//------------------------------// // City Under Glass // Story: Sword and Song // by Sharaloth //------------------------------// Part Three: City Under Glass Songbird was cold. Snow crunched under her hooves, each mislaid step breaking through a thin crust of ice and plunging her leg into the powdery cold that lay beneath. She paused for a moment, magically drawing her cloak tighter against a wind which gusted in chill bursts that whistled and roared like an angry crowd. That wind was coming out of the north, the very direction they were headed, so she couldn’t even lift her head to see beyond the swish of the Blademaster’s tail without her eyes stinging and watering from staring into the teeth of the frigid gale. The Blademaster forged ahead at a steady pace. He didn’t seem to be as affected by the temperature, his head held high and his breath steaming in the air as he broke a trail for her. She didn’t see how his thin frame could provide much insulation, but she supposed it was one of the advantages to being an earth pony. He seemed tireless, never uttering a sound of complaint as they walked through the snow squalls and unending, vicious wind. She would have collapsed long ago were she in his place. As the wind picked up in another chilling gust she recalled the old Hearth’s Warming Eve stories, wondering if this was what her ancestors had endured before they found Equestria. It certainly wouldn’t surprise her to discover that some mad Windigo was responsible for this endless, frozen misery. She hummed a quick tune, her horn lighting as she combined song and magic, sheathing herself in the warmth of a cozy tavern hearth. It wasn’t a difficult spell to manage –according to her mentor, sound and heat were closely related– but the song took breath, and she had little to spare if she was to keep up with the pace the Blademaster was setting. So, with a bit of the magical warmth ebbing away with every step, she hurried on. “How much longer until we stop?” she called out. She had to shout over the wind, but she was a master of being heard and knew how to pitch her voice. He glanced back at her and said something back that was stolen by a gust that also carried a flurry of snow which seemed determined to funnel itself into her hood to melt against her neck. She shivered and shook her head. He stopped, stepping close enough that their muzzles were almost touching. “There’s no shelter around here!” he shouted. She winced at the sound, even with the wind he didn’t need to be so loud when he was this close. “How far until the next forest?” He shook his head. “The snow’s slowing us down too much! We won’t hit another forest before nightfall!” “Nightfall!” she gasped out. She had lost track of how long they’d been walking, and with the sky as clouded over as it was, telling the time was all but impossible. “Can we make a shelter here? Wait out the storm?” He paused, looking around at the snow that surrounded them as far as they could see. Which wasn’t far, considering how the flurries were getting steadily worse. “Can do,” he replied, but she could see the uncertainty in his eyes. “I’d rather be in some trees, though!” She shook her head. “I don’t know if I’ll make it to nightfall! We need to do something now before I’m not able to help!” He nodded at that, scratching at his head as he considered what needed to be done. “Right! Clear a spot out here, just big enough for the two of us and our gear! Pile up all the snow here!” He indicated a line perpendicular to the wind. “We’ll build ourselves a lee, then I’ll set up my cloak as a tarp! Sorry, love, it looks like it’ll be close quarters again!” “I’ll live!” she replied, then set to work doing what he asked. She used muscle and magic to dig down and clear out a small pit in the snow, using the fill to build up a wall against the wind. The pit was only a foot deep, and its bottom was frozen dirt, but it would suffice to hold both of them. The Blademaster did his part, adding to the wall, packing the snow down so that it was a solid bastion against the coming storm. He took his cloak and fixed it between layers of snow, testing it to make sure it wouldn’t be pulled out by the wind. Soon, their shelter was ready. It was just in time, too. The wind began to gust even stronger, carrying thick, wet snow with it. Soon she was choking on the heavy flakes every time she looked north. “Blade, it’s getting bad!” she called out. “On it!” he yelled back. He tore his gear off, dumping his saddlebags into their makeshift shelter. His many blades he stripped off and dumped into another, shallower hole he had dug, covering them over with more snow before taking Steel Glory and driving it down, leaving a foot and a half of blade and hilt exposed to mark where he had left his weapons. Then he jumped into the pit with her, drawing his cloak over them and tucking it beneath himself. The makeshift canvas flapped with the wind, but a little bit of magic and creative shifting of their bags had those parts battened down, leaving them in close darkness with the sound of their breathing louder than the wind that screamed outside. They were squeezed uncomfortably close together. This was far worse than the night they had spent in the rain south of the Forest of Lost Voices. There wasn’t even room to stretch out here, and they were forced to curl about each other awkwardly, her muscles already beginning to cramp from holding the unnatural position. A strange panic began to bubble up inside her, stealing her composure. There was no room to breathe in there, filled as it was with the scent of earth pony and wet cloth. The heat of his body overwhelmed the remaining chill of the storm, but it also felt smothering and oppressive. She could hear his heartbeat under his skin, the steady march of strength that drove the warrior to fight Hydras and Dragons and brave the inhospitable North for a mare he barely knew. “Easy, love,” he whispered in her ear. She twitched, suddenly becoming aware of her own speeding heart and panting breath. With an effort of will she took control of herself. Old techniques for meditation, intended to help her focus her magic, allowed her to slow her breathing and set a rhythm in her head that her heart eventually matched. “Sorry,” she said. “I’m just on edge.” “No sorries needed,” he said. She let out a slow breath. “I’m not used to… being this close to somepony,” she said. “Travel off the beaten path for a while and it’ll start to come naturally,” he replied, and she could hear the grin in his voice. “I’ve bivouacked in tighter places than this, believe it or not. You’ve not lived until you’ve had to sleep with your face snout-deep in another stallion’s…” he paused for a moment. “Wait, scratch that. You’ve lived plenty without ever having to do any of that.” She allowed herself a quiet chuckle. “That sounds like a story.” “Not one I’ll be telling, love,” he said. “Maybe if I’m dead drunk, but not before.” “Why?” she asked, teasing. “Too intimate?” “You might say,” he said, and his voice had lost all its humor. “It’s got a bad end, is all.” She didn’t reply to that, instead shifting slowly and with painstaking care until her back was to him and her position not so painful to hold. The cloak holding the wind at bay was cold, but the air in their little shelter was warm, and the Blademaster was a living furnace. Strangely to her, the walls made of snow and ice were reflecting their heat back at them instead of soaking it all up as she had expected. It was far from comfortable, but, like the Blademaster, she’d could say that she’d slept in worse conditions. A particularly powerful gust of wind rattled the cloak, and Songbird’s ears perked up as she heard something behind the wind, something more chilling than the blowing snow. “You know, if this storm goes on long enough I might be begging you to use that feather of yours, and damn the consequences,” the Blademaster said. “Quiet,” she said, and she felt him tense against her. “I hear something.” She listened, her musician’s ear straining as she searched for a sound that was not part of the storm. Another heavy gust hit the shelter, and she heard it again, this time for certain: A high-pitched, full-throated laugh. Suddenly all the warmth of the shelter was gone, and she could feel her heart breaking its rhythm and speeding away like one of the trains that no longer ran. She frantically tried to remember if she had exposed any stone when she’d been clearing the shelter floor, but her haste then and panic now made recollection impossible. “Oi, Songbird, what’s–” She twisted and seized his muzzle between her hooves, holding his mouth shut. The movement opened the cloak to the air outside, letting a flurry of snow into their shelter, but she didn’t care. The cold was the least of her worries now. “Sshh!” she hissed, putting her own mouth right to his ear. “It’s her.” He slowly nodded, showing that he understood. She took her hooves from his muzzle, carefully fixing the cloak and sliding down as much as she could until her head was resting on his chest as he sat back against the snow wall. She listened to his heart, that steady drumbeat that had barely tripped in its tempo as she had told him how close they were to their doom. She was a veteran performer, she knew how to sync herself to another’s beat, and she let that training take over, using his calm to steady herself. They stayed like that for hours. She searched every blast of wind for more of that tell-tale laughter, but heard nothing. Finally, somewhere between heartbeats, she fell asleep. *** “‘Bird, wake up,” the Blademaster said, nudging her face with a hoof. “You’re gonna want to see this.” She shivered as she came back to consciousness and realized that there was a cold breeze touching her. Her eyes opened to find the Blademaster silhouetted against a sky on fire. “What?” she asked, sitting up. The Blademaster’s cloak hung limp from the snow wall, revealing that their pit was now a foot deeper than it had been when she had dug it. It also revealed a sky that was clear and bright, lit with both the stars as well as burning curtains of light and color. She gasped at the sight, standing to get a better view of how the bands of light stretched from horizon to horizon. “I’ve heard about auroras before,” the Blademaster said, grinning at the celestial ribbons that gently swayed and rippled high above. “Didn’t half believe in them, though.” Songbird swallowed her awe and forced her mind into action. “I don’t think this is an aurora,” she said. He frowned at that. “Looks pretty close to me, love.” “No, look,” she pointed a hoof north. There were more lines of light there, but it was easy to see how they were oriented differently from the ones that passed directly overhead. A moment’s observation was all it took to see that this aurora was radiating from a single point, not too far north of them. “Something up there is causing this. What could do that?” “Search me, love. My money’s on the Madmare, though. She shook her head. “She doesn’t control the sky. The Tempest could do something like this easily; the Sorceress could too, with some effort. But her? No. This is something else. This is somepony else.” “The other power?” There was clear unease in his voice as he asked the question. “I don’t know,” she said. “This could be some kind of beacon. Something to call ponies to rally there.” “It could be a trap, too.” She had not response to that but to nod in acknowledgement. Something about the lights stirred confidence in her, however. She could feel magic in those shifting ribbons, and that magic felt like victory. They could mean anything, and she knew that, but she couldn’t help but be encouraged just by the sight. They stood in silence for a long time, watching the shifting lights. “Whatever it is, we’re heading right for it,” he eventually pointed out. “Then we should be careful as we get closer,” she replied. She looked around at the landscape, lit brightly in the false aurora. “Do you think we can walk some more tonight?” “I don’t see why not,” he said. “Maybe we’ll make that forest early enough to catch some more shuteye before sunrise.” “Then let’s go,” she said. They packed up quickly, the Blademaster finding his stowed weapons and strapping them back on as she magically cleaned and dried his cloak. Then they set off. All the they walked that night she looked northward, to the point where the aurora lines converged. She didn’t know what they would find there, but she knew it would be a tale worth telling. *** Songbird and the Blademaster lay side by side in the snow, staring out from the top of a hill at the incredible vista that was spread before them. “It’s beautiful!” she gasped, her eyes as big as saucers as she took in the sight. It was a city. Wide boulevards connected by angled avenues and streets to create a snowflake pattern, the true complexity of which would only be visible from high above. Buildings made of solid crystal glistened in the sunlight, and the tiny figures of ponies were like little points of twinkling light as they went about their business amongst those marvellous buildings. Beyond the city spread a circle of fields, all of them green and lush in defiance of the cold snow that held the surrounding land in its grip. At the center of the city stood an enormous tower. More than a tower, a palace made of crystal. All of this was covered by a great, transparent barrier that had its apex just above the tip of the great crystal palace, giving the impression of a city under glass. Songbird had walked the high streets of Canterlot between the ivory spires. She had sung for crowds amidst the terrifying verdant majesty of the City of Gardens and Cages. She had been to Manehattan and Las Pegasus, and all the cities in between. Nowhere had she seen anything like this. Still, the sight triggered a memory. “The Crystal Empire!” “What’s that, love?” the Blademaster asked, tearing his eyes from the city to give her a confused look. “It’s an old story,” she replied, wracking her brain for the details. “A thousand years ago there was a great kingdom in the north, the Crystal Empire. The tale goes that it was conquered by a wicked pony and that Princess Celestia defeated him, but not before he banished the entire city from the world.” “Doesn’t look so banished to me.” “I guess it must have come back. How long have they been here? Why haven’t we heard anything about this?” Her mind raced with the questions, and the burning need to go down to that astounding place and find the answers. “Look at that,” the Blademaster said, drawing her mind away from the mysteries of the city. “I think we found your rebels, love.” He pointed a hoof towards the west side of the barrier. She followed his gaze and saw a pile of boulders and churned earth that went right up to the barrier and stopped. “That’s the Madmare’s work. I’m sure of it. Looks like she attacked the city, but didn’t make it through.” She couldn’t help but nod in agreement, even as her heart surged at the sight. If they were strong enough to keep out the Madmare, who knew what kind of power they had? “We should go down there,” she said. “And what?” the Blademaster asked, shaking his head. “Knock on the bloody terrarium wall and ask nicely what’s going on? From the looks of things these ponies have been holding out against one of the Rulers. If they don’t like us right off, I don’t fancy our chances of getting back out again.” “You think they’d be hostile? To fellow ponies?” His face was set in a grim scowl. “I think the ones who lived in Dust Devil Valley were ponies too, and I’m not keen on sharing whatever their fate was.” “You don’t know it was these ponies who did that.” “The soldiers in the forest, love,” he said, his voice low and touched with anger. “They weren’t being too nice with the ones they were dragging along. I’d say I’ve seen more than enough to tell me they’re not good ponies.” Songbird opened her mouth to reply, but then closed it after a moment’s thought. She hadn’t seen what he had, and he refused to talk much about it. She had to take his word for it. Then she felt a pulse of magic flare out from the city. It washed over them, leaving a dusting of sparkles that flared brightly for a moment before dying. “If we’re not going down there, we should get going,” she said, standing up. “You don’t have to make it so bloody easy for them!” the Blademaster protested, also standing. “They know we’re here anyways,” she replied. “I don’t see any pegasi flying around down there, so by the time they muster a force to come out and get us we’ll be long gone anyway… what?” She frowned at him as she noticed that he was staring down at the city with wide eyes. “What is that?” the Blademaster cried out, and she looked down to find a blob of inky darkness hurtling towards them from the city. She couldn’t see any sort of texture in it, just the amorphous shape that was cut out of the snowy fields like a hole in the world. It crossed the distance between them and the city as fast as a pegasus could fly, unhindered by the snow and hills. Songbird knew all the stories, and a general rule with them was that mobile pools of utter darkness were things to be avoided. Faced with one approaching her now, she found that to be sound advice. “I don’t want to find out!” she shouted, leaping to her hooves and turning to run. The Blademaster wasted no time in joining her. They were halfway to the forest when the living shadow caught up to them. It circled around, spreading up from the ground into a wall of darkness that cut off their retreat. They stumbled to a halt, Songbird losing her footing and falling to the snow. The Blademaster cursed, slipping the mouth-cage into place and drawing Steel Glory as he put himself between Songbird and the shadow. The world seemed to grow hushed as a sound came to them from every direction. It was deep, hellishly distorted, but recognizably a pony’s voice. The sound swirled around them, then settled into the mass of darkness, and the distortion lessened until the noise was recognizable as a dark chuckle. “A sword,” the voice in the shadow said, and two blazing eyes opened in the depths of the void. They had red irises and green sclera, a purple-black mist leaking from their edges. “How pathetic.” “‘Bird, when I go, make a break for it,” the Blademaster whispered to her, the words garbled by the mouth-cage, but recognizable enough to her. “Can you even fight something like that?” she asked, gathering her legs under her. “We’ll find out,” he said, narrowing his eyes at the creature. Then he lunged forward, Steel Glory leading. Songbird sprang into motion as he did, rushing out to the side and angling to get around the shadow creature. She looked to the side and saw the Blademaster stab the magnificent sword into the darkness. She heard a piercing chime from the blade, a note from the hymn of battle and blood forged into the steel. He twisted his head to the side, tearing a streak of light into the shadow, and the eyes widened with surprise and pain as the distorted voice growled in anger. Then she was around the creature, and lost sight of her companion. She ran a dozen steps before skidding to a halt and turning around. She planted her hooves solidly and lit her horn as she began to sing. She began with a simple scale, taking her through the entire range her voice was capable of and ending with a sustained cry at the very top of her voice in frequencies that some ponies couldn’t even hear. Her magic gathered all that sound, swirling it around her in a whirlwind of light and pressure that sparkled with tiny illusory musical notes. Then, still holding her cry, she unleashed her magic against the shadow. It flashed from her, the magic taking the form of a music-sheet’s staff filled with the notes she had sung as it turned sound into a coherent force that lanced out and sheared through the creature, splitting it in half. The Blademaster leapt through that breach the moment her magic was done its work, slashing his sword at the shadow as he did. There was blood on his face and a worried look in his eyes, the reason for which was probably how quickly the shadow creature was recovering from being attacked. It flowed together like water, the damage vanishing in an instant and its eyes simply appearing on their side of the darkness rather than having to turn around. A deep, rasping laugh erupted from it as a tentacle of shadow reached out and smacked the Blademaster to the side, sending him careening head over hooves. Songbird gasped out, then turned that into a cry that she sent out to slow and cushion the Blademaster’s fall. He looked to her, and there was a warning in his gaze. Some instinct took that warning to heart and told her to move, and she leapt away just as a jagged black crystal exploded up from the ground where she had been standing. “Strong. Interesting.” the creature said, its ugly voice almost conversational in its tone. A shudder went through the ground as black crystals burst up all around her, growing at a phenomenal rate and closing her in with their wickedly sharp edges. “What brings you to my empire, little ponies?” Songbird sang out, shattering the crystals around her and flinging their remains towards the shadow creature, which only laughed as the shards passed through it without harm. She scrambled over the jagged crystal-covered ground, sending another burst of song-magic at the creature. It moved like oil on water, sliding closer in a way that was both nearly imperceptible and frighteningly immediate. It reached for her with a tendril of darkness, faster than she could dodge. The Blademaster appeared as if he had teleported, Steel Glory sweeping down and severing the pseudo-limb in a blur of grey. The creature recoiled from that, the touch of Steel Glory clearly causing it pain even if it couldn’t do any permanent injury. The shadow growled and a crystal shot up from under the Blademaster’s hooves. He dove to the side to avoid it, but it had been a feint, and a tentacle caught him instead, flinging him up high into the air where he tumbled end over end. “Pip, no!” she cried out. Her heart skipped a beat as she realized that she couldn’t save him and fend off the attacking creature at the same time. She could hear the voice of her mentor in the back of her mind, telling her to save herself. Telling her it was the Blademaster’s job to protect her, not the other way around. Telling her that he was an earth pony, and that he might even be tough enough to survive a fall like that, so she should worry about more important things than whether he’d be hurt or not. She grit her teeth and pushed the voice from her thoughts. The blind witch wasn’t here, she didn’t get a say. Songbird sent her voice out again, directing it at the falling Blademaster and not at the crystals once more enclosing her in a ring of gleaming death. He slowed, the spinning fall turning into a gentle drift downwards. She maintained the song, watching as the crystals grew ever closer. She froze as spikes grew to press painfully into her flesh. They did not break the skin, but were set with just enough pressure that to struggle would be to flay herself. She kept up her song as the shadow creature slid up to her, stretching out a tendril that wrapped around her horn. She could feel its touch like a cold, viscous slime spreading down the spiral of her horn. It reminded her of being covered in tree sap, which in turn dredged up other memories that she would have preferred remained buried. She refused to stop her song, though, until she was sure the Blademaster was low enough that he wouldn’t be injured by the fall. Foolish girl. Her eyes widened as she realized the voice had come from within her. She frantically worked to close off her mind, using techniques her mentor had taught her long ago. She slammed mental doors, filling her thoughts with a song that repeated endlessly and denied the invading presence a hold. A good defence. The shadow’s mental voice was like grinding rocks in her ears and hissing snakes rubbing against her legs, like the the smell of ashes and the hot tang of blood on her tongue. I think I might give you to my wife as a gift. I do so love watching her break the strong ones! Songbird didn’t dare move, and with her mental defenses in place she couldn’t put together enough concentration to cast a spell. So all she could do was watch in trembling silence as the eyes in the darkness came nearer. They stopped so close that it was almost as if she was nose-to-nose with another pony. But still. You are not one of the Madmare’s minions, so why are you here, little bard? I will know. The pressure in her mind increased tenfold. She held it back, but her vision blurred as the creature’s eyes blazed with an unholy light. *** The sky flashed with lightning, the rumble of thunder following a few scant seconds after. A storm coming, and soon. Sweetie Belle blinked up at the swirling clouds and thought for an instant that she saw a pair of terrible eyes staring back at her. Something about them had been important. She shook her head. The thought felt like the remnants of a dream, impossible to hold on to. She stood in a clearing in some forest in the Heartland. She wasn’t wearing any of her travelling clothes, and her musician’s bag was missing. She spent a moment looking for them, but the confusion over where she could have left them drifted beyond her like the clouds that covered the sky. Ahead sat her home. The large wagon had four wide wheels that stuck out from its side. The better to roll over the rough ground of wilderness roads that only had the most cursory of maintenance done to it. It was painted in shades of blue and purple, though that paint was faded and peeling in so many places it was hard to tell what it had looked like when new. The hitch to pull the wagon was empty and little-used. The occupants of the wheeled house were more than capable of moving it without the vulgarities of manual labor. The door set in the back of the wagon was closed, but as she approached it creaked open. Within was only darkness, blacker than the heavy clouds in the sky. Sweetie Belle paused for a moment, swallowing past the lump in her throat as she stepped up to the door. “Do you have it?” came the question from inside. Sweetie Belle’s head drooped. “I…” she began, but trailed off as she realized she had no idea what to say. “Do you have it?” the voice of her mentor asked again, almost screaming the question. She couldn’t think straight. Something was wrong, and with a rising sense of panic, she realized what it was. “No,” she said, her answer coming in a whimper. “How could you fail me?” the voice asked, filled now with contempt and anger. “It was… in the North there was… something…” Sweetie Belle trailed off again, struggling to understand how she could have come back empty-hooved. “I took you in!” her mentor snarled from within the darkness. “I saved you from a short, miserable life in the streets! I gave you everything I had! And this is how you repay that? This is how you thank me?” Sweetie Belle sank to her knees, a nauseous terror stealing her strength. “I should never have let you into my home! In fact, I think I’ll fix that mistake right now!” The door was gripped in the glow of her mentor’s magic and slammed closed just as a peal of thunder cracked across the world and rain began to fall in heavy, wet drops. “No!” Sweetie Belle cried out, crawling to the door and pounding on it. “No, please! Let me in!” She pawed at the door, trying to grab the knob, but somehow unable to find a grip. “Please! I’ll go back! I’ll get the amulet, I promise! Don’t leave me out here! Please don’t leave me!” Amulet? What amulet? A voice growled from the storm that crashed and poured. Wait… Could it be? And so close at hoof! The storm laughed, thunder and lightning shaking the earth around her, making her scream and pound on the door ever harder. Tell me, little bard. Tell me where this amulet your mistress sent you for lies. Tell me, or I will ensure that you are left pounding uselessly on this wheeled shack for eternity! “The North!” she cried out, weeping as the cold soaked into her coat and the terrible loneliness filled her heart. “A temple in the Crystal Mountains! Beyond the pa–” *** Crystals shattered and Songbird fell to the ground. Pinpricks of pain told of a hundred small injuries as shards of broken crystal cut at her. The pain brought her back to her senses faster than anything else could. She rolled free of the shards, coming to her hooves in the practiced motion of a professional tumbler. A single glance told her what had happened: the Blademaster had attacked while she had been under the shadow creature’s sway, breaking her free and defeating the fell magics of the monster. She could still feel the residual effects of what he had done to her. The illusion had felt real while she was inside it, though now it was like some half-remembered nightmare. Disturbing, she doubted she’d sleep easy for a long while, but not overwhelming. What felt worse to her was how quickly she had broken, revealing her purpose in the North. The Blademaster fought with a ferocity that she would have gawked at, given a less desperate situation. Steel Glory was a blur of grey and gleam, every stroke intercepting a part of the darkness, making it flinch back in pain. Crystals lanced at him, but he ducked and dodged between them with expert precision, avoiding dismemberment and death by razor-thin margins. This was not a dance of steel like she had seen before. There were no flourishes to his attacks, no wasted motion at all. It was so easy for her to forget the skill lurking behind his customary attitude, and not for the first time she realized that he had truly earned the name he had taken for himself. Still, he was going to lose. He could stab all he liked at the monster they faced, but it was not going to die. Her own efforts had been just as ineffective. Neither of them had the power to defeat it. They could run, but it was faster than they, and eventually they would tire. Then it would have them, and would take what it wanted at its leisure. She shivered at the thought, the cold-slime feeling still on her horn. She couldn’t allow that to happen. No matter what. She reached into her bag, feeling for the one thing that could help them. It was right there, the first thing she touched. It practically leapt out of the bag, the tingles it sent through her hoof feeling eager. She caught it in her magic as she drew it forth and held it horizontally in front of her. Then she called upon her spellsong and the world seemed to slow as she sang to the feather, drawing its power to the surface. The snow in a circle ten feet wide around her burst to steam instantly, the resulting mist spiralling up in a wind that arose from nowhere. The fighting paused as the combatants became aware of the change in the atmosphere. Already clouds were gathering above her, twisting and boiling unnaturally, caught in tortured sway by a fragment of the Tempest’s power. She drew one hoof across the feather, as if she were striking a match, and it came away burning with electricity that arced back to the blue feather in spitting, crackling bolts. She locked eyes with those of the shadow creature, seeing the confusion and surprised fear there. Then, with a wordless cry that was filled with the force of her magic, she threw the lightning at the creature. It blasted out with explosive force. She screamed in fear and pain as the feather sent a surge of power through the channel she had created, more than she had been expecting. More than she thought was possible for her to withstand. It felt like her entire leg would be burned off from the heat and light. She frantically tried to shut off the flow of electricity, and the feather resisted. It wanted to show its power. It was a piece of the Tempest, after all, a Ruler not known for half-measures. She clamped down on her scream, turning it into a hum. Her horn burned brightly as she poured effort into stopping what she had started, and was rewarded with a lessening in the flow of lightning. She pressed her advantage, and the power shut off all at once, leaving her staggered and blinking to clear the spots from her eyes. The first thing that she noticed was that her hoof was thankfully intact, a few tentative stamps confirming that the burning agony had only been in her head. Then as her vision returned, she saw the result of her desperate action. All around, the ground was scored and torn where the lightning had touched it. The destruction reached as far as the dome covering the city, which was charred and smoking but still intact. The shadow creature was still there as well, but it was riddled with holes that smoldered and glowed at the edges. With a roar of pain and rage, it folded in upon itself and fled, flowing back towards the Crystal Empire with incredible speed. She watched it until it vanished from sight, then dropped to sit on the blackened earth beneath her. She felt drained, but she pushed beyond the fatigue and took stock of her surroundings. “Blade!” she called out, her eyes searching for him as her hooves stuffed the feather back in her bag. Some of its strength had been drained, but not nearly all of it. “Here, love,” he said, poking his head up from the snow. She let out a relieved sigh as she saw that he was uninjured. “What the bloody stars was that and why didn’t you do it earlier?” “I didn’t know if I could,” she replied. “I didn’t know if it would work or kill me or kill everyone or what. We’re lucky I was able to get it to stop.” “Well… good job. Try not to do it again, yeah?” She managed a thin smile and a nod. “Still want to go down to the city?” She shook her head. “I think you were right about it. About everything.” “Sweeter words I have never heard,” he said, trotting over to her and offering his hoof to help her up. “But right now I think we should be a long way from here before that thing decides to come back.” She took his hoof without a word, then they ran for the forest and the mountains beyond, hoping to outpace any pursuit that would come from the city. *** Songbird looked up at the stars. They were clearer than she’d ever seen them before, their brilliance not even obscured by the moon that shone down on the mountains. Her head was heavy, her legs barely able to hold her upright, but still she stood and stared at the sky. Three days since they’d escaped the shadow creature, and every night she had found herself like this, watching the wheeling sky until dawn. They had passed through a quiet forest and into the mountains with no sign of pursuit. The Paths of Radiance were in sight, their subtle iridescence more visible with every passing mile. Beyond them was the Monastery of the World’s End, and within would be the item they had travelled so far to find. She needed to be ready for the trials yet to come, but sleep eluded her. “You won’t be much use if you don’t get some rest,” the Blademaster echoed her thoughts as he walked up next to her. “I try to sleep, but it just won’t come,” she said. The exhaustion and frustration were plain in her voice, and she had to hold back a sudden sob. “I close my eyes and I see what it… what he showed me. I know it was just some illusion, some trick of dark magic, but it still... I can’t help but wonder if we come back without the amulet, what then? Will she...” Songbird shook her head, unable in her fatigue to put her thoughts into words. He lay a hoof on her shoulder. “You’re really afraid of the witch kicking you out, aren’t you?” She gave a slow nod. “My worst fear.” He was silent for a long moment before speaking again. “You’d have another place to go.” “What?” “If she did shut that door on you for real, and I don’t think she would, you wouldn’t be left out alone. You’d have another place to go.” She smiled, letting out a light giggle. “You just want your own personal minstrel, singing your praises wherever you go.” “Well, a bloke’s gotta have dreams, right?” he said with a wide grin. Then the smile faded. “She did you a good turn at a bad point, love. That doesn’t mean your life revolves around her and what she wants.” She sighed and shook her head. “I don’t think you can understand. It’s not just about her. It’s about me. It’s about what happened in the Fall. What happened with my family and my... my sister.” He frowned at that. “I may not be able to understand, but I can still offer to help.” She smiled again, leaning against him as they looked up at the night together. “Speaking of your sister, I would have thought your greatest fear would be her.” Songbird let out a small laugh. “Once upon a time, I would have agreed with that. But I’ve faced my sister once already. I think I’d be able to do it again.” “Oh? I didn’t know that,” he said, curiosity piquing in his voice. “Care to tell that tale, love?” She thought about it for a long moment, then nodded. She wasn’t going to sleep any time soon, and maybe remembering this would give her the strength to face the vision the shadow creature had inflicted on her. “I was performing in the City of Gardens and Cages,” she began, “when I was approached with an opportunity I was told would be the show of a lifetime…”