The air in the cave was becoming harder and harder to breathe. The shielding spell had sealed the entrance tight. There were some cracks in the walls around the tunnel, but the small fresher inflow they provided wasn’t enough with so many ponies stuck inside.
Nevertheless, Sunflower stood fast, channeling her magic. Before her, just beyond the shimmering wall, was the writhing mass of black bodies bristling with jagged hooves and full of glowering cyan eyes. The changelings were hammering on her barrier without a moment’s pause. The noise they were producing, an unsettling mix of chitters and growls, seeped into the cave through the cracks like an underscore to this nightmare.
Interposed between herself was a makeshift wall of rocks and debris found in the cave, behind which were all the guardsponies capable of fighting. Some of them were unable to stand but could still hold or levitate a weapon, and had been brought up to the barricade and armed with spears belonging to those who couldn’t move at all. The haggard unicorns were staring fixedly at the shield, ready to raise their weapons to meet the enemy should the magic fail.
Power coursed through Sunflower, focusing within her horn and bringing the barrier into existence. Never before had she tried to maintain a spell for so long. She was becoming acutely aware of how much a moment of keeping the shield up was costing her, of the depth of her inner reserves, and of how they compared to each other. The results her mind returned did not feel reassuring.
She focused on the intricacies of the spell to block out the intense fear that was trying to take over her mind. She had begun to feel the changelings’ attacks impacting against the shield, or rather the fluctuations they were causing, which in turn forced her to expend more power to correct. Almost instinctively, Sunflower redirected her magic to strengthen the areas getting hit the most, which counteracted the attacks and stabilized the shield.
Dawn Gleam remained by her side. She kept her eyes on the arcane wall she was maintaining, but could feel him looking at her with pride. Sunflower felt much better for her mentor’s presence and silent support; as ever, it was calming and reassuring, an unchanging constant she could always rely on. Was it what real parents were like? She hoped it was so, and that every pony had someone like Dawn Gleam.
Behind her, in the other half of the cave, were the injured and the healers attending them. Somepony was whimpering, and the sad, hurt sound added to the changelings’ noise in an unpleasant way. Sunflower couldn’t bear thinking of all the suffering they were going through, and so forced her mind to remain focused on her spell.
She couldn’t fail them—the brave guards ready to fight the monsters despite their wounds, the injured who’d given so much to the struggle, the healers continuing to help despite being unspeakably exhausted after so much work. She couldn’t fail her mentor, Lieutenant Moonlight and everypony who believed in her ability to protect them. She had to maintain that shield, and despite her usual timidity screaming for her to be in gibbering panic, she persevered. This was about more than just her. She had to be strong.
But deep down, in that part of the mind which cannot be fooled by self-assurance, she knew that her strength and her magic would not last forever. At the very best, they had only a few more hours.
~***~~~***~~~***~~~***~~~***~~~***~~~***~~~***~~~***~~~***~~~***~~~***~
Star Swirl skidded around a corner and bolted through an open doorway, slamming the door shut behind himself and collapsing a nearby pile of crates with his magic, trying to prevent it from being opened. He turned around to take a better look at the room: it was a large storage area full of sacks and crates of fruit. It was dark, the only light coming through the cracks between the door and its frame. His eyes seemed to refuse to adjust to the gloom; he could only make out the outlines of nearby objects, Regardless, he trotted farther in, trying to find cover behind some larger crates.
The changelings were bound to catch up with him any moment now. Just after Opal Beam’s squad entered the kitchens, a large group of the fiends pounced on them from the many side doors and storerooms. Star Swirl was quickly cut off and separated from the other three, his tiredness and inexperience with close quarters combat not helping his fighting chances. He had chosen to run rather than be overwhelmed by a dozen or so of the beasts going after him.
He thought to shake them off using his knowledge of the place’s layout—the castle’s unusually vast kitchens were a veritable maze of passages and rooms, dedicated to serving the unicorn nobility’s flights of culinary fancy. However, his injured hoof did not make running easy and made that knowledge completely useless, and he could only keep ahead of the beasts up until now.
He knew it was only a matter of time until they found him. They’d chased him into a dead end. He had to fight, and fight them he could, but to take on so many at once he needed to take a tactical approach. The door made for a convenient bottleneck that negated the changelings’ advantage of numbers and put him in a favorable position—exactly what Star Swirl needed. Now, before the monsters found him again, he tried to find a place among all the stored food where they would have a hard time getting to him.
There was a great crash, and the top half of the flimsy door simply tore off its hinge and fell inside. One after another, his pursuers leapt and flew into the room. Taking cover behind a stack of smaller crates, Star Swirl aimed for the opening.
Something slammed into his flank, knocking him into the crates and making them spill onto the floor. Twisting his head around, he remembered too late that this room had more than one entrance and that the changelings were more than simple brutes. Two pairs of baleful cyan eyes stared him down, and two pairs of jagged hooves pressed him against the crates he’d fallen onto.
The changelings coming from the door were already advancing on him. Leading them was a peculiar one. Unlike the rest of its kind, it was wearing what looked like a helmet and a breastplate; in the light from the doorway, Star Swirl could see they were of the same dark blue colour as all the changelings’ backs. It walked at a quick, confident trot, giving off an air of authority.
Star Swirl raked his mind for any spells that could get him out of this fix, but it seemed to have run out of energy after a whole day of terrified action and feverish thinking. Kicking at his captors was of little use with so many more just a leap away. A wave of frustrated desperation hit him: he couldn’t just give up, not after everything he’s gone through! He needed an immediate magical solution.
Only one spell surfaced in his mind, but it was very different from what he wanted. Not a repulsing charm, not a cantrip that could strengthen him, but the Amniomorphic spell. Of all the enchantments he knew, his memory gave him his own experimental spell! It would be of no help at all! But the armoured changeling was already upon him, raising a hoof over his head. He had to do something or die.
Star Swirl focused on the fairly complicated, but logical formula in his mind, and his desire for survival forced it into greater clarity than ever. It made perfect sense, more than it did even when he was creating it. Swiftly, he wove and guided his magic into the spell and shifted his head, pointing the tip of his horn at the apparent enemy commander. It lit up with a sparkling orange light and flared brightly; before the monsters could react, the armoured one glowed faintly with the same colour, and then a much brighter flash filled Star Swirl’s sight completely.
He blinked several times, trying to regain the ability to see. He could hear what was possibly the changelings’ version of a gasp and a clatter of hooves on wood. A measure of his eyesight returned to him, and he tried to see what his prototype spell did.
Next to him, where his target had been standing, was a small black sheep. He could see nothing more, his eyes stricken by his own magical flash, but it was certainly whirling around madly. Every changeling in the room was motionless, even those holding Star Swirl down.
After a few moments, the sheep stopped its frantic movement, turned to the changelings behind it with a shuddering intake of breath, and let out a succession of sounds.
“Caaaaaant chaaaang—”
It cut itself off with another gasp, as if it was having a panic attack. Then, it charged straight through the group of monsters before it and out through the broken-down door, bleating: “Baaaaaad, baaaaaaad!”
The changelings staggered aside from the sheep and from Star Swirl. Even the beasts that’d discovered him released their hold and took several steps back. Able to see clearer now, Star Swirl saw they were no longer glowering, but looking at him with fear.
‘They’re afraid of the spell!’ he realized. Taking advantage of that, he made his horn glow again and pointed it at the closest changelings, which backed away so sharply that they hit a pile of sacks and fell over; they scrambled up to their hooves and darted around it. There was a sound of racing hoofbeats and a rectangle of light appeared in the far wall, signalling their escape.
Star Swirl got back up to his hooves and turned to the other monsters, who were already rushing out of the room through the first door. He released a small discharge of magic at the door frame, and the changelings sped up, nearly climbing over each other in their hurry to leave his vicinity.
“How’d you like that!?” he called out after them as the last monster’s mockery of a tail whisked out of the room.
Pressing his advantage, he cantered out of the storeroom through the backdoor, which led into a large room full of stone ovens—the main bakery of the castle. From here, he only needed to pass a few rooms to get to the dining room. Maybe the others were already—
“There you are!” came a familiar voice from one of the many other side doors. Star Swirl turned to look and saw Opal Beam walk into the room, followed by Iron Vein and Thistlethorn. “We fought them off, but you were gone. Did you escape?”
“I scared them off! The Amniomorphic spell worked on them!” Star Swirl responded, eyeing the three. They looked fine—perhaps a little bit too fine. Their weapons were gone. His cautious side reminded him that the enemy could change their shape.
“Come on, let’s go! It’s this way!” Opal Beam prompted him.
“Wait a minute. What did we talk about in the hall, before all this started? Before the king’s plan?”
“Oh come on, do you think we’re not us or something? Like we’d let them get us! Let’s go!”
“Answer. What was it?”
“Oh, the usual stuff, yeah.” Opal Beam’s voice had lost its confidence. “It was, er—”
A heavy flanged mace wreathed in an aura of pink hurtled out of another side door and slammed into the side of Opal Beam’s head. In the same instant, a beam of familiar blue from the same direction struck Thistlethorn’s side with a magical crackle. Both of them were knocked in the opposite direction, a whirl of green flame racing down their forms to reveal winged black bodies with hole-ridden legs. A second Thistlethorn leapt out of the door and onto Iron Vein, sword at the ready, and within moments, the third impostor went down with numerous cuts and slashes, knocked out by an arcing pommel strike.
The other two emerged from the doorway. Iron Vein picked up his fallen mace with telekinesis, while Opal Beam nodded to Star Swirl.
“We’ve been talking about perfectly winged frogs. And beards. And Shining Lance. Am I the real me or not?” Despite the gravity of the situation, his friend was smirking.
“Real you, real you.” Star Swirl couldn’t help but smirk as well.
“And what did Comet Trail recall on our way down to the mines? Maybe you’re a changeling too.” Opal Beam said without losing the expression.
“That time when you dared me to shake all the shutters in Hornton. Real me?”
Opal Beam nodded. Looking at him, Star Swirl found him to be even worse for the wear than before. His helmet was gone, as was one of his heavy boots, and nearly all of his armour was battered and dented; in addition to that, he was bleeding from a long cut on his muzzle. Looking at the others, Star Swirl found them in no better condition. Thistlethorn was also without a helmet, his mane was matted with blood and his horn was coated in some sort of drying-up dark goo. Iron Vein’s heavy plating was slightly bent in several places and smeared with what looked like the same substance. Clearly, the changelings had been trying their best to bring the squad down.
“The shortest way’s through the wheat stores over here. Quickly, come on! ” He called out, and the reunited unicorns started towards the indicated door.
Ignoring his bruises and the ache in his leg, Star Swirl ran as fast as he could. They had tarried long enough and couldn’t afford to waste any more time. The kingdom’s survival could very well depend on them.
~***~~~***~~~***~~~***~~~***~~~***~~~***~~~***~~~***~~~***~~~***~~~***~
Lieutenant Moonlight half-sat, half-lay on the cobblestone surface of the bridge, made slick by the incessant rain. She had done all she could, but her barriers certainly needed practice. In an attempt to help her brother, she’d tried to cast a shield spell over his to give him a break, but it was a mistake. Not only did it not last nearly enough, it’d also drained more of her strength than she’d planned.
She looked at him, sitting a few steps away. Nightshade was visibly straining to hold his spell against the incessant pounding of the changeling swarm. Moonlight wished she could help him more, but it was out of her power. He was on his own, and she could see that he wasn’t going to last long.
And when Nightshade’s shield would fall, so would they. It was not her nature to ignore the clear, undeniable facts of the situation, and she knew that her ponies had no chance. Despite all the damage they had caused, the enemy still outnumbered them several times over, and the unicorns were exhausted. The shield was the last thing between them and demise in the monsters’ fanged maws and jagged hooves. There were no tactics that could save them, no order she could give that could help. This was truly it. The kingdom had fallen.
She felt her mind slide into a state of perfect, all-encompassing contemplative calm. Suddenly, all her senses became exceedingly sharp and powerful. As if for the first time in her life, she inhaled the air. It was clear, humid and fresh, and smelled sweetly of highland grasses and wildflowers, with a pleasant earthy undertone. In her mouth, she could feel the metallic taste of her own blood. Every single bruise, cut and laceration she’d sustained stung and burned like a hot ember wedged in her body.
She became aware of the weight of her armour, which she had long since got used to, pressing her down to the cobbles. She felt her soaked purple cloak, her symbol of station, pressed against her body by the metal plates and chilling her skin to the point of numbness. Her mane, heavy with water just like her tail, was hanging out of the slit in the back of her helmet in a very uncomfortable way.
Her hearing picked up the patter of raindrops, which fell onto the bridge unimpeded by Nightshade’s shield, and the slow rush of the mountain wind passing across the bridge on its way along the ravine. Nearly drowning everything out, however, was the pervasive heavy buzz of the changelings’ wings, reminiscent of the sound of a great insect swarm. In addition to that, the monsters were emitting other sounds: chittering, hisses, growls and what sounded like warped, malevolent laughter.
The same sharpness extended to her eyesight. Looking at her guardsponies, Moonlight could spot every single scratch and dent in their armour and the individual strands of hair in their tails, as soaked as her own. Turning her head towards the castle, she saw, in great detail, its massive walls and battlements behind the sparkling magenta of the gigantic shield enveloping it, seeming darker through her brother’s own magical barrier. She could make out the expressions of individual changelings hovering all around them, each a beastly mockery of a pony’s face contorted in subtly different shades of rage and spite.
Moonlight’d never thought she’d see such strange beasts, much less meet her end at their hooves. A pegasus attack or a rampaging dragon, perhaps, but monsters she barely heard of suddenly poised to end her kingdom and her life... the world did turn out to still hold surprises for her after all.
As her gaze slid along the dome of the shield towering high above, Moonlight realized that she’d never stopped on this bridge except for when she had to wait for the castle gates to open. She’d never paused to appreciate the magnificent view of the valley it presented. Now that she had her last chance to do so, she wasn’t going to waste it. She pushed herself up from the stones and onto her hooves and looked over the bridge’s weathered parapet.
Though it was tinted blue by Nightshade’s shield and partially obscured by the bodies of the changelings clogging the air, the view was indeed breathtaking. Below, she could see the deep ravine separating the cliff the royal castle was built upon from the rest of the mountain. It gradually widened and opened up, and then there was the valley. Despite the rain further distorting the sight, she could still see it rolling out before her as far as the distant mountain range that made up its opposite end. She could make out its woods, fields and rolling hills, separated in two halves by a winding, slow river weaving its way across the middle. Clearly, this was not the best time for such sightseeing, but it was the only time Moonlight was going to get, and even in this gloomy, diminished state, her homeland was beautiful.
Unexpectedly, she noticed some of the changelings’ number draw away from the shield and higher up into the sky. They gathered just below the grey blanket of clouds above, and Moonlight realized what they were planning. Looking back at her brother, she saw him lying on the cobblestones, grimacing under the strain of maintaining his spell. She knew magical overexertion when she saw it. When the monsters would charge and slam into the barrier again, it would not hold.
She looked away from the beasts and through their ranks, towards the west. There, the clouds hiding the horizon were ablaze with the lights of the setting sun beyond their cover. It would have been truly spectacular if not for the rain, but at least she was going to see sunshine before the end, even if it was so diluted as to be almost lost.
Sunshine. The thought struck at the near-absolute calm of Moonlight’s mind from within, cracking the monolithic surface. It was two weeks until her filly’s birthday. They were going to celebrate it back at home, and the entire family was planning to come. Even Nightshade was going to forget about the Circle for a few days and join them. How overjoyed her elderly mother was to hear this, to say nothing of Sunshine herself! The little filly absolutely adored parties, and this one was shaping up to be the most fun they’d all had in a long while. And she did so love to play with Nightshade whenever he could find the time to visit. He’d show her spells and tell her stories and even let her ride on his back. Moonlight’s brother loved Sunshine as if she was his own daughter.
Unbidden tears appeared at the corners of Moonlight’s eyes and streaked down her cheeks, vanishing among the raindrop-soaked fur. For a moment, she stood perfectly still, looking in the direction of her home. Her heart cried out against all this, flared with pain—and then her mind was back in control, icily keen and focused.
A screech rang out from above, which Moonlight knew meant that the last attack had begun. She turned around to face the ponies under her command.
“Shape up. Fight together. Take as many with you as you can. Nightshade, hold the shield to the last, it will stop their charge.”
Grimly, the unicorns readied their weapons and spells and stepped closer together to guard each other’s backs. Even in their last minutes, they maintained truly commendable discipline.
Lieutenant Moonlight called upon the last of her reserves of endurance, bracing herself. She looked up towards the rapidly approaching group of changelings and all the others, ready to pile in once the ponies’ magical barrier was down, but her eyes briefly strayed towards the castle.
Somewhere in there, another fight was going on. Maybe they were as doomed as herself, or maybe they had a chance. Maybe they could actually make a difference. In the deathly stillness of her mind, a spot of hope appeared. Perhaps it was all over for her, but for the sake of others... for Sunshine’s sake... she hoped that against all odds, they would find a way.
The changelings crashed against the shield, and under the force of their impact it finally shattered.
~***~~~***~~~***~~~***~~~***~~~***~~~***~~~***~~~***~~~***~~~***~~~***~
The throne room had been ravaged. Many of the pillars holding up its high ceiling had deep gashes in them, left by stray magical blasts. The banners hanging in between them were ripped or missing altogether, with some of them transformed into smatterings of ash upon the floor. The long plushy carpet leading to the throne was similarly torn and singed, with pieces of a heavily damaged pillar lying across it in one place. The throne itself had become a pile of splinters and debris against the far wall, which was pitted with scorched pockmarks.
In place of one of the far doors in the left side wall, there was a hole. In front of it was a silhouette of a pony, obscured by the dust lingering in the sparsely lit air.
“Who’re you?” Opal Beam called out, but there was no answer. He motioned towards the pony, and his squad broke into a run again.
He tried his best to keep up, but movement was becoming increasingly difficult. The surge of vigour and battle fury that had been dulling the pain and keeping him going through the detour was wearing off. His right side, the armour covering it newly bent inward, felt like it was on fire—one of the ambushing changelings had probably broken a rib with its hammering hooves. The bite he sustained on the bridge was bleeding and made the entire right front leg ache with every step, and the wound in his right rear leg felt like it was about to open up again. On top of all that, the cut on his muzzle continued to drip with blood, which dribbled down his nose and into his mouth, forcing him to constantly feel its taste and smell.
Due to all this, he slowed down and fell back. His squadmates were the first to approach the pony, and as he got closer, he heard Iron Vein ask in a surprised, puzzled voice:
“King Silver? Is that you?”
“You won’t pass here,” came the reply in an expressionless, monotonous voice.
Rounding the backs of his colts obscuring the talking pony, Opal Beam saw that it was indeed the king himself. He stood by the side of the former door, still wearing the same royal cape as before they’d left the castle, but looking as if he’d fallen down a long flight of stairs. His crown was askew, mostly hanging by his horn. Silver’s head was lowered, but his eyes were staring at the unicorns; in the dusk of the throne room, they seemed to be faintly glowing with green.
“Your Majesty! Have they gone through here?” Star Swirl asked, looking into the gaping hole to their left. There was a small room with a spiral staircase leading up. The door, split across and lying on the floor, was emblazoned with the symbol of the Circle of Day and Night.
“The Chamber is not for visitors,” Silver droned. He took a few jerky steps forwards, placing himself between them and the destroyed doorway.
“We have to follow them! Why are you stopping us?” Thistlethorn asked, staring down his king.
“You won’t pass here.”
“Listen to us, Your Majesty! The kingdom’s survival is at stake!” Iron Vein exclaimed. As usual, the giant stallion hesitated to use force if he could avoid it.
Star Swirl tried to go around the monarch, only for him to growl in a strange, unponylike way and take a wild swing at him with a hoof. The apprentice stepped back, bewildered.
To Opal Beam, it was clear that there was no other solution.
“Please, don’t consider this an act of treason.”
He stepped forwards and lowered his horn towards Silver, focused his magic in a stunning spell and released it as a bolt. It hit the king square in the face, causing him to stagger backwards, fall onto his haunches and to the side, leaving the way clear.
“The blackout spell, works every time,” he explained to his squadmates. “We have to go on.”
Leaving the unconscious king behind, they walked through the former doorway and up to the stairs. Opal Beam tried to ascend as quickly as he could, but had to lean on the wall to keep his balance with both of his right legs injured, and so was the last to reach the top.
The stairs opened into a long gallery with one of its walls composed chiefly of large and elaborate stained glass windows, all of them intact in contrast with the throne room’s wanton destruction. There was little light coming in through them, as in the western sky the fires of sunset were already dying down, shrouding the gallery in twilight. At the far end there was an elaborate door flanked by two majestic statues, a caped unicorn mare out of dark blue rock with a crescent moon balanced on the tip of her horn and a stallion in bright yellow stone similarly holding up an image of a burning sun. The door had been flung wide open.
Star Swirl was already running down the gallery’s length at full speed. Iron Vein and Thistlethorn followed at a slower pace, looking back at Opal Beam. His legs were now hurting a great deal more, reducing him to a fast hobble at best.
“The Chamber of the Cycle!” Star Swirl shouted from the other side. “They’ve gone up there! I can hear them! Come on, we have to hurry!”
There were more stairs behind that door, as Opal Beam knew, which went a long way up. He wasn’t sure he would be able to make such a climb in the state he was in, but—
Somewhere behind them, echoing up the spiral staircase, came a monstrous, drawn-out angry shriek. The changelings were onto them again.
Opal Beam sped up as much as he could, covering the last of the distance to the doors. Iron Vein and Thistlethorn were waiting just outside, and Star Swirl was already through, his hoof up on the first step of the long stairway leading up. The sound of distant magical discharges was coming from above.
“Quickly! Before they catch up with us!”
Opal Beam looked back where they came from, then at Star Swirl, and stopped. His brain clicked feverishly and chose the only option he found logical.
“You go on, Star. I can barely walk, they’ll get us if I keep slowing you down. Iron Vein, Thistlethorn, with him. I’ll stay and buy you some time.”
“What!? Opal, you can’t be serious, that’s certain death—”
“It will be if that giant beast gets help from its friends. Somepony has to hold them back.”
“They’ll pass you in no time, sarge. You need help. I’m staying with you,” said Thistlethorn tersely.
Iron Vein also turned to Opal Beam, nodding. “You’re right. We can’t let that monster get reinforcements. But you’ve all seen what it can do—armour won’t help against such magic, but your own magic can. It’s a wizard’s battle, not a fighter’s. Opal, I’m with you.”
Opal Beam considered this. Indeed, he wouldn’t last long alone, and that monster’s beams would make short work of those unable to deflect its magic, which only Star Swirl and himself could do effectively.
“You’re right. Star, get going! There’s no time!”
Star Swirl looked from one to another, blinking. “You can’t possibly—”
Another shrill shriek pierced the air, this time sounding closer. Opal Beam thought he could hear something in the stairwell.
“Go! That’s an order! Orders are to be fulfilled!” He shouted, grasped at the door with his magic and slammed it shut.
There was a lock, but the bolts had been broken off. A quick look to either side of the richly decorated door presented a solution.
“Iron Vein, help me block the door.”
Nodding towards the statue of a stallion, Opal Beam turned to the stone mare. He concentrated, gathered some of his remaining magical strength and pulled at it as hard as he could; the statue shuddered and canted towards its counterpart, then crashed onto the floor, part of its horn and the crescent moon breaking off as it fell. He tugged at it again, dragging it up against the door and propping it shut. At the same time, Iron Vein heaved at the other statue with his own telekinesis, causing it to fall on top of the first, weighing it down.
Opal Beam turned around and leaned against the stone mare’s long cape, looking down the length of the gallery. There was the sound of a great lot of hooves ascending the spiral staircase coming from the other end. On his right and left, Iron Vein and Thistlethorn took position, drawing their weapons.
The only thing pushing him to continue moving was his mind. He was on the verge of collapsing from his injuries, exhaustion and growing blood loss. Moving the statues, he realized, was now the limit of his ability. Luckily, the only other magic he’d have to perform were going to be simple combat spells.
Opal Beam knew that this was his last stand, but realized that he could hardly feel anything inside. His basic tactical reasoning having taken over his tired self, he thought mostly of how far he would be able to launch his spells to reliably hit the enemy in the deepening gloom of the gallery. Only on the outskirts of his mind was there a place for any sort of sadness or grief; the main part was now being played by resignation and a sense of duty.
It was all so simple, in the end. There was this makeshift line, and he had to hold it no matter what. His squadmates were here, ready to fight by his side, and this alone already gave him reassurance. They would hold the changelings back long enough for Sparkling Sky and Star Swirl to dispatch that beast, and then... he wasn’t sure what was going to happen then, but nevertheless felt certain that everything depended on his squad fulfilling the task at hoof. It would all be good, his friends would be safe again and this waking nightmare would be over, if only they did their job.
As the first shadow of a changeling emerged from the staircase, Opal Beam gathered the last remnants of his strength, and his horn sparkled with magic once again. He was ready.