Darkened Shores

by Silver Flare

31: "Damn Us All"

Filly Rainbow Dash's wings blurred, propelling her forward into the crisp wind and sunshine. With a subtle tilt she banked hard, angling through a ring composed of fluffy clouds. Dash shot through the exact center, leaving an explosion of rainbow colors in her wake. Through the turn, she fought the pull of inertia as though the pressure was an embrace she longed for. Clusters of ponies cheered faintly below, and Dash grinned in response, a feral elation forcing her wings to beat faster and faster. This is what she lived for, after all; the thrill of a race, the rush of exertion, and the adoration of a crowd.

She braked hard and burst across the finish line to an explosion of confetti and streamers. A flock of pegasi greeted her, cheers and congratulations mixing streaks of color with raucous sound. Dash controlled her panting breaths, not wanting to seem too winded, and she kept her tiny wings folded against their trembling. It wouldn't do to look weak after a victory like this one. Finally, everyone had seen her Sonic Rainboom. Finally, everyone believed her.

A voice right by her ear stood out against the crowd. “You are so amazing,” Dash recognized the pegasus she'd met earlier, the one who must have signed her up for this event. “Once the Wonderbolts get a look at you they'll be on their knees asking you to join them.”

“I know, right?” Dash's elation began to ebb, her gaze settling upon the scattered ribbons of paper. “I figure they'll sign me up on the spot! I'll be the youngest Wonderbolt in history. . .” Her grin faded.

There was something about the confetti. Something familiar. Something that seemed to deflate her sense of joy, making it feel a little hollow. The pegasus standing in her shadow noticed the change and sidled closer. “I'd bet you could be more than that.” She whispered. “What if you could best any member of the Celestial Guard, hmmm? What if you could be the first pegasus in history to learn true magic?” The words caressed Dash's ear, making it twitch. She froze in place. “You know it's in your future. You know you're destined for greatness.” Images of herself streaking through the air, launching destructive magic left and right filled her head. The very thought stole her breath away.

For some reason that felt familiar, felt right. It was, strange as it might sound, going to happen. The stranger had a solid point. The sun had somehow already set, and Dash found herself in the foyer at the Royal Palace in Canterlot. It made sense. There was a celebration in her honor, hundreds of ponies gathered in the shadows to watch as she accepted some medal or something. But she still had that hollow feeling, left over from before. Something was off. . .

Dash spoke to the air. “Hmm. Being seen for how awesome I am is, you know, awesome and everything. But it feels kinda weird without my frien-”

“But don't you remember?” There was that voice again. “You left that backwoods hovel ages ago. Those needy parasites were only holding you down,” The stranger paced into view again, wearing an elaborate ball gown. “Making you ordinary.” She struck a graceful pose with one leg forward, her silver (black?) fur gleaming in the torchlight. “Normal.” She sneered the word, and Dash felt an answering disdain for anything that might warrant the word 'normal.'

Then the stranger folded herself forward in a graceful bow, as every pony in the vast room followed suit. “We all know you are anything but.” The stranger whispered urgently.

“Wait.” Dash held up a hoof to find it shod in precious metals like royalty. “What do you mean, I left?” She asked, her voice suffused with worry. “What did I say to them?” Her worry bled away, though. Something about the stunning ball gown was tugging at the back of Dash's mind, reminding her. . .

“Accept your greatness.” The stranger's tone was firm, commanding. “Embrace our power! Let none stand above you!”

That's it! Dash thought. The gown. I've seen it before. It's one of Rarity's. That single memory brought back a flood of other memories, a lifetime of recollections. This is a dream. This whole thing is a dream! It must be!

Rainbow Dash's eyes opened wide, and she saw the room before her more clearly. The ponies crouched in shadow were featureless, living mannequins bowing to her with dull lifelessness. The castle entrance was poorly lit, and the shadows seemed to flow where they willed, heedless of what light there was. And the stranger before her snarled as her colorless face began to melt. Then the stranger spoke. “In your heart you see the truth. You despise your friends. And if you don't now,” Her voice bubbled and dripped along with her flesh. “Live long enough and you will.” The voice rose several octaves. “Youuu wiiiiiillllllll!”

Dash back-trotted a step, her heart racing. She reached up to her neck, reflexively searching for the choker necklace she'd worn for the last month or more. She couldn't feel anything, but. . . She knew it must be there. Knew it with the certainty of dreams. Surrounded by nightmares, Rainbow Dash threw her head back. . .

And laughed. Deep belly laughs that hurt her sides, moistened her eyes and made her think of streamers and confetti and frosting and the color pink. She laughed until she fell over, then she kicked her legs for emphasis. Then she rolled into the gasping, tear-stained laughter that followed; when you want to stop laughing because it hurt, but life was just too damn absurd, so you kept on laughing. That kind of laughter.

The stranger stepped backwards slowly, smoothly, towards the shadows. She never lost her look of vicious disdain, and her gaze never wavered. Chunks of her skin and fur sizzled to black acid as they dropped to the floor.

Dash wiped the tears from her eyes. “Oh, that's fantastic! That's good, really good. . . But you, eheheheh. . . Oh, you got the wrong mare.” It was a dream. It was nothing more than that. And you had power in dreams, right? You just had to believe it, and you could change anything you wanted. “I don't need your stupid philoso-crap. You should have known I'd never abandon my friends.”

It was a dream, but she hadn't come here alone, had she? There was someone else here too. But then the shadowed forms rushed her from every angle, moving with the speed born of dreams. Each of them bore a solid lightness, an army of plastic ponies. The closest one bared ink black fangs framing solid, glistening teeth. It aimed for her throat. What did the stories say? If you die in your dreams. . .

There was no time, but it didn't matter. Dash's uppercut caught the mannequin solidly beneath the jaw, rocking it into a back-flip and sending it crashing into the forms behind it. More snapping jaws lunged from the left, but the teeth snapped hollowly against thin air. Dash had swept a wing up out of the way just before bringing it down over the mannequin's neck, and she used her wing as leverage to vault over its back, cracking another pair of plastic faces with two well timed strikes. She had just enough time to glance over her shoulder, aiming a rear hoof into a plastic collarbone and kicking hard enough that the neck snapped completely, sending the head and body spinning in different directions.

It had been a long time since Rainbow Dash had felt helpless in her dreams.

Monsters surrounded her, but Dash swayed and kicked, smashing legs and breaking jaws. A mannequin leaped towards her above the fray, mouth agape. Dash spun at the last instant, sweeping her tail through an arc while she deflected another with a forelimb. Once she felt the jaws close on her tail she flicked it, sending the thing crashing into three of its companions. Another mannequin lunged in her peripheral vision, and Dash instinctively raised a forelimb to block it. Realizing her mistake with a gasp she twisted her limb, feeling teeth like a steel trap graze her fur as she pulled her forelimb back and drove her elbow into its eye socket with a hollow crack.

Dash jumped into a spin, snapping her wings open to launch another pair of attackers into back flips as she swept herself into the air to give herself an advantage. As she flew towards the rafters, she felt no fear. None. This wasn't the sort of thing that scared her. At least, not anymore. There was a time when physical violence might have intimidated her, like any normal pony. There was a time when she couldn't move fast enough in her dreams, when her blows were weak and ineffectual against assailants in her own mind. But as her confidence soared during her days, so did her belief in herself during her worst nightmares. Rainbow Dash relished bad dreams in a way few ponies honestly did.

“Hah!” Dash taunted, slamming her front hooves together. “Did you ever pick the wrong fight!” As she scanned the shadows, looking for the gross-looking stranger, she began to remember Twilight. Canterlot always reminded her of Twilight; the super egghead who somehow made being a Grade-A Dorkmuffin look really, really bad-flank. “Come out and fight me like a mare, chicken! Is that all you got?”

The shadows swept around the room, enshrouding the cluster of plastic ponies until she could no longer see their vacant, staring faces. Dash thought about waiting to see what would happen next, but only for about half a second or so. Waiting not really being her style, she zipped up to the chandelier hanging above the castle entryway and grabbed for the links holding the enormous construct of metal and jewels aloft.

Something darted at her hoof and Dash pulled back with a yelp. There was a snake coiled atop the fixture, staring at her with beady red eyes. She squirmed, feeling like her skin was crawling while she hovered in mid-air. Not that she was afraid exactly, more that she'd been caught off guard. With an angry glare, Dash pulled back her hooves, focused hard, and struck at the chain with all her might.

Suck on this! A bolt of crimson energy cut through the links like they were clay, and the chandelier fell. The snake never broke eye-contact, and Dash felt an odd pang of regret. The snake wasn't to blame, was it? It didn't know any better. And suddenly Dash remembered who she sounded like. She remembered who had been sharing this dream with her the exact moment the chandelier hit the floor with a mighty crash, scattering plastic pony parts everywhere. Fluttershy! She had to find Fluttershy!

From the shadows plastic figures launched skyward, propelled now by black raven wings. Dark claws pushed their way out of their fake hooves with sharp snaps, and their mouths gaped hungrily.

“Woah!” Dash spun lightly, evading the first attacker and lashing out with a kick that shot the mannequin into a wall. She tucked her wings and reached a hoof down, catching the next creature by the forehead and flipping forward, rolling her tail out of the way of another one as she brought her rear hooves down on a third, splintering its face. With a savage roar Dash fell through the rising tide of mannequins, and shattered bits of plastic fell like rain. They couldn't touch her. She was a sledgehammer of righteous fury, utterly unstoppable.

Until a different form appeared, a pony face that ran like black, melted wax. A hoof that she never saw coming caught Dash in the temple, a blow that felt like a bundle of rocks made the world flash white and vanish just before something large and flat slapped hard across the back of Dash's neck. It took a moment for her to realize she'd hit the floor.

Her ears rang, and her vision blurred and jumped with her heartbeat. Before she could move, the melted pony had slammed her hooves down on Dash's wings, pinning them down. The disgusting face loomed in her sight, hot breath like an open furnace made Dash cough. “Pathetic mortal creature.” It burbled. “I am the doubt that eats away at you like a swarm of termites. I am hatred and loathing and bitter spite.”

“Yeah? Well Bitter Spite needs a breath mint.” Dash braced her shoulders and shoved upwards with her wings, lifting the strange thing into the air, buying herself the room to ready a solid punch.

It was like punching rancid butter. Black spilth spattered everywhere, and the stranger's face deformed grotesquely around her limb. With a gurgle that sounded like drowning laughter the pony's face shifted, bringing its teeth through its flesh to sink deep into Dash's skin. She cried out in pain as blood began to flow down into the crook of her arm. With irresistible strength the wax pony jerked up with its head and stomped her hooves, shattering Dash's wings against the cold marble.

The pain was excruciating, like white-hot lightning searing through her nerves. Her scream shook her own eardrums, and she felt something tear in her throat from the force of her cry. It's not real it's not real it's not real it's not real it's not real oh Celestia help me it's not real it can't be real none of this is happening! There was the fear. Right there. That fluttery panic that tightens your muscles and makes you want to escape or cry out for help or give up or anything just to make it all stop.

As her vision returned, she noticed the creature had withdrawn a few steps, and its grin stretched sickeningly wide. Dash sat up, cradling her bitten hoof and scooting backwards on her haunches, her wings trailing limply on either side of her. Through a veil of tears and a red haze of pain, she watched staring mannequins line up on either side of the stranger's mocking grin. It opened its mouth to speak. “You could have been so much more. Such a waste.”

As her blood dripped steadily onto the cold marble, Rainbow Dash's hurt expression hardened into a defiant scowl.

“Mmmmmmm. . .” The stranger licked the blood from her chin with a tongue that looked like an old, dry slug. “She still has some fight left.” With a subtle tilt of her head, the mannequins surged forward.

It's not real! Dash turned and blinked, and in that blink she held the walls and the floor and the entirety of Canterlot in her mind. It's not real! She sort of twisted and pulled, and by the time her eyes opened she flung herself off the edge of Cloudsdale as claws raked at her back legs.

The sun was shining again. The rushing air spun Dash around enough to see Cloudsdale begin to dwindle above her, and dark winged shapes plunged over the side in pursuit. Her own wings fluttered uselessly in the breeze, every buffet sending pain up through her shoulders. She wasn't certain why she picked Cloudsdale. Maybe just because it was the last dream-place she remembered being.

Usually a several-thousand foot drop was comforting. Or awesome. Now it didn't seem to be any of those things. And the fake pegasi were catching up to her. A black shape swooped in from the side, plastic falling away to reveal a huge black-winged bird with a monkey face, its screech framed by those same ugly teeth. Empty eye sockets revealed nothing but more soulless darkness, and eagle claws stretched out to pluck Dash from the air.

It vanished in a crimson bolt of magic, a few stray feathers the only evidence it ever existed. Dash looked down at her hoof, blue lit by the red of the glowing jewel at her throat. She reached her good hoof up to her neck and heard a metallic sound. Her Element was there, just like she knew it had been all along. She adjusted herself, keeping her back to the ground, and aimed her hoof carefully upwards.

Get, She blasted another ugly harpy out of the sky. Out, One tried to spiral out of the way. It didn't help. Of, She made a slicing motion with her hoof, and two other creatures split in half. My, One drew close enough for Dash to see the inside of its mouth as it screamed. HEAD! With two hooves she shoved a bolt of magic down its throat.

Over the edge of the cloud bank a black pony face appeared. Dash was already far enough away that any normal pony should have looked like a dot, but the waxy head that appeared was massive. Just as its alien eyes focused on her, a red bolt of magic slammed into its face, rocking it backward. Rainbow Dash smirked.

The thing roared like some kind of demonic lion, pure hate and rage shaking the world around her. A black corona oozed around the sun, dimming the light, and Dash's smirk vanished. It's just a dream, right? She reminded herself. But the reality of the dream was thinning, and behind it seethed the Darkness like a living presence. In a flash of insight, Dash realized that the wax stranger and the Darkness were the same thing, and it wanted her. Wanted to crush her and strip her of her friends and herself and maybe her flesh and leave her wandering the wasteland a deformed, grotesque monster. The thin veil of the dream was her only defense, and the more lucid she became, the more control she exerted, the closer the outside Darkness would come to swallowing her.

If she fell deep enough into the reality of the dream, she would die. If she woke up, she would die. Gritting her teeth against the sensation of her wing bones grinding together, Dash turned her body and arrowed herself towards the ground, hoping to pick up speed. I've gotta keep this up until I can find Fluttershy. There, growing beneath her, was a lake that was probably crystal blue before the sun began to dim. Now shadows shifted over its surface, making it look scum-covered and stagnant. More harpy screeches closed in on her back, but she refused to look over her shoulder. That's always when they get you in a dream. Never, ever look back.

Dash drew back her hoof, gasped a breath and struck, her magic deforming the water's surface a split second before she hit it herself with a massive splash. Water filled her ears and nose, and she held on to her breath with grim desperation. She pried her eyes open to silty blackness, the surface vanishing far above. Dash grabbed a hold of the dream again, grabbed and twisted. She believed, truly believed she would surface. And when she broke the surface, she would be. . .

She surfaced gasping, flinging her mane out of her eyes. Blinking hard in the dim sunlight, she looked up to find a small bridge spanning a stream. The bridge that led to Fluttershy's cottage. There! It was exactly where it should have been, looking exactly the way it was supposed to. Dash flung herself out of the stream, tearing through reeds as she galloped towards the front door. She knew, with the strange logic of dreams, that Fluttershy must be inside.

The reeds behind her rustled ominously, and Dash didn't have to glance behind her to know that something was slithering towards the backs of her ankles. Several somethings. She fought the urge to glance behind herself and turned her limping gallop into a dead sprint. Just don't look back just don't look just don't look. . . The fur rose on the back of her neck and her hooves itched with panic. The pain of her injuries felt muted by the rush of adrenaline in her veins.

The door was unlocked. In a rush Dash shouldered her way through it, slammed it shut behind her and threw her back against the polished wood, gasping for breath.

Her reflexes saved her life. Her shield was compact, strong and focused, while Spike's attack had been broad and uncontrolled. Even so, if Twilight had the time to ground herself properly her shield would have crumpled like tinfoil. Spike lacked control and knowledge, certainly, but he also lacked restraint. His shout carved a swath in the crater wall as it flung Twilight backward at an incredible speed. Acting on instinct, she curled into a ball as the world went black. The deafening cacophony of shattering rock filled her ears, until it melded into a painful ringing that pierced her temples.

Her eyes blinked open to a cocoon of stone just outside her shield. The world beyond shifted and rumbled, doubtlessly more rock slides triggered by Spike's carelessness. Twilight panted hard, her slitted eyes glazed with unbelief. Spike? She wasn't surprised by his grasp of power. Every dragon was, in essence, a creature of magic. No, Twilight was stunned by his rage. He could have killed me. She exhaled hard. He really could have killed me! Her brow crumpled into a scowl. Clearly he was too young, too vulnerable, and far too irresponsible to have the kind of power the Darkness offered.

With an effort of will Twilight grounded herself and shoved outward, hard. The loose rock parted easily, and she burst out into relative light. The shadow of the sun's setting had swept through a good portion of the crater, leaving the far rim still lit by the sun's glow. The strange worm was airborne again, but it meant nothing to her. Spike was playing with forces he couldn't understand, and he had somehow become the biggest threat to her and her friends. And she was worried about him, of course.

He wasn't hard to spot. The shadows of the curse rippled towards him, as though drawn by a current. Darkness flowed, mounding into a conflagration of power like a beacon. Twilight blinked forward, appearing just outside the nest of shadows. Mentally she prepared to defend herself, but she did not attack. “Spike?” She called. “You've got to stop this!” No response, but she could feel his anger pulsing outward. Twilight sharpened her voice. “Spike! Get out here right now!”

The dome of shadows parted like underwater weeds, and a small black form sulked out. He kept his head down, as though expecting some sort of chastisement. Twilight felt the first touch of relief. Maybe he could be reasoned with. “Spike. . .” She said gently. “Stop this. Come back to the ship with me.”

“No.” His muffled reply was terse.

Icy claws scuttled down Twilight's spine. “What? You. . . You'd rather stay out here?”

Black scales rose and fell through a few breaths before he shook his head no. “I'm not going back. Not with you.”

She was at a loss. Just what was he so upset about? “What is it, Spike? You know you can talk to me.” Distant sounds of combat reached her ears, but they scarcely flicked. Spike was the center of her universe, and nothing else mattered.

He scoffed, still without looking up. “Sure. So long as you're not distracted by some research paper. Or running off to parties without me.”

What's that supposed to mean? “You had a bedtime.” She said. “Look, I know you're upset that I went ahead without you, but we really didn't have much choice! I was trying to spare you!”

“It's always 'Spike, fetch this!' 'Spike, clean that!'” He looked up then, glaring through misty, bloodshot eyes. “But when it matters, when it really matters. . .” His little claws balled into fists.

Twilight's hooves touched the ground, the darkness caressing her legs as she walked towards the lorn figure. “You can't just lay this all on me. You wanted to help out around the library. You practically jumped at the chance!”

“Of course I did.” Spike's words were venomous. “You were all the family I'd ever known. I would have broken my back for you if you'd asked me to.”

Had he really felt this way the whole time? “But. . . I would never have asked you. . . Spike, you know I've never done anything to hurt you, right?”

His eyes unfocused, like distant voices were whispering in his ear. When his eyes found Twilight again, they'd filled with even more pain. “You had power over me.” He nodded, as though it had all become clear in that moment. “You had power over me, and you used it! Your assistant? Your housemaid? You shaped me into your little slave.”

“Stop it! This isn't you!”

“I was your trophy, wasn't I? No other student had a dragon as a pet. I was your living, breathing proof that you were an 'A' student. Yeah, but only until something important came up. Then you left me behind every chance you got!”

“I didn't ask for this!” Twilight was crying now. Where had things gone so wrong? His accusations touched upon a secret fear, and his words cut deep. “I was just a filly!” The shadows about her rippled faster, and her horn began to glow. “I'm sorry I wasn't ready to be a parent!”

“Obviously.” His eyes narrowed. “But even a foal wouldn't take advantage of a baby!”

“It wasn't my fault!” Twilight felt a dangerous mix of frustration, anger and shame bubbling up inside her. “Celestia gave you to me!”

“Maybe she shouldn't have.”

Twilight didn't know she was going to do it. If pressed by her closest friends, she would have jumped at the chance to blame the darkness for what she did then. But deep in the hidden corners of her heart, during the loneliest hours of the night, this one moment would wake her in a cold sweat. And she would wonder if she had no one to blame but herself.

Spike tumbled limply backwards, rolling to a stop face down among the rocks. Twilight gaped at her own outstretched hoof, its oily sheen suddenly repugnant. This was the role model she'd become. Of course Spike had embraced the darkness in his heart. After all, he was just following in her hoofsteps. Twilight, Her mind spoke in Celestia's voice, sharp and reproving. What have you done?

No! I didn't mean to!

Look at him!

He said. . . I just. . .

LOOK AT WHAT YOU'VE DONE!!!

Spike pushed himself up to his knees. His face was so contorted by pain and hate that she could barely recognize him. “Wait,” She said weakly, trying hard not to throw up. “I-I'm sorry.”

It wasn't enough. Nothing would ever be enough again.

The walls groaned. The floor shook. The single bed in the infirmary vibrated along with the loud grinding of the delicate airship sliding over loose rocks. Flashes of light illuminated the dim room in a series of black and white images etched against the walls. Oh, and the room itself swayed and shifted as they moved. This was going to be next door to impossible. “Lay her on the bed, her head towards me! Shade, set up the IV pole.” Pin Feather slid into a crouch, slamming his head into the counter as he misjudged the airship's movements. “Gah! Alicorn teats!”

The black-feathered gryphon grunted as he helped lift Applejack into place. “Is he really the only qualified. . .”

“Stow that thought.” Sun Shade twisted a black knob and swiveled a metal pole upright by the head of the small bed. It took her three tries to get it right, what with all the lurching and swaying. “Just try to hold her steady, Skan, and I'll try not to dock your paycheck.”

Pin Feather reappeared. “Sky, grab the swabs from the cabinet and get the inside crook of her left elbow. Shade, these should help.” He tossed her a pair of white straps, restraints that could anchor a patient to the cot in a crisis.

“Ah. Good thinking.” Shade passed them along. “Skan, would you be a dear?”

He took them with a look of disgust. “What in the forge fires are these?” He brandished the straps menacingly. “What are these for? Holding your patients down so they can't struggle when you perform horrible, experimental surgeries on them?”

Sun Shade braced herself against the edge of the bed and bucked a hind hoof into Skan's ribs, pushing him out of the way. She spun smoothly, snatching the straps from him with her teeth and turning back to the cot before Applejack slid off the edge. She began securing the straps in place. “If your tongue cannot remain civil in your beak, I will be forced to find another location for it.”

“Shade,” Pin Feather's claws closed gently around her upper arm. “It's okay.” He snapped open a small case, pulling out a needle and a small tube. “We need to get this IV started. That's what matters.”

Once Applejack was secured, he climbed carefully onto the bed. Bracing his hind paws, he spread his wings until they touched the sides of the small room. He tried to hold himself steady as he laid one foreclaw along the inside of the earth pony's arm, finding a spot where the fur was thinnest. “Shade, get the tape. Sky, help hold her still.”

“Um,” Clear Sky's voice wavered lightly, “I don't feel a heartbeat anymore.”

“Shush.” Pin Feather took a deep, steadying breath. The airship rocked and crashed, jostling everyone. Skan slid into the cabinets, and Sky clutched at the edge of the bed to keep from doing the same. Pin Feather growled, his wings trembling, but he kept himself in place. He took another firm breath, held it, and on the exhale slipped the needle under the mare's skin.

A trickle of blood seeped out, and Pin Feather quickly attached the small, rubber tube. “Got it! Shade, get the mana diodes! Sky, grab one of the clear bags from the top left cabinet and hook it up!”

Clear Sky nervously rubbed his bloody hooves on his coat. “I've. . . I don't know what I'm doing. . .”

“Here.” Skan grumbled. “They go like this.” He reached above Sky's head and into the cabinet.

Shade appeared at Pin Feather's side, holding a pair of short wooden staves, each capped with a jagged blue crystal and a short coil of metal that wrapped around the crystal and protruded off the end. Pin Feather quickly felt for a pulse with a gentle digit, and his pupils constricted. “Ohhhhh-kay.” He breathed. “Yeah, we need those.” His movements became more hurried and frantic as he felt Applejack's ribcage. Deftly, he used the inside of a talon to shave away a little fur on the lower-left portion of her ribs. Then he did the same higher up, just to the right of her sternum.

“Shade,” He grabbed the crystal that glowed with a dim blue light. “You know how these work?”

She nodded, removing the staff with the inert gem from her mouth. “In theory.”

“Yeah. . . same here.” Pin Feather carefully angled the rod so that the coil compressed against Applejack's skin, the glow of the crystal muted as the metal rings slid closer together. “Okay, line yours up with mine, on the other side.” He watched Skan finish hooking up the clear tube connecting the hanging bag with the tube in Applejack's arm. Pin Feather eyed his work. “Looks good. But you may want to step back from the table now.”

“Yeah? Why's that?” Skan countered.

Pin Feather shrugged. “Suit yourself.” Sun Shade nodded her readiness, holding the opposing stick flush against Applejack's chest without touching her or the table. Pin Feather held his end cautiously, moving a talon to hover over the far end of the staff and the small mound of resin at its tip. At the last second, Skan backed away a pace, shaking his head.

Pin Feather depressed the end, and an electric hum resonated off the walls. Applejack's body shuddered a little. He scowled, removing his end of the mana diodes, now dull and grey.

“What was that?” Skan asked.

“Did it work?” Sun Shade examined her end, now emanating a dull glow.

Pin Feather slid another talon up to the earth pony's neck, just above the necklace she still wore. “Grrr. When was the last time these things were charged?!?” He slung the contraption onto the counter. “Okay. . . Uh. . . I don't suppose any of you have a spare mana capacitor on you?” A trio of blank stares was his only answer. “Or any experience manipulating lightning?”

Skan shook his head. “Just Dusk Wing, but he was a Tarsonite. And Reeds, of course. . . Oh.” He reached out a comforting foreclaw to an even more wilted Clear Sky.

“Princess Luna likely has the requisite skills.” Sun Shade peered out of the nearby porthole. “But it seems as though she's oh my word that looks troubling.”

“Yeah. . .” Pin Feather fidgeted. “I kinda figured something along those lines.” He glanced around the room, desperately searching for an alternative. “Time is a factor, so I guess it's up to me. Try not to squish me or hit me with stuff, okay?”

As Skan crowded forward to get a peek out the window, Sun Shade turned away from the conflict outside. “Whatever do you mean. . .” Green light flashed through the room. “Oh. Oh my.”

Pin Feather stood before them, a changeling once again. His voice buzzed. “Shade, line up your mana crystal.”

She nodded, once again positioning herself at Applejack's side. “Are you certain this will work?”

“What choice have we got? It's not like I can make her any more dead, right?” Pin Feather's gnarled, black horn began to glow with a green light, like a bright lantern draped in moss. He lowered his horn to her ribs. Clear Sky squeezed his eyes shut and looked away. Sun Shade steadied the mana diode in her jaws as the world outside finally went quiet.

Everything was still for a moment. Then a harsh crackle of electricity jolted Applejack's body into an arch as every muscle in her body spasmed at once. Pin Feather slumped back onto his haunches, panting, but Sun Shade fell backwards completely, the short wooden rod in her mouth now capped by a white-hot blinding glow. The brightness intensified, scaling upward to match the high-pitched whine cutting through the room. White sparks began to leap out of the crystal, forcing Shade to twitch her eyes away.

“Crap! Look out!” Pin Feather shouted weakly, but Sun Shade had already lobbed the strobing crystal over her companions' heads and into the hallway. Skan swept the smaller Clear Sky in to his chest as he spun into a crouch, spreading his wings as a detonation bowled them all over. The deep wump was loud enough to make every other noise seem quiet by comparison.

The sharp smell of ozone and singed carpet rolled into the room. Sun Shade's ears drooped. “My deepest apologies you two! Are you quite alright?”

Skan craned his neck to get a good look at his backside. “Yeah, I'm good. I think.” He stepped back from Sky, who wasn't even looking in his direction.

“Did it work?” Sky asked, hope suffusing his voice.

Everyone turned to see Pin Feather's black form slumped over the edge of the bed, his odd blue eyes half-lidded and the corners of his mouth quirked up. Despite his somewhat alien features, he looked as though he might laugh in relief.

There were a pair of shallow scorch marks on Applejack's chest, where the bare skin was raw and red. But her ribs rose and fell gently, and the beat of her pulse was plain to see.

Sun Shade's own breath caught in her throat before a few breathy laughs escaped her magenta lips. She ran a careless hoof through her tousled mane before shooting the changeling a fierce smile. “I knew it. I knew you could do it.”

Clear Sky had his hooves clasped before him, his eyes welling with gratitude. Even Skan's scowl had lifted, replaced by something wary. Possibly tinged with respect. Pin Feather's limbs twitched as he felt something he hadn't felt in days: nourishment. His eyes closed as the love, strongest from Sun Shade, poured into him like water into parched soil. His breathing steadied.

And he wasn't even pretending to look like someone else. That thought alone made his eyes fly back open, regarding the ponies and the gryphon before him. Yup, his hooves still had big, pocked holes through the congealed chitin of his exoskeleton. His tongue found both of his prominent fangs still on display in his mouth. But they still. . .

A goofy grin plastered itself across his face. He couldn't help it. With new found strength coursing through his limbs he pushed himself up. “Let's not get too comfortable. We still need to stabilize her.” He buzzed. “Grab the gauze, I need to start cleaning these wounds.”

Shade nodded, swaying a little bit as her eyelids drooped, followed by a look of mild alarm. “What? What did you. . . Have--Did you just. . ?” She sputtered. Pin Feather cringed sheepishly, offering her a guilty look. Shade swatted him playfully. “Don't you ever do that again, do you quite understand?”

“What was I supposed to do?” The changeling asked defensively. “Help fight off an alicorn obsessed with death, starve for two days, and then pull off a lightning spell which, might I remind you, was a miracle of delicacy?” Skan turned to regard the damage done to the hallway and snorted. “And then what?” Pin Feather continued, riding the brash wave of elation coursing through him. “Just turn down your freely-offered feelings of gratitude out of some misplaced sense of propriety?” He knew enough not to call it love. Not out loud.

“Yes.” Sun Shade sniffed in mock disdain. “Or at least warn a lady next time, if you cannot control your baser instincts. 'Twould only be proper, you know.” She made a show of adjusting herself, sorting out her mane. “Such a frightful thing, feeding upon a lady's emotions without her leave. I've half a mind to be offended.” A glimmer of playfulness accompanied her words, and Pin Feather stifled a grin. He could still feel the love radiating off of her, as though he stood in clean sunlight after weeks in a damp cave.

“But of course, my lady.” It would have been improper to throw a hug around her, so he turned his attention back to his patient. He blinked the moisture out of his eyes so he wouldn't be seen wiping it away.

Something chilled the brief elation coursing through the room. The infirmary had already been dim before, but now the shadows began drinking the light and swelling, flowing together to fade everything out of existence. Sun Shade leaned her muzzle against the porthole once again. “I suppose we should hold on to something.” Despair made her words sound heavy and final. “My friends, it has been an honor serving with you all.”