Darkened Shores

by Silver Flare

Final Interlude

“Are you sure you'll be okay staying here?”

They were gathered in the mess hall, or what Pinkie still referred to as the Arguing Room. All around Twilight ponies and gryphons ate more than they talked, but there was still enough conversation to generate a low buzz through the room. The gentle smell of flowers didn't do enough to mask the smell of fish, but Twilight found she was getting used to it. The crew had yet more repairs to do, and Sun Shade had insisted she put them to work after they'd had food in their stomachs and a little rest. Her friends ate too, preparing themselves for the journey ahead. Twilight didn't feel much like eating, but she knew there wasn't really a choice. So she followed her question with a pair of petunias, chewing thoughtfully.

A plate full of untouched gems sat in front of Spike, and he just sort of stared at them without really seeing them. Twilight thought she understood exactly how he felt. He sighed wearily before he spoke. “No. I don't think I'm going to be okay here.” He pushed some of the stones around with a claw, making flashes of glittery light sparkle around the room. “But I'm not going to be okay if I come with you, either.”

“I think I understand.” Twilight nodded somberly. “Even in the best case scenario, things probably wont be okay for awhile. But that's not really what I'm asking.” She took another bite from her plate.

“Yeah.” He sighed again. “I'll stay here. I'm sure I'll just worry myself sick and be totally useless, but I'll stay.”

“We need the Elements. We need Princess Luna. And that wolf is really. . . We ought to give her a name.”

Pinkie, listening in, squeaked with delight. “Oh! How about Snowball? Or Furface? I like Furface! Or maybe we can call her Whitey! Does that work?”

“We ain't gonna call'er 'Whitey,' fer Pete's sake.” Applejack rolled her eyes.

Pinkie scoffed. “Well, I think 'Whitey' is a whole lot better than 'Pete,' although I do understand the comedic irony involved with naming a female wolf Pete.”

Spike turned back to Twilight. “The big guns. I get it.” His voice didn't brighten much as he spoke. “I wouldn't be able to defend myself if I came along, and I wouldn't be much help. I know.”

“So,” Twilight asked hopefully, “You understand why I think you should stay here, where its safer?”

“I understand it with my head.” Spike nodded, pushing himself off the bench and waddling up to her. “It's getting my heart to understand that's the problem.”

Twilight smiled kindly. “Would it help if I told you I wanted to stay too?”

Spike nodded, throwing his arms around her waist.

She returned the hug with interest. “Well, I do. I want to stay more than anything else in the world.”

They held each other in silence for a beat, while the gentle hum of conversation drifted around the room. Eventually Spike pulled back enough to glance up. “Twilight, I'm sorry I. . .”

“Hey, there's no need for that.” Twilight gave him her most understanding smile. “It wasn't your fault. That shadow stuff was bad news. We should have used the Elements on the curse the first chance we got.” However, try as she might, she couldn't get him to look her in the eye. “It was our mistake.”

“That's the thing, though.” He sounded serious, and way more grown up than he should have. “I think part of that was me.” She wanted desperately to interrupt him, to contradict him, to reassure him, but she didn't. She had no intention of disrespecting or belittling his turmoil. So she let him finish speaking. “I felt mad sometimes, having a bedtime. Missing out on parties. Having to do chores. I mean, most of the time I felt great, I felt needed. And I knew you cared for me the best you could. And that you weren't just showing me off to the other students. I knew you weren't like that. I knew it here.” He tapped the side of his head with a claw. “But sometimes, maybe I felt that way a little in here.” Tap tap on his chest. His eyes wandered the room. “It's a horrible feeling.”

Twilight gave him a moment, to see if he had more to add. Then she tried to answer as carefully as she could. “But you felt guilty for having those feelings, so you never said anything out loud.” He nodded somberly, his wide green eyes finally meeting hers. “Well, maybe that's the important part. Maybe, if you felt more comfortable telling me about those feelings, they wouldn't build up quite so much.” She tapped his chest with her own gentle hoof for emphasis. “Tell you what. I'll promise, right here and right now, that if you ever come and talk to me about how you feel, I promise to listen. Always.”

“And you promise I wont get in trouble?”

He looked so serious Twilight couldn't stifle a grin. “I absolutely promise.” She scooped him up in her arms, and as she did, her grin turned mischievous. “Oh. . . I get it! This was all a clever ploy to re-negotiate your bedtime!” She assaulted him with telekinetic tickles, going for the spots she knew would make him laugh. “You're gonna need more than dark magic to change that, Buster!” His giggles filled the room, drawing a number of warm, happy glances up from their plates. Pinkie in particular looked as though she might cry.

“No more! I give up!” He gasped, tears leaking out of his eyes. Twilight stopped, accepting the surrender with dignity. Spike's eyes turned serious again, although this time they were suffused with hope. “So. . . you don't. . . hate me, or anything?”

“No, Spike, not even close. . .” She answered earnestly. “I. . . I take it you don't hate me?” She'd tried to put a confident, mature face on the question. She hadn't wanted him to know how deeply his words had truly cut her. But she faltered in the delivery, and it emerged with just a hint of uncertainty.

Spike just shook his head no, and buried himself into another hug. She'd been getting a lot of those lately. But this one went deeper, somehow. It was a hug that went all the way through to her core. She hugged him back, hard. For all that they had tried to mend their relationship over the past couple of hours, Spike just wasn't the same dragon. Not really. Something essential had changed between them, and Twilight doubted it would ever be the same again. She doubted he would ever really be the same. And neither would she.

“So, you're gonna go find whatever was behind the curse and take care of it?” Spike asked when he finally disentangled himself from the embrace.

“Yeah. That about sums it up.” Twilight's stomach dropped into her hooves at the thought of what lay ahead.

Spike waddled back to his seat, clambering back into place. But he still didn't touch his food. “And that'll be easy, right? What with that awesome wolf helping you all out?”

Nope. “Piece of cake.” Twilight deliberately failed to remind him about the rest of Celestia's story. The part where the wolf had already lost that fight at least once, before it gave its power away and died. “You saw what we did to that curse, and the giant worm monster, right? We'll be back before you know it.” Lots of warm gazes still watched the two of them, but Applejack looked as though she'd had a glass of cold water thrown in her face. She must have heard the untruth in her voice.

Twilight tried not to look like she was holding her breath, but Applejack didn't call her on her lie. Twilight was still having trouble dealing with the knowledge that the massive worm hadn't been Yami. What in the unknowable universe were they going to find out there when they set out? Fortunately, Spike didn't notice Applejack's reaction. He'd dug into his plate of food with gusto, crunching into a large tourmaline.

Twilight washed down more flowers with a glass of lukewarm water, tasting nothing. She was keeping the truth from Spike. Not the truth about what lay ahead. She had no facts which she might conceal. She was, however, lying about her feelings. She had the best of intentions, she was sure of it, but it still amounted to deception. Which was exactly what Celestia had done to her. Twilight was no longer certain her mentor had been wrong to do so, either. She found herself yearning for the days when right and wrong were as clear as night and day, instead of being muddied somewhere in-between. Twilight abruptly stood up from the table.

Rarity was the first to notice, looking up from her quiet conversation. “Is it time, dear?”

She nodded. They had a lot of ground to cover, and the night was already more than half gone. Twilight held two hopes close to her heart, like tiny, fragile flickers of light. There was the hope that, with Princess Luna, the Elements of Harmony, and the mysterious wolf together, they might stand a chance. They might find some way to unravel the evil they would undoubtedly find. The second hope she dared not speak aloud. She hardly dared think it to herself. More than anything in the world, Twilight just wanted this whole thing to be over.

One way or another.

Barely an hour later, Twilight cantered through cold moonlight, her hooves beating a steady rhythm on the wet, stony ground. The massed wheel of clouds overhead had broken apart, most of those clouds having fallen into rain hours ago. When the Elements had cleared the curse, they had purified the air as well, lifting the taste of stagnant mildew and leaving behind the faint scent of wildflowers. Had she and her friends not been running towards the gravest danger they'd ever been in, she might have appreciated the clean night spread like an offering of peace around her.

Instead, Twilight imagined the puffs of fog she exhaled were fractured pieces of her soul escaping into the night. She shivered a little. Ahead of her, Luna scarcely seemed to disturb the stones she galloped over. Despite her steady speed, her hoofsteps made almost no sound. By comparison, Twilight and her friends practically sounded like a stampede. Rarity and Applejack cantered on her left, and Pinkie and Fluttershy crowded in on the right. Rarity and Fluttershy sounded pretty winded. Twilight hoped they wouldn't have to run much further.

Twilight paced herself and measured her breaths. It was her turn to rest, however short a respite it proved to be. Only a few more moments, she was certain. . .

There she goes. Luna's horn glowed a dark, rich blue, the light expanding in a sphere to encompass the six companions, and they all staggered a bit as the ground shifted beneath their hooves. Everyone except Luna, of course. Twilight recovered her stride in an instant and surged into the lead, trading places with the Princess as they continued galloping.

“Ugh, dangit,” Applejack struggled to recover her lost footing. “Long as I've known you Twi, I can't seem to get used to this teleporting crud.”

“Would you rather run the whole way?” Rarity asked playfully, craning her neck to glance at the farm pony behind her.

“I don't see why we're running at all!” Pinkie Pie added. “After the day we've had? Jeez with bees on a brick of cheese, I'm beat!”

“We've lost the element of surprise, Pinkie.” Twilight squinted into the distance. Something dark pulsed just beyond the range of her eyes. Something that thrummed at the edge of her senses, pulling her forward. “Assuming we ever had surprise on our side to begin with.”

“Ah, Surprise,” Pinkie huffed between breaths. “The seventh and sneakiest Element of Harmony. . .”

“Sounds more like an Element of Parties to me.” Applejack grinned.

Pinkie gasped in shock. “Oh, you're right! There are totally Elements of a good party! Like the Element of Snacks and the Element of Balloons, and the Element of Uncomfortably Loud Music. . . I'm gonna have to write these down when we get back.”

“We'll have to make it back first.” Fluttershy muttered grimly.

Rarity lagged a little, slowing down until Applejack nudged her gently in the flank. She shook herself, redoubling her efforts to keep up the pace. “I still don't see why we had to leave before morning. A quick power nap would have been just the ticket.”

“We couldn't risk it.” Twilight was repeating herself, but her fear kept her annoyance in check. “Imagine what might happen if this thing, whatever it is, found the airship. Never mind the fact that our crew has suffered through way more than anypony ever should, it's still our only way home.”

Rarity managed a sigh between breaths. “I suppose you're right.” She conceded.

She tried not to think too much, but thoughts still rebounded inside her head. Twilight's failures were phantoms, haunting her, drifting just behind her tail no matter how fast she ran. She'd flung herself into a fight without thinking, and because of that choice Celestia had died to protect her. She'd murdered Teryn without even trying to find another option, another path. She'd abandoned her friends, thinking she was doing them a kindness, protecting them from danger. Instead, she'd hurt Spike so deeply he might never be the same. Fluttershy certainly would never be the same if they ever made it back to Ponyville.

The list kept going, tallying up behind her while she led her friends into even more danger. Their new ally was heartening, an extra little drop of hope, but it wasn't enough to dispel her doubts. They didn't need Twilight, they needed someone better. Someone more pure of soul. Someone. . . she shook her head, dislodging the train of thought.

Twilight and her friends maintained a brisk pace, but she still heard the swift beat of padded paws racing up and overtaking them from behind. The wolf had stretched herself into a full sprint, and her speed was intimidating. Her strides devoured the distance in great chunks, leaving behind a trail of bright green verdure. Within moments she had raced past the group, paced by a blue and rainbow-hued figure flying just above her. The pair outdistanced the larger group without too much trouble.

“Land's sakes, ain't she fast.” Applejack breathed, moonlight streaking platinum highlights through her mane. “Watchin' her run is like watching the sun rise.”

Twilight's steps faltered for a moment. The sun's rising should have belonged to someone else. It was almost like Applejack had read her mind. She blinked her eyes to keep them clear.

Fluttershy seemed the most winded, but she kept up with grim determination. “I'll bet. . . After being a statue. . . for so long. . . she just wants to run. . . and run. . . and run.”

“I know I would. I'd also like to jump. And sing songs. And hug somepony. Probably all at once.” Pinkie gave a leap for emphasis, but all she could manage was a little hop.

A few deep chuckles bubbled up out of Applejack's throat. “I wonder if that wolf-”

“Snowball!” Pinkie interjected.

“. . .that wolf knows that Dash ain't givin' it her all?”

Pinkie Pie took the opportunity to agree. “Snowball is fast, but Dash could probably fly circles around her.” She said. “Maybe she's resisting the urge to show off. Somehow.”

“I'm having trouble resisting the urge to design.” Rarity added with a frustrated toss of her mane. “What we're doing is important and all, but if I lose any of these cozy and chic winter pieces inspired by that wolf's bold markings, I intend to become quite cross.”

“Cross?” Applejack smirked. “Somepony's been spending too much time with Sun Shade.”

“A fashion-forward pony if I've ever met one.” Rarity's eyes glinted. “And a catch of a friend, if I must say so myself.”

“Hang on, everypony.” Twilight focused on a point in the distance, somewhere ahead of the racing figures, and with a soft pop she teleported her friends forward, crossing a solid half-mile of ground. As they appeared, Princess Luna took the lead again, and Twilight dropped back into position. By taking turns, they shared the burden of crossing the distance to the crater's center.

“Princess?” Pinkie asked, her voice bright and hopeful. “Is it true that when you met Snowball all those years ago that she turned into a statue? Like, when she died?”

Luna galloped in silence for a few heartbeats. “Yes.” She gritted through her teeth.

Pinkie's ears flattened at the alicorn's tone. “Oh. Well, isn't that a good thing?”

Rarity huffed. “It's too early in the morning, and I haven't had enough coffee for riddles. How is that a good thing exactly?”

Fluttershy offered an explanation. “The wolf turned to stone when she passed her power to Luna and her siblings. And then the same thing happened to Celestia when she passed her power to Twilight, right?”

Rarity worked a shrug seamlessly into her gallop, managing to make it look dainty. “I still don't see how. . . Oh! Oh my. . . do you really think it's possible?” She craned her neck back to try and glimpse the wolf, once again catching up from behind.

Applejack scowled at the ground in front of her hooves. “So, y'all are sayin' that whatever magic the wolf gave Teryn. . . went back to her once he was, y'know. . . gone?”

“Pinkie, how could you possibly say that's a good thing?” Fluttershy admonished. “Do you even know what you're saying?”

“I'm saying that Celestia maybe isn't totally gone for good!” Pinkie exclaimed. “I thought everypony would be happy about that!”

“Where would that power have to come from, Pinkie?” Fluttershy uttered gravely. “Who would have to. . . to go away for that to happen?”

Pinkie Pie opened her mouth to speak, and she immediately swallowed her words back down. A grim silence fell over the group as they ran.

And there it was, out in the open. Twilight's second hope. She had already examined that particular chain of logic, and it made sense. The wolf had split its power into three, and for some reason its magic didn't die out. It just moved, and it brought life wherever it went. Twilight wasn't simply hoping that Celestia's immortality would transfer back to her mentor upon her death; she was counting on it. But for the first time Twilight wondered if, just maybe, Luna was hoping for the same outcome. Would Luna let Twilight die tonight, if it meant she could see her sister again?

The alicorn's features betrayed nothing of her deeper intentions. “Let us speak of other matters.” Luna insisted, as the wolf and Rainbow Dash caught up and raced past again. “Speculation is futile, and here we ought employ a strategy before our lives are imperiled.” She said with asperity.

The airship was silent, the deep night unblemished by the sound of voices or the clanking of metal. The crew, all of them, had been ordered to get some sleep. Most of them probably slept deeper than they ever had in their lives. Sun Shade strongly believed that they couldn't be pushed any harder than they had been. The last few days had allowed them scarcely any sleep, and they'd followed orders and performed like true heroes. And this last crisis, they could do nothing but wait and abide the outcome. Just like Shade herself. So sleep was the order of the day. There would be plenty of work to do when, and if, the assault team made it back.

Besides, even if the crew could work themselves further to the bone, they probably wouldn't do it for her. Sun Shade lacked the strength of personality, the exact mix of charisma and steel that inspired Thistle's crew to want to follow him to the ends of the world, and that made her willing to do the same.

It was no surprise that Shade found herself awake, standing in a storage room deep in the heart of the Vigil, next to the body of the Captain. The ex-Captain. She thought numbly. The room had been tossed around by their descent into the crater of course, and by their subsequent adventures, but someone had already set the place back in order. Since Luna and Twilight had ordered the ship into immediate action back on the shore, they hadn't time to properly bury Thistle, so they had done what they could instead.

His body lay upon a cot draped with the nicest sheets and comforters on the ship. He looked as peaceful as she'd ever seen him, amazing in and of itself considering how he'd died. About him were carefully strewn knickknacks, mementos, and scraps of note paper with kind words upon them, left behind as members of the crew had come to pay their respects. There was even a single flower, only slightly wilted, something which must have been preserved and tended carefully by some member of the crew for goodness-knows what reason. And someone had had the decency to light a few candles about the place.

Shade could only stare at him, at his features, as though he might stir or mumble at any moment. He wouldn't. She knew better. But it didn't stop her from staring. And while she did she marveled at herself. She'd fallen into complete hysterics when she'd needed to hold herself together, and now that she wanted to cry, absolutely needed to cry her heart out. . . she felt nothing. She was barren and desolate. Empty. It was a strangely numb frustration, and it left her wishing fervently for the strength or energy to simply grieve properly. Was that really too much to ask?

The door behind her opened, and Sun Shade had to try very, very hard to keep from ordering whoever it was back out. Even though she wasn't a mess of tears, she felt very strongly that her emotions should be private. But she couldn't be the only one unable to sleep, and everyone aboard had more than earned the right to be in this room. Earned that right many times over. So she bit her tongue as hoofsteps drew closer and closer.

The changeling appeared, glossy exoskeleton reflecting the candlelight. 'Sorry, Shade, I don't mean to intrude. . .” His buzzing voice set her teeth on edge. “I can come back later, if you like.”

She bit her tongue a little harder, determined to say nothing, lest she say the absolute wrong thing. She just kept her eyes where they were and waited, giving him time to say or do whatever he liked, and then buzz off. She was finally beginning to feel the grief building up inside her, and she needed to be alone. Needed it.

He gave her a moment to speak before nodding somberly, as though he read her perfectly. Then he turned his attention to the cot, and the gryphon that lay upon it. Shade couldn't help it. She glanced at him, wondered just what thoughts were flitting through that insectile brain of his. What was he feeling? Was it anything close to what normal ponies would feel? Anything like genuine loss or regret or sorrow? Was it something alien, something she would never understand?

The changeling looked like he wanted to say something to him, maybe say several somethings. Yet even though every word seemed to die on his lips, his pupil-less eyes managed to say plenty enough. He lifted a hoof to place it on Thistle's shoulder and recoiled at the sight, as though seeing his own natural form was an unpleasant shock to him. In that moment, Shade thought she finally understood.

In a flash of green, Pin Feather stood before her again, feathered and familiar. Only then did the changeling allow himself to touch the body of their friend, gently squeezing the lifeless shoulder through the blankets.

Acting before she could second guess herself, Sun Shade placed her hoof atop Pin Feather's yellow claws, adding herself to the moment. He glanced at her, startled, but he didn't pull away. And even as the pain deepened in his eyes, his shoulders lifted as though a large burden had fallen from him.

Shade felt the tears then, finally, finally, and for once in her life she didn't make an effort to hide them from a friend.

Comments

[sonicfan21]

I only looked at this chapter but is this an Okami Crossover?

[Solid Sun]

Featured again, but for how long? I swear, this story just doesn't get the respect it deserves.

Oh, well. Good up the great work.

[Silver Flare]

4048360 Shhhhhhhhh. . . *glances left and right* Nobody said anything about a crossover. You're imagining things.
. . .
. . .
. . .
. . .maybe.

4048650 Thank you. Those are very kind words, SS. I've got the next twenty pages written, so hopefully I can bring out the endgame here in the next few days. What a ride it has been.