//------------------------------// // In Which Serale Discovers Her Birthright // Story: Stormsinger // by Airstream //------------------------------// The first thing Vino was aware of was a strong hoof on his shoulder, hauling him to his hooves. He looked to see who was tugging on him, and got a glimpse of a wolf’s helm and black armor before he was stood upright. The black knight said something he couldn’t quite hear, and then laid a hoof alongside his head. Vino shook himself, his thoughts clearing back up. “What?” he cried. “Fight, you foal!” the black knight said, gesturing towards the hole in the stands. Vino’s eyes widened as he saw the figure standing there, shrouded in smoke and dust. Lurching, hobbling shapes were lumbering out of the hole around it, some of them headed right for him. Vino counted six. He lifted his bladeband, gathered his focus, and called the sword forth from the steel. “There!” the knight said, his voice joyous. He hefted his mace and shield. “Come! Charge!” Vino lifted the sword up and charged the approaching figures, noting as he did so that the Gryphon was coming in low overhead, having gotten airborne. He assumed that the other knights along with Afi were right behind him, bringing up the rear. He wished he had his helmet. Fighting with the face exposed was dangerous at best and suicidal against any kind of experienced opponent, a gesture of desperation. There would be no turning to smoke if a blow was landed on him by these figures. Vino felt a sense of trepidation settling over him as they approached the far end of the stadium and he could see the lumbering figures better. They were ponies once, that much was clear. But whatever the cloaked pony had done to them, they weren’t anymore. Their eyes shone with pallid light, and their coats had lost all luster and were falling out in places. Their teeth were yellowed and pointed, and thought they were slow, Vino could sense the strength and savagery contained within those seemingly frail forms. He wasn’t fighting mortal opponents. These were the undead. “Take their heads off!” the black knight said, somehow managing to be heard over the screams of the departing crowd. “There isn’t a damned thing, living or dead, that can hurt you without a head!” And then they were upon their opponents. Two of the creatures turned to him, and giving out low howls of hunger, suddenly picked up speed, charging him with a quick motion that could only be described as scuttling. Vino raised his sword to ward off the blows that were sure to fall, and then thought better of it. Instead, he swept his sword at the neck of the ghoul approaching his right, and was rewarded with a solid thud. The monster’s head rolled on the floor, staining the tiles reddish-black with ichorous blood. The other creature, getting in close, attempted to bite at his face, but Vino jerked his head back. The creature’s teeth met the steel of his gorget, splintering as they did. The corpse did not appear to be bothered by this in the slightest, as Vino backed up so he could use his sword. Making a leap back, he waited for the thing to come into range once more, and then swung his sword, burying it in the thing’s skull. Wrenching it out with all of his strength, Vino completed the movement by severing the head of the thing. “Vino!” Ahan called from above, “Look out!” Vino, without thinking, dodged to one side, and not a moment too soon, as the creature whose head he had severed charged by, cranium newly attached and teeth gnashing. It howled a rasping howl, furious at missing its prey, or at least that’s what Vino thought. “What in the name of the Princes are these things?” the black knight cried as he backpedaled, the monster in front of him repairing the damage from his mace-swing as he did so. “I have never fought undead like these!” An axe whistled through the air, lopping off a reaching hoof from one of the revenants that was about to bring down Ahan. Vino spun to see Afi, with three knights in tow, bringing up the rear as he had hoped he would. “I know these!” Afi said, his voice urgent. “They’re revenants! Powerful undead, the work of a master of dark magic!” “How do we kill them?” the black knight roared, laying about him with his mace. The revenants, three of them, were refusing to give him room to breathe. “Burn them!” Afi replied, as Vino began to fend off the attentions of his own two revenants. He noted with a distant worry that one of the other revenants, giving up on the black knight, had turned its attention to him and was joining its brothers in the assault. “The only way is to burn them!” “What are you waiting for?” Vino barked, punching one of the undead in the head while he decapitated another, buying him some time. “You’re a unicorn! Light them on fire!” Afi grunted, burying his axe in the skull of the newcomer as he and the three knights lined up next to Vino. “Can’t,” he managed to get out, before wrenching the axe free. The corpse began to repair itself immediately, but it bought a moment of breathing space. “Magic’s not my strong suit. Axework is.” “You’re joking!” Vino said as he fell back into the line. It was the only hope he had, as his companions would be able to work more efficiently in formation. He thrust his sword directly into the chest of the revenant in front of him, which did not impede it in the slightest. He shoved back the beast, narrowly avoiding its teeth in his cheek, and managed to free his sword as the revenant Ahan had been engaging from above joined the fray. Apparently the undead were having the same idea. The thought chilled him. He’d studied how to fight against the undead as a matter of course, and he’d learned that the biggest weakness of the undead was their mindless nature. But these creatures didn’t appear mindless at all. They reminded him more of wolves than anything else, the pale light in their eyes exhibiting a cunning intelligence and malevolence aimed squarely at him. One of the knights yelped and dropped to one knee, having put a hoof wrong. Instinctively, Vino and the others in the line stepped forward, raising their weapons to drive the undead back, but it was a moment too late. The revenants rushed the gap left in the small group, using their superior strength and endurance to butt aside his companions. Vino and the other warriors were forced to fall back form a split second, which was apparently all the ghoulish creatures needed. It was brief, the suffering of the knight, as the revenant on top of him broke his neck in a quick and businesslike fashion before the entire group shuddered in apparent ecstasy. The lights in their eyes began to burn a bit brighter, and Vino could have sworn their movements were more coordinated before the whole group, now numbering five, rushed him directly. “They seem to like you, lad,” Afi said conversationally as he hefted his axe. The other two knights were behind the revenants, and though Vino could see Ahan taking to the air once more, he knew that the Gryphon would not arrive in time. Five on one were not good odds. “Clear!” barked a strange and almost-familiar voice, coming from behind the pair, and Vino and Afi reacted on instinct, each jumping to one side. A wave of blistering flame, thick with oily smoke that reeked of brimstone, roared through the air in shimmering waves, catching the pack of revenants dead on. Immediately they sent up a howl of protest which was swiftly extinguished as they began to crumble, their shadowed forms visible through the rippling flames shedding mass as Vino watched in horror and awe. Within perhaps ten seconds, there was nothing left of the monsters, and when the smoke cleared, a small pile of ash floated away on the breeze. “I never thought I’d get a clear shot,” the voice said. Vino turned to see who had just saved his life. His jaw dropped. Standing to one side was a pony clad all in armor, her coat an ashen gray and her mane the black of tar, hanging in limp strands about her face. A single scar traced its path from her lip past one eye, the red-slitted pupil framed by green focused on the last remaining revenant, who had decided discretion was the better part of valor. Her mouth, already contorted from the scar, curled in a contemptuous sneer and she sighted in on the fleeing monster. A single bolt of oily fire sped forth from the smooth and curled horn, sharpened to a point, on her forehead, and the creature dropped, consumed by flame as it screamed pathetically, a sound which set Vino’s teeth on edge. The knight in black armor grinned, exposing a set of fanged teeth, bone white, as she did so. The expression swiftly vanished, replaced with a well-used scowl as she saw Vino ogling her. “Keep staring, and I’ll pry your eyes out,” she growled. Vino quickly averted his gaze. “Apologies,” he said. “I just…I’ve never seen a pony like you before.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” she snarled. “A pony like me?” “Well,” Vino fumbled, desperately seeking a way out of the conversation. “You see, you’re kind of…” “Ugly? Deformed? Strange? Terrifying?” the knight asked him scornfully. “What exactly were you going to say?” “Not to interrupt,” Ahan said diplomatically, keeping his head bowed, “But the royal box is currently under attack. Shall we intervene?” Cobblestone woke to thunder and heat and the smell of ozone. Immediately, her mind went to Serale. She knew that smell all too well, it featured prominently in her dreams. She vaulted to her hooves, wincing in pain as she did so, and checked on her friend. The young Lady was in bad shape. She was smoking gently, limp and unresponsive and crumpled in a small heap on the floor of the box. Cobblestone rolled her onto her back, checking her for a pulse and breathing. Thankfully, the unicorn was breathing, albeit shallowly, and her heart remained strong and steady. She wasn’t in good condition, that much was obvious, but she wasn’t dead. Unfortunately, Cobblestone didn’t know how to help her any further. An idea came to her. She glanced out onto the field, seeing the fighters engaging the small shapes near the mouth of the cavern created by the explosion. And just as soon as she saw the cloaked figure raising a staff conjured from black flame, it disappeared, reappearing a few scant yards away. Cobblestone crouched low, her horn sparking painfully as she did so. She noted Lady Hedera cowering in fear along with a few other nobles, none of whom had the wherewithal to run or defend themselves. The guards stationed in the box appeared to be catatonic, no doubt the work of the witch down below. It was up to her. “Hob,” she growled, “Defend Serale.” She drew the sword she had chosen from the scabbard at her belt, grateful she had seen fit to buckle it on this morning. She knew next to nothing about how to use it, but it felt better than going up against Nightshade barehoofed. “The rest of you, go!” she shouted at the nobles. “Get out of here!” “How noble!” the necromancer cried from the floor of the arena. She began to rise into the air slowly. “Standing between my prey and I. But I fear you are far and away outmatched this time, Cobblestone. I was overconfident and paid the price. Not this time.” She gestured with her staff, and Cobblestone felt herself picked up and flung through the air, hurtling towards the back of the box, where she struck with a sickening crack. Spots filled her vision as she took to her hooves again, this time reaching on the magic inside her. Without really knowing what would happen, she forced the power through her horn, and was rewarded with another bolt of electricity, turning the air in front of her to plasma. Nightshade warded the bolt away with her staff, but the motion cost her. She swung the magical implement back around, the end trained squarely on Cobblestone, and the young apprentice threw herself to one side as a bolt of poisonous green energy issued forth from the tip, splattering the wall behind her and eating a hole through it. This exchange was enough to galvanize most of the other nobles out of the box, screaming as they ran, save for Lady Hedera and Serale. Cobblestone picked herself back up, nearly tripping over her robe in the process, and leapt from the higher seats directly towards the dark Mage with a shout, leading with the tip of her sword. Nightshade, her unseeing eyes able to sense her still, brought the staff up in an attempt to juxtapose it between herself and Cobblestone. Cobblestone felt the sword wrenched out of her grip as she and Nightshade met, tumbling to the floor in a jumble of hooves, horns, and clothing. Cobblestone smelled the musty stench of long-rotten flesh as she attempted to get back up, disentangling herself from the necromancer, and with a single quick motion, she managed to get between Nightshade and the box. The necromancer also rose, a bit more stiffly, before meeting Cobblestone’s brown-eyed gaze with her own milky white stare. The mask over her face slipped and came loose, exposing the mass of white scar tissue beneath, weeping pus and blackened near the horn. “If you want them,” Cobblestone panted, “You’ll have to go through me.” Nightshade gestured, and her staff rose into one hoof. She pried the sword from its solid length, and tossed it contemptuously at Cobblestone’s hooves. “Defend yourself,” she said. Cobblestone had a split second to pick the sword up before Nightshade caused the arena floor in every direction to erupt in black flame. Cobblestone stepped back with a yelp, unsure of what to do. Thinking fast, she slammed her will out into the ground around her hooves, and found that the black flame did not approach her, at least not as fast. She backed up quickly, finding her back to the wall as the flames began to rise higher and higher, not seeming to harm Nightshade despite their heat. “Power enough,” Nightshade murmured as she advance calmly, “And a good grasp of what to do with it. I could see why my mistress wanted your services. You would make an excellent Crow, Cobblestone.” “Bite me, you bitch,” Cobblestone spat. “I’m not going to let you harm Serale or anypony else here.” “You care for the young Lady,” Nightshade said. She swept her staff to one side, and a path opened up between the two ponies, bereft of fire. “I am not here for the daughter of the Evening. My quarrel is with the other one. The Lady of the trading-house.” “You want Lady Hedera?” Cobblestone asked, panting with the effort of keeping the flames at bay. “Why?” “That is no business of yours,” Nightshade said. “Do not interfere, and I will pledge to you on my power that your friend will come to no harm today. My mistress would not allow it.” Cobblestone eyed the flames surrounding her, tall and black enough to blot out the sky overhead. She was badly outmatched and she knew it, barely able to keep even this enchantment at bay. She tried to reach for the strange power that had filled her before, to initiate the soulstare like she had back in Lady Everstar’s study. It wouldn’t come. She was exhausted and out of options. “All I have to do is let you go?” Cobblestone asked. “I have your word?” “On my power,” Nightshade repeated solemnly. “I shall not touch a hair on the head of your friend. Or your cat,” she added as an afterthought, “Though no cat like him I have seen.” Cobblestone’s shoulders slumped. She was tired, she thought, so very tired. The will of Nightshade lapped at her feet with the flames, which edged in closer as she fought valiantly and lost ground to the slowly advancing inferno. “Now, thief, it’s your turn,” Nightshade said. “Choose. You stand upon the brink of the abyss, but it is not too late. Choose my offer, or the fire.” Cobblestone said nothing. Instead, she spat at the hooves of the black unicorn. “Go to Tartarus,” she growled. Nightshade said nothing, merely waved her staff. Cobblestone caught fire and began to scream as her defenses failed, one by one. The heat and the pain built and built, each moment becoming agony compounded upon agony. Senselessly, she reached out for something to save herself, some reservoir of magic she could use. And much to her surprise, she found one. She pulled on it. Serale stood in blankness, surrounded on all sides by gray, featureless void. How had she got here? She couldn’t recall. Her face screwed up as she attempted to recall any fragment of the events leading to her standing here. Nothing came to her. All that she knew was that she was standing here, wherever it was. And that she was called Serale. She waited. It seemed the appropriate thing to do. “So you finally showed up,” a muffled voice said, coming from everywhere and nowhere all at once. It was female, that was for certain, but aside from that, it was completely unfamiliar to her. “Which means you’re in need.” “In need?” Serale asked. “In need of what?” “That’s what I should be asking you,” the voice said. “You spoke with Mother, which so few of us ever get to do. You spoke with Spike, too. That’s something even fewer of us got to do. You have all the power that you need, Serale. What are you going to do with it?” And just like that, Serale remembered why she was here. There was an explosion, and a bolt of lightning, and the most terrific crackling boom, and then she was here. “Am…am I dead?” she asked with dismay. “No,” said the voice. “But you aren’t alive either. You’re in between places. It’s the only way we can talk.” “Talk about what?” Serale asked. “Where are you?” “Behind you,” the voice said. Serale spun around, startled, and was greeted with a face she was sure she had never seen before, and yet it looked astoundingly familiar. White fur, delicately combed, framed light green eyes. A mane in tones of lavender and pink fell in cascading ringlets to her horn and down the sides of her neck, and her voice was as sweet and bell-like as any Serale had heard. “So this is what Twilight did with the piece of me,” she said, eyeing her up and down. “I’m impressed.” “Who are you?” Serale asked. “How do I know you?” “It’s a long story and we don’t have time,” the mare said, “So we need to be quick. But I can tell you that there’s a reason you and Cobblestone met. Everypony has a connection with their friends, even before they meet.” There was a shaking rumble, and Serale saw a dark stain spreading along the blank gray nothingness surrounding them. “You need to hurry,” the mare said. “Use your magic to get out of here. You’re needed back home.” “I can’t,” Serale said. “I’ve tried. Over and over again until my head aches. I can’t use magic.” There was another rumble, and Serale felt herself growing warm. The walls began to turn black once more. The mare began to look panicked. “You do have magic, and you can use it,” she said hurriedly. “Everything you knew about it is wrong. Serale, your magic doesn’t exist from inside of you. You need to reach out.” “I can’t!” Serale cried. The mare slapped her. Serale blinked at her through tears of pain and frustration. “Listen to me,” the strange mare said quietly, “You carry a piece of your mother’s Flame in you, and her spirit. You have more power than you know what to do with. But you need to stop looking inward and look outward. Your friend is sending you a lifeline, but you need to reach out and grab it!” Serale shook her head. “What if I can’t?” she asked. Suddenly she couldn’t bear the thought of another failure, of not living up to the expectations of another pony. “You can and you will,” the mare said. The world shook again, and Serale could feel the floor begin to give way underneath her hooves. “Reach!” the mare screamed. Serale shut her eyes, reached for something to save herself, some reservoir of magic she could use. And much to her surprise, she found one. She pulled on it. Serale opened her eyes and found a world gone mad. Black flame covered the arena floor, and one entire side of the arena was either gone or heavily damaged. She knew without knowing that there were many ponies trapped under the rubble, and that there was foul magic in the air. She rose to her hooves smoothly, stepping out of the tattered remnants of her favorite dress, and looked out over the arena. She spoke a word. “No.” The entire floor of the arena seemed to hum with that word as Serale reached into the earth below. She could sense something there, a great line of pulsing energy that coiled and twisted into a thousand curlicues of power that contained enough force to level armies. She selected one of the smaller ones and tugged on it gently. Immediately, the tiles erupted into the air, suspended on massive currents of magic taken directly from what she now knew to be the ley lines below Starfall. Pillars of salt and sand spilled into the air, and Serale used a minor effort of will to set it to spinning, a deadly vortex of packed earth and stone that hurtled down the arena, directly towards her. The flames below were hers now, she controlled their paths and motions. There was a silent command, and the flames dampened themselves. Serale reached for another ley line, sensing the differences in the energies, and directed it towards the fleeing witch below, who had immediately abandoned her assault and was running as fast as she could to get away from the wrath of the Lady in Waiting. A simple tweak of the ley lines, and gelid energy washed out over the arena, covering everything in a thick layer of frost. Nightshade found her hooves trapped, and Serale was sure that she wouldn’t be able to get away with her staff, either. Transportation used the ley, and she controlled the ley. “You,” she said, and the ice around her cracked with the force of that word. Commanding the energy to lift her up, she soared out over the arena to face the mare who had given her so much trouble, had transgressed against her friends and family. “You dare to come here?” she asked, landing in front of the trembling witch. “You prey on my citizens? You assault my holdings? You attack those I hold dear to me? How dare you. How DARE you?” “I am Serale Armonia Everstar!” she announced, her voice far louder than it had any right to be. “Lady in Waiting to the Evening Throne! Duchess of the Everfree and all its holdings! I am the daughter of Twilight Everstar, last in the line of Radiance! I am the scion of crystal and clay, the wielder of the ley, and I am going to rip your head off.” The ice began to flow upwards, encasing Nightshade in its crystalline grip. “I know this won’t stop you,” Serale said, “Not permanently. You’ll come crawling back eventually. You have a backup plan stored somewhere. But that doesn’t mean I won’t enjoy this. And when you do come back, when everything is ready and you and your Cult come to take me away, know this. I’ll be waiting, you stupid bint. And I’ll kill every last one of you with a bloody smile on my face!” At this last word, she wrenched the ley line, compressing the energy from it into a single point. As she watched, a sliver of ice extended from below the ground, slamming through Nightshade’s torso, up her spine, and into her brain, extending from the tip of her skull like a second horn. Serale felt the warmth of gore splatter her face as she slammed the energy back down into the ground, retracting the spike. She released her hold on the magic, slumping to the ground with a sigh. A curious sense of cold came over her, which she attributed to the ice beneath her, but something didn’t feel right. Blinking, she realized that her eyelashes were rimed with frost and she couldn’t feel her lips. Or anything else, for that matter. She was shaking too, very badly. As she lay there, she felt the shaking subside, and the most delicious sense of warmth came over her. She smiled drowsily and let her eyes close. Everything was surely going to be alright… “Serale!” a voice called, deep and close. She stirred, and with a herculean effort, managed to open her eyes once more. Through the haze of exhaustion, she could see Vino’s worried face looking down at her. “She’s cold as ice,” another voice said, and she felt a piece of heavy cloth being laid over her. It was hot, too hot. She tried to kick it off, but just couldn’t find the strength. Why were ponies bothering her? Why couldn’t she just sleep? “Stand aside,” another voice said. A purple face appeared in Serale’s field of vision, though her eyesight was failing rapidly. Serale realized she was looking at her mother. She tried to greet her, as was proper, but couldn’t remember the words. “It’s alright,” her mother said. “It’s alright, Serale. I’ve got you. You can rest now.” Serale nodded sleepily and let her eyes close. The last thing she heard before darkness overtook her was “I’ve got you, daughter. You’re safe now.”