//------------------------------// // Four // Story: Lethe // by Nicroburst //------------------------------// What you doth propose belies belief. It is a transgression o’er nature in a most heinous way. It is a robbery and a mockery of everything we hath built. Chapter Four THE RIVER, on entering the Everfree, took a different tone, swiftly gaining speed and girth. It became home to a myriad of creatures, ignoring the sea serpents, the Cetus and the Drac that chose to inhabit it in turn. Most notorious of these was the Ursa Major, from the families of Constellations, its appearance in Ponyville had brought it to the public’s attention, inviting speculation as to its brothers and sisters in the stars. It swept past them all. The ancient Castle, ringed by the river, eventually stood before its assault. Rapidly encircling the moat, the river poured down into the depths of the Castle. It cascaded off fallen pillars, through ruined halls and rooms, sweeping moss-covered debris in its wake as it descended below dungeons, below structures, below even Celestia’s vaunted memory. There, it found an end, and a beginning. There, the river changed, and returned to its beginnings. *** Twilight fell backwards, splashing into the water. Floundering, she managed to get her hooves under her just in time to jump out of the way of the Drac’s next lunge, again falling into the river. The current carried her downstream several metres before she could halt herself, rising with waters streaming from her coat and mane. She was too slow. His gaping maw flashed past her face as Twilight crashed back into the water. She didn’t know why he had suddenly attacked her—not that that really mattered. Rapidly analysing the situation, Twilight rose to her hooves for a third time, and, no longer shocked, effortlessly teleporting onto the far bank of the river, out of the Drac’s reach. “What are you doing?” she shouted. The Drac, lying stretched-out in the river, rose, straightening his back and neck to glare down at Twilight. At nearly twenty feet tall, he towered over her, even across the width of the river. Twilight gulped. This was no adolescent dragon, or Ursa Minor. This was a creature that looked like it ate hydras for breakfast. She hadn’t much chance of stopping him herself. Better to focus her efforts on staying alive, then, and try to defuse the situation. “What did I do?” she called. She got only a growl in response, and then he came at her again. Twilight waited as he approached, thundering across the river with the kind of grace only a water-dweller could achieve. As he neared her, she teleported to where he had been standing. She cast another spell, the magic surrounding her throat, and turned confidently to face him, again from across the river. “Answer me,” Twilight thundered, voice magically magnified to carry. The words ripped through the air, carving a sheet of water from the river in their wake, and struck him with a physical force. The Drac didn’t flinch. Instead, again straightening, he regarded her with cold eyes. “You are thinking too much, Sparkle,” he said, in a deep voice, rumbling back to Twilight, even managing to create rippled in the stream, though it lacked the visceral power of her spell. Thinking too much? Is that even possible? The words sparked something familiar in Twilight. A memory, of Celestia telling her to get out more, telling her that she was reading too much, bubbled to the forefront of her mind. Those words had proven accurate, in their own way. But . . . how could she stop him without thinking? Twilight hadn’t been taught much theory about magical duels—actual fights, anyway—but she knew the basic principles. One was supposed to act carefully and rationally, plan each move in advance all the while scrutinising one’s opponent. Rarely would a unicorn be powerful enough to be able to crush through the other’s magic with brute force—and even then, victory was never guaranteed. A feral roar exploded from the Drac, tearing through the space between them and slamming into Twilight. It threw her back, sending her tumbling along the ground until she collided with a tree. Twilight let out a gasp of pain, taking a moment to collect herself while lying sprawled on the ground. Nothing was broken, she thought, though undoubtedly she’d have massive bruising down her back. “You’re still thinking, Sparkle!” The Drac cried, rushing through the water at her, terrifyingly fast. Twilight struggled to gather her thoughts, bringing her mind to bear on the situation before her, and, just as the Drac reached her, she did the only thing she could think of. She reached out and grabbed his jaws in a telekinetic field, holding them at bay as best she could. The impact of his charge was transmitted through her body—she hadn’t the time to set an external anchor—to the tree behind her. With a ponderous crack, it split, toppling to fall towards her. The Drac stood directly beneath its path, still held firm in her grip. He eyed the slowly falling tree trunk; face betraying nothing, then lowered his gaze to hers, ignoring the telekinesis wrapped around his mouth. “If you think, here, and now, you will not find what you need to save Rainbow from Lethe’s trap,” he hissed, as the trunk slammed down on his head, splitting in two where his spines had torn through it. Unbelievably, he did not fall. With a smile, he reached up and grasped the trunk in his claws, and tore it asunder. Huge shards of wood the size of doors rained down as Twilight stared up, at the dragon eviscerating the tree. Her grasp around his jaws seemed puny in comparison, a feeble thing, beneath his notice. Are you just going to lie there? Hmm, Twilight? Or are you going to get up and kick his flank? You’re Twilight Sparkle, for Celestia’s sake, prized pupil of the sun itself. You’ve defeated gods, and cast kings into exile. What are you waiting for? Twilight stared up at the spectacle, feeling a peculiar calm settle over her. It wasn’t the fear she expected, finding herself face-to-face with her match. It wasn’t even anger at the unprovoked attack. Instead, adrenaline rushing through her veins, blood pounding in her ears, and the world itself rendered in sharp relief, Twilight grinned. Surging upwards, she struck the Drac with a telekinetic blast. Nothing fancy, no clever tricks or subtle effects, it was straightforward magic, with as much might poured into as she could muster. Her horn exploded, her violet aura tripling in size, coruscating outwards in a radiant display. It seemed, almost, that that aura was a spear, contacting the Drac in the centre of his chest, and hurling him away from her. He landed on his back, in the river, sending a colossal wave of water rushing up at her. Twilight let it hit her, holding her magic ready if he tried anything else. As she blinked the water free from her eyes, she heard something strange. Far from the rage she expected to face, the Drac emerged from the water chuckling—if that were how best to describe it. His tongue, long, thin, and forked, lolled from his mouth, the corners of which bent upwards, exposing razor-sharp incisors. His eyes glittered, focusing on Twilight, on the tiny unicorn that had just thrown him over ten feet. “Well done, Twilight,” he said. “Again.” And again he rushed at her. Twilight, more confident now, stood her ground, meeting his charge with her own thrust of magic. A lavender blaze shot from her horn, meeting the Drac halfway across the river, and wrapping around him, bonds of pale violet light intended to lash his arms to his torso, hold his legs together, and halt him in his tracks. The Drac barely slowed, effortlessly tearing through her magic like a freight train through a wooden barricade. Twilight gasped as the recoil of her fragmented spell hit her, sending a sharp pain shooting back down her horn. Strangely, it felt . . . amused—the magic carrying a flavour of sorts. By the time she recovered, he was on her, catching her in a claw and pinning her to the ground. Twilight cried out as her back spasmed, protesting the treatment. “Come, Sparkle. You’re better than that,” the Drac said, releasing his hold. Twilight unsteadily regained her hooves, face ashen as she tried to ignore the pain. She’d almost definitely broken something that time. “Again.” I’m being . . . trained? How is a fight supposed to teach me anything? “All right, then,” Twilight said. Slowly, she shuffled her hooves outwards, lowering herself into a battle stance. Her horn relit, its glow fiercely covering the area in violet, replacing the sun’s last rays. “You want a fight? Let’s fight.” The Drac lowered his head to look directly at Twilight, his expressionless eyes reflecting her power back at her. “Not a fight, Sparkle. This is not a duel, or a contest, or a sport. This is a test, and a lesson. Do not think; react!” Opening his mouth, the Drac plunged downwards at her. That gaping maw, row upon row of glittering, bone-white fangs set against a blood-red gullet, filled her vision. She could even see a hint of blue, dancing in the back of his throat. Frantically, she seized him in her grip, again straining to hold him back from her. This time, though, she was under no illusions as to how easily he could break through. And yet, somehow, there was no fear. She should have been terrified, staring at death so close to her. Instead, she felt the stirrings of anger, and a hopeless, morose loneliness, welling up inside. The blue light at the back of the Drac’s throat expanded, pouring forth to fill his mouth with flame. Twilight’s eyes widened. He was going to spit that fire at her—cover her in it. She couldn’t stop him, not while holding his mouth back from body. She couldn’t get out of the way in time. She couldn’t even catch the fire itself; if she diverted any power from what she was sinking into the telekinesis, he’d break it. That loneliness surged forward, engulfing her. She was going to die, out here, all alone, lost in the Forest with none of her friends beside her. Back in Ponyville, they’d wonder where she’d gone. Wonder what had happened to her. They’d never know, never find her body. Spike would grow up without her. Rainbow would never recover herself. The pegasus had determination—had the drive to find Lethe, but without magic, she stood no chance of reversing what had happened. She’d live the rest of her life knowing she’d failed. Twilight knew her, no matter how much she’d changed. She’d blame herself for Twilight’s death, for all that it was Twilight’s choice to leave. That beautiful mare, so willing to stand up for others, finally crushed by the one thing beyond her control; it was enough to break Twilight’s heart. That emotion tore through her like a hurricane, finally released from where it had lain hidden, wiping away all thought. Twilight’s face contorted, tears appearing in her eyes. Her throat convulsed, choking on her own words, her own scream. The denial rose in her, bubbling to the forefront; a single desire, synthesised from the storm. “No!” she screamed, forcing the word past the lump in her throat. It exploded out of her; a hurricane in and of itself. Her magic flared, the purple aura expanding until it grew painful to look at, a veritable sun, pouring forth light. It forced the Drac’s mouth shut, hurled him clear across the river. Twilight stumbled, fresh tears falling from her face. She was so tired. The wake of those emotions—gone, now, passed out of her in that single burst—left her with nothing but weariness, and a fiery rage. All she could see was that of a blue pegasus, slumped against an invisible wall in utter despair, broken by haste and by Twilight’s choice. Control, Twilight, over yourself and your magic, a voice whispered, in her mind. Celestia had always taught her that, beyond all else. Her lessons in magic had begun with control. Your potential is beyond anything I’ve seen before, but you can’t use it unless you can control it. When you let your emotions run away from you, you lose that control. If you get angry, Twilight, or hurt, or frustrated, you could hurt somepony. “Why?” Twilight screamed, stepping up to the edge of the bank and hurling the words across at the Drac. “Why did you do this to us? All she wanted was help!” The Drac slowly rolled over, groaning. Unsteadily, he rose to his feet, then moved forward to submerge himself once again in the river. “Excellent, Twilight,” he said. “Do you understand?” “No! No, I don’t understand! What did you do?” The Drac grinned. “I broke your control, Twilight. It was only holding you back.” “Holding me back from what?!” “Yourself,” the Drac said simply. And it all became too much. The cryptic answers and riddles, the bargains and twisted truths, all of it culminating in that broken mare, it was too much to bear. Twilight screamed, shaking her head, as flames erupted from her mane and horn, coat flashing to white and eyes to a brilliant red. She rose into the air, hovering there as she turned all the rage, all the pain and regret and sorrow she held at the creature that had caused them. The river flashed to steam in an instant, a huge explosion of superheated water expanding from the river and rocketing into the sky. The ground underneath cracked, dirt and silt crystallising and shattering at the same time. The magic caught the Drac, crushing him down into the ground, breaking a crater a full foot deep with his body. Twilight flashed forward, the air cracking around her, thrust her face into his, and opened her mouth to utter her mind. He laughed. Twilight faltered, confused, falling back to the ground as her mane and coat returned to their normal colours. She’d been . . . angry, right? She stumbled, falling to the ground. She was so tired . . . “Yes, exactly,” the Drac murmured. “But, it is not my place to teach you further. Our bargain is complete, Twilight. You will be able to help your lover. I will expect you, with your charge, in a week.” The Drac lifted Twilight gingerly, placing her on the bank just as the river rushed past them, filling in the gap Twilight had created. He looked at her for a moment before turning away, sinking below the surface of the river and vanishing. Lover? But Twilight was too tired to think. She was utterly spent, in a way that she’d never felt before. She felt hollow, as if something had ripped all feeling from her breast, stolen them away for some mysterious purpose. She couldn’t bring herself to care that they were gone. She caught the scent of water, and became painfully aware of the dryness of her throat. Lowering her head into the river, Twilight drank deeply, and then sank into slumber, sprawled next to the river, chest rising with every soft breath. ***   Celestia’s sun rose over the Everfree Forest in an explosion of colour, hiding from sight the pale moon now sinking below the horizon. Warmth filtered through the canopy, waking animals as it passed. The Forest slowly came to life, various sounds cascading into each other to create a hum of background noise; chatter quickly filling the calm void of silence that preceded the dawn. It spread over her like a blanket as she floated, coming to awareness slowly, as if afraid of what lay there, on the other side of the deep cerulean sea. She trembled, though not from cold, and as she felt herself trembling she opened her eyes to stare at a lattice of green and brown and blue. Leaves, branches, trees, trunks, clouds, the sky! Idly, she traced the blurred network, trying to place the contours and colours she saw in it. High, high above, the sky arched over her, like a magnificent tent, sheltering them from the ravage of the world beyond. She lay under it, numbly marvelling, as the Forest moved around her. A chill wind passing over her, and she cast her gaze around, taking stock of the situation. She lay on rough dirt, amidst small plants below mighty trunks. The foliage formed a shell around her, driving the world away. Movement rustled to her left, the voice of the Forest calling her name. She did not answer; content where she lay. She knew it would not find her, not yet, not here. She listened to the Forest with glee. For a moment, a perfect moment, she did not focus. She did not think, simply existing in the web created around her. Slowly, the voice changed. No longer inviting, it demanded. It whispered in her ear, calling out. Coming to, She regretfully shook her head, clearing her drowsiness. She clambered to her hooves, made a light breakfast out of her impromptu bedding, and then washed the damp grass down with water. Looking up, she saw with wonder the dew dripping off nearby leaves, fronds sparkling in the sunlight. A bird had perched on one of the branches, shaking drops loose to fall into the current. She sighed in contentment. Something slammed into her, knocking her from her hooves and driving her into the ground. Shocked, she lay still under the other’s embrace, the sobbing pony holding her in her arms. “Twilight! I’m so s-sorry,” it mumbled, pressing its face into her coat. “I-I . . . oh, Twilight!” She began squirming, working her way out from under the other. Abruptly, it seemed to realise what she was doing, and clambered off her, a sheepish smile appearing amid its sorrow. A pegasus, that’s what she is. A winged pony. Blue fur, chromatic mane. “Ah, do I know you?” Twilight asked, one hoof extended in greeting, a small smile falling off her face as she spoke.  The pegasus’ jaw dropped, shoulders slumping, face morphing. She somehow put words to its contortions, the reaction resonating within her. Tears of joy, that distilled hope tiding it over till now became disbelief became guilt became anger. Oh no. Oh, no no no. Not you too,” it denied, falling to the ground, holding its head in its hooves. It’s a she, she realised, listening to its voice. The shape of the muzzle, and the upper body structure. Why do I know that? “Not you, Twi’. I can’t … It was him! That … And it’s my fault. I’m so sorry, Twilight.” Why can’t I remember anything? It was clear that the pegasus knew her—knew Twilight—but she had no recollection of her. Casting her mind back, she realised, with growing horror, that she couldn’t remember anything at all. It felt . . . wrong. Frantically Twilight searched, pushing at the veil shrouding her mind But there was nothing to find; the black void that formed her memory resisted her attempts, extending endlessly into a vast nothingness no matter how far, or how fiercely she delved. Finally, Twilight shrank from that pit, from her pit; for it was all that summed up her existence. She found no comfort in her body, in the little twinges and aches, the sense of balance, of direction, the steady thud of her heart and whistle of the breath in her lungs. All the trappings of life, all the signals that connected the mind to the world outside, and it meant nothing more to her than an empty vessel, bereft of that which it was meant to hold. There was no escaping the hollow of her mind. She could not turn away from it, could not choose to ignore it. It followed her thoughts, forced its way into every facet of her perception. A great rage began to rise within her, a wordless protest against the cruelty of having everything, and nothing, snatched away. Worse, she didn’t understand why she reacted so viscerally. She had no frame of reference to understand what part of her so objected to the violation. All she felt was a vast emptiness, a sense of violation that struck at the very core of her being. The rage built until it burnt, hurt her nearly as badly as what fed it. Twilight gasped, pushing it away, power erupting from her horn in a great wave of violet light. It crackled with energy, hissing against the water, and rent gaping holes in the earth where it struck. It expanded in all directions, passing through grass and earth and water and stone without pause. It left only ruin in its wake. The pegasus sprang away, taking to the sky to avoid the blast. Even so, she was only barely able to evade it, the remnants of Twilight’s anger singing the end of her tail as she shot through the air, circling around in a wide circle to plunge back towards her. “Twilight!” she screamed, hurtling downwards. Twilight herself was oblivious, glancing at the destruction around her in disbelief. I . . . I . . . I did this? The pegasus slammed into the ground in front of her, and immediately strode forward, poking a hoof into Twilight’s chest. “What was that, ‘Twi?” she demanded, glancing around herself with wide eyes. “You could have really hurt something!” “I . . . I don’t know,” Twilight said, dropping her gaze from the pegasus’ glare. “I don’t know!” she screamed, turning away. In under a second, there was a cyan leg wrapped around her, pulling her back into the pegasus’ embrace. “Relax, relax, Twi’. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. Hush, now, come on, we’re fine. We’re fine.” “Who am I,” Twilight whispered, and hated herself for the weakness in her voice. “You’re Twilight Sparkle,” the pegasus said, tightening her hold. “You’re the greatest, strongest pony I know. If anypony can handle this, it’s you, Twi’. It’s always you.” Twilight broke, her face contorting, tears falling from her eyes. She collapsed into the pegasus’ hug, returning it with equal fervour. It made such a difference, having somepony with her. Somepony who’d known her. She felt less alone, less empty. “I’m so sorry,” the pegasus said again, and though Twilight was still caught up in the welter of emotion, she heard a note of trepidation in that wavering voice. “I’m so sorry, Twi’.” “Who are you?” Twilight asked. “I’m Rainbow Dash,” the pegasus said. “I’m the one who brought you here. I’m the one who abandoned you to this.” “What?” Twilight said, pulling back. Rainbow couldn’t be responsible for this. That didn’t make sense, didn’t fit with the world she’d found. “Two days ago, I woke up beside a river—this river. You found me there, with no memory of my own. We came here looking for whatever caused it.” Rainbow was sobbing herself, now, clutching at Twilight as she choked the rest of the story out. “We found a creature. He called himself the Drac. He said he would help, in exchange for an answer. “That was you, Twi’. I couldn’t do anything, and you were so strong, and I just . . . I just couldn’t. He took you upriver. That was the last time I saw you.” Twilight didn’t know how to respond. But instead of anger, she felt a strange joy settle over her; a tranquil calm that overrode passion. She hadn’t the energy for anger anymore. “Then it was him,” Twilight said, adding that fact to her world. “Where is he, Rainbow?” Rainbow dropped the embrace, stepped back from Twilight. “I don’t know,” she said, quietly. “After you left, I flew to the old castle. I spent the night in the ruins there.” “Then we need to find him,” Twilight said, rising and beginning to move. Rainbow’s eyes gleamed agreement, and she turned to follow as Twilight took her bearings from the river, moving south along its bank. They walked in silence. Despite all the questions, bubbling inside her, clamouring for release, Twilight was loathe to break it. There was an easy camaraderie to it, a sense of shared experience that made the journey tolerable. Somehow, words would only disrupt that, would only serve to heighten the emptiness. As if acknowledging it gave it power. Rainbow appeared to have no further need of speech either. The pegasus walked alongside Twilight, close to her, as if afraid to lose her. But then, if Rainbow had also gone through what Twilight had, had lost her memory to this beast—this ‘Drac’, then Twilight couldn’t blame her. She had no intention of losing Rainbow, either. Time passed. The sun rose, nearly reaching its zenith, sending glaring heat through the Forest. Twilight found herself sweating, and more than once they stopped for respite, each drinking from the water they followed. But there was no sign of the Drac, no sign of anything beyond the Forest itself, omnipresent and omniscient, surrounding them with life. “What’s that,” Rainbow said, suddenly. Twilight glanced up, casting her gaze where Rainbow indicated, and recoiled, a hoof rising to her mouth. In front of them, near the edge of another clearing beside the river, lay a deer. Its eyes were closed, neck stretched at an angle, limbs splayed out ungainly. It was clearly dead, but worse were the long gashes on its side, deep wounds near the base of its hind legs, and massive rent in its belly. Standing over it, buried muzzle deep in its flesh, was a monster . . . something horrible, something Twilight couldn’t understand. The smell of blood quickly reached them, causing Rainbow to gag. Twilight nearly threw up herself. “It’s . . . a wolf,” Rainbow said, recovering. Her eyes were hard, like agates, fixated on the scene before them. “A Constellation wolf, I guess. Like the Ursa.” Translucent, coarse fur covered its thick body. Powerful legs boasted paws larger than Twilight’s head, with wickedly sharp claws protruding from each digit. It’s nose, then ears twitched, eyes flickering upwards to stare at the two of them as the wind shifted, carrying their scent to it. In that gaze, Twilight saw a feral intelligence, coldly regarding them with hungry caution. And down its entire body, stars, embedded in its flesh and fur, formed a swirling mosaic of argent light. “Come on, Twi’,” Rainbow said, grabbing her by the shoulder. “Let’s get out of here.” “Steady, Rainbow,” Twilight said, not breaking her gaze. The wolf continued to stare at her, its body held unnaturally still. “We need to go, Twilight!” “Steady . . .” Twilight didn’t know quite what she was doing. Somehow, with less than a day’s worth of life informing her, she could feel the tension rolling off the wolf’s body. If they turned tail now, attempting to flee, it would be on them in less than a second. She doubted even Rainbow would be fast enough to escape its lunge. That left only one course of action. And, regarding the scene with a clinical detachment, the whole experience seeming both shockingly surreal and intensely intimate, that wasn’t a hard decision to make. Involuntarily, following her train of thought, her eyes dropped to regard the deer’s pained expression. It hadn’t deserved this. And the indifference in the air, in the whole sound of the Forest itself, teeming with life, struck a chord in Twilight. How could such purity stand by so silently, as it was tainted by evil? She felt hate, pure and simple, rising inside her, boiling, bubbling, erupting. It was the summation of everything she knew, condensed and refined. Her despair at her loss of self, her fear at the expanse around her, and her lonely island in it. Her anger at the one who took herself from her, and at all those who would take without asking, take without giving. Hatred rose, and she grabbed it, felt it sing through her blood. It gave her strength. The wolf charged the instant her eyes dropped, but Twilight was ready. Seizing her foe in telekinesis—a spell so instinctive she spared no thought to where it had come from—she wrapped her foe in might and lifted him from the ground. “Twilight . . .” “I’m not going anywhere, Rainbow,” Twilight said, her voice hard and flat. “Help me, or get out of here.” “I’m not going anywhere, Twi’. That, that’s a promise.” Twilight felt a smile begin to crack across her face. Of course Rainbow wouldn’t leave her. They were each other’s only connection to the world. For good or ill, they stood together. They fought together. Abruptly, the power pouring into her spell ceased. Twilight fumbled, dropping the unfamiliar threads of magic, leaving the wolf to fall to the ground in a heap of fur and flesh as Twilight reeled, clutching at her head. “Twi’!” She didn’t have time to spare for Rainbow. The wolf had regained its footing, again dashing forward to meet her. Twilight frantically tried to summon back the power that had so suddenly deserted her, reaching out with whatever little she had to hold the wolf back. It was close now, close enough for her to see into its star-studded maw, gaping wide and split with fangs, as it leaped at her, a snarl bubbling at the back of its throat. Fear flooded her, and she caught the wolf mid-jump, just inches from her face. It roared, struggling against the bonds of terror she’d wrapped around it, drenching her in hot saliva. Twilight stumbled backwards, panting, her heart thundering in her chest. Rainbow took off, spiralling into the sky, then returning, pumping her wings, the air rippling around her. She slammed into the side of the wolf with the force of a hurricane, hurling it from Twilight’s grip, and sending it crashing against a tree.   Twilight screamed, a cry fuelled by adrenaline and wonder, the sheer hedonistic pleasure of their struggle. She was sure she’d never felt so alive, so connected to everything. Stepping forward, she wrapped the wolf in that pleasure, and squeezed. Bones broke. cracking like firewood. The wolf cried out, whining, and clutching at its chest as Twilight abruptly released her hold. Stunned, she sank to her knees, mouth ajar. She hadn’t meant to do that. She hadn’t meant to hurt the thing, not really. What was she doing?! The wolf saw its chance. It lurched towards Twilight, a visible hatred gleaming in its eyes. The defenceless unicorn could only stare at it as it advanced. After all, what more right did she have to life than it? Who was she, to shatter bone and sunder flesh? But the wolf had forgotten Rainbow. Seeing the danger, she shot forwards, colliding with Twilight and throwing her out of the wolf’s path just as it’s jaws closed around her. But she was too slow to save them both. It's teeth caught in her tail, ripped her out of the sky, and threw her to the ground. Twilight watched in muted horror as the wolf lowered its head, enclosing Rainbow behind bars of sharp ivory. Time seemed to stretch. The wolf slowed, its movements becoming sluggish. The river slackened, its current nearly halting. Even Twilight herself could only watch, her limbs barely responding to her thoughts. The wolf’s jaws closed, descending towards the sliver of cyan fur she could see, wrapped up inside that horrid beast. And then time resumed. There was a tremendous boom, shaking the very ground under Twilight. The teeth shattered, each exploding into tiny fragments of bone, creating a shimmering ring of mist as they reflected the coruscating rainbow light emanating from the wolf’s broken mouth. It danced around, illuminating the beast’s throat as it reared back, its mouth blown open, trails of blood, and bloody flesh spraying through the air. Through it all, Rainbow shot upwards, blurring against the air as she rocketed into the sky, trailed by a wordless scream, scattered in the wake of her passing, and the ring of light that accompanied her ascension. “Oh, Dash,” Twilight whispered, watching the pegasus fly, trailing gore, screaming the sheer joy of life and the exuberance of freedom, staring until she was but a dot, disappearing against the blue sky.