie against the demons. That should be enough for them to save face.” The Night Mare continued toward the exit, apparently satisfied that the matter was dealt with, only belated adding one more instruction. “And make sure that they formally agree to drop any animosity toward my champion as part of the arrangement,” she called back. “Now that he’s finally beginning to avail himself of his latent potential, I don’t need them distracting him over some petty vendetta.” Bastion gave a bow at that. As you wish. But there was one among the Umbral Regalia who was dissatisfied with that. You’re extending him leniency, noted Severance. He’s already served his purpose, setting up your church in that other world. Why are you showing him so much favor now? The question was enough to stop the Night Mare in her tracks, and when she looked back at the scythe, her expression was dangerous. “If I’m showing leniency,” she answered coldly, “it’s to you, for daring to question my judgment.” Turning around, she stalked toward the weapon, which froze in mid-air, as though realizing that it had gone too far. “Perhaps I should rectify that mistake right now,” mused the goddess darkly. Severance immediately prostrated itself, falling to the floor with a loud clatter as it impacted the stonework. The mistake was mine, it admitted hurriedly. I have no excuse. “Indeed,” replied the Night Mare flatly, before raising a hoof and bringing it down sharply. The tortured scream that filled the hall then was as much from the twisting of metal as it was from Severance’s psychic cry of agony. “In fact, I’ve noticed that you've had little excuse for several of your failures lately. Your inability to turn that Equestrian mare I initially gifted you to, Applejack, toward my worship was one. Then you strained your relationship with my champion to the point where he saw fit to request your banishment was another. And now you think to imply that even my reasoning is flawed.” With each notation, she brought her hoof down again, deforming Severance’s shape further. “I should leave you like this, for how poorly you’ve served me lately,” she continued, looking down at the twisted wreck of metal that Severance had become. “But that would be a waste. Instead, after you’ve completed the long and painful process of repairing yourself, I want you to be the one who goes to help the devils slay their demonic foes after Bastion closes a deal with them. At least then you’ll be doing something useful, and more importantly, you’ll be out of my sight.” Finally removing her hoof from Severance and turning back toward her original destination, the Night Mare kept speaking as she left. “And while you're serving alongside Perdition’s forces,” added the Night Mare, “I want you to pay attention to anything you might overhear them say with regard to my champion. I doubt they’d let anything slip in front of one of my own weapons, but if they do, you’ll report it to me immediately.” …I…understand… “Good. Because unlike you, my champion has my favor right now, something which I fully expect him to continue to do…” Disappearing into the darkness, the goddess’s last words lingered in the air behind her. “…so long as he stays away from Iliana.”