Excerpt from The Life of Star Swirl the Bearded, by Clover the Clever.
The Feylight Wood Expedition.
I looked around, amazed, as we went deeper into the forest. Even in midwinter the trees were in full bloom, and the frosty grass crunched under our hooves.
I was accompanying my teacher on a research expedition, and I had only the vaguest notion of what he hoped or expected to find at the end. Star Swirl the Bearded rarely saw the point in telling me these things before the fact: we would either find it, and I would see for myself, or we wouldn’t, and the effort of description would be wasted.
This was just one of the Professor’s many annoying habits and I was steadily working to break him out of it. But when we found our goal it was always worth it.
Well, most of the time it was worth it. Sometimes the results were underwhelming, like the week we spent chasing Mimic Grass, fake grass that looks and feels exactly like real grass but is fake, and the Professor counted that one as a complete success. But sometimes there was something truly astounding.
Like the Feylight Wood. This forest, hidden away far from any pony habitation in the distant corners of Equestria, whose tall thin trees that drew not water through their roots but magical energies that it used to grow its leaves. Every morning the branches grew tiny bulbs that glittered like frosted crystals, that opened and spread in the sunlight, growing glass-like silver petals for leaves. They glowed softly in the dark as they evaporated into pale light at night instead of falling, only to grow again over the course of the next day.
We walked all day and night through the wood and I saw the entire cycle, ending with the brilliant motes of light rising into the sky all around us like…
Even now all these years later I struggle to find the words. But it was one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen.
The Professor was in his element there, almost blending in with the scenery to a preternatural degree, scaling rocks and pushing through undergrowth more quickly and easily than he navigated the city streets of Cambridle.
At one point after I dragged myself up a rock behind him. I said, “You make that seem so easy.” He said, “Making things seem easy takes a lot of hard work.” Then he kept going.
But he was not focused on the trees, beautiful as they were. He was looking for something else, and eventually we found a crack in the rocky terrain that led into a cave, and pushed inside.
The inside of the cave was dark, and clammy, and smelly, and cramped and unpleasant. It was not an exciting adventure cave, but an uneven crack that just kept going downwards, and if I had been alone I don’t think I would have gone down it because I didn’t think I would be able to find my way back up. But in the end the cave opened up into a larger passage which led to a steep drop into a great hollow.
We climbed down without a sound. There was a tiny feeble light at the very bottom. Even weak as it was I could see it clearly in the darkness, and I heard a sound like a sad song in the air, sung by a voice that didn’t sound like any creature I heard, in a language I couldn’t recognize.
I whispered, “What is it?”
“The Oracle of the Breezies,” he replied. “She is dying.”
I could see her, then: this tiny, frail pony-like creature, whose wings must once have been huge and shimmering on her frame but were then only ragged shreds on her back, a long tail like a silken robe trailing out behind her. She lay sprawled out on the rock, as though her little legs were too weak to let her sit up properly.
Her eyes were milky and blind, but she turned to face us and I knew that somehow she knew we were there. There, to bear witness for her, in her last moments.
“Dying?” I mouthed the word. It was a pointless thing to say. But it would feel disrespectful not to say anything.
She looked so impossibly weak lying there. One of her tiny fluffy antenna shifted and waved while the other lay flat against her head, as though she was beckoning us close, needing to tell us what she knew before her time was up, knowing there was too much, and not enough time.
“She cannot return to her home, because oracles have no home,” Star Swirl said. He stepped closer to her with gentle steps, careful even not to breathe in her direction, and nodded for me to follow. There was a deepness in his eyes, like he was seeing her entire life. “When she dies what remains of her will rise up, like the leaves, and she will become a little star.”
“Oh… I… wow.” I looked at her for a few seconds, unable to find words. “So, why is she down here?”
“Why indeed.”
That is when the ground under us exploded, and everything turned upside-down. There was a sickening sound from all around us, but I couldn’t see what it was because Star Swirl had already cast a spell that sent me flying through the air like a rubber band snapped from a pencil.
I screamed until the rock wall knocked the air out of me. I scrambled up as quick as I could and found myself back up on the edge we had climbed down before, looking down at the Professor, and I saw what the sickening sound that filled the cave was.
An eruption of thick black slime covered the ground, and tendrils of it had snapped out to grab hold of my teacher, around his legs and his barrel, to drag him down.
I could only stare. Looking into the ooze I saw the shapes of ponies and other creatures who had fallen into the ooze and were trapped there until they had become part of it. Things that should have been left in the peace of the grave but were either brought back to life or used as puppets by whatever force lived inside the black ooze, a twisted parody of life. They clung to the Professor, dragging him down to join them.
On her stump of rock that still stood out from the rising ooze the oracle of the breezies sang, and it sounded like she was apologizing to him.
That’s when I saw the creature in the shadows up in another branch of the cave right across from me, a thing with too many legs that slouched and laughed and mocked. Its voice sounded wrong somehow, like it had lost its own long ago and stolen someone else’s, and it didn’t fit.
It said: “Struggle all you like. The Living Family loves you no matter what. The Griffon King sends his regards.”
The Professor was channeling a spell to hold them back, his horn glowing brightly with his aura under the brim of his hat, in light and dark shades of gray like thin clouds racing past a full moon.
But whatever he was doing didn’t seem to be working. It tried to drag him down, and he stayed standing. But he was transforming before my eyes even as he clearly tried to resist.
As I watched his healthy limbs roiled with dark magic like it was being drawn out from his core, his body shriveling up into little more than dry skin and bones, half-crumbled to dust. And his face was suddenly cold and monstrous, full of rage.
It happened so fast it almost seemed to come naturally. Like the black rot was already inside him, and his living self was the illusion, easily ripped away.
The thing in the cave kept rising, and bit by bit he vanished into the darkness before my eyes. His horn kept glowing, and I could see it below the surface before it faded. It swallowed him up, and he was gone.
I stared down in horror and disbelief, dumbstruck.
“I did not think it would be that easy,” the voice in the shadow said.
The ooze went placid, the entity seeming finished with subduing its target, and returned to waiting for more prey.
It felt like an eternity before it started moving again, though it was probably only ten seconds. The surface rippled, like a calm ocean noticing a storm far away. Then the storm got closer, and before long it whipped and lashed violently at nothing.
Suddenly there was a burst of blinding light, and for a fraction of a second the oracle’s song was as loud as a mountain splitting open, and as joyful as the spring. The glittering jewels of the Feylight seemed to come down all around us, and the ooze was forced back.
Suddenly Star Swirl was there, looking like himself again, and he turned his horn towards our attacker. And maybe for the first time, that thing that had been in darkness for its entire life was bathed in light, and it screamed.
There was a crack of shattering rock, and a deep rumbling, and the air was suddenly full of thick dust. The Professor swept up past me as though he had wings, grabbing me in his magic on the way, and he pulled me along behind him while the cave collapsed all around us, until I was unceremoniously dropped on my back on the frozen grass, hacking and coughing.
Star Swirl wasn’t looking at me. He held an orb of magic force, and inside it he held the oracle, whose tiny body looked broken and dead. Her eyes were closed, and I didn’t see her breathing.
He placed her down on a low branch of a tree, and he began to sing, quietly, in her language. And as I watched she began to glow, like the leaves.
We watched as she turned into light, and took her last flight, rising up into the early morning twilight with the glittering leaves of the Feylight Wood.
We watched them in silence as the cycle completed, until the lights had all been carried away and the trees were ready to begin again. Then Star Swirl turned away.
“It’s done. Come, Clover. We’re going home.”
I nodded, and followed after him. Above us the last of the leaves were fading from sight, as the morning sky began to brighten.
Long ago, in Aetite.
On the morning of the second day young Lieutenant Gouge rose with the sun and greeted the cold mountain air. His blue dress jacket was pressed sharply, and his red sash was crisp and bright as blood across his chest.
He had not slept as well as he liked. He had been pondering things, long into the night, trying to puzzle out the meaning behind the Unicorn King’s gambit. But in the end he had settled upon his next step.
He spread his wings and took to the air, flying towards the king-tree. And once there he made a beeline for the pony ambassador’s rooms.
He knocked, and greeted the ambassador when the pony answered. And he invited him to observe the griffon army in their training.
Star Swirl the Bearded went with him.
The training grounds was outside the aerie, a large encampment on the mountain plateau in the miles-long shadow of the king-tree. They walked there together in the early morning light, frost on the sparse grass, and Star Swirl’s robe clung to his legs, the bells ringing in the sharp winds. The young lieutenant led him to their seats, at a raised tribune before the jousting grounds, as though they were going to a sporting event.
They took their seats and waited, watching as the griffons filled the field and made preparations for the exercises.
“Talonguard Battalion,” the young officer said with pride as the warriors formed ranks. “The finest fighting force on Equis. They have made many conquests, and won many tributes to the Empire. Every day more griffons flock to join them under the Duke’s banner.”
Star Swirl watched a yak walking, slowly and heavily, dragging a large cart filled with weapons. Thick chains ran from the yoke to the cart, and others ran between its legs, front and back.
“Our newest subjects,” the officer said, following Star Swirl’s eyes. “Strong, fit, well-adapted to life in the mountains. They will do great service for the Empire.”
Star Swirl’s face remained neutral but he leaned forward in his seat and watched the exercises with careful attention.
A company of griffons ran through their training drills, marching in formation and turning in place at their captain’s command. Flying archers leapt up like fish from the water, letting loose arrows at the height of their arc that left their targets perforated before diving again into cover. At an unseen signal half the company formed a defensive wall while the other half took to the skies, and spears rained down on the shields below. The weapons were blunt and padded for practice, but the force behind them was very real.
The soldiers paired off to train in one-on-one combat, both armed and unarmed. They wrestled, grappling and twisting, throwing and pinning, and all eyes were turned to the two largest griffons in the company: one an eagle and lion, the other a condor and tiger. They slammed into each other with such strength the onlookers shook as though they felt the blows themselves.
“Our finest warriors,” the young officer said. “The Duke has recruited the greatest griffons of all the Peaks to join his battalion. This is the company that took Yakyakistan.”
Star Swirl nodded, but said nothing as he watched the duel unfold.
The two griffons circled each other in the sandy ring, searching for openings. Until all at once, like the crack of a whip, they lunged. Their claws clung together in a fierce contest of raw strength while their hindlegs both fought for purchase and balance, each trying to throw the other off.
Suddenly one fell backwards – the other slammed down to pin him but he slid out with lightning speed, flipped up on all fours, and pounced. The eagle screeched, and twisted as the condor struck him from the side, they both jerked a few steps to find their footing, and a claw gripped the condor by the throat.
The eagle screeched again as he pulled the condor down. A beat of wings, and the condor was slammed on his back and pinned.
The air was filled with the triumphant cry of birds of prey showing their appreciation. The condor tapped out, and the claw released. He stood up, they bowed to each other, and stepped apart.
Star Swirl said nothing.
A regimental drumbeat played, and all the griffons sprang into action. A great fence was rolled onto the center of the field, painted to represent a sheer rock face, and warded with wooden poles as spikes. In the air griffons beat their wings and gathered condensation to form clouds, like pegasi, above the field. And at the edge of the field the griffons brought up cannons.
At the captain’s signal the cannon crew began to move. They pulled the massive weapons forward against strong winds, created by griffons on the clouds above, at remarkable speed. In mere seconds they had crossed half the field and reached the great wall.
The griffons above pelted them with projectiles. Without hesitation a part of those below raised shields to deflect them and protect their brethren, while the others began to disassemble the cannons into smaller parts, removing the wheels, the barrel, the frame.
That done they began to move again. With forceful bounds the cannon crew scaled the wall, and with practiced ease the massive cannons were transported piece by piece up the simulated rock face, under fire, and reassembled on top in a matter of seconds.
The cannons turned and simulated fire on the cloud-borne attackers, who scattered. The shield-bearers swiftly broke the headwinds and cleared the air of moisture, revealing targets in the distance shaped like ponies.
The cannons were loaded, aimed, and fired live rounds that destroyed the targets from five hundred yards.
The entire operation had taken less than a minute.
One of the targets was a black-painted alicorn.
Star Swirl watched without blinking as it was blown to bits, his face as though carved of stone.
Minutes of the meeting between Griffon King Blaze and the pony Star Swirl the Bearded, transcribed by Griffus Publius Gossipus.
“King Blaze, I have come to discuss the worrying signs of war between our countries, and try to find a peaceful solution. But before we begin there is something I must say. I have been observing your aerie closely and I must warn you that you tread upon unsteady ground.”
“Hah! Lies and boasts from the easily defeated. You will not scare me so easily, pony – the Empire will not be stopped.”
The pony adjusted his spectacles and consulted his chalk tablet. “According to my calculations you built your palace on top of a volcano that’s about to erupt.”
“What of it?” Blaze, wearing his tallest and pointiest crown for extra majesty, puffed himself up. “Weak-willed and easily cowed creatures are always afraid of the future. Not so I! We will stay the course!”
“You’ve also filled the treasure vaults with unstable charged magic crystals you looted from Qirina. Those should really be kept individually sealed in mithril frames, and you’ve just poured them out in a huge pile.”
“Of course. What is even the point of having a wealth of crystals if you can’t pour them in a pile?”
“It’s adding to a volatile nexus of geological forces in this mountain that might rip right open anytime. You need to secure it before it’s too late.”
“Not a problem. I will find the biggest rock around and make an example of it. That will make the other rocks think twice about crossing me.”’
“I also understand that you recently brought in a passel of yak forced laborers…”
“We have great plans for them. There are so many things we can smash.”
“You put them right next to the aerie’s main structural support column.”
“We didn’t have room for them anywhere else. You can hardly hear them over the Diamond Dogs and Abyssinians. Anyway, the roots are good enough.”
“The roots are drilling through the rock and making it worse! I have identified seventeen points of structural instability up and down the tree that can bring the whole edifice crashing down. You need to fix this.”
“Nonsense. Fixing things is for chumps, it only gives them ideas. We will handle this the griffon way: Anyone who complains gets a stick upside the head. That is how I made the Griffon Empire the strongest land in Equis.”
“The griffons downstairs are screaming. All the water smells of sulfur.”
“Minor trifles.”
Star Swirl looked down. “The floor is getting hot. I think the tree is on fire.”
“No it isn’t,” King Blaze said, flapping his wings to hover.
The columns holding the ceiling creaked. The wall cracked with a loud snap and green gas piped out with a loud Psshhh.
King Blaze snorted and glared at it. “This brick wall thinks it can defy me? It has met its match. I’ll have you know that all my courtiers say that talking to me is like talking to a brick wall.”
There was a series of loud pops, and a sharp whistling sound began to whine from the floor.
Star Swirl shook his head. “Your majesty, even the land you control is collapsing. At this point the invasion is the least of my worries.”
“Nonsense. I shall fix this with my bold decisiveness. Clearly what’s needed is more territory to support the territory we already have. We must expand the aerie northwards!”
“You mean into the lake?”
“The lake has defied my architectural vision! It must be put in its place!”
The high-pitched whining got higher and higher, stinging their ears until it passed beyond the audible spectrum, and suddenly everything was silent.
“Look out!” Star Swirl hurled himself at the king and raised a shield in a bubble around them with all his might just as the explosion hit, and catapulted them both through the ceiling and up into the air above the palace.
Within the shield-bubble as they flew, King Blaze scowled. “This is your fault, you alarmist.”
Long ago.
After the drills the camp returned to its business and the observers were sent away. Lieutenant Gouge returned the pony to the aerie, and brought him to the Hunting Lodge.
The Hunting Lodge was the soldiers’ watering hole of choice, and the large bar was full of them, loud griffons spread across a grand hall of rough wooden make and walls hung with trophies. Large tables and large barrels of hard cider and other hard drinks filled the tavern. Everywhere they looked griffons were laughing, playing games of chance, and sinking drinking songs as they drank.
A musician, a lean griffon plucking a string instrument, sang a tale as he walked down the length and breadth of the hall: the hunt of the Arimaspian Boar.
“Like a river beneath the earth rushes ceaselessly, and what falls in its grasp has no hope of escape, so the king’s company moved through the forest under the rain-dripped leaves in search of its prey,” he began, playing a lively melody between the words that pleased the crowd.
“And while rain in the leaves
Is a blessing to thieves
The King cried ‘let it blast!’
So the horn sounded clear
And the beast in its lair
Knew at once that its doom came on fast.”
“King Blaze leads by example,” Gouge said. “That is how he built the Empire. He knew that a griffon king should value accomplishment, not empty talk. You ponies enjoy speeches – I have read your king’s – but griffons laugh at empty blather.” He glanced sideways and looked over the pony. “When Blaze speaks, his words are like spears and hammers, not to be ignored. When he swears an oath, it is done. When he sets his mind, no force on Equis can change it. Blaze ennobled his warriors, gave them wealth and power and made them the envy of all, and showed all griffons that great deeds would be honored with great rewards.”
Captain Gouge ordered a cup of applejack, and a mug of cider for the pony, and took him to a table.
“Because of his vision the Griffon Empire covers a fifth of Equis and grows every day,” the captain continued while all around them griffons caroused. “Griffon warriors are stronger than any other creature, while Griffon nobles long to prove their mettle in battle and win greatness and glory. As long as there are new lands to conquer Griffonkind will only grow greater.”
The song finished, to stomping and shouts. The next song began, and from the first few notes plucked on the strings something was different. The raucous singing and laughing fell silent, and the griffons listened.
The player’s voice shifted, and when a moment before it had been cheerful and vigorous and full of laughter, now it was haunting and strange, though still loud and clear, as he began to sing of dragonfire.
Fire, that made the great forests a funeral pyre for every creature that sheltered within. Fire, that burned the land and made every river and lake run dry. Fire, that blackened the sky and blotted out the sun and made the air itself into poison.
Into this fire arose young Blaze, the strong, the fierce, the bold, head of a clan of griffons, one of the uncountable many of the Restless Peaks.
The player sang of the hunt. As a young warrior Blaze proved himself in the deep woods, and brought home many trophies to line his hall. As a raider he led attacks on rival tribes, and as a leader he defended against retaliation, clinging to his scrap of land on the mountainside against all challengers, holding his own in a time when small clans like his were easy prey. He was a good chief, but the ravines are full of the bones of good chiefs, picked clean by buzzards and rats.
The griffons listened as he raised the mountain winds in their feathers, the sunlight, the strength of youth and the triumphs and sorrows of pillagers and raids, of victories and defeats, of feasts at night when tomorrow was forgotten.
Then came Belekos, and brought the fire with him.
The hearthfire seemed to fall cold, and the lodge grew dark around them as the player conjured the ghost of an ancient pain.
Belekos. A dragon who would not slumber in a mountain, because he was the mountain. A dragon whose wings could envelop the sky itself, and whose fire could kill stars.
A dragon whose voice was command, and all other dragons were swept away beneath it, powerless to defy him even in their hearts. Whose mind was death and madness, that sought to cover the whole world until all was silence and ashes.
They called him the Jagged King. And the time was called the Day of the Dragons, and none knew if it would ever end.
All over the world creatures fell to the dragons’ fire. Creatures fled their homes. The survivors buried themselves in the earth and pleaded with the heavens for respite. And the black smoke covered the sky as fast as a dragon could fly.
Chaos and confusion reigned. The sun and the moon could not be seen. Dragon’s smoke defied any flying creature and forced them to ground. Crops would not grow, and even unicorn magic faded without starlight and hope.
Then she came to the mountains, tired and hungry, bearing news and seeking aid. From the lands of ponies she came, fleeing the cataclysm.
When the danger came they set off like courier pigeons bearing dire tidings, beating their wings through the night to escape the swift and hungry hawk, searching for friendly eyes to deliver their words. They had traveled far, and were weary and full of doubt, but though she was at her lowest point she would not yield.
The dark mare, wreathed in shadows of night and magic, accompanied by her knights, came to the Restless Peaks, and met Blaze.
She spoke with him through the night, and the young warrior listened to her words. She spoke of the dragonfire that swept across the land, that had covered the lands of ponies and scattered them to the winds and driven them underground, and that would soon come to the mountains.
They spoke long together, and shared stories of the world. He questioned her, and she spoke harshly and wisely; she questioned him, and he was not doubtful or unsure, but stared down peril and did not fear death.
It is said that Nightmare Moon looked into Blaze’s future, that night, and saw his destiny.
And he swore an oath there, in the shadows beneath the dark clouds, to stand against whatever would come.
So it was that when the dragonfire came to the Restless Peaks, when the divided clans scattered and broke beneath their assault, it was the warrior chief Blaze and his tribe who held their ground, and fought beside Nightmare Moon and her Shadowbolts, and stood defiant against the dragons.
The player’s voice brought to life the battle that followed in the minds of every creature listening. The choking black smoke that filled their lungs. The rumble of the dragon’s roar that made the earth tremble, the sight of great scaled wings beating in the skies. The struggle to remain standing behind shields of magic and hide while your brothers and sisters fell beside you.
On that day all of Equis hung in the balance, held in the talons of one griffon and his followers, a wall standing between the dragons and a defenseless world, when the sky writhed in pain and the mountain glowed red, and all the world wondered and held its breath.
And when his armies ground to a halt and that titan who soared above the earth showed himself on the battlefield it was Blaze and the dark mare who stood against him and taught him how it feels to be cut.
The earth shook, a single great crack of thunder as the dragon crashed down below the mountains. And so it was that on the summits and the deep valley of the Restless Peaks, the world watched King Blaze deliver to Belekos the first defeat the Jagged King had ever known.
As the song drew to its end all the griffons returned to their drinking and their games, though a thunderous stomping of tankards on tables showed their approval.
Gouge smiled, his heart soaring with courage and fire, lost in thoughts of heroism and adventure. But he was given pause when he glanced down at the pony beside him. The pony stared into the distance as though looking at a ghost. As though the hall held something only he could see, and all else was only illusion.
His face, though unmoving, seemed dangerous to approach. Like a dark fire that could not be seen with the eyes had smoldered up into life beneath the surface of him, and coming too close to it would consume you.
Let me tell you a story.
The creature crept around the corners of the den, barely visible. It went from shadow to shadow in soft, soundless movements, searching up and down for its feed.
Then with a sudden violence it was pinned on a skewer and dragged out into the lamplight, squealing and wriggling, and the griffon hen gasped in horror. “That’s no rat!”
“Indeed not,” Star Swirl the Bearded said, turning the skewer to examine the thing he had caught. It was made of darkness and wet, shapeless matter, and it opened a foul maw to snap at its captor as it tried to tear itself free, glistening with corruption. “And you say you have seen more of these?”
“I hear them slink around most nights! Has that thing been gnawing in my pantry?”
“It is worse than that. This thing does not eat grains or meat, but light and joy itself. I have seen many like it before.”
The unicorn’s horn came to life and glowed with bright golden magic, and the creature writhed and wailed as it burned into nothingness.
“If these things are spreading through the city we are all in terrible dangers… I must purge this corruption at the source.” He turned and looked upwards, and having found his objective he set out.
The hall was bleak, colorless, thick with dust and shadows. Star Swirl the Bearded strode into it, light streaming in from the open doorway behind him, and it slid shut with a creak and a slam.
“Star Swirl the Bearded. Welcome to my home,” said the Griffon King, in a voice that was as dry and haggard as it was pleased. “I have longed to speak with you, a creature who understands magic almost as well as I do. Who knows the hunger for knowledge.”
Star Swirl the Bearded came to a halt in the darkness and stood there, ears perked, glancing warily around him until his eyes grew accustomed to the dark. Then he saw it.
Pressed against the far wall, splayed out unnaturally, legs and wings at odd angles, the Griffon King was a huge gray-black figure in the darkness. He was crow and panther, and deep shadows dripped from him like thick liquid onto the floor, seeping into the soil and corrupting it.
“You’re being consumed by dark magic, griffon king. It will kill you.” Star Swirl raised a hoof to his heart in horror. “What monstrous force did you seek out for this, this blasphemy?”
“The Black Bird of Death, who nests in the bone orchard of Tartarus, haunted my dreams,” King Blaze said. “She showed me a vision, the same one every night. A path lay before me, into the deepest caverns leading down to dark, forgotten temples, and ancient, hungry spirits. I scoured Equis to find the gateway it had shown me… the door that would lead me to my destiny. And it has.”
“There is no power in darkness, griffon king. Only madness!”
“It has made me stronger than ever before!” Griffon King Blaze reared up on his hindlegs and reached up with his long, skeletal claws, and his wings stretched out until the shadows enveloped them both. The doorway behind Star Swirl vanished in the void, and there was nothing in the hall but the two of them. “I thought that you, of all creatures, would understand… You too quest for knowledge, wizard. You know the allure of forbidden secrets. Dark. Light. Lies, both! With this power the Griffon Empire will cover all the world! For that, the price I paid was as nothing.”
“Then you are a fool,” Star Swirl said firmly. He stomped his hoof on the stone floor and it made a sound like thunder. “No price is worth this, King Blaze! You have sold your spirit to darkness, and it will destroy everything it touches. It tempts you with what your heart most desires, but it lies.” He shook his head. “King Titanium was wise to send me. This is not the first time I have faced dark magic.”
Star Swirl charged his horn with blinding white magic, that grew stronger and stronger until the entire hall glowed like the sun. The thick oily shadows burned in putrid smoke and King Blaze screamed as the corruption was purged from his soul. “No! NO! My power!”
“It was never yours, King Blaze,” Star Swirl said. “Dark magic knows exactly how to deceive you. It inveigles itself in your mind, learns your darkest desires, and promises you everything you could dream for. But once it takes hold of you it does not serve, but commands you forever.”
King Blaze growled, clawing himself up as the darkness drew back. “This is not over, little pony! I will tear your throat out and reclaim my power! Nopony defies the Griffon King!”
“So be it,” Star Swirl said, raising his defenses as the griffon king attacked, and the battle that shook the mountain commenced.
“This story annoys me in ways that I find very annoying,” Twilight Sparkle said. “It’s not wrong about dark magic. But it is historically inaccurate.”
“Also deeply tribeist.”
“Yes. That goes without saying.”
Long ago.
In the evening of the second day a messenger came to the ambassador’s room. The griffon was young and uncertain, and stammered through his message, that the pony was eagerly desired to attend a feast in the residence of Countess Gloriel.
The Countess lived in the center of Aetite, her nest a great round complex in a hollowed knot of the heartwood. Great banners in bright colors out front showed griffons gaily dancing and drinking, pining and entwining, marking the place as the heart of Aetite hospitality. Even from outside the sound of music and loud conversation made it impossible to miss.
Star Swirl the Bearded arrived at precisely the appointed hour, and rapped on the door. An old and pompous servant verified his invitation, deftly acting that he did not know the only pony in Aetite, and let him in. He was ushered through the gate, and he stepped into the Countess’s parlor.
The chamber was all loud noise and loud sights, reflective surfaces and chandelier-light, and tall griffons wearing their finest dress and heaviest jewelry as camouflage, for the better to hunt their prey.
Star Swirl the Bearded passed them stiffly, and their heads turned to watch him as he went.
“The pony! How delightful! I don’t think any of us expected you to make an appearance,” Countess Gloriel said lightly. “I am grateful that you found the time away from your heavy duties.”
The Countess herself was an older griffon, vulture and sphinx, in a golden dress with a pearl necklace and golden bangles. She welcomed her guest with every show of delight at his presence.
Soon the griffons made for the tables, as the feast was about to be served. Star Swirl the Bearded was seated at the Countess’s own table, alongside her circle of acquaintances.
All eyes were on him as he took his seat. A musician sang a formation hymn, accompanied by a drumbeat that mimicked the steady flapping of wings, and the dive.
“We have already met,” lieutenant Gouge said coolly when a griffon moved to introduce them.
“As have we,” Grindaxe chimed in, delighted at the smolder in Gouge’s eyes. “We had a wonderful talk last night.”
On the wall behind Gloriel hung three paintings. The first was a portrait of an idealized griffon clearly meant to represent King Blaze himself, the very image of lion’s strength mixed with winged eagle’s might. Beside him was a portrait of Duke Godfrey, made in much the same idiom, and between them was a grand painted map of the Empire, its seventeen provinces clearly outlined, with Aetite prominent to the north.
“How does it suit you?” one young cockerel asked gaily. “This palace is filled with the flower of the griffon nobility, sir wizard.”
The pony said nothing, but tensed slightly.
“Careful,” Gouge said, brushing a wing against the cockerel. “That pony is fearsome. Whoever crosses him is likely to turn into a mist of magic dust.”
Grindaxe laughed. “Why Gouge, you almost sound frightened! Surely no pony poses a threat to the mighty officer of the Talonguard.”
“He does. However, there is only one of him.” Lieutenant Gouge watched the pony warily, his claws sharp at his sides. “The Talonguard’s full numbers are mustered, the positions are taken. It is flexing its wings, only waiting for the call to sound. Whatever it is you’re going to say to King Blaze, master wizard, you should hope it works.”
“Simple Gouge, your sincerity is endearing,” Grindaxe said with a smirk. “It’s myopic of you to hold out hope for a fight.”
“My eyes are very sharp.”
“Myopic in spirit, my dear. The quill is sharper than the claw. Ponies will see reason and join us peacefully, to fly to a brighter future. The Empire will grow even greater for it, and I mean to celebrate our triumph. I am fortunate that I will get to see it from a cloud-perch, and you will all get to read it from my vantage.” She let out a birdlike cry of anticipation. “Imagine what griffonkind can accomplish, with unicorn magic and earth pony strength in our arsenal! And pegasi will supplement our mastery of the air nicely. They are good at weather control, supposedly.”
“They are,” Gouge replied. He cast a glance at Star Swirl, who was looking back at him. “But we are not afraid of bad weather.”
“Please be at ease, ambassador, and enjoy your stay. We are all friends here,” Countess Gloriel said.
She plucked a piece of roast boar elegantly in her claws and stripped it by its fibers. “There is much to be proud of in Aetite. Only look at the wealth around you I am fortunate enough to enjoy, to see what griffons can do.”
It was true: Gloriel’s parlor was part art gallery, part treasure hoard, with gold and jewels left wherever they would fit around the walls. Star Swirl glanced over them briefly, but his eyes settled on something else.
Standing on a shelf among a clutter of hoarded and neglected trinkets was a figurine of Grogar. It was carved out of wood and painted blue. His horns were lead, long and curved and sharp, and his eyes were harsh.
The Countess followed his gaze and beamed. “Ah, the goat icon is an interesting piece is it not? It’s a deity of some sort – one of their primitive superstitions, they all look hideous really. It was in the tribute they gave to my nephew, and he gave it to me.”
Star Swirl picked it up and turned it this way and that as though searching for something, until he spotted it, then held it still.
“You’re familiar with these?” the Countess asked, pecking at her meal. “Yes, there’s writing on it. I didn’t notice for years. I had a scribe look at it. It’s some sort of goat blessing.”
Star Swirl looked at the carved runic script. It said ‘May his eyes always be on you, and may you get what you deserve’.
Star Swirl nodded and put it down facing the wall.
“A toast,” Grindaxe said, raising her goblet. “To his majesty King Blaze, to whom Aetite owes all its good fortune, and to the Duke.”
The other griffons echoed the toast.
“My nephew,” Countess Gloriel said with satisfaction, tilting her goblet to the portrait of the Duke. “The griffon who built Aetite, to whom we owe all this splendor, and who invited his old auntie to live here and host parties for him.”
Star Swirl sat still and cast a sideways glance, and the gesture made her laugh, and shake her head. “Perhaps you think that this was not a land worth developing. You wouldn’t be alone. But everything changes. This mountain was once a dragon outpost, you know. After they left this mountain was tilled by donkeys and goats, and run through with diamond dog jewel mines. A neglected backwater. But the creatures who lived here were proud, and brave. When the griffons came they laughed, and told us in very colorful terms what they thought of us. And they dug in.” She took a sip of her wine and put down the goblet. “Godfrey, the Adamant Claw, ripped them out of their holes like mice and brought them to heel.”
Star Swirl sat listening, motionless, and all the other griffons receded.
“Griffon knights never shy from a challenge. Counts and barons clamored to lead the campaign, and dueled each other for the chance. Thane Godfrey took the lead, and when the battle came for the diamond dogs he leashed them and tamed them. For his valor he was made a duke.”
Gloriel swept her talons wide. “Look around you, pony! They said nothing could grow on this mountain top. But bodies make excellent compost. We took this empty, barren place and we built Aetite, second only to Griffonstone in splendor.”
A servant filled her wine-glass and she wrapped her claws around the stem. She gave the pony a knowing smile. “Griffons strive for greatness, as the great king commands. So long as there are lands to conquer the flight of the griffon armies give them the chance to prove themselves. Do you think your lands will fare differently, pony?”
She watched him languidly, waiting.
Gouge took his glass, giving the others a way to break the tension. “No doubt the great wizard will prove ferocious prey, when the time comes.”
Grindaxe leaned forward over the table. “Perhaps he is a hunter himself? I understand he spends most of his time far from the court, out in the wilderness, in search of magical beasts.”
For what happened next, the observers would struggle to adequately convey afterwards. At this point Star Swirl the Bearded spoke.
The pony acknowledged that yes, he spent much of his time far from the cities of Equestria, in the wilderness where few ponies or other civilized creatures live.
That he had little to do with affairs of state, and that the concerns of both farmers and emperors were distant to him.
That all of this, his presence, his mission, the threat of war, was not his choice and was a problem he would not have conceived.
And he began to tell of what he was searching for, in the distant wilderness, and the world began to fade away.
He described it as though it were an alien world to them, bereft of sentient life, vast and open to traverse, where you could travel for a day or a lifetime without seeing the sun fall below the horizon, or another creature capable of speech. A place without distrust, or gambit, where laws and greed and force did not stand between him and the stars. Where there was only him and what he sought, impossibly far away.
Where, in a moment of stillness, the earth seemed a reflection of the sky and you could see through the entire world.
And in that search greater peril, greater foes, and struggle, than any they could imagine.
They heard him talk of hunting, and for a few moments, brief moments that felt much longer, all who listened were transported to another realm by his words, far removed from everything that mattered to them in their lives and placed in his, hunting a wild beast through shadows and secrets in places untouched by knife and nail, alone. Sometimes hunted, sometimes in pursuit.
Some in the company were unsure if he was hunting griffon.
He described the wild lands he had traveled, and the mysteries he had pursued, and all the while hanging over his description was that which was not described: the things that lay behind him, rather than in front. The things he was running from, not towards.
It was clear to all who heard him that he was chasing magical truth out there, far from home, and that it would please him greatly to leave them all behind and return there, for the magical mysteries of the wilderness were far better company to him than were griffons or even ponies.
That he was here because he had been commanded by his king, and there was little affection between the two of them, and that the affairs of ponies and griffons meant little to him.
That as he was alien to them they were alien to him, but that he had been summoned to this place to fulfill a promise.
King Blaze was waiting for him, somewhere far above. He would do his duty, whatever the cost.
Later on, when the griffons looked back at that moment and discussed it among themselves, they blamed each other for failing to understand what was coming.
Each of them saw something completely different in his words, recognized some part of themselves – duty, ambition, contempt for weakness, love of home – that they understood intimately. And none of them could understand why the others had been so blind.
Let me tell you a story.
Images of fire and violence adorned the walls, and the severed heads of King Blaze’s enemies hung in a neat row, looking very surprised.
“I brought a gift for your collection,” Star Swirl said, and threw down a blood-splattered helmet with its contents still within to the floor. “I’m disappointed you didn’t try to kill me yourself.”
King Blaze looked approvingly at the torn metal. “You can’t blame me, when I have such a famous pony under my roof! I had to see how you’d… hold up… to the rumors.”
Star Swirl let out an annoyed “Hmph,” and tossed his head, his thick tousled mane resting perfectly against his brow. Both it and his silky smooth goatee were undisturbed by the battle, and he strode forth fearlessly on long, slender legs towards the king, who stepped down from his throne to meet him. “You think you’re the first creature to send your muscle after me? Everywhere I go I am threatened and challenged. I bend to no-one.”
“I am a connoisseur of power. Strength thrills me, and weakness revolts me – and they say you are very thrilling indeed. I had to see it! But such powers do not come without a price. No straight and honest stallion, you are. What dark pacts gave you this strength? And beneath that, are you some soft little pony who has never known a day of struggle in your life?”
“You have no idea what trials I’ve overcome,” Star Swirl said in a voice that was soft like a whisper, and as rough as the growling of a great wolf. He stepped forward purposefully, gracefully, like a dancer, or a fencer, and his eyes smoldered. “I will happily bargain with forbidden powers for an advantage – because I know I will need every scrap I can get for what is to come.”
“Ah. There is a strength I recognize. You would do anything to protect the Unicorn Kingdom then?”
“The Unicorn Kingdom? Is that why you think I’m here? What has the Unicorn Kingdom ever done for me? No, I stand for myself only. Nopony else can trust in me, and I know not to trust in them.”
“Do not pretend you stand apart from the lives of others. Where you go havoc and chaos follows, and you leave every creature terrified in your wake.”
“Should that trouble me?” Star Swirl mocked. “Tear it all down – the blind obedience, the ironclad rules you wrap yourselves around and force down on your hatchlings. It lies and uses them, and when they see that it will hurt. Let them be terrified. Better that their eyes be opened now.”
King Blaze laughed. “You intrigue me. You will make the finest trophy of all, I think. Join me then, forsake your kind and unleash your power upon those who scorned you! Together we will be stronger than all of them.”
“I care for nothing, and join no-one. I exist in opposition – you are merely the latest obstacle in my path.”
“You wound me, Star Swirl. Am I not special at all, to you?”
“Not remotely.”
“Then I must remedy that. I don’t mind – I am a hunter, after all. And you ponies… you so enjoy being chased.” King Blaze looked at the wizard with a cocky smile, and deep, smoldering eyes. His bulging muscles strained against his shirt. “Not just anyone is worthy to be my enemy. I have searched the world for one, and now you fall into my lap. Such good fortune is not to be given up lightly. If you will not be my ally then you shall be my prisoner.”
“Try it, and I will give you more additions to your collection. I am used to being hunted, and I am not easily contained.”
“Such coldness in your voice! Such ruthlessness!” King Blaze let out a loud, boastful laugh without taking his eyes off the pony. “Your rage delights me! It is one of the few exceptional things in this world. Something so rare must not be extinguished, so instead I will fan its flames. I will destroy your life, Star Swirl the Bearded, that I may see how great your rage can grow.”
King Blaze strode up towards him, grinning, his eyes afire. “I will rip apart that armor you wear so well and see what you hide behind it in the depths of your being. I will find what matters most to you, solely so that I can destroy it and taste your tears. I will imprint my name upon your soul in pain.”
“You would not be the first to try,” Star Swirl said, turning his cheek. “And you will not be the last.”
“Oh I will,” Blaze growled. “I will make you think of me every waking moment. I will torment you until there is nothing left that could possibly hurt you more – and then I will end your suffering myself, and you will say my name with your dying breath, and it will be the sweetest sound any creature has ever heard.”
“Ah.” Star Swirl stared into the griffon king’s eyes with anger burning. “Then perhaps you are worth opposing.”
Without another word spoken they approached each other and their lips pressed together in a passionate—
Clover the Clever slammed the book shut and stared at the wall, grimacing, her eye twitching. “I… you… why would anypony even—I don’t even know where to begin!”
She stared down at the book. “I’m never touching you again.”
“Wait, no! Clover! Keep reading!” Twilight Sparkle cried as she reached the end of the text, furiously scribbling notes in her journal. “I have to know what happened next! For research!”
Let me tell you a story.
When the wizard and the griffon king met they agreed to a challenge for the fate of the pony lands. The game they played was called the Game of Ways.
“There is a place far away from here,” King Blaze said, and as he spoke a magical image of it appeared before them, so vivid that Star Swirl could not tell if it was in the Griffon King’s magic, or his own mind's eye, so vivid that he could have sworn he was there in the flesh. “A place where the mountains crack beneath the steps of giants.”
Star Swirl felt the ground tremble beneath him with each step of the unseen monster, his heartbeat racing. The griffon continued speaking. “Where towering figures blot out the sun as they walk, wielding great trees as clubs that they have pulled up by the roots with a single tug, or have snapped in two as easily as they would tear a blade of grass. A single giant eye stares balefully from its forehead, and those who catch its gaze will be crushed by its terrible blow.”
Star Swirl's mouth fell open as he saw the hateful creature roaring above him, crossing the great mountains and leaving great gashes in the forest through its passing, threatening violent death upon those who dared come close.
The Griffon King's grin widened as he watched his fear. “I am the Cyclops,” he said. “What will you be, to escape crushing death at my hands?”
The image froze, releasing Star Swirl from the grip of terror. He shuddered and gulped and coughed. “Is that how the game is played, then?”
“That is how the game is played,” the Griffon King replied, savoring his shock as if it were a fine wine.
“Wait just a minute.” Twilight Sparkle slammed a hoof on the page. “This is the confrontation between Star Swirl the Bearded and the Sphinx in Saddle Arabia! This story is plagiarized!”
She slammed the book shut and fumed.
Let me tell you a story.
“Focus, Star Swirl. Remember your lines. The fate of ponykind hinges on this meeting.”
The unicorn drew some deep breaths to calm himself. He shook his withers and whipped his tail, and stood tall and straight, head held high. He took a step forward and opened the door.
There was a bright flash of magic and a dimensional portal ripped open right in front of him, and he just barely had time to say “What?” before he was dragged through it.
He found himself standing in a heavenly palace, and a giant pony goddess made of beauty and clouds stood before him. “Greetings, Star Swirl the Bearded! I am Synapsia, the Goddess of Connection. The many far-flung worlds you have used as a waste bin for disposing of magics that inconvenience you have petitioned me to speak for them, and they demand recompense! You are being sent to another dimension to see how you like it, until you have learned your lesson! Now go.”
“What?” Star Swirl said again before another portal opened under his hooves and he fell through, tumbling down to dirt.
“At last! A hero has come to save us!” an excitable voice cried. Star Swirl clambered up on his hooves to see a collection of woodland critters, led by an elfin pony, tall and skinny and graceful and innocent. “Hail to thee, noble traveler. Welcome to the land of Wonderall, a world of enchantment and adventure. But we have no time to speak: our homeland is beset by peril, for the monstrous armies of the Dark Lord encroach upon us.” The entire collection of woodland critters whined piteously. “We were driven from our village, and were on the brink of despair. But now the Great Spirit has sent you to be our savior!”
Star Swirl the Bearded agreed to help the poor woodland critters, and together they had many adventures across the land of Wonderall. He spent the next ten years there, having adventures, making friends, and eventually defeated the Dark Lord once and for all and was made King of Wonderall, and everypony was happy at last!
And when his adventures were done he was returned by magic to the very same place and time, exactly as he was when he left, and on Equis all the years he had grown there had passed no more than the blink of an eye.
“Oh! What wonders I have beheld in all my years in Wonderall. Am I now doomed never to look again on the magnificence of the city of facets? Will my dreams be filled with the soft voice of Willow-Flight the Compassionate? Can I go on knowing that the joys of the Thundering Carnival are lost in the past that is another time and place to which I cannot return again? Must I now return to an older life that seemed so dire before but which has been distant and unimportant for so long that it may as well have been a dream? I must go on. I must find the strength. Dear Falderal the Nutchaser would not want me to mourn the loss of her friendship, but would want me to celebrate that it lasted as long as it did and cherish the memories for as long as my life will last. I must pick up the pieces of where I was, and keep the spirit of Wonderall alive in my heart always. Yes, that is what they would tell me.”
He took a step forward, stopped, and looked around. “Where am I?”
“And then when you had the meeting you were completely unprepared and things went horribly horribly wrong,” Clover the Clever said triumphantly. “And the rest is history.”
Star Swirl the Bearded looked at the elaborate charts and lengthy notes with many excited exclamation marks his student had chalked on the blackboard. “That’s… not what happened.”
“But if you were sworn to secrecy about Wonderall then you would say that, wouldn’t you?!”
Let me tell you a story.
The wall was adorned with images of life, knowledge, history. But though he watched the wall, the king was not watching them.
“There’s something special about the shadows cast from firelight,” King Blaze said. “The way they flicker and shift every moment, faster than the mind can follow… in a way they show it from every side at once, like nothing else can. I see it and think, yes, that is the truth of this one. They show the innermost being of a creature.”
He turned away from the shadows to the pony himself.
Star Swirl the Bearded hung before the fire, suspended by heavy chains around his neck the fetlocks of his forelegs, with a heavy ring around his horn. He struggled to keep breathing while the flames licked at him, breathing heavily through gritted teeth as sweat ran down his smoldering beard. His cloak singed and smoked, the enchanted fabric’s healing powers fighting to repair it as quickly as it burned.
“You will not forgive the ruse but I am sure you understand why it was necessary, to bring you here…”
Star Swirl raised his head and turned his burning eyes on the griffon king. “Is this the Empire’s plan, then?”
“Empire? What matters empire in a world of magic?” King Blaze moved closer. “No… This is what truly matters. The empire was only ever meant to bring us both to this point, you and I. Because we both know what truly shapes the world.”
Star Swirl hissed and bent his back, desperately trying to shield himself from the fire. “I don’t know your grievance. So many creatures have reason to hate me, I stopped keeping track long ago.”
“But I think you do, wizard.” King Blaze flapped his wings, a gust of wind like bellows, and the fire grew. “You watched her raise the moon, and refuse to set. You were there when the great work was nearly accomplished. But you ran. You fled into the wilderness, shunning your own kind. Why?”
Star Swirl hissed in pain, and pulled taut the chain from the collar on his neck to get away from the fire. “I… had to leave,” he said, in a voice that was little more than a whisper. “I hunted magical beasts instead. The dark creatures that live in the crevices on the edges of the world – that’s where I belonged. I had no place among ponies. I was barely tolerated even before it all broke down, and after… there was nothing for me there. Only regret, and anger. So I left, and searched for answers that ponies could not give.”
“And what did you find?”
Star Swirl said nothing.
“I know what you searched for. A way to break the curse. A way to tame the beast, or kill it. Perhaps a way to release it that would not destroy everything you loved in the process…”
He gripped the pony’s head with a claw and raised it up to look at him, and Star Swirl saw the fluid darkness flow across the griffon’s eyes. “You fight to contain it, but it always tries to break free.”
Star Swirl stared, visions of the apocalypse playing out in his mind, and in spite of the fire he suddenly felt cold. “That power must never be unleashed again.”
“You were hard to find, wizard. But I found you. You were hard to draw out, but I did. I had to bend half the nations of Equis to my will to bring you here, and now… I finally have you.”
He let go of the pony and stepped back. “The legacy of the Nightmare lives on in us. And now at last the light and dark sides of the moon will be united.”
He snatched the hat from Star Swirl’s head. The pony looked up with pangs of dread as the griffon reached inside, and pulled out an amulet, a silver disc on a white metal chain that glowed like the full moon.
He tossed aside the hat and from around his own neck he drew another amulet, the dark twin of the first, and held the two together. “And Eternal Night will once more cover all of Equis.”
Star Swirl breathed heavily, and twisted in his chains. “Listen… I don’t know what you want. I don’t know what lies it told you. But this power won’t serve you. It cannot be controlled. It can only destroy.”
“You misunderstand me, pony. I care nothing for wishes. The power demands to be released… and our destiny is to create the future. All that’s left for you and I to do… is to see which of us will live to see it done.”
Star Swirl shook in pain, and strained at his bonds. Something dark flickered and moved in his eyes, obscuring the reflected firelight. The chains creaked and his face warped as the transformation began.
King Blaze grinned when he saw it. “There is power in you we have yet to see.”
He grabbed a poker and began to stoke the flames higher.
“It’s time to let it out.”
Let me tell you a story.
Star Swirl the Bearded crossed the threshold to the King’s chamber. “King Blaze, I am here to—”
A sword emerged from nowhere by magic and impaled him through his stomach and emerging out his back, soon followed by a flurry of other swords. They hummed with power and tore through him in all directions, an explosion of blood all around him, and he fell to the floor in a dozen parts.
His horn glowed on his severed head and his body pulled itself together and merged into one, standing up once more.
King Blaze laughed uproariously and clapped his talons. “Magnificent! Simply magnificent. I think I’m going to keep him.”
Let me tell you a story.
Miles above the mountain as he plummeted through the sky Star Swirl the Bearded charged a spell with all his might to slow his fall while he cast the cloud-walking spell, and lightning struck as his hooves crashed onto the cloud. The shadow of King Blaze passed over him, and a ferocious gust of wind followed in his wake that threatened to rip the cloud itself apart.
Star Swirl dug in his heels and readied his spell, his horn glowing like fire, as the griffon landed in the mist in front of him. His great wings stretched far, and his roar pierced the air loud enough to shatter the dome of heaven, as the battle began once more.
Let me tell you a story.
Star Swirl the Bearded slumped against a tree to stop from falling as he drew a slow, painful breath. Blood trickled down from his lip, and every movement was agony. He stared down the bitter passage through the dead forest, branches like bones reaching out to claim him. Then he kept going.
All along the voice kept speaking, coming from everywhere and nowhere. “Do you feel the poison in your blood, trickling ever closer? Soon it will reach your heart, and all your magic will not save you. And once you are out of the way… the world is ours. Do you still think you can find me before then, little pony?”
Her laughter rang out across the wood as he took another step.
Let me tell you a story.
Star Swirl the Bearded cackled with cruel glee, stomping his hooves as his misshapen form blended back into the shadows, crooked and bent, leaving fire and ruin behind him.
Let me tell you a story.
Star Swirl the Bearded had not stepped away for three days and nights while the attack continued. He raised his shield against just in time for the fireball to crash against it, then dropped it again to conserve energy, sparks of burning stone raining down on the ground. The hawks shrieked all around, dozens of them, waiting for an opening.
Let me tell you a story.
Star Swirl the Bearded screamed in agony as the lightning shot through him, the chains creaking from the strain as he pulled against them. His frail, skinny frame rose and fell with each breath.
Let me tell you a story.
Let me tell you a story.
Let me tell you a story…