//------------------------------//
// What You Leave Behind 
// Story: Odrsjot 
// by Imploding Colon 
//------------------------------//

	As the Noble Jury roared off—a ruby skystone streak against the bright horizon—Basso and Zetta stood in a tight cluster with their fellow ponies.  They held tight to each other, comrades in arms upon the valley of desolation.

As time passed, they heard hoofsteps shuffling up.  The predominantly Ledomaritan group glanced down the hillside.

Several figures—mostly Xonan—were hobbling up the southern flank of the distant battlefield.  A few Ledomaritans led the group.  As soon as eye contact was made between the two clusters, the arriving ponies raised their hooves to show that they weren't armed.

Anxiously at first, the survivors of the Lightning-Bearer trotted forward, mingling with their long-lost allies, and keeping a wary yet peaceful distance from the tattooed equines.  The warrior that had flown Rainbow Dash in from the ravine trotted up to speak fervently with the group, and many of his brothers' faces gaped in shock from the news he had to share.

Zetta gazed at the conference, and her weary eyes scanned the horizon, spotting forces from both sides congregating over the bloody fringes of the battleground.  She gulped and said, "Are... are you seeing this?"  She shuddered.  "Is this really happening?"

Basso nodded dumbly.  "I think it is, Zetta."

She stifled a whimper.  "Basso, where do we all go from here?"

Silence.

He gave her shoulder a slight squeeze.  "Is your head melting from any more evil dire death song?"

Zetta's face scrunched up, but ultimately she shook her head.  "No."

The massive stallion shrugged.  "Then I think we're okay."

She blinked at that, then giggled slightly.

He smiled as she leaned against him.

After a long sigh, Zetta gazed into the sunlit wasteland and murmured, "I wanna go home, Basso..."

He gently stroked her shoulder, not even hurting her in the slightest.  "You know what?"

"Hmmm?"  She gazed up at him.

"For the first time that I can remember..."  Basso smiled, his eyes watering.  "I know for absolutely sure that we can..."






Deep in the metal ravine...

A lone figure stood in the shadows of grinding machinery.

With a shuddering breath, she looked up, and her tearful eyes reflected a blue swath of sky.

High above, the clouds had cleared, and Nightshade saw pearlescent shades of untainted atmosphere.  Wispy clouds formed in the distance, followed by black streaks of wayward birds.  Even above the tumult of the buzzing apparati, the Madame of Blue Nova could hear signs of life, as soldiers from both sides—in mixed castes and mixed tongues—converged as one as they salvaged what they could from the dead.

The morning sun was rising, and its angular beams swam over the deep ravine for the first time in years.  The light anointed the tip of Nightshade's stubby horn, and she retreated deeper into the shadows, wincing.

"Novus..."  The mare hiccuped.  A tear streaked down her face... followed by a second and a third, absorbing the last specks of darkness that the shadows had to give.  "Novus, my brother..."  She inhaled sharply.  "My g-gorgeous, gorgeous children.  What h-have I done...?"

Shuddering, she looked down... down into the murky depths below.

A minute passed.  The sunlight finally reached the full length of the bridge.  But by the time that it did, though, Nightshade was no longer there.





In a field of corpses, surrounded by blood and the detritus of war, a metal clanging sound echoed against the fractured remnants of the Lightning Bearer.  Sparks flew, splashing across an intact managlider and a sack of cluttered rations.

The impacts grew louder, more and more desperate, and finally—with a resounding crack—they ceased altogether.  In its place, a long and stifled groan rippled across the deathscape.

"Mmmmmrgh-gaaaaaaaaugh!  Guhhh! Mmmmghhhg... haaughh..."

Silence... then a scimitar flew to the ground, its sharp edge bloodied and covered with scrapes of bone.

A crooked shadow rummaged from the nearby firelight.  Huddled over, Shell quivered in pain, but nonetheless pressed a pair of hooves tightly to his forehead.

"Grrkkkk... hrckkkkk—You... y-your t-talents are no longer r-required, Dear Doctor.  I c-cast you out of her... cast you out by th-the authorittttyy-grkkkkt... authority granted in me... by Ledo... m-most righteous... deliverer of wrath... of f-fury... and of fire...."

Slowly, heaving, Shell sat up.  Blood streamed down his face in scarlet tributaries.  He closed his eyes, accepting the christening gesture from the jagged stub on his forehead.  With careful hooves, he finished tightening the end of a pale-pale horn to his brow.  He took a deep breath, holding his forelimbs out as he licked his own blood on the way down past his lips.

"D-do you hear that, Imre?!  Sh-she is gone... she and all of h-her friends are ashes!  I... grkkkt... sw-swear it!"  His eyelids tensed as he sputtered through his own juices, trembling savagely.  "We are alone now, my b-beloved daughter!  Together f-forever!  Speak to me!  Speak in communion of your father, and I-I shall grant your everlasting wish!"

He heaved.

He sobbed.

And then, his body locked still.

Slowly, like a candle being extinguished in reverse, a dull light ran up to the end of his bloody forehead stub.  But it didn't stop there, for the cap at the end of it flickered with brilliant sparks, illuminating the graven tattoos of the bodies lying around him.  Shelle inhaled, like a foal coming up for water, and something beamed from his face.  His left eye open.  And the scar on his right side peeled away,  The meaty socket glowed from within, and a crackling grin flickered underneath the luminescent gaze.

"Grrrrkkkt... yes... yes, we will, Imre.  We will make it so..."  He hissed, wheezed, and sobbed through a smiling face.  "Daddy loves us.  Grnnghh... h-he does."