Shouts, screams, smoke and chaos had filled the once beautiful outskirts of Canterlot. As flying changelings lashed out for ponies on the ground, pegasi darted for them, to be again preyed on by changelings that looked like pegasi. War had always been an ugly sight, irrespective of the participating parties; yet this one had the taste of an especially ruthless pollution of Equestria's majestic center, pitting fearful minions against one another in a barbarous battle of races.
Crimson Leaf had no allegiance in this conflict. Surely, the hive was the aggressor, yet one could not help but wonder why not a single changeling was seen to defend the capital. The royal troops were calling their attacks “love,” even coloring them pink. Would they be better off losing for once, so they see the other side of the coin?
A mad thought. Crimson Leaf flipped back his hood, drew a flask, and charged the spell for extended vision. Was seeing this getting to him? He really needed to grow stronger.
A large blast from Canterlot threw dozens of changelings into the air, many of whom turned to flee. Closer by, a few wandered in disguise, nonchalantly playing their pony act in fields, forests and on roads; the uninjured ones were indeed masters of deception. Without a vision spell, they could easily be mistaken for real ponies. Sadly, hardly any of them were putting truly useful abilities to display.
He had probably wasted his time. Still, he trotted to the best available vantage point – a little mound in the fields, rewarding him with a brilliant view over the lands, marvelously flooded with sunlight all the way from Canterlot's waterfalls to Ponyville on the horizon. He watched the rest of the fighting from there. A changeling targeted him, surely mistaking him for an Equestrian soldier. After a swiftly crystallized projectile had diverted the attacker and returned to its control circuit's reach, he briefly wondered whether his own abilities would be useful to intervene, but his mind quickly returned to more important – and realistic – topics.
A duel between a young stallion and a wounded, undisguised changeling caught his eye. Other ponies might notice soon, but there was still enough time for the changeling to get the better of this.
The spear missed. Shirei had smacked it aside with her unbroken wing and, pushing her body's signals out of her mind, jumped on her unicorn opponent. She managed to pin down his spear with a steel claw, her weapon of choice for the invasion. Victorious, she pointed her second claw at the enemy, locking him in place.
With the pony unable to use his weapon – and clearly unwilling to keep fighting – she allowed herself a quick look around. Canterlot was still in sight, shining from powerful anti-changeling spells. Under the pressure of ground-cast magic, her allies' hold of the sky was thinning out.
Parts of the world turned blood-red, until she blinked. Adrenaline had been dulling the pain that now crept back up her body, back into her mind. How many cuts and bruises had she suffered? She was unable to count, unable to comprehend. Was this – shock?
Taking alicorn magic to the face had been no more healthy than the subsequent crash-landing and fight. The forehoof she was threatening the pony with was broken; had she wanted to actually stab the pony, she would need to switch hooves. Yet, with every moment, it became clearer that the pony's fate did not account for much.
“We're losing, aren't we?”
The words were barely audible, as if her voice was failing her. Or was it? She lifted a hoof to her throat, which only served to smear blood over the hoof and dirt onto a wound. Her eyes widened in surprise at the injury she had barely registered.
This wasn't the time to get distracted. There was still a pony below her, albeit one that was shaking and staring wide-eyed. There was blood on the pony too. Had she struck him? No… that's mine. Some had dripped off her chin, painting red spots on white fur.
She shook her head, secretly hoping that it was a bad dream. She had never truly been prepared for this day. As it approached, it had haunted her in nightmares. Now, it had come, and truly, no dream had even remotely prepared her for what she had lived through that day. And now? Now, that it was ending, what to do? It was all so pointless now. What was I expecting? What in the world was I thinking when I went along with all of this?
The hive's presence was fading fast. Another fight at this point would certainly be her end. Desperate for any way out, Shirei tried to change into a pony, but the green flames just sparked about randomly, throwing about dirt and smoke.
Her beaten opponent did not hesitate to take this chance. He smacked her off-balance and swiftly rolled aside, to then gallop away with astonishing speed.
Off you go, white pony knight. Who had given that kid the spear?
She envied him. There'd be no way out for her, even if she were still able to run.
In the distance, pegasi were spreading out from the palace, scouting for changelings in a relentless sunlight that had ceased approaching dusk.
Shirei could feel her head growing heavier and heavier. Deep, no, in the center of enemy territory, her mind slowly gave in to dizziness. There was a grove, it lay just a bit ahead. A place to hide. She started walking towards it, dropping the second claw without giving it much of a thought. Each step was aching and the world spinning.
Even for Canterlot's surroundings, this was a very bad place to have crashed. There were pony villages and troops, and almost everything lay out in the open. Without disguise, a changeling was easy to spot. Worst of all, her energy reserves were about to reach their limit. She kept trying to convince herself that she could work this out once she was hiding in the grove. Use the time to think of a plan, then sneak out at nightfall. The pegasi were still a good bit away, Celestia would have to lower the sun eventually, and then, she would just need a pony, a source of love…
Bright as these thoughts seemed, deep down, Shirei was aware how futile each of them would be. She had almost lost a battle against little more than a foal and she certainly wasn't getting better. How would she possibly steal love when she couldn't even shape-shift anymore?
Slowly, Shirei resigned to reality. She was trying to fool herself. At best, she was picking a dignified place to die. Yet, as crazy as it felt, this was not the heaviest thought now weighing on her.
I deserve this, don't I?
She did; it was frighteningly easy to convince herself of that. She had aided a mad queen to replace someone's wife and bring down war on a peaceful city, just for an easy way out of the Badlands. All just to witness enslaved pegasi's rain, to live in houses built with ponies' hoofwork, drive the owners out in terror or forcefully feed on them. Her role had been minor, but in retrospect, it was quite clear what she had been fighting for. There had never been another way this would have worked out, had it worked out. She had closed her eyes and turned her head to the fact, in the vain and selfish hope for a better life.
All of it was suddenly so clear and undeniable. Why had she stayed in line, when only this could be the outcome? What had she possibly been afraid of? Had been wishing for? Victory? Would winning this have been any better, to deal the pain she now received? What – was I thinking?
Was the feeling of a lump in her throat from the wound? Did it matter? She had made her choices, and now, fate would have her pay the price.
Put into this perspective, what lay ahead was not that bad a grave.
Sharp pain struck her flank. She barely turned her head. There was a pony's helmet, then black, then the sky. It seemed her last wish would not be granted.
Goodbye, Equestria, she thought, blinking at the sky as it was fading out. Your clouds are beautiful.
“Oh, and check this out! It's like glass, just not, and it's a tree! And when you look through it, it's almost invisible, but the colors behind it kinda change, but not enough, so from the right angle, you can make it as if it is invisible! You could…”
“Lyra.” Bon-Bon's tone was getting a little bit annoyed. She didn't look up though, as she was occupied untangling her mane from a little thicket.
That was typical of Bon-Bon. It took her a little to get enthusiastic; no reason to get Lyra worried. She surveyed the sparsely lit forest in the meantime, choosing a path suitable for her friend.
“You could use it for magic tricks. On stage, it would be so hard to see, I bet Trixie would love it, or you could make really cool windows from it! Oh, oh, and that's not all, by far actually, come here!” Lyra had finally found a suitable path in.
A small ring of trees surrounded a surreal area. The treetops shielded almost all the direct light, while the nearby woods reflected browns and reds in between what green entered from above. Inside the tree-ring, branches' material gradually changed toward the center, shifting into a translucent, often near-transparent material. And, arranged with no rhyme or reason, pitch-black patches covered some of the branches or formed spots on the ground.
Bon-Bon did stop for a moment and admire the scenery, but all too soon, she gave Lyra that unwilling look again.
“Really, it's nice, but can we come back tomorrow? Do you realize what's going on? There might still be changelings around.” Despite her words, Bon-Bon trailed along, following her friend into her surprising discovery.
“Look, Bon-Bon. Black snow! Have you ever seen black snow? Creepy, awesome, creepy-awesome, what do you say?” Lyra had made a pitch-black snowball and was throwing it up into the air, to then catch it again and repeat.
“Don't just put that all over your hooves. Who knows what it is, but I don't think it's snow. Lyra, can we please go back now, I don't have a lot of time, and this won't have melted by tomorrow… I think.” Bon-Bon was taking an uneasy look around.
“Oh, you don't have to be all worried. The changelings didn't even get this far, and they all went the other way after that spell.” Lyra started on a little black snow figure, wondering whether Bon-Bon would notice how it was supposed to be a biped.
“Lyra.”
“Besides, you know, these changelings aren't all that dangerous if it's just one or two, and they won't—”
“Lyra!”
“They won't really—”
“LYRA! Can you stop talking for a moment!” Bon-Bon whirled her head at the mare, who fell silent. She then slowly turned her head back to where it had been pointing before.
Lyra couldn't make out anything in particular that Bon-Bon might be looking at, or listening to. She decided she'd been quiet for long enough.
“What's the matter? Are you hearing things, because I'm not. Why are you getting all jumpy on me?” Lyra did manage not to be as loud as before.
“That's just it. Listen.”
Lyra had to admit, it was a little eerie once she stopped talking. There wasn't a single sound.
“Fluttershy personally boasted about the hundred species of birds in this forest,” Bon-Bon said in an absent-minded voice. “Well, as far as boasting works for her.”
Lyra blinked a few times. She turned around, looking at the strange scenery: a normal forest with a few weird black or transparent occurrences in it. Had it been this quiet when she had first found it? She didn't think so.
“Well, maybe we should ask Twi— ow.” Bon-Bon lifted one of her hooves: a semi-transparent branch was sticking in it. “Invisible and sharp. I better… ugh, it's stuck?” Bon-Bon did manage to pull it out, then stumbled around and landed face-first in a bush.
“You alright?” Lyra helped her up. Bon-Bon's face had a little bruise, but she looked okay otherwise. “You gotta look out. Don't panic, it's just a weird tree.”
“Oh. It's okay. I just, uhm, maybe I should rest for a moment.” One of Bon-Bon's pupils widened and shrunk back in a way that it definitely wasn't supposed to. She dizzily dropped down into a cracking tangle of more near-invisible brushwood.
“Bon-Bon? You're right, sorry. Let's go back. Can you get up? Bon-Bon, don't sit in there. Hey!” Lyra came up to her friend and pulled her out of the weird branches, which were visible only from stains of black snow.
“It doesn't feel so bad. Why are you—” She clumsily sat down on more weird plants, not finishing the sentence, swaying her head strangely.
“Bon-Bon? What are you talking about? Bon-Bon!” Lyra pulled with all her might, finally getting tumbling Bon-Bon, who suddenly looked really confused, out of the strange area.
A few steps on, Bon-Bon flopped back to the ground. “Uh. I feel dizzy.”
“Bon-Bon! What is wrong?” Lyra was already helping her up again. “This— can you walk? We need to get you to a doctor! Bon-Bon, are you listening?”
Darkness. Light. The sky? Then, darkness again. And all throughout, pain.
How long had it been until Shirei woke up? She saw no window to give her an idea. Tight rope pinned her to a wooden board, which was angled against a dimly lit room's wall. She could barely – and only – see anything on her right eye. The room seemed empty otherwise, featuring only rough stone walls and a wooden door. Not that she could turn her head enough to see all of it.
A bowl of water was on a table beside her, just in reach of her broken forehoof.
Before long, she had overcome the pain to draw it closer and start drinking. It hurt her throat to swallow, but it was bearable. In small gulps, at least. That circumstance lengthened the time she took to empty the bowl, to a time beyond something she'd want to estimate.
Not that it mattered. What was there to do? Eventually, she was finished, facing a far longer while in which absolutely nothing happened. Not that she was expecting to find any love, but the loneliness made it even worse. Had they put her here just to make her death more miserable? There weren't even remote signs of anyone. She was just hanging there in silence.
That time drifted by, again, with no means to make out how much exactly – or even roughly – it was. It was cold, and the room seemed to become even darker. Maybe it was her mind, finally yielding to the darkness?
Though, as her consciousness weakly drifted on, she couldn't help but wonder: why wasn't she dying? Had she not been bleeding? Her hoof certainly didn't look like someone tended to it. She made some painful attempts to move her head, but gave up. Still, it seemed that something had been done to her left flank, and maybe her neck too?
She gave the uninviting room a second look – and as realization struck her, she wished she was dead. There was only one explanation: she would be interrogated. And her voice was gone. Her remaining eye widened in terror at what was about to happen. She frantically thought about ways to express that she was mute. Mute, and not just faking it to keep secrets.
The minutes that followed were the longest she could imagine. But this time, they ended, and the door opened to dim torchlight.
She quickly relaxed her body, pretending to be unconscious, as two ponies entered the room. Judging from the sound, one was wearing armor.
“It's not reacting to anything. Sometimes closes or opens the eyes, but doesn't act very awake. Probably hit the head too bad.” It was a stallion's voice. He smacked Shirei's head for emphasis.
Shirei let out a mute scream as the impact stretched her neck. Unwillingly, she briefly blinked her eye open to a helmet on a head that was looking elsewhere. Nopony seemed to have noticed.
“What are you doing?” a second stallion said in a displeased tone.
“Gee, sorry. It won't be damaged that easily. Took a lot more than that earlier,” the first voice retorted, though sounding a bit apologetic.
“We have a deal. You will abide to it exactly if you want it kept.”
The first voice started to mumble something in response, but got interrupted by the other.
“This is sufficient. Move.”
Shirei relaxed as she guessed that meant no more hitting for now. Her board was removed from the wall and dragged out of the room with her on it. She could see an increase in light through her closed eyelid. Her hearing wasn't good enough at the time to get all details, but she could make out some of the things said.
“Prisoner 43 leaving. That's the changeling. He's taking it for experiments,” a new voice said.
Shirei almost failed to breathe smoothly.
“As agreed upon. Feel free to check.”
Outside, the board was dragged in an almost horizontal position. It was dark, the new angle somewhat more comfortable, and together with the trip taking quite a while, it was too much for Shirei to stay awake.
Something thumped. Shirei opened her eyes – remembering only one would work – and immediately regretted it, as a stallion turned his head toward her, putting down a hammer. He was a dark-red earth pony with a fair, pale mane, wearing a long cloak with the hood thrown back. Silvery lines spread over his head and neck, like a thin tattoo or maybe a layer of paint, wildly intersecting in patterns. Creepy.
She was in a very different building, made almost entirely of wood and featuring a few windows, in a glass that was toned slightly violet. It was a spacious room, or maybe two or three connected ones, looking at the wooden columns and partial walls dividing it into sections. It was apparent that it had been renovated, or expanded upon, since some parts' refined quality contrasted starkly with the crude wood elsewhere.
“Finally woke up?” the stallion asked, adding “Can you understand me?”
She hesitated a moment, then gave a slight nod.
“How is your condition?”
Shirei carefully shook her head.
“But you're not going to talk to me?”
That was hard to answer. She wanted to talk, but couldn't do it the normal way, so she just stared back, looking around for ideas. The injured hoof wasn't bound as tightly as the others, but making gestures with it broken and restrained was hard.
He sighed and picked up a tablet with his mouth, on which there was a bowl of water, some roundish shape that might be food, and a little cupcake. He pushed the board Shirei was on in a steeper position and held the tablet in front of her. Unsure of how long he would stay like this, Shirei chomped down the two pieces of food in an instant, despite having a hard time swallowing, then started drinking as quickly as she could. The pony raised his eyebrows, but waited patiently until she was finished.
The stallion took a piece of paper, drew something on it, and held it up to her. It featured numbered images of the three things she just had, followed by what looked like bread and… cherries?
“Water, rice, cupcake, cherry. Do you want any of those? That's all I have right now, and I'm quite confused at what your kind eats, so give me a hint.”
She looked around, searching for ideas at how she should choose. She motioned right with her head with as little painful movement as possible, because cherries were a really unexpected choice.
“You can just talk back to me. I'm not into playing games here,” the pony stated.
The changeling gave a minimal shake of her head.
“Oh.” He looked confused for a moment. “Oh, stupid. So… ah. Of course. Your voice is gone?”
She nodded, which was less painful than shaking her head.
“So. I don't have a lot of food, but you looked like you'd take the cherries?”
Shirei hesitated for a moment, staring at him, then nodded.
“Okay.” He went outside.
This wasn't good enough. She was badly injured and couldn't heal on just food. If that pony ceased to care about her well-being, or went to sleep for the night, she might not wake up in the morning. But dismissing the food might not make him ask the right questions either and, even if, love for undisguised changelings would be hard to come by. Better eat a few cherries – which were quite tasty for pony food – and buy some time.
Changelings needed affection, that was just how they were. Need could not fill in for it. That pony would not feed her by wanting her alive for whatever experiment he was planning. She needed at least genuine concern.
The stallion returned too quickly for Shirei to think of something smart.
“Don't just gobble them up. I didn't remove the stones.” He had his cloak's hood up as he entered the room, but swiped it back again. Indeed, he had brought cherries. “You probably can't eat them tied up like this. Is this leg alright?” He pointed at her right hind leg and she nodded.
He produced a thin chain, which he pulled through the changeling hoof's natural holes. “Convenient, these,” he said, allowing a little smile to take his stony face for a moment.
After locking the chain – it was at least long enough to allow moving across the room – he freed her from her other bounds, carefully sliding her down the board, onto the wooden floor. It took Shirei some time to settle down in a position that didn't hurt too much. She ignored the cherries and tried to stare at the pony, hoping for a reaction.
But he started to walk off.
Are you gonna notice already? She threw a cherry at him.
The stallion slowly turned around. Oh no, that might have come across all wrong. Sorry! I'm sorry! She blinked frantically and gesticulated with her good forehoof.
The stallion moved in accentuated slow-motion. He picked up the cherry, walked back to Shirei, and put it back to the others. He towered over Shirei's collapsed form on the ground, who tried to look as pleading as a changeling could, while she was miming to write with a pen.
“I'm getting to it. No reason to throw the food.”
Shirei slumped back on the ground. Her heart was racing, and the world had become uncomfortably foggy.
When Crimson Leaf turned to look at the changeling, it had already finished writing, staring back. Why couldn't she just rest? Making such a commotion must have been tiring.
She kept looking at him wide-eyed, really looking terrible with that crack in her left eye. When he was close enough, she held up the piece of parchment, on which she had written a heart and a question mark.