//------------------------------// // Act 1 Prologue: Another Place and Time // Story: Deathless // by Gaudior //------------------------------// I soar above the Royal advance post, speeding past the Princesses as they focus their power on the Elements of Harmony.  The jeweled icons come to life, each alicorn haloed by the three Elements they call their own, and I push myself to fly past the sisters as quickly as I can.  As much as I enjoy a good show, the two of ‘em are about to cut loose with enough raw energy to vaporize stone, and I can’t very well give my ponies their orders if I’m caught in the blast.  I let out a long breath as I speed past the enemy’s front lines and turn my gaze to the Princess’ target.  There’s a mass of ruddy, bull-sized demons lurching through the rough-hewn gate to Tartarus below me, but they won’t matter once Celie and Luna have worked their magic.  The Elements will blow that gate to kingdom come, the enemy will stop pouring into Equestria, and then my soldiers get to send the demons back to Tartarus the old-fashioned way. Blood and steel being the old-fashioned way, in case that ain’t clear. As it happens, I’m staring at the Gate from a healthy distance away when the sisters unleash their Elements, and I give the demons below a cheeky grin as a blinding gout of energy strikes it -- -- only to dissipate uselessly, as if it were a foal’s light show.  The stone arch stands, not even a single scratch on it, and the demons continue their advance. I snarl aloud, and then I bring my hoof up to tap my black and gold helm, activating its communications spell.  “Royals, haul yer tails back to command; if you can’t blast those gates apart you’re just drawin’ fire.  Pansy, advance on Middlegate with first and third phalanx.  Hold ‘em off the hard way while we get our hooves out of our arses.  Clover, drive your wedge in behind Pansy and give ‘em cover.” “Acknowledged, Commander,” reply three familiar voices in my ear, and I wrinkle my nose and bare my teeth in anger and frustration.  On a good day, I love my job. Nobody knows strategy like I do; nobody has my grasp of battlefields, formations and tactics, and nobody but nobody threatens my Equestria without getting a bloody nose in the deal.  But this... This ain’t lookin’ like a real good day. I growl to myself -- a bad habit I’ve picked up from Melvin, bless his leathery wings -- and as I angle towards the command post, I try to wrap my mind around what’s gone wrong.  We’ve been fighting off these pus-leaking demons for the better part of a year, but they weren’t a a challenge ‘til today.  Oh, sure, the first time a Gate popped up it was a fur-wetting mess of an afternoon, but once we worked out that the Gates were the key, and that the Elements could find ‘em and then knock ‘em down, it was just like taking out the trash.  It didn’t matter that the gates kept popping up, it was the same thing every Sunday: bag ‘em up, tie ‘em off and take ‘em to the curb before morning.   Sundays and mornings being figurative, as it were. Today, though -- today it’s different, and I don’t know why.  And if I don’t figure out why -- and bloody fast -- we’re gonna be in for a real rough ride. “Commander!” comes Princess Luna’s voice, familiar if a bit tinny in my ear. “Commander, we’ve arrived at the command post, but -- sister! Behind you!” “Royal Guard, to arms!” I shout, and then I fold my wings behind me and push into a power-dive, plummeting to the command post at breakneck speed.  I pull up at the last second: my heart’s pounding in my ears and my vision’s gone red, but in between heartbeats I take it all in. Celie and Luna stand side-by-side, facing away from each other: Celie’s got her golden waraxe suspended in a cloud of magic, but Luna’s bloody and limping, and the magic holding her silver greatsword is fading.  They’re surrounded by... something new, something lithe and quick and deadly.  They’re smaller than the bulls, but as tall as Celie, and with claws as long as my cannon-bone jutting from their scaly green fists.  The bodies of ruined guardsponies lie strewn across the clearing like discarded toys; more guards are racing to the Princesses from their tents, but they’ll never reach the sisters in time. “FOR SUN AND MOON!” I cry, hurtling towards the enemy. “FOR EQUESTRIA!” One of the demon-beasts turns to face me and I juke reflexively, hoping to get it off-balance while I close on its position.  Its empty eye sockets are filled with bloody red flame, and its mouth opens to roar at me, but I’m too fast for it to track. It tries to catch me, but I fly under its guard and make the lightest possible contact with my left wing, a move I’ve made a thousand times if I’ve made it once.   As I pass the demon by, I see its form slump to the ground, a wicked gash in its gut sliced open by the razor-fine blades attached to my wing armor.  Black, steaming ichor spurts from the wound as it falls, and I push myself into a hairpin turn to get back to the Princesses before it’s too late. My tight turn’s for naught, though; by the time I’ve looped around to the post again, the rest of the guard has reached the sisters, and they’re putting the demons down like diamond dogs.  All but one of the scaled assassins have fallen as I come around to take another pass, and the last one decides it’s high time to leg it. “Not today ya don’t,” I mutter, flapping twice to accelerate towards my target. The demon might be able to outrun the guard, but it can’t escape me in full flight.  It never even sees me coming, and I end the bastard with a snarl and a flick of my wing. Beating my wings to break my momentum, I slow and land just outside the command post.  My black and gold barding clanks as I settle to the earth, and I turn to get a better look at what’s left of whatever I just slaughtered.   I draw near the corpse, and I wrinkle my nose, doing my best to ignore the thick stench of sulfur rising from its body.  It’s lizard-headed and thick-scaled; the claws look like they’re just bones without flesh, stickin’ straight out of its scaly knuckles.  As I watch, those scales slowly change color, from their original forest green to a dead, ashen grey. We’ve been knocking these thrice-cursed Gates down for over a year now, but these things never showed up ‘til today.  I lay my ears back and curl my lip as I step away from the dead thing.  Another surprise.  I’m starting to wonder how deep this dung heap really is, and whether I’m up to my ankles or my armpits in it. “Commander?!” calls a voice from ahead, and I snap to attention, retracting my wing-razors into their safety position and cantering back to the camp proper.  Celestia’s kneeling at Luna’s side and fussing at her, right where they’d both stood against the assassins moments ago.  Luna looks steady enough, but her medic looks worried, and the linen bandages wrapped around her barrel are bright with blood. “Unhoove me, sister,” I hear her say, her ears flat against her skull as she tries to shimmy away from Celestia.  “I shall not be held like a child by anyone, let alone you.  I must --” “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” the red-maned pony tending her says nervously.  “Your Highness, you have to stop moving so much!  It’s hard enough keeping pressure on this wound; if you keep moving it’ll --” “Be silent,” she says, flattening her ears.  “We do not wish to move.  We simply wish to remove this canker of a sister from our --” “The pair of you fillies done yet?” I say, moving towards them with a confident swagger I don’t feel.  “In case you ain’t noticed, there’s a war on.  Sense of urgency and all that.” Luna’s eyes widen until she sees I’m the one giving her grief, and then her lips purse into a half-smile.  “Commander, remind Us again why We allow you to vex Us so.” “Because you need a good vexing,” I say, narrowing my eyes at her like always.  I know the sisters better than anyone alive, and right now, they don’t feel like they’re in control.  When that happens, they try to tear each other apart -- as siblings do, I suppose, though these two are especially bad lately.  Anyway, I need ‘em focused, and not on each other. To my relief, Luna’s half-smile becomes whole, and she shakes her head at me haughtily.  “Peasant,” she grumbles good-naturedly. “Tart,” I reply, winking at her. Celie shakes her head at me and rises gently, leaving her sister in the expert care of the field medic.  Her face, unlike Luna’s, shows a hint of doubt at my display of bluster, and my smile fades as she comes to me. “Hurricane,” she says, breathing my name, and her furrowed, violet eyes show me how deep her worry goes. “These… these monsters came from the trees unseen.  Before we knew it they had set upon the guard -- they had no warning, the poor souls.  But thou shouldst not have come; we fare well enough --” “Well enough? You mean aside from your sister leaking a fair bit of red around the ribs?” I ask, gesturing to Luna, “Harrowmane, how bad is she?” “The blade missed her vitals, somehow,” the earth pony medic grumbles between his teeth as he ties off a bandage.  “She lost a lot of blood, Commander.  It’s a minor miracle she’s still conscious.” “Patch her up good, soldier,” I say, gritting my teeth.  “She’s got work to do.” Celestia frowns.  “What would you have us do?  The Elements are powerless, and with Luna injured our options are limited.  Surely you can contain this threat without us for the moment?” “Celie,” I say, peering back at Luna and her fussy medic.  “Just between us, how limited are our options?” I ask. “Badly,” she says ruefully, softening her voice and leaning subtly into my shoulder.  “There… there is a ritual Luna and I could try… it focuses the concentrated power of both Sun and Moon.  We could strike all three Gates at once that way.  I don’t know of anything that can stand against its effects, but… it takes time, Hurricane, and it will drain us both terribly.  Luna’s wounds will slow us further.  If you can wait a few more hours --” “There ain’t time,” I say, lowering my voice so only she can hear.  “I think I bunged this one up good, love. We keep getting caught off-guard, and I’m startin’ to think I got played. We’re too few, they’re too many, and they’re bringing the special china out of the cabinet for the occasion.  We’ll never hold the gates against them if they keep coming, Celie, I don’t… I don’t know how else --” She gazes at me with those beautiful violet eyes of hers.  “You and I stood side by side against Discord, when nothing made sense except each other.  You caught me when I fell, remember?” she says softly, and she flashes me that tiny, secret smile that only I know.  “Now it’s my turn, beloved.  We’ll fix it together,” she says, nuzzling me.  “What shall we do?” Fly away with me, I want to say for the millionth time since I’ve met her.  Fly away with me, and we’ll find a place and a time where Princess and Commander are someone else’s titles.  You’ll throw away your crown and I’ll bury my barding, and we’ll live out the rest of our lives in a tiny home by the sea. We’ll skim the waves at sunrise, and laze in the afternoon shade under the palms, and fall asleep entwined, manes braided by the wind, lulled to sleep by the sound of the surf, and the world can forget we ever existed. I don’t say it, but I should have. A long time ago. She presses her body close to me and arches her neck upwards to whisper in my ear.   “Tell me,” she says simply. “Commander!” comes the voice of my scout captain, her excitement ringing in my ears, and I grimace, stepping back from Celie and holding up a hoof to my helm again.  “There’s something huge coming through the West gate!  I’ve never seen anything like it!” “Steady on, Hailstone,” I say, keeping cool on the outside while my heart sinks into my hooves.  “What’s your assessment?” “Looks a bit like a catapult, Commander,” she replies, too excited for her own good.  “We’re swooping down to get a look. Definitely some kind of war engine, maybe a ranged weapon, sir, and there’s a team of demons winding it up right n-- by the Sun!” I don’t need her to describe what happens next, because I can see it from where I’m standing.  A massive blast of green Tartaran fire appears as if from nowhere near the western gate and arcs its way towards the defensive squares of my earth pony phalanxes. “Pansy!  Scatter!” I cry, but I know it’s already too late, so I do the only thing I can: force myself to gauge the damage and try to recover.  “Captain Stormbreaker, get Razor Wing in to harass the weapon’s fire team, we can’t let it open up again!  Magistrix Clover, move in and blast that infernal machine apart!  Forward phalanxes, whoever’s in charge, regroup and cover Clover’s flanks!  Major Stonehoof, move Fourth Phalanx forward to support the line, now!” I lower my hoof and listen to my field commanders acknowledge my orders, but now I see where it’s all gone wrong.  The bloody demons have been coming for a year, but they never tried to take any ground.  Instead, they’ve probed, feinted, tested us to learn how we worked together, to learn what resources we had and how we’d react. And me, I fell for it.  I thought they were dumb beasts from Tartarus; I thought those feints were all they could muster, but instead these bloody demons learned everything I could muster.  This… this isn’t just another Sunday trip to the curb.  This is the last move in a game I didn’t realize I was playing.  If they win here, they’ve won Equestria.   Nobody knows strategy like I do.  Damn my arrogance. “Unicorn wedge in range,” Clover’s cool, emotionless voice sounds in my ears, and I latch on it like a drowning foal to a scrap of flotsam.  “Assuming focal position.  Firing.” A dazzling beam of raw energy from the unicorn wedge - emanating from the single focal point of Clover’s horn - strikes out at the Infernal war machine, lashing at it like some gigantic whip of multicolored light.  The beam locks onto the massive weapon, and for just a second, the thing’s own dark energies push back against Clover and her unicorns, threatening to trace the wedge’s attack back to its source. Ah, but Clover -- Clover’s the most powerful unicorn since Star Swirl, and even he was no match for her legendary iron will.  After a few gruelling moments, Clover and her wedge push back, and the beam of energy pierces through the machine’s protective magic.  Within seconds, the thing explodes with a massive blast, and a ragged cheer goes up from the troops. I let myself breathe again, then tap my helm and speak clearly.  “Magistrix, that was brilliant work.” Clover’s voice, a bit strained, answers me.  “Glad we could entertain you, Commander.  As fate would have it I suspect there will be an encore soon.” I chuckle grimly in reply.  “We’d best be done with this show before too many repeat performances, Magistrix.  First Phalanx, who’s in charge?” “Have a little faith,” comes General Pansy’s haggard voice, and I breathe an audible sigh of relief. “Thank the stars.  What’s your status, Pansy?” “Second Phalanx took the brunt, Commander.  I’ve pulled survivors into First and Third, filled the gap with Fourth and created a skirmish group to steer the enemy our way.  Recommend we leave Fifth Phalanx in reserve for now.  So long as Clover and Stormbreaker can manage those war machines, we can handle anything else they throw at us.” “Do it,” I say, relieved beyond words that my best General has survived my worst mistake yet. I take another breath as I lower my hoof, and I reluctantly meet Celie’s gaze. “Everything we thought we knew about the demons was wrong, love. If you and your sister can’t seal those gates soon, we’re going to lose everything.  Everything, Celie, not just --” I never finish the sentence, because that’s when the world goes dark. “LAY DOWN THY ARMS,” comes a foul, hollow voice, cutting through the din of battle like a scream in the night.  The voice resonates like Celie’s and Luna’s, but where their words inspire, this black voice terrifies like a deep, forgotten horror.  I shiver uncontrollably as my vision dims nearly to blackness, and I think I hear, faintly, Luna whimpering. “YOU HAVE NO HOPE AGAINST LADY MAGOTH OF THE VOID.” I’d been such a fool to try to stand against… this monster, this Tartarus-spawned hellbeast.  Resisting her was… wasn’t… something… The voice reverberates in my skull again, interrupting my thoughts.  “STAND ASIDE AND GIVE US THY ROYALTY. WE SHALL SPARE THY LIVES AND QUIT THIS FIELD.” Relief floods through me -- of course she doesn’t want us.  I can save my stalwart soldiers after all, I can make things right before they’re all cut down.  They don’t have to die for my stupidity, because she doesn’t even want us.  All she wants is… I look to my side; through the darkness I can barely make out Celie’s form as she stands beside me.  She’s all they want, after all.  The rest of us can go home and the demons will go away and we’ll all live and all I need to do is to give the dark lady… just… give her… give her my… my Celie? My Celie, whose mane smells like daisies in the spring, and whose nose is soft as velvet.  My Celie, who smiles at me with her secret smile, with her violet eyes half-lidded and her brow arched in mischief.  My Celie, who teases me with the subtlest of motions, with the shift of a wing or the quirk of a lip?  Who then fulfills her unspoken promises with ferocious, boundless laughter and joy? How is it worth my life to give her away? Wait, give her away?  How… what in the name of Discord’s left nut am I thinking? I shake my head to clear my vision, and then I realize even Celie is affected: her lips quiver and her eyes are narrow with fear.  She could counter the darkness with a word, but she hesitates.  A second passes, and another, and still she hesitates. No, Celie.  I’ve already failed Equestria.  I won’t let you do it too. “No,” I snarl aloud, my voice barely a whisper between clenched teeth.  “You can’t bloody have them --” Waves of nausea and revulsion nearly bring me to my knees. My voice is weak and strained, but Celie stirs at the sound, and I can just make out Luna shaking her head. “You cannot have our Princesses,” I say, louder this time, baring my teeth in growing fury.  “You will not have our Sun and Moon!” Celie gasps and then glances gratefully at me as she masters her fear, and her expression shifts as though the dawn was chasing away the night’s last shadows.  She calls to her people, her subjects, her devoted warriors and protectors with all of her might and glory. “WE SHALL NOT FALTER!” she cries, her voice strong and pure and true.  The fear loosens its grip on my heart as she does, and the blackness fades from my vision.  “RISE, MY PONIES!  RISE AND STAND FOR EQUESTRIA!” A cheer goes up from the troops that I can hear even from here, and I shake my head to rebalance myself. “Officers!” I bark, tapping my helm.  “Report!” “General Pansy, holding position.” “Magistrix Clover, eliminating targets of opportunity.” “Captain Stormbreaker, harassing the war engines at the Gates.  That got hairy for a minute or two, Commander.  Relay our thanks to the Princess.” “Hold for your orders,” I say, and then I turn to the snow-white alicorn at my side. “Love, ye’ve no choice.  It’s that ritual or nothing.  How do we make it happen?” “I can’t do it alone,” Celestia says, her lips taut.  “This… Lady Magoth… she wields terrible power, Hurricane.  Once we start, she’ll know what we’re doing, and she’ll try to stop us.  And Luna is too weak to raise --” “Think’st thou I am so weak that I cannot wield my birthright?” Luna asks, her voice proud and angry.  She tries to stand, much to her medic’s chagrin, and mostly succeeds, though her balance is wobbly.  “I know the ritual of Sun and Moon.  Let us begin at once.” “Luna, no -- if it were evening, and your moon simply had to take its place, it would be as simple as breathing,” Celestia says, turning to her sister.  “But this is midday, not nightfall.  The natural order of the world will resist us, sister. You could be hurt, Luna.  It could even kill you.” “Speak’st thou not for me,” Luna says, steadying herself and standing tall, one wing swatting irritably at her frustrated medic.  “I am no foal, and thou’rt not my dam.  I know the risks as well as you.  You simply fear being eclipsed by me, proud sister.  As well you should!” “Luna, you cannot believe -- this has nothing to do with that,” Celie says, her nostrils flaring in anger.  “Think of more than just your petty jealousy!  What of Magoth?  The moment we begin, she will focus all her might upon us.  You can barely stand; how can we respond to that while completing the ritual?” “We need a distraction,” I say, cutting Luna off before she can amplify their argument any further.  “Clover and Pansy can fall back to give you some padding… we can feint with a broad attack, and then rush one gate before they know what hits them… Stormbreaker can harass the skirmishers while we regroup, and with the element of surprise we can push them back, just for a short while… it could work.” “Push the demons back?” she asks.  “Didn’t you just say there was no way you could hold the Gates?” “Aye, their numbers are too great for that,” I say, completing the strategy in my head and nodding to myself.  “But if we don’t mean to hold our ground, we can push past them in a counteroffensive.  Distracts the enemy, forces them to deal with the immediate threat, and gives you two enough time to --” Her eyes widen as she begins to catch on, and she stops me in mid-sentence, her anger as clear as the sky above us.  “Commander, what exactly are you proposing?” “Princess of the Sun,” I say, “you’re right to question me.  I may yet have led us to the end of everything today, but if you can close those gates, you can save us from my mistakes.  When we fought Discord, you put me in charge of the Equestrian Host, because this,” I say, gesturing to the battlefield, “this has always been my Element.  And now I know what the game is.  Now I know how we can win.  You’ve just gotta trust me, Celie.  I can get us through this.” “I… I shall,” Celestia says, nodding to me, her eyes shining oddly in the afternoon sun. “I do.  But you must not be rash, Hurricane.” “That ship’s sailed, love,” I say, lifting my hoof to her chin.  “Now we do our jobs.  Now we save Equestria, no matter the cost.” “No,” she says; she knows me too well, and she knows where this is headed.  She pulls her head away from my hoof, and her voice grows cold and haughty, as though she could have her way by intimidating me.  “No.  Whatever thy plan is, Commander, We forbid it if it sacrifices --” “Sorry, my Princess,” I say.  “Not even you outrank your Commander in the field.” “Then as your beloved I forbid you,” she whispers, her voice low and her eyes wide.  “Stay by my side.  We’ll find another way.”  She nuzzles me gently, and the scent of daisies fills my nose. If only she’d flown away with me.  If only I’d asked. I lean forward to kiss her forehead, just above her horn.  “Our ponies are gonna need you when this is done.  But me? I’m just a soldier, and I guess not even a very good one. Just you get those bloody gates shut. I’ll do the rest.” Her eyes are wide and her jaw is set.  “You will not --” “Shine for me, little sun,” I say, smiling and spreading my wings. “Hurricane!  I will come for you!  I will find a way!” she calls out, but I’m already in the air.  I tap my helm with my hoof, I pretend I don’t hear her, and I don’t dare look back. “Magistrix Clover!” I shout, fighting off a catch in my voice and building up speed quickly.  “Select a new focal commander, take ten of your best and get your sweaty rump back to command, double-time!  Princess Celestia has your orders.” “Sir?  Yes, sir,” she says, confusion coloring her voice.  “I am turning command of the wedge over to Dominix Novalight.  I am enroute.” “General Pansy, you are to relinquish forward command to Major Stonehoof.  Fall back with Fourth and Fifth Phalanx to Command and assume a defensive posture.” “Commander?!” Pansy replied, a hint of anger in her voice. “This ain’t the time to argue, Pansy. I’m about to do somethin’ daft.” “Commander, with all due respect --” “You listen to me, General,” I say, raw, ragged steel in my voice.  “The only thing that matters is giving our Royals enough time to shut those benighted Gates.  If we fail, you’re their last line of defense. If we succeed… well, if we succeed, they’ll need you to keep everyone safe when it’s all over.  Make sure they get those gates closed, Pansy. No matter the cost.” “No matter the cost, sir,” she replies, her anger only partly tempered.  “Enroute.” “Stonehoof, Novalight, Stormbreaker, you’ve drawn short straws, so listen close.  You’re with me, and this is how we’re going to play it.” * * * Stonehoof’s soldiers gallop at double-time, their shields raised and their spears set.  In their wake are the stinking corpses of hundreds of bull-demons, impaled by the infantry's sudden, devastating charge to the westernmost Gate.  I smile grimly as the body count grows; clearly, Magoth didn't see this coming.  So far, so good. “Intercepting!” calls Stormbreaker, and I watch his flight peel off to take on a mass of infernal bats pouring out of the eastern gate.  Armed with wing-razors like my own, Stormbreaker and his wingponies are the perfect counter to the infernal bats, but losing him for the next few minutes is gonna hurt us. “Threat acquired -- firing, Commander!” Novalight’s emotional cry is the opposite of Clover’s cool, methodical style, but any worries I have about her abilities are quickly put to rest. Within seconds, there’s a huge explosion at the eastern gate,  and an Infernal engine, half-in and half-out of the Gate, burns with eldritch fire. “Nice work, Dominix!” I call out.  “Now keep it up!” “Sir!  Middlegate!” comes Stonehoof’s cry, and I focus my attention on the largest, central gateway.  What I see there… I can’t even describe, not really.  No pony has ever needed words to describe the blot of malign darkness standing before the Gate.  It’s painful to look at, a complete absence of light and warmth and hope, but some of the details are clear.  Bipedal, like Discord, but hunched over and robed, like some kind of sickly diamond dog.  It don’t take much to figure out what it is. “Hullo again, Miss Magoth,” I growl, gritting my teeth.  “Time for a proper Equestrian welcome.  Stonehoof!  Novalight!  On my mark, charge your secondary targets!” They confirm, and I take a steep ascent, flying up, and up, and up some more, until I’m a thousand feet above Middlegate.  As I hover in place, I watch Stonehoof prepare his ponies to charge again, and I wonder, briefly, how else this might have gone.  How another Hurricane, a smarter or a wiser Hurricane, might have saved the day, thrashed the demons, and gone home to a parade, a warm bed and a warmer Princess.   How another me might have won the fight without losing everything else. And then I crest the arc and begin my Hammerhead descent. “Mark in three!” I cry, powering into the fall with five powerful strokes of my wings.  Within seconds I reach terminal velocity, and I lock my wings against my sides to reduce drag as much as I can. “Two!” I cry, as the ground advances on me at an impossible speed.  With a practiced move, I tap a button at the middle of my croupiere with my wingtip, and the hidden blades in my black and gold barding snap back into place, adding drag and causing a monstrous, screaming whistle as I descend. “One!”  I extend my wings, and every bone in my body shakes as I try to pull up from my dive.  Maybe it’s my armor, screaming in the wind and rattling from the sheer force of my descent, or maybe it’s just my hate, flowing so free that she can feel it, but Magoth looks up at me then, comprehending too late what’s about to happen. “MARK!” I level off, mere inches from the ground, and far too quickly for Magoth to evade.  With a parched cry, she tries to stumble away, but my outstretched wing catches her across the chest and a black gout of steaming ichor spurts into the air, splattering against the ground and across my armor.  The metal of my barding smokes and scores, and the stench of sulfur is thick and heady, but I grit my teeth and ignore it.  Grimacing, I risk a glance at the battlefield. My heart leaps.  Stonehoof’s charge has routed the bull-demons around Middlegate, and Novalight’s unicorns are is destroying the last war engine as I duel the demon queen.  A mass of bull demons roil at the Tartaran side of the gate, ready to advance, but Magoth stands and screams, and the mass steps back in fear and confusion as she turns to face me. “INSECT!” she screams, and her black rage nearly overpowers me again.  “WORM!  YOU WILL BEG FOR DEATH BEFORE I AM DONE WITH YOU!” I summon Celestia’s face in my mind’s eye and draw my strength from her image, pushing the darkness back.  My vision clears, and I refocus on my attack, pulling a tight Immelpony to gain some altitude and extending my wingblades into strike formation as I dive towards the demoness.   “Shut your hole and bleed for me again!” I cry.   Maybe not the most inspiring thing I've ever said, but that’s why I’m not a poet. I swoop in at top speed, but as I close in I see Magoth’s hands begin to… glow?  The opposite of glow: an inky shadow roils and grows around her withered fingertips as she mutters foul words into the wind.  I know a spell being cast when I see one, but I clench my jaw as I speed towards her, not knowing what to expect. She strikes without any warning, without any grand gestures, and it’s all I can do to peel off hard enough to maneuver around the shadowy ball of energy she hurls at me.  It’s a chill so cold it burns, a fire so black it devours light, and I only barely evade it: the hairs on my back legs crisp and singe as I spin and roll away from her deadly magic. I hear Magoth’s dry, rasping laugh as I turn to execute a high-speed pitchback.  The maneuver gains me some height and lets me roll into a tight turn to make another pass at her.  She thinks she’s ready for me, but I’ve learned from her. She'd tested me for a year to learn how Equestrians fight, but I’d just tested her, as well -- and now I know what she’s capable of.  I juke randomly as I speed towards her, making her aim less certain.  She unleashes another blast of cold fire towards me, but this time I know what to look for, and I dodge it, barely, tipping my wings as it passes me by and using their bladed extensions to strike at her again.   Almost too late, she realizes I’ve slipped past her magic, and by then she has no way to escape me: though she manages to turn away from the worst of my attack, my razors slice cleanly across her shoulder and back, leaving more stinking, smoking ichor on my armor and the ground below the arch. Her scream this time is a primal one, of hate unquenched and vengeance denied, and I bare my teeth as I track her, making slow, uneven turns around her to gauge my next move.  I have no doubt she’ll bring me down eventually, but to my surprise she quenches her dark fire, turns away and moves quickly back through the Gate. I begin to fly after her in pursuit, but my first real glimpse through the Gate gives me pause, and I allow her to shuffle into the reddish, hazy darkness of Tartarus as I realize what I’m seeing. Entire columns of the ruddy-skinned demons hold ranks no more than a quarter-mile from the Gates, massed and waiting upon the bleak, broken grey plains of Tartarus.  The bloodlit, ashen sky limits my vision, but I can see thousands upon thousands of demons waiting in ranks and files.  At least three dozen war machines stand ready, scattered amongst the ranks, waiting for the command to move forward. At last, the truth.  We have no hope against this enemy.  We never did. “Commander!” Stonehoof cries out, shaking me from my reverie. “The demons are regrouping.” “Fall back to the Gate proper,” I reply, nodding to myself as I watch the demons churn in confusion.  The game has played out as well as I could’ve hoped, but now it’s time to bring it all to the bloody end.   “Novalight, Stormbreaker -- all forward troops, form up with Stonehoof at the Tartaran Gate!” “Acknowledged, Commander,” comes Novalight’s response. I peer into Middlegate again.  We’ll never survive the onslaught, but surviving it isn’t the plan.  It’s not about winning; it’s about losing as slowly as we can. “Stormbreaker,” I say, gently tapping my helm.  “We’re about to enter Middlegate.  Do you copy?” I wait a second, and one more, and then I flatten my ears and shake my head.   “Stonehoof, Novalight: Razor Wing’s gone quiet.  We’re goin’ in without ‘im” “Acknowledged,” they reply, like the good soldiers they are, and they gather in a defensive formation around Middlegate as the bull demons begin to circle around us. I fly to the upper arch of the Gate and spin in midair, hovering to face the brave soldiers who have marched so far and fought so hard, my beloved, devoted, doomed battle-stallions and war-mares.  I have never been so proud of my ponies, and I have never been so ashamed of myself. But I have to lead them to their deaths now, so there’s no room left for pride or shame. “Form up and march, you blaggards!” I cry, giving them the rough and tumble Commander they know best.  “Stonehoof, staggered formations!  Novalight, assume focal position!  Into the Gate and set defensive lines!  Rearguard, form up when everypony else has crossed over and line up along the arch!  Let’s show these filthy shits what Equestrians are made of!  For Sun and Moon!” “For Equestria!” they cry, and without a moment’s hesitation they march into Tartarus itself for me, leaving their country, their homes, their loved ones and their world behind them forever. I fly in ahead to get a lay of the land, but once I’ve passed the arch I have no time for details.  As the first of our line cross the threshold of the stone archway, a column of demons breaks formation and charges our position with a ragged cry.  The ground thunders as they stampede towards us, and Stonehoof’s infantry lock their shields and brace for impact at the front of our formation.   I land at Stonehoof’s side and nod once at him.  “Make ‘em bleed for every foot, Major.” I tell him. “A hundred gallons for every inch, ” he replies, glancing over at me and smirking. “Make it two hundred and we may win this yet.” He chuckles, and then his laughter stills as he lowers his visor.  “It’s been an honor, Commander,” he says, staring his death in the face. “The honor’s been mine,” I say, and I mean it, and then the time for talking is over. They come at us from from all sides, and as the bull demons slam against Stonehoof’s phalanx, the infernal war machines cast their vile fire at us.  The flames set everything ablaze, ponies and demons alike, and the screams of both mix in an unholy chorus of pain and death. I leap into the air, hovering above my soldiers to direct them.  In return, they respond to me as though they’re in my head, hearing my thoughts as I think them.  For the first time today and possibly the last time ever, I sing out in exultation as the flow of battle guides and consumes me.  A formation splits here, and a war engine’s green fire spatters harmlessly against the barren earth.  A shield wall turns there, and the bull demons find a solid defense instead of a vulnerable flank.  Another war engine prepares to strike only to be destroyed by raw unicorn magic, and green fire spills from the wreckage, setting demons alight by the score.  Despite all odds, we hold the line. And then Magoth comes. Laughing shrilly, she appears from nowhere and unleashes her dark fire at Stonehoof’s stalwart infantry.  Without the speed and maneuverability of flight on their side they have no chance to escape her wrath, and all I can do is watch while their armor melts to slag on their bodies.  Still they try to rush her, even as they stagger and crawl in howling agony towards the beast that brought their end.  Within half a minute, most of Stonehoof’s soldiers are dead or dying.  Even the rearguard holding the line at the Gate are beginning to fail now, as wounds, exhaustion and attrition take their toll. We’re about out of time. “Novalight!” I call out desperately.  “Do something or it’s all over, lass!” As I yell, the light from the Gate behind me dims.  I risk a glance behind me, through the Gate, above the battle, to see -- Darkness. Equestria is dark: the day has turned to night.  For a second I’m sure the demons have done something new and terrible, but then I take heart as I see what’s happened.  It’s an eclipse, a rarity on Equestria.  The Sun and the Moon overlap each other, something that can only happen when both Princesses will it.   I swallow and nod to myself.  That’s them.  That’s my Sun and Moon, doing their job.  All we need to do is to hold the line just a little longer, to die just a little slower. A bolt of furious energy explodes from Novalight’s horn, and the power of the entire unicorn wedge strikes directly at Magoth.  The demoness is engulfed in pure energy, her dark fire quenched, and for an entire second I think that this might be the miracle I was hoping for. And then my hope fades completely.  Magoth is laughing, just laughing, as she’s bathed in the wedge’s energy. If I were standing where the demoness was, there’d be nothing left of me but a fine mist -- but all the demon queen can do is laugh and wag her finger at Novalight, as though she’d caught the unicorn doing something naughty after school. The ground underhoof shakes, and there’s a blinding flash of light just outside the Gate.  Cracks form in the massive stone archways, and the glowing runes carved into the Gate begin to sputter and spark, like the coals of a dying fire being touched by the wind. Negligently, Magoth grasps the unicorns’ magic as if it were a physical thing, and then she turns it somehow in her hand, smiling grimly.  Almost too fast to follow, the bright cord of magic fades and darkens, and a line of inky, stygian blackness traces its way back towards the unicorn wedge.  Before Novalight can so much as shout a warning, the blackness strikes her full on, shattering both her horn and her skull. Uncontained, Magoth’s dark power arcs from Novalight’s ruined body like a lightning storm, instantly striking down the rest of the unicorns in the wedge with a ruinous storm of black energy. I look back to the demon queen in hatred, and then I realize, suddenly, that there’s nothing left between her and the Gate but me. She sees it, too, and her smile spreads wide.  Stonehoof’s phalanx is broken and his soldiers are dead or scattered, with only the rearguard still alive to fight a losing battle on the Equestrian side of the gate.  The unicorn wedge is gone, just gone… and after all that, after all the death and horror, the Gates are still open.  We’d come so close.  So bloody close. Magoth smiles and points at me, and the next column of bull demons begins their stampede to the Gate.  It doesn’t matter what I do, whether I fly out of the way or let them trample me underfoot, they’ll break through to Equestria, slaughtering the rearguard and -- “FOR EQUESTRIA!” comes an unexpected cry from behind me, and I turn to watch in relief as Stormbreaker dives through the Gate and into Tartarus with Razor Wing at his back.  Heedless of the danger, they strike mercilessly at the rushing demons and soar out of reach just in time.  Dozens of demons fall in mid-charge as the armed pegasi cut through them, and Stormbreaker sows chaos among the enemy’s ranks with bloodthirsty abandon as he and his wingponies stall the demons’ advance. “NO!” Magoth screams, raising her arms to lash out again with her black, unholy fire.  Careless of her aim, she unleashes her cold fire frantically, and Stormbreaker’s flyers begin to fall from the air like stones as Magoth roasts them alive inside their armor.  The bull demons, equally fearful of their master’s rage and Razor Wing’s assault, halt their advance on the Gate, trying to escape the slaughter. I let myself breathe again.  Stormbreaker’s bought Celie and Luna a little more time, and for a moment I watch him and Razor Wing sacrificing themselves for these last, precious seconds.   And then it strikes me.  There’s nothing left for me to command. My soldiers have done their duty.  It’s time for me to do mine, time to add my seconds to the clock. “FOR CELESTIA!” I cry, swooping and diving straight for Magoth.  She turns to face me, smiling like she always knew I’d come for her, but she’s never seen a pegasus fly like me.  Even on my worst day I’m the best damned flyer in all of Equestria.  On my best day, no one can come close.  And maybe today ain’t my best day, but right now I’ve got nothing left to lose, and I laugh like a madman as I close the gap. I know her spell’s coming, and I roll at the last second to try to get clear, but the bloody witch changes things up, and what I expected to be a bolt of energy winds up as a cloud of darkness.  Its leading edge catches my left front leg before I can compensate, and I roar in pain as the stench of sulfur, burned fur, and charred flesh assails my nose, but I extend my wingblades and bear down on her at top speed. All pain does now is fuel my rage. She tries to dodge me at the last possible moment, but she’s slow, and she telegraphs her desperate escape attempt with plenty of time to spare.  I adjust my flight effortlessly, and I yell triumphantly as my blade strikes true, slicing her deep from crotch to crown and knocking her off her feet.  Gouts of vile black ichor spill from her massive wound; my wingblade smokes and hisses, and she screams again, a gurgling cry, as I execute a tight wingover to make another pass.  Somehow, she struggles to her feet, trying to get her bearings, and I smile grimly as I close in on her. She has no idea where I am.  I’m going to take her filthy, maggot-laden head.  I’m going to end her. Without warning, an enormous blast wave knocks me out of the air and slams me straight into the ground.  My ears ring, and a series of dull aches along my barrel tell me my barding has crumpled around me in at least a dozen places. I raise my right hoof to my chin and pry off my ruined black and gold chamfron as I try to get my bearings.  My hoof comes back bloody. Behind me is only darkness; when I turn to get a better look, pain shoots through me like a bolt of lightning, but beyond the stone archway there’s only more of the broken, soot-stained land of Tartarus.  I nearly weep with relief, despite my pain.   They finished the ritual.  They shut the Gates. My ponies are safe.  My love is safe.   We’ve won. My senses recover slowly, and I try to rise to my feet, but instead I cry out in agony: my left leg is charred beyond recognition, and it simply can’t bear my weight anymore.  The sound of my cry echoes strangely, and I realize that the silence surrounding me isn’t just my ears trying to recover from the sound of the blast.  Tartarus itself has grown deathly quiet. I cast around, looking for… for anything but the corpses I find littered around me.  I knew each and every one of these soldiers by name and by face, but what’s left of them now are sad, bloody shadows of the brave ponies they’d been.  Every one of them died a hero.  Every one of them died for Equestria.  Every one of them died because I failed them. For them, I weep. Eventually, a shuffling sound draws my attention, and I look up to see Magoth approaching me, an unreadable expression on the rotting ruin of her face.  Row upon row of bull-demons wait behind her, still as statues, watching with complete obedience and in total silence. The demon queen’s sackcloth robes are burned, tattered and soaked in stinking, black ichor, and she’s moving slowly, hobbling as though she’s in an immense amount of pain, but still she comes to me.  She watches me as she does, staring at me with an unreadable expression.  I try to struggle to my hooves again, but I slip in a pool of blood, and she laughs.  The sound is raw and shrill, like the last scream of a dying thing, and I flatten my ears and bare my teeth as I endure it. “You are mine now, beast,” Magoth finally says as she draws near, her voice unexpectedly mild as she stands over me.  “Your suffering will be legendary.  Even in Tartarus.” “It don’t matter what happens to me,” I say, raising my head in defiance and spitting at her feet.  “Equestria is safe.  We won, ye gangrenous hag.  Do your worst.” As it happens, that’s exactly what she does.