An Extended Holiday

by Commander_Pensword


61 - Your Base is Under Attack

Extended Holiday
Ch 61: Your Base is Under Attack
Act 8


Pensword stood outside like an angry guard dog as he shoved anyone, even Cosy’s own guards away from the Prince's tent. His ears rang with the order not to be disturbed. He was going to rip Grif a brand new feather cloak when he saw him next. He stood, watching Bellacosa’s lament, his heart breaking at the sobs. After what felt like an age, the sobbing finally petered out. Thirty minutes later, he risked a peek into the tent. Cosy was sleeping curled up on the floor. Pensword walked in and knelt down, kissing Cosy on the forehead. “Sleep well, dear brother of the Crystal War,” he whispered. Then he stood up and exited the tent.

He made a beeline for one of his most trusted Thestrals. “Midnight Killer, guard this tent with your life. Nopony gets past the door, and any Gryphons do not even get to fly overhead.” He barely managed to stop himself from going into the Royal Canterlot Voice. Midnight nodded and immediately took up the post. Pensword took to the air, fully geared for battle as his vision tinted with red. “Now to kick that cowardly lion’s tail.”

He found Grif beside a pond several yards away from the camp. A boulder was balanced on his back paws and two smaller ones were tied to his wings as he attempted to do push ups vertically using only his talons. The look on his face was currently unreadable, but Pensword wasn’t so sure the matted feathers and fur around his head were totally from sweat.

The Pegasus landed with a thud, his wing extended the same way Grif had seen him do in the Third Gryphon war. Any Gryphon who had thrown themselves at his hooves found little mercy. His expression was the same way now as it had been back then.

 “I spared your life in the ruins of my home, upon the ground of which my family and friends’ blood soaked, and this is how you repay me after all these years? Sending Cosy back to my tent in tears and anger? Did you not think that he misses his own mother or that he could not understand the pain that pierces thine and mine own heart?” He narrowed his eyes. “Give me one good reason why I should not duel with thee right now.”

“I won’t stop you,” Grif said as he continued his exertions. “Perhaps you’d be doing a favor to everyone. There is money enough for Shrial to live comfortably. Perhaps she will find a far better mate than this useless scrap of feathers. I’ve dishonored you, I’ve dishonored my lord and my family, and worst of all, I did so in the name of my father. So please, do everyone a favor and end it,” Grif said.

As Grif talked, Pensword started to circle him. When Grif had finished his piece, Pensword snorted angrily. “That would be the easy way out,” he growled. “I would like to do that, but my mother would disapprove. So would Gramma.” He shook his head. “No, what you will do is something that would be needed. In one week’s time, you will have your beak bound and Prince Bellacosa will rant and rave at you while you stand there listening to his every single word.” He glared, “You, by far, have to be the dumbest Gryphon I know, but I sure as Tartarus will not anger any beings that find favor with thee.” He shivered as a small whirlwind had surrounded them.

Before he could speak, Grif saw Pensword passing to his other side, grimacing. His eyes softened in their intensity as Matthew took over. “Grif, Grif ...” The Pegasus’ voice, once filled with rage, was sad and worn. “I am sorry. I am so sorry. How did you survive so long? I thought I got this all straightened out and now … I feel like my mind is breaking.”

“I don’t deserve an apology,” Grif said as he kept going, the pure physical effort of each movement straining every muscle in his body to the max.

“Yes, but I crossed a line there. I was just--when Cosy first came back, I thought that somehow the Gryphons had converted you to some dark side or something.” He put a hoof to his forehead and shook it back and forth. “Why did I even come? I am paranoid. I chased two females out of the camp that I did not recognize. I am a mess, as if at any moment, Black Tips will appear to kill me.”

“The gryphons didn’t need to convert me,” Grif said with another strenuous push. “I’m no better than they are. I never was. I thought I had some moral high ground, but in the end I’m as despicable under the skin as the rest of them.”

“No!” Matthew snapped as he flew into Grif’s face. “You are not despicable, you are not worthless, and you are not an idiot, Miss--” he trailed off. “You are not an idiot, Grif. You are smart and kind. Yes, you are flawed, but we all are. You might have moral high ground, but you need to remember just who is in the room. When Cosy comes around, talk to him. I will not follow through with the threats Pensword made, but you still need to stand in front of him. You were chosen to carry those for a reason,” he said, using a wing to point to the Avatar blades. “That has to mean something. They wouldn’t have picked you if you are the monster you keep thinking you are. I may not know much about Gryphons, but I know they want a balanced being and you are balanced.” He turned to look at the moon reflecting on the surface of the valley’s lake. “We are just from a different time period when things were done differently. Hell, I speak rougher at times than I did in the past.” He shivered, fluffing his wings.

“You didn’t see those eyes,” Grif said. “The fear, the hatred ... the disappointment. If I did that to him, what about my kids? What right do I have to be their father if I’m to be a monster?”

“Grif, I saw the eyes,” Matthew said, his voice cracking. “They looked like the ones I saw when I looked into the mirror before marching to Mountainside Falls.” He stared at the lakeshore, absently kicking a stone into the water. “But you are a father, and I know the only monster you will be is to those that mistreat them. I know you will not hurt them because you will know and learn, just as I will learn to be a better father through my experiences with Moon River.” He looked up as his ears flicked.

“We learn as we go, sadly; only going on what we know from our parents treating us, raising us, and if needed, doing what our parents did not do.” He suddenly cut off, his body growing tense as he snapped his head to the left. He dropped his voice to a whisper as he spoke draconic. “Whirlwind just said we have Black Tips surrounding us. Get rid of those stones.” He snapped his wings open as three dark shapes rose over the moon and dove at them. “Why is it that we can never have a heart to heart without a fight?” he asked the wind in frustration as he let Pensword bleed back into his consciousness.

He swirled on the ground, using the blades like an armor to deflect a javelin. At the same time he jumped onto his front hooves, bucking and shattering the beak of one of the diving Gryphons. Blood spurted like a fountain as the assassin sailed up over the water before plummeting into the depths. Pensword spun like a whirling dervish as he sliced neatly through their assailants’ garments, only to hear the fatal clang of steel on steel. Pensword swore. “They learned. They have armor.” He turned around and charged another one. Grif stood up, but did nothing as he held his blades, meaning the black tips were focused more on Pensword, on the Demon. ‘Faust be praised,’ Pensword thought. 

The Black Tips stopped suddenly as the moonlight glinted on the ancient blades and for a moment, time seemed to stop as they processed exactly what those swords meant. Taking advantage of the lull, Pensword counted at least seven now. “Grif, you ornery raven, DO SOMETHING! I do not want to be bird food!” He said as he locked blades with two assailants simultaneously, his wings straining against the pressure while a third moved to flank him from behind, skillfully avoiding the Pegasus’ bucks. Still, the left one got a little too sure and found his neck feeling the wing blade’s tip as a spurt of blood flew into the night while he collapsed.

At that, something sparked inside Grif’s mind. The wind around him picked up, growing into a gale in moments before he lifted his head and crowed to the heavens “NEVER MORE!” As he called, a blast of air came from the south, knocking two gryphons from their feet while a third moved to brace himself. “Never more!” Grif crooned as he appeared in front of the gryphon and ran him through. “I will be crass--” in a moment he’d moved to another “--nevermore! I will be cowardly--” he removed her head in a single blow. In an instant, he was behind the two that were rising to their feet, running either through. “--nevermore! Nevermore will I be cruel or short sighted. Let the wind stand as witness when I speak these words. They are my oath and they will be your doom.” He thrust the blades further right past the barb, pulling either gryphon into him. “Never more,” he said venomously as he twisted the blades and pulled back out.

Grif stood before Pensword, a grim specter as his eyes swirled like a typhoon of different shades of blue. The wind whipped around him like an angry viper as blood dripped from the blades.

“Back to the camp. They could be after the others!” Pensword ordered. Taking to the air, his cloak fluttered to the ground in his haste, revealing the armor and emblems he had planned to use to scare Gryphons. He could hear the bells ringing and his mind slipped back to his memories. “To arms! TO ARMS!” He roared, his eyes looking over the camp as he watched the battle raging. He was grateful to see none of his allies dead. He quickly spotted a group trying to get to the back of Cosy’s tent. Dropping like a falcon, he blazed, only to be knocked aside by a Black Tip that had been hiding in a cloud above him. The two began a dog-fight, clawing, biting, and kicking as they tumbled from the sky. The fight came to an abrupt halt with a sickening crunch and the sound of rattling steel. The pair had crashed. Pensword had landed on top of the Black Tip, breaking its back.

Before Pensword could reach the tent, the wind blasted and the Black Tips that were closing in fell to pieces before his eyes. Grif stood in their center, his cloak billowing in the magical breeze that surrounded him. A Black Tip that had snuck up behind Pensword stood dumbstruck at the ease with which his comrades had been dispatched. Pensword quickly decapitated the Gryphon. Before they could move, a horn was blown in three different areas. From every corner, the Farflyers came flying and charging, clashing with the enemy as Garrus tore through the cowards with a bloody mace. A magnificent blue star sapphire mounted to his belt glowed in the flames. The Black Tips were retreating. Pensword quickly moved to the tent, pausing at the flap. “Cosy? Can I now return the money to you?” He waited three seconds and entered the tent. Cosy was dressed in his armor, trembling as he held a sword held aloft in his magic.

Watching the enemy flee, Grif smiled, his body overloading as his energy left him. He knew what was coming. “Ne...ver….. more.” The last word slurred from his beak as he collapsed to the ground.

Pensword exited with Cosy at his side, both seeing Grif out cold on the ground. He sighed. “Cosy, Grif just saved your life,” he said, unsure of how the young prince would react. A few seconds of silence later, he spoke again. “Cosy, let me give you an old warrior’s advice, and this is only advice. You can or cannot follow it; the choice is yours. Do not hold your grudges long. It will be a poison in your life if you do.”

Cosy took in the battle, looking over the carnage and the death as he struggled not to relive the nightmare of the Crystal Empire of old. And there, lying in the middle of it all, bare and bedraggled, lay Grif, the one who had willingly risked his life to save Equestria, the Crystal Empire, and the very world itself with his companions. Was he a meanie? Yes. Did he hurt his feelings? Yes. But what was he going to do about it?

“... I’m going to need some time, Pensword,” Cosy said as stared at Grif. Pensword merely nodded in turn.

Kel’leam walked over to Grif’s unconscious form and, with little effort, picked his leader up and placed him on his back. It took a moment for the crowd to realize Grif wasn’t merely floating in mid-air, but when the large Gryphon’s presence was realized, the armed Gryphons, Farflyers and Bladefeathers alike, formed an aisle, allowing him to carry Grif away from the camp.

Pensword moved, only to find his path blocked. A wall of Gryphons had formed up behind the procession, each eying the Pegasus with a calculating eye. Pensword recognized the movement and stepped back to stand next to Cosy, his eyes roving over the forces that swarmed over the area. He felt tense with all the Gryphons around him.

“We think it will be best if Grif were taken to a more secure location to recover,” Chesire said drolly. “We’re very sorry that the times he’s placed his life on the line for you have not proven his loyalty to you, nor as it seems, gained him your own.” She looked on.

Pensword nodded his head. “I deserve that for how I acted in anger and not loyalty,” he answered his voice diplomatic, but bold. “I was hurt, and acted in a way that I realize now is not befitting the actions of a Commander, nor a friend. If you need me, I shall be in my tent under my own arrest for jeopardizing the mission.”

“Do as you will. We shall attend to our leader.” With that, the small Gryphoness left to follow the rest of the forces.

Pensword nodded, turned around, then paused. A line of Farflyer guards stood before him, blocking his path. He sighed. “Are you here to demand my blood or something? What are you looking at?” He growled, then waited for the guards to address him.

“We are here to be stationed, patrol the area, and make sure any further attacks do not happen.”

Pensword looked at the them, turned his head, and shouted. “Midnight Killer!” A moment later the Thestral in question, wearing his full black armor with bronze medallion, strode into the moonlight. “Midnight Killer is in command for the rest of the night. Follow his orders. I am retiring to my tent so I can clear my head. Hopefully the light of the two sisters will help clear this up in the morning.” With that said, Pensword slowly walked away. He smiled as the Thestral began placing orders and moving the troops, integrating them with ease into relief efforts. Midnight Killer was handling tonight’s events far better than he was, that’s for sure. It seemed that he and the other Dream Clans were acting better around the Gryphons. He sighed as he clopped into his tent. Settling down, his ears perked as he heard two guards take up post by the entrance. A moment later he heard a commotion, but he didn’t care. Not till Cosy walked in holding his little stuffed animal ewe. He looked at Pensword.

“I had a nightmare, and you’re the only one I can trust right now since Grif is … you know.” Pensword sighed and opened an unarmed wing. Cosy trotted in and nestled in next to him. He sobbed into his toy as he trembled next to Pensword’s flanks. Pensword bowed his head, praying his friend would live, not for his sake, but for Cosy’s.


“... Are you sure this is going to work?” Thalia asked as she examined the strange arrowhead from the table in the dank basement. The gates had been shut and sealed and the changelings shifted at the edge of the forest, their black and green coloration blending perfectly with the trees of the Everfree. They had tried multiple aerial attacks until the Gryphons had taken down a good threescore of them with their archery skills. The ponies and Bladefeathers had even made a contest of it. “I mean, I suppose it fits for the crystal ponies and all, but isn’t steel a little more effective?” A rumble of agreement sounded around the room as Griselle, Ganth, Gilda, Thunder Colt, Glamour Horn, and Night Prism all looked on the shafts. These were the best and the brightest from both Bladefeathers and Gryphon Slayers.

Shawn laughed at the question. “This isn’t normal crystal. In fact, only two individuals can make this material: myself and Taze.”

“This is like the crystal he made to break Twilight’s spell, isn’t it?”

Shawn nodded. “Here is what I want you to do. I put a target in the far corner of this room. Take a shot at it with a normal arrow, then one of these,” he gestured the crystal tipped arrows.

Griselle took an ordinary arrow and pulled it back on her bow until the head of the arrow rested in the notch. She took aim and fired, hitting the dummy in the neck. She then repeated the action with one of the crystal tipped arrows, striking the dummy in the chest at the base of the neck.

At the point of impact, a small flash of light burst out for all of half a second. When it cleared, the dummy’s head had fallen to the ground and one of its arms followed. Both were partially destroyed, disintegrated in a way. Griselle stood there, still in firing position, the only change being her beak hanging open in shock.

“I’m trusting you all with these arrows and bolts. Grif and Pensword noted I could trust you all enough for this.” Shawn squinted his eyes slightly. “Do not let my trust be misplaced.”

“We shall not fail thee,” The three Gryphon Slayers responded in a crisp military manner.

The Gryphons nodded grimly.

Shawn glanced back at the table in the room. “As you can see, I also made a few other things. One isn’t in this room, though.” He gestured to the odd looking crossbows. “These crossbows have been modified to hold around eight bolts before you need to reload them. To reload them you just need to push bolts through the top where they are to be loaded normally. With enough force, they will sink in and allow you to load another, or draw the cord into place to fire with it pulling the bolts in reserve up.”

“Useful. We should be able to adapt to these quickly enough.” Thalia took one of the bolts, primed it, and fired at the lower part of the dummy without pause as she slammed the next bolt down like a dealer with a deck of cards, firing subsequently.

“The last physical upgrade that I have here for you are these.” He held his hand out towards the yellow gems. A bright red gem lay through the center with a pin holding a shard of it in place. “Since I never bothered to check, how advanced are grenades in Equestria?”

“You mean the ceramic orbs filled with blasting powder?” Ganth asked.

“Yeah, but instead I’ve done something different. Know how the arrows just cleared the dummy’s body? Same thing will happen with these.” Shawn grinned. “If you know how to use those types of grenades, think along the lines of you pull this pin, and then the countdown begins.”

“How long do we have before detonation?”

“Six seconds.”

Ganth nodded. “Sounds reasonable. What about blast radius?”

“Considering the size of this grenade compared to the tip of those arrows…” He hummed to himself for a moment. “Roughly eight times larger, on a bad day.”

“That’s all we need to know then. What’s the one that isn’t here?” Thalia asked.

“I’ve upgraded the ballistas. They can shoot farther and hit harder, same amount of time to reload.”

“Nice,” Night Prism purred. “Animal Control will love to know that.”

“Good, good. Alright, so now I’ve established the loadout to you all, this is your equipment. When this is over, if you still have some left over you are to return them to me to be locked away,” Shawn told the group. “Do not keep any extra on you.”

“Understood.” The three Gryphon Slayers responded at once.

“Yes, sir,” Thalia saluted.

Shawn raised his brow at the rest of the gryphons.

“Of course,” Ganth said

“That kinda power is far too dangerous to let it lay around,” Giselle agreed.

“Meh, it’s what Grif would want,” Gilda said.

“I won’t abuse this,” kalima said, hefting the grenade. “But you should already know this”

“Alright, to seal the deal though, let me tell you the best part about them.” Shawn gave a dark grin. “I have access to remotely detonate them, so if you hold out…” He looked grimly at them. “I know none of you personally. The only reason I trust you all with this equipment is because of Grif and Pensword. You want to really earn some equipment like this from me, you earn my trust and we’ll get to know each other.”

The ponies and gryphons both nodded, their eyes wide. None would be crossing Shawn if they valued their lives.

“I’ll end on a higher note. All of you here are higher on the list compared to everyone else. Now, let’s go. I want Chrysalis’ changelings out of the Everfree and back to their hives in the Badlands!”

“Goorah!” The Gryphon Slayers responded.

“Gryphons! Who’s like us?” Thalia shouted.

“Damn few, and they're all dead!” the gryphons in the room responded. Grabbing their weapons, they marched.

After all of the group left Shawn hummed to himself in thought. “Should I have warned them about… Nah, I’m sure they’ll figure it out.”


“So this is wonderful,” Chesire said to Kel’leam as she looked on at Grif’s unconscious form. The Gryphons had formed a perimeter around the lake, setting up a makeshift bed where their leader was currently recovering. “Not in the empire for a week and already we got possible hostiles from all sides.”

“We can’t afford hostilities.” Kel’leam sighed. Chesire was the only person who always seemed able to tell he was there. “With support, the twenty of us would be enough, but now our support may end up being our enemy.”

“Worse yet, we can’t tell what's wrong with him.” Chesire sighed. “How are we supposed to help him if we can’t even tell why he’s down?”

“We could send for a healer. We at least have the gold to pay,” kel’leam said.

“And where would we find a healer who we could trust not to kill him as soon as they knew who he was?” Cheshire asked.

“The Farflyers?”

“And how would he react to that when he wakes up?”

“You have a better idea?”

One of the lesser members of their party entered the tent. “Excuse me, Ma’am, Sir.”

“Yes?” Cheshire asked.

“A delegation’s arrived from the compound. There’s a gryphoness leading the party who says she wants to see Grif.”

“Send her over.” Cheshire nodded before raising a talon. “Just the gryphoness though. I don’t want to get overrun by some idiots trying to get an easy kill.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the sentry said as he departed.

“Is that altogether wise, Cheshire?” Kel’leam asked.

“It’s one person. If we can’t handle one, should we even be here?” she asked.

“... Point taken.”

The pair sat waiting and watching anxiously over their leader as he breathed shallowly, his blades at his side. A few minutes later, the flap parted to reveal a snow white gryphon with the head of a snowy owl and the body of a white lioness. Two large satchels were strapped to either side as she stepped in.

“My name is Avalon. I’ve been sent by Lord Garrus to help tend Grif’s wounds. How is he?”

“He is unconscious and he has been so for hours,” Cheshire said. “We are warriors, not healers, so we aren't able to fully tell the extent of what's wrong.”

“That’s what I’m here for. Do I have permission to approach?”

“Can we trust you?” she asked.

“I am unarmed,” she said simply, shrugging. “If it makes you feel better, you can stand behind me with a dagger drawn, just in case.”

Chesire glared at her for a long moment, her eyes seeming to bore into the gryphoness’ soul with high amounts of discrimination. Finally, she relented. “You’re being watched. You make any suspicious moves and they’ll be your last, are we clear?”

“Of course.” Avalon stepped forward, pulling the straps off her body even as she moved to sit by the makeshift bed. “These are medical books and supplies, so please don’t get too excited when I open them.” Cheshire grunted. Beginning with the initial examination, Avalon checked the bandages, removing them only briefly before expertly retying them after adding a few crushed herbs. “My compliments to your field medics. They knew what they were doing to repair these wounds, but they don’t appear to be the main cause of Grif’s current state. They’re far too minor to inconvenience a seasoned warrior like him.”

“That’s why we’re concerned,” kel’leam confirmed. “Grif has taken worse and walked away, he even fought a--” kel’leams eyes caught sight of the large serrated tooth on a cord around her neck.

“Is something the matter, sir …?”

“Kel’leam,” he said with a bow of his head. “Where did you get that?” he pointed to the tooth with his spear.

She took the tooth and gently held it in her talons. “It was a gift from a friend I met recently,” she said, smiling. “He was fairly casual about it, so I don’t know if he really earned it or simply bought it by the sea. Either way, I chose to keep it though.” Avalon frowned as she gazed on Grif again. “There doesn’t seem to be anything physically wrong with him.” She hummed to herself, seeing nothing as she looked to the sleeping Gryphon. “... There is another method I can use to seek a diagnosis …”

“Then use it,” Cheshire said. “If there is a cost, we will pay it.”

“Do I have your word on that?” Avalon asked, her gaze as intense if not more so than Cheshire’s had been with her.

“Name something and I will pledge on it,” she said.

“And you, Kel’eam, will you also swear to this?”

“Grif gave us a purpose again. He gave us the means to keep our cubs fed and our elderly safe. I’d give my soul to save him,” Kel’leam told her.

“Very well. My price is two fold. First, I want your word that neither of you will touch me, interfere, nor harm me in any way whilst I go through this process. Should you do so, I don’t know what the results will be. My second price is this:  Silence. You are to swear to me on your word of honor and by the four winds that you will never speak of my methods to anyone save I give you leave. Do we have a deal?”

“We so swear,” they said in unison.

Avalon smiled. “Your strength of character and love is a great comfort indeed,” she said as she reached into the bag and pulled out a medical reference guide. With practiced skill, she slit the cover, carefully peeling it back to reveal a much older and rattier cover engraved with runes and Old Gryphic. She reached in again and carefully opened a secret false bottom. From the compartment, she lifted a chain on which hung what appeared to be a medallion of some kind. The sight of the medallion elicited a gasp from cheshire, but the gryphoness remained silent.

Avalon carefully untied the necklace she wore, setting it down on the ground next to her saddle bags as she donned the amulet. Kal’leam and Cheshire both eyed it as the white feather in its core glowed, illuminating the small space in the tent. The black onyx casing housing the quartz and its core had been carefully crafted and polished, engraved with ancient runes from times long past, carved and set from the purest jade.

She picked up the book and placed it on the makeshift table they had made from an old stump, carefully flicking through the pages. Looking at a couple of diagrams showing the gryphon anatomy and a series of lines that coursed from key points, she clutched the medallion in her talons, closed her eyes and uttered a brief prayer to the four winds. Her focus glowed brighter as she finished the benediction and raised it to her eye, carefully examining his body as she ran up and down. After a time, she let the focus drop. The glow faded to nothing as she slumped to the ground, pulling the book to review the diagrams. After checking and re-checking, she slumped her shoulders and let loose a heavy sigh.

“What’s wrong?” Kel’leam asked.

“... I don’t know how he’s even functioning right now,” she said, her voice shaken. “If what my studies show is correct, his magic field has been broken. But … it’s almost like something healed it. I noticed an anomaly that looked almost like, well, I suppose you’d call it a magical scarring of sorts, but that’s not possible.” She shook her head.

“Will he live?” Cheshire asked.

“The injury isn’t recent. There’s no real threat that I could detect from it. What concerns me is the flow of his magic through his body. It’s practically stopped; I barely noticed a trickle. I had to change my perspective a few times to even see it properly. I don’t know if it’s some form of interference or if I’m simply not strong enough in the art. However, if my theory is correct, then he’s suffering classic symptoms of overexertion. The only difference here is that his are of a magical nature, most likely from the battle with the Black Tips.

“Will he recover?” Kal’leam asked, his look anxious.

Avalon shook her head. “It’s too soon to say. Magical exertion of this kind has been known to leave creatures in a comatose state ranging anywhere from a few days to the rest of their lives.”

“Surely there’s something you can do?”

“I can only try one other thing, Sir Kal’leam. It won’t wake him, but it might help to stabilize him.”

Then try.”

“First things first.” Avalon took a pen and parchment from her sack and dipped it in an inkwell she’d brought with her. Hastily, she scrawled out a note, explaining she would need to remain with Grif to ensure his recovery and beg her master’s indulgence in this thing, for she could not in good conscience leave the patient until he became stable. With that said, she signed it, plucked out one of her feathers, and folded it inside the note. “Give this to my escort to take back to the compound. My lord will understand, as will my lady.”

“Very well.” Kel’leam took the note and left, leaving only Cheshire and Avalon with his fallen leader.

“Cheshire, I have one last favor to ask. It’s very important.”

“Yes?” she asked.

“What I’m about to do may be considered somewhat dangerous to me. I may overexert myself and fall unconscious. In the event that that happens, I must ask you to take my book and hide it where no one can see it. If it will be safe here in the tent, then well. But please, don’t let anyone see it. The secrets of that book in the wrong hands could spell the end of order in the Empire.”

“I will do as you ask.”

“Thank you,” Avalon said as she handed the book and its false cover to Cheshire. “Guard it with your life.” When Cheshire had taken it, Avalon turned to Grif. Clutching her focus, she began her spell. “From blood to blood and life to life, we soar across the winds to join our ancestors. They sing the song of the winds and we sing with them. Share your song with me, even as I share mine with you, that we may be one.” Her talisman flared like a star as she approached Grif’s prone body.

“Your song is fading, but mine is strong. Hear my voice and take my strength. I give you everything.” Avalon touched her breast with her free hand, then drew it over to Grif’s chest where she gently laid it. The light was radiant and blinding as a supernova within the tent walls. A cloud of dust rose out from beneath the flaps as she collapsed on the bed. Her breathing was shallow and ragged. Her left hand shook as she clutched the focus. Then, all too quickly, it slipped from her fingers. She watched it fall, its quartz core glinting as it slowly descended. She felt her chain go taut, then the steady rhythm of Grif’s chest rising and falling. Weakly, she turned her head and smiled as she saw his face. What once had been ragged and pained was now calm and peaceful. She had done it. She had done it. So the thought repeated over and over as the darkness took her.

Cheshire calmly slid a blanket over Avalon where she had passed out. She daren’t try to move her lest some aspect of the magic attempted be broken. Instead, she took the book as instructed and left to calm the troops. She’d have to do some fancy dancing to get them to swallow this one, but then again, wasn’t that part of the fun? She grinned, her whiskers twitching with anticipation.


“You sent for me?” Lunar Fang asked as she trotted into the office.

Hammer Strike looked up from his desk. “Yes, yes. I need you to send these messages through Pensword’s dragon lantern.”

“Where to?”

“To Luna and Twilight.”

“Consider it done,” Lunar said as she took the letters. “Was there anything else you needed while I’m here?”

“Yes. If Twilight ignores my message and pops up here and you see her, direct her to me so I can follow through with the warning I gave her. Basically, I’m telling her to stay away from here.”

“I’ll make sure to do that,” she said as she saluted. “I’ll be back with the troops on the parapets if you need me.” She frowned. “By the way, where’s Conor? You’re not letting him stay in the battle field, are you?”

“I’m having him stay close to the interior guard. As long as the changelings don’t get inside the castle, he won’t have to worry about a thing, but when they sneak by, I have a feeling they’ll find him shortly afterwards.”

“Do you want a guard placed around him?”

“He already had two tailing him.”

Lunar Fang nodded in approval. “I’ll leave you to it then,” she said as she left to fulfill her assignment.


“Is this necessary?” Trixie asked nervously, looking to her strapped down hooves and the large blinking device balanced on top of her head. “Or safe?”

“Of course it’s necessary, Trixie. We’ve been testing your range and power, which appears to have significantly expanded from what it used to be in your first visit to Ponyville. As for safety, I put Pinkie Pie on this machine before and she didn’t have any problems. I’m sure you’ll be just as fine.”

“Trixie is greatly reassured,” Trixie deadpanned.

“That’s great. Now hold still and try concentrating your magic in your horn. This machine should be able to tell us just how far your potential goes now and let us know if there’s a risk of any dark magic seeping through. Just make sure to stop when I tell you to, okay? I already had one explosion down here, and I really don’t need another.”

Trixie did as she was bidden, her horn at first covering with a light blue aura before dark grey streaks began swirling into it. Twilight immediately levitated a quill and scroll and began writing furiously. “June Tenth, Year 2 ARL. Subject name is Trixie. Due to mysterious exposure to high concentrations of dark magic, her physical appearance has been altered, along with her own magical field. How she survived such exposure is something that will be delved into in later experimentation. Initial findings indicate subject has experienced at least 100 percent increase in magical power and potential. However, this is a conservative estimate. … Sorry, Trixie. No offense meant.”

“None taken,” Trixie responded. “So Trixie is stronger?”

“Actually, yes. When facing other unicorns, you’d likely be in the higher tiers now when it comes to raw potential,” Twilight said absently as she read the machine’s output. “... Interesting. Subject seems to have what appears to be a completely unique form of magic. It’s not nearly so dark as Sombra, but it’s not pure Unicorn magic either. For the sake of having a name to call this, I think we’ll dub this new magic ‘The Grey Arte.’” She checked the readings once more. “Trixie, how much power are you using right now?”

“Trixie is merely fueling her horn like you asked. She is putting in enough effort to make her aura visible, but that is all.”

“That’s all?” Twilight gawked as she checked the charts. “But that means--” she dashed over to her nearby chalkboard. “Carry the one, minus the three, X to the Y ... “ her mouth dropped. “Trixie … I don’t know how to say this, but your magic may actually be stronger than mine was when I was a unicorn, back when I first came to Ponyville.”

“But Trixie was tested no where near that high,” Trixie noted, her horn flickering out as he concentration broke. Her voice carried a tone of serious shock.

“Well, it does now, which means we may have a bit of a problem. You’re going to need to learn to control that magic before it starts causing trouble.” Twilight’s brows furrowed as she tapped a pondering hoof over her chin.

Suddenly the bell on the library’s door jingled as the clatter of little hooves echoed on the wooden floor above. “Twilight? Are you here?” Applebloom called. “I need to ask ya something,” she said in her family’s familiar country twang. Twilight sighed, looking apologetically at Trixie.

“Sorry, this should only take a few minutes. Think you can wait for me till then?”

“Can Trixie be unhooked from the machine? She needs to stretch her legs,” Trixie asked.

“Sure. The initial testing is finished anyways and before I test your full range I’ll need to send for some more materials to modify my equipment. Just don’t touch anything alright? This equipment’s really delicate.” With that said, Twilight made her way up the stairs and out of sight.

Sighing, Trixie ignited her horn, preparing for the strain of forcing the clasps open only to accidentally rip the metal off the chair. She stared at the bits for a moment in shock. “... What happened to Trixie?”

All of a sudden a tingling sensation rushed over her body as bits of smoke and ash flowed down the stairs and coalesced in front of her, compacting in a blue aura before dropping onto the floor.

“What’s this?” Trixie spoke aloud to herself as she levitated the scroll up towards her and broke the seal. Slowly and carefully, she opened the scroll and started reading.

‘Dear Twilight,

        Taking into account the chance that you’ll see something happening in the Everfree, I’m just going to tell you what’s going on. We’re dealing with changelings and I want you to stay out of this. I want none of the Elements of Harmony involved in this battle or I swear I’ll ensure that you get weapons training from me, just like how I trained Celestia. You can’t say you wouldn’t be able to do it; you’re an alicorn now. You can and will if you jump into this battle.

                ~Hammer Strike’

“New Unity is under attack?” Trixie gasped. “But they could be injured or hurt. The changelings could be bearing down on them now and if they die now, how will Trixie show them that Trixie is the repentant and sorrowful Trixie?” She looked at the note again. “But wait ... this note says Twilight Sparkle and the Elements are not to go to New Unity’s aid. It says nothing about anypony else. Surly Lord Hammer Strike would welcome the aid of another Unicorn. But how would--?” Trixie’s eyes were drawn to Twilight’s notes. “Hmm… Trixie was almost able to teleport before. If Twilight Sparkle’s math is right, Trixie could easily teleport miles now without danger. New Unity is close by. Yes, yes, this could work. Trixie can go. Trixie can help! Trixie can prove she is the redeemable and good natured Trixie!”

Trixie closed her eyes and pictured the gates of new unity. Her horn flared as she summoned the mana. She calculated her place in the aether and the place she needed to be and activated the spell. A sphere of blue fire encompassed her form and vanished, leaving behind a deep grey smoke which dissipated shortly after.

“Sorry about that, Trixie, now where … were … we?” Twilight looked around the room, confused until she found the scroll on the floor beneath one of her work tables. The restraints had been burst from their anchors and a large scorch mark stained the floor a sooty black in its center. “What happened here?” she questioned as she levitated the scroll to her. Ten seconds later, her scream shook the library to its roots as it echoed through Ponyville.


Grif stirred weakly in his sleep as his eyes opened to the warm air of the day. He inhaled and then found himself coughing as the air tickled the sandpaper of his throat. “Water,” he rasped. A cup was carefully pushed to his beak and he smiled at the glowing white feathers on its owner’s arm.

“If you’re some sort of spirit sent by the winds, can you tell me what I did to be seen to the afterlife by someone so beautiful?” he asked, coughing a bit as the words came out.

A melodious laugh filled the air, light and gentle as the morning mist. “The winds yet have more work for you to do, Grif. They’ve not seen fit to take you yet. Slowly, slowly,” she cautioned as Grif grabbed the cup and started to throw it back. The gryphoness leaned in, her snow owl features becoming clear and distinct as Grif blinked his eyes. Her grip was surprisingly strong as she fought to resist him and lessen the flow down his beak. “You’ll drown yourself if you drink too fast,” Avalon said, chuckling. “And we’ve plenty more where that came from.”

“Why?” he asked after finally finishing the water. “Why are you helping me?”

“Because it was the right thing to do. And those cowardly dogs had no right to attack in our lands. We don’t approve of Black Tips,” she said, her eyes narrowing.

“How long was I out?” he asked. Then he noticed the bags under her eyes and the slump in her shoulders. “How long have you been up?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Somewhere around twelve hours, perhaps,” she said, waving casually. As for how long you’ve been out, it’s been just a little over a day and a half since your collapse.”

“Sit down,” Grif ordered.

Avalon slowly shook her head and smiled. “It can wait until you’re on your feet again. Can you sit up?” she asked as she reached for a bowl and pulled it to her, lifting the spoon out as it trailed a dark brown liquid.

Grif shakily moved himself into the sitting position. “Exausting yourself is only going to keep me from resting, and then we’ll both be in trouble. Sit down.”

“Avalon sighed. “If you insist.” She padded up to Grif’s bed before taking a seat. Then she brought the spoon to his beak. “Now open and eat. We’ll see about getting you solid food after you get a little more energy.” The beef broth was surprisingly flavorful with a variety of spices and the strong taste of basil leaf mixed with the earthy and bitter flavor of healing herbs.

“Could you bring me some paper and a pen from my bag? Also, you’ll find a small silver box with a hinge near the top. Bring that too.”

Avalon did so, placing the bowl carefully on the ground as she slowly brought herself up to her paws again. Then she walked over to the other side of Grif’s bed where his satchel lay. The pen and paper was easy to locate, and the box was bulky enough that it stood out beneath the books it was wedged between. A clay bottle with a thin neck stood next to it, held snugly in place by the careful packing. As she moved to take the box, she paused as her eyes ran over the book that lay next to it. It was surprisingly small and the cover was bound of a thin, sturdy material not unlike cardboard. It bore a painting of a rocky beach with two large creatures locked in combat. One resembled a badger dressed in a green cloak and wielding a large great sword. The other was most obviously a wild cat dressed in bronze armor with a red cape and a spiked helm. It held a trident in which the blade of the badger’s sword was locked, but what really drew the gryphoness’ attention were the letters on the cover. Letters she had seen before in another book. Letters she had loved since childhood.

“Where did you get this?” she asked as she carried the book, balancing the other items on its cover.

“That?” Grif looked at the book, then at her. “That is a very hard explanation. How well can you keep a secret?” he asked her.

“Well enough,” she said, her face drawn as a shadow passed over it. She reached for the bowl after placing the items on Grif’s bed and began to ladle the broth again.

“Do you believe in other worlds?” Grif asked her as he swallowed another spoonful.

Avalon was silent for a long time. “I’m not sure how to answer that, honestly, but I’m not entirely closed to the idea.”

“This will be hard to believe,” Grif said before spilling into his story. Much as he had with Shrial, he told her everything, every detail he knew, and left nothing out. He had to stop several times for water and more broth, but finally he stopped at the current situations and faced her. “And that's how we got here.” He waited for her reaction.

“That is … quite the tale,” Avalon said as she took it all in. “Honestly, I don’t know if I can believe it all. What you said about a magical field does make sense in hindsight,” she said as she placed a claw to her beak. “But if what you tell me is true, and you really can read these characters, I have a book I’d like you to translate.”

“And what happens when you find the next book?” Grif asked, laughing “I could give you a fish, or I could teach you to fish. The choice is yours.”

“Why not both?” she smirked.

“Cause translating a book would take a lot of time and paper.” Grif laughed, then a curious look came over him. “Can you, by any chance, read Equic?”

“Of course. You do realize you’re asking a girl who’s loved reading since she was a cub, right?”

Grif signaled for her to bring his bag over again. She did so, hauling the whole thing up and landing it between his legs. Grif dug into it. “When we arrived, my friends and I couldn’t speak a lick of Equish, nor could we read or write it, so Celestia and Luna created something to help us,” he said, pulling out an old and beaten amulet. “Place this on your neck and the words will become Equish,” Grif said, pulling back as she reached for it. “Ah ah, dearie, all magic comes with a price,” he said, waving a claw.

Avalon’s face grew flat, her voice chilled. “And what are your terms?”

“You can only use this when you’re alone at night and you’ll still come here to learn from me until you no longer require this amulet. That’s my price.”

“No other catch?” she asked, folding her arms over her chest.

“I fought for the rights of females as much as ponies during the Third Gryphon War. I wouldn’t stoop so low,” he said, offering the amulet to her. The look in his eyes revealed a suspicion of her fear.

“... Very well, I believe these are reasonable terms. And you certainly will have to remain for at least a week before your recovery is complete, I think. We can start them once you’re back on your feet again. For now, you should probably rest. I have to let Cheshire know that you’re awake.” She smiled as she patted his sweat-matted crest. “I’ll be back soon, Grif,” she said as she left the tent.

“Et je vais être en attente,” Grif said as the tent flap fell behind her.


Leader Changeling Infiltrator snuck over the wall as some of his fellow Changelings drew the ponies away from his place along the parapet. He grinned to himself as he felt the link to Queen Chrysalis. “My Queen, I am inside the walls heading to the main building. A few more feet and I will be able to integrate myself as a pony. I will take the guise of an Orange Pegasus:  Cutie Mark, a Bow and Arrow. What are my objectives?”

“Gain any intelligence you can regarding the structure. Find and secure hostages, especially foals,” Chrysalis relayed.

“Your command is my wish,” the infiltrator responded over their link. “I shall move from top to bottom. If I should find any of those that brought shame to our hive, what should I do?” The question was in the air as he took to the air flying towards one of the Pegasus entrances in the top of the tower.

The Infiltrator slowly landed and entered the room. Feeling more comfortable in the hallways, he kept his ears perked as he looked around the place, ever wary of the enemy. Most of the castle floor seemed uninhabited. That is, until he reached the only double doors he had seen on the floor. His ears perked and he smiled nefariously as he heard the sound of a playful giggle. “My Queen I have found what seems to be where they have made their nest. I shall see how many foals I can capture. I am going silent.” He stepped up to the door and knocked. “Hello? I’m here to help guard the foals.” Silence greeted him and he grinned as he opened the door and stepped into the room.

Ten minutes later, a shrill scream greeted three rushing ponies as Vital Spark, Lunar Fang, and Black Rook charged for the nursery.

“Out of my way!” Lunar Fang shouted as she bore down on the door before smashing it with a massive buck. The wood splintered as dark green slime sprayed onto her flanks. One more buck and the door was demolished.

Lunar Fang turned and flew into the room, wing blades at the ready only to pause, dumbstruck as she landed on the ground. Black Rook and Vital Spark followed and they stopped, just as dumbfounded.

“What the heck?” Vital Spark asked.

“Affirmative,” Rook mumbled, his eyes wide.

The Changeling was pinned, dazed and moaning on the ground, trapped with its horn snapped and driven through the holes in its legs. Its wings were covered with water and soap. Dancing around it were six foals while from her place on a tall perch, Moon River looked pleased as punch. She smiled as she took to the air and glided to her mother. “Mommy!” She yelled with happy joy. “Not Momma, Not Dadda.” She pointed a wing at the changeling.

“... Anybody got a camera?” Vital Spark asked.

“On the Desk over there.” Lunar Fang pointed to Pensword’s work desk. “Go ahead. I want documentation for Moon River’s first battle.”

“Pensword’s going to flip when he learns he missed Moon River’s first words, let alone her first battle.” Vital Spark reached over to the table and fumbled with the camera for a few seconds before he finally managed to get it to stick to his hooves before carrying it back to Lunar Fang. “Here you go, Lunar Fang,” he said.

“You have to take the picture. It is tradition for the family member to share in their first battle win.” She grinned as she looked at her daughter. “What do we do with your captive?”

“Nanny Bug!” She cried happily.

“Um … okay, I don’t really trust myself with these things yet. Do you think you could take the picture for her, Rook? I’m still a little clumsy,” Vital Spark said.

Black Rook stood there, entirely unsure of what to do. Silently, he reached over and took the camera before snapping the picture.

“Thank you.” Lunar Fang smiled as she kissed her daughter on the forehead. “Can you boys leave? I’ll see what I can do to help with this situation. Moon River wants a Nanny, and who am I to deny her?” She giggled as she rubbed her wing over her daughter’s head. “I am so proud of you, my little Moon River.” She looked to Vital Spark and Black Rook. “When Pensword gets back, we’ll hold a large celebration and you shall be at our table as witnesses to her victory.” Lunar Fang practically beamed with pride.

“You got it, Lunar Fang. We’ll leave the scout to you,” Vital said as he stepped out. “I’d probably better get back to Little Willow. She’ll need an extra set of hooves at the infirmary.” With that Vital Spark was gone.

“Infiltrator, what is your status?” Chrysalis’ voice called in the changeling’s mind.

“... Help … me …” Infiltrator groaned as he was once again dropped upon by little baby Moon River.

Lunar Fang grinned, showing her fangs. “Oh, we plan on that.”


Grif lay on his bed working carefully on a letter. He wasn’t paying attention to the world around him as he tried his best to to compose his thoughts.

From the entrance of his tent, two Griffons entered. Behind them, Pensword came walking bereft of weapon and armor. The Pegasus hung his head low, his eyes to the ground as he slowly approached. Standing before Grif, he looked up only once to make sure he was in the right place before he rolled onto the ground and bared his neck alongside his belly.

“Hello, Pensword. Was there something you needed sent home?” Grif asked, not bothering to look up as he continued to work on the letter.

Pensword did not say a word. When Grif still didn’t look up, he breathed a heavy sigh. Grif still didn’t notice. At last, one of the guards coughed into into his talon. “Um … sir? I think you need to see this.” Kel’leam said, electing a slight jump from the Gryphon to his right. Kel’leam sighed mournfully.

Grif looked up. “Pensword, what are you doing?”

“I am placing myself into your talons. At least, I think this is how it was done a thousand years ago.”

“Why in the devil would you do that?”

“Because the camp is in danger of fracturing. By doing this, I am submitting myself to your judgement for my actions I threatened to take when I overreacted.” Pensword stared off into space, refusing to look at his friend. That could be viewed as defiance, or an insult. “I had my mind clouded, and that is still no excuse. I overreacted. I do not deserve to lead at your side. I am a danger to this entire mission.”

“That’s horse apples and you know it,” Grif said. “Get on your hooves, man, and stop talking nonsense. You have nothing to apologize for.”

“Not to you, but to your host, and to the Bladefeathers. I want this team be united.” Pensword slowly rolled onto his hooves before he moved to stand..

“My Bladefeathers will forgive,” Grif said, his voice like ice as it spread over Kal’leam and Cheshire. “I’d figure they’d have known better than this.”

“Right,” Pensword responded. He looked at Grif, narrowing his eyes. “Just what were you thinking? I see Cosy as the brother I lost. What you did cut my heart deeply.” He snorted, then frowned. “Now we need to patch things up between you and Cosy. This is twice my anger almost did me a disservice. When this is done, I need you to help me with this.”

“This grudge against the Farflyers was starting to make me lose my grip on who I am,” Grif admitted. “While I was out, I had some time to reconsider myself. I have much to atone for.”

“Um … is it okay for me to come in?” A hesitant Cosy asked from the outside.

Pensword looked to Grif. “This is your tent. You have final say.” He took a seat on the ground and looked to his friend.

“Bring him in,” Grif said. Kal’leam raised the tent flap and nodded to the little foal. Cosy walked slowly in, his pace purposeful and direct, even if his eyes spoke of something else.

Pensword nodded once at Cosy, then turned his eyes and head to look at Grif, waiting for Grif to speak now.

“I’m sorry.” Grif bowed his head low as he could in his position. “I was thoughtless and stupid. You tried to help me see that this grudge was poisoning you and all I did was bring you pain. I understand if you can’t forgive me, but I want you to know that moment will always be amongst my most shameful.”

“As the Prince of the Crystal Empire, I accept your apology. As Cosy, though …” the young prince jumped onto Grif’s bed and did his best to put his forelegs around Grif’s broad, muscular torso. “Don’t scare me like that again. I was the one who was wrong. I was out of line.” The tears fell freely as he sobbed into Grif’s feathers. “I’d never forgive myself if … if you … I’m so sorry!” Cosy wept openly into Grif’s shoulders, unable to control himself, despite what he’d been told about how to act in the Empire.

“There there.” Grif held the colt tightly. “I just wore myself out. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I don’t hate you. I don’t.” It seemed important for him to say that, to let Grif know, even if he already did. It just had to be said.

Pensword smiled as he stepped forward only to have Grif snag him into the hug as well. Pensword silently cried as he felt Moon Burn’s spirit at his side.

“Let’s agree that we’re all square, okay?” Grif asked, a tear even showing in his eye.

“Consider it done,” Pensword spoke with a solid conviction.

“I second the motion!” Cosy said cheerfully, waving his hoof like a judge in a house of lords.

Pensword smiled at Cosy’s words before frowning. “Grif, I still need to meet with the Leader of the Farflyers. It would be rude to hide the Demon on their land. I would rather be transparent after the Black Tips incident.”

“Give it time,” Grif told him. “I’ll need another day at least before I’m allowed out.”

“I understand that. In the mean time, I think Cosy and I can try to try and repair the feelings in the camp.”

“We just gotta tell em everything’s great and we fixed it all up,” Cosy said. “Then it’ll all be good again. Come on, Pensword, let’s go. Grif needs his rest. And besides, I think there’s a lady who’s coming to meet him too. She told me to go on in first. Is she your girlfriend, Grif?”

“I don’t know.” Grif laughed, poking the colt on the nose. “if you two need anything sent home, let me know by tonight.”

“I will do so. I think a letter home to Lunar Fang would be best.” Pensword frowned. “I am regretting not bringing a dragon fire lantern. Still, Grif, you will have a letter to send home by tonight.”

“I think I’ll be okay. I don’t want Kady to worry more than she already is. It’s probably better if I don’t write to her about this.”

“Agreed,” Pensword muttered. “That will be something to be told only in person.”


Changelings were moving forward towards the walls, the gates were splintered and a thick layer of green goo covered the main walls and gate, slowly eating away at both. The mix of creatures on the walls were shifting a little as they waited for the assaulting force to get closer to launch another arrow attack and take more of them down. They were hoping that they could somehow draw them into range. Currently, the majority of Gryphons were dealing with the incursion of the Gryphon Compound, leaving three Gryphons who were trying to take out the distance. Still, one Pegasus good at counting estimated over two hundred Changelings swarming slowly towards them.

Fox Feather growled to those around her. “Is she toying with us?” She shifted uneasily, her wing blades glinting in the sunlight.

“... Hammer Strike’s faced her before, apparently,” Gilda said. “She’s been testing us and our defenses, trying to gauge our abilities before she goes for the all out attack,” she said casually as she fired a bolt into the middle of the throng. There was a tiny pop, followed by a shockwave of wind as a group of changelings dissipated into nothing.

“Well, at least Lord Hammer Strike is yet again showing he is blessed by the Lost Alicorn of the Forge,” Fox Feather muttered, shaking her head. “Still, I am happy he works for us and not our enemy.”

“Come again?” Gilda asked.

“Oh,” Fox Feather responded. “That’s right, you wouldn’t know the old tale. The Alicorn of the Forge was the, well, a relative of sorts to the Two Sister’s parents. It was this Alicorn who taught forging to the Ponies first, always there to humble a boastful smith. This is why today, most smith's and masters of the forge call their weapons the ‘Greatest Pony Weapon,’ their armor ‘the greatest pony armor,’ etcetera, according to their species so as not to draw the ire of the Alicorn.” She shook her head. “In a thousand years it seems the Alicorn legends have vanished, and only Faust remains.”

“... I’d rather we not talk about her if that’s alright with you, Fox Feather. We have a job to do.”

“Well, you asked,” Fox Feather responded. “Still, I just wish we had not lost what we did.”

The pair returned to work, then stared, shocked as Hammer Strike rushed into the fray, his armor glinting in the sun. “What in the name of the four winds does he think he’s doing?” Gilda exclaimed, muttering a string of curses.

Fox Feather laughed. “Oh you’ve seen nothing yet.” She watched the battle. “This is just a skirmish.” With those words she took to the air and dive-bombed some Changelings to the left,  showing off the true skill of a Gryphon Slayer, which, when put up against a Changeling, was like spearing a fish in a barrel. Soon the other Gryphon Slayers were charging from the walls into the fray with war cries of old, some sending a shiver down the spines of a few green troops.

From the east came a great roar as the Bladefeathers pushed the attackers back from the compound, their weapons flashing and slamming with precision and might. The changelings, now flanked, found their side and rear falling before them like chaff on the grindstone. In front of the charge, with the ground quaking with every step, Big Guns swung his hammer in wide arcs, crushing any who got in his way.

“No prisoners!” Thalia shouted as she pushed them onward. “Kill them all!”

As the battle raged, a sudden bright flash of blue fire blinded the changelings that remained, further demoralizing them as five changelings violently exploded, spreading green slime and flesh fragments in all directions as they bubbled and hissed. From within that ball of light, The Great and Powerful Trixie materialized, smiling.

“Trixie has come to help,” she said, smiling as Hammer Strike threw a dagger at a changeling that was trying to sneak up behind her. It immediately embedded itself into the creature’s skull, killing it on contact.

“Come to help, eh? Then help yourself back to New Unity to ensure everyone is fine.”

Trixie’s face fell slightly. “If that’s what you want, then Trixie will oblige.” She sighed as she turned to run for the bridge and the gates. When she arrived, she pounded on them. “Open for Trixie. Hammer Strike has told her to come in!” She yelled. A few minutes later, the doors swung ponderously open as Trixie made her way inside.

“Only one pony can talk like that. Not even a changeling can be that good,” a strange white unicorn said. For some reason he felt familiar, but she couldn’t say why. “Hi. I’m Vital Spark. Nice to meet you,” he said as the gates boomed shut behind them.


Avalon strummed the lyre with a skilled hand as she sang a ballad from ages past, reading out of the Book of Grask, this time depicting the great battle between he and the viscous Tiamut, the demon dragoness who plagued the western heights. Her voice flowed effortlessly as the strings thrummed with fervor and great respect while she brought the tale to life. At long last, the mighty Grask raised his enchanted swords, slashing the serpent’s head off and screeching in triumph before saluting and returning to his pride once again.

“A healer, a singer, a musician. Next you’ll be telling me you do miracles.” Grif laughed as she finished.

“Only if the occasion requires it,” she said, smiling warmly. “I had to do something to pay you back for those lessons.”

“Your presence is payment enough.” It was a forward comment, but Grif realized as time grew short he had to know how she felt.

“You’re too kind, Grif.” She smiled as she lay a talon over his head. “Are you sure you don’t have a fever?” She smirked.

“Not physically,” Grif told her. “But I find myself delirious when a certain someone is around.”

“Then perhaps that certain someone should leave?” she asked playfully.

“But when that someone leaves, I feel like I might die. It’s quite the conundrum.”

“And when that someone leaves, fear clutches her heart that you’ll disappear. Perhaps we should find a way to remedy the situation?”

“Really?” Grif smiled, leaning in a bit. “But what right does a monster have to an angel?” he asked her.

At that point in time, the flap of the tent tore violently open as Cheshire stepped in. “Sir, we have a problem. The Farflyer compound is mobilizing. Bells, whistles, the whole shebang.”

“Are they under attack?” Grif asked intently.

“They don’t appear to be, but they sure look upset.”

“I should probably go to them. If something is happening, my lady will need me. I’m so sorry, Grif,” Avalon said as she rushed out the tent and took to the air, flying as quickly as she could.

“Wait! You forgot your--” Cheshire sighed. “Well, I guess we’ll just hold on to these till she gets back,” she said as she moved to pick up the side bags Avalon had brought with her.

“Leave them there,” Grif ordered. “Take a token force and go make sure everything’s all right. If I need anything, I’ll call Kel’leam…. Thats assuming he’s not already in here.” Grif looked around. “He’s not already in here is he?”

“No, sir, not this time.” Cheshire moved to place the bags by his bed. “I’ll tell him to come in before I go,” she said, her whiskers twitching in time to her tail as she broke into her crazy grin. “We’ll be back soon.” With that said, she left the tent and Grif was left to his own devices.

Grif sighed, feeling that empty cold feeling that he found more and more common with the end of Avalon’s frequent visits. He walked around the tent slowly, stretching his legs. His eyes shifted to the letter he was writing. As with all things, he was keeping nothing from Shrial. He just hoped that hormones wouldn’t force her into some out of character jealousy.

He was about to turn back to his bed when he felt a cold chill down his spine. A familiar feeling echoed in the tent. Painful, long, rage-filled memories filled his mind as he started looking. There was Gryphon magic here. Somehow an evoker was nearby. He began inspecting everything carefully, finding no hint of ruins or amulets, yet the feeling still lingered, getting stronger and stronger until the cold chill turned into a nauseating pull at the pit of his stomach. Looking down, he found himself standing over Avalon’s bag. He looked to the door of the tent, then back at the bag.

Grif knew he shouldn’t, but the pull was too much for him and he found himself tearing into the bag. He took out and placed several books before stopping. The one in his claws was practically soaked in that familiar energy. Using a talon, he made a small slit in the leather binding. His arms shook as he saw what was revealed:  A grimoire, an ancient one from an evoker far older than the ones who had captured him. The book was under many heavy enchantments and was quite clearly being held together against the bidding of time by them. He turned his gaze back to the bag as he felt the throbbing pulsing feeling still emanating. He cleared the bag out to the bottom, but still found nothing. How could this be? He was about to shift his search when one of his talons slit through the bottom of the bag.

Seeing something gleam in the light, he fished out the object, revealing the amulet. Grif stepped back, dropping both objects as if burned. Memories assaulted his mind, the wind tunnel, trying to breathe, but finding so little filling his lungs. He found himself leaning against the front tent post hyperventilating.

“Knock Knock,” Pensword’s voice rang out. “Are you free for lunch? If Miss Avalon is with thee, she is welcomed in my tent as well.” Grif could tell Pensword was trying to be a little more diplomatic now. A few moments of silence changed everything. “Grif? Is everything okay?”

Grif mumbled incoherently before holding out a finger to the amulet and the book.

Pensword poked his head into the room with a confused look. “What’s--?” He stopped as he saw his friend pointing at some items on the ground. Entering the tent fully, he frowned as he approached the objects. The medallion-like item was only too familiar to him as memories of the invokers led him to shudder. “That… but I thought they were all dead,” Pensword muttered as he sat down. “Where did you find them?”

Grif pointed towards Avalon’s bag.

“Has she hurt you?” Pensword’s voice was flat and unemotional.

Grif shook his head.

“Then why in Faust’s good name does she have them with her?” he growled. “How do you want me to proceed? I stay here and ask her what the meaning is of this? Or do you want to do this alone?”

“I--.I need you to stay here,” Grif said, working to get a hold of himself. “But I need to handle this.”

Pensword nodded his head and moved to a corner of the tent, sat down, and waited.

It was not until late in the evening that Avalon finally returned, flustered and worried as she entered the tent. “I am so sorry, Grif. I didn’t mean to take so long, but I wasn’t able to get away until now.”

Grif sat on his bed, his expression bleak as he pointed to the stump where the grimoire and focus both had been lain.

Avalon turned to the door only to find Kel’leam and Cheshire blocking the way out. She turned to face Grif as she noticed Pensword waiting in the corner, his wing blades glinting. She put her face into her talons and shook it.

“Son of a Diamond Dog,” she swore.


As the battle raged on outside, the infirmary was a mess as Vital Spark and Trixie both tried their best to follow instructions and keep out of Little Willow’s way.

“That’s not Calendula, that’s Arnica,” Willow said, snorting as she applied pressure to the bleeding guard’s flank with a clean bandage. “Look for the other one with dried yellow blossoms, Vital Spark.” Meanwhile, an oil filled vial was levitated in Trixie’s blue-grey aura to the nurse’s hoof. “Thank you, Trixie,” Little Willow said as she poured some of it onto the bandage before applying pressure again. Conor grabbed another bottle that looked right and brought it over. Little Willow dug into it and pulled out the dried blossoms, adding them to the bandage as she took a few sprigs of Goldenrod for good measure. Then she wrapped it up as tightly as possible, breaking off the rest of the bandage with her teeth before tying it in place.

“Get him on one of those beds, Trixie,” Little Willow said as she took a towel and wiped her forehead. Vital Spark carried a glass of water to the nurse and she drank gratefully.

“I’m sorry I can’t help more, but I’m afraid I don’t know any healing spells yet,” the colt apologized. Little Willow sighed. “That’s alright, Vital Spark. At least you’re willing to help, and I need hooves like yours and Trixie’s. Seven other ponies rushed around the ward, working to prepare beds and get tools cleaned and sterilized. Their nurse’s and doctor’s garb were matted with sweat and stained by blood.

“Little Willow, where is the alpha class unicorn and why is it not on the battlefield?” Trixie asked.

“What are you talking about, Trixie?” Little Willow asked. “All our troops are mobilized. The only unicorns not fighting are here in this room either on their beds, or helping patch everyone up.

“But Trixie can feel a massive magical power nearby. And it’s clearly a unicorn.”

“If we did, why would Hammer Strike keep him or her in reserve?” Vital asked. “It doesn’t make sense.”

“But Trixie does feel it,” Trixie said.

“Clear the area, we have more incoming!” A guard shouted as he and his companion held the double doors open. Six guards comprised of two unicorns, two earth ponies, and two pegasi, bore another on a stretcher stained with blood. The patient twitched weakly and let out a moan as the guards laid everything down on an empty bed.

Little Willow moved to the figure carefully. With a clinical eye, she examined the body on the stretcher. “Vital Spark, shut the door,” she instructed. Vital Spark did so as the two guards stepped aside, looking on with concern to the patient, a red earth pony with a bright green mane.

“You know, you really could have tried a little better than this,” Little Willow said before she unsheathed her emerald gem dagger with lightning fast speed and dug it into the chest of a nearby pegasus. “The cuts aren't deep,” she moved the knife to the other side of the chest as green blood gushed from the cut. “The bruises are, at best, skin deep.” She shoved the knife downward. “And you honestly call that a head wound?” Before the changeling had even breathed it’s last, she withdrew the knife and slit its throat in one motion. “Now this right here,” she gestured with the blade at the fallen changeling while staring at the others. “This guy needs medical attention:  something he’ll soon have in common with all the rest of you.”

The rest of the so called guards dropped their disguises as they buzzed. Three Changelings quickly jumped onto Little Willow. The one on the stretcher jumped and shot goo on some of the other orderlies. The one on the bottom got the knife somewhat away from Little Willow, that is to say right in the belly between two plates of Chitin.

Trixie attempted to grab the changeling that had played the wounded warrior as it leapt off the stretcher in mid-air. When the insectoid was in her magic, however, his entire body exploded from the pressure. Her eyes went wide. “Trixie didn’t mean to do that,” Trixie shrieked. While another four changelings jumped onto the pile, Trixie turned to face the frightened orderlies. They had huddled together with the hardening goo. Not having been trained in combat, they tried to use one of the beds as a barrier, and being too scared, said nothing as one of the changelings stealthily broke from the pile and began to creep up on Trixie, fangs at the ready.

“Trixie, duck!” Vital yelled as his horn flared. He shut his eyes as the trays and surgical implements shuddered and began to rise.

Trixie did as she was bidden, her eyes widening as she watched the tools. They wobbled hesitantly in the air and one or two dropped to clatter on the floor. The changeling laughed at the pathetic display as it too rose, its wings buzzing. The laughter soon cut off with a shriek that faded to a gurgling moan followed by a loud thump. The rest of the changelings cried out in anger, resuming their assault as they continued to swarm over Little Willow, desperate for a hostage.

“Get off,” Vital barked, his voice filling the room. Six separate snaps and crunches sounded off in paired retorts, each preluded by a scream or curse of some kind. The sound of screeching metal and shifting cabinets filled the air as he felt things flying past him and heard them stacking against a wall. Then all was silence as he breathed in and out, in and out. He felt a gentle hoof on his shoulder.

“Vital, I want you to open your eyes slowly and breathe deeply. This is going to be hard to take,” Little Willow’s voice said in his ears.

“... It’s bad, isn’t it?” Vital asked. His voice sounded almost detached, but a slight tremor passing through his body told LIttle Willow all she needed to know.

“You saved lives today, Vital Spark. That’s what matters; remember that,” she said.

Vital sighed, took another deep breath, and braced himself for what he knew must inevitably come. It still didn’t do much to prepare him. The orderlies gaped at him, trembling. The fear they had once held toward the changelings was now directed to him. As his eyes wandered to the left, Trixie was staring in awe, her mouth agape. The changeling that had tried to sneak up on her looked more like a pincushion, its body covered in steel scalpels, glass fragments, and other sharp surgical pieces. A puddle of green blood oozed beneath it, its eyes impaled and held open by the shafts of two metal hooks that had seized the flesh like two bulbous fish eggs on a fishing wire. Twin needles barely stuck out from the sides of its horn. Its legs twitched occasionally along with its wings. He did his best not to be sick as he turned with some measure of relief to the stack of bed frames and dressers that now barred the door.

“... I don’t know if I want to turn around,” Vital Spark said, his legs shaking as he tried to remember to breathe. Tears sprung in his eyes against his will.

Little Willow wrapped her hooves around him gently. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“... What did I do to them?”

“You pulled them off me. Then you did a couple of different things. Two of them you threw into the wall with enough force to break their armor ... and a few more things besides,” she said. To lie would only make things worse. “Two others, you simply smashed into the floor and compacted into balls. And the last two … after they were levitated far enough away, you summoned a giant fly swatter construct and, well --”

“I crushed them all.”

“Yes,” Willow said.

Then Vital wept.