//------------------------------//
// Fragments: Grey  
// Story: Twilight's Nightmare 
// by Nightsclaw 
//------------------------------//



 

"Goodbye." The last word of Patchwork reached out impossibly far to reach Grey's ears. She lowered her head.

"Zero other times have I expected to mourn you." The line of magic trailing from Patchwork to the bladed barrier Celestia has gifted them with. "Thank you." Even from her coldly logical perspective, Grey knew the words were grossly inadequate in exchange for what Patchwork was about to give up.

Solar fire wrought into golden lighting tore into the Bastion. For a fraction of an instant, the pony that had once thought of herself as Twilight had time to scream.

The sounds of golden chain links exploding were drowned out by another sound. "No!" The single word was so loud there was no hope to identify it by how it sounded. It was so powerful it was more accurately described as a physical blow than an audible vocalisation. Yet there was no doubt as to whom that despair-fueled demand belonged.

For the first time, Grey set hoof outside her prison. She paid no heed to the still burning remains of the Patchwork mare nor the departing squad of newly created fragments that the sequenced spellwork launched on their missions. They had their objectives, and she had her own. Roiling hate added its bite to over a decade of bitterness, but it was only logic she allowed to guide her actions.

Objective One

Her telekinetic aura plucked up the plushy lavender Alicorn and slammed it with sufficient force into Sweet Dreams to cause her location to intersect with the far wall.

Next, she gripped the stunned blue Alicorn's head and dragged it to look at the projectile. "Zero times she would have wanted you to avenge her right now. Save her friends, or you invalidate her last action."

Sweet Dream's eyes still blazed with rage, but it was no longer the blind pyer that would have ruined everything. Now, it was the cold determination that could be turned into a tool.

Objective two

She turned her senses to the retrieval spell. Feelers of grey magic danced along the black tendrils. The three souls were only mildly more damaged than they were initially. Things were still proceeding on schedule. At the current rate of time compression, there would be thirty-six subjective seconds until they arrived. It irked her to refrain from using full titles, but it would waste time.

"Dreams, thirty seconds." No more needed to be said. The mare understood and returned to her task.

Objective three.

The half-molten remains of the basement door was still attached, and that just would not do. As she stared towards it, she spent a single valuable second examining the remnants of Celeatia's seal. It would take at least a minute to unmake this with her spellcraft alone.

Unacceptable.

What was needed was raw irrational power, and she knew just how to get it.

Grey stomped her wooden hoof with as much force as she could manage. "Nova, unless you want your 'Gift' to die, get up here. Now!" It was crude, and it was the last solution Grey would ever admit to using, but sometimes, all you needed was a bigger hammer.

Contrary to Grey's predictions, Nova did not knock the door down. No, the flaming kinetic impactor she masqueraded as ploughed through the half-Celestia thick vault door as if it was a foal's play stage prop.

Grey pointed. "That way."

Nova did not even think. Only the molten hoof prints that burnt their way into the already abused wooden floor proved she was not just a self-animated volume of fire.

Grey took half a second to recompose herself. Even using Cadance's breathing technique on the off chance it might offer even the slightest advantage.

As she let the calming breath out, her eyes followed the line of her wooden leg to a bookshelf. There was a lot of knowledge here that would be lost forever if she failed.

Unacceptable.

She glanced at Night, still diligently maintaining her bombardment. Only the quivering edge of her expression past her snarl showed that Patchwork's demise had affected her in the slightest. Night formed another black crystal. Pain, contempt, hatred and other negative concepts forged into a projectile between her hooves.   

Past the smallest door, her next objective lay. Her eyes caught on Little Star's mark. Her mind drifted to their first encounter. To the blood and the pain as she pushed with everything she had just to save her.

For the second time in recent memory, Grey's aura retrieved a very particular scroll. Physically, it was such a simple thing, just paper and ink. Yet, it was so much more than that. Despite how light it was, memory lent it weight. Both pride and bitter hate fought in the back of Grey's mind. She embraced both, denying both any power over her. The memories that washed over were harder, but she pushed through them nonetheless.

The knowledge this was based on is what started everything. It was a complex spell, one that the original Twilight put so much effort into mastering. Pride at refining it had been Grey's first memory. How it could be further improved was literally her first thought.

"I believe this assignment is overdue…"

Night's eyes glanced at the title and then showed her fangs in what could be an approximation of a smile.

"Pick your time carefully…"

Night nodded, so Grey moved on.

Objective of opportunity complete. Resuming objective
four.

They needed an exit strategy, and that required a tool with a lot more finesse than Nova and far more power than Grey herself could currently wield. There really was only one option.

With a grey flash, her form shifted to that of a wooden owl with a crystal horn. With a hop and a quick flap of her wings, she darted towards Little Star's doorway.