‘We are them, and so much more!’
-Queen Chrysalis.
Chrysalis leaned on her claw, slowly stroking her rosary. She was sleepy. Hunger had eaten away all her vitality.
She munched on invisible food. Perhaps, she thought again, it would make her forget her gnawing hunger. It never worked, but she could still hope it would someday. Sleep was another option she possessed. Though, currently, she was deprived of such an option.
On the other side of the tent that was designated as Chrysalis’ throne room, Captain Alkanex was detailing his plan for the upcoming assault, attacking a border town was not unusual. Staving starvation was paramount, but taking on a settlement the size of Featherfall was seldomly attempted. Villages had always been the main target of their raid; every time the Equestrian repulse was moderate. They would arrive late or mid-battle, rout the mustered forces, and retreat back to their barracks. Fortifications and roadblocks were constructed but lacked the funds to properly prompt up and keep up-to-date with the constant variation in Changeling abilities. For the common Equestrian, shape-shifting was simply a cloak put around the body, changing the creature to its desired form. While true in principle, it was not a simple spell; it was more resembling a well-balanced symphony that the Changeling wreathed itself with and tried, subsequently, to keep the song balanced. The act required not only a properly trained mind but also, to counter the defenses, a particularly good grasp of mathematics to change the song’s frequency almost at a whim. A Griffon poet described in his book, “Serenity of Revelation”, the period immediately preceding a Changeling attack as “the song of woes and hearts lost,” or even, “the melody of the beckoning”.
This particular aspect of their existence intrigued Alkanex. The sound of a Changeling morphing was too acute and distinguishable for him to adequately obscure. His Queen had tasked him to utilize it, to find a way to attack Featherfall and claim it as a victory for her and the realm. Perfection was required, and after many days of back and for with his officers, colleagues, and advisors, Alkanex had a plan. An improved classic.
Infiltration, followed by a series of sabotages aimed at distracting and sewing panic in the populace, then, instead of a full-forced attack, a series of peering ones would be unleashed – weak enough to give confidence to defenders already confident in their abilities after fending off, as Alkanex called them, the “replenishing commandos”. Afterward, the war would evolve inward, hitting the town center directly. It was only then that the last song would be played as the air would be filled with shapes innumerable and varied.
‘Though…’ He hoped she had not noticed his weary tone. But it was the Queen, nothing passed her notice. ‘I… I think my plan is still too generic, my Queen. My additions won’t be… sufficient, I think. Equestria might have adapted to our ways… Maybe we should delay the attack for another day… Until we gather more intelligence.’
He wondered how hunger affected the Queen’s mind. She had closed her eyes by now, sleep seemed to have finally conquered her. It was good, he thought. It was rumored the Queen barely slept; in fact, it was discreetly rumored that she feared sleeping. Nightmares were speculated as being a perpetual staple of her sleep since her childhood years. How she did not turn completely mad from it yet was simply astonishing. It made him prouder to serve her.
By slumbering in his presence, it reassured Alkanex that the Queen trusted him – even if many of her guards were surely lying in wait around them.
Maybe she heard him doubt; maybe she sensed his great unease; but reluctantly, or with obscured glee, she woke up.
She started to tap with one of the fingers of her right claw, her gaze lost on the ground. One drum, followed by a one-second pause, then succeeding drums until the same pattern would repeat again and again until her mind would rest. A tick whose origin no one could explain.
Chrysalis looked toward his general direction. She gradually lowered her second claw, clenching the five fingers together of the other, and slowly adjusted her posture. For someone barely five years his elder, her eyes betrayed years more of separation. Though the training regiments of monarchs were beyond stringent, aided perhaps by some kind of biological advantage, it was rumored that no one of them had managed to completely conclude their studies – except for Chrysalis. Instead, they all tended to revert and focus on a path reserved for them alone. The fabled Path of the Serpent – the path of perfect lies and deceit.
Chrysalis told him to speak up. Objecting was not an option he was given; the Queen’s requests were paramount to orders. Her will was unquestioned and perfect in its design. They are all taught since childhood to not question a monarch’s wishes.
The Queen was, in a way, the mother of them all; proving themselves to their monarch, and receiving her approbation was their penultimate goal. Each one of them, in turn, focused on one task, one activity that would define their life even more. Alkanex had chosen the path of the combatant. More or less the equivalent of an officer path in foreign armies, though his remit extended to all manners of logistics, tactics, and strategies, and the training of troops, with each having its respective sub-path. His path had been arduous and fraught with all manners of setbacks that would discourage any sane soul. But it made him forget. He would forget his hunger, he would feel whole.
Alkanex always wondered if his Queen ever truly hungered. As a hive leader, she was expected to be familiar with and capable of all paths. She needed to know the details and independently act on any path intervention. She was required to understand the intricacies of the Path of Shadows – how to slither undetected and strike unseen; she had to learn the spells of the Path of the Stars; she needed to negotiate like those of the Path of the Wind; and most importantly, master the Path of Change, encompassing art and the morphogenic abilities that so characterize their kind. These amongst others.
Alkanex imagined Chrysalis followed without fault the paths expected of her.
She had the looks and behavior of one drowned in constant thinking. She started drumming again. She appeared positively mad. Yet, that aspect endeared her to her followers and rivals. A true Queen heading a revived people even if that path she had taken them through was taxing.
‘If there is one thing you should know about Equestria, Alkanex,’ calmly said Chrysalis, washing away all traces of weariness from her expression, ‘is that you will never find change in that land.’
‘Indeed?’
She nodded. ‘They are like time-locked. I’ve been around Equestria – a good lot, in fact…’ She paused, blinking into nothingness. ‘Other than the insufferable manner they speak in… or… or the apparels they wear.’ She snapped from her trance. ‘Equestria has a mine of arch-conservatism maintained by playing around with its neighbors. How? Excuse me for lacking the patience, and, in particular, the patience of an immortal to not care for the lives of simple mortals. I am being honest – truly honest, Alkanex. She can plan things with great expediency and faith in her plans. I resent that artificially maintained fate. We were born from nothing and against the odds we have prevailed. We are not strong, however, not enough to face the world alone. But we are clever. And being clever, is the reason why you were chosen, Alkanex. You are admirable.’
For all the benefits of the path system granted, a sort of aristocracy and caste had formed. From these, monarchs would be elected after, at times, years of free politicking between rivals. Internal conflicts scantly occurred as a result, and if they would, it would only be to prove a particular point. A risen figure or family can be easily disposed of with the agreement of a simple majority.
A rigid system that had existed untroubled for centuries. Until Chrysalis imposed herself upon them, that is. In the few years she had been Queen, she wrought tectonic changes to the social order. The old aristocracy was either subdued or eliminated. For the first time in centuries, a monarch was the holder of exceptional freedom of choice. With that choice, she brought to herself, Alkanex and others like him had their chance for greater accomplishments.
‘I am eternally grateful, my Queen. Your wisdom is truly something to behold.’
‘Life experience; learning from the past. Wisdom is a word prone by those that lack it.’ Her head wobbled, like lacking mass, being dragged by the weak wind. Alkanex caught her falling, as things started moving around the tent.
Suddenly, her head slumped, bringing the Queen back to a semblance of terrible wakefulness, her eyes glowing and teeth clenched in barely tolerable pain.
‘Troops ready?’ she asked in a voice edging on the verge of collapse.
He had heard words thrown around the court. “Arrogant humility”. And the more he thought about it, the more he admitted to its truth. He never saw her smile, always frowning for no obvious reason. The few times she did smile, however, it had been shortly before and after her coronation. He had been there as her banner-bearer; he was envied by all.
Regardless of those changes, and regardless of the Queen’s care for them; they were all suffering from privation, their minds constantly wandering off to that singular, biological quest for nutrition. For a time, the habits of the paths would tether them. But they were hungry now, their Queen was suffering with them, and nothing except feeding would finally satiate them.
And Featherfall and its six thousand inhabitants would be the end of that hunger.
Perhaps it was nothing; a simple slight on her part or a cog in her great plan. Alkanex refused to believe his Queen to be weak.
He hesitantly stiffened his stand, his back trembling, and said proudly: ‘Ready to move.’
She lifted herself, denying Alkanex’s claw.
Chrysalis nodded. ‘Begin operations. I will be waiting to hear of your success, captain.’
She sat back in her traveling throne, letting gravity guide her fall into the vaguely carved wooden throne.
Alkanex exited the tent. As he made his first steps out, he was suddenly washed with worries for his Queen’s health as he heard her tapping once more on the armrests.
****
Wolves came out of the forest. Howls pierced the air as a spear would. Knight in armor arrived to relieve the town before being driven off; their chances faltered as their numbers crumbled to a clawful in mere moments.
Friends had turned into foes.
Things bathed in light and dark took the place of an old acquaintance.
Then silence fell as a piercing melody surged from beyond and within the walls.
From the night, came the dreaded Changelings. Unopposed and determined. Every fleeing Equestrian was caught. Every means of communication had been seized or compromised. Pegasi and Unicorns desperately tried to send out messages, their abilities gone as a veil had enveloped their minds. Featherfall was rendered effectively cut off from the world. Even with the fight still going on, the Queen’s victory was complete.
From the midnight darkness, illuminated by the pale moonlight of a scarred moon, green, baleful eyes ignited the dark. In its shimmers, the glimmer of polished armor shone in peaceful resplendence.
There was no emergency in their walk. Nothing to betray doubt or angst. Every gesture was assured and studied, calculated.
The tall figure broke the silence. Shouting words no Equestrian understood.
Her warriors moved in perfect unison with her cries. The chaos turned into an orderly one. Every attack, every cut, and movement became less random and more determined.
Then the inhabitants heard words familiar. Then the warriors moved at once.
The Equestrians saw the Feather floating in the air. The shape of an Alicorn drew itself in illuminated darkness with blue light.
Hope – one cried. They cried for that Princess’s name. Hope – a word that became their battle cry.
For a long moment, it was. Then, the Feather disintegrated in the emerald, baleful fire.
‘Silence will fall!’ the silhouette shouted, her voice reaching every part of Featherfall.
A mare ran. An unarmed Unicorn, aiming directly toward the Queen. Though for one of those creatures, unarmed was only in terms of material, forged weapons. She was stopped by the dark-armored Changelings and tackled on the ground, flaying her skin on the debris with worried gashes, taking out portions of her pale green fur.
Then a familiar voice spoke. Fear truly took hold. Then, the voice spoke in Equish.
She saw her more clearly. She saw an old friend fighting and advancing undaunted. She overpowered her capturer with a blast of magic she surprised herself possessing, nearly burning her red mane. She ran forward. A blast of green energy hit her directly on the horn. Her head spun and she staggered right as she was pinned down to the ground by a Changeling custodian, his fangs close to her throat. He could have rendered her dead if it wasn’t for an order from his mistress.
‘Seli!’ she cried, the headache barely sustainable. ‘Remember me?’
‘I am Queen Chrysalis, Pony.’ She advanced to study the mare, intrigued by her resolve. ‘I am not of your kind. Whoever that Seli is, she must be dead. Or you are simply mad at the sight of your Princess’s failure.’
She looked into her eyes. Coccinelle only saw the tethered madness staring back, not the collective gaze of an ever-calculating mind. ‘I can see that. I am sorry. Your voice and looks… Never mind.’
‘You won’t be spared,’ stated Chrysalis.
‘Then that it is how it ends,’ whispered Coccinelle. She then made a subdued chuckle, earning her more jolts of pain. ‘I am still a star in the sky?’ she asked Chrysalis. ‘I was the brightest,’ she grinned.
‘I don’t know what you are talking about. I don’t remember your name, Pony.’
She saw her chance, maybe an open show of regret would dissuade Chrysalis away from any wrong action. ‘My name is Coccinelle, Seli! You remember that Crystal you told me about? Ardance?’
Nothing, at first. Chrysalis stared blankly at a visage of a Unicorn that confused her. Her eyes moved ceaselessly around; she was thinking, thoroughly rummaging her thoughts for a modicum of sense of the situation.
Coccinelle smiled. She was sure it was Seli. Her arrogant, self-centered, self-righteous, confidant friend. For the four years they had spent together, never did she reveal a concise history of her past, but one thing had been crystal clear to Coccinelle, she did not want to go back. Out of hunger? Maybe, but she imagined that Chrysalis’s time in Equestria would have taught her differently. Maybe it was good within her still remaining, smothered underneath the mask of rule.
‘Nothing?’
‘Nothing.’ The only words she was able to conjure with any clarity.
‘What has happened to you? You look… uneasy. I regret my past outburst…’
Chrysalis’s gaze did not shift. She looked more lost, more confused.
‘Four years forgotten like that? Amounting to this? What has happened to you?’
Chrysalis looked more determinately at the terrified Unicorn, her weariness hidden by a sudden rush of confidence. ‘Nothing,’ she repeated.
‘You’re hungry. You can’t think properly?’
‘Yes,’ she made a harsh hiss.
It was like something had pierced her. She felt her skin shrivel and her spirit drained. The mare felt whatever was left of her magical powers taken out, like rushing water battering rock. Her blood stopped flowing out from her wounds as her heartbeats descended. Her mind collapsed. The world turned dark, and Coccinelle welcomed sleep.
Then, silence fell again on Featherfall.
****
‘A splinter group under the direction of Flavian attacked a neighboring village, my Queen,’ Alkanex began his detailing to Chrysalis. He was standing alone with the Queen in her tent. Typically, it was a battle of influence between the operation’s leader and the scions and representatives of influential houses, but the Queen wanted him alone to be present. Of course, he had heard all manner of insults while gathering the reports. Chrysalis seal he wore on his uniform shushed their urges – a stylized two-winged insignia, circling an eye with a passing arrow pointing down behind it. He hoped a defensive spell was harnessed within it for more secure future dealings. ‘The mongrel hot head,’ mocking Flavian was common currency, ‘rogue operation failed. The reason: a Pegasus, and I quote, Majesty: “took to the sky and slammed me with incarnate hooves. She ripped the arm of one of my warriors, dipped it in molten metal; then used it against us”.’ He paused to shuffle his papers, and occasionally, his thoughts. ‘I am sure mud resembles molten metal.’ He smacked his lips and sighed. Chrysalis snorted amusingly but distractedly. It made Alkanex proud of his jest. ‘Clearly, he was defeated by his troops abandoning him to Merix, but I digress and would not waste your time talking more about that buffoon. I would gladly punish his behavior. I know he is of rank, but he is also under my command.’
Chrysalis made a slow wave with her claw. ‘Bring him here with the rest of your subordinates after finishing. And tell me, then, what you have envisaged for him. I trust you in that aspect.’
Her wandering voice made him uneasy. Reprimanding that idiot of Flavian and humiliating him would bring more pleasure than ever, yet this sentiment was dwarfed by his worry. ‘I will not disappoint you, Queen Chrysalis… But before, though…’ He closed his eyes, hating how casually he had spoken.
She gestured for him to speak, but made it clear she wasn’t pleased by his attitude with a slight frown.
‘Excuse me, my Queen. But during the skirmishes, you singled a mare.’ He paused. He should stop here before venturing too deeply into his monarch’s faultless plans. But Chrysalis did not object. Instead, the Queen only offered a curious gaze. She was almost inviting him to conclude his query. ‘Who was this Pony you instructed us to put into safety, my Queen?’
She did not immediately answer. Her gentle tapping turned more and more frantic. Her eyes moved around uncontrollably, but this time with great vigor. The recollection of a memory hung at the edge of her mind. She sensed it to be true. Really true. She could not encapsulate the full implications of the flashes hammering her mind. They were familiar, the recollections of someone she knew once but was gone. Yet, there was something fascinating in the storm.
Her smirk widened into a grin, her fangs somehow more menacing. And Alkanex witnessed something rare: he watched the Queen genuinely smile.
‘I don’t know, Alkanex.’ She paused, her smile turned wearier, and yet, it beamed still. ‘I really don’t.’ Then Chrysalis laughed, an explosion of uncontrollable humor he found hard to reciprocate. ‘Maybe bad writing, dear. Maybe it is simply bad writing.’