Homeworld: Equestria - The Silent Hunters

by hiigaran

9: Light

Despite the interruption, Amarok returned to complete the final objective of its drills, after a Hiigaran relief force arrived to take over the investigations of the liner’s incident. Returning home for a quick resupply of torpedoes, the destroyer commenced a routine patrol across a section of friendly territory.

Having finished with the debriefing earlier, Obsidian returned to his quarters. Noticing Crux’s closed shutter, he remained silent as he slid under his blanket, and closed himself off slowly. After adjusting into a comfortable position, the changeling dozed off, forcing the adjacent occupant to wake abruptly at the sound of something halfway between a low snore and a snarl. The adrenaline surge made Crux fully alert, and he froze in place, listening to the rapid thumping of his heartbeat in his ears, between the quiet but demonic snores of the changeling on the opposite side of the wall.

Trembling, the pony rolled over, peeking out from his bed. He stared at Obsidian’s shutter for a length of time, contemplating what to do next as his eyes shifted around and hooves tapped nervously from left to right. Making up his mind, he extended a trembling hoof towards the handle of Obsidian’s shutter and pulled it up at a snail’s pace.

Though dark, there was just enough light to make out the outline of the changeling’s body, partially exposed above the blanket. Belly up, Obsidian’s limbs were sprawled in odd directions, while his head faced the unicorn. Dominating Crux’s vision were the changeling’s fangs, and the rows of teeth that accompanied them. Staring into those wide-open jaws, visions of hungry changelings chasing Crux had filled his mind, sending his heart into overdrive, and his breathing with it.

Crux noticed the lack of snoring too late, and two blue eyes appeared in front of him. Their luminescence highlighted their shape, which quickly turned from curiosity, to irritation.

After growing tired of waiting for Crux to make any movement, Obsidian barked, “What?”

“AAHHH!” Crux propelled himself out of his bed, stumbling over something in the dark and hitting the edge of the table with a resounding clunk.

Shaking his head, Obsidian slammed his shutter down and closed his eyes once again. “Stupid pony,” he muttered. Wiggling back into his preferred position, he noted a distinct lack of movement. Curious, he opened his shutter again. “Crux?” he called out, before quickly sighting the motionless pony under the table. Rolling his eyes, he emerged from his bunk with a sigh. “Buzz me sideways.”

---

“It looks like a minor concussion, but from what I can tell, there doesn’t appear to be any permanent damage, and his neck seems fine. Just some swelling that should go on its own,” the medic informed Eclipse. Shifting his eyes between the officer and the changeling seated at the far end of the medical compartment, he lowered his voice to a whisper and leaned forward, “I examined the patient multiple times. While I see no signs of a fight between the two, we can’t rule out … you know … him uhh, ambushing the patient.”

“I can still hear you,” Obsidian announced, causing the medic to flinch. “He pretty much just ran face-first into the table’s edge.”

The medic narrowed his eyes. “And why would he run right into a table, exactly? In such an open room, no less.”

“Because the majority of the Equestrian population consists of xenophobic cowards?”

“Listen here, you little sh—”

“Maybe he ran into a table, and maybe he didn’t,” Eclipse quickly cut in. “We will know for sure soon enough. Let me know when he wakes.”

“Will do. If you’ll excuse me, I have other matters to attend to.” After receiving a nod from Eclipse, the medic tucked several folders beneath his wing, and headed for the laboratory.

After the medic moved out of sight, Obsidian rose and approached Eclipse. “Commander, I realise this looks suspicious, but—”

Eclipse held a hoof up to interrupt. “I believe you, Chief.”

The changeling blinked. “You do?”

“Well, there’s always room for doubt, but reviewing what happened, it wouldn’t be a reasonable conclusion to say you had attacked a fellow crew-mate. It’s possible, but not probable. I fail to see any motive. Plus you were the one to report the accident and carry him here, so there’s that.”

Obsidian hummed, flaring his nostrils in mild annoyance. He decided it would not be worth the hassle of listing the previous incidents. “Well at least somepony doesn’t instantly assume the worst of me. On a related topic, I don’t suppose it’s possible to change quarters? I’d prefer sharing with crew who don’t soil themselves in my presence. Griffons, diamond dogs, whoever.”

“Eh, there is nothing explicitly forbidding crew from swapping quarters”—Eclipse shrugged—“but it wouldn’t be fair to force others to do so without a valid reason. If you can figure out a way to make all crew in any involved quarters happy, let me know. The way I see it though, you’d have better luck getting your poor friend to swap instead.”

“Find crew willing to swap into quarters with a changeling in it. Got it. Easier said than done, I suppose.”

“Just a thought, but perhaps it might help if you didn’t antagonise everypony so much,” Eclipse suggested. “The medic was a perfect example.”

“Hey, I’m not the one who started it!” Obsidian grew defensive.

“Then be the better pon—be the better changeling and end it.”

“That’s not—” Obsidian sighed. “Never mind. Are we done here?”

Eclipse nodded. “Just try to keep your head down.”

---

With little else to do, Obsidian headed to the galley, depositing his BPS in a nearby locker. Claiming a tray from the end of the buffet station specially catered for griffon diets, Obsidian searched for a seat. A scan of the area yielded nothing more than isolated vacant seats from the table furthest from him, and after the looks received from ponies beside them, it was clear he wouldn’t find a suitable place to eat. Looking up at the panels on the ceiling, he flew up, pushed one open, and squeezed through. Nestling himself prone above a row of hot water pipes, he started on his meal of seared scallops and beans.

Several ponies beneath Obsidian grew uncomfortable, as they glanced up into the dark square in the ceiling, sighting only a pair of levitating blue eyes. Obsidian watched, unamused, as the group left abruptly, leaving their half-eaten meals behind. “Yeah, you better buzz off,” he muttered to himself. Taking a swig of heavily sweetened iced tea, he lowered his head closer to the panel opening and observed the galley.

Most of the crew seated at the closest table appeared tired, and had likely finished their shifts, if their lack of social interaction indicated anything. Across the galley, Obsidian spied the red pegasus from his earlier altercation, seated at the end of the other table. Glancing back at his meal tray, the changeling resisted the urge to sneak through the ceiling and throw it through the panel above the pony. Would be a terrible waste of food, anyway.

At the opposite end of the table sat a lone unicorn, surrounded by a cylindrical magic barrier, cloudy and golden, that emitted a faint melodic hum. Buried deep within the pages of a book, she fiddled with her mane on occasion. Squinting, Obsidian recognised the pony as the Deckhoof from his squad. He watched as she flipped back and forth between two pages, visibly frustrated by the contents.

Spread across the rest of the table were a group of griffons. The chatty bunch would occasionally burst out in booming laughter, one in particular hammering his fistful of talons against the table. The other ponies filling the table’s seats occasionally added to the conversation, though most were transfixed on the griffons who did most of the talking.

Plates licked clean, the changeling enjoyed the warmth a while longer, before preparing to emerge from the ceiling. Pausing, he grew curious at Glare’s spell and moved through the ceiling, crawling along the pipes while following the sound of the spell. Bumping into an invisible wall, Obsidian was surprised the spell emitted no light. He did recall the golden colour fading, the higher up it got from the unicorn, however.

Pulling back a panel, Obsidian found himself at the spell’s edge, looking down at the mare. Giving her barrier a poke with his hoof, Obsidian saw a subtle ripple in the spell. The barrier itself felt solid, despite the increasing transparency at height. Still engrossed in her book, the unicorn hadn’t noticed anything. Not satisfied, Obsidian braced his hind hooves against the pipes, and tried pushing against the spell with additional force.

Through the humming the spell gave off, Obsidian heard the pony within sneeze. In that instant, the spell flickered. Left with no resistance, Obsidian shot through the open panel, hitting the table with a loud thud and scattering the cutlery on a nearby plate.

Glare was stunned. The book she had been reading moments prior had been replaced with a belly-flopping changeling. “Chief? Umm …” she began, unsure how to react. “Can I … help you?”

Standing up, Obsidian checked his surroundings. None of the other crew seemed to notice a thing. “Uhh, no. I just … sort of fell through your spell.”

Glare’s eyes travelled up to the open panel in the ceiling, then back again at the changeling. “Huh …”

Obsidian got down from the table. “Anyway, if you don’t mind dropping your spell, I’ll just—” he paused, turning around after a quick thought. “You didn’t freak out when I fell.”

“Hmm?” Glare had been busy inspecting her book for any damage when she looked back towards Obsidian.

“When I fell, you barely reacted. Any other pony would have likely screamed ‘assassin’ at the top of their lungs. I also found it odd you sat beside me in the briefing room, when there were plenty of available seats. Why was that? It’s like I wasn’t a changeling to you.”

Glare shrugged. “Uhh, I guess it was the closest seat? I don’t know. I’ve had—I mean, I was there when Canterlot was … you know. But you’re still crew. I think I can trust the judgement of whoever let you on board enough to know you’re neither a malicious nor psychologically unstable creature.”

“I—thank you. It’s comforting to know there are at least a couple of ponies around with some sense in them.” Growing uncomfortable, Obsidian avoided eye contact. “I uhh, should leave. I’ve disturbed you enough.”

Glare dismissed her spell. “It’s fine. Besides, I’m guessing it’s hard enough for you to have a civilised conversation with others here, let alone trying to make a few friends.”

“I don’t need friends here,” Obsidian’s tone hardened up once again. “I’m just trying to do a job. That’s it.”

“That’s a little difficult to believe, but whatever the case may be, if you’re ever in the mood for a chat, feel free. Changeling or not, you managed to save a lot of lives on our mission, and that deserves a high amount of respect in my book, even if you didn’t get a single word of thanks for it.”

---

Moving a couple of compartments over, Obsidian explored the gym, finding several crew using the limited selection of equipment available. One pegasus flapped furiously in a wind tunnel. A diamond dog sat at a barbell station, securing as many weights to the bar as it could carry, before proceeding to use it as a dumbbell and putting three earth ponies to shame. At the opposite wall, a pair of griffons were using treadmills at a sprint, while three unicorns settled on light trots.

Several thudding sounds could be heard near the wind tunnel barrier. Hanging from the ceiling was a punching bag, at least a metre long. The visible hooves of a zebra could be seen behind the bag, and Obsidian could tell all four were dishing out serious punishment. In a powerful blow that caused every other crew member to stop and stare, they bore witness to Obsidian rolling out of the way, as the bag soared toward him.

“Apologies for that, Obsidian,” Shadow called out, trotting over to retrieve the bag. Balancing it on her back, she returned the bag to its mounting. “Shall I assume you’re here to take me up on my previous offer?”

Obsidian took a moment to recover from his amusement. “Originally, no. I was just checking the place out. Now, however? I’m curious to see what you can do.”

“As I you. Fortunately for us, the sparring ring is not booked today.”

Obsidian followed Shadow to a locker, retrieving some protective equipment. Each donned headgear, and protective boots, while the zebra clamped her jaw down on her mouth-guard. As the two passed through the ring’s ropes, some crew on surrounding equipment paused to watch the pair.

“Before we begin, any rules I should be aware of?” Obsidian asked, throwing his mouth-guard behind him after figuring out his fangs got in the way. “Any particular fighting style, or …?”

“Surprise me,” Shadow replied with a grin. “As for rules, I suppose just the standard ones about no mane or tail pulling, or hitting below the tail.”

“Sounds simple to me.”

Beginning their session, Obsidian and Shadow bumped hooves. Assuming low stances, the pair circled each other. Waiting for the zebra to make the first move, Obsidian analysed her every motion. The way her fore-hooves pressed gently against the floor. How her eyes fixated on his own, only to focus on other aspects of the changeling for mere moments before meeting gazes again. The way her ears locked on to him.

When it was clear Obsidian would simply continue circling, Shadow darted to the changeling’s side with explosive speed and lunged. Being lighter, Obsidian easily dodged. Rolling away, he wheeled around to find Shadow propelling herself from the ropes towards him. The resulting impact slammed Obsidian onto his back. Recovering, he sent Shadow airborne with an upwards buck against her chest. He returned to his hooves, ignoring a couple of boos and jeers from the ponies in a small group that gathered around the ring.

Sidestepping each other once more, Shadow crept closer, gradually closing the distance between the two. Making the first move again, Shadow attempted a quick jab. Without lifting a hoof, Obsidian simply avoided it.

“You know Obsidian, this isn’t much of a sparring session if I’m the one doing all the work here.”

“Just keeping it tactical.”

Another jab was sent Obsidian’s way. Leaning to the left, he dodged again, shooting his wings out. A forward flap of his left wing, and a backwards flap of his right initiated a sharp twist of his body. Pivoting on his front left hoof, his hind legs swept across Shadow’s remaining fore-hoof. Left with no time to react, the zebra hit the floor face-first. Swapping over to his right hoof, Obsidian returned to a guarded stance, crouching low as if ready to charge.

Shadow looked up at the changeling, far from amused. “Sweeping the hooves? Really?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Obsidian could see several bits being passed around. The growing crowd appeared to be taking bets, and more crew started tricking through the gym’s pressure doors. Two crew reclined in the nearby seats and shared popcorn. Returning his attention to Shadow, he waited for her next move. “I thought you wanted a surprise.”

Shadow pushed forward from the floor, closing the distance between the two. With a dull clunk, she head-butted Obsidian just below his horn, causing him to stumble back and onto his rump. Moments after recovering, Shadow disappeared, as if her body had turned to smoke and dispersed.

Obsidian’s eyes widened. “That’s a changeling spe—”

The zebra reappeared closer to Obsidian. Bipedal, Shadow delivered a left hook to the changeling’s face before he could move, following through with a roundhouse kick that left a vapour trail, sending him tumbling to the side of the ring.

Shadow leaned on the ropes with a hoof, wearing the slightest hint of a smug expression. “How’s that for a surprise?” she shouted over the cheering crowd, before appearing more concerned. “Are you still okay to continue, Obsidian?”

“Okay? This is the most fun I’ve had in a long time!” Obsidian exclaimed, rising to his hooves and facing the zebra once more. “We’re just getting started!”

“Good. I was wondering when you’d stop holding back!”

---

“Sorry for the damage caused. I think we both got carried away,” a bloodied Shadow apologised between short breaths. She stood beside an equally battered Obsidian, both of whom caused a great deal of chaos after slamming the changeling onto the floor with enough power to collapse the ring. “Can we assist with any repairs?”

“Commander, that was the best damn thing I’ve seen in any fighting ring!” one of the deck engineers boomed. Several power tools floated beside him in his magical aura. “Hay, after this, I’m getting it bolstered! I think we ought to host a few fight nights and have you two participate.”

“No thanks. I’m not here for your entertainment,” Obsidian replied, casually pulling a loose fang out.

“Pity. It was fun seeing you get walloped.”

Obsidian leaned forward. “Then perhaps you might wish to join me one day in the ring.”

“I believe Obsidian and I were”—Shadow gently pushed the changeling back from his chest—“equally matched. Neither of us came out on top over the other.”

“If you say so. Well, I better get to it!” the unicorn revved his drill twice and headed towards the ring’s remains.

Obsidian waited for the unicorn to move out of earshot. “You're an elemental then?”

Shadow grinned. “You picked up on that, did you?”

“Hooves don't move that fast without magic,” Obsidian stated. “Natural abilities, or trained?”

“Some of the former, most of the latter.”

“Just air, or other elements, too?”

“All four. I favour the flame, though.” Shadow demonstrated with a small flicker against her upturned hoof. “Has the most practical applications after water.”

“Right. Well, it’s not every day you meet a zebra with more than just alchemy at their disposal. Where did you learn the changeling spell, though?”

“Classified information,” came Shadow’s terse reply. After a moment of silence, she looked at the fang still in Obsidian’s hoof. “So …”

“They grow back in a few weeks.”

---

As dinner time for Obsidian approached, he returned to the galley, perusing the open buffet. Supporting his tray on a wing, he approached the emptier table, and sat with his back turned to everyone else. Hearing a familiar voice, he turned to find Glare with a tray of her own, thanking a chef. Scanning the area for seats, a small smile grew on her face upon sighting the changeling. After closing the distance, she noticed Obsidian’s injuries.

Glare sat opposite to Obsidian. “Wow, what happened to you? Does that have to do with the incident I heard about earlier on?”

“Shadow and I decided to have a sparring match in the gym. I think we both got a little too into it.”

“Ah. I figured the rumour about you attacking somepony in your quarters was false.”

“Attacking some—oh.” Obsidian’s expression instantly changed. “Is that what’s been spreading around the ship then?”

“Seems to be.”

The changeling drew out a long sigh and stabbed his salmon with unnecessary force. “I swear, my patience is starting to wear thin with you ponies. When something bad happens, we blame the bug creature. We don’t trust the giant insect because its kind did bad things to us a long time ago. We need to keep an eye on that monster in case it goes on a rampage!” he mocked. “They’re all staring right now, aren’t they? Behind me. I can feel it!”

Without warning, Obsidian whipped around and let out a screeching snarl at his audience, ensuring they each got a good view of his wide-open jaws. In audible unison, every single pony snapped back towards their meals.

“That probably didn’t help,” Glare stated the obvious, as Obsidian turned back around and ripped through the rest of his meal.

Rubbing his temples, he sighed, “I know. I just needed to let that out. I’m fine now, I’m fine.”

As chatter in the galley slowly picked up once more, another frustrating thought came to Obsidian. “Why are ponies so ridiculously stupid?”

Glare froze mid-drink. “Hmm?”

“Present company excluded, of course,” the changeling quickly added. “I’m just trying to understand the thought process so many of you have. Shunning the unknown, afraid of the different, and ridiculously stubborn. This isn’t an opinionated viewpoint either. I used to keep tabs on some smaller towns in Equestria, and I recall at one point the entire town of Ponyville was afraid of a zebra. A single zebra! They barricaded their homes when she came through the town!”

Glare spoke between mouthfuls of salad. “Yeah, the smaller towns can be a little … quirky.”

“Now there’s an understatement. Appleoosa was another town I had been assigned to for intel. Your kind invaded buffalo land and practically went to war to keep what was rightfully theirs. I’ll admit, I learned a few new ways to weaponize apples, but really now. And forget small towns. Celestia herself was distrustful of us from the moment she learned of our existence. Thought our ability to blend in was a threat to national security, and our need for emotional energy was a destructive cancer. Her words, not mine.”

“Look, I can’t speak for Princess Celestia, but regarding the changeling race, you have to understand you all look intimidating. I mean, really intimidating. The fangs, the holes, the glowing eyes … It’s unnerving,” Glare explained, pausing as Obsidian snorted. “Hey, it’s like you said; present company excluded. Anyway, combine this with changeling history, and you can see why many might not see you guys in a positive light. Ironic though, isn’t it? Soldiers taking orders, just like us in the Navy, yet nopony stops to wonder whether it should have been just Chrysalis our anger needs to be directed at.”

“There’s more to that invasion than most know,” Obsidian mumbled, idly poking the last chunk of his meal with his fork. “Though I’d rather not talk about it.”

“If you’re not comfortable discussing it, I understand. Point is, you guys haven’t exactly made a good first impression. While I’ll admit many of us can be rather stubborn at times, every action you make that goes against everypony’s perception of a changeling will make an impact. Sure, the impact of one good action might not count for much. It also doesn’t help that an equally negative one would have more of an impact on others’ opinions. You will however, see a difference if you keep proving you are better than what others think, even if it’s a slow process.”

Unconvinced, Obsidian scoffed. “As much as I’d like to believe that, the cynic and sceptic in me is having a hard time agreeing. Even if that’s all true, I think by the time any difference does come around, the pony I supposedly attacked would have probably died of stress, or some sort of fear-induced medical condition, the stupid beta-male. I don’t think he’s going to want to return to my quarters any time soon.”

“That bad, huh?”

“He begged me not to eat him.” Obsidian took a moment to down the rest of his drink. Setting his glass aside, he huffed. “Fills me with great confidence that he’s apparently ops crew in the command centre.”

Glare remained silent, lost in thought as she chewed the last of her salad. “You know, I could probably do with changing quarters,” she finally spoke up. “Perhaps it might help him out. What are your quarters like?”

“Huh?”

“Are the others sharing your space loud or quiet? Clean or messy? That sort of thing.”

“Uhh, I guess the other eight are fine. Three griffons, three earth ponies, and two unicorns. Haven’t given them much thought. As far as I’m concerned, if I don’t have to deal with them, I’m happy. Why would you want to swap quarters, anyway?”

“Most of the ones I’m with had gone to training together, so they’re constantly socialising loudly and disrupting my sleep with … whatever it is they’re doing in the common area. To make matters worse, they leave uniforms and pressure suits all over the floor. I kid you not, they were bowling with their helmets! Ugh, the mess in my quarters is unbelievable, and when I confronted one of them, she simply dismissed my thoughts, saying I’m a neat freak who needs to”—Glare air quoted—“chillax. I don’t think I’d ever want to visit her place planet-side. Mind you, I doubt I’d want to associate with anypony whose vocabulary includes ‘chillax’.”

Obsidian was bemused. “Glaring Light, you’re serious about this, aren’t you?”

“Yep. I can prove it as soon as I figure out who I should contact regarding this matter.”

“Eclipse seems like a good bet. At least, he’s the one I talked to about this earlier on.”

“Then that’s my next stop. I’ll see you around.” Rising, she levitated her meal tray and left, calling back behind her, “And just call me Glare. I hate my full name.”

---

Obsidian watched from his bed as Glare unpacked her belongings. Her slow, methodical process contrasted starkly with the blurry rush of Crux’s when he was discharged by the medic and returned to his quarters to hear the good news.

After Glare retrieved the last of her belongings, she finally removed her BPS with a satisfied sigh. “You have no idea how itchy this thing gets when you have a mane as long as mine stuffed inside,” she whispered.

“I’m surprised you can fit it in there at all,” Obsidian commented. “Also, you don’t need to be quiet and creep around, you know. Fairly certain the others are all out on duty, or on deck four.”

“Ah, right. Sorry, I didn’t want to get off on the wrong hoof with the others.”

The pair fell into silence while Glare continued organising her storage spaces. Eventually, Obsidian spoke up after Glare caught him looking at her flank, “So, if I may, what exactly does your cutie mark signify? I mean, with most ponies I can get some understanding of their talents, but a sun surrounded by … what are those? Glyphs?”

“Eh, it’s supposed to be my talent in ancient magic, specifically relating to light, but that doesn’t say too much. Near impossible to cast anything meaningful.”

“So what can you cast with it?”

“A couple of things. I can create directed lighting to illuminate things at distances well beyond the standard spell. It also has no light source to it, so I don’t reveal myself in the process. Never needed that aspect of the spell though. I usually just use it for reading, though mostly as practise, since standard lighting spells are easier to cast anyway.”

“Seems rather pointless,” the changeling stated bluntly. An annoyed flick of Glare’s tail was her only response. “What?”

“No need to remind me,” Glare grumbled. “Anyway, I can also bring up a … well, it’s what you fell through. A barrier … cylinder … bubble thing. It’s a nice privacy spell. Sound can’t enter or leave, so I can block out distractions, and it feels nice and warm inside.”

“I guess I was too busy body-slamming your book to notice the heat. What was with that humming noise though?”

“Don’t know. I guess that’s just how the spell works.” Shrugging, Glare continued transferring her belongings from her bed to her drawer. “A by-product or something, like the sound our horns make when casting spells. I find it relaxing. I’ve never actually understood the markings on the spell though.”

“Markings? I don’t recall seeing them.”

“Of course. They were on the floor, but I suppose the table was in the way. Okay, I’ll cast one in front of you.” As Glare lit her horn, the changeling sat upright to watch. A golden orb materialised above her head. Flicking her horn, she flung the orb at the floor, conjuring up a gold circle large enough for two or three ponies to stand in. At the same time, a quiet mix between a hum and windy howl accompanied simple patterns of circles and triangles rotating slowly at the base, while a pillar of light radiated outwards, forming a cylinder with a faded top. Eventually, Glare dismissed the spell, and both light and sound faded.

Obsidian spoke up after a few seconds of silence. “Huh. That was definitely interesting.”

“It’s also supposed to work as a shield, but I’ve never been able to make it strong enough to withstand anything significant when they tested me during training. Oh, and there’s also some sort of light manipulation spell I’ve been trying to learn, but I don’t think I ever got it to work. Has something to do with refraction, but that’s about all I know. Don’t think I’ve seen anything happen any time I’ve cast it, so I guess I’ve still got lots to learn. Not that there are many surviving books on ancient magic.” Glare returned to unpacking her belongings. “Whatever. So how about you, then? Surely you must have some sort of talent, no?”

“Eh, we ‘lings are similar to each other”—Obsidian fell back onto his bed—“Physiologically speaking, we excel at close combat, striking fast enough to make up for our inability to strike hard. We work well with illusory magic obviously, able to project anything similar to our size as a disguise. As for other magic, apart from being able to feed off emotions, we would need large numbers to make our offensive spells cause significant damage. I suppose with all this, I must have been a cut above the rest if I was chosen as the first of my kind here.”

Finishing up, Glare slid her drawers closed and sat herself near Obsidian’s bed. “Actually, I’ve been meaning to ask about that. How does the whole feeding thing work? I assume changelings can consume normal food as well, right? I mean, you were eating right in front of me, and I’m guessing that wasn’t just for show.”

“No point having teeth if we didn’t. We can harvest different types of emotions either for our own consumption, or to store for other ‘lings. Emotions usually provide a more effective form of sustenance as it is almost pure energy and can, to an extent, substitute for oxygen. One ‘ling could theoretically provide for … maybe between fifty to a hundred others over a couple of months if rationed, but that would have to be one busy ‘ling having a really good day.”

“So how is that different to how the new changeling hive distributes their energy? Isn’t it true they all changed from what you look like, to those colourful variations after sharing all their energy?”

“It is, but there’s more to it. Considering they don’t take energy from others anymore, any shared energy is mostly converted from food. Since food is in abundance, sharing energy among those ‘lings has become less common.”

“That brings me to you and your—”

“I know what you’re going to ask, and the answer is that we’d lose more than we’d gain from sharing our energy. Sharing everything makes the entire unit stronger through weakening many of the individuals, though depending on who you ask, that’s highly debatable. I don’t believe their energy distribution methods are efficient. Some ‘lings don’t need, or deserve the same amount as others. A crude analogy would be the differences between a socialist and a capitalist society. Surgeons are more important than cashiers, so you reward them accordingly, not equally. Or that it weeds out the weak.”

“I … think I understand what you are trying to say? Okay, another question, if we want to get hypothetical here …” Glare hesitated, trailing off for a moment. “If you can drain a pony of their emotions, and give them to other changelings, could you also give those emotions back to the pony you took it from as well? Or give them more than what they started with?”

“Uhh, maybe? Should be theoretically possible. I don’t think anyling has been in a situation warranting such a thing, though. Feeding isn’t harmful to an individual for small extractions.”

“Could you do something like that to me if I agreed to it?”

“What?” The confused changeling turned to Glare. “Why?”

“I’m curious as to what it would feel like if you transferred some of those emotions to me. Would I get moody? Are there differences in the types of emotions you can give or take? Would I feel like I just demolished a four-course meal?”

Obsidian fidgeted. “I’m … not sure I feel comfortable with this.”

“Why not? You can do just a tiny bit, can’t you? Please?”

“I—uhh …” Obsidian sighed, bringing himself upright again. “Fine, but just a tiny amount. And we do not speak of this to others, got it?”

Glare nodded.

“Good. Okay …”

Obsidian’s horn lit up with a faint green aura. As if liquid had evaporated from every part of his body, the similarly coloured cloud of energy coalesced. Making its way towards the unicorn, the energy washed over Glare, until it was absorbed into her own body. “Well?” Obsidian asked, watching a rather goofy smile spread across the mare’s face as she practically melted onto the floor with her eyes rolled up.

“W—wow. I feel so … What’s the word for this?”

“Assuming your experience is identical to the younglings when they get their first taste, I’d say euphoric.”

“Mmm, that’s certainly accurate!”

“So, you want me to balance you out again, or—”

“No, no, let’s see how long this lasts for,” Glare interjected, seating herself upright. “Might as well see what happens, right? An experiment of sorts.”

“Uhh, sure, I suppose. Well, while you’re busy being high, anything else you’re curious about? Are we vampires? Do we have a hive mind? Can we really transform into anything? No to all three, by the way.”

“Huh. I always assumed you guys had a hive mind thing going on.”

Obsidian shook his head. “Nope. We’re completely independent. We do share a vague temporary connection to those we’ve distributed energy to, though,” he added, looking away for a moment with an odd look on his face.

Glare noticed Obsidian’s expression change. Suspecting a delicate topic, she changed the subject. “And the thing about transforming into anything? What did you mean by that?”

Obsidian looked back at the unicorn. “Well if we could change into actual dragons or ursa majors, Equestria would have been a pushover. No, our disguises are just elaborate illusions. Altering one’s physical form is a feat only my Queen and a few prodigies have been able to achieve. Regardless, the incredible amount of energy needed to initiate and sustain another physical form makes the spell impractical.”

“I never thought about it that way.”

Obsidian hummed. “Oh, before I forget”—he retrieved a pen and some paper from his drawers—“do you mind if I try to draw that glyph you made? I know a few ‘lings who studied ancient magic, theorising this field of magic might work better with our horns, but I don’t think much progress was ever made on that front. Surely the shapes have some meaning though. Maybe they might help.”

“I don’t see why not.” Facing the centre of the room, Glare cast her magic once again. As her orb hit the ground, a significantly larger circle appeared, with an intricate pattern of triangles, lines, and circles accompanied by a louder, higher pitched sound. The column of light radiating outwards did so multiple times, this time with enough force to knock loose items away with each pulse. In her surprise, Glare’s concentration broke, and the spell disappeared a few seconds later, leaving minor burn marks on the floor and filling the room with the smell of light smoke.

The pair were dumbfounded. Obsidian did not notice his pen had flown behind him. Glare’s short-fringed mane had been blown completely backwards along with the rest that typically draped behind her. An unusual silence fell, as one last piece of paper danced through the air and finally landed beside the bathroom door.

“What. The buzz. Just happened?”