Into the Storm: The Flight of Firefly

by Firesight

Second Offensive: 11 - Bleeding Earth, Part 2/2

Greetings again to all readers of this tale, from Queen Scylla Lepidoptes IV. I compile this entry from my personal quarters in our Hive’s new underground home; one we only established several years after the war ended. And only once our Imperial pursuers were no more, which was not for some time even with the Empire’s fall. We had to wait until ‘twas safe for us to settle down again, continuing to live the same nomadic existence we had during the conflict for many long moons after the war.

Our new location remains secret, of course, though ‘tis my intention to bring Princess Celestia here to see it one day, as repayment for not just my visit to Equestria but for all the love and friendship she showed us.

‘Twas love I was then able to share with my entire Hive, which is now as hale and happy as I have ever seen. ‘Tis perchance little known that we feed not just on physical love, but the emotional kind as well; the adoration and respect that not just the Princess but all Equestria showed us was as nourishing to my beloved Changelings as a thousand physical encounters and will sustain us for many months to come.

Of course, a state visit of a foreign royal would be yet another first for our kind, and ‘tis certain it causes no end of fretting for my civilian and military advisors to even consider such a thing. But by my order, ‘tis a visit that will happen at an uncertain time in the future.

I look forward to seeing the Princess again to renew our friendship. Mayhap ‘twill also allow her another chance to defeat me in our board game of Chameleon, at which she showed great improvement over the course of our stay in Equestria. Not just her, either—I do believe that Prince Blueblood seeks his own rematch with my security chief, who he bested in a blade duel but was unable to do so over a piece-filled board.

Not all is well, of course. ‘Tis rarely the case for our race, which is always under scrutiny as we hide in plain sight. We are used to being treated with suspicion or even outright persecuted, even now so long after the war. Perchance ‘tis something we have in common with the Nightborne, who we have found to be a particularly potent source of love over the years.

But I will not dwell on that now. What follows will detail the latter half of what our Hive would later call the ‘Exodus battle’. But before I begin this entry, I must thank you again, Captain Firefly, for allowing us a say in this story. I would also extend my sincerest apologies for not getting to see much of you during my previous visit to Equestria, but I understood you were otherwise occupied with familial matters.

As a mother, I know well the pain you feel in seeing your offspring depart, not knowing when or even if you will ever see them again. If 'twould ease your worries, be assured that we are watching over your son and daughter from afar much as we do your herd. With regards to Firehawk, we will be more than happy to give you updates on her location and activities if you wish as she continues her journey to the Cheetahean peninsula.

I thank you for the offer, Queen Lepidoptes, and though tempted, ‘tis certain my daughter would be less than pleased to learn that I am spying on her from afar. ‘Tis also possible that potential enemies would eavesdrop on such communications in order to ambush her in transit, so I will decline. 

I simply request that you only inform me should something serious arise, and otherwise take pains to not interfere in her affairs. She wishes to forge her own path out of my shadow, and though ‘tis unquestionably hard for me to do so, I will respect her wish.

Having had your words conveyed to me mentally by Lycovenato, I will amend my introduction slightly to simply say that I will do as you wish, Captain. For now, however, ‘tis time to return to our own perspective on the events of the war, and I thus pass the pen back to my former military commander, without whom none of us would be here today.

Thank you, My Queen. ‘Tis Rachnia Silkweave speaking again. ‘Tis an occasion that I would have much preferred to pass the quill to Commander Borer so she could tell her side of the battle, but sadly, she is no longer with us, and no Silencer who survived that awful day is willing to tell their story. Methinks they are not all unlike the Ravens or Black Lances in that regard, as they know their work must remain secret—that anything they might say about their weapons, armor or tactics could well be used against them later.

Indeed, Silencers swear their own version of the Oath of Shield and Shadow upon assuming their station, in essence promising to stalk and slay in service of Queen and Hive. ‘Tis unquestionably a difficult life to lead, even more so than an infiltrator, as it often precludes parenthood or ever having what passes as a normal life for us. But like the Lances and Ravens again, that makes their work no less necessary, even today.

Two Steps From Hell - Archangel

Lepidoptes Hive Evacuation Tunnel
Location Undisclosed
September 6^th, 1139 AC (Year 305 of Her Majesty Lepidoptes IV’s Reign)
0320 hours

Though I was outwardly calm as the battle proceeded, I was inwardly churning, sensing our defenses starting to falter. 

‘Twas all happening too fast, and the griffons were pushing far too hard, even recklessly. ‘Twas clear by now that they wanted us all dead for smuggling their invasion plans to Equestria. Or worse, they wanted at least some of us alive to study us, perchance to learn how to counter or duplicate our unique skills of stealth and shapeshifting.

We were not about to let them have either, but the best plans of Queens and Changelings oft go for naught in the face of the skilled and determined foe who had found us. Despite the increasingly desperate efforts of my Guard soldiers and Commander Borer’s Silencers, who had already reported that they had slain at least a score of Raven invaders at the cost of eight of their own, they were starting to drive us back tunnel by tunnel, chamber by chamber.

The bad news did not end there, however. Our evacuation was taking much more time than expected given the short notice in which we had launched Code: Break, with the civilians in the eastern sector having to detour into a new escape route to avoid a tunnel collapse caused by Magus-boosted Raven charges. As a result, we were falling dangerously behind schedule, with several hundred civilians and dozens of precious younglings still unaccounted for, which could be lethal for all of them as we tried to hold off the Empire’s elite.

We had already shifted forces to defend them, which resulted in a dangerously exposed salient anchored on the already-empty nursery and hastily destroyed intelligence lab chambers. Worse, we were forced to strip soldiers from the western sector in turn to buttress the civilian defense in the east, which meant that the Talaeus-backed Ravens in the west were now advancing at an alarming rate. 

The remaining squads opposing the latter reported that they could not hold long and even the surviving Silencers said that the Talaeus mage named Camilea Aeylyn was proving clever and deadly; her wits were as sharp as her wind-fueled blade arts that allowed her to cut down her enemies and trigger traps at a distance. Those who had survived encounters with her further reported that her attacks were almost impossible to avoid, hard for even enchanted Silencer armor to deflect.

And yet, for all her skill, she and her earth gryphon Talaeus partner was but one of many dangers we faced then as the Imperial invasion of our home continued, advancing into its depths. Borer and I were hastily crossing off and marking new positions on a map of our tunnels, which we would destroy upon our own escape or if we were in danger of being captured ourselves. 

And my sincerest apologies for not including such maps as would allow readers to more easily follow the battle, as we know from her earlier entries that Captain Firefly likes to include them. But ‘tis a longstanding precaution among our kind that we do not show how our hives are structured, lest future foes use that information against us.

The idea that we could be captured or killed lay heavy in the back of my mind as the battle proceeded. My personal blades lay at my side in easy reach as Borer and I continued to issue orders in support of the defense and each other’s forces, which had to work together if we were to survive this night.

“Point Honeycomb has fallen. I fear we have lost third squad,” I was forced to report based on the latest communications I was hearing through the crystals in my ear. ‘Tis worth noting that the Queen could hear us as well, but she was trying not to distract us as we oversaw the evacuation. She held the final line of defense to our escape tunnel herself, allowing her military and intelligence leaders to command the forces they led.

“A third of my available silencers have fallen,” Commander Borer added grimly; I could tell how much the admission pained her. As they were far fewer in number than regular Guard soldiers, she knew them all personally; ‘tis no doubt in my mind that she was asking the Hive Mother to bless them, seeing their faces flash before her and wondering if she would ever get the chance to properly honor or mourn them. 

Wondering if we would shortly be joining them, forced to pick up our swords and fight as simple soldiers in defense of our sorely endangered Queen and Hive.

But whatever her thoughts—some of which ‘twas certain I shared; I was trying hard not to think about the losses we were taking—she covered them up by forcing herself to focus on the battle itself. “I am shifting most of those who remain to defend the east, ordering them to roam free and hit targets of opportunity. ‘Twill hopefully disrupt enemy movements and force them to keep additional Ravens in the rear to watch their backs. In any event, I advise you to fall back on the final lines before the main evacuation tunnel, as I can no longer support your soldiers further out,” she added.

“That will be dangerously close to the Queen herself,” I felt compelled to point out, even though I knew she was right—we no longer had the forces to adequately cover the west; our only option was to concentrate our few remaining squads and Silencers on the final chokepoints before the evacuation tunnel.

Worry not about me, my Changelings, the Queen’s voice sounded clearly in our minds, causing our heads to snap up. I can guard the evacuation tunnel by myself. Worry instead about completing the evacuation and saving as many lives as you can. And I sense your thoughts—by my order, you are NOT to go to the front lines or engage in combat yourselves, Commander and Captain. Getting yourselves killed will not bring your slain soldiers back, and you can do more for the Hive by living, she reminded us sternly. 

“Yes, My Queen,” we chorused, accepting her rebuke. We then took a deep breath as one before turning our attention back to the map. 

“You heard her, Commander. ‘Tis time we start pulling squads back and saving our soldiers as well as civilians. I propose we use this side tunnel here—” I traced a path on the map with a thin beam of light from my horn “—to provide an extra escape avenue for our retreating soldiers separate from the civilians.”

She saw what I was referring to and frowned. “By the Hive Mother herself, I don’t like it, Captain. That tunnel was never fully finished and could easily be brought down on their heads.” ‘Twas not an idle musing; the Ravens had already collapsed two of our tunnels despite their various physical reinforcement and enchantments; ‘tis no boast to say that our underground hives are generally even sturdier than Diamond Dog tunnels by simple necessity.

“I don’t either, but what choice do we have?” I asked, mostly if not entirely rhetorically as a loud rumble rolled through our chamber, causing cracks to form in the ceiling and some dust to fall on us. 

“Chitin Rot!” Borer exclaimed, not censoring his curse despite our Queen listening in as we received the latest reports.

“That would be yet another tunnel the Ravens brought down. They’re trying to pocket the eastern force,” I noted, trying not to let my fears leak into my words, though ‘tis certain that Commander Borer—to say nothing of Queen Lepidoptes herself—could sense my increasingly worried emotions easily enough. “We have to order their withdrawal, now.” 

“Then do so,” Borer said shortly as she marked a thick line through the latest destroyed tunnel, which had contained yet another of my Guard squads. “I will order my Silencers to break contact as well. Any who cannot make the escape tunnel are to buy time for those who can.” She picked up her communication gems and began barking instructions into them.

We had barely finished giving our orders to our respective forces to start the final evacuation when yet another, far closer rumble was heard. ‘Twas swiftly followed by a chunk of the ceiling falling on the table before us, shattering all over our heavily marked-up map.

“Our time is up. Our duty is done. Methinks ‘tis past time we leave this place, Captain,” Borer told me, yanking the map free so she could cleanly incinerate it with a flare of her horn.  

“Agreed,” I said as a fresh flood of Guard troops and a final few civilians passed us, most of whom were walking wounded. “We are on our way to the rear, My Queen! All charges are set and orders are given. The last of us will pass your position within one minute. The final destruction of our home, we leave to you.”

Understood, my Changelings. You have done well. Now see to yourselves and get to the rear. I will guard our escape. And be assured, they will not pass me.

“Yes, My Queen,” we chorused again, and after lending our efforts to help our wounded soldiers, we grabbed our blades and brought up the rear. Despite our Queen’s desires, we decided wordlessly that we would indeed fight any pursuing gryphons to keep more of our forces from falling. 

And if that meant we fell as well, then so be it. The Oath of Shield and Shadow was something we had both sworn long ago, and we would not shirk it now. Not after so many of our soldiers had already sacrificed themselves in its name.

Thank you for relating the remainder of this tale, Captain, though I confess to some slight annoyance that you both sought to disobey your Queen out of some sense of misplaced pride and honor. Though perhaps 'twas too much for me to ask of you to stay out of the fight, having been forced to oversee the deaths of so many of the Guard soldiers and Silencers you two commanded.

Sadly, Commander Borer is one with the Hive Mother now, and though she certainly has a replacement who I will not name, her loss is still felt keenly to this day. ‘Twas not on this awful eve that she fell, but another one yet to come. If I could tell her anything, 'twould be that she more than fulfilled her oath, as did all her Silencers for their efforts that night. They engaged the Imperial elite, and even if they could not drive them off, ‘tis certain that the Ravens were left licking their wounds, forever wary about engaging us directly again.

‘Tis worth noting that ‘tis not the Ravens that ordered this hasty and only half-planned assault, as we would later learn, but their masters in the Office of Owls. Their reasons, unfortunately, made a certain twisted sense, as they feared not so much losing us, but losing the chance to capture and study us.

In that, I am sad to say, they were successful, sacrificing eighty Ravens to capture six Changelings. But we knew not about that for some time, and I could not concern myself with that then. All I cared about was completing our exodus, though even in the midst of the battle, ‘twas another of my far-flung field operatives that would hold my attention instead.

‘Twas very hard, I must admit, to simply stay where I was and not rush to the aid of my Changelings engaged in battle for the Hive’s survival. But ‘twas one of my mother’s first lessons to me to never do anything impulsively—to not make decisions or otherwise act on the basis of emotions that we Changelings are so attuned to. 

“‘Tis a grave and fatal mistake, my daughter,” she once said to me, “to act in fear or anger. Methinks the greatest advice I can give you is this: To be a good Changeling, you must love your Hive, but to be a good Queen, you must be willing to sacrifice parts of it for the greater whole.”

Though I loved my mother, methinks ‘twas advice I never truly took to heart. For how could I sacrifice any part of my Hive, lopping it off like a trapped wing or limb? In the end, I could not, or the agony of 'twould destroy me, tearing my very soul asunder. I imagined ‘twas the same rationale that Princess Celestia used to save Canterlot, even though she might be able to win the war quickly by sacrificing her capital city instead. I did not envy her position, and I found myself wondering again what she might do differently in my place.

‘Twas then another voice sounded in my head, scattering my thoughts anew. My Queen! How fares the battle? Is the Hive safe? Are you? Lycovenato asked, though there was a strong emotional underpinning to his thoughts that suggested that there was something else he wanted to say.

Sparing only part of my awareness for a conversation with him whilst keeping the rest of my attention fixed forward on the tunnel I was defending—‘tis certain that mental multitasking is something I’ve gotten quite good at over the long years of my rule—I answered somewhat shortly. 

Let me worry about that, Lycovenato. For now, your sole task is to reach Detrot to meet your new contacts and fully establish your identity as a pony soldier. Only then may you be able to join the Equestrian Army and assist the ponies in this fight.

I felt his mental hesitation immediately. Yes. About that, my Queen. I fear I may have to join the Equestrian Army far earlier than planned, he projected back as the slowing flood of fleeing civilians continued around me and the sounds of fighting drew steadily closer. I could hear my two commanders shouting orders over the special crystals we used; methinks they had already switched gem frequencies twice in that time to keep ahead of Raven eavesdropping.

Speak, my Changeling. And worry not about the Hive. ‘Tis my burden to bear, and not yours, I mentally whispered back. ‘Tis worth noting that there was at least a slight delay in receiving his thoughts due to the distance involved, given his replies seemed to be coming back perchance a quarter-second later than they would have were we speaking face-to-face.

I have a dilemma. I am currently in the form of an egret, overflying the dry seabed to the north of a major engagement between ponies and griffons—from my study of Equestrian maps, I recall that the ponies call it the Heron Sea. ‘Twould seem the ponies are attempting to hold a major road between two of these seabeds, which are currently not dry but some very smelly swamps. ‘Twould also seem that road is a vital lifeline and retreat route from their surrounded forces at Maresk, which they are trying very hard to keep open.

He transmitted a mental image of what he was seeing, to which I nodded in satisfaction—whatever their shortcomings in numbers and materiel, the ponies clearly had some capable commanders as I saw they were holding a prominent hill and the highway behind it quite firmly with their few available forces. 

For those curious, though I was certainly not experienced with fighting set-piece battles given Changelings very rarely engage our enemies in the open, ‘twas not to say that I had no training in such matters. Indeed, I had received a great deal of military instruction in my youth courtesy of my mother yet again, who had studied the work of the pony Sun Master and demanded I do so as well.

Thus, ‘twas easy for me to take in the situation at a glance and read that the pony position seemed secure. And ‘tis to their great credit that they do so. ‘Twould seem that their leadership and numbers are sufficient to the task. They do not need our help right now, so ‘twould be best to leave them be, I told him as I heard an order for another blocking force to fall back towards the escape tunnel. I calculated then that we needed another two minutes to complete the evacuation, but judging by how fast my soldiers were being forced back, ‘twas two minutes I was no longer sure we had.

If ‘twas all you see that they face, I would agree, My Queen. But they are now endangered by a new gryphon force that seeks to cut their only lifeline from right out of the swamps! I heard his slightly frantic thought as he turned his head to show me the surprising sight of a column of Imperial Talons advancing not by air, but by ground four abreast through the marshes.

I grimaced, and not just because of the threat; I knew well from my own time in Equestria that those swamps were best described as layered deathtraps during the region’s pegasus-created rainy seasons. 

For those curious, my Hive once lived entirely in Equestria before having to leave it; I was but a youngling at the time of the Celestial War. It forced us to flee to Aresia lest the armies of a corrupted Luna or a then cold-hearted Celestia tried to enslave us or otherwise magically bend us to their ends—I still know not how my mother, Queen Scylla Lepidoptes III, was brought before Nightmare Moon and lived—and ‘twas in Mosclaw we eventually settled, which was little more than a sleepy fishing village on the banks of the Moskavian river at the time.

I guessed that they had resorted to such a tactic because their earth griffons simply did not have the range to overfly the swamps, and they could not take the objectives with sky gryphons alone. So they were trying to traverse the treacherous terrain by having mages freeze the ground in front of and around them to provide their advancing soldiers with firm footing, which was a slow process and produced a slightly zigzagging path around obstacles like marsh trees and rocks. As I watched through his eyes, I saw additional staves being brought forward to give to their mages as their original ones were exhausted of power.

Looking closer through Lycovenato’s sharp avian gaze as he circled overhead using the cover of some low clouds—‘tis worth noting again that we assume the senses of the creatures whose forms we take—some of the gryphons also looked slightly ill to my eyes with scraps of uniform or other clothing wrapped tightly around their beaks, presumably to protect them from the poisonous swamp gasses.

Worse, it appeared that they were no longer forging a trail forward but creating large marshal areas for their forces to gather in, which could only mean that they were now massing them for the actual attack. They looked to be no more than a couple leagues from the ‘shore’ of the marshes; once they took flight, they could be on the ponies in minutes and cut their lines of communication quickly, dooming their forces further up the highway and the hill.

Finally understanding the source of his fear, I decided the best course of action was to answer him honestly. I will not mince words, my dear Changeling. What you suggest is dangerous. To introduce yourself to the ponies too early may only raise suspicion since it will conflict with your established cover story. 

For if you suddenly appear now, not five days into the conflict whilst claiming you came north from Coltuckey? Methinks a clever commander is unlikely to believe you. And methinks also that the pony commanding the defense is clearly not stupid to have held that hill for so long.

Then are you instructing me not to help, My Queen? he thought back to me, and I could hear the consternation in his mental voice; taste his intense desire to help the Equestrians immediately. With his thoughts unguarded, I saw clearly in his mind what he feared was about to happen and what 'twould cost the ponies—at least another brigade and a half of sorely needed soldiers stood to be enveloped if nothing was done.

A brigade and a half of soldiers they could simply not afford to lose.

The battle for the tunnels was drawing closer, but there was still a trickle of civilians evacuating the hive, and increasingly, a flow of wounded soldiers trying to reach the rear.

I am not. ‘Tis clear to me that both your heart and sense of duty demand you act. So on this matter, proceed as you see best. But please consider your cover story carefully and modify it accordingly. Our infiltrators in Detrot will clean up your account later and square it with pony records. You still must make every effort to contact them later.

Thank you, My Queen. I could feel his relief over the connection. I will act immediately, and my cover will be that I was trying to sneak north through the marshes in hopes of circumventing combat to reach my unit. To that end, I will dirty myself with swamp mud. Please keep our Hive safe, and may the Hive Mother protect you.

And you as well, my Changeling, I thought back, returning my attention to the battle as a Silencer was flung hard into the evacuation tunnel from down the furthest cross-corridor; his armor shredded by what looked like a succession of whirling blade strikes.

‘Twas followed by a massive blast of Magus fire that billowed down the hall but dissipated halfway to me. And rounding the corner in its wake to lock gazes with me was a young stave-wielding eagless painted black and equipped with opal armor, with menacing symmetric red stripes adorning her wings and sides.

‘Tis from here that I will allow the then-Optio to pick up the story, which I have convinced her through some occasional correspondence relayed through Captain Firefly to continue. But my thoughts are less of her right now than of Lycovenato.

Much like the general he wished to see again, he returned to the seclusion he had been in before the war once the conflict was concluded, asking only that his privacy and need to process all he had experienced be respected. ‘Twas granted quickly, though it pained me to see him leave and worse, seek no mate to replenish our depleted Hive. But he told me there was no mate for him but my beloved daughter, and without her, he had no wish to be a sire.

Since then, I have retained at least distant contact with him through the remnants of the link we once shared. It never fully fades, but mayhap that is a good thing, as I have been able to assist him remotely when he was having nightmares or his thoughts turned bleak and bitter.

Perchance that ‘tis why, in the end, I approved his request to travel to Equestria for the first time since the war’s end to see General Rock Biter again. I suppose ‘tis my hope that, just as the General found he was ready to face his wartime memories and step out of his proverbial carapace, perchance the betrothed of my long-departed daughter might be able to do so in turn. Especially if he is surrounded by those he once called comrades, to say nothing of the commander he once confided in me that he would gladly give his life for, no less than the Hive he served.

Even were it otherwise, I could hardly deny such a request, though I do ask Captain Firefly to keep the EIS from sniffing too closely around him, or he will be forced to flee. Inform them that he bears no evidence of our Hive’s new location or activities, and I know him well enough to trust that he would never give any sensitive information up.

I will add just a brief note here to say that I have made the request directly to Princess Celestia, who has issued strict orders to the EIS and PSD to leave Lycovenato alone—though methinks you will forgive me if I still think of him as Bramble Tracker. Aside from that, I will do what I can to make his stay with us a pleasant one. But ‘tis not me he is here to see so much as the General, who has thus far taken a surprising interest in him.

I thank you for being so gracious, Queen Lepidoptes, even though I do not believe myself worthy of your respect or honor. ‘Tis worth noting that this battle was the first time—and to this point, the only time—I ever met or so much as set eyes on you, becoming mayhap the only gryphon in history to even glimpse you in your true form. In truth, I was going to ask you to finish this entry without me, as I still find myself fighting the demons of that night. 

‘Tis not just the near-nightmarish task of battling your shapeshifting warriors of shadow that haunts me, but the knowledge that our cause was unjust—that those changelings I helped capture were shortly going to be facing a terrible fate courtesy of the Office of Owls.

To tell this tale is to feel my guilt and shame all over again, knowing my actions can never be taken back. But for the sake of history and trying not to be beholden to traumas past, I will conclude my side—or I should say, the Imperial side, given I no longer serve the honorless Empire—of this tale.

Gryphon Empire - Mosclaw
Changeling Hive Tunnels beneath East District
September 6th, 1139 Common Era (Year 33 in the reign of Empress Palemecia)
0320 hours

In the five minutes since engaging and slaying the three Changeling assassins—I knew not they were called Silencers then, which methinks is a chillingly accurate name for them—It had been a literal whirlwind of battle, and mayhap I can be excused for neither recalling all of it nor wishing to.

Since that first skirmish, I had flown, blown, sliced and spellcast my way through at least two decades worth of Changeling soldiers and four additional assassins, taking an assortment of minor wounds along the way. The former included what I later learned were their more heavily armored regular soldiers, which seemed roughly the equivalent of Talons with the additional ability to shapeshift into more powerful forms to good effect. 

The latter, on the other wing, were elite Raven-like warriors who struck suddenly from the shadows to cut us down one or two at a time before melting back into the tunnels, all but daring us to chase them. But we had learned by then not to, as we had quickly discovered to no little cost that they were trying to isolate us for ambush by more of their brethren.

Or alternatively, lead us into another rigged corridor where some evil spell or projectile trap could be triggered. ‘Twas certain the Ravens were normally quite good at detecting such things, but their existing assortment of sensory items given them by the Office of Owls were simply not keyed to detect Changeling magic. 

Which was one more thing I thought our intelligence overlords should answer for, asking myself repeatedly what idiot had ordered this ill-thought operation and why the Empress had approved it. Methinks we’d lost fully forty percent of our century sized incursion force by then, with particularly heavy casualties among the lead Ravens, who, though certainly well-trained in breach tactics and corridor combat, found such advantages negated by our still mostly-unfamiliar foe. 

As the casualty reports continued to come in—at least when we broke through their magical interference on our scrying networks, that was—methinks I wondered again why this operation had been rushed so badly when our forces were still so unprepared for our shapeshifting foe, cursing the Owls anew for ordering it.

Reports of failures were constant, as the modified flight goggles that were supposed to allow us to identify a disguised changeling proved almost completely ineffective except at uselessly close range. Worse, the mages I had so painstakingly trained were variously falling to ambushes or simply being overwhelmed by a barrage of magical bolts their drones could fire when not stealthed. Though I knew not how the Changeling magic arsenal or spellcasting power compared to Equestrian unicorns then, it boded very ill for fighting the ponies, I thought, if we couldn’t best them.

But for all our losses, we were also gradually gaining the upper wing on our adversary despite how well-prepared they were for us. Slowly, our tactics crystallized to pin down a blocking force from one direction whilst trying to flank them from another, whilst their assassins and tunnel traps were at least slowed by filling each corridor with wind-aided blasts of fire or razorwind from my blade.

Finally properly organized and prepared for the foe we faced, we began to drive them deeper into their hive with our remaining forces, leaving a succession of broken if thinly held defensive lines around chokepoints in our wake. They were left strewn with the bodies of their armored soldiers and even the occasional assassin when resistance stiffened again; ‘twas when two more of my mages fell in rapid succession to enchanted crossbow bolts that I decided no further of our forces would fall.

As we had already passed what looked like an abandoned and rather ornate throne room—-which we had not entered for certainty that 'twas trapped and would probably kill us gruesomely if we entered it without a great deal of magical preparation we had no time for—I ordered the mingled force of Ravens and mages I had gathered to me to hold fast whilst I penetrated what appeared to be their final defensive line.

“Your desire to risk yourself in order to protect your unit does you great credit, but we know not what is ahead, and you should not face the unknown without backup,” a wounded Centurion Vimal told me, to which my glare hardened and beak clenched. 

‘Tis certain his wounds were part of what was motivating me. He’d charged right through a trapped corridor in which his enchanted armor had only barely protected him; he’d still taken several wall-launched spikes to his sides whose pointed and possibly poisoned tips were currently embedded a single uncia or so deep in his flesh.

To his immense credit, he’d succeeded in making it through and slaying the surprised Changeling decade on the other side despite his injuries; his otherwise useless Owl-issue goggles providing just enough help for him to spot their disguised or shrouded forms at melee range.

“We have already lost nearly two turmas of Ravens and mages, Centurion. Nogryphon else is dying because we stumbled onto any more traps we were not ready for, or encountered those assassin drones we could not sense or counter,” I told him in a tone that brooked no argument. “I’m going alone, and that’s final.”

My combat mentor gave an exasperated trill. “Methinks you are acting out of emotion, and not out of military need. On that basis, I could order you to stop, Optio,” he pointed out, the use of my rank telling me in no uncertain terms that he was anything but happy with me.

“I would rather you didn’t,” I replied tersely, “because I do not wish to be accused later of disobeying a direct order of my superior and having my rank stripped from me.”

Vimal stared at me and shook his head. “For one so young, methinks you’re as stubborn as any old crow,” my combat mentor replied without any humor, ignoring the blood dripping down his side. “So be it. I know better than to keep you from something you have your mind set on. And since you do not wish me to accompany you, I will hold the cordon and await your signal. But do try not to get yourself killed. Certain gryphons have grown rather fond of you despite your youth and crow-cursed boar-headedness.”

I wasn’t about to ask then if his words were an expression of sexual interest in me after all our time and training together. “I will signal to advance when the corridor is clear. Now stay here,” I ordered again. Without waiting for his response, I darted forward and cast a protective bubble around me, only using my wings to keep my steps light whilst making sure they did not brush the sides of the slightly narrow cross-corridor we were in—the walls had been scoured by wind and fire, but ‘twas still possible that there was some active trap on them triggered by touch, after all. And though my personal shield spell was strong, ‘twould be unwise to test it more than I had to.

‘Twas a potent defensive spell, but I did not like using it as it prevented me from attacking with my windblade magic from inside it, limiting me to more basic Magus spellcasting. For all my instinctive understanding of my self-taught arts, ‘twas a flaw in my technique I knew I needed to correct, but to this point, a solution had eluded me. There had simply been too little time to develop one whilst we were training for the coming war, to say nothing of the operation we were now engaged in.

I could only hope I would not yet rue it as I continued to advance, keeping my protective bubble intact. It may have limited my offensive attacks, but it also allowed me the ability to easily use one additional skill I had; a skill I had not yet shared with either the Talaeus or even my own mother because I did not wish to be taken off the line to teach it.

And that was the real reason I wanted to be alone just then; so that what I did next would not be witnessed. ‘Twas a gap in gryphon magic that we lacked one important ability of other magically adept races like ponies, or even the Ibex to the east we so despised—teleportation. We could block or at least greatly suppress the teleports of other creatures with the use of certain area enchantments, but the self-teleportation that head-implanted horns and antlers allowed our adversaries was simply far more difficult to nigh-impossible for us, using a detached casting tool as we did.

‘Tis certain there was the rare mage who could teleport a small object a short distance, as long as that object ‘twas not themselves—I was not one of them then, before anycreature asks—but it seemed to be an unteachable natural ability. I also knew not whether my own discovered technique, which I had stumbled upon almost completely by accident, could be taught, but were the Office of Owls, Talaeus or even the Magus Legion to learn of it? 

Then they would demand I teach it to others. I would thus no longer be a frontline soldier or be allowed to participate in combat, which at that point ‘twas all I wished to do.

Stretching out my senses, I could detect two loci of magic ahead of me; one just around the bend—another trapped corridor, no doubt, perhaps defended by an additional decade or two of armored changeling soldiers, and a more powerful one even further back of unknown signature or ability. 

All I could think about the latter was that it belonged to a far more potent source than the average Changeling I’d met, or at least as far as my awareness could detect—‘twas certain I’d learned by then that Changelings could suppress their magical signature as another means to hide, only revealing it briefly when they cast. And whatever its nature, for this source to stay active implied two things:

First, that its owner wanted to be seen, and second, that they did not fear being detected.

Whatever the source’s nature, ‘twas certain I could confront it later, after I’d dealt with the more immediate threat. To counter it, I sent a fresh blast of razorwind surging down the corridor. It served two purposes—the first, of course, was to clear out or at least weaken resistance and hopefully trigger traps, whose magical signatures I could only dimly detect at close range. But the second…

Closing my eyes as I took in what it told me, I triggered the spell I’d been saving for use all this time, causing first my stave to glow and then my entire bubble to disappear in a flash of light followed by an audible implosion of air around my previous location. For the key to gryphon teleportation, I had discovered, was to first encase the caster in a static magical construct like a shield spell, and then teleport that. 

In so doing, you avoided the usual issues with having a detached stave where you could not precisely encapsulate your own body in the teleportation field, which could lead to teleporting not your entire form but only chunks of your anatomy, leaving behind limbs or wings.

‘Twas because you were teleporting not yourself so much as the bubble itself and everything within it, meaning there was no danger of leaving body parts behind. That said, ‘twas still to be avoided as ‘twas a very magic-intensive process that could rapidly drain your power even over short distances. ‘Twas due to the additional mass of air and magic you had to teleport along with you, rendering the process far less efficient and more magically taxing than the average pony or Ibex teleport. And worse, like all teleports, it set off a massive magical flare at both the origin and destination points that any magically aware creature could sense if they were close enough.

So in resorting to this spell, which I now teach other mages to use only very sparingly, I had to act quickly. The wind had told me where the tunnel went when it disappeared off to the right, and I used that information to teleport behind the final changeling blockade and presumed location of the tunnel traps, causing their heads to whip around as they sensed me rematerialize. 

There were six of them, all showing some at least minor injuries from my razorwind strikes. Those strikes tended to attenuate quickly when I couldn’t focus them down a single hallway or other confined area, but as a distraction, they did their job well.

My teleport completed, I immediately dropped my shield and launched fresh razorwind spells in both directions with a spin of my blade and stave, annihilating what I thought was their last line of defense. Though wounded by my sudden strike, two more of their assassins attempted to engage me; one transformed into a shrieking, red-eyed thestral in perchance an effort to unnerve me, whilst the second took the form of a winged serpentine black mambat in attempt to stealthily strike me from below, leaping up on the strength of its membrane wings to target my throat.

‘Twas an attack combination based on distracting me with a far louder, larger, and more immediate threat; one that might have caught me off-guard and even slain me—if I hadn’t known the pair were there, that was. For I had already detected their forms, given my magic-infused wind could be used to find both the contours of corridors and the living bodies within them.

So ‘twas here as I resorted not to magic, but to a simple blade strike to decapitate the snake, which promptly transformed back into a headless changeling whilst the other I simply captured in my aura and flung hard down the corridor, which intersected another, far wider one.

‘Twas down that corridor that the more powerful magical signature awaited. My adrenaline surging with my latest victory—I will admit to a moment of triumph and even outright bloodlust in finally getting the better of the alien forces that had so vexed us—I scoured the corridor ahead with fire to immolate the last assassin and trigger any remaining traps. I then rounded the corner in my fading spell’s wake, where I beheld…

Sixty strides ahead stood an enormous but surprisingly lithe-looking Changeling, easily three times the size of the typical one, wielding a large green-tinged sword in her aura with her insectile wings spread wide to encompass half the corridor like a shield. As her orange eyes locked with mine, I saw she also wore some odd vestments, including translucent hoof coverings, a large pendant around her neck bearing an odd crest, and a tiara of pure opal—symbols of her station?

I barely had time to register her appearance and realize who she must be—the Changeling Queen!—before her horn flared. Despite all my power and already-cast wards that should have prevented such a thing, I was then rudely and quite summarily thrown back by a wave of irresistible magic force that slammed me hard into the wall of the corridor from which I came, the painful impact worsening my wounds as I fell to the polished crystal floor beneath me.

Though stunned by her display of raw power—I remember wondering as I clambered back up that if ‘twas said the Changelings fed on the love of others, how many gryphons had she secretly slept with to gain hers?—I realized immediately that if I could defeat her, then ‘twas certain that her entire hive would crumble. 

Gathering myself, I launched a focused blast of razorwind down the corridor she appeared to be guarding as a few more wounded or infirm Changelings appeared from two more side corridors and staggered past her. They were urged along by her as she shielded them from my efforts; my windblades quickly and effectively parried by her curved and magically-charged longsword that reminded me somewhat of an olden gryphon scimitar.

‘Twas then that two more figures in what appeared to be a form of high-ranking military garb emerged from a nearby tunnel and spoke briefly to her, earning a terse nod before they retreated behind her and she turned her attention to me again. Smiling and nodding at me in acknowledgement in a manner I can only describe as disconcertingly serene, her voice then sounded clearly in my head:

“You are a skilled warrior as well as a superb caster, Optio Camilea Aeylyn. There are few beings who are able to successfully merge both qualities into a single art. But I will allow you to advance no further. By necessity, this battle ends now. Order your forces to leave our tunnels immediately, or they will perish.” 

“How dare you…” My fighting blood and temper up, I reinforced my mental wards and tried to find a way to penetrate her defenses. “Stay out of my head, you shapeshifting abomination! You and your kind will bedevil the Empire no more!” I pointed my blade down the corridor at her in challenge.

Though we had learned by then that the Changelings could sense emotion, she barely reacted to my heated anger and desire for vengeance over the casualties we had taken. Instead, she spoke directly to me in a booming voice that echoed right down the wide tunnel I was in. 

“You have every right to hate me for our actions and the losses you have taken, Optio. But I am offering you the chance to save your remaining soldiers. If you do not leave immediately, your incursion force will die,” she warned me again, holding her sword in a guard position before her. I could sense 'twas charged with a great deal of magic, and that I was unlikely to pierce her defense except at very close range. 

Despite that, I pulled myself back up and began marching towards her, my head lowered and wings flared. “Save your worthless words for the gryphons you seduced to gain their knowledge and energy! By my most sacred Ancestors, ‘twill not avail you! I swear before the Empress herself that I will slay you here and now! And once you fall, so will your entire Hive, so-called Queen!”

But instead of accepting my challenge, she sighed and nodded. “So be it, young eagless. ‘Tis clear your sense of duty and honor are very strong. Just know that despite what I am about to do, I bear you and your race no ill will.” She then closed her eyes and ignited her horn again, releasing a fresh wave of magic to no immediate effect.

I was about to mock her, but then I felt a series of answering magical bursts throughout the tunnel and chamber complex, only realizing what she was doing as a series of explosions began to be heard echoing through their now-abandoned hive.

By the Empress herself, they were bringing their entire subterranean lair down on our heads!

Methinks my next actions were less instinct than pure panic as I cast a fresh shield bubble around myself, shouting into my communication gem to evacuate as the tunnel crashed down on top of me. My protective bubble in immediate and quite dire danger of being crushed, I mustered all my remaining power for a teleport and reappeared topside, to the shock of those gryphons present.

“Changelings escaped… tunnels collapsing… get everygryphon out…” I begged the overall commander before my adrenaline surge lapsed. ‘Twas swiftly followed by the pain of my accumulated injuries and magical exhaustion catching up to me, causing me to pass out where I lay.

Such is the end of my recollections, which I find come surprisingly easy to me even for as unpleasant as it remains to remember them. For those curious, I awoke in a Talaeus healer house later only to learn that another third of our assault force had fallen, crushed beneath collapsing tunnels that ‘twas unlikely we could ever reach.

And to my great shame and later rage, the casualties included my own mentor and the forces I had been trying so hard to protect. Centurion Vimal Talias was lost, as were another thirty Ravens and six mages thanks to my failed attempt to engage the Changeling Queen. Worse, she had tried to warn me of what was coming but I had ignored her, forcing her to spring her final trap.

I knew not who I was more upset with then—the Owls for ordering such an ill-thought operation on limited intelligence that had cost so many lives and failed in its primary objective, the Changelings themselves for such stubborn and well-planned resistance that had slain scores of elite soldiers and murdered my mentor, or the Queen herself for standing against me and then destroying their hive, to what I initially tried to convince myself despite all evidence was simply to spite us.

It mattered not to me that they had done exactly what I would do in their place, attempting to deny the enemy their prize and any intelligence on them that might be gleaned. It mattered not that they had simply been defending their home and kindred with all their might and magical skill. All I knew or cared about as I lay fallow was that they had escaped us, though I was not immediately aware that several Changelings had been taken alive, including a pair of younglings.

And for what was to happen to them in Owl custody, I can only offer my sincerest apologies to Queen Lepidoptes for my role in capturing them. ‘Tis a dishonor that I will take to my very grave, and all I can offer is to repeat what I said before:

That had I known then what I do now, ‘tis certain that I would not only have resigned my commission but turned traitor to the Empire right then and there, hunting down and killing the Owl agents and their overlords responsible.

Your apology is accepted but unnecessary, Tribune. ‘Twas war, and you were a soldier fighting for your side, just as we were to defend our home and hive. What I said then holds true to this day: I do not blame you and I do not hate you. We chose our side of the conflict and paid a heavy price for it; we lost all right to be treated with mercy or honor by the Empire when we betrayed it to side with Equestria. That decision was mine and mine alone, and thus, ‘tis I that bear the weight of the losses we both suffered and inflicted that night.

My final word in this entry ‘tis not an epilogue, but an invitation extended to you, Tribune Camilea Aeylyn, to visit the Lepidoptes Hive as not an invader, but a welcome guest. As ‘twould seem you still suffer great guilt over your role in the war regarding what was done to the Changelings you helped capture, I offer the chance to visit our Hive directly and see that we now thrive.

To realize that we bear you no ill will, and to witness our own war memorial. ‘Twill have to be done in secrecy, but believe me when I say that ‘tis well within our power to do so. So if you wish this, simply activate a communication crystal that you will shortly find placed in your possession. Be assured that your message will be received, and we will offer you safe passage to our home at a time and place of our choosing.

And lest you worry, be also assured that neither the Council of Crows nor Ravens will be able to track us.

When tyranny becomes law, rebellion becomes duty. —Thomas Jefferson