Salvation

by voroshilov

Sorrow

Leviathan was, surprisingly, far more dexterous than even Aurora. Using dozens of small tentacles, he entirely surrounded the portal and slowly but surely pulled it apart and put it back together again. Penumbra, in awe over Leviathan’s ability, was unable to follow the repair procedures given the sheer speed with which he worked, not least the fact he could perform dozens of tasks simultaneously - though, this is not to say she didn’t try her hardest.

“Can I ask you something?” Ablazed Glory said to Aurora, who was sat by the wall a few metres from the portal.

“Sure.”

“What was Nicholas like? Like, personally, I mean.”

Aurora exhaled sharply in what could be interpreted as nearly a chuckle. “Depends which one of him you speak about. Or, indeed, when you speak about. In his early days he was fairly shy, very private, too. He probably wouldn’t mind me saying that he was a bit of a softie who just wanted to be loved, as strange as that may sound.” She laughed at the memory, shaking her head. “He tried so hard to come off as a powerful ruler, something he just wasn’t really back then. He didn’t know what he was doing most of the time, he just wanted everything to be good. Before the time I knew him he was.” She paused, searching for a word. “Unhinged, to say the least. It wouldn’t be a betrayal to call him horrible, in those days he was. Of course, there was still good in him, of course, it just had a hard time showing.”

Ablazed Glory nodded - more than a small part of her empathised with the man, more than a small part also could say it knew the feeling.

“Eventually, though, he got his title. He killed a great enemy and his rage and hatred from the Great Experiment was gone. He found me a few years later. Most of what I know from before he found me comes from Cecilia. She was a good friend of mine, a very good friend.”

“We’ve met,” Ablazed Glory interrupted her before she could begin, “even if only briefly. She seemed nice.”

Aurora looked at her, giving a chuckle and then a smile. “She was. Nicholas treated her like a daughter. Well, she was his daughter. She loved him more than anything and anyone in the universe. One day, he was nearly assassinated, Cecilia blamed herself and sent herself into exile. I never saw her again. To say that Nicholas grieved would be like calling a star warm. In all the millennia I knew him, that was the only time I saw him cry. Not just shed a tear, but weep for hours. I wanted to comfort him, believe me, I did. But I couldn’t, not only was I hurt too, but his sadness had encased him in a shield of Darkness I couldn’t break through. All I could do for hours was sit by a bubble helplessly, whilst his wails of pain shook the whole Throne World.”

Ablazed Glory gulped awkwardly, silent as everything told her not to speak. She could feel Aurora’s sadness as a palpable aura around her, wanting to provide comfort but neither sure how nor if she could.

“What about you?” Aurora asked, eventually, “what’s your story?”

Ablazed Glory stammered, “ah.” She absentmindedly tapped on her breastplate. “Well. It’s quite a long story.”

“We’ve got time,” Aurora said, “that is, if you want to share.”

She nodded. “I suppose it’s only fair,” she mumbled, before clearing her throat, “I don’t remember anything about my childhood, I was only a few months old at most when my homeworld was destroyed. The first memory I have is of Nicholas, inside his Throne World, I think, everything was black except him. He said something about Oathbreaker, but that’s all I remember. He trained me from the moment I could walk, hell, he taught me how to walk, too. He said he needed me for a fight, for the War in Heaven, so he taught me how to use magic and how to fight in a style he thought I could use. Then, when I was older, he told me what happened to my parents. They’d left my homeworld before it was destroyed, but rebelled against the Empire. So, Nicholas killed them, but Oathbreaker spared me - perhaps as irony - so he resolved to bring me up and train me and give me the parents he had taken from me.”

“Did it work?”

She was silent for a moment, but eventually nodded. “Yeah. I mean, I don’t exactly hold a grudge, I never knew either of my parents. I only knew this soul jar.” She pointed to the glowing green metal set into her breastplate. “Was of my father because we’re so similar, that and he told me. Besides, Nicholas was a decent dad all things considered, he was nice to me, taught me things and helped me overcome problems.” She fumbled, sighing. “It’s a shame he’s gone.”

Aurora nodded. “It is. But, we are still here, so we owe it to him to keep going, keep his memory alive.”

Ablazed Glory smiled, circling Shining Armour’s soul jar with a claw. “Yeah. Yeah, we are.”

“There’s something Nicholas told me,” Aurora said, “right before he went off into the Aether for the final battle. He said…”

“Aurora,” Emperor Nicholas, The Everlasting, kneeled before her, her hands wrapped in his titanic claws, “you must not mourn for me, nor anyone else. Rather, celebrate my life, then continue with yours. If I am to die, let there be the end of one fulfilled and completed life, rather than that and one that is incomplete.”

“Philosophical,” Ablazed Glory replied, taking in the message but not being able to formulate a proper response.

“Had he been in another position, he’d probably have been a philosopher,” Aurora said, before pausing as she remembered something, “he actually did write a philosophical essay. On the topic of happiness. It was odd, reading something like that from him. Taught me a lot about him, actually, a lot of things he liked to keep private.”

Ablazed Glory laughed. “I always thought philosophers would be bearded and talk to each other in riddles, not someone who killed planets.”

“Well, the meaning of life is probably best understood by someone who’s lived for thousands of years.”

She laughed again. “Or someone who’s ended billions of them.” A statement to which Aurora could only concede with a shrug and a chuckle.

Beyond the walls of the Citadel, Leviathan rumbled. “The repairs are complete,” he said, triumphantly, “the portal is now ready for reactivation.”

Aurora sat up, with herself and Ablazed Glory standing either side of Penumbra, with Leviathan’s eye above them all. “Close your eyes,” she said, “think about the portal activating.”

Penumbra closed her eyes, using her well trained mind to fill itself solely with the image of an active portal. Half a minute later, when she re-opened her eyes, she beheld an active portal, the frame glowing slightly purple and filled with a swirling dark blue filament.

“The Heart of Sorrow,” Leviathan declared, “can be accessed once again.”

“I can’t thank you enough for your help.” Penumbra took a step and then turned to Aurora and Leviathan.

“It’s what Nicholas would have wanted,” Aurora said, a smile cracking across her lips, “he knew you would do great things, I am sure of that.”

Leviathan rumbled, “he knew of your destiny, at least, in part. You are important, both of you, in your own ways.”

“It was nice meeting you.” Ablazed Glory held out a talon to Aurora, who shook it with a smile, then to Leviathan, who shook it as best he could with a tentacle.

Aurora stepped up to Penumbra. “And it was an honour meeting you, both of you. I see what Nicholas had meant when he said you were special.” She looked down at her feet for a moment. “You know.” She nodded and looked back up, a cross between joy and sadness present in her eyes. “You brought him back, in a way. Even if I couldn’t see him, I could feel him. If only for the briefest of moments, you brought him back to us. Thank you for that.”

“I will see to it your ship is protected,” Leviathan said, “until you return.”

“You ready to go, Penumbra?” Ablazed Glory waited behind her.

The alicorn nodded, smiled to Aurora, then turned towards the portal. “Let’s go.”

In unison, the two stepped through vanishing the moment they touched the membrane.