//------------------------------// // Chapter 21 // Story: The Rise and Fall of the Dark Lord Sassaflash // by Dromicosuchus //------------------------------// The western trees were standing black and tall against a reddening sky when Sassaflash gave one last tug on the straps attached to a cart (which, the Mule suspected, she had stolen), stepped back, and declared herself satisfied. Firmly tied within the cart was a wooden mesh of multiple interlocking frames, each daubed with countless angular symbols written in the Dark Lord’s own blood. The day had been spent in a whirl of preparation, the Dark Lord Sassaflash moving like a mare possessed and leaping from thought to thought and task to task with frightening speed. Excursions to the Dreamlands had been made, complex and arcane magical devices had been constructed, Angel and Crowded Parchment had each been sent off to fetch assorted items or attend to various duties, and hour by hour, the Sun crept across the sky, marking down the time until apocalypse. As the day wore on, the Mule had found himself casting nervous glances up at the sky, dreading to see how much of the day was gone. For her part, Sassaflash seemed to pay the Sun no mind, utterly lost in a frenzy of action, although she did once pause to bark at the Mule, “For goodness’ sake, Mr. Mule, the Sun will move whether you look at it or not. Kindly come help me with this knot and stop worrying about time; it will take care of itself.” He had found it difficult to take this advice to heart. At last, Sassaflash turned to the Mule and declared, “All is in readiness. We have little enough time to spare, but I think we may just be able to make it. You will accompany me, yes? The walk is long, but I can easily pull you in the cart. It and the causal subversion grid are light, and I can manage the extra weight—and in any case, I would appreciate your company.” The Mule nodded acquiescence. “Alrighty, if’n you reckon it ain’t a-going to slow you up too much.” A pause. “Where is we headed, again?” “To the Everfree forest, of course,” said Sassaflash. She blinked. “Wait, did I not mention that? Surely I must have—well, no matter. You know the rest of the plan, at any rate.” “Right,” nodded the Mule. “Most on it, leastwise. The important bits. I know they’s a plan. Might be a little fuzzy on some o’ the details. You didn’t actually say much anent how everything fit together when you was yelpin’ out all them directions.” For a moment the pegasus just stared at him. Then, raising an eyebrow, she asked, “Details like, for example, why we’re going to the Everfree? And what I intend to retrieve there? And the purpose of the request I made of your wife? Little details like those?” The Mule shuffled his hooves awkwardly. “Might could be.” “Get in the cart,” said the Dark Lord. “I’ll explain on the way.” The journey through the Everfree forest was not what the Mule would have called uneventful—any day which included ballistic cockatrices, a cragodile vs. dragon fight, and a pack of flaming timberwolves (“Nilgh’ri Fm’latgh!” … “Oh, don’t look so horrified, Mr. Mule. They’ll find a lake or a river or something to put themselves out in. Shall we move on?”) could hardly be called that—but they did at least make it through the woods unmauled and with all their limbs intact and in their proper places, which, for the Everfree, was about all that anypony could reasonably expect. After perhaps an hour or two of travel, they emerged from the forest’s shadows at the edge of a great gorge, the clear sky overhead glittering with a web of stars. Some ways along the cliff’s edge, they could just make out a rickety little wooden bridge spanning the ravine, and on the other side a vast, many-turreted shadow rose up against the sky, blotting out the light of the stars. The Mule gave a long, low whistle. “Is that…?” Sassaflash nodded. “It is indeed. Behold, Mr. Mule, the Castle of the Two Sisters—Celestia and Luna’s ancient demesne, before Luna fell to corruption and was banished to the moon. But we have no time to appreciate it; time is of the essence.” Straining against the harness binding her to the cart, she stepped forward, pulling for the distant bridge. The Mule’s personal misgivings notwithstanding, the aged ropes and planks crossing the gorge bore up bravely under their weight, and they passed safely to the other side. Fragments of stone carved with faded reliefs lay half-covered in the undergrowth around them, and bits of rubble hidden beneath the moss cracked and bumped beneath the wagon’s wheels. Cold stone walls rose up beyond, their angles worn smooth by the passage of centuries. Sassaflash halted before the gothic arch of the castle’s gate, and looked back at the Mule. “Keep a careful watch, Mr. Mule. When the Bearers of the Elements of Harmony faced her here, Nightmare Moon shattered the stone orbs that had protected the Elements, believing that by so doing she would destroy the Elements themselves. We must find the fragments of those orbs, for they bear the essence of the Elements—their scent, if you will—upon them.” “Right,” nodded the Mule, as Sassaflash tugged the cart up the low steps leading into the castle’s crumbling antechamber, roofless and ruined. In the center of the room stood the carved stone array that had once held the Elements, its outstretched arms moss-covered and empty. The necromancer trudged by it without stopping, only commenting as they passed, “A shame that Nightmare Moon did not see fit to confront the Bearers here. Ah, well.” Bumping their way up another low flight of stairs, they soon reached the castle’s great hall, its towering walls still standing tall and proud above the stone flags once trod by the dignitaries and nobles of a bygone era. The remnants of decaying tapestries fluttered silently far overhead, waving to and fro in the night breeze like seaweed drifting beneath the sea, while far overhead the Moon rested in the sky, glowing serene and bright. Shadowed arches lined the hall, each opening on to a long passage or a deep-set flight of stairs stretching up or down into darkness. After gazing at these for a moment, the Mule observed, “I don’t reckon you can pull the wagon up them stairs, Miss Sassaflash.” “No,” agreed the pegasus. “I must leave you now, I am afraid. Kindly explore the level passages; return here if you find the fragments, and await my return.” She unhooked herself from the cart, and after helping the Mule to the ground she trotted up one of the stairs to their left, a silvery wraith in the starlight. The Mule’s search was not particularly fruitful. There were pieces of stone everywhere, scattered in random piles and lone chunks of rubble throughout the halls, but none seemed as though they might have been part of the orbs that had housed the Elements or were gathered together in the sort of place that it seemed likely Nightmare Moon would have chosen as a place to confront the Bearers. He wished he had paid better attention to the stories of their adventures that had circulated following their return to Ponyville. Regardless, he soon found himself running out of rooms to explore; the castle’s architect seemed to have been inordinately fond of stairs, and it wasn’t long before he was forced to return to the great hall to seek out another passage. He had hardly begun to retrace his steps, though, when he heard the echo of the Dark Lord’s voice, calling from somewhere ahead. Hurrying forward as best he was able, he found her in the center of the hall, struggling to remove the nested wooden framework from the cart. Beside her on the ground was a small pile of jagged, pale white stones. At the sound of her friend’s return, she raised her head and smiled. “Ah! Excellent. I believe I have succeeded in locating the fragments, Mr. Mule; it is difficult to tell, of course, but as near as I could make out they seemed to match the descriptions, and I was able to piece several of them together into about half an orb, so...yes. Yes, I think we may be reasonably confident. Would you place them into the causal subversion grid—the wooden thing, there—while I wheel the cart out of range? Anywhere will do, so long as they’re enclosed within the structure.” With a nod, the old creature shuffled over to the fragments and began to push them inside the wooden lattice, as directed. There was an odd, almost glassy appearance to the white stones, notwithstanding their rough surfaces, and as he piled them together they clinked musically. Looking back over his shoulder, he called, “Miss Sassaflash? You said you was a-going to call up some manner o’ beastes to hunt down the Elements; do you reckon they’s up for it? The Princesses wouldn’t a-cut no corners when they was hiding ‘em, arter all.” The clatter of wooden wheels on stone outside stilled, and after a moment Sassaflash trotted back inside. “Indeed not.” She stepped forward, inspected the Mule’s work, and gave a curt nod. “Satisfactory. It is true that we must be a little...unconventional in seeking out our hunters. It may be, indeed, that there are no creatures of this world who would be up to the task.” Laying a hoof on the apex of the structure, she hissed, “Y’uln syha’hai,” and looked back, one eyebrow raised. “How fortunate, then, that we are not limited to creatures of this world. Step back! We must not be near when they come.” Startled by the sudden urgency in her eyes and voice, the Mule wheeled around and hurried for the front antechamber. After a moment’s delay the Dark Lord joined him, an almost vicious smile on her face. “This should be far enough—and you would not want to miss this sight! Few mortals have seen what we are about to see, Mr. Mule, and even fewer have seen it and lived. But we will!” It was hard to make out in the hall beyond, but the Mule thought he saw the air around the wooden framework twist and shiver, distorting the view of the stone columns and stairs beyond. For a moment nothing more happened, and then, with a muted crack, the little pile of rubble within the lattice flickered out of existence. “To the past...” whispered Sassaflash. The fragments reappeared, seemingly none the worse for wear. The necromancer’s eyes narrowed. “...And back to the present. Now for the test...We need hunters, Mr. Mule, to chase down the Elements for us. They must be keen-nosed, never veering from their quarry. Implacable beasts, that once on the scent can never be waylaid, and against whom walls and spells are useless.” A brief pause. “We need Hounds.” Another crack rang out in the great hall beyond, this time not muted but sharp and raw as shattering stone. Something creaked in the gloom, bent by unnatural strains, and there was another series of sharp, volcanic cracks. A diffuse blue-violet light began to glimmer in the hall, centered on the wooden framework. At first the Mule couldn’t make out a source, but soon he realized that it was shining from the edges of the pieces of wood—and the edges of the broken stones—and the angles of the hall’s flagstones—he took an involuntary step backward. Sassaflash laid a hoof on his shoulder. “Hush, Mr. Mule. I do not know if they can hear, but if they can, it would be best if we did not attract their attention.” More cracking. The floor near the wooden lattice shifted, the stone flags twisting and grating against one another. In the wavering foxfire the Mule could see their edges deforming, all their curves and bends forced into sharpness by unseen forces. Angles crept along the edges of the broken orbs; polygons blossomed in the soft, curved grain of the wooden framework; facets flickered in the air itself, bending distant stone carvings and curved tapestries into hard-edged gargoyles. Jagged wedges imposed themselves upon existence, straightening out every curve and forcing anything smooth into fierce, sharp-edged tesserae, and beside him, the Mule heard Sassaflash whisper, “Of course! They don’t even have bodies; they themselves are angles!” Within the great hall, reality slowly disintegrated. Poisonous blue light hammered against the Mule’s retinas, forcing him to look away from the center of the splintered madness infesting the air, and out of the corner of his eyes he saw the sharpnesses gnawing at existence gather themselves together, twisting everything in the center of the hall into a kaleidoscopic nightmare as blue-black smoke hissed from their edges. There was one last, snapping crack like the breaking of worlds, and then the entire distortion erupted up into the sky, shaping the stars themselves into a polygonal network of lines and angles. It—they—hung there for a moment, and then flung themselves due north, trailing cyan demonlight. For a long moment, neither the pegasus nor mule said a word, simply staring up in awe at the stars, now fallen back into their normal, sane positions. Nearby, bits of shattered stone fell clinking to the ground, freed of the warped space that had held them in place. The Dark Lord Sassaflash drew a deep breath, and said, “Cry havoc, Mr. Mule. Cry havoc, and let slip the Hounds of Tindalos.” “Right,” said the Mule, still staring up, his eyes dazzled. “Right. Now what?” The pegasus raised an eyebrow, evidently miffed that her dramatic declaration had been met with nothing more than a “Now what?”, but she only said, “Well. The Hounds are on the scent of the Elements now, having tasted their essence on the orb fragments, and will seek them out wherever they lie. The matter of Discord is now out of our hooves; that will be decided either in Ponyville or Canterlot, by Angel and Crowded Parchment or by Sweetie Belle. It depends, of course, on where the Elements are hidden: in Ponyville, where the Bearers can easily access them, or in Canterlot, where they can be best protected by Celestia and Luna. There was also, of course, the possibility that they had been hidden here, where presumably ancient wards to keep them safe are already in place, but as we have seen that was not the case. At any rate, we must devote our energies to a different task: erasing the reality in which I destroyed the world.” “Back to Ponyville, then, like you said?” asked the Mule. “Indeed. Back to Ponyville. We have a foalnapping to commit.” ----- It was all Twist’s fault, really, thought Sweetie Belle, as she thrashed her hooves back and forth, treading air far above the roaring cataracts of Neighagra Falls. She had been doing just fine on that tightrope before the filly shouted to her from across the gorge, asking her if she wanted to have some ice cream, which of course threw off her balance and sent her tumbling over towards the churning waters below. Fortunately, she had remembered how to fly just in time, but because her teeth were too heavy she wasn’t able to get any real lift, and could only hover precariously in midair. She just needed to shake them loose; that would solve everything. The little filly began to whip her head back and forth, and was rewarded by the sensation of a few molars flying free. She could already feel herself getting lighter. “Sweetie Belle! Are you Sweetie Belle?” The filly craned her neck back in surprise, trying to spot the pony who had just called out. There, not far overhead; a mare—a mule, not a pony—was sitting on a little white cloud, looking down at her. Sweetie Belle blinked. “Um...Yes? Yes, I’m Sweetie Belle.” “Thank Celestia. I’ve been through half a dozen dreams so far. I was beginning to think I’d never find you.” With a confused tilt of her head, Sweetie Belle said, “What do you mean, dreams? And could we talk about this later? I’m kinda busy now; I need to get rid of my teeth so I can fly better. There’s this cavepony, see, and—” “You’re dreaming, Sweetie,” said the mule, flatly. “You normally can’t fly, losing your teeth won’t change that, there is no cavepony, and the waterfall isn’t real.” “Oh.” Sweetie Belle considered this. A thought occurred to her. “Are you a part of my dream, then?” The mare shook her head. “No, I’m not from around these parts, as you might say. I’m the Dodge Junction Mule, and I’m a Dreamer. Has Sassaflash told you about the Dreamlands?” “Yes, I know about that.” Sweetie Belle eyed the Dodge Junction Mule uncertainly as the cloud on which she was resting drifted downward, bringing them eye to eye. “You know Miss Sassaflash?” With an air of some distaste, the mule said, “I do, at that. She’s a mighty queer creature, that one, and if I were you I wouldn’t...” She stopped, drew a deep breath, and slowly exhaled. “Sorry. Now’s not the time nor the place. Here, this is for you.” Withdrawing a folded slip of paper from somewhere in the depths of the cloud, she passed it over to Sweetie Belle. “It’s real urgent. Read it, and when you’re ready I’ll help you wake up. There’s a lot that needs doing, and it might be that you’re the only pony that can do it.” The paper unfolded in the grasp of Sweetie Belle’s magic, revealing a paragraph or two of writing in the close, spidery script of the Dark Lord Sassaflash. Sweetie Belle— Made a mistake. Should never have had you release Discord. My fault, not yours. Don’t blame yourself. Need you to help stop it. It wants the Elements of Harmony, and will do bad things to Rarity & aliae to get them. Need to give Elements to it before it tries to take them. Make it think it’s won, put it off its guard, let Princesses defeat it. At 1 AM tonight, look towards the south, towards Ponyville & Everfree. Look for blue light, maybe noise like thunder. If light goes to Ponyville, don’t worry; Angel and Parchment will attend to. If comes towards Canterlot, need your help. When it arrives, follow it at a distance. Do not go near it. If things are inside light, & if they have eyes, do not let them see you. It will go to Canterlot Castle, most likely. Sending you lock-plant clippings at midnight; hold to any lock, and lock will open. Follow light. It will go to where Elements are hidden. When it disappears, retrieve Elements. Discord should sense them & appear. Give to Discord, be very polite to it, be safe, protect yourself, tell it I told you to give it Elements, & tell it where to find me if it asks. Do what it wants. Be safe. Be safe. Please do this. Please trust me. Please forgive me. —Sassaflash After reading through the letter twice, Sweetie Belle looked up at the Dodge Junction Mule. She suddenly felt horribly cold, cold and confused and alone. The mare must have seen the fear in her eyes, for she said, “Listen, sweetheart, I said I’d deliver that letter and I’ve delivered it, but don’t you think for one moment you’ve got to do everything she says just ‘cause she says it. I don’t trust that mare. If you don’t feel safe doing—” “No!” The word came out in a high-pitched squeak. It wants the Elements of Harmony, and will do bad things to Rarity... “No, I can do it. It’s not that bad.” She willed the cold clinging to her veins and thickening in the pit of her stomach to melt away. If Sassaflash said it needed to be done, it needed to be done—and she could do it. Sassaflash had faced Tsathoggua, after all, hadn’t she? Well, she could face Discord, if she had to. “I’ll be fine. I’m ready for you to wake me up now.” The Dodge Junction Mule gave her a doubtful look. “Are you sure?” “Yes,” nodded the little unicorn. “Yes, I’m sure. She didn’t say anything else, did she?” “Hrm.” The mare raised a hoof, and gently placed it on Sweetie Belle’s forehead. The world began to blur, drifting into misty blackness as the dreaming world dissolved away. Through the haze Sweetie Belle heard, or thought she heard, the Dodge Junction Mule’s echoing voice say, “Only that she was proud of you.” ----- With a soft click, the front door of a tall, white Canterlot building unlocked itself. A moment later it swung upon on silent hinges, and a little unicorn filly slipped out into the night, easing the door shut behind her. Thirty minutes past midnight. Right. She had time. Returning a little wad of pulped plant matter to her saddlebag—the lock-plant clippings had arrived finely shredded, for some reason—she slid over into the shadow of one of the nearby Canterlot homes, avoiding the moonlight as her mentor had taught her. Soft and swift as a minnow in a stream, she darted through the streets of the city, and soon arrived at her destination: a south-facing parapet she remembered seeing earlier in the day, when Miss Cheerilee had been taking their class on a tour of Canterlot. Scooting over to one edge of the wide, sweeping wall, where—she hoped—she would be difficult to spot by anypony looking from the direction of the city, she peered out into the blackness, the free mountain wind whistling chill in her mane. Countless stars shone overhead, filling the great bowl of the sky with light, while below the ramparts of the Canterhorn dropped away into a vast dark abyss. Sweetie Belle could almost have believed that there was no bottom to that pit; that it just kept dropping, forever and ever, down into the heart of the world. Somewhere out there, though, she knew, was Ponyville, and beyond it the Everfree forest, untamed and crawling with life. She squinted, trying to see some hint of a feature which might allow her to pin down the location of something, anything, in that slumbering valley. No such luck. All she could do was wait, then, and hope she saw whatever-it-was when it turned up. Time passed, although Sweetie Belle, impatiently waiting for something—anything!—to happen, might have differed on that point. At last, though, as she stared unblinking out into the void, trying to stay awake and wondering how long she’d be able to succeed, she caught a glimmer of blue light, shimmering a bit to the west of where she had thought the Everfree was. It flared up, and for a moment shone almost as brightly as the stars overhead before fading away again to a dimmer but still visible glow. After hovering in place for perhaps five or ten seconds, it abruptly threw itself northwards, gliding straight as an arrow through the sleeping valley. From this distance, it seemed to be moving at a painful crawl, but as she watched its progress the unicorn realized that it must be moving along at a terrific pace, screaming through the air far faster than a pony could gallop—and when it got here, she would have to follow it… “Ponyfeathers!” exclaimed the filly, thrilling a little at the word—Rarity would have been shocked, she was sure, if she had heard her say it. She had to get to the castle before that blue thing got there; had to be on the scene so she could follow it to wherever it was going. Rearing up, she twisted around and hurried off into the night, trying to move as silently and as quickly as possible. Far behind and far below her, the Hounds raced on. Sweetie Belle found infiltrating the castle to be a surprisingly simple exercise. The raskovnik helped a lot, of course, particularly after she discovered that it appeared to interpret “door” and “lock” along extremely liberal lines. She soon realized that the castle, having been remodeled and rearranged countless times in its thousand year long existence, was filled with old passageways from centuries earlier that had been blocked up and sealed behind walls—to such an extent, in fact, that she found herself able to go almost anywhere without going near the main hallways, simply slipping from one chamber to another through ancient portals that had been long forgotten generations ago. After some exploration, she settled down in front of a high, south-facing tower window with a good view of the valley beyond, and set herself to waiting. This time, the wait wasn’t long at all. The fierce blue light was brighter now, climbing rapidly through the air as it approached Canterlot, and soon it had reached the city itself, racing over the turrets and towers of the buildings below. Its passage was oddly jagged, swerving to the left or right with unnerving suddenness, and Sweetie found herself irresistibly reminded of a cat chasing down a desperately dodging mouse. As it swept nearer she thought she could make out the edges of sharp angles within the glow, splintering her view of the city’s walls and buildings like light passing through a faceted crystal. She had little time to observe the approaching thing, though. It was soaring up almost straight towards her, and for a horrible moment she thought it would plunge right into the room where she was waiting. Fortunately, after clipping the top of one of the city’s spires with a sharp snap, its angle of attack jerked a bit to the right, and instead of striking her it rushed headlong into the exterior wall on one side of her own room with a rumbling, grating fusillade of cracks. This was followed almost immediately by a diminishing series of further faint crunching and cracking sounds as the leaping pack of angles stabbed deeper into the castle, and then...silence. The lavender-maned filly slowly lowered herself down from her perch. It had been so sudden. Even here, right next to where it had entered, she hadn’t stood a chance of being able to follow it. Maybe, she thought, it had left some kind of trail behind. Getting into the room by which the Hounds had entered the castle was somewhat difficult, as there was no door, ancient or modern, joining the two chambers, but after a little exploration she managed to find her way. At first glance it looked as though her fears had been confirmed and the angular things had left no trace behind other than a peculiarly acrid scent, but after peering a bit more closely at her surroundings she noticed a strange latticework of cracks in the chamber’s furniture, walls, and floor, with the cracking most intense and widespread along a path stretching from the chamber’s window to the opposite wall. She edged the door open, peered down the hall outside to make sure that no guards were present, and set off in pursuit of her quarry. In the darkness of the castle’s interior hallways, lit only by the occasional flickering taper and the reflected light from a distant unicorn guard making their rounds, Sweetie Belle found that the cracks made a much less reliable guide than she had hoped, often being too fine too see or disappearing only to inexplicably reappear several yards further on. She was helped, though, by the odd, choking smell that the things had left behind them, as well as occasional wisps of blue-black smoke that clung together in cloudlets, seemingly reluctant to disperse. In this way, over the course of perhaps thirty minutes, she made her way into the depths of the castle, slipping from one side room to another and guessing as best she could the things’ trajectory when their trail led through some area too open or well-lit for her to dare. At last the track ended, sweeping down into a long, ornate hall decorated with many fine stained-glass windows. There were almost no cracks at all here—perhaps, thought Sweetie Belle, the things had just been moving so quickly as they neared their quarry that they had left none—but their scent, though faint, was unmistakable, and a wisp or two of smoke still drifted near a tall door set at one end of the hall, its thick wood dyed a rich blend of violet, rose, and purple. A golden sunburst had been engraved in its very center, and as the unicorn drew near she saw that a faint wisp of smoke was dribbling out of a hole in the sunburst’s center. Well. She didn’t hear any cracking, so whatever those things were, they were probably far away by now, and she didn’t have time to dawdle. Retrieving the pulped raskovnik from her saddlebag, she held it up to the door, and was rewarded with a flash of pure blue light, clear and wholesome where the Hounds’ glow had been harsh and glaring, radiating out from the carved Sun. Flowing along thin channels in the door’s surface, the light illuminated six circular depressions in its panels, and then intensified to a glow so strong Sweetie Belle was afraid it would attract the attention of somepony somewhere else in the castle. The door slid open… ...And Sweetie Belle gagged, overcome by a sudden flood of the same intense, poisonous odor she had tracked this far. Great clouds of roiling smoke billowed out of the chamber beyond, coiling greasily out across the floor and snaking past the filly’s hocks. The little pony staggered back a few yards from the door, choking and waving her hoof to try to clear the air. It didn’t particularly help. After retreating further down the hall and gulping down a few lungfuls of fresh air, she scurried back to the door, where the brilliant light had, by now, faded away. Within a small chamber beyond the door, still wreathed in curling drifts of the acrid smoke, was a modest pedestal, atop which rested a richly decorated chest studded with gemstones. It looked extremely important. Wasting no time, Sweetie Belle brought out the raskovnik once more and held it up against the chest’s front. Nothing happened. For a moment the filly was afraid that she had somehow used up the raskovnik’s power, but then it occurred to her to try the lid. Rearing up on her hind legs to get access to it, she gave it an experimental shove. Evidently it had never been locked in the first place, for it swung wide easily. There, resting within the chest, were five golden necklaces and a tiara, glittering and beautiful even in the dim light of the hall. Sweetie Belle reached out for the nearest of them, a graceful necklace embellished with a royal purple diamond—the Element that her sister, Rarity, had borne. There was a hacking cough immediately behind her. Sweetie Belle whipped around, a chill seizing her spine, and let out what should have been an ear-piercing scream but somehow came out only as a frightened squeak. Lounging before her was a chimerical monster, fanged, horned, and surrounded by the drifting, shadowy banks of smoke left behind by the Hounds. It blinked mad, fiery eyes, and smiled a sharp-toothed smile at the little pony as it crawled forward on mismatched forelimbs, one a giant paw and the other clawed talons. Wings rose up from its back, one webbed and sharp-tipped and the other long and feathered. She had seen it before, of course, in the sculpture gardens just that morning, but that was nothing like seeing it here, vivid, alive and moving. Her voice a timorous whisper, Sweetie Belle murmured, “Discord!” The thing started to chuckle, which turned midway into another melodramatic hacking cough. Waving its paw carelessly, it dispersed the smoke, and said in a throaty, jovial voice, “That’s me! I’m going to have to have a word with Celestia about how she keeps her castle. The smell! Hah!” It paused, and snaked its way around Sweetie Belle to leap up into the chest where the Elements rested, shrinking as it did so to fit in amongst them. Peering over the chest’s rim at Sweetie Belle, it added, “And the castle’s got mice, too, I see.” Sweetie Belle felt a horrible shivering sensation sweep through her body, and suddenly felt much, much...smaller. Her hooves felt colder, too, and softer, almost like—she started squeaking in terror as she caught her own reflection in the polished floor, huge incisors in her mouth and pink, hairless ears rising above her tiny head. An eagle claw swooped down from overhead, and Discord plucked her up by her long, hairless tail, lifting her to eye level. It had grown to its full size again, and was wearing all six of the Elements, the tiara on its misshapen head and the five necklaces strung one after another down its long, snakelike neck. The draconequus tossed her carelessly into the air and caught her in his talons, chuckling to himself. His claws curled in, enclosing her in darkness, and then sprung open again, having transformed Sweetie Belle back into a pony. Her body shaking, the filly managed to squeak, “Th-the E-elements are f-for you. Miss Sassaflash t-told me to get them for you.” Discord reared up, looking down the bridge of its snout at Sweetie Belle, and tut-tutted. “Oh, come now, I’m not going to hurt you, heh heh. I just want to have a little fun! Don’t lose your head.” Reaching up its paw, it plucked her head off her shoulders, and Sweetie Belle watched in horror as her headless body collapsed, lifeless, to the tiled floor. Leaving her head floating in midair, it unscrewed its own head from its neck as well, and taking both heads in its grasp, it brought them level with one another and cheerfully said, “Can’t we have a nice face-to-face conversation without—Oh, alright, alright, I’ll put your head back on. Stop screaming.” Setting the filly back down on the ground again, the draconequus flopped forward on to its belly, propping up its head with its forelimbs like a filly listening to stories at a slumber party. “Now, delighted as I am with Miss Sassaflash‘s thoughtful gift—I always have loved a good accessory, she knows me so well!—I’m ashamed to say that I can’t remember making her acquaintance. So embarrassing! Ha ha ha! White Stockings would have my head. Is she one of the bearers of these little trinkets nowadays, do you know?” It gestured at the Elements, which had left its neck and head and, shrunken, were now strung on a little charm bracelet dangling from its scrawny wrist. Sweetie Belle shook her head, trying to ignore the cold sweat running down her flanks, trying not to cry. “N-no, that’s—other ponies.” “Really?” The draconequus’ eyes narrowed, and the little pony could have sworn she saw a spark of fire flaring within their glowing depths. “And who might those other ponies be?” She hesitated. Discord saw the hesitation, and smiled a smile that was just a little too wide and just a little too toothy to be at all reassuring. Do what it wants. Be safe, thought Sweetie Belle. I’m so sorry, Rarity. “They’re...they’re six ponies. Twilight Sparkle has the Element of Magic, Fluttershy has the Element of Kindness, Pinkie Pie has Laughter, Rainbow Dash has Loyalty, Applejack has Honesty, and Rarity—” She swallowed. “Rarity has Generosity.” Discord, who had whipped out a little notebook from some pocket dimension and had been furiously scribbling away on it with a quill pen that was about two yards long, finished taking its notes, swallowed the notebook, and stuck the quill back into its wing, where it shrank down to a slightly more reasonable size. “Little pony-whose-name-has-temporarily-slipped-my-mind, I like you! Ha ha! So helpful!” It rolled upside down, floating in midair and grinning hugely. “In fact, I feel myself coming down with a case—tchoo!—of gratitude. Is there anything you want, little filly? Sadness? Joy? A present? A colt? Silver? Gold? A secret that’s never been told?” “Please,” whispered Sweetie Belle, “Just don’t hurt them!” “Hurt them? Ha ha ha!” The draconequus turned a cartwheel in midair, laughing uproariously. “Where would be the fun in that? We’ll have a lovely time together; we’ll play games, make jokes, laugh, sing, scream, dance...I’ll drive them mad with delight! Or with something, anyway. I haven’t made up my mind yet. Hoo hoo hoo! This is going to be so much fun! Here I was, worried I was going to have to turn them into stained glass or something to get them out of the way; now we’re all going to be able to really enjoy one another’s company.” It floated up towards the ceiling, slowly rotating as it chuckled to itself, and then abruptly straightened its long, serpentine body out. “Right, I’m bored now. Goodbye, little filly! Tarakhe Basileus, scion of Tartarus, gives you his regards! Ha aha hahaha ha!” With one last burst of manic laughter, the mad God snapped its talons, and disappeared in a blinding flash of white light. Sweetie Belle stood there, alone in the hall, for some moments. Then, moving like a pony in a dream, she shut the chest that had held the Elements, pulled the door enclosing it shut, and quietly, fearfully, furiously vowed never to set hoof in Sassaflash‘s cottage again as long as she lived.