Diary of the Dead

by AppleTank

33: Red Supergiant Star

I didn’t sleep much anymore. Nor did I often eat my fill, barely able to stomach more than a few bites before the taste of ashes overwhelms me. There was a never-ending loop in my mind, buzzing my nerves and keeping my jaw tense in a way that prevented true rest.

I, like many other ponies, had spent at least a little thought about where our destinies lie, considering how much of our culture is tied around our Marks. Never could I have imagined that not only was I destined to die, not unlike several of the Club, but that Harmony itself would spend so much energy trying to consume me.

A month after the Shadow Siege, I felt my heart shudder, starve, stop. The only surprising thing was how long it lasted with a quarter of my body refusing any type of healing, and me only barely regaining the strength to magically control my cursed limbs. I made a note to acquire more bandages, and refocused upon the study, organization, and documentation of the research we had acquired from Sombra’s towers.

My memories of the fight flashed behind my eyes. Damn the stallion, but he had something I wanted.

Meanwhile, Stalci Coda, former Empress of Crystal, had decided upon an alliance with the Honeycomb Club. She was somewhat surprised at how ambivalent the townsponies were, though I guess anything starts feeling rather ordinary when you had Lich and their pet ghost animals situated in the nearby forest for several generations. She spent a few times getting used to the town via working with Gladas for a few months, in the pharmacy and the new hospital.

The scans of Stalci’s horn and wings were of special importance to Gladas, seeing as they were attached with no care for blood compatibility, and the constant worry that if they forgot about it, her systems would immediately try attacking them until the mare fell apart.

Yet, despite all logic, Stalci’s health remained near perfect, her blood work clean, her scarring fading away. Her flight musculature was completely lacking, and the only things she could do with her horn was to either poke someone with it or the weakest glow imaginable, but these were all things that could be improved on with time. Especially since it seemed her implanted horn seemed to be healing too.

Stalci’s time was also interspersed with magical training, to her great surprise. The basics were, in fact, one of the few things we offered to the entire town without requiring sign up, though admittedly the Club had an intense debate about which programs should be more restricted in the face of Sombra’s treachery, and whether there was a point considering over half of the town were well versed in them.

The retrieval missions to the griffon lands were finally winding down, as we cleared out the last few hidden bases. Wally’s old hometown of Dirchland still had their warnings about Agatha, but she no longer wore that face and name anymore. Instead, it had shifted more towards courier and information gathering. Dimi’s family and the Wally’s cousins still kept in occasional contact, keeping us updated in regard to the movements of their new rulers and armies.

I am ashamed to have lost the motivation to continue the upkeep of my own home. Evens had taken up the task in my stead, while I buried myself in sorting the haul from the brief Siege.

And then, months later, I found what I was looking for. Sombra’s notes on the path taken to his own transformation. I got Barnabee’s help to construct an external testing lab, I went to work on modifying it for my own uses. Nobody questioned me much, I think they were just happy I was showing a bit of enthusiasm after all this time.

This was it. This was how I could still fulfill my dreams, and also remove the threat of my destiny clawing behind my hooves from hurting my adopted family.

I pray they will forgive me.

---

Evens only got the note days after it was put out, after installing new walls for a house in Sunny Pines. It told him that there was something Cycle wanted to show him and him alone in the shack outside Plan P.

Evens was the only one who was somewhat suspicious about the source of my enthusiasm, considering he spent the most time helping me with the document sorting and storage. But weeks had passed, and nothing negative seemed to have happened, and with the number of duties he had, he didn’t think to dig too deep.

This was proven immediately wrong when he entered the shack, being trapped inside a bubble shield the moment the door closed behind him. Cycle stood facing away from him within another bubble, twice as large to contain an intricate spell circle beneath his hooves.

“What are you doing?” Evens demanded, pushing against the wall of his bubble.

Cycle slowly turned to look over his shoulder, looking satisfied despite the deep shadows underneath his eyes, his coat fading from the lack of nutrition. “Did you know Agatha, well, now Quartave, considered my skills crucial for the future of the Club? I was so worried when I found out I would be hounded with a peaceful death for the rest of my short future; how could Sunny Pines live if I let Honeycomb die?

“But you’re here, my friend. You can continue my work. As long as this body still stands, Honeycomb can survive.”

Evens felt his blood freeze. “What are you saying?” he asked.

Cycle held up an emerald crystal, his phylactery. The edges had started cracking, flaking away. “This was the only thing Harmony was aiming for. Everything else was secondary. Sombra was a singular goal given magic, and I can be that too. If I can transform this body the way Sombra did to his, then I won’t need a soul. Honeycomb won’t need it either. I can still protect my dreams after death. This … this will satisfy them. If I must end, then I will do so by my own design, and ensure my power lasts after despite it. I’m sorry I didn’t ask earlier, but you are the only one I trusted to devote themselves to Sunny Pines and Honeycomb both. I place control of my future to you, my friend.”

“No. No no NO! WAIT!” Evens cried. To his horror, a sigil burned itself onto his prosthetic talon, of Cycle’s Mark caged within a swirling triangle.

Too late, Cycle dropped his phylactery into the center of the spell circle, and it activated in a burst of red lightning. The emerald crystal was surrounded by a corona of red lightning, the transmutation of a priceless artifact igniting an immense storm of magic. The tendrils of lightning burst out and rebounded off the shield, and coincidentally powering up the shield bubble in the same motion, compressing the ball of magic until it lost all color, leaving a roiling black void in front of Cycle. The edges of the stallion warped, stretched, and squeezed as it was drawn in, leaving only a skeleton behind. The shield, too, shrank, the bottom edges stretching as it fought valiantly to remain sealed.

Then, finally, all the energy was drawn in, and the shield’s interior turned pitch black as light too, was consumed.

A moment passed.

The shield shattered.

Evens yelped as his own shield was drawn in, tripping over his hooves as the rear of the shield slammed into his back. On instinct, he lifted his forelegs. ”Stop!”

Silence slammed into Evens’s ears. He cautiously opened his eyes. His talon, where the sigil was glowing fiercely, was inches away from the skull’s snout, the black void hovering over the ribcage. Then the void expanded, coating the skeleton until Cycle reformed, staring blankly back. The green ring of arrows on his flank was gone.

---

“You said you’d sacrifice yourself to save him!”

Quartave turned her eyes away from the knife embedded in the wall, then raised a placating gesture towards the furious Gladas. “I did say that when I was living on borrowed time and didn’t expect to live much longer in my third body, and was willing to do whatever I could to spite the world. I am … somewhat surprised that I’m still here, and now that I am, I find myself with a lot more things to live for.”

Gladas already had another knife drawn in her talons. “How about we give you more reasons to die for instead?”

“Ok, I know you liked Cycle a lot more than me. But on average, I believe this was the best result we could hope for.”

“How!? Cycle is gone!”

“Technically, no.” Quartave raised a claw. “First, as unhappy as I am to say it, we were, are still, faced with forces that far exceeded our own capabilities, with the exception that we couldn’t just hide away and wait, like we did with Discord. Worse, we were on a timer. Cycle’s deteriorating mental state was directly connected to his disintegrating soul. We were lucky that his ingrained stubbornness kept him as focused as he was. The best I could do was sacrifice myself for no gain, which would be a net loss, don’t you deny that.”

“I’m not so sure,” Gladas hissed. “You said it yourself that Cycle’s life was more important than yours.”

“And Cycle can still contribute, through Evens,” Quartave pointed out. “Cycle’s actions have also cleared out my Sight, I had been wondering what’s been blinding me for months. Now that we know what kind of forces we’re facing, we can plan around them.”

Quartave blinked as splinters sprayed out from the wood crushed beneath Gladas’s fist buried behind Quartave’s head. “And how am I supposed to trust that you wouldn’t engineer a situation to core us?”

“I did say we were left with a lot of bad options,” Quartave said, tilting her head slightly as Gladas pulled her talons out, knife blade barely missing her neck. “It seems like Cycle will now be permanently stuck by Evens’s side, reducing my options.” She frowned. “I don’t take that kindly.”

Gladas held the glare for a few more moments before roughly sheathing her knives. “I find it difficult to keep up my anger whenever I’m reminded about the kind of person you are. I’m not going to be able to change anything like this.”

Quartave shrugged. “I’m callous, not suicidal. You know my priorities. The stronger my allies are, the better my chances are of surviving. Cycle’s … situation reduced my flexibility somewhat, but I can still work around it. We must be more cautious of unknown elements, for one. I can’t afford to lose any of you; those with the right skills and mindsets are extremely rare to come by. Truth be told, right now I’m more concerned about dealing with the knockback effects from Sombra’s little tantrum. No way that cleaned up nice and tidy. Also, someone needs to put these scrolls away.”

“Fine.” Gladas glared in disgust at said stacked scrolls laid open in front of her. Scraps of parchment nearby were scribbled with helpful notes about which category and floor storage to put them in. Finally, she spat out, “I’ll bring Dimi around to check the Empire’s old location, see what’s there.” She turned away.

“Two thousand years.”

Gladas paused.

“I’ll do my damndest to keep everyone in as healthy of a state as possible for at least two thousand.”

Gladas didn’t say anything for a long breath. Then, she snorted, shrugged her wings, and stalked out.

“Hmm.” Once alone, Quartave looked around the little shack. It would probably be torn down within a few weeks. A few days of rain would leave the untreated wood to mold. She took a few steps to stand over the intricate script and glyphs in the spell circle.

She crouched down to lay a talon over the center, Seeing the shadows left behind in time. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to get you what you needed,” she said. “But healing is something I will never be able to do.” She closed her eyes in silence for a minute, then stood up. She had some scrolls to organize.

...

...

Wally dropped off the roof and flew away.

Author's Note:

Supernova