This was the biggest battle of the century. Despite having slept through most of his history lessons, the sergeant was certain of that. A loud boom above him affirmed the idea; and almost immediately, the air around him shifted, his hoof quaking on the polished marble stairs. Fine dust rained down on him from above, the mighty tower struggling to keep the cannon in its place.
Indeed; those contraptions hadn't been used for combat in any recent history.
He shook his head, a vain attempt to rid his mane of the accumulated dust; then raced upwards renewed. He paid his movements little heed, his legs pacing back and forth like those of an automaton. His head was heavy; his thoughts weighed him down. One in particular: that it was he who had brought such a historical event about.
He was always a passable officer. Not the worst; he certainly didn't want to be demoted. He liked the numbers on his regular paychecks far too much for that. He never wanted a promotion either, though. He was a content pony, and could well imagine himself touring the towers every afternoon until retirement came knocking.
So why would a pony like him go and make history? Why would he make such a tremendous decision, based on nothing but an authentic-seeming letter?
Have I lost my mind? the sergeant grit his teeth. He reached the top of the stairway; the trapdoor was in his way. He didn't stop nor slow down, but simply braced for impact. His helmet smashed against the steel-reinforced wood, and he was rewarded with chilly winds right into his face. Chilly winds, with a nauseating stench of sulphur.
Gasping for air after the long run up-stairs, the sergeant took the last few steps with a pronounced stagger. He took a few deep breaths to clear his head; then he looked around and found no enemies in the tower. Only seven ponies, all staring at him.
So those gryphons didn't make it here in the end, the sergeant pushed his helmet backwards. That, or they weren't coming to this tower in the first place... ack.
One of the seven ponies, a bulky pegasus, moved away from the smouldering cannon and stepped forward.
"Something wrong, sarge'? You look awfully agitated."
The sergeant made a pained smirk. For that moment, the mental stress didn't factor into his grimace; it was his burning lungs that were killing him.
"Yeeea'. I... hhh... haaa... gah!" he cleared his throat. He only had mild troubles breathing, but pretty big difficulties with forming legible words. "I... I, ah... I need ya' to stop firing... that thing."
There.
He had said it. It was done.
It was over.
He sat down, closed his eyes and took a deep breath of the chilly, oily, disgusting air. Despite the physical pain, he felt pretty good. Relieved, almost.
Right until another cannon boomed, the deep thump echoing in the distance. Frowning, the sergeant cocked his head to the side and glared at the farthest tower.
I came to warn them against inbound fliers, he recalled. Why did I first order them to stop firing, again?
That was strange. Almost as if he was thinking with his old mind for a second.
"Uh... ah'kay?" the pegasus squinted at the officer. He sounded anything but convinced. He even took the time to glance behind his back, stirring his wings nervously. "But, it's not like anything changed down there. They've even sent some flyers to the other tower just now!"
The sergeant rubbed the side of his helmet and sighed lengthily.
"That's exactly why we need to stop. If they can assault us despite the barrage, then the barrage obviously doesn't work," he grumbled in a low tone. He was beginning to feel quite... strange. It may have been the stress.
No, it had to be the stress.
This whole nightmare was getting to him; he was sure of it. He didn't join the Guard to partake in such lunacy.
"Hum. Makes sense, I guess?" the pegasus nodded. He whistled and motioned with his head; and, just like that, the other ponies in the tower immediately stopped servicing the cannon. They stood down rather literally, too; having nothing else to do, they simply stared at each other questioningly, waiting for somepony - any pony - to give them new instructions.
"What of the fliers, though? Could be dangerous if they got here." The pegasus motioned towards the moat. "Should we go grab some spears or somethin'?"
"That... would have been my next order," the sergeant gathered himself with a groan. This bucking night! Even if he solved issues by the dozen, a thousand more remained all the same. "I've sent orders to the spear-ponies to clear the sky... some gryphons may still make it through, though."
Gazing at the airspace outside, he got the glimpse of a gryphon dropping out of the sky, his paws clutched on the spear that struck his mid-section.
The sergeant flinched at the sight. Such a bloody spectacle went against everything he held dear. And yet, at the same time... a part of him also felt relieved. That was one less attacker that could assail his precious wall.
Because he had no choice but to defend this wall. Even if he couldn't account just where this stubborn devotion came from, he had no choice but to obey. He would have preferred a peaceful solution, but those priorities weren't his to change. Holding the wall took precedence over everything else - including the choice of methods.
"Oh! How thoughtful of you!" the bulky pegasus whistled. "Streak! Go and fetch a dozen spears from the supply... don't you look at me like that! On the double, soldier!"
The sergeant paid the pegasus a snide glance. He didn't know that pony; despite having served for over a decade, he barely knew anypony in the Guard. Even so, he was certain that nopony in their right mind would remain so calm after personally witnessing combat... after having seen so much death.
This brand of psychopathy reminded him of his own self a scant few minutes ago; the officer who had casually ordered the cannons to rain death on an unsuspecting crowd below.
But... in this case he wasn't the only one having gone insane.
Have we all lost our minds? We're all pretty stressed, but... but this craziness is way too uniform, the sergeant hummed, rubbing his hoof against his chin. It was such an absurd idea to even consider! ...and yet, nopony around him was fazed by the turn of events. They were carrying out their orders, eagerly and to the best of their ability.
Now that I think about it, not even the spear squads objected to killing whatever approached the towers, the sergeant recalled, his teeth grinding as dull worry gripped his mind.
Were they all caught up in some magical spell?
That was the only answer he could think of, and the more he thought on the matter, the more certain he was of it. A subtle magic that relied on their own sense of duty - twisting it, using it against them.
Yanking his head up, the sergeant hastily glanced around, finally certain in what he was supposed to be doing all along.
I have to put an end to this madness!
"Si- sir! Tower six... it's...!"
The sergeant had no idea who yelled, but turned to the left anyway. He remained in that pose for a solid half minute, staring with his mouth hanging open; then he began speaking without realising, his mouth moving on its own.
"What in the..."
He had no idea what he was looking at.
Tower number six - the leftmost tower - was barely visible, clouded in some sort of thick mist. A cloud with a faint blue tint; and also one that didn't care about the steady winds battering the towers themselves. It wasn't held in place by any pegasus whatsoever; it simply stuck around of its own volition, swirling around the tower as it if had a mind of its own.
A little dazed by the unexpected sight, the sergeant rubbed his eyes, then squinted hard; but the image didn't change. It actually got even weirder, if that were possible. Tower Six was getting covered by ice! He could tell by the reflection - and by the icicles hanging from the golden roof.
"What in Celestia's name is going on there?" the pegasus next to him snorted loudly, holding his hoof just above his eyes.
"Magic," the sergeant mumbled, his mind hung up on that single word. He had no idea what kind of magic that was - but the sight was so unnatural, it couldn't be anything else.
And then the cloud moved.
It might have been water vapour, but it sure didn't float. It moved fast - way too fast, faster than any pegasus could carry a cloud. It soared through the air, shooting out like an arrow, drawing a slightly arced line until it reached tower number five.
His limbs heavy as granite, the sergeant could only watch in silence as the cloud enveloped the next tower. He had no idea what was going on, but he had reasons to fear the worst.... and while he didn't know the ponies there, they were his underlings all the same. He was supposed to take care of them. Because without them - without those towers - the wall would fall, and then he would have failed in his duty-
Fighting the invisible binds that were gripping his mind, the sergeant shook his with a furious snarl.
The wall, always that darned wall... I know this worry isn't mine! Let go! Let go of me already!
Agitated yells and loud commands shook him out of his futile struggle; somepony behind him hollered to turn the cannon around. That was such a lunatic idea that the sergeant doubted his ears at first. Firing the cannon at the other tower? Who in their right mind would do that?
He was about to belay that order when a loud boom rang out. That was the sound of a cannon going off, all right; though it came from tower five, not theirs. The cloud seemed to interfere with the cannon, though; the tell-tale smoke looked completely different than usual. Instead of a long, conical plume, it enveloped the tower, seeping out through every crack and crevice.
Out of the blue, another, much louder detonation rang out. It was so bright that it blinded the sergeant; he had to flinch away, reflexively shielding his eyes with a hoof. A wave of hot air rammed him the next moment; not strong enough to send him flying, but enough to daze him nevertheless.
He collapsed on the floor, confused and panting. That pain wasn't his biggest worry; once he glanced up, all his ailments became secondary.
He couldn't see tower five any more.
It was simply gone.
Only the broken, cracked walls stared back at him - and the cloud, of course. The cloud which moved again.
Towards him, this time.
"IT'S COMING THIS WAY! TO ARMS!" somepony behind him screamed.
Rattled by the earlier explosion, the sergeant's thoughts crawled so very slowly. He obeyed the command, despite his hunch that resistance was going to be futile... and indeed, even his movements proved painfully slow. He could barely yank his sword from the sheathe by the time the sentient cloud reached him.
And then came the most bitter realisation.
That cloud was nothing but frozen mist surrounding the actual enemy. A creature with bright red eyes and a translucent blue body; almost like a twisted image of a pony, complete with perpetually snarling, unnaturally sharp fangs.
That was a sight rather easy to categorise.
This... this is a Celestia-bucked ice-demon! the sergeant recoiled. He couldn't recall the actual name of the creature, but he did recall something else: that these monsters should have been extinct from Equestria for many centuries already.
Maybe this one didn't get the memo, he chuckled grimly. Well, maybe I can help correct this-!
And with that thought, he swung his sword.
His attack was well-timed; his sword flashed, striking between the red eyes just as the demon landed on his tower. A futile gesture, as the sergeant himself realised the moment his blade failed to make contact. The swing went right through the demon's head; there was no resistance, the cold steel simply swirling the frosty air around.
"What-!" the sergeant recoiled, jumping back on instinct. That was the right choice to make; the tower began freezing up where the ice demon stood. Even standing a few steps away, the sergeant felt his face freezing, his breath forming visible plumes. For a lack of better ideas, he took a defensive posture, just as he learnt in the academy so many years ago - keeping his head low and his sword pointed at the enemy.
And then he noticed.
His sword was completely frozen; a continuous layer of ice covered the weapon. I only did a single slash, he gulped. Eyes on the demon, he knocked the sword against the ground - and blinked in disbelief when the entire weapon shattered instead of the ice coming off.
There was no time to get surprised, however. A much louder, pained creak hit his ears; and as he glanced to his right, he realised that it was the cannon itself wailing in pain. The steaming-hot metal was cooling so rapidly that it began to deform, outright splitting in places.
Thermal shock, his mind identified the phenomenon. So this is how tower five exploded, huh? Did they try firing a leaky cannon? Talk about desperation...
He needn't look so far for despair, though.
The demon moved towards him at a leisured pace, almost idly placing one hoof after another. Clenching his teeth, the sergeant wondered just what he could do. One of the more valiant cannoneers snapped, charging the demon with a spear. That counterattack was over in a flash; the earth pony was thrusting with the spear in one moment, then landed on the floor in the next, frozen solid.
No way, the sergeant gulped, then resumed backing away. He had to keep his distance! His armour already felt chilly, sticking to him at the thinner parts of his coat. At this rate, he'd be a pony-sized popsicle before-
"YA' FREAK-!" shouted a pegasus, barrelling at the creature with another spear. He managed exactly that one attack. His frozen corpse then sailed through the incorporeal demon, carried by momentum, finally landing next to his spear.
In the meantime, the sergeant's back hit a wall; he had ran out of space. The internal of a tower wasn't incredibly spacious. There was only so much distance he could put between himself and the approaching, certain icy death.
Well... damn. This is it, isn't it?
Despite the surreal cold, he was panting like no tomorrow. A part of him wanted to believe that this was but a bad dream; that there was no way such things could actually happen.
Somepony next to him broke into a laughter. That was surreal enough to make both the sergeant and the ice demon look there. The noise was coming from a unicorn; one who had clearly reached his limits. Giggling like an insane lunatic, he threw his spear through the ice-demon - and then jumped into the air, hopping over the parapet with a final, dry chuckle.
You friggin' coward, taking the easy way out. The sergeant grumbled internally, then shifted his gaze back to their supernatural foe. Nope, I'm not envying you in the slightest!
Ironically, that scene affected the ice demon more than all of the previous attacks combined. The creature stared lengthily at the parapet, its crimson-red eyes visibly pondering on just what had transpired.
Glaring at the demon, the sergeant wished he could put that time to use; to give some meaning to his underling's sacrifice if nothing else.
It's just... there was so very little he could do.
Fighting was useless. He couldn't run away either; going down the stairs would have taken too long. He could have used that opening to jump down himself... but that seemed like a waste. No, he wanted to do something else. Something meaningful.
If only he had a weapon that could harm that murderous ghost...! Something like-
His gaze wandering off from the blue ghost, the sergeant raised his frosty eyebrows in excitement. With a flick of his magic, he grabbed a flint from the floor. The small rock was used to ignite the cannon's fuse; he would give it a different, final use now.
Grinning with all his teeth showing - a grimace that made even his tongue shiver - he yelled to the ice-demon.
"Hey! You monster!"
The demon turned to him - slowly, without any sense of urgency. The translucent creature showed signs of confusion though; its red eyes were visibly sizing up the sergeant, questioning what he was up to.
"Why are... you even here... you cursed... accursed... monster?" The sergeant snarled. It was getting hard to talk; his face was freezing up. He simply had to say the last few words though, no matter how painful speech became. "I... won' let... monsters... like cha'... hurt... anyone!"
With a flicker of his magic, the flint scraped against his armour. Bright sparks jumped to life - and then landed next to him, right in the open keg of gunpowder.
You accursed monster.
Bathing in flames, Lyra savoured those words.
She had the time to do so; there was no need to hurry. The detonation ripped the tower apart and sent her barrelling downwards. Despite being ghosts, windigos still couldn't fly at will; their fancy acrobatics skills were useless in the air. Lyra couldn't change direction until her hooves touched the ground.
She glanced below and frowned. The next tower was on the other side of the main gate; she would need to cross the ramparts to get there.
Of course, that meant mowing down a few more soldiers. It couldn't be helped, though. If they wouldn't move out of her way, then of course she would have to-
Monster.
Twisting her head around, she glanced at the spot that soldier used to stand. She still barely believed he did that - that he would blow himself up like that.
She had never heard of a pony to even contemplate such thoughts, much less actually carry them out.
For all the horrible things they had done, Lyra couldn't imagine any of the princesses forcing anypony into that kind of a way out.
So just who is the real monster here, I wonder? Did I cross a line somewhere? But all I did was... try to save everypony back there?
Shivers distracted her from her doubts; her immediate reaction was to glance around, looking for a new source of heat. She didn't want to go hungry. It was pretty hard keeping her murderous instincts in check. Fighting hunger might just tip the scales and revert her into an actual, mindless windigo.
Then she would be a monster for certain.
Using reflexes no pony could possess, Lyra twisted herself around, legs perfectly aligned for a touchdown. Debris rained down around her, the remains of the proud tower; pieces of marble, torn wooden beams, jagged golden roof-tiles. A mighty piece of metal crashed just behind her, tearing a metre-deep hole into the walkway; glancing there, Lyra gave the cannon's deformed remains a wry grin.
That thing wouldn't be harming anypony anytime soon. And all it took was a pony blowing the whole tower up-
Lyra staggered. The shivers returned, coming and going in waves, each worse than the previous. She hunched over and gasped; she felt so cold that she was certain she would freeze and die on the spot. Her teeth clenched tightly, she forced herself to move; lying still was the worst a freezing pony could have done. She staggered away from the twisted wreckage, squinting into the thick dust that surrounded her. She sensed something through the thick layers of grey fog; it took her a few seconds to realise that Guard troopers were approaching her. They were moving slowly and uncertainly, coughing and wheezing in the dust.
Standing alone in the middle of the dust-storm, Lyra felt the heat radiating from those ponies. Against the chilly winds, all of the soldiers shone brightly, like the stars in the night sky.
Lyra licked her trembling, ice-cold lips. Those plump fools had just presented a fine dinner for her. She really shouldn't have declined such an offer-
"NO!" she screeched, shaking her head wildly. She only came to silence the cannons - to save those that followed her here. Massacring indiscriminately... only a monster would have done that.
A true monster.
I'm not...
Lighter pieces of debris continued to rain down on her; a golden roof-tile flew through her incorporeal form, clanging on the floor and drawing her attention.
The tower...
Her face in a wry grimace, Lyra turned around to stare at the broken walls.
"Why would you..." Lyra whispered, then gasped raggedly. She was feeling cold, so very cold; she wanted to shiver, but her body was so cold that her muscles refused to budge even that much. She was freezing. It wasn't just her either. Ice crystals appeared on the marble slabs making up the walkway, and Lyra shuddered at the realisation.
Even if she didn't mean to consciously attack anypony, her sheer presence was more than enough to end lives indiscriminately.
Even if she didn't mean to be a monster, she was turning into one anyway.
She couldn't follow those thoughts to their logical conclusion. She fell forward, gasping and clutching her hooves on her belly. She felt hot and cold at the same time; her innards burned, but her skin was freezing at the very same time. Coughing hoarsely, she swiped the sweat off her brow...
Then she gave the sight of her very solid leg a wry smile.
Oh dammit.
"Master, I'm very sorry! I-"
"Ain't your fault," Lyra whispered to the windigo. She didn't feel like arguing with her loyal servant. Their unison ended rather abruptly, leaving her dazed and drained; so drained that she didn't even jump when a loud crack sounded near her. She simply shuddered, certain that another piece of debris had missed her by a hair's breadth. But, eventually glancing there, she saw something even worse.
She found a guard standing next to her, spear drawn and everything.
Scurrying away was Lyra's first thought, but her body couldn't act on the idea. She was too weak; all she could was lie on the cold, frozen ground... and gawk with a blank look on her face. She couldn't even muster the strength to make a scared grimace.
So this is how it ends, huh? she thought as the trooper turned to her. I thought it'd be more... dramatic.
It felt all kind of anticlimactic to be skewered by a nopony after she had destroyed half the cannons on her own.
That feeling was further reinforced when the Guard finally spotted her. He was so surprised he seemed to forget why he was on the wall to begin with - he blinked in confusion for many long moments, jerking the tip of his spear towards Lyra with a laughable delay. He didn't seem like a figure important enough to finish Lyra's story; he was nothing but a bumbling fool.
"Halt!" The trooper barked, emphasising the order with a small nudge of his weapon. "Who are you?"
"Lyra Heartstrings." Lyra sighed in exasperation. As ridiculous her situation was, she felt resigned to her fate. "You should know who I am."
The Guard soldier defied all expectations. Instead of winning the battle on his own, he lowered his weapon and scratched his head.
"Really?" He cocked his head to the side, clearly at a loss. "I, uhhh... should I really?"
A tired grin on her face, Lyra relaxed, slumping onto the icy ground like a cheap doll.
I can't believe this oaf is so thick. How did these idiots force me to such lengths?!
"Master... if I may." Snowy cleared her throat. "These ponies won't know master. We have made the whole world forget about Lyra Heartstrings, remember? And the delusions of Master being a princess... I believe that Axiom kept those fairly localised, as Master hadn't turned into an insane maniac yet. Clearly the damage couldn't have been so bad."
Glancing at her servant, Lyra whispered a mostly silent 'oh'. In her blind acceptance of fate, some facts had slipped her mind indeed. She didn't get very far into contemplating; a light-blue aura took hold of her, yanking her back on her hooves.
"Eh, it doesn't matter who you are!" The Guard next to her barked, his horn glowing with magic. "Didn't you notice it's a battlefield here?! You could get seriously hurt, you know!"
The chiding came so far from the left field, all Lyra could do was nod numbly.
"Safety is that way!" the soldier pointed his spear in the direction of the palace. "Can you move?"
"I... uh, I can?" Lyra mumbled, uncertainty permeating her words. She couldn't believe that soldier. They were in the middle of a battle - a battle where ponies were dying all around them - and the first reaction of that colt was to guide her to safety. He didn't even stop to think just how she got there or what she was doing; he simply tried to take care of her.
After making his comrades blow themselves up, that soldier made Lyra uneasy in roughly a dozen different ways.
Those colts aren't fanatics, she gulped, carrying her gaze to the other soldiers - most of them barely more than outlines in the dirty-grey dust. Why did they try to kill us, then? It just doesn't make sense. Though... what if they have fired the cannons because of some mistake? Or... were they afraid of us? A rag-tag bunch of weirdos marching towards the palace...
She had nothing concrete in her mind, but that didn't stop her from having an incredibly terrifying idea at the same time. An idea where she was the centrepiece of a completely pointless tragedy.
I set this whole thing in motion, she bit on her lip as the corners of her mouth curled into a nervous smile. A familiar word sneaked back into her head, too...
Monster.
She closed her eyes and breathed in, giggling faintly. All of a sudden, all the horrible things she had done as a windigo seemed weightless. No matter how cruel, none of those deeds compared to the sin of setting the whole battle off.
Monster!
Clenching her teeth, Lyra had to begrudgingly accept that accusation. She had nothing substantial in her defence.
"What are you waiting for?!" the Guard trooper yelled next to her, snapping her out of her misery. "Move! We can't protect you if you stay- ack!"
A gryphon appeared from the thick, dusty fog. The next thing Lyra noticed was the Guard unicorn stumbling backwards, a thin blade sticking out from his unarmoured neck. That image was enough to snap Lyra back into her fighting mindset. She grabbed the deceased soldier's spear by reflex and spun around, just in time parry a long knife-
-and then to play a little staring contest with two gryphons.
"Oh," one of them spoke up.
"Uh-oh." The other one hissed, slowly taking a step away from Lyra. "So-sorry 'bout that, Princess. I just- I just saw you next to that Guard! I assumed..."
Lowering her spear, Lyra nodded with a heavy sigh.
"Don't worry," she scratched her head with a hoof. "It's chaos down here... I don't blame you for getting confused. Just be a little more careful and-"
...and carry on, she almost said. Almost. No matter how much sense those words made, she couldn't bring herself to utter them. Not when she was standing right next to the dead Guard - the unicorn who had been so set on bringing her to safety.
I need to stop this nightmare, Lyra dropped her spear in honest disgust. I need to... uh.
She peeked behind her back. Loud yells and clangs were coming from behind; the shades beyond the grey fog were fighting now. Fighting... a losing battle by the sounds of it. The armoured-looking shades fell one by one, swarmed by newer, gryphon-like shades.
And just like that, the whole thing was over before she could have intervened.
They are fighting as if possessed, Lyra shivered at her followers' performance. Little wonder, though. After losing so many to bombardment and spears, they must be thirsty for revenge.
She squeezed her eyes as the last few Guards got taken down, then turned away, mentally tuning the screams out.
I'm responsible for this... I did this. She clenched her teeth. And it's not going to end either. There's nothing I could tell this lot that would make them stand down now. All I could achieve is to discredit myself.
Opening her eyes and finding the two gryphons still standing in front of her, Lyra gave her followers a wry smirk.
"Go and gather a few able comrades!" she commanded, yanking the spear back into her grip. "We need to get the gates open."
Both gryphons snapped to a hasty salute and took off, disappearing from her sight on short order.
"What have I done," Lyra whispered once those two were gone, smiling in her disbelief. "By Cel- by the gods, what have I done?"
"Master has sparked a rebellion to overthrow the tyrants?" Snowy volunteered, her answer filled with obvious curiosity.
"No... I've created a monster, Snowy." Lyra shook her head soberly, paying her spear a sad, hollow grin. "I've created a monster that no-one can possibly stop now."
Weighing the spear with her magic, she chuckled darkly. The weapon felt heavy, the metal tip dragging towards the floor; it almost felt heavier to hold than it was to undo centuries of peace. She could almost see how this revolution of hers would end. The violence wouldn't stop with this battle - far from it. The pacifism that Celestia had maintained wouldn't hold up against such savage scenes. No... this much anguish couldn't be ignored. The cries of the dying would be resounding, sparking further conflicts down the road. The peaceful world she had known would shatter and be no more.
She knew that much with absolute certainty, because she had seen this timeline play out many times throughout history. All the generals she never had been but certainly remembered - they all had witnessed how battles had given birth to new battles only.
And it was she who had renewed that vicious cycle... revived a piece of history that nopony wanted to see again.
I brought wars back into reality, she pushed the spear's shaft against her head, the cool wood brushing against her noseridge. What could I be if not a despicable monster?
"Well... nopony said that revolutions are clean business. We're not off to too bad a start as far as I can tell - so it stands to reason that Master hasn't done any terrible mistakes yet." Snowy gave her master a warm smile, making Lyra peek hollowly at her. "Besides, none of this will matter as long as Master can acquire the other servants, right?"
Lyra gave the windigo a tired grin and put the spear aside, nodding with a faint - but rather earnest - grin.
"Darn right," she nodded curtly. "As long as I get the servants, none of this will have happened... so none of this will matter."
That sounded so reassuring that she didn't have the heart to tell Snowy: that was a lie. Even if she did become God, she wouldn't stop grieving over the suffering she had wrought. She would certainly remember forever and beat herself over the carelessness that led to this madness; because she would risk repeating the mistake if she ever forgot.
A god couldn't repeat such an awful mistake. Anything but this.
She couldn't allow herself to be a monster once she wielded absolute powers. 'I didn't help you to give rise to another Discord' - was what Pinkie had said, back at the inn. And while Pinkie's worries were different, Lyra felt that warning to be more relevant than ever.
She mustn't turn into a monster before she was done playing god.
It didn't matter what monsters she dethroned if she proved no better, after all.
The mighty, gold-lined doors creaked and turned. Rattling chains provided the backdrop to their surrender, soon followed by a drawbridge that came crashing down. The way made clear, a crowd burst through the open passage; waves and waves pushing their way through, like a torrent of water gushing through the cracks of a broken dam.
Lyra paid the scene a curt nod. Her makeshift army had made it through! Not a moment too soon, she mused. The Guard, while disorganised and scattered, were still giving ample resistance; she barely had anyone fighting alongside her at this point. Almost every gryphon who volunteered for her mission had died - most falling victims the spears while crossing the moat, and the rest to the vastly better equipped Guard soldiers.
She settled her spear to the ground and sighed.
This was the final obstacle. Now all that was left was to face Celestia-
A loud, whiplash-like bang cracked through the air, bringing an annoyed grimace onto Lyra's face.
Seriously? she glared at the rightmost tower. You just had to remain a threat... I can't even ignore you like this.
"Persistent," Snowy whistled at the same sight.
"I guess they're panicking," Lyra sighed wearily, then gathered herself and pointed her spear at a nearby gryphon. "You! I need you to relay my orders to those below. Tell them I need those towers silenced! That is the highest priority right now... not even the palace is as important. Understood?"
"Right on it!" the gryphon threw a quick salute back at her, rushing off towards the crowd on the double.
He's seen so many of his friends die... and he's not even fazed, Lyra mused at the departing figure. The young gryphon's enthusiasm didn't strike her as healthy - it was more of a pathological reaction. She had seen that kind of behaviour in her previous battles. She also knew where this would lead. The last time she had seen such eyes, the battle had ended without a single prisoner being taken.
"I would sure hate to be in your hooves,"she noted sourly as she paid a final glimpse to the remaining three towers, then shook her head and began marching towards the palace with firm steps.
No point in sticking around and watching a bunch of hapless soldiers get lynched.
Isn't this just turning a blind eye, though?
Shaking her head and the thoughts out of her mind, Lyra doubled her pace.
The way to the Palace was deserted. Lyra had no idea whether the Guard had fled en masse to save their skin or if they had regrouped for a counterattack; but in truth, she didn't really care either. One way or the other, her riff-raff army had already done its job, luring the Guard away from the Palace. Their actual fate wasn't of concern, not more than the lives of the Guard soldiers who had wound up in the crossfire... pitiable puppets every last one of them, forced into a suicidal last stand by their tyrannical princess.
Standing at the golden gates of the palace, Lyra gave that thought a sour smile. Even if justified, that felt like shifting the blame.
I guess I'm really just trying to wash myself clean here.
This whole battle was her doing, after all. She was the one who had gathered the crowd. She was the one who had led them to the palace, using those poor souls to provide herself with a smokescreen. Because that's what the whole battle was: a distraction. A distraction that was meant to cover her from the underhooved methods Celestia may have planned against her.
She was sacrificing lives by the dozen to simply cover herself from mere possibilities.
Shaking her head with a wry grin, she put the spear down and pushed against the golden doors. The hinges were well-oiled, for the massive doors moved without a sound; they parted silently, opening up and revealing the long hall to the innards of the palace.
Drawing a quivering breath, Lyra snatched her spear from the floor. She knew the weapon would be of no use against an alicorn, but the weapon still offered her a little peace of mind, no matter how deceptive that possibility was. Shaking her head at her folly, Lyra stepped into the long hallway - and was stopped almost immediately by the sight of bright green figure appearing at the other end.
"Isn't that Origin?" Snowy mumbled, stepping in front of her master. "Be careful, Master. That servant is-"
"Trixie's." Lyra interrupted, lining up with her own servant. "The newest loyal student of Celestia."
The lapdog of my enemy... and I was the one who put her into that position, she frowned, chuckling grimly at the realisation. Did I seriously put her in a position where I'll have no choice but to maim her? Haha, does everything I touch turn into a disaster?
"He's an enemy," Snowy stressed the fact, keeping her ruby-red eyes on the green gryphon.
Swinging the spear around and resting it on her back, Lyra gave that assertion a subtle nod.
"So how do we fight a servant?" she raised her eyebrow, paying her windigo a curious stare. This was one of the questions they had often pondered about, and were still yet to come to a clear conclusion.
"I might have a few ideas," Snowy licked her translucent lips. "No guarantees that any would work, of course."
Smiling wryly and poking the end of her spear, Lyra didn't say a word. Despite knowing how improbable they must have been, Snowy's ideas were the best shot they had. Might as well try their desperate moves by putting some actual faith into them.
And I thought the cannons were bad, she gulped. Well, come on ghostie... give it your worst!
Origin surprised them by not making any hostile moves, however.
"Greetings!" he yelled, bowing theatrically, his beak almost touching the marble tiles of the floor. "Nice to see you two! I was getting worried you wouldn't come afterall."
Exchanging a quick glance with each other, Lyra and Snowy silently agreed that they had absolutely no idea what the gryphon was on about.
"Don't look so surprised." Origin paced towards them, chuckling with a thinly-veiled sense of smugness. "What, who did you think had arranged your trip here?"
"Pinkie?" Lyra squinted and cocked her head to the side. A servant intent on parley was surprising already; a servant asking such obvious questions was downright suspicious. There had to be a trick.
"Indeed, it was Miss Pie who has helped us this far," Snowy elaborated on her master's answer, supplementing her words with a curt nod.
"So it was yer' all along? Shifty bastard."
While the unexpected voice made Snowy jump, Lyra remained stoic, only moving her eyes in wide circles.
I knew things were proceeding all too smoothly, she gave a small sigh, glancing at the spider at her side.
"Took your sweet time showing up," she snarled.
"Well Boss... ya' didn't really seem heartbroken' 'bout me missin', so thought I'd let ya' two chatter amongst yerselves." Axiom shrugged. "Been stalkin' ya' ever since ya' got that fancy bridge down, in case yer' curious."
"How courteous of you," Lyra smirked dryly, then motioned at Origin. "What did you mean, it was him all along?"
Axiom crossed two of his legs and sat down, then glared lengthily at the gryphon.
"It ain't nothing but a hunch." He scratched the side of his head. "Old Boss got a letter the other day - a strange one, at that. It was like a schedule, or a plan... and was comin' from high up the food chain. Straight from Canterlot."
Nodding slowly, Lyra returned her gaze to the gryphon. Origin remained silent, but was enjoying himself without any subtlety whatsoever; he had an ear-to-ear grin plastered over his face.
"From Canterlot you say," Lyra echoed, glancing back at her spider.
"Easy to tell. Y'know, by the stamp." Axiom narrowed his eyes, still glaring at Trixie's servant. "But the letter's origin ain't important here, Boss. Only the contents are. See, that mail told old Boss which inn to go... and when."
"That mail organised our secret meeting, you mean?" Lyra raised her eyebrows. That was definitely an intriguing piece of news.
Axiom nodded heartily, moving his whole body to supplement the limited flexibility of his head.
"How is that possible?" Lyra massaged her forehead. "No pony or servant could have remembered me... apart from Pinkie."
Well, that was the plan... but it obviously wasn't the case, heh. That letter had to come from somewhere, after all. She frowned as she continued thinking. Did Discord double-cross Pinkie? Nah, he kept his word where it mattered. Luna wouldn't have let me go had she the faintest idea who I was. So, that leaves me... uh...
She slapped her head with her hoof.
That leaves me confused, I guess.
"I knew of your plan." Origin spoke up all of a sudden, breaking his silence but not his inane grin. "I... noticed a certain player lurking in this rotten place. I struck a deal with him soon afterwards; and, in accordance with our pact, he didn't erase my memories of you. He even gave me instructions to aid you, in fact."
A player who didn't erase your memories? Lyra narrowed her eyes, her muscles tensing. Oh that's- Discord, you scheming, two-timing, dastardly bastard.
"So Discord made you his mail-gryphon." She finally spat out, as disdainfully as a pony ever could. "What did you get in exchange?"
"You really should be more grateful to me, you know." Origin chuckled, spreading his wings and arms wide as if he expected a loud cheer. "What, did you think Pinkie would know the slums of Canterlot so well? Or that Snips would guide you to her on his own? Just how did he acquire an accurate drawing of you in the first place, hmmm? Who do you think could conjure enough money to rent a whole basement so you could hold your private séance in peace and secrecy, hmm?"
He folded his arms and raised his beak high, positively beaming with satisfaction.
"Did you really think that you caught the luckiest break of your life?"
"I thought Trixie had organised all that," Lyra flashed a wry grin. That's what Snip's letter had said, hadn't it?
"Pfah! My master wouldn't even know your name, much less conspire in your favour!" Origin rolled his eyes, retracting his wings so fast that Lyra expected to see some ghostly feathers to fall. "Besides, the way she is now, she would rather lop your head off than risk you so much as thinking of harming the princess."
No attempt was made to veil the bitterness of those words.
"No, my Master wouldn't have helped you." Origin carried on. His triumphant expression was gone, and he was staring to the side, at a random statue. "I merely forged a letter in her name... a trivial effort, really. It was so easy, Master didn't even notice me using my powers. Not that she could spare me any attention lately anyway."
"Forging a letter... huh! That sounds familiar," Snowy hummed, rubbing her chin.
Yeah. He used the same trick I had used him for, Lyra nodded thoughtfully. She had her doubts, but the words of the gryphon were rather convincing.
Thinking about it, it did seem strange that Trixie - a pony who wouldn't remember a thing about Lyra Heartstrings - would be so eager to help her out. Especially since their last deal had already concluded. Even if Trixie would somehow remember, she still wouldn't have owed her anything.
"Right, so let's say it was you." Lyra paced towards the gryphon, her words coloured with equal curiosity and suspicion. "Why would you conspire behind your master's back?"
Origin defied her expectations once more. The accusation didn't rattle the gryphon; he merely turned to Lyra, an indecipherable smirk lurking behind his beak.
"Because my master is dead, Heartstrings." He said slowly but forcefully, each of his words slamming against the walls of the empty hallway. "As for me... I have paved your way here so you can help me avenge her."