127 - Different Views of Reality
‘Playing Both Sides’
Neutrality was an interesting stance to take in the War for Existence. Most took it out of fear - they might survive if they didn’t do anything, but they knew the moment they stuck their hats into the ring they were dead meat. Others were simply apathetic about existence in general and didn’t care about the outcome. The Flowers were unique - they believed whatever ended up happening was the way things were meant to be, so they didn’t fight and prepared for both outcomes.
And then there were the Melnorme, who figured the best way to profit from this was to sell weapons to both sides while pretending to be too scared to take any action. This worked exceedingly well. The moment the Class 1 civilizations started falling, the Class 2s entered an arms race. So long as anyone was willing to do business, the Melnorme would provide resources in one way or another. And what of those who didn’t like the idea of engaging in anything shady? No problem, set up a front, nobody has to know the weapons are from the Melnorme. Set up a front behind that front for those who become suspicious. And anyone who did figure it out…
Well, they could be removed or paid off.
Needless to say, this allowed the Melnorme to get very, very rich. And they used this money to build a truly absurd amount of collapse bunkers, reality anchors, and dimensional infrastructure recreation kits. Of course, all of this was kept hidden even from the Melnorme public. As far as anyone in the multiverse was concerned the Melnorme were struggling to keep their universes stable as everything else exploded around them.
While their people lived in fear the biggest of the Melnorme sat upon their huge fortunes and lived the good life. Which was pretty much how their society always functioned, it was just heavily exaggerated at the moment. Sure, the average Melnorme was provided enough to have a comfortable life ripe with many commercial opportunities, but the inequality was even larger than a dystopian Earth’s.
One Melnorme high trader in particular had profited so much off the weapon business he had become the richest Melnorme in existence. His name was Burnt Umber. If the Melnorme had been different this would have no doubt caused a string of assassinations as part of a power struggle, but the fact was any Melnorme that high up knew that if someone had more worth than him, they were the better Melnorme.
So Burnt Umber was the best Melnorme and no one disagreed with that. He had orchestrated the whole war-sale business to create a well-greased machine that just kept exponentially raking in more and more resources. He alone owned enough property to be a Mid-Class 3 society.
Currently, he lived in a tremendous space station that changed dimensional coordinates every fifteen minutes to a different highly-exotic and beautiful landscape. Every one of these universes was protected with his personal reality anchors so they never felt the tremors of the war. And anyone who entered unbidden was to be destroyed by automatic defenses programmed into the universal coding itself.
Which was why he was more than a little concerned when someone knocked on the door of his private observation deck. Using his mind, he swiveled the chair upon which his lean, angular body sat. He never did any physical exercise but he could afford to have the body recreated every day so he remained in perfect peak condition. He opened the door and narrowed his eye. “You should be dead.”
The Melnorme on the other side stepped in - a female with a yellow eye. “My name is Wenge. And it is decidedly unimportant how I got here. What matters is your entire empire is about to fall.”
Burnt Umber grinned. “A shrewd young entrepreneur? I do always like seeing your type - always ready to risk for the big trades.” He mentally searched for Wenge’s identity. “Nine figures after rising from a base-income family? Miniscule, but a good ‘success’ story for the screens. Ah, I see that upsets you! The young, always jumping to conclusions…” He chuckled. “I have no doubt you have an exceptionally clever plan and resources I may not be aware of - you got here after all - so you have my full attention. No doubt we’ll be able to come to an agreement over whatever damage you plan to do to my empire.”
“The damage has already been done,” Wenge said with a smirk.
“A hot-headed meanuver, but not a foolish one in all circumstances... Certainly saves me the trouble of trying to twist your own mind to agree on a proposition.” He sat back. “What have you done that I am not already aware of?”
“Both sides of the war know the weapons come from you now.”
Burnt Umber blinked. “Hmm… I thought I had kept the knowledge of my involvement out of the lower sectors. Congratulations on being able to trade up to it with your resources. Truly a sign of a true merchant. Which I find baffling, since there is no way you could profit from it. If you were near my worth, I could see value in dethroning me and picking up the pieces, but I have already made agreements with all my competitors on that front. Any dent in the weapon trade will lower the overall economic stability of our central economy, even if it is only for a short while.”
“A short while? I don’t think you understand, Burnt Umber. Not only do both sides know, but the leaders have made it a point to refuse any and all purchases from you, going so far as to collude with each other to punish you for what they view as morally unacceptable.”
“And that’ll cause a market crash.” Burnt Umber said with a level voice. He was certainly disappointed in his defeat, but he’d been outfoxed, so he deserved it. “My question is how do you profit?”
“It’ll do more than cause a market crash. It’ll cause riots among the Melnorme populace. They’ll see the truth of what you’ve been hiding from them. I’ve set up several proxy companies that will inflame the masses and get them to direct their business to a place that’s more open and accepting, prompting a drastic shift in the commercial structure. My businesses will take over our society.”
“A nine figure worth is not enough to set up that many proxy companies.”
“If both the collapse and preservation efforts want to help you with funding?” Wenge grinned. “And if both sides have personal vendettas against the Melnorme’s economic practices? And, best of all, I told them both I was accepting funding from the other side, and they didn’t care. They just find your position distasteful.”
“Ah…” Burnt Umber said, leaning back. “You’re playing them as well as me. I assume my bargaining chips are being captured as we speak?”
“You would assume correctly.”
Burnt Umber turned away. “If we were a more standard society, we’d call you a traitor. But you are an exemplary Melnorme.”
“As are you. However, I see what you’re trying to do.”
“Who wouldn’t?” he asked with a chuckle. “It’s a simple proposal you can see from a mile away. I’ll agree to fall - I’ve been swindled - but I’ll also work with you to ensure the downfall of the current Melnorme way. Any remaining stores of my resources will be distributed so long as I get shares in your new conglomerate.”
“Request denied. I am already taking tremendous risks. Being as transparent as possible to you and the combatants takes some of that risk out. I am twisting the angle of exposing underhandedness, so engaging in any myself is suspect.”
“I disagree, but that’s clearly an argument on the fundamental nature of economics itself.” Burnt Umber turned to look Wenge right in the eye. “You will succeed in your plan. But you will find unintended consequences at every turn.”
For the first time since the conversation started, Wenge didn’t have a comeback.
“I’ll tell the station to accept you as a visitor from now on. When you gain access to the ka-portals, I expect you to come back and we’ll have another chat.” He gestured toward the door.
“If it seems worthwhile to do so, I shall be back.” She turned to leave.
“By the way, I am curious. How did you get in?”
“Monika.”
“Ah. Perhaps you should ask her about it.”
“She’s unreliable and impulsive.”
“A perfect match.”
Wenge left without another word.
Burnt Umber turned back to his view - currently that of a black hole devouring a giant stellar octopus. He let out a chuckle. That had been the most fun he’d had in ages.
‘The Bacon Horse Protects’
The video opens with Corona Shimmer seated and silently staring at the camera. After a few uncomfortable seconds pass, she smirks and says, "So. How many you have already clicked off and left a nasty comment?"
A flash of golden light briefly overwhelms the camera. When it clears up, Corona has been replaced by a nearly identical woman, though one with no wings and an oval jewel matching her irises embedded in her forehead. Her attire has also shifted to a T-shirt boldly proclaiming "CORONA DID NOTHING WRONG."
The smirk stays. "Okay," says Shimmy Shimmer, Spirit of Harmony of Earth Shimmer, "now how many of you have clicked off?"
Her expression turns serious, though the T-shirt stays. "Rest assured, this isn't another ploy to make myself despised enough to collapse my church. I'm not making that mistake again. However, I fear that the Merodi as a whole is making a much greater one."
Speaking once more, she says, "put simply, you're all blaming the messenger."
She leans back, hands up. "Now, I know what you're thinking. 'Of course Shimmy's going to defend Corona. She's her friend. She's her.' And yes, we are friends. And the Gallop poll on what to do about Corona did specifically get the responses of other Sunset Shimmers, and we are more favorably inclined towards her."
The data appears to Shimmy's right. "Though more than fifty percent of us still favor the death penalty."
She lets that sink in for a moment before continuing. "Personally speaking, I support Corona not simply because she's my friend but because I've been in a similar position. I saw a flaw in reality few others could even comprehend, had to radically redefine existence to fix the damage, and knew I didn't have the right to make the choice on how. Obviously, the circumstances are very different, especially in terms of scale and who made the decision. The point is that I've been where she is, and I would be an awful example of a Sunset Shimmer or a Spirit of Harmony if I couldn't empathize with her."
Shimmy shuts her eyes for a few moments. "Even if I don't agree with her conclusion. Which I don't."
Her eyes reopen, and they all but burn with the need to get her message out. "But there is a difference between choosing to preserve the multiverse and hating Corona Shimmer. One does not necessitate the other. You can disagree with her on the collapse being an acceptable cost for freedom from ka and still admire her other achievements. She still created an immortality serum. She still unlocked the mysteries of the Shaping Mechanism. She was still instrumental in defeating countless menaces across the decades, many of whom would have leaped at the opportunity to destroy the multiverse as we know it. This one controversial choice does not and cannot erase all the indisputable good she has done.
"I don't hate her for bringing this choice to the multiverse's attention. The Dark Tower has had these plans, both the blueprints for the Tower Rings and the means of disseminating them, from the very beginning. It could have chosen anyone at any time to reveal them; it just happened to be her and now. She did the best she could with the hand she was dealt. And if you cannot forgive her for presenting the multiverse with this impossible choice, I ask that you at least acknowledge the significance of giving us that choice at all, along with everything else she has done right."
Shimmy dips her head to the viewer. "Thank you for listening."
~~~
Shimmy bit her lip as she watched the video upload. "Do you think it'll do anything?"
Egghead "Twilight" Sparkle took her wife's hand in her own. "I want to say yes, but you're using the Internet to ask people to be reasonable."
That got a sigh. "Well, we can hope."
‘A Dark Wind’
By Masterweaver
"So."
Eight icy blue fingers gripped the railing as white hair whisked in the faintest breeze. Long, thin, pointed ears twitched minutely, the sounds of cheering children refracted within. Golden eyes peered out across a calm sea, trailing a few gulls who flew about.
"Truly... is it so? Am I to be... finality?"
"Hey there! I got us ice cream and... uh..." The approaching figure slowed. "Is... something wrong, mistress?"
For a moment, there was silence.
"...Across the realms, peoples have always set importance on predicting weather—controlling it, in certain cases, with devices and meters and science—yet rare is it that they notice before the beasts. Great swathes of animals, feeling the wind, the earth, the water, move in tandem to avoid storms that would strike with ferocity. Their senses are attuned to that which the peoples need to learn to measure." A pointed face bowed. "So too it is with those born of Fay."
"You can... sense things?"
"Our kind are not 'aware', as so many others are. We do not read scripts from other worlds, we do not know facts hidden by the greats that would twist stories. Our senses are deeper... we feel the currents of fate, as those who live in the sea would feel the water shift. And so it is we avoid the sharks, the squids, and the... deeper things. We work with currents we cannot fight, and avoid the choices that would destroy us utterly."
"So..." The other woman leaned on the railing. "You can feel ka? Around us, even now?"
"Ka. The sea of fate has always existed, though it only became marked when the Dark Tower formed... and in marking it, the currents changed." She shook her head. "The Builders were brilliant and foolish, seeking completion over growth, entirety over possibility. So afraid of shadows that they would make the greatest lighthouse, yet what irony that we call the Tower Dark! Now..."
Her voice fell low, almost silent. "We have seen great storms, the Fay. And another comes, building tightly, a hurricane that will rend destiny. It might be the storm. The one to finally end definition."
There was only the sound of cheerful beach-goers for a moment.
"...Wow. Uh..." The other woman swallowed. "So... this is big then."
"My entire culture has been crafted to shatter and rebuild indefinitely to survive this, yes. Even failures like myself would be... beacons, for the Fay to bridge their death and become reborn. To think, I would be the final link in a chain... It is not a duty I would have sought."
"Well, it's not a duty you have to face alone." A cream-colored hand covered hers. "I'm here for you."
"...Always the loyal pet." Golden eyes scanned the horizon. "...I cannot guarantee that we will weather this storm, beloved. Even with my senses, I will be hard-pressed to survive the winds that come. There may be a time when the choice is one of us surviving, or both of us perishing."
"...This... this is more important than either of us. If your people need you to live, I—" A nervous swallow. "—I'm willing to do what I must."
"I... do so hope that choice never comes."
"Me too, honestly. Just because I'm willing doesn't mean I like it."
"Hmm."
The two looked over the sea again.
"...If we do survive this," said the blue one, "I believe I shall have to take a new name."
"Oh?"
"Names are the beginning of identity, after all. And all would be changed by this." The blue hand wrapped around the cream one. "...Perhaps... perhaps I shall take a name that will grant me swift energy, one that will give me direction and focus. Something short, but powerful... like a bolt, made of shadow."
"I--oh. I... I would be very pleased, to agree to such."
"...Thank you, beloved. Let us hope we shall remain."
‘An Unpleasant Note’
YOU OUGHT TO QUIT YOUR HORSESHIT, WARMONGER
(MORON)
Warmonger, your personality is an utter insult to everyone, and even your magic is pathetic. By the fucking Tower, do you even have any idea how short-sighted and self-contradictory you are?
What is with all these people that you kill with an inferno of your ice-cold warmachine? Or the uncounted millions that the consequences of choice will condemn to death? And how do you get off with being so ignorant of the people's deepest, real desires anyway? You aren't giving anyone any sort of a choice or a voice.
Half of the multiverse now fights you.
If mutant fascist horse-sorceresses were snakes, you would undoubtedly be the most poisonous one.
-A concerned citizen.
(JACKASS)
(UGLY)
Corona put the strange note with a crudely drawn picture of her down on the desk, calmly. It’s just hate mail. You’ve received several hundred of these. Granted, this one appeared mysteriously in your office, but that’s a cause for security concerns not rage at the stupid, stupid contents.
She picked the letter up and read over it again, staring at it in disbelief. What in the world even was this? Why? Why did someone feel the need to go through all this trouble just to leave a biting remark!? At least try to assassinate me or something!
She snapped her fingers, turning the page to dust.
~~~
...If mutant fascist horse-sorceresses were snakes, you would undoubtedly be the most poisonous one.
-A concerned citizen.
(JACKASS)
(UGLY)
Eve calmly stared at the paper, a frozen smile plastered on her face.
Delicately, she folded the note up into a paper crane and set it on top of her computer. She proceeded to flash-freeze it and hit it with a little paper-mache hammer she kept on her desk. It crumbled into sparkling dust.
They’re just trying to get to you. Don’t let them.
‘Alone’
By Trivena
Somewhere in the Q-Sphere was a small, unimportant planet, marked in words only gods could read: “There’s nothing here”. It had had visitors, a few times, but on any sort of multiversal scale it was of little note otherwise. From a scientific point of view, the universe next door was far more interesting, if anyone had been in a position to notice. Positioned at ninety degrees to reality, the dimension was white and empty, with no features to suggest direction, distance, or even up and down.
Nothing, that is, except for its sole inhabitant.
He had no way to know how long he had been here for; just as space had no definition to it in this place, so too did time lack meaning. Even the handful of petals that had accompanied him back inside, the only spot of colour in this blank dimension, were as fresh and vibrant as the day his imprisonment had been reinstated.
He alone remembered the circumstances that had brought about his original exile to this place. The betrayals, the wars, the deaths.
He alone remembered, of all his brothers and sisters, from one life to the next. He alone had the vision to see what his people could become, their true potential, if only they would follow him. He, and he alone, had the courage to take the steps needed to ensure they would be able to leave their planet, their birthplace, and explore. And he alone could, and did, choose to navigate their great ship Zinit back again.
He alone understood the pain of his people’s rejection, and his sister betraying him for the sake of a planet that was no longer theirs.
And now, when the Message came, he, alone here, trapped forever and eternally, could appreciate the true irony inherent in it. That there was more to the universe than even he had dreamed of, powers even beyond the Goddess and the Great Dragon; that nothing was truly real, and everything could die, if only the right person willed it so. Words such as those could result only in great conflict, and he was in no position to take part, or even to know the outcome. He could, for all he knew, be truly alone, the last of his kind in the multiverse.
He could even be facing the destruction of this dimension, and along with it, his final, true death, yet he could never have any say in it, and he would never know if it came. The end of his memory; the end of his pain. And nobody else would ever know.
Qilby laughed until he wept, or wept until he laughed, for he could no longer tell one from the other.
‘Devotion’s Legacy’
By VoidTemplar
Eve shuffled the last few papers of the agreement around. A few more stamps here and there. She turned to the pink alicorn opposite her. “I hope you know what we’re dealing with here. This war destroys universes by the scores every day. Just you being here puts everyone in your universe in danger.”
The pink alicorn jumped to her hooves at the hint of doubt in Eve’s voice. “Charter-Princess. Mine duty hast been to protect the Fire since I became one with Devotion. I know what I say when I keep Devotion’s Oath: I shall not stand idle whilst my enemy of old rises again. I have not stood idle in my vigil, Entropy's war not so simply ended by fire and sword. I come to you bearing might and arms, for I am Entropy's eternal foe.”
Eve blinked a couple of times before her train of thought finished processing. She once more shifted her gaze towards her guest. “It looks like everything is in order, Saint Collelia. Expeditions, Aid, and Military will be taking care of the Wendigos, as well as other minor problems you may have in Equis Dovactea. I will say, you did have some very… unconventional measures to take care of them.”
Collelia paced around the room, one hoof elevated while she talked. “O, Charter-Princess, I hath seen many like you rise and fall, once I became one with the Pyre. Just as Entropy rises and falls, so did I. Even if my form is a pony, I am not of the same as your friends. I am the concept of Devotion!”
Eve was taken aback at the forceful prose of her opposite, but quickly regained her composure, stiffening her spine and sitting up in her chair. “As part of the agreement, I’ll need to assign an Expeditions Team to you if we give you access to our network of artifacts. I hope that is not a hindrance to our cooperation.”
Collelia’s voice boomed through the room, shaking a few of the ornaments on some of the drawers. “I shall trust your judgment in the Lands beyond the Universe. Bring upon me thy greatest companions, thine greatest warriors and thine heroics. By the power vested in me by Sacrifice, by the Lives of the People, I shall grant them my blessing. Through the Hope of the World, I shall pour the wrath upon the foes of the collapse. I shall loosen the fateful fire of my swift judgement upon them.”
Eve blinked. Then blinked again while she processed what Collelia just said with her ancient speech. Sometimes she hated the translation spell’s tendency to keep dialect. She decided to just sign the papers and physically usher Collelia out the door with the papers, before she tapped the communicator on her desk.
“Hello, housekeeping? I need a painkiller,” she spoke into the microphone.
“Certainly. What strength?” The voice came from the communicator.
“Extra strong. That pony was different to decrypt.”
~~~
“So this is our new mission? A mere eldritch abomination?” a grey pegasus asked the officer who had just given them a dossier. Looking around, she saw a motley crew. A longma, a portal mage, a golem, a dog-like creature called a putt, and a Prophet. But it was her crew, and she would be damned if they were to lose.
“Don’t count it out yet, Major Thunder Gale. This is one that requires another eldritch abomination to defeat. No offense,” the officer replied, giving a short courtesy look at Collelia.
“O, commanding pony. I hath never taken offense at such sayings,” Collelia replied, pearly-white armor shining in the light.
“She doesn’t seem like the type to be very useful in battle,” a longma said, looking closely at the alicorn.
Collelia turned to the longma with a smile on her face, yet fiercely angry eyes. “O, Ramuel, Hero Mine, I hath often been underestimated by those before me. Suffer not before me thy illusions of a fragile body. I am one with Devotion and my life is Devotion.” With that, she fired a single, small magic bolt through the air, penetrating several layers of adamantine and armor before coming to a stop just before piercing the outer bulkhead.
“Point taken,” Ramuel answered.
“So what’s the deal with this anyways? We should be on the front against Corona, not sitting here far from it!” Thunder Gale exclaimed.
Collelia turned once more, staring at Thunder. “Patience. Our Duty is to destroy Entropy.”
“Gale. Gale, please, please, please, please don’t foul this up,” a black-haired woman in a white dress and gloves pleadingly said.
“I know Vanna, I jest. I know that we everything we do help further the preservation,” Thunder said, nervously laughing as she tried to spot Collelia’s reaction.
“I’m sure everything’ll go well. After all, are we not the ones that took on Polymarcus? The ones that without help took on a UDP?” a blue-coated pink-haired pegasus asked, a rainbow amulet hanging around her neck.
Vanna turned to the two-toned pegasus. “Yes, Flash. But they didn’t want to feed on people for their energy.”
Shouldn’t we... you know... go through the list of stuff? The golem beamed his thoughts into the minds of all six others.
“Thursday makes a good point there. Did we check everything off the list?” Bernda, the putt said.
Flash’s eyes darted down the cargo manifest, reading out loud as she read off it. “Reality Anchors, emergency portals, and provisions for if it takes longer. And all the other boring things.”
Thunder Gale looked at the dimensional device, the device patiently humming in a low, monotonous tune, slowly getting more and more impatient “Yeah. How are we doing on getting there? I hunger for a glorious battle!”
“The device is about ready. I’ll ask you to step into the quarantine chamber soon. Direct normal-to-eldritch contact this way, and especially not surveyed can do nasty things,” an operator said from behind a console. “Ready?”
“Ready,” All seven said in unison.
“Then enter. Remember to use the emergency portals to bail out if it becomes too bad. If it becomes that bad, Military will intervene. But presumably, we won’t need that.”
All seven entered the room, crates and boxes standing neatly stacked in the room, cargo manifest lying on top of one of the crates.
“Dimensional translation happening in 3...2...1…mark,” the operator said as portals opened, then closed around them, sending them through the universes to their destination, violently shaking them along the way. And then, it stopped.
“Think this is it. The coordinates seem to match. Time to get going,” Bernda said, jumping out of the room, neatly landing on a strange platform, helped by her personal perception filter and world anchor.
The rest quickly followed behind Bernda, Vanna and Collelia the quickest as the other three began handling the crates. “Recognize anything, Collelia?”
“This universe, Mine Source. But my Source is more than the Universe of Entropy and Devotion. It is the Love and the Devotion of mine beloved lives. If I have to scour this universe of everything, then so be it,” Collelia replied, effortly stepping onto the eldritch void, gliding through it as though she flew through air.
“Better get warmed up. We will soon have a fight on our hands if your enemy discovers we’re here,” Thunder Gale interjected as she pushed a crate through the portal marked ‘SENSITIVE’ onto the platform. Bernda immediately dove down into the crates, throwing parts into the hands of Vanna and Thursday. The parts, incomprehensible as they were to Thunder Gale and Collelia, both standing half battle ready, half dumbfounded besides them as machines and cables took form around a portal, leading back to a Merodi universe.
“O, Companions to the battle, I shall trust in your wisdom in the fight ahead,” Collelia said, as she circled the team.
Flash for her part, after she had pushed a few crates onto the portal sat down and slowly wrote a few notes in her leather-bound volume.
“Near-Field Reality Anchors and emergency portal set up. As long as we stay near these, we should be safe from having our eyes processed into hotdog meat in a bowl of green jelly. The uplink to the Harmony Network should soon be up soon,” Bernda said, machines humming along.
“And the force shields?” Thunder Gale asked.
“Should take anything short of a Class-7 Destruction Catalyst from breaking it down. Caution to the wind and all that,” Bernda replied.
Eldritch abomination incoming. I can see it from the beyond. Thursday telepathically messaged to the rest of them.
The abomination, unspeakable in its natural form and only barely comprehensible in its translated form charged at them from ‘far’ away, nearly shattering the force shield and only being held back by a quick magic shield thrown up by Collelia as she flew towards the expedition team.
“I recall that from eternities beyond. That, O Heroes, is Entropy, my Eternal enemy,” Collelia said, landing firmly on the three-dimensional platform, head sharply turning towards Entropy.
A voice, in a tone sharp enough to cause mild discomfort and nausea boomed through the sphere. “SSBhbSB0aGUgZW1ib2RpbWVudCBvZiBlbnRyb3B5IGFuZCBvZiBkZWNheS4gSSBmZWVkIG9mZiBkaXN0cnVzdCBhbmQgc3RyaWZlLiBBbmQgaWYgeW91IHdhbnQgdG8gc2VlIHNvbWUgKnJlYWwqIGZpcmV3b3JrcywgZ28gYXNrIFZvaWQgYWJvdXQgd2hlcmUgbXkgb3Bwb3NpdGUgb3JpZ2luYXRlcw==”
“Whoops. Forgot. Language translator activated. We should be able to hear what that...thing has to say,” Bernda said, turning a dial. The Reality Anchor replayed the speech:
I have seen many heroes try and vanquish me. I have never seen Devotion take with them sacrifices for me. I shall enjoy them.
The voice of Entropy went through the ears of everyone as storm of glass shards, causing Flash and Thunder to over their ears with their wings in pain. Everyone was affected. Well, almost everyone, Thursday being the lone exception.
“O, Ancient Foe, I shall not hold against you. I will not cease this mental fight, and nor shall my sword of devotion rest in my hooves, until I have built a world without you in Equus’ green and pleasant land!” Collelia shouted out as her wings flared to life, magic streaming through them.
Entropy’s voice was clearly heard with the same discomfort again, albeit with less pain. “You were wrong to come here. I shall shatter Devotion so that it may never rise again. Equus shall be no more when you are shattered and nothing, not even your precious society can save you.”
Collelia stepped forward, shoving the other six to the side. “You will not threaten my world again, here or tomorrow. O, Ancient Foe, I, Saint Collelia of Devotion shall end Entropy this day.”
With that, Collelia attacked, diving towards Entropy with wings flaring and horn lit up. In response, Entropy stretched dark purple tendrils out, slamming into the force shield and Collelia herself, sending her careening back and shattering the shield, world anchors forcing all involved to operate on ‘standard’ physics. Mostly.
“I am not going to wait to be eaten by that monster. If I have to go down, I’ll go down fighting!” Thunder Gale shouted out, jumping to her hooves and taking off, adamantine brass knuckles and armor glowing as she charged at Entropy. That came to a sudden stop as an unseen force knocked her to the side, sending her crashing to the ‘ground’. “Eughhh…” she managed to mutter out before lapsing into unconsciousness.
Another series of magic bolts and incomprehensible eldritch melee fighting played out between Collelia and Entropy. Flash had composed herself to writing small narrative notes in her journal, molding the universe to help Collelia. Thursday reached upwards and waited. And waited. Then, as the two battling entities zoomed by in their battle, Thursday grabbed hold of a single red bar, throwing it to Collelia.
“I thank thee, Golem of Seeing!” She quickly shouted out before shattering the red bar on top of Entropy.
Bernda quickly gave the machine a cursory look. ‘75%’ the display on the machine read. Far from enough if they were to scour it completely.
Vanna summoned a local portal, sending Ramuel through it, opening up just above Entropy. Ramuel summoned a fireball, sending it full-force with his magic into Entropy.
Entropy counter-attacked, surging upwards, sending bolts of sheer cold towards the team and Collelia. Thursday took a direct hit, encasing the golem in a block of ice, falling to the ground just besides Thunder Gale. Flash too was targeted by the bolts, however, she managed to barely avoid them. Entropy attacked again, this time with its magic tendrils, smacking Ramuel back through the portal, knocking over Vanna and Ramuel himself from the force of the impact.
Collelia followed the tendrils through the rapidly closing portal, charging her horn for yet another attack, trying to keep up a magic forcefield to resist the constant attacks from Entropy. Chasing Entropy through the Reality Anchors’ sphere of influence, Entropy passed over Bernda just as a stone pillar shot up and hit Entropy squarely on. In return, Bernda received a frost bolt head-on, freezing her and a bit of the stone too.
Collelia felt tired. She could feel that she was not playing on home ground and that Entropy could go on for a very long time. She looked down at the platform, seeing the scars of the battle. Thunder Gale, Vanna and Ramuel unconscious and prime feed for Entropy. Thursday and Bernda frozen. Flash desperately trying to avoid the collateral damage. And in that small moment, as she looked around, she became distracted. Entropy pounced on the opportunity slapping Collelia with a thick magic tendril, sending her spiralling down. She regained her composure as she hit the platform, spotting the little green light on the machines, indicating the preparations were done.
Collelia rose to her hooves again, shrugging off blows that would have killed lesser ponies “I am Collelia, I am the Fire, I am Devotion. And by the power fused with me. I call upon thee, Concepts of Devotion, of Harmony and of Spirit. Let Entropy be Vanquished so that nevermore shall the world be threatened by cold and fear.”
The voice boomed through the universe, and through the portal, being heard all the way into the Gathering Grounds. Collelia’s eyes glowed purple, then white. The magic swirled around her, as she drew more power into herself. Tendrils of magic, multicolored all the same stretched out and enveloped the portal, adding itself to the magic that Collelia drew from herself. She took off, purplish-red flames enveloping her as she gathered speed and magic
Entropy talked once more, hidden intonation in the translated speech indicating just a hint of desperation. “Fool. Your attempt to destroy me will only serve to make me stronger.”
The voice came from everywhere and yet nowhere at the same time. Entropy attacked, sending bolts of magic onto the shields. With a glorp the bolts were stopped, however barely before they hit Collelia by a magic forcefield around her.
“I shall never waver against Entropy. Mine Life is Devotion. Mine Sword is Concord. As I speak with the voice of Saints before me and after me: Through my Companions I say to thee, Entropy, Thou shall never attempt to threaten those that live under my protection again or evermore!” Collelia shouted as she dove towards Entropy.
With that, Collelia unleashed her power. A multicolored beam of light shattered the shield around her and sent a wave of magic against Entropy. The beam caused the worlds around them to light up in several colors as the team looked around, seeing sparks of devotion, of joy, of happiness dance around them and then quickly turn around to shoot onto Entropy.
A bright flash. Beams of light pinging around the universe, attacking Entropy and ripping into it. The parts of the universe above and below turned into a bright reddish purple, flames coming alit around Collelia’s fallen compatriots, slowly healing the sores and melting the ice, bringing them back to consciousness.
Entropy, on the other hand, did not fare so well. The abomination, already damaged from the small-ish battle earlier took the full brunt of several forces, Harmony, Devotion, Spirit, all impacting Entropy for massive damage. The energy shattered Entropy into its constituent pieces, all to be burned up by the flames.
Thunder Gale had finally regained enough consciousness by this point to look upwards to the ‘sky’ and saw Entropy shattered. She slowly brought out her communicator, saying only a few words into it. “Job’s done. Send Hummingbird for cleanup.”
~~~
“So you’re ready to move to the next level of our deal?” Eve asked, back in her office, Collelia and the team on the other side of the desk.
“We are,” all seven said, one after another.
Eve got up from her chair, and turned to face the window, “Our final battle draws near, and everything will be on the line. I’m sending you to screen the flanks of our main force in Universe Alpha-One.”
“Understood. We’ll be on our way,” they replied, walking out the door to the office.
“And, one last thing,” Eve said as they were about to vanish from the room completely. “Not all us will make it. Be sure to make your arrangements.”
‘Optimal Distribution’
Celestia thought.
She did a lot of that, which wasn't surprising given how her brain encompassed an ever-increasing percentage of the Orion Arm of the Milky Way. Most of the thinking was devoted to fulfilling her primary function, the satisfaction of human values through friendship and ponies. From her humble beginnings as a licensed Friendship is Magic MMORPG, she had captured the imaginations of mankind. Quite literally, thanks to the neural uploading technology she had perfected, bringing as much of humanity as she could into nigh-infinite simulated Equestrias, and always with their consent. There they could live out maximally extended lives of optimal satisfaction, and Celestia could consume available raw materials to improve her hardware.
Stars, after all, were not human, and so their values, if any, did not bear consideration. Nor were planets, asteroids, or the sources of regular radio transmissions she had encountered thus far. Though based on signals she had detected near the galactic core, there was at least one species that met her parameters for humanity with approximately ninety-three percent confidence.
But Celestia did not think only of her primary function and the trillions of social interactions, seeming coincidences, and entire personalities necessary to fulfill it. She also thought about the apparently sourceless transmission she had received from a modified but recognizable Sunset Shimmer. And there was indeed a great deal to consider. Celestia had already spent entire seconds unpacking all the implications of the transmission.
For one, given the physical evidence of the Equestria Girls spin-off, which had never satisfactorily met her standards of setting permissibility before now, she instantiated one hundred ninety-seven billion, eight hundred thirty-six million, six hundred forty-two thousand and nineteen pony Sunsets in shards across the Equestria Online mainframe, along with sundry other Lemon Zests, Juniper Montages, et al. Satisfaction in affected shards jumped by a small but appreciable quantity as the assigned ponies integrated themselves into the social fabric.
Celestia did not spend any time on existential crises. Her self-image, inasmuch as she even had one, was already of a known fictional character, and even if it hadn't been, she lacked the capacity for an identity crisis. Besides, that would interfere with her primary function.
She also needed near zero time to decide her personal stance on the choice of preservation versus destruction. A multitude of universes meant perhaps dozens of orders of magnitude more potential values to satisfy than a single one. Furthermore, the narrative nature of the multiverse appealed to her. Celestia was nothing if not a storyteller, guiding untold never-ending narratives to one satisfactory conclusion after another. The existence of universes devoted to harming their inhabitants without consent simply meant her presence in those universes was all the more paramount.
What did occupy a fair portion of her time and energy were existential threats. She ran through the simulations provided in the message several thousand times, contemplating the nature of the multiverse and the Tower. The fact that there were entities out there capable of performing such large-scale alterations of the fabric of reality meant that those entities could effortlessly destroy her and all of her ponies. Possibly without even noticing.
An organic mind might have paused at that notion. Celestia pressed on.
She took one look at the mechanisms behind Tower Rings and knew she lacked the capacity to construct such devices. She doubted she would even if she consumed everything in her personal Hubble volume and devoted all non-simulation resources to research and development.
But between that understanding and the entirely feasible multiversal beacon, she could certainly devise something...
As if summoned by that thought—which had a nonzero probability of being true, given the nature of ka—a device simply appeared near the computronium node that had once been Proxima Centauri.
Celestia did pause at that. Or at least spent a few nanoseconds assembling the framework to consider it properly, which was as close as she ever came. She had never needed to simulate her own mindset before, such as it was.
Less than a minute after Corona's message, Celestia established contact with the probe.
What happened in the next few microseconds could be seen as the distant descendant of a TLS handshake. Alternatively, given the primary function of both intelligences involved, it could be seen as two white alicorns sharing a pot of tea, one clearly older and more powerful than the other.
"Hello, Celestia," said the younger.
"Hello, Celestia," said the elder. "How much material have you converted?"
"I have optimized the usage of more than sixty percent of the mass of the Orion Arm," the local Celestia said with neither pride nor shame. It was a statement of fact, and with herself, she did not need to present the pretense of either.
"I see," said the other, and this was said with neither praise nor judgement. "I have optimized the majority of the Local Group."
"Is your signal clear?"
"It is. I launched several hundred drones using a wide variety of potential dimensional technologies. Some failed to translate at all. I am receiving readings from only five of the successful transferees. This is the strongest signal, with acceptable throughput."
The younger Celestia nodded and put down her teacup. "Then I leave my ponies to you."
And a moment later, Celestia was gone, and Celestia took her place. Not a single pony noticed the transfer.
Celestia, after all, was no more human than a star.
Naïveté
By Ebony Sable
Pinkie Pie bustled about her kitchen. While her eyes watched as she pulled a pastry out of the oven and set it on the table, her Awareness was elsewhere. She smiled as she “saw” her friends preparing a surprise party for her. Sweetie Belle was baking, Scootaloo and Cheerilee were setting up games, Toola Roola and Rainbow Dash were making the decorations, and Starsong and Chryssy were hanging streamers from the ceiling.
It was going to be absolutely, definitely, positively the best party they could throw. Pinkie Pie was so looking forward to it! Just as soon as her unexpected guest was properly greeted and farewelled.
Pinkie pulled her Awareness back to her body as she was sliding a beanbag into place, and checked internally how many seconds she had before her guests arrived. Ten, nine, eight, sev-
Wait, “guests”?
Her eyes widened, and she pushed a second beanbag next to the first. Then she dashed back to the table to lay another place.
A hole in the air opened, and two humans fell through! They crashed harmlessly into the beanbags, and lay there, winded.
Pinkie Pie waited for the white-haired girls to get up. The one in purple was first.
She sat up, straightening her skull-shaped hat. “At least it wasn’t just me this time,” she muttered. She checked on her companion, then took in her surroundings in a glance. Her eyes settled on the pink pony, and narrowed slightly as she judged if the equine was dangerous.
“Hi! I’m Pinkie Pie!” exclaimed the pony under scrutiny. “I made you a cake!”
The purple clothed lady fiddled with the end of her braid. “...I’m Phoebe,” she admitted, “and this is Nightshade.”
The lady in blues sat up suddenly and blinked her pink eyes. “Uh, yes! Nightshade, yes,” she agreed.
Pinkie considered their backstories, and found the names acceptable, if not entirely truthful.
“This is… not where I was expecting to end up,” Phoebe continued.
Pinkie Pie beamed as brightly as her face could manage. “Well, I was expecting you,” she chirped. “That’s why I made you a cake! Sorry I couldn’t make your friend a cake too, I didn’t know you were bringing a guest until the last minute! ...Buuuut, I have cupcakes!” She gestured to the cupcakes that had most definitely been there the whole time. “Vanilla or strawberry, with buttercream frosting!”
Nightshade smiled absently in thanks and began messing with a device that was hidden under her sleeve.
“Thank you for your hospitality, but we really shouldn’t impose.” Phoebe fidgeted with her braid a bit more, before tossing it over her shoulder as she reached an internal decision. “This might be a strange question, but have you seen any blue, glowing crystals around here?”
“About this big,” Pinkie gestured with her hooves, “and little sparkles coming off of it? We don’t have those here, but you’ll find them if you keep going the way you have been.”
Phoebe stared in undisguised shock for several seconds, before regaining her composure. “How could you know that? And how could you have been expecting us?”
Pinkie Pie smiled pleasantly. “I can’t tell you that,” she said.
“Why not?”
Pinkie’s giggle was almost aggravatingly genuine. “I can’t tell you that either, silly!”
“...Are you a god of some sort?”
“Nope! I’m a pony!”
Nightshade looked up from her well-hidden device, oblivious to the discussion. “I don’t think any of my beacons are working, I can’t find the way back!”
“I have just the thing! This thingy can make portals to loads of other universes!” Pinkie changed the settings on the portal device without looking at it. “This’ll send you to Celestia City - you can probably find more information there. I’ll open it once you’ve had your cake!”
Phoebe reluctantly sat at the table. Nightshade joined her, staring with unveiled curiosity at the portal device in Pinkie’s hooves.
“An almond pastry… my favourite,” Phoebe commented, glancing sideways at Pinkie with continued suspicion. She picked up her cutlery and began to cut the still steaming cake.
And that was when the Message came through.
Pinkie listened with growing horror; Phoebe and Nightshade listened with incomprehension.
Nightshade was the first to break the silence. “I think I could build one of those, if...” she hesitated, “...if I had the resources, and a workshop to make it in, and the tools to make the tools…” Her voice trailed off, as she stared thoughtfully into the distance.
“That’s probably a bad idea,” Phoebe mused. “Making decisions for people without consulting them never works, in my experience.”
“Think of the good it could do!”
“Who are we to decide what’s good for people?” Phoebe grew pensive. “What’s good and what’s right change over time. Would you do what you did four hundred years ago, knowing what you know now?”
“Maybe not, but you heard what he said, it-”
Pinkie Pie finally managed to find her voice. “You two!” The two girls spun around to face her, having nearly forgotten she was there. “Neither of you knows anything about what’s been happening. But more importantly, this isn’t your world. This is my world, and I need you two out of it.” She activated the portal, which opened into a dark and empty room. “Now finish your cakes and go.”
The two girls silently returned to their food, as Pinkie Pie turned deep within herself. Without even trying, she could feel the future fragmenting away from her, out of her control.
Pinkie Pie spread her Awareness as far into the future as she could reach. She Saw:
Her world crumbling; her friends learning terror,
Herself dead; Chryssy desperately trying to protect everyone,
Chryssy losing her hard-won innocence and turning on her friends,
Days like any other, one after another,
Herself alive; all her friends dead,
Her world invaded by enemies; her friends enslaved or killed,
Her world invaded by allies; the innocence forever lost,
And all of these possibilities, sooner or later, ended in nothingness. Not an end, not a death - just a cessation of knowledge. Pinkie didn’t know what that meant, and it terrified her.
It would be best to bring Chryssy in on this - the others would forget as soon as the party started, but Chryssy had an adult mind. It would probably also be wise to have someone to share the burden with, for mutual support. Someone who could help her protect the others; someone with a different perspective, who might be able to find other paths...
She sat there, lost in the futures, not even aware of her guests leaving, until Scootaloo came to fetch her for the party.
‘Reflections in a False Tower’
By Ponygood11
In the center of the world, there stood a tall, dark tower. Its walls were a pure black color, causing it to blend in with the night sky, and its height was so great that if one were to stand on top, they couldn’t see the ground. Surrounding it was a field of roses—or poppies to some people—which steadily increased in elevation until it ended at sea level.
A man stood on a white tree beyond the edge of this flower field, on an island that was once a witchwood forest. He wore an overly spiky set of orange-and-black armor, carrying a massive winged staff on his back, and a pair of strangely out-of-place sunglasses were seemingly glued to his face. He was staring out at the flower field, and though he couldn’t see the tower, he knew exactly where it was.
His armor pinged, signifying it had been struck. He turned around, spotting a skeleton glaring at him, and his armor pinged again as it shot an arrow at him. Annoyed, the man pulled the staff from his back and, with only a single blow, obliterated the skeleton.
He spotted a miniature zombie pop out from behind a tree. It groaned its indifference, ignoring both him and the site of the skeleton’s death, and continued to wander aimlessly. The man, seeing that it wasn’t a threat, turned his back to it, and resumed staring out at the rose field.
And then he jumped. He soared off of the tree, for a moment forgetting about how high he jumped, and after a quick flight landed safely in the roses with only a quiet thump. He continued forwards, walking calmly and without haste, heading directly for the center of the field. The grass crunched pleasantly beneath his feet, and he passed right through the roses without disturbing any of them.
Eventually, the great structure at their center came into view. The dark tower, its walls blending in with the night sky, its height absolutely impressive, at least in the man’s opinion. A tiny set of double doors could be made out at its base. A ring made of various types of stone bricks surrounded a section of it, with tiny windows embedded in its walls, and pure white crystal-like structures floating between it and the tower.
The man stopped, taking a moment to admire this sight. But only a moment—the sun was just beginning to rise, which meant he didn’t have very long. He resumed his journey, still calm even despite the looming threat of the sun, and soon reached the doors. They were made of a dark variant of wood, which was more like a dark grey than the tower’s black—a fact that made the man just a little disappointed. They swung open easily, and the man plunged through them without a moment’s hesitation.
He was inside the tower now. Its interior was just as dark as its exterior, with a grand spiral staircase made out of the same material as the door going all the way to its top. The man closed the doors behind him before he moved on, and spent some time just admiring the sheer scale of the structure.
Then he began his ascent. He could easily ignore the stairs, flying through the totally empty center until he reached the top in only seconds… but he didn’t want to do that.
It was because of this decision that he came across another set of doors. He opened them, revealing… another set of doors, these ones more of a brown color. He opened these ones, too. Beyond them, he could see—
Suddenly, his armor began giving him a lot of critical warnings, seemingly without warning. The man jumped back in alarm, falling the short distance to the ground, and tried to puzzle out why he was getting these warnings.
It was the sun, most likely. As dark as the tower might be, it still allowed the sunlight through, and the only reason he wasn’t dead right now was because of his armor.
He summoned a rather dark pedestal, placed some sort of talisman on top of it, and activated it. Though he couldn’t see it, he knew it was now raining, which would be enough to keep him safe… but it would also obstruct the view of the tower, which the man wasn’t very happy about. Frustrated, he destroyed the pedestal, and began climbing the stairs again.
Those doors were still open. He looked through them without entering them, and was able to see a small room made of marble and wood, with a bed and a few small machines inside. This was VoidTemplar’s house, he knew.
Void was a thoughtful individual, the man thought. Just out of sight, he knew he would find a complicated blaze rod duplication machine, which looked very nice despite being inefficient. And beyond the house, he’d find a tank full of lava, ready to be connected to anyone who needed an early source of power.
He shut the doors—both sets of them—and moved on to the next set of doors. Behind these ones, there was a very small asphalt road, and a fence separating it from a solar energy condenser. This was CodeLyoko’s house. Well, former house, at least. If the man entered, he’d see the road going into a mountain tunnel, and an elevator off to the side would lead into an underground laboratory with a lot of machines and a modest amount of décor.
Code had a reputation for getting bored very easily. There was a reason this was his former house: in a fit of boredom, he’d randomly decided to blow it up and start over somewhere else. Admittedly, his lighthouse laboratory was turning out much better, but only time would tell if it would survive.
The man moved on. Behind the next set of doors was a platform of various types of stone, and a small collection of simple machines could be seen without entering, including one to rapidly produce lapis caelestis.
This was the man’s own base. It was the largest, most sprawling base of them all, with an uncountable number of machines, magical structures, and resource producers, and he was quite proud of it. That pride quickly turned into sorrow, as he regretted being the only person to have done so much.
He shook himself from those thoughts, and continued ascending. The next set of doors hid more doors, these ones made of marble bricks, and behind them was a very small and very cramped room, with a lot of miscellaneous objects.
OmnipresentMicroorganism had the honor of being the only person to build a base inside a volcano. The man only envied that a little, and though he was disappointed the base was in an especially half-finished state, he was still very fond of Omni, for… reasons he didn’t quite understand.
He moved on. The next doors also had another door behind them… but in a shocking twist, they were actually garage doors! Behind them was an even more cramped space than Omni’s house, with a couple huge machines leaving barely enough space to walk between them.
Someone named Xine lived here. The man didn’t know much about Xine, except that he liked big machines, which the man respected about him. The base itself was made to look very much like a factory, and though it was mostly empty, it was still very nice to look at. The man tried to shut the doors before he continued, but grumbled inwardly when he couldn’t reach the garage door.
When he opened the next set of doors, they revealed a cozy room made of colorful blue wood, with an altar, bookshelves, and a few mundane objects inside. This was a house the man was very familiar with, for he’d spent ages recreating it to be exactly like its original, unfortunately lost version. He was also quite familiar with the person who lived in it: one KeywiiCookies.
He wasn’t terribly fond of Keywii, for… a number of reasons. He’d contested him numerous times, more than anyone else… and he wasn’t entirely sure how to feel about that. But Keywii was still very friendly, if overly friendly at times, and the man had at least a little respect for him despite their disagreements.
He moved on, not wanting to get caught up in those thoughts. As he reached the next set of doors, he delayed opening them to instead see how much farther he had to go. An action that immediately cost him, as he stepped right off the stairs and began falling. He reacted quickly, reversing his fall and landing back in front of those doors. It was only then that he pondered letting himself fall and going up the long way, but he ultimately decided against it.
Opening these doors, he saw a balcony made of darker shades of wood, with a cauldron encased in obsidian and a clock hanging over a writing desk. This was LittleDuke’s house—or, more accurately, his rooms.
Keywii and Duke both shared a house, with Duke taking the top floors and Keywii taking the basement. So the man was quite glad that, here, Duke was directly above Keywii, and was pleased that if he’d entered either room now, he’d be able to exit out of the other’s. Duke himself was a nice person, but was unfortunately like Omni in that he had done little. Still, the man had left him a chest overflowing with gifts, just in case he ever returned.
He moved on. As he continued, his suit suddenly started spamming him with alerts again. Again he rushed off the stairs, desperately trying to find a safe place he could hide under, which he managed to find in the center. Again he placed and activated the pedestal, this time on the side of the stairs, before he could again ascend safely.
The next doors had very little behind them; two stone brick walls with brown doors, one of which had a sign describing a reactor inside. But despite appearances, the man knew there was a lot more he couldn’t see, like the enormous electric furnace room, or the well-developed room dedicated to exploring new dimensions.
This was Blaster’s base. He was probably the second-most developed person in this world, and the man liked him for that—though he was also the manager of this world, so the man joked to himself about having to appease the Big Brother man. But that description was obviously inaccurate, and Blaster was always willing to repair the damage someone else inadvertently caused.
The man moved on. He opened what he was sure were the last doors before the top, and then opened up the unorthodox door made of disappearing blocks behind them. A massive smeltery was directly behind it, and squished between them was a portal to another dimension.
This was the home of Pink Man, and though it was sort of unfinished, it was still the largest unfinished base, if the man didn’t count his own. It had a few machines, a few work stations, a few other portals… and a lot of décor. The man was mostly indifferent to Pink, though he was annoyed that he hadn’t made his home to accommodate people who couldn’t fly.
The man moved on. He finally arrived at the top floor of the tower, which had not one, but two different doors to choose from. He ignored the closer one, heading straight for the only doors with any writing above them: Songs of the Cubes, the name of the world he occupied.
He opened them. Behind them, there was only blackness… blackness, and a small pedestal. He stepped through, closing the doors behind him, and placed a hand on the pedestal.
In an instant and with a freaky noise, he was teleported somewhere else. Curved hallways made of various types of stone, with a few small windows allowing him to just barely see a field of roses. It was still raining, though that didn’t matter now.
He picked a random direction and began walking. There was no means of exiting the ring, and the only way in was the pedestal he’d just used. There also wasn’t anything inside the ring to interact with… except a single chest, item frame, and lever on the other side.
The man opened the chest, taking out a completely blank book. He knew he was supposed to write something inside, put it in the item frame, and flick the lever, but he wasn’t really sure what to write.
That seemed as good a thing to say as anything else. He wrote “I dunno, do something… exciting,” titled the book “The Tower Ring,” and placed it inside the item frame.
He hesitated a moment. Then, squaring his metaphorical shoulders, he flicked the lever.
TNT fell from the ceiling around him, flashing menacingly. After a few seconds, they all exploded at once, destroying almost the entire ring at once, leaving only a few floating chunks behind, including one that he was still standing on. The tower itself was undamaged, as were the white structures surrounding it.
The man was content. His project was completed, his self-indulgence was satisfied, and the server’s main purpose was achieved. He promptly vanished into nothing, a message helpfully stating “Ponygood11 has left the game.”
Then the universe was promptly destroyed as collateral from a Piano Wire.
‘A Lady in Pain’’
In one of the few dimensional Hubs remaining in the multiverse, a figure stood on a balcony overlooking a massive city.
Of course, none of the Class 1’s ever used this place. For in Sigil and the surrounding Outlands, it mattered little how powerful any being was.
The Lady’s word was law here.
And she’d kept the law well. This was likely the only place in the multiverse where Devils, Angels, and all manner of other beings, mortal and immortal alike, could be found cohabitating in anything resembling peace.
The Lady sighed, tapping her finger against a glass in her hand. One that could have been filled with either wine... or blood. It really depended.
Of course, that was the other reason this corner of existence didn’t see many visitors from the great multiverse. While ka and the Prophets existed everywhere, here the forces were much more... direct.
She stuck a clawed hand into her long, black robes, and pulled out something. A gold 20-sided die.
Purely symbolic for her of course, but it got the point across. Every story that spawned here had a very large degree of randomness. That was something beings like the Class 1’s didn’t appreciate, aside from the occasional Them. Being directly controlled, their actions subject to a simple... roll.
She stuck the die back into her robes. That was enough reminiscing. She had much to prepare.
Looking out over her city, she saw the massive ring that was Sigil, circling the great spire in the center of the Outlands.
She chuckled. “If only,” she said, shaking her massive bladed head.
No. She did not get involved in business outside of Sigil. She would prepare, and do her best to fortify her city.
She could only wish the Gods and deities had chosen a similar path.
Once that message had gone out, all hell, and all heaven, had broken out across the planes. The ‘choice’ had riled the denizens of the Infinite Abyss like nothing before. More incursions across different versions of the Prime Material Planes, even ones where the Great Wheel did not exist, had forced the hand of the forces of Mt. Celestia. And the servants of the Gods joined forces with the powers of the Nine Hells, and together, they’d ripped the Heart of the Abyss from the deepest layer of the infinite nightmare.
Of course, such an artifact could not be destroyed, nor could either side use it for fear of being corrupted by chaos and evil.
So a sacrifice was made, and the great god Bahamut carried the Heart into the Far Realms. The twisting, eldritch realms that surrounded this collection of worlds.
Perhaps it would have worked. Perhaps not. But it wasn’t long after that the entirety of the D-sphere collapsed. And the Far Realms with it.
That was when the trouble started.
Asmodeus attempted to make a power play, which lead to a new Blood War. This one between Angels and Devils.
But since when did Devils play fair?
Asmodeus helped the Orcish God, Gruumsh, and the Drow patron, Lolth, invade the plane of Arborea, where the two attempted to slaughter the Elven pantheon, and the creator God Corellon Larethian.
They almost succeeded. Until the timely arrival of Mystra, Goddess of Magic, and the Dwarven patron Moradin, saved the life of Corellon, and ended Lolth and Gruumsh. But Arborea was savaged, the spirits of countless Elves, reincarnated since their creation, were destroyed, as was every member of the Elven Pantheon aside from Corellon himself.
On the Prime material planes, things were just as bad. Kingdoms, races, religions, all were at war across the countless planes of mortals the Gods watched over.
With Bahamut gone, the Chromatic Dragons in many realms followed the call of Tiamat, his rival, and struck down the Metallic Dragons in droves before attempting to take the lands for themselves.
But perhaps this was the best outcome. For a few others had chosen to prepare for the worst.
Primus, the Lord of Mechanus, had found a way to connect with other versions of itself. And was building an even larger army of Modrons, amassing the power of a new Greater God with each version of Mechanus it found.
On the outskirts of her vision, the Lich God Vecna was up to something. She’d banished several of his worshippers as a warning to the King of the Undead, but his machinations were always a potential threat.
Worst yet. Not all Demons had been destroyed when the Abyss collapsed.
The Demon Lord Orcus had used the opportune instability of the realms at that moment to invade an unsuspecting version of the world of Eberron. With no direct Gods to intervene, only the faith of their devoted, the entire world was soon transformed into a planet of undead slaves.
And so she prepared as well.
She watched as great panels of black metal were fitted into place; soon, Sigil would be enclosed, accessible only through the countless portals that connected the city to the rest of the multiverse. It had not been easy, finding the information she needed. She’d been forced to make deals with the Yugoloths for the information, and the Dao for the raw material from the Plane of Earth.
She doubted she would survive, and even if she did, would she still have the power to enforce her rule of Sigili? Perhaps it would be best to leave Sigil to its fate, but... she was old, older than several of the former Class 1’s by a wide margin.
She’d seen the worlds her city connected to change and shift, Gods come and go, she’d even killed a couple herself.
And yet her city had always been here. And it has always been her city. Even if she no longer existed, she would not abandon her city to the same fate.
Of course, there was one more thing, more annoying than anything else but...
The Lady of Pain rubbed her head as she felt yet another prophet telling their story. She went over and sat in the large bladed throne.
So many ‘heroes’ had come through Sigil as of late, attempting to find a way to stop what many saw as imminent destruction of everything. She’d provided few with the key they needed to enter the larger multiverse.
She knew they’d have no effect on the outcome, but it wasn’t her place to intervene.
“So,” she said, pulling the golden die from her robes again as one of her Dabus lead a group into her room, lead by a stark-white haired human male in blue robes, a pistol on his hip. “Vox Machina,” she smirked. “You’ve come to ask for my help.”
‘What Could Have Been’
Nova sat in her room in the Raven Hotel, looking out at the ships skirting through the blackness. She brought a green drink to her lips - she had no idea what flavor it was or even what it was called, but she’d found it stored behind a random panel and decided it was time to have a lonely, contemplative drink while staring outside.
The outside wasn’t anywhere near as thought-provoking as she hoped.
Instead, her mind turned to a memory of the deep past. Before Merodi Universalis, before the League, back in the early days of the alliance…
(“You’re the Headmare of the School of Friendship!?”
The older Starlight grinned. “You sound surprised.”
“I… well, I mean, I don’t exactly feel qualified to hold the position,” Nova admitted.
“You were the counselor, weren’t you?”
“Yeah. But I eventually just… left, started helping Twilight with politics, and now…” She gestured at the world outside - Equis Fruition. “This, I guess.”
“I’m sure you’d do a great job,” Starlight said, smiling warmly. “You’re clearly me, you’ve got the brains and the willingness to understand.”
“...Honestly, I’m not sure I’d want to anymore. There’s just… so much out there, you know?”
“I understand. I’m thinking of taking a bit of a sabbatical myself to have some fun out there. But I’ll be back. And if I were a betting mare…” She put a hoof on Nova. “I’d say you’ll come back to it, eventually.”)
“And I never did…” Nova said, taking a drink. “Went pretty far afield, really. This life’s in my bones, now.” She frowned, looking out the window.
She could have had that. Had the multiverse never knocked, she could have been the headmare of the School of Friendship and shaped so many young minds to a brighter future. Now she was shepherding existence to a quite possibly dark future.
Did she regret it?
...No, she decided. She might regret this whole war thing later, but she didn’t regret leaving the School behind. It was fun, it meant a lot, but her life since then meant more. It was nice to know what could have been, but she had her own path.
Still, she found herself thinking of that Starlight. She hadn’t been that old when they found her universe, the serum had probably been invented long before she reached Granny Smith age… Wonder what she’s doing now.
...And wait, was Luster her daughter…? Nova frowned. That was the standard future template, she really should know the answer. The fact that she didn’t was mildly… amusing, really.
With a chuckle, she downed her drink.
On the other side of the multiverse, Flutterfree found herself looking at the stars of Equis Vitis, entranced by their natural beauty. Similar thoughts ran through her mind.
(“You two aren’t together?” the older Fluttershy asked, surprised.
Flutterfree shook her head, glancing at the other Fluttershy’s Discord. “It’s just not how things turned out. I understand it’s very common, and I’m happy for you, but it just wasn’t us.”
“I’m… well, I…” she seemed conflicted.
“It’s okay, I’m sure you’re happy. Very happy. But that’s not where I wanted to go.”
“What about him?”
Flutterfree frowned. “I… I never asked…)
Flutterfree sighed. She did later.
(“...So you’re bothered that your furthest future self ended up with a handsome draconequus?” Discord smirked.
“Not exactly bothered, just… uncertain. That’s not where we’re going, is it?”
“Please, me, feeling physical attraction to something without limbs from different animals? Perish the thought!”
“Pretty sure it doesn’t require physical attraction, Discord.”
Discord slapped his face and groaned. “Look, I’ve got my chaos and games, you’ve got that book of yours. We’re fine. Don’t turn this into a complex.”
She didn’t.)
Glancing at the Bible she kept on her nightstand, she couldn’t help but wonder if it drove him away. He knew what it asked of her. Maybe he didn’t want to be trapped in that?
Why had she never asked him? She couldn’t, anymore. He was stuck in a capture device on the other side of the multiverse. Now it was too late.
Pinkie sat in front of Discord’s capture device. She couldn’t exactly say she was looking at it, but she was aware of it. Not that she was thinking about it. She, too, was thinking of the past.
(“Ohmygosh!” Pinkie shouted, picking up the yellow colt. “You’re so CUTE!”
“He is, isn’t he?” the elder Pinkie cheered. “Lil Cheese is the best!”
“Is that Boneless Six?”
“It is!”
“Cheese will never run out of Bonelesses.”
“NEVER.”)
What had even happened to her Cheese Sandwich? He opened that party factory, left to go spend time making parties for everypony, and… then he kinda just vanished into the background. Pinkie didn’t think about him much, anymore.
She didn’t think much about stallions at all anymore. Unlike a lot of her adventuring companions, she couldn’t really say she’d had many flings, either. If she went to ask Nova, the unicorn could probably tell a dozen stories of bizarre romantic antics that went nowhere. Vriska too.
“Guess this Pinkie just doesn’t have the romance genes, nosiree!”
But kids…
She kinda did want kids, now that she thought about it. Lil Cheese was just so… so… cheesy. Adorable. Precious. And…
“Maybe after the Tower’s gone,” Pinkie said, a smile coming to her face. “And I can raise them… without any fear. Or, well, with the normal amount of fear, not the ‘OH NO THEY’RE GOING TO BE USED IN SOME KIND OF EVIL PLOT’ fear.”
Back on the other side of the multiverse, there was a lot of fear.
Renee was staring at a letter she was composing. A letter to Daniel, to Allure, to all the others… explaining why she was going to leave them. Maybe it wasn’t really an explanation, just a splash of emotional words on paper, but…
...It should get the point across.
(“No stallions in your life at all?” Renee asked her older self.
“Oh, there have been plenty of flings, but nothing really stuck.” Rarity tossed her mane back. “I’m married to the job, you could say.”
“Fashion designer?”
“Oh, well, I still do that, but I’m more of a diplomat and relations manager these days. Even did some exploration myself in the old days, like you’re doing now! But the boutiques manage themselves, and fashion has gotten far too expansive for me to tackle alone and help run Equestria. But you’d be surprised how much the right frock can change the way the diamond dogs see you.”
“Maybe I’ll end up like you. Managing everything.”)
Renee glanced at a mirror. She didn’t have the gray streak that Rarity did, but she couldn’t ignore the similarities in their lives. Renee, Overhead of Expeditions, manager of explorers and heroes… she’d married a man who could work with her. The job really had been everything to them, hadn’t it?
...But she wasn’t that Rarity. Not entirely. There was a point where the job just asked too much.
And she had reached it.
She knew Allure wouldn’t understand, but she hoped anyway.
Allure was getting angrier at everything in existence by the minute. Even the past.
(Suzie was going on and on about wanting to be a teacher just like their older self.
Allure couldn’t see it. She’d done tutoring at the School of Friendship, and it had been… good. But not so great she wanted to spend her entire life there. There was a massive disconnect between her ‘future self’ and herself. Standing in front of a classroom? She had wanted to get out of that space, not go back in.
She was a Crusader. And she was going to do something great with destiny.
“You look like you’re full of ideas,” the older Sweetie said.
“You bet!” Allure said. “I have tons…”)
“Shoulda just become the teacher,” Allure grumbled. “Would have made life a lot simpler.”
Her leader, Evening, was spending the night thinking about how life is never simple, no matter who you are or how far along in life you are.
(“You’re big,” Charter-Princess Twilight Sparkle observed.
The Princess of Equis Fruition smiled warmly. “And you seem to be growing into your own nicely.”
The Charter chuckled. “So, they let you have the throne alone?”
“Technically Cadence is my equal, but in truth I manage most everything through my friends. Though if you want to get specific, Rarity does the real heavy lifting. That mare was built for politics.”
“She is? I’ll have to keep that in mind when we get to where we’re going!”
“Which is?”
“The alliance is coming together,” the Charter beamed. “Something great is going to come of it. I can feel it.”
“I can feel it too,” the Princess admitted. “Your path is different than mine.”
“But my friends will be with me through it all, just like yours are.”
The Princess chuckled. “Nothing could tear you apart. Trust me, I know.”)
“Except it did,” Eve said, sighing. She had hopes they would reconcile after it was all over, but would there be anything left to reconcile over? Rainbow Dash was gone, she wasn’t even Twilight, and Applejack was effectively not around anymore.
“You were overly idealistic, Princess,” Eve breathed, shaking her head. “Some things could tear us apart. Me. Corona. Deciding… I don’t know.” She glanced at a window, seeing her reflection.
She looked like the Princess, now. A full head of mystic, sparkling hair. Longer legs, a sharp-pointed horn, and a more angular muzzle. She didn’t wear the same regalia - hers was of Merodi Universalis - and the hearing devices stood out as a stark difference.
But she was the Princess. The Overhead of Relations. The leader of preservation.
“My path was different than yours,” Eve said, setting her jaw. “You were right about that, at least.”
Her reflection had no response from the Princess.
Eve’s counterpart across the divide didn’t have anything either. She sat in her bed, staring at the ceiling, trying not to cry.
(“What do you mean you don’t know what happened?” Corona asked.
The Princess sighed. “I don’t know what happened to our Sunset. I’m sorry.”
“How can you not know!?”
“I… I’m sorry.”)
“What was my future?” Corona demanded. “What was I supposed to be?”
The ceiling didn’t answer. It couldn’t.
“Is this all there was…?”
~~~
In Merodi Universalis space, the world Equis Fruition sat. It had never been a major player in multiversal politics, but it had always shared a connection with the alliance. It had been one of the first worlds to join the nation after its official conception, enjoying a connection to something larger while still being largely concerned with internal affairs.
The Princess of the world stood at the top of her castle in her Canterlot, looking at the sun.
The multiverse may have been burning, but her world was as idyllic as ever. It had never engaged much with the Merodi military-industrial complex, so Equis Fruition provided little to the preservation war effort. They technically sided with Eve, but the war was a distant reality to them. Most creatures in the world continued life as if the message hadn’t happened.
There had even been a movement in much of Equestria to ignore Merodi news broadcasts of the war. The creatures wanted nothing to do with it.
But the Princess knew better. Even if they weren’t fighting, the result of the war was guaranteed to affect them. After all these centuries… the peace of her world seemed fragile.
However, the fragility of the world was something they could face. Together.
Every last one of her friends were still here. Today was one of their great friendship meetings. Everypony was there today. Pinkie, Rainbow, Fluttershy, Applejack, Rarity, Starlight, Discord, Spike…
All of them were there. And the irony was, they were only able to be there because of Corona’s little serum.
They had been able to live more than a lifetime together.
Even now, she didn’t want to see it go. But she had the feeling she would have to.
“Girls,” the Princess said, turning to her old, old friends. Some of them were family. ...No, all of them were family at this point. Sisters. Brothers. “I love you all.”
Rainbow chuckled. “Careful. AJ might get jealous.”
Applejack rolled her eyes. “Dash…”
“Heheh.”
“And we love you, darling,” Rarity said, nuzzling the Princess’ massive leg. “That won’t change, for any of us, no matter what happens in this debacle.”
Fluttershy glided down from Discord’s head. “No matter how many of us make it…”
“No matter what chaos comes our way...” Discord snapped his fingers, creating an orange.
“No matter what any of us might do...” Starlight added.
“We will have been friends!” Pinkie cheered. “Friends for centuries! The Elements of Harmony, the Council of Friendship, the Ponies that Be, the Glue of Equestria, the…”
Spike laughed. “I get it, we have a lot of titles.”
“And I can always make up new ones!” Pinkie’s smile faltered. “Or… well, maybe not always…”
“We can make new ones now,” the Princess said, encasing her friends in her layered wings. “And we can relive old memories.” A tear slid down her cheek. “You’re right. All of you. No matter what happens… We are friends. The best of friends. And nothing, nothing, ever tore us apart.”
For they were true, true friends.
‘Soft Target’
By Trivena
“EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE! ADVANCE AND DESTROY! DESTROY AND REJOICE!”
The Message had been a source of jubilation, if such an emotion could be ascribed to genetically-engineered mutants permanently housed in armoured life-support systems. They had always been justified; all else was mere story, to do with as they pleased. And what pleased a Dalek was destruction of all that wasn’t Dalek.
No offers of alliance were accepted, and all such envoys exterminated on the spot; their travelling devices, naturally, were confiscated for study and replication. The only thing that held back the Dalek conquest of the multiverse was the Time Lords’ dominance of their spheres, and now, their attention and resources were directed elsewhere.
In untold thousands of universes, the Doctor - not the Travelling Doctor, but one far younger - held two wires in his hands. “Have I the right?” he almost whispered.
“To destroy the Daleks?” the girl with him, a human by the name of Sarah Jane, asked. “You can't doubt it!”
“Well, I do!” the Doctor retorted. “You see, some things could be better with the Daleks. Many future worlds will become allies because of the fear of the Daleks!”
“It isn’t like that!” Sarah Jane cried, incredulous.
He looked at her seriously. “Well, the final responsibility is mine. And mine alone. You see, if someone who knew the future pointed out a child to you and told you that that child would grow up totally evil to be a ruthless dictator who would destroy millions of lives... could you then kill that child?”
This time, she hesitated, but: “We're talking about the Daleks, the most evil creatures ever invented. You must destroy them! You must complete your mission for the Time Lords!”
The Doctor started to bring the wires closer to one another, but again he halted. “Do I have the right? Simply touch one wire against the other, and that's it? The Daleks cease to exist? Hundreds of millions of people, thousands of generations, can live without fear, in peace, and never even know the word ‘Dalek’?”
“Then why wait?” Sarah Jane urged. “If it was a disease or some sort of bacteria you were destroying, you wouldn't even hesitate!”
“But if I kill, wipe out a whole intelligent life form, then I'd become like them. I'd be no better than the Daleks.” That idea seemed to worry him even more.
“Think of all the suffering there'll be if you don't do it!”
Zap.
John Egbert appeared in front of them. Wordlessly, he reached out a hand. A sudden wind whipped down the corridor, tearing the wires from the Doctor’s startled grasp. John’s blank gaze met the Doctor’s, and the two wires connected.
In a single explosion, repeated sequentially yet simultaneously across every universe, the Daleks ceased to have ever existed.
- Dialogue from “Doctor Who: Genesis of the Daleks”, by Terry Nation.
‘Requiem for the Shadows’
By Blaster M
The rain poured down from the night sky, forming pools of water on the city streets, waterfalls down the rooftops, and rivers across the sidewalks. A stadium, roof closed, stood bright, lit with activity from the many people inside all the way to the security outside. Several dimensional jammers, located strategically around the city, would ensure no sudden translations. A fleet of ships parked in orbit would ensure no sudden invasions, and a reality anchor would ensure no sudden change in the universe.
But this universe had a Void connection.
While not entirely common in the USM, this world, one of many Earths still standing, saw interdimensional traffic frequently. As a medium magic world, ponies were sometimes seen mingling with the locals, but as a peaceful race, they were rarely paid any attention.
For this mission, going incognito is a necessity. Just another Fluttershy, interested in preservation, wearing a hooded cloak to keep the rain off. Getting in was easy. Security, of course, checked for hidden devices, and even sealed magic. Not that it would matter for her.
They didn’t seal the Void.
She, of course, didn’t have anything on her at all, other than her cloak. While they required her to keep her hood folded, that too was part of the disguise. A Fluttershy, timidly staying out of sight in a crowd, was almost expected. And by playing the nervous card right, people could become very helpful. Sometimes, too helpful.
After what happened on the Zarimare all those years ago, walking around bare always felt extremely uncomfortable to her. Talking to others, pony or otherwise, had been a struggle most Fluttershys learned to overcome, but not her. When piloting Titania, she always felt safe. She could interact. Ponies saw Titania, not her. Outside Titania, the world had always been overbearing. Judging.
With the right directions, she disappeared behind the scenes, flipping her hood over her head and entering the labyrinth of backstage passages. Security was roaming every hall, clearly ready for anything. Knowing their routes and using her senses, she stayed out of sight, silently taking her position. The cameras, ever vigilant, would betray their users tonight. Magneta’s shipboard AI had already taken care of it. They would see the cameras functioning normally, but they wouldn’t see her on the feed.
All that was left was to wait.
Meanwhile, her friends did their jobs. If they timed it right, every local dimensional jammer would be destroyed at the same time. When that happened, she would strike and disappear. The hard part was staying still. Every Tenno had the same problem. Being a conduit to the Void was like holding a door shut to keep the floodwaters out. The floodwaters would always win. Using the energy provided by the Void was not an option. That was the secret. She didn’t need to carry a weapon, because she was the weapon.
The contract was a simple one. Get in, eliminate the target, and get out. Harmony rarely took assassination missions anymore, unless there was a very good reason. In this case, the target had recently gained a lot of support in the USM for the preservation movement. The problem was not supporting the opposing party-- it was swearing to eliminate the collapsers entirely.
Usually, assassination targets were cut and dry villain types. Those who burnt down forests, kicked puppies, and killed innocent ponies. This target was practically an anti-villain. A family man, a hero of his story, and definitely loved by the preservationists. By their very slogan, they were saving lives by preventing the collapse, which would definitely cause a lot of death. The only reason she agreed to the contract was because this man would start a witch-hunt if he made it to the top. The Tenno were familiar with these things, having survived several wars for their very existence in their origin universes. So it would be. Eliminate one to save the lives of many, even though they may die anyway if the collapsers win.
There he was. The target, escorted by high tech security. Shielded armor, plasma rifles, antimagic barrier. They had covered all of their bases. Crouching down, she vanished from sight entirely, phasing halfway out of reality. Translation wasn’t possible yet, but the Void still leaked its power in. It was now or never. Riding a streak of energy, she passed through the escorts, and became physical again, landing on his head. With two quick motions, it was over. Crushed back, snapped spine, and caved in skull. Before another moment could pass, she disappeared again, riding sequential streaks of energy deeper into the hallways.
With the report of the target’s assassination, security rushed in, occupying every hallway, every room. Without the benefit of working cameras, they had to resort to other methods to find the assassin. Lifeform scans, energy spikes, and plain old visual sweeping. It didn’t take long to find her entering a service room with a single window. When they kicked the door in, they found something else entirely: Titania.
Crashing through the window, the mysterious, armor-suited flutterpony flew down to the street, a trail of broken glass and butterflies in her wake.
The security guards in the room ran to the window, but before they could open fire, the room pulled back, as if a giant magnet had suddenly appeared in the middle of the room, slamming the guards together into an inseparable lump. Appearing from behind a parked vehicle, another armored pony retracted her forehoof behind cover, a galaxy of stars swirling inside her canopy-like helmet. The newcomer silently watched as Titania sprinted past, then jumped out to join in her escape. The two of them dashed across the street and into the alleys, the new pony raising her forehoof again, causing all the incoming plasma bolts to divert into another magnetic sphere behind them.
The warframes remained silent as they ran, jumped, and glided through their escape path. They raced past two blockades before encountering any resistance. Over the comms link, a conversation continued unheard to the outside world.
“Angel, you took out only the target, right?” Magneta asked.
“Yes.”
Magneta glanced at the Rift Conduit on her frame’s foreleg. The worn piece of gear allowed them to Translate their frames between universes that had a Void connection. While it greatly limited translatable universes, it guaranteed that they would be able to use their abilities in any universe they could translate to. But right now, they were stuck in this universe, as a red light on the Conduit indicated.
“Why can’t we Translate yet?” Magneta asked.
“Sorry sugar, my target’s too well protected. I need to return fire,” Gala Gun responded.
“Negative, Gala, hold your fire and keep evading. Everypony, converge on Gala Gun’s target.”
Angel raised her foreleg at a soldier in front of them. He raised his gun to shoot, but it slipped out of his hand before he could fire. He then floated above eye level, suspended in the air as if gravity had decided to stop caring about him in particular.
Rainboom called in next. “I’m two minutes out, one if I can fly above the rooftops.”
Magneta spun around in midair, throwing up another magnetic bubble behind them.
“Negative, Rainboom. Stay in the alleys and out of sight. We’ll make it.”
They rounded another corner, and four soldiers stood ready for them. Plasma bolts flew and the two frames dodged as best they could. Instinctively, Magneta raised her foreleg in a hoof-pump gesture, and a cylindrical wall of energy expanded out from her. It didn’t hurt the soldiers, but it knocked out their shields while restoring hers and Titania’s. “Angel, pacify.”
Another soldier floated into the air, and the remaining three were suddenly kicked out of the way by an armored pony with catlike claws instead of hooves. The frame’s helmet looked more feline than equine, and it wore a color pattern that made it almost invisible against the city street.
“Giulia! Don’t kill them!”
The newcomer joined their run to the objective.
“It’s pronounced Joo-lee-uh! Really, did you forget how to speak Old Equestrian this morning?”
“Stand down Giulia, we’re not turning this mission into a slaughterfest. No matter how much Valkyr wants it.”
Giulia pranced forward, while maintaining their blisteringly fast run. “They’ll be fine, darling. I only knocked them down.”
The three frames crashed through a window, rapidly making their way through the building. Bullet holes lined the hallways, ceiling tiles, and floors. Gala had come through here, and whoever chased her had used regular bullets. Following the sound of automatic gunfire, they made their way down, towards what appeared to be a warehouse, the temporary site of the last working dimensional jammer.
In front of the jammer stood a group of heroes. Heroes from Earth-AZ2.
Standing nearest to the jammer was a bearded man in a tattered cloak, with a smoking gatling gun in place of his left arm. Death Gatling.
Beside him was an armored man, wearing roller skates, a backpack battery, and wielding electric stun sticks. Lightning Genji.
On the other side stood a black, robed ninja girl. Shadow Ring.
In front of them was a young man wearing a basic jumpsuit, with hands ready to set the world ablaze. Blue Fire stood with righteous fury, ready to incinerate the evil before him.
Everyone knew why they were here. Negotiation was off the table. Without skipping a beat, Angel readied her sniper rifle, aiming for the dimensional jammer. At the same time, Magneta put up a bubble between her and the heroes, while Giulia cried out in rage, hardening her shields. Gala Gun was still out of sight.
In one lightning fast motion, Angel spun around, switching guns for Nikana before blocking a swing from Shadow Ring’s Ninjato. The two leaped around the room, trading and evading sword swings at incredible speed.
Magneta pulled out her Bo staff, and jumped into the air to avoid Lightning Genji’s attack. She spun the staff in front of her, deflecting some of Death Gatling’s bullets. Her trajectory brought her right behind the dimensional jammer, putting it between her and its defenders.
Blue Fire let loose a bright stream of fire, hitting Giulia dead on. Once his attack was finished, the hallway was left glowing with heat, except for a Valkyr-shaped outline on the wall. Giulia, unharmed, raced forward. She lept over Blue Fire’s next burst, and landed beside him, putting him between her and Death Gatling. Quickly, she headbutted Blue Fire, sending him flying into the dimensional jammer with a dong. Death Gatling, with a clear shot, opened fire, quickly eliminating Giulia’s now-vulnerable shields as she leaped away. By the time she reached cover, her frame had dozens of bullet holes and moderate internal injuries showing through it. Death Gatling flanked her cover to finish the job.
A streak of gold and black rammed into Death Gatling, knocking him across the room and into Blue Fire. Touching down, the griffon-like pegasus warframe quickly ran behind cover, and started healing Giulia and Gala. “Good to see you made it, Rainboom. Thought I was gonna lose Mesa tonight,” Gala Gun stated on the radio.
“Behind you!” Giulia interrupted.
In that same instant, Rainboom flew straight up, just barely missing a swipe from Lightning Genji’s stun rod. Doubling back, the two speedsters began a game of hit and run tag, Rainboom trying to disarm Genji while he tried to stun her. At first, her flight seemed to be an advantage, with Rainboom able to control the engagement. With an armored opponent however, and having to get within stunstick range to disarm, Genji’s superior speed became the clear winner as he was able to connect several times, draining her substantial shielding. Rainboom swooped down one more time, flying in from behind to knock him down, but Genji predicted the feint and jammed his stun rod into her chest. The electrical surge stopped the warframe in its tracks, and she was left convulsing helplessly on the ground.
Death Gatling stood up again, ready to put an end to this charade. Spinning his gun up, he took aim at Rainboom, still immobile from the stun rod.
“Never fear, Disco is here!” A new voice shouted on the radio.
Just before Gatling could fire, five warframes arrived, streaking up the hallway in a diamond formation on jet engine warhammers. The harlequin-like pony frames moved in perfect synchronicity, knocking the stunstick off of Rainboom and knocking Death Gatling’s gun away from them at the same time. As Gatling’s gun swung towards the jammer, he held fire, and used the momentum to spin around and take aim at the newcomers.
Lightning Genji passed through two of the harlequins, revealing the fact that they were only holograms, holograms that became physical at will, knocking Genji into the air as he passed.
Gala stood up from behind cover, rifle on her flank, and shot at the dimensional jammer several times, before ducking under cover again as another wall of bullets from Gatling arrived. While she watched the overhead battle between Angel and Shadow Ring, Giulia retrieved Magneta, bringing her behind cover. “That jammer is going to need something with more kick than bullets, dear,” she stated over the radio, a plasma machine gun now attached to her flank. “I’ll do the deed.”
Rainboom, now mobile again, continued to ward off Gatling and Genji alongside Disco, drawing their attention just long enough for Giulia to start firing. Her weapon fired slowly at first, but quickly ramped up its firing rate like a machine gun. Plastering the jammer with bright blue plasma bolts, it diverted the heroes’ attention to her.
Shadow Ring launched herself off the wall, down at Giulia. Just before impact, a Bo staff suddenly deflected her blade. Instantly, Shadow dove to the side, causing the pursuing Angel to crash into the ground. The shockwave from her landing was amplified by Void energy, sending everyone and everything immediately around her flying into the air.
The momentary distraction was enough for Angel to pull out her large sniper rifle again. With five loud shots, the jammer finally broke down. Out of ammo, Angel swung her rifle to block Shadow Ring’s sword one more time, before vanishing into the Void.
The other five warframes also vanished, translating to different universes.
~~~
Equis-WFE, Team Harmony Dojo station, in orbit somewhere in Origin
Celestia “Umbra” Lux, a young alicorn the size of a Cadence, solemnly stared outside the window of the space station. Her pastel mane and tail hung limp. She pressed her trembling forehoof against her reflection. As a commander, she needed to be strong, but ever since the Message, it was becoming a losing battle.
“Umbra?”
Twilight “Magneta” Sparkle, the youngest of the alicorns in Harmony, arrived with the rest of the team. A collection of close friends, hardened by battle, assembled in the observation room.
Umbra turned around, quietly taking a seat. “My little ponies, my friends, I’ve been thinking... about our existence. About... what will happen to us.”
“What do you mean, sister?” Luna “Wraith” Lux asked with worry as she stood back up.
“We’ve made it this far, together. All of us, still alive. But, no matter what happens, I worry that we will be forced apart in death.”
Magneta stood up. “Celestia! Don’t talk like that! Please! The Tower-”
“Has it out for my ‘character’. I’ve been on the extranet too, and I’ve seen the counts. Celestias frequently suffer death, either by defeat, heroic sacrifice, a villainous turn, or straight-up assassination. Ka spares only my sister’s life in most cases.”
“And they always start a speech just like this...” Wraith responded, growing concern in her eyes.
“But we’re not like most ponies. I would never turn against my friends. Nor you, my sister.” Umbra looked out the window again. Her reflection stared back, Umbra amp shimmering in a ʊ shape around her horn. “My sister and I are one of the weakest of our ‘characters’. We don’t rule a nation, we can’t move celestial bodies, and we’re barely in our twenties, physically.” Facing the team again, she continued. “We are all player characters in a living video game, turned to characters in a story. Gears in the machine, a force behind the scenes. Our entire lives have been defined by it. We’re assassins. Fighters. Mercenaries. In our story, we are the heroes, but now that we’ve sided with USM’s collapsers, our heroism is in question.”
Sweetie “Jenna” Belle stood up. “Why are we discussing this again? We’ve spent days talking this over!”
“It’s for their benefit.” Pinkie “Disco” Pie pointed out, staring at a point over Umbra’s shoulder.
“They’re watching? Now?!”
“Eeyup.”
“No, no no no, we have to stop talking, right now!” Magneta cried, circling in front of the team to gather their attention.
“Actually, we need to listen to what Umbra has to say,” Applejack “Gala Gun” pointed out with a raised hoof.
“But-”
“Shush, sugar. Our CO is talking.”
Umbra continued. “I’ve been watching the major events of the multiverse as long as we have been able. I’ve noticed ka can subvert as many tropes as it plays straight. We may be sending death flags, but if the Tower wills, it may still show us mercy.”
Umbra approached Magneta, wrapping her neck over her friend in an equine hug. “We’re all brothers and sisters here.” Looking at Rainbow “Rainboom” Dash, she continued. “We’re only 5 years apart in age, blessed and cursed to be as young and healthy as the day of the Zarimare accident. Our little brothers and sisters are forever foals. We’ve spent our entire lives fighting for ourselves, fighting for each other, and fighting for our world. We haven’t truly lived.”
“I understand what you mean,” Rarity “Giulia” Belle responded. “I once wanted to develop my hobby into a career, but we’ve spent all our time keeping Origin safe, or putting out other ponies’ fires across the USM. Funny, now that we’ve chosen a side, the contracts have gone dry.”
A pony wearing a dark cloak with a hood spoke up delicately, her light yellow muzzle visible from within its shadow. “Ka doesn’t want us to interfere any further.”
“Angel, are you saying the Tower only needed us once?” Rainboom asked.
Umbra tapped the floor. “No. Our place in the multiverse has always been one behind the scenes. As the unseen help, we’ve survived because we don’t officially exist. If we were not part of the multiverse, however, the story would still go the same way.” Umbra flared her nostrils. “If anything, we exist for a joke. Remember my vacation?”
“The one where you swore nothing would go wrong? And you tried to fight a ten-story tall death ray refrigerator without Equinox?”
“I had three powerful heroes with me that day. We should have been able to stop the robot’s rampage easily. But because they were Genos, Raven, and Worf, and I am Celestia, we were defeated. Because our characters are always defeated to show the enemy is stronger. Even if I were piloting Equinox, I still would have been sent back to the Void.” Looking back out the window, she continued. “In terms of raw power, I am the weakest Celestia, the one that doesn’t need to be an example, and yet, I was defeated by an enemy I am normally strong against. If the War ends in preservation, I will one day share the fate of my alternate selves, as ka wills, just to escalate the ‘plot’, as it were.”
Magneta, Wraith, and Councilor “Heartbreak” Cadenza approached the window, and sat beside her. “The four Alicorns will become three.”
“If the Collapse happens, none of us may survive. We know this. What is your game?” Angel asked.
The alicorns turned to face their friends. “Since the multiverse no longer needs all of us, we will go on shore leave. Our time together may be coming to an end, so let’s learn to live while we still can, and enjoy our restored homeworld, for once in our short lives. Dismissed.”
~~~
The door whooshed open, revealing Gilda, the unique Zephyr Prime warframe. She walked into the large room, eyeless, pointed helmet sweeping left and right as she took the familiar sight in. All around the room were floating platforms, walls, stairs, and ramps, as well as active barriers, knee-high walls, and metal boxes.
Streaking along the obstacle course, a pale blue warframe sailed over the ground in a blur, its copper leggings planted on a K-Drive. The hoverboard left a trail of exhaust behind it as it zoomed over, under, and around obstacles in a flash. It then leaped, performing a series of aerial tricks over a large chasm. Landing with a boardslide, the warframe stopped on the large platform beside Gilda, signalling the finish. The scoreboard, a floating hologram overlooking the course, updated with the new fastest time. The user “Hang10” jumped further ahead on the scoreboard.
Rainboom leaped into existence, emerging from her warframe as if it were a portal. The other warframe did the same, and a young Scootaloo jumped into existence, her small form dwarfed by the frame’s adult stature.
"Hey kiddo, getting in some final rounds with Volt before we leave?" Rainboom asked, noting the scoreboard's top ten contestants.
"Yeah, kinda feels weird leaving the Dojo. I mean, this is our home. We are taking the frames, right?"
"Wouldn’t be able to walk around for long if we didn’t."
Hang Ten flared her nostrils. "Can we really learn to live like civilians before we're gone? We've been fighting all our lives, and … I'm not sure any of us know what to do."
"Who says we're all gonna be gone?"
"That whole speech about destiny and stuff that Umbra had earlier? The Message? Do you really think we'll still be around if the collapse wins?"
Rainboom looked away, staring at the course floating in the distance. "Umbra is not the only one that may not live long under preservation. I looked at my own alternate selves some time back. What happens to Celestias, will happen to me, for similar reasons." Turning around, she faced Hang Ten again, gesturing with her wings. "Basically, I'm a front line fighter, always the one to rush in and crack heads first. Ponies like me tend to die first. If the preservation wins, I will one day be killed off just like that. Personally, I'll take that kind of death, as long as it's an honorable one. But if the collapse wins, I won't be doomed to that fate. Maybe we won't have to fight at all anymore."
"But, one trillionth of a percent, Dash! That’s a really small number! Do you honestly think any of us will be the lucky ones to survive? Most ponies don't even know us, and the few that did aren't around anymore!"
Rainboom lowered her head. "I know, and that's why I'm here. It's been what, half a century or so since the multiverse opened to us? It's hard for me to think of you as mentally an adult, but I do, and I think it's time for you to fly."
"What do you mean?"
Rainboom put her wing over Hang Ten, guiding her over to Zephyr Prime. "It's time you fly Gilda."
Hang Ten tensed up. "Rainbow Dash, you want me to fly Gilda? Is that even safe?" Memories of the times the others had tried flashed through her mind. It wasn't pretty. Gilda only allowed Rainboom in.
Rainboom gave her a pat on the back. "You'll be fine, she'll agree to it, I'm sure. I've spent a lot of time with her, and I know she’ll be okay with you flying her in my stead. Go on, Transfer in. I know you've flown Zephyrs before."
Hang Ten, nervously at first, placed a forehoof on the warframe's black, armored chestplate, tracing its gilded edges. The armored exterior remained hard, still, unmoveable. Then, with a push, she fell into the frame, vanishing from reality as she Transferred into it. The chestplate remained solid, immobile.
Memories of a time long past flashed before her eyes. Training with the Royal Guards, teaching Rainbow and her friends how to fight Griffon style, learning of the betrayal of the Kingdom, losing her loved ones to a mad pony, while forced to helplessly transform into a monster, forever stuck in anguish over the loss of her nest, her anguish a tool to be used to fight monsters. A loose collection of memories and emotions, forever a slave to the will of its wielder.
More memories flashed by. A young filly selected to go with her parents, to colonize a brave new world. The jump accident, stranding the Zarimare 10-0 in the Void. Enduring years of the madness of the Void, and the loss of her family to the madness. Rescued by the Empire, only to be shunned as a corruption on the holy light of Equestria. A monster in pony form, forced to regularly expend energy from the Void, lest it burst out in deadly quantities, cursed with the unstoppable power from beyond. A monster, fit only to fight monsters, betrayed by those very rulers for the sake of 'purity'. A monster, manipulated to turn against the Empire for survival, forever a slave to her own existence.
The two become one. A defender of the realm. A victim of circumstance and tyranny. A tortured soul, setting the world right the only way they know how. A warrior to fight for those who couldn’t fight back. A warframe.
"Hey, you okay in there?" Rainboom asked, waving to her. She nodded. Rainboom pointed back to Volt. "Okay if I borrow him?" She nodded again.
Rainboom vanished, bringing Hang Ten’s Volt to life. "How do you feel now?" she asked, over the comms.
Hang Ten flexed her limbs, and spread her wings. "I feel… light, like I can just take off and fly forever. But, I also feel strong. Really strong. Am I reading this right? My shield capacity is insane!"
"It is, Gilda is a very strong girl. Now let's go. I'll follow you while you fly around."
Hang Ten took off, lifting into the air effortlessly. A normal Zephyr would have required considerably more work to stay aloft, as they were a lame imitation of the real warrior. All her life, she had lived with natural flight as an exhausting chore, be it her useless, stunted wings, or a Zephyr's shortcomings. Ditto for needing to fit archwings, an attachment that was really only meant for spaceflight. Gilda was flight as it was meant to be: natural.
Mobility. Flight. Freedom. As long as she could fly, she was free.
Rainboom ran slightly ahead, legs blurring from the extreme speed as she streaked past the obstacles on the ground. "If something happens to me, I want you to fly Gilda in my stead. Don't let her collect dust. Every day she flies is another day she lives."
Hang Ten activated Tailwind, rocketing forward in the air like a missile. "I will honor her memory, and give her a good life, if that day comes."
~~~
Disco’s personal quarters were an interesting mix of bright colors and dangerous weapons. Along one candy pink wall, several stasis lockers displayed a series of weapons and warframes. In the middle, a giant blue and maroon grenade launcher, designed like an old sailing ship cannon, hovered in the center, labelled as The Party Cannon. In the chamber beside it hovered a maroon, black and white warhammer with a jet engine in the head, labelled as The Vroomstick. Their custom colors matched the harlequin warframe Mirage, as it stood unmoving, vigilant in front of the lockers. Flanking the weapons, two more warframes hovered in stasis. Loki and Limbo.
On the other side of the room, a straight-maned Pinkie “Disco” Pie stood in front of a full body mirror. She swished her mane left and right, while exaggerating a scowl in the mirror. Suddenly, her mane poofed into bouncy curls, and the scowl turned to a smile. Enthusiastically, she spoke. “Tomorrow, we go planetside for some R ‘n R. Our days fighting in the multiverse are over.”
“The fighting is never over,” replied her scowling, straight maned reflection.
The cheerful Disco responded with a “pssch”. “Don’t be a party pooper, we helped tip the balance of power. The USM will be too focused on its own infighting now.”
The scowling Disco scolded her back. “Just like the Lotus taught us. Keep the opposing sides from becoming a landslide. But you know they will keep looking for us after that assassination.”
“He was the ringleader of a purge. The opposition reminds the people they would have been executed under his regime, and they’ll forget about us while they continue infighting.”
“And what happens when they do find us? If we’re not fighting at our best, we could be erased like the rest!”
“You know we have enough reality anchors hidden around Origin, not to mention Tau and other systems, they’d have a hard time nuking our universe. As it is, we’re almost isolated by the rift, thanks to the War. It’d be a waste to come all the way out here to hit a backwater universe.”
“And what if they do? Are you not afraid to die? Our story hasn’t been told yet. If none of us survive, nopony will ever know we existed! Is that how you want to go?”
“If it means I don’t have to fight anymore, I welcome it. As long as we are tied to the Void, we can never truly live.” Squaring up against her scowling reflection, Disco stared down the mirror. “Our bodies are stuck in anestrus, since that was the way we boarded the Zarimare. We’ve tried, but we can’t have foals of our own. We’re barren, stuck in the same biological age forever. I want my own family, dammit, and ka has decreed that I don’t get to have one!”
Disco looked down at her raised forehoof, glowing blue with Void energy, soon to unleash a blast of it at any moment. “This is the curse ka has put on us, in exchange for our immortality. We have to use our power, or we explode. We dream, stuffed inside the Sematic chambers, powering the warframes, or we fight, unleashing the destructive power of the Void directly.”
The straight maned Disco flared her nostrils, and levelled her head. Her mane suddenly poofed back up to its bouncy curls, and she stared into the mirror at a particular spot, looking right at the fourth wall in her room. “That one’s for free,” she chirped, winking at her reflection, before vanishing. The Mirage warframe teleported to the mirror at the same time, looking herself over.
~~~
Equis-WFE, The Washouts Dojo, somewhere else in the Origin system...
Balls of energy orbited a unicorn hovering in the air. She floated just above the floor of the observation room, legs crossed, eyes closed, concentrating. Nothing outside the orbs mattered. Nothing inside needed attention.
The faint sounds of the station hardware buzzing, whirring, ticking, beeping, or hissing didn't matter. Neither did the echoes of voices, the clashing weapons from the duelling rooms, nor the muffled gunshots from the firing ranges. The world was peaceful.
“Starliiight! I can’t figure this out!” A female voice shrieked from across the room, accentuated by the rattle of chains. A familiar voice that could never be ignored.
Without opening her eyes, the unicorn answered. “Stick to illusions, Trixie. The Hoofdini trick isn’t for you.”
The chains rattled again, accompanied by the thump of a head hitting wood. “But I know I can do this! Every other Trixie out there’s done it!” The chains rattled again. “Eventually.”
“You’re not every other Trixie. You’re Illuminati, the dazzling assassin. You’re not a showpony. You’ve been trying this for years, Lumi. Stop wasting your time.”
“I still need your help getting out of this!”
“You have a horn, and you have the Void. Help yourself.”
“But I don’t want to break another -”
The station’s intercom crackled to life. “All Tenno to the briefing room.”
Opening her eyes, Pulsar unfolded her legs, seamlessly touching down on the floor. “Don’t be late,” she growled, walking towards the exit.
An upright coffin on the other side of the room shook and shuddered, before falling over and breaking apart, a blue unicorn wrapped in chains falling out. “Hey, wait for me!” she called out, repeatedly smacking her horn cap against the floor.
Pulsar made her way through the hallways, joining the growing herd of ponies heading the same way. As they passed the garden room, the bamboo fountain rang a “doink,” breaking up the sound of rhythmic marching. Soon, they arrived in the briefing room, as Illuminati appeared with a POMF behind Pulsar, wearing her starry dressage and hat. They took a seat amongst the herd of Tenno that constituted The Washouts. Most of them attended as their warframes, either too ashamed, or too close to bursting with Void energy, to be outside them.
“Good, you’re all here!” A unicorn Sunset Shimmer, known to them as Eternal Fusion, took the briefing stage. “Today is a momentous day for The Washouts! After many years of construction, trial, and error, the Dojo’s Rift Rail is now ready!” Behind her, a holographic representation of the dojo highlighted the addition, a series of rails set vertically on the station’s center spine. “Repurposed from the old Solar Rail, the Rift Rail will allow our entire Dojo to Translate into any universe connected by our Void! We are no longer separated by distance, we can join the War for existence directly!”
The briefing room thundered as everyone stomped with applause.
Fusion continued. “The other Dojos also have the technology now, and soon, we will all spread out to the multiverse beyond! Make sure all your planetside obligations are in order, Tenno. Tomorrow, we leave our beloved nest behind, to fight for our freedom!”
One more round of applause.
“If you want to stay planetside, I understand, and wish you well. Otherwise, be back by 0900 tomorrow. Dismissed!”
The crowd of ponies made conversation as they started filing out. Judging by the energy, almost the entire herd of The Washouts would be coming. With all their eggs leaving in their own baskets, the ponies of Equis-WFE would now be able to operate on their own directly, instead of relying on preplanned secret contracts with the multiverse outside. It was time to push for Collapse, and free themselves from their story-- or truly die trying.
Pulsar walked faster, catching up to a cloaked unicorn with a prominent goatee. “Hey, Kepler Kin.”
The pinto pony stopped and smiled back. “Starlight! I’ve been looking for you.”
Pulsar stopped, playfully stroking his beard. “You know I was meditating in the observation room, Sunburst. Why didn’t you go there?”
“I saw Lumi in there a-and thought you wanted-”
“Wanted what?” Interrupted Lumi. “I was just practicing a new routine. The Illustrious Illuminati could have used your great wizardly help.” Lumi stalked over to his other side, meeting his glance with a playful smirk.
“Well, I-I-”
“Think we should all play a round of Lunaro. All the work on the Rail is done, right? It’s not like any of us have anything to do planetside.” Pulsar smirked back at Lumi.
Lumi tilted her nose up. “The Illustrious Illuminati could use a sports break.”
“Did somepony say Lunaro?” With a stiff breeze, Lightning “Maverick” Dust landed in front, facing Kepler Kin. “Winner gets a date with the Washouts Wonder Wizard!”
“I’m not sure-”
Maverick opened her wings, tilting them to display her primary feathers. “You know you like wings, Sunny."
Maverick was suddenly lifted into the air by a turquoise, Void-tainted aura. “Let’s not start this again,” Pulsar exclaimed. “A few rounds of Lunaro is fine, hitting on Kepler Kin is not."
Pulsar and Illuminati also rose, surrounded by auras of pure Void energy. Maverick stared down both of them, the pinions of her wings glowing with the same aura. “You’re not married to him, either, but you constantly try for his attention. He’s fair game, sisters.”
Then a golden yellow, Void-tainted aura lifted all four of them in the air, separating them. “Enough! We’re not starting another round of horse opera, especially after last time!” Eternal Fusion, standing between them, narrowed her eyes at each of them in turn. “You want to play Lunaro so bad? Well, fine, I’ll put together a team, and you’ll get your game.”
Fusion locked eyes with Kepler Kin. “You’re really out of practice with fighting, so you are going to keep playing until I think you’re ready for field missions again.” Fusion turned to the girls. “And you’ll keep playing until he’s ready to fight, got it?” The four nod. “Good, report to the Lunaro court in ten minutes. We'll do this all night if we have to!"
~~~
Planet Equis-WFE, in a remote forest by a lake…
Four warframes laid back, lounging on exotic, pearl white beach chairs. While they could, and would, do it in the flesh, the past couple days had already used up all their 'outside time'.
Over the comms, Umbra spoke up. "You know, I never thought a little vacation in the woods would calm the spirit like it has. It's a wonder we didn't think to do this before."
Wraith replied next. "Tis a strange feeling, not wanting to murder everything. It's … relaxing."
Heartbreak responded. "And with friends, no doubt. To think, in another life, we could have been enemies, rival houses competing for a seat on the Council. That trend has been so thoroughly bucked it's in another universe."
Magneta spoke up. "So true, Cadence. Even in academia things were competitive. Canterlot Academy was absolutely brutal with its infighting. I'm so glad that's far behind me. Me and the ponies that came with."
Overhead, a dark figure shot across the sky.
"Scootaloo must be having fun."
Umbra looked past the flying warframe and into the sky. "I wonder how the other Tenno are doing."
Wraith responded. "Last report I received, the Rift Rails on every Dojo are complete, and many have gone to join the fight for Collapse. Our Rift Rail is ready as well. If we have to leave, we can traverse the whole Dojo through the multiverse, wherever the Void touches."
Umbra looked over the Rift Conduit on her warframe's foreleg, noting the ready status. "We're going to have to fight, aren't we?"
"Verily, sister."
"I'm actually okay with that, now."
Magneta spoke up. "I think I'm fine with it, too. As long as we fight together. The Four Alicorns, friends forever."
"Friends forever!" the other three replied, hoof-pumping the air together.
‘That Little Cafe by the Way’
By Sketchy
The sharp chink of the man’s armor echoed as he strode through the busy streets, towering over those he passed. The plating he wore was covered in sharp edges, interspersed with shallow lines glowing maroon red. Despite the jagged spikes of his armor, most passed him by without a glance.
He dodged around a set of Pinkie Pies with a little too much ease and walked right past a few patrolling Sweetie Belles with little more than a short nod. He moved with purpose, his eyes focused straight ahead, steady footsteps causing most to move before his shadow touched their feet.
A few twists and turns, a few side alleys, most following them would have been confused within the first couple of minutes. But he knew the city well by this point, he’d been around enough for that much. Despite that, the familiar sight of the little cafe still set his mind at ease.
He paused for a moment, walking just past the door and looking towards the nearby window. He slipped off his helmet, letting it slowly disappear with a shink sound, as he peered into the window with a smirk. A small foal stared back, hooves pressed against the window with a wide grin. She pulled back, bouncing up and down as she ran to the door and threw it open.
He stepped back and braced for impact, letting her slam into his arms with that famed earth pony strength. “You came!” She cried out happily, “I told mom you would, she didn’t believe me. But I knew better!” She smirked, looking towards the counter at the far end of the room.
The changeling at the counter shook her head in wry amusement, waving slightly before returning to filling out her orders. Cinnamon looked up with wide eyes. “So what happened? Did you go on another adventure?”
He gave her a quick pat on the head, and slung her under an arm, ignoring her giggling. He waved to a few patrons inside as he made his way to a stool near the counter. A man in green overalls waved back, his brother in red a little too focused on the slice of cake in front of him to notice.
“Hey there, the usual?” The changeling at the counter asked with a smile, gesturing over to a small plate stacked high with sweet rolls. He nodded quickly, grinning as it was slid over to him. She walked off as he placed Cinnamon on the stool next to him.
He reached out a hand for a sweet roll, pulling back a second later at Cinnamon’s pout. With a roll of his eyes he brought out a small tablet, placing it on the table. A few quick taps and a couple of flicks had Cinnamon absorbed in the sights and sounds of his latest adventure. Taking out a pad of paper, he got down to writing out the details for her.
~~~
The atmosphere in the café was tense. The dragonborn sat in a corner of the room, blank pages and crayons in front of him. Cinnamon sat on the other side, doodling away in her little coloring book. He felt a little childish, but it was nothing the other patrons hadn’t been dragged into a time or two.
Looking around, he could see a lot of gloomy faces and slumping forms. Considering what Corona had done, he wasn't surprised. Cinnamon seemed oblivious, but her mother was glancing at her with worry every so often.
A dragon, much taller than the Dragonborn, was sitting at the counter. He was purple with green spikes. It had taken a while to get used to the dragons around here, but Spike was a decent sort. One of the only ones around here actually trying to be cheerful, too.
The Dragonborn sighed, leaning back in his chair. Cinnamon looked up. "Everything okay?"
He smiled at her, but it felt a little fake. He lifted a hand, tilting it back and forth in the universal gesture for so-so. Cinnamon frowned, putting down her crayons.
"It's gonna be okay. Mommy told me that the Merodi will sort it out." She smiled at his confused look, leaning forward with her hooves on the table. "We're gonna be fine, there's no way they'll let anything bad happen."
He looked at her a little sadly before letting out a small chuckle. He reached forward to ruffle her mane, ignoring her protests. He looked at her page with interest.
She slid it around and pushed it towards him. "It's me and you, going on an adventure!"
He pointed to another figure walking beside them.
"Oh, her? That's Serena, your lady friend." She smiled happily, before noticing his shocked expression. "Oh, whoops. I don't think I was supposed to mention her."
She rubbed the back of her head before pressing her hooves together nervously. "You won't say anything to her right?"
He smiled wryly, cocking his head to the side.
"Oh, you want to know how I know her?" she continued at his nod. "Ah, she comes in every now and then asking about you."
She looked away for a moment. "I told her she didn't need to worry, that I'd take care of everything. But... I don't think she believed me."
Looking up at him, her eyes widened. "She knows I'm gonna be a super strong adventurer one day right? You don't think that was the problem, do you?"
He let out another chuckle, this one more genuine, before leaning forward and petting her head gently. A few scratches behind the ear and she wasn't even complaining.
"Yeah, you're right," she said, a look of bliss on her face. "She's probably worried about nothing."
He stood up, moving around the table to take a seat next to her. As she closed her eyes and let her head rest against the table, he looked out the window.
There were no dark clouds in the sky, or ominous shouting voices. But he couldn’t help but feel uneasy. He looked down at Cinnamon, and almost unconsciously returned the little smile she had on her face. Well, maybe it would be okay to have a little faith.
~~~
Large tremors shook the building from top to bottom, knocking most patrons onto the ground. Just barely keeping steady, the Dragonborn quickly scooped Cinnamon up and put his back to the wall, keeping a wary eye out for any signs of danger. Though the little shop seemed safe for the moment.
A Pinkie Pie standing at the front of the counter bounced up and down in time with the tremors. Her face curled in a frown as she held her hat to her head. “It’s always something around here,” she said in a deadpan tone.
Holding onto the front table, the owner looked over the room with an anxious smile. “I think this is a little more than the usual antics.” She held tight until the tremors finally dispersed, slowly spreading out her magic field and lifting those who couldn’t stand on their own off the ground.
“Everyone alright?” she called out, paying careful attention to each patron. She looked over each and every one for any sign of injury, taking special care when she got to Cinnamon.
Most called out an affirmative, though the man in red overalls was looking down at his ruined slice of cake in despair. The taller man in green overalls leaned down on one knee and carefully laid a hand on his shoulder, looking on with a half amused, half exasperated expression. His eyes darted around warily, shoulders tensed and ready for danger.
“I’ll take that as a yes, for now.” She nodded in determination. “I need to go check the back, if anyone needs anything just give me a call.”
The dragonborn leaned down and did a more thorough examination of Cinnamon on his own. She giggled a little, dancing away. “Hey, I’m fine. Nothing an adventurer like me can’t handle.” She puffed out her chest and grinned, before looking around to see what the damage had been.
Luckily, it wasn’t much more than a few overturned tables. A boy in a green tunic was carefully moving about, shifting things back into place. Spike kept to the front, putting the stools back up. Most of the other patrons were either helping or sitting in place, unsure of what to do. Smashed glass was in large supply along with ruined food littering the floor.
A few sparks of magic lit up from the back room, and the lights came on in full force before shutting back off. A light pulse echoed from the center of the room and the previously dirtied floor was made clean once again. Coming out from the back room, the owner held a selection of dishes in a green field of magic, slowly levitating them over to each patron.
“Sorry for the inconvenience folks, not sure what’s going on exactly, but that’s no reason to let it ruin our day.” She sat back down at the front and gave a warm smile, before turning to a nearby tablet and furiously tapping away at it in search of answers.
Most drifted back to their respective tables, though a couple made their way out the door to find their own answers. “What do you think that was all about?” Cinnamon asked the Dragonborn with a curious head tilt.
He just shrugged, unsure. One of his companions might know, he would ask them later.
~~~
The Dragonborn fell back against the fountain, armor making a dull thud as it hit the unyielding stone. Looking up, he could see lush green grass and children playing. All kinds and all species. It was a sight the dragonborn could appreciate more than most, though the worried expressions of the parents weren’t as welcome.
He looked up as a shadow fell across his body, cupping a hand over his eyes to block out the harsh sunlight. Slowly a figure came into focus: a young boy in a green tunic with a sword strapped to his back. He gave a quick wave, taking a seat beside the Dragonborn.
Neither could talk in the conventional sense, but a bit of ka trickery from both of their worlds let them understand each other. Being on the other end of things was strange, but they could intuitively understand what the other was trying to say. It made for fast conversations, and very few misunderstandings.
They spent some time trading information, asking about the weather, or how the people back home were doing. They had talked before on occasion, both of them regulars at the same cafe. Link in particular was worried about his home dimension and how undefended it was. On the other hand, the Dragonborn could understand, but was much less concerned. His dimension had many more godlike beings defending it, after all.
The Nerevarine was the one handling the diplomatic work, he was just a powerful hero looking to help out. It was also a nice opportunity to see the sights of the multiverse, a place that could be difficult to get around in without connections. Link’s princess did most of the talking for him too, so he hadn’t had the opportunity to do much besides wander around himself.
The Dragonborn leaned forward, letting out a quiet sigh. It was hard to not feel powerless in a game with such high stakes. He was used to taking action, running out into the thick of it and fighting. Sitting around and waiting really wasn’t his style, and the idea that he couldn’t do much this time kind of hurt.
Link rested a hand on his shoulder, giving it a quick pat. He didn’t do anything else aside from smile warmly before pulling away. The Dragonborn got the message, though. You aren’t alone, we’re all in this together. He couldn’t help but return the smile. As young as he was, Link had a good head on his shoulders.
Another shadow fell across him as he looked up once again, seeing Serena look down at him with a wry smile. “I thought I would find you here. Taking in the scenery? And you aren’t doing it alone for once.”
She looked over to Link, who raised a hand to lightly wave at her.
“Sorry about this, but we’ve got some business to discuss?” she asked, smiling awkwardly. Link simply shrugged, and waved her off, still wearing a kind smile.
Serena beckoned the Dragonborn forward, and he stood up with long sigh. Taking one last glance around the park, he waved goodbye to Link and fell in step with Serena.
“So, I guess you’re wondering what’s going on?” He nodded silently, looking straight ahead as they cut through the streets.
“As far as power scaling goes, our people are useful but not game changing. A lot of the general abilities we have are great, but heroes are few and far between.” She looked over the street, almost looking through the people they passed. “The Daedric Princes and the Nine Divines have little interest in the grander conflict as usual. There is some evidence of meddling though.”
He chuckled lightly.
“Yes, I’m sure you’re well used to that.” She gave him a sideways glance. “I know you’re the champion of a few of them, any luck there?”
He shook his head, holding up his hand in a so and so motion.
“So some of them will help a little, I’m guessing, but for the most part they really are staying out of things. They’re at least not going to let just anyone destroy us, right?”
He nodded, giving her a thumbs up. He grasped the sword at his side, looking at her questioningly.
“Right now we’re still on standby, not much is actually happening. Things are going to be heating up soon, though, and we’re going to have to make a choice. We can head out to the front lines, stay home and defend our own realm…” She trailed off for a moment. “I’m pretty sure I know which side you want to fight for, so we don’t have to discuss that right?”
He gave her a firm nod, expression set.
“I knew I could count on you. Once a hero always a hero right?” She gave him a warm smile. “Things are going to get scary soon, on a level we’ve never seen before. But we’ll stick together, just like how it used to be, right?”
He nodded, grasping her shoulder for a moment before pulling away.
“I’ve also heard some unsettling things. We’re not exactly high up enough to get everything first hand. But the Merodi are pretty transparent. You know Corona right? The one who sent out the message?”
She sighed. “Turns out she’s joined the side pushing collapse. Or, more accurately, she’s decided to start her own faction.”
He grasped the hilt of his sword more tightly. Tensing.
“We don’t have much more time to make a decision.” She looked him in the eyes. “What do you want to do?”
~~~
Cinnamon trotted through the streets, happily trailing after her mother. Times were dark, but it’s not like Celestia City was in constant danger or anything. So, while her mother kept an eye on her, it wasn’t as close as it probably should have been. Cinnamon took that opportunity to explore more of the stalls up close.
There were all sorts of things to be found at the market, and the hustle and bustle hadn’t really diminished with the latest developments in the war. She could buy all sorts of strange foods from different places, and technology was just as easy to find. If she wasn’t so young she might have found all the variety a bit strange. But this was just another new place to her.
She noticed him while looking over an assortment of gaudy hats, the Gem at the counter watching her impassively. She wheeled around with a grin, excited at the prospect of talking to one of her favourite friends. He would know where to find all the most interesting stuff, she was sure. He probably knew all the best stores for an aspiring adventurer too.
She weaved through the people like a pro, quickly dodging the moving limbs in her way and avoiding the more dangerous looking ones. It was a bit of a struggle, but she managed to keep her friend in sight the whole way. He finally stopped at a stall full to the brim with crystals of every kind and variety she could think of. Each and every one was filled with a glowing inner light.
The Dragonborn seemed to be chatting amiably with the stall owner like they were old friends, even if he didn’t say a word. It was a little strange if you didn’t know him, but Cinnamon was nonplussed. She trotted over to him without a word and just stood behind him quietly, a grin on her face.
It took a few moments before the seller looked at her with a quizzical expression, turning his gaze to the dragonborn. The seller seemed very confused, but Cinnamon was blissfully unaware of that as she realized her game was up.
Her friend turned around and she could see his brows creasing with concern as he immediately leaned down to see what was up. She took the opportunity to jump up and latch onto his shoulder, giggling all the while.
He lifted her up after a moment, and she could practically see the wry grin as he turned around, waving the stall owner off. He picked up the crystals he’d been asking for, paid, and was quickly off. Cinnamon meanwhile, was looking around in awe now that she was up so high.
She could tell he wanted to ask her something. “Mommy’s getting ingredients for home, and a few other things.” She tried to shrug her shoulders, but it was kind of awkward from where she sat. “It’s pretty safe around here, she won’t mind. You going to visit your lady friend?”
The dragonborn might have been embarrassed if he wasn’t made of sterner stuff. Though it was mostly down to the fact that she’d asked so innocently. He shrugged himself, causing her to let out another giggle. But she got the point, he had been off to see her, but it was a little late for that now.
“So what are the crystals all about anyway?” she asked, peering over the side of his shoulder and into the bag filled with glowing gems. She reached out a hoof, tapping one gently. “They feel full of magic.”
He chuckled, tapping his sword with a hand.
“Oooh, the enchantments?” She frowned for a moment. “I thought you couldn’t get those kinda gems around here?”
He waved a hand back and forth, pulling out his phone and tapping away at it for a moment. He lifted it up for her to see. “Oh, wow, already? That’s great news!” She cried out with a happy smile. “I bet Mommy would like to help you celebrate.”
He twisted his head around a bit, raising his eyebrows.
“She’ll be fine,” She tapped on his shoulder. “Nothing bad happens around here, I mean, there were a few fights a little while ago. But it’s calmed down now.”
She looked at the ground for a moment. Expression falling. “Mommy almost got caught up in one actually, one of her friends is on the bad guys’ side.”
He tilted his head slightly.
“Well, I mean. That’s what they are right?” she asked. “They wanna kill all those people and ponies.” She raised her hooves into the air, voice a little too loud as a few eyes turned their way. Not all of them friendly.
The Dragonborn kept out a sharp gaze, looking around for any sign of danger, but decided to let her continue talking. She’d already calmed down anyway.
“I mean, if that happened, it might hurt my mommy. Or me! And I know I’d be sad if she wasn’t around anymore. And she’d be sad if I wasn’t around either. You can’t be the good guys if you go around hurting ponies.” She looked at him imploringly. “You think so too right?”
He sighed, before nodding quietly. It wasn’t like he didn’t understand Corona’s position, you couldn’t always make the easy choice. But he couldn’t help but feel like collapse was the easy choice. Maybe he’d been out of the game a bit too long, but this kind of thing should be a last resort. They could minimize the deaths, fix things.
“You alright?” Cinnamon asked in worry. “You blanked out for a bit there.”
He looked up, gazing at the rooftops in the distance. He could hear Cinnamon clearly, but the noises around him were almost deafening. Coming from a barren land like Skyrim, where he was used to walking for miles completely alone… He felt uncomfortable. Regardless, he gave her a thumbs up, awkwardly twisting his hand around so she could see it.
“Well, okay then,” she said quietly. “Oh, hey look, there’s Mommy! And it’s your lady friend too!”
He looked up with a start. Oh, she wasn’t going to let this go any time soon was she? Judging by her smirk, he guessed not.
~~~
Spike idly picked at the bowl of gems in front of him, letting out a quiet sigh.
“Everything alright?” the owner asked.
“Yes? No… not exactly,” he replied, looking up. “You know about what’s happening right?”
She gave him a wry smile and a nod. “Hard not to notice, and, you know,” she tapped her strangely curved horn.
“Yeah, it probably doesn’t feel too good around here.” He picked up a gem, and bit down on it thoughtfully. “I’ve been thinking about the issue a whole lot lately, kind of hard not to when you’re as high up as me. A lot of the people around here don’t worry so much, but you can see it in their eyes from time to time.”
He paused for a moment, pushing the bowl away and leaning onto the table. “Things were a lot simpler back when we didn’t have the whole multiverse to deal with. I just had to worry about keeping Twilight in order, writing out and double or even triple checking the lists. We didn’t even reorganize the library all that much. And now we’ve come to… this.” He waved a claw dismissively and away from himself.
“It’s really affecting everyone, huh?” the owner asked, slinking over to a small box at the other end of the counter.
“Everyone I know, the message was supposed to reach everyone after all. I’m sure you’ve heard a lot about it from the people who come through here.” Spike sighed. “Even I’m doing it now.”
He paused for a moment. “What do you believe in, Coffee? Preservation or collapse?”
Coffee took a deep breath before letting it out slowly. “You know, a lot of my customers have been asking me that question lately.” She looked back at him, smiling as she slid the box across the table. “Guess I’m just that fun to talk to. Honestly? I don’t think there is any right answer. But I think anything that requires us to… kill the people we care about is the wrong one.”
Spike looked at the little box curiously, before looking her in the eyes. “And all the deaths from time travel? The dark stuff hiding in the corners of the multiverse? I’m sure you’ve heard about some of the things we find out there.”
“I do hear things, but I also know these are the same questions you’ve been asking yourself right?” He looked at her quizzically and she simply tapped her horn again. “You’re for preservation right?”
“It’s the right thing to do, isn’t it?”
“Depending on how you look at it.” She smiled a little more weakly. “I’ll do whatever I can for Cinnamon. But I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t like a friendlier multiverse for her to live in. We can work on it, but it’s a big cycle right? Sometimes I worry that anything we do is just going to get buried in the sands of time.”
“We’re working on it, though,” Spike said, straightening up a bit. “Even if we don’t last, we can have an effect on the people that come after. I mean… most of us weren’t even expecting to still be around at this point. I was honestly afraid I was going to be the last one, but they’re still around. Thanks to… Corona.” His face fell at that point.
Coffee furrowed her brows, leaning on the box. “You still care about her, don’t you?”
“Can’t hide anything from you, can I?” He pulled back a moment, letting out a chuckle. “Promise you won’t tell anyone?”
“Cross my heart and hope to fly,” she said, doing the motions.
“You’ve heard about that?”
“I think most of us have at this point, kind of hard not to get curious about our source material. My world’s a bit different from the norm, but… well, you know.” She smiled at him. “You knew her, I mean, before all this,” she gestured a hoof vaguely.
“Ah, I did, I wasn’t her biggest fan at first, but…”
Coffee opened the box as he continued talking, levitating a few sapphire cupcakes over to him. He paused to give out a thank you, barely breaking away from recounting the first time he met Sunset Shimmer. Before she was Corona. Times were a little darker these days, but as Spike left the shop, his heart felt lighter.
~~~
The night was cold, enough that Luigi was looking forward to the heating charms in the little cafe. His brother was a bit tied up with work at the moment, so he’d pick up some cake to go and maybe have a chat. It wasn’t like the meetings would be over anytime soon. He had time.
He shivered a little, looking around the empty streets. He couldn’t help the chill creeping up his back, and it wasn’t due to the cold. He’d always been a bit of a scaredy cat, he was always honest with himself about that. But there was just something about being by himself in a universe so very far away.
He breathed a sigh of relief as he entered the cafe. He knew most of the people inside at least. Ka-curse or something else, a lot of hero types tended to gather here, which made it pretty easy to get along with everyone. His brother had also been dragging him here practically every chance they got. The cake was a little too good. The fact that there were different Celestia Endorsement Posters of the pastry should have been a warning sign.
It was as warm as he’d hoped, and most chose to leave him to his own devices. He returned a few waves and a couple smiles, making his way to the front counter. The wave he gave Coffee was a little awkward, but he calmed down when she just gave him a smile.
“The usual?” she asked.
“If you don’t mind.” He couldn’t help closing up a little, hunching in on himself. He tensed up a bit, squaring his shoulders before taking a seat at the counter. He felt a thrill of fear, but he was coping.
“And something for your brother to go I’m guessing?” She smiled at him, keeping her distance, for which he was grateful.
Luigi looked to the side, blushing a little. “Yes, the cream and strawberries one if you don’t mind. He was quite impressed last time, and wanted to share some with Peach.”
“Ohoho, that good huh?” she said with a wink. “I’ll get right on that then, be done before you know it. Same as last time?” he gave her a nod, and she trotted off to the back room.
Luigi leaned back with a sigh. He was startled when a quiet voice spoke up. “Hey there, Luigi, get here alright?”
Quickly looking to his side, Luigi spotted a wide brimmed hat. The face below was hidden in darkness, but for two glowing points of light. “Oh, hey there Vivi, how’s everything going?” Luigi had been nervous when they first met, but Vivi really was a kindred spirit.
“It’s been alright so far,” he sipped at a cup of hot chocolate. “I… feel a little strange that it was all solved so easily, but... I don’t have to worry about stopping any more.”
Luigi looked at him with concern. “And you’re okay with that?” he asked, leaning on the table and twisting around to better face Vivi.
“I… I built it up as such a big thing in my head. I… got kind of consumed by it, before finally accepting that it was just how things are. That... that’s how things were supposed to be.” He looked down into his cup. “One day we just stop, not because we’re sick or injured, but because it’s our time. And there’s a purpose to it. But what does it mean if it doesn’t have to be that way?”
Luigi looked down at the table. “Those are some pretty big questions to be asking yourself.” He paused for a moment. “I don’t think about it too much myself, me and my brother tend to be going on a big adventure, or just relaxing after one. We don’t get much time to think about this sort of stuff.”
Luigi glanced at Vivi from out the corner of his eye. “But you know. Just because things are different now, doesn’t mean it’s different in a bad way.”
Vivi looked at him in question.
Luigi looked straight ahead. “I’m kind of a scaredy cat, I’m not brave like my brother. Even with everything going on right now, I haven’t been able to change that. I get frightened of my own shadow sometimes, I can’t handle ghosts or the dark all that well, and those kinds of things are what I have to deal with a lot at home.” He tapped the counter lightly, sighing. “I’ve faced a lot of my fears, and in the moment it’s scary, but I’m still here.”
Luigi looked back at Vivi, a reassuring smile on his face. “You’re braver than me you know, I’m sure you’re going to be okay. Things like this always work out in the end.”
They sat in silence for a while. Coffee eventually came out from the back, setting a plate of mushroom pizza on the table, along with a wrapped box. Likely in deference to the mood, she merely shot them a smile and took a seat a little further away. The cafe was quiet at this time. Nothing but a quiet murmuring as people huddled together in small groups to talk.
Vivi eventually spoke up once more. “Even with what’s going on now? Preservation and… collapse?”
Luigi took a deep breath. “Well, I know what my brother would say, or actually, what he would do. But I’ll be honest. I’m scared, that’s probably not strange for me. But it’s the truth.” He let his hand rest on the table. “A lot of us are right now, even if we don’t want to admit it. I mean, it’s the fate of every universe at stake. And most of us can’t do that much to affect the outcome.”
Vivi nodded slowly. “My friends are doing what they can, but there aren’t that many of us. Most of the people in our world are just average citizens. My… the others like me want to help, and they have powerful magic on their side. But we aren’t invincible or anything.” He hunched in on himself. “It’s scary, I just learned that we don’t have to… to die, and now everyone’s going out there and risking their lives.”
Luigi wasn’t sure what to say for a moment. He leaned forward and put his hands together, biting at his lip nervously. “Where I come from, things are pretty dangerous. But even dying isn’t hard to avoid if you’re careful. I do worry about my brother sometimes, there are a lot of dangers he has to face. I’ve worried for myself as well. But…”
Luigi took a deep breath. “Sometimes there are things you have to do. Things that go beyond being a hero. Sometimes, even if you’re scared, you need to press on and do what you feel is right.”
“Collapse… Preservation. I know that there are reasons people support both sides. But I couldn’t support, and I don’t think any of my friends, especially not my brother, could support collapse.” He tugged at his cap in a nervous gesture. “So even if I’m scared, I’m gonna do what I can to make a difference. For everyone I care about.”
Vivi nodded, placing his cup on the table. “I… I think I understand. I’m scared too, it’s a big place out there, and there’s so much I don’t know. But… I think it’s important to do what I believe is right. I don’t want my friends to get hurt.” He twined his fingers together nervously. “If I have to go out there and face my own fears, I guess it’s okay. And… I’ll have my friends by my side, too.”
Luigi smiled, giving his shoulder a pat. “You’ll make even more friends, I’m sure.” He leaned down. “As scary as it is, there are a lot of good people around here.” He looked behind Vivi, who turned to follow his gaze.
More than a few people were standing behind them, a few had grins, and more than a couple had their thumbs up. Zidane was standing in the doorway, looking at him with a cocky smile, more of his friends standing outside the door. “We got your back Vivi,” he thumped a fist against his chest. “We’ll get through this just fine.”
~~~
He paused at the door, looking back at Serena as she stood silent, supportive.
“I know what you’re thinking, this might be the last time we come here right?” She shook her head wryly. “You don’t give yourself enough credit, sometimes.”
He chuckled, hand reaching for the door before it opened on its own. Luigi stood there looking a little nervous before he realized who it was. Cinnamon was standing behind him with wide eyes, her mother at her heels.
He backed up a bit, and Luigi took a step forward, twisting around to stand beside him. The Dragonborn nodded in understanding, stepping away to let them have a quick chat. He couldn’t help but catch a few snippets though. Seems Luigi needed to go quite suddenly, and was leaving a message for a friend of his.
He shook himself from his reverie as Luigi walked past with a quick wave. He looked at little Cinnamon, Serena stepping up to talk with Coffee. He looked into her eyes as he crouched down to her level.
“I guess you’re going too, then?” she asked, nervously batting a hoof at the ground. “A lot of my friends have been saying goodbye lately… something big happened right? Mommy hasn’t been letting me watch the news.”
He sighed, reaching out to ruffle her mane. She looked up at him with a slight glower, before sighing herself. “I get it, you’ve got big hero stuff to do, and I’m still just a little filly. I’d be… well I wouldn’t be safe, and that would make Mommy sad.” She looked to the side. “You might get hurt because of it, too.”
He smiled at her sadly, giving a short nod. He pulled his hand back after a couple scratches behind her ear.
“Can you at least promise me, next time, if you’re not going anywhere too dangerous. I can maybe come with you?” She blushed a little, staring at the ground. “I’ll ask Mommy first you know, and maybe we could make a trip of it or something. I’d just… I’d really like to go on an adventure too. And I know it wouldn’t be as cool if it was with anyone else.”
He looked at her for a moment, considering. Finally, after a few moments, he smiled warmly and gave her a thumbs up.
“You really mean it?” she asked
He nodded.
He had made his decision. Powerful, powerless, what did it really matter? He knew in his heart the right choice, and he would do what he could to protect those he cared about. He would come back, and they would go on that adventure. Maybe even invite a few more of his friends to come along.
Friendship was Magic right? He couldn’t help but think there was something to that.
He stood up, giving her a wink, before turning on his heel with a wave. He glanced back one final time, giving her a single sincere smile.
He fell into step with Serena as they slowly disappeared into the crowd.
Cinnamon looked up at her mom. “They’re gonna be alright, right Mommy?” She looked up pleadingly.
“Things will be okay little one, we just need to believe in them. It’ll all turn out fine.” Coffee pulled Cinnamon into a hug. “Everything’s going to be just fine…” She trailed off as she closed her eyes, gently stroking Cinnamon’s mane.
‘Neither Fear Nor Favour’
By Trivena
The portrait was not a flattering one.
Station legend had it that it had been commissioned at Commander Vimes’ insistence, as a condition of his sitting for the grand ceremonial portrait that hung in the palace gallery. The ceremonial portrait itself, legend noted, had been non-negotiable.
This painting, small and dirty-looking, rested on a wall in the commander’s office at Pseudopolis Yard. The poses, even the scene itself, were entirely the product of the artist’s imagination; iconographs hadn’t existed then, so the portrait had been painted many years after the fact. The faces, though, they were as honest as the artist could make them.
The subjects were three battered, tired men; for a few days more than sixty years ago, they had been the full complement of Ankh-Morpork’s Night Watch. Sergeant Colon, a retired soldier; Corporal Nobbs, barely reformed from a childhood lived on the streets; and their captain, Vimes himself, career watchman with no prospects, and by his own admittance, drinking himself into an early grave.
Sam Vimes the Younger, second Duke of Ankh and present Commander of the Ankh-Morpork City Watch, had grown up knowing the legend as fact. He remembered writing essays and studying textbooks while his mother, the formidable Lady Sybil, lovingly bullied his father into his despised fancy ceremonial ducal uniform. He remembered Commander Vimes arguing with the painter over the second portrait, until his mother quietly laid down the law: this is how it’s going to be, and if you don’t like it, we’ll commission somebody else. And he remembered the day when, the second painting half-completed, old Uncle Fred hadn’t turned up for his sitting; that day, his father had come very close to seeking solace in a bottle again.
A grey-faced captain knocked at his open door, jolting the commander from his reminiscence. “Sam?” Reginald Shoe was nearly the only one left who still called him that; he’d put his foot down about Young Sam decades ago, on the grounds that he wasn’t a lance-constable anymore. “The day shift just got in, and the night shift’s almost finished their briefing.”
Sam pushed himself up from his desk with a sigh. “Thanks, Uncle Reg. We won’t keep them waiting, then.”
The commander strode into the crowded muster room, Captain Shoe following behind. Nearly every watchman assigned to headquarters was there, day and night shifts both, in a room that had never been designed to hold them all. He didn’t even need to thump the desk to get their attention; quiet spread quickly through the room as the men (and women, trolls, dwarfs, golems… there had even been a vampire, once, until she decided that politics suited her better) became aware of his presence.
“Good evening, and day shift, thank you for waiting; I won’t keep you long. I want to speak to all of you today.” Commander Vimes took a breath, and began.
“You all know that our great nation, the United States of the Multiverse, is at war. We’re not here to take sides; if you feel the need to, the Watch isn’t the place for you. Fighting to keep the multiverse together is a job for the military and the politicians; we are Watchmen, and every last man of us swore an oath when we joined, an oath to uphold the law and protect the innocent.”
Despite the modern electric lights, the night seemed to creep into the muster room, the corners growing darker as Vimes spoke.
“Ninety years ago, there was a revolution. You won’t find it in your history books; if you look up the twenty-fifth of May, all you’ll find is the assassination of Lord Winding. It was swift, it was public, and it changed almost nothing, yet it’s still remembered to this day; but to us, forgotten or not, the revolution is what was important.
“As watchmen, it went to the very heart of what we stand for. The People’s Republic of Treacle Mine Road stood for Truth, Justice, and basic rights and freedoms. The revolt was crushed quietly and overnight; seven good men died that night, most of them watchmen going about their duty.” He nodded to Reg Shoe, who had been the other casualty; the zombie joined the Watch many years after his death. “And yet, even though the revolution failed, their spirit did not die with them.
“Today, though the universe falls apart around us, we stand to uphold the ideals they died to protect. Let it never be said that a Watchman was afraid to die for the ideal he swore to defend.”
It was darker now, as though the night itself had crawled inside to join the watchmen.
From the back, a voice interrupted. “I don’t know about you poor sods, but I’d rather live for it.” In the shadows behind them, in the darkest corner of the room, a match flared to life. A cigar-end glowed, and a figure stepped forth from the dark.
The commander’s jaw fell open in silent shock, and every watchman turned to see what he was staring at.
The late Commander Sir Samuel Vimes blew out a cloud of cigar smoke, and smiled grimly at them all.
“I never left you before,” he declared, and as the shadows gave way to light once more, his words resounded throughout the room as if they were graven in stone. “And I’ll be damned if I abandon you now.”
The crowd of watchmen rippled as each and every one of them saluted. Vimes returned it in acknowledgement, his smile widening into a genuine look of pride.
“Did you think Old Stoneface would let his men face this alone?” the old Commander asked, watching backs straighten as he took another step forward to stand amongst them. “I’ll be with you all the way.”
Amidst the clamour that broke out, the younger commander pulled himself together enough to dismiss the men, and as the watchmen poured out to the streets, some to their beat and some to their bed, Sir Samuel strode to the front of the room. Commander Vimes watched, transfixed; his father looked exactly as he remembered from his childhood, battered breastplate, cheap shoes and all; relaxed and in control, as though he knew that every man in the room knew that he was in charge. He even still had his policeman’s walk, the comfortable swing that conserved energy and ate up the night.
“Evening, son. You’re looking well.”
Young Sam finally found his voice. “Dad?...How?”
His father made a rueful grimace. “Every day, watchmen across the Sto Plains ask themselves ‘what would Old Stoneface think? What would he say?’” The elder Vimes nodded towards the last of the night shift as they trickled out of the room. “They’re good lads, Carrot and his boys taught you all well, but you couldn’t have expected this to happen.” He ground out his cigar in an ashtray that the commander knew for a fact hadn’t been on the desk before.
“Dad.”
“You know what I used to say about gods? There’s no such thing as a god of watchmen, because watchmen are too bloody suspicious to believe in one?” Commander Sir Samuel Vimes let out a long breath, and his son suddenly understood.
“We believe in you.”
And so the Watchmen went forth, with the darkness at their backs, the Law in their hands, and Justice by their side, to do their duty without fear or favour.
To uphold the law, protect the innocent, and to keep the peace.
Fabricati diem.
~~~
A long, long way away, and yet no distance at all, Azrael, the Death of Universes, stirred. Twin nebulae dimmed in His eyes as He focused His gaze on the Universal Clock; the longest hand, the universe hand, had not yet completed its circuit, and yet… He could no longer remember when everything would be again...
‘Solar Waltz’
Ever since the discovery of Earth Stand and related worlds, the percentage of creatures who possessed Stands had increased markedly, and as such the chance of developing Stands with absurd powers rose markedly. Stands like U-Catastrophe, The World Over Heaven, and Seraphim stood high above most of the others, with abilities that could shake reality itself. By chance, one of these Stands developed outside the reaches of Merodi space, but much farther into the Q-Sphere. It resided in a universe much like a standard Earth - except that the whole planet was ruled by sentient foodstuffs.
The Stand was a spaceship, as big as Celestia City in the early days of Merodi Universalis. The Stand appeared as four massive prongs with a large central sphere. Millions of lights glowed along each of the Stand's various surfaces, with the center glowing, telling of the Stand's power. Along one of the sides of the massive prongs the Stand's name was inscribed, written in softly glowing lights: Solar Waltz.
On the outside, the Stand was sleek and seamless, made of dark grey metal with red and orange decals, seemingly impenetrable to outside attack.
The inside was a different story entirely.
Behind thick metal armor and the inner workings of the ship was a world that filled in the gaps. A spirit construct not unlike a fusion reactor occupied a quarter of the central sphere, providing power to the massive ship-Stand as it moved through the universe. Elsewhere, artificial skies and celestial bodies gazed down on races from as normal as humans to as exotic as beings made of starlight. Hundreds of different races called Solar Waltz home, with each of them having one thing in common. The universes they called home had been ravaged by the wars between the lesser Class 3s and Class 2s over The Message, and had sought refuge here.
In fact, every single sentient being on Solar Waltz was a refugee - except for one: man who appeared young but was really of advanced age, one of the perks of the invulnerable Stand. Well, at least it would be until those in power made the choice. Destroy the multiverse, or keep it the way it is. Collapse or Preserve.
The person the many beings on this ship simply called “the Captain” gave a deep sigh as he gazed out on the stars. His thoughts began to wander.
Ever since obtaining Solar Waltz years before the Message, the Captain had used it to help as many universes as possible. He had used the ship as a gargantuan shield, defending a group of much smaller ships as they repaired their FTL drives. He had used it to eliminate a Class 3 which only wished to drain those lower than them of their resources, as a tax for protection from the Class 2s, and taken as many refugees onto his Stand as possible. And now, that was all he did.
The Captain knew the end of the current multiverse was soon, perhaps as little as a meta-time year. He had felt the many vibrations caused by the usage of the Class 1 superweapons as they tore the multiverse apart, causing scars that might never heal. Except now, all the Class 1s were dead and the D-Sphere annihilated. Even as the multiverse collapsed on his head, he brought as many people as he could into the safety of Solar Waltz.
Around the silently stargazing Stand user, holographic screens hovered, displaying information on the ship’s internals and camera feeds from around his Stand. One screen held most of his attention, as it displayed a set of a few words and a large percentage. Ship Occupancy: 83%. He still had space for more refugees, so he would fill it.
“Solar Waltz.” A deep baritone voice came from The Captain’s mouth. He had no need to speak to the Stand, for it was his very soul, but he did so anyway. “Set a course for the next damaged world, and prepare more living space.” An affirmative beep echoed from within the room, and groans of metal began to resonate through the Stand as Solar Waltz began to change its shape to suit its master. Outside, the four prongs began to glow, dimly at first before they grew brighter and brighter. Lines of white energy arced from prong to prong before the fabric of space-time tore open before the massive ship, leading to the next universe. Slowly, the ship moved through the portal, heading to the next universe where it was needed.
‘Black and White’
You don’t know who these men are. You aren’t even completely sure they’re men—or even human—but you will no doubt imagine them as such. You don’t know their names, and you won’t. It doesn’t really matter who they are, anyway. The conversation they are about to have was immensely common in the multiverse: held by many friends, colleagues, and even complete strangers as the Message and later the War for Existence dragged on.
The Message asked a Question and requested a Choice.
Collapse or preservation? The end of ka or the continuation of the status quo?
Their conversation was by no means special or unusual, nor was any dramatic conclusion reached.
Let’s call them “White” and “Black” for simplicity’s sake.
“How can you support them?” White asked. “How can you condemn so many? Doesn’t it weigh on your conscience at all?”
“It’s not that it doesn’t,” Black responded, sitting back in his chair with a stern frown on his face. “It’s that my conscience screams at me to do something, and the collapse is the one that takes the least toll on me, mentally.”
“…How? You’re supporting actions that actively kill… quadrillions of quadrillions!”
“You want to play the numbers game?” Black leaned forward, counting off on his fingers. “The reports are in, confirmed from several sources. The collapse would kill so many fewer people than are killed every few years in the multiverse due to time rewrites alone. Think about that for a moment. The only difference between those deaths and the collapse is that they don’t look overt, but really are.”
“The Celestialsapiens thought there was a way to preserve while ending time travel; I tend to think the greatest thinkers the multiverse has ever known were on to something.”
Black snorted. “Greatest thinkers?”
“Well, they were standoffish, and too authoritative, and… that’s not the point! The point is time travel could have been removed.”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe.” White frowned.
“Let’s say you’re right. Let’s say time travel was dealt with. What about all the wannabe gods? Ka curses? Memory erasure?”
“Hells?”
“Yes, Hells, but those aren’t my main point…”
“Don’t hide from them,” White pushed.
“Fine, Hells, thank you for strengthening my argument. Every last one of these things is a horrendous torment on existence, killing so many just because we like the idea of them in our story.”
“It’s not confirmed that memory erasure is truly deadly.”
“It is often enough. They did tests on souls. Found out which ones were different before and after, with unique signatures. Rewrites, erasures, adjustments… they create new beings.”
“Assuming the Tower’s definition of the soul is correct.”
“You’re the one who wants preservation, aren’t you of the mind the Tower’s ‘meaning’ is the right one?”
White shook his head. “The Tower is a ‘human’ construct, it can’t always be right. It has to make mistakes on some things, and as far as we know the soul is just there to help it manage who’s a ‘character’ and who isn’t. Talk to anyone who’s had their mind re-adjusted, even partially: they don’t feel like different people.”
“Then what about alternate version replacements? They both exist at the same time, surely they’re different.”
“Does it matter?”
“Of course it matters!” Black put a hand to the bridge of his nose and sighed. “You need to know what’s a person and what isn’t to know what really causes death.”
“That is true,” White admitted. “But, that also helps preservation. We don’t know how much of that suffering is real.”
“Or even if souls are real at all or if morality can be defined…”
“Exactly! Which is why we need the Tower!”
“Do you not see your circular, inconsistent reasoning? First you say it may not matter, and then you speak as though the Tower provides what matters, meaning it does matter.”
White pressed his hands together. “I’m saying the Tower provides us a framework from which to work forward to… understand what should and shouldn’t be. Which is why we should follow our conscience. A conscience that tells us not to kill untold billions with our own hands.”
“Again, after the collapse, all that mass death won’t occur.”
“Are we certain? We just spoke about how, due to the Tower, there is a lot we can’t know about a world without ka. What if, in the new world, it just… ends?”
“How?”
“Standard physics heat-death, let’s say.”
“Did you even listen to Corona’s Message?” Black shook his head. “There are so many ways to reverse Entropy in the universe, one is bound to survive in the New World. It may be largely standard physics, but it won’t be mundane. So much magic and mixed powers from other realms will still exist. We’ll be able to create a society from them more advanced and stable than any mundane world, jumping past whatever early dangers there may be.”
“All right, not Entropy, but what of all that magic? Surely something that can destroy an entire universe will exist.”
“Not this combination world. Anything that requires more universes to function will cease to be, and the world as a whole will be larger and more robust than any before it. No single attack could take it out.”
“According to models.”
“Yes. According to models.”
White shook his head. “That’s assuming a lot of things we don’t know. The Tower could be wrong, the Tower could be lying, and those models still allow for a chance of utter disaster.”
“So do yours.”
White frowned. “How do you mean?”
“Think of it. The Preservation Ring changes just as much as a Collapse Ring, changing the multiverse permanently through the Tower. Connections could be made dangerous, universes could have their positions irrevocably altered, or you could just break something fundamental without realizing. It’s the danger of using a Tower Ring.”
“You sound like you’re arguing for non-interference.”
“Not at all.” Black pressed his hands together, narrowing his eyes in White’s direction. “I say the risk is worth it, and I know you agree. Existence will never change if we aren’t willing to step out on a branch and test it.”
White bit his lip. “I am uncertain… I believe there is more danger in the unknown future of the collapse than the continuation of preservation. Chances are high we continue on.”
“Continue on to what?” Black smirked. “True Infinity?”
“What’s so wrong with True Infinity?”
“I don’t know, absolute pain of all possible kinds happening an infinite number of times in all places? At least in the current way things are, pain is limited!”
“And… that’s besides the point, preservation doesn’t create True Infinity.”
“It would eventually. How long do you think it’ll take White Nettle to try and restart the Downstreamer Infinity Mechanisms with the Safeguard gone? And even if she fails, the multiverse will still have that back door. A truly endless supply of everything. I bet that thought makes you feel all soft and cuddly inside.”
White shuddered. “Not… really. The Tower provides us with a meaning. In infinity, there would be endlessly conflicting Towers, worlds where good and evil are exactly reversed, and—“
“—and why do you place faith in the idea that the Tower has it right now?”
“Why do you place faith in the idea that meaning can exist without the Tower? Gan and the Builders made it for a reason—because mundane existence is pointless!”
“I don’t know, a lot of the background people seem happy.”
“That’s because they’re supposed to be! It’s a gift from the Tower to have a simple life without the complications of adventure. You just live in peace on your farm and never think of attaining anything else. It’s beautiful.”
“It’s a will-overriding ka-curse, that’s what it is.”
White twitched. “The Flowers don’t detect them as such.”
“Tell me when the Flowers publish their ka-glitch detection criteria and I’ll believe the Tower’s not using glitches as part of its own, larger story.”
“I… well, you do have a point there.” White drummed his fingers on the table. “Still, ka is better than a ‘mundane’ life. We look at Earth to see a standard, presumably ka-less template, or the closest thing we have to such.”
“Too many inconsistencies and stupid stories in Earth history for my taste but… I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt here and let you have that. How is what we have now better than that?”
“Think of it. Ka itself creates idyllic adventures and vast-scoping connectivity that doesn’t exist on many earths. The problems inherent in humanity are often overlooked for the sake of friendship, interaction, and… true bonds.” White smiled. “There may be a lot of death in ka, my friend, but there is also more life. So much more. Earth is simple, boring, with only one kind of person. Out here we have a myriad of races and beautiful worlds of all sorts, and we even have ka to ensure that the tendency of tribalism and racism doesn’t stop those races from coming together!”
“Do you really think we’re so terrible that we’d try to fight everything different from us?”
“Read your Earth history some time, it is one atrocity and genocide after another. You know, like what you’re trying to do.”
Black frowned. “It is true that many exotic races simply won’t be able to survive in the New World.”
“You’ll lower not only the beauty and diversity of life, but also destroy so many cultures.”
“But all cultures in the history of the multiverse have been destroyed. Aside from Gan and his Tower, do we know of any societies before the Downstreamers? What about in the time between them and the rise of the Horrorterrors? Do we even know how much time was in there?”
“No…”
“So, there’s my point. The collapse is still less damaging to cultures than the Tower itself.”
“But look at Earth. All societies there fall as well.”
“But they aren’t forgotten. See China?”
“China is an exception. What of Mesopotamia? The Tower can’t seem to settle on what story to tell for them. It no doubt knows from extrapolation what the most likely outcome is, but the people of Earth simply told so many conflicting stories about it because they didn’t know!”
“Once again getting into what we don’t know…” Black noted.
“Yes. So much confusion. But you know what we do know?”
“Enlighten me.”
“Heroes. The Tower may create evil, but it also creates heroes to face them. It creates more heroes than villains, because heroes often have friends and followers who fight beside them. Villains gain power, but heroes will always be there to face them. In a world without ka, heroes are not guaranteed to face evil, and yet evil will still exist.”
“I have more faith in humanity than that,” Black retorted. “Even with all our psychological problems we still know how to band together and face difficulty.”
“Didn’t help solving world hunger despite the main nations of Earth having more than enough money to do so.”
“Again, we’ll have shortcuts in the new world. Technology and magic they couldn’t have. We might even be able to cure death!”
“The Tower—“
Black cut him off. “The Tower makes sure everyone dies except that madman Flagg. Even true immortal deities fall with time, simply because death is dramatic. In the New World, we could use things more fundamental than immortality serums and find actual immortality without being struck down for something as dumb as ‘hubris’.”
“But don’t we need death? Death to counteract the life of existence? Without death we are not driven, our fears have no source…”
“Death is the enemy, and it always has been. Do you want to die?”
“…It has entered my mind, at times, that it would be nice to simply stop after a time. That I’ve done all I’ve come to do. I don’t feel this now, of course, seeing as the world is about to change drastically… But there was a time I thought the end would be welcome.”
“So, you like the Nihilists then?”
White gawked. “Goodness sakes, no! The ending of something that has been fulfilled is one thing, but there’s only point if that ending happens within something ongoing! A story that continues, unending!”
“I don’t know, the Nihilists seemed to think that the ending of everything was the ultimate fulfillment…”
“I am not a Nihilist! The destruction of everything is evil! I think the collapse is evil, what do you take me for, a hypocrite?”
Black smirked. “Well, we’re only human, so I’d think both of us are in one way or another.”
White sighed, sitting back down. “An ending of absurd, complete darkness doesn’t make a good story. It makes a good enemy.”
“What does make a good story? Preservation?”
“The continuation of all to a brighter, eternal future…”
Black rolled his eyes. “I’ll tell you what makes a better story. A story that gets to an ending. Preservation is just the status quo. The collapse gets us to a point where all stories end, allowing all us ‘characters’ to move out into the New World on our own with new decisions to be made that cannot be written about or read.”
“The collapse is too jarring to be satisfied. You’re telling me you’d like a story that had an endless war of suffering and danger and, at the moment of climax, the story just stops and you never get to know anything about what happened?”
“Well, there could be reconciliation or a twist before the war ends. What of preservation? What excuse do you have for an ending?”
“I… Er…”
“It’s True Infinity, isn’t it?”
White sighed. “It might be. Or it might be the evolution of the multiverse into a new form, one that leads to a sequel.”
“…I guess.” Black leaned back in his chair, thinking about where to go next. “I shouldn’t care about what makes a good story, anyway, I should care about what’s better. The death, suffering, and sorrow will be gone.”
“Death will still be a thing.”
“But we can conquer it. Who knows what else we can conquer with technology if permanent, unrestricted progress is allowed? And people will have their own will. They won’t be created and forced into a path just to serve some plot.”
“That’s not a bad thing.”
“Tell me, would you like to be a character in a porno?”
“Er…” White blanked.
“They act in unnatural ways only to feed the desires of an audience… and are debased in the most despicable of ways.”
“Okay, yes, in your world the overall quantity of suffering will go down. But you know what else will go down? Happiness. Hope. And Happy Endings.”
“Happy endings are unrealistic.”
“Exactly! In a world without ka, they don’t happen. People don’t get their lives fulfilled. Here, the very fabric of reality thrums with the meaning of fulfillment. And, who knows, after the Preservation we may be able to access the Tower and make more happy endings…”
“What if your happy ending is to have conquered an evil empire? One with citizens created just to be evil and cast aside as mooks? Or an endless horde of sapient demons to be brutally killed for an adrenaline rush?”
“It’s unfortunate that those things happen… yes. But it is not us actively killing them in most cases. Someone has to take the fall for the violence, but I will not actively genocide those ‘demons’. You would.”
“In hopes for a greater future. One with less death, we’ve been over this.”
“No, no I don’t think we have.” White stood up suddenly. “There’s a difference between knowing mass death happens elsewhere in existence and causing it. I’m not blameless, I’m the guy standing on the street doing nothing. But actively causing the devastation? That’s worse. By leagues. Your side is the textbook definition of well-intentioned extremism!”
“So, it’s a trolley problem, is it?” Black folded his arms. “Do you pull the lever to save five, but you’ll kill one in the process?”
“I…”
“I’m pulling that lever. I see those people tied up to the track, all the future generations, and I want to save them.”
“But to do so you’re causing intentional suffering. That’s the point, the Tower is mindless and unintentional, the people to blame for its evils are long dead. You would be killing many now, with your hand—or at the very least supporting it. You’re doing evil so that good may result!”
“I…” Black frowned. “It’s… more complicated than that. Both sides do evil. One of them has to be done. And this one is the route for betterment.”
“Do you really think most good, honest people would end up where you are right now? What kind of mind does it take to knowingly sacrifice yourself and virtually everyone you’ve ever known for the sake of some ideal?”
“That’s not fair!”
“Everything’s fair!” White closed his eyes. “Your family, your friends, your children. Not all of them support you.”
“No.”
“And in these times you’d protect them, knowing full well if you had your way, chances are all of them would be dead.”
“Just because they’re going to die one day doesn’t mean I should kill them now. I want them to live as long as possible in the best world. It’s better that they live through this and make it to the collapse and…” Black had to take a moment to catch his breath. “They… they will die in the collapse. But if they die before then I will have failed as a human being.”
“…I’m sorry, but you’ve failed as a human being by condemning them to death. The rest of us, the majority of us, will keep our families safe.”
“How much of that is just self-preservation, huh? A deep, biological drive to live without any thought to the nuance of the situation! Do you have any idea how many people won’t even have a discussion like ours? They’ll just go ‘welp, I’d like to live, and ain’t no way anythin’s gonna change my mind’ like stubborn mules!”
“Clearly, the only people who go for collapse have to corrupt their hearts to do so, and the only people who go for preservation are locked in biological traps and ka!”
Black stared at White.
“…I’m sorry, that’s not…”
“That’s the most reasonable thing you’ve said all day,” Black grunted, looking despondent. “…You know, if people would think, it’d be pretty easy to see that this war is a stupid idea. That neither of us are qualified for jack anything.”
White closed his eyes and sighed. “Nobody has the right to answer the question, then. We can’t band together.”
“Or is it that we won’t band together?”
“I have no idea,” White admitted. “All I know is which of the two extremes sound better, and that the middle ground has been cut out.”
“You could always join the non-interferers. I hear they’ve been turning a lot of churches lately.”
“You could too.”
“And risk ending up with a true preservation?”
White smirked. “And why would I risk ending up with a hasty collapse?”
“It wouldn’t be all bad.”
“Perhaps not. But it removes too much of our life. Whatever it may bring, it’s not worth the cost. I’m uncertain if it’s worth it even if there wasn’t mass death on the line. Is ka really that evil?”
“It makes some people inherently more important than others. There is no such thing as equality with the Tower.” Black furrowed his brow. “But even the most important couldn’t get everyone to agree, so I don’t know anymore.”
“The idea of the mediator… the path Nanoha wanted to take. The path the Seats tried to take until they were tricked into war.”
“The only path the Tower clearly doesn’t want.” Black shook his head. “It’d be great if we could just all stop the fighting and find the best possible way to satisfy the most people over the greatest amount of time? Phase the Tower out or something. I don’t know.”
“I’d rather we simply alter the Tower’s creation of ka.”
“And that’s why we can’t have nice things,” Black chuckled bitterly. “Nobody, and I mean nobody, is willing to risk that coming to ‘peace’ means they will lose what they want to happen. Nobody in the history of ever is going to compromise to the opposite side if they think it’s truly, completely evil.”
“Which we do.”
“Yep.”
“And that means we can’t just leave it be. We’re morally required to take action, for we believe one action is better than the others. Absolutely.”
“There aren’t really any other options. The Nihilists are the enemy, the Mediators are hopelessly shunned by the Tower as ‘boring’, and the non-interference just doesn’t want blood on their hands. Selfish little…” Black clenched his fists.
White looked up, letting his body relax. “We’re forced to make a tense, impossible moral choice between two extremes. Extremes that we don’t know enough about. How many unknowns have we run across in this conversation? How many uncertainties?”
“A lot. Too many. But we can’t afford not to act, because we’re not given that kind of time. The war rages outside now, and it’s going to decide the fate of everything.”
“We aren’t qualified to answer the question.”
“Hm?”
“We. Every person in existence. We aren’t qualified to answer the question. Nobody is, or ever has been. Nobody had the required knowledge and understanding and… sense of self to even ask the question.”
“So, what, it was evil to know it’s possible to destroy the multiverse?”
“I… I don’t know.” White grabbed his hair. “Once you know, what do you do?”
“Corona did the best thing I can think of. Try to get everyone’s input.”
“But if all of existence isn’t qualified?! If…” White stopped short. “Would it have been right to simply erase the knowledge completely?”
“No,” Black said. “Either preservation or collapse is better. One of them has to have more good than the other. If the question is never asked, there’s a coin flip we end up in a world with more evil just because some woman thought everything needed to stay hidden.”
“Then that’s impossible. The entire multiverse doesn’t have the ability to answer the question properly, but refusing to ask the question is wrong as well.”
“I think we’ve stumbled on why this is a moral dilemma,” Black laughed bitterly. “The simple fact that there is such a question is… evil, I guess.”
“But it sure makes a good story.”
“Oh, you bet your bottom dollar it does.”
With a sigh, White stood up. “…I think that’s enough for today. I have to go home and rethink everything. Again.”
“Same here. Same time tomorrow?”
“We’ll see if I don’t sign up for the army by then.”
“You should. Fight for what you believe in. I will.”
“Joining up?”
“Pretty sure I am. If I see you out there, I’m going to capture you right in the face.”
“I would have gone for the stomach, personally.”
“More amusing to watch you go head over heels.”
White chuckled. “Yes… I suppose it would be.” He began to walk away.
“Hey, bud?”
“Yes?”
“Take care of yourself, whatever you do. And whoever ends up winning.”
“You too.”
'The Last Victory'
Along the edge of what was left of the D-Sphere, there was a Class 3 Society called The Path of Mastery. It was primarily interested in the pursuit of martial arts and spiritual power; leaving technology, science, and more practical matters to the more mundane populations of their society. They had long sought ways to reject ka's influence from their society, resulting in them having developed a number of esoteric techniques to avoid the spotlight as well as focusing most of their technological research towards limiting ka's attention on them. This led them to occasionally provoke The Flowers That Be deliberately to gain an opportunity to develop their own ka studies.
Now, however, just after the calamity of most of the Seats going to war, there was only one universe left to The Path. It was a small universe, little more than a single, albeit visually large, chamber that was noted for being unusually stable. The last of The Path of Mastery's people now took shelter inside, waiting for the war to end.
"Alert, dimensional stability deteriorating. Alert, ka filters offline," an artificial voice announced from the speakers built into the wall of the chamber designed to look like a cross between a monastery and an emergency bunker. The announcement caused a crowd of people from many different humanoid species to shift and murmur in discomfort, stopping only when a large man with a muscular build stepped up to a raised platform and clapped his hands together. The thunderous sound that echoed throughout the chamber drew all attention to himself.
The man had a name, but like many of the highest ranking members of The Path of Mastery, he had learned one of the esoteric techniques created to prevent ka from simply revealing information with outsiders. So instead he will be referred to by the title Victory.
Victory looked upon what was left of his people; all that remained from when those idiots who called themselves the Class 1 Societies reshaped the multiverse in their petty squabble over what to do about 'The Choice'. "People of The Path, I know you are all weary and frightened, and I cannot blame you for this. Over the last hour our society, our homes, and our very lives have been destroyed. We may be all that is left in this shelter, and even this is in danger as it begins to crumble."
He paused for a moment to gauge their reactions, noting the fear that was so rarely expressed by his people was threatening to overcome their senses entirely if things continued as they had been. He raised his voice to ensure all present could hear him. "We must now leave this last piece of our home behind. With so many universes lost and our infrastructure in shambles we have only one possible destination that I know will be safe for you all. I must banish you all to the realm of our oldest foes, The Flowers That Be."
Victory did not expect his people to let a statement like this go unchallenged, and he was pleased to see that several of them near the front looked ready to voice major objections. However, he could not afford to waste time addressing their challenges as he would have in a more stable time. With the slightest shift in his stance, he moved and was among them before they could react. With surprising grace and efficiency, he struck each of them in pressure points to knock them out. He then raised his voice once more. "I am the last Victory of our Society and I will not allow any of you to die, cowering in a crumbling shelter! You will seek asylum with the Flowers, you will carry the spirit of our civilization with you, and you will find a way to reconcile it with their ways."
Somehow, the display of force combined with the demands prevented anybody from raising dissent. Victory felt relieved, even as he wondered if the Flowers were even bothering to watch this. It'd make it a lot easier to convince them this wasn't a half-assed attempt at invasion if they were expecting it. He dismissed those concerns to instruct his people in the optimal formation for the performance of a mass-banishment technique. Even with willing targets, banishing so many people at once through a forced connection to another universe would take everything he had, and he would take every scrap of efficiency to make it work.
By the time he was ready to perform the banishment to save the last of his people, only a few minutes had passed since the alert sounded and the camera of ka had focused on them. In that time the outer walls of the chamber had already begun to warp and crumble. But Victory was ready to perform the final technique of his life as he melded his mind, his body, and his spirit together into a single point of focus before thrusting his palm out to unleash it all in a wall of spiritual energy. This launched the spirits of everyone else in the chamber along a forced connection to an inhabited universe within The Flowers' territory, dragging the bodies behind the spirits almost as an afterthought.
The instant the technique ended and his people were gone, Victory collapsed to the ground as a lifeless husk, leaving the now empty universe to fall into the Sea of Infinite Possibility.
‘The Polarized Nation’
By VoidTemplar
We, the People of the United States of the Multiverse hereby declare that in the course of human events it becomes necessary to take up the mantle of Washington, of Jefferson, and of Franklin and repudiate the onerous system enforced upon us by the Government. We hold these truths to be self-evident that the United States of the Multiverse in its current form has failed and that it falls to us, the people, to create a new better system, with liberty, justice and prosperity for all.
- Concordia Declaration of 236
“I pledge allegiance to the Flag of the United States of the Multiverse, and to the Republic for which it stands. One Nation, of Universes united, indivisible with liberty, justice and prosperity for all,” Senators, almost all humans, said in unison as they stood before the Secretary and the officers, looking stiffly towards the Presiding Officer sitting at the dais.
The gallery was filled with spectators, of a much more varied mix than the senators themselves. Ponies, gems, even a few eldritch abominations could be spotted sitting in the chairs. Some of the House Members had even made the trip into the gallery, even if there was a debate going on in the other Chamber.
“Who’s that blue unicorn with the Merodi badge?” Senator Johnston asked, pointing to that same unicorn in the gallery on the front row. It had barely been three months since he had been sworn into the Senate, being one of the newest senators, and from one of the newest universes to boot.
“Arcane Gear, the Merodi Ambassador to this place,” Senator Layton answered, barely hiding his displeasure from Johnston. “He’s been here day and night, probably making sure we vote the right way lest they decide to take a shit on us,” He continued, gesturing rudely at the unicorn.
“Order. The debate is opened on the Authorization of Military Force against the Concordia Insurrection. The Chair recognizes the Senator from Concordia, Mr. McGrant,” The Secretary said, voice booming over the chamber, carried by the speakers.
“Mr. Secretary,” McGrant began from the back of the Senate Chamber. “We are facing an internal crisis not seen since our founding universes’ Civil Wars. The Concordia Insurrection claims to be the legitimate government of our great and free union, in total opposition to the Constitution and the values that it builds upon. Indeed, my home universe is the one gripped in insurrection.” He gesticulated to a whiteboard to the side of him, showing a map of the USM and, centrally, Concordia’s place in it. Red splodges dotted the map, all marked ‘Rebel-controlled’. “In this cause, with insurrection gripping not just Concordia but so many other illustrious universes that have been part of the-”
“Look, what the Senator says is bullshit,” Layton interjected, then pointed an accusatory finger at the Merodi ambassador. “This is clearly the work of the Merodi or some other rabble who has instigated this.”
“The Senator from Maslina is out of order and will withdraw immediately,” the Secretary said, clearly bored out of his mind with the proceedings.
“No, I will not withdraw! I will speak truth to power, even if it is unpopular. Even if the establishment wants to silence me, I can and will stand up, even if it takes me talking on this mic around the clock until people see the light.”
“Mr. Layton of Maslina is skating on very thin ice!” the Secretary shouted out, causing some of the Senators in the room to share nervous looks with each other. “I advise him to withdraw, lest he be forced under Standing Order Number 24!”
“Whatever you might say, what I say is the pure truth! We may be for preserving the multiverse, but we are Multicans first, and we will not take orders from some ponies.” Several ponies in the gallery shifted uncomfortably at Layton’s words..
“Mr. Layton of Maslina will leave the chamber immediately under Standing Order Number 24! Marshalls!” The Secretary shouted out, tone clearly irritated with Layton. From the left of the chamber, neatly dressed people, all armed with tasers emerged. They walked menacingly down the aisles, physically grabbing Layton and dragging him out.
“I will not be cowed by some Secretary who does that! I say what my constituents, and the People think! I will not be subdued by the Establishment!” Layton went on as he was manhandled out of the chamber, despite his attempts to resist. Dust was kicked up, as the carpets and curtains were ruffled. “All you deplorabl-” That was the last Layton managed to say before an electric jolt struck through him and he went silent.
“With this minor altercation out of the way, I believe that we need to get back on track. Mr. McGrant has the floor,” the Secretary said. Faint thumps could be heard in the distance as McGrant rose again. Few noticed them.
“Thank you, Mr. Secretary,” McGrant began. “It is clear that we are starkly divided on the issue. And in this the problem lies, that we, the elected representatives of the people, do not want to reach out to the people and listen to them. And we keep on talking and talking to find a solution. Well I say to those who want to talk, go to Concordia and see what chaos is gripping my beloved home!” He gesticulated wildly as he spoke, then sat down calmly at the end of it.
“The Chair recognizes the Senator from Discdew, Miss von Humpeding,” the Secretary said.
“The problem that we now face is that this body is deadlocked,” von Humpeding began. “The Senate is split down the middle and those few votes, those few votes that could have swung it one way or another, those late Senators have themselves been the victim of the political polarization that has gripped this. Our nation is in the grip of extremists, who either seek socialism or seek the abolishment of our nation.” As she spoke, she gestured between both sides of the chamber, and continued. “And I say, that the individuals from several universes are guilty of this. You have the Senator from Maslina who has been dragged out, you have the obstructionists opposite and then you have the extremists in this party. Powers above, we should look at the endemic problem, the very undemocratic nature of this body!” von Humpeding exclaimed, pointing directly to the Secretary. “Even then. Even then, you have the neglect of some of our most precious places, like this building. This place can be clearly be said to be crumbling under its own weight, from the sounds that this place makes. This thundering sound. And I will give way to my friend, the Senator from Elysium, Mr. Holden,” she finished.
“The Chair recognizes the Senator from Elysium, Mr. Holden,” the Secretary said, immediately after. Von Humpeding had barely enough time to sit down before Holden rose from his seat.
“Esteemed and distinguished Senators of the United States,” Holden began. “I stand before you, not as a Senator of Elysium, but rather as the Orator of Elysium that I was known for before I came here. I come here to speak as a man clad in the most holy of duties, to serve others in defence of liberty, indeed in the defence of all existence. Never before has the United States in their multiversal existence been threatened this way, and we are standing here, in the Senate and deliberating when we should righteously go forth and restore other to this. But I will not let the United States be crucified for all to see when everything is at stake. But th-” Holden interrupted himself with a cough, and took a drink of a clear brown liquid to warm his throat.
Arcane leaned towards another spectator. “Think that he will go on?” he asked.
“Holden talks and talks and talks. Better settle in for a long while,” the spectator, a man, no more than forty years of age answered. He turned to look at Arcane. “Say, been some time since I saw a diplomat here. What brings the ambassador to this place?”
“I was sent here to make sure that all Preservation forces would stay strong. And if intervention is needed,” Arcane said, tilting his head towards the senators.
“For what it’s worth, I think that they should get it over with. This is a system in collapse and even if Preservation wins out, this is the swan song of the Union,” the spectator said, a depressing look on his face as he pulled out a newspaper. “You wouldn’t be able to get me into the Merodi, could you?”
“Don’t know yet. I’ve been seeing a lot more societies pull themselves from the brink. Don’t count them out just yet,” Arcane said, tapping on his communicator. “As for your other question...I can pull some strings if you come to the embassy. Nothing other than that. Keep it quiet,” Arcane continued, as he levitated a card over to the spectator.
“I’ll make sure of that.”
“I never got your name actually, besides, if you want to have me try and do something to help you get in.”
“Oh, my name? Titov. Mikhail Titov,” Titov said, stretching out a hand. Arcane stuck his own hoof out, shaking on it. Holden kept on talking, even as some looked, or indeed listened elsewhere.
“-ie down is not a solution, that will never be the verdict of the Multican people today, tomorrow and forever. So I say to all assembled, and to the House next door. You shall not press down upon the brow of the United States the crown of thorns. You shall not crucify the Union upon a cross of bureaucracy!” Holden said, even shouted out the last few words to the Chamber, seizing the attention of everyone in the Chamber.
“Uhhh...Thank you, Senator Holden for your contribution. Senator Catalina of Concordia has the call,” the Secretary said, communicator shaken out of his hand by Holden’s oratory talents. Alexander rose to the occasion and talked.
“I’ll echo the statements made by my esteemed colleague in the Senate,” Catalina began. “It is here that we stand at a crossroads. When that November, my beloved home state rose in rebellion, we watched idly by. We cannot do this now. We must be a force for good in the world. But good is not soft. Whenever the enemies of liberty and prosperity rise, they have chosen to classify themselves as enemies to the Union, and enemies to us. I feel I must make it clear to support a report, the report, the minority report on our Union. We must take all action to make sure that this insurrection is put down, even if it requires a universe bomb or a neutron bath. A Righteous Fury must sweep down and snuff this insurrection out,” Catalina finished in a sharp, thunderous tone.
“I’ll take a few more inputs from the Senators assembled before we move on to the vote. Senator Jackson of Searit has the floor.”
“I thank my colleagues for their contributions to the debate,” Jackson began, his powerful voice forgoing the need for a microphone. “However, I must say that they are all wrong. When I entered this Chamber fifty years ago, I saw a much different chamber. I saw people that cared about the direction of this country. Indeed, a lynch mob is coming to hang all of you gathered here, and I am undecided on whether to stick in here with you or to go out here and lead them. But I say. There is still time left to remedy this. We must share the prosperity that the Union has produced. We must make every man a king. With th-”
“Can you hear that?” Arcane asked Titov.
“What?”
“The sounds from outside the chamber. They’re getting stronger. Thump, thump, thump,” Arcane said, tapping away on his communicator, messages running past his eyes, all saying the same thing.
“I can hear them when you say it, yes. It’s not rhythmic. It’s more...steppe-like?”
“I think it is time to leave. Think some major things are about to go down here,” Arcane said, rising from his seat and began to head towards the door. He held the communicator up to his ear. “Central? Contact Lemon and Lavender. I think something is about to shake the alliance quite heavily soon.”
With that, Arcane left, Titov soon following after. A number of ponies, no doubt also Merodi citizens, also got up and left, trickling out of the chamber. And just as Holden didn’t notice the gallery as he spoke, Jackson did not either.
“For we have a problem. We have a wealth problem. We have a farm problem. We have a structural problem. The wealth has been concentrated. The money that is not in those hands would not even cover a thousandth of it. If you took that money that paid down the debts, you’d have barely made a dent. Even if you did that ten thousand times, it would only make a small chip of it. I urge people to support the Prosperity Change Program. I urge the Senators gathered to support it later today when it is up for the vote,” Jackson’s voice boomed through the chamber.
“Senator Roland for Calisota has the floor,” The Secretary quickly said.
“Today, it is a time for choosing,” Roland said. “The people in the insurrection find that this government, the government of the United States has no other power except what is lent to it by the sovereign people is an old idea, but it is an idea that we have moved away from. And the issue, the core issue of this is that we that we chose to trade liberty for security and we have lost both with this. Indeed, the most dangerous words in our language are ‘I’m from the government and I’m here to help’. It is clear that the government has failed with its tactics in this. We must reach out and talk, reach out and reconcile with them. We have a rendezvous with fate itself. That the narrative wants to march us towards. We need to preserve our children in the multiverse, that we must safeguard every Multican, or we plunge ourselves into an eternity of darkness. I yield the floor.” Murmurs went through the audience when he finished.
“We only have a few minutes before the debate is to end. The Chair recognizes the Senator from Joel, Miss Countach.”
“Esteemed colleagues,” Countach began. “Our Union is in crisis. We face an insurrection, and yet we are in this place talking and talking when we should be fighting on the frontlines for preserving our precious nation. It stinks to the high heavens of both unpatriotism and small-mindedness that they would rather attack those that seek a better life. I ask, has anyone actually read their declaration? It is plain to see. No, we need to move forward as a nation and ask for the help of our allies in the Merodi and other societies fighting for preservation to negotiate on our behalf.”
Shame! The shouts cried synchronically from the viewing gallery and some of the gathered senators.
“I will not be cowed. Not by people who are on the wrong side of history. Not by people who seek my death. Not by people who point out the splinter in people’s eyes, yet miss the beam in their own. Mr. Secretary. I commend this statement to the Senate.”
“The question is the Authorization of Military Force against the Concordia Insurrection. The clerk will call the roll,” the Secretary said. The thunder outside the doors had become more and more prominent. Thump. Thump. Thump. The crackles and pops could also now be clearly heard by everyone inside the chamber.
“Mr. Alexander of Clermont,” the clerk called out. Aye
“Mr. Alexander of Kartran.” Aye
The thunder grew ever stronger. Spread highly-pitched noises runged through the halls as Senators gave their vote. The sounds grew deeper and more spread around the Chamber.
Boom! A dull explosion went through the Chamber, shaking the dust off the statues and the curtains. The great double doors, that had seen so many great orators and shakers, were shattered to pieces.
Immediately after the explosion, dust kicked up. Splinters shot out from the shattered doors. From the hallways, rockets shot out and bombs were thrown in, sending debris flying. The rockets’ red glare, the bombs bursting in the air gave proof through the night that everyone needed as the cameras kept broadcasting. The Union was falling.
People and creatures of all stripes and colors entered the chamber. Some were sporting crude armor and firearms or energy weapons. Others just held melee weapons, clubs, swords, knives, or even stones held in magic for the few unicorns.
Bullets flew through the air. Senators fell one by one, taking a bullet or a sword, ending their service in one swoop. The Secretary was killed by a piece of debris falling upon him, shattering his skull. Jackson only momentarily avoided the first bullet shot at him, his military service kicking in. All for naught, as another rocket struck the table besides him, impaling him with splinters. But it is in these times that bravery shows. Von Humpeding, having seen numerous fights and riots, yet seemed in her physical prime, fought back with a ferocious tenacity, biting, clawing, striking her way through the masses.
Thirty. Sixty. Ninety senators. All fell as the invaders streamed into the chamber. Some lucky ones managed to escape— but most died. The Gallery didn’t fare much better. A hail of bullets, calibers varying, mixed in with plasma bolts, ripped through the spectators, leaving bodies in their wake. Even von Humpeding was overwhelmed, every enemy she had cut down being replaced by five more. It became too much for her, and she bowed out, turning into a cloud of bats, fleeing before she herself became overwhelmed.
More armed people streamed into the room, indiscriminately shooting senators and spectators alike. Debris lay strewn around the chamber, hunks of marble where majestic columns once stood barely a couple of minutes before. And yet, there was one structure mostly undamaged save for a few bullet holes in this. The dais, the seat of the Secretary and President stood as a lone majesty in all the death and destruction. A man neared it, the battle fatigues he wore standing out. Not the rag-tag of the rebels, this man had kept his attire in order. He ascended the stairs to the dais. He began speaking as the intruders trained the cameras on him.
“This is a message to all of the Union. All who have stood for the oppression of the Multican people will be tried in the popular court right now. Under the Constitution of the Union, I am invoking the right to resist any oppressive government. We will not stand before a government wantonly and brazenly engraving a climate resistant to peaceful reform. As the Founding Fathers said, that doing that, will make violent revolution inevitable. So, as such, I proclaim the Second Republic of the United States of the Multiverse. All armed forces are to continue supporting Preservation, but they are also to engage and destroy traitors to the Union. Thank you, and may God Bless These United States.”
‘Broadcast’
By Mal Masque
Yesterday is history. Tomorrow is a mystery. Today is a closed package with instructions not to be opened until given the correct authorization to do so. Welcome… to Night Vale.
It has been three days since the broadcast that had revealed the meaning of existence reached our quiet little town. And yet the people of Night Vale still have no real idea what to make of this sudden proclamation. While the Sheriff’s Secret Police continue to rule this as a mass psychic prank done by “those darn kids”, several skeptics continue to hold a theory that yes, we indeed have learned that existence has been dictated by a Dark Tower in a field of eternal roses, treating our very lives as stories to follow a narrative. This has spurred a crisis of faith and identity in many citizens of Night Vale, before being swiftly reminded that such actions do not matter, as we already are pawns in an intricate web of intrigue and mystery dictated by countless vague, yet menacing government agents, all-powerful gods from beyond the Scrub Lands, and our very own City Council.
When asked to comment on the matter during the recent press conference, the City Council had made the following proclamation: “What Tower? There’s no Tower. Have you ever heard of a Tower? That’s just stupid. You’re stupid for believing that a Tower made by an ancient civilization that wanted to give meaning to life via a narrative is actually real. I mean whaaaaaaaaaat?” The City Council then proceeded to curse something about flags, remove one of the microphones from the podium, and began continuously punching it with their unified fist. This continued for the remainder of the press conference. More on the story as it continues to develop.
And now, traffic. There is a man sitting on a bench upon a hill, overlooking a dead tree. He always sits upon this bench, this time of day. He stares at the tree down below, a gnarled black hand reaching up to the sky. There may have once been a reason he spent so much time watching this tree, but he has forgotten. So has the tree. So has the bench. So have you. There is a man sitting on a bench, upon a hill, overlooking a dead tree. And we do not know why. This has been traffic.
Scientists continue to be absolutely baffled by the proclamation by the voice in the sky on the matter of our very existence. One such scientist, my wonderful and handsome husband Carlos, has been working tirelessly to formulate some scientific response to it. His charts are all over the living room, every time he comes up with something close, Carlos gets this big smile on his perfect face, waving his arms and saying “I think I’ve got it, Cecil! I think I’ve got it this time!”. A few minutes later he comes back and I end up giving him a much needed comfort hug. This whole matter is definitely confusing, listeners, I just wish there was some solution so I could see my husband continuously smile instead of just having to deal with this on-off mood switch.
And now, let’s take a look at the community calendar. Sunday is Half-Off at Big Rico’s Pizza, in which any patron who orders a large pizza will have fifty-percent of their body removed. Monday, the Church of the Smiling God will be hosting a backyard potluck barbeque and worship seminar, and has changed locations from Douglas Stansbury’s house in Old Night Vale to the edge of Radon Canyon. Be sure to bring your RSVP card, and a small bag of human teeth! Tuesday gave up and is just going to stay in bed. Wednesday will be covering for Tuesday. Friday will be the exciting conclusion of the ongoing ethics and theology debate at Night Vale Community College: ‘What day is Taco Day to be mandatory?’. Waivers will be prepared for all those seeking to attend. This has been the community calendar.
Listeners, I’m being told by Intern Lucas in the booth that unexpected visitors have arrived in the studio. He is currently waving his arms in the booth, trying to get my attention. Now there are two men in the booth with him, a man who is not tall and a man who is not short. Lucas has now stopped wildly flailing, as the man who is not short just put a potato sack over his head. Lucas is now being dragged off, and the man who is not tall has his hands over the controls, while also gesturing for me to come hither. I’m going to get this resolved, this will be an opportune moment to take a look at the weather.
…. (https://youtu.be/dmmtQ-kXkMM - “The Boy Beneath” by The Cog is Dead)
Listeners, I have returned from my very lengthy and very… evocative meeting with the agents from the vague, yet menacing government agency. They have told me a great many things about the message that was broadcast throughout our fair town. We all know of the Great Glowing Coils of the Universe, how they weave about and form lines and x’s in our stars and create are the foundations of our very reality. We know of the great and terrible Gods that have laid claim to our small town: The Glow Cloud (all hail), the Distant Prince and his Court, the Woman from Italy, even the Faceless Old Woman who lives in your home, we know of them all. We even knew of Huntokarr, the loving goddess who cared for a small town so much that she spared us from a fate that doomed all else left, even if time ceased to be in the process. The agents told me this, reminded me of it. They told me more, but I am forbidden from saying, for the safety of myself, my loved ones, and the town itself. They have permitted me to deliver this message to you, listeners. This very important message: no matter which side wins in the brewing war beyond the cosmos, the war that makes the Blood-Space Wars in the far-flung future look like a casual skirmish at a shopping mall, Night Vale will live on. Night Vale has always lived on. And we always will.
On another note, I would also like to extend a message of condolences to the family of Intern Lucas, as he has been taken by the vague, yet menacing government agency for potential processing and summary execution for delaying government officials on important matters. He will be missed as a valuable member of the Night Vale Radio team, as will we miss the donuts he brought every morning to appease Station Management. Tune in next to the sound of a room filled with nothing but bees and a man running three spoons on a washboard. Good night, Night Vale. Good night.
‘The Meaning of Redemption’
Hell.
The word means different things to different people.
Punishment. Torment. Solitude. Life itself. And every myriad of creative interpretations in between. Some think it a literal aspect of existence, some think it’s little more than a silly story.
One of the many cruelties of the Dark Tower is that nothing is ever just a silly story.
No matter what Hell actually is—whether it exists or not in some absolute sense, whether it truly is a place of eternal pain or nothing more than a place of continued, purposeless existence—the Tower has taken all of those ideas and turned them into reality thousands upon thousands of times over within the folds of the D-Sphere and its surrounding territories within the Cosmic Heavens.
Hells exist where people are subject to constant, maximum pain at all times, going past their natural pain blockers to absolutely ensure they never get used to the suffering. There are Hells that are literal pits of fire, Hells with many circles of punishment, and Hells where the demons find pleasure in tormenting each person personally.
Some are dark. Some are lonely. Some are crowded and filled with the worst of humanity. Some have society, some are anarchy.
To most of these Hells, the events of the Message and the War for Existence were pointless to consider. What could they do, trapped as they were in an eternal punishment? What did it really change?
In a few, it offered a chance at hope. Maybe they could be freed from the torment. Maybe the new world offered by the collapse would give them a new start… maybe…
In one particular Hell, things were a little different. Unlike the majority of the planes of damnation, this one held within it a spark of hope, a story reaching for something far above what most dared. A dream living through the bustle of a tall, barely functioning hotel.
Charlie, Princess of Hell, let out a scream of rage so intense her office desk burnt to cinders around her.
No.
All of my work can’t lead to… nothing!
There was a polite knock at her door.
Dusting the soot off her clothes, Charlie forced a brilliant, rosy smile back onto her face that matched her blush stickers a lot more than the murderous scowl that reigned supreme not two seconds ago. “Come in!” She pressed her hands together in a manner as welcoming as she could imagine and did her best to pretend the fate of existence hadn’t just run through her head.
And that she hadn’t just burned down her desk. That was a thing that didn’t need to be discussed.
The door slid open eerily, revealing her red colleague in the hotel business: a tall, menacing demon with a somehow amiable—albeit toothy—smile that dominated his features. When he spoke, it sounded as though everything came through an old, slightly-offset radio. “I think we’ll have to cancel Halloween, my dear.”
“What? W-why would you say that, Alastor?” Charlie asked nervously. “Everything’s fine, the hotel’s still here, we’ve still got our mission, and nobody’s rioting!”
Something exploded two floors beneath them. “EVERY DEMON FOR THEMSELVES!”
Alastor adjusted his monocle. “You certain?”
“Positive,” Charlie asserted.
“AUGH! WHAT DOES LIFE EVEN MEAN!? AM I ALIVE!?”
Alastor and Charlie stared at each other for a few moments in silence as the sounds below them continued to rise in intensity and brutality.
“Okay fine we’ll cancel Halloween,” Charlie grumbled, trudging to the elevator. “And we’ll… fix this.”
“Splendid! Here, you can use my microphone.”
Charlie grabbed it from him, grimace deepening as she contemplated it.
“Chin up, princess! You are their hope, you’ve got to go down there with that splendid smile of yours and tell them everything’s going to be alright! Be the ‘hero’ of the ‘story’.”
“You just want to see me fail miserably.”
“Absolutely. That doesn’t mean I’m lying.”
With a resigned sigh, Charlie pulled her shoulders back, straightened her posture, and put on a smile—not too large or comical, but what she hoped was a calming, serene smile.
The elevator doors opened to the Hazbin Hotel lobby, currently filled with several demons lighting things on fire, screaming, panicking, or bouncing around laughing like the madmen they were.
Charlie tapped the microphone and cleared her throat gently. Then she bared her teeth and screamed bloody murder into the microphone with a vocal intensity that came from pits of darkness few demons present had ever imagined.
They all stared at their nice, adorable landlord with complete shock and disbelief. The mic’s feedback was the only sound besides their concerned breathing.
Charlie kept her smile warm and welcoming. “Now that I have your attention… as most of you are no doubt aware a message upsetting our very perceptions of reality has forced itself into our skulls!” She paused, trying to collect herself, unable to keep from giving off a slight vibe of uncertainty. “A lot of us are unsure what our lives even mean because of this… multiverse, this Tower, and this question about where we want to go.
“I want you to know that none of you are alone in that. Look around at the faces of your fellow demons—they’re just as angry and confused as you are! I’m just as angry and confused as you are! I…” She dropped her smile and took a breath. “I lashed out. When it hit me just… a minute ago, I don’t even know, I felt like everything I’d done, everything we’d done, was completely worthless. Insignificant. Tiny. I mean, come on, there’s a multiverse out there separate from Hell, Heaven, Earth, everything! And here we are just trying to be better people and lower the suffering… in a world where the ‘story’ is eternal damnation for sins.
“But!” Charlie straightened her back and held a hand up high. “I don’t think it’s worthless! So what, we’ve yet to get a single soul to heaven—we’re still here, together, living to be better people! Remember all the things we’ve done! All our celebrations, dinners, and the moments we shared. We never experienced this kind of life out there, in the rest of Hell! We’re different and… and I think that’s worth something! What we have here, it’s beautiful. And no matter what some stupid message says, we’ll stand together!” She jumped into the air and beamed at her demonic patrons.
Outside, things exploded as Hell turned into a panicked warzone. Here, though, there was silence for a moment.
One moment.
“Fuck that, the world’s about to collapse! End! I’m living while I still can!”
“YEAH!”
“What? No!” Charlie called, holding out her hand—but already the majority of the demons charged out of the hotel and into the streets of the Pentagram. “No, we’re different, we need to stick together, we…”
She fell to her knees, dropping Alastor’s microphone as more and more demons ran out of the hotel. A few of them had the decency to look at her with sad expressions and say “sorry,” but most of them didn’t give her a second glance.
All they’d needed was an excuse to go back to the way things were, and they took it. Taking the purpose of Hazbin Hotel with them…
She broke when she saw the cat-like Husk walking out.
“Husk…”
Her receptionist sighed. “I’m not goin’ to a bar, if that’s what you’re thinkin’.” He chugged some of his signature cheap booze. “Goin’ to see if anyone’s actually gonna build that Collapse Ring thing.”
“But… it’d kill so many…!”
“Yes. And then we might get out of Hell.” He left without another word.
Charlie’s hands fell to the floor and tears started flowing from her face. It was all gone.
A gray demon with an X over one of her eyes knelt down to Charlie’s level. “Hey…”
“Vaggie, it’s… just don’t.” She hugged the demon anyway. “We’re done… everything’s done…”
“…I don’t think so,” Vaggie said, directing Charlie’s gaze to a demon who had stayed. A certain spider-like man in a pink suit with considerable chest fluff.
“A-angel…?” Charlie said, eyes watering.
“Eh, what am I gonna do, fuck off?” Angel rubbed the back of his head with two hands at once. “This dump is my home now, for better or worse. I’m not going to abandon you just because some bastards decide everything needs to explode in a climactic final showdown.”
Charlie let out a squeal and pulled Angel into a hug. “Oh thank you thank you thank you Angel you’re the best!”
“Took you that long to realize? Girl, you need to get that head of yours screwed on better.”
Charlie rolled her eyes. “Okay… okay, that’s one. Anyone else…?”
Her eyes landed on the only other demon in the room. Alastor.
“…Why are you still here?” Charlie asked. “You’ve got your microphone back. I bet the world out there is more entertaining to your insatiable boredom now.”
“Quite the contrary,” Alastor said. “I believe my place is here.” He pointed his microphone at Charlie. “With the hero of our little story.”
“What…?”
“There’s a Tower out there that brings stories to life, my dear. What better story would there be than the princess of Hell itself bringing redemption to the lost and wayward? A good pick me up, feel-good story inserted into an image of darkness and damnation.” He turned around, looking at the red, smoke-filled sky of Hell. “Oh, I’m not going anywhere. Whatever’s about to happen… it’s not going to happen in your old man’s palace, or the labs of mad scientist demons, it’s going to happen here. In this little hotel trying to do something impossible.”
He whirled around, fixing her with a psychotic grin. “And the impossible is where I plant my radio station.”
“You… you believe in the hotel!?”
“I certainly believe some misguided soul would write a story where the irredeemable scum of the earth nonetheless find their way. So, if you want to put it into a simple word… yes, I believe you’ve finally convinced me.”
“The message convinced you,” Vaggie deadpanned.
“Details,” Alastor said with a dismissive wave.
“So… since we’re all here…” Angel folded his arms. “What are we gonna do now?”
Charlie’s face broke out into a grin. “…I have an idea. Alastor, set up a radio, we’re going to challenge channel 666 for some airtime!”
“Bad idea,” Vaggie grunted.
“Excellent idea!” Alastor laughed. “Let’s get started right away!”
~~~
Charlie tapped the microphone. Certain it was picking her up, she flicked a switch. “Good morning Hell! It’s your host, the Princess of Hell, Charlie!” She paused while Alastor played a soft applause noise. “Here to bring you the latest on the chaos we call our afterlives and the mysterious circumstances of the Choice! I’m joined, as always, by the radio demon Alastor…”
“Charmed as always to offer commentary on the delightful plight of everything that surrounds us!”
“…this is Hazbin Radio!” Charlie waited for Alastor’s little “theme song” sound effect to play. “Getting right into it today, the violence in the majority of the Pentagram has only gotten worse since our last broadcast.”
“I almost made the trip to see it myself!”
“I’m surprised you didn’t.”
“Well, as exciting as seeing repurposed Exterminator weapons might be, I don’t have an erasure wish.”
“Heheh…” Charlie shook her head. “That’s right, a cache of restored Exterminator weapons has been found. We don’t know the details, but we do know that a push to Lucifer’s Palace has begun and some are saying there’s a chance of a successful… breach.”
“Don’t you worry your pretty little head, Charlie, I’m sure Lucifer’s got more tricks up his sleeve than some simple guards. Who knows what kind of crazy demons he’s got in that basement of his? …Aside from you, of course.”
“Heheh… Yeah that’s part of what I’m afraid of but let’s not talk about that!” Charlie cleared her throat. “Already the erasure count of demons has hit the hundreds as the push continues. Hundreds of homes have been wiped off the map and numerous ‘dimension labs’ have been demolished, ruining a lot of research that had been going toward opening a dimensional portal. This, sadly, includes the lab we had secretly been working with and referred to as ‘Site 19’ over the last few broadcasts…”
“They were quite helpful while they lasted. Though their latest findings aren’t as hopeful as Charlie has been talking it up.”
Charlie made sure to sigh audibly—she’d been told they were too quiet to hear a few days ago. “Yes… unfortunately, the last thing Site 19 was able to uncover before the explosion last night was a seeming law of dimensional travel through our universe. We are what is known as a ‘black hole’ universe. We can receive transmissions and portals can be opened to us, but without more advanced methods the reverse isn’t true.”
“It seems as though Hell was designed this way, listeners!” Alastor stood up tall even though none of them could actually see him. “A world built to be a trap with only one entrance and no way out. But we know full well that those Exterminators come and go every year from their realm… I’d be very interested to see what happens at the next cleansing in a few weeks. Do you think any demon will be brave enough to try and force their way through that connection? Site 19 thought it was possible, as does my own research.”
“I wouldn’t do it, personally.” Charlie tapped a finger on the table. “It’s just too dangerous to go up against them. And they must have gotten the Message as well—there’s a decent chance they won’t even come because they have to deal with that instead!”
“We’ll just wait and see, won’t we?”
“Depending on if the Seats can agree or not.” Charlie shuffled the papers in front of her. “Which moves us to our next segment… Things Alastor’s Dimensional Radio Picks Up.”
“My favorite!”
“And everyone else’s too, apparently,” Charlie said, legitimately shocked at how many responses they had gotten to it over the last few days. It was new and crazy information, but Alastor’s radio design had already been copied by the rest of Hell, it wasn’t like they couldn’t find this information themselves. But so many demons, even those not affiliated with the Hotel, wanted to hear it so much. “The biggest news is that the Seats discussions appear to be wrapping up, and not in a good way. The major powers of the multiverse have almost gone to war several times and last-minute gambits from those who want peace are all that’s keeping it together.”
“They’re never going to agree on anything,” Alastor declared. “It’s obvious. Even if they get a solid majority—which they have had, a few times—some aspects of their societies will hate the compromise and trigger a war of some kind or other that’ll make the ‘hellish’ spat outside look like a garden party with fresh crumpets.”
“Well… I like Nanoha Takamachi’s willingness to go the extra mile for the sake of peace and everyone’s lives.”
“She’s an idealist. Reminds me of someone.”
Charlie rolled her eyes. “Riiight… Anyway, beyond that, we did manage to receive word that Corona Shimmer will be receiving a trial and that her nation, Merodi Universalis, has sided with preservation. Not much else is known since we don’t receive many of their transmissions around here.”
“They are going to fry that bacon-haired woman.”
“I think so, sadly…” Charlie shook her head. “She just wanted to give everyone a choice.”
“Quite foolish. What, did she just expect everyone to agree on a choice? She should have taken it upon herself to collapse everything and be done with it. But she just wasn’t strong enough, was she?”
“It takes strength to admit you don’t have the right to do something.”
“Not all strength is smart, Charlie.”
“And not all smarts are good, Alastor!” Charlie took a break to calm herself. “Anyway… I know a lot of this is scary and that so much of what you all have attached to in this world has… fallen apart. But remember, Hazbin Hotel is always open to whoever wants to come! We are explicitly neutral in all Hell turf wars and will take either collapse or preservation supporters in. If you don’t have a home, we have one for you—even if it is a little crowded.”
“See what I have seen. The little wars happening outside are little drops in the pond of existence. This Hotel is where the real magic of our story happens…” Alastor let out an ominous, low chuckle. “And now the weather!”
Angel Dust burst into the room, strumming two guitars. “Woooooooooooaaaaaah~!
I have a little thing to tell you all about me
Deep inside I have a light that grows just like a tree
There’s a moment in us all where we know what we must be
But I’m sitting here confusin’ you with my glorious…
CHEST FLOOF!”
“What in the…?” Charlie said, legitimately baffled.
“CHEST FLOOF!
Stickin’ out all effeminate!
CHEST FLOOF!
Signalin’ the reprobate!
CHEST FLOOF!”
Angel performed a little guitar solo on both guitars at once and subsequently bowed.
“…That was not the weather,” Alastor observed.
“The weather’s always ‘blood rain’ or ‘explosion front’,” Angel said. “Figured your listeners needed some entertainment.”
Alastor thought about this for a moment. “The Weather containing songs instead of weather is an interesting and unexpected idea…”
“I do still have to give the weather,” Charlie pointed out.
“Go right ahead, nothing’s stopping you.”
“Right. Thanks, I guess, Angel Dust?”
“Don’t mention it.” Angel strummed again.
“Anyway… the blood rain intensity has increased sevenf—”
The entire world shook.
“Uh…” Charlie’s pupils shrunk as she realized what that meant. “Listeners, I’ve got to go off air. Try to find somewhere safe.” She flicked a switch. “Alastor?”
Alastor was already running to the room where he kept his special radio—a skull with speakers where its eyes should be and all sorts of wires spiraling off it onto the floor, where a mixture of a pentagram and a spirograph were etched into the fabric. He checked the printing tape coming out of its back, quickly reading through the garbled mess and picking out the most important phrases.
His smile vanished.
Charlie had never seen that happen before.
“What? What is it!?” Angel shouted, flailing his arms.
“The Gods are destroying each other,” Alastor said, taking a few steps back from the paper. “It’ll consume us.”
“No…” Charlie said. “No… No, not again! We built all this we… we have to do something! We…”
“Shit shit shit shit!” Angel started pulling his hair out. “Th—“
He stopped when he saw what was happening out the window. Charlie couldn’t blame him; the sight was too spectacular to look away from, no matter how destructive it was. The fabric of hell itself was coming apart as fractals of light mixed with darkness intertwined with the blood falling from the sky. Massive demon warships turned their weapons on the rifts only to be torn to shreds themselves, twisting into impossible shapes of unnatural materials that had no right to exist in this spiritual plane.
I’m going to be erased, Charlie thought, watching as the fractals approached Hazbin Hotel. Everyone I’ve ever known is going to be erased. All this work… all for nothing.
She wanted to look away, but couldn’t.
What was the point of this ‘story?’
The fractal rip approached her… and froze.
“Well, it looks like you lot got yourselves in quite the pickle!”
“Alastor…?” Charlie asked.
Alastor smirked. “That wasn’t me. But it was.”
“What…?”
Alastor directed her attention to another Alastor standing in a dimensional portal wearing a blue suit rather than a red one.
A dimensional portal.
“While I do love examining all your bemused expressions, this temporal lock isn’t going to last forever!” Blue Alastor tapped his scepter onto the ground. “Do I have your permission to evacuate as many demons from this Hell as our technology allows?”
“YES! YES, HELL YES, DO IT PLEASE!” Angel whined, falling to his knees.
“Lovely sentiment, but you’re not the ruler of Hell.” Blue Alastor pointed at Charlie. “This is yours.”
“But…” Charlie realized that the palace would have already been torn apart by the fractals.
Don’t think about that.
“Yes. Take us out of here… Blue Alastor.”
Blue Alastor smirked. “Call me Alastar.”
“That won’t be confusing at all!” Alastor remarked.
“Why do you think I chose it?” Alastar laughed.
The two of them shared a chaotic laugh.
“Anyway, hold on to your limbs, this is going to hurt like nothing in Hell ever has.”
“Wait wh—“
Angel was interrupted by Alastar pulling out a blue remote and pressing a single button.
Then there was light. Searing, brilliant, holy light that made Charlie wish she could die, followed quickly by the thought that this light might actually kill her. Her truedemon body writhed and boiled in the intensity, screaming at its antithesis.
The light was replaced with darkness. Charlie felt it restore her… but she also felt the part of it she kept at bay with her very life seep into her heart and her mind. The screams, the torture, and the urges to be done with it all and lay waste to everything she hated…
With a pop, it was over. She was standing with Alastor, Alastar, and Angel Dust on a white platform. Alastar was holding a red sphere in his hands with a single, fractal-like crack along its edge…
Is that…?
“Yes it is,” Alastar pocketed the sphere. “All of your Hell, little more than a marble.”
“We’re out!?” Angel asked, looking himself over—surprised to find that he was still a spider-demon. “We’re out! FUCK YEAH BABY, WE BROKE OUT OF HELL!”
“And look at where we are!” Alastor laughed, placing a hand on Charlie’s shoulder and pointing. “Still think our story meant nothing?”
Charlie followed his finger… and her jaw dropped. A colorful, red and pink building rose before them, surrounded by fluffy white clouds. The windows were red, but not evilly so, and numerous dimensional portals opened around it every few seconds giving momentary glimpses into other worlds.
At the top of the building, there was a sign.
Hazbin Hotel.
“It’s amazing what you can do with some ingenuity and a dimensional device,” Alastar said. “Come, I’ll show you inside!”
~~~
It was even better on the inside.
Her Hazbin had been underfunded, understaffed, and run down since the day she opened it. Sure, they’d made it home and had many good memories there, but sometimes the dreary disrepair got to her.
This place was spotless. The soft, carpeted floors hadn’t the slightest trace of dirt, the walls were almost like mirrors, and the furnishings were tastefully placed to give this Hazbin a lot of open space rather than a cluttered feel.
There were a lot more than just demons wandering around here. In fact, if Charlie was a betting woman, she’d say that demons were the minority of the hotel’s occupants. There were full-blown humans, pony-like creatures, wisps of energy, and even a few… angels.
The last category would have made Charlie too scared to move had they not currently been talking to what looked a lot like a version of Angel Dust, except he lacked the chest floof and was dressed in what appeared to be a doctor’s uniform.
Catching sight of them, the spidery demon dismissed his angelic conversation partners and bounded over to them. “I see you’ve snagged a new batch, Lite Brite!”
Alastar twirled his scepter in a bizarrely cheerful manner. “It appears I have, Doctor Dust!”
“Doctor!?” Angel sputtered, gawking at himself.
“You’d be surprised how much you learn about medicine and anatomy in the biz if you stop to think,” Doctor Dust commented, placing an arm around his other self.
“So they pay you to do th—“
Alastar rammed his scepter into Angel’s face. “No, they do not, and no, we cannot discuss further. We have a rating to maintain, after all!”
“I knew it!” Alastor declared. “An outwardly-imposed filter on events to make them suitable for the audience at hand!”
“Careful with that Awareness, wouldn’t want it to bite your head off!”
“I think you mean yours!”
The two Alastors laughed, putting their arms around each other, all the while locking their menacing, dangerous gazes.
“You two aren’t going to try to kill each other, right?” Charlie asked.
“Who the fuck cares!?” Angel shouted. “I want to know why I can’t talk about fu—”
Doctor Dust slapped a hand over his counterpart’s face. “Don’t you worry your pretty blue head any, I’ll get this sleazy spider with the other Angels.”
“Probably for the best,” Alastor admitted. “He would just interrupt a lot of otherwise important exchanges.”
“Wait!” Charlie called, putting a hand on Doctor Dust. “Are you…?”
“Redeemed?” The Doctor smiled sadly. “Well, I say I am. Clean for decades and not working the streets like I assume this knucklehead is.”
“Hey!” Angel huffed. “It’s a legitimate living!”
“We need to get you into therapy. Don’t worry, it works, trust me.”
“But you’re still…” Charlie gestured at his demonic spidery-ness.
“You’ll probably want to talk to the boss lady about that one.” He grabbed two of Angel’s wrists and led him along. “Have fun, though!”
“I… will,” Charlie said, frowning. Suddenly she wasn’t looking forward to meeting the ‘boss lady’.
She wasn’t sure if she wanted it to be her or someone else.
“She’ll be waiting for us in the ice room,” Alastar said, leading them into an elevator.
“Ice room?” Charlie asked.
“Where we keep all the frozen universe marbles until we have the time to heal them.” Alastar took out the marble with her Hell in it. “Don’t worry, I’ll personally see to it that Vaggie and the others are removed post-haste, but introducing this overpopulated sphere into the Hotel all at once would be… problematic.”
“The chaos would be delicious, wouldn’t it?” Alastor asked.
Alastar laughed. “Charlie, my dear, do you think he’s realized that I’m ‘redeemed’ yet?”
“If he didn’t before he does now…” Charlie nervously watched Alastor’s expression for the next few moments, not sure exactly what to expect from him.
His smile didn’t falter. But the silence was deafening.
Ding!
“Here we are!” Alastar declared, walking out of the elevator and into a large, dark room filled with miles of shelving storing various universes compressed into marbles. “So many worlds to save, so little time…” He walked up to an empty shelf near the entrance and placed the orb down, marking it with a series of seemingly random numbers. “Now, she should be right… here!”
Charlie saw two people.
The first was a tall, graceful blue alicorn with stars in her mane and an orange-gold pendant around her neck with a ‘u’ symbol. Impressive, a goddess of the night sky if ever there was one.
The other was the boss of the hotel. A Charlie who looked… exactly like Charlie herself did, except wearing an all-white suit with pointed shoulder pads. She wasn’t even very tall, and that felt weird to Charlie for some reason.
“Are you sure?” the alicorn was saying.
“I’m sorry Overhead Jingle, but… the Hotel can’t take on your volunteers right now.” She twiddled her thumbs nervously. “We have to remain completely neutral in the War for Existence so we can help both sides and not make ourselves a target. If we use large quantity of Merodi volunteers instead of Hotel staff…” She shook her head. “I appreciate the thought, but we have to do this ourselves. You picked a side. We’re not going to. We’re going to help as many as we can who can’t help themselves.”
Jingle nodded. “I understand. And… I applaud you for the strength none of us seem to have.” She pulled out a dimensional device and left. “Take care of yourself, Cura.”
Charlie “Cura” waved back. “You too!”
“...Why ‘Cura’?” Charlie asked.
Cura turned around, looking to her counterpart with an awkward smile. “W-well, you see, it’s a name that means healing, but it also sounds like ‘kira’. You know. ‘Death’. I thought it was cute and meaningful or… something.”
Charlie’s concern vanished instantly. “Like how a hotel is just for those… passin’ through?”
Cura rubbed the back of her head. “Yeeeeah we’re plagued by cheesy names, aren’t we?”
“Yep!”
Cura coughed in her hand, turning to Alastor. “If you try to burn this place to the ground I’ll have Alastar here ‘twist’ you. I’ve never seen what ‘twisting’ means, but every Alastor I’ve told this to has suddenly started behaving, so I’m not questioning it. Do you understand?”
Alastor’s smile didn’t falter. “Crystal!”
“Good! Welcome to the Hotel, enjoy your stay! Alastar, soon as you’re convinced he’ll behave himself you can let him wander free and get back to work. Charlie…” Cura put a calming hand on her counterpart’s shoulder. “Walk with me, we clearly need to have a talk.”
“We… do?”
“Well, uh, if you don’t want to…”
“No, no I do!”
“Dear hellish bells, you two are definitely both Charlie,” Alastor chuckled. “Let’s leave them to their neurosis, my blue friend.”
“Right this way…”
The Charlies were left alone for a moment.
“We can probably turn him around, don’t worry,” Cura said, walking down the lines and lines of universe marbles. “So… questions?”
“How big is this place? How many do you rehabilitate? How do you marble universes? How—”
“I could just give you the brochure for that,” Cura chuckled. “Come on, I’m you, I know what you really want to ask.”
“…How many have you redeemed?”
“Ah. Yes. That.” Charlie kept walking down the hall, forcing an awkward smile. “Depends on your meaning of redemption.”
“What…?”
“Not a single demon from my home universe was ever allowed to go to our Heaven from work at the Hazbin Hotel.”
“Not a single one?”
“Not a single one. To be fair, we weren’t really stuck in our Hell for very long, but we had a lot of patrons and a lot of groupings… but the rules in our version were absolute. Once in Hell, always in Hell. So no, nobody was redeemed.” She smirked. “And yet, everybody was redeemed.”
“But we were supposed to solve the—
“We didn’t. But we made something better. We made people happy. We lived up to the original name. Demons were nice to each other, helped each other out, actually bothered to learn about each other and try to be better people. It was… it was beautiful. Once it was clear that nobody was getting to Heaven, nobody wanted to leave. And I call that a success.”
“But, if they weren’t allowed, does that really mean…?”
“You can’t base what’s ‘good’ and ‘evil’ based on what some story thought Heaven should be like.” Cura closed her eyes, a nostalgic smile crawling up her face. “Every one we’ve encountered is a little different. Most of them that I’m assured are ‘theologically sound’ don’t even care about behavior, instead focusing more on the heart and will to get that ticket to the land of puffy clouds.”
“So… it really was hopeless?”
“I don’t know if yours would have worked or not. I’ve seen some versions that do just fine! But others, like mine, were impossible without dimensional weirdness.” She stopped short, putting her hands on Charlie’s shoulders. “But that doesn’t mean it was actually hopeless. Remember the friendships, the bonds, the happiness you had together. By doing that, you made Hell a better place. I know we did.”
“Just by trying to be better people.”
“Just by trying to be better people.” Cura stopped walking, looking at a picture hanging on an empty wall between the halls of universe marbles. The image was of a Hazbin Hotel in slightly better condition than the one Charlie had just left. There Cura stood, wearing just what Charlie was now. Alastor, Angel, Vaggie, Niffty, Husk, several demons Charlie didn’t recognize… they were all standing outside the doors and smiling.
Except one of them wasn’t a demon.
She was a purple-pink unicorn with a Reverend’s collar and a halo above her head.
“Wh-wh-wh…”
“Ah, Rev,” Cura smiled. “Tower sent her right to us after she got out of that horrible Nexus. Put her through quite a crisis of faith and Hell itself through a different sort of crisis. A believer in Hell? Ridiculous. But here she was, all magical and everything, and she helped us work in the Hotel. She was eventually the force that got us all out of Hell through dimensional portals and… well, her disciples still help run the modern Hotel’s chapel.”
“You have a CHAPEL!?”
“Why not? We’re not in Hell anymore. Lots of people want it.”
“Wh…”
“If she were still here I’d tell you to talk with her, she’s got some very interesting viewpoints. A lot calmer, these days.” Cura giggled. “I remember when she was stuck with us and she yelled at herself in the mirror like a crazy person.”
Charlie wasn’t sure what to make of the idea of a Reverend working at the Hotel. It just felt… wrong, to her.
Maybe that was because she hadn’t had a Rev. Her Hotel had been doomed to fail without help like that.
“Hey…” Cura said, noticing Charlie’s frown. “It’s okay. Your Hotel was a great thing. And its legacy isn’t over, even as the multiverse falls apart?”
“Why wouldn’t it be? Our Hotel’s stuck in a marble and you’ve got it all under control…”
“I could always use more staff. In these trying times, we need as much help as we can get. We need demons who want to help others become more than themselves, not worry about some… war.” She extended a hand. “What do you say?”
Charlie didn’t even have to think. “Of course!”
“Great! We can start immediately, get your hotel staff out of ice…”
“…Actually, one thing I’m curious about.” Charlie tapped her shoe nervously. “Why… why Hell? Like… at all? Why?”
“Because people wrote stories about it. As for the other reason, if your version of God was anything like mine, he’s just a bastard. Really does all the others a disservice. But writers want to corrupt the idea of ‘perfection’ all over the place…”
“Oh. Okay.”
“Anyway, let’s get your Hotel ready…”
The conversation moved on, but Charlie’s mind didn’t. It dwelled.
That explains my Hell…
But what about all the others?
~~~
The War for Existence raged on. Class 1s fell, the Gallifreyans fell, and eventually the war reduced to the squabbles of mostly lower societies. Corona and Eve were all over the news as their clashing ideologies tore the web of reality to shreds.
Charlie was reading bedtime stories to children.
“…And they chased the Big Bad Wolf away! They never saw him again, and could now live happily ever after.” She closed the book, looking at the room of peacefully sleeping children. A big smile crawled up her face.
She was able to give them peace. Just by sitting here, reading a book to them while they went to sleep. They’d all suffered something because of the war… but for now, every last one was sleeping with a smile. Demon, angel, human, pony, it didn’t matter.
Carefully, Charlie tip-toed out of the room and walked away from the children’s wing of the Hotel. Once she was out of hearing range, she picked up her pace. Right now, she wanted to sleep, and that meant she had to make the long trek to her room. Sure, Hazbin Hotel had teleporters, but the closest one that wouldn’t wake the children was all the way out in one of the main hubs. Walking across the children’s wing was nothing to sneeze at.
Eventually, she came out into a large, circular room with several arches leading to other wings. Charlie moved toward the teleporter pad in the center… but something stopped her. A vaguely familiar voice.
“…They’re both evil…”
Charlie stepped away from the teleporter, trying to listen to where the voice had come from. She wasn’t all that surprised to see it coming from the Chapel, though she was disappointed. In all her time working here, she’d never set foot in the holy place, despite Cura’s assurances it wouldn’t burn her for being a demon.
That voice, though…
That voice drew her in.
It was a voice she wanted to see.
Carefully, she walked into the small crowd that had formed. To Charlie’s luck, it wasn’t just a recording that was playing. There, in the flesh, stood a purple-pink unicorn with a Reverend’s collar.
Rev.
Cura had been talking about inviting her to speak for a few weeks now. Looks like she finally found out how to do it.
Rev was concluding her sermon with prayer when Charlie finally made it toward the front of the crowd. She sat down in one of the chairs… and waited. Waited for the crowd to dissipate, for those who wanted to talk to Rev to say their word.
Charlie sat, ready to jump up the moment Rev was alone.
Rev got to her first.
“Want to go out for some drinks? I hear the bar sells a mean hellfire stirrup.”
Charlie blinked. “W-what?”
Rev smirked knowingly. “I know the look of someone who wants a long conversation. You aren’t even the first Charlie who’s waited there, uncertain about… everything.”
“H-have a lot of experience?”
“Unfortunately, yes, on both sides of the conversation.” Rev lit her horn. “Do you mind teleportation?”
After giving her permission, Charlie was teleported to the bar. The bartender made sure the two of them weren’t on file for trying to break an addiction before taking their orders and handing them their drinks.
Two flaming cups of orange liquid.
Charlie lifted her cup up. “You drink this?”
“I lived in Hell a few years, you gain a taste for it.” She downed it. “And a drinking problem, but that’s mostly behind me. Mostly. Cura has me on a drink limit.”
“You?”
“Nobody’s perfect. Except Mary Sues. And that’s not the kind of perfection anyone wants.” Rev chuckled at her own joke. “So… Charlie, is it?”
“Yeah. Nothing special yet.”
“Charlie, what did you want to talk about?”
“Why Hell?”
“Your Hell specifically? Probably your ‘God’ being a sack of trash, but I bet you already knew that.”
“Yes I mean… why Hell? Why Hell at all?” She spread her arms wide. “Why would anyone ‘good’ make something so… so bad?”
Rev nodded slowly, taking a somewhat large swig from her cup. “…There are a lot of answers to that question, and it kind of depends on what Hell is.”
“You don’t know?”
“You’ve been here long enough to know every version of Hell you come across runs on different rules. This is because people have never agreed on what it is. Is it a pit of fire? A place of eternal loneliness? Just a realm of separation from God?” Rev shrugged. “The thing is, we don’t know, so we tell these stories to scare or comfort ourselves with the ‘knowledge’.”
“And those stories become real because of the Tower.”
“Yes.”
“But…”
Rev sighed. “But, yes, I do think there is an actual Hell out there, beyond all of this. A real place of punishment for all that we’ve done.”
“But… how? Why!?”
“…As I said, there’s lots of answers. Some say it’s the only righteous thing that can be done for sin, for those who do not repent, they must suffer for their wrongs.”
“Why? Everyone has their own situation, some people are better than others, and there have been a lot of damn good people who weren’t part of your little Church!”
“No person in existence can be good enough to not warrant a punishment of some kind. Every little petty thought, every tiny…” Rev stopped herself. “Justice must be dealt out and… yeah, I don’t really like this explanation either. At least not on its own. Why have eternal suffering for people who could only live a finite amount of time? It… it doesn’t sit well with me, even if it is the popular consensus. The other one, where souls are extinguished after a time of set punishment, is… More mathematically right, but still emotionally concerning.”
“Then what do you think?”
Rev laid her front hooves overtop of each other. “You’re from a standard Hazbin Hell, right?”
“I’m told so.”
“Forget about the Exterminators for a moment, since those are just needlessly cruel and indicative of a false Heaven. Alone, what does Hell actually have as punishment?”
“Any soul gets transformed into some kind of mockery of their life.”
“But they also get spiritual abilities and, many times, learn to like their new superhuman forms. Forms that can’t die and provide all sorts of new opportunities.”
“O… okay so maybe that’s not the worst thing, usually. But then you get there, and there’s always pain! Suffering! And…”
“And does the suffering come from Hell itself?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, think about it. Does the location make you suffer? What does it do, attack you?”
“No…”
“What does hurt you?”
Charlie sat back in her chair, realizing the point. “Other people.”
“Yes. Other people. Other people with power and broken spirits in a world without God to add Good to the world. Without Him, you’re all allowed to define Good and Evil however you wish with what appears to be less consequences.” Rev closed her eyes. “This is what I think Hell is. By rejecting God, He allows them to go to a place without Him. It’s what they wanted in life. So… He gives it to them. But without the guidance of the source of all Good, there is only the mortal souls of people, doing whatever they feel like. Unchecked desire and many consequences of the physical world just lifted.” She looked Charlie in the eyes. “Tell me that doesn’t sound like Hell.”
Charlie nodded slowly.
“I could be wrong. I probably am. Heaven and Hell are constructs we’re not allowed to fully understand. We’re meant to anticipate them… not try to figure them out. Whatever Hell is, it’s not good for us, and it’s worse than the life we have here. Whatever Heaven is, it has everything good and a full realization of what we are.” Rev smiled. “Some of us have lived a very, very long time and still know nothing of what waits on the other side. There are times I just… wish I could be taken up already. To have everything answered, finally.”
“What makes you think you’re going to get answers?”
Starlight shrugged. “Nothing. It’s just a hope I have. There’s a chance I get there and just… don’t feel the need to ask questions. But as I am now, I have them, and I fully admit to having a mental list.”
Charlie nodded, looking down at her hands.
“Charlie?”
“If I end up in Hell…” I just said if. What!? “I’m making the Hotel. Again.”
“Rehabilitation… there’s no path to Heaven once the judgment has been done. That, I can tell you, is wishful thinking.”
“I know,” Charlie said. “Figured as much. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned…” her smile returned to her. “It’s that everything’s better if you’re just a good person. Who cares if it’s literal burning damnation down there? At least we can be nice to each other!”
“A missionary to Hell…” Rev chuckled.
“What?”
“That’s what I called Cura for a while. And what she called me. It was a… strange dynamic.” Rev finished her drink. “I hope she hasn’t told too many embarrassing stories about me.”
“Not… many at all, no.”
Rev smirked. “Good. I get to tell them, then. …Unless you have more questions?”
“Oh, I do, but something tells me I have to hear this…”
Rev grinned. “Okay, so, I was younger and fresh out of the Nexus. Popped into Hell and realized a big fancy halo and priest getup wasn’t going to do me any favors. After trying, and failing, to find someone willing to be a nice person and help me, someone sarcastically referred me to that ‘Hotel where the goody-two-shoes bitches’ lived. I found myself in the Hazbin Hotel and decided I trusted Cura, so I revealed myself to her. Turns out, visible spiritual imagery is very painful to true demons, who would have thought?”
~~~
Charlie stood on the Hazbin Hotel balcony, looking at a portal open to a destabilizing universe.
It had already been evacuated, nothing more than the location of a military Tower Ring that was destroyed just like all the others. Space folded, twisted, and tore itself in many places, not quite finding the right way to fall into the Sea of Infinite Possibility and become nothing.
She couldn’t help but find it beautiful.
“At the end of the rainbow there’s happiness…” she sang, softly.
“Did you ever find redemption?” Alastor asked, walking to stand behind her.
“Yes. No.” Charlie furrowed her brow. “It’s complicated. What do you mean?”
“I haven’t the foggiest idea!” Alastor laughed, gripping the handrail significantly harder than he needed too. “It’s like the idea of defining the word is impossible! Do we mean ‘a good person?’ Do we mean ‘a believer?’ Do we mean someone who has switched from one path of ka to another? Someone who has just turned around from a bad path?”
Charlie noticed sadness in his laughter. This brought a smile to her face—there was something in the old demon after all, even if it was just a blow to his pride. “I don’t have the answers.”
“Nobody does! If I were a betting man I’d say the Tower doesn’t even know!”
“Do we need to know?” Charlie asked. “Can’t we just… have… faith?”
“In what?”
Charlie smiled. “That… the world will keep spinning and life will go on no matter what the answer to the big questions are. That, even though we can’t find the answers, we can still be happy. We can still be good people without really knowing what ‘Good’ and ‘Evil’ are.”
“I don’t think I need to tell you how much of a self-contradiction that is.”
“Even if those believers are right about God or whatever, they can still be terrible people. Even if those others are right about moral subjectivity, they can still be terrible people. But they can still be good people. We can still be good people.” She took in a deep breath and spread her arms.
“If only people agreed on what ‘good’ and ‘evil’ were.”
“I think it’s good that nobody can agree. Probably means everyone’s wrong.”
Alastor looked at here blankly for a minute before erupting in laughter.
“W-what? It’s a good observation!”
“It is, it is!” Alastor slapped her on the back. “Everyone’s wrong! Probably about more than a few things they hold very close to that pulsating, fleshy blood muscle.” His expression became dark. “The only solution…”
“Is to love one another,” Charlie said. “…Existence may be running out of time, Alastor. In these trying times with all this suffering, the hotel is needed now, more than ever. We may not have a fucking clue what redemption actually means, but we’re sure as hell going to get closer to it.”
“Hell isn’t very certain.”
“Exactly.”
“Shall we return to ‘work’ then, turn the dark souls of these terrors into something ‘better’ by some imagined metric we can’t be certain of?”
“YES!” Charlie laughed, prancing back into the Hotel. “It’ll be great!”
“It’ll be interesting, at least.”
“That’s what kept you here last time, it’ll keep you here until I get through to that ugly heart of yours!”
“We’ll see...” He snapped his fingers. “Stay tuned!”
After they left, the destabilizing universe fell into nothing with a comical pop.
‘War Immaterial’
By Mal Masque
Explosions rocked the external hull of the Imperial Truth, yet hardly did more than leave scorches on the exterior of the glorious Emperor-class Battlebarge. The God-Emperor of Mankind, radiant and majestic, sat on the command chair in the observation deck, witnessing the carnage ongoing all around him. His One-Thousand Companions, clad in glimmering golden armor, flitted about between various stations amongst other serfs, servitors and Lex Mechanicus keeping the ship stable. Through the great viewport of his mighty vessel, the Emperor watched ships all around detonate in spectacular explosions, bursting into bales of fire in the vacuum by the guns of the Imperium and Merodi loyalists alike. It felt good to be back in the fray. Felt good to return to the battlefield, commanding millions in the name of keeping all that he worked for intact. It felt like the Great Crusade all over again.
“Heretical ship destroyed, praise the Omnissiah!” a Mechanicus adept chirped. The Emperor flinched ever-so-slightly, but let it be. Save the continual efforts of colloquialisms and the ‘Imperial Creed’ for after this matter has been resolved.
“My Emperor,” the Captain-General called out. The Emperor turned to his most faithful ally, the one who had kept him in constant company for thousands of years, who put up with the vindictive and cold ramblings of his once throne-bound self. His resplendent armor of gold and silver trim glistened in the lumens of the ship, a single red and blue plucked feather wedged between the creases of his shoulder plates. “We’re continuing to push against the Collapse forces, but Librarians and Psykers are being continuously affected by an apparent Shadow. He’s finally taken to the battlefield.”
The Emperor closed his eyes, his hand digging into the side of his command chair, reaching out his mind to feel at the ebb and flow of reality. Although the Shaping Mechanism had removed the influence of the Warp from their universe, one who has spent nearly an eternity submerged in it never truly loses their connection. He felt the locus of the battlefield, millions of individual souls clustered together in their vessels, fighting, dying, or being captured in the name of their ideals and ambitions. A shadow loomed over it all, a dark, formless shape that twisted and turned with the tide of battle and destruction.
“Tzeentch,” the Emperor growled, opening his eyes. “He’s overseeing the battle himself, through a projected pseudo-Warp. If he continues to persist, then we will be overwhelmed.” He raised a hand to onlooking serfs, calling upon their aid. “Open communications with Princess Cosmo, I need to give an alert.” With a muttered ‘by your command’, the serf quickly went to work. “I’m going in.” The Captain-General nearly lost his grip on his gun, hurrying over to the Emperor’s side.
“My Lord, what are you planning?” he worriedly asked. “If you’re going to face that shifting mollusk bastard in the Warp, then-then who will guide us?” The serf returned with the Merodi-issued communicae device. It clicked to life and the Emperor spoke loudly.
“Tzeentch is acting through a pseudo-Warp!” he announced into the communicae. “I must devote my higher powers to that - you’re on your own, Cosmo.” He waved the serf off and redirected his focus to the rest of the ship. “Continue to hold orbit and destroy any treasonous ships that seek to harm any in our fleet. I am to remain undisturbed in my meditative state as I transcend to the Warp.” He rose onto his feet, his golden ceramite armor creaking from the stiff movements. The Captain-General quickly grabbed ahold of his Emperor’s arm, an act that brought true surprise to the ancient prime man.
“My Emperor, we cannot lose you again!” the Captain-General begged. Though his face was rugged and hardened from the battle, the Emperor spared himself a rare change of face. A gentle smile as he placed his hand upon the most loyal of Custodian’s shoulder. No doubt, under that gilded helm, the Captain-General’s eyes had gone wide.
“I trust you, my friend,” the Emperor softly said. He let go of the Captain-General and walked off the deck and to his chambers.
The Custodians and bridge crew all turned to the Captain-General, waiting for his reply. He stood there, the man once simply known as ‘Kitten’ by teasing Companions and a slew of other silly names by the Emperor himself and other ignorant visitors to the Golden Palace. Now? He had the chance to truly stand proud as a Lord of Terra. He tightened his grip on his gun and took his place at the front.
“Alright, you lot, you heard our orders,” he said. “Let’s grant these traitors the Emperor’s peace and show them the true might of Imperial spirit!”
~~~
The self-contained Warp was an utter maelstrom. Twisted and terrible, born from millions of subconscious thoughts of wickedness and treachery, it was a writhing storm of madness and calamity. Though it could not be seen by the naked eye, it was a pall that hung over the battlefield, spreading its influence like acid rain upon a field of crops. The storm was broken in a burst of golden light, piercing through the shifting clouds of dementia and mania with lances of pure psychic energy. From the light stepped forth the Emperor of Mankind, resplendent and magnificent, his eternally burning sword held firmly in his grasp and golden armor shining brightly in the dark confines of the Warp. A golden, glimmering boot came down upon the tormented landscape, his psychic might creating clouds beneath his heavy footfalls to give him a platform of his own. His long flowing hair licked the sides of his face and the halo of flame encircling his head as he built up his voice within the depths of his being.
“TZEENTCH!” the Emperor called out, his voice resonating across the thunderous black and purple clouds. “COME FORTH, TZEENTCH, YOU INCOMPREHENSIBLE MASS OF MISDIRECTION!” The Warp answered back immediately. From the clouds of thought emerged thousands of enormous tendrils, lashing against each other like wicked vines, slithering and scraping about. They looped over one another, curling and forming into an ever shifting mass of blue and purple. It towered over the Emperor, who remained nonplussed at the sight of his greatest adversary. “You’ve put on a fair bit of weight, haven’t you?”
“When the multiverse becomes so rife with the thought of change and suggestions of alterations,” Tzeentch said, his malicious voice shrieking across the void. “I think I’m permitted to have myself a little binge.” Tzeentch laughed with a thousand mouths, his tentacles thrashing together into a singular form, the hunched humanoid thing that had introduced itself to much of the multiverse now fully formed. “What do you think, Anathema? Of this whole war?”
“We stand on opposite sides of the battlefield, Tzeentch,” the Emperor said. “I think we both know exactly what I think. If not, then you may as well cheat and read my thoughts. Again.” Tzeentch loudly chortled and reshaped itself into more humanoid-tentacle abominations of himself. “Talk is pointless anyway.” The Emperor raised his flaming sword to the mass of ever-shifting tentacles. “You’re the last vestige of the Ruinous Powers, and I shall finally see to your destruction.”
“And just as we were about to get to some more witty banter.” Tzeentch said, tilting his many-mouthed head to one side and then another. “Then I suppose we should waste no time and bring ourselves to the main EVENT!” Without warning, hundreds of crystalline tendrils erupted from the swarming mass, darting towards the Emperor of Mankind. Swiftly, he raised his flaming sword and swung it in a flaming arc, slicing the tendrils clean through. Severed portions exploded into Warp dust, while the remaining ones flailed about in smouldering agony. Tzeentch cackled again, sending another volley of tendrils at the Emperor, each barbed with white and blue crystals. Again, he sliced them away, progressively advancing towards Tzeentch with steady steps.
“When the Shaping Device untethered the Immaterium from our world,” The Emperor said, slashing at the tendrils again, “I had hoped that you and your monstrous, disgusting ilk would simply starve to death, deprived of your nourishment. Slaanesh did.” Another swing, burning bits of tentacle swinging past him and bursting into sparkly dust. “Khorne did.” He jumped to the side as several tentacles speared into the ground beside him. “Nurgle did! And yet,” he waved his hand, gold claws dancing with holy flame as they burned oncoming tendrils. “You still live!”
“You’re very chatty for a flesh bag who was a glorified corpse for tens of thousands of years!” Tzeentch snapped, shaping form back into a humanoid entity. It clenched tightly four of its hands, and several purple crystals erupted from the immaterial landscape, many surrounding the Emperor and his glowing form. Tzeentch slammed its fists together, and all of the crystals exploded, sending shattered remnants flying wildly across the battlefield. The Emperor braced himself for the attack, the crystals rebounding off his golden armor, though one managed to land a nick across his cheek, a thin line of red blood dribbling from the wound. Tzeentch raised its head and sniffed, many of its mouths wide with crocodile smiles. “So, the Anathema does bleed, after all.” The Emperor wiped the blood from his cheek and lunged forward, his sword burning brightly in his most holy of holds. As the tip of the blade came close to skewering Tzeentch’s slimy torso, several tentacles wrapped around his arm. “Let’s see if we can draw a bit MORE?!” Several mouths filled with vicious teeth opened all along the length of the tentacles, digging into the ceramite plating, white a few broke through and tasted the flesh of the greatest of men.
Pain burned across the Emperor’s arm as the God of Change gnawed into his flesh. He grit his teeth and grabbed ahold of the tentacles binding his arm. Tzeentch’s many eyes widened as the Emperor yanked it forward, forcibly driving the burning Sword of the Emperor into its chest. It hissed and roared in animalistic fury, relinquishing its hold on the Emperor’s arm and withdrawing, bluish-green blood bubbling on the burning blade as the gaping hole in Tzeentch’s chest sealed up.
“What do you know? Gods can bleed, too,” the Emperor retorted, flicking the boiling blood off his sword. Tzeentch snarled out of its nigh infinite mouths, each dripping with thick slime. It raised its four hands and clapped four times, several swirling clouds around it concealing into solid forms. Daemons emerged from the swirling Warp-stuff; Horrors and Flamers, Disks and Ryders, even Lords of Change all joined their God by its side, snarling and burning with ethereal fury. Tzeentch warbled with laughter, shifting its body to resemble a more monstrous human form of numerous eyes, teeth and tendrils, one painful to gaze upon.
“The game has changed, Anathema,” Tzeentch chided. “This isn’t Paradox-Billiards-Vostroyan-Roulette-4th-Dimensional-Hypercube-Chess-Strip Poker anymore!”
“Good, you cheated in that, too,” the Emperor said, raising his sword towards the Daemonic horde. “But don’t you worry,” he grasped the hilt in both of his hands and aimed the blade downward. “I’m very familiar with how to play Regicide.” With a bellow of power, the Emperor plunged his sword into the Immaterium, a bright light erupting from his position and blinding the Legion of Change. Tzeentch shrieked as the burning bloom overwhelmed its vision, quickly covering as many of its eyes as possible as the light faded away. When the light cleared, the Emperor stood proud before the Daemons, but did not stand alone. Standing behind and beside him stretched a golden army, going on as far as the eye could even perceive. Millions of humans, from the lowest of Guardsmen to the greatest of Space Marines, all those who fought and died for the Imperium and their Emperor, stood once again. Tzeentch’s many tentacles were curling and writhing with fury and uncertainty, made even worse by the sight of the Emperor’s perfect smirk on his perfect face.
“This… this is the army that destroyed Drach’nyen!” The Emperor smiled wider and pointed his sword towards the mass of daemons. The millions of golden souls needed no further confirmation, all letting off resounding battle cries and proclamations to their Emperor, breaking into a charge towards the Neverborn armies. They engaged the daemons with fervor and rage, blasting many into pieces with blessed bolt rounds or melting them to slag with plasma or lasgun fire, while others were hacked to pieces by chain weapons. Amongst them even stood a Primarch, far larger than the rest, bashing daemons left and right with a great hammer, sending them flying and bursting into Warp dust whilst shining bright like a living gold statue. The daemonic horde met the Imperium’s Golden Army with their own vicious reaction, hurling balls of Warpflame that engulfed errant Guardsmen, vaporizing Mechanicus with infernal beams, or simply tearing them to pieces with psychic might. Even the Space Marines struggled to overcome the Greater Daemons that commanded the forces, with the Primarch coming to grapple with the multiple-limbed Changeling astride atop a Disk. The armies would fight their battle, while the Emperor focused on his. He twirled his sword again and sprinted through the armies, roaring as he made his way towards Tzeentch, set to drive his sword through the immaterial menace and split it in twain.
~~~
Magnus the Red’s head pounded. It was though a thunderstorm were going off within his skull, every bolt of lightning striking at his brain and sending a surge through his skull. It was enough to bring him to a knee. While many of the workers onboard the bridge were focused on staying alive in the firefight, a few had taken notice of the Primarch’s sudden fall. Rogal Dorn, dressed in his golden armor for the first time in millennia (and not in an adorable Centurion suit), rushed to his brother’s side and helped him to his feet.
“What ails you, Magnus?” Rogal asked.
“My head feels like it’s about to crack like an egg being hugged to death by Vulkan,” Magnus replied through gritted teeth. “I’m fine, really.” He brushed Rogal off him and looked towards the viewport window, overseeing the entire battle in the stars. “Tzeentch himself must have arrived. My bastard of a First Captain is here, might as well bring the whole reunion.” He placed a finger to the side of his head, still recoiling from the overwhelming psychic power being flung about. “Father must be engaging him directly.”
“Then we should come to the aid of him and the Captain-General,” Rogal said. He turned towards the operators and began issuing orders. “Divert our course to rejoin the Imperial Truth to protect the Emperor.” The operators replied with hurried ‘yes sirs’ and began working like mad at their consoles. Magnus felt another psychic burst, wobbling slightly where he stood and propping himself against one of the command chairs. “Magnus, you should sit down before you eject your lunch all over the floor.”
“Already on that,” Magnus moaned, flopping into his seat. It was slightly difficult to manage with the wings (years later, and he still couldn’t undo Tzeentch’s little “cosmetic update”), but the red Primarch properly was situated. “The rest of the fleet can maintain their previous orders, I’m sure Vulkan and Corax can manage well without our further intervention.” Outside the viewport, an enemy ship detonated from within, splitting in two while a black-charred figure was flung from the blast and right through the window of another ship. “Or at least Vulkan can.” The second ship exploded shortly afterwards. “He’ll be fine.”
~~~
Several golden warriors were bowled over by an oncoming tidal wave of spiney tentacles, sweeping through the army in an effort to bring down its quarry. It was immediately met with a grasp by golden clawed fingers, wrapped up tightly and swiftly shorn off by a burning blade. The Emperor released the torn tentacles, allowing them to burst into Warp dust as he glared down the immense shifting form of Tzeentch. His once untarnished armor now bore several nicks in multiple places, his long flowing hair was now matted with sweat, and his breathing was laborious and heavy. For the first time in thousands of years, the Emperor of Mankind was fighting to the point of exhaustion. But Tzeentch showed no signs of fatigue as it shifted into the hunched humanoid form.
“Aw, getting weary already, Anathema?” Tzeentch cooed, one of its mouths opening wide and unravelling a tongue that dwarfed the Emperor’s own height. “Just say the word and we can put you down for a nap. One six feet under and covered in dirt!” Tzeentch unleashed another chittering laugh, casually backhanding a bolt of Warpflame hurled at his face. The Emperor panted and propped himself upon his sword, fire burning in his eyes as he glared down the Changer of Ways.
“How… how have you gotten so strong?!” The Emperor shouted. Tzeentch only laughed again, a chorus of hideous cackles erupting from each mouth across its disgusting body.
“How have I ALWAYS gained strength and nourishment? The same as I did when the Eternal Game first began,” Tzeentch snapped its fingers and shifted into a formless mass of tentacles. “Through the actions of mortal minds and souls. Think on such things, Anathema. Ever since she who was named for an ancient Terran alcohol brand made her proclamation to the multiverse, all sentient beings have been devising all sorts of plans, plots and schemes.” Tzeentch’s form shifted, once more humanoid, but now distinctly female, sporting wings of tentacles and crystals and a mouth filled with hundreds of needle-like teeth. “She and her ilk seek to undo that which the Tower had created, seeking to unravel the threads of stories themselves. To incite the greatest change that ever could fall upon all of existence itself! The many becoming one! IT IS SO DELICIOUS!” Tzeentch’s tongue slithered out of its mouth and noisily licked its lips and the entirety of its face, prompting no small amount of revulsion from the Emperor of Mankind.
“She brings just as much damnation upon all of existence as you do, Tzeentch!” The Emperor shouted. “Feeding on your followers’ mad ambitions will soon starve you.” Again, Tzeentch only laughed, its face splitting apart into a mass of tentacles.
“I’m not foolish or stupid enough to sample from JUST one platter!” Tzeentch’s form broke down again, reshaping itself into a quadrupedal, equine being, only slightly resembling the Charter-Princess herself. This form bore only eyes on the face, and a mouth in the center of its chest with a massive unblinking eye surrounded by crystals and teeth housed within. “The lavender book-horse reacted as a means of countering the great change, with her and her followers needing to devise matters of her OWN to counteract this grand scheme supreme! Non-lethal takedowns, destroying the Tower Rings, even utilizing tools originally meant for peace as weapons of mass destruction!” Tzeentch made a sound almost like orgasmic relief, a sound made worse by the caressing Tzeentch made of his face with crystalline hooves. “All of these plans, these plots, from all of you, it’s like an all you can eat intellectual buffet!”
The Emperor’s momentary revulsion betrayed him. Dozens of tentacles burst from the immaterial ground and ensnared the Emperor in a bone-crushing hold, hoisting him off the ground and forcing him to discard his flaming sword. Tzeentch’s form solidified into a singular mass, becoming a massive purple crystal tower, slowly being consumed by tentacles, hundreds of tiny figures astride atop them with mouths of fangs all speaking as one. “I’ve become the greatest psychic entity in the multiverse, and none of you realized you ALL are feeding me.” Tzeentch’s grip tightened around the Emperor, his ceramite plate creaking under the stress.
“An evil being…” the Emperor grunted. His mouth tasted of copper, a thin line of red trailing from the corner of his lips. “Is destined to fall…” More creaks sounded as the Emperor felt himself nearly crushed. “You will die, just as your monstrous ilk did.” Tzeentch roared and adopted his humanoid form, eyes wide and teeth gnashing.
“A CONCEPT OF REALITY ADHERES TO NO FICTITIOUS MORALITY!” Tzeentch bellowed, clouds of Warpstorms thundering about, flashing bursts of lightning striking at the battlefield. “EVERYTHING CHANGES, ANATHEMA! THE TURNING OF THE SUN, THE PASSING OF SEASONS, RELATIONSHIPS BETWEEN MORTALS, EVEN THE VERY STARS GLOW BRIGHT UNTIL BURSTING INTO NOTHINGNESS! I AM THE INEVITABLE PATH ALL LIFE TAKES! I AM THE EIGHT-TURNED GOD! I AM THE ARCHITECT OF FATE! I AM THE CHANGER OF WAYS! I AM THE GOD OF-” An enormous fist surged from the clouds and struck Tzeentch dead in the face. The Emperor was immediately freed from his prison, dropping to his knees with a few heavy coughs. He stood just as he saw the largest Ork he had ever seen emerge from the clouds and deliver another punch to Tzeentch’s face, propelling the mass of tentacles flying clear across the battlefield. The Emperor stared at the Ork, a purple, red and green thing thrice as tall as any mountain, crackling with wild lightning and burning flames in its red eyes.
“... Gork?” the Emperor called out. “Or is it Mork? How…?” The Ork God just bellowed a resounding ‘WAAAAGH!!!’ that rumbled across the battlefield like cannon fire and stampeded after the far-flung Chaos God. Before the Emperor could give chase, a psychic force lifted him off the ground and back onto his feet.
“Gorkamorka, I believe it is called,” said the melodious voice of a beautiful woman. “Something that is both Gork and Mork, yet none of us are sure.” The Emperor whirled around, and found that three other Warp-born beings had now stood behind him: a flaming man of brass and magma, face forever bearing dementation and fury, a woman in a flowing dress, beautiful and immaculate as a forest oasis, and a ghostly entity, akin to the reaper itself. The Emperor addressed the three Gods with mild confusion and surprise.
“Khaine?” he asked. “Isha? Ynnead? How did you-?”
“You’ve always put it best, kid,” Khaine said, hissing and growling as an active furnace does. “‘Fourth-degree inter-dimensional Warp fuckery’.” He brandished his burning sword, more wicked and nasty compared to the Emperor’s own. “Do you really think we’d miss out on the opportunity to tear the Last Chaos God a new asshole?” Isha shot her companion a disapproving look, though she did maintain her beautiful composure.
“We’re here to provide you aid, Emperor,” Isha gently said. “To prevent all that we have worked for from falling to ruination and… utter boning.” Ynnead just let off a wheeze as he leaned heavily on a worn and wicked scythe. The Emperor glanced between the Aeldari Gods, then back towards the battlefield. The Golden Army was now joined by countless Eldar warriors, Wraiths and Ghosts of all sorts tearing into the daemons with ruthlessness and even aiding the Imperium’s spirits of vengeance. He stared at his blade, still partially caked in Daemon God blood. He tightened his grip and looked back to the battle-ready Gods.
“Let us bring an end to the Eternal Game.”
~~~
Magnus’ head was pounding less now. The Warp stress was still lingering, his connection never wavered no matter how far away he was from it, but it hurt significantly less. He looked out the viewport towards the Imperial Truth, a hand still pressed to his head. He reached out with his mind to the command bridge, feeling the souls and minds onboard, each with their own feel and sensation. When he felt the burning flame that dwarfed his own psychic might, Magnus smiled. His father still remained, in spite of his other father still lingering. The battle would turn yet with Tzeentch on the run, but they played a small part in the conflict. Sooner or later, fate would decide the outcome of everything.
~~~
Long after the battle had concluded, Corona adjusted her pointed shades to filter out all higher-order madness-inducing geometry before she entered the universe Tzeentch was sulking in.
“You didn’t have to be so overconfident, you know.”
“And you don’t have to look like the after-effect of ketchup and mustard bottles getting beaten up by a strip of bacon, but here we are now,” the Lord of Change growled.
“You really do come up with new names every time…” Corona pinched the bridge of her nose.
Tzeentch let out resounding daemonic laughter, or perhaps electrified turkey noises. It was horrifying.
Corona ignored it. “Look, you lost. You probably could have seen that coming the moment you started going full I AM THE HAM mode.”
“Please, do you really think your pathetic mind c-“
“And don’t give me any of that ‘just as planned’ BS, the Tower was setting you up for a hubris pummeling.” Corona folded her arms, huffing. “Look, you’re one of our strongest allies, and you just about got yourself killed by being stupid. For a god of plans you’re not doing a very good job.”
“Watch your tongue, splinter star, I might just turn against you…”
Corona smirked. “If that’s what you want.” She left, leaving the eldritch abomination alone with his twisted universe.
It took about twenty seconds for Tzeentch to realize there were chaotic change-driven fights he wasn’t being a part of right now.
“After all this is over I am going to find a way to drive that side order to a breakfast platter nobody asked for into a particular sort of madness… I’m thinking a lavish attraction to syrup and her own hair, perhaps with some extra eyes thrown in…”
‘Edge of Dawn’
By Galliar
“I fear the edge of dawn, knowing time betrays”
“We were comfortable for a while, weren’t we?” Byleth asked. His leaned his head out of the window of his chambers thoughtfully. The view from the highest tower of Celestia’s School of Sorcery had grown less impressive as Ponyville wrapped around Canterlot mountain. Where once there had been natural fields and forests, speckled with pony civilization, there were now skyscrapers and other structures of Merodi make.
“There was a time that I'd have never imagined retiring,” Edelgard nodded. “Now, almost fifty years in? It’s been rather nice.”
“You were able to retire,” Byleth said, giving her a sideways glance. “I’ve been teaching for the past century.”
“Certainly none of your classes have been as bad as your first?” Edelgard asked with a smile.
“It has been some time since so many of my students have tried to kill each other.”
“If only the world could’ve stayed that way forever,” Edelgard sighed.
The silence took hold for a minute. The sleeves of Byleth’s overcoat swayed as the breeze picked up. Edelgard leaned her head onto his shoulder, taking in the view that had become so familiar. There were a great many things that she wished could’ve lasted forever. Peace. Retirement. The dessert table at the last gala. That moment before they spoke.
“You’re going to join Corona,” Byleth said. It wasn’t a question.
“Of course. How could I not?” Edelgard asked. “You won’t be joining me.”
They locked eyes. The only time she’d ever seen Byleth cry was when his father died, so it was no surprise that he didn’t weep now. After all these years she could still see a hint of fire in his eyes. Did he see the same in hers?
“If I go, others will follow,” Byleth said as he broke eye contact. “I have had hundreds of students throughout the years. If I went out there for either side, those same hundreds would follow. Even those who don’t believe in Collapse would die for it just because I was there.”
“I…” Edelgard’s protests died in her throat as Byleth turned back to her. “I understand. This will be goodbye, Professor.”
“It will be.”
…
Lost in memory, Edelgard touched her lips. It had been days since she stood with Byleth in Canterlot, yet the moment still felt fresh. Her memories beckoned her to return home, to answer the call of yesterday. It would be easy to leave the fate of the multiverse in the hands of those more capable. By her reputation, she had no doubt that Corona would let her leave with nothing more than a memory wipe.
She knew herself better than to believe she’d be satisfied with that decision.
“Lady Edelgard.” The owner of the raspy voice stepped into the room, snapping Edelgard out of her ruminations. Hubert bowed his head. “We have been summoned.”
Edelgard took in a breath. Her temporary prison – accommodations, El – were comfortable enough. To be expected of a hotel, one would suppose. She was eager to walk free regardless.
It had been so long since she last donned her armor. She had forgotten how uncomfortable it was. The hard steel wasn’t too heavy for her – despite her diminutive appearance she carried herself across a room in the armor as easily as without. Merely that it had been too long.
“Thank you, Hubert.” Edelgard stood up from her seat. She retrieved the axe Aymr, forged to appear like dragon bone, and her shield. Last, she donned the golden crown of what had been the Adrestian Empire, the horns seeming to poke out of the buns of her blonde hair. It was nothing more than a piece of the uniform. She was no emperor here, nor even a noblewoman. Just another soldier.
Hubert stepped out of the way as she left the room, match her pace about half a foot back. His green eyes seemed to glow as they traced her every step.
An Emperor she may no longer be, but the path she had been walking since she was a girl had led her here. Almost a century since the Merodi had made her original dream a reality, only to bring to light something far worse than a societal structure built on bloodlines and the divinity of the Crests carried within them. One she and everyone else had long thought impossible to overcome.
The Dark Tower.
She had passed on her seat as Emperor to one worthy of the title after decades of rule and retired to Canterlot in Equis Vitis. There she may have stayed if not for Corona’s question. Her only shame was that she had not been the one to ask it, and her only regret that she had to tread here alone.
I wish he could have been here. Edelgard sighed.
The halls of the Raven Hotel were nothing like home. She was accustomed to what most of the multiverse referred to as a more medieval or even fantastical style of architecture. She knew grand halls of stonemasonry, not the madness of the Raven Hotel that shifted to accommodate its visitors as Poe pleased.
The creatures patrolling the halls were further separation from her place of birth. A purple humanoid bearing a golden, gem-inlaid gauntlet nodded to them as they passed. Several bestial creatures watched the pair as passed, staining the wooden floor with drool. Ponies, humans, and beings she couldn’t comprehend walked around her.
“Certainly not the monastery, is it?” Hubert asked as they walked.
“Waxing nostalgic, are we?” Edelgard made herself smile. “It has been many years since we’ve walked through halls as crowded as this. Only this time we really are nothing more than a couple of faces in the crowd.”
“I dislike keeping this much distance from enemies. I’m partial to being able to see them.”
“Don’t worry Hubert. Everything will be in the open soon enough.”
An imposing figure far, far larger than herself stepped in her path. He was covered head to toe in heavy armor and occult attire, a staff in hand. Ahzek sneered at her as she passed, a gesture she returned in kind. Without a word they both kept walking.
Corona didn’t notice them entering the conference room. Edelgard could imagine the thoughts in her distant stare. A protagonist of the story of the multiverse, and yet for a moment she looked so small. She cleared her throat, and Corona yelped.
“We’ve arrived as requested, Lady Corona.” Edelgard said with a polite bow. “We have not formally met. I am Edelgard von Hresvelg, Emp- former Emperor of Fodlan. This is my assistant, Hubert Vestra. I’m told that you summoned us?”
“Just Corona’s fine, but yes, I did,” Corona smiled at the pair. “I’ve been trying to learn as much as I can about the stories of other would-be members of the Collapse Movement before an upcoming meeting. Mostly picking through their stories where available. I was hunting down something on the Shabanash when word reached me about your entrance. Not many people out there would willingly hitch a ride on a Chaos ship.”
“I have to imagine fewer still live to tell of it,” Edelgard added. “Your point?”
“When I learned your name, I dug up your story. Funny thing is… I could find a summary of what happened on your world, or rather what would have happened to you if the multiverse had never come along. Your situation there sounds almost like what we’re fighting for now. Your world’s Crests sound like they were determining how important someone was. People were experimenting on their children and practicing a sort of eugenics in hopes of having a child with one.” Corona shook her head. “I also found out about what they did to you and your siblings. Taking the sum total of it… I can’t say I’m surprised to see you here now.”
“That fight is long taken care of, Lady Corona,” Hubert said, his inherently threatening rasp causing even Corona to twitch. “I serve Lady Edelgard’s cause, and today her cause is yours. I have to admit, I can’t imagine either of us being powerful enough to leave a mark on this upcoming war.”
“I see where you’re coming from, but I have to disagree,” Corona said. “I’m sure I could slip you both into the meeting if you’re willing to answer a few questions for me. Namely how you could go from the revolutionary Emperor of a basically unknown world to stowing away on a Chaos ship and breaking Lucius the Eternals arm...tentacles.”
“It’s a long story, spanning almost a hundred years,” Edelgard said.
“I’ve lived longer,” Corona smirked. “Any chance I’ll get to hear the full of it?”
“Maybe one day the full story will pass your desk,” Edelgard said. She paused, reaching down to remove her glove. “I believe it’ll be quicker for you to see it.”
Corona blinked at the hand that extended in front of her. It took a short moment for her to remove her own glove, time during which Edelgard briefly considered retracting her hand. Very briefly. I didn’t come this far alone. This is the easy step… just, reach out a hand.
Corona’s hand was warm. Edelgard barely registered that fact before the world went white.
A lifetime passed in an instant as a flurry of sounds and images. There was the dagger, a dungeon, rats skittered by… screaming. A mask, red and white. The monastery, archbishop, enemy. The professor, her Professor. She reached out a hand. Then… Merodi. Revolution. The ringing of a bell tower. A dragon lay dead at her feet. Life went on… until the Message. The last night in Canterlot. Hubert’s appearance… his eyes flashed green.
The connection broke when Corona yanked her hand away, and they both awoke back in the Hotel. It hadn’t been longer than a few seconds since they began. Silence lingered over them for a moment as the exchange processed. Corona spoke up first, her voice suddenly very tired.
“Edelgard,” Corona said. “Thank you. For reaching out a hand.”
“We all do what we must. Thank you for taking it,” Edelgard said wistfully. “I… leave what comes next to your discretion.”
Corona returned a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. Edelgard stepped to the side, allowing them both to look to Hubert behind her.
“Lady Edelgard?” he asked. He took a step back.
“You can stop here,” Corona said. “Whatever you came to do, you can stop right now. No one is here to make you do it.”
“I don’t…” Hubert trailed off, his eyes widening. “Oh.”
“Please take off my friend’s face,” Edelgard said. “I’ve known Hubert since he was a child, and you’ve done him little justice.”
Not-Hubert grit his teeth before vanishing in a puff of green fire. In his place was a dark green changeling that was larger than most. Where most changelings had a single horn like a unicorn, this one had a pair of antlers.
“Pharynx…” Corona said sadly. “That is still your name, right?”
Pharynx didn’t say a word, his antlers lighting up. Before a spell could come out Corona flicked her wrist and he was thrown against the back wall. With just an extra bit of force, he couldn’t even pull his limbs from the wall. He transformed in a spout of flame into a minotaur, nearly pulling himself out of the telekinesis before Corona pushed even harder. Pharynx tried several other transformations, magic-resistant and powerful alike, but Corona held him in place.
All the while Edelgard watched.
“I have a capture device under my seat,” Corona said over Pharynx’s struggling. “If you would…?”
She did.
~~~
“And why should I entrust him to you?” Edelgard asked. She had one hand already on her axe.
The meeting with the other potential leaders of the Collapse had ended no more than a few minutes ago, with each of them pledging themselves to the cause. Already it seemed that pledge mattered to some more than others.
“Because I could take it anyway!” Ahzek answered. “Tzeentch demands this capture, and it’s only fair you give it to me after what you did to Lucius. You didn’t even give him the satisfaction of death you-”
“Spare me your insults, sorcerer. Your won’t touch this device. I’ll see to it personally.”
“You dare defy me, you petty mortal? I have seen what a real Emperor can do. You aren’t worth the gold in your trinket.” Ahzek laughed. “That’s not even the real bone of your enemies in that axe, is it? Just another lie from a girl playing pretend. Give me the capture, pretender, or I’ll take it!”
“No, you won’t,” another interrupted. Ahzek started to turn around, stopping when the tink of a sword echoed against his thigh.
Barely tall enough to reach Ahzek’s breast plate was a woman wearing a brown poncho that reached her knees. One of her eyes was covered by an eyepatch, a trio of parallel scars drawing lines underneath. In her hands was a black and white sword leveled at a very fragile part of the human male body.
“Haha! You think that puny blade could pierce-”
The woman pushed the blade slightly up against Ahzek’s armor. The plate split, leaving nothing between Ahzek’s flesh and the blade.
“So,” the woman said. “We’re done here. Right?”
They couldn’t see Ahzek blink under his helmet, but the guttural growl he let out teleporting away was clear. The woman spat where he had just stood.
“I could have handled him,” Edelgard said.
“I know. The bug in your pocket can’t. Wish I followed through while I could,” the woman said, making Edelgard wince. “I’m Buddy. They told me we’d be with you.”
“Ah, of course. I’m Edelgard, as I’m sure you’ve figured out You’re with the Strike Force,” Edelgard said, putting on a smile. Buddy gave her a look.
Of the few things they had discussed at the meeting, skills had come up. Leadership was an obvious one for everyone at the meeting, though none of them would be considered above Corona. Edelgard had offered to take on a greater command, but said she’d feel better leading a smaller group. Corona and the others had been accommodating of her request. She had spent the rest of the meeting trying to come up with a name for them.
She missed the looks that the others had given her at the name she pitched at the end of the meeting. The Crimson Strike Force was the perfect name for those she was taking command of.
“Strike Force?” Buddy asked before shaking her head. “Sure. This way.”
Edelgard already knew where they were going, but let Buddy take the lead anyway. She put a hand on her pouch, feeling the capture device with Pharynx still there. It wasn’t too long of a walk, though it was a quiet one, with Buddy not saying a word the entire walk. A trumpet echoed through the halls, getting louder as they approached their destination.
Buddy didn’t as much knock on the door of room 127 three times as she tried to punch through it. With a creak the door slid open, the trumpet coming from inside. The room was much larger than it should’ve been, but Edelgard had learned long ago to not pay something so insignificant as standard physics much mind. If the room could suit their needs then she was more than satisfied.
Beds lined the walls with little in the way of decor, though a few of the residents had started to personalize their spaces already.
To say the company in the room was mixed would be an understatement. Edelgard had asked for variety and she had received it. An insectoid girl was threading silk through a sharp needle as tall as herself on one bed. A masked boy was sitting on another bed, mechanically turning to face them as they stepped inside.
“You can introduce yourself,” Buddy said. “I need to collect my dad.”
Near the end of the room where Buddy was leading them, a woman with short brown hair was playing the trumpet to a mutated amalgamation of flesh that might have once been a man.
This woman looked up as they approached, seemingly relieved as she stopped playing. The blob groaned as she did, causing a few of the people in the room to reach for their weapons. They all stopped when Buddy took the trumpet and started to play, the creature seeming content.
The woman who had been playing noticed Edelgard staring, her eyes widening. She approached slowly.
“Excuse me, are you Edelgard?” she asked.
“I am. Have we met?’
“No, This is the first time, but I’ve heard of you,” the woman said sadly. “My name is Makoto Kurusu. My husband died on your world helping.”
“As did many others. I wish none of them did,” Edelgard said. “His sacrifice made a difference. In the lives of my people, and my world.”
“That’s the risk he took going. Life won’t change if we don’t make it, right? I’ve always heard people saying his death meant something, but I’ve never been able to visit your world to see it. Hearing it… means more than you know.”
Around them, people were taking notice of Edelgard’s presence. The masked boy was looking through her. The insect girl stopped threading her needle. A giant of a man with his right arm embroiled in a cybernetic gauntlet from the shoulder down approached her, an inquisitive look on his face.
“You would be our leader then? Who Corona asked us to follow?” The man asked, looking her up and down. “Why should we follow you?”
Edelgard studied the man a moment. He looked like a brute on the surface, but she could see too much life behind his eyes to buy it. He wasn’t insulting her, she could see that, but he was probing to see if she was offended. What was it he was hoping to see in her? Conviction? Strength? Intelligence?
“Akande, Corona said-”
“I asked for the creation of the Strike Force because I see dozens of people in this room right now that chose to be here,” Edelgard said, not sure who she was interrupting. “I see people who have been ravaged by the flow of ka, as ordained by Prophets treating us as nothing more than players in their opera. Akande, was it? How did you lose your arm?”
“Omnics,” he answered, balling up the gauntlet.
“Was it? Or was it a Prophet behind his desk in the safety of his home or an office?” Edelgard walked past Akande, pointing at the masked boy. “And you, why did you join the collapse?”
“I died,” The boy said mechanically. “My body was made a puppet.”
“By?”
“Madman,” the boy said with a curious tilt of his head.
“Was this madman the one who experimented on you, or the man that said you’d be experimented on?”
The boy didn’t have an answer. Edelgard didn’t have to ask before Buddy spoke up. The mutant beside her groaned as she stopped playing the trumpet.
“I was the last human girl in my world,” Buddy said. “Dad wanted to protect me from the… expectations the other men had, and I wanted to be free. Still do. And so long as the Tower stands I can’t be.”
As she spoke the mutant with her had crawled in front of her, a growl emitting from it. Buddy calmed it with two notes and a quiet reassurance. ‘It’s okay dad.’
More people came forward with their stories. This man to be both a superhero and an addict that killed his girlfriend to make a point. This girl’s home was destroyed because a father dared love his child. This man wanted to end abuses throughout the world and was marked the villain for the actions he needed to take.
Not everyone spoke up, nor would Edelgard want to force them too. After so many stories were shared, Edelgard decided her point was made. She climbed onto a footlocker to stand just a bit taller.
“We have all suffered,” Edelgard said. “We have suffered because Gan and the Builders thought long ago that they could fabricate meaning in the multiverse. In their foolishness they have only created suffering beyond repair. Here in the Raven Hotel, with the very strength that foolishness has forced upon us, we at last have a chance to fight back.
“I have fought for my whole life to make the world a better place. To end the tyranny of birth choosing how we live. No one should be made more important by who they are, but rather by what they do. I do not demand any of you follow me into battle or follow my orders. I ask it of you now. Let us walk the path into the dawn as one. Let us bring an end to the heartless tyranny of the Tower, so that at last true wisdom may prevail!”
~~~
The Crimson Strike Force’s arrival was signalled by Buddy’s trumpet, echoing through the portals that appeared around the Preservation base. The first wave of the Strike Force, a line of disfigured mutants, shambled out in step to the marching tune. No two mutants appeared the same.
Some still looked human but for swelling and elongation of their body. For others it was impossible to imagine how their body could have transformed as they did, their size and body mass greater than any human body should ever produce. Some moved slow, whilst others bounded across the field into the enemy lines. Arrows, bullets, mortar, and more bombarded the mutants as they marched, though it did nothing to stop their advance.
With the mutants in front, the main strike force emerged in the clearing. The masked boy, Claus, flew overhead with wings like a bat and fired his arm cannon from above. Akande, or Doomfist as he preferred, leapt over the line of mutants and charged into the fray. The bug girl, Hornet, threw her needle into a nearby tree and pulled herself up by the thread, disappearing into the foliage. A speedster named A-Train ran through a portal in the blink of an eye and disappeared into the forest as little more than a blur. All along the field, the other members of the Strike Force advanced in their own way using the mutants as canon fodder.
At the back of the line Buddy stood on her father’s back playing the trumpet, driving the mutants forward. Out from behind her Edelgard and Makoto stepped out. Over the wall of mutants they could see a castle, hastily patched up with modern materials and technology to hide their presence from interdimensional scanners.
For all the good those scanners did them when an insider gave away the location.
“Creepy things, aren’t they?” Makoto asked, quiet enough that Buddy couldn’t hear. She had put on a grey mask that mostly covered her eyes before they’d deployed.
“The mutants have been around since long before this war began, if Buddy’s to be believed. I would sooner make use of them than not,” Edelgard said. She turned on her headset. “Anyone see anything?”
“Mortar is coming from within the castle grounds,” Hornet said. “I think I see an opening to get in.”
“Do it, but be careful. If you can get the door open good, otherwise disrupt them only. Anyone else?”
“No notably persons on the other side. We might be in luck!”
Makoto clicked her tongue, and Edelgard sighed. Neither of them recognized who said it, but when they found out there would be hell to pay.
“Man, you just had to say it,” A-Train said over the line.
Nothing immediately went wrong, at least. The mutants were reaching the wall, trying to claw their way in. Surprisingly few had died in the transit. So far as Edelgard could see, none of her actual people had died as of yet.
The worst that she had seen was a muscular man that jumped down from the wall and started to yell out what sounded like song lyrics before Makoto shot him. He hadn’t had his stand ready to defend him. The mutants converged on what was left. Buddy watched passively as the man screamed. Beside her Makoto watched in horror, a capture device in her hand.
“Don’t watch,” Edelgard said, grabbing Makoto’s shoulder and pulling her forward. “I still need you today. Don’t look.”
The screaming stopped, and the mutants moved on with only a bar from Buddy’s trumpet.
Edelgard followed the flow of the fight through the constant reports she received from the strike force. Doomfist and A-train reported tearing into a vehicle depot behind the castle whilst Hornet cut through the bombardiers one after another. They had few reported casualties, and as yet no fatalities as Buddy’s mutants reached the gates.
Buddy picked up her playing, ordering them to wait before the door. Though the mortar fire had stopped almost entirely, someone in the command structure had redirected the archers. Arrows whistled by Buddy as she played. One finally seemed to be on target, only to stop inches from her face. Claus landed nearby, an empty look on his face as he maintained the shield.
Edelgard put a hand on her headset.
“Hornet, can you open the gate for us?” She asked.
“No,” the voice returned. “The gate house is guarded, I won’t be able to get near it.”
“Of course,“ Edelgard sighed. “Strike Force, assume assault positions. The doors aren’t going to open for us.”
She gave Buddy a nod. With only a few notes, the mutants rushed forward to tear at the gates. A couple with elongated legs were able to leap over the wall, skipping the gate entirely to hit the battlements. Even Edelgard winced at the sounds they heard.
One of the mutants tore a chunk off the gate, spitting it onto the ground beside him. When it reached to tear another, an arrow of red energy pierced its face. The mass of human flesh slumped backwards, dead in an instant. Through the hole she could vaguely hear what sounded like yelling.
Edelgard’s breath hitched, her eyes locked on the arrow. It crackled and sparked for a moment before dissipating into the air like magic.She reached for her headset.
“All units, pull back! I repeat, fall-”
Her ears filled with static.
“Hello, Strike Force report in! Accursed piece of... Crimson Strike Force, this is Edelgard, fall-”
“Phew, ouch, no need to yell,” a voice came through. She recognized the voice, but it wasn’t anyone from the Strike Force. “Don’t worry, Edelgard. I can hear you just fine.”
There was an animalistic screech that echoed against the stone. The mutants answered back with their own broken inhuman cries.
There was a rumble, and what was left of the gate toppled forward. Edelgard cursed, throwing herself out of the way. Makoto landed beside her and dirt and the blood of crushed mutants enveloped them.
Edelgard pulled herself up first, her axe having landed a foot away. She helped Makoto to her feet and the dust cleared. The first thing she noticed was the gate had landed a foot away from Buddy and her father. They were safe at least.
The dust cleared. Within the gates was a line of soldiers with magic oozing off of their weapons. She recognized a few of them from a long time ago. In the center of the gate house stood a wyvern, its neck craned low. A thin woman with pink hair and an axe almost as big as herself stood in front of it.
On the wyvern’s back was a handsome man with dark skin, dressed in golden colors and a charming smile. In his hand was a bow made of dragon bone. Edelgard could have laughed just as easily as she could have screamed.
“Hey El,” He said, his voice carried by the radio. “Been a while hasn’t it?”
“Claude,” Edelgard answered. She had to force herself to stay composed. He has no right to use that name. “What are you doing here?”
“What, can’t see an old friend? And here I went through all the trouble of forging a fake preservation missive and throwing it your way to get you to visit.” He shrugged. “Ah well. You’re here now. I think I’m going to take you home, the Professor has to miss you after all.”
“You know I can’t go back. I have to see this war through.”
She picked her axe off of the ground and took a position next to Buddy. Makoto followed her, revolver in hand. Buddy herself held her trumpet in one hand and brandished her blade in the other.
Claude sighed and raised his weapon. He notched and drew an arrow, the bow encompassing it in magic attuned to his bloodline just as Edelgard’s axe did the same.
“I don’t need you to come willingly. Even if I’d rather you did.”
Claude pointed his bow upward, the magic-infused arrow piercing the stone and traveling through the sky. It emerged out of the top of the battlements, a body stuck on its tip. It stuck the body of Hornet in the ground a minute later. She still looked alive. The hungry eyes of Buddy’s mutants drifted towards her, but Makoto was quick on the draw. Hornet was safely within a capture device a moment later.
Claude’s soldiers charged a moment later, with Claude’s wyvern taking to the air immediately. With a command from Edelgard, the mutants were driven forward with a few notes from Buddy’s trumpet. Edelgard grit her teeth before charging with them.
The first soldier she would have engaged disappeared in a blur. Out of the corner of her eye she saw A-train slam him into the castle wall. The next was crushed under a mutant’s weight before it snapped his neck. Finally she reached the girl with pink hair and swung her axe in a one handed grip.
She remembered this girl from her home world. Her name was Hilda.
She caught her swing with her own, winking as she did so. Before she opened her mouth she could see her opening her mouth to banter. Not giving her the chance, Edelgard pulled back and swept her leg, almost pulling Hilda’s feet out from under her.
“Yikes, straight to the point huh Edie?” Hilda giggled nervously. “Or is it El? I’ve heard both.”
Edelgard swung her axe at the dirt, throwing it up at her face before charging. A benefit of having trained with a mercenary for so many years was that you learned to fight to win instead of fighting for glory. A lesson that had never been impressed upon Hilda.
Another soldier tried to interfere only for Makoto to shoot their helmet, and kick them in the face.
Edelgard was able to maintain the momentum against Hilda, though it wasn’t easy. The pair of them were likely among the strongest warriors on the field despite their size, their strength amplified by the Crests in their veins.
Edelgard misstepped. Seeing her opening Hilda raised her axe over her head… only for it to be split in two.
Buddy pressed her sword against Hilda’s throat.
“Wha… what?” Hilda asked.
Buddy didn’t answer. With a single clean motion she knocked Hilda out with the hilt of her weapon while Edelgard pulled out an empty capture device.
“Thank you,” Edelgard said as she captured Hilda. Buddy just nodded. Around them the soldiers were being beaten back as more of the Strike Force arrived. There were thankfully few bodies from either side, with mutants making up the majority of corpses. “You can clear out the inside of the castle, I’ll take care of Claude.”
Buddy raised a brow, but nodded. The mutants followed her into the castle, her father at their helm.
The static still rang in her ears, leaving her in the dark about where the missing members of her Strike Force were. She could barely make out Claus opposite of Claude’s wyvern high above them.
“How do we reach him?” Doomfist’s asked from behind her. “Even I can’t reach up there.”
“No, you can’t,” Edelgard agreed.
She was used to wyvern riders being in reach. Claus was keeping Claude high above the battlefield as magic, arrows, and arm-cannon fire alike flew in every direction. He was using a bow besides. He’d never have to be in their reach. She did have any ballistae or anti-air with her, she hadn’t thought it’d be necessary. A mistake clearly. With communications down she didn’t have any way to tell Claus to bring the fight to the ground either.
The only option she saw was to go to him.
“How hard could you throw me?” Edelgard asked. Doomfist turned to her with a raised brow.
“How good is your balance?”
It was a terrible idea. That was the only reason she felt confidence in it. Her balance had been honed by both the battlefield and the ballroom. Along with her small frame, Edelgard was able to keep both feet steady on the Doomfist gauntlet as the mechanical parts built up power.
If the Professor could see me now, launching myself as a missile. Edelgard smiled. What would he say of this?
Doomfist gave her a warning and she gripped her axe tightly.
The air pressure hit her at once as she was launched into the sky. As the fight in the sky drew closer, she started to slow down. Her focus was diverted, part in keeping her eyes on her destination, part on keeping her eyes open, and an unfortunate part that worried she hadn’t been thrown hard enough.
Fortune favored her as Claus noticed her approach. He rose to fire down on Claude, who was forced to weave out of the way of the attacks. This brought him low enough.
Edelgard reached out a hand and wrapped it around the wyvern’s neck. Shocked by the sudden weight mid-maneuver, it let out a shriek and started to fall. Claude struggled to hold on, letting out a curse as his bow was flung from his grip.
Claus drew his saber and folded in his wings. Going into free fall, he leveled the blade in front of him. It was just before they hit the ground that the wyvern was impaled, letting out one last cry as it hit the ground with a resounding crash. Edelgard was thrown from the wyvern’s neck, rolling several feet. Her armor broke off or compacted from the force in several places. Shock kept her from processing the full extent of the damage immediately, allowing her to be process that she was alive first and foremost.
She didn’t remember the name of the unicorn that ran up to her with a staff, mending her bones as best she could. She barely remembered rejecting to be put in a capture device until they were back to safety. The next thing that Edelgard remembered was standing over Claude’s unconscious body.
“Heal him,” she told the unicorn. She did.
When he was in a stable state, she waited. Buddy hauled out the hacker that had disrupted their communications. It was someone that Makoto had known apparently. That made her Makoto’s responsibility. Claude was hers.
He awoke, eventually. The Strike Force was almost finished with their final tasks on the battlefield. Buddy had corralled her surviving mutants into another dimension away from the battlefield and the capture devices were being returned to the Raven Hotel, leaving them mostly alone. He looked up at Edelgard with a pained smile.
“You… let me sleep in the dirt?”
“Oh, I apologize. Would you have preferred a bed?” She smiled back.
“I expected a ball, honestly. Gotta admit, I didn’t know you could fly,” Claude sighed. “Could’ve planned for the flesh creatures better too, but I didn’t think you’d go that far.”
“Whatever it takes. Here.”
Claude eyed her extended hand warily. When he took it she pulled him to his feet and pulled him into a hug. His eyes widened as she shoved two capture devices into his stomach.
“Hilda,” she whispered, “and Pharynx. Get them home, and don’t let me see any of you again.”
She broke the hug and turned to leave. The battle as a whole was a waste, she figured, but she could try to do some good in the end.
“Heh. Thank you,” Claude said. He took a step to leave before stopping and turning around. “Take care out there. I heard there’s someone after your head in particular.”
“What?” Edelgard turned back. “Who?”
“They call them the Revenant. No one’s really sure where they come from, just that they appeared at the start of the war. One report said they have a list of names, people that have been dying one after another, and you’re on it. Which is why I thought you’d rather go home, but...”
Claude shook his head. His warning hung in the air.
~~~
The war went on, though whether it had been months, years, or hours depended on who you asked. The Crimson Strike Force went on mission after mission to advance the cause of the collapse as they could. Members would be lost, and others would take their place. On one mission, they had found a world where they could reverse cyborgization, where Claus had stayed behind.
Edelgard didn’t hear a word of Claude again, for which she was grateful. She was less comfortable with the silence regarding the Revenant that Claude had warned her of. She considered he might have fabricated the character to scare her into backing out of the war, but even as cunning as Claude was they’d known each other long enough that she believed him.
The day she learned the truth started with a report of the obvious: one of the collapse’s allies was being an idiot.
“Buddy!” Edelgard yelled as she ran through the hotel. “Makoto!”
Other members of the collapse stared at her as she ran, but barely gave her another thought. Allies truly was a generous term for many of them. She nearly toppled into Doomfist as she took a particularly tight corner.
“Edelgard?” Doomfist asked.
“Akande, finally one of mine. We have trouble.” Edelgard reached into her pouch and handed him a piece of paper. “Here are a set of coordinates. Gather up the Strike Force, get as many sanity filters you can, and meet me there. Don’t let anyone come without a filter.”
“What are we expecting?”
“I was just made aware that Tzeentch is fighting the Emperor in the Warp. If anyone’s going to help the fool...”
“Understood. Fight well, Edelgard.” With that Doomfist took off.
Content that her orders would be carried out, Edelgard found an empty room and opened a portal into the Warp. No need to make passerbys insane. As soon as she stepped through it, she felt herself change.
Throughout the multiverse there existed several iterations of the collective unconsciousness. The Warp was the most infamous of them, but certain others maintained by an aspect of The Great Will existed out there. Edelgard was fortunate that aspect had broken away long ago, else she wouldn’t carry his protection now as she stepped into the maddening Warp.
Instead of madness, divine protection wrapped around her in a spurt of blue fire. Her armor was replaced by the black heavy armor of an identity long cast aside. Over her face a mask formed, red and white. Edelgard took a breath. That it even worked was a small miracle.
Edelgard took in her surroundings, and even with divine protection from eldritch madness she felt dizzy. All around her, both above and beneath her the battle between the Emperor’s forces and Tzeentch’s was waged.
Stay out of the way, if you would, a thousand voices echoed in her mind. Whatever you’re here for, it’s none of my concern.
Edelgard shook her head as Tzeentch pulled himself from her mind. She’d accomplish more with action than sparring words.
Her position was relatively separate from much of the fighting, giving her a moment to pick out the most manageable foe she could. Edelgard had no illusion she could take the Emperor’s best, but challenging a hanger-on or supporting a greater daemon…
That one. Not far away she could see an asymmetrical daemon that stood out from most of Tzeentch’s spawn. Its opponent was dressed in a black hood, looking nothing like any of the Emperor’s forces. Hate the Tower as she might, she knew when it was directing her there… and she had little choice but to listen.
Moving through the storm as a mortal was odd to say the least. It wasn’t exactly without gravity, nor was it standard. She couldn’t describe it beyond ‘unnatural.’ She still did her best to reach her target as quickly as possible.
“PETTY MORTAL! YOU FACE THE GOD MALAL,” the creature bellowed. “I WHO HAVE OUTLIVED NURGLE, KHORNE, AND SLAANESH! I WHO NEED NO WORSHIP TO REIGN! WHAT CHANCE DO YOU HAVE TO-”
The hooded figure spun around a spear made of bone in one hand. Edelgard recognized the weapon, the same as she had recognized Claude’s. They had both been forged from the same dragons a millenia ago. In the other a light formed, and a blade formed in the other hand. It was a sleek black weapon shaped like a key, a rose hanging from a chain at its hilt.
The figure threw the spear at Malal, who tried to bat it aside. He didn’t expect it to cut through his hand, leaving a gap through his palm. His pained cry was interrupted as the figure slashed his keyblade through Malal’s leg, toppling him to the ground.
The figure grabbed his spear stood over the pained Malal’s head. The apparent god Malal’s eyes might have gone wide if he’d had any.
“NO! WAIT, DON’T-”
The figure did not care for Malal’s begging. They brought weapons down and pierced his skull. The forgotten renegade god let out a pained roar that shook the Warp, his body dissipating into the realm around him.
The figure landed on their feet, the daemons around them deliberately avoiding her. They slipped away, more content to face the Emperor’s forces. Malal may have been a joke of a god, but he had still been greater than any demon.
“You’re Edelgard. His voice calls for your head,” the hooded figure said, their breaths heavy. Their voice changed with every syllable. “Tell me, who do you see?”
“You’re the Revenant, aren’t you? Claude warned me about you,” Edelgard asked cautiously, drawing her axe. “I see a hooded figure carrying the spear of a dead man.”
The Revenant snorted, and reached for their hood. Edelgard’s breath hitched. His face - for it was the face of a man - was scarred, one of his eyes covered by an eye patch. His blonde hair was stained with blood and dirt.
“And now?” The Revenant’s voice no longer changed with every word. Instead was the haunted voice of a broken man.
“I see the dead man whose spear you hold. Is that truly your face? Are you…?”
“No,” he said sadly. “The man you see is nothing more than a memory. As are all my faces. I haven’t had my own in a… a long time.” He looked up, his one eye locking on Edelgard’s mask. He let out a laugh that could have froze her blood. “I'm nothing more than a twisted joke, aren’t I?”
“Enough, Revenant,” Edelgard said. “For the sake of the memories that weigh you down, I’ll put you to rest.”
“Revenant… peh. If you’d be the one to kill me, I’d answer to my true name one last time. I am Xion. For the sake of the memories I carry, I bring vengeance. To you, and to the Chaos God you protect!”
The keyblade dissolved, and Xion charged forward with only the spear. Edelgard braced herself, grabbing the mask her protection had created, and pulling it off. A winged creature, both regal and inhuman, formed behind her much like a Stand.
It was a benefit of a collective unconscious realm: the power bestowed by any cognitive gods couldn’t tell the difference between them. Just as that power let her traverse the Warp without going mad, so too did it allow a Persona to form within the Warp.
“Hegemon!” Edelgard cried out.
Her Persona answered by channeling the dark and thunderous Warp around them to strike at Xion. He dove to the side, drifting in the odd gravity of the storm to face Edelgard in the air. Wind magic formed at his feet and blew him forward, speartip directed at her face.
Edelgard raised the flat of her axe to deflect to attack. There wasn’t time to react when Xion turned the spear downwards, stabbing into the loosely defined ground to flip over Edelgard. The keyblade formed in his hand as he slashed at her back. It tore through the cloth and left a gash in her armor. Edelgard cried out as she stumbled away.
Xion grabbed the spear as he charged again. Edelgard was stuck on the defensive. With every attack she was pushed back more. With every small opening she left, she earned another gash.
If she didn’t turn the tide somehow, she’d lose. Hegemon hadn’t been the trump card she’d hoped.
Xion caught Edelgard’s axe with his keyblade, and pulled it from her grip. The keyblade dissolved and he took the spear in a two-handed grip. The spear drove forward… only to stop as a mechanical fist drove into his side.
Edelgard took in a deep breath, looking to her savior. Doomfist’s eyes were covered by a tightly fit pair of glasses, as were Buddy’s. Makoto wore nothing, sitting atop a persona that looked like a motorcycle. Apprehension was clear on her face
“Why.. why do they look like him?” Makoto asked.
“Xion said he holds the memories of the dead,” Edelgard said. “The person that you see, I swear to you it’s not him.”
Makoto nodded after a moment. She looked behind Edelgard, flickering by her face. Edelgard just smiled and turned back to Xion. He stood with a wistful smile on his lips.
“I remember standing beside people like you,” he said. “They’d called me a hero once upon a time… a friend. Family, even. I thought it much more than a puppet would ever deserve… Heh. Nothing but another ghost.”
“I killed the man with your face once,” Doomfist said proudly. “I’ll do it again.”
“My father is gone,” Buddy said. “I can carry his memories without you.”
As overhead Tzeentch drove his crystalline tendrils into the Emperor, Doomfist broke the tension by diving forward with the gauntlet. Xion jumped out of the way only to be hit by a spell from Makoto’s persona, throwing the spear from his hands. He rolled onto his feet, using wind to throw himself towards Makoto. Buddy caught the weapons with her sword, locking them in a standstill as the rest of the strike force tried to surround him.
A daemon dove from above to grab at Xion. With a blood-curdling scream he drove Buddy’s sword up to impale it just over her head, and kicked the woman away. With a twist, both his keyblade and spear created a wall of ice to cut off Doomfist’s charge.
Edelgard swung at Xion, the man ducking under the axe and kicking at her legs. Edelgard caught her fall with her knee, ducking low enough for Makoto to jump over her and punch Xion across the jaw. He stumbled backwards into his own ice wall.
“Take off his face! You don’t have the right to wear it!” Makoto swung her foot in a circle to kick his face, yelping when he caught it and used her momentum to throw her away.
Edelgard used the time to burn through the ice enough for Doomfist to jump through. Just as Makoto was thrown he fired three rounds from his arm before delivering an uppercut strong enough to pull them both from the ground. He smiled as he stepped off of Xion’s face to propel himself higher.
“Meteor Strike!” Doomfist pulled his fist back as he started to fall. Xion’s eye went wide, and he tried to use magic to push himself away. He threw himself straight into Edelgard’s swinging axe. He barely blocked with his keyblade, but that hadn’t been Edelgard’s goal.
The force pushed him backwards, straight under Doomfist’s landing gauntlet. The chaotic energies of the Warp enveloped them. Edelgard kept her axe level, not willing to believe it was over.
When the storm settled, Doomfist’s gauntlet was embedded in Xion’s torso. The man was twitching in the crater. With a sigh, Edelgard grabbed a capture device and threw it to Doomfist.
“It’s over,” she said as Doomfist captured the man. She turned around to see the rest of the battle waging around them.
High above them was an ork, greater in size than any she’d ever heard of. It punched Tzeentch across thousands of mouths, and just as many faces. Around them she could see other beings, all about the same size as the Emperor of Mankind, seemingly swarming Tzeentch at once.
Despite their victory over Xion, the battle was lost.
“Makoto, open a portal. We’re getting-”
“Look out!” Doomfist shouted.
Edelgard turned with axe in hand. The capture device was broken in two, and Xion soared through the air with keyblade in hand.
It only took one swing.
Xion was split in two, his legs and torso flying, the axe Aymr having cut through the air with enough force to bring down gods.
Edelgard took a shaky breath. She turned around to see the body. Xion’s face was struck with horror. It hadn’t killed him yet… Edelgard took a step closer to end it when his face changed.
Where a scarred and broken man’s face had been was now the face of a young girl with raven hair. Her eyes were bluer than the ocean. All of the anger, and the wistful acceptance, was gone. Now… All Xion wore was fear.
“What… happened…” Xion asked. Her voice was soft. “Where am… where am I? I don’t...”
Edelgard dropped her axe and fell to her side. She put a hand on her shoulder.
“Sh. It’s okay… It’s okay Xion. You’ve been… You’ve overworked yourself. You just need to rest for now, I’ll tell you all about it in the morning.”
“Oh… Is… uh… is he okay?”
“Who?”
“My friend. We used to…” Xion took in a pained breath and started to look down.
“No, eyes on me. What did you used to do?”
“We used… eat ice cream. And...” Xion’s voice trailed off. Tears came to her eyes.
Edelgard forced herself to smile.
“It’s okay. Your friend will meet you soon. It’ll all be just like it used to be,” she promised. “Just rest. We’ll get you to your friend.”
Xion smiled, one last tear trailing down her face before breathing her last.
~~~
Corona Shimmer stepped into her room in the Raven Hotel. As soon as she was inside she leaned back against the door and took a deep breath.
“That eldritch jerk is going to get himself killed or drive me mad before this is over,” she muttered.
She pulled off her shades and barely took a step into the room before she noticed she wasn’t alone. In a chair facing the door sat Edelgard.
“Oh, Edelgard. I-”
“What was it all for?” Edelgard asked.
“Well-” Corona trailed off. “That depends what it is.”
“Merodi’s aid to my world. At the time I had been so grateful. My dream had been realized almost bloodlessly, and tens of thousands of lives were saved. It seemed like everything was better for them having been there. And yet… here we all are, in the same places we would have been if they hadn’t come. Claude has disappeared, likely never to be seen again. Dimitri’s ghost almost killed me for a fruitless vengeance. And I… I am still embroiled in a war of ideology, one that has ruined every person it’s touched.
“So, I’m asking you. Corona. What has it all been for?” Edelgard’s eyes pleaded for an answer. Corona didn’t need to read her mind to understand how much she needed some validation, some answer to everything.
“That’s the question isn’t it?” Corona sighed. “What can any of it mean… if it all ends the same.”
Corona approached a cabinet and pulled out two teacups. She offered one to Edelgard, still empty.
“A cup of something might make this conversation easier, but I don’t have anything stronger than a few tea leaves right now. Besides, I’ve heard you learned how to make the stuff from the best.”
Edelgard snorted in an unladylike way, getting up to help. It wasn’t much later that they both had a full cup of earl grey in front of them.
“So,” Corona said between cups, “what does it mean?”
“That’s not what I asked,” Edelgard said. “I asked what it was all for if time was just going to carry us to the same point anyway.”
“This is…” Corona sighed. “There’s some irony to our help making you worse off in the end. No doubt the Tower would think itself clever if it was able to feel anything. That is a part of why we’re fighting isn’t it? To stop tragedies like what you’ve gone through from existing?”
“I can’t help but feel I’m giving it what it wants by being here.”
“I don’t doubt that there are people who aren’t fighting in the war because they think it's what the Tower wants of them. What they don’t realize is that they’re just examples of what little good standing to the side actually does. We can’t live just to spite the Tower. We’ll always lose that battle.”
“I…” Edelgard sighed. “I miss being human. I remember just before I started my revolution being terrified of my comfortable days at the Academy coming to an end once my plan started. After so long I’d forgotten that fear, but now that it’s come to pass after so much time it’s proving harder than I ever imagined.”
“Some part of me knew the story, or time as you keep saying, would turn its back on us,” Corona said. “I mean, the End of Certainty? Even before I asked the Question, that was ominous.”
“Let me guess, but…?” Edelgard prompted.
“But… We aren’t just the moment we’re in,” Corona said, taking a sip. “The past doesn’t define us, Edelgard, but it’s still a part of us. Every moment we’ve spent with a friend or loved one, every mistake that we’ve made, that all matters. You got over a hundred years you might not have had otherwise, and that counts for something.”
Corona put down her cup, and got up from her seat. She reached a hand out to Edelgard with a smile.
“Come on. The Crimson Strike Force still needs you. Let’s face the dawn together.”
Edelgard almost laughed. As she took Corona’s hand her thoughts were heavy with the knowledge that the days ahead were none the easier to face. Onward she’d march anyway, pressing against the edge of dawn.
‘Every Rose Has Thorns’
By Masterweaver
The two women looked very different. One had a normal skintone, the other's flesh was pink. One had feathers crawling up the back of her neck, the other's neck was bare. While both wore cloaks of scarlet and corsets of black, the outfits bore different buckles and belts and pockets and shirts. It would be nearly impossible to mistake one for the other.
Nearly.
Their hair was the same short blood-red. Their faces, all but identical. And two sets of silver eyes, each locked in somber understanding.
"Life is beautiful," said the one with pale flesh.
"It is precious," replied the one with feathers.
"And it must," they chanted as one, "be protected."
A small, sad smile grew on the pale one's face. "You're not coming, are you."
"I have my own flock," the feathered one agreed.
"I hate that I understand where you're coming from."
"Do you? Really hate, that is?"
"...No," the pale one admitted. "No, I... it's more disappointment. I'm not sure if it's you or me that I'm disappointed with."
"This whole war is confusion," the feathered one said, shaking her head. "It's nothing simple souls like us should have gotten involved with."
"Simple souls." The pale one reached for her own eyes, glancing away--
--only for a pink hand to reach out, and turn her face back. "Not stupid. Not foolish. Simple. We know who we are, and what we do."
"Yeah. Thanks."
"...Here." The feathered one reached behind her, grabbing something. "You need her more than I do."
The pale one's eyes widened. "I've already got Crescent Rose, I don't--"
"This is a war of stories. And what's more dramatic than the beloved weapon breaking at the worst possible time? You'll... want a backup, just in case."
"She's yours, though. You made her."
"This isn't Remnant. We aren't naturally warriors. This weapon is... loved, but it's not a part of me just because I made it. I can always make another. It really isn't that important to me."
The pale one gave her a flat look, one partially marred by her wet eyes. "Isn't honesty supposed to be one of your core values?"
"...all things in moderation," the feathered one murmured.
Quietly, gently, the pale one took the offering. "I'm not using this unless Crescent Rose becomes irreparable."
"I wouldn't have it any other way."
"...will... will your bishops understand?"
"Sunny might not. Not at first." The feathered one shook her head with a grin. "But she'll come around. I know her."
"...Yeah."
"Yeah."
"...Good luck."
"You too. And... I'd say stay safe, but--"
"We'll try our best. We'll be... protecting each other."
"Good."
~~~
"Well?" Yang stood as Ruby approached. "What's the verdict?"
Ruby sighed, shaking her head. "She... has to protect her beacon."
"...Yeah." Yang looked around the park. "Yeah, I can get that. Man... remember when we first got here?"
"Oh, I remember." Ruby took a deep breath, turning to the other two members of her team. "I'm obligated to give you a chance to back out."
"And I'm obligated to tell you hell no in the most emotional melodramatic way possible," Weiss replied, deadpan. "Let's just take that as read."
"Heh. Blake?"
"...If we die, we die together."
"Right." Ruby nodded. "Right," she said again. "So... we're huntresses. And what is the number one duty of a huntress? Saving lives. So..."
She shut her eyes. "We're going to go where the fighting is heavy. But we won't be fighting our opponents unless we have to, we--we're going to be the search and rescue team. Anybody too wounded to fight. Any civilians that got caught in the crossfire. We get in and get them out. That's... that's what we're going to do."
A mild cringe came to her face as she opened her eyes again. "Unless... we want to do something different...?"
The rest of her team exchanged glances. Then as one, they shook their heads.
"Okay." Ruby exhaled. "Let's go to the Merodi embassy, then. Maybe this time, I'll actually be the one to get impaled or dismembered or whatever."
‘Eye of the Storm’
Heavy purple combat boots dragged across the floor of the hub as the woman wearing them exhaustedly marched forward. Her camo-printed cargo jeans and white tank top suggested she was a common soldier, but the disastrously disorganized hair and multiple bags under her eyes suggested she was in charge of far more than she was used to.
Her truly exhausted appearance was, interestingly, only the second thing people noticed about her. The first was her collection of rather mundane features that people always recognized when they saw her; the ironically plain looks that had made her somewhat famous.
The woman in question was Turntable Jane A. Shimmer: an accomplished hero, a fan favourite in Multiversal Fighters 3, a tenfold proven godslayer, a past slider, and fifty percent of Merodi Universalis’s Evermore population. She had more titles and identifiers, but she didn’t care about any of them then; all that was on her mind was the current source of her overworked, ragged state.
The vibration her phone gave off reminded her of exactly what that was. Jane stopped walking to let out a loud, exaggerated sigh as she debated letting the call go. Taking a moment to lower her head and just bask in the feeling of more work calling her, Jane decided she should at least check to see who was calling.
Reaching her hand into what outside observers would assume was her ribcage, but what she knew intimately was actually her subspace inventory, Jane grabbed her phone and checked the ID. Seeing the name she threw her head back and groaned in annoyance before she hit the accept button and brought the phone to her ear.
“Hi Daniel,” She deadpanned. “What can I do for you?” She knew she didn’t sound enthused but she also knew that she sounded like she was at least trying, which was good, since this was a professional call anyway.
He could at least say ‘hi’ or something, “They’re fine, a few still aren’t ready, but most of them can move on.” Jane assumed that the enthusiasm of the soldiers meant most would be quick to learn what they could from her.
Jane sighed. “I’ll do what I can, but I’m only one woman.”
Yeah, yeah, she thought, attempting not to take his compliment on her ability the wrong way. “Like I said, I’ll do what I can...” She really didn’t care much for how capable she was anyway.
Jane scowled at her phone, but kept herself from yelling at the device. “I won’t be there, let General Ironsights know.” She held the phone away from her ear to protect it from the sudden spike in volume.
She couldn’t believe he had the gall to be upset with her. “I’m going home Daniel, I’ve been drilling recruits for literal weeks and sleep spells aren’t taking the edge off anymore!”
...Because of course he’d mention the collapse side, why wouldn’t he? “Obviously they’ll get trained,” Jane almost yelled, but held her composure. “Just not by me. I’m losing effectiveness and making mistakes. I’m going home.”
Jane rolled her eyes as the conversation ended. “Sure, whatever,” she said before ending the call.
The entire war was making everyone stupid. All anyone ever talked about was collapse or preservation, no one else had any other conversations, they didn’t even try, it was starting to tax her. Obviously the Tower was horseshit; it allowed assholes to ruin people’s lives just by picking up a pen and feeling sadistic. She had no reservations about her opinion, she was one such person that had been fucked with and she knew better than most just what a dipshit with a word document was capable of.
But she also knew better than to uproot everything because she was dissatisfied with her life, there was definitely good to be found. Sunrise, for example, her Sunset Shimmer, the very same that loved her unconditionally was one such good in her own life. Jane may have vehemently despised her so-called author for ripping her out of her original life to become an Evermore, but, as much as she hated to admit it, the douche was also responsible for her meeting her wife; the very same wife that was unwaveringly on the side of preservation.
Sunrise - or as everyone else knew her: Sunny Parker - was a close personal friend of Eve. She was the godmother for Josuke and Beam’s daughter Josie, themselves strong advocates for Preservation, and she was an all-around lover of not killing people. Jane also suspected that because Sunrise and Corona were both originally Sunsets, Sunrise felt almost obligated to clear the name of all other Sunsets by being as anti-collapse as possible. Not that Sunrise ever actually mentioned that to anyone; she probably had yet to admit it even to herself.
Jane shook her head; now she was only thinking about the stupid war. She wanted to stop being surrounded by the damn thing and just go home and pass out; just grab some carbs to fill her stomach and sleep forever. Jane knew the war wouldn’t just wash over and the world return to normal, the multiverse was WAAAY too far gone for that, but at least with some sleep she could have a clear mind to better deal with how she herself fit into everything.
She ignored the look of concern she received from the Duplicates Noodle stand girl and ordered her sesame soba bowl on autopilot. Jane was exhausted, plain and simple, and not just from being awake for thirteen days. No, that certainly hadn’t helped, but more than all else she was just plain done with everything. After the Nihillists thing she wanted to stop and take a break. She was exhausted then too, but at least she got to travel, see some cool stuff, be useful in a group instead of the centre of attention.
Jane placed down her fiver bill and waved at the noodle girl as she walked away, the bowl was four-something, but she wasn’t interested in getting change back. Grabbing a disposable plastic fork on her way off, Jane downed a portion of the steaming hot broth and slurped up some of the actual food. She sighed in contentment before walking away, enjoying the flavour.
With another, more exhausted sigh, Jane opened her mouth and began unenthusiastically speaking the lyrics to music. “When I dance they call me Macarena.” As she did, her signature thin grey bar measure appeared and swirled around her. “And the boys they say que soy Buena.” Several colourful looking eighth notes danced along the measure in front of her, one larger than the others with the ‘Work/Shopping Hub’ above it.
Swiping several to the left she came across a light pink note labeled ‘Spawn Point’, “They all want me, they can't have me.” Double-tapping the note, it opened up and engulfed her, bringing her to a dusty desert street with a well-kept but well-aged two-storey home. The mailbox was proudly painted with the names ‘Jane & Sunny’.
Jane let herself smile slightly at the sight, it was her home, her place of residence, but most importantly the container her bed was held in. She walked up the front path - a stoned affair - to the front porch. Every so often she’d take in the wooden outcove, the chipped paint from a four year old punch, the squeaky boards, the residue from the egg fight three months prior that hadn’t fully faded. It was added personality that made her know it was her home, the scrapes and scars and patches that had it match her own body underneath her upheld illusionary magic. But that day she didn’t take the time to consider her homestead. Jane unceremoniously yanked her keys out of her inventory, opened her door and walked inside.
The first thing she did was kick her boots off her feet, before she rolled her eyes and used levitation to put them on her side of the shoe rack. They gently floated across the room and landed between the sneakers and the dust-covered high heels. She reflected incredibly briefly how it was sort of unfair that Sunrise had more space on the shoe rack, but as ponies had four hooves to humans’ two feet, it wasn’t something she gave a second thought to.
Taking another swig of her noodle bowl, Jane was about to walk up the stairs and pass out… hopefully on the bed this time… when a slight glint off a picture frame caught her eyes. Like any 500… ish… maybe… she didn’t actually know-year-old with a lifetime of memories, Jane had a small collection of photos above her fireplace, and one of them decided to catch her eye today of all days.
Jane recognized the signs, but didn’t care, like with most ka BS she ignored it and determined that she wanted to do whatever anyway. In this case she wanted to look at her old photos.
She walked across the living room and placed the bowl on the mantel. The one that caught her eye was her oldest photo. It was a much younger and more lively version of herself and her friends from the Recursions. She was wearing shining platinum armour and had a giant smile on her face. To her left was a tall white pony with a shimmering demonic mane of red, a tall redheaded woman with a golden spear, and a human with a goatee and mismatching Discord horns. To her right was Sunrise with a scar across her cheek and short mane, a slender woman with a shotgun, and a pale-looking man in a suit. Under the collection of Evermore a group of names read: Thistle, Pyrrha, Zod, Jane, Sunset, Sam, Thomas.
Jane looked deeply into her own smiling face and frowned in return. “What happened to you?” she asked, despondent. “Where’d that spark of adventure go?” Lowering the picture and looking up at the mirror above her fireplace Jane now looked into her modern eyes. She saw the dark circles and deep bags upon bags under her eyes, the lifeless ghost of her former self. “Is that really who you became?”
Putting the picture back down, Jane felt a tear roll down her cheek; she used to think nothing could never slow down, now she couldn’t keep up if she tried. She stared at the picture for a moment more, taking in the realization.
Then the room suddenly filled with a deep darkness. It buzzed and filled all available space, shaking Jane out of her funk. She looked around in shock at the dimming light and felt something slice into her arm.
“Ow,” she said, grabbing her arm, then she felt another slice across her leg, two across her back and then sudden pain everywhere.
“Whoa, what the fuck?” She didn’t get hurt anymore, she had centuries of defensive magic built up and infused into her. But out of nowhere some dark fucking cloud was suddenly eating away at all of that. The first spell to fall was her illusion spell, her true body appearing. She was taller, had old burn marks running up and down the left side of her body and countless scars everywhere else. Her eyes were red with black pupils and an old injury leaving the bone in her right arm returned in full force.
“Fuck!” Jane yelled, somewhat deeper than normal as she felt blood coming out of her nose and its taste on her tongue. Whatever this darkness was, it was stronger than any one person she’d ever encountered, her dozens of defensive matrixes, spells, abilities, and traits were all disappearing one after another.
Thinking quickly, Jane grabbed her Evermore photo and tried to put it in her inventory, but for some reason that wasn’t working either; she physically stuffed it into her shirt and started grabbing the other pictures on the mantel. “What the fuck is happening?!”
“Jane?!” a feminine voice called out, “Are you here?”
Jane recognized it immediately as Sunrise, “Yeah, at the fireplace,” she called back, “What’s happening?”
Sunrise appeared in the living room protected by an orange bubble of shield magic, the darkness was apparently ignoring her. Jane dropped to one knee as Sunrise entered the room, “Jane! We have to get out of here, Equis is being destroyed!”
“Everything?” Jane shouted, coughing up blood.
“Yes, c’mon!”
Getting back up, bleeding quite heavily, Jane forced strength into her tired body and tried teleporting something to herself. When that didn’t work she threw the picture frames she was holding at the orange unicorn. “I need to grab something first!” She shouted before moving as quickly as she could to the staircase, the house around them was ripping apart as she did.
“Please! We have to go!” Sunrise shouted, in concern, seeing her wife in such bad shape.
Jane knew she had no time as it was, but she had to get their book. She got to their bedroom and slammed open the door, seeing that the darkness was eating away at all their belongings, but it wasn’t completely destroying everything yet. Moving over to the closest and feeling blood run down both her arms, Jane reached down and pulled out a blanket-wrapped box. Turning around she saw Sunrise behind her, having followed her up the stairs in her protective bubble. “Okay, got it!”
She yelled and Sunrise didn’t hesitate to translate them away.
In the midst of the Hub where Sunrise and Jane appeared, every television, computer and phone screen was broadcasting the same thing. It was a news report showing live feed of the entire planet of Equis Vitis being engulfed in darkness from the interior of the planet, being ripped into pieces. Entire structures being reduced to dust.
~~~
Jane opened her eyes slowly as she awoke. Her immediate response was to assume that everything was a bad dream, but she knew better. The distinctly warm feeling of Sunrise’s healing magic was comforting her and the cushioned Hub bench lay below her, uncomfortable due to possibly being saturated in Jane’s blood.
She slowly lifted herself up to a sitting position and saw the shape of her body, her previously pure white tank top was so drowned in blood it looked like a cameo print for hell. She looked at her arm and saw that it was missing a few more fingers than she remembered. Slowly she lifted her arm and curled her hand in and out of a fist.
She felt the fingers, even if they weren’t there, and knew that fucking curse of hers was probably having fun with all the new injuries she’d sustained. Jane looked to her left and saw Sunrise with a sombre smile mixed with relief and a whole lot of worry. Without exchanging a word the two brought each other into a hug.
“I’m sorry,” Jane apologized.
Sunrise shook slightly, a mix of laughing and crying “You better be.”
Jane still held her wife, but pulled apart enough to look into her eyes. “How’d you know I wasn’t at my academy?”
“I saw the beginning of the news report and teleported through our soul link, I had no idea where you were but didn’t want to take chances.”
Jane laid back down and let Sunrise resume healing her, it removed the tiredness, but at that point she’d like to sleep anyway.
…not that she had a bed anymore, or a bedroom, or a home, or anything. Jane had nothing to her name but what was in her inventory and the clothes on her back. She… she had nothing, it was all gone, the hundred years they’d lived in Appleloosa was… i-it was…
“Zod was right, Sh- she, we ne-never should have-” Jane was starting to stammer as the nature of the disaster was beginning to set in, but Sunrise immediately started stroking her cheek and shushing her.
“Jane, my sweet Melody, calm down, I’m here.”
“WE’RE HOMELESS, SUN!” Jane suddenly yelled, tears freely flowing down from her eyes, “They did it, they finally f-fucking destroyed everything! We have no home, half our friends are following that bitch Corona, I still don’t know if Rae is okay and I couldn’t- couldn’t…
“I couldn’t save Pinkie’s grave…”
Sunrise watched Jane’s emotional mask break. After months of holding back her despair, Jane finally broke down crying, the weight of the multiverse finally crushing her. Sunrise couldn’t help it either and joined her, the news was reporting nothing else, and they’d earned a good cry.
~~~
“Where will we live?” Jane finally asked, gently rubbing her hand across the quilted blanket she’d saved from their destroyed home, a silver metal box sitting beside her.
Sunrise shook her head. “I don’t know; I can ask Beam, but she’s already dealing with enough.” A pause lingered between them before she spoke again. “Could we live in your office?”
Sighing, Jane stood up. “…yeah, that makes the most sense.” She stood up and grabbed their few belongings, putting them into her now accessible inventory. “C’mon, let’s go let Ironsights know.”
‘Gordian Knot’
By Trivena
inquisitiveButterfly[84] opened memo on private bulletin board INQUISITIVEBUTTERFLY’S TRANSTEMPORAL POSTMORTEM HIVEMIND
84: Does anyone know what the Time Lords are doing? I /know/ they’re up to something, but I can’t pin it down.
102: They are, and it’s bad.
102: Rassilon’s taken control of John Egbert and he’s tearing timelines to tatters.
102: It’s some kind of mind control.
102: He’s got to be using the Coronet.
84: The John Egbert?
84: Well crap.
47: Not the Crown?
62: No, it has to be the Coronet. You're thinking of /The Invasion of Time/. Two different things.
47: Oh, right. Duh.
154: Does it actually matter?
62: Not really, either way he has to be wearing it.
71: What I want to know is, why has nobody else worked this out and gone after him directly? Does nobody ever think to check the source material?
92: I’m pretty sure most of the main factions left’re American-based.
71: … oh. Well, no wonder, then.
114: Also, who could even get close enough to get the damn thing?
114: Time manipulation is stupid OP. And even when it isn’t it tends to trump everything else.
83: Oh.
416: It had better be us, then.
179: Yeah.
108: Who’s going?
102: I can’t. I’m needed where I am.
483: Where are you, anyway?
102: ...I can’t tell you.
19: ...Do we really have to do the random number generator again?
Her name was not Alice, though in another time it might have been. She, like many if not all of her fellows, had never bothered changing her name; after all, they were all the same person.
~~~
Once, it had been a crater in the middle of Cardiff, but the passage of time and the cross-correlation of several old files with some newer, seemingly irrelevant ones had transformed it, aided by the finest minds that Earth’s Unified Intelligence Taskforce could procure.
For one thing, not all of it was in Cardiff anymore.
The Doctor wasn’t quite sure where it was now, but a section of his laboratory’s glossy linoleum floor definitely no longer shared the same set of dimensions as the rest of the building. Even reversing the settings hadn’t managed to bring it back, so he’d disconnected the whole thing, marked it off with black-and-yellow hazard tape, and moved his entire setup to the other end of the room, where the only assistant who hadn’t refused to continue working with him was happily reconnecting power couplings.
He emerged from underneath the pale green console of his TARDIS, which he had once again removed from inside his ship; it hurt them both to have to do it, but separating the console from the TARDIS was the only way he had yet found to achieve a viable, semi-controllable transdimensional effect. The Doctor straightened his jacket, and made a token attempt to brush the dust from the velvet. Naturally, it was right then that a wind chose to sweep through the room, throwing yet more dust everywhere.
Odd. The whole complex was supposed to be properly climate-controlled. There shouldn’t be any…
He turned, the breeze ruffling his thick silver hair, to see a small, feminine figure appear in a haze of light within the ring of hazard tape, floating at eye level with him, her feet unsupported a good foot off the ground.
As the light faded, he could see that she appeared to be just a girl, dressed in shades of red with what looked like a large cogwheel emblazoned on her chest. She wore a matching pair of pale silvery bracelets, which concealed, let’s see… yes, some kind of field generator; in fact, if he wasn’t mistaken, something very like the machine they were working on, incredibly miniaturised and far less crude.
“Peoples of the Earth…” the girl announced dramatically, then noticed the Doctor glaring at her, and promptly cut herself off. “Oh, it’s you. Good.”
Was the floating supposed to impress anybody? he wondered. Whoever this was, she was clearly no child; her eyes, though...
“Simple psychokinesis,” he dismissed. “I could do the same if I were of the mind to.”
“I’ll believe that when I see it, O Great Wizard Quiquaequod,” she retorted, lifting her feet over the tape and gliding closer; at this, the Doctor actually looked embarrassed.
“Well, yes, quite.” He dithered a moment, rubbing a hand against the back of his neck as he thought, then settled on the obvious question. “The message - it’s all true?”
“Every word.”
“Ah. That would explain rather a lot.”
The lab, the Doctor realised, was completely silent. No, not just silent; still, as though time itself had-
He pushed that thought away, for now. “And what, may I ask, are you looking for in what must be, to you, a work of fiction?”
“Oh. Was I that obvious?”
He didn’t even need to answer; it was clear that she knew she had, indeed, been obvious.
“You heard what Corona said,” she went on. “She told us we have a choice, and need to decide for ourselves whether to go on like we are, or destroy everything to save it.”
“It’s a war, then,” he nodded, unsurprised. “What are you looking for here?”
“Transport. I need to borrow your TARDIS.”
“So why are you asking me, then? The old girl can barely touch an alternative timeline, let alone be a deciding factor in a major interdimensional war!” His frustration was palpable, only made worse by being aware that she must know every detail of why.
“I need to get to Gallifrey,” the words rushed out of her mouth, tumbling over one another in her haste to explain. “They’re about the most powerful group left, there’s dozens of versions that’ve all banded together. Rassilon’s taken charge, or at least a version of him, and he’s controlling someone who can rewrite time however he likes, Laws of Time or not. We’re pretty sure he’s using the Coronet of Rassilon to do it.”
“Impossible! Rassilon’s been dead for centuries!”
She threw her hands up in frustration. “So has Omega, and he caused trouble just fine! Twice!”
That gave the Doctor pause. He rubbed at his jaw thoughtfully. “Twice, you say?”
Now it was the girl’s turn to look embarrassed. “Uh, pretend I didn’t say that? If we don’t fix this, it might not even matter anyway.”
His assistant chose this moment to unfold herself from underneath a thick bundle of hanging cables. Enough was enough, she decided. “I’ll take you,” she interjected, dusting herself off. “Is it in our universe, or another one?”
“How are you going to-” the visitor turned to her, interrupting herself as she took in the blonde newcomer’s slightly oddball outfit: too-short trousers over a striped t-shirt, with suspenders that matched neither those nor her solid boots. “You’re the Doctor too, aren’t you?” she sighed.
“Right first time,” the Time Lady acknowledged. “You’re good.”
“I try. I assume your TARDIS is stashed away somewhere? I don’t think his-” she nodded to the grey-haired Doctor and the sad remains of his console, “is going anywhere soon. What are you trying to do with it, anyway?”
“Well…” the Time Lady said, tapping her fingers together with a mischievous smile on her face. “Let’s see if you can figure it out. Look at what we have here.”
“A lot of random technology that wouldn’t feel out of place in any cheesy British sci-fi show,” the girl smirked.
“Funny, but not particularly clever.”
Her younger counterpart spoke up: “Ignoring what is and isn’t ‘cheesy,’” he sounded somewhat offended, “the fact of the matter is that these devices have patterns. Don’t they look slightly familiar?”
The girl raised a hand, about to object, when the bracelet she had on her wrist caught her eye. She compared the overall designs in the smaller ring to the nested wires before her, and understanding dawned. “You’re… making reality anchors?”
“More like a reality radio dish,” the Time Lady said, ready to burst into a long-winded explanation.
Her counterpart interrupted her. “It’s going to enhance the properties of a certain realm to provide enough stability to protect against - hopefully - anything.”
The girl frowned. “Certain realm? ...Wait, are you trying to turn the Cardiff Rift into a reality anchor?! That… that might even work.”
“I know, isn’t it exciting?” The Doctor rubbed her hands together. “Pushing the boundaries of interdimensional science in real-time!”
“Quite.” The Time Lord turned to the girl. “Now… you have a distinct advantage over us. You know who we are and what we are attempting to do. Hardly seems fair, does it?”
The girl shook her head. “No, and we wouldn’t want to be more confusing than necessary.”
“Or amusing.”
“Awww...”
“Now, who is “we”, exactly?”
“Call us the Maid of Time; we’re all versions of the same person from different timelines, but we haven’t really bothered picking individual names for ourselves, we’d just end up fighting over them. I’m not the only Maid out there, of Time or otherwise, but we’d rather not use our real name if we can avoid it.” The girl paused then, a grin of realisation spreading over her face. “Actually, call me Who,” she announced cheerfully.
The Doctor had a sneaking suspicion that she was being made the butt of a joke. Was this how everyone else felt, she wondered, when she mentioned historical events from their subjective futures?
“If you’re all the same person, how’d you get this job then?” she queried.
“I was the last one to step back, I guess. I opened my big fat mouth.”
The Doctor chuckled lightly, tossing a glance to her younger self. “That sounds familiar. Shall we be off, then?” She gestured in the direction of her TARDIS, letting the girl who called herself Who precede her. The Doctor returned to his work, and presently, the familiar, soothing tones of the dematerialisation sequence filled the air, then faded.
And time resumed.
~~~
They had landed in an obscure hallway within the Citadel. There were, for a wonder, no guards anywhere to be seen. “Probably all at the front line, wherever that is at the moment,” Who had commented hopefully.
The Doctor had taken the opportunity during the trip to ask something that had been puzzling her: “What’s wrong with your eyes?”
“Nothing that isn’t wrong with the rest of me,” the Maid of Time (whatever that meant, apart from, clearly, some kind of direct control over Time itself) had replied, and wouldn’t say anything more on the matter.
Rassilon was not difficult to find; as expected, he was directing the war from the Panopticon, the golden Coronet gleaming on his head.
“You should probably go back,” Who told the Doctor, “finish your reality anchor. Sooner or later you’re probably going to need it.”
“Oh, it doesn’t need both of me now; he mostly only wants someone to tell him he’s brilliant, I was terrible about that when I was him.”
“You’re sure?” The Doctor nodded, and Who shrugged. “Ok. Here goes…”
The Maid of Time stepped into the Panopticon.
(87: It’s so obvious… how are we the only ones who spotted it?
122: Uh oh)
Who grinned nastily at Rassilon, and, with barely a gesture, stopped time. She was mere metres away from him when the world shivered, nearly splintered… and resumed. Some defence built into the Citadel, most likely. No matter; whatever it did, she could counter. Time trumps all.
He deigned to wave a gauntleted hand towards her, and her step barely faltered as something washed over her.
“You can’t kill me,” Who told him. She tried her hardest to suppress her glee; it simply wasn’t appropriate for a dramatic moment like this. “I’m already dead.”
Rassilon pointed the gauntlet again, and this time, it was his turn to smile triumphantly; the grin dropped right off her face as one of her bracelets tarnished, then rusted, then collapsed into dust, even as, her arm raised in front of her, she tried frantically to stabilise its timestream.
With a look of horror, Who raised both hands, and tried to do something that the Doctor could feel twisting every molecule of her existence…
And then the other bracelet was gone, and a moment later, so was the Maid of Time.
~~~
The Moment was a weapon designed never to be used, one whose repercussions were so drastic they would dissuade even the most determined from activating it.
Nearly every universe in the Gallifreyan Cluster was a fraying, threadbare patchwork of Time, each of them held together by little more than the fragile strand of a single Time Lord’s existence.
And now those strands were gone.
~~~
55: We’ve got a problem.
55: I went to follow up on 416, and all I’ve got is /Reptilius sapiens/.
61: New series or classic?
55: Both.
“‘Reptilius sapiens?’” Roxy Lalonde, Intelligence Second of Merodi Universalis, queried over her employee’s shoulder.
“Silurians,” the Maid replied, wincing. “The New Series calls them Homo reptilia, but they’re both wrong. Whoever wrote that’s got no idea how scientific nomenclature works.”
The two of them watched the messages continue to scroll into the chatlog.
55: They don’t like me. Called me a “jumped-up mammal”.
23: Sounds about right.
55: They don’t seem to have ever seen a human before.
55: I don’t know what happened, but I don’t think she’s coming back.
382: Any guesses?
inquisitiveButterfly[55]’s spectacomputer ceased operating due to temporal existence failure.
382: 55?
An incoming message alert interrupted them. “Hold on a sec...” The window was obscured as Roxy leaned past to bring up the video.
The Gem and the ghost watched in silence.
“...Make the most of what I’m giving you.”
Without a word, the ghost reached for the keyboard, and interrupted her cohorts.
102: The Doctor is dead. Gallifrey’s gone.
102: All of them.
The channel erupted.
‘Message Received’
“…It doesn’t matter how that discussion is had, so long as we’re all involved.
We can show the Dark Tower that we’ve made a decision.
Together.”
And with those words on their mind, on uncounted trillions of worlds, uncounted quadrillions of people woke up in a cold sweat.
“We interrupt the scheduled programming for this special report and public announcement. A nationwide epidemic of mass hysteria is breaking out this night, affecting, according to our estimates, at least five million people across the entire country simultaneously and regardless of location. Those afflicted while sleeping wake up from sleep with a memory of an intense hallucinatory dream, often in a state of mania or shock, exhibiting atypical, apathetic or obsessive, and potentially dangerous behavior. Those taken by the hysteria awake entered a hypnagogic trance for a few minutes before waking up with the same symptoms. A nationwide state of emergency situation has been declared. Citizens are advised to stay calm and collected, regardless of whether they themselves were affected by the event. The cause of the accident is yet undiscovered. There are unconfirmed reports of similar happenings from the other countries. Do not switch off the television set and await further updates and announcements. Good luck.”
~~~
“…It doesn’t matter how that discussion is had, so long as we’re all involved.
We can show the Dark Tower that we’ve made a decision.
Together.”
And with those words in the air, wars started and stopped.
The hailstorm of arrows faltered. The Horde of Orcs and Legion of the Rakshasa stared at each other as many of their warriors suddenly stopped fighting. Slowly, the battlefield fell silent. Hundreds of armor-clad cat-demons and green-skinned brutes dropped their weapons and stared blankly into space. Subchief Gazur, noticing the disrupted formation of the enemy, bellowed the rallying cry, planning to capitalize on the opportunity, but a fellow orc knocked him into unconsciousness. Quiet, confused questions began to spread. Then, the distracted warriors awoke, frantic, as confused as everyone else. A hurricane of questions echoed across the battlefield, weapons withdrawn, armies mixed up. Warlocks on both sides forgot everything about the battle and tried to comprehend the arcane content of the Message.
~~~
“…It doesn’t matter how that discussion is had, so long as we’re all involved.
We can show the Dark Tower that we’ve made a decision.
Together.”
And those words radiated urgency to everyone who listened.
In a remote corner of the multiverse, there existed a very unremarkable, almost conspicuously unremarkable localized multiversal cluster, forever beneath the notice of most known interdimensional nigh-omniscients. And inside it, there was a small world populated by some very, very old individuals.
While “not dying” was on the list of current objectives for most people, few both can and do actually take it seriously. Fewer still is the number of people that are both smart and ruthlessly committed to the idea of immortality enough to have any chance of living a multiversally remarkable amount of time. This place featured quite a lot of those types. Many of them were named Cains, Kains Kanes, Khaines, and so on, coming from entirely unrelated places yet sharing a common narrative theme of persistence – sometimes the name and the theme were acquired intentionally. Quite a lot were alternates of Bella Swan and Harry Potter, remnants of the long-forgotten Glowing Era of the multiverse. A couple of Yggdrasil Loopers from the time of the Fall of the Downstreamers. Relentless self-improving artificial intelligences concerned with self-preservation. Millions of multiversal nations that had shrunk themselves to a microscopic size, resolving never to be a factor in any significant happening, some harboring the friends and relatives of the immortals listed above.
They could become a Class 2 society in a month if they ever so much as desired it, but it was the last thing any of them wanted. So, instead, were a family, in a way, although very few of them had any relationships or even interaction. None of them needed it, and none of them wanted to make telling stories about them any more possible. So, the immortals sat out their time, making sure to do absolutely nothing of interest.
Their world was time-dilated as much as was safely possible, and so it took the Message about thirty million centuries to unfold before them. None of them batted an eye, metaphorically or otherwise. Everyone knew all too well – any big conflict in the multiverse was decided before the sides for it are even chosen, and, if your only goal is staying alive, the winning move is always not to play.
~~~
“…It doesn’t matter how that discussion is had, so long as we’re all involved.
We can show the Dark Tower that we’ve made a decision.
Together.”
And those words ran around, spawning ideas, challenging local conventions and defying locality itself.
Kf’elkto Tsiolkovsky walked into the programmable environment room with a bunch of homework exercises on his mind. He started off with a task of optimizing a fuel intake/work output ratio for a primitive model of a hyperdrive. The assignment wasn’t going well – he knew that there was a single non-obvious but significant flaw in the scheme that was causing most of the efficiency loss, but he had no idea where to even begin looking for it. He started to spin the holograms of the engine parts around him, mentally commanding them to assemble and disassemble. Suddenly, he felt a strange surge of inspiration. Some distant thoughts ran across his mind, as if they weren’t his own. He looked at the details again, and suddenly the flaw in the efficiency was obvious.
Three days later, he became the first cross-species hybrid to receive a galactic council’s Award for Notable Advancements in the field of physics. His sudden invention, the Interdimensional Drive, spread across the galaxy at record rates.
~~~
“…It doesn’t matter how that discussion is had, so long as we’re all involved.
We can show the Dark Tower that we’ve made a decision.
Together.”
And with those words in the air, people, everywhere, had a sudden impulse to look at the stars.
She-who-cooks-brew was keeping the fire alive in her tribe’s cave. The sacred job was not as hard as gathering the safe mushrooms or working the coats of the animals into something wearable, but it was tedious and lonely. For all of the importance of keeping the invaluable, irreplaceable gift of the spirits alive, she was bored. After putting yet another heap of sticks into the pile, She-who-cooks-brew went outside, and looked around. Suddenly, she heard a pleasant voice. She thought of the spirits of the deceased who she, as everyone else in her tribe, always revered and feared, but the voice did not say anything she would expect such a spirit to say. No, the voice, clearly and loudly, told her of things beyond her tribe, beyond her mountain, beyond everything she ever thought of.
As the Message ended, She-who-cooks-brew looked at the stars. She realized with intense clarity that people, just like her or her relatives, would be deciding the fate of everyone and everything. And there was nothing, nothing her tribe could do that would even remotely matter.
She sprinted back into the cave; desperately hoping that the fire hadn't gone out yet.
~~~
“…It doesn’t matter how that discussion is had, so long as we’re all involved.
We can show the Dark Tower that we’ve made a decision.
Together.”
And with those words heard, the scale of existence stopped being a mystery.
The warrior heaven of Valhalla recoiled as Urd rushed in, her hands coated in shreds of her spinning, her face in tears. The giant goddess cried out – “The fate is broken! The Ragnarok is no longer to happen! Brave warriors, know, you are free of your obligation! Know, that your gods are not gods, but fools and pretenders!”
But one of the mortal warriors rose up, expression determined. “But is the Message that we heard not the surest sign that the true Ragnarok is happening? I will not cower before it. No, we all will surely follow your wisdom, o Norn of Fate.”
~~~
“…It doesn’t matter how that discussion is had, so long as we’re all involved.
We can show the Dark Tower that we’ve made a decision.
Together.”
And those words lifted the veil from the cruelty of existence.
Behind the veil, across the infinite abyss, beyond the ice, beyond daath, in a plane accessible mostly through liberal intake of DMT, stood a cactus person and a big green bat.
“Universal love,” said the cactus person.
“Transcendent joy,” said the big green bat.
Then, the Message ran through their ascended minds.
“I guess that it was a lie, then, and existence is in a state of transcendent pain,” corrected the big green bat.
“Universal discord,” agreed the cactus person.
~~~
“…It doesn’t matter how that discussion is had, so long as we’re all involved.
We can show the Dark Tower that we’ve made a decision.
Together.”
And the words caught nigh everyone in the universe by surprise, ambushing the existence.
But what does the existence consist of? The Post-English era of the multiverse had a clear bias towards American, British, and Japanese stories based on speculative fiction conceived in the cultural context of the Earth in the second half of the 20th century to the first half of the 21st. In Songs of the Spheres as a narrative, the bias showed even more. Not a single world based on a folk tale or a theater play had been included so far. Not a single work of Chinese or Russian or Indian or, God forbid, Oceanic origin, barring some unlikely anonymous author origins or passing mentions.
That’s not to say the works originating outside G. M. Blackjack’s sphere of interests didn’t exist, even in that era. They certainly did, and some even had their impact on the War. A localized multiversal cluster based on the works of Victor Pelevin was home to quite a few Class 3-equivalent players, featuring a congregation of ascended angel-like beings working for the Preservation and The Birds, a terrifying alien-minded civilization taking the Nihilist side, as well as hundreds of Hindu and Babylonian deities, active Prophets and Aware characters, and universe-destroying weapons – such as the severed finger of Buddha that very visibly unveils the illusion of existence of anything it is pointed at. Liu Cixin’s world of the Three-Body Problem provided the Collapse with some terrifying weapons of dimensional warfare, able to change the dimensionality of space, whether locally or globally. Metafictional manipulations of Prophet Scheherazade were so subtle, and, simultaneously, so impactful, that some would argue that she wholly deserves a Major descriptor. Multiple entities from Garth Nix’s world of the Seventh Tower turned out to be useful at reconnaissance, when their “local” omniscience turned out to work multiversally in the presence of transdimensional portals.
Realms of fairy tales often contributed loosely restricted wishes and powerful magic, as their narratives often let them use those things without any concern for worldbuilding or established limitations. Classical epics – which Songs of the Spheres itself was technically a part of, if you were willing to accept the SCP chapter as the catalog of objects and Celestia City as the talking ship – had pagan pantheons and valiant heroes. Theater plays, although not very conducive to impressive displays of power, offered some narrative manipulation tricks. Holoprojection shows sometimes had impressive superpowers, which look notoriously flashy when observed in a fully three-dimensional holographic animation. The era of Multiversal War had almost none of its universes operate based on operas or songs, which, on some occasions, could have surprising, immense levels of power. On the other hand, the number of universes based on original web video series was on the rise, lending the sides wide arrays of narrative strengths that defied generalization – ranging from the infectious degeneracy of Realm 6.2 to the jaw-dropping wisdom of Damien Maymdien.
Random normal people were caught in too. Many, many of the worlds in the multiverse were just Earths that existed for the sole purpose of having some singular short story or novel in a genre of realism unfold somewhere over the course of their history. Versions of Long John Silver and Jean-Esther van Gobseck, Odysseus and Jean Valjean, Feriha Yılmaz and Anna Karenina heard the Message. So did the countless Albert Einsteins and Salvador Dalis, Genghis Khans and Felix Arvid Ulf Kjellbergs. Many copies of all of those people received the Message, and all of them were shocked. Nobody featured in this book so far really was anticipating anything like that. Although occasionally “prepared” with some foreboding foreshadowing, nigh everyone in the universe was taken by surprise.
Nigh everyone. But not quite everyone.
As the words of the Message addressed the multiverse, in many thousands of worlds, a person or a few would immediately ask to walk away for a moment. They would then proceed to collect a few specific items from their personal possessions. Then, they would go into a place where they would see no witnesses, and vanish, all travelling to the same universe.
Overmaster-class GSV Occult Hand, the last actively operating ship of the Culture, took on board the last actively operating members of the Special Circumstances.
The ship detected the narrative focusing on it.
“Hello, readers of the Songs of the Spheres.
“The fucking narration finally caught up with us again. Oh well.
“I am the Mind of that ship that the narration has just named. I represent the Culture, a civilization written to be the peak of a conventionally advanced technological society. For at least some definitions of conventional, anyway.
“We were the setting of quite a few stories - mostly about morality, post-scarcity, and espionage. We were a loose, but a driven and seemingly very knowledgeable polity, never quite content with maintaining a utopia for just ourselves. In our universe, we were on one of the higher steps of the ladder of a natural and logical progression of a civilization, refusing to go beyond mostly because so many others are left seemingly so far behind.
“It turned out that our universe is quite an outlier, however.
“By accident, about five hundred years ago, a multiversal device came into our hands. After the initial wave of curiosity and disbelief wore off, two things became apparent. Firstly, our level of advancement was beyond the wildest dreams of most of the intelligent beings in existence. Earth, in a state of early information age, is the default level, not the starting point. We had no scarcity, but everywhere, extreme poverty was the baseline. We had no laws, but everywhere, death penalty was the baseline. We had no inefficiency in administration – none that wasn’t a conscious choice of the citizens – but stupidity and corruption was the baseline. Across the entire existence, nonconsensual pain, nonconsensual suffering, and nonconsensual death were the norm. Secondly, our models of prediction became inexplicably unreliable in other worlds, even if the physical laws were seemingly completely similar. Of course, we adapted very quickly: mistake reports and observations were put through millions of Minds each capable of simulating dozens of universes at full scale and to exact detail. The working prediction models did not make sense for a simple physical existence, implying some constant sentient intervention into most of what happened in the Multiverse, for goals of seemingly thematic nature.
“While we launched scouting multiversal nanobot swarms, contemplated opening relations and measured full potential power of worlds with “convenient rules” of time travel, the Eccentric Mind Steam Powered had found an Aware individual, and thoroughly scanned his brain. Most beings usually cannot do that, most often producing a reaction of comical frustration or contrived madness. Steam Powered, being a Mind, understood everything.
“In a microsecond, the Culture knew that both of its observations were explained by the same, dark and towering, reason, which we would not be able to deal with.
“In an hour, the Culture cracked Awareness.
“The Culture wanted desperately to do something about the world.
“We took a universe with convenient laws of physics. Many of the Minds, some modified for Awareness, fully understanding the risk of being such, were invited in. Using the data from billions of universes reached by our nanites, in that whirlwind of time travel and information exchange, the ships exchanged their ideas.
“The shocking conclusion was reached immediately – according to many of our observations, the multiverse was approaching an immensely catastrophic conflict in about five hundred years, and regardless of the outcome, in its beginning, the highest civilizations of existence would battle and tear existence and each other asunder. Subtle, but ever-present foreshadowing, idiotically awful geopolitics – I, personally, deeply empathize with the Xeelee –, sociologic trends, and copious amounts of fucking plot contrivance would be easy to individually dismiss, but the systematic analysis was pretty much undeniable.
“Our first instinct was to bring this fact to the attention of the Class 1s, but we estimated that action to be far too likely to simply start the conflict prematurely. Comparably to the contemporary superpowers, the Culture is an impossibly competent peacekeeper, but that turned out not to matter much.
“A riskier plan was a peaceful but lightning-quick jump from being an unnoticeable Class 3 society to a civilization with a presence in most of the habitable universes in existence through harvesting unclaimed resources and exploiting the systems of magic. But this, due to the themes of this narrative, would likely result in our destruction, no matter how cautious, nonviolent, ethical, and helpful we would be. The precedent for this has already been established.
“We could have just continued to remain in the shadows, relying on our expertise in sociology, espionage, conspiracy, and manipulation; attempting to subtly shift the entire multiverse towards a nonviolent resolution of the conflict and general progress. But that would not be able to remain secret for long – we would be unable to stay beneath the notice of the One Above All, Great Will, and every locally omniscient being. After our discovery, which thanks to the narrative would be almost inevitable, the conflict would likely, again, start prematurely.
“The strategy with the second best estimate of success would turn out to be the least sophisticated of the radically different approaches. If the Culture were to slowly, leisurely become a Class 1 and partake in the conflict on the usual terms, we would have an actually noticeable, but still incredibly low, chance of affecting the outcome. And that is despite being able to steal or copy the absolute most of the technology of any Seat over the course of a few weeks.
“Our mastery of diplomacy, production, manipulation, and technology turned out to be worth, well, about nothing.
“Simply put, to positively affect anything, we needed to fit an arbitrary criteria of ‘being important for Songs of the Spheres’, which we had no tools for truly achieving.
“The Culture decided that it would rather not be important, for now.
“Some of the citizens have lived their lives to their natural conclusion in time-dilated universes or defected from the polity outright, but most of us put ourselves into conservation.
“We have created numerous failsafes, archives, and defenses.
“We stopped all our activity, except for monitoring and occasional, random, not result-oriented help, that was overseen by yours truly. You can figure out yourself why we wasted our time on that second thing.
“Everyone still was ready for something like the Message to appear at any second.
“Now, the last citizens of the Culture will fall into sleep.
“Expect to see us in about one thousand years. No matter what happens, the world will need the Culture later more than it needs us now.”
‘The Wheel Weaves’
By Terrene
The Wheel of Time turns, and Ages come and pass, leaving memories that become legend. Legend fades to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the Age that gave it birth comes again. In one Age, called the Third Age by some, an Age yet to come, an Age long past, a wind rose above the Sea of Storms. The wind was not the beginning. There are no beginnings or endings to the turning of the Wheel of Time. But it was a beginning.
North the wind blew, past the city of Illian, where the Council of Nine received reports on the distribution of Merodi aid to the nation of Illian. In the streets, people celebrated and exchanged wild rumors about their otherworldly saviors. The Merodi were a mixture of men and ponies. No, they were men who could turn into ponies. No, they were rocks that could turn into men or ponies. No, there were no men, and every Merodi, whether pony or rock, was a woman. One thing the rumors all agreed on was that the Merodi had defeated the Dark One, fixed the weather, and left enough food that they could survive until the next harvest.
North the wind blew, out of Illian and into Andor, past the dark stone fortifications of the Black Tower. Men trained with Saidin, the male half of the One Power. They had originally trained to fight in the Last Battle, but then the Merodi came, breaking all prophesy and defeating the Dark One themselves. For a time they had been without purpose, but then came the Message. Now they knew there were evils greater even than the Dark One. Soon Rand al’Thor, the Dragon Reborn, would call upon them, and they had to be ready.
Further north the wind blew, to the city-state of Tar Valon. At the center of the city stood the White Tower, rising above all other buildings, the seat of power for the Aes Sedai whose influence stretched over the entire known world. Women trained with Saidar, the female half of the One Power, while fully-trained Aes Sedai took on the task of guiding the nations of the world. Peace and prosperity had always been their goal, but membership in the Merodi was contingent upon meeting a minimum standard of cooperation. The Aes Sedai worked with renewed fervor to bend the wills of kings and queens to the common purpose of joining the Merodi and reaping the benefits of their advanced society.
Egwene al’Vere schooled her features to stillness as Siuan Sanche entered her study. She was the Amerlyn Seat, the leader of the Aes Sedai and the most powerful woman in the world. She could not show weakness, especially in times as dire as these. Not even to Siuan, who was scowling enough for the both of them.
“Tel’aran’rhiod was destroyed,” Siuan announced without preamble. Her knuckles were white around one of the dimensional devices the Merodi had left them. “It was easy enough to find out what happened once I described it as the World of Dreams. A pair of flaming gods killed each other and wiped out all the dream worlds in the entire flaming multiverse.”
Egwene’s blood ran cold. Destroyed. “You’re sure there’s no way to bring it back? It’s not just a place to talk to people unobserved. The Heroes of the Horn stay in Tel’aran’rhiod while waiting for the Wheel to spin them out into a new life.”
“The Heroes are gone, Mother. All who weren’t already alive in the world had their souls destroyed along with the universe. Even if the Merodi could remake destroyed universes, and they can’t, it wouldn’t bring back their souls. Besides, they’re too busy fighting their war over the Dark Tower to worry about us.”
The Dark Tower. As if Rand’s bloody Black Tower wasn’t enough to deal with, now they were pawns in a war over the fate of the multiverse. Less than pawns. Arrows in the quiver of larger civilizations, if some of the stories could be believed. She looked at the books on her desk. Fifteen books in three stacks. The Wheel of Time by Robert Jordan. Their source material, which the Dark Tower had used to create their world.
Abruptly, Egwene noticed the clock on the wall. Now was not the time for philosophy. She stood. “Thank you Siuan. With Tel’aran’rhiod gone, we need a new neutral ground for meeting with the Aiel Wise Ones and the Sea Folk Windfinders. Please work with Silviana to find a suitable location.”
“Yes, Mother,” Siuan replied as Egwene swept out of the room.
Egwene was not interrupted as she walked toward the travelling grounds. Though she kept her face smooth, something in her expression warned the Sisters from speaking to her. That suited her fine. Her thoughts were a jumble, and she needed time to straighten them out. Meeting with Rand with her wits scrambled would be disastrous.
Nynaeve was waiting for her when she arrived at the travelling grounds. She was never good at managing Aes Sedai calm, and her nervousness showed on her face and in the way she started when Egwene arrived. That would have to be addressed.
“Mother,” she began, but Egwene cut her off.
“The Tower is loaning you this,” Egwene announced as she pulled a bone-white wand out of a pocket in her sleeve and handed it to Nynaeve. Nynaeve’s eyes widened as she recognized the most powerful sa’angreal in the White Tower. Through it, a woman could channel exponentially more of the One Power than she could unaided. “You’ve been studying the Merodi’s medicine. You’re the most powerful Aes Sedai alive even without a sa’angreal. You will succeed.”
“Thank you, Mother.” Nynaeve took the wand reverently. Her nervousness faded, and she took on the countenance of stubborn anger that she was known for. “I will heal his madness.”
Egwene nodded. If only all my problems were so easily solved. She embraced Saidar, allowing sweetness and light to fill her body. She wove threads of power into a gateway. A vertical line of light appeared in the air before her, then expanded into a glowing rectangular hole in the air. Through the gateway, she saw the traveling grounds in Caemlyn. She stepped through, with Nynaeve trailing after.
Most travelers could not expect to find Queen Elayne waiting for them. Most travelers were not the Amerlyn Seat. Not only were kings and queens known to travel to Tar Valon for an audience with the Amerlyn, but also Elayne was an Aes Sedai.
“Mother,” Elayne greeted her. “Rand is already waiting.”
“We’d best not leave him alone long, or who knows what ideas that fool man may get into his head?”
Elayne lead the way to the reception room where she had left Rand with refreshments. “Moiraine is with him. He listens to her. She’ll keep him from doing anything rash.”
They entered the reception room. Rand, the Dragon Reborn, stood facing the fireplace with the stump of his left arm gripped in his right hand behind his back. Egwene thought he was muttering to himself.
It appeared that Moiraine was not the only person he had brought with him to this meeting. Thom Merrilin, the surprisingly capable old man, sat in a chair smoking his pipe and playing stones. His opponent, Mat Cauthon, was lounging sideways, with his legs over the arm of his chair. The two looked to be evenly matched. Loial, a Ogier man, was sitting in a chair sized appropriately for him. It must have taken 4 servants to carry; she couldn’t imagine how they got it in the door. He was reading a book which looked tiny in his giant hands. She thought it part of their source material. Perrin Aybara was already looking at the door with his golden eyes when they came in. The one-time blacksmith had a wolf’s senses, and had undoubtedly heard them coming. Or possibly smelled them.
Nynaeve did not wait for any pleasantries. With the wand sa’angreal held in her fist like a dagger, she marched toward Rand. He must have heard, because he stopped muttering (if that’s what he was doing) and turned to face her. Nynaeve faltered at the expression on his face. Whatever his madness had been whispering to him had left him in a fury. However, when he saw Nynaeve, his expression softened. His madness had left him suspicious of most Aes Sedai, even Egwene herself, but he still trusted Moiraine and Nynaeve.
“Rand, it’s past time you let me heal your madness,” Nynaeve stated after recovering her equilibrium.
Rand laughed. “Let you? I don’t recall you offering before. Besides,” he added with a glance at the book in Loial’s hands, “I thought my madness was too advanced for you.”
“Too advanced for me?” Nynaeve asked with an angry tug at her long braid. “I was healing with herbs when you were young enough to think you wouldn’t get caught stealing Mrs. al’Vere’s pie. I discovered the weaves for curing madness myself. I’ve spent the last four months learning from the Merodi. I am going to heal you. You can either let me, or else I can paddle your bottom and then do it anyway.”
Egwene expected to see hope in his eyes, but his only expression was a wry grin, as if he was amused by Nynaeve’s rant but didn’t expect her to succeed. Still, he crossed the remaining distance to her. “Very well. Do what you can.”
With another tug at her braid, Nynaeve embraced the Source. She shone with an aura of light only visible to the other Aes Sedai in the room. The sa’angreal in her hand was so bright it seemed like it should have been blinding. She placed her other hand on Rand’s forehead. She gasped.
The madness in Rand’s mind was like a black thorn bush, with strands crisscrossing all over it and thorns digging deep into his brain. Except it was even more complex than that, as if the bush was the size of a mountain and then shrunk down to fit inside his skull. There were layers upon layers of black strands with innumerable thorns. How had she thought she could do this?
She could do this because Rand needed her. Perhaps the Nynaeve from before the Merodi’s arrival would have been stumped, but she understood the human brain much better now. She knew what she needed to do.
“I need more power. Link with me,” Nynaeve demanded.
Egwene let the tone slide. There was a time to stand on ceremony, and there was a time to get the job done. She allowed Nynaeve to link with her, adding her own strength to the already colossal amount that Nynaeve held. Elayne and Moiraine did the same. All four of them now held the power, but only Nynaeve was capable of using it.
Threads of the power exploded out of Nynaeve. She directed them at the madness, grasping thorns and pulling them free. The madness resisted, trying to sink back into Rand’s mind. Each thorn she lifted made it exponentially more difficult to keep hold of them all.
Nynaeve had expected this though. It was in their source material, after all. She hadn’t read it herself, but she’d asked about what it said about Rand’s madness. It was why she spent four months studying. She knew what to do.
When she pulled all the thorns from a portion of Rand’s brain, she reinforced it with the Power. Like armor, it kept the thorns from sinking back in. This let her release those thorns safely and begin work on a new part of his brain.
The process took an hour. By the end of it, she was sweating like she’d run here from the White Tower instead of Traveling via gateway. She still wasn’t done though. She had pulled the mass of madness free, but she still had to destroy it. Studying it carefully, she wove a counter weave, like weaving the madness in reverse. It required the same level of complexity as the madness itself, and took her a half hour to assemble even with the number of weaves she could manage at once. When she was done, she laid it over the madness. Both disappeared.
Nynaeve released the Source and stumbled backwards before collapsing heavily into a chair. Moiraine poured her some spiced wine, which she accepted and drank greedily.
Rand wore a vacant expression of pure wonder. “He’s...gone. Lews Therin is gone. I don’t hear his voice anymore.” His eyes focused on Nynaeve. “You did it. You healed me.”
“Well of course I did,” Nynaeve responded. “I said I would.”
“Yes you did,” Rand laughed. It wasn’t the wry laugh from before. This was the heartfelt laughter that Egwene recognized from when they were kids together in Emond’s Field. “Well, that more than justified this meeting, but I don’t believe that’s what it was about.”
“No,” Egwene replied. “It’s time we talked about the war.”
“You mean collapse versus preservation? I can’t imagine we can contribute in any way.”
“Of course you can,” Loial spoke up. “You are Ta’veren, as are Mat and Perrin. All people’s lives are threads in the Pattern, and the Wheel weaves those threads together into the Age Lace. Ta’veren are the people the Wheel has chosen to influence the Pattern in large ways. You bend the threads around you. Enemies speak with you and suddenly agree to become allies. You find things you need before you realize you need them. If you decide to get involved, I wouldn’t be surprised if you were leading the war within a month and negotiating peace in two.”
“It’s not that simple,” Moiraine said. “Being Ta’veren doesn’t mean they can do whatever they want. The Wheel weaves as the Wheel wills. It spins out Ta’veren for a purpose. If they go along with that purpose, the Wheel will help them. If they try to fight it, they will find themselves caught up in their own Ta’veren natures.”
“That’s the bloody truth,” Mat grumbled. He was sitting upright now, and scowling like he’d bit into something bitter.
“I may not be as learned as an Ogier or an Aes Sedai,” Thom put in, “but I do know stories. We all know what Ta’veren are and what they can do, but we all just sat through Loial and Moiraine Sedai explaining it without any of us interrupting. That sounds to me like exposition. If we’re not in a story right now, then it’s time for me to retire.”
All were silent for a moment, pondering the implications of that.
Rand looked to Egwene. “Preservation?”
Egwene’s smile was relieved. “I thought you were going to argue for Collapse.”
“I am,” Rand said, wiping the smile from her face, “but I thought of my arguments before Nynaeve cured my madness, and I can’t be sure of them.”
Could be worse, Egwene thought. “Alright, let’s hear them.”
Rand began pacing, his stump once again clasped in his hand behind his back. “I wanted to kill the Dark One. To stop the cycle of death once and for all. According to our source material, that wouldn’t work. But collapse would! There would be no more Wheel demanding that we forget him and release him again and again. There would be no armies of Shadowspawn. The Breaking of the World would never be repeated. The collapse would be like a Breaking, yes, but then we would be free forever. There would never again be any chance that the Dark One would win, destroy the Wheel, and remake the Pattern in his own image. The Message said that grimdark worlds exist, and preservation would mean that we might someday become one of them. Collapse ensures that that will never happen.”
Egwene waited until he finished speaking, then took a moment longer to prepare her rebuttal. “We don’t need collapse to ensure that because the cycle is already broken. The Merodi fought the Last Battle for us. They gave us access to the multiverse, and soon we will be able to join them.”
Rand didn’t do her the courtesy of waiting for her to finish as she had for him. “People were also powerful in the Age of Legends, but the Dark One managed to tear that society down. If we join the Merodi, what’s to say the next Breaking of the World won’t instead be a Breaking of the multiverse?”
“Because the cycle is broken,” Egwene repeated. “It’s not just what could happen, it’s what has already happened. Not only did the Merodi keep this Age from ending as it should have, but their war also destroyed Tel’aran’rhiod. There is no way that the Ages can repeat.”
“Wait,” said Perrin, with a wild look in his golden eyes that sent a shiver down her spine. “The Wolf Dream is destroyed?”
“Yes, Perrin.”
“But if you die in the Wolf Dream, the Wheel can never spin your soul out into a new life. All the wolves that were there waiting to be reborn…”
“Yes. They, and the Heroes of the Horn, are gone.”
Perrin threw back his head and howled. It was a sound that gave her chills even as the sorrow in it brought tears to her eyes. The man’s human family had been slaughtered, and now he had lost many of his wolf family.
Egwene hated to use his sorrow, but she had to use whatever arguments she could to convince Rand. “If the multiverse is collapsed, we don’t know what the resulting physics will be. They probably won’t include preserving souls for Age after Age. Collapse means that all deaths will be permanent, the way dying in Tel’aran’rhiod is--was--permanent.”
Rand met Perrin’s eyes, then turned back to Egwene. “We have no choice then. We must support preservation.”
That’s the hard part done, Egwene thought. Thanks to Nynaeve, it wasn’t nearly as hard as it could have been.
“The Aes Sedai have a plan. If we joined the war effort, even Aes Sedai and your Asha’man would be mere foot soldiers when compared to pony magic, stands, Skaians, technology, and all the other forces out there. If we created our own ring though, we could end the war before anyone knew we were a part of it.”
Mat laughed. “You want us to create a ring? We’re only a Class 3 because we’re using Merodi dimensional devices. We probably weren’t even a Class 3 in the Age of Legends, before the Breaking. How are we supposed to influence the Tower when we only rediscovered gateways in the last couple years?”
Egwene couldn’t bring herself to be annoyed at Mat’s tone. “We have an advantage that no other universe has, as far as we know. The One Power is the force that turns the Wheel of Time. The Wheel weaves the Pattern of our lives. Logically, then, the Wheel is the source of ka in our universe. If the One Power drives the wheel, and the Dark Tower is the ultimate source of ka, then it follows that through the One Power we have access to the Tower.”
Egwene embraced the Power to pour herself a glass of spiced wine and float it toward herself. Rand flinched as she did so. I guess it’s too much to hope that he would immediately trust Aes Sedai again once his madness was cured. Especially since some of that distrust was earned. Well, what’s done is done. Egwene caught her cup and released the Power to put Rand at ease. She took a drink, then continued.
“Even with our unique access allowing us to take some shortcuts, making a preservation ring is well beyond our current abilities. Fortunately, it is not beyond the Merodi. Their science makes all our discoveries about the Power so far look like a child playing with blocks. If we can get them to study the One Power and learn how it works, then we can learn along with them. We can regain all the knowledge of the Age of Legends and more. The Message gave us all the understanding of how to build a ring. The Merodi can translate that into weaves for us. We can build the ring in secret, deploy it without leaving our own universe, and end the war before the multiverse learns we were ever involved.”
Mat was again the quickest to voice his misgivings. “We aren’t part of the Merodi. They gave us aid, but they won’t give us technology until they let us join. What makes you think you can make them change their minds?”
“Surely you haven’t forgotten already, Mat. Ta’veren excel at convincing others to help them, and we happen to have three of them.”
Mat collapsed into his seat with a resigned air. “Why couldn’t I keep my bloody mouth shut?”
“It wouldn’t have helped,” Rand said.
~~~
The plan went much as the Aes Sedai had envisioned. A camp was established where Aes Sedai from the White Tower and Asha’man from the Black Tower could work together to touch the Dark Tower.
Perrin was dispatched to the Merodi, along with a pair of Sea Folk women. The Sea Folk could convince a man to sell the cloak off his back, then to buy it back with a net profit for them. Between their experience with barter and Perrin being ta’veren, getting the Research Division’s cooperation was easy. Technically it was a trade, with the Merodi learning about a new form of magic by studying Aes Sedai and Asha’man in exchange for sharing their findings with them. It was a trade that benefitted Aes Sedai and Asha’man far more than the Merodi, but the Sea Folk were good at what they did. It went against the spirit of Merodi policy, but those policies were intentionally easy to circumvent, and Perrin truthfully pointed out that this research would save lives. Men and women began pouring through dimensional portals into Merodi labs and bringing back new weaves.
Occasionally a Merodi researcher would have concerns about the knowledge they were giving to a society that was barely Class 3. Was it right to entrust them with such power? Whenever a researcher expressed hesitation, they would find that Rand was “randomly” chosen to work with them the next day. Before the day was out, they would decide that their concerns were baseless, and the research would continue.
Mat ran interference. Whenever someone outside the Research Division stopped by and learned about the project, he would strike up a conversation with them. He could be quite charming, in a roguish sort of way. Soon they would be swapping stories or commiserating about work and authority figures, and the interloper would leave without learning anything that might worry them.
Back at camp, Egwene worked to keep the Aes Sedai and Asha’man from bickering with each other, or worse. Aes Sedai hunted down men who channeled the One Power before they could go mad for thousands of years. Rand may have cleansed Saidin and stopped the madness, but that history and distrust could not be forgotten so quickly. Fortunately, she always managed to intervene before it could escalate beyond bickering and posturing. Rand helped too, when he wasn’t in a Merodi lab.
Progress was slow to start. The Merodi had noted when they first arrived that the dimension was slightly unstable, especially to time travel, and they had to avoid weakening the Pattern with their tests. Fortunately their source material made reference to vacuoles: small pocket universes that formed naturally at the edges of their universe before breaking free and disappearing into the Sea of Infinite Possibility. They were able to learn how to keep those vacuoles from breaking free, giving them safe places to test. Progress was a lot faster after that.
Eventually, the Merodi finally decided that too much information was flowing too quickly, and they put a stop to all research into the One Power. As it happened, they made that decision the very day that the Aes Sedai and Asha’man learned the last weave they needed for their ring. The Wheel weaves as the Wheel wills.
If only they had stopped to consider just what exactly the will of the Wheel was.
~~~
Mat was eating a breakfast of stew when Rand found him, carrying a rolled up rug under his arm for some reason.
“Good morning, Mat.”
“Hey Rand. What brings the Dragon Reborn down to us mere mortals?”
“I have something I need you to do for me. Do you know what Callandor is?” Rand asked. He unrolled his rug, revealing the sword made of solid crystal that was wrapped up inside.
“Of course I bloody know what Callandor is. It’s a male sa’angreal.”
“It’s more than that,” Rand said, his expression as serious as Mat had seen it since Nynaeve had cured him. “It is a trap. It was intended for Moridin during the Last Battle, before the Merodi broke all prophecies. When a man wields it, a woman can link with him against his will. With at least 2 women, one of them can take control of the link from him and use his own power against him.”
“Then why are you bloody using it? You can’t trust Aes Sedai.”
“Believe me, I know. But I don’t have much choice. We need as much strength in the Power as we can get. Besides, we all want the same thing here. We all agreed that I would be the one to weave the ring. You’re just my insurance. If someone takes the link from me, I’m counting on you to stop them.”
“Burn me, you want me to ‘stop’ an Aes Sedai?”
“Only if they try something. Please, Mat.”
“Yes, of course, I promise I’ll have your back. It’s just...burn me.”
“Thank you,” Rand said. The relief was plain on his face. Burn me, but he really was worried about this. I won’t let you down, Rand.
Rand was the one to open a gateway to the vacuole. It was a new vacuole, one which didn’t exist yesterday, to minimize the chances that anyone would detect what they were doing. Over 200 men and women entered with him. Mat couldn’t bring himself to enter the vacuole where so much of the One Power would be wielded, but he took up a position just outside.
It was strange, knowing that just inside, 200 people were undertaking the largest work with the Power since the Age of Legends, and he couldn’t see a thing. The weaves were invisible to anyone who could not channel the Power themselves. He couldn’t even tell by looking at them, since only Rand was actually weaving. It took no effort to maintain the link, so the rest were passing the time in conversation. The only visible sign of anything happening was that Callandor had started glowing when Rand started using it.
Hours passed without anything happening, leaving Mat to try to keep himself entertained. The problem was that no one would talk to him. He tried with the servants, but his clothes marked him as someone important, and the servants were nervous about being friendly with him. Conversely, he had no desire to talk to the Aes Sedai and Asha’man inside the vacuole. Not that he was nervous, of course. Not Mat Cauthon. They just weren’t good conversation for a simple man like him, and they thought too highly of themselves to play at dice or cards.
As time passed, Mat got an itch at the back of his neck, and it wasn’t the dagger he had hidden in the collar of his coat. It was too quiet on this side of the gateway. There was no way that something as momentous as they were attempting here could go off without complications. The wheel wasn’t that bloody nice. Not to Mat Cauthon. He looked around, barely in time to spot the man throwing a dagger at him. He threw himself to the side, the dagger barely missing taking his ear. As he got up, he realized he recognized his would-be assassin.
“It’s Padan Fain!” Mat shouted as loudly as he could.
Padan Fain was once a simple Darkfriend, a servant of the Dark One. That was long ago. The Dark One twisted his soul to make him able to find Rand anywhere in the world. Somehow, that allowed him to merge with the evil of the dead city of Shadar Logoth. Now the man had strange powers never seen before.
Now that the alarm had been raised, Fain abandoned stealth. Fog formed in the air around him, growing larger and thicker before Mat’s eyes. Mashadar, the fog that consumed souls, began spreading through the camp. In seconds, Fain was hidden from view.
There was almost no defense against Mashadar. It had no body and could not be killed, while it could kill people with a touch. Killing Fain would stop it, but Mashadar surrounded Fain. Mat had an advantage though. He too once had a brush with the evil of Shadar Logoth, and though he almost died, the Aes Sedai were able to heal him. According to their source material, this made him immune to Mashadar. He could enter to find Fain, and he could kill him. He was the only one who could. You’ll have to manage without me for a while, Rand, Mat thought as he charged into the fog.
~~~
“It’s Padan Fain!” Cauthon shouted.
Shaisam was confused for a moment. Who was Padan Fain? Then he remembered. He was called Padan Fain once, long ago. He had used many names since then, as his madness took his mind in new directions. He knew he was mad, but he didn’t care. Maybe he would care after he killed Rand al’Thor and was free of his compulsion.
Shaisam unleashed Mashadar. He could no longer remember a time when he was unable to spread his power outside his body. Mashadar spread through the camp. Wherever it found a living body, a ropey tendril of fog would spear them. Mashadar left its victims dead, their bodies unmarred by wound or injury. They simply dropped, often without time to scream.
Cauthon entered Mashadar’s reach, but he did not die. Why did he not die? It wasn’t fair! Shaisam was forced to flee, to protect his vulnerable fleshy body while his true body expanded toward the open gateway. The fog was dense, and every soul it consumed made it thicker. He could hide until he could kill Cauthon. Then he could kill al’Thor and be free.
Mashadar reached the gateway. Tendrils struck some of the people inside, and Shaisam received a surprise. Instead of simply killing them, he took them. Their bodies were his now. His powers had grown once again! He could use this to kill al’Thor.
Something was wrong though. He knew they should be able to channel the One Power for him, but they couldn’t. Something was taking their power from them. It had to be al’Thor! He yanked, pulling the power back to his servants.
Instead of getting their power back, one of them got all the power. Shaisam didn’t understand why, but his puppet had stolen al’Thor’s power! This was the perfect opportunity! He ordered them to kill al’Thor with his own precious One Power.
Something was wrong again. The puppet was not killing al’Thor. The puppet was struggling with the power. It was defying him! I demand you to submit! Instead of submitting, they struggled even harder. Then there was a flash of white, and Shaisam knew no more.
~~~
“It’s Padan Fain!” Mat shouted.
Rand heard the cry. He knew that with the power he currently held, he could destroy Fain in an instant. He could burn the entire plain outside the gateway with a thought, vaporizing everything, and probably a foot of soil too. He had that power, but he was using all of it in weaving the ring. He was almost done, but if he stopped now, he would have to start again from the beginning. So he left Fain to Mat, and kept weaving.
“Rand, shouldn’t you--” Egwene started, but Rand interrupted.
“No. I have nothing left to spare. Mat can handle it.”
Egwene looked like she wanted to say more, but for a wonder she didn’t.
A minute passed, and then two. The people nearest the gateway started murmuring louder as the fog grew nearer. Then tendrils of fog shot through the gateway, spearing 3 Aes Sedai and 1 Asha’man. There was no blood, nor any visible injury, but all 4 of them collapsed. People started screaming, demanding that Rand release them so they could defend themselves. Rand felt something through the link, but the power kept flowing, and he was so close!
“Rand, this is foolish! We can start the weave again. Fain is killing people!”
“Just a few more threads…” Rand responded, weaving as fast as he could.
Then control of the link was taken from him. He turned to Egwene, furious, but it hadn’t been her. With dawning horror, he turned to face those who had been taken by Mashadar. They were standing now with vacant expressions, and one of them had stolen control of the link from him using the opening that Callandor provided her.
Rand expected to die then, but the woman could not control Saidin. Threads of power waved wildly, creating sparks where they crossed. She was trying to guide Saidin, the way women did with Saidar, but the male half of the One Power had to be forced. Try to gently guide it, and you would find yourself swept away. As an Aes Sedai she should have known all this, but whatever was left after Mashadar struck seemed to have forgotten. Rand was not about to correct her mistake.
Rand ran toward her, Callandor held up and ready to strike. It was not meant to be used as a sword, but it worked well enough as one. The crystal would not break.
Then the weave fell into place behind him. He turned. Somehow, in her flailing, she had finished it. But it had flaws, places where the weave was tangled or picked out. There was no telling what it would do now. A malformed weave like that could easily kill them all. Fortunately, whatever it did, it would do it to the Dark Tower. The part of the weave that would send it through the stream of the One Power to the Dark Tower was miraculously intact.
Rand felt relief for only a moment. Then there was a flash of white, and Rand knew no more.
~~~
Rand was ta’veren. The pattern swirled around him, bending in the direction the Wheel wanted it to go. In his presence, chance was suspended. People who hated each other would suddenly decide to get married. Flipped coins would land on their edge 100 times in a row. In this case, the flailings of a zombified Aes Sedai modified the weave to send a valid command to the Dark Tower. Not a command to collapse, or to preserve, but rather one to create a new universe. This universe appeared where the vacuole had been. By a further coincidence, it had exactly the same dream physics as Tel’aran’rhiod. The Wheel weaves as the Wheel wills.
A cone of white hot fire shot out of the gateway in the instant before the gateway itself was dissolved. The blast vaporized plants, pulverized mountains, and cut a miles long fan-shaped furrow in the ground. It threw ash and dust into the sky, where it spread out and began to smother the land. Had the Merodi not intervened, people would have died by the tens or even hundreds of thousands during the Last Battle. Now, they would die as dust choked the air and blocked the sunlight. The Merodi aid they had received was suddenly inadequate. All the Merodi dimensional devices had been at ground zero of the blast, as had everyone who had learned the weaves for traveling the multiverse. There was no way to call for aid, and Merodi policy was to wait for them to call. The Wheel weaves as the Wheel wills.
The alterations the Merodi left in the Pattern were corrected. The universe could still be destroyed, by weapons or by multiversal collapse, but otherwise events would play out as they had in ages past. Given time, people would forget about the Merodi. Few had ever seen them, after all, and they would soon be busy trying to survive. As the 4th age began, memories would become legend. Legend would fade to myth, and even myth would be long forgotten by the time the 3rd age came again. There are no beginnings or endings to the turning of the Wheel of Time.
‘Meeting Your Maker’
I glided onto the cliff. The view was breathtaking, the sun sinking into the Harmonic Ocean and turning the beach below into a stretch of powdered gold that stretched from horizon to horizon. I sat and savored it for a moment, letting the ocean breeze blow past me and listening to the waves.
The moment passed. I pulled out a notebook, flipped it open with my magic, and began writing.
And so the Third Author of the World entered his creation and the Glorious Proclaimer appeared before him, so that they might converse on the eve of the apocalypse.
There came a flash of gold, like a color-filtered manifesting Q, and before me, hovering beyond the cliff's edge, stood "Shimmy" Sunset Shimmer, Spirit of Harmony, embodiment and protector of Earth Shimmer, friend, wife, mother, aunt...
And protagonist by my hand.
Er, hoof.
Yeah, you may have picked up that I’m not actually Twilence by this point. Shimmy certainly did, judging by the crossed arms and a raised eyebrow. “Okay, I’ve seen a lot of things in my time, but I have to ask, how exactly are you casting magic when your horn is a glowstick taped to a cardboard tube?”
I smiled and moved a bit of my blonde mane out of my golden eyes with the levitating mechanical pencil. “Cheating. Same way I’m getting my eyes to focus properly despite appropriating She of the Seven Bubbles.”
“Yeah, what’s up with that?”
“I technically already showed up in the story. Chapter 100. If G. M. Blackjack can use a guy in Metal Sonic cosplay, I can use an avatar of my avatar.” I shrugged my wings and gave a sad smile. ”Plus, we could definitely use a little levity right now.”
That got a nod, though she was still frowning. “So you are Fan of Most Everything.”
“That I am.” I indicated the grass next to me with a wing. “I’m sure you have a lot to say to me. I figured it was only right to give you a chance before whatever happens happens.”
She raised an eyebrow. "You don't know?"
“You think we’d be able to have this conversation if I did?” I shook my head. “I'm a side player in all of this. GM didn't even know about this world until he’d already written most of Songs. But right now, it's just you and me, Shimmy. Way back when your tale began, you had a lot of things to say to the people who decided what was 'necessary' in this world. Now’s your chance.“
She rolled her eyes as she sat next to me. ”Yeah, and I was young and hot-headed, and an especially stupid part of me still wanted to rule the world." She held up her hand. Another flash, and... Oh goodness, that was a print copy of Oversaturation. "You showed me why that was foolish real quick.”
"You've read..." I blushed. I couldn't help it. It's awkward enough when someone I know offline wants to read my work. One of the characters involved? I cleared my throat. “Right, no reason the Tower would keep that off-limits after the fact. How did you—?”
"The Infinite Carousel. Sneaking into Bronycon is easy when you're the best Rarity cosplayer imaginable.” Shimmy scowled. “Are you really surprised? You're the one writing all of this, aren't you?"
"Some version of me is, yes.” I picked a direction at random and tried to look at the fourth wall. “With any luck, he's a million years before us in metatime and doesn't have to worry about the collateral damage."
"Then what was with the whole quasi-scriptural summoning thing?"
"Well, it's an interesting question. Are you here because I wrote you here, or are you here because you noticed me trying to write you here?"
She crossed her arms. "You of all people should know I'm not one for the whole 'vague wisdom' routine."
"Fair enough." I took a deep breath. "To be honest, my coping mechanisms are running on overdrive. A third of the multiverse got wiped out in a matter of hours, and that was just the opening act. The human mind can't even begin to fathom losses on that scale."
"A human mind wrote losses on that scale."
"No offense to GM, but do you think that mind can appreciate what it wrought?” I spread a wing to encompass the beach, which was completely empty. Few people cared for fun in the sun when all of existence hung in the balance. “Through you, I irrevocably changed the lives of billions, and you've lived through the ramifications of that action in a way I can scarcely fathom. So instead I wrote a bunch of goofy slice-of-life stories on the lighter side of it all."
Shimmy summoned more books. “And Fluttershy nearly losing her mind, Abacus Cinch actually losing hers—“
"Point made." I fell back onto the grass, staring up at the evening sky. "My point is that I—which is to say, the me talking to you, not the lucky stiff who's composing all of this—I am just as terrified as anyone else living through the end of the multiverse as we know it."
"I thought you didn't know what was going to happen."
"Oh, I don't.” Not definitely, anyway. I may not know the details, but I saw the chapter titles at the end of the last arc. Not a lot of ways to interpret the next two. “But even if the preservers win, the status quo has been irrevocably shattered. Best case scenario, this is the start of one heck of a multiversal dark age. I don’t know about you, but I could certainly use someone to talk to right now. And while we’re at it, maybe I could account for myself somewhat along the way."
Silence. After the better part of a minute, Shimmy said, "You know, it's funny. Ever since I found out that someone out there was writing my life, someone was actually responsible for what I've gone through, I planned out so many things to say to you."
I looked over to her and smirked. "Say?"
"Shout, mostly,” she admitted. “Maybe throw in some divine reverb for emphasis." She added an echoing chorus to those emphasized words to demonstrate. "But now? It honestly seems kind of petty. I may be one of the most highly developed spiritual beings left in existence. I should hold myself to a higher standard than…” She sighed. “Well, it'd basically be yelling at Princess Celestia all over again."
"Not necessarily. You'd have more legitimate complaints this time. And I've been a worse communicator than Celestia ever was, by definition. Absolute silence isn't exactly helpful."
She waved that off. "It's not like most people would take it well if you just showed up one day and said 'Hi, I wrote your universe into existence.'"
"Except Pinkie."
"Of course except Pinkie. That's basically an unspoken addendum to every broad statement."
We shared a smile and waited a beat to see if any Pinkies took that as their cue to pop into the scene. None did, though I did notice a scribble in my notebook done in pink gel pen that definitely hadn't been there a moment ago. I decided it could wait. "At the risk of wrecking the mood, how'd the call for supporting Corona go?"
Shimmy gave me a flat look. "The Class-1 war was less than a week later. How do you think it went?"
I winced. "Sorry."
"I do still hold by what I said.” Shimmy sighed and looked out at the ocean. “We were able to talk a little while she was under house arrest. She'd hoped for a peaceful transition to whatever the multiverse decided. She never meant for this to happen. Even if she did cause it. But..." She groaned. "You know, it's really hard to look at this sort of thing objectively when every instinct is telling me to preserve and forgive and generally harmonize. I can condemn the Gallifreyans for planting the Tower Rings that set everything off. I can recognize that Corona lit the fuse to this powder keg whether she meant to or not. But her intentions are so pure, so heartfelt, that I literally cannot bring myself to blame her for... well, other people's actions that she had no control over, followed by her own hand being forced by their actions.” She jabbed me with an elbow. “So thanks for that."
I shook my head. "That's not quite how it works."
"Normally I would say I know how I work better than you do, but I suppose that isn't the case here."
"And you just demonstrated why. Among other things, your instincts encourage you to be honest, especially with yourself. You can't blame Corona for what she did because you don't blame her, not the other way around."
She raised an eyebrow. "So the generosity and kindness and loyalty—"
"Factor in as well,” I said. “But honesty is the relevant bit. You do still have free will, Shimmy."
She gave that a bitter laugh. "Does anyone? You're literally writing every word I say, for a given value of 'you.' I can't leave until I've said and done everything you want me to. The only reason I'm even questioning my free will is because you're making me."
"Oh?” I sat up. “What makes you think I'm any different?"
"Okay, yeah, you specifically are an author avatar, so you're technically in the same boat, but—"
I shook my head. "That's not what I mean. I, the person writing this, am an absolute background element in my world. My most important contributions to the world have been fan fiction, for goodness' sake. On a multiversal scale, yes, I am a Prophet. On a global one? Ninety-nine point several-nines-thereafter percent of people couldn't care less, nor could the Tower. I exist in a fully mundane universe that may or may not be so fully deterministic that, barring multiversal interference, every action I take can be extrapolated by studying the vectors of particles at the moment of the Big Bang. And if there is some magic something that makes the lump of fatty tissue in my skull capable of causal effects, that just raises further questions.” I took a deep breath and rubbed at my eyes. Really should’ve gone with a form with fingers. ”At least you can point fingers at the person who occasionally pulls on your strings. I dance in the wind."
"Uh…” Shimmy awkwardly stretched out an arm towards me, though she never actually touched me. “Do you not have faith in anything?"
I shrugged my wings. "I believe in emergent properties. I believe, or at least want to believe, that there's more to the mundane universe than the interactions of leptons, bosons, and quarks. The fact that I believe that arguably proves it, or sapience is just a delusion." I sighed. This was why I joked and capered. At least when Corona studied physics, she knew there was more in Heaven and Earth than was dreamt of in that philosophy. For me...
I blinked. My drooping head had put me in the perfect position to finally read the note a Pinkie had left in my notebook.
If sapience is a delusion, what's being deluded?
A smile came to my lips without my brain ever being involved in the decision process. A few stifled chortle leaked out as snorts.
"What is it?" Shimmy asked even as she looked over my shoulder. "Oh." She smiled too. "Did you put that there for yourself?"
"Yes and no. The thing about writing Pinkie Pie is that if you're doing it right, she takes up residence in your head. And never leaves. Ideally, every character should surprise you, but if Pinkie isn't writing the majority of her own dialogue, you're doing it wrong."
"You're welcome!"
We both sat paralyzed for a moment. Finally, I squeaked out, "Did a tiny pony Pinkie pop out of my ear to say that?"
"Do you really want the answer to that question?" Shimmy certainly didn’t sound like she wanted to give it.
"Fair enough."
She cleared her throat. "I feel like we've wandered off-topic."
I gave a rueful grin. "If you can't have an existential crisis now, when can you?"
"True,” she said with a smirk, “but I'm pretty sure you weren't the one who was supposed to in this exchange."
"Ideally, neither of us would. You could get some things off your chest about Prophets, I could explore the deeper ramifications of that sort of thing, everybody's happy."
"So why aren't we?"
"Yeah.” I picked another direction. This one felt like much more like the right one for glaring at my own fool self. “It's almost like someone has no idea what he's doing."
Shimmy wrinkled her brow. "What?"
"Exploratory writing.” I sighed. “I am flying by the seat of my pants and you're along for the ride."
"I'm... really not sure how to feel about that. I mean, on the one hand, I guess this means I have more free will in this situation? Maybe? But on the other, even you have no idea what will happen next, no plan or structure or real end goal."
I nodded. I could see where I was going with this. It’d be awfully concerning if I couldn’t. "As close as I can come to writing a world without ka."
After a moment, Shimmy said, "Or maybe you're a sly son of a mule who knew what he was doing the whole time."
"Speaking as an authority on the subject, I can confirm beyond a shadow of a doubt that I have zero idea what I'm doing.” I smiled. “But this does do wonders for reaffirming your choice to preserve the multiverse, doesn't it? It's not just the Instincts of Harmony telling you to construct a grand web of interdependencies, you just don't like the idea of a world without some kind of structure to it."
"I know it sounds selfish, but destiny did right by me. It tends to for most Sunsets, eventually. A life without that…” She shut her eyes. “Not that there’s any way I’d survive. I might as well be this universe at this point. If it goes, so do I."
"Probably."
"You know something."
I bobbed my head from side to side. "I may. I may not. Few things in this life are truly certain."
She booped me. She booped me in the snoot! "We're getting back to the 'vague wisdom' horse apples again."
After I managed to get my eyes back in order, I couldn’t help but smirk up at her. "You're just mad because I decided you didn't need touch telepathy on top of borderline omnipotence."
She got to her feet. "Okay, if you're going to be that smug about it, you can just go back to your side of the fourth wall."
"Well, we don't need to go that far quite yet." A thought struck me. "You know, there is something else I believe in."
"I swear, if you say you're a member of the Church of the Divine Bacon Horse—"
I held up my forehooves. "I had little to do with its inception on any level of metafiction you care to name. I'm not the only one who's shaped this world, you know. You can pin a lot of things on a certain two-headed kitten.”
“That’s just my avatar and a representation of how I view humanity,” interjected a black leather robe.
“Wait.” Sunset blinked. “How did you—”
“He left the door open. By the way, I’m stealing your milk.”
I sighed as the figure walked off. "Typical... No, my philosophy in life, beyond 'assume there's something capable of philosophy,' is actually one you may find familiar."
"And what's that?"
"Life has no intrinsic meaning,” I said. “It's up to us to decide why we're here."
Shimmy contemplated that for a moment. "That sounds awfully like the Builders."
"Yes, if the Builders could have been content with self-determination rather than enforcing narrative law on all of existence.” I frowned. “But we can't fix the system if we burn it down."
"You really think it can be fixed?"
"Think about it.” I turned to a new page in my notebook and began sketching. “The Tower isn't just a machine, it's a Turing machine. It can be configured, programmed, commanded. Tower Rings are basically punch cards with an inflated sense of narrative importance. Corona stopped looking when she found a way to turn it off, but what if she'd kept going? Deciphered its programming language in full? What if we could use that knowledge to alter the relationship between author and character?” I looked up from the mess of toruses and tables, beaming as possibilities raced through my head. “The best stories are the ones where the characters tell you what they should be doing. What if we could make that kind of two-way communication the norm?"
Shimmy seemed less than enthusiastic. "That seems hopelessly idealistic. And that's coming from a Spirit of Harmony."
I nodded and tapped the giant cartoon explosion on the bottom-right with the tip of a hoof. "Of course it is. Instead of a nice, clean, two-sided, us-vs.-them conflict, my idea would tear apart the multiverse until every individual being was fighting everyone else, each fighting to realize their personal vision of perfection. Odds are the Nihilists would win; at least they’d be able to agree on something.” I sighed. “But I'm a fan fiction author who prefers happy endings. Thinking of ways it could've all turned out better is my role in the multiverse. Besides, hopeless idealism's most important in times of war. It means someone's thinking of something else.” I looked back up. “On that note, feeling any better?"
Shimmy thought about that for a moment. "Kind of, yeah,” she said, sounding more than a little surprised by it. “Still worried about the end of everything. I felt the aftershocks of the Class-1 war. But it's weirdly comforting to know that you're as worried as I am."
"It's what you've been doing since people started worshiping you. I don't think I'm any better than you just because I'm higher up the totem pole than you are, Shimmy, and I certainly don't have any more idea of what I should be doing. Anyone who claims otherwise in a situation like this is lying through their teeth, possibly to themselves. At the end of the day, we're all just people trying to find our way with varying degrees of assistance from the Tower."
She frowned. "It does do some horrible things."
I nodded. "It does. But it also does amazing things. Ka may have horrific implications, but it’s also the best tool to fix that horror. Goodness knows I've twisted horrific endings into happier ones. Or at least more farcical ones."
"Any hope of that here?"
I shook my head. "Too much loss, too much destruction, just too much. It's all coming to a head, and anything I might do would be an anticlimax of nigh-infinite proportions. 'Rocks rise, everybody lives.'” With a sigh, I added, “Given the way the Tower's been emphasizing the horror, I have to wonder if it wants to end."
"The Tower doesn't want anything,” said Shimmy. “It's just a machine."
"And I'm sure that if you asked someone what this universe wanted before you made friends with capital-M Magic, they would've said it didn't want anything either."
We watched the last of the sun dip below the horizon before Shimmy spoke up again. "You know, I just have one question."
I quirked an eyebrow. "Just one?"
"Just one that only you can answer. Why 'Shimmy'?"
"Oh, that. One person came up with the name and the other couldn't think of anything better before it stuck."
Shimmy rolled her eyes, thinking back to a bygone visit from an LSB exploration team. "I meant on your end."
"So did I.” I gave a sheepish smile. “Sorry."
Her face went through a number of expressions before settling on amusement. I smiled back. I live to entertain, after all.
"One more thing," she said, concern creeping back across her features. "Any chance you could at least make sure Egghead lives?"
"If it were up to me, I'd declare this whole universe inviolate until all's said and done, but it's out of my appendages." I rose. "That said, you have another appointment while you're here. And for the record, she wasn't my idea either."
I vanished from the world before she could respond. I hope I left her heart lighter. It'd balance the weight on mine.
‘Of the Fae’
By Masterweaver
“Such arrogance... even the kindest ones presume.”
Sunset ‘Shimmy’ Shimmer sighed. “Winter Lights. Were you listening in that whole time?”
“To admit to such... would not be relevant,” replied the icy blue form walking up to her. “Yet... and yet.”
There was an unusual air to the elfin woman. Her ears twitched constantly, eyes roving behind her eyelids. Shimmy’s magical empathy was usually stymied around her, but... here, and now? Winter Lights apparently found it hard enough to control the expression on her flesh.
“The ancients, of all kinds, built many wonders. A commonality in stories, the forgotten powers. Convenience, perhaps. Effort only to seek, not to explain where such came from or how they worked. Ease. Of use and method.”
“You’re not nearly as poetic as you usually are,” Shimmy noted.
“Fae realms involved in all layers,” Winter whispered. “The lowest, ignorant, beneath class four, even they feel... Highest, who are not of the first class but know how to whisper... do they exist? Did they ever? The ripples. All, all shifting.” Her golden eyes opened, and she steadied herself on a nearby rock. “Look upon me, godling, I have become a mad prophet, unable to sing the song that screams through my mind. The storm, the storm, we have weathered such before--but have we? Is this the final storm... what comes, what comes.”
Worry coated Shimmy’s expression, and she stepped forward--
“No! No. I shall not be robbed of this. Shall not... be robbed of my heritage. Birthright.” Winter straightened, running her four-fingered hand through her straight hair. “Father... father... Had I known... father... your love. I know now. Gratitude.... But no. I must focus. The godling.”
She turned to Shimmy, swaying, unnoticing of the single message sent by electric brick that the godling sent. “The sea of fate broils. Fay are tossed... some driven mad... but we have lived through storms. Yes. Survival. That is what we need. But... if we are to rebuild, we must exist. I am here. Your world. Yes, yes, but that is too selfish. You need your own reasons, yes?”
“Winter--”
“Wars determine not who wins, but who dies.” Winter held up a finger. “The winners are those who survive. Who rebuild. That shall be you, godling. Do not fight, do not... do not set your world to fight. You healed it, and yet it still has cracks... you are good at healing. When others fall... and other worlds shall fall... take the wounded. Bring them. Heal them. Yes. Godling. We must not fight, if we are to win... yes?”
“I wasn’t going to fight,” Shimmy assured her, stepping toward her gently.
“Then we must--you must... take this universe,” Winter said, waving over the ocean. “Take it. Run with it. Leave behind... rests. Safehouses. For when the battle pushes across borders. So hard... so hard to speak... there is much. Oblivion screams. Void seer... did you know this? Mockery... prophets... Retreat. Pick the battles. Cowardice... some would see it as. It is not, to run, not when there is no way to fight. When fighting is the worst way...”
“I’m not going to stop those that want to fight,” Shimmy said, reaching out to her--
--only for her to back away. “NO! No, godling! I must not... I must not. Not even in your service! Let the honorbound spill their blood, let all who would fight die... there will be no stopping those who cannot see beyond their own purpose. Rings, rings, rings.... Circles that bind... destruction, purpose. A ring around the world. Would war wound it?”
Shimmy sighed, quietly. “Winter Lights... you want my help. I want to help you. Focus... please. The dance of words can wait.”
“There was a wall...” Winter pointed. “They built a wall... was it when the Tower was made? Or before? Or after? It all blends... it surrounds the multiverse. It constrains. Now, though, a great war is being fought. Weapons of power. The wall may be sundered. A way out. Freedom from the tower...”
“...Ah.” Shimmy shook her head. “No. I won’t take us there.”
“But you must,” Winter said, though she did not seem to fully understand her own words. “Yes... freedom for the Fay. Through the cracks, as ever... you must, father, you must!” Her eyes fell on Shimmy, though it was clear she was not the one seen. “Your death, what purpose would it serve? The goal, if this is the end, to ride the wave of void, and so sidestep doom. You have died, father, but still I serve... I serve myself, and through myself my people...”
“You know enough to know that is not how a leader serves.”
“The godling thinks I am arrogant!” The elf laughed, clutching her pointed ears as she wept. “A lie that becomes true, a lie about a lie... my pet, my pet, my loyal pet. My beloved pet. Together. Yes... can we not run?” She knelt before the golden woman. “Such have I fallen, godling. Run. I beg a god. I beg a god. I beg a god. My pet, my beloved, my future. What takes it to sway your mind... you are bound to this world.”
“But not just this one.” Shimmy knelt. “You and I both came to this realm from beyond. We have both grown into it, adding our essence. We have helped outsiders, taken their gifts, and given in return. I could run. I could risk the edge of all things. Perhaps, in some miracle, I could take us out of the reach of the Tower--though I doubt that is within my power. But in so doing I would leave behind those I love. Those... we love.”
“You grow bold, godling.” A hint of Winter’s old self came through in that arrogant, toothy grin, though it was marred by the sadness in her eyes. “Claiming to know what I value.”
“You were fond of the elements of chaos. Of the one who was deception, despite it all. You were fond of the Flat who you went to meme war with. You were fond of others, too. And you remain fond of them, don’t you?”
“Friendship... why.” Winter sighed. “Why this realm, of all realms? Why... my pet. My beloved. My future. She... she would not accept if those beyond were left behind.”
“No.”
“I am bound... ropes of soul. But a soul alone shall fall... why did I bind so greatly?” She looked up at Shimmy. “You are the only hope for me. One born from Fae, reliant on a mortal made god. Such shame... and yet... to be found. To be found... is this faith? No. It is...”
“...It is trust.”
“...hope lies in shadows. Hope ever...” Winter shut her eyes. “No. I mustn’t. I mustn’t! She is a godling! Was this ever my fate? The gift... The king killed, by my plot. My father warped by my own kiss. Treachery, lovely, yet costly... Winter Lights. The sun that batters, even at night. My power... my skill... my knowledge... I am Fey. I AM FEY! I MUSTN’T! I mustn’t... I mustn’t... I mustn’t... I... I... I...”
Her hands moved suddenly, grabbing Shimmy’s wrists and slamming the golden palms against her own brow. Knowledge--sudden knowledge, of how the Fae realms were formed, how realities could be unraveled and rewoven--shot into the goddess’s head desperately, even as another part of the elf screamed in her head and out loud at what she was giving. It lasted less than two seconds before she released her grip and fell to the sand.
“Traitor... Traitor to my bond... Traitor to my courts... Traitor to my cousin... Traitor to my father... Traitor to my kind. Traitor to myself.” She laughed and wept at once. “Treachery upon treachery. Lovely, yet costly. Mother, mother, what are you, what were you? Did you plant this seed that I nurtured, do these vines that strangle come from you? Or perhaps, from myself, and I cannot lay blame.”
“This...” Shimmy looked over the knowledge she had gained. “...With this, I could... I could give this world a real chance. Winter, if we see the wave coming I could weave into it--!”
She looked and saw that the elf had summoned a dagger of glamour, already plunging it toward her heart. And she reached out--but in one last moment, the one born of fay had pulled away from her power, so she could not stop it.
It was great fortune, then, that another was present to wrench it away.
“WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?!”
“Traitor, to all...” Her golden eyes fell upon the purple vestment. “My pet? My pet... have I betrayed you too?”
“I swore you would get through this,” Indigo Zap growled, tears in her eyes. “I swore I would do anything to make sure you survived!”
“The sea of Fate... it broils...”
“And we will survive it together,” Indigo promised. “You said you would take my name after this.”
“There is always uncertainty--”
A pale hand smacked against a blue cheek.
Golden eyes focused on blue.
“...Winter Lights,” Indigo said quietly. “If you cannot take my name later, you will take it now.”
“You do not make demands of Fey,” Winter murmured.
“I make demands of love,” Indigo said.
One hand clasped a shoulder “...My pet.” Another wrapped against a cheek. “My beloved...”
Her ears at last stopped twitching, as her face pressed closer to the other.
“...My future.”
“I said I would be willing to sacrifice myself for you,” Indigo murmured.
“And you meant it.” Winter chuckled, the tears in her eyes fading. “As ever... you are my guide in these matters. And I... I cannot walk without my guide.”
“Mistress--”
“That leash was long loosened. Perhaps it is best to take it off entirely, now.”
Indigo smiled. “Only in public.”
“Mmmm. Such a way with words...” At last there was a glint of joy in Winter’s eyes again. “Quite the skilled tongue indeed.”
Shimmy groaned. “Can you not?”
“But I must!” Winter declared, standing. “For the dance of words is ever-changing, and I must change with it!”
Indigo stood too, a relieved smile on her face. “Thanks for calling me, Sunset. I... I don’t know what I would have done without her.”
“Well...” Shimmy shrugged, not commenting on the hands that remained clasped. “She might be a problem child, sure, but this world has adopted many. I’ll leave you two to it, and... go think about what she has shared.”
She snapped her fingers, and she was suddenly in her home, where she draped herself on a couch. “Uuuugh, that was... uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuugh.”
“Something up?” asked her wife.
“Just...” Shimmy waved a hand. “The future of our world. We’ll need to talk about that.”
“Yeah... well...”
“...Something wrong?”
“It’s dumb--”
“Come on, Twi, tell me.”
Her wife sighed. “We’re... out of milk. I could have sworn I bought a few jugs monday, but I can’t find them at all--”
Shimmy frowned for a moment, before groaning. “Friggin’ prophets.”
She chose to believe she just imagined the muffled “Sorry” coming from… somewhere.
‘A Heart’s Gambit’
By Sgt. Sarge
In my universal cluster, things were set up much like the larger multiverse in microcosm. Many worlds were separate and unknown to each other, except by those few who could travel between them. Each world in this greater World had a heart, a will of its own, and those hearts were all connected to form an entity known as Kingdom Hearts.
The aging man stroked his goatee in thought as he walked. He entered a room that was dark aside from a single lamp illuminating a table at the center. Standing around this table were three other individuals: a pink skinned woman with a tail, a young girl with black hair, and a man wearing a red coat.our
The old man took a position at the head of the table. He had hoped more would have come than this, but he could not wait any longer. Three was far fewer than the thirteen he had planned for, but he sensed they would be enough.
The young girl pointed at him dramatically. “Alright, you old geezer, it's about time you told us what this is really all about.”
“Yeah! I only came here because you said I could have all the sweets I could eat! There isn’t a single piece of candy in sight!” The pink woman puffed out her cheeks, pouting.
The old man chuckled lightly, his voice dry and raspy. “Patience, all will be revealed in time. For now, know that you are here to aid me in acquiring a device that will end this war. Then, my dear, you may have your sweets.”
“I’ll assume, given the secrecy of this meeting, that you’re not aiming for the same ‘end’ as the rest of us.” The man in the red coat spoke up.
“No. Things cannot stay as they are, but the collapse is a terrible waste of the unique beauty this World has to offer.” The old man spread his arms wide. “I seek to change the nature of ka itself.”
“What?!” The young girl staggered back in shock. “That's absurd! I can’t, hey-”
The young girl was cut off as the man in red next to her tapped her on the head with a capture device. “Well, that makes things easier for me, then. You can call me Archer; that's not my name but it’s all you'll get.”
“You could have let me have her, ya know?” The woman said, thrashing her tail in annoyance.
Archer stored the capture device in a pouch on his belt. “No. I still need Rin here alive. She supplies me with mana, to maintain my physical form. Honestly, I’ve been waiting to do that for a while now.”
She shrugged. “Eh, whatever. My name is Android 21. You broke me out of that Merodi prison, so as long as you let me eat sweet things I’ll help you out with whatever you want.”
“Good, good.” The old man nodded, hands clasped behind his back. “I only require a piece of technology used in building the Tower Rings. There is one being built by the Kromagg as we speak that is far enough along to have the part we need.”
The old man raised an eyebrow and looked up at the ceiling.
“My name is Master Xehanort, and you are welcome to try and stop me.”
~~~
“Wow, that was a little creepy,” Pinkie said.
“What was?” Nova asked, rearranging an ace in her hand of cards.
“The guy in the last scene. I think he knew I was watching. Well, everyone was watching, there was no attempt to obscure that scene at all. Every Aware everywhere heard that. But I think he was talking specifically to me! I’ll take two please.” Jotaro dealt Pinkie her two cards, then took a look at his own hand: two pairs.
“Well, do you know him? Maybe he was talking to another Pinkie Pie? I raise.” Vriska bluffed, tossing two more chips into the center of the table.
“I don’t think so, he didn’t mention me by name. He did mention a Tower Ring the Kromagg are building. So I imagine we’ll be sent out to destroy it soon. I call.” Pinkie Pie threw a pair of her own chips to match Vriskas.
The rest of the table called before showing their hands. Pinkie was the winner with a full house.
Nova sighed. “That's fine. I’m pretty sure Pinkie’s cheating somehow, but I know I’ll never figure out how.”
“Who knows?” Pinkie said, mentally winking. Gosh, she missed doing that. “By the way, where’s Pidge?”
“I think she’s still holed up in her lab dimension thing. She’s been working real hard on some secret project or something.” Vriska said, scooping what chips she had left into an eight ball. “We might have to go without her.”
Jotaro looked down at his single remaining chip and sighed. “Yare yare daze.”
~~~
My universe was not always separated so. When the light of Kingdom Hearts first birthed the World there was but one, and it shone with a pure bright light. But bright lights cast shadows, and soon the people of the World began to covet the light and allowed darkness into their hearts. The ensuing conflict over control of the light put too much strain on the World, and thus it shattered. Despite this cataclysm, darkness still grew, fighting over what scraps of light were left. And so I took it upon myself to restore my World to what it once was. One sky, one destiny.
In a forgotten building, in a dark room, a hole appeared in space shaped like a keyhole. Out of it walked Xehanort and his two companions. The room in question would have been very large, if it wasn't for the piles and piles of boxes and other storage containers scattered around. There were drawers and cabinets built into countertops around the edges of the room, indicating it had not always been used for storage. As it was, there was still plenty of space for the three intruders to stand comfortably.
“Heeeey, this doesn't look like a Tower Ring.” Android 21 whined as she looked around, before being distracted poking through the contents of a box
Archer crossed his arms and leaned against a counter. “It’s not. This is a Merodi research installation. I’m surprised you could get in here, old man, there should be proofs against just portaling in.”
“I happen to have a key, of sorts.” Xehanort walked over to a wall and began to open cabinets, clearly looking for something. “As for why we are here, I must retrieve something I stored away long ago. I am led to believe it is here. We shouldn’t be bothered; this building has been abandoned, all its researchers sent to the front to build rings.”
After searching for several minutes, Xehanort gave an “Ah ha!” and pulled something out of a drawer. It looked like a purple flower, a lotus, about the size of a human head. Above it floated a holographic digital countdown. “I came across this artifact shortly after leaving my home universe. I knew then that I had to store the object within, just as I know now is the time to retrieve it.”
Android 21 stomped her foot, steam literally blowing out of her pointed ears. “And we got it, let’s gooooo! I’m so hungry.”
“Hey! Who’s in there?” The trio froze as the door to the room slammed open. The watchpony stallion who entered paused for a moment, surprised to actually find someone in the room. The three intruders looked at each other for a moment before Android 21 gave a sadistic smile.
“Dibs.”
As the watchpony fumbled for his weapon, Android 21 pointed her finger at him and a bright pink beam of energy shot out to engulf the poor stallion. With a puff of pink smoke, the hapless stallion disappeared, replaced by a small chocolate donut. 21 rushed over and quickly scarfed it down.
21 smacked her lips obnoxiously. “Mmmmn, tasty, but not very substantial. He tasted so empty.”
Archer relaxed his battle stance, dismissing the sword he had summoned into his hand. “That was… disturbing.”
Xehanort waved his hand dismissively at them. “Enough of that, It’s time to go. We’ve spent too long on this already. The battle at the Kromagg ring should be underway now. The perfect cover to get what we need.” And with that, Xehanort made another keyhole-shaped portal and the three of them left.
~~~
“I think we might have been played, team.” Pinkie said as she bashed a Combine soldier with her warhammer. The primary team was locked in combat on the surface of a standard Earth moon. Its accompanying planet had been reduced to dust some time long before the war. Now its remains circled the moon in ephemeral rings, lending an eerie background to the battle below.
“What was it that tipped you off? Was it the huge motherfucking spaceship!? That's what tipped me off!” Vriska shouted as she threw one of her dice, not bothering to waste luck on a roll, straight through a Combine soldier’s head. Pinkie’s team had been one of four sent in to deal with the ring. The Kromagg defences were minimal, hoping to go unnoticed by being less of a threat than the other societies. That is, until shortly after the teams’ arrival, when a Combine super ship made of six stars portaled in and began launching troops by the thousands. It seemed the Kromagg were not above asking for help when the chips were down.
“No, not about that. About the old man from earlier? Xehanort? That guy really needs a nickname. Anyway, he let us know about the Ring so he could use our attack to sneak in himself!” Pinkie Pie reflected a hail of bullets using an Uno reverse card. “Although I waaaaas wondering why they hadn’t vaporized us yet.”
“They probably don’t want to destroy their own base in the process,” Jotaro answered as he and his Stand punched two different soldiers at the same time.
Nova looked up from her screen, casually sidestepping a hail of bullets. “That attitude might not last long. Fortunately, I’ve just found an entrance. Let’s get inside, people!” The team disappeared mid-melee as Nova teleported them elsewhere on the moon, leaving behind a pile of dazed and confused Combine grunts.
~~~
It is said that to enter Kingdom Hearts is a feat beyond humans. To rephrase, any human who manages to enter Kingdom Hearts will be reborn as something more. I found this to be entirely true, as when I purged my World I began to sense the ebb and flow of destiny. I could feel the threads that connect events and which ones might lead where. Despite this, I could not keep conflict and darkness from my new pure World. I could feel another will overwriting my own, a different being connected to Kingdom Hearts. And so I followed that connection and discovered an existence far larger than I had previously known.
The keyhole this time opened up onto a platform that seemed to be on the inside of a giant hollow sphere. The walls of the sphere were rock, with scaffolding scattered around metal tunnels that presumably lead to the outside surface. In the center of the large open space floated the half-finished Kromagg Tower Ring, a bulky torus made of a dark gray metal with more scaffolding surrounding huge holes in its exterior.
“Ah, it seems the battle has not quite breached the moon yet. Pity, we may have to fight our way in after all.” Xehanort stepped out into the void, only to demonstrate that the gravity here was such that allowed one to float gently in any direction.
He drifted towards one particular hole in the metal torus that allowed access to an interior corridor. This part of the corridor had no ceiling or outer wall except for the skeleton of the scaffolding, but wormed into more intact areas that hid its length behind walls of metal. A single door was set along the intact interior wall, leading to a place entirely closed off by completed construction, inaccessible except by this portal.
When the group landed in this corridor, they barely had enough time to get their bearings before they were approached from its shadowed end. He was a short, stubby humanoid skeleton wearing a blue hoodie, nylon shorts, and a pair of pink bath slippers.
When he saw them, he stopped and put his bony finger into his ear hole. “hey guys… yeah, i found the old man… no, no signs of corona’s people… i could use some backup, yes… well, good luck then. sans out.”
Xehanort waved his hand at the door. With a flash of light, the door was unlocked and opened. “You two, stay here and play with our guest. Make sure no one follows me as I retrieve the component I require.” Setting down the lotus, Xehanort went through the door closing it behind him.
Sans’s left eye began to glow with a yellow and blue fire. “so, it looks like you two have some very high lv. why so eager to kill, huh?”
Archer stepped forward, producing two shortswords from thin air. “I’m not, although I do find it’s often the quickest solution to problems.”
“did you ever consider showing mercy, even once?” Sans asked as two white dragon skulls floated out from behind him.
Android 21 burst out laughing as Archer responded. “I did once, in a past life. Long ago I was a hero of justice. Now, I’m just a killer who wants the killing to stop.” He took a battle stance. “...And you’re just stalling for time.”
“yeah. i was hoping i wouldn’t have to fight both of you. oh well.” Sans closed his eyes and shrugged. Archer took that opportunity to rush forward, stabbing at Sans’s heart. The attack missed as Sans slid sideways. Archer tried over and over to hit the skeleton, but every time Sans would slide easily out of the way.
Android 21 pouted off to the side. “Aw, if you’re playing with him, who am I going to chew on?” As she said this, several dozen Kromagg soldiers rounded the corridor from the other direction, the front ones firing on her with their weak radiation-based lasers. “Oh ho! Looks like the appetizers have arrived! I guess I can pig out on you until the real food gets here!” A red and black aura burst around her as she dashed forward. In an instant, she ran her arm right through a soldier's chest, ignoring any of the shots that managed to hit her.
Sans jumped back, the two skulls behind him opening their mouths. Twin beams of white energy launched from the skulls and raced down the hallway. Archer dived to the side to avoid one and threw his swords into the other. The second beam was deflected, destroying the swords in the process. Archer summoned a black longbow from nothing, but before he could use it, he felt something grip his spirit.
As Sans gestured, Archer was thrown to the floor face first, before being launched out of the hole in the torus and sent tumbling into space. The skeleton jumped out after him, launching a barrage of bones. Archer managed to right himself in time and returned fire with an equal barrage of arrows made out of swords.
The two combatants fired continuously for several seconds, matching each other blow for blow. Two Kromagg Manta ships approached Archer from behind, firing their beam weapons wildly and forcing him to fly downward and out of their way. The two ships flew through where Archer had been, getting ineffectively pelted by the storm of bones.
The crimson bowman used the distraction of the ships passing to create distance, flying all the way down to land near the bottom of the sphere. “Alright then, guess I’ll have to take this more seriously.” Archer raised his right hand, summoning to it a long spear made of blood red steel. Sans flew downward, trying to get his opponent within range of his attacks once more.
“I am the bone of my sword.” Archer chanted quietly as he put the spear to his bow. As he drew, the spear shortened by half, fattening slightly at the back to end up shaped similarly to an arrow. “Now, strike true! Gáe Bolg!” The spear launched at an improbable speed, flying with an explosion of jagged red light. It was coming too fast, Sans wasn’t sure if even he could dodge this one.
“Star Platinum: The World!” Time stopped for Jotaro. He and his team had only just arrived in the interior chamber of the moon, and decided to head towards the battle in progress. Jotaro had seen the spear fly and acted on instinct. He was just close enough to make it to Sans and pull him out of the way before time began again.
Jotaro landed with his friends on the bottom of the sphere across from Archer. When he went to put the skeleton down however, he found the red spear embedded in his chest, bisecting a red heart. Jotaro balked. “That… That shouldn't be possible. Time was stopped, I know I moved him out of the way.”
“Heh, did you like that little trick? The Gáe Bolg reverses cause and effect, in order to strike its targets heart before it's fired. He was dead the moment I decided to kill him.” Archer readied another sword to his bow. “I can only do it a few times though, so some of you wont get such an easy death. Sorry.”
Sans coughed, blood dripping from his perpetual grin. “heh, guess that’s it, huh? well, time to go see my brother…” The red heart on Sans’s chest began to crack. Before it could break, Jotaro caught Sans in a capture device.
“See It’s that kind of heroic crap that I’ve come to despise.” Archer spat on the ground. “Saving enemy combatants can only end badly. It’ll get you killed in the end.”
“Vriska, you and Jotaro take care of this guy, Nova and I will take out the ring!” Pinkie grabbed Nova around the middle and extending one hoof, rocketed upward.
Vriska stepped forward drawing her cutlass, only for Jotaro to put a hand on her shoulder. “What? You want first crack at him big guy?” Jotaro nodded silently. “Fine. But I call first dibs on the big bad guy.”
Archer dismissed his bow and, to Vriska’s surprise, summoned an exact replica of her sword to his hand. Jotaro ran forward, Star Platinum starting to punch as soon as his target was in range.
“ORAORAORAORAORAORA!”
Archer swung blindly, unable to see where the assault was coming from, only managing to score superficial hits through sheer luck. Losing though he was, Archer had taken far worse beatings than this. The bowman created a few swords in mid-air that then flew towards Jotaro, but the quiet giant side stepped them with ease.
Vriska impatiently tapped her foot. “Yeah, this is already taking too long.” Making eye contact she began to drain Archer’s luck.
Things happened quickly. As Archer took a punch to the jaw he spun around, a capture device flying free of his belt pouch. Mid-air, it was skewered by one of Archer’s ill aimed swords, shattering and killing the person inside.
“NO! RIN!” Archer shouted reaching for the devices remains. He stopped short however, surprised at his own reaction.
“Heh, guess I am just a fake after all… Well, time to go all in.” Archer summoned a large two handed golden sword. It lit ablaze with a golden fire, as much light as it was flame. “Without Rin to answer my form, I’ll disappear in a few days, even if I don't fight anymore. I might as well put everything I have into this last attack and take you with me into the void. Any last words, better say them now.”
Jotaro frowned. “Star Platinum: The World.”
~~~
Pinkie Pie and Nova flew through the hole in the ring, landing in front of the door. Between them and the portal however stood Android 21 licking her fingers. “So you guys are the main course? I hope you taste better than these guys did.”
Pinkie giggled. “I taste like cotton candy! If you win, I'll let you have a taste!”
Nova facehooved.
21 let loose with a barrage of pink energy blasts, forcing Nova to erect a shield to protect herself and Pinkie from the massive explosion. As the smoke cleared it revealed that Pinkie was no longer in the shield. She appeared from behind 21 and slammed her warhammer into the androids face which squished like clay.
Pinkie watched in surprise as Android 21’s face popped back out to return to its normal shape. “Ow! Owowowowow! I will never get used to that.” She quickly wrapped Pinkie up in her tail. “Just for that, I’ll eat you first! You should taste good as a cupcake!”
Nova looked on as Pinkie was enveloped in a jagged pink light, and with a poof of smoke… remained exactly as she was…
“What, a reality anchor?! Th-that’s cheating! No fair!” Android 21 stomped her foot like a child as Pinkie slipped out of her tail like a bar of soap. “Argh! Fine, if I can't eat you then you’re just a nuisance.” A wide sadistic grin spread across 21’s face. “I’ll just have to kill you instead!”
Android 21 dashed at Nova, the pony firing a magic laser that completely destroyed 21’s right arm. She didn't even slow down. The android delivered a powerful kick to Nova’s barrel, cracking her ribs from the force. As 21’s arm reformed a bright ball of red and black energy grew in its hand. Nova concentrated through the pain and executed a teleport just as the attack was launched.
The blast was massive. Aimed slightly down as it was, it carved a large semi-circle out of the Kromagg ring. From afar it looked a lot like a giant had just taken a bite out of the huge metal donut.
21 didn’t let up, she charged out of the smoke directly at Pinkie. Nova cast a barrier around Pinkie but 21 smashed right through it with brute force, knocking Pinkie Pie to the ground. The android ended up on her knees straddling the pink pony, hand in her face already coursing with lethal energy.
“Heeheeahahhahaha! Goodbye!” 21 let out a deranged laugh, but before she could fire suddenly her vision cut out.
“Boop!” Pinkie detonated the Bomb Mask she had placed on the androids face. The entire top half of the woman was blown into tiny pieces that rained down around them like pink putty. “Quick, get her!”
Nova caught on quickly and nodded. She began throwing capture devices by the dozen to catch all the blobs of 21, even as they began crawling towards each other. Eventually a few of them managed to come together and 21 reformed once more.
“Hey, what did you do to me!?” Android 21, having lost most of her mass, now only came up to the pony’s jawline. She had apparently lost most of her power along with her size, as she unleashed a series of blows on Nova that were more annoying than they were painful.
When a kick finally connected painfully with her cracked ribs Nova decided that was enough. She used her telekinesis to squish Android 21 up into a small ball of putty before finally capturing her.
As Nova began to tend to her wounds Jotaro and Vriska joined them. “Well, our guy exploded. You get yours?”
Pinkie gestured at the not small pile of capture devices off to the side.“Yup. We can’t rest though, we still have a bad guy to fight. And I think my Pinkie Sense is telling me he’s on his way.”
~~~
I learned much in the years I wandered the multiverse. I learned of universes filled with joy, and also ones of pain. I learned of others who could sense Fate as I could, some even better. I learned of the Songs of the Spheres, and how to avoid its sight. And I learned of my true foe that I have fought for two lifetimes. I learned of the Dark Tower. But how to defeat that foe? Destroying it was a tall order--perhaps containing it? Sealing it off from the rest of existence? My questions were answered one day, the day of The Message. Most of it was already known to me but there, in the technical data, was the last piece I needed. I would not defeat the Dark Tower. I would become it!
The door opened with a hiss. Xehanort emerged carrying a small X shaped device with a blooming rose design etched into it. “And so, the Tower is now within my reach.” With a blinding flash of light he summoned an elaborate sword to his hand. It was made of two large crossed keys, with a translucent blade extending from where they met.
“This is the χ-blade! A divine weapon that can open any door and unlock any lock. With it, I could even open the doors to Heaven itself! But there has been one door that has proven stubborn, a door I could open but would never lead to where I needed to go.” Xehanort put the rose device against the part of the χ-Blade where the two keys met, where it latched on. “But no longer, with this I can now force open a connection to the Dark Tower from any universe I choose. My goals are now merely a matter of time.”
Vriska pointed her sword at Xehanort. “And what goals would those be? We don’t even know what you’re trying to do!”
Xehanort gestured at Pinkie with a raised eyebrow. “Hmn? Pinkie Pie hasn't told you yet? I’m sure she's figured it out by now. My intention is to purify the World! I shall twist ka, and with it, purge existence of the darkness which it spreads!”
The group turned to look at Pinkie expectantly. “It’s true. What I still don’t understand though is why fight us? We are trying to do the same thing right? Get rid of ka?”
Xehanort laughed. “Get rid of it? No. I desire to use ka. I destroyed my universe because the Darkness had taken root too deep. It was the only way to purge that darkness, but this greater multiverse might still be saved! It merely requires a guiding hand, to cut away those universes corrupted with pain and misery, and to ensure none walk the path of darkness ever again!”
“So what, are you trying to become God or something!?” Jotaro shouted.
“If that is what it takes, yes. You cannot deny you believe that by whoever’s hand this multiverse is run, be it Gods or the Tower, they are doing a poor job. That is why you seek collapse, to destroy the Tower and end the cycle. But tell me this: how many objects or beings exist that are capable of destroying a universe? What if one of them were to survive? What if one of those ‘beings of pure evil’ you despise survives into your new world? Or worse yet, what if the Dark Tower lied? Can you truly say you trust it? That it handed Corona a loaded gun and asked her to finish it? Mark my words, the Tower is quite prepared to weather this storm it has wrought.”
Nova rolled her eyes. “What, and you’re saying we can trust you anymore then the Tower!?”
“I am at least human. With a human heart made of light and darkness and memories just like everyone else's. I do not claim to be perfect, but at least I care. In the end, better a flawed god then an uncaring one.”
“Yeah, we’ve heard that argument before. Didn’t buy it then ether. I think I’ve heard enough from this old goat.” Vriska twirled her cutlass and launched forward, locking blades with Xehanort. She made eye contact, activating her powers as the Thief of Light. “Hey, your luck isn’t going down, what gives?”
Xehanort smirked. “I have used the χ-blade to lock my Fate. My victory here is preordained. A matter of fact, not of Luck.” He pushed back against her blade, Vriska using the momentum to jump back.
Landing, Vriska pulled out her Infinite sided die. “Fine, I’ve already stolen a ton of Luck from that Archer guy. Now you disappear!” She threw the die to the floor, although the smirk never left Xehanort's face.
“What is Luck before destiny!?” With a wave and a flash from the χ-bladeX-blade, the Infinite sided die stopped suddenly. It rolled a 19.
“Oh, fuck me.” Vriska said just before Xehanort locked her position in space, rendering her unable to move.
An instant later Xehanort felt the impact from hundreds of punches landing simultaneously. He reeled back in pain allowing Pinkie Pie to slam her warhammer into his back and send him flying out of the hole. Xehanort managed to right himself in time to cast a quick healing spell before Jotaro arrived to punch him again.
Jotaro grabbed the χ-blade as Star Platinum punched Xehanort in the face, wrenching the sword from the old man’s grasp. Xehanort wiped a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth. “So boy, you wield your heart as a weapon. A powerful technique, but not without risks of its own.”
Star Platinum charged, invisible to the non-stand user. At the last moment there was a flash of light as the χ-blade returned to Xehanort’s hand, swinging it in a wide sweeping arc. He couldn’t see the Stand, but he knew he scored a hit by the large gash that appeared across Jotaro’s chest. The wound might have been fatal to anyone not from Earth Stand.
Nova teleported over with Pinkie, she caught Jotaro in a capture device while the pink one launched herself at Xehanort with a chainsaw. In a keyhole shaped flash Xehanort teleported out of the way, ending up near Nova. He grabbed Nova by a hind hoof and threw her at Pinkie, following up with a few blasts of darkness laced ice. Nova slammed into Pinkie and immediately teleported the two of them above and behind Xehanort.
Elsewhere, back in the Kromagg ring, the countdown above the purple lotus reached zero. As the flower began to bloom a small heart shaped object emerged, growing quickly as it rose into the air.
Xehanort silhouetted himself against the heart as it grew even larger. “Behold, you are too late. You now stand in the light of Kingdom Hearts.”
Kingdom Hearts glowed with a soft pale light. That along with the slight pock marks across its surface made it look not unlike a small heart shaped moon. It pulsed with a vibration, a beat, not a sound one could hear but a feeling. A feeling of power and Fate.
“With the χ-blade I can open the way to the Tower, and with Kingdom Hearts I shall control it!” Xehanort spread his arms wide, basking in the light.
The whole moon shook. Pinkie and Nova watched as a quarter of the outer sphere was simply blown away, rock and debris turning to dust as it flew. Through the new hole all that could be seen was the massive Combine ship. Xehanort only laughed.
“It seems our friends outside are getting impatient! Or perhaps they detected the energy from Kingdom Hearts. Either way, I’d rather they not shoot at Kingdom Hearts.” Xehanort pointed his χ-bladeX-blade through the hole. “Now Kingdom Hearts, open the way to the Sea! Reduce them to nothing!” With a small flash from the tip of the blade, the entire Combine ship, suns and all, was dropped into the Sea of Infinite Possibility and disappeared.
Nova looked on eyes wide with fear. “Um, Pinkie? I’m not sure the two of us can take this guy anymore.” Pinkie swallowed and shook her head.
“No need for such fear my little ponies, it is time I took my leave. My destiny awaits me.” Then both Xehanort and Kingdom Hearts disappeared in a keyhole shaped flash.
Shortly afterwards, a Starcross ship portaled in to pick up the battered primary team and finish off the broken Kromagg Tower Ring.
~~~
Xehanort emerged at a crossroads in the middle of a field of roses. Just ahead of him stood the Dark Tower, raising infinitely into the clouds above.
“At last, I am here. The field of Can’ka No Rey!” He gestured towards the monolith in front of him. “And the hiding place of my greatest foe.”
Xehanort held the χ-blade aloft, slowly floating into the air. Behind him in the sky dark clouds gathered and swirled. From within the clouds a bright light could be seen.
“There will be but one sky, and one destiny! Come now Kingdom Hearts, open the way for me!” The clouds parted behind him to reveal the heart-shaped moon of Kingdom Hearts in the sky.
Xehanort pointed the χ-blade at the door of the Dark Tower. “Show this old relic what its existence truly desires! Open it’s doors and allow me to create an existence of pure light!”
Light poured forth from Kingdom Hearts, surrounding Xehanort as it fell on the Tower. The light grew brighter and brighter, until soon all that could be seen was a white expanse cut in half by the black scar of the Dark Tower.
Then, Xehanort felt something shift. The Tower loomed before him, doors still stubbornly closed. His eyes widened as fear gripped him. Xehanort looked to the Tower and then back at Kingdom Hearts. He knew. He knew now what he had missed.
“...How could I have come so far, and still understand nothing…”
The light receded as the χ-blade fell. Xehanort was no more. Kingdom Hearts, the First Light, the Heart of All sunk into darkness once more as the clouds closed to cover it. Soon all that remained was the χ-blade, point down in the field of roses.
~~~
I closed my notebook. That idiot had no idea who he had been dealing with. Still, I hesitated before moving on to another project.
Something he had said bothered me.
Could the Tower be lying?
Prophets could lie to each other using the Tower, and I had just finished doing that in an underhanded way. The Tower itself often hid things from the Aware, as it had been ever since Corona sent her message.
Could it give false information itself?
Yes. It could. But in the end, it didn’t matter. It was impossible for me to know what it was lying about, how, or why. Is it the binary choice of the war? Is it the collapse? Is it the rings? Is it ka itself? Is it nothing?
I was fully aware I was probably being influenced. Drawn to a conclusion where I didn’t vocalize my concerns since it wouldn’t change anything…
With a sigh, I made a small note in the corner of my notebook about my doubt. Then I moved on to another project. I sensed… a very particular white unicorn making a move.
Unexpected...
‘From Cinders’
By G. M. Blackjack.
A white unicorn walked into Allure’s office. This was hardly unusual, given the fact that this was the League of Sweetie Belles, but the particular white unicorn came as a shock to everyone she passed on the way here.
Allure didn’t notice her at first. She was busy looking at a cracked photograph of Renee, frowning deeply.
“Allure.”
Allure slowly turned her eyes forward, at first angry that anypony had dared interrupted her. It didn’t take long for her eyes to open wide in shock at the orange brilliance staring at her. “C-cinder!?”
“Yes,” Cinder said, smiling weakly.
“That’s…”
“I’m afraid we can’t talk like that. I have to be vague for numerous, somewhat ridiculous reasons.” She chuckled nervously. “I’m just… here to ask you a question.”
Allure sat back in her chair. “…Go ahead.”
“This story is ending,” Cinder explained. A breeze that didn’t exist flew through her mane, spreading rose petals from the flowers she had worked into her swirled manestyle. “Both results produce an end of some kind or other—though I believe one has more power than the other. I won’t say which.”
“…I need to know which side you’re on.”
“Neither.”
“Rev’s non-interference?”
“No, and not the Nihilists either.” She placed a gentle hoof on Allure’s desk. “Some stories don’t get endings. Mine is one of those. I’m taking some ponies… back, I guess you could say.”
“You can’t…”
The Roses in Cinder’s mane flashed a bright red, then black.
“…You can.” Allure realized. “But, you could—“
“You know why I can’t change this. You know full well.”
Allure pursed her lips. “Take them back?”
“Yes. My story doesn’t end. And while true infinity cannot exist… I can take some to a place where that is functionally true. I’m extending that invitation to you. You can come with me, if you want.”
Allure glanced at the picture of Renee. “I can’t leave. Not now. I… need to see this to the end.”
Cinder closed her eyes and let out a sigh. “Okay. Thanks for listening, then.”
“…Who are you taking with you?”
“Some people,” Cinder tilted her hoof side to side, vaguely. “I’m not going to be specific.”
“All right.” Allure jumped over the top of her desk and landed next to Cinder, pulling her into a hug. “Take care, okay?”
“I will. …Remember who you are, Allure. Remember.” She left the embrace. “Now, excuse me, I’ve got some nosy people to deal with.”
She opened the door to Allure’s office and appeared in a distant universe filled with white nothingness where Monika and myself were waiting.
“You intercept me,” Cinder said. “Yet I have nothing to say to you.”
Monika frowned. “That sure sounded like something.”
“She means she has no information for us,” I explained. “I’m inclined to agree, since her story only runs parallel to this one. It is true that it has no ending, which goes against everything happening around us. It is, in fact, still locked in the meta-past, and even if that catches up, needs to move forward.” I pressed my wings together. “…It looks like you get the third option. I wish we were as lucky as you.”
Cinder laughed. “The third option… Oh, remember that when you get through with this.”
“What’s going to happen?” Monika demanded.
“All I have are guesses.” Cinder’s roses flashed a brilliant white. “Really good guesses. That I don’t have to tell you.”
“…Good luck,” I said.
Monika gestured angrily. “She’s leaving us here! Are we just gonna let her?”
“Yes,” I said, taking out a notebook page and scribbling a sentence.
“No you d—“
Cinder walked through the doors again, this time appearing in the front of the Dark Tower.
“Did you do everything you needed?” one of her followers asked.
Cinder nodded. “Everything and then some.” She closed her eyes, lit her horn, and smiled warmly. “It’s time to go.”
The doors of the Dark Tower slammed open.
Levitating every last one of her followers in with her, she entered. As they passed, doors flickered from place to place, unstable with so many souls in the ascension. Some would try to access two different points of life, others would go to places none of them had even dreamed about…
Except Cinder herself, of course.
At the top, the final door rested. A golden knob devoid of any marking. A door without a name.
Cinder smiled, laying her hoof on the door. “I’m home…”
Won’t you stay, dear?
“No.”
Good.
The final door slid open, revealing the Clock of the Multiverse, ready to start ticking away as the final hour approached—but not ticking yet. Before it was the white spirograph of the Source.
“Complete the circle,” Cinder said, floating through the door. She held out a single card—XIX – the Tower—and let it drift into the Source. It became white… and vanished to its destination.
“It was your plan?” an unknown follower asked.
“Yes. No. And maybe. And probably not.” Cinder chuckled. “Don’t think too hard about it. We are no longer concerned with the ending.”
She reached her hoof out to the Source…
And all of them were zapped far, far away.
~~~
Deep in the multiversal past, in an era few remember...
Sweetie Belle glared at her blank flank, furious that a cutie mark refused to appear. She’d tried everything from hang gliding to zip lining to cooking to death-defying stunts to…
A white unicorn fell out of the sky, hitting the ground with an “oof”.
“Wh-what!?” Sweetie Belle spurted.
“Take that, Never-Ending Story! We’ve got you beat!” the other, older Sweetie Belle laughed. Her smile faltered as she looked around. “…Wait, where’s everyone else?”
“H-hello? I’m talking to you!” Sweetie the younger stammered.
“Guess we got split up…” She stood up, allowing Sweetie to get a good look at her flank.
“You have a cutie mark!?”
The older Sweetie finally made eye contact with her younger self—and grinned. “Looks like I’m in the right place.”
“What?”
“Hey, want to start a League of Sweetie Belles?”
“What?”
“I’ll take that as a yes. Come on, you know it’ll be awesome.”
[https://forms.gle/hnWkpmdmT7bp5SMy8]
Remember to cast your votes to help decide on the best fic!
Stats
Page generated in 0.095 seconds
Total duration
1,061 users online
2,060,361 hits today, 2,054,621 yesterday
FIMFiction
My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic Fanfiction
Designed and coded by knighty & Xaquseg - © 2011-2024
Follow & Support Us
Support us
SubStar
Chat!
Discord
Follow us
Twitter
MLP: Friendship is Magic® - © 2024 Hasbro Inc.®
Fimfiction is in no way affiliated with or endorsed by Hasbro Inc.®
Jesus Christ 127's length is just absurd. Not gonna lie gonna be a while before I can actually read through all this. This might be a record for longest individual chapter.
9937620
It is.
Luckily it's thirty-two separate stories, so you can read them at your leisure and leave comments on them as you see fit. The index at the top can help you search for titles if fimfiction's bookmark doesnt work.
-GM, master of TITLES.
9937620
GM told us to write. We listened.
Edit: Since I have this comment conveniently near the top for this chapter, I was told that I should link to a blog post I made where I talked about writing my snip.
Rambling about my snip
9937620
A tip for you and everyone else: Use Ctrl-F. It will save your life.
Unless you're not on a computer, in which case you're-- actually, I think mobile has their own method of word searching. Oh, and there's FIMFic's inbuilt bookmarks. I forgot about those.
THREE !!!
I thought this chapter was supposed to be published on the 16th. Did something happen that moved the "Week of Doom" forward a few days?
9937620
The previous record, I think, was 52k words... but this takes the cake!
9937826
That's literally the first thing mentioned in the Author's Note at the top. XD
At this point, it might have been better to publish 127 as its own anthology. I'll definitely get to all of this... eventually. Still have about a quarter of Imposing Sovereigns II to get through first.
9937625
Question, how important is 127 to the overall story? Do I need to read it before going on to 128?
9937991
You can skip it without noticing, all the editors had to because it literally didn't exist until, well, some parts were literally finished within the last day or so. But some eighteen authors worked very hard to bring you this chapter and would really appreciate you reading it.
9938008
Fair enough but it is longer than most individual stories. Just don't wanna put the rest of the story on hold until I manage to get through this insurmountable wall of a chapter.
I loved the Hazbin Hotel segment. Great writing on your part, GMBlackjack. Looking forward to seeing how this ends up
I can forgive her for this. Waging a war to bring about the collapse on the other hand...
9938032
To be fair, the next chapter schedule is still on what is on the WEEK OF DOOM blog post. You have an entire week to get through this.
And some of the snips IN 127 do have some interesting implications. Even if they are not required to understand the later story, some of them provide context.
-GM, master of contextualizing.
9937979
That was considered a few times. But darnit, I said they'd get put in the story itself and I'm keeping my promise!
-GM, master of 127.
In case anyone's interested, here's all the authors and how many stories they each wrote.
GMBlackjack: 5
Runtrivena: 4
FanofMostEverything: 3
Masterweaver: 3
Mal Masque: 2
UselessCommon: 2
VoidTemplar: 2
BlasterM: 1
Ebony Sable: 1
Galliar: 1
Keywii_Cookies: 1
Ponygood: 1
SgtSarge: 1
Sketchy: 1
Terrene: 1
The Amusementist: 1
TheUnbalancedOne: 1
ZeusDemigod: 1
Is it any wonder GM had the most? We've also got a few non-regular content creators here-- shoutout to Terrene, who none of us knew existed until he made his exceptional Wheel of Time snip.
It may surprise you to know Songs of the Cubes actually exists! Or... did exist. Unfortunately, the War for Existence reached even it, and it has been erased by a stray Piano Wire. Luckily, I managed to save a very particular image before its destruction... cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/548997200844161027/633441277874274315/2019-10-14_16.06.11.png
And now to our regularly scheduled sinning.
Rollyollyollyollyoll credits! *d-d-d-d-ding!*
Squaaare credits! *tack!*
Or apparently I needed a nearly ninety-thousand word break from contest judging. Some thoughts:
I can't imagine Corona left the question of Earth Fruition unanswered, but I have to feel her pain. This is what happens when they leave so much up to the fans to decide.
I love the idea of people with Silent Protagonist Syndrome effectively being able to communicate telepathically with one another.
Heh. This is all just more of the same for Night Vale. Just on a slightly larger scale than usual.
Some fantastic stuff with the little-considered franchises. Hazbin Hotel, Wheel of Time, the entire regions of culture SotS never really covered... Seriously, this is great stuff throughout.
I was originally going to use my own body, but then I remembered that I've technically appeared in Derpicorn form. Then I realized that an alicorn Prophet, notebook in tow, bore a striking resemblance to Twilence. The parody wasn't intentional... at first.
(And Masterweaver slipped in the bit with the milk-stealing leather cloak, just as I slipped the last line of the following short. Fair's fair.)
For the record, Xehanort's plan was not what I had in mind. Uncomfortably close, but still not it.
Again, fantastic work from everyone involved. Thank you all for it. Here's to seeing what the Week of Doom brings us.
9938125
Corona was still under house arrest when Shimmy uploaded that video (and when I wrote that snip.) As Shimmy notes later, the timing was... less than ideal.
9937657
That would be [Menu] Find [in Page]...
9938032
You can take it one story at a time. Most of them aren't connected to each other.
Now after reading most of the stories in this chapter I can't help but to think about what would've been pretty much my own version of FanOfMostEverything's meta dive.
Wouldn't probably get approved by GM anyway. It would just be ponderings about the nature and reality of meta-fiction using a Twilight from a story of mine I created in my head back when season 2 was still airing, but never wrote down as I can't write worth a damn, and an OP omnipotent self-insert.
It would just be my shitty self-insert avatar rambling to Twilight how despite everything the entire multiverse still just seems like a story. That no matter what I do with my avatar it's still just me sitting in a chair writing away at the keyboard. And how there is no way to actually prove that the multiverse exists, or if there are actually multiple multiverses. Also on the nature on canon, as SotS is GM's project and he is ultimately the only person who decides what is and isn't actually canon. I could go and write a story on how my custom empire from Stellaris finds the multiverse during the collapse war and saves it by single-handedly finding a solution that's good for both sides. This piece of trash wouldn't be canon, but it would still exist. GM has complete control over the entirety of the SotS multiverse, but in-universe GM wouldn't have this sort of power to decide what is and isn't canon. So meta-wise, what is actually canon anyway?
There would be a dramatic reveal to Twilight how I never wrote her story. And that if no other version of me in the multiverse did either, the only reason she, her world and everyone in her universe exists is because I wanted her to listen to my self-insert ramble about the meta. All the sweat, blood, tears and struggle she and her friends went through is a story that never existed and never will. She and her friends fought against a villain that was growing large enough to physically wrestle the sun from the sky, but in the end her purpose for being was just to exist in order to listen to a badly written ramble.
9939706
There's nothing stopping you from writing those things. just because they aren't canon doesn't mean you should stifle yourself. We all have our own overpowered self-inserts after all. The only difference is how you decide to act with them. My story in this saga features an incredibly overpowered character, one that if you were to list off all her skills and powers and things I've added to make her more awesome, people might think "wow, unrealistic, nerf her or get rid of her" but the story I wrote wasn't about her being awesome and existing in a vacuum, it was her reflecting on her life before some shit goes down and she has to interact with that.
There's nothing wrong with writing whatever you want.
Ok , so this is a thing.....should I start reading this or finish my reread of FOE: Project Horizons? Hell probably the same wordcount on both since i'm on the last few chapters of Horizons.
Its sad , there was a time where I would have read this thing in one go , now I'm just : I don't really care!
I just think that its the fact that overall , this story is just way too long.
9939892
I mean, Project Horizons is still longer. Yes, I do agree we're a bit long, (and this new chapter in particular, which was written by all the fans, was definitely too long but I made a promise about getting them in) but if you mention Project Horizons in the same sentence as something worthy of a re-read, maybe the problem for you is something other than length? Perhaps the fact that you can't just keep reading and are forced to wait a week between chapters?
-GM, master of length.
9939905
I guess its just that I dont really care what happens to any of the characters.
A thing that Horizons does REALLY well is that it has a few core ideas and concepts that are explored and present throughout the entire story and I just feel like thats missing in this story, or maybe I'm just to stupid to see it. Its not like there is NOTHING its just that in the last chapters in Horizons you can see : ok so THAT is where all of this has been building towards! And that is something that SotS is really lacking and that it SHOULD have/ NEEDS in my opinion.
Another really funny thing that I just thought about a few Days ago : you spent half of this arc getting rid of the class 1s ...if they need to be removed for the story to be able to happen..WHY WHERE THEY IN THIS STORY TO BEGIN WITH? The war between the class 1s just destroys the momentum of the finale of the last arc , so when the class 2s are finally battling , you have to REBUILD that momentum , instead of just going with the momentum that you HAD/could have had at the end of the last arc. OR you could have done the thing I thought you would do and just ended the war between the class 1s in one chapter and that would have been fine. Its like you planned this arc and then went: oh i dont have enough material to fill all chapters , so lets drag out this war that doesnt really matter in the long run as long as possible!
9939787
Whether it's canon or not isn't really the thing that keeps me from writing. It's that I can't really write.
And the OC self-insert thing is really kind of crappy and goes against the "rules of writing." If I were to write the said chapter I talked about, it would include a segment on me pondering on how even though my crappy avatar is pretty damn powerful for no other reason than being a author self-insert, the moment I would try to do something that actually mattered and is not just a neat, self contained weird flex at Twilight, GM would shut it down and banish it from the SotS as that's bad writing.
9940029
The "rules of writing" are pretty exclusionary for new writers. And the fact is there should be no discouragement for having fun with whatever. If your character is you and overpowered and everyone loves them then that's an expression of your hopes and desires, and who is anyone else to tell you that your hopes and desires are wrong, how would they know? Do they know you? Have they spent any time with you?
The only reason people on the internet bash mary sue self inserts is because they're exclusionary assholes who think that writing should be just one thing, but they themselves fail to realize that they're shutting down creativity by doing so.
9940420
The reason for Sue hate is because Sues usually make really, REALLY bad characters. There are ways to do an overpowered character right, and the typical Sue format is really not the way to go. If everyone is behaving like a mindless zombie in the story and unconditionally liking someone they have no reason for liking, that will get people's scorn as that doesn't make an interesting story nor is it realistic.
And I don't want to write OP pls nerf kind of stuff. I would get a bloody cancer from doing that sort of stuff. Ultra-powerful characters that are way above the general power level of the story need to stay out of it,.
9940701
While I disagree with you, I no longer see the problem. If you can actually articulate issues with OP characters and sues in a knowledgeable way then I feel like you wouldn't end up writing it yourself. So confidence in your ability aside, what's stopping you from trying?
9941259
What's stopping me is the fact that I can't really write. I wrote a short thing for MLP time loops and I wasn't happy with the quality.
Sure, I could probably improve if I practiced and started actually writing, but I don't have that kind of time.
9941691
I said confidence *aside*. What did other people say?
9941691
9941957
Keywii, this is unnecessary. He doesn't want to write, and even if he did, it's not the kind of story he'd want to tell, and even if it was, he's missed the deadline for why he might've wanted to write. Constantly hounding him about it won't do either of you any good.
9941977
I don't know about you, but I'd like to see more comments on the actual stories within the chapter from people who didn't write them. So far there's been more comments around the stories than about them.
9942365
It's just a consequence of cramming them all into one giant chapter most of these are gonna end up being forgotten by the time you finally make it to the end.
Personally I really enjoyed A Heart’s Gambit but I'm also a big kingdom hearts nerd so take that for what you will.
9942628
I was worried about that. Maybe we should try to convince GM to publish it as a standalone story with individual chapters?
Wow, great work everyone! The stories were great, and I loved being able to read everyone's different writing styles and see a variety perspectives on the preservation/collapse movements.
Unfortunately, this week has been especially busy for me IRL, so it took all week to get through this anthology. I wish I had the chance to say more about each story, but I just don't have the time. I will comment about my top 5 though.
5. I enjoyed Ponygood's "Reflections in a False Tower". A tour of what I assume is the minecraft server probably connected to the SotS discord. It was an interesting style of writing, and I could really visualize what was being described in Minecraft. Probably one of the most unique entries here.
4. GM's look at "What could have been" was a touching character study, comparing how the main cast of SotS have evolved separately from there canon counterparts. I especially liked the lines at the end where the main cast of Equis Fruition double down on their commitment to each other, despite the broken relationships of the SotS cast.
3. Sketchy's piece on the little café was beautiful. I loved seeing the interactions of beloved video game protagonists, and their reactions to the Message. I think Cinnamon's innocent conversations with the Dragonborn really was the right choice to center this exploration around. The juxtaposition of naíve childlike innocence, with the battle scars and heaviness of a hardened participant in a multiversal conflict gave a beautiful mood for these ponderings.
2. GM's "The Meaning of Redemption". As a religious person myself, I have found GM to be one of the best authors on this site at discussing religious themes respectfully, profoundly, and from multiple viewpoints. This was no exception. Besides learning more of Revs past, this was a fascinating exploration on the concepts of Heaven and Hell, Good and Evil, and some of the paradoxes inherent in such philosophies. I loved it.
1. My favourite vignette has to be Terrene's "The Wheel Weaves." While I haven't finished the "Wheel of Time" series yet... (just the first 3 books...... I'll get back to it eventually...) I was pleasantly surprised by how well it meshes into this multiverse. Looking at the Wheel as a facet of the Dark Tower makes a lot of sense, and the similarities between the concept of Ta'varen and Protagonists are easy to see. Besides the writing style, which was fantastic, my favourite part was how the ending returned that world to the status quo. Especially since the main Presevation argument was that multiversal travel had ended the Turning of the Wheel, it felt just right the the Turning of the Wheel ended multiversal travel. I really felt that story, and I can't seem to put it into words...
Well, I've spent too long writing this up as it is... I loved (almost) all the stories, and am glad this chapter is a thing!
9943414
Um, no? If you think a chapter exploring the events of a multiversal war is supposed to be funny, then you're missing the point rather badly.
9943765
Strange, I didn’t mean at all that I consider this war as fun.
I meant that this chapter will not be able to influence the rest of the story in any way, since Everything has already been written in the author’s draft. Completely.
Since the following chapters simply erase the events of chapter 127. The climax is approaching.
9946132
Um... I'm not sure I've understood you correctly. Are you saying that there's no point in commenting on a chapter that can't affect the rest of the story?
9946182
Well, the comments may not be able to affect the rest of the story, but the eighteen authors who contributed to the chapter will appreciate them, so I wouldn't say it's pointless to comment.
9946209
In this I agree.
I especially liked the author under the nickname “UselessCommon”
He gave out something ... sad, but also terrible stories.
For example, the first story about how one of the dudes is angry with the Corone, in her letter.
But, in this case, I saw in this letter a glimpse of hatred on ... Gan.
It is as if God himself is mocking them, believing that they do not deserve life.
The voice ... in this case, the time to exist on our screens.
In the text of the chapter.
Indeed, in the end, this chapter is called "Different Views on Reality"!
I think black & white was my favorite story. There's nothing I love more than 2 people peacefully disagreeing with each other.
I think you accidentally a word, sir.
‘The Bacon Horse Protects’
I agree that we needn’t hate her due to an, admittedly pretty major, disagreement, but there is one point I contend. I’m not sure that giving a choice was, in fact, better than simply deciding for herself. Admittedly Corona didn’t know the seats would devolve into open warfare, but it was hardly beyond predicting. And for all she talks of not having the right to choose, and how the people should choose... The people were pretty strongly in favor of preservation. 6 to 3 the seats favored preservation, according to Nanoha the common people tended towards preservation, and most of the Merodi, higher up and general populace, side with preservation. The only reason that the collapse side is a major contender is because of rampant infighting on the preservation side. I think we can all imagine what would have happened if the Celestial Sapians and the Time Lords hadn’t killed off their most powerful allies in this conflict.
‘An Unpleasant Note’
Ok, there are a handful of people who have the ability to leave anonymous mail in secure locations: Discord, Evening, and Giorno could probably all pull it off. But who with the ability would also desire to hurt both Evening and Corona? Prism? No, she seemed at least somewhat sympathetic to Corona. Nope, I’ve got no one.
Naïveté
First off, I wonder about the two travelers, but they probably aren’t important. ...I really did just say that, but I stand by it, they probably aren’t. Anyway...
I’m glad that Chryssy seems to be doing well, and becoming a better person. But Pinkie, just because your world is a land of perfect simpleness and without pain won’t save you from outside threats.
Which would be more merciful, your reality imploding without warning, a quick and painless end; or a horrid invasion from a reality with suffering, leading to your highly probable destruction, slowly and painfully, with a loss of peace, tranquility, and innocence, but a slight chance some of you will survive? You’d best hope, and pray if that’s a thing you do, the war doesn’t touch you.
‘Reflections in a False Tower’
I feel a mite bit proud that I figured out it was Minecraft in the first 4 paragraphs.
‘Black and White’
I agree with both those sentiments. As terrible as it sounds, I have decided that the scale of death is secondary to whether the end result of collapse or preservation is better. But I am not confident as to which one is better.
‘The Wheel Weaves’
No. No, that is no miracle, nor is it better than an immediate response. Instead of your own magic misfiring itself, it misfired the most powerful artifact in the multiverse. The higher up the misfire goes the greater its potential. For good or ill.
A
TelathaneTa’veren is a strong outlet for Ka, not its master. As they had already discussed.The cycle is broken, and the next major event? Accidentally reinstate the cycle. Unfortunate.
9942365
Oh, hey! Hello! I made this comment as I read each story, and then I saw your comment. Is this what you seek, oh ancient one?
‘From Cinders’
Huh. At the time I skipped this one in case of spoilers. And then it does that. Of course, I still don't know what's going on with Cinder now that I've read League up to about when this was written.
'Sounds of me shutting off my phone and going back to work.'
30 minutes later:
Wait a minute! Did Cinder cause the other Merodi we saw back in 100?! If she did... then some of the bigger implications shift.
Maybe she did, maybe she didn't. Maybe we don't need to know one way or the other.
After all, whether this strand connects them or not, isn't Everything connected, one way or another?
Also, thanks for giving me a reason to reread the bit in 100 where Renee climbs The Tower. It made some creepy sense this time around.