"There." Roarke pointed towards the rain-slick edge of the platform. "That's the perfect location."
"For what?" Pilate asked in mid-sprint.
"For making our jump to the central core of this place."
Pilate's helm rattled atop his head. "J-jump?"
"Relax, breeder," Roarke droned as the two slowed to a stop along the platform's edge. The temple was slowly revolving, pivoting to face the round structure in the center. "I'll be doing the legwork for both of us. This suit I'm wearing has enough fuel in it to provide the thrust for both of us for a short time. I'll carry you over and then you're on your own."
"Allow me to guess," Pilate droned. "More Searonese technology that the Lounge stole?"
"I'm afraid not. This technology is beyond me. Probably something stolen from Alafreo or a place even further east."
"You've heard of Alafreo?"
"I've heard of a lot of things."
"That's just... remarkable, Miss Roarke..."
"Hmmm?"
He tilted his helm towards her. "All this time, you were stealing a place on board Razzar's ship, spying and gathering intelligence."
"Well, I most certainly wasn't entering a beauty contest," Roarke grumbled.
"How did you manage it?"
"Excuse me?"
"I mean... they're not exactly equines and they know each other like brothers." Pilate glanced aside as the central structure slowly swung into proximity. "How did you manage to infiltrate their ranks in the first place? I mean, with one glance, they would have realized you didn't exactly have scales..."
"You can thank—or blame Quezaat for that."
"Uhm... Quezaat?"
"Yes. The naga God of Skin and Scales," Roarke explained. "Every naga ship carries a copy of the ancient Quezaatian Scrolls, and one of the holy text's most important rules is the sanctity of the reptilian body."
"Meaning...?"
"It's considered a mortal sin to bear one's flesh to another naga, hence why the Lounge's entire society is constantly wearing thick fabrics and silver masks to obscure their figures. If they allow one another to even see their faces, then they must masochistically peel the flesh from two of their own fingers and say a ritualistic chant for one whole week."
"Wow..." Pilate fidgeted. "That's certainly... uhm... convenient."
"Yes." Roarke nodded, her eye-lenses reflecting the large structure looming ahead. "As soon as I replaced Vaughan at an eastern Xonan outpost, I was able to masquerade as him on board the Lounge's ship without any of the naga suspecting me or having a reason to. The only thing I love more than stupid creatures is a religion that makes them even stupider." She pointed forward. "Here's our destination. We must hurry."
"Quick question. Exactly what am I supposed to do with this?" Pilate asked, patting the bundled shard in his grasp. "You've given me ample exposition on every topic but the immediate concern at hoof."
"That is the key to bringing about the end of Stratopolis."
"And a key is nothing without a driver who knows what he's doing." Pilate frowned under his mask. "Miss Roarke, vision or no vision, I refuse to go any further until I am better informed."
The metal mare sighed. "I only know two things, both of which were extracted from tortured shape-shifters courtesy of Razzar. Number one. Stratopolis has an operating room located within the very heart of this building before us. Number two. Within that room, there are five platforms: one in the center and four for each cardinal direction. It's presumed that skystone shards were positioned on the outer four and then relocated to the center in order to make Stratopolis fly to one of the edges of the world."
"How exactly does that work?"
"I'm not sure. What I am sure about is that the north edge of the world—beyond the standard red fare—has unique clusters of yellow skystone, like the type that you're currently carrying."
"So if I was to reach the control room and place this very piece on the center dais..."
"You're a smart enough breeder to know where this is going on your own."
Pilate gulped. "Yes, I suppose I do."
"We've wasted too much time," Roarke said, grabbing him while the rear of her outfit hummed to life. "We must get moving."
"One m-more thing, though!" Pilate sputtered, trembling in her grasp. "From what Rainbow reported, the center portion of this place is sealed off! How am I supposed to get anywhere near the control room? Especially with changelings everywhere?"
"I'm certain that a way to the control room will be made accessible soon."
"How so?" He clenched his teeth. "Do you intend to crash the Lounge's ship into the barricade?"
"No, for I do believe somepony besides us has the means of opening the last barrier to the core."
"Somepony b-besides us...?" Pilate's jaw hung open. "Rainbow Dash."
"Precisely." Roarke nodded, then fired the thrusters in her suit. "Now hang on!"
Pilate did so, wincing. The two propelled themselves off the platform's edge and soared towards the outer rim of the central platform.
Bellesmith lurched to a stop, her coat and mane drenched as she leaned against a piece of zeppeling wreckage positioned along the outer balcony of the large building.
"Did... did you hear that...?"
Elma stirred, her limbs curling and uncurling as she shivered across Belle's backside.
The mare gulped and wiped the rainwater off her brow. "I could have sworn that... th-that it sounded like something mana-powered..."
Elma continued to writhe and whimper.
Belle craned her neck back. "Elma?"
No response.
"Elma!" Panicking, Belle looked everywhere for cover. She decided upon the hollow of the crashed zeppelin lying right in front of them. Ducking low, she slid the two of them inside. They found a patch of dry rusted floor beneath the mangled hull of the ship. Lying Elma on her side, Belle squatted low and examined her face, fangs, and neck. "Elma, speak to me. What's wrong, darling? Where does it hurt?"
"It hurts..." Elma's green eyes spilled fumes into the air. "...everywhere."
Belle grimaced.
"Just... so..." Elma squeaked and curled into a fetal position. "So h-hungry..." Her dragonfly wings stretched and flitted. "So hungry th-that it hurts..."
"I... I..." Belle shook her head. "I'm afraid I can't... I-I mean I don't know..."
"Please... c-can you hold me?" Elma looked up at her with quivering jaws. "J-just hold me..."
Belle sniffled. She leaned forward and cradled her arms around the changeling. "Elma, I'm so sorry this happened to you. I wish I understood more. I want to ease the pain, but... b-but I have to get us out of here first..."
"Don't be sorry, Mommy..."
Belle twitched, her brow furrowing. She took one look at Elma.
The changeling's flesh had already taken on a peach coat, covered all over with dark swirling tattoo patterns. With a sad, pouting face, Kera looked up, then leaned in to nuzzle Bellesmith's chin. "You're so good to me. Just stay with me here..."
"Kera..." Belle stammered, her ears drooping as sweat formed along her brow. A labored breath escaped her lips. "Kera, I've waited so long for you to say something... j-just one thing..."
"I love you, Mommy," Kera murmured.
Belle choked on a sob, her whole body shivering.
Kera curled up against Belle's chest and clung tight to her. "Don't leave me. Please. I'm so scared, Mommy..."
Belle's eyes flickered green. A gasp escaped her chest, and she shook her head with an inward growl.
Kera's limbs squeezed Belle tighter. "I don't want to be anywhere but with you..."
"Kera..." Belle whimpered. She gritted her teeth and fought the green energy flickering through her skull. "Elma," she growled.
"Don't leave me, Mommy—"
"Elma, stop!" Belle shoved the filly hard.
Kera rolled over and collapsed against a rattling wall of metal, instantly turning into the frazzled changeling.
Belle slumped down onto her chest like a wounded animal. She wheezed, coughed, and took a few moments to fight a wave of pain. Tears ran down her face as she quietly sobbed, but even that was fought with strong resolve. At last, she pushed herself back up to her hooves, glaring down at Elma.
"That's not the way... that was never the way!"
"But..." Elma stared up, shivering. "But you always—"
"I know." Belle sucked her breath in as more tears trickled down her cheek. "And I was wrong. Just because it felt good... just because it felt comforting to be by her side at all times..." She bit her lip and looked away.
Elma blinked, confused and anxious.
Slowly, Belle trotted over. She squatted down before the changeling, then took Elma's hooves in her own. "Shhhh... look at me." She tilted Elma's chin up until their gazes connected. "If you must feed, then do so on that which is wholesome and true, not on that which is sorrowful and pathetic."
"But..." Elma gulped. "You've given me a second chance, Belle. I want to heal you."
"I need to heal myself," Belle said. "And the last thing I'm letting you devour is misery. So, look at me and listen." She gulped. "Feel."
Elma stared at her, eyes wide. Slowly, those eyes turned clear while black and white stripes formed across a stallion's body.
Belle fought the urge to sob. Another tear ran down her cheek as she squeaked, "I am so... so sorry." Her breaths came in pained spurts. "It doesn't matter what mistakes you may or may not have made. I... I was wrong." She hyperventilated slightly, but nevertheless kept gripping Pilate's hooves. "I felt so helpless, so confused, that I took the cowardly way out. And... and I blamed you, Beloved."
Pilate's ears folded back as his blind eyes went moist.
Belle gnashed her teeth and stared at the floor. "Everything happened so fast and so m-miserably, that I lost my center! I gave into despair, and I didn't know who else to blame!" She sniffled and shuddered. "Only, I blamed myself too. What happened to Kera was so terrible, that the only ponies who could be punished were the ones who brought her into that mess. She's been so quiet and so lifeless for so long... I... I-I guess I felt like I had to be just as devoid of life too. It was my burden to bare... but it was a damnably stupid sentence, because all it ever did was punish you... by putting you at a distance... and I'm sorry..."
Pilate swallowed a lump down his throat and stammered, "So much pain... and so much anguish..." He shook his head. "Even now, it's too dry to consume anything but misery..."
"No." Belle shook her head, sniffling. "No. Search deeper." She took the zebra's hoof and placed it over her heart. A painful smile lifted. "It is just a barrier." She winced and spat dryly, "A shell."
Pilate's face contorted in confusion.
Belle leaned forward and nuzzled his cheek. "But inside, beloved, hidden from even myself, it beats for you..."
All of the sudden, Pilate gasped, and a flash of green light flickered across his eyes. His face melted as he collapsed in a sob. "Oh, beloved..."
Belle instantly cradled him, holding him tight. "Shhhh... it's alright... it's alright..."
"I... I-I knew..." Pilate whimpered. "Some way... some how... I-I always knew..."
"And I've been a horrible pony to not reward that faith." Belle took a deep, deep breath. "But when I find him, I'll be hiding it no longer. He will know—as I know—that there is still hope left." She wiped her own cheek and smiled past the shivers. "I just need his help in peeling the shell away. All this time, I've been the blind one, and Spark-willing... he may still have it inside him to forgive me."
"He... he does..." Pilate stammered in an off-tone voice. "I... I've felt it... even if I didn't know it at the time."
Silence.
At last, Belle shook the changeling's shoulder. "Elma..."
The shape-shifter stirred.
"Elma Boreal..."
Losing the stripes, the equine glanced up with a tender expression.
Belle caressed her face. "Do you now have the strength to continue?"
Elma slowly, slowly nodded. "Yes, Bellesmith." Its black cheeks curved upwards. "I... I-I think I can even walk now."
"Good..." Belle stood up and helped the changeling to her hooves. "Though I think we both know who's really been carrying who." She dashed out of the zeppelin, tugging Elma long with her. "Come on!"