//------------------------------// // Crossroads // Story: Batmare Begins // by Batbrony //------------------------------// No. The whole world was in slow motion. No. In a flash, everything had slowed to a snail’s pace. Copper Crust slumped forward, his body seemingly floating in midair as it crashed to the ground. There was no resistance, no fighting, he simply dropped like a rock. This isn’t happening. The light had already left his eyes and he lay there on the ground staring off into space at eternity. For a few seconds more his throat emitted a nauseating gurgling noise, his body involuntarily twitching where it lay, but soon these last few traces of life ceased altogether. This can’t be happening. Then there was just nothing. Nothing at all. There was Derpy, and there was Dämons, but Copper was simply nothing now. Something that could never be reproduced again had just been viciously snuffed out right before her very eyes, and nothingness had taken its place. Derpy knew all too well about that nothingness, but she’d never actually seen it supplant life right in front of her. It was… it was… This just happened. This really just happened. A crimson pool was already spreading from the lifeless form before her, staining the ground beneath her hooves. Queasiness began overcoming her senses, but out of the corner of her eye the lightheaded Derpy suddenly became very aware that she herself was presently in grave danger. The fatal dagger still hung in the air, dirtied with Copper’s lifeblood, but now it was conspicuously pointed in her direction. The reaction was almost instinctual. In fact, it’d only been a few seconds since Dämons had done the unthinkable. But in that short span Derpy did the only thing she could do, what she’d been taught to do in any situation like this: assess the situation, determine her course of action, and execute. Right now, she needed to do all that in the blink of an eye; what Dämons wasn’t expecting, however, was that she could. Quick as a flash, Derpy lunged towards Dämons and slammed a hoof into the first thing she could think of: his horn. It was every unicorn’s weakest spot in close combat, and evidently Dämons had overlooked just how close they really were. Before he could conjure up a shield or raise a hoof to defend himself, Derpy was already on top of him. Shrieking in pain, he staggered backwards, dropping the dagger from his magical grip as his magic temporarily dissipated. Derpy didn’t give him a chance to gain his bearings and started raining blows upon him. Despite the intensity of her attack, not to mention the pain he was in, Dämons’s experience still showed as he managed to parry most of her initial strikes, and for some time the two remained locked in combat. After a short while, though, Dämons’s age also began to show as it caught up to him; he didn’t have the speed nor the stamina that he once had, and he was already in a great deal of pain from Derpy’s first blow. If they’d been outside, she would’ve been quite literally flying circles around him already, but as it was even the enclosed tunnel they were in was playing to Derpy’s advantage. The strike to his horn had left Dämons terribly dazed, and in the blackness of the Dark Mile, it was difficult for him to follow her rapid movements. Dämons blocked another incoming blow to his horn, but this time that was exactly what Derpy wanted, and in one fluid movement, she followed up her feint with a round kick from her hind leg. With most of his body below his forehead now exposed, Dämons was helpless to block the devastating attack, and the kick caught him square on the jaw, knocking him sideways straight into a rock wall. Derpy leapt upon him, intent on pummeling him some more, but stopped herself when she realized he was out cold. It took a moment or two for that to sink in. What the – no way. Fight had barely begun, and he’s down for the count already? It took a moment more for her to realize what she’d just done. Oh buck. With a start, Derpy recoiled away from Dämons’s motionless form as though it were diseased. Her whole body was trembling, and only now did she realize that tears had wet her cheeks. No, no, no no no no no no no – Derpy’s eyes darted back and forth between the unconscious Dämons and Copper Crust’s still warm corpse. She was still trying to convince herself that this was all real. How did this happen? Why did this happen? What just happened? What?! At that moment, it all hit her like a crashing wave; the ugly realization that in five short minutes everything she’d worked for had come crumbling down like a house of cards. Somehow she’d failed, and she still wasn’t even sure what she’d done wrong to begin with. But now someone was dead. Oh no. He’s dead. He’s really dead. I… it’s my fault. I could’ve saved him, but I – what did I do wrong? Why did he kill him? Why did I fail? We’re the – they’re the good guys, right? They’ve been so good to me, to so many others. So why, why, why did he kill him? Good guys don’t kill the defenseless. Good guys don’t kill petty bullies. They’re just, and fair, and – this was just cold-blooded murder. I gotta get out of here. Have to find someone and – no, no that’s no good. I just attacked Dämons Hengst for crying out loud! How exactly am I supposed to explain that? A more bone-chilling thought suddenly occurred to her as well. This was my test. My final test. The final test. The leader of the Ordo Extraordinarii gave this to me. They had to have known about this. Aucune, Lightning, the others; if they knew about this, and didn’t say anything… did they all have to do something like this? Do they approve? Why would they be okay with this? Why? Her head was spinning, the whole world seemed upside down, and for the first time in a long time, she had no idea what to do. A cloud of desperation hung over her mind, darkening her every thought, but eventually, a single, solitary impulse did manage to break through it. Run. It wasn’t the answer she was looking for. Run. It wasn’t what she wanted. Run. But it was the only choice she had. Run. So she ran. Not back to the castle, to the Order, but away from it all. Away from her friends and mentors, the first place she’d really felt she belonged in years. It hurt, it hurt so much running from all that, but this changed everything. If they were alright with this, she didn’t want any part of it. She wouldn’t have any part of it. Not one bit. She’d set out to become a better pony when this had all begun. That didn’t just mean on the outside; normal eyes or being able to fly straight, every skill she’d picked up over the past year, it’d all mean nothing if she used it for ill. Gifts and skills like that, they were meant for good, not evil. I didn’t come here to become a bully… or something even worse. I came here so I could learn how to help others. How could something so ugly and hateful ever help anypony? Galloping at a breakneck pace, as though she were being chased by the hordes of Tartarus itself, she drew closer and closer to the other end of the Dark Mile. She hadn’t quite figured out what she’d do when she reached the end, but she couldn’t go back. Not now. After the way Dämons had reacted, Derpy had a bad feeling the Order wouldn’t take too kindly to her disobeying their leader’s command and then proceeding to knock him out cold. What if they come after me? Where can I – no. Can’t worry about that now. Just gotta take things one step at a time. Right now, all that matters is getting as far away from here as possible. Soon she came out the other side and brought herself to a grinding halt, standing on the same small outcrop she’d wanted to lay down on so many times during that long day with Aucune a year ago. At that moment, she’d have given anything to live that day a thousand times over and more rather than another second of this nightmare. Catching her breath, Derpy stared out into space. On all sides she was boxed in by mountains, and below, nothing but a dark abyss lay before her, its depths obscured by a misty haze. Can’t fly over the mountains. Too high, and the weather around them is a nightmare to navigate. That just leaves… oh horsefeathers. She peered over the edge of the outcrop, trying her hardest to ascertain what lay at the bottom of the void. Try as she might, she couldn’t see a thing, not through all the mist. The already desperate situation was somehow now even more hopeless. OK… can’t fly up, can’t fly around, and I have absolutely no idea what’s at the bottom of this chasm. Could be a way out, could be some nasty monster’s den. Hay, for all I know it’s bottomless. Guess anything’s possible at this point. Maybe she could just go back. Try to explain herself to the Order, seek Dämons’s forgiveness. Maybe this had all just been a terrible misunderstanding. Maybe – No. I’m not going back. Not after that. That’s just not an option anymore. But I’m not just waiting here to get caught either. I’m not giving up. I came here because I was tired of giving up, because I wanted to make a difference. I’m still going to make that difference. I’ve gone through too much not to, and I’m not going to let some little cliff keep me from my destiny. Mom didn’t let the storm of the century keep her from saving others; why can’t I do the same? She’d like that now, wouldn’t she? Yeah, she’d like that. I took a leap of faith coming here. I’ve done more after that one leap of faith than I ever did in my whole life before when all I did was play it safe. Well… Checking to make sure her armor was securely fastened to her body, Derpy backed away from the edge, flapping her wings a few times to get them loose. …I guess it’s time to take another leap of faith. With a mad dash, Derpy charged toward the edge and jumped into space, flying down towards whatever future fate had in store for her. In the blackness of the Dark Mile, Bitter Sweet’s motionless form stirred. Groaning groggily as he raised himself up from the tunnel floor, his gaze swept his surroundings. Finding nothing but the carcass of that stallion he’d knifed, he growled. “Damn… wretched bitch,” he muttered to himself, running a hoof delicately over his sore horn. “Who knows where she’s got off to? If she talks to anyone, the game is up.” Bitter surveyed the ground around him, looking for clues as to where Derpy could’ve possibly gone, until he spotted something most interesting. “Hmmm, fresh tracks leading towards the other end of the tunnel. So… she’s running.” He considered this state of affairs a moment longer before cracking a wicked grin. “Yes, that’ll do nicely. It’s not ideal, but I can still work with it. Now to dispose of this thing.” Working quickly, Bitter lifted the corpse beside him with his magic along with the dagger he’d brought along and set about looking for a suitable site to dump them both. The blood would be easy enough to conceal; this wasn’t the first time in his career he’d had to clean up a scene. All told, things were coming together quite nicely indeed. Unbeknownst to the smug Bitter, however, the seeds of his own ruin were already being sown. Concealed in the shadows of the Dark Mile, another unicorn watched in silence. “You’re sure of what you saw?” “Positive.” “Do we have a body?” “Charming led Fiery and I to the crevice where Bitter dumped it. By good grace we found it on an outcropping and brought it up, but we couldn’t find the weapon. Figure it must’ve fallen further down, but we weren’t sure how far it went.” “The body and Charming’s testimony should be enough. Any sign of Miss Hooves?” “None besides tracks.” “We sent out a few pegasi we managed to round up to scout the area in the direction she fled, but unfortunately we could only get so many without arousing Bitter’s suspicions. He’s gathered most of the Order together in the great hall, for what reason, we aren’t sure. All he’d say was that it was on account of a ‘matter of treason’.” The true Dämons Hengst snorted derisively at that, though his demeanor was exuding more than mere mockery at the moment. There was a dangerous edge to his entire disposition, from his deliberate, fast-paced gait to the way his ears kept flicking every time Bitter’s name was mentioned. Lightning Flicker and Charming Masquerade kept exchanging nervous glances with each other, but stayed close to Dämons. Despite a shared dread that something truly awful to behold was about to burst forth, they still trusted their leader, even in all his wrath, to get them through whatever was going on. These were the moments their trust was built up for, the times when everything seemed out of control even to the Order’s top officers. The pieces were moving every which way, manipulated in a manner they had not foreseen, and it was up to a maestro like Dämons to restore order and get the game back on track. The Order’s future depended on it. “Matter of treason indeed. Fabricating treachery as a pretense to justify his own? Oh, that’s rich, but clever too. Very clever indeed. Where’s the body now?” “We hid it in a shack in the outer ward. Fiery’s guarding it,” Lightning replied. “Bitter’s not aware you have it?” “He’s not even aware we know about it. Charming was very discrete when he followed him, and we went to the Dark Mile on the pretext that we were looking for signs of where Derpy went. Luckily most everypony was already gathered in the great hall when we returned.” The gears continued turning in Dämons’s head, every impending step and maneuver coming together into a beautiful symmetry whose execution he could practically envision already. Few were born with the capacity for such vision, and only a hoofful of those who were developed it to a point where they could not only dream up the vision itself, but make it a reality. Normally Dämons preferred playing the long game with his designs, especially the more ambitious ones, but he wouldn’t be much of a leader if he couldn’t plan on the fly. Perhaps it’d been so long since he’d had to that Bitter thought he might catch him off guard. The poor fool, I almost pity him. “All right, Lightning, I’ll need you and Fiery to fetch the body and bring it in on my command. Charming, you stay with me, I’ll need your testimony.” “Of course, sir.” “Where are Storm and Brawny?” Dämons asked. “In the great hall. Charming filled them in on what happened, and they’re monitoring the situation, making sure things don’t get out of control.” “Excellent. You’ve done good work, all of you. I’m proud of how you’ve conducted yourselves so far, but we’re not out of this yet, so stay vigilant and on your guard,” Dämons enjoined. “Yes sir!” both deputies said in tandem. While he was mostly trying to keep them focused, Dämons was truthfully very pleased with how his subordinates had handled things in his absence. They’d been effective and discrete in a crisis situation, doing what they could to uncover Bitter’s betrayal and hinder whatever he was up to. Charming and Lightning had even left Die Schmiede and the vale in the hopes of finding Dämons and bringing him back from Manehattan, unaware that he was already halfway up the mountain at that point, which they discovered (much to their surprise and relief) when they ran into him during their descent. Even so, that small silver lining couldn’t stymie the ever-growing fury that threatened to engulf Dämons’s entire being more and more as they drew closer to Die Schmiede. Closer to Bitter. Closer to the traitor. “Sir, if I may,” Lightning piped up, “what exactly is going on?” “Something that’s been a long time coming, unfortunately,” Dämons answered soberly. “He’s never really accepted the legitimacy of my leadership. Couldn’t stand the fact that I was his junior, a youth with less years and experience granted authority over him and the entire Order. I don’t know what I did to push him over the edge, though. Maybe it’s a combination of egotism, jealousy, and delusion driving him now, I don’t know. “What I do know is this; he’s more trouble than he’s worth, at this point. We’ve had our disputes, butted heads plenty of times, sure, but nothing he ever did in the past jeopardized the Order itself. I even appreciated his often healthy skepticism of my plans and actions; it’s what made him a valuable number two, having someone who wasn’t afraid to share his reservations. But this? This reeks of, at best, senility, at worst, rampant narcissism, but either way it’s treachery of the highest order and putting everything we’ve worked for at risk. That I will not tolerate, not for a minute.” The sun was just dipping below the surrounding peaks as they crossed the bridge and approached the outer gate. As they neared the castle, Lightning quietly digested Dämons’s words. She’d seen him mad before, plenty of times, but this was different. This had cut him to the quick like few things could, and a distinct sense of grief tinged the intense furor that now resonated from him. In all the years she’d known him, Lightning could only recall one other occasion where she’d seen Dämons like this; that incident had almost torn the Order asunder. She shuddered, pushing such unhappy memories to the back of her mind and focusing on their present troubles. “Sir… are you going to kill him?” she asked, fearing the answer, but also needing to know. “No, Lightning. I’m going to destroy him.” “Madness! That’s what this is, madness!” “Is it really, Sister Storm? Is it?” Bitter Sweet asked from atop the lone table in the great hall. From this position he commanded the attention of the entire room, or at least what attention he could from the turbulent crowd that occupied it at the moment. Raucous murmurs and dozens of arguments filled the air, resonating from the throng of ponies that surrounded Bitter’s perch and filled almost every bit of space in the hall. “Yeah, that’s exactly what it is. Madness, anarchy, treachery, take your pick, whatever you wanna call it, that’s exactly what you’re proposing!” Storm Spirit shot back from the front of the crowd. The generally laidback mare looked like the equine embodiment of a hurricane and appeared poised to storm Bitter’s stage. “Storm, c’mon,” Brawny Charger hissed in her ear, “we’re supposed to be keeping things calm, but you’re more fired up than anypony else!” The poor stallion was doing what he could to hold her back, no easy task even for her most prized former pupil. “Shut up, I know what I’m doing,” she snapped, not taking her eyes off Bitter. “You expect us to believe for one minute that you’re more qualified to lead than Dämons?” “As things stand, yes,” Bitter answered, his voice raised but steady. “What more proof do you need? This latest setback is but the most recent in a string of spectacular failures that have colored his tenure as the head of our order. He wasted over a year training someone who was unfit for our ranks from the very start, and he couldn’t even see it! Imagine what we could’ve accomplished by now if our leadership had been focused on more important tasks instead of this pet project of his which has now come to nothing. Can we really entrust the future of the Order in the hooves of someone so out of touch with reality, so incapable of determining the best course of action to take? I say nay, we cannot!” More shouts and commotion broke out in the crowd, drowning out any single voice in the din. Bitter stomped a hoof in agitation and magically amplified his voice in a bid to restore calm. “Order, order I say, order!” he roared, though only a few paid him any heed. Just as things appeared to be getting out of hoof, the doors to the great hall opened and two figures stepped inside. In an instant, a wave of silence swept over the entire crowd as more and more realized who’d entered. “Hello, Bitter. My, my, my, what have we here?” The beleaguered Bitter spun around to find none other than Dämons Hengst at the entrance of the great hall alongside Charming Masquerade. The crowd parted as the two approached, all eyes fixed on Dämons. For Bitter’s part, envy and humility upset his sensibilities upon witnessing the immediate effect Dämons’s mere presence had on the crowd that he’d been unable to quiet despite his best efforts. More pressing, however, was the fact that Dämons was there at all. “Dämons. You’re… back,” Bitter sputtered. As he attempted to adjust to this unexpected development, Dämons calmly leapt atop the table and strode over toward him while Charming made his way to where Storm and Brawny stood. Much to Dämons’s gratification, it appeared that Derpy had indeed done a number on Bitter; he already had a swollen black eye, and his horn had been extensively bandaged. “Yes, indeed I am. Does that surprise you?” Dämons asked as easily as he would ask how the weather looked outside. “I just thought… you’ve been gone but two days. Surely your business in Manehattan wasn’t that brief, was it? Or did some unexpected hindrance interfere and force you to turn around? I certainly hope you ran into no trouble, my friend.” Concern dripped from Bitter’s words; nothing more than aural hemlock as far as Dämons was concerned. “Funny thing, that. I met with our contacts in Manehattan as soon as I arrived in the city, and you know what I learned? They weren’t expecting me at all! In fact, there wasn’t even any need for me to be there. Isn’t that funny?” Dämons chuckled, though that only seemed to make everyone else more unsettled than they already were. “It was your people who told me I was needed in the first place, Bitter,” Dämons almost casually remarked. “Sir, I don’t have any ‘people’, we are all at your comma-” “Oh please, you don’t think I don’t know you have a circle? Of course you do, you’ve been here longer than I have, for crying out loud. Don’t sell yourself short, my friend!” Again more murmurs broke out in the crowd, anxious eyes glancing Bitter’s way. He tried to ignore them, but it was hard to block out their rising voices. After all, the implications of what Dämons was saying were quite obvious; it didn’t take a genius to figure out that he was insinuating he’d been given a false lead, by his second-in-command no less. Why was an even more interesting question. “It’s a shame that in this day and age such a silly miscommunication like that would happen, and to me of all ponies, too!” Dämons lamented. “Time is a valuable thing, after all, especially for those with the most responsibilities. Ah, no matter, no use crying over spilled milk; I hear you had an interesting time while I was away, too!” This wasn’t right. Dämons was talking like a gossiping schoolfilly, and Bitter didn’t like it one bit. He knew he was holding something back, and his gut told him that now was the time to go on the defensive, but no, not this time. This time all bets were off. Now or never, it was time to play every card he had. “Indeed I did. So, you’ve heard?” “Yes. Lightning and Charming just filled me in.” “So, what do you have to say for yourself, old friend?” Bitter spat. “What do you have to say for your ‘star pupil’ who viciously assailed me after I told her the way things are around here? You poured a year of our time and resources into her, and what do we have to show for it? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. And that’s what we’ll have to show for all of our efforts if we continue to follow your lead. You always miss some seemingly small detail in these projects of yours, but those details always end up upending everything you worked for. How can you possibly lead us into the future you’ve promised when your past is littered with so many failures? So many spectacular failures. Sooner or later, you and your failures are going to drag us all down into oblivion, and then, it’ll be too late to fix things. But right now, we have a chance to do just that, to secure our future once and for all. “So, I ask you again, friend… what do you have to say for yourself?” You could’ve heard a pin drop in that moment. A petrified stillness rested over the entire assemblage, like they’d all at once transformed into statues. All eyes lay on Dämons, and all manner of expression as well: critical, hopeful, fearful, assured, whatever anypony felt in that room, they now all turned to him for the answers. Would he rise above this now like he had every challenge he’d ever faced, or was this to be the end of the Demon’s stallion? For his part, Dämons just looked disappointed. He gave Bitter a reprimanding look, like that of a mother who’d caught her colt with his hoof in the cookie jar. “That your move, Bitter?” he asked. “It sure is,” Bitter said. Dämons sighed, exasperated, frustrated, and just a touch genuinely sad. “Enough… enough of this,” he muttered to himself. “Lightning, Fiery, you can come in now.” The doors to the great hall swung open once more and the two pegasi entered, carrying, much to the assembled crowd’s shock and horror, a unicorn’s corpse. Without saying a word, they flew over to Dämons and Bitter and gingerly laid the body between the two of them before taking their place beside their fellow lieutenants. Bitter just stared wide-eyed at the body, the rest of his features blank. “Care to explain that, Bitter?” Dämons asked. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bitter halfheartedly replied, as though aware that the game was already up. Dämons chuckled, sensing his old friend’s despair, relishing it. “Yes you do, and you know it. But since you’re not really in the mood, I’ll take it upon myself to explain this… interesting development.” Dämons turned to address the crowd, the moment to deliver his master stroke finally at hoof. “I’m guessing most of you do not recognize this poor, recently departed fellow you see before you. That’s hardly surprising. You see, he was not one of us. He wasn’t even an ally. No, if anything, he represents everything we stand against. From what I know of him, he was bombastic, arrogant, and could even be quite cruel. He was a nasty little creature who enjoyed abusing the little power he had, and he got away with it too, because his authority was derived from lawful powers. By all accounts, his death should not be worth mourning. “That said, I’m sure you’re wondering what he’s doing here? Well, you see, there was one capacity that I did know this fellow: as a business acquaintance. He was a prison guard, and in that line of work he proved capable of being swayed by coin to do little favors here and there for me. One of these favors happened to be assisting with Derpy Hooves’ release after her brief incarceration at the Manehattan Correctional Facility about a year ago. From what I gather, he was rather nasty to her during her short stay there, as he was to many prisoners. Still, she was imprisoned but a day or two, so I doubt he scarred her for life in that time. “Ah, but now you’re wondering what I’m getting at with all this? Well, as you can see, he’s not in Manehattan where he’s supposed to be. No, he’s here, now, in front of you all quite good and dead. So, how did he come to be here in this rather unfortunate state? Well, why don’t you explain that, Bitter?” Bitter remained silent and stock-still as the corpse in front of him. Undeterred, and somewhat amused by how evidently the fight had gone out of him, Dämons continued. “No? Are you sure? It’s a good story, and one I’m not sure I can do justice to seeing as I wasn’t there, and you were. But, if you insist, then very well, I’ll tell it instead. My friends, earlier today, before all this insanity broke out, dear Brother Charming noticed Bitter Sweet leading Miss Hooves to the Dark Mile. This was not a planned lesson, not that he was aware of, at least, and as you all know she was, at the time, still under the impression that Bitter was, well, me. Concerned that something was afoot, he followed, from a distance so as not to be detected. As he entered the Dark Mile itself he heard a growing commotion, and grew increasingly alarmed. By the time he did reach Bitter, however, the commotion was over. The excitement, however, was not. Brother Charming, would you care to tell us what you found when you came upon Bitter?” “Bitter was out cold, and the body was there right beside him.” Charming succinctly answered. “Interesting! What did you do next?” “Nothing. Stayed in the shadows, waited to see what he’d do.” “And what did he do when he finally awoke?” “Tried to dispose of the body, tossed it and a dagger down a crevice.” “Huh… that’s interesting. He tossed the body down a crevice. Why would he do that?” Dämons asked the crowd. “Now, I may be wrong, certainly, but I do have a theory that I don’t believe is too much of a stretch, so hear me out. Bitter, here, told you all that Miss Hooves attacked him with no more provocation than his telling her what we do. But he didn’t tell you about this chap. He didn’t mention anything at all about a dead body being there, now, did he? Not only that, but he tried to hide the fact that there was any body at all. Why? Why all this secrecy about a rather important detail from your confrontation with Miss Hooves? Well, I think I know why. I think you didn’t just tell her what we do. I think the real ‘test’ of loyalty you gave her was this guy. Somepony she barely knew, but could technically hold a grudge against given the way he’d treated her. Somepony you could point to as a symbol of all we stand against. You didn’t just tell her that killing was a duty she might have to bear, no; instead, you demanded that she kill him right then and there. And I’m guessing she refused, because otherwise, why would you hide the body? Why wouldn’t you tell us about him? Because you killed him, in front of her very eyes, when she wouldn’t. “How would you all react to that, my friends? How would you all react to somepony, even a thug like this fellow, being struck down in cold blood right in front of you, no trial, no attempts made to reform him, just a cold, merciless execution? I’m guessing you’d panic. I for one certainly wouldn’t feel comfortable around his executioner, to say the least. But Miss Hooves? She couldn’t have been expecting this. Who would? This isn’t how we induct our members, after all. We may make hard choices in this order, and often be tasked with difficult responsibilities, but nothing we do is this crass, barbaric, or meaningless in nature. So that’s exactly what she did. She flipped out, knocked out Bitter, and fled. Given the circumstances, that’s actually a rather rational response, all things considered. “But that’s not what Bitter told you happened. He told you he was assailed by an unstable Miss Hooves clearly unprepared to join our order. He told you a lie, a story that he crafted to undermine my authority. Think about that, for a moment, my friends. One of our brothers callously took one life and quite possibly threw away another in the name of his own personal ambition. He called her a traitor, and declared me unfit to lead, when in reality he sullied our most sacred tenets in service to himself. Any that would elevate his own fortunes over the Order’s integrity and wellbeing is unfit to even join our ranks, much less continue to lead. There is no greater treachery. You want to deny my little theory, Bitter, go right ahead. You know we can easily verify it whether or not you admit to it.” By this point Bitter was fuming, pure hatred resonating from every inch of his body. He glared at Dämons, at the runt with no magic who’d always managed to somehow best him. Over thirty years of resentment was now surfacing at the most inopportune of times, and no matter how hard he tried to contain it, his apparent enmity betrayed the truth to all in the room. There was no point in carrying on with his deception at this point, but that didn’t mean he was about to lie down and admit defeat either. “I told you before, she wouldn’t have joined us anyway. I told you she was never right for us, but you didn’t listen!” he thundered. “And I told you that I believed your concern was valid and would keep an eye on it. You may very well have been right, but we’ll never know now, will we? We can’t possibly accept that farce you called a ‘test’ as a legitimate measure of her loyalty, and now, for all we know, she may be dead. At the very least, you’ve poisoned her impressions of us, and even if we manage to find her, she may never trust us again. You knew what you were doing, so don’t pretend that this is about her. She reacted exactly as you wanted her to. No, this is about you and me, because that’s always what it’s been about with you, hasn’t it? It’s never been about Miss Hooves, or the wellbeing of the Order, or the future of Equestria; it’s always been about you and your wounded pride.” Dämons was starting to lose his composure; it was as though every sentence he spoke only made Bitter’s treachery more real and hateful to him. The crowd had already turned on Bitter; most eyes that were on him cast looks of anger or disgust in his direction. When it came right down to it, they would always trust Dämons before Bitter any time. Still, none made a move, even those biting at the champ like Storm. Whatever was about to happen, it was Dämons’s privilege to make it happen. “You have no right to suggest –” “No, let me stop you right there!” Dämons roared, cowing Bitter into silence. “You have no right to defend these actions of yours, you worthless piece of trash! You’re a disgrace to everything we stand for, and you don’t even care! In fact, you’ve spent your entire life fixated on advancing yourself and nothing more, with the pitiful pretext that it was all for the good of the Order. Tell me, how much more blood has been needlessly shed on your behalf in your lifetime, sacrificed on the altar of your ego? Well? Tell me, you pathetic, narcissistic foal, tell me!” Bitter suddenly felt very small in the face of Dämons’s full fury, a sharp contrast to the borderline arrogance he’d flaunted such a short while ago. It only now occurred to him that he’d crossed a boundary this time and dreadfully overplayed his hand; he’d incurred reprimands from Dämons in the past, but he’d never aroused his wrath like this. The small-to-begin-with window he’d had to wrest control of the Order had closed some time ago; now, he was quickly running out of options to escape the full brunt of Dämons’s impending judgment. “I… I, uh…,” he stuttered, desperately trying to think of something. Finally, he settled on one last, wild gambit he had up his sleeve, the only one that had even a remote chance of working at this point. “I challenge you to juris ungula. Let fate judge my actions before our peers.” That caught more than a few in the Order’s ranks off guard; even though the Order still observed many traditions long abandoned by greater Equestrian society, it’d been over a century since a duel to the death had taken place among them. Juris ungula was not something they took lightly; only the direst of disagreements or major matters of honor or justice were to be resolved through the old “justice of the hoof,” affairs upon which the future of the Order might hinge. For Bitter Sweet to issue such a challenge to Dämons was actually rather ingenious; if anyone had an obligation to observe the Order’s customs and doctrine, no matter how dated it was, it was Dämons. He was their leader, the standard that all in the Order should aspire to in the fulfillment of their duties. Sure, he had considerably more stamina than the elder Bitter, but Bitter would still stand a better chance if he had some time to prepare to face his wrath in a true combat setting. Hay, his magic even gave him some advantages over Dämons. Considering how desperate he was, this was Bitter’s best bet for a way out at the moment. What he hadn’t considered, however, was that this would just infuriate Dämons even more. Without another word, Dämons, already mere feet away from Bitter, struck his muzzle with the backside of his hoof. Bitter crumpled under the blow, and Dämons was upon him in an instant. “You dare?” he bellowed. “You dare try to use our doctrine to protect yourself after trampling all over it? You wretched little worm!” Again and again and again and again Dämons poured on blow after blow, Bitter completely at his mercy and helpless to stop it. “You pathetic… wretched… narcissist… bastard… son of a whorse!” After a while Dämons ceased raining his hooves upon him and simply started slamming his head repeatedly into the hard oak table. The crowd, for its part, just looked on in stunned silence, but unwilling to intervene, some because they felt that Bitter deserved it, most because they were too scared to. Though Bitter hadn’t even had the chance to put up a fight, Dämons just kept going at it. He didn’t care who saw the full extent of his unhinged anger, or what they thought of it; at this moment, the hate he felt for Bitter for what he’d taken from him all out of petty jealousy, pride, and greed, consumed every fiber of his being. He’d destroyed something precious to Dämons, something he’d put so much time, energy, and love into making. He would pay. Oh yes, he would pay. I’ll squeeze every foul drop of blood from your worthless carcass if I have to, it still won’t be enough to make up for what you took from me, you – “Let’s not get carried away now, sir!” someone shouted. Dämons spun around, ceasing his onslaught (at least for the moment), though he made sure to keep Bitter pinned. Behind him stood Lightning Flicker, mild-mannered as always in her bearing, though there was a firm resolve to the look she’d fixed upon Dämons. “Sister Lightning,” Dämons said in acknowledgement, panting from his furious efforts to end the traitor then and there. “You had something to say?” “You’ve won sir. There’s no need to continue,” she plainly stated. “He’s suffered but a fraction of what he deserves, you know that!” Lightning crossed over to him, coming within a hair’s breadth. “He deserves the worst you could possibly conceive. But not like this, and not here, not now,” she softly whispered in his ear. “Besides, he’s already out cold. Not much of a punishment if he’s not awake for it, right?” Dämons gave a terse grunt, acceding the merit of her words. As much as he really didn’t want to admit it at the moment, she was right. Bitter may have deserved every ounce of fury he could muster right then and there, but killing anypony, even somepony as despicable as him, in front of near the whole damn Order would be extremely counterproductive and demoralizing. It might even do more damage to his reputation than Bitter’s entire ruse could have. Not to mention that she was, in fact, correct on the second point as well; Bitter had indeed passed out at some point during Dämons’s frenzied assault. Growling through gritted teeth, Dämons skulked away from the unconscious Bitter, struggling mightily to refrain from grinding him into a bloody pulp. “Get this filth out of my sight. Lock him up in our deepest, darkest cell, for the time being.” Nodding, Lightning beckoned two of her own students. The pair obediently stepped up and dragged the battered Bitter out of the great hall to deposit him in his new quarters. A small bloodstain smeared across the tabletop remained as testament to his savage beating, and only now did Dämons notice a few crimson speckles dotting his own coat. The rest of the hall’s occupants seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief now that the worst was over. His furor finally simmering down, Dämons refocused his mind and energies on matters closer to his heart. There was still hope yet, however slim it might be. “Lightning, Fiery, take our best fliers and conduct a thorough search and rescue operation in the immediate vicinity around the far end of the Dark Mile. Check every nook and cranny you can find, leave no stone unturned. “Storm and Brawny, you’ll lead another contingent to the base of the mountains. Be discrete, but search any nearby rivers and streams; if Miss Hooves somehow made it out of the mountains, she probably followed one of them out. Charming, get yourself to Manehattan ASAP; don’t bother taking a contingent, I know you’ll move faster and act more effectively on your own. Check in with all our contacts to see if Miss Hooves made her way there or passed through. She might yet be alive, so get to it; let’s find her and make things right!” Dismissed, everypony scattered, some joining up with the search and rescue parties, others going about their usual business, trying to restore some semblance of order and normalcy after Bitter’s attempted coup. Dämons himself dragged his sore hooves back to his cell; he wanted to assist with the search, but after traveling to Manehattan and back again in the span of two days, not to mention defusing a plot to remove him from power, he was thoroughly exhausted. He knew he’d be of no use in this condition to a search party, especially any trying to tackle the rough, local terrain. Slumping in the chair behind his desk, Dämons bowed his head and quickly drifted off into an anxious slumber, praying all the while that he’d hear some, any sort of news soon. At the very least, we might find her body, if we’re even that lucky. Stars on high, I hope we are. “Hey… hey, wake up.” The soft touch of a hoof fell upon Dämons’s withers, gently prodding him awake. “Mmmm… not now, Nafee,” he murmured, still half asleep. “That does feel nice, though. You can keep rubbing that spot all you want.” The prodding continued, more forceful this time, and eventually Dämons reluctantly cracked his eyes open to find Lightning looking down at him. “I’m sorry. You were having a nice dream, weren’t you?” she said, her eyes at once both apologetic and sympathetic. Dämons shook his head. “No, no, it’s fine. Just a… another sad memory, is all,” he replied, forcing an unconvincing smile. Before Lightning could say any more on the matter, he quickly changed the subject. “Find anything?” Judging by how downcast she looked, Dämons thought he already had a good idea what her answer would be, but he needed to know for sure all the same. “We’ve searched high and low through the night. Fiery and the other fliers are still looking, hoping daylight might reveal something we might’ve missed, but as of now, we’ve found nothing.” “What about Storm and Brawny?” Dämons asked. “I checked in with them before I came to see you. Same deal. Not so much as a trace she was in the area. Of course, there’s no telling how far she got before we even sent these search parties out, so for all we know she could be long gone by now. Or…” Dämons raised a hoof before Lightning could finish that thought out loud. “We won’t hear from Charming at least until evening,” he remarked. “Even if she made it, though, I’m not optimistic that he’ll find anything useful. She’s smart and, right now, scared; she’s got to know that Manehattan would be one of the first places we’d look for her.” “Where would she go, then?” Lightning wondered. “Home, I assume, and if she does, well… that complicates things. There’s no telling what she might do on her own now that her true potential’s been tapped. If we find her before she leaves the region, we might be able to explain all this away, fix things, make her understand. But… if she goes back to Ponyville, approaching her will be much more difficult. Following her all the way back to her hometown so soon after an event as traumatic as this would look awfully suspicious to her. So if she makes her way home, we’ll just have to watch and wait, see what she does first before making any kind of move." “Don’t worry about that right now. It is the least likely scenario, at the moment, after all,” Lightning sadly admitted, but Dämons only scowled at the thought of what she was implying. “Don’t underestimate her. She’s tougher than she looks. Until we find her, dead or alive, we can’t possibly rule anything out.” He was silent for a few moments after that, just staring off into space as he tried to accept just how unknowable Derpy’s future now was as it stood. Dämons hated it, accepting that he couldn’t possibly predict for sure what fate had in store for her, if anything at all, but he knew the alternative was driving himself insane if he tried to consider every possible variable or path she might take. He decided to switch topics before he thought himself to death pondering this over. “Is our traitor awake yet?” he asked with distaste. “I believe so, yes. He’s thoroughly secured, and we’ve placed a magic nullifier around his horn. From what I gathered from the guards, he’s not really saying much right now, mostly just groans.” Dämons grunted in recognition, though he seemed distracted by some other thought. Lightning had a hunch what it was. “If you’d like, sir, I’m sure we could arrange a proper execution within the week. No one would try to stop you, I promise you that; his guilt is apparent to all.” Dämons scowled at that suggestion. “It’s still better than what he deserves,” he declared. An uncomfortable silence fell between the two, until Dämons suddenly perked up, a vicious grin spreading across his face. “You know… the doctor is always looking for patients,” he remarked, drawing a shocked look from Lightning. “Sir, even after what he’s done, that seems a bit… excessive, don’t you think?” she asked. “Not at all. In fact, I think they deserve each other, don’t you?” A grim chuckle escaped his lips, which Lightning found almost as disconcerting as what he was proposing. Her unease did not escape Dämons’s notice, and he quickly assumed a more sober disposition. “Don’t worry, my dear, I’ll make the proper arrangements. It’s a nasty business, to be sure, and not one I’d want to ask you to do. Forgive me if I gave you the impression that I’m going to enjoy this. I’d be lying if I said I don’t want to, but… more than anything I just need to do this. It’ll give me at least some small semblance of closure after what he’s done.” Lightning nodded understandingly, and the disquietude she’d felt quickly turned into pity instead. In place of the fierce disposition he’d put on but a moment ago, Dämons now looked ashamed. He breathed a world-weary sigh, bending over his desk and laying his head on his steepled hooves. His shoulders sagged like the weight of the world was upon them, and the creases on his forehead stood out like a canyon’s contours carved deep into the earth. Lightning had the unsettling realization that this was the first time she’d ever really seen her friend and mentor as old. She knew he was getting up there in years, but there’d always been a spirited energy in his actions, present since the day she’d first met him when he was still a young and proud stallion. That energy had matured over the years into a dignified but still intensely powerful vigor, but it had remained a part of who Dämons was all the same. In this moment, though, he looked old and grey, like he was just tired, tired from a lifetime of tragedies, hardships, setbacks and misfortunes, one after another, always, always, a ceaseless cycle that never failed to repeat itself. Pained by his grieved figure, Lightning gently enfolded him in a soft embrace, clasping a hoof around his withers and resting her forehead on his. Beneath her gentle touch, Dämons abandoned any pretense of fortitude and began shaking, unbridled sobs emanating from him. He gripped her forehoof with his own and leaned into her embrace in a rare moment of vulnerability, a lifetime’s worth of grief suddenly manifesting itself all at once. “Do you know why he hurt me so?” he asked, not waiting for a response. “It’s because he killed something so beautiful. It doesn’t matter whether she’s dead or alive, everything’s changed. No matter what happens, I’ll never really know now if I could’ve won her heart for our cause. The greatest student I’ve ever trained, and I don’t even get to see her reach her full potential. None of us do.” Lightning kept rubbing his withers gently, trying to soothe his broken spirit. “I was happy, Lightning. Do you know that? I was happy. I hadn’t felt like that in years, but she filled a hole in my heart that I hadn’t thought could ever be filled again. So full of life, and promise, and hope! I couldn’t have been prouder of what she was becoming, and to have a part in producing it, to say ‘I helped make that’! Best thing I’ve done in years. “Sweet child… such a sweet child. You know, I could’ve won the world with a mare like that at my side. Just knowing the future was secure, that after I’m gone the Order would be left in good hooves, made it all worthwhile, nay, a joy, even, to undertake. It was like things were going the way they were always meant to be, back before everything went so very wrong. She might not have been my blood, but she was as close to my… my Aya… ah, it doesn’t matter now. The past has simply repeated itself in cruel fashion yet again. After the life I’ve lived, that should come as no surprise; you’d think I’d be used to fate’s cruel barbs by now, but no, it keeps finding new ways to hurt me. Remarkable, don’t you think?” Still bent over his desk, Dämons glared at one of the dozens of papers that littered its surface: a map of Equestria. “I can’t bring them back, those we’ve lost. I can’t bring any of them back, but I can honor their memory. That’s all any of us can do now. Build a new world, a better world; that’s the only monument that can pay proper respect to all we’ve lost, to all the forgotten have suffered.” He considered the map for some time more in thoughtful silence, his steely eyes fixated upon a single point as though he were trying to bore holes through it. “Yes, the world is a cruel place,” he mused. “But cruelty begets cruelty, and I think it will find that I can be very, very cruel indeed. Nothing less will tear its diseased institutions down, uproot its rotten foundations. That’s all I have left now, all I can devote every fiber of my being towards. Then – only then – can we have paradise… for all.” Darkness. On every side, all she was aware of was a vast darkness, an inky black void that seemed to permeate all the space around her. She seemed to be floating in this suffocating blackness, unable to move, see, hear, or touch anything. Her body simply occupied this empty limbo, neither truly awake nor completely dormant. All she could think of was how much she wanted to leave, to just move on to something, anything other than this nothingness. As her mind became fixated more and more on this need to leave this place, she seemed to fall deeper into the darkness. She didn’t care, in fact, she accepted it, embraced it; she was going somewhere, and anywhere else had to be better than here. The darkness could not last forever; eventually she’d reach the end of it, and it didn’t matter what came next, so long as it was no longer the darkness. “Wake up.” Like a thunderclap, a simple, mild whisper pierced the muted darkness. She continued to fall, but her descent slowed ever so slightly. “Wake up, child. Wake up.” Like the rhythmic beat of a drum, the simple command repeated itself over and over again, resounding through all the darkness. Still no more than a whisper, nonetheless it crashed upon her senses repeatedly like the ocean’s waves on the shore, and soon she came to a complete stop in her fall. Far above, her half-lidded eyes could just make out something penetrating the darkness; a faint light, no more than a drop in the infinite black, but she was transfixed by it. “Rise, Derpy Hooves. It is not yet your time to relinquish this mortal coil. You still have yet a part to play in this world.” She still couldn’t move or speak, but she was far more alert now with this voice ringing in her ears. The words poured over her like a cascading waterfall and seemed to drive back the darkness. She wanted to draw nearer to their source, whoever or whatever was producing these compelling tones, and soon, despite still having no control over her faculties, her body began ascending towards that infinitesimally small point of light where the words seemed to be resonating from, fuelled, it seemed, by her will alone. As she rose, the light grew, and her ascent seemed to quicken in its pace. Faster and faster, higher and higher, brighter and brighter, the beckoning call still coming, until eventually she could just make out a dark silhouette near the source of the light. “That’s it, child. Wake up. Your work is just beginning.” At the edge of her still hazy vision, great white feathers came into view. When she drew close enough, they began to enfold her entire body in a soft embrace, like a mother cradling her foal. “No matter how rough the road may ever seem, how hard the paths you take, do not ever give up, do not ever stop hoping. Hope will be your bulwark against the darkness, the dangers, the perils and travails you will face.” The light was almost blinding now. No more a mere speck, it practically filled the entire space at this point, drowning out the darkness and growing brighter by the second. The huge wings enfolding her led back to its source, the silhouette she’d seen before, now plainly a radiant figure with a resplendent coat as white as the full moon’s luminous glow. An immense horn, the greatest she’d ever seen, extended from the figure’s forehead, and appeared to project the blinding beams of light pushing back the darkness. In its dazzling splendor, she was unable to make out her savior’s face, but at that moment the celestial being began tilting her head forward, bending it towards the tiny mare before her. As she drew closer, two eyes as blue as a cloudless sky came into view, and a cascading crimson mane could be seen pouring over her shoulders. Beyond that, she couldn’t see much else, so great was the light’s intensity. “Heed these words, little one; they will serve you well. Now then, it’s time to wake up.” Inclining her head even further, the entity gently touched the very tip of her immeasurable horn upon the uplifted pegasus’s forehead. The light coming from it now finally engulfed her, absorbing and flowing through every fiber of her being. Any remaining shred of darkness dissolved once and for all, and suddenly a shot of energy rushed through her body like a bolt of lightning. Next thing Derpy knew, she was convulsing violently on the edge of a riverbank, coughing up water as her whole body spasmed awake. High-pitched shrieks pealed through the air all around her. “Oh horse apples, run!” “Zombie pony, ahhhhhhh!” Every inch of her body shook as she came to, inhaling as much air as she could as quickly as possible (an action rendered difficult by the armor still fastened to her body). Her coat was damp and matted with mud and grass, and even as she gained her bearings she still shivered like a lonely leaf in the wind. Still taking rapid, shallow breaths, Derpy lifted herself up from where she lay on the muddy bank and leaned on an elbow, trying to take stock of things. OK… think Derpy, think… last thing I remember I was flying before I crashed into something wet and cold (I think it’s a safe bet that’d be the river right behind me). Not sure if it was exhaustion or if I just made a bad maneuver midflight, but I guess that’s a moot point now. Must’ve passed out and washed up at some point here… wherever ‘here’ is. Taking a look at her surroundings, Derpy saw that the bank she’d washed up on was directly adjacent to a cornfield. In the distance, more rows of corn, along with lush fields growing wheat and an assortment of other crops, could be seen. Atop a hill overlooking all this surrounding vegetation stood a thatched farmhouse, bright red barn, and a granary. I can’t have gone that far, so must be pretty close to the mountains still. Not sure what the hay I saw exactly right before I came to, but I’m certain I definitely heard somepony just now. Where did they get off to, I wonder? Her ears perked up at the sound of rustling off to her right and she scanned the cornfield. Near the base of a clump of cornstalks she spotted a pair of diminutive tails and smirked. Kids, huh? Well, don’t wanna spook ‘em; I’m sure my half-dead appearance and sudden revival did that enough already. Casually as she could manage, Derpy rose to her hooves while trying to appear as unthreatening as possible (which wasn’t exactly difficult given how battered and exhausted her body felt). “Whoever’s out there, I don’t mean you any harm,” she called out. “I’m just lost and trying to find my way home. Any help you could offer at all would be greatly appreciated.” For a few moments, nothing happened, and Derpy grew worried that the children had skedaddled. A few imperceptible whispers filtered out from the mass of greenery, however, and shortly thereafter a filly and colt emerged from the cornfield. They were both earth ponies, and the taller colt appeared to be older than the filly. Cautiously they approached the strange pegasus who’d washed up near their fields, the colt making a point to stay in front of the filly. “Who are you?” the colt bluntly asked. “Nopony important, just a visitor passing through, that’s all,” Derpy assured him. She hated dodging a question like that, especially considering how sketchy that non-answer sounded, but it was really for their own good that they not know who she was. “As I’m sure you can see, I had a bit of a run-in with some misfortune, and I’m just trying to get back on my hooves right now, that’s all. I’ll be out of your mane as fast as I can, but first, I need your help.” The foals were quiet after that, neither of them saying a word and still keeping their distance. For a moment Derpy was afraid she’d blown it, until the filly piped up, poking her head out from behind the colt. “So… you’re not a zombie pony?” she asked. Derpy couldn’t help but chuckle at that. “Nah, I’m not a zombie pony,” she replied. “I’m a mess, that’s for sure, but I’m no zombie. Just a very lost pony, little one, that’s all.” The filly stepped up beside the colt and looked up at him with wide eyes. “She doesn’t seem so bad, Bean,” she remarked with an innocent expression on her face. “That’s how strangers trick ya, sis. They’re real good at pretending all sorts of things,” Bean retorted. “But Bean!” “Shut up, Sprout! Hey wait a minute, what are you – hey, where are you going?” Bean shouted after Derpy as she started walking away from the two bickering siblings. “Sorry, didn’t mean to disturb you. I’ll just be on my way if I’m just gonna be too much trouble for ya; I certainly wouldn’t want to get you into any trouble with your parents, and I’m sure they wouldn’t want you talking to any strangers.” She continued on her way, though her steps were heavy and listless. “Ah crabapples… wait!” Bean called out. Derpy stopped in her tracks, internally pleased with herself that her improvised ploy had worked. The two siblings caught up to her, drawing a little closer this time. “What do ya want to know?” “Well, where am I for starters?” “That’s easy, our farm!” Sprout proudly answered, thrilled to beat her brother to the punch. “Yes, I can see that, and it’s a mighty nice farm from the looks of things,” Derpy complimented. “Do you know how far Manehattan is?” “About half a day’s walk south from here,” Bean said. “If you stay along this stream, you’ll eventually come to the Noord; follow that south until it empties out into Manehattan Bay, and the city’s right there.” Derpy nodded appreciatively. “Great, thanks kids, that’s all I needed to know. Well, best be on my way.” “Wait! Don’t you wanna rest or anything? You can spend the night at our place if ya want.” Sprout suggested, Bean nodding in agreement. “Yeah, I’m sure mom and pop wouldn’t mind. I mean, we kinda thought you were dead when we found ya. Still kinda look like a drowned rat, actually… no offense.” Derpy shook her head. “Nah, it’s cool. And I appreciate the offer, really, but I just have to go now. In fact, if you could just not tell your parents at all about our little run-in, that’d be great. I’m not holding you to it or anything, but still, I’d be much obliged if you could keep this to yourselves.” “Sure… yeah, we can do that,” Bean promised. “We’re really good at keeping secrets!” Sprout assured her. “Thanks guys.” Derpy turned again to leave, but she’d only gone a couple steps when Bean spoke up again. “Wait, before you go, one more thing!” he called to her. Dashing over to the cornstalks where they’d been hiding earlier, Bean retrieved a small knapsack and hurried with it back over to Derpy and his sister. “Here. It’s not much, but you look like you need it more than I do.” He pulled out a small sandwich wrapped in wax paper and proffered it to her. Reluctantly Derpy accepted it, but only because she just then realized how famished she really was. Not wanting to make a scene devouring it right in front of them, she tucked it into her armor for safekeeping. “Thank you, both of you. You’ve been a great help, really, and I won’t forget it. Take care of yourselves, now.” “Where are ya going?” Sprout asked. “I told you before, I’m going home.” Derpy waved goodbye and left the two foals, following the stream just as Bean had told her. The road ahead wasn’t going to be easy, but despite how beaten, bruised, and worn her body was, Derpy felt energized, determination coursing through her veins. The future was still uncertain, but it was hers to make, hers to define. She was heartbroken and devastated that the Order wasn’t going to be a part of that future, and still reeling from the violent severing of ties she’d just experienced with them. There were still lots of good ponies there, like Aucune and Lightning, ponies who'd helped change her life immeasurably. She wished them nothing but the best after all they’d done for her, but as long as somepony like Dämons Hengst was in charge there, she’d have nothing to do with them. She’d give her gifts to the world her way, the right way, and she knew exactly where she was going to start. I’m going home… I’m finally going home.