//------------------------------// // Chapter 11: Fall // Story: A Song of Storms: Of Skies Long Forgotten // by The 24th Pegasus //------------------------------// Nothing is eternal. Time demands the end of all things. A thousand years of victory must be paired with a thousand years’ worth of crushing defeat. In the end, what does it matter that something stood tall and proud for hundreds of years if it is felled in one mighty and awful strike. ---Excerpt from Commander Hurricane’s journal 12th Shivering Rains, 401 After Empire Chapter 11: Fall The Cirran Second Legion arrived on the third day of the siege to relieve the beleaguered remnants of the Eighth Legion. The additional forty-eight hundred pegasi were able to secure the southern quarter of the city, including the Rains’ palace, buying some precious breathing room for the weary defenders. The griffons had withdrawn into the eastern quarters of Nimbus to regroup, but Cirran scouts had spotted additional reinforcements massing with the Gryphon hordes. It was only a matter of time before they struck again. To make matters worse, incursions into Cirran territory near Feathertop Mountain were becoming more and more frequent. Seeing this as a precursor to a massive invasion, the Second Legion’s legate demanded that his legion be returned to secure Cirra's southern flank in the face of the coming onslaught. By the fifth day of the siege, the invasion in the south was all but certain, and the soldiers began making preparations to withdraw. Hurricane had gotten a full day’s rest for the first time in several days of intense fighting with the arrival of reinforcements, but the lack of activity only gave him more time to think about Shear Point’s death. As much as he tried to push the thoughts out of his mind and carry on with his life, the image of a bloodied stallion, glistening dagger sunken into his white coat, continued to haunt him. The black pegasus hadn’t so much as uttered more than a hoofful of words to anypony in the two days since. Legate Red Tail had been all but absent from Hurricane’s sight, spending the better part of the past forty-eight hours in the palace with Gold Moon. The two officers were furiously bickering over strategy and what to do with the city, and sometimes the shouts were audible even through the thick cloudstone walls. Such outbursts were short-lived, however, as the legate had no authority over Gold Moon’s decisions. It was high noon on the fifth day of the siege when the legate finally emerged from the palace, his face filled with a defeated anger as he walked under the shadow of his helmet. Every legionary in the immediate vicinity stopped what they were doing and watched him, waiting. “Gold Moon has ordered an evacuation of the city. The Second Legion will withdraw first while the Eighth holds this position. Only after they have left will we retreat to Feathertop Mountain.” Silence. Absolute silence filled the air around the palace. Nopony had the ability to process their thoughts in any sequential order. Even Hurricane had lost his morose air, only for it to be replaced by a concoction of conflicting emotions. He was finally getting what he wished for, the order to retreat, but on the other hoof, Cirra was abandoning Nimbus. The legendary City of Thunder, the Spiked Shield of Cirra, the city his father had held in the face of overwhelming odds in the last war, would fall for the first time. The Legate took in the burning sights of the city, knowing that it would be the last time he would see it. “Gather whatever things you have left. We should be out of here in an hour.” Slowly unfurling his wings, the officer lethargically pushed himself into the air to spread the news. “We get to get out of this hell-hole, eh?” Silver mumbled, looking at the grime caught around his hooves. “Maybe we’ll be able to get something to eat.” Swift Spear stood up from where she had been laying against a pile of rubble. “We really don’t have much of a choice at this point. We’re badly outnumbered and out of food, and we’re losing the Second anyways.” Grabbing her spear, she looked out towards the griffon camp. “This is going to be a killer for morale.” “I still can’t believe those bucking griffons got the better of us,” cursed Silver Sword. “How many soldiers did we lose back at camp? And after Hengstead, I thought we had the bastards routed.” “I want to know how my father could have gotten us into this mess.” Swift’s eyes were glinting, and they searched far to the west where she knew Stratopolis floated peacefully, hundreds of miles away. “Any legionary worth their mettle would have seen that something was going on!” Hurricane reached over and placed a hoof on the mare’s shoulder. “Maybe it’s not his fault. Haysar ordered the Legion to crush the rebellion as soon as possible, and we were pushing deep into Gryphon territory at great speed. My guess is that the legates got so overzealous in their pursuit of the enemy that they didn’t see it coming. It takes too long for orders to get from the front to Stratopolis and back, anyways.” The mare’s wings collapsed and she leaned into Hurricane’s coat, her sides beginning to shudder. “You’re right, Hurricane. I just… I can’t think straight with all we’ve been through, Shear Point…” taking a deep breath, she forced herself to let go and stand tall. “We just need to get away from this city and take some time to reorganize our thoughts, settle down a bit.” Hurricane nodded and looked up, seeing formations of pegasi beginning to take to the air and fly to the south, away from the smoldering remains of the city. Thousands of civilians, mostly mares and their children, were struggling to keep up with them, flying through the one wedge of the city not encircled by the griffon assailants. Many of the militiamen that had gathered at the palace were watching the exodus with misty eyes, praying that their loved ones were somewhere up there and leaving the city safely. A sinking feeling began to materialize in Hurricane’s gut, and he galloped back to the eastern perimeter around the palace. Silver Sword raised an eyebrow and followed him, Swift Spear bringing up the rear. “What is it, Cane? Griffons?” The steel pegasus skidded to a halt next to Hurricane, head tilted anxiously towards the handle of his sword. Hurricane’s eyes were glued to the occupied zone of the city, looking for any sign of movement. “The griffons have to be able to see this,” muttered Hurricane. “They’re going to be at our throats in a minute, just you wait.” Almost as if on command, a chorus of screeching arose from the griffon camp, and hundreds of brown and black figures began to take to the sky. Backpedaling, Hurricane drew his sword from its scabbard and kept his eyes locked on the rising Gryphon soldiers. Silver Sword and Swift Spear drew their weapons as well, taking to the air and slowly falling back to the palace. “Go!” Hurricane shouted, turning back towards the Cirran lines. “Spread the alarm, we have to hold for the civilians to leave!” The trio of pegasi scattered towards different segments of the Cirran lines, rallying the troops in a desperate attempt to hold fast in the face of the incoming hordes. Shouts of alarm sung out around the palace, and as one the remaining legionaries and militia prepared to try and stop the flow of thousands of griffons. Already the mass of troops was descending on the palace, speeding through the thin screen of arrows the depleted Cirran archers could put up to slow them. Bracing themselves for the moment of impact, the remnants of Hurricane’s century spread their hooves for balance and gripped their weapons. The collision of the two armies was more thunderous than even the City of Thunder's legendary reputation. Blood crashed across the soggy clouds like waves on the shore, the rutted cloud already so saturated that the scarlet liquid ran in thick rivulets down the sides of the hill. In the first second alone, no more than fifty corpses had fallen; by the tenth second, that figure began inching into the hundreds. The air was so thick with the screams of the dying and the vitality of the dead that it might as well have been the center of Armageddon. Left, right, slice, parry, counter, stab. The volume of griffons fighting to claim Hurricane’s space was so dense that the black pegasus had little time to breathe and much less to think as he defended himself. Shear Point’s dying face had entered his mind again, but instead of crippling him in sorrow the stallion’s face fueled Hurricane’s limbs with an otherworldly speed that dispatched griffons as soon as they came within range of his sword. Silver Sword and Swift Spear were powered by a similar rage, and together the trio formed a wedge that ripped apart everything thrown at them. But despite their best efforts, the Eighth was losing ground at an alarming rate. A flurry of airborne strikes drove Hurricane and his friends apart, and the stallion found himself backpedaling up the hill to the palace. Losing his footing under a particularly strong blow, Hurricane tripped and fell backwards into a trench, stomach helplessly exposed to the warrior above him. A ferocious shout rang in Hurricane’s ears, and a bloody sword whirled past his snout with frightening speed, liberating the griffon’s neck from its body. The ex-griffon tumbled into the trench and landed on top of Hurricane, drenching his coat and armor with blood. Straining under the weight of the griffon and its armor, he bucked the corpse away and scrambled to reach his sword. A pair of gray hooves wrapped themselves around Hurricane’s chest, and the pegasus was soon on his hooves under the cover of the trench. “Where’s your century, centurion?!” Legate Red Tail shouted over the massacre. A volley of arrows skittered across the top of their cover, causing Hurricane and Red Tail to flatten themselves deeper into the trench. “Scattered, sir!” Hurricane shouted back. There was a primal yell at the top of the trench, and Hurricane jabbed his sword into the body of the griffon that had just crested the hill. Uttering a last sputtering cry, the hybrid tumbled into the rapidly filling trenches. “Unfortunate. The Second has already pulled out, and we’re next, but first I need Commander Gold Moon secured and evacuated safely! Can I trust you with the job?” Hurricane didn’t even hesitate. Nodding, the black pegasus immediately took to the skies and sprinted to the palace, dodging arrows and dive-bombing griffons alike. For a split-second his worries about Swift Spear’s and Silver Sword’s safety surfaced, but Hurricane immediately forced them back down. They were going to be fine, he told himself, and he had to do his duty as a legionary and ensure Gold Moon’s safety. There was already smoke billowing out of the windows of the palace’s great hall when Hurricane arrived, mingling with the pollution from the rest of the burning city. Taking a deep breath, the stallion smashed through one of the windows with his shoulder, immediately colliding with the back of a heavily armored griffon. The two slid across the floor amongst shards of broken glass and pieces of smoldering charcoal until they came to a stop in the center of the hall. Hurricane was the first onto his hooves, quickly sliding his sword out of its scabbard and bringing it to bear on the griffon soldier. The blade was immediately caught and deflected in midair by the surprisingly nimble opponent, and a serrated black dagger was swung at Hurricane’s neck. The black pegasus barely had time to turn away, feeling the tip of the blade graze across his chin with frightening ease. Carrying his momentum with him, Hurricane spun backwards an additional three paces and squared up with his opponent. As the griffon stood to its full, menacing height, Hurricane was able to see just how outmatched he was. The griffon stood a full head and a half over any other griffon, and instead of white or brown plumage its feathers were black like the soot on its armor. Its steel armor was crafted into a terrifying array of razor-sharp spikes and blades along every limb, and even the beast’s claws were serrated and honed to beyond-lethal points. A jagged beak and two curved swords, one in each hand, completed the griffon’s arsenal. The soldier let out a fearsome cry, and Hurricane was immediately beset by the hundred points and blades adorning the warrior’s body. Twisting every possible way, Hurricane skirted around the attack and delivered a weak slice to the griffon’s side. His blade rebounded harmlessly off of the armor, and a set of spiked rings around the griffon’s tail lashed at his side as he passed. As Hurricane yelped in pain, the griffon turned around, a smug smile adorning its twisted beak. “Oh, did I do that? My apologies, freund, but you’re going to have to be faster to get zu mich.” The beast’s complacent voice twisted into a menacing chuckle as it used its enormous bladed wings to balance on two feet, swords angled out to either side. “Or did someone not tell you zat you were fighting ze High Guard? Tsk, you should have stayed outside und ran avay vith ze rest of your Cirran scum. I promise you zat your death vill not be painless.” The griffon came again at Hurricane, swords swinging in a wild yet controlled maelstrom of death. To even collide with the griffon would mean instant and painful death, and Hurricane was lucky that he had hit the beast’s spikeless back when he smashed through the window. Quickly parrying one of its swords, the pegasus ducked under the griffon’s second slice and bucked at its underside. The hybrid grunted as Hurricane’s hooves collided with its thinly-armored chest, but a swift kick from its rear paw sent Hurricane tumbling away with the addition of three claw marks across his side. “Is zat all you’ve got, freund? At least give me a challenge!” This time the griffon sat waiting for Hurricane to strike, eyeing a talon lazily. Hurricane took a deep breath and racked his brains for a solution. Every moment he spent fighting this warrior was another moment that Gold Moon was at risk, another moment that the Eighth was unable to retreat. His friends were in danger, and the only way to save them was to kill the griffon and get the commander out of there. But how? Suddenly an idea struck Hurricane. Spreading his wings, the pegasus took to the air and began to spiral about the room, trying to gather as much speed as he could and make his movements unpredictable. The High Guard soldier watched him keenly, ready to make any split-second moves. Satisfied he had enough speed, Hurricane began his attack. Whistling across the room, the pegasus struck at the soldier with a bladed wing. Unfazed, the griffon blocked it with a sword of his own and attempted to counter, but Hurricane had already dived away from him. Sliding across the griffon’s beak with several more wing jabs, Hurricane managed to catch the griffon off balance. Immediately coming back for a finishing strike, he tucked himself into a ball and launched at the griffon with incredible velocity. Nothing the soldier could have done would have prevented what happened next. Snapping out of his spiraling form at the last possible second, four hooves connected solidly with the griffon’s jaw and propelled it into a nearby wall. Stunned and with a shattered beak, the griffon struggled to regain its footing, but it was too late. Grabbing his sword from its scabbard, Hurricane flung the blade at the griffon’s neck, which it pierced through with ease and became lodged in the cloudstone wall behind the warrior. With the last of its dying gasps, the griffon clawed desperately at the blade lodged in its throat, but soon its arms fell limp, never to move again. Panting, Hurricane trotted to the impaled corpse and put his teeth around the sword. Straining with all his might, he was finally able to wrench the blade from the wall. The griffon’s body fell to the side, revealing an impressively deep gash through the wall where the sword had stuck. “Was that fast enough, freund?” taunted Hurricane to the former High Guard. Returning his sword to its scabbard, the black pegasus sprinted through the palace to the throne room. The building must have been impressive in its prime, but in just five minutes it had been turned into a ransacked structure notable only for what it would have looked like before. Massive blocks of rubble from a caved-in ceiling filled the halls, and dozens of statues lay shattered and mangled across the cloudstone floor. Most of the pictures had been knocked loose from the walls, and some of the rooms were home to spontaneous fireplaces fueled by makeshift tinder in the form of whatever had occupied the room before. The bodies of several Cirrans and Gryphons littered the halls as Hurricane advanced. After what felt like miles of running to the tired stallion, Hurricane finally burst into the throne room. Climbing over a pile of corpses, he saw something entirely unexpected. There in the center of the room stood the largest griffon he had ever seen, at least two or three times his own size. And in that massive griffon’s claws was Gold Moon, struggling against the force strangling the life out of him. “Put him down!” shouted Hurricane, gripping his sword between his teeth. Raising an eyebrow, the massive griffon loosed his grip on the commander just enough to allow him to breathe and turned to Hurricane. “My my, what do we have here?” The smooth tenor of the hybrid’s voice completely washed over Hurricane, causing him to step back as much from awe as in worry. “A little colt, hoping to save his commander? I am intrigued, pony. Come, tell me about yourself, and then I can see to ripping your intestines out.” “My name—” Hurricane’s voice cracked, and he coughed nervously to stabilize it. “My name is Hurricane, centurion of the twenty-third century of the Cirran Eigth Legion, Fifth Cohort. And I demand that you let Commander Gold Moon go, or I’ll have to kill you!” The griffon’s beak twisted into a smile, and its laughter caused Hurricane to shrink back with fear. “You? Kill me? Bah hah, I haven’t heard a joke as good as that one in days!” The griffon threw Gold Moon aside, advancing towards Hurricane. “Let me ask you this, little pony; do you know who I am?” Seeing Hurricane feebly shake his head, the griffon sighed and adjusted the straps of his shoulder armor. “My, I thought Cirra would have respected me enough to teach its soldiers about their enemies. I, young colt, am the legendary Emperor Magnus, ruler of Gryphus, God of the griffons!.” Powerful winds seemed to burst forth from under Magnus' wings, and Hurricane almost dropped his sword in response. Emperor Magnus, the griffon responsible for starting the whole war, was here at Nimbus? And he was a god as well? Hurricane suddenly felt less sure about his already slim chances of surviving this encounter. The griffon emperor chuckled and drew a notched golden sword from its scabbard. “Seeing as how you’ve come this far, I could do worse than withholding the honor of allowing you to die by my blade. Come at me, pegasus, and let me see what you can do.” Magnus then flared his massive wings to his sides and crouched, terrifying gold blade held horizontally across his face. Hurricane took a step back and inhaled sharply. The armor Magnus bore across his shoulders and chests was a combination of gold, steel, and amethyst gems, giving it an intriguing purple-gold color combination. Gem-studded plates of gold extended down the lengths of his twenty foot wingspan, and the spiked helm he wore on his head was trimmed in some of the finest gold Hurricane had ever seen. Other than a few spiny ridges along his arms and shoulders, the armor was devoid of many of the lethal adornments the High Guard soldier had worn. Altogether, the set of armor had to weigh nearly three or four times as much as Hurricane himself. Sprinting towards the towering griffon, Hurricane brought his sword to bear on Magnus. Feinting right and then slicing to the left, he hoped to catch the emperor off guard and cut through the weak point under the griffon’s arm. The effort was futile, and Magnus easily parried the blow and punched Hurricane’s snout with a balled fist rather than an open-clawed strike that could have ripped his face off. Snorting in pain, Hurricane recoiled out of Magnus’ reach. Slowly walking forward on three legs, the mighty griffon emperor swung his massive sword at Hurricane, driving the pegasus back. Hurricane dodged the first two blows and attempted to block the third. The strike had so much force behind it that even though Hurricane successfully connected his sword to counter, he was flung backwards into a cloudstone wall at the far end of the room. Stunned, Hurricane dizzily grabbed his sword off of the floor and attempted to stand up. Magnus was there before Hurricane could shake the stars out of his head, and in three rapid strikes he had cut off the shoulder piece and side armor of Hurricane’s left side. Using his wings to raise into the air, the griffon delivered a crushing kick to Hurricane’s ribs. The black pegasus was launched backwards again, this time smashing completely through a pillar in the center of the room. How his back didn’t break Hurricane could only guess, but the armor protecting his spine was smashed into uselessness. Laughing, the griffon emperor was advancing again. Hurricane knew he couldn’t take much more of the beating being inflicted upon him, so with a painful grunt he forced himself into the air. If he could just use his speed and agility to get behind Magnus… “You think you can evade my strikes from up there, pony? Do not mistake my size for clumsiness. I would not have survived the dozens of wars I've fought with your nation otherwise.” With a mighty gust of air, Magnus propelled himself off of the ground to eye-level with Hurricane. The displacement of the griffon’s wings was enough to almost destabilize Hurricane in flight, and he had to push his own wings twice as hard to stay in place. Diving low to the ground, Hurricane attempted to twist under the griffon and strike at his exposed flanks, but Magnus was more than ready for the maneuver. Predicting exactly when and where Hurricane would be, the griffon spun a massive wing at him. The collision snapped Hurricane’s neck to the side, and the world swam before the pegasus as he tried to right himself. Shaking off the dizziness, he tried again, this time spinning over and under Magnus in to try and disorient his foe. Magnus patiently waited out Hurricane’s acrobatics, then twisted and struck with all his force square at the pegasus’ head. There was a mighty crash of metal, and Hurricane’s helmet fell apart into two pieces. Remarkably his head was still intact, but the fight had been all but drained from Hurricane’s limbs. The pegasus fell limp to the ground, panting for breath as blackness threatened to overtake his vision. Staggering to his hooves, Hurricane feebly clamped his teeth around his bent sword as Magnus’ massive paws thundered onto the ground before him. The griffon began swinging his own sword again, this time showing no intent of toying with Hurricane. Two blurry swords rushed at Hurricane’s head, and it was all he could do to simply dodge them and remain on his hooves. His mind felt more sluggish than after a night of heavy drinking, and the double-vision wasn’t helping at all. There was blood all over Hurricane’s face, but from which specific wound he couldn’t tell. He was more tired than he ever thought possible, and all his limbs screamed in protest whichever way he moved them. Two more strikes from Magnus, and Hurricane had taken almost as much as he could endure. Raising his sword high above his head, the griffon emperor brought the golden blade to bear on Hurricane. The stallion was too tired to move, so he twisted his head to the side to catch the golden sword with his own weapon. A resounding cry of metal pierced the room, and Hurricane’s sword shattered into two pieces, each one sliding away in a different direction. Hurricane collapsed onto the floor, unable to breathe and unable to move. Smiling, Magnus returned his sword to its sheathe and grabbed Hurricane by the neck, lifting the pegasus off of his hooves. Two golden orbs flickered over Hurricane’s meek form as Magnus studied his foe intently. His eyes narrowed in scrutiny, slowly widening as a twisted smile came to his beak. “I thought you looked familiar. You’re Commander Thunder Gale’s son, aren’t you?” Seeing a flicker of understanding in the choking stallion’s eyes, Magnus slightly loosened his grip to prolong Hurricane’s life. “I thought so. Tell me, how is the old fellow these days?” Hurricane’s gasps for air were his response. Magnus shook his head. “Fine soldier, if my memory serves me. Led the defense of this city twenty-five years ago in the war, and what a damn good job he did too. He held out longer than any of my generals thought possible, and we lost more soldiers there than in any other battle in our entire history. We almost broke him though, before more of your kind showed up to push us back.” Balancing on his hind legs, Magnus pulled out his sword and showed it to Hurricane. “You see this blade? Oh, your father remembers it well. It was in this very palace, if I remember correctly. Nimbus was crumbling, and victory was almost ours.” Turning, Magnus directed Hurricane’s gaze towards one side of the throne room. “I fought your father one-on-one in that very spot. He made a mistake, just one, and paid the price for it. My sword cut through his entire left side, from shoulder to flank. He collapsed right on the spot, ready for death.” Magnus laughed and returned his blade to its scabbard. “But he was a good soldier, and a worthy opponent. Perhaps even more importantly, he was a brilliant general. His defense of Nimbus had lasted so long and been so stalwart that Gryphus had exhausted their strength trying to take it. By holding the city for so long, he won the war. Truly, a worthy adversary and brilliant strategist. So I granted him mercy and left. Shortly after, Gryphus crumbled, and I bided my time until the next war. This war.” Hurricane managed to summon enough air to form a response. “This… isn’t over… Gryphus will be stopped…” His mind was racing, trying desperately to find a way to free himself from Magnus’ grasp. The massive griffon laughed. “Oh, but it is over. Your armies are being destroyed as we speak, and soon there will be nothing left to stem the flood of griffon rage.” Tightening his grip on Hurricane’s neck, Magnus began to crush the life out of the black pegasus. “Unlike last time, my soldiers will burn this place to the ground, and so I see no reason to leave you to your fate. Fight for your last breath, little soldier. Make your death worthy.” The world was losing its color, slowly fading to black and white and red. Hurricane’s lungs were screaming in protest, desperate for a single gasp of air. Nothing he could do was loosening Magnus’ grip on his neck, and the griffon’s golden irises bored into his own eyes, waiting for the life to leave him. Suddenly Magnus cried out in pain, loosening his grip on Hurricane’s neck just enough to allow him to draw in a deep breath. Twisting his body, Hurricane delivered a powerful buck to the griffon’s beak, breaking free of his grasp and falling backwards. Rubbing his strangulated neck, the pegasus crawled out of reach of Magnus’ scaly hands. Twisting an arm behind his back, the griffon emperor pulled out a bloody spear embedded in his shoulder. Before he could see where the weapon came from, a solid brick of cloudstone struck him across the face, drawing blood from under the golden helmet. The griffon located the source of the attacks and turned to see two bloody pegasi blocking the entrance to the throne room. “Hurricane!” A worried mare’s voice broke through the screen of confusion still wrapped around Hurricane’s mind as he staggered to his hooves. Swift Spear and Silver Sword rushed over to him, forming a defensive line between him and the griffon emperor. Swift steadied Hurricane as he shook reality back into focus, panting. He waved a wing in thanks, unable to form words yet. Magnus scowled at the trio of pegasi as he discarded the bloody spear. “And so history repeats itself, the blood of Thunder Gale’s family allowed to live another day. But it is still too late for Nimbus, and so my work is finished.” Raising into the air with his massive wings, Magnus began to move towards the exit. “Rest assured, Hurricane, that this is not the last time we shall meet. And when we do meet again, then you will die.” Flying through the arch of the doorway, the griffon emperor disappeared to find new prey. The pegasi watched the doorway for another several seconds to make sure that Magnus was really gone, and then Silver Sword turned to Hurricane. “You alright, Cane?” Seeing Hurricane nod his head, Silver’s wings loosened slightly. “That’s a relief. A griffon that size, and you’re still alive? That’s an accomplishment in and of itself.” Swift reached over and grabbed her spear from where it lay on the ground. “Was that… Emperor Magnus?” Again Hurricane nodded, and Swift’s eyebrows shot up in awe. “You fought Emperor Magnus and lived?” "Not just an emperor. He... has control of the winds... like a god of some sort..." Hurricane coughed on the blood pouring down his throat from his bloodied nose. Silver Sword slapped Hurricane on the back, celebrating for the battered stallion. “That’s freaking impressive, Cane! I wouldn’t have given anypony more than ten seconds against a monster like that, but I guess you’re better than I thought, eh?” Swallowing deeply, Hurricane gulped down a few last breaths of air. “It wasn’t… easy… I didn’t even land a single blow on him.” Shaking his head, Hurricane retrieved his lost shoulder piece, affixing it to the remnants of his armor. “He, on the other hoof, gave me quite a thrashing.” Before Silver or Swift could ask any more questions, a different wheeze for air caught their attention. There, in the corner of the room, a winded Commander Gold Moon was leaning against one of the cloudstone pillars near where Magnus had thrown him at the start of his and Hurricane’s fight. “Commander Gold Moon!” exclaimed Hurricane as he stumbled towards the metallic pegasus. Helping him to his hooves, Hurricane and Silver Sword provided shoulders for the battered commander to lean on as they guided him towards the exit. “Centurion… milites… My thanks to you,” the elder stallion began. “If you hadn’t have shown up, especially you, centurion, then the bastard would have killed me for sure.” Satisfied that his coordination had recovered enough for his own liking, Gold Moon slowly separated himself from the two stallions supporting him. Grabbing his sword, the commander walked up to one of the windows overlooking the burning city. “What is the situation out there?” Hurricane saluted as he relayed the news. “The Second Legion has pulled out, along with a good number of civilians from the southern district. The Eighth, or what’s left of it, is also getting ready to evacuate, but Legate Red Tail is holding us back until your safety could be determined, sir.” Gold Moon nodded. “And so this is it. Nimbus, after a thousand years of history and culture, finally falls.” The stallion sighed and shook his head. “Were it that I had the brilliance of your father, centurion, else we might have been able to hold it.” Gold Moon gazed forlornly at the remains of Nimbus’ eastern district, which was still swarming with griffon soldiers. Coughing nervously, Silver interjected. “With all due respect, sir, we need to evacuate immediately. Every second we spend here is another second that a legionary dies.” The golden stallion nodded solemnly. “You are right, private. Come, let us be off. There is nothing here for us now.” Kicking apart the window that he had been looking out of, Gold Moon took to the skies. Hurricane, Silver Sword, and Swift Spear all wordlessly followed him. Gathering up whatever troops were left defending the palace, Red Tail and Gold Moon led the final exodus out of the city, squeezing through the last pegasus-controlled zone of Nimbus before it finally collapsed and retreated. The griffons let them go, cheering as the defeated Cirran Legion fled to the south. Out of a legion numbering five thousand at the start of the war, only a few hundred survivors were left after Nimbus. In the space of one week, nearly fifteen thousand legionaries had lost their lives in the different theaters of the war. One of those had been Shear Point, and his corpse had been abandoned at Nimbus along with the rest of the civilian population unable to leave the city. As the mighty City of Thunder receded behind them, Hurricane looked over his shoulder as massive shockwaves punctuated the upper atmosphere. The once proud towers and spires of Nimbus were beginning to collapse, and the griffons had immediately saw to it that the foundation of the city was ripped apart. Millions of tons of cloudstone were sent plummeting to the ground, where the fires only continued to rage with the freshened supply of fuel for burning. And just like that, Nimbus, Cirra’s Spiked Shield, home to nearly a quarter of a million pegasi, became a grave for just as many Cirrans and Gryphons alike.