The Life of Penumbra Heartbreak

by Unwhole Hole

Chapter 63: The Death of Scarlet Mist

The sky was burning. Deafening explosions erupted across the battlefield as space was ripped apart and sky-ships torn asunder by powerful sorcery. Many of them were ripped free of the realm that had borne the, progressing to an unknown elsewhere- -but others tore apart from the strain, their parts raining downward onto the ponies below. Those ships that still functioned pounded the land with artillery, desperately trying to drive back the Equestrian forces- -but it was increasingly clear that their effort was in vain. The battle was already turning.

A force of earth-ponies had broken through the crumbling defense line. Unaware of the devastating form developing over their heads, they charged, knowing that the Citadel was in sight. That was their goal, their only chance to finish the battle. Nothing would stop them.

Yet as they ran, the first of their vanguard began to notice something strange. An odd odor, at first, and a strange feeling of weakness. The air seemed to have become thicker, and warmer. Only when it was too late did they see the fog- -and realize that it was red.

A young colt was the first to react. “Gas!” he cried. “GAS!”

His training was instinctive. He grasped a gas-rattle from his kit and spun it. The other ponies, terrified, put on their masks- -but being an earth-pony, the colt with the rattle was unable to reach for his. He continued to sound the alarm, even as he breathed in the strange-scented poison.

Immediately, his eyes grew wide and the rattle fell form his mouth. A horrible, unnatural scream echoed over the entire formation as he fell to the icy ground in convulsions.

“String Pea!” cried one of his comrades, rushing to him and grabbing at his mask, desperately trying to put it on him.

“No! NO!” cried the colt, flailing out of his former friend’s grasp. “The spiders oh Celestia THE SPIDERS! They’re in my eyes! THEY’RE INSIDE MY EYES!”

Paradoxically, he began to run into the fog, taking a heavier dose as he fled and stumbled across the ice, tearing off his armor and at his face trying to remove the spiders. The others chased after him.

“No, wait! You can’t- -”

The gas suddenly became markedly thick. The formation ceased its forward motion, unable to see anything at all.

Then it moved.

Ponies across the battlefield cried out in terror as what they had thought of as fog suddenly become solid, expanding outward and against them, crushing against them and attacking their bodies. They struggled, but even as they did, their masks ignited with scarlet magic. The glass eye-covers exploded outward, and the crimson fog moved through the holes.

As the earth-ponies suddenly found themselves confronted by their worst fears, a line of pink magic suddenly snaked its way through the snow, moving elegantly into the fog in the form of the outline of a great lily. As it completed, the air suddenly ignited with magical fire, burning away the gas. Even as it did, a counter spell or scarlet light ripped through the formation, grasping each earth-pony by their rear legs and tossing them, still screaming, into the air. Then it caught them and slammed them hard and repeatedly against the ground before discarding their disoriented and battered bodies to the side.

Scarlet Mist stood firm in the center of the battlefield, staring down her enemies without flinching- -yet swore to herself in the process. Though she had disassembled the earth-pony vanguard quickly, she was not ignorant enough to think there would not be a line of reinforcements poised to fill the void and continue the push within a matter of minutes.

Worse, she suddenly found herself facing a force of unicorns. Many of them wore the ridiculous robes of so-called “academics” or the armor of Celestia’s personal battlemages. A few were unhelmed moon-knights drawn from the Nightmare Horde.

Those were hardly relevant, though. What mattered was the thin and beautiful unicorn who stood at their front, her body perfect, nude, and purest white. She was a lesser version of the pureblood that Scarlet Mist had once been, and the only true threat of the force.

“Eternity, where in Hecate’s name is Buttonhooks?! I need those reinforcements, and I need them NOW!”

“I’ve lost contact with Buttonhooks and Zither. Freaky-undead-consort is in forced retreat, she can’t get to you- -I’m sending Crozea! She’s all I’ve got!”

“You’re sending me the ALCHEMIST?! Come on!”

“Can you hold them off that long?”

Scarlet Mist stared at the force. She did not need to look at herself to know the state she was in. Riser’s youthful, thick hair had begun to thin and gray. The early signs of arthritis were beginning to set in, and her body fat was mostly gone.

“Maybe,” she said. Then, staring across the battlefield at the pure-white unicorn now smiling at her. “Maybe just one more body. Just one more...”

The white unicorn stepped forward. Scarlet Mist groaned, knowing that this probably meant talking. Still, she had wait and be as careful as possible. The life force of her present body was waning; she would only have a limited time before it broke down entirely- -and Penumbra had still not yet entered the battle. She would need as many allies as she could find, especially with Zither gone.

“Masque Rouge!” called the white unicorn. “I know who you are. So to speak. As a unicorn of mercy, I grant you one chance to surrender.” Her smile grew wide and vicious. “Simply remove that mask, and no harm will befall you.”

It was obvious, of course, that she was fully aware that the Mask of Red Death could never under any circumstances be removed- -at least, supposedly; Penumbra had apparently proven otherwise. Nor was Scarlet Mist intending to surrender. The unicorns were simply stalling until their earth-pony spell-fodder reinforcements arrived. They knew that they could not win an outright fight.

“Hey you! Bleach-blonde!”

The unicorn gasped, blushing silver. “Bleach? How dare you- -!”

“Are you as inbred as you look? I mean, a face like that? That’s at LEAST five generations of siblings right there. And probably back-crossing your mother.”

Rancine De’Lis just laughed- -though her eyes remained cold. “Is that supposed to unbalance me? Are you resorting to banter so soon?”

“No. You are just ugly. I wanted to comment on it.”

Scarlet Mist charged her horn, filling the street with red light. Rancine just laughed and raised a powerful shield spell.

Then, in an instant, the dome spell shattered. Rancine screamed, both in surprise and from the pain of the feedback surge- -and the rage of having been insulted so severely. All around her was red fire, and in an instant Scarlet Mist seemed to be on top of her. Rancine immediately summoned a more concentrated shield spell, assembling it in an instant- -only to have it shattered in turn by a red-clad hoof that moments later connected with her her lower jaw hard enough to send her reeling backward.

“Mes dents!” she cried, ducking backward under the next blow and striking at Scarlet Mist’s underside. “Attaque! ATTAQUE!”

Some of them hesitated, not sure what the word meant or what language Rancine was even speaking. Those that understood did, lowering their horns and summoning a variety of spells. Scarlet Mist did not bother raising a shield; rather, she gracefully dodged the incoming spells and impacts, rapidly closing ground between herself and the wall of mages, all without expending any magic whatsoever. As she neared them, she could see the fear in their eyes. She could almost taste it.

Rancine was rapidly recovering. Scarlet Mist did not have much time. She picked a mage near the front, a young mare. No doubt with a long, fruitful life of magic ahead of her. Unfortunately her potential was too low for any real use- -apart from one.

Scarlet Mist’s magic suddenly exploded outward, pouring into the group. All of the ponies save for her target were thrown back. The young mare cried out as red bindings suddenly formed around her, pulling her to the icy ground. Then in an instant Scarlet Mist was over her and, with a single crushing blow, a snap echoed through the air as the young mare so full of potential was unhorned in an instant.

The others took a step back, horrified, staring either at Scarlet Mist or at the newly-minted earth-pony on the ground before her. That was all the chance Scarlet Mist needed.

She summoned the full force of her magic. The area around her instantly ignited, throwing several ponies back, and the force began to condense into a spell and propagate. It spread through the ranks, sending ponies flying, save for those that summoned their shields in time.

Scarlet Mist reached out to them, crushing through their shields as she leapt over their attacks, forcing her way ever-deeper into their ranks. They were meant for artillery support, to provide spells at a distance; they panicked when faced with an enemy inside their formation. They were supposed to be safe. Scarlet Mist showed them that they were not, and never would be.

Spells poured down on her from every direction, washing over her. She hardly felt them, even as many of them tore through her body. The body was irrelevant and disposable. Few among them could even break through her magic; it was hemorrhaging from her, rushing out as she expended her body’s entire life in a matter of minutes.

The spell was not directional. It was meant to tear outward in all directions, crushing armor and smashing through shield-spells and offensive blasts alike. Yet by choosing to attack the entire force at once, Scarlet Mist had sacrificed the intensity of her barrage.

Rancine was able to withstand it, largely through a combination of skill and raw ability that the others lacked. A pink sheild surrounded her, and she absorbed part of the force, converting it into new operational lines within her own spell-pattern. In her mind, this was, of course, envisioned as a flower, with Scarlet Mist continually adding more and more petals.

Then she changed it. She forced the flower to become something new, and the shield became an offensive blast. It split into several portions, spiraling toward Scarlet Mist’s back.

Scarlet Mist did not see it coming- -but still performed an elegant backflip, latching onto the spell with her own in midair. She changed its composition and targeting. For her, there was no visiualization. Magic was a force meant to be dominated by will, an ugly, hideous thing meant to be punished. She simply bent it to her will- -as she did to Rancine’s spell.

The spell became badly unstable, accelerating forward into the Equestrian troops. Mages screamed as their bodies were suddenly covered in burning light that condensed into sweet-scented vines that bound their limbs and horns.

Scarlet Mist turned her attention to Rancine, but not completely. She was too engaged in holding back the unicorn forces. Rancine smiled, because she understood the outcome of this fight. Scarlet Mist was outnumbered and outmatched, and even from a distance it was apparent her body was depleting rapidly. There was no way she could win.

Rancine changed tactics, forming a circle of runes with her magic and projecting a biomancy spell. There were comparatively few plants in the Crystal Empire, but those that lay dormant beneath the ice and snow reacted. Vines sprouted from the ground, reaching for Scarlet Mist- -specifically, toward her mask.

“You are like any of the others,” said Rancine, elegantly dancing back to the cover of her plants. “If I remove your mask, will you still fight? I think not.”

Scarlet Mist’s power output suddenly increased. The vines surrounding her were vaporized by burning magic. The one that Rancine stood on rotted and burst from within, squirting fog as it shriveled. Scarlet Mist charged. Rancine had planned for this; she reclaimed the magic lost from her vines and reconfigured it, forming a system of interlocking barriers.

The barriers were reactive, meant to attack any pony that dared to cross them- -but Scarlet Mist did not simply cross them. She smashed through them, ripping the spells apart with her own. Rancine stared in horror, knowing full-well the feedback her adversary must have been experiencing. Yet Scarlet Mist showed no sign of pain.

In response, Rancine summoned a new shield, this one made of a complicated multi-part system. The mental effort was exhausting. Her own specialty was performance art of an especially violent sort; an outright battle was already a stretch, let alone a duel.

Except this was not a duel. Rancine could feel it from her spell’s response to Scarlet Mist’s magic. There were spells there, but they were half formed, improvised, even. It was a style characteristic of the Eastern unicorns, but there was more too it than that. The spells were only half-constructed; they were not potent enough to contain the full extent of their caster’s seemingly limitless energy.

The shield began to break down. Rancine condensed it, pulling it against her body as magical armor- -and received a blow to the chest that shattered it. She cried out from the feedback, only to force herself to put up a second rapid-shield. It was little more than a ward spell, but it saved her from a sudden blow of toxic magic that nearly engulfed her.

It was not like fighting a pony. The power was immense, and even as a pure white unicorn, the greatest race of them all, Rancine could only barely defend herself. It was like staring into a limitless well, driven not by logic and planning but by pure emotion- -and none of the emotions were positive.

A blow knocked Rancine back, and a second one sent her to her knees. In desperation, she fired an undifferentiated proximity spell. It struck Scarlet Mist and she paused, having not expected it. This gave Rancine an opening. She leapt at Scarlet Mist, forming a cutting spell. She bared her teeth and only then did she see Scarlet Mist’s hoof reaching for the Mask of Red Death. Only then did she realize Scarlet Mist’s plan- -and that in the body of a pureblood white unicorn, her power would be limitless.

A sudden flash of blue shot through the air, and Scarlet Mist cried out as a blinding flash of light sent her sprawling to one side. Rancine dropped to the ground, shaking, the danger of this war suddenly illuminated to her in its entirety. Never before had it occurred to her that she might very well be a casualty, just as ponies of lesser races.

She looked up to the top of a building. Four figures were standing atop it, and as she watched, two fell to the ground, their eyes glossy and their magic depleted. The only two that remained were pure white unicorns.

“Lacy! Blueblood!”

The larger of the two unicorns smiled at her and waved. Rancine could not help but shudder, if only slightly, simply because of how profoundly ugly he was. Baron Blueblood was the only one of their kind who could legitimately be described as visually demonstrating the purity of his blood.

The pony beside him could not be any more different. Whereas Blueblood was enormous and wore a heavy blue beard, Lacy Pants was far smaller, thinner, and more beautiful to the point that he was nearly indistinguishable from a mare. His horn was still smoking from the attack.

“More choices,” hissed Scarlet Mist, slowly standing, her clothing regenerating from the wound. “I haven’t been a stallion for some time...it might be a nice chance of pace...”

“You deployed a shield spell,” said Lacy, dropping from the top of a high building without the slightest difficulty. “So you still bear some level of cognizance. How unfortunate.”

Scarlet Mist stood erect, but she was shaking badly. Her body had grown gaunt to the point that it no longer looked like that of a pony.

“I only need one more body. Just one more...”

“And you will never receive it. Normally, Ms. Mist, I would consider attempting to work out our differences with words. I abhor violence; it is the purview of Pegasi, not us of higher breeding. But you’ve clearly lost the thread, so to speak. And my division of the army seems to be...” He produced a pocket watch and smiled. “...right on time.”

The ground began to shake and a contingent of earth-ponies appeared over the nearest corner, supported by fresh mages and a small contingent of bat-pony archers drawn from the shattered Nightmare Horde.

“NO!” cried Scarlet Mist, lighting her horn. “You won’t get through! I WON’T LET YOU!”

She summoned the full force of her magic and forced herself to push the oncoming army back. She built a barrier, drawing as much of her mist into it as she could, and pressed it against them. At first they barely slowed- -but then it began to take hold as she lifted the vanguard ponies from the ground. The advance slowed, and then halted.

For a moment, Scarlet Mist was able to hold it- -until a bolt of blue magic slammed into her side.

She cried out and dropped to one knee before attempting to stand and bounding several paces to the left- -only for the larger unicorn stallion to fire a bolt of yellow magic into her other side.

“How long can you hold it, I wonder?” asked Lacy, walking dangerously close to Scarlet Mist without showing even the slightest glimmer of fear. “How long before that body gives out?”

“Buck YOU!”

Scarlet Mist struck out, forcing her magic to pour in two directions at once. The barrier weakened, and the earth-ponies got their grip. They began to push. At the same time, Lacy summoned a narrow, sharpened spell and parried Scarlet Mist’s attack, jumping in the air as he did to bring down the projected blade on top of her. She backflipped and rolled away.

“Rancine! ATTAQUE!”

Rancine fired, striking Scarlet Mist in the gut. Scarlet Mist went rolling backward, only to be forced to stand and project a shield spell. The three purebloods fired at once, merging the constructions of their spells into a single force.

Scarlet Mist was forced back. Her shield spell held, but only with an unnatural effort. She planted her hooves in the ground and stopped herself from sliding- -only for one of her rear hooves to collapse into dust. She had reached her body’s critical capacity. It was failing.

“No! Not now! I’m not ready!” She drew more power, enhancing the shield. Blueblood was knocked to his knees by the feedback; it was apparent that his spell was poorly constructed. Rancine then took the brunt of the feedback, but at least had the decency to retain most of her composure. Lacy showed no signs of fatigue whatsoever.

“NO!” cried Scarlet Mist, knocked to her knees as another leg disintigrated. “Just one more body! I only need one more! One more and I can rest! Not now, not like this- -”

There were no more words. There was no sudden burst of power, no surge of magic. Scarlet Mist’s body simply disintegrated, and the Mask of Red Death fell quietly into the dirty snow, alone and inert. The barrier holding back the earth-pony forces failed, and they advanced. Lacy and Rancine stood, both breathing hard. Blueblood had nearly passed out. Scarlet Mist, though, had been defeated.

For a moment, all was quiet. Then Blueblood’s hooves slowly began to crunch through the snow as he walked toward the mask.

“Leave it,” ordered Lacy, his voice hard in a way it rarely was to any except those of purest birth.

“But do you have any idea how much it’s worth?! I would like to hang it upon my wall! In my bathroom! You know, the one with the pink marble? I mean, we defeated her, didn’t we?”

“No thanks to you,” said Rancine, stepping toward the mask but being careful not to get close. “Your bloodline has grown decadent, Blueblood. Your magic weakens.” She smiled. “Perhaps you should take the mask. Maybe then, you would finally have power.”

“Really?”

“It’s a parasite that latches on to any magical source,” sighed Lacy. “It is not even safe to lift it. Not without the right spell. The best we can do is let it sit there and be buried with this filthy empire.” He stared at the mask. “We would have had no chance had she not been holding our entire army back. We got lucky.”

“Luck had nothing to do with it,” snorted Blueblood. “We’re just better, that’s all.”

Rancine’s ears suddenly pricked.

“Ran, what is it?”

“Something is out there. I can smell it.”

Lacy turned toward the driving snow. “Who’s there?” he said.

A clear voice spoke from the snow. “It appears I have arrived too late, and my comrade has met a merciful fate.”

Blueblood’s ears pricked. He looked up to see a figure outlined not ten paces from them, walking silently across the snow. He did not notice- -as Lacy and Rancine did- -that the figure left no hoofsteps.

“A zebra! Excellent! I had not expected to ever see a wild one! Capture it, Lacy! I want it for my zoo!”

He was promptly shoved over by Rancine’s magic. “A boor like you does not deserve such a thing! This one is clearly destined for my personal menagerie!” She reached her hoof out. “Come here, zebra! Do you want a biscuit? Or perhaps some tasty watermelon? I can give you plenty of both!”

“No fair! You already have a herd!”

“Yes, which I maintain through careful breeding. But if you must know, I’m running low. The last lion exhibition was a striking success, after all.”

“It’s my zebra! I saw it first! I want to see if I can wash the stripes off!”

“When was the last time YOU washed ANYTHING?”

“Inbreds,” muttered Lacy, his pale eyes staring deep into the snow storm. Then, suddenly, he took a step back and fired a beam of concentrated light- -not at the figure standing before him, but at a nearby rooftop.

The superheated air around the spell cleared the snow, and in an instant she was visible- -the real zebra, the one somehow casting the illusion before them. Lacy’s beam had been directly on target.

The zebra took a step back, raising one of her hooves. It ignited with strange yellow runes, and as she struck the incoming spell with it Lacy suddenly felt his body failing, as if he was being drained. In an instant, the spell dissipated, absorbed by the Zebric runes that now burned brightly with strange yellow energy. With one swift motion, the zebra released the spell, aiming it directly down on Rancine.

“EEP!” Rancine cried out as she was thrown backward from the unexpected blast and entangled with Lacy’s spell.

“Stupid zebra! Get down here!” screamed Blueblood, charging his own horn. As he did, the illusion before him suddenly shifted from within. It burst outward, torn open from inside by a plume of flash-bees. Bees that promptly obeyed their master’s orders and swarmed to Blueblood.

“The BEES!” He shrieked, desperately trying to swat them away. “Not the bees! NOT THE BEES!”

“Idiots!” Lacy turned up to the building, once again out of view behind the snow. “Come down here! Fight me like a MARE!”

“Why?” said a voice beside him. “You would have me fight you like a horse? After what happened to Scarlet Mist using only force?”

Lacy turned suddenly, summoning a vortex of cutting spells meant to separate her black from her white- -but as he did, he felt a liquid splashed into his face. He screamed, as it burned considerably- -but it was not acid. He recognized the smell. It was a splash-potion of derping.

“GAH!” he cried, falling to the ground and summoning a spell- -only to have it fall apart before it even left his horn. His mind was getting cloudy, and his concentration was blurring. He tried again, only to receive a painful feedback surge. The best he could do was weakly send out plumes of sparkles.

“Oh? Is something wrong, my little unicorn hellion? Perhaps you would like some watermelon?”

“That’s not even a proper rhyme! HERP DERP! Ugh- -ARMY! Attack! Take this zebra DOWN DERP DERP DERP!”

The earth-pony and mage forces- -who had previously been watching the exchange in awe- -began to advance. She began to run down the icy path toward the Citadel.

“She’s running away!” cried Blueblood, now completely covered in bee-stings. “Run, fatty, RUN!”

“I still want my ZEBRA.” Rancine extended a tendril of magic from her horn. It hooked around Crozea’s leg and pulled her back- -at which point she executed a perfect flip and shoved a crystal into the tendril-beam.

Rancine cried out as her body was consumed by electric feedback. Crozea dropped to her feet and turned to face the oncoming horde.

“This is a thing I wish did not have to be done, but it is now clear that this battle cannot be won. If you thought you would take this land with ease, you must be prepared to FREEZE.”

Crozea spoke in Zebric, and runes appeared around both of her limbs and across her mask and body. Strange, hideous yellow runes.

“Oh spirits of hatred and dissent,

“Those who feast on terror and lament!

“Creates of darkness, born of the sky,

“Heed my words and hear this cursed one’s cry!

“Allow for no redemption, none might repent

“ARISE! Bring down a world devoid of LOVE!”

“ARISE! COME DOWN FROM ABOVE!”

The runes along her body glowed brightly, and for a moment became blinding- -although they were no longer yellow, or in Zebric. They were in a color and a language that was indescribable, and for a brief moment Lacy Pants was glad he had been temporally derped. Had he seen them and been able to comprehend them, he would likely have been driven mad in an instant. Neither of them knew or could have known that many of the very same symbols were carved deeply into Twilight Luciferian’s left front leg.

Then the runes went out. The army moved to surround the zebra, to take her prisoner and more than likely assign her to a zoo. As they drew closer, though, they slowed. A pall came over the forces. Suddenly, they all felt distinctly unpleasant, and that unpleasantness increased to something far worse. They felt sick, and began to become agitated. They increasingly began to look to each other, as if they were afraid of betrayal instead of the alchemist before them.

The land began to grow cold. It was already the deapths of Hyberborean winter, and yet new frost began to spread across the city, cracking as it expanded. The ponies shivers, their bodies unable to withstand a drop in temperature that went to their very souls.

The snow stopped, and above, the sky suddenly parted. From the endless storm above, a call rang out across the battlefield. It was a somber cry, one that chilled those who heard it to their very bones. And it was followed by another- -and then another ten. Then more.

Far away, Celestia’s eyes grew wide. “N- -no,” she said. “It can’t be...”

Crozea raised her hoof, signalling to the dark spirits she had summoned. Then the clouds broke, and the horde of windigoes descended at her command, swarming together and entering the street, crawling over one another and past each other, a horde of raging hooves and icy cries.

The Equestrian forces panicked, and suddenly began trampling one another to get away. The windigoes smelled their fear. They smelled the war, and the chaos it had brought. They would not stop until all the land had been frozen, and their numbers were unlimited.

They passed Crozea, and she felt her body freezing despite the crystal-driven heating system beneath her robes. Yet they did not stop to freeze her completely: in part, because she was the one who had summoned them, and the one who wielded the magic- -but also in part because her mind was clear.

This spell had been her final option. To summon an army that could not be defeated in open combat, one that would not cease and would not tire until the war itself ended. She had essentially made victory impossible- -but she had managed to buy time.

So she watched as the windigoes attacked the forces of Equestria, devouring any trace of happiness and warmth within them and feeding off the hatred and discord between them and those who ought to have been their brothers and sisters.

To Crozea, all this made her feel terribly sad.

Comments

[terrycloth]

There's a huge repeated section in the middle, it looks like most of the chapter got copy pasted again near the end in the middle of Crozea's poem.

[alamais]

RIP Misty. Enjoy your thousand-year nap.

...Wow Zecora, sore loser much?

[ponepony]

9829436
And then she wakes up, and very shortly goes back to sleep for what I presume another 1,000 year nap after getting pulled off. Maybe the next time after she wakes up (post Hand of Doom) she'll get a robotic body.

[alamais]

9830073
Hmmm but she needs magic to survive/be active, so at the least it would have to be some sort of magitek thinger.

But who knows what's in store for her in the hooves of the pre-pureblood poner that picks her up at the end of Hand of Doom? The biggest deal for Misty in the present—which she didn't have a chance to find out about—is that her original body (and the other half of her personality) are still alive, and now present in the world again. Oh how I long for sequel containing that reunion/slap-fight.