The Alamonshuor brothers waited outside the holding chamber in the Eknuk, a dreadnaught-class warship. None of them were going to be allowed in, except for the youngest of them. Figanti opened the doors, and waited for Draco to cross the threshold. Once he was inside, the door shut and locked him in…
…with Derekosh.
His older brother had metal braces around his neck, wrists, and ankles that were connected to energetically-made chains that were connected to the ship's core. A large metal box weighed him down, a metal jacket around his torso and several sword sticking out and poking into the jacket. It was all meant to keep him from moving, as the swords would kill him if he tried to escape. Draco moved slowly over to him, fearing for more shouting or a beatdown that he would somehow bring about.
"Sit."
Draco sat with his legs crossed in front of Derekosh, who managed to lift his head and look at him. They looked at each other in silence, a small smile growing on Derekosh's face.
"You look just like our father did," Derekosh chuckled softly, lowering his head again. "He always said you would be the one to end all of this… but he knew you would struggle more than any of us."
It was a bit strange seeing Derekosh happy, even if it was bittersweet. He was always angry or serious, and he was very easily agitated.
"Why did you save me?" Draco questioned. "I can't be Doshu'um and I definitely can't be Makti. Netu'ung was so much stronger than me… he deserved to-"
"He didn't deserve anything," Derekosh interrupted. "You're only ten and a half cycles, and he was thirty eight cycles. He's had much more experience in battle while you haven't even started your proper training. It was unfair, and dishonorable for him to challenge a youngling."
Draco nodded, looking to the floor. "I'm sorry," he sighed. "If I just went we could-"
His mouth snapped shut, courtesy of Derekosh's rites. "You have nothing to be sorry about," he chuckled. "We shouldn't have expected you to cope with this change immediately. This war… it makes our long lives seem shorter than it is. We're tired of this war, Reku'un… tired of all the death and families we've lost. We all believed you could end this… all of us. But I believed in you more than any of them."
Draco's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Aren't you angry? It's my fault you're in this mess," Draco reminded him.
"I was never angry with you," Derekosh laughed. "I only wanted what was best for you. Jaqeluu and Jerosh are stronger and wiser than I, and they lack my temper. But I just wanted to see you unlock the power I KNOW you have. I pushed you three days ago in hopes of inspiring you to try and unlock the power we need to face this horde. But you're still very young… I knew it was a long shot."
They kept silent again, Draco hating to see him chained down.
"I could help you escape," Draco said quickly. "I could break the chains and get those swords out and you could run. I'll distract Jerosh and-"
"No," Derekosh said firmly. "I knew the risk of intervening… which is why I didn't help sooner."
"Derekosh, please. I can still save you," Draco pleaded, his voice cracking. "I've only known you for a week, but I can't stand to know I got my real brother killed."
Derekosh smiled softly, using his rites to wipe the tears from his little brother's face. "It'll be alright," Derekosh said. "You can still have a life among these ponies. They'll see you can't do this yet… and they'll know what to do."
"I don't just want a normal life. I'm never going to be normal with Nyla, this Ina bond, or my rites," Draco sniffled. "I can save you. Just let me help."
Derekosh shook his head, a tear falling from his own cheek and onto the floor. "Go on, Reku'un," he smiled. "They'll be dealing with me in an hour. Honor me and be there. I don't care how far, how close, just be there when I am gone."
Draco nodded softly, wiping his eyes and standing up. "Okay," he sniffled. "Goodbye."
"Salemos, Reku'un.
Every Loki'irian watched from the broadcast chambers as Derekosh stood in front of the deadliest weapon of their race.
The Vegdor Ganosk (Vegdor Cannon). Able to tear planets in half from one shot.
The ships that hauled the massive weapon were all linked together, four in total. Derekosh was standing at the very end of the gigantic barrel, the League there along with Ukorvo. The members each said small prayers to him, wishing him a better and peaceful life in Eden. Figanti was the last one to speak to him, and soon he left as well.
Draco watched as Derekosh turned to the open void of space, just as a red light grew brighter and brighter at the core of the weapon. Ukorvo nuzzle his partner, speaking mentally and waiting for their end. Derekosh hummed a lullaby their mother once sang to him, as she had sung to his brothers. Draco remembered the tune… he remembered being on Loki'ir. The beautiful and endless forests and jungles… his home in the Lithifer, the largest of the trees and most ancient. She would sing to him every night… and kiss his forehead as he slept beside her and his father.
"Turo (Ready)" Figanti's voice said. "Oint (Set)"
The humming of the weapon reached an all-time high, and the light looked as though it were from the sun's own rays. Derekosh looked at one of the cameras recording him, and as though he could see his little brother, he smiled and nodded.
"ARASK! (FIRE!)"
The screen turned completely white, and the entire planet of Earth heard the powerful weapon fire. The blast sailed through the stars until it reached a star, which abosrbed the beam like nothing. When the blast died down, Derekosh and Ukorvo were gone. Draco heard his brothers weep… strong, battle-tested men, weeping for their brother. Figanti, in the deck of the Vegdor, slumped against the wall and shakily covered his face with his hands. He had promised their father to take care of them like his own…
…and he took one of their lives.
Draco was sent back to Canterlot, having been told they would speak with him in a few days. When he saw his mother, cousin, and aunt… he disregarded them and went to his room. Ember was waiting for him, and he hugged her as passionately and caring as he could. She was concerned for him, but he wanted nothing more than to just lay down and know she was with him. When she fell asleep, he got out of bed and stripped down to nothing but the black garnments covering his upper legs. He went to the balcony of his room, and stared out to the city of Canterlot. An image of the surrounding forest around the Lithifer flashed through his mind, and he stood on the railing.
Draco pushed off with all his might, sending himself sailing over the wall. He landed gracefully on a rooftop, but he kept running. He used the signs and ledges as the branches his true home had plenty of, used the rooftops to run like the vast fields Loki'ir offered, and jumped as though he was in a jungle. As if he came from one.
And he did.
His instincts brought him to the mountain itself, which he climbed in the dead of night. He leaped and bounded up the steeping cliff until he reached the very top, which overlooked Equestria itself. He could sense the Loki'irians in the atmosphere above, and he could sense Nyla sleeping in the castle courtyard. He closed his eyes and let the sensation of the height he was at excite and embrace him, like a blanket around his cold body.
This was what he had always dreamt of doing.
Climbing. Leaping. Flying. Fighting.
Deep down he had always wanted to be normal… but he now knew what "normal" was to him.
He was a born fighter… a born warrior. He had the instincts of his people, the mark of the Signa, and a partner of his own.
He wasn't normal. No… he was something better.
He was a warrior.
He was Loki'irian.
…
He was a Signa.
…
Doshu'um.
…
…the future Makti.