• Published 19th May 2020
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Rekindled Embers - applezombi



Hundreds of years after the death of Twilight Sparkle, a brutal theocracy rules over ponies with an iron hoof. A young pegasus mare slowly learns the truth about her world, and the lies her faith is built on.

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Chapter 65

Chapter 65

Dragonfire Scroll, sent from Lady Ambrosia to Grand Master Fairy Light

Fay-

Negotiated with Sir Heartwing and Princess Flurry Heart. We’re allowed inside the walls, though they very much don’t trust us. I don’t mind. It’s a start, at least.

The First Mother is here, as the Oracle said. It’s all I can do to not lose my composure every time I see her. I read the same documents you have, and heard the Oracle’s words, but still, seeing the horn is an absolute shock. One that I hope will fade in time.

It’s hard to speak with her. She’s constantly attended by either Emberglow herself, or unicorn expatriates from the Crystal Empire. I won’t push. I’m sure there will be opportunities soon.

Speaking of Emberglow, I just finished a conversation with her. It did not go well. She’s understandably angry, and I may have pushed her away, for now. I’ll keep trying. I can only hope that when she sees the earnestness of our efforts, and the truth of our cause, that she’ll return to our side. I have heard that she, too, has sworn an oath similar to our Oath of Peace; an oath to do no harm. I find it admirable, and I truly hope she will speak with me about it in the future.

I have to go now! There is activity outside. It sounds like a Mystic attack. Please respond with any intel you have heard.

Saints bless you and keep you, Fay.

A responding scroll sent from Grand Master Fairy Light

(Dictated to Green Fields)

Amy-

I’m dictating this note because I have been confined to a bed.

Diamond Home is still under siege by the Vigilant, and I must admit a careless foray to retrieve some wounded scouts, Ladies Frost and Antiphon of the Angelic. We were able to get them safely inside, but my shield was dropped by a Mystic counterspell and I took a bullet to the hind leg before I could get it back up. Nothing dire, but Lady Magenta has demanded I remain in bed, even though I continue to lead our defenses from here.

It’s nothing more than I deserve.

I have no intel on this Old Canterlot attack, though I’ll update you if I do. I don’t know if I can send out scouts right now; Diamond Home is surrounded.

When we started our crusade to find the destiny the Saints intended for us, all those decades ago, did you ever imagine we’d be here, right now?

Please stay safe.

Old Canterlot Palace, 1113 AF

The warmth of Rarity’s kiss still tingled on Emberglow’s lips as she galloped from the command tent.

It was a distracting sensation, but she held onto it as she darted into the chaos. The memory of the kiss was like an anchor, a rock of sanity amidst the furor outside.

Soldiers, well-trained and disciplined, were seeking out their squads, looking for their officers, or generally getting ready to receive orders.

The few civilians in the camp, mostly camp followers and supply ponies, looked lost.

Emberglow raised her gauntlet and quickly cast a voice amplification spell.

“Everybody! If you are a non-combatant, you are ordered to report to the Shrine of the Generous. Please do not take anything with you for now. Your priority is to get to safety!”

“I’ll find the quartermaster,” Topaz said from right beside her. “You see to your parents.”

Emberglow wasn’t about to argue with that. She spread her wings, out of the way of the galloping earth ponies and other people, moving through the slightly clearer air towards the tent she shared with Rarity.

Of course your first thought would be a selfish one. Who cares if the others fall or get lost, as long as your family is safe.

The intrusive thoughts had been getting worse again. Longingly she glanced back towards where Topaz had disappeared, galloping towards Colibri’s tent. A long chat with her would be welcome. Emberglow had so much she wanted to unpack.

Soon.

She touched down outside the tent and hesitated. After the last conversation she’d had with her parents, she wasn’t sure how she’d be received.

But that didn’t matter right now. Emberglow shook her head and tried to brush past the inevitable deprecating thoughts that inserted themselves into her brain.

Maybe they’d rather be dead than have a ‘corrupted’ daughter.

She ignored the voices of the dead and pulled the tent flap open.

“Mom! Dad!”

The two of them were sitting on the bedroll. Textile was holding Needle Point comfortingly. They’d both been crying.

“C’mon, hurry!” Emberglow shouted, and they both glanced up. “We’re getting to safety. There’s going to be an attack.”

There was terror in their eyes. Of course there was; the earth was trembling, they were in a city they’d never seen before, and there was an imminent attack.

They’re terrified of you.

To her parents’ credit, neither one hesitated long. Her father stood, pulling her mother to her hooves.

“Where do we go?” Textile asked, his voice hoarse. There was no indication of their previous conversation. Emberglow certainly didn’t want to bring it up.

“The Shrine of the Generous. It’s where I lived when I was here last. Headquarters of the Radiant at Old Canterlot. They’re there now.” She held the tent flap open, ushering them out with one wing.

“Emberglow,” her mother began, hesitating at the tent flap.

There was an apology of some kind coming, Emberglow could see it in the worry in her mother’s eyes. But Emberglow shook her head, guiding Needle Point with an insistent wing-tip.

“Hurry, hurry!” she called, glancing at her father, who was bringing up the rear. “We’re evacuating every non-combatant we can.”

Textile nodded, and Emberglow pulled up the rear behind them. Together, they ran along the paths towards Emberglow’s once-home. They were not alone; the route was crowded with support personnel moving towards the small shrine. Emberglow wondered if there would be enough room.

Up ahead, though, she could already see a cadre of armored Knights Angelic forming a cordon around both the Shrine and the tent with spears and shields at the ready. Shimmering white hexagons already floated in the air above it, a magical barrier ready to repel artillery fire.

“We’ll be safe here,” Emberglow said.

You’re not safe anywhere.

For a time, it had seemed the voices had been getting better. Rarity’s presence seemed to drive them away. But now, in the chaos of impending battle, the ghosts of her guilt were relentless. They caressed her mind like a cold talon, each word a prick of pain.

They were getting harder and harder to ignore.

Her parents didn’t appear to notice her inner turmoil, though, and Emberglow was glad for that. She approached the guards in front of the shrine, and they parted to let her pass. Not, however, before she saw the light of recognition in both of their eyes, and a nod of deference.

It reminded her of the conversation she’d had with Ambrosia, and anger twisted in her gut.

“There is space inside for everypony,” one of the guards, a pegasus stallion with a wrinkled muzzle said, his voice reedy with age. “Everypony who keeps the peace is welcome. And you will be safe, we swear.”

“Go,” Emberglow told her parents. “I’m going to see what I need to do to help.” She glanced at the Angelic. “If I am allowed, being an enemy.”

“None of the Mothers are our enemies,” the guard intoned reverently, and Emberglow shuddered. “Especially not you.”

“I’m not who you think I am!” she snapped, and her parents recoiled.

The guard remained stoic, though. “Perhaps. Perhaps not. The healers among the Discordant are already moving your wounded inside the Shrine. The smaller the space we have to defend, the better.”

“Right,” Emberglow said.

Her parents, however, had not moved. They both still stood on the path, staring at her with fear painted on their muzzles.

“Go,” Emberglow repeated. “You’ll be safe there, I promise. These ponies will ensure that.”

The Angelic guards both nodded.

“We…” Textile began, his expression anguished. “We’re afraid for you, Emberglow.”

It was a simple phrase, but there were so many lines to read between. Needle Point nodded her agreement.

“I know,” Emberglow said. “I know.” She wanted to say more. But it felt like too much effort to even think of the words, to shape them and force them out of her head and into the air. She was so exhausted.

“Come inside, please,” the older Knight finally urged. “We shall also be watching out for your daughter, and will keep her safe.”

It seemed to reassure her parents, who nodded and joined the rest of the ponies moving into the Shrine. At the door, a Radiant, the younger one Emberglow recognized from earlier, was giving the ponies instructions as they moved through the doors. Ponies were being told to leave everything except food and medical supplies outside. Emberglow nodded her approval, then moved towards the Discordant hospital tent. Her parents headed upstairs.

Just then, Emberglow glanced up to see a massive magical shield flash into place along the wall that faced the mountain above them. It was just in time; snow and rock started to batter against the shield almost instantly. She could see, just along the battlements, a single white figure with a blue glowing horn, standing proudly as she gave orders to those around her.

Emberglow’s heart swelled with pride and love, before rushing into the medic tent.

Inside, everypony whirled about in a rush. Emberglow could see that all of the Diarchy prisoners had already been removed, leaving only the Discordant and Empire wounded. She was certainly relieved not to be dealing with that issue, though the limited space inside the Shrine would likely mean the two enemies would be once again forced into close contact with each other.

Life Flight, the head medic, was in the air, directing her healers like a general ordering an army.

“Our priority is to get as many moving as possible!” she was already shouting when Emberglow entered. “If you have spare batteries, share them with ponies whose gauntlets are dry! Cross, Deep, I need you two healing as many broken legs and bones as you can. I don’t care how many motes you use, I need those ponies mobile! Tourniquet, Gentle, I want you on hoof for the Code Red cases. Stay with each one as they move until a Radiant in the Shrine takes over. No deaths while we’re moving, ponies!”

She kept shouting even as Emberglow hovered over alongside her.

“I’m here to help,” she said to the medic. “Where should I go?”

“With Tight Tourniquet,” Life Flight pointed towards a middle-aged pegasus stallion in Discordant yellow armor, who was carefully trotting alongside a stretcher being carried by two earth ponies. “I need my Code Reds moved inside as safely as possible. You’re on hand if things suddenly get worse. Once you’re inside, you can watch over them while Tourniquet and Gentle Needle move the rest. Help keep the peace if you have to.”

Emberglow had to actively make an effort not to flinch. This was coming just after her relief that she wouldn’t have to worry about the violent part of things. But her training had ingrained in her mind a readiness to accept orders, so she nodded and saluted.

“Saints, Lady Emberglow, I’m not a Knight any longer, you don’t have to do that,” Life Flight muttered, before turning back to her organizing. Emberglow flew towards the Knight she’d pointed out.

He glanced up questioningly.

“I’ve been assigned to help you,” she said, and he nodded simply.

“Monitoring spells on each of the patients as we move them. Inform me if anything changes for the worse,” he said shortly, and Emberglow nodded, quickly casting the spell.

The magic of the spell flooded her brain with information. Blood pressure, oxygen level, pulse. Body temperature. All were low, but currently stable. The wounded unicorn in the stretcher had lost a great deal of blood, probably from a number of chest and torso wounds, which were now covered by bandages.

“Currently stable, sir,” she said automatically, and Tourniquet nodded.

“Follow them inside, and keep an eye on our ponies once you’re there. I don’t want anything to happen to our unicorns, especially.”

The mistrust in his voice came off as harsh to Emberglow’s ears, but she nodded and hovered over the wounded pony as the stretcher bearers carried him outside the tent.

Just as they got outside, a large explosion rattled the ground. Emberglow glanced towards the central courtyard; Discordant mortars were firing at the approaching airships. Emberglow shuddered, and continued on her way. She glanced at the Shrine as they approached, wondering how they were going to find enough room inside the small building for all the wounded, from both sides of the conflict.

Her question was answered as soon as their small procession moved inside. She remembered the common living area, and the secret passage hidden in the floor that led to the oracle beneath. Now the passage was open, and ponies moved freely into the large space in the basement. In the living room, trundle beds and cots lined every available space, and Radiants roved among the patients, treating them as they came in.

“Condition?” barked a familiar voice from inside. Emberglow saw Ambrosia, who, like Life Flight in the tent, seemed to be in charge here.

“Critical. Major blood loss, vitals are low,” Emberglow said.

“Critical cases are in the living room and basement, segregated by faction. Discordant downstairs,” she said. “Don’t be alarmed if you see the Oracle. She’s harmless.”

“The…?” Emberglow was about to ask, but shoved it deep. Whatever had changed, hopefully it truly was harmless as Ambrosia had said. She didn’t have time to wonder. “Yes, m…”

She stopped herself from saying ma’am. Ambrosia wasn’t her commanding officer. But Ambrosia noticed the near slip, and gave her a little nod. Respect? Recognition? Politeness? Emberglow wasn’t sure.

Instead, she hovered ahead while the earth pony medics carried the wounded Knight down the stairs.

What if you’re by yourself? What if the Radiants are neglecting the Discordant?

But the voice was wrong, and there were already four Radiants hard at work on the critical patients. The room was full of beds and instrument trays, IV stands and medical equipment. Emberglow didn’t have time to see if she recognized any of the working Radiants.

Her spell continued to feed her information, and as soon as they got to the basement room the patient’s blood pressure dropped precipitously. She barely had time to look around the room before she had to start casting again.

“Blood pressure dropping,” she said out loud, and began casting a second spell. Something had ruptured, and the patient was bleeding internally. It was bad, and while she could cast the necessary spells, she hadn’t often needed to deal with this issue. Her confidence wavered. “Internal bleeding. Does anypony…”

“I can help.” The voice was a tremendous shock, and Emberglow met the Radiant’s eyes. Astrolabe stared back, her expression flat. “I’ve got lots of experience with internal surgery spells. I’ll take over, Emberglow. Can you cast the blood restoration spells as I repair the damage? You can leave your shield by the door, it’ll just get in the way.”

“Y-yes,” Emberglow stammered, shaking her head quickly to get past the odd sensation of seeing an old rival under new circumstances. Briefly she remembered the cold peace that the two of them had arrived at, here in this very building. But she didn’t have time to think about it. Snapping herself out of her daze, she quickly doffed her shield, resting it by the door, and raised her gauntlet to cast.

Time slowed, as it often did when Emberglow was working. She quickly got into the flow of assisting another doctor, silently taking Astrolabe’s orders as they worked to save this unicorn’s life. She barely even noticed when the two earth ponies left to go get another critically injured patient.

“He’s stable again,” Astrolabe said finally. “Come. The next patient has an infection in her leg that’s not healing correctly. We’re going to see what spells can do.”

Are you such a pushover that you can so easily take orders? Some brave rebel you are.

Emberglow ignored the voice and followed after Astrolabe. On the way, she noticed the stone plinth that had been here the first time she’d arrived. It was missing the glass orb, as well as the horn encased inside. The horn of Starlight Glimmer.

She wondered what had happened to it. Starlight had wanted them to bring closure to the creature trapped inside. And what had Ambrosia meant about watching out for the Oracle?

Again, though, these were thoughts for another time. Emberglow let her idle thoughts and curiosities flow away as she and Astrolabe began work on the next patient. In between spells, though, she looked around the room again. At least on the surface, Tourniquet’s fears had proved unfounded. From what she could tell, the Radiants were offering the best of care to these ponies. And all three of the critically wounded unicorns in the basement still had their horns intact.

“Does it bother you?” Emberglow asked suddenly. Astrolabe looked at her questioningly. “To be treating Discordant? And unicorns?”

Astrolabe sucked in a breath through her teeth. “Yes. It does.” Emberglow waited for her to elaborate, but she didn’t. Instead, Astrolabe got to work on the patient, her expression a mask of perfect professionalism. “The infection is threatening to become septic. I’ll cast the antibiotic spells, you can grab the IV equipment, it’s upstairs in the kitchen.”

“Here,” somepony behind her said, and Emberglow turned.

It was not a pony, but… something else. The outline of a pony, glowing with sparkling starlight and velvety abyssal blackness. Emberglow recoiled.

“It’s just the Oracle, calm down,” Astrolabe said, her voice a little impatient. “Sometimes she helps. Don’t count on it, just take it when it happens.”

The Oracle was carrying all the supplies Emberglow would need to set up an intravenous fluid drip. Tentatively, Emberglow reached out, and the Oracle passed everything over to her.

“Thank you,” Emberglow said, more calmly than she felt. Her heart thudded in her chest. “I met…”

“… the other half of me,” the Oracle finished, her voice echoing and ethereal. “I know.”

“She wanted you to find rest,” Emberglow said, as she placed the supplies on one of the medical trays near the patient’s bed. Astrolabe ignored them, casting away as Emberglow worked. “To sleep. To die.”

“I know,” the Oracle said. “I don’t want that. I’m not her. I’m something else, now.”

“It was the last thing she’d asked of us,” Emberglow said. The conversation was surreal; as her hooves went through the motions of preparing the IV site and searching for a vein, her mind spun. “Before she died.”

“She found rest,” the Oracle said, vaguely. “She’ll be reborn. I am no pony. I do not wish to go anywhere. If I depart, I shall not be reborn.”

The Oracle’s tone was simple and calm, but a chill ran down Emberglow’s spine nonetheless.

“Discuss it later,” Astrolabe insisted. “We’re busy.”

“I sometimes find inane conversation helps me focus,” Emberglow said. It wasn’t exactly true; it was something Doctor Plasma back in Angel’s Rest had told her. But she felt an immature urge to be contrary to her old antagonist.

“Very well,” Astrolabe sighed. “Would you please cast a blood-toxicity spell, and monitor how effective my treatment is? While we gossip, of course. If you have time.

There was something perversely comforting about hearing the bite in Astrolabe’s voice. Nostalgic, even.

“Right away,” Emberglow said. She cast the relevant spell. The pony’s fever was still too high, but dropping ever so imperceptibly. “It’s working.” But now that she’d challenged Astrolabe, she had to fill the silence. “How have you been?”

Astrolabe snorted and eyed Emberglow, even as she continued to cast antibiotic spells. “Your heretic friends really have made you a master of small talk, haven’t they?” She laughed. “I’m getting married.”

The Oracle was trying to give Emberglow something, but Emberglow was too busy staring in shock. Finally the Oracle nudged her. It was an IV bag. She glanced down; non-magical antibiotics. She strung the bag to the IV tower and plugged it into the patient’s IV feed. “M-married?” She tried to sound casual about it.

“To Greenie,” Astrolabe said, with a small smile.

A Radiant? Married? To a mare?

“Things have changed quite a bit since I left,” Emberglow noted, trying to keep her voice casual.

“Truly, not as much as you might think,” Astrolabe said. She met Emberglow’s eyes, and to Emberglow she simply looked exhausted.

“Tell her,” the Oracle said, staring into Astrolabe’s eyes. “She needs to hear. She needs to understand.”

“Tell me what?”

“Let’s move on,” Astrolabe said, looking away towards the next patient. The ground rumbled ominously, and they paused for a moment, worry in both of their expressions.

“They don’t need you out there yet, Emberglow,” the Oracle said. “They will. But not yet.”

Once again she felt a chill run down her spine.

“Next patient,” Astrolabe insisted, and they moved to the small pegasus stallion writhing on a stretcher. His eyes were open, and his teeth were grit with pain.

“Multiple gunshot wounds, strained limbs, mild internal bleeding, significant blood loss,” Astrolabe said after her spell.

“Accurate,” the patient groaned, trying to smirk. He coughed, blood flecks on his lips.

“Stay still,” Emberglow chided. His wounds were bandaged hastily; they were more recent than some of the others, no sign of infection. She recognized him as one of the pegasus scouts from their charge up the mountain. “Havoc, right?”

“Y-yes, ma’am,” he groaned.

“Re-dressing and re-cleaning wounds, also there’s a bullet fragment lodged in the third vertebrosternal rib,” Astrolabe reported.

“That’s… bad?” Havoc groaned.

“We’ll have to do surgery to remove it, with general anesthesia,” Emberglow said, and the patient cringed. “You’ll be fine.”

It was a rote thing to say to a patient, especially since there was a very real danger with putting a patient that far under. Some patients just never woke up.

“You’ll handle the anesthesia?” Astrolabe said, and Emberglow nodded, raising her gauntlet. She was running low on motes, but she had enough for now. She quickly began casting the spell, watching the eyes of the patient.

“Just rest,” she told him gently. “Close your eyes, and when you wake up you’ll be in a lot less pain.”

“If I wake up,” Havoc muttered darkly, even as his expression began to glass over and his eyelids slid shut. Emberglow quickly changed over to the vitals monitoring spell.

“He’s under,” she noted. “Vitals are steady. You can begin surgery.”

The Oracle was behind her, already laying out surgical tools on the tray next to the bed. Astrolabe carefully selected a scalpel.

“Some overeager Yellow healer already cast some wound-knitting spells to stabilize him,” she growled. “I’m going to have to cut to get to it. Beginning first incision.”

“So… is she a nurse now?” Emberglow watched the Oracle as the strange, glowing, starlit pony figure moved among the other healers in the basement, assisting each of them in their tasks.

“She helps when she can,” Astrolabe said. “She’s…one of us.” There was something odd in her voice, a note of protective loyalty and affection. “Did you ever wonder why all of us Radiants agreed to follow along with Lady Fairy’s plans beforehoof? Even knowing how insane and dangerous it was to become neutral? The Oracle came to many of us. She… distance and space don’t mean much to a creature crafted of dreams and magic.”

“And Starlight Glimmer’s severed horn,” Emberglow noted with a scowl. “And her stolen memories.”

“I don’t know much about that,” Astrolabe said as she worked. “I just know that regardless of whoever she was then, she is now our friend and our ally.” Once again Emberglow heard conviction and loyalty in Astrolabe’s voice.

“Is that what she wanted you to tell me?” Emberglow said.

Astrolabe shook her head as she placed the bloody scalpel on the tray, reaching for a pair of medical pliers. “No. She wants you to understand what you did for all of us.”

Emberglow froze.

It’s just like the talk you had with Ambrosia.

But Astrolabe kept talking, even as she reached into the cut-open wound with the pliers. “The Day of Hope affected each of us differently, Emberglow. For Fairy Light, Ambrosia, and Wintergreen, the mares that lead the Radiant, they see the big picture. A chance to chart us in a new direction, to change the world for the better.”

Astrolabe glanced back where the Oracle was currently helping an older Radiant set a broken bone.

“For most of us though, it’s not about the big picture. Your actions made it possible for many of us to live more authentically, to be ourselves, to serve the Saints and the Diarchs without pretending to be something we’re not. So Green and I have promised to join each other in marriage.”

She squeezed the pliers, brow furrowed with concentration. With a grunt, then a cry of victory, she jerked the pliers, dropping a small, bloody hunk of shrapnel onto the tray. “Light spell, please. I want to be sure I got all of it. Could use a second pair of eyes, too.”

Emberglow had just enough left in her battery for a light spell. She cast it, peering in. She could see bone and muscle, but no hint of metal left behind.

“We’re clear, I think,” Emberglow said, trying not to let the other news Astrolabe had shared overwhelm her. Married. Astrolabe and Green Fields. Two mares, getting married, in the Diarchy.

“I think so too,” she replied. “I know the marriage won’t be legally recognized yet. And even some in the Order who I’ve spoken to give me a look when I say it. They’re judging me, I know. But Lady Fairy rescinded the Oath of Chastity. And it makes us happy. And who knows? Maybe someday.” She paused, glancing at Emberglow’s gauntlet. “Let’s suture the wound and re-bandage; we’ll need new batteries for the next patient.”

Some time in the months since they hadn’t seen each other, Astrolabe had gotten quite nimble with sutures. Emberglow was actually fairly impressed at how quickly and neatly she stitched up the patient’s wound, applying new bandages.

“You’ve done this a lot.”

“Green and I were stationed at a hospital near the dragon border for a while,” Astrolabe said. She sighed. “So. You know about me and Greenie. I suppose I owe you. Because of what you did, the impossible is possible.”

“No,” Emberglow froze, her hooves stilled in the process of tying a bandage. “No. This isn’t me. Don’t put all this on me.”

If you are responsible for the good, then you’re also responsible for the bad, right? The deaths. The destruction. The chaos.

“Indeed. You are not responsible for every good thing in the world, Emberglow.”

The Oracle’s voice came right by Emberglow’s ear, and she jumped. Astrolabe shot her a sympathetic look.

“She does that sometimes. You get used to it. Or not.”

“Much has changed in a short time,” the Oracle continued, as if Astrolabe hadn’t spoken. “You were the spark that ignited the flame, yes. But there are a hundred others. Each one providing fuel for upheaval. Each one stoking the fires. Even you. The world will change.”

“You can’t help that some ponies will be grateful to you, for lighting the spark,” Astrolabe said. “Even ponies that don’t like you. So just get over it and accept it, because we have work to do.”

For once, Emberglow had to agree with her. The work, while difficult, had a way of occupying her mind and driving the intrusive voices away. It was heartening, too, to see that her fears had been unfounded prejudice. All of the Radiants were more than competent, and fully involved in healing her allies.

She was happy that her worst fears about her former sisters had proven untrue.

“She will need to see you, soon,” the Oracle said suddenly, right next to her ear, as Emberglow was busy tying off a new bandage onto an imperial soldier who’d lost her forehoof. Emberglow jumped again. She couldn’t help herself. “She’ll need to see your strength.”

The ground rocked with a tremendous explosion, and Emberglow glanced up in shock. Nopony else did; the more experienced Radiants stayed focused on their tasks.

Because they are stronger than you.

But it was true, no matter the source. Even Astrolabe had been working in a combat hospital, while she’d been off adventuring and falling in love. She tried to refocus on her task, but the Oracle’s words filled her with worry.

She knew exactly which ‘she’ the Oracle had been referring to.

A second explosion rocked the building. And a third. Now the healers were starting to glance around, worried.

A squire burst down the stairs, her gray robes unwashed and in disarray. She had a bandage wrapped around her head, and she nearly stumbled at the last step.

“Th-they need ponies at the shield outside, the one covering the Shrine,” she stammered out. “Any you can spare.”

“I’ll go,” Emberglow spoke up immediately. She glanced at Astrolabe.

“We could still use you here,” Astrolabe said. “But I’ll manage somehow without you. You’re a good assistant.”

For a moment both mares looked surprised at the complement. But there was no time to unpack what it meant. Emberglow snatched up her shield from where she’d left it leaning against the wall, and rushed to the squire.

“Let’s go, then,” she said.

The squire goggled at the yellow stripes on Emberglow’s armor.

“Y-y-y-you’re Discordant,” she stammered.

“Yes, and I’m all we can spare to shore up the shield,” Emberglow said. “Now go.” She shoved the squire gently with a wing-tip while strapping on the shield. It was enough to get the young mare moving back up the stairs, and Emberglow followed.

Something bad is coming. Something huge. Today will be the darkest day of your life.

“They’re not wrong.”

Emberglow froze in horror, looking up at the Oracle’s voice. The strange non-pony was staring at her from across the room, even though her voice had been a whisper in her ear. How…

“Miss Discordant, if you’re coming, hurry!” The squire’s voice was petulant and urgent. Emberglow shook her head and followed her up the stairs.

“Did you hear…”

The squire blinked. “Hear what?”

“Nothing. Nevermind.”

She didn’t have the time to think about it. But the sense of impending doom fell over her mind like a blanket of fresh snow; heavy and frigid. It weighed her down as she rushed out of the Shrine.

Outside, a ring of Knights Angelic and Radiant were all maintaining the large shield around the shrine. Their gauntlets were all glowing, flashing anew each time a section had to be restored or repaired. It reminded Emberglow of the ill-fated camp in Manehatten.

The flow of wounded from the Discordant medic tent had dried up, and it seemed like everypony who could be spared was either on the wall or rushing towards the palace grounds to defend against the impending airship attack. The three airships loomed; a tangible symbol of her growing dread.

“Sir Dustoff? I’ve got a Discordant to help!” the squire shouted, rushing over to one of the Angelic. The brown pegasus stallion had a severe military-style mohawk, and was directing the Knights outside the building with a firm voice.

He didn’t turn to look at them; his attention was focused up above. “Just one?”

“There weren’t more to spare, sir,” the squire replied.

“I’ll take what I can get. Desert, shore up your left side. Peony, brace yourself, the mortars are firing again, I think…”

The Angelic commander finally turned to look at the new Discordant arrival, and his eyes widened with recognition.

“Oh! You’re…” He cleared his throat. “You’re Emberglow. Thanks for your help. Can you follow orders from somepony not who’s not a Discordant?”

Emberglow hadn’t wanted to be recognized. “I can, yes,” she said, challenge in her voice.

“Good. Stay by my side, you’re backup in case the avalanche breaches the unicorns’ shield, or ours down here.” He didn’t seem to stumble over the word ‘unicorn’, which caused a little surge of respect for him in Emberglow’s estimation. “We have…”

Above them, a section of the shield flickered and disappeared. Dirt and snow showered through the gap, burying screaming ponies. It was only seconds before more unicorns sealed the breach, but it was enough damage to leave plenty of pain and casualties in its wake.

“Wounded will be incoming,” Emberglow muttered, and Dustoff nodded. “They’ll need help.”

“Yeah,” Dustoff said. “Smoky Flare, Desert Blaze, help with search and rescue.”

“I’m going too,” Emberglow said, setting her jaw.

“No. I need you here, directing the flow of the wounded. Field triage,” Dustoff said, fixing her with a stern look.

He had asked if she could take orders. Reluctantly she nodded and watched as the Radiant she’d spoken to briefly earlier and an Angelic pegasus with a shield flew out to the pile of snow and debris. The pile itself was huge and imposing, and Emberglow knew it would be too much of a task for the two Knights.

“Two isn’t going to be enough,” Emberglow muttered to the Angelic, and Dustoff nodded grimly.

“I know that, but I can’t… oh! Look!”

Soon enough the pile was swarmed by a dozen unicorns, pulling large rocks and piles of snow off the avalanche. Emberglow could hear Smoky shouting orders and giving directions to some of them, all of whom seemed a little nonplussed at the idea of taking direction from a Diarchy Knight. They learned quickly, though, when Smoky’s directions led them to the first casualty of the avalanche.

“Rarity’s reserves,” Emberglow explained, while Dustoff watched. He jerked a little at the name. “They’ll be enough, I—”

The ground shuddered again, dirt spraying into the air. Another mortar round had struck the center of the camp. With a gasp, Emberglow realized what exactly had been struck.

Her tent, the one she shared with Rarity, the one that her parents were in just a few moments ago, was now a crater.

She didn’t have time to think about it. Unicorns were levitating wounded ponies her way, and Emberglow had to make rapid assessments.

“Basement!” she shouted at the first wounded who came past; the unicorn wasn’t breathing. The soldier carrying her rushed ahead. “Basement!” The next one had a compound fracture in both legs. “Upstairs.” The third one was walking under her own power, gasping and coughing for breath.

“Woah. That’s her, isn’t it?” Dustoff breathed from beside Emberglow. “She’s looking your way.”

Emberglow glanced up. Rarity was on the wall, safe and sound, but there was something in her eyes, a hint of doubt and fear.

“Be strong, love,” Emberglow whispered, even though she knew Rarity couldn’t hear her. She remembered the Oracle’s words, only moments ago. She’ll need to see you soon. She’ll need to see your strength.

Very well. If that is what Rarity needed from her, that’s what she would get. She threw her mind into her task, even as the mortar rounds continued to splash around the shield and the camp.

You have no strength to show. This is a lie.

Once again she shoved the voice deep. No matter what she felt, she could be a pillar for Rarity, at least.

* * * * *

After that, the barrage of wounded became relentless. Soon enough the Shrine of the Generous filled and the Angelic had to extend their protection to the tent beyond.

“Don’t know why they bothered to move everypony to begin with,” Dustoff muttered with annoyance as he and Emberglow set up a protective perimeter around the medic tent. By now, wounded Discordant and unicorns who could still stand had joined the ranks of the Angelic, doing what they could to protect their more gravely wounded comrades from the rain of artillery from above. “I wish we had a better idea of what’s going on.”

Emberglow agreed. The avalanche had subsided, but now there was fighting in the courtyard itself. She longed for a glimpse of Rarity, of Lofty or Heartwing or Terminus. Even Topaz, who was busy at work in the Shrine itself, would have been nice to exchange a few words with.

There was a brief lull in the flow of wounded coming their way. Emberglow sighed.

“I hate waiting,” Emberglow said. “Knowing that any second, the worst possible news could come, but you have to keep yourself ready for it, no matter what? The tension is too much.”

“It’s a matter of discipline,” Dustoff noted, though Emberglow noticed his hoof was resting almost constantly on the hilt of his sword.

She hadn’t known him for long, but Emberglow was starting to like the Angelic. Dustoff was direct and to the point, and didn’t seem to play favorites as the wounded came in. It was a pleasant surprise to meet a pony with no apparent prejudice, even for unicorns or the other non-pony races that came in to be treated.

It made Emberglow rethink the conversation she’d had with Ambrosia, to consider it in a new light. It was unsettling, and she didn’t like feeling this uncomfortable.

“Discipline, maybe,” Emberglow said. “Does it get better with experience?”

“Not always,” Dustoff admitted. He looked around the murky battlefield, chaos and violence and pain all hidden by smoke flurries. “For me, it’s the lack of intelligence that’s bothersome. What exactly is going on?”

“I wish I knew.”

The two ponies fell silent, both staring at the swirling smoke and chaos that spread in the courtyard. The shrine did not have the best angle, and Emberglow was tempted to fly up for a better view.

“I’m going to the top of the shield,” Dustoff said, as if reading her mind. He launched himself skyward, even as Emberglow saw an influx of Empire soldiers limping towards the Shrine.

“If you can walk on your own, report to the tent,” Emberglow said, inspecting each of the soldiers as they passed. “You two, take your friend inside, she’s going to need emergency care to remove that shrapnel.”

The two bandaged ponies saluted, hauling the stretcher that bore their friend with limping steps. As soon as they passed, Emberglow looked back up again, in time to see Dustoff coming in for a landing.

“Fighting is intense,” he said. “The Mystic airships formed a beachhead in the center of the courtyard. The Discordant and the Empire are pushing them back, but there’s a group of Mystics trying to—"

The ground trembled, and Emberglow felt a strong sense of wrongness in the air. Colors flashed in her bad eye; silver and green, sickly, pale retinal echoes that danced about her vision and made her wince with pain.

“What was that?!”

“No idea,” Dustoff groaned, holding his head. “Something bad, though. Prepare yourself.”

Emberglow didn’t have a weapon; she did, however, have her shield strapped to one hoof, opposite her gauntlet.

“I’m low on battery,” she noted, and Dustoff huffed.

“We all are, I think,” he muttered as he drew his sword. It was ornate; much more so than standard issue, with a curved blade and a feather pattern on the guard. “May the Saints keep us safe from whatever’s coming.”

“You still believe in them?” Emberglow asked. She tried not to sound accusing.

“I’m not sure anymore,” Dustoff grunted.

The artillery had stopped, the smoke and snow in the air starting to clear. But from what Emberglow could see, things were going poorly. Unicorns were on the ground, being swarmed by purple-armored figures.

“It’s a massacre,” Dustoff breathed. “Look out!”

There was a group approaching. Dustoff tensed, readying his sword, but Emberglow held a hoof out.

“Friendlies,” she said. Lofty was at the front of a mixed squad of imperial soldiers and earth pony Knights Discordant. Dustoff lowered his sword. “Lofty! What’s the news?” Emberglow asked.

“It’s bad,” he said. “The Mystics unleashed some sort of defense mechanism, a spell of some sort. It’s messing with magic. Mostly unicorns.”

Lofty glanced back towards the courtyard, where the worst of the fighting was.

“It’s not going well.” He turned back towards Dustoff. “Sir Angelic, Sir Heartwing orders you and the Radiants to begin preparing an evacuation. We cannot provide for your safety within this battlefield.”

There was something in Dustoff’s proud eyes that flashed angrily at being given orders, but he nodded.

“My soldiers and I are here to reinforce your defenses,” Lofty said.

“What’s happening to the wounded?” Emberglow asked.

Lofty grimaced. “Get them ready to move, as much as possible. Maybe onto the Radiants’ airship.”

“There’s not enough space,” Dustoff said grimly, and Lofty nodded. Emberglow closed her eyes for a second.

She would have prayed, if she believed any more.

“So Heartwing thinks we’re going to lose,” she whispered.

Lofty was at her side in a moment, his hoof lifting up her chin.

“No, Emberglow. He doesn’t. He’s just trying to be practical. We’re here for a reason. The Elements brought us together. We still have hope. We might just have to… adjust our plans a little to accommodate.”

“What about Rarity?” Emberglow asked. She should have been at Rarity’s side, at the Princess’ side.

Lofty looked away silently, and a sense of disaster, that uncomfortably nostalgic cold pit of fear and helplessness, oozed to life in her chest.

“What about Rarity, Lofty?” she demanded again, and Lofty sighed.

“She’s in the thick of the fighting,” he admitted. “Her squads, and the Princess, were trying to push through to stop the Mystics from whatever they had planned. Last I heard they were fine.”

“And when was the last time you had news?” she pushed, and Lofty flinched.

“It has been a while,” he admitted, but he held up a hoof.

Emberglow had stepped forward.

“Wait, Emberglow. Trust Rarity. Trust the princess, and Bubblegum. Everything is going to be just fine.”

It’s the same sort of lie a doctor tells a terminal patient.

“You’re needed here,” Lofty continued. “To help the Radiants—”

Everypony suddenly went silent, eyes wide, as a booming voice rattled the ground around them.

“YOU HAVE ALL FORGOTTEN!” the voice soared over the cacophony of battle. “YOU HAVE FORGOTTEN THAT A GODDESS WALKS EQUESTRIA NOW! YOU HAVE FORGOTTEN WHO RAISES THE SUN AT DAYBREAK, AND RAISES THE MOON AT TWILIGHT!”

“What was that?” Lofty sounded horrified, and all three ponies turned to stare at the battlefield, towards the center of the courtyard.

“I’ll go start making preparations,” Dustoff said. His mouth sounded dry.

“We’ll keep you safe as you do,” Lofty said. His soldiers fanned out, taking the spot of Angelic and Radiant alike as they rushed back towards the tent and the Shrine at Dustoff’s orders.

“That was Princess Flurry’s voice, wasn’t it?” Emberglow said, fear clenching her heart. Something was happening, and she wasn’t there to see it.

Suddenly the battlefield blazed to life in tongues of orange flame. The air filled with the sound of agonized screams.

“Saints protect us,” Lofty whispered, stunned enough to fall back on his haunches. “What new Tartarus is this?”

“Wait, look!” Emberglow pointed as the flames lashed out. They weren’t seeking their allies; instead they were tormenting and felling the Mystics. “I think the Princess is doing it!”

You’ve made your bed with a monster, it seems.

Her stomach roiled.

“It’s…” Even Lofty Tale looked ill at the sight. “This is wrong…” he moaned, even as he gaped.

“B-but, does that mean we… we won?” Emberglow asked. Tears burned in her eyes. It may have been from the smoke, a greasy, foul-smelling vapor that slowly filled the air. It was the smell of melting armor, and charred flesh. There was no relief, no catharsis in the victory.

“We can hope so,” Lofty whispered. He stared out over the battlefield. “There’s going to be more wounded. You’d best be ready.”

* * * * *

Lofty’s premonition was correct. There were a great deal of wounded, and not just Mystics. Fighters from both sides were coming in with horrible burns. She shuddered to contemplate those who couldn’t.

It was a nightmare that would haunt Emberglow for years. The sights, the sounds, the smells… it would take a very long time for her to forget the grisly spectacle.

Even though the battle was over, everything felt wrong. And that sense of fundamental wrongness, that premonition the Oracle had given her? It was still there.

Lofty had come back with fresh reports. Nearly every single Mystic on the ground in the courtyard was dead or gravely wounded. Those few survivors were already under Radiant care. Any who could were fleeing.

It didn’t feel like victory.

For their part, casualties were just as dire. Dozens of unicorns were slaughtered when the Mystics activated the defenses. Nearly all of them were from Rarity’s teams; Emberglow’s heart ached for the mare.

“Where is she right now?” she asked Lofty, when he came in to fill her in. She didn’t bother to say which ‘she’ she was referring to.

“Don’t know. With the Princess, I think,” Lofty said. “Heartwing is still skirmishing with the retreating airships. Terminus is with him. Topaz…”

He glanced around. Topaz was a few beds away, holding the hoof of a dying Mystic. His armor had melted into his flesh, and the Radiants had said he had no chance. He was breathing his last few ragged breaths, while she looked on compassionately.

“We can’t let this continue,” Topaz said firmly, eyes full of tears. “There has to be a line. A limit. I’m going to talk to her.”

“Topaz…” Lofty called out, eyes going wide with alarm.

“No, Lofty. I’m going. I’ll make her see reason,” she insisted, determined.

“Like you’ve done before?” He asked in protest. “Topaz, she’s…”

“She’s my grandmother,” Topaz said.

The dying Mystic breathed one more time, before going limp.

“I’ll go with you,” Lofty offered. Emberglow nodded.

But Topaz was shaking her head. “No. They need as many ponies that can cast as possible, here. Think about it. The wounded are being lined up in spare cots outside, we’re so stuffed. I’m…”

She glanced down helplessly at the corpse in front of her.

“I’m useless right now. The best I can do is… hold hooves. I’m just in the way. If I can help Princess Flurry, that’s where I should be. I’ll be safe; the fighting’s done.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Lofty said darkly, and Emberglow nodded.

It just felt too… abrupt. Something was coming. Emberglow shivered, and subconsciously glanced around, seeing if she could spot the Oracle. She was nowhere in sight.

“Don’t you worry, either of you,” Topaz tried for a smile. It was a pale and sickly thing. “I’ll be fine. Back before you know it!”

Emberglow and Lofty both looked on with concern as she departed. There was very little time to worry about her, though, as the patients demanded attention. Still, Emberglow’s thoughts kept drifting back to everypony else, at least until the patient in front of her began wheezing desperately for breath.

Her windpipe was swelling shut, probably a reaction to the burns on her face and neck.

“Blood oxygenation spell,” she called out, as Lofty looked on helplessly. “And I need an endotracheal tube.”

“Emberglow, I’m not a…”

“Here.”

The Oracle was once again at Emberglow’s side, holding an intubation kit.

“Thanks,” Emberglow said, as Lofty goggled at the starlit figure. “Don’t worry about it right now, Lofty.” She tore open the bag and fished out the laryngoscope, quickly maneuvering the small tube into the patient’s mouth and down her throat.

“I remember you,” the Oracle said. “Starlight remembered you. Lofty Tale.”

“You’re…”

“Let me show you the spell Emberglow wants.”

While Emberglow worked, unable to pause or to even watch what was happening, the Oracle took a stunned Lofty by the hoof and guided him through the steps of the spell.

He cast it on the first try.

“Well done, both of you,” Emberglow said, as the wounded pony began breathing again. She carefully wrapped the Mystic mare in loose bandages before moving on to the next. Lifesaving procedures only.

The patients started to blend together. A Diamond Dog with abdominal burns who had to be treated for shock. A Mystic with limb burns so bad that there were char marks on her bones. A unicorn with a collapsed lung dying before Emberglow could even deal with the spear piercing her chest.

Then there was more shouting outside. She paused in the process of stitching together a deep cut in a unicorn’s shoulder. Emberglow couldn’t make out what was being said, but it was clearly the Princess’ voice.

Only, something was wrong. Like the shout they’d heard before, it was an echoing, grating thing; cruelty and menace and power all in one.

“Emberglow.”

She glanced up, meeting Lofty’s gaze.

“Don’t let it get to you. Trust in Rarity, Heartwing, and Topaz. It’s in their hooves now, and they’ll take care of it. You focus here.”

She nodded, shakily, and continued with her stitching. There was more to do. There was always more to do.

“Sir!”

She glanced up. It was one of Lofty’s soldiers, a young crystal pony in Imperial uniform.

“Prisoners coming in, sir. Heartwing asked us to bring them here for medical attention. Most of the survivors have surrendered.”

“And the airships?”

“Retreating, sir.”

“Any other enemies in sight?”

“No.” The soldier sounded unhappy about this. “There’s something wrong. Something off. A feeling in my gut… I don’t know.” He blushed, looking away. “Sorry, sir. It’s not my place.”

“No, soldier. I feel it too,” Lofty said. “But all we can do is remain vigilant and do our duty. When the next fight comes, it will find us prepared.”

The soldier nodded, appearing to take heart from Lofty’s words.

“Thank you for the warning. Please go find Sir Dustoff, of the Angelic, and let him know the same thing. Tall brown stallion in white armor, dark green military cut mane.”

The soldier saluted and darted off.

It was only a moment later that Dustoff approached.

“Sir Tale, I need a word with Sir Heartwing. As soon as possible.”

“Heartwing is busy right now,” Lofty said dryly. “Fighting a war.”

“I understand that,” Dustoff said, a touch impatiently. “But we’re not your wardens or your jailors. You can’t just dump your Mystic prisoners off on us.”

“I’m not,” Lofty noted. “I’m letting your Radiants look over them, and make sure they have medical attention. That’s what they wanted, correct? At least, Lady Ambrosia implied as much when she negotiated for all of you to come in here.”

Emberglow listened even as she worked, her hooves moving automatically.

“Yes, but I don’t know if we have the resources to…”

“Then you can return them to whatever awaits outside,” Lofty said. It was clearly a threat, and Dustoff flinched angrily. “You heard her.”

“Your Princess,” the Angelic practically growled, and even Lofty looked ashamed. “She’s gone too far.”

“She ended the battle,” Lofty said, though Emberglow knew that this wasn’t how he felt deep down. She’d seen his own horrified look at the incoming burn victims. But now wasn’t the time to show weakness in front of the possibly hostile Angelic, Emberglow guessed.

“By turning it into a massacre,” Dustoff scowled. “You know this is wrong. This is…”

“Sir Heartwing is handling it,” Lofty said with complete faith.

The two stallions stared at each other for a moment. It reminded Emberglow of two tomcats in a room, sizing each other up. After a tense moment, Lofty ducked his head.

“What do you want us to do, then?” he asked softly. “We don’t have anywhere else to put prisoners, and if I send them back out there again she’s probably going to kill them.”

They didn’t need to say which ‘she’ Lofty was talking about. But Dustoff sighed as well.

“You’re right. I’ll talk to Ambrosia about it, and see what can be done. Meanwhile…”

His gaze flicked to Emberglow.

“If Sir Heartwing is not available, that makes you the next best thing, Sir Tale. Some of the Mystic prisoners have admitted to… a troubling fact.”

“Should we be speaking in private for this?” Lofty asked.

Dustoff shook his head. “Maybe. But you both deserve to know.”

He motioned to Emberglow with one hoof.

“The new Grand Master of the Mystics, Sir Steadfast Word? He wants Emberglow. Alive.”

Emberglow stared at him and shuddered. But she knew that already.

“Yeah, and?” Lofty said casually. “We’re aware she’s a high-value target for them.”

Emberglow stared at him. Did that mean she was being discussed behind her back?

Worried they don’t trust you?

“Still,” Dustoff said. “The Angelic are dedicated to the protection of the Mothers. All of them. I think we would feel better, all of us, including Lady Ambrosia, if we could have one of ours stay close to your side, Lady Emberglow. More, if you’ll allow it.”

“I don’t need a foalsitter,” she scowled, but Dustoff continued.

“I’ve been feeling a sense of… impending disaster,” he admitted. “Things are going to get worse before they get better. And maybe Emberglow is at the heart of this. The Mystics seem to think so, and I have no desire to let them have their way.”

“I can respect that,” Lofty said. “But the decision is Emberglow’s.”

His tone reminded her of the way Lofty used to try to protect her, back at the Seminary.

“Thanks for your permission,” she said with mock anger at him. Lofty merely smirked. “So, you’re offering a bodyguard? What if I have to fight? I thought you were neutral.”

“I understand that you’re a bit of a pacifist, yourself,” Dustoff mentioned, motioning to her shield, casually resting against a nearby wall. “You don’t even carry a spear or any other weapon any longer, do you?”

“That hardly seems like Lady Ambrosia’s business, or yours,” Emberglow huffed. She could tell what he wasn’t saying; this was more about Lady Fairy Light’s prophecy, and the way Ambrosia and many of the other Radiants and Angelic looked at her. Dustoff was just a little more circumspect about it. “But what would it look like? Would you get in the way?”

“We only wish to keep all of the Mothers safe,” Dustoff said.

“So you’ll be offering the same to any of the Discordant who used to be Radiants?” Emberglow demanded. She knew there weren’t very many.

“Yes,” Dustoff said without hesitation. “Though there aren’t many Mothers among your number. I’ve assigned one of my best to watch after your head medic Life Flight, who used to be a Radiant herself.”

“Oh.” Emberglow hadn’t thought about that. Perhaps if it wasn’t just her, it would be bearable. “Very well. You can assign me somepony.”

“After what I heard from the prisoners, I’m volunteering,” Dustoff said, his hoof on his ornate sword. “I will keep you safe, Lady Emberglow.”

There was something formal in his promise, and she nodded wordlessly, unsure of what else to say. Lofty looked the same, just a little uncomfortable.

“I won’t interfere with what you’re doing,” Dustoff said. “I’ll be a silent presence.”

“Don’t you have duties here?” Lofty asked.

“Keeping the Mothers safe is our primary duty. And if Emberglow is at particular risk for Mystic attack, I’ll want my best at her side.”

“Nopony you trust more than yourself, right?” Lofty said, and Dustoff shook his head.

“No. There are several I trust more.” He flinched. “But they’re not here right now. I am. So I’ll have to do my best.”

Emberglow wasn’t exactly comfortable with the situation. It felt like she was being put on a pedestal again. Though Dustoff hadn’t mentioned anything about the prophecy, or anything like that, she could still tell she was being singled out for special treatment.

You don’t deserve it.

“Soon.”

The whisper came out of nowhere, right in Emberglow’s ear, and all three ponies leapt in startled fear. The Oracle was right next to her, her eyes unfocused and staring.

“Soon?” Emberglow asked. “Soon what?”

“Soon. The darkest day of your life,” she said. “Not just yours. It will hurt. Are you strong enough? Are all of you ready? I thought you might be, when I first saw you. All those months ago.”

“What is coming?” Emberglow demanded, but the Oracle began to step away. “Hey! I’m talking to you!” The ever-present fear in the pit of her stomach, her ongoing sense of doom, gnawed at her. “Don’t leave!”

“Do not listen to the irreverent cacophony, Emberglow,” the Oracle said as she trotted off. Emberglow prepared to give chase, but Dustoff held up a hoof.

“Don’t bother. She comes and goes as she pleases, and she never makes much sense. Demanding answers, or even begging for them, will get you nowhere. What did she say?”

Emberglow glanced up from her bandaging. Both Lofty and Dustoff were looking at her with curiosity and concern. It dawned on her that they hadn’t heard what the Oracle had said.

“She said—”

But Emberglow didn’t have time to explain. A squawk of alarm from one of the Radiants brought her head up; the older Knight was struggling with a patient as the wounded Mystic began to twitch and spasm on the emergency cot. It was a seizure of some sort, and since Emberglow’s patient was stable, she darted over.

“Need help?” she asked the mare, who only spared a single worried glance at the yellow marks on Emberglow’s armor before nodding frantically.

The Oracle, the war, even ideological differences could wait; they had lives to save.

Once again, the world faded as she and the older Radiant helped the Mystic, bringing her fever down and casting the spells necessary to reduce the swelling in her brain. The foreboding was still there, but buried, shoved away behind duty and obligation. It came roaring back when Emberglow paused in her treatment, looking up to see the worried expression on Dustoff’s face as he spoke with another Angelic. Lofty was close by, listening in.

“What?” she called out. The two stallions trotted over.

“There’s a force incoming. Lookouts report hundreds of fliers,” Dustoff said. “I’ve sent a messenger for Sir Heartwing, to let him know.”

This must be it, then. Whatever it was that the Oracle kept alluding to was on its way, literally descending upon them from on high.

“So you probably really should begin an evacuation now,” she whispered, and Dustoff winced and nodded.

“Yeah. I doubt the Diarchy will respect our neutrality the way you have.”

“Maybe that should tell you something,” Lofty said. “Maybe neutrality isn’t possible for your kind.”

“I won’t ally myself with whatever that was,” Dustoff noted, pointing in the direction that Princess Flurry’s enhanced, terrifying voice had come from. “Or with whatever did this.”

All three ponies went silent for a moment. Emberglow looked around at the remnants of carnage that filled the tent and flinched.

“Thank you,” Dustoff turned back to the messenger. “Tir, go find Lady Ambrosia and Sir Feather Bolt. Tell them we are proceeding with the evacuation. Whatever is coming, we don’t want to get caught in the battle. We’ll want to send somepony out to try and negotiate, but…”

There was a grim set to his jaw. He didn’t think any negotiation would go anywhere. Silently Emberglow agreed.

“Yes, sir. And. Uh. That Discordant? He’s here, waiting outside. He followed me back after my message.”

“You could have opened with that,” Dustoff scowled. “You mean Sir Heartwing? Bring him in.”

There was a noticeable change in the air inside the medic tent as Heartwing strode in, with Terminus following close behind him. Several of the Mystics who were still conscious sat up, or tried to, to stare at the figure. The wounded imperial and Discordant soldiers noticed his entrance as well, and noticed the change in the Mystics.

Dustoff and Lofty both tensed. The Mystics looked ready for violence. Heartwing seemed above the hostility, ignoring the looks he was getting. Terminus was not; his eyes darted about, clearly nervous and ready for an attack. Both stallions’ armor was filthy, spattered with blood and mud.

It wasn’t until one of the Mystics started to lunge forward that anypony spoke. It was a young pony, barely older than Emberglow herself, and she’d just finished casting the spells he would need if he was going to keep his leg.

“Knights of the Diarchy,” Dustoff called out, surprising Emberglow. “You gave honorable surrender. You are safe under our protection. Does your word not mean anything to you? Or are you as faithless as these heretics assume you are?”

The young Mystic subsided with a look of shame on his face, and Emberglow rounded on him, feeling a surge of anger. “Don’t you dare waste all my hard work,” she hissed. His eyes jerked to the yellow stripes on the shoulder of her own armor, and he gulped and nodded.

“That rebuke was for all of you,” Dustoff continued. “There will be peace in this tent, peace in the shrine, and peace for all those under our care.”

He made sure to level his gaze at Heartwing at the end. Heartwing met it and nodded.

“Well spoken, Angelic,” Heartwing said, his voice twisting over the name of the order. “I saw your Knights packing as I entered. Running already?”

His voice was impolite, and Emberglow felt a little fire at that. The Angelic and the Radiant had kept their word, there was no need to taunt them.

She was about to say so, but Dustoff gave her a glance.

“We saw the force on the horizon. The fliers. We have no desire to get caught up in another one of your battles.”

“You asked to enter,” Heartwing noted. “You invited yourselves. Besides, it is not a battle on the horizon, but reinforcements.” He grinned at Lofty and Emberglow. “Sir Cobalt has brought some friends.

“And will those friends rein in the monster you brought to this mountain?” Dustoff asked. The grin disappeared from Heartwing’s muzzle.

“If there is a monster,” he said calmly, a thin sheen of peace over the anger boiling underneath, “it is one that you all created. Not I.”

Emberglow stepped forward. “Stop. Both of you. This isn’t helping.” She looked to Heartwing. “Where is Rarity? Where is the Princess? Can you tell us what’s happening?”

“The princess is…” Heartwing grimaced. “She’s fine. We can go over the details later. Rarity is with her. They’re… Rarity’s trying to help.”

“We need them back here,” Terminus noted. “We need to share the news.”

“Right,” Heartwing said, and his horn blazed to golden light. “Rarity? Princess? I’ve got news. Forward scouts made contact with Sir Cobalt. He’s brought reinforcements. The dragons are coming! The dragons are on their way, and Smolder’s with them!”

“Did we need to shout that out in a room full of enemy prisoners?” Terminus asked casually. Heartwing snorted, and shook his head.

“No. They can know exactly what’s coming. And exactly what they need to fear.”

But Emberglow had known him long enough to know when Heartwing was blustering, putting on a show. She wondered what the point of this one was.

“Are you sure she heard, and got the message?” Emberglow asked.

Heartwing shrugged. “I can’t say for sure. The spell has been acting up since the Mystics played their foul little trick in the courtyard. But hopefully it will lure the Princess back here. They went running off because the Princess wanted to scout the train station.” He lowered his voice. “That’s why we came to find you, once I heard the news about the dragons. All of us need to regroup, so we can figure out what to do about the Princess.”

What Emberglow really needed, though, was to see Rarity. It was a pressing sort of desperation, held at bay by the business and the chaos. But the more she was able to think about it, the more she knew she needed to see Rarity. To hold her.

You forget about your last conversation.

The guilt came crashing down around her. Emberglow had indeed forgotten their last conversation until now; arguing about having a foal, about her parents and their insane response to Rarity and her relationship. Her own impulsiveness, her desperate words, and Rarity’s calm response, filled her with shame.

You don’t deserve her.

The others were still talking. Emberglow had gotten lost in her own thoughts, and had filtered out the conversation around her. Dustoff was arguing with Heartwing.

“Sir Heartwing, with respect, my duties and yours are not at odds. I only seek to keep my vows and protect the Mothers. All of them.”

“The fact is, duty doesn’t enter into it, kid,” Heartwing said dismissively. “You don’t seem to get that I simply don’t trust you.”

“I understand that,” Dustoff spoke through his teeth. It was obvious that Heartwing’s condescension was bothering him. “But isn’t that Lady Emberglow’s decision to make?”

Heartwing opened his mouth to fire back.

“It is,” Emberglow cut him off. “And I don’t care.”

At this point, she didn’t. There was a desperate urge to be done with all this. She was tired. She wanted to hold her marefriend, to kiss her. She needed to know Rarity was safe. Nothing else mattered.

“Come or don’t come, I don’t care, but we need to go see Rarity. And the Princess.”

If they wanted to argue, Emberglow no longer had the energy to do anything about it. She glanced around the room full of wounded ponies. The most dire of cases had either received attention or were past help.

The other Radiants could manage the rest without her. She’d never really been one of them anyways, no matter what the Angelic said.

With one last nod towards the tent, she began walking towards the entrance, past a stunned looking Heartwing.

“I’ll go find Topaz,” Lofty noted. “We’ll meet up with you at the command tent.”

As soon as Emberglow stepped out into the open air of the Palace, though, she was shocked to find the moon high in the sky. The stars were out, twinkling through the few holes in the clouds up above. There were plenty of lights from the various lamps around the grounds, as well as light spells from Knights and unicorns. Somehow, being inside had made the passage of time strange; she didn’t even remember when the sun went down. Or that it had.

But then as Emberglow took her first step towards the command tent, something happened. Her sense of foreboding, of coming disaster, pressed down on her mind hard enough to make her pause. She felt dizzy and ill, and a cold wind seemed to come out of nowhere, blowing around the camp.

She wasn’t the only one who felt it; all around her ponies and other creatures looked about with fear and worry in their eyes.

This is what the Oracle warned you of. You’re not ready.

Not ready.

not

not

noooooot…

Emberglow began to gasp. The voice of her shame and guilt had never been this clear. Always, the intrusive thoughts were just that…thoughts that happened to share the voice of ponies she’d known, ponies whose deaths she felt responsible for. Gadget, the nameless Adamant, even Chip and Lady Justice. Now…

weak and frail, useless and stupid

cannot change anything she dies because you fail

the mountain falls the moon falls the sun falls

nothing nothing nothing but ice and snow

She whimpered, driven to the ground, with a hoof pressed to her head. It hurt, worse than Emberglow ever remembered a headache hurting before. Somepony was by her side, and there was a flash of silvery light.

“Emberglow! Emberglow, are you all right?”

Terminus’ voice.

“Emberglow, what’s going on?”

Heartwing.

“Casting a diagnosis.”

Dustoff.

Their speech was a sound other than the screaming she heard in her head. Different, and yet somehow distant. She tried to anchor her focus on them, to latch onto them, like a lifeline in a storm. She dragged herself back to the present, back to reality, and back onto her hooves.

“There’s nothing wrong with her physically,” Dustoff said, even as Terminus’ hoof went around her, holding her up. “Lady Emberglow, what—”

“I’m fine,” she lied. Even to her own ears her voice sounded harsh. “Let’s go. I need to see Rarity.”

Something had happened. Something huge. But she didn’t want to waste any time sitting down and thinking about it. She couldn’t figure this out now, she had to see Rarity.

Once she saw Rarity, it would all be okay.

loss and emptiness

alone and cold and guilty

dead dead in the snow dead and frozen

The pain lanced through Emberglow’s skull again, though this time she only stumbled. She was starting to remember. She’d heard voices like this before, a chorus of hunger crawling out of a black void, legion. She ignored it.

“Where was the princess last?” she managed, her voice strained. She opened her eyes and looked around. All three stallions were looking at her with concern. “Well? You said something about the train station?”

“Yes, but—”

Emberglow set off walking, and Heartwing stumbled to catch up, his gait odd.

Right. He’d had a prosthetic applied recently. In her exhaustion, Emberglow was starting to forget things.

She knew that this was probably a symptom of overstress. Fear. Maybe even shock. Probably just like the voices she was imagining in her head. The cold wind swirled again as the three stallions trotted behind her.

“Emberglow, wait. We need a plan. We need to wait for Lofty and Topaz.”

“No. Something has happened, and I need to see her. Why was the princess going out all by herself to investigate the train station?”

“Emberglow.” Heartwing’s voice was full of warning. “I couldn’t stop her. The princess… changed. Something happened to her when she lost control.”

He shot a glance at Dustoff, clearly unwilling to have this conversation in front of the… well, if not an enemy, then a not-quite-ally.

“So you did nothing,” she accused.

betrayed you, betrayed her

worthless like you, faithless like you

leave them all behind

For a moment she considered it, spreading her wings. But no. She had no idea where to even find Rarity.

Except there was.

She raised her gauntlet.

“Emberglow, what are you doing?” Heartwing asked. He sounded frightened and exhausted himself.

“Finding Rarity,” Emberglow explained. “She’ll be with the princess.” She cast the tracking spell, the same one she’d used aboard the wrecked train. Just as before, when the spell was completed her blind eye was filled with color and light.

But no path to follow.

Unlike on board the train, though, the light all around them was sickly. It was in the snow, she realized; the snow itself seemed to ooze sickness and hate.

futile and pointless

hope chokes and dies in the ice



As soon as the voice spoke, she flinched. The vision from her spell, the sickly radiance from the snow and wind and clouds, seemed to pulse, like some kind of twisted tumor, infected and writhing.

But Heartwing and Dustoff both flinched too.

“You hear them too?” Emberglow whispered, and their eyes went wide.

“Emberglow, don’t you listen to them for a second,” Heartwing said firmly. “There is no good in those whispers. Nothing good at all! You cast them aside.”

He reached out with a hoof and pulled her to him in a hug. This was surprising; Heartwing didn’t usually engage in physical affection with her, and for a moment the wicked pulses seemed to subside. The wrongness all around her pulled back.

“What… what is happening?”

It felt like a fog was clearing from her brain.

“Voices on the wind, like a demon of loneliness and hate,” he intoned, whispering. “Like hoarfrost, creeping and growing, seeping into your mind like tendrils of ice. Windigo.”

The others recoiled, and Emberglow stared at him in horror.

“Don’t listen to the voices. And if they speak to you, reach out to us. Harmony is anathema to them.”

He glanced at Dustoff.

“Do you have a family, Angelic? A wife, or foals, maybe?”

“Y-yeah. I’m m-married, and there’s t-two kids.”

“I saw you flinch. When you hear the Windigos, like you did, you think of them. Hold their images in your mind. It’s not perfect, but it will silence the whispers. When you see your family again, you hold onto them. Friends work too, especially if they’re not pegasi like you. Anything of Harmony will work.”

“Wh-what…”

“Just trust me. If we’re lucky, this won’t be a problem much longer,” Heartwing noted. “Emberglow. Hold my hoof. What did your spell find?”

“Nothing,” she admitted. “There is no trail to follow. There’s… nothing.”

Heartwing couldn’t even hide the fear he felt at that. “C’mon, let’s hurry. They were outside the walls.”

Emberglow began to gallop, the cadence of her hooves on the snow-dusted stone drowning out all other sounds. She passed by soldiers and Knights, by corpses and craters. Everything became a blur as she ran.

too late

your Oracle fails

She tried to drown the voice in the staccato of her hoofbeats. She tried to follow Heartwing’s advice, to focus on images of her loved ones. Rarity’s smile, her eyes, her perfect voice and infinite generosity. The way she seemed to make everything better just with her presence.

But thinking of Rarity made her think of their argument. And her parents.

failed her failed them

oathbreaker

Emberglow’s tears were cold little trails of wetness on her cheeks. She felt like everything was falling apart. Unraveling.

She just needed to see her again. Then it would all make sense again.

The gates were already open when they arrived. A large force of imperial soldiers, most exhausted or wounded, were already pouring out.

At the lead was a tired looking earth pony Knight. Emberglow didn’t recognize the brown-furred, brown-maned Knight, but he looked just as exhausted as she felt.

“Sir!” he saluted as Heartwing approached. “We were just about to muster to find out what happened to the Empress. She hasn’t checked back in yet, and Rarity ordered us to prepare to come after her.”

“Well done, Sir Berry. Follow us.”

Emberglow wasn’t about to slow down, though. The voices drove her hoofbeats faster, like a whip cracking just behind her ears. She ran so hard her hooves hurt, and barely even heard the stampede behind her. As she ran, slipping and stumbling in the growing snow, she raised her gauntlet and cast the tracking spell again.

Like before, there was nothing.

She should be getting closer. Rarity should be within range. Then why…?

“There’s something up ahead!” Terminus called out as they ran down the street. Emberglow leapt into the air, wings spread as she flew. It was probably dangerous; one of the airships was still hovering over the train station, while another was a speck on the horizon, already well on its way back to the capital.

Why did one leave, yet the other stay behind?

Emberglow ignored the chorus calling for her to land. It was unsafe, there were still enemies about. She was beyond caring. Rarity was out there, somewhere, and her spell wasn’t working. She cast it again.

Nothing.

She flew forward, towards where Terminus had said he’d seen something. There was a figure in the snow, and much of the cobble underneath had been exposed. A fight of some sort? She darted towards it.

And froze.

“E-emberglow,” came the whisper. It was a harsh rasp, cruel and triumphant. Emberglow landed.

Bodies.

Four of them.

And one—

“Emberglow,” the whisper hissed again. From one of the bodies.

Emberglow began to hyperventilate.

She rushed over to the yellow-armored figure with pale fur, first.

A flood of memories.

The same mare, snoring on a bench in an airship.

Pushing her into the ocean at Port Luminescence.

Fighting at her side on the pirate ship.

Then the betrayal. Exile.

And…reconciliation.

As Emberglow reached out to cradle Bubblegum’s limp, cold form in her hooves, all she could think about was the look in her eyes whenever she held her son. Emberspark, named for her. Because she saved their lives.

Wasted.

Pointless.

“Oh, sweet Celestia above,” came Heartwing’s moan from behind her. There was a thunder of hooves.

Emberglow didn’t look up, blinded by her tears.

“G-grandmother?” Emberglow’s heart broke at the denial she heard in Topaz’ voice. Apparently she and Lofty had caught up. She almost wished they hadn’t.

“Emberglow,” the voice hissed again.

“Holy Saints, one of them’s still alive.” This one was Lofty’s voice.

“D-don’t kill him,” Heartwing’s voice was raw. He was crying as well. “I need to know what happened here.”

“Wh-what happened, abomination? We w-won,” Brightblade rasped. “W-we killed your false god. We k-killed a traitor. And we k-killed the lie.

“LIAR!”

Emberglow’s shriek of grief and denial startled everypony. She surged to her hooves, taking just long enough to lower the body of her friend to the ground before rounding on Brightblade.

Her former comrade was not in good shape. He was bleeding orange, a foul, viscous fluid that stained the snow around him. His eyes were barely open, and his muzzle held in a strained smile that spoke of the pain he was in. He had a gaping wound in his chest, and from the rate he was bleeding, he didn’t have much left in him.

Most of it was melting the snow in a vile puddle around him.

“Liar!” Emberglow hissed again, dashing the tears from her eyes with one hoof. “She’s NOT DEAD!”

“She’s as good as,” Brightblade spat, and then coughed, foamy spittle flecking his lips. “Justice, faith, and truth always win. It is destiny. You were bound to lose the moment you betrayed us.”

He struggled to raise himself on one hoof, and then collapsed back into the snow. “Come here, Emberglow. C-closer. And I’ll s-send you to your h-heretic l-lover.”

Her hooves moved without conscious thought. One step. Another. She raised her shield. What was she going to do with it? Finish him off? End him, finally put to rest his laughing face in her nightmares?

Perhaps.

“Where is Rarity?”

“Beyond your reach, traitorous bitch,” Brightblade spat again. He couldn’t even lift his head from the snow.

“Sir, he’s…” Lofty whispered, and gulped. “Should we…”

“Let him rot there,” Heartwing hissed.

Emberglow took another step forward.

“I… I did it, Steadfast. I told you I could,” Brightblade was muttering. His eyes were glazed, unfocused and dull. He was close. “It’s over, Hollybright. I’m better. I’m… I’m… I…”

And he slumped into his own tainted gore.

Emberglow stared at him for a moment, before taking another step closer.

“Where is Rarity, Brightblade?” she asked the corpse, her voice low. “Where is she? Where is she, you bastard!” Her voice crescendoed to a shriek, and she lunged.

There was no plan, only the burning need to do violence.

“Emberglow!”

Heartwing’s cry didn’t snap her out of it, but Terminus’ wings did. They wrapped around her from behind, pulling her back.

“Hold on there, Emberglow. Please. That stuff’s dangerous. You don’t want to touch it.”

“HE KNOWS WHERE RARITY IS!”

“He’s gone, Emberglow. But we’ll find her. I promise.”

She let out a sob, and collapsed backwards. Terminus caught her, and pulled her back.

“W-what now?” Lofty asked. He looked dumbfounded as he glanced around at the carnage. Topaz clung to his side, sobbing silently. “Saints, they killed the princess. What do we do now?”

Heartwing closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, they were full of rage.

“Our first step,” he growled. “Is to find Rarity. Then we see what we can do about those that did this… this blasphemy. They… they killed an eternity.

Emberglow let out a sob. It was the same thing Princess Flurry had said about Saint Twilight, at Heartwing’s trial.

All around them, Discordant Knights, imperial soldiers, and one stunned looking Angelic looked on silently as Heartwing slowly reached out to take Princess Flurry’s limp hoof.

“You were one of the greatest who ever lived,” he spoke softly. “I know you hated me. You deserve a better voice than mine to remember you. I am sorry. I wish…”

He paused, narrowing his eyes.

“There’s… something in her hoof.”

He held it up. It was a necklace.

“I recognize this. Emberglow?”

She glanced at it, squinting. It was hard to see in the dark. Heartwing seemed to read her mind, and lit his horn.

“That’s… Rarity was wearing that. A necklace.”

She slipped out of Terminus’ embrace and trotted over, taking the necklace. It was a single gem, a teardrop shape. It looked familiar, but in Emberglow’s churning mind she couldn’t quite place it.

“I…”

“Emberglow! What are you doing?”

She was holding the necklace up in one hoof. Her gauntlet in the other was raised, poised to cast.

“I can track her.”

“Don’t you remember?” Terminus offered kindly. “You are all the link you need for that spell.”

“But it’s not working. She’s too far away.”

or she’s dead

dead and gone

gone and cold

ours to consume to feast to destroy

“Maybe two focuses will work better,” she said, and cast the spell again.

Light flared again in her bad eye. Brilliant blue light, the color of Rarity’s magic, filled every corner of her vision. For a moment, the droning, vicious whispered words were driven a thousand miles from her mind.

Emberglow was blind. There was nothing except blue. She could hear herself screaming, either in pain or in fear, she wasn’t sure.

There were other voices too; Terminus and Lofty, Heartwing and Dustoff. The other Knights and soldiers.

And then the blue faded, shrinking and focusing into a single point. A single glimmer of light.

A tiny star.

Hope.

“Rarity is alive.”

Her voice was sandpaper, her throat raw. The cold wind stung at her cheeks.

But there was hope in her heart.

“Rarity is alive,” she repeated.

“Emberglow, how can you…”

But she didn’t have time to listen. Her hoof moved on its own, sliding through the air on an instinct she did not understand. The star of hope became a line. Then a rune.

And there was another voice. Not the vicious, vile mockery of the windigoes. Not the personification of her guilt.

But an enemy turned friend. A life she had saved, once.

She needs you. Good luck.

“Bubblegum?” she whispered even as she drew the runes in the air.

A gift, from the stars to you, Emberglow. Light the flame of hope.

“Emberglow, what are you doing?” Heartwing’s voice was full of fear. “Emberglow, no. You can’t. it won’t work. It’s never worked. Rune magic can’t—”

Emberglow was not interested in what rune magic could and couldn’t do. What she knew was two things.

She was here.

The light of hope, Rarity’s light, was somewhere else.

She wrote the runes that Bubblegum gave her, and with her magic, the sometimes holy, sometimes profane magic of the Knighthood, she made the two places into one.

The last thing she felt was the hooves of her friends, desperately trying to grasp onto her as the spell took hold. And then reality shifted.

And Emberglow teleported.

Author's Note:

Dustoff belongs to my friend and editor CommissarVulpin.

Berry Road (mentioned briefly towards the end of the chapter) belongs to my friend badtigra.

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