“Do you see anything?” Twilight asked.
“Nothing yet, Princess.” The royal guards kept to the rear of the search party, scanning for any signs of life that their frazzled princess might have missed in her haste. “But we won’t rest until we find her.”
To call the princess panicked would be an understatement. “Panic” would have been appropriate when she woke up to a missive from Princess Luna. As Twilight read each freshly-inked syllable off the parchment, her anxiety grew. But now, as they soared above the endless sand, Twilight’s condition bordered on hysteria.
“I mean, what if she got lost out here? This desert is huge. What if we never find her? What if she hurt her wing and can’t fly? What if she’s in danger from some big desert monster and needs to be saved? What if we don’t find her in time? I mean, what was she even doing out here in the first place?” Twilight’s voice echoed through the empty sky and beyond.
As if the fates themselves had answered her question, the changeling hive faded into view on the horizon: the first visible landmark they found within the desert. Twilight reared to a stop, instinctively digging her hooves into the air in an attempt to slow herself. Her escort bolted to her sides.
“A changeling hive? Out here?”
“Did we know about this one?”
“Princess, you should let us-“
The guard’s conversation ended abruptly as the princess rocketed off. The pegasi shook off their shock and followed.
With the skies clear, Twilight spied a collapsed section of the mountainside. The gap opened into a large chamber, eventually ending at a room that could only be the heart of the hive. If Celestia had been here, this would be the path she chose, Twilight figured. Slowing her pace, she glided down through the opening, only to be greeted with a dark room and dead silence.
“Princess Twilight, you . . . shouldn’t run off like that. It could be dangerous.”
“He’s right. We . . . We should go first.”
The guards spoke between gasps as they tried to catch their breath. Whatever words of warning they had to offer, however, Twilight didn’t hear a single word of it. The scene in front of her preoccupied her mind completely.
Beside the throne, shrouded in the darkness of the hive, Princess Celestia lay in a pool of her own blood. Her head and wing rested over the Changeling Queen, revealing a deep wound on her flank. Twilight’s breath caught in her throat. She tried to turn away from the nightmarish scene, but her body wouldn’t move. Tears started to gather in her eyes, but in her stunned silence, she couldn’t even cry.
One of the guards stepped forward and started barking orders. “Fly back as quickly as you can. Bring a chariot and a complement of guards,” he said, shaking his companion out of his stupor.
“Right” The other guard shook his head.
“No. Bring two of them,” Twilight corrected. “And some chains.” She nodded toward the Changeling Queen. At her command, the two pegasi vanished, leaving a cloud of dust in their wake.
“She’s alright. She’s still breathing,” Twilight muttered as she knelt down beside Celestia. Her chest grew tighter the longer she inspected the wound. Out of the corner of her eye, she spied a thin trail of blood ending with a jagged black rock. Chrysalis’ horn. A dark, foul-smelling ichor dripped from the tip. Swallowing hard, she gathered up the broken shards into a bundle of thick cloth before tucking it into her bag.
She stayed at Celestia’s side until the guards returned with their transports.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Changelings didn’t believe in an afterlife. At least, not in the traditional sense.
Their kind existed only to serve the hive and their Queen. And once they could no longer offer themselves in service of the hive, they became useless. Nothing after that mattered. But as her life ticked away, Chrysalis started to wonder. Every culture she infiltrated held some belief about life after death.
Ponies tended to believe the afterlife would be paradise. A reward for a life well lived.
Yaks believed death to be a dreamless sleep. A reprieve from the hardships of life.
For Chrysalis, death felt like a soft bed.
Surely there were worse ways to spend eternity.
Chrysalis relaxed, spreading her limbs across as much of the bed as she could. That plan hit a snag when a red-hot spike of pain jolted through her leg and up her flank. The sudden shock tore the breath out of her. She tried to recoil only to be stopped by a rattling chain. And a glance down told her the whole story.
Each of her legs had been shackled to the bed rails. She traced the pain down to one of her hindlegs, only to find it stripped of its chitin. Her tender flesh did not take kindly to being restrained judging by the blood bubbling out from beneath the metal cuff.
That didn’t seem right. No version of the afterlife told of the dead feeling pain. Nor did they tell of being shackled to a hospital bed. Perhaps every possible interpretation of the afterlife could be wrong. Conversely, maybe she was still alive. Despite knowing the right answer, a small sliver of her mind hoped to be proven wrong.
The surprise of her survival waned. Chrysalis studied her surroundings, trying to piece together the series of events that led here. Memories swirled, stained by starvation and a spark of madness. Her thoughts scurried like rodents, fuzzy and difficult to catch.
Her hive.
It finally clicked. Chrysalis had been living in her hive. She recalled finding the remains of her old room and reconstructing her throne. Not her finest craftsmanship, but enough to be comfortable.
Then the princess showed up.
Suddenly, her survival made more sense.
At her side, past a short table, a collection of machines rang with a staccato whine quiet enough to be drowned out by the quiet night. Despite lacking a connection to her, it seemed to be monitoring her vitals.
The ceiling of her room consisted of long white panels, easily removed and granting access to the space beyond. Not the worst escape route, supposing she could break free of her chains. The only break in the monotony came from the unpowered glass lights and large vents, features she’d only ever seen in a public building.
The only light in the room came from below, where the moonlight reflected across the white tile, casting a cool lunar aura through the air. Though the muted soundtrack of nature hinted at civilization, the openness of the room didn’t feel like a dungeon cell. A thin white curtain surrounded her bed, blocking out any observations of the larger room around her.
Along with the princess’ presence prior to her loss of consciousness, all signs pointed to the ponies. But if it were the ponies, she would be sealed away in the deepest pits of Tartarus, not confined to a comfortable bed.
Additionally, the theory didn’t account for the “why”. Her first impressions of Princess Celestia didn’t mark her as a genius, but she wasn’t stupid either. Certainly not stupid enough to save her mortal enemy’s life, at least.
Chrysalis’ introspection ended without conclusion. Too many missing pieces rendered the puzzle unrecognizable.
Captured, she thought with a sigh.