//------------------------------//
// The Second Chapter 
// Story: The Hybrid 
// by LucidTech 
//------------------------------//

        Fighting Spirit curled deeper underneath the layers of heavy blankets that rested over top of him. They were stained red with blood, giving them a slick feeling as they rested against the ever shifting skin of the hybrid. He shivered and pulled himself tighter. It was like that moment when you get out of a hot shower and step into a gust of wind. The blankets gave him the only semblance of warmth.

        Yet even they were quickly becoming pointless. The preposterous amounts of blood that had leaked over them had made them less and less effective at trapping heat. The castle had refused to send in a maid to collect and clean them, if only out of fear of traumatizing whoever they assigned to the job. They were red as blood could be, and even the changeling’s escorts would avert their eyes when he climbed out of them.

        Fighting Spirit took a breath that was a little too deep and the skin around his underbelly broke apart again. The stallion flinched and rolled over, breathing as shallowly as he could. He could feel the blood leaking from all his joints, yet his body refused to die. He wasn’t sure why, but it seemed he had a surplus of blood flowing through him. The noise of a rumbling stomach filled the thick air beneath the sheets and a crooked smile crossed his muzzle, revealing a mouth full of odd sores that had only recently formed.

        Eventually he would die, at least. Then this torment would be over.

        The door to the room creaked open slowly, and the smile quickly fell from his face. Daring a moment he glanced out from underneath his crimson refuge and clenched his teeth at the sight of the pony who entered. Her white coat practically glowed in the low-light of the room. Her hair wafted this way and that on non-existant winds. He pulled his head back under the covers and began to curse the being under his breath. He had hoped that Celestia would save him when he had spotted her after his escape, now he realized he was nothing but a play thing to her.

        “Fighting Spirit.” The voice said, in it’s painfully kind tone. “My student has informed me of your interaction with her.” There seemed to be a touch of pain in her voice, but it didn’t matter to the stallion, he had learned the hard way she could fake whatever tone she wanted. He brought himself into a ball again, feeling the cracks open across his back as he did so. A silent moment passed slowly, but was broken by a gasp from the goddess-like being. Immediately afterwards the the hybrid felt a wave of heat wash over him. Additionally, the blankets no longer felt stained with his blood. Surprised by the act, Fighting Spirit snaked his head out from under the clean sheets to look towards Celestia. A shocked look had devoured her face.

        “I must apologize.” She sounded shaken. “I-I had no idea that-” Her voice dropped off.

        Already Fighting Spirit could feel his blood staining the blankets anew. “Then what, exactly, did you expect?” The ever-present rage was lingering in his words and he had started to sound very reptilianne. “Did your thousand years of rule not prepare you for this? Did you believe that your precious little ponies would accept the freak?! Did you decide the being you had promised REPRIEVE, would be safe in the hooves of another, Celestia?!”

        Another silence as the princess watched the recently cleaned sheets turn red once again, the being beneath them practically hissing at her with anger. Which, she figured, she deserved given the circumstances. “I had no idea.” She said humbly. “I will do anything in my power to help you, now that I know the horrors that have befallen you.” She had been distracted tracking down the rest of the changelings, out of fear for a counterattack against Canterlot.

        Slowly, the being pulled itself out from under the bed sheets. Small rivulets of blood ran across the entire body and began to pool on the floor of the room. “Anything in your power?” Anger was the only emotion in the words. “Then kill me and free me from this eternal hell.” It shifted suddenly to a calm tone, like it was having a normal chat with a friend. 

Celestia couldn’t say that the request caught her by surprise, but she shook her head. “I can’t do that.” She said to the being. The sad words quickly filled the room.

“Then there is nothing you can do for me.” Fighting Spirit said, his eyes unreadable beneath the solid blue that gazed up at the princess of the sun. He slowly crawled back under his blankets and choked back a few gasps of pain. “It doesn’t matter anyway.” His voice was barely audible past the heavy fabric. “I’ll be dead by the end of the week regardless, whether through blood loss or through starvation. Then you won’t have to worry about me ever again.”

Fighting Spirit curled tighter into a ball on his self-proclaimed death bed, leaving Celestia to her thoughts. Her eyes roamed over the room, until she spotted a single thing that had been left unaffected by the rampant chaos around the living quarters. A sword was leaning peacefully against an overturned table and something about it sparked a memory.

She was reminded of an old guard. An old, old guard. From many, many years prior, who had served Luna. He had vanished after Luna had turned into Nightmare Moon, leaving behind only a note that detailed his wife and child’s death at the lunar princesses rampant magic, but that stallion’s name had not been Fighting Spirit. She slowly turned back towards the bed, and to the stallion she knew lay beneath the sheets that were slowly turning muddy red.

“What’s your name?” She asked, slowly. His mind was shattered, she was sure, but she was also sure that he still knew his name. If only because he had kept his sword in such pristine condition.

“Steel Swirl.” Rage and heavy grudge leaked through the words as they pierced through the thick coverings that stopped them dead. “And I would appreciate it if you didn’t let Luna in here while I can’t control my temper.”

“But, how did you survive this long?”

“The world really sucks, your highness.”