//------------------------------// // Chapter 12: Architect // Story: Frames of War // by Starscribe //------------------------------// Princess Celestia took her down, way down. Down beneath the castle, through a spiral staircase hidden behind a wall of bricks and metal plates. Dust filled the air around them as they walked, glowing like the solar wind in Celestia's wake.  Catlin walked on her own two feet the entire way, even if having the frame to give her strength would have made it much easier on her strained limbs.  Some part of her suspected that if she retook the frame, the princess would attack her with another concentrated blast of void-light, burning her from the surface of the planet. So she panted and strained with the effort, on the edge of exhaustion but with no way to sleep. I'll get a chance before we go after the boil. The infestation can't lose so much biomass so fast without losing its ability to think. It needs to reorganize its mind. Eventually she found herself in the castle prison—crueler and darker than anything the Glassmaker could've imagined. Sections of the ceiling had collapsed, bars had rusted where water pooled in broken floor. There were murals painted on the wall here, or there had been.  They were only dim outlines now, only suggestions of ponies. "This is not necessary," Luna said. "Sister, we should save our strength for the battle ahead. There's nothing to be gained by going back here." Celestia didn't slow down. "We cannot make this judgement, sister. Even I know nothing of this war. Would you trust the fate of our creatures to chance?" Luna didn't answer, driven to silence by the question. Evidently that was exactly the kind of answer Celestia was looking for. "It's just ahead." The princess stopped abruptly, at a single cell that hadn't rotted and rusted away to nothing. The metal bars were gold in color, not iron. The uncoroding, perfect metal of the Orokin. They were even formed into sweeping, elegant curves, rather than simple rods. Some were so thin Catlin probably could've bent them with her bare fingers, if they were as weak as they looked. "Step inside, and face judgment for your crimes." She stood straighter, and found the frame suddenly beside her. It had followed all this way without prompting from her. Whether that was an automatic reaction, or something more—she didn't know yet. No one had ever used a horse frame before today. Catlin curled her hand around her amp, illuminating it with a faint glow of void-light as she stepped into the darkness. It looked like the interior of a structure, walls and ceilings and floors placed incongruously in its rocky pony home. Maybe thirty meters across, dark except for a reflection somewhere near its center. Catlin approached slowly, hearing the clatter of pony hooves beside her.  Something lit up near the center of the room, a set of red, empty eye-sockets. Somehow they still managed to follow her, watching as she walked in. The frame seemed to look up at her. It had no eyes, but Catlin could read its feelings anyway. That was fear, anticipation, and curiosity. The person this had once been would be fascinated to enter a place like this. "From brooding gulfs are we beheld By that which bears no name Its heralds are the stars it fells The sky and Earth aflame" Catlin froze, staring at the speaker. A skull-shaped head, vaguely humanoid in suggestion. But she could see through it at various points, where its metallic interior glittered with Sentient alloy. "I'm not here to fight you." She lowered her arm, dimming the void-light until only the glow of torches in the background lit the room. "From brooding gulfs are we beheld By that which bears no name Its heralds are the stars it fells The sky and Earth aflame" A deep, male voice spoke, reciting a poem known to so few in the Origin System. Most of her clanmates wouldn't recognize it. The wisest of Corpus scholars would have no idea. "How do you know that?" She stopped a few feet from the skull, eyes adjusting to the dim light. She started to see what she was looking at—a body closer to equine than human, though it split at strange points, with bones that curved.  It had been still so long that it had calcified right into the floor, or at least it looked that way. Though thin sinew still connected its limbs, she couldn't see the end of any, either in hand or hoof. "In luminous space blackened stars They gaze, accuse, deny Roiling, moaning, this realm of ours In madness lost shall die" Catlin stared down into that alien face, socketed eyes looking back at her. There were similarities here to the face of Erra, and many of the lesser sentients she had known. She cleared her throat, then spoke the last verse.  "Carrion hordes trill their profane Accord with eldritch plans To cosmic forms from tangent planes We end as we began" Laughter answered her, laughter distant and bitter. Strange light flickered along the body's odd bones, as though possessed by unnatural fireflies.  Her frame retreated, moving until it was behind her. Cowering in terror. It's okay, she thought to it, though it wasn’t. She tensed her fingers on the amp, ready to draw it in an eyeblink if she had to. This time without needing her void-powers were more than enough to restore them to strength, even if her actual body felt drained. "You speak like the Entrati," said the skull. "But without their cruelty. Where is your malice?" She dropped to one knee in front of the sentient. Not just a skull, I can't trick myself into thinking it's human. There would be no flesh on its mechanical body. The absence did not mean her enemy wasn't dangerous. "I am their victim too," she said quietly. "Their enemy too. I was just better at killing them." More laughter, even louder this time. Catlin thought she heard a gasp from one of the pony princesses. She dared only a single glance behind her, where their outlines loomed beyond the bars. At least they hadn't locked her in here. There were other shapes—dark, strange outlines on the walls, concealed in shadow. Catlin resisted the urge to investigate any of them now, not with something so dangerous right in front of her. "I do not know you," the sentient said. "I am Architect. Worldshaper, skycrafter, terraformer. Gardener." "I am Catlin, Tenno. This is..." she nodded back at the cowering frame behind her. "Helminth on my garden. The skymen reach us even here? Through the void, across the stars. They tired of waiting for Tao. They would rip our creation from our fingers." He doesn't know they're dead. He didn't seem to know what she was, either. Yet he knew the words of Albrecht Entrati, and he knew the power of the void. "Listen to me." She lowered her voice, speaking in a rush. "I don't know what you mean, but know this. An ancient Orokin vessel was trapped beneath the surface of this world. It burst like a cancerous wort, releasing the Infestation. I know the virus is no danger to sentients—but ponies are defenseless. Thousands are dead. It will rot this world like Deimos if we can't stop it." "No!" the Architect screamed. Its body still didn't move, yet its voice boomed through the small room. So loud that Catlin's ears ached from the volume. "Not here! We gave so many to keep the purity of this place! We sacrificed ourselves! They will not pollute Tao as they have wrecked and corrupted the Origin!" The weight of those words settled on Catlin like a kubrow pouncing on her back. She wobbled, nearly toppling sideways for support. They will not pollute Tao. Tao, the Origin System's nearest neighbor. The reason the Orokin had given life to the Sentients in the first place. They were the terraforming probes meant to build a new home for their creators, one untouched by atomic war or horrifying exploitation. One far beyond the reach of any call for help, any radio transmission, or even a Railjack. Only the void could bridge the gulf. How will I ever get home now? The Man in the Walls hadn't stolen her body from her—he had found a way to do something worse. Sentient armies were invading her home, killing her friends, and she wasn't even there to be able to help. "I want to help you," she said, through his shouts. "That's why I'm here, Architect. The ponies brought me to you—they aren't sure if they can trust me." "Trust will not save them now!" he wailed. "We searched for weapons—we did all that wisdom required to make this planet safe from corruption. Still, the Orokin reached us." He was insensate, very nearly mad with pain. This sentient was so unbelievably old—even older than the Tenno. "Without your blessing, the Alicorn named Celestia won't let me help you. She can't fight this thing alone. Tell them they can trust me, and I'll go out and fight." The words felt strange on her tongue now. All she had planned about her escape, or rallying the system to help these creatures into the modern galaxy—it was all meaningless now. There were some bright spots; she wouldn't have to worry about Corpus raiding teams kidnapping these creatures to turn into adorable pets. But there was so much left unanswered.  Why would you send me here?  The Man in the Walls didn't reply. "What can you possibly offer?" the Architect demanded. "You're human. You might not be our makers, but you fall from the same rotten tree. Greed, strife, pride, wrath. They infest you, just as you infest my beautiful garden!" "Maybe." Catlin stared into the sentient's face, ignoring his fury. "But I see the beauty of your 'garden' Architect. There are hours left to save it. If this is... if this is really Tao, I know you have no armies here. They're invading my home, killing my people. You have two choices now—accept my help, or let them die." "You torment Solaris enough." Celestia spoke from just behind her, close enough that Catlin gasped. "His decision is clear. You have failed. You can wait beneath the stone here, until we purge this city of its corruption. If we succeed, you may face your trial then. If we fail—" "Sister, no! Were you not listening? Solaris has not pronounced such a judgement. We cannot sacrifice what few allies we have!" Celestia's horn glowed a brilliant gold. Catlin backed away, clenching her hand around the Amp. But against a power like that, she could never survive a direct conflict. She would have to stay moving every moment, and dodge its attacks rather than face her directly. "Your judgement, Solaris," Celestia said flatly. "We brought her to you. What shall be done?" "I..." The eyes dimmed. "I release the weapon to her." Something mechanical clicked on the far end of the room, sliding down a gentle slope and splashing into a pool of water there. Catlin felt it pulling her, with gravity that ripped her from her body.  She stood suddenly on four legs, shaking the water violently from a metal back. She spread a pair of shimmering metal wings. One by one, glowing lanterns came on overhead, seemingly lit by her presence.  She felt no mind this time—no other passenger. Was that better, or worse? The weapon. She stopped in front of a pale mirror, or maybe it was just a section of ancient reflective wall. She saw a lean, elegant creature looking back, albeit without eyes. It was a pegasus, a pegasus made of different shades of gold. On her back was a complex mechanism—a cannon of sorts, not unlike the one she had once built from bits of fallen Sentient. Only this one was meant for a pony, curving around one of her legs with an intuitive firing mechanism. It let her walk, metal hooves clattering on ancient stone. "I do not place much faith in your survival," said the Architect. His voice was distorted slightly from within the frame, but she still recognized him. "But there is nowhere else for faith to be found. Fight, Tenno. Treat that weapon well, for I do not have another."