//------------------------------// // Chapter IX [Draft] // Story: Adagio // by NaiadSagaIotaOar //------------------------------// Back in her room, Adagio sat on her bed, cradling her locket in the palm of her hand and gazing down at it. There was only a single shard resting in it, and if she looked closely enough, she thought that she could see it shimmering. She hovered her fingers over it, wondering what would happen if she touched it.   It took her a long while to finally take it in her hand. The sharp edges threatened to dig into her skin if she gripped it too tightly, so she wrapped her fingers around it loosely. Right away, she felt a presence stirring in that shard. A susurrus trickled out of it, half-formed whispers drifting towards her mind. Fragments of melodies she remembered occasionally peaked out at her, but they were always too small to be called beautiful.   “Are you…” Her voice wavered and cracked; she let the shard rest in her palm and lifted it up towards her face “… are you there? Can you hear me?”   Moments ticked and tocked by. To her dismay, the shard went silent, and if it hadn’t kept it luster and sheen she might’ve thought it dead.   But then something came to her. Still not a song, not quite. The gem hummed to her; a melody of a centuries-old lullaby came to her, soothing and so joyful to hear that she thought she might cry. Steadying herself, closing her eyes and holding the shard close to her chest, she did her best to follow along, matching the rhythm that her gem sent to her. She struggled, at first, to make out what the gem had to say, but it grew louder the longer she held onto it.   And then she felt it. A reservoir of power, buried deep inside the small shard. Her attempts were a far cry from music, but as she stayed attuned to the ruby conductor in her palm, magic tingled in her fingers. It crept through her, suffusing her with warmth, crawling up her arm, spreading out through her torso, then reaching up towards her throat. She felt it gathering, a spark of power balanced right on the tip of her tongue.   For as long as she could, she held onto it with her lips closed, afraid to dare any more. The spark grew, albeit slowly, and it hated being contained. It wanted to be free, to be let out of her mouth so that it could have open air to play in, a world a enrich with its beauty.   Closing her eyes, trembling, daring, Adagio breathed. She called up memories of a song, tried to bring one to life with her voice.   A glimmer of success made her heart leap and frolic. It was there, just for a moment; strands of music creeping out of her mouth, hints of the perfect beauty housed in ruby depths.   It all crumbled in an instant. Her voice, her damaged, shattered voice, couldn’t keep a hold on it. Her gem sent her pitches that she couldn’t match, tried to drown her in intricate harmonies that should’ve been effortless. It was like trying to mold a river with her bare hands.   She pleaded her gem to stay with her, just for a moment longer. Her whole body shook, her hands clenched so tightly around her gem she thought she might draw blood.   In the end, there was nothing. No song coming from her lips, not even an echo within her gem.   Hope fractured along with her gem. She stared down at the gem in her palm, silently begging it for gifts that she knew it couldn’t bring her.   She slumped back against the wall, pressing her fingers to her brow.   How long she spent like that, she didn’t know. Maybe just a few seconds, maybe minutes, maybe longer…   One way or another, though, the shard in her hand slowly came back to life. It thrummed in her hand, trying to comfort her with vague sensations.   “I’m sorry,” she murmured, gazing down at the shard. “I—I couldn’t…”   Another thrum cut her off. She wished she could hear what the shard was trying to tell her, but all she got was a sensation. It’ll be alright, she guessed, but the thought just felt vacuous.   “Thanks,” she murmured half-heartedly. “But if I can’t—”   Can’t what? Sing?   She stopped.   Sonata.   She’d been trying to sing, hadn’t she? Maybe if she had the gem, she’d be able to use it more effectively? She’d just have to break an earring with it, and such a small target surely wouldn’t take much power, just precision.   But would she need to know the right song? Adagio frowned. Their gems had always given them songs to sing before, matching whatever their purpose was. If their gems couldn’t speak to them anymore…   Then maybe Sunset’s geode could let them communicate. Her gem, at least, seemed to have a mind of its own.   All she had to do was get to it, then. Just that easy. Okay. Think. Start with the enemy. What did she know? Lots of petty details; seemingly few helpful ones. He was proficient in magic; he waged some sort of war. He had one siren by his side. And he’d talked to her. Tried to bargain. Why? If it had already been shown that he could subjugate one, why would he not take it a step further and claim two, and then a third one and then a fourth one? Ego, perhaps, or ambition? One simply wasn’t enough? But if that was the case, and the first one had been so tamed so thoroughly, so forcefully, then what was stopping him from doing the same? There wasn’t any kind of reason, as far as Adagio could tell. If Sombra had the resources at his disposal to force her to submit, what would he possibly gain by trying to secure her cooperation peacefully? If he had the resources. Other Adagio had a pearl in her earring. Could it have been something special? Something rare, difficult to find and impossible to synthesize? No, that couldn’t be it. Sombra had been quite meticulous before. The risk of three sirens engorged by a land engulfed in war would be far too great. Sombra must have had something in mind to stop that from happening. Which meant—and Adagio felt her heart sinking when she realized it—that there were likely three more of those horrific things waiting for her and her sisters. No. Her teeth clenched, anger flared up in her breast. I can’t let that happen. As suddenly as her anger had come, she quenched it just as quickly. For a few minutes, at least, she needed to be cold. He has them. He has them or he’s making them. She had to assume that, whether she liked it or not—and she most certainly did not. So what could she do about it? Her thoughts leapt back to that room he’d taken her to, where he’d shown her the ruby shards and tried to persuade her. He wouldn’t have let her catch sight of those earrings, not if he was planning on forcing one onto her. But did that mean they were someplace else, or simply hidden? She didn’t like making assumptions, but she had to hope for the former; She didn’t have any other leads to follow. Alright. She had to find that room, then. Sombra wouldn’t want her to find it, much less go in it, obviously. That meant it was either guarded or hidden. Probably both. But those shadows were out there, everywhere she’d seen in the palace, and Sombra could look through them at any time. There was no way that she’d have the time to search for that room. Damn it. She hissed through her teeth, pressing her fingers to her temple. Damn it, he could just— She paused, frowning. If Sombra was so intent on keeping an eye on them as to enchant his entire palace, why not keep them under constant surveillance? He couldn’t use guards, not if he wanted them to have an illusion of freedom, but what was stopping him from always watching them through the shadows? He was busy, perhaps? Every time they’d spoken, he’d always vanished abruptly, saying he was off to handle some other affair. If Adagio were in his shoes, she imagined she’d thrust all the boring duties onto her sisters and… And then it struck her that, in all the time that she’d seen Sombra, he’d never once had an ally. His guards were slaves, shackled to his will. Other Adagio was as well, just with more power and a slightly longer chain keeping her down. He has to do it all himself. There’s nobody else he can trust. Adagio felt her lips lifting into a faint smile. Were those shadows in the hall just an elaborate bluff, then? A threat of surveillance, enforced just enough to make them worry, but in practice far from reliable? She turned her eye to the door, and thought of the creeping shadows that lay beyond it. If her guess was correct, that meant that, provided Sombra wasn’t actually in that room, he likely wouldn’t notice if she went out looking for it. And if she could know that he was off fighting in the war… It would still be a risk, especially if he could return at any time, or look through the shadows from afar. But what other options did she have? The gem was the only weapon she had at her disposal. If she couldn’t use it herself or find someone who could use it, then—   Her heart skipped a beat when she heard a knocking sound. She spun to face the door, going tense until she reminded herself that Sombra had never come in that way.   She cracked her door open, saw Sunset on the other side, and flung it the rest of the way. Worries that had vexed her before melted away into joy that she was quick to express with an embrace.   “You’re alright,” she gasped, relief making her voice high and soft. “I was just about to go and find you, but—” Thoughts of shadows made her hold her tongue. She settled for a sigh instead, pulling Sunset close and holding her tightly. “What happened to you?”   “It’s…” Sunset bit her lip, glancing warily out into the hall before breaking away just long enough to push the door closed. “Nothing serious,” she said, though the paleness of her face suggested that it was a far cry from the truth. “I talked to your double. Found out a few things. Did you ever find your sisters?”   Adagio hated not knowing who she was supposed to be more worried for. She wasn’t sure whether it was more right to stay and make sure that Sunset’s encounter with the other siren hadn’t left any lingering effects or to bolt down the hall and find Sonata’s room. “Yes,” she said. Pausing, dwelling on all the thoughts that had been circulating her mind, she look all around. There were no open eyes in the shadows, not that she could see. If her theory was correct, they weren’t likely to open, but…   But why would she want to take any risks? Sonata was the only other person she needed, at least for the moment, and every moment she spent explaining her plans put them at risk of discovery.   “Sunset.” She lowered her voice to a whisper, drew in a long breath. There were so many things she wanted to say, and countless more that she felt she had to but couldn’t hope to put into words; eyes and ears lurking in the shadow-shrouded corners forced her to put most of those wants to rest. She allowed herself little time to speak, so she made what she did say count. “I’m going to need you to trust me.”   She hated that she had to say it, but hated that she didn’t know what the response would be even more.   Sunset looked at her, and there was an agonizing moment of doubt that crept over her. “Adagio? What’re you—”   “I can’t say any more.” Adagio shook her head, silently pleading for things to be different, wishing that there could be a world where she had more to offer, where she could have blinded those eyes in the shadow before they could ever open. “Please. I need you to trust me.”   Worry was heavy on Sunset’s face, and knowing that it was perfectly justified did little to ease the pain it brought. Adagio felt her heart speeding in her chest, palpable in the silence of the room.   “Okay. I trust you.”   Adagio could never have guessed how much joy that simple statement could’ve brought her. It made her heart leap and flutter. She stepped forward and threw her arms around Sunset’s neck and shoulders, and after a small pause felt two limbs reciprocating. Hands found their way to her back, gentle and soft. “Thank you,” she whispered, letting her head rest on Sunset’s shoulder.   “A-anytime,” Sunset murmured.   It felt good being held like that. Adagio wished that she could stay there and not move and trust the rest of the world to sort her problems out for her, but as it was she was forced to pull away.   “Okay. What do you need me to do?”   “For now...” Adagio looked down, running her fingers over her locket. “I need you to wait for me. Go back to your room, don’t leave unless you absolutely have to. I’ll come back for you.”   They shared a look. A long, quiet, solemn look.   “Adagio, whatever you’re planning…” Sunset sighed, bowed her head, took Adagio’s hand and squeezed it. “Stay safe.”   “I will.” Adagio paused, glanced towards the door, dreamt of her double and all the shadows in the palace, wondered what might happen to her if her guesses were wrong. The weight of her ruby hanging from her neck shielded her from the worst of it, but still she could feel insidious fear trying to worm its way into her head.   Sombra had already killed two sirens.   She felt her pulse quickening, despite her attempts to calm it. “Alright,” she said, trying to project calmness into her voice. “I’ll find you when I can.” Magenta eyes, bright and vivid. Crimson lips pursed into a smile, alluring even on a strange face, whispering an effortlessly sublime melody.   By all rights, Spitfire knew that she should have died up there, on that cliff. She’d seen many ponies—good, brave, loyal ponies—get tangled in that entrancing voice, and not a single one snap out of it.    Sirens were monsters. That’s what all the stories said. That’s what she’d always seen. A monster.   What kind of monster leaves a hostile soldier alive?   She twisted away from a flying spear, dipped down, dove. Her outstretched hooves struck like lightning, but not to kill. Never to kill, not when her enemies did not move under their own will. She put a dent in a helmet, saw her mark drop, sped away. Her eyes darted, her wings pumped. No sign of the siren yet. That meant there was still time.   She spied a crystal stallion pushing a boulder. Eyes narrowed. She dove, careened into his side, spotted his partner, lashed out with a kick. Two heavy bodies hit the ground. She lifted her head, combed the battlefield.   Damn it, where is she?   There!   A lonely speck of gold and silk, hiding in a field of steel. Spitfire sighted, focused, leapt, dove. Streaking through the air like a comet, she tore off her helmet—she needed to be recognized. She landed with flared wings, spiky mane whipping and lashing about.   Two stallions turned to face her. Guards, perhaps. The first one charged, but his strike was clumsy, and a windmilling hoof sent him to the ground. The second one held back, more cautious; Spitfire was on him in an instant, tackling him to the ground.   And then there was only the siren herself. She wore the body of a slender mare this time, with a silky coat the color of burnished gold, a waterfall of curly hair cascading down from her scalp, and a faded, muted ruby hanging from her neck by a black leather strap. A pearl dangled from her ear, and a flowing, bejeweled gown of breezy silk draped over her body—despite dragging over several inches of snow, it was purely unblemished. In stark contrast to the fickle smirk Spitfire remembered, the siren had a dour mask of a face, as unflinching as stone even as it turned towards her.   “I know you, pretty little thing,” the siren whispered; Spitfire heard her as clearly as if they were all that existed, even with the ringing clamor of battle surrounding them. The siren’s voice was beautiful and lilting, even when she wasn’t singing. She blinked twice, then drew in a breath. Flecks of red formed in her eyes, like roses blooming in a matter of seconds.   “Wait!” Spitfire took an urgent step forward. To her surprise, the siren listened, regarding her with a look that was more vacant than aloof. Not quite tragic, but undeniably weary. She’s still a monster, Spitfire knew many others would say, but seeing the siren face-to-face made it hard not to question and ponder.   She’s not trying to hurt me. The rest of Sombra’s army are slaves.   Was it a gamble, what she was about to do?   Unquestionably so.   Was it worth the risk, if she was right?   “What’s your name?” She had to shout to make herself heard.   The siren stared back at her; Spitfire wondered if sirens didn’t have names. But then, after a pause, the siren lifted her head and turned it to the west. Then she started humming. Then a flicker of a song sprang out of her lips, and it brought the sounds of battle to a screeching halt. Only a faint hum lingered, as though the siren’s song overwhelmed all those paltry sounds that dared to compete with it.   “What are you—” Surprise at hearing her own voice made Spitfire pause.   The siren glanced back at her. “Adagio,” she whispered. It was a strange word, at least to Spitfire’s ears, but the siren made it seem like the most beautiful word ever spoken. But it was a somber, tragic kind of beauty. Sorrow tried to seep into Spitfire’s hardened heart. She thought that the siren—no, Adagio, she has a name now—was, at best, a creature to be admired, but never one to be envied.   Adagio bowed her head, breathed out a long, forlorn sigh. Not the kind of sound that said she wanted Spitfire to attack her, but one that said she wouldn’t mind very much.   Spitfire gulped. Damn it, she was thinking too much. Stupid beautiful mare made her go all weak in the knees. She was a soldier, she had a job to do. “Come with me,” she said, forcing her voice to stay strong and clear. “Princess Celestia wants to speak with you.” Probably.   “Does she?” Adagio stared right past Spitfire. It was easy to forget that, outside that little globe of serenity Adagio had created, there was a heated battle, but Adagio noticed, and seemed even more forlorn for it. “Not badly enough to punish you, I hope.”   Adagio sighed again, and looked at Spitfire. “Run along. You’re too pretty to be caught up in all this ugliness.”   “I could say the same about you.” Where in Tartarus did that come from?!   Spitfire was surprised by a laugh. Dry, snorting and mirthless, like Adagio laughed only at herself. “You know…” A grim, sardonic smirk etched itself onto Adagio’s face. She opened her mouth again, glared over Spitfire’s shoulder.   Pounding of steel-shod hooves, somewhere behind her. Spitfire whirled, tensed, saw a heavy stallion barreling towards her.   A melody of a single note, like a flick of a wrist. The stallion’s hooves lifted off the ground first, then the rest of him. He landed on another Crystal pony some twenty feet away, they both crashed to the ground.   Spitfire whipped her head to face Adagio, who shrugged. “That was rather rude of him, wasn’t it?” she hissed like it was an explanation.   Then that earring she wore flickered with light. Her eyes squeezed shut, a hateful scowl marred her angelic face. When next she spoke, her voice was scratchy and horrifically distorted—which just made it lilting instead of sublime. “Duty calls. Do us both a favor and find a hole to hide in.”   Adagio started to walk away, dainty hooves stepping purposefully over snow and sleet. Spitfire darted in front of her, lean muscles tensed. “You’re not the only one with a duty to keep.”   “Are you going to try and stop me, then?”   You’re not the one we need to stop, are you?   The earring crackled, Adagio hissed, and Spitfire wondered.   Loyalty makes soldiers march.   Pain makes slaves march.   Such a small, insignificant thing. If Adagio was truly as strong as she’d been before, could something so tiny really have hold over her?   Only one way to find out.   Hindlegs coiled, forelimbs curled and one snapped out. Adagio could take a hit, if she was a siren. Precise, careful, but not gentle. Spitfire’s hoof collided with a pearl, glanced away. Adagio flinched, winced, shrieked. She tore away, clapped a hoof to her ear, stared back at Spitfire. Her chest rose and fell, forcing ragged breaths out of her mouth.   “For what it’s worth…” Her voice had turned into a growl. Her teeth were the first things to change, sculpting themselves into sharpened fangs. Her tail slithered out from under her gown, long, scaly, tipped with a forked tip. Eyes flecked with red looked at Spitfire. “… I appreciate the effort.”   Spitfire’s pulse quickened. Excitement, not fear. She snapped a sharp nod, flared her wings out. “Anytime, Adagio. Take care of yourself out there.”   She watched a leviathan of scales and fangs and music come to life in front of her, and flew away faster than she’d ever flown before. She saw Adagio’s mouth open, but reptilian eyes met hers, and she never once heard a song.   Spitfire looked away, towards the pillar of yellow light and lashing white flame that was Princess Celestia.   You too, Princess. You’re going to want to hear this. It wasn’t until Adagio stepped back out into the shadows that the fear had welled up in her again. She’d swept it aside for a little while, perhaps, ridden a high of hope and vigor brought on by her ruby, but when she walked through that tunnel of dimly-lit blackness, her mind tended to wander.   They’re fine, she whispered to herself, over and over again, like her own thoughts were a blanket to keep out the cold of the shadows. Sombra wants me to cooperate. He wouldn’t dare to…   She swallowed. It was a painful thought that got dredged up—simply telling herself it wouldn’t be was far from adequate. Tendrils brushed against her, leaving ghastly images for her to dwell on, haunting visions of what her future might hold if Sombra discovered her.   No, she insisted, and a faint hum from below her neck told her that her gem echoed that thought, but by the time she stood in front of a familiar door, those fears had still not been completely quelled.   They’re fine. They’re both going to be in there, and there’s not going to be a scratch on them.   She still gulped before she stepped up to the door, still felt her hands shaking slightly when she first pushed on it. She almost didn’t want to look when she slipped inside, just because of a faint, ever so slim chance that—   One step in, thin blue arms wrapped around her chest. “You’re back!” An excited squeal came from Sonata’s mouth in tandem with an eager twinkle in her eyes. “Are we going to—”   Adagio gasped, flinched and froze. It had all happened so quickly, so abruptly that she couldn’t catch her breath, couldn’t quite process that she was supposed to be ecstatic. She clapped a hand to her chest, letting out a slow breath and looking at Sonata’s worried face as she collected herself. Sonata’s mouth hung open for a moment. “Shh.” Adagio shushed her. If she had the time, she might have said many other things, but in the moment she just whispered, “Everything’s going to be alright.” She held Sonata close to her chest, stroking her hair with one hand, listening to her giggle and sigh, taking in the faint fruity scent that still lingered about her. “You just… startled me, that’s all.”   She’s still here, she told herself. Her mind leapt back in time to the vacant stare she’d seen branded onto her double’s face. She couldn’t think of many fates as grim as that one, and even a ruby with as much power as the one she’d seen couldn’t keep it at bay.  I’m not letting you go. Never again, not once we’re back home.   “I’m sorry,” she said at last, reluctantly letting go and moving past Sonata. Her eyes combed the walls and corners, returning to Sonata only when convinced there were no eyes hiding in the dark. “I’m not going to be able to stay for very long. I need you to wait here for me.” Every word she spoke worked to gradually turn Sonata’s beam into a frown. “Just a little while longer, I promise. I’ll come back for you, and then—”   “Hey, um… Dagi?” Sonata tugged on Adagio’s sleeve, pointing vaguely.   Adagio followed Sonata’s gesture, and felt mixed tremors of relief and worry when she saw vivid purple eyes fluttering open from the bed. She stood and moved over, though she kept some distance between her and her sister—as much as she wanted to gather Aria into her arms, the past conversations they’d shared made her fear that Aria wouldn’t take such abrupt closeness very well.   And, confirming her suspicions, Aria just stared at her silently, peering through a hanging curtain of disheveled hair while she sat up. Throughout all the centuries, that gloomy purple face had never given up its secrets easily, not even to Adagio. It was all hard lines and stone when Aria held things back, and softened only when she wanted it to. At home it had been infuriating, but throwing another layer of uncertainty into an already delicate situation was nothing short of terrifying. The silence that came with Aria’s stare, expectant and unyielding, was equally daunting.   Of course, there was no better time for Adagio to be her most certain on the outside than when she was the least sure on the inside. “I’m glad to see you’re well, Aria,” she said. A vacuous platitude if she’d ever heard one, but hearing her own voice aloud gave her something to focus on.   Still silence. Damn you, Aria. Adagio sighed. “Look. We have a lot of things to talk about. I know we do, and we’re going to.” Memories of an argument with a severity she’d failed to recognize flashed through her mind. “And I’m going to listen as attentively as I should have then.”   Aria’s eyes widened, just slightly. She spat out a dry sound, a mix of a scoff and a snort. “I’ll believe it when I see it.” She swung her legs over the side of her bed, only to stumble and catch herself on it—whatever it was Dazzle had done to her, it must have left her more drained than she’d ever let on; when she looked at Adagio, there was little but grim determination etched onto her face. “If you’re going to ask me the same thing, the answer’s no.”   Adagio saw Aria’s eyes flick towards the side, and glanced to see Sonata wearing a bright, encouraging smile. “I know,” Adagio murmured. She moved towards Aria, extending her hand once she was just outside arm’s reach. “I’m hoping there’s more to it than that, but you’ll have to tell me later.”   “Right.” Aria looked down at Adagio’s hand, waited far too long before grabbing it and yanking Adagio forward, holding her in place with an arm hooked around her waist. “So. Big spooky… castle?” She glanced around. “Castle. What’s the plan?”   Silently, Adagio thanked her foresight for doing all the brooding and plotting in her own room. She could only imagine what a sorry sight she would’ve been if she’d had to answer that question an hour before. “It’s… complicated.” A quick survey of the room told her that there were no eyes in sight, so she allowed herself a small laugh and a conspiratorial wink. “And involves breaking things. Right up Sonata’s alley, in other words.”   Aria opened her mouth, but a finger to her lips cut her off. “I’d say more,” Adagio said, affecting a more serious tone and gesturing with her other hand at the door, “but I don’t know if we’ve got each other alone just yet. Do you trust me?”   “Sometimes.” A smirk came to Aria’s face. She backed off, folding her arms over her chest. “Is what’s-her-face here as well?”   “Sunset, you mean?” Adagio nodded, pondering briefly how much she wanted to say. The details weren’t important just yet, she decided. One more thing to talk about when we’re back home, then. “Yes, she’s just down the hall from here.”   Aria glanced towards the door. She managed a whole two steps before Adagio followed along and seized her wrist. “She got caught earlier,” Adagio said, meeting Aria’s eyes. “I know there’re a lot of things you want to do, but the best thing we can all do right now is wait. If we’re seen talking, then…”