It wasn’t long before the changeling faded into death. Staring down into the body, Luna couldn’t help but feel some sense of empathy for the creature. No one would ever find its body—there wouldn’t be a family to reclaim it or a friend to mourn. Even though the creature had forfeited itself in a mad scramble for food, it was still a living—thinking—being. Every moment of its life—every choice it had made and everything it had seen—faded to nothing in the mud of those grassy plains. It would be as though the beast had never lived in the first place.
Luna rubbed the dirt and blood from the creature’s face, revealing two pain-laden eyes. Would he have been a hero amongst his kin? Would they have seen his wounds and showered him with pride and love? Was there any such thing inside the enemy? One had to imagine that this creature’s heart had only the sour fate of being inside the chitinous black sternum; it would have found so much if it had only been inside the body of the Equestrian.
He gave everything, but received only a gaze into the end.
Perhaps he was better for it.
Luna stared down into the body. As wrong as it felt, she couldn’t let the changeling find its rest in the field. The princess bowed her head into the creature’s bloodied abdomen. She could not save the creature’s mind—that was already within its final resting place, unwilling to change. But bodies—pure flesh, blood, and instinct—would still bend to her.
Luna let thoughts of mercy consume her.
Tears rolled down her face.
And then there was life—a heartbeat within the darkness—not strong, but sturdy.
The body rose from the mud, eyes still glistened with death. It stared at her in silence—it looked straight into her chest and into her heart. Luna backed away from the creature, allowing herself to be hidden within the tall grass, but still the creature stared at her.
Several minutes passed like this before the creature finally stumbled out of the mud and crawled back upon its path. She saw the pain still within its eyes—not physical, but spiritual. The spell—the last gift its body would ever receive—was one not meant for the likes of a soldier.
The spell was meant for lost animals—the missing and abandoned. It was meant to allow the animal’s soul to travel home to its master before falling at its feet.
The changeling and the animal—they stood one in the same to Luna, as much as she dismissed the idea. Or at least she dismissed that it was important; the changeling’s corpse shuffled out of the mud and twisted itself towards the southern hills—to whatever the thing might call home. The creature trudged forward, stumbling and collapsing at every step.
The princess rushed to the creature’s aid but received only a cold stare. The lifeless eyes, which were now resting behind a thing film of dust and gore, held a hate that she had seen for months. Luna backed away but still followed shortly behind the creature.
As the pair disappeared into the grass, a painful silence fell upon the princess. She would like to believe that, between the changeling and herself, she was the moralist—that she was the one doing right to protect her people against a threat that she foresaw.
But still she carried the chains and shackles.
--~~--
It was hours later that the pair had passed back into the wooded realms of the Everfree. The changeling was a slow creature, which left Luna plenty of time to think of her actions. Admittedly, she hadn’t really planned for resuscitation. Rather, she had hoped for a spry changeling—one that would lead her to her objective whilst never even realizing that she was present.
The princess watched the creature as it slumped over roots and foliage; the change from the field to the forest had proven to be shockingly abrupt. Grass gave way to monstrous trees that stood hundreds of feet above the pair. Down in the depth of the woods, light was something of a treasure—it was a damp, humid realm which left them only the weakest sunbeams to survive by.
Strangely enough, the changeling seemed unfazed by the darkness. Whether the spell had amplified its vision or whether it was simply going by intuition was unknown—Luna could only watch as the dark, bloodied creature vaulted over roots and ferns without even the slightest distraction. It was something of an unnerving experience, being that each movement left a bit of blood or sweat for her to follow.
The spell did, however, leave Luna at something of a disadvantage. The changeling, unbound by nature, was free to sprint and roll infinitely, while she was still constricted by the confines of her own ability and tire.
Eventually, Luna’s joints were aching beyond her threshold; the princess slowed while the changeling hiked on. Luna struggled to keep up, but still the creature marched on.
Afraid of losing her only link, she revoked some of her own spell; the bloodied creature slowed first, unfazed by the magic, but was, in due time, left only with the energy to crawl.
Luna pressed her hoof against the creature’s back, letting it writhe under her as it slipped into paralysis. As she backed away from the creature, she looked down; its cold eyes still stared into her, moving as she did. And in this, she began to feel a need—an itch inside her.
“I’m sorry—for all this.”
The creature only continued to watch her. Perhaps it was the unending silence or the heat, but there was a desire in her—she wanted to speak to something. Since she’d left the confines of her home, not a soul had crossed her path, minus the one dying creature which may or may not speak her language even.
Luna shoved the creature into the underbrush, hoping to cut off the sickly feeling that came from its stare.
She had been told, by her sister even, that the creatures were able to mimic what they’d heard, but there had been no reports that they could speak upon their own accord. And in that vein, no pony could quite say whether they were even capable of thought.
As much as Luna would like to believe that the taken creature’s mind was empty regardless, what the Equestrians knew about changelings was something of a blank slate.
The invasion didn’t really compound much on what they already knew except that there was a definite threat within them.
Luna backed away from undergrowth, hoping to dismiss the thoughts. Hopefully she’d learn a bit more about the changelings before toppling their hierarchies, but that was all contingent upon the intuitions of her enemy. If Chrysalis was to hide herself, as she should, then the path would take quite a sum longer, but if she were to leave herself open, as is prone to her arrogance, then this might only take a few days.
The princess laughed as she backed into what she saw as a campsite. Chrysalis? Smart? It was almost too silly to think about; she’d done everything to defeat herself in the end, which was comical. She, carrying the power of armies, lost to just a handful of random bystanders. Surely the hubris was undeserved.
The Luna stopped, realizing full well the irony of what she’d just said.
A smile crept across the battered mare’s face.
“So, then, we are even then?” Luna cackled as she rolled her things about the clearing. It wasn’t much—just a bit of nothingness covered over by the dead pine leaves. She hadn’t much for light, but then again, darkness was something of her forte. Off to her side, she could see the gleam of a sky-bound rockface, which seemed to stretch endlessly in any direction. Briars marked the side of the cliff randomly, grabbing and tugging at the rocks like iron-built vines; the struggle and chaos of nature seemed to be condensed in the side of that wall, and it caught the princess with a slight sensation of awe.
Luna found a spot beside one of the nearby pines and lay up against it, keeping herself oriented with the underbrush but staring into the cliff.
The princess called out into the plants: “I hope you are quite comfortable in your little grass bed. It seems that I’ll be sleeping in the mud tonight.” The changeling remained silent—motionless—as she intended. Its silence made talking and venting so much easier: knowing that the listener had not the mind to comprehend you only made it more daunting to burden it with your emotions.
“I don’t sleep well, you know.”
The brush stood still.
“Do you ever have dreams? Do you ever have memories come back for you?”
Once again, there was nothing.
“Sometimes, I think that my problems are well within me—stuck away in some remnant of my past. I don’t even know if it’s the nightmare that brings all this pain on me. Sometimes I think it’s just who I am. Do you know what I mean?”
Luna sighed.
“Of course you don’t. No one would understand me if I said that I was in pain. They would all return with a horde of nurses and doctors, hoping to prove friendship or something childish; none would take the time to hear out what I mean by pain.”
The darkness grew deeper—night was rising somewhere above them.
“Do you ever feel like you’re the only one who really thinks? Does it ever occur to you that the things that build you—the experiences and thoughts you’ve made—are just so unheard of that you must be wrong for thinking them?”
Luna closed her eyes, hoping to drift away into thoughtlessness.
“Sometimes, I think I’ve been cursed with an unhealthy mind—one that does not function in line with the others. I wouldn’t say that I think myself diseased, but certainly that would explain it more easily.”
A certain lightness took hold of the princess’ body; colors began to fill her mind as the sounds of the forest fell away.
“No one ever says these things, but I wonder if they think it too.”
--~~--
A blur—the princess stared into the colorless, senseless dream. It was, as many of her experiences were, left to her imagination to decide how it would develop; she could just as easily turn it into a beach as she could her own home, silent and brooding. Such control was a small talent of hers—something she’d learned in her absence—but little more. Dreams were, after all, only dreams.
Luna closed her eyes and recalled memories of a home—the aromas of supper held still in a frosted night wind. There were statues in the garden, bearing the Equestrian banner along with scented torches and garlands. The home would be warm—the fires would be set and the furnaces overflowing with coal; every chandelier and candle would be lit with golden flame. And then she imagined herself at rest in the library above the crystal foyer: never had there been so many books for her—wall after wall of scrolls and novels.
The princess opened her eyes; the fire cast a glow upon her still-tired brow. She could only sigh and lean back against the dream-built cushions.
The reading room was something she’d created on a whim—a random collection of images thrown together in a blend of peace and warmth. But that didn’t explain the discomfort resting within Luna’s skull: she had seen this place before—in an earlier dream perhaps. There was no telling where it was, but she knew that everything in the room was built exactly to match an old memory which she had long forgotten.
And as the princess shifted within the cushions, she began to pick up on the subtleties of her world. The library was essentially a large box, bookshelves all built to surround the cushions, which, in turn, were placed around the large, rock-built fireplace. The walls were made of plain, unpainted wood, as were the floors, and the bookshelves themselves were made of the same stain. Everything in the room was plain—uninspired. Sure, they were comfortable—as all reading rooms should be—but they had certainly not been crafted by an artist.
No, this was not her home, nor was it any home in Equestria.
Luna sat up from the cushions, sweeping them into the corner of the room as she began pacing along the bookshelves. The books were perfectly spaced so that none of them leaned or stood askew; Luna also noticed that they were all of the same dimensions regardless of the book’s title. Cookbooks were the same size as younger novels—epics the same as short stories.
The princess pulled a book entitled “The Onyx Statue” from the lot before scanning the remainder of the shelf. As the tome slipped from its place, the two neighboring books remained fixed in their place. Luna watched, expecting them to soon topple, but the pair remained locked in their position. An odd situation, no doubt, but those sorts of things could very well be common in dreams. The princess shrugged it off and shuffled back to her place among the cushions.
She was, however, interrupted by a rogue thought: who was the author? Was it somepony that she had heard of once before? The princess flipped the book and scanned for the name, but was met by a blank face. She flipped it again; the back was just as featureless.
It was then that she heard the noise.
Luna dropped the book onto the pillows.
“Hello?”
The sound crept out from the neighboring room, growing louder as time crept on. Luna continued staring at the wall, waiting for the sounds to take form. At first, they had been shapeless noise—the thumps and cracking sounds that often accompanied an elder house, which, at first, deafened her to the faint ticking. But as she waited, the sounds became more and more distinct: the crackling sounds became heavy and metallic—there were voices—screams—behind the wall.
“Hello?” The princess stepped carefully to the wall before pressing her ear against the surface. “Can you hear me?”
There was no reply. The chains continued to rattle, and the pained howls still bled through the wall, but there was no mind behind them.
“Speak!” she screamed, unaware of the sweat that pooled at her temples or the faint shaking in her hooves.
The sound cut out. The fireplace went cold, and darkness fell upon the once-cozy library, leaving Luna standing dumbstruck in the dark.
Then came the voice of a watcher.
“Blind…”
Luna spun back towards the bookshelves.
The door stood…
Open.
There was a pause. The princess stared at the door for some while—unsure of what to make of it. She had heard the voice clearly, but had no sense of direction. Somewhere in the home, another soul tread.
A nightmare.
Her spine turned to ice.
Luna grit her teeth and looked down at her hooves. She had felt something—something foreign.
Fear.
The soul of the night was afraid—she was afraid in a way that had not before stricken her; she could feel the pain in her heart and her heart as it pounded in her sternum. Where was it?
Luna looked around the room.
It was here—somewhere. Something was here.
The library was still. The house’s faint wrenches and whispers had all but faded into the darkness, leaving her only with the sound of her own breaths and the beating of her own heart.
But still, she sensed the voice moving—approaching.
There was, for but a moment, the standstill feeling. Luna stood in the center of the room—in a foreign home—alone. But, for all her hope, she knew that she was not truly alone. The voice was coming for her, but she did not carry the strength to resist.
Silent horror.
She could not scream.
She could not move.
She could not do anything—anything that told the presence where she was. Somewhere, deep inside her, instinct was lit aflame. Close the door, it screamed in her ear, but she could not bear to move.
She was paralyzed in fear.
Then came a shadow.
A flicker in the doorway.
Luna looked up to the door, but as her eyes came upon the bottom of the shadow, whispers crawled into her skull.
“I loved her.”
“Mercy to her.”
“Beg.”
The shadow crept into the room, forcing her to look back at her hooves.
The princess shut her eyes.
“Blind.”
“Blind.”
“Blind.”
The voices howled into her skull, but still she kept her eyes shut. Luna yanked her hooves left and right, hoping to free herself, but the dream had kept her paralyzed. But even in the numbness, she could feel herself writing in the waking world.
She was returning.
“Sleep.”
Luna shook her skull furiously as pressure built against her hooves. She could feel reality just out of reach now—just moments from returning. Adrenaline flooded through her veins, pushing her further and further, but still the sweet grace of freedom remained above her.
In one last moment of desperation, the princess opened her eyes, hoping the shock would set her free. The world fell to pitch black; the shadow was gone.
In the distance, her target lay wounded.
The queen of parasites.
Luna took a step forward—the paralysis had faded.
She turned back to the writhing queen. So easy, was it? Luna focused on the creature—drew what remaining sanity she had into the bowels of her hate and continued on.
Chrysalis saw her limping forward.
The queen shuffled backwards, screaming for help as the princess drew closer.
Luna pushed the pain and fear from her head, throwing herself into a sprint. Her bones rattled inside her, but as the bleeding creature lost pace, she felt stronger. She pushed through the darkness and the emptiness—she pushed through the screams and whispers that still ripped through her skull.
Luna came upon her enemy, staring down upon the bleeding wretch. She slammed her hoof against the queen’s skull again and again; the screams turned to moans and then to silence. Rage took hold of her, bringing about a madness and heat that took hold of her senses. She lost track of her actions, but continued beating the body again and again, throwing all her energy into obliterating the body.
And when it was done…
Luna stared down at the remains, only to see that she had not killed the parasite…
But her own sister.
--~~--
The princess screamed as she tore herself from the dream. She buried her head in her shaking hooves, tears streaming down her cheeks.
Was this the end?
Was this what she was trying to do?
Luna remained there for as long as she could, but the thoughts of murder still ripped through her mind. Eventually, it was distant enough for her to stand, but still her hooves shook. There was something unholy about this whole thing—this whole adventure. It wasn’t just a path of vengeance—there was something worse about it that she didn’t know.
She was walking into something that was bigger than her—darker than her.
Luna rubbed the sweat from her face and picked up her things. The leaves she’d been laying on had all grabbed onto the saddlebags and refused to let go; the princess shrugged and left them in their place.
It was then that Luna realized that something was missing—something important.
The changeling.
The princess scanned the undergrowth for the sub-dead creature, but found only the sparkling remnants of gore and sweat. A heat built in Luna’s skull—the meaning had finally hit her.
So too did she notice the slight motion resting in the corner of her eye. Luna turned to the cliff-face which shifted with light and darkness. Something was swinging above her.
A bit of blood dropped down from the top of the outcrop; Luna looked up.
Hung by the briars, the changeling swung back and forth, brushing against the rocks.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
Again.
And again.
And again.